Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 4.41

“This is the fortune of those who are either firmly set in virtue and struggling against their difficulties, or of those who would leave their vices and take the path of virtue?”

“That is true,” I said.

“But what of that pleasant fortune which is granted as a reward to good men? Do most people perceive that it is bad? No; but, as is true, they esteem it the best. And what of the last kind of fortune, which is hard and which restrains bad men by just punishment? Is that commonly held to be good?”

“No,” said I, “it is held to be the most miserable of all that can be imagined.”

“Beware lest in following the common conception, we come to some truly inconceivable conclusion.”

“What do you mean?”

“From what we have allowed,” she said, “it results that the fortune of those who are in possession of virtue, or are gaining it, or advancing therein, is entirely good, whatever it be, while for those who remain in wickedness, their fortune is the worst.”

“That is true, but who would dare confess it?”

—from Book 4, Prose 7

I find myself vigorously resisting the temptation to look down at popular opinion, since I know how unbearable a snob can be, and how small-minded I can so easily become when I think I have been afforded some special privilege of insight.

Yet let me not swing to the opposite extreme, to blindly accept as being true only what the many propose as being true. Perhaps I should not be thinking that it is necessarily wrong because it is popular, but rather recognize that it all too easily becomes popular because it doesn’t get it entirely right.

Shallow and simplistic values will quickly take hold when we appeal to a lowest common denominator, when we look for the easiest possible solutions. This tendency is only compounded when we see others taking the most convenient or gratifying path, and our passions incite us to choose the security of a well-travelled road.

Put another way, how often have I heard an inspired crowd marching down the street, chanting about how they insist that we all join together in doing what requires the most precise thought, the greatest discernment, the deepest care? “Let’s act in such a way that we don’t jump to hasty conclusions! Who’s with me?”

I don’t think it vain to say there is a perfectly good reason that this is not a common sight.

When I consider all of my own worst judgments, they are inevitably the result of wanting what is most pleasurable, and of seeking what requires the least sacrifice on my own part. I wish for the most fun, with the least amount of effort.

Yes, I then become the passive man, expecting to receive a feeling of satisfaction, and to do as little as is required of me. I believe that justice depends upon the depth of my gluttony, and upon my sincere commitment to sloth.

This is then the root of my complaints against Fortune. “I lusted for that! Why didn’t I get it? It didn’t fit my longings! Who can I blame?”

It only seems so terribly unfair when I fail to take a responsibility for my own character, and, by extension, for my own happiness.

If I begin with the premise that pleasure is the highest good, then I have completely surrendered a mastery of my own life. It will come and go as other things and other people come and go, and so I will constantly be in distress.

If I begin with the premise that utility is the highest good, then I have also made myself subject to what may happen to me, not a ruler of what I am able to do. What is convenient for other will not always be convenient for me, and so I will always be in state of war.

Many situations in life are going to hurt, and sometimes they will hurt intensely. Many situations in life will not be the easiest to manage, and sometimes they will feel insurmountable.

Fortune only seems to hurt me when I let her do my business for me. I will only think it “good” if it gives me more “stuff”, or “bad” if it takes away more “stuff”, because I am reliant upon all that “stuff” to begin with.

Let me learn to be reliant upon myself, and upon my own free agreement with all of Nature, and then the “stuff” takes on a completely different purpose. All of it, however pleasant or unpleasant, convenient or inconvenient, ends up being of service.

It leads to peace of mind, and that brings a joy no “stuff” can ever replace.

Can I use it to be a better man? Then it is always good. No harm will befall me.

Do I still insist on my own immediate gratification? Then it is always bad. My own choices will bring me down.

Is that a popular point of view? Hardly. Is it the right point of view? Certainly.

Written in 12/2015