Boethius, The Consolation 3.13

“Can kingdoms and intimacies with kings make people powerful?

“‘Certainly,’ some may answer, ‘in so far as their happiness is lasting.’

But antiquity and our times too are full of examples of the contrary, examples of men whose happiness as kings has been exchanged for disaster.

“What wonderful power, which is found to be powerless even for its own preservation! But if this kingly power is really a source of happiness, surely then, if it fails in any way, it lessens the happiness it brings, and equally causes unhappiness. However widely human empires may extend, there must be still more nations left, over whom each king does not reign.

“And so, in whatever direction this power ceases to make happy, thereby comes in powerlessness, which makes men unhappy. Thus therefore there must be a greater part of unhappiness in every king's estate.

“That tyrant had learned well the dangers of his lot, who likened the fear that goes with kingship to the terror inspired by a sword ever hanging overhead. What then is such a power, which cannot drive away the bite of cares, nor escape the stings of fear?

“Yet these all would willingly live without fear, but they cannot, and yet they boast of their power. Do you think a man is powerful when you see that he longs for that which he cannot bring to pass? Do you reckon a man powerful who walks abroad with dignity and attended by servants? A man who strikes fear into his subjects, yet fears them more himself? A man who must be at the mercy of those that serve him, in order that he may seem to have power?” . . .

—from Book 3, Prose 5

If the pursuit of wealth and honor cannot guarantee happiness, then surely the acquisition of power can do so? After all, if I have the strength to keep a hold on what I want, then I have made certain that no one else can take it away from me. It will then be truly mine, and I won’t need to go begging, or depend on anyone else, or worry about what others might do to me. Power would appear to have that self-sufficiency that I crave.

Yet power will never end up working that way, because there will still always be something outside of my power.

I may think I have this, but I don’t have that, and what I don’t have can always so easily run away with what I think I have. There can be no rest in the control of externals, because I can never make all of the externals my own. Playing God is just that, a form of playing.

In other words, my influence is always uncertain, as there is always something beyond itself to make it uncertain. What must Julius Caesar have thought to himself, after all those years of acquiring power, when he found himself skewered at the hands of his fellow Senators? He thought he had everything, but it came to nothing at all.

Lady Philosophy refers here to a wonderful story, worthy of our attention not only because it tells a good tale, but also because it tells us about a deeper moral truth.

The legend has it that Dionysius, the tyrant of Syracuse, had great power, but was always deeply worried about being ousted or betrayed by others. One of his courtiers, Damocles, would flatter the king, and express how wonderful it must be to live in the midst of such magnificence. How great the fortune of the ruler!

It would seem however, that Dionysius wanted Damocles to learn an important lesson, and offered him the chance to live a day in his shoes. Damocles, of course, jumped at the chance, and found himself surrounded by every luxury in the royal court. Yet Dionysius had it arranged that a sword be hung right over the head of Damocles, suspended only by a single horsehair.

Sure enough, Damocles could not handle the pressure. The panderer now saw what it really meant to be in a position of influence. Having much also meant fearing much. How can a man ever be happy, if he must worry about losing everything he values?

Boethius, like Cicero before him, passes on this tale to remind us that we can never be content with what is not completely our own. Power is fleeting and ephemeral, always clothed in frustration and anxiety, for once I have even a bit of it, I must struggle to protect it.

As Cicero says in the Tusculan Disputations:

Has not Dionysius made it quite clear that there is no happiness for someone, when fear always hangs over his head?

But can someone ever rob me of my own thoughts, my own choices, my own actions guided by virtue alone? No tyrant, no sword, no circumstance of any sort can ever take away the content of my character.

Power passes to what is beyond me, while virtue requires only what is within me.

Written in 9/2015 

IMAGE: Richard Westall, Sword of Damocles (1812)