Boethius, The Consolation 2.22

. . . “How can anyone exercise power upon any other except upon the body alone, or that which is below the body, whereby I mean the fortunes? Can you ever impose any law upon a free spirit? Can you ever disturb the peculiar restfulness that is the property of a mind that hangs together upon the firm basis of its reason?

“When a certain tyrant thought that by tortures he would compel a free man to betray the conspirators in a plot against his life, the philosopher bit through his tongue and spat it out in the tyrant's face. Thus were the tortures, which the tyrant intended to have cruel results, turned by the philosopher into subjects of high courage.

“Is there anything that one man can do to another, which he may not suffer from another in his turn? We have heard how Busiris, who used to kill strangers, was killed by Hercules when he came to Egypt.

“Regulus, who had cast into chains many a Carthaginian captive, soon yielded himself a prisoner to their chains.

“Do you think that power to be any power, whose possessor cannot ensure his own escape from suffering at another's hands what he inflicts upon some other?” . . .

—from Book 2, Prose 6

We make so much of worldly power, when in fact it is so very little. We are only too easily impressed and intimated when we have our sense of values disordered. We sadly care more for what is less, and less for what is more, and so the worldly power appears grossly distorted and out of proportion.

This illusion can be quite imposing, but I only need to think of what it is that force from others can actually affect, and then also what can remain impervious to it.

Another may take my possessions, may limit the freedom of my body, may speak ill of me, and may cause me physical pain and suffering. He may even kill me.

What he cannot do is to control the liberty of my thinking and choosing, as long as I do not decide to permit it.

Something deeply beautiful here is that however hard he pushes against me with things external to me, the more opportunity he gives me to improve and transform the things internal to me. Diminish my fortune, and I may improve my character.

Now I have always been rather terrified of the story about the philosopher who bites off his own tongue to protect a confidence. I have read that the tale speaks of Zeno of Elea, and other sources say it refers to Anaxagoras, but wherever the story came from, it makes me feel quite uncomfortable. Then I remember that I am really only finding it troubling because I am attaching more worth to my tongue than to my virtue. That is how powerful the illusion of value can be!

Something else deeply beautiful here is that as grand and mighty as he may seem, the powerful man ends up being just as subject to force as the weak man. He is no better simply because he is stronger in body or in influence, and in the end he must still make the same fundamental choices about good and bad.

Legend speaks of how Busiris is said to have found pleasure in sacrificing foreign visitors to his kingdom, until one of those visitors, Hercules, broke free of his chains and in turn killed Busiris. What comes around, goes around. The tyrants and the bullies can so easily end up tasting their own medicine.

I see the tale of Regulus as combining both of these truths, that even though everyone, including the most important people, must face the power of others in their lives, how they choose to face it, and what they choose to make of it, is what will define who they truly are.

Marcus Atilius Regulus was a Roman consul and general, who fought against the Carthaginians in the Punic Wars. He won many victories, but then he found himself captured by his enemies. He was released to take an offer of peace back to Rome, but only on the condition that he would then return to his imprisonment.

Now here might be a moment where I would count my lucky stars, content that I had escaped, saved my life, and recovered my freedom. But Regulus had a different order of priorities. He delivered the message to the Senate, advised his countrymen that these were horrible terms, and then promptly returned to Carthage, against the advice of all his friends. A version of the story has it that he was then tortured to death by his captors.

I don’t recall where I first read about Regulus, but I was still fairly young, and I thought it all seemed a bit extreme. What I was missing was an awareness that no one is ever immune to losing fortune, and that a good man will gladly choose to give up his life before he gives up his virtue. What makes it so frustrating is that, deep down inside, I know this to be completely true.

Written in 9/2015

IMAGE: Andries Cornelis Lens, Regulus Returning to Carthage (1791)