. . . “And since among them were to be
seen certain signs of my outward bearing, others ill-advised did think they
wore my livery. Thus were many of them undone by the errors of the herd of
uninitiated.
But if you have not heard of the exile
of Anaxagoras, nor the poison drunk by Socrates, nor the torture of Zeno, which
all were of foreign lands, yet you may know of Canius, Seneca, and Soranus,
whose fame is neither small nor passing old.
Nothing else brought them to ruin but
that, being built up in my ways, they appeared at variance with the desires of
unscrupulous men. So it is no matter for your wonder if, in this sea of life,
we are tossed about by storms from all sides; for to oppose evil men is the
chief aim we set before ourselves.
Though the band of such men is great in
numbers, yet is it to be condemned, for it is guided by no leader, but is hurried
along at random, only by error running riot everywhere. If this band when warring
against us presses too strongly upon us, our leader, Reason, gathers her forces
into her citadel, while the enemy are busied in plundering useless baggage.
As they seize the most worthless
things, we laugh at them from above, untroubled by the whole band of mad
marauders, and we are defended by that rampart to which riotous folly may not
hope to attain.”
—from
Book 1, Prose 3
The mere
appearance of wisdom, simply wearing the right colors, should never be confused
with a commitment to wisdom. I know exactly what Lady Philosophy speaks of,
because I have been guilty of it myself. I have mistaken the trappings of
education for genuine understanding, and the image of cleverness for the
presence of character.
I have
sadly done this whenever I lose sight of the example of real philosophers in
this life, not the folks who mouth mere words, but those who will face danger
for the love of truth. Some of them, like those that Lady Philosophy mentions,
may have earned fame for their actions, but it was never fame that they sought.
I have known many more in my life, however, who never wrote any profound books,
or gave any great speeches, or received any recognition for their efforts. They
not only pursued what was right through their deeds, but they were happy to do
so.
Making
enemies simply for its own sake is hardly a good thing, but being thought an
enemy by vicious men can well be a sign that we are starting to get something
right. I’m told Winston Churchill never actually said it, but Victor Hugo
apparently did:
You
have enemies? Why, it is the story of every man who has done a great deed or
created a new idea. It is the cloud that thunders around everything that
shines.
There
are times I really need to remember what Philosophy says about bearing
misfortune in order to oppose what is evil. The path of least resistance is not
necessarily the right path.
All of
this may seem very noble to me, but it may also seem quite discouraging. It may
suggest that in order to be a good man, I must be willing to lose everything
for its sake. Here, however, I should be careful not make any assumptions of
doom and gloom, because I must ask myself what it is really is that a wicked man
gains, and what it might be that a good man actually loses?
This
question is at the very heart of the Consolation.
The vicious give the appearance of success, and the virtuous give the
appearance of suffering, but all of this hinges on how we define victory or
defeat, and what it is in life that will truly bring us happiness.
I should
consider the sorts of spoils that the brutal actually seek. They will run about
the land seeking wealth, pleasure, or fame. Are those the same things that I
should want? Perhaps these are not worthy goals at all, in which case I can
leave them to those that desire them. Perhaps the very things I should seek can
be like a fortress for me, impregnable to outside wickedness?
Written in 5/2015
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