"The Book of Wisdom"

"The Book of Wisdom - An Eternal Classic of Life Skills" discusses strategies for understanding people, observing events, making judgments, and taking actions - strategies that enable a person to achieve success and perfection in this world. The book is composed of three hundred aphorisms and maxims, which are delightful to share with friends and colleagues, yet penetrating enough to keep enemies and opponents in the dark. The ideal reader of this book is someone who needs to deal with others in their daily affairs - they must uncover others' intentions, win their favor and friendship, or counteract their schemes and render them powerless. Like all aphorisms, this book should be read slowly and in small doses, to fully appreciate its nuances.

The entire book revolves around a duality that was considered valid in both the 17th century and our era, viewing life as a war between reality and appearance, truth and illusion. It not only advises modern "image makers" and "momentum experts," but also offers suggestions to those who value sincerity, believing that "substance" is more important than "image." "Be substantial, but also know how to present yourself" is Gracian's profound advice (Aphorism 130). Its essence is that good people are often the easiest to deceive, like sheep among wolves. We should temper the innocence of doves with the wisdom of snakes, adjusting our behavior according to others' current actions rather than expecting their possible or future performances.

This book has been widely admired for its cleverness and wit throughout history. La Rochefoucauld's friend, Madame de Sablé's salon, was inspired by it. Joseph Addison and Nietzsche, though vastly different individuals, valued this book equally. Schopenhauer read it with pleasure and translated it into German. Nietzsche said, "In terms of the subtleties of spiritual morality, there is no work in Europe more refined and complex than this." Schopenhauer considered it "absolutely unique."

This book teaches arts that everyone enjoys practicing, making it suitable for everyone to have a copy, especially those navigating the ups and downs of life. It is particularly suited as a handbook for young people aspiring to succeed in this world. The teachings in the book would otherwise require long experience to acquire, so reading it once is clearly insufficient; it should be studied repeatedly to adapt to changing circumstances - in short, this book can serve as a lifelong companion.

Who exactly is the author of this pursuit of perfect strategy? Some argue that the content must come from a cynic or a Machiavellian figure. However, this is not true. Baltasar Gracián (1601-1658), a Jesuit priest full of worldly enthusiasm, had a deep aversion to human folly. But "The Book of Wisdom - An Eternal Classic of Life Skills" emphasizes the possibility of human perfection and argues that good will triumph over evil with skillful means. In this book, perfection does not depend on religious revelation (God is rarely mentioned), but on human resources and diligence: vigilance, self-control, self-awareness, and other wise practices. However, the book stresses human rationality without undermining religion or becoming overly "pessimistic." Aphorism 251: "Use humanity as if there were no divine law, and observe divinity as if there were no human law." This saying originates from the founder of the Jesuits, Saint Ignatius Loyola. Throughout "The Book of Wisdom - An Eternal Classic of Life Skills," Gracián almost disregards the "divine" path and keeps Loyola's teachings in mind, remembering the Spanish proverb Loyola based his words on: "Pray to God, but also work hard." Gracián essentially refers to self-help leading to divine assistance, though he does not explicitly state it.

The unsettlingly "modern" aspect of this book lies in its apparent subordination of morality to tactics and strategies. Universal moral principles, the unshakable "hard rules" of ethics, yield to the belief in the book that to achieve perfection, one must recognize the times and adapt accordingly. To reach Gracián's concept of wisdom or prudence (prudencia), one must avoid general rules—especially moral ones. "The Book of Wisdom - An Eternal Classic of Life Skills" advises us to tell the truth, but artfully and skillfully (210); "The most useful knowledge exists in disguise." (98) We must "associate with scholars, showing our knowledge in conversation; with saints, behaving virtuously." (77) A wise person is adaptable like Proteus, but should not rigidly adhere to change and disguise as a guide. Gracián's emphasis on adapting to the times and advocating change and deception stems from (as an Italian philosopher said) a painful awareness of human fragility and helplessness.

Gracián is not indifferent to the spiritual and material well-being of others. He repeatedly tells us to avoid associating with fools, but beyond that, his advice is clear: "Speak appropriately, act appropriately." (202) "Good deeds should be done, but with method": moderate and gradual progress (255). "Love others if you want to be loved." In this book and Gracián's other works, as in his own life, "friendship" and "conversation" are recurring themes. As for critics who label him "pessimistic," this notion is somewhat anachronistic. What many of us call "optimism"—the belief that humans are inherently good and everything ends well—would likely be seen by Gracián as delusional: "Hope is a liar, it must be controlled by clear judgment..." (19).

Like his contemporaries Francis Bacon, Jeremy Taylor, and Francisco de Quevedo, Gracián devoted himself to cultivating desengano: a state of complete "disillusionment" or detachment from illusions, where one controls their hopes and fears, overcomes superficial pretense and vain desires, and rejects deceptive worldly values. "The Book of Wisdom - An Eternal Classic of Life Skills" frequently advocates restraint of imagination, teaching various strategies to achieve this bittersweet state of happiness. Having no illusions about the world is an important aspect of "wisdom." By comparison, modern concepts of "pessimism" and "optimism" seem shallow. However, in the turbulent society and unstable politics of 17th-century Spain—the Spain depicted by Velázquez and Zurbarán—optimism was out of place. Gracián, like Quevedo, was aware of the declining moral strength of his country. We occasionally hear a melancholy, elegiac lament: "Good manners have disappeared, people no longer repay kindness, few treat others with due respect..." (280) Only the use of tactics—constantly countering weaknesses in oneself and others—can push us toward perfection. "It now takes more effort to produce a sage in today's world than it did to create the Seven Sages of ancient Greece." (1)

What was Gracián's life like, and how did he pursue worldly wisdom? It was not as completely tranquil as many writings suggest. Born in 1601 in Belmonte, Aragon, not far from the birthplace of the great Latin satirist Martial, Gracián must have taken pleasure in this coincidence—his fable novel "The Critic Master" (El Criticón) is one of the strongest satirical works in Spain. During his youth, he studied philosophy and literature in Toledo and Zaragoza, entering the Jesuit novitiate at the age of 18 in 1619. For the next fifty years, he served as a military chaplain, confessor, preacher, professor, and administrator (including serving as principal and vice-principal of several Jesuit colleges). Although he never held significant public office, he associated closely with public officials, carefully observing human behavior during both peacetime and war, gaining inspiration for his aphorisms. In his youth, he served as the confessor to the Neapolitan nobleman and governor Francesco Maria Carafa, accompanying him to court several times. In the worst year of the Catalan revolt in 1646, he served as a priest in the royal forces that recaptured Lérida (Lerida) from the French. Gracián was the only military chaplain who did not fall ill or get captured, proudly mentioning in his letters that he "often exhorted soldiers before battle." He boasted that the soldiers hailed him as the "Victory Priest."

Gracián praised friendship as a pleasant way to cultivate learning (11). When he made this statement, he undoubtedly thought of the happiest moments he spent in the salon and library of his friend and patron Vicencio Juan de Lestanosa. Lestanosa, six years younger than Gracián, was a wealthy man and one of the most learned humanists in 17th-century Spain. He invested heavily in creating an important literary and cultural treasure, collecting vast amounts of human knowledge, which were crucial to Gracián. After taking his vows, Gracián was first assigned to the Jesuit college in Huesca, just a few steps away from Lestanosa's home. Lestanosa's house was essentially a remarkable Moroccan "museum," filled with books and manuscripts, paintings (Titian, Dürer, Tintoretto, Ribera), sculptures, and classical artifacts. Lestanosa wrote that his home contained "more than eight thousand coins and emblems of Greek and Roman emperors...and two thousand gemstones from ancient tombs." Lestanosa was particularly proud of his library, armor collection, and botanical garden, where rare plants, trees, and shrubs were cared for by eight French gardeners, some of whom had been dedicated to this task for over half a century. Lestanosa even had a zoo: "Behind four cave-like strong bars, there were a tiger, leopard, bear, and lion. And there was a cage with two ostriches with insatiable appetites." Gracián was allowed to use Lestanosa's cultural treasures, greatly benefiting a person who sought perfect aesthetic refinement and precise taste, striving for "nothing vulgar" (28). Several of Gracián's works were funded by Lestanosa, and many of the insightful phrases in "The Book of Wisdom - An Eternal Classic of Life Skills" may have been tested on the guests of his salon.

From the records of the Jesuits, we can glimpse Gracián's duties as a priest and administrator. The Gracián portrayed in these duties seems less severe and unforgiving than the Gracián revealed in the pages of his book. For example, he was reprimanded in 1637 for being too lenient with a Jesuit who preferred the company of the same sex. The following year, the Superior General of the Jesuits ordered from Rome that Father Gracián should be transferred: "...he is a cross and burden to his superiors, a source of problems and disturbances...and lacks discretion in his actions, caring for children who should leave the order, requesting financial support for such a son, and publishing books under his brother's name."

The book referred to in the transfer order was his first, "The Hero" (El Héroe, 1637; The Hero, 1639), which imaginatively portrays the ideal leader. Other works followed, most of them (like "The Book of Wisdom - An Eternal Classic of Life Skills") published under the pseudonym Lorenzo Gracián and without the permission of the Jesuits: "The Politician" (El Político, 1640, 1646) reflects on the greatness of King Ferdinand in political and moral terms; "The Art of Genius" (Arte de Ingenio, 1642, 1648) discusses style and metaphor in poetry, providing examples from many classical and Spanish authors; "The Discreet Man" (El Discreto, 1646), whose English translation (1730) is titled "The Complete Gentleman, or a Description of the Natural and Acquired Qualifications Necessary to Form a Great Man," continues the tradition of Castiglione's "The Courtier."

For years, Gracián received repeated warnings not to publish without permission. He continued to defy orders, causing the Jesuits considerable trouble. When his monumental satire "The Critic Master" (El Criticón) was completed in its third volume, he lost his chair in theology at Saragossa and was "exiled" to a rural town where he spent the rest of his life. Rome ordered close surveillance of him, "observing his hands," "inspecting his room at any time," and monitoring his paper usage. If he wrote anything detrimental to the Jesuits, he would be confined and denied access to pen and ink. The issue was not heresy in his writings but the embarrassment caused by his brilliant secular wisdom and political insights as a Jesuit priest. The Jesuits never accused Gracián of contradicting Catholic doctrine. His offense lay in repeatedly disobeying orders. His attitude of accepting adversity without complaint might also have been a factor. "I am forbidden to publish," he wrote in 1653, "but I am not lacking in jealous people, yet I endure patiently, eating lunch and dinner, sleeping as usual." Gracián's enemies exploited the conflicts with his superiors, fabricating absurd accusations. They claimed that during a sermon in Valencia, Gracián told the audience that he was reading a letter freshly received from hell.

He was undoubtedly a difficult person, filled with the stubbornness characteristic of Aragonese people. The Jesuit records describe his temperament: in 1628 he was recorded as "restless, melancholic" (biliosus, melancolicus), in 1651 as "irritable, restless" (colericus, biliosus), and in the year of his death as simply "irritable" (complexio colerica). The author of "The Book of Wisdom - An Eternal Classic of Life Skills," who praised "prudence," was said to possess good intelligence (ingenium bonum), but after 1645, his judgment (judicium), prudence, and worldly experience were described as below average or barely adequate: "judicium infra mediocritatem" (1651); "judicium mediocre; prudentia non multa; experientia rerum mediocris" (1655). Were his Jesuit colleagues accurate in their assessments? Perhaps Gracián's judgment was flawed in publishing without permission. However, time has vindicated him. His works endure, and he himself has achieved immortality. Who cares to mention those who criticized him?

Even Gracián's writing style drew resentment and criticism, offending those who could not tolerate conciseness. He was one of the most concise writers of the 17th century; during this period, European humanists responded to Justus Lipsius's call for simplicity, preferring Seneca and Tacitus to Cicero's verbosity. Many of Gracián's stylistic traits remain easily recognizable even in translation: antithesis and paradox, frequent ellipsis, fondness for puns and other clever expressions to condense meaning, and little connection between sentences—one idea to the next—often abrupt transitions between aphorisms and comments, with the comments themselves seeming disjointed and incomplete. These characteristics are not merely quirks of the author but reflect his insight into human nature. The stylistic values reflected in his writing—wit, tension, clarity, subtlety—are actually the principles of wise living. For Gracián, life is a high art. Aesthetic strategies correspond with moral strategies. In other words, the relationship between author and reader mirrors the relationship between the reader and the people around them. The author engages the reader like a fencer, withholding his meaning, disguising his intentions, avoiding revealing all his cards at once, maintaining suspense and intrigue, attracting admiration and respect through subtlety and depth: the kind of respect one feels for an oracle. "The most important matters to us," he says, somewhat self-referentially, "are always known well by cautious people, but they only reveal part of it;" (25) "Secrecy has a sacred feeling." (160)

Gracián did not seek the approval of ordinary readers nor their affection; he knew that affection detracts from respect, and familiarity breeds contempt (177). He did not wish for his writings and thoughts to please the masses (28, 245