"Favor and honor sometimes fall more fitly on those who do not desire them"
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Power, Livy implies, is at its safest when it lands on someone who didn’t chase it. “Favor and honor” aren’t framed as prizes earned by hustle; they’re unstable social currencies, granted by a crowd, a senate, a patron. By pairing them, Livy collapses private affection (“favor”) and public recognition (“honor”) into the same slippery mechanism: reputation is not a mirror of virtue so much as a political weather system.
The line’s bite comes from its quiet inversion of ambition. In Roman moral vocabulary, wanting office too openly was not just tacky; it was suspect. Desire signals hunger for domination, a willingness to flatter, bargain, or bend norms. The person who “does not desire” honor reads as self-governed, and self-government was Rome’s preferred evidence of fitness to govern others. Livy isn’t romanticizing passivity. He’s describing a selection logic: communities often trust the reluctant because reluctance performs integrity. It suggests the candidate won’t treat authority as personal property.
As a historian writing under Augustus, Livy is also doing something more delicate. He’s invoking a Republican ideal of disinterested service while living in a world where honor is increasingly routed through a single center of power. The sentence can flatter the new regime (the best leaders are called, not craving), while simultaneously mourning an older civic theater where honor was contested and visible. Subtext: when honor becomes something you seek, it curdles; when it becomes something bestowed, it can conceal coercion. Livy’s realism is that virtue and optics are entangled, and Rome runs on the optics.
The line’s bite comes from its quiet inversion of ambition. In Roman moral vocabulary, wanting office too openly was not just tacky; it was suspect. Desire signals hunger for domination, a willingness to flatter, bargain, or bend norms. The person who “does not desire” honor reads as self-governed, and self-government was Rome’s preferred evidence of fitness to govern others. Livy isn’t romanticizing passivity. He’s describing a selection logic: communities often trust the reluctant because reluctance performs integrity. It suggests the candidate won’t treat authority as personal property.
As a historian writing under Augustus, Livy is also doing something more delicate. He’s invoking a Republican ideal of disinterested service while living in a world where honor is increasingly routed through a single center of power. The sentence can flatter the new regime (the best leaders are called, not craving), while simultaneously mourning an older civic theater where honor was contested and visible. Subtext: when honor becomes something you seek, it curdles; when it becomes something bestowed, it can conceal coercion. Livy’s realism is that virtue and optics are entangled, and Rome runs on the optics.
Quote Details
| Topic | Humility |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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