Trust not too much to appearances.

Hear the voice of Virgil, poet of Rome, whose verses shaped empires and whose wisdom outlived centuries. He warned his readers with these words: “Trust not too much to appearances.” This counsel is as sharp as a double-edged sword, for it teaches that what dazzles the eye often deceives the heart, and that truth, like treasure, is often buried deep beneath the surface. The gleam of gold may hide corruption, the smile of a traitor may mask betrayal, and the cloak of beauty may conceal rot within.

The ancients told many tales to warn of this danger. None is more famous than the story of the Trojan Horse. To the eyes of the Trojans, the massive wooden horse appeared a gift, an offering of surrender from the weary Greeks. Its beauty stirred their pride; its silence lulled their caution. They dragged it into their city, rejoicing, yet by nightfall it revealed its true purpose: Greek warriors poured out from its belly, and Troy was undone. Virgil himself, in his Aeneid, recounted this tale, giving weight to his own counsel: appearances cannot always be trusted, for what seems like victory may be the seed of ruin.

History too confirms this truth. Consider the reign of Richard III of England. To many, he appeared as a protector, promising stability and justice. Yet behind the noble visage, he schemed, seizing power through manipulation and treachery. His short, troubled reign ended in blood at Bosworth Field. The nation learned too late that appearances can cloak ambition and cruelty. Thus Virgil’s warning is not for one age but for all ages: discern not with eyes alone, but with wisdom sharpened by experience.

And yet, Virgil does not tell us to despise appearances, only to avoid trusting them too much. For appearances have their place—they can inspire, attract, or warn. But they are not the whole of truth. The wise man looks deeper, as a farmer tests the soil beneath the surface, as a sailor reads the currents beneath the calm sea. To live by appearances is to walk upon ice without knowing its thickness; it may bear you for a moment, but it may also plunge you into the depths without warning.

The lesson strikes the heart: beware the glitter of promises, the seduction of beauty, the comfort of what seems easy. Ask always—what lies beneath? What foundation supports what I see? This applies not only to kings and cities, but to daily life. The friend who flatters, the bargain that seems too rich, the path that looks too smooth—each may conceal snares. Wisdom demands that you seek depth, truth, and substance, rather than being carried away by surface charm.

But also, look inward. Do not build your own life only upon appearances. The mask you wear may win praise for a time, but if it does not match the truth within, it will collapse. Better to be authentic and flawed than false and praised. Appearances may win admiration, but only integrity earns trust. Virgil’s words are both a warning against deception by others and a counsel against deceiving yourself or those around you.

So, children of tomorrow, carry this wisdom: “Trust not too much to appearances.” Let your eyes be keen, but let your heart and mind weigh what is unseen. Look for the truth behind the mask, the substance behind the shine, the roots beneath the flower. In doing so, you will guard yourself from ruin, build relationships upon honesty, and shape a life founded not on illusions, but on enduring truth. This is the wisdom of Virgil, passed through the ages, a torch against the shadows of deception.