It is not wholly within your power to be without enemies; it behooves
you, indeed, not to lack adversaries. Above all, it behooves you to
know your adversaries. From that to conquering them is but a short
step. From that to loving them is no step at all.
Do not dread an experience too much; consider your adversary
attentively and try to imagine his motives, those that he declares as
well as those that he conceals, those that he invents as well as those
of which he is ignorant. Think long enough and with enough intensity to
understand these reasons, and even to discover new ones of which your
adversary has not thought; this will not be difficult for you if you
have any knowledge of yourself.
Then make a strong effort to put yourself, in spirit, in the place of
him you are combatting. Do not go so far as to detest yourself, but do
not refuse this opportunity of judging yourself severely. For a test:
perhaps you have entered upon this experience with your teeth and fists
clenched; stop when you find that you are smiling and that your hands
are relaxed.
One has no idea how much this exercise inclines one to justice, how
profitable it is and how destructive of hatred. Too much imagination
would perhaps lead you to neglect your own cause; stop in time,
therefore, unless you wish to become, as the spectators may decide,
either a fool or a hero.
For my part, I have no hesitation in counselling such a practice: it
teaches one to conquer, to conquer smilingly. It teaches one to know
one’s adversary. And then, too, it is good as everything is good that
forestalls and destroys hatred.
There is only one single thing in the world that is, perhaps, really
hateful, stupidity. But even that is disputable, and moreover it is
always a presumptuous assertion.
Happy is the man who has no enemies. But, I repeat, he who has no
adversaries, he who has not accepted those that life offers him, or has
not been able to procure any of his own will, is ignorant of a great
source of wealth.
There is but small merit in understanding those whom we love; there is
a great, a crowningly bitter pleasure, in penetrating a soul that is
hostile to us, in making it our own by main force, in colonizing it.
Not to choose our friends, that is to be too self-denying, too modest.
Not to choose our adversaries, that is altogether too stupid; it is
inexcusable.
A voice whispers in my ear: “We do not choose our vermin, we do not
choose our mad dogs....” Alas, no! but that is quite another matter.