Even so the clouds of my melancholy were broken up. I saw the clear sky, and regained the power to recognise the face of my physician. Accordingly, when I had lifted my eyes and fixed my gaze upon her, I beheld my nurse, Philosophy, whose halls I had frequented from my youth up.
'Ah! why,' I cried, 'mistress of all excellence, hast thou come down from on high, and entered the solitude of this my exile? Is it that thou, too, even as I, mayst be persecuted with false accusations?'
'Could I desert thee, child,' said she, 'and not lighten the burden which thou hast taken upon thee through the hatred of my name, by sharing this trouble? Even forgetting that it were not lawful for Philosophy to leave companionless the way of the innocent, should I, thinkest thou, fear to incur reproach, or shrink from it, as though some strange new thing had befallen? Thinkest thou that now, for the first time in an evil age, Wisdom hath been assailed by peril? Did I not often in days of old, before my servant Plato lived, wage stern warfare with the rashness of folly? In his lifetime, too, Socrates, his master, won with my aid the victory of an unjust death. And when, one after the other, the Epicurean herd, the Stoic, and the rest, each of them as far as in them lay, went about to seize the heritage he left, and were dragging me off protesting and resisting, as their booty, they tore in pieces the garment which I had woven with my own hands, and, clutching the torn pieces, went off, believing that the whole of me had passed into their possession. And some of them, because some traces of my vesture were seen upon them, were destroyed through the mistake of the lewd multitude, who falsely deemed them to be my disciples. It may be thou knowest not of the banishment of Anaxagoras, of the poison draught of Socrates, nor of Zeno's torturing, because these things happened in a distant country; yet mightest thou have learnt the fate of Arrius, of Seneca, of Soranus, whose stories are neither old nor unknown to fame. These men were brought to destruction for no other reason than that, settled as they were in my principles, their lives were a manifest contrast to the ways of the wicked. So there is nothing thou shouldst wonder at, if on the seas of this life we are tossed by storm-blasts, seeing that we have made it our chiefest aim to refuse compliance with evil-doers. And though, maybe, the host of the wicked is many in number, yet is it contemptible, since it is under no leadership, but is hurried hither and thither at the blind driving of mad error. And if at times and seasons they set in array against us, and fall on in overwhelming strength, our leader draws off her forces into the citadel while they are busy plundering the useless baggage. But we from our vantage ground, safe from all this wild work, laugh to see them making prize of the most valueless of things, protected by a bulwark which aggressive folly may not aspire to reach.'
A new modern English rendering, made from the Latin with AI assistance — a reading aid, not a scholarly edition.
In just this way the mists of my sorrow were dissolved, and I drank in the light of heaven and recovered my mind enough to recognize the face of the one who was healing me. So, when I turned my eyes upon her and fixed my gaze, I saw my nurse, Philosophy, in whose household I had lived from my youth.
And I said: "Why, O mistress of all the virtues, have you come down from the heights of heaven into this lonely place of my exile? Is it so that you too may be accused, like me, and harried by false charges?"
"Would I desert you, my child," she answered, "and not share with you, taking my part of the labor, the burden you have shouldered out of hatred for my name? It was never right for Philosophy to leave the path of the innocent without a companion. Should I fear to be accused on my own behalf, and shudder as though something strange were happening? Do you suppose this is the first time wisdom has been assailed by dangers among men of wicked character? In ancient days too, long before the age of my own Plato, did I not often wage great war against the recklessness of folly? And in his own lifetime his teacher Socrates, with me standing by him, won the victory of an unjust death.
"After him, when the mob of the Epicureans and the Stoics and the rest each tried to seize his inheritance for their own part, and dragged me off, crying out and resisting, as though I were a share of their plunder, they tore the robe that I had woven with my own hands, and went away with the shreds they had snatched from it, believing they had taken the whole of me. And since some traces of my dress could be seen on them, foolishness, supposing them to be my familiars, ruined several of them through the error of the profane crowd.
"But if you do not know the exile of Anaxagoras, the poison of Socrates, or the torments of Zeno, because they are foreign cases, still you might have learned of the Caniuses, the Senecas, the Soranuses, whose memory is neither so very old nor obscure. Nothing dragged them down to ruin except that, being shaped by my ways, they seemed utterly unlike the wicked in their pursuits. So there is no reason to wonder if, on this stormy sea of life, we are buffeted by the gales blowing round us, when our chief purpose is to displease the worst of men.
"And though their army is numerous, still it is to be despised, for it is led by no commander, but only swept along, recklessly and at random, by raving error. If ever it draws up its line against us and bears down with greater force, our commander withdraws her forces into the citadel, while they busy themselves plundering useless baggage. But we from above laugh at them as they seize whatever is most worthless, safe from the whole mad uproar, defended by a rampart that folly in all its raging may never hope to reach."