Complete Works of Xenophon (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics)

by Xenophon

  6. “But now, Simonides,” he continued, “I want to show you all those delights that were mine when I was a private citizen, but which I now find are withheld from me since the day I became a despot. [2] I communed with my fellows then: they pleased me and I pleased them. I communed with myself whenever I desired rest. I passed the time in carousing, often till I forgot all the troubles of mortal life, often till my soul was absorbed in songs and revels and dances, often till the desire of sleep fell on me and all the company. [3] But now I am cut off from those who had pleasure in me, since slaves instead of friends are my comrades; I am cut off from my pleasant intercourse with them, since I see in them no sign of good-will towards me. Drink and sleep I avoid as a snare. [4] To fear a crowd, and yet fear solitude, to fear to go unguarded, and yet fear the very men who guard you, to recoil from attendants unarmed and yet dislike to see them armed — surely that is a cruel predicament! [5] And then, to trust foreigners more than citizens, strangers more than Greeks, to long to keep free men slaves, and yet be forced to make slaves free — do you not think that all these are sure tokens of a soul that is crushed with fear? [6] Fear, you know, is not only painful in itself by reason of its presence in the soul, but by haunting us even in our pleasures it spoils them utterly. [7]

  “If, like me, you are acquainted with war, Simonides, and ever had the enemy’s battle-line close in front of you, call to mind what sort of food you ate at that time, and what sort of sleep you slept. [8] I tell you, the pains that despots suffer are such as you suffered then. Nay, they are still more terrible; for despots believe that they see enemies not in front alone, but all around them.”

  To this Simonides made answer: [9] “Excellent words in part, I grant! War is indeed a fearsome thing: nevertheless, Hiero, our way, when we are on active service, is this: we post sentries to guard us, and sup and sleep with a good courage.”

  Then Hiero answered: [10] “No doubt you do, Simonides! For your sentries have sentries in front of them — the laws, — and so they fear for their own skins and relieve you of fear. But despots hire their guards like harvesters. [11] Now the chief qualification required in the guards, I presume, is faithfulness. But it is far harder to find one faithful guard than hundreds of workmen for any kind of work, especially when money supplies the guards, and they have it in their power to get far more in a moment by assassinating the despot than they receive from him for years of service among his guards. [12]

  “You said that you envy us our unrivalled power to confer benefits on our friends, and our unrivalled success in crushing our enemies. But that is another delusion. [13] For how can you possibly feel that you benefit friends when you know well that he who receives most from you would be delighted to get out of your sight as quickly as possible? For, no matter what a man has received from a despot, nobody regards it as his own, until he is outside the giver’s dominion. [14] Or again, how can you say that despots more than others are able to crush enemies, when they know well that all who are subject to their despotism are their enemies and that it is impossible to put them all to death or imprison them — else who will be left for the despot to rule over? — and, knowing them to be their enemies, they must beware of them, and, nevertheless, must needs make use of them? [15] And I can assure you of this, Simonides: when a despot fears any citizen, he is reluctant to see him alive, and yet reluctant to put him to death. To illustrate my point, suppose that a good horse makes his master afraid that he will do him some fatal mischief: the man will feel reluctant to slaughter him on account of his good qualities, and yet his anxiety lest the animal may work some fatal mischief in a moment of danger will make him reluctant to keep him alive and use him. [16] Yes, and this is equally true of all possessions that are troublesome as well as useful: it is painful to possess them, and painful to get rid of them.”

  7. These statements drew from Simonides the following reply: “A great thing, surely, Hiero, is the honour for which men strive so earnestly that they undergo any toil and endure any danger to win it! [2] And what if despotism brings all those troubles that you tell of, yet such men as you, it seems, rush headlong into it that you may have honour, that all men may carry out your behests in all things without question, that the eyes of all may wait on you, that all may rise from their seats and make way for you, that all in your presence may glorify you by deed and word alike. (Such, in fact, is the behaviour of subjects to despots and to anyone else who happens to be their hero at the moment.) [3] For indeed it seems to me, Hiero, that in this man differs from other animals — I mean, in this craving for honour. In meat and drink and sleep and sex all creatures alike seem to take pleasure; but love of honour is rooted neither in the brute beasts nor in every human being. But they in whom is implanted a passion for honour and praise, these are they who differ most from the beasts of the field, these are accounted men and not mere human beings. [4] And so, in my opinion, you have good reason for bearing all those burdens that despotism lays on you, in that you are honoured above all other men. For no human joy seems to be more nearly akin to that of heaven than the gladness which attends upon honours.”

  To this Hiero replied: [5] “Ah, Simonides, I think even the honours enjoyed by despots bear a close resemblance to their courtships, as I have described them to you. [6] The services of the indifferent seemed to us not acts of grace, and favours extorted appeared to give no pleasure. And so it is with the services proffered by men in fear: they are not honours. [7] For how can we say that men who are forced to rise from their seats rise to honour their oppressors, or that men who make way for their superiors desire to honour their oppressors? [8] And as for presents, most men offer them to one whom they hate, and that too at the moment when they have cause to fear some evil at his hands. These acts, I suppose, may not unfairly be taken for acts of servility; but honours, I should say, express the very opposite feelings. [9] For whenever men feel that some person is competent to be their benefactor, and come to regard him as the fountain of blessings, so that henceforward his praise is ever on their lips, everyone of them looks on him as his peculiar blessing, they make way for him spontaneously and rise from their seats, through love and not through fear, crown him for his generosity and beneficence, and bring him freewill offerings, these same men in my opinion, honour that person truly by such services, and he who is accounted worthy of them is honoured in very deed. [10] And, for myself, I count him a happy man who is honoured thus; for I perceive that, instead of being exposed to treason, he is an object of solicitude, lest harm befall him, and he lives his life unassailed by fear and malice and danger, and enjoys unbroken happiness. But what is the despot’s lot? I tell you, Simonides, he lives day and night like one condemned by the judgment of all men to die for his wickedness.” [11]

  When Simonides had listened to all this he asked: “Pray, how comes it, Hiero, if despotism is a thing so vile, and this is your verdict, that you do not rid yourself of so great an evil, and that none other, for that matter, who has once acquired it, ever yet surrendered despotic power?” [12]

  “Simonides,” said he, “this is the crowning misery of despotic power, that it cannot even be got rid of. For how could any despot ever find means to repay in full all whom he has robbed, or himself serve all the terms of imprisonment that he has inflicted? Or how could he forfeit a life for every man whom he has put to death? [13] Ah, Simonides,” he cried, “if it profits any man to hang himself, know what my finding is: a despot has most to gain by it, since he alone can neither keep nor lay down his troubles with profit.”

  8. “Well, Hiero,” retorted Simonides, “I am not surprised that you are out of heart with despotism for the moment, since you hold that it cuts you off from gaining the affection of mankind, which you covet. Nevertheless, I think I can show you that rule so far from being a bar to popularity, actually has the advantage of a citizen’s life. [2] In trying to discover whether this is so, let us for the time being pass over the question whether the ruler, because of his greater power, is able to confer
more favours. Assume that the citizen and the despot act alike, and consider which of the two wins the greater measure of gratitude from the same actions.

  “You shall have the most trifling examples to begin with. [3] First, suppose that two men greet someone with a friendly remark on seeing him. One is a ruler, the other a citizen. In this case which greeting, do you think, is the more delightful to the hearer? Or again, both commend the same man. Which commendation, do you think, is the more welcome? Suppose that each does the honours when he offers sacrifice. Which invitation, think you, will be accepted with the more sincere thanks? [4] Suppose they are equally attentive to a sick man. Is it not obvious that the attentions of the mightiest bring most comfort to the patient? Suppose they give presents of equal value. Is it not clear in this case too that half the number of favours bestowed by the mightiest count for more than the whole of the plain citizen’s gift? [5] Nay, to my way of thinking, even the gods cause a peculiar honour and favour to dance attendance on a great ruler. For not only does rule add dignity of presence to a man, but we find more pleasure in the sight of that man when he is a ruler than when he is a mere citizen, and we take more pride in the conversation of those who rank above us than in that of our equals. [6] And favourites, mark you, who were the subject of your bitterest complaint against despotism, are not offended by old age in a ruler, and take no account of ugliness in the patron with whom they happen to be associated. For high rank in itself is a most striking embellishment to the person: it casts a shade over anything repulsive in him and shows up his best features in a high light. [7] Moreover, inasmuch as equal services rendered by you rulers are rewarded with deeper gratitude, surely, when you have the power of doing far more for others by your activities, and can lavish far more gifts on them, it is natural that you should be much more deeply loved than private citizens.”

  Hiero instantly rejoined: [8] “Indeed it is not so, Simonides; for we are forced to engage far oftener than private citizens in transactions that make men hated. [9] Thus, we must extort money in order to find the cash to pay for what we want: we must compel men to guard whatever needs protection: we must punish wrongdoers; we must check those who would fain wax insolent; and when a crisis arises that calls for the immediate despatch of forces by land and sea, we must see that there is no dilly-dallying. [10] Further, a great despot must needs have mercenaries; and no burden presses more heavily on the citizens than that, since they believe that these troops are maintained not in the interests of equality, but for the despot’s personal ends.”

  9. In answer to this Simonides said: “Well, Hiero, I do not deny that all these matters must receive attention. But I should divide a ruler’s activities into two classes, those that lead inevitably to unpopularity, and those that are greeted with thanks. [2] The duty of teaching the people what things are best, and of dispensing praise and honour to those who accomplish the same most efficiently, is a form of activity that is greeted with thanks. The duty of pronouncing censure, using coercion, inflicting pains and penalties on those who come short in any respect, is one that must of necessity give rise to a certain amount of unpopularity. [3] Therefore my sentence is that a great ruler should delegate to others the task of punishing those who require to be coerced, and should reserve to himself the privilege of awarding the prizes. The excellence of this arrangement is established by daily experience. [4] Thus, when we want to have a choral competition, the ruler offers prizes, but the task of assembling the choirs is delegated to choir-masters, and others have the task of training them and coercing those who come short in any respect. Obviously, then, in this case, the pleasant part falls to the ruler, the disagreeables fall to others. [5] Why, then, should not all other public affairs be managed on this principle? For all communities are divided into parts — `tribes,’ `wards,’ `unions,’ as the case may be — and every one of these parts is subject to its appointed ruler. [6] If, then, the analogy of the choruses were followed and prizes were offered to these parts for excellence of equipment, good discipline, horsemanship, courage in the field and fair dealing in business, the natural outcome would be competition, and consequently an earnest endeavour to improve in all these respects too. [7] And as a matter of course, with the prospect of reward there would be more despatch in starting for the appointed place, and greater promptitude in the payment of war taxes, whenever occasion required. Nay, agriculture itself, most useful of all occupations, but just the one in which the spirit of competition is conspicuous by its absence, would make great progress if prizes were offered for the farm or the village that can show the best cultivation, and many good results would follow for those citizens who threw themselves vigorously into this occupation. [8] For apart from the consequent increase in the revenues, sobriety far more commonly goes with industry; and remember, vices rarely flourish among the fully employed. [9] If commerce also brings gain to a city, the award of honours for diligence in business would attract a larger number to a commercial career. And were it made clear that the discovery of some way of raising revenue without hurting anyone will also be rewarded, this field of research too would not be unoccupied. [10] In a word, once it becomes clear in every department that any good suggestion will not go unrewarded, many will be encouraged by that knowledge to apply themselves to some promising form of investigation. And when there is a wide-spread interest in useful subjects, an increase of discovery and achievement is bound to come. [11]

  “In case you fear, Hiero, that the cost of offering prizes for many subjects may prove heavy, you should reflect that no commodities are cheaper than those that are bought for a prize. Think of the large sums that men are induced to spend on horse-races, gymnastic and choral competitions, and the long course of training and practice they undergo for the sake of a paltry prize.”

  10. “Well, Simonides,” said Hiero, “I think you are right in saying that. But what about the mercenaries? Can you tell me how to employ them without incurring unpopularity? Or do you say that a ruler, once he becomes popular, will have no further need of a bodyguard?” [2]

  “No, no, he will need them, of course,” said Simonides. “For I know that some human beings are like horses — the more they get what they want, the more unruly they are apt to become. [3] The way to manage men like that is to put the fear of the bodyguard into them. And as for the gentlemen, you can probably confer greater benefits on them by employing mercenaries than by any other means. [4] For I presume that you maintain the force primarily to protect yourself. But masters have often been murdered by their slaves. If therefore the first duty enjoined on the mercenaries were to act as the bodyguard of the whole community and render help to all, in case they got wind of any such intention — there are black sheep in every fold, as we all know — I say, if they were under orders to guard the citizens as well as the depot, the citizens would know that this is one service rendered to them by the mercenaries. [5] Nor is this all: for naturally the mercenaries would also be able to give fearlessness and security in the fullest measure to the labourers and cattle in the country, and the benefit would not be confined to your own estates, but would be felt up and down the countryside. [6] Again, they are competent to afford the citizens leisure for attending to their private affairs by guarding the vital positions. Besides, should an enemy plan a secret and sudden attack, what handier agents can be found for detecting or preventing their design than a standing force, armed and organized? Or once more, when the citizens go campaigning, what is more useful to them than mercenaries? For these are, as a matter of course, the readiest to bear the brunt of toil and danger and watching. [7] And must not those who possess a standing force impose on border states a strong desire for peace? For nothing equals an organized body of men, whether for protecting the property of friends or for thwarting the plans of enemies. [8] Further, when the citizens get it into their heads that these troops do no harm to the innocent and hold the would-be malefactor in check, come to the rescue of the wronged, care for the citizens and shield them from danger, surely t
hey are bound to pay the cost of them with a right good-will. At all events they keep guards in their homes for less important objects than these.

  11. “Nor should you hesitate to draw on your private property, Hiero, for the common good. For in my opinion the sums that a great despot spends on the city are more truly necessary expenses than the money he spends on himself. [2] But let us go into details. First, which do you suppose is likely to bring you more credit, to own a palace adorned with priceless objects of art, or to have the whole city garnished with walls and temples and verandahs and market-places and harbours? [3] Which will make you look more terrible to the enemy, to dazzle all beholders with your own glittering panoply, or to present the whole of your people in goodly armour? [4] Which plan, think you, will yield revenues more abounding, to keep only your own capital employed, or to contrive to bring the capital of all the citizens into employment? [5] And what about the breeding of chariot horses, commonly considered the noblest and grandest business in the world? By which method do you think you will gain most credit for that, if you out-do all other Greeks in the number of teams you breed and send to the festivals, or if the greatest number of breeders and the greatest number of competitors are drawn from your city? And how is the nobler victory gained, by the excellence of your team, or by the prosperity of the city of which you are the head? [6] Indeed my own opinion is that it is not even seemly for a great despot to compete with private citizens. For your victory would excite envy rather than admiration, on the ground that many estates supply the money that you spend, and no defeat would be greeted with so much ridicule as yours. [7] I tell you, Hiero, you have to compete with other heads of states, and if you cause your state to surpass theirs in prosperity, be well assured that you are the victor in the noblest and grandest competition in the world. [8] And in the first place you will forthwith have secured just what you really want, the affection of your subjects. Secondly, your victory will not be proclaimed by one herald’s voice, but all the world will tell of your virtue. [9] The observed of all observers’ eyes, you will be a hero, not only to private citizens, but to many states: you will be admired not only in your home, but in public among all men. [10] And you will be free to go wherever you choose, so far as safety is concerned, to see the sights, and equally free to enjoy them in your home; for you will have a throng of aspirants before you, some eager to display something wise or beautiful or good, others longing to serve you. [11] Everyone present will be an ally, everyone absent will long to see you.