Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 4.9

“Kings you may see sitting aloft upon their thrones,

gleaming with purple,

hedged about with grim guarding weapons,

threatening with fierce glances,

and their hearts heaving with passion.

If any man take from these proud ones

their outward covering of empty honor,

he will see within,

will see that these great ones bear secret chains.

For the heart of one is thus filled by lust

with the poisons of greed,

or seething rage lifts up its waves

and lashes his mind therewith;

or gloomy grief holds them weary captives,

or by slippery hopes they are tortured.

So when you see one head thus laboring

beneath so many tyrants,

you know he cannot do as he would,

for by hard task-masters is the master himself oppressed.”

—from Book 4, Poem 2

I never cease to be amazed at how much effort we can expend in trying to appear good without actually being good, in looking happy yet being quite miserable, in pretending to be at peace while constantly being at war.

Whenever I have been drawn into this trap, I am working from a false premise, that what shows on the outside matters more than what it is on the inside. The attempt will ultimately meet in failure, of course, because an illusion is just that, a trick of manipulating impressions to divert us from the reality. I can lie to others, and I can lie to myself, but crooked effects will reveal the crooked causes behind them. It only requires honestly looking at it for myself, instead of seeing what I am told to see.

I have never met any actual kings or queens, though I have known many people who would like us to think that they are like kings or queens. They often acquire an incredible skill at building up layer after layer of appearances, quite difficult to unravel.

There were a number of priests who gave noble talks about chastity, and then did something quite different behind closed doors.

There was a colleague who had everyone convinced he was the JAG lawyer who had prosecuted the case that inspired A Few Good Men, and then put up a website for a fake research institute to raise money for himself.

There was the girl who impressed us by saying she was a “Miss Teen” beauty queen champion, though you had to look at the fine print to see the title was bought from a vanity pageant.

There was the Chairman of the Board whose “aw shucks” charm had us all convinced he cared deeply for us, like his family, and then he fired us by mail.

The best fake image I could ever pull off was about coming across as profound and mysterious, and pretending that I understood things I had absolutely no clue about. People only needed to get to know me a bit to see through all of that nonsense, so I could never manage to get in on my résumé.

What a horrific form of self-abuse it all is, polishing the outside while rotting on the inside. The very desire to impress is itself already a symptom of the rot, because it fails to see that whatever dignity and worth we have is from the content of our character, not from the worship of fame and fortune. I think I am making myself the master, and the whole time I am submitting myself to slavery. I am a puppet on a string.

Who are now the new masters I am giving dominion over me? My own lust, greed, and anger, my unbridled desires to be gratified, to hold possession, to inflict pain when I feel pain. There is no happiness there at all, only the appearance of power.

The next time I feel threatened or intimidated by all these trappings, the next time I become jealous of those who flaunt their trophies, let me look again, because they are not what they appear to be. Most important of all, let it help me to rid myself of those very same delusions. If I am ever to have any merit, it will not come from putting on a show. 

Written in 10/2015