In the 1340s the Italian scholar Petrarch composed a long letter to the poet Homer.  He enjoyed these imaginary exercises in which he could “communicate” with some of the great literary figures of the past; there exist letters to Cicero, Livy, and some other ancient writers.

In the letter to Homer are found the following words:

It is the first fruits of virtue and character to displease those who are corrupt and uninformed; the outward face of your talent is so radiant that it cannot be tolerated by the vision of those with sickly eyes.  The same thing happened to you as to the sun, whose surpassing glory—not dishonor—is that infirm eyes and night birds frantically avoid it.

[Sunt primitiae virtutis et ingenii displicuisse malis et indoctis; tam clara frons ingenii tui est ut eam lippe acies ferre non valeant; idemque tibi accidit quod soli, cuius non infamia sed excellens laus est quod infirmi oculi et nocturnae illum fugiunt aves].

These words are worthy of discussion, I think. Why should things be this way?  Why do those most in need of training in character and virtue so sedulously avoid any exposure to them?  Why do they literally shrink in terror at the discussion or manifestation of these qualities, much like a squirming maggot does when suddenly exposed to the light of day?  Do they not want to improve themselves?  Do they not want to acquire the tools needed for success in life, and tranquility of mind? Do they not care about the betterment of their society?  

Unfortunately, the first explanation is that many are simply not interested in improving or bettering themselves.  They are concerned only with the exigencies of the moment; they are not worried about long-lasting solutions to problems.  It is like a man whose vision is literally incapable of extending beyond a certain distance.  The number of persons in this category is literally beyond count.  Petrarch even quotes Solomon in Ecclesiastes (I:15), when he notes with a heavy heart,

The number of dunces is infinite.

[Stultorum infinitus est numerus]

So it was in Solomon’s time, and so it is now.  I have come to believe that it takes a special type of man who cares about these subjects.  Not all are capable of it; it is something that springs from one’s innate personality, like musical or athletic ability.  The second explanation for why so many recoil in alarm at the presence of true character and virtue is that they do not want to be reminded of their own deficiencies.  A normal, healthy man seeks to better himself; he does not feel personally attacked when greatness, goodness, or valor cross his field of vision.  But a deficient type, an insecure, resentful character, will not react in this way.  His response is quite different.  He or she will feel put upon, attacked, and as if a mirror were being held before their eyes.  They do not want to be reminded that moral qualities, character, and virtue even exist; they will seek to banish these qualities from their own eyes, and even prevent them from being seen by others. 

A third explanation is that, even for those who recognize the need for training in morals, conduct, and character, the level of work demanded is simply too great.  They are unwilling to give up their idle diversions, their blankets of comfort, their sense of smug superiority.  They can remain emperors under their own bedroom blankets, without incurring the discomfort of interaction with the craggy peaks of life’s mountainous terrain.  They refuse to challenge themselves, and hence never improve, always existing in a netherworld of permanent stagnation. 

And this is why those who seek to improve their character and virtue are so rare.  They are not blinded by the distractions of comfort and ease; they are not animated by the baser emotions, and have the capacity to envision something greater beyond the opportunities of the material world.  They are literally made in the image of the gods.  Such a man should care nothing for the opinions or statements of fools.  As Petrarch says,

It is not right for the spirit of a wise man to be broken by the affronts of dunces. 

[Non decet animum sapientis stultorum contumeliis frangi].   

So let us go forth, proceeding on this narrow path, and remain unbroken.  Fear not the displeasure of the corrupt and the ignorant. Let our stride and gait announce our character; and let infirm eyes and nocturnal birds flee from our sight.

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Read more on similar subjects in the new, annotated translation of Cicero’s On The Nature Of The Gods