Damocles, Sword Of

 

For when one of his flatterers, Damocles, mentioned in conversation the wealth of Dionysius, the majesty of his rule, the abundance of his possessions, the magnificence of the royal palace and denied that there had ever been anyone more fortunate, he said, "So, Damocles, since this life delights you, do you wish to taste it yourself and make trial of my fortune?"  When Damocles said that he desired this, Dionysius gave orders that the man be placed on a golden couch covered with a most beautiful woven rug, embroidered with splendid works; he adorned many sideboards with chased silver and gold; then he gave orders that chosen boys of outstanding beauty should stand by his table and that they, watching for a sign from Damocles, should attentively wait on him; there were unguents and garlands; perfumes were burning; tables were piled up with the most select foods. Damocles seemed to himself fortunate.  In the middle of this luxury Dionysius ordered that a shining sword, fastened from the ceiling by a horse-hair, be let down so that it hung over the neck of that fortunate man. And so he looked neither at those handsome waiters nor the wonderful silver work, nor did he stretch his hand to the table. Now the very wreaths slipped off.   Finally he begged the tyrant that he should be allowed to depart because he no longer wanted to be fortunate.

Dionysius II of this story ended up out on his sorry ass and dying in great poverty, he was a cruel and incompetent ruler who well knew what awaited him in his seat of power.  The story is related by that scumbag Cicero, the vacillating coward who thought that Rome owed him allegiance.  If it had been me, Damocles would have been forced to continue that feast or be thrown to my leopards, and I probably would have thrown him to them anyway while laughing my adorable li'l rabbit tail off.  Then I would have invited all those who opposed my rule to a magnificent party.  Wear your best jewelry!

                           
Richard Westall, Sword of Damocles.  1812.           
            

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Andrew The Bee's Four Color Safari

Two Bad Men, Said Their Murderers

The Madonna Of Stalingrad