Meekness: Uncommon patience in planning a revenge that is worth

Hear, O seekers of hidden truth, the biting words of Ambrose Bierce, master of irony and shadow, who defined thus: “Meekness: uncommon patience in planning a revenge that is worth while.” At first, these words may strike the ear as paradox, for meekness is oft spoken of by sages as gentle, humble, and without malice. Yet Bierce, with the tongue of satire, turned the meaning upon its head, revealing that what is called meekness may at times be but restraint—a silence not of peace, but of waiting.

Mark this well: Bierce lived in an age of turmoil, war, and disillusionment. He had seen the cruelty of battle in the American Civil War and the vanity of politics in its aftermath. Out of such fire was forged his Devil’s Dictionary, where noble words were twisted with bitter wit to expose the hypocrisies of men. Thus, his definition of meekness is not a celebration of patience as virtue, but a warning: that patience, when corrupted by vengeance, ceases to be holy and becomes cunning.

Consider the tale of Hannibal of Carthage, who after the humiliation of his people in the First Punic War, was taught from boyhood to hate Rome. For years he bore that hatred in silence, gathering strength. With patience most uncommon, he marched across the Alps, striking terror into the heart of Rome itself. His campaign was vengeance incarnate, a storm long in the making. Here we see the embodiment of Bierce’s irony: what some might call the meekness of waiting was in truth the slow kindling of wrath, burning toward revenge.

Yet reflect also on the wisdom of this satire: for many in the world, what appeareth as meekness is no more than suppression. A man silent under insult may not be forgiving; he may only be calculating. A people oppressed may seem submissive, but within them burns the fire of reckoning. And when the day of vengeance comes, it bursteth forth not as a spark, but as a conflagration. Bierce, with cruel honesty, remindeth us that human hearts are rarely free of the desire for revenge.

But, O seekers, must we then accept this darker definition as the final truth of meekness? Nay. Let us learn instead from his irony. Bierce showeth us the shadow so that we may recognize the light. True meekness is not the patience that plots revenge, but the patience that surrenders the desire for it. Where revenge consumes, meekness frees. Where vengeance chains the soul to bitterness, humility opens the path to peace.

The lesson is plain: beware of false meekness. Ask thyself when thou art silent: is it because thou hast forgiven, or because thou art plotting? Is thy patience born of wisdom, or of wrath deferred? For if thy silence hideth vengeance, it is but a mask for rage, and in time it shall destroy thee as surely as thine enemy. But if thy silence is born of humility, then it is strength, and thou shalt be free.

Practical is this counsel: when wronged, pause, and search thy heart. Resist the whisper that says, “Wait, and repay.” Instead, remember that vengeance is a fire that burneth not only its target but also the hand that carrieth it. Seek resolution where possible, forgiveness where needed, and wisdom always. True meekness is not weakness, nor cunning, but mastery of the self—an uncommon patience that chooses peace over revenge.

Thus remember Ambrose Bierce’s darkly gleaming words: “Meekness: uncommon patience in planning a revenge worth while.” Though he spake in irony, the warning is sharp: do not let thy patience become poison. Instead, reclaim patience as a virtue, and meekness as freedom. For the man who conquers his own vengeance is greater than the one who conquereth cities.