Hiero the Tyrant and Other Treatises (Penguin Classics)

by Xenophon

  ‘Yes, Simonides,’ he said, ‘this is exactly the most pitiful aspect of [12] tyranny. It is impossible to let go of it. How could a tyrant ever raise enough money to pay back in full the people he stole from, or serve all the prison sentences to compensate those he imprisoned? How could he recompense all the people he put to death by coming up [13] with an adequate number of deaths to die? Do you want to know what I think, Simonides? I think that the only person who might profit by hanging himself is a tyrant; I have come to the conclusion that he is more likely than anyone to gain from this course of action, because he is the only person in the world whose interest is as little served by getting rid of his misfortunes as it is by keeping them.’

  CHAPTER 8

  [1] ‘Well, Hiero,’ Simonides replied, ‘your current state of depression about tyranny doesn’t surprise me, since you think it stops you achieving your goal of being liked by people. I think I can teach you, however, that rulership does not prevent you being liked and that in fact you’re [2] better off than ordinary citizens in this respect. In considering whether or not I’m right, let’s ignore for the time being the issue of whether the greater power a ruler wields means that he can also confer a greater number of favours; what I want us to do instead is imagine an ordinary citizen and a tyrant performing the same service and then try to see which of them would win more gratitude from their identical acts.

  ‘I’ll start with the most trivial examples and go on from there. [3] Imagine, first, a ruler and an ordinary citizen catching sight of someone and greeting him in a friendly fashion. In this example, whose greeting, do you think, would be more welcome? Now let’s have both of them complimenting the man. Whose compliments would afford more pleasure, do you think? Suppose each of them honours the man with an invitation to a sacrificial feast. Whose invitation would be more [4] gratefully received, in your opinion? Imagine both of them looking after a sick man. Isn’t it obvious that the more powerful the person, the more his ministrations will delight the patient? Now let’s have them giving identical presents. Isn’t the answer obvious in this case too? The most powerful members of society could be half as generous as an ordinary person, and their gifts would still count for more.

  [5] ‘In fact I’d go so far as to say that the gods cause a kind of aura of dignity and grace to surround a ruler. Not only does authority make a man more prepossessing, but despite the fact that it’s still the same person, we also get more pleasure from seeing him when he is in a position of authority than we did when he was an ordinary citizen, and it’s more of a thrill to talk to eminent members of society than it is to talk to our social equals.

  ‘Now, you were particularly bitter about the tyrant’s situation with [6] regard to affairs with boys, but they’re not put off in the slightest by old age in a ruler, nor do they take any account of ugliness in the person they’ve taken up with, because by itself high standing in society vitally enhances a person’s appearance, so that blemishes disappear and attractive features shine out even more clearly.

  ‘So identical acts of kindness are appreciated more when performed [7] by tyrants than they are when performed by ordinary citizens. Under these circumstances, since you’re actually capable of doing far greater favours and of giving far more generous gifts than ordinary citizens can, doesn’t it follow that you’re bound to be liked much more than ordinary people as well?’

  Hiero wasted no time in replying. ‘No, of course it doesn’t, [8] Simonides,’ he said, ‘because we’re also forced to put into effect, far more commonly than ordinary citizens are, the kinds of measures which make people unpopular. We have to exact money to cover [9] essential costs, compel people to protect all the things that need protection, punish criminals, curb potential violence; and when the time for rapid action comes and a land or naval expedition is called for, we have to see that the people in charge take their responsibilities seriously. Moreover, a tyrant needs mercenary troops, and this financial [10] burden is particularly resented by his subjects because they think that the point of keeping these troops is self-interest rather than the promotion of social equality.’1

  CHAPTER 9

  ‘Well, Hiero,’ Simonides replied, ‘I’m not going to deny that you [1] have to concern yourself with all these matters, but I do think that although some of your concerns certainly lead to unpopularity, others are richly appreciated. For instance, instructing people in excellence – that is, showing how much you admire and value the best and most excellent achievements – is a concern which is appreciated. However, the task of censuring, disciplining and imposing penalties and punishments on underachievers is bound to incur unpopularity. In my opinion, then, a ruler should delegate to others the task of punishing anyone who needs disciplinary action, but should retain for himself the job of awarding prizes. The soundness of this idea is confirmed by experience. For instance, when we want to hold a choral competition, it is the ruler1 who puts up the prizes, while the job of assembling the choirs is given to impresarios, and it is left to others to train them and to discipline those who fail to come up to scratch in some way. The immediate result in this case is that the agreeable aspect of the competition is due to the ruler, while the disagreeable aspects are left to others.

  ‘Why shouldn’t all other public business be carried out on the same principle? Every state is divided into tribes or regiments or companies, with officers put in charge of each division.2 If one were to treat these divisions like choirs and offer them prizes for excellence of equipment, drill, horsemanship, courage in battle and honesty in negotiations, it seems reasonable to assume that enough rivalry would develop for all these qualities to be assiduously cultivated. There can be no doubt that, motivated by the passionate desire to win an award, troops would set out for their destination with greater alacrity, and that in a time of taxation people would pay up more promptly.

  ‘Another beneficiary would be agriculture, a pursuit of the greatest utility, but which, as things stand, is singularly lacking in the spirit of rivalry. But agriculture would improve immensely if one were to offer prizes for the estate or village which farmed the land most admirably, and there would also be a great many beneficial consequences for those of your subjects who channelled their energies into farming.3 For example, their incomes would go up, self-discipline and industry generally go together, and when people have work to do they rarely turn to crime.

  ‘Again, if trade is an activity which does a community some good, offering a reward for the person who brings in the most business would also serve to encourage more people to become traders. And if it were known that anyone who discovers a way to make money which doesn’t involve any inconvenience will be honoured by his state, then this is another area where research would flourish. In short, [10] if it were clear that good innovations in any area of life will not go unrewarded, this too would encourage large numbers of people to make it their business to try to discover something useful. And when benefit is occupying the minds of large numbers of people, more ways will inevitably be found to promote it and bring it about.4

  ‘In case you’re anxiously thinking that offering prizes for such a lot [11] of occupations will be very expensive, Hiero, you should bear in mind that there are no more cost-effective commodities than those which are paid for with prizes. Just look at the vast amounts of money, effort and attention people are willing to spend preparing for horse-races, athletic contests and choral competitions.’5

  CHAPTER 10

  ‘I suppose you may well be right on this, Simonides,’ Hiero said, ‘but [1] can you tell me how I can employ my mercenaries without being hated for it? Or do you think that once a ruler has become popular he has no further need of bodyguards?’

  ‘No, of course he’ll continue to need them,’ Simonides answered. [2] ‘I am well aware that human beings are no different from horses in the sense that some of them become more ungovernable the more their needs are satisfied.1 Fear of bodyguards is quite an effective way [3] to control that kind of person. At the
same time I don’t think you’d find anything that would be more helpful to the gentry than your guards. I’m sure you keep them as your own personal guards, but a [4] great many masters have in the past been murdered by their slaves, so the mercenaries should be instructed, right from the start, to act as the personal guards of every single citizen of the state and to go to their assistance if they find anything like that happening. I mean, we all know that states do have a criminal element, so if your guards had orders to protect the citizens too, their help would constitute another service your subjects would appreciate.

  [5] ‘Moreover, your mercenaries could probably be more successful than anyone at calming the fears of country folk as they go about their business and at providing security for them and their flocks, not only on your own estates, but all over the countryside. By guarding the crucial positions they can give your subjects time to look after their own affairs.

  [6] ‘Then again, who would be better placed to gain advance intelligence of secret and unexpected enemy incursions, and to forestall them, than a standing force of armed and organized troops? And in times of war, what could be more useful to your subjects than a mercenary force which will probably be perfectly ready to relieve them of most of the hard work, danger and need for vigilance? [7] And wouldn’t the presence of a standing force inevitably make any neighbouring states clearly see the desirability of peace, since nothing is better than an organized body of troops at keeping one’s own side safe and at upsetting the enemy’s plans?

  [8] ‘Once your subjects realize that your mercenaries are no threat to anyone unless he is a criminal, that they deter potential criminals and help the victims of crime, watch out for the citizen body and face danger in its defence, surely they’re bound to be absolutely delighted to bear the costs of maintaining such a force, aren’t they? At any rate, the guards they keep on their own property are used for more trivial tasks than these.’2

  CHAPTER 11

  [1] ‘Another point to note, Hiero, is that you shouldn’t hesitate to draw on your own personal funds to pay for projects that enhance the common good. It seems to me that money spent by a tyrant on public projects comes closer to being essential expenditure than money he spends on himself. But let’s consider all the relevant points one by one.

  [2] ‘In the first place, then, which do you think brings you more credit,* a residence gorgeously furnished at extraordinary expense, or the whole city equipped with defensive walls, temples, colonnades, squares and harbours? Are you more likely to strike fear into the [3] enemy if you personally are decked out with astounding arms and armour, or if the whole city is properly armed? Do you think more [4] income would be generated if you were to keep only your own estates farmed or if you were to ensure that all the estates owned by your subjects were farmed? As for the occupation which is generally [5] regarded as the noblest and grandest there is – that is, the breeding of horses for chariot-racing – which approach do you think will bring you the most credit, if you personally were to breed more teams than anyone else in Greece and enter them at the great festivals, or if your community were to produce more breeders and provide more contestants than any other state in Greece? And would you prefer any victory you won to be due to the excellence of your team or to the flourishing of the community over which you preside?1

  ‘In my opinion, you see, it’s actually misguided for a tyrant to [6] compete against ordinary people. Rather than admiration, a victory would stir up malicious talk about all the estates which contributed towards his expenses, while a defeat would make him completely ridiculous. No, I tell you, Hiero, your competition is against other [7] heads of state, and if you make the state you rule flourish more than any others, then you will be* the victor in the noblest and grandest contest in the world.

  ‘The first and immediate result will be the attainment of your goal: [8] you will be liked by your subjects. Secondly, your victory will not be proclaimed just by a single crier: the whole world will resound with praise of your excellence. State after state, not just ordinary [9] citizens, will look up to you with warmth and admiration, and throughout the world you will receive public tributes,2 rather than mere private acclaim.

  ‘Moreover, on the issue of safety, you’ll be able to travel wherever [10] you like to see the sights, or to stay where you are and do so. A constant procession of people will pass before your eyes, all with something clever or beautiful or good to show you, all desiring to serve you. Everyone around you will wish you well, and everyone [11] away from you will long to see you.

  ‘What people will feel for you, then, is passionate love rather than mere liking. You won’t have to make advances to good-looking men, but to bear with their advances.3 You won’t be afraid, but you will [12] make others afraid, for your well-being. Your subjects’ state will be one of voluntary acquiescence, and their willing consideration for you will be obvious. In times of danger you’ll find them not just fighting by your side, but shielding you – even eagerly shielding you – with their bodies. They will want to shower you with gifts, and you’ll never be at a loss for a person of goodwill with whom to share them. You’ll find them rejoicing with you at your successes and [13] fighting for your interests as though they were their own. You’ll be able to treat your friends’ entire assets as your funds.

  ‘So you can enrich your friends, Hiero, without worrying, because you’ll be enriching yourself; you can enhance the power of your community, because you’ll be conferring power on yourself; you can win allies for the state, <because you’ll be gaining them for yourself.>*

  [14] The whole country you can consider your estate, the citizens your comrades; you can regard your friends as your own children, and your sons as indistinguishable from your life.4 Try to outdo all these people [15] in benevolence, because if you beat your friends in benevolence, your enemies will never be able to stand up to you. If you do all this, there is no doubt that you will be endowed with the most wonderful and blessed possession in the world – you will be prosperous and happy and yet not be envied for it.’

  AGESILAUS

  INTRODUCTION

  Agesilaus II, king (or strictly joint king) of Sparta, was one of the most interesting and important figures of his day (c. 445–360), a highly suitable case for biographical treatment. For the Greeks of the fourth century, biography was a novel art-form, being pioneered jointly by Xenophon and by Plato’s great rival as pedagogue, the Athenian rhetoric teacher Isocrates (436–338), who wrote encomiastic biography of two rulers, really tyrants, of Greek Cyprus, Euagoras (awarded Athenian citizenship) and his son Nicocles of Salamis. But Xenophon was not interested in life-writing simply for its own sake. He owed Agesilaus an encomium of some sort, for great personal services rendered (see main Introduction), and he felt duty-bound to defend his deceased patron’s good name against the large numbers of articulate enemies that the king’s uncompromising policies had generated. He wished, above all, to treat Agesilaus as a paradigm case, an exemplum of a moral-political thesis about leadership and the other components of what he calls compendiously ‘manly virtue’ (andragathia, 10.2).

  The main point of Agesilaus is thus to exhibit the talents that had enabled Agesilaus to be both a perfectly good man, morally speaking, and – therefore – a great leader and ruler. Since Xenophon also ‘covered’ the career of Agesilaus in some considerable detail in his general history of Greece, sometimes in almost the same words, it is possible for us – as for his original readers – to compare and contrast the content, arrangement and emphases of the two works. Hardly surprisingly, the Agesilaus version emerges as consistently the more positive – the work is, after all, explicitly an encomium, not an objective description and explanation of a man’s career (in so far as that would have been within the scope of Xenophon’s intellectual capacity or philosophical ambitions). One example will speak for many.

  Referring to Agesilaus’ campaign against the Peloponnesian city of Phleious, a recalcitrant ally of Sparta, Xenophon writes here that
, although it ‘may perhaps be criticized on other grounds’, there can be no doubting that it was ‘prompted by loyalty to his comrades’ (2.21), which was a virtuous and entirely admirable motivation. What those ‘other grounds’ actually were, so delicately alluded to here, are made explicit in A History of My Times. Phleious put up an extremely resolute and politically astute resistance to Agesilaus – it took him almost two years to complete the siege successfully, and the Phleiasian democratic leadership rightly thought it worth appealing against Agesilaus to his co-king. For, quite exceptionally, Agesilaus’s action engendered significant and vocal opposition even among his own habitually loyal people: ‘There were a number of Spartans who complained that for the sake of a few individuals they were making themselves hated by a city of more than 5,000 men’ (5.3.16; cf. Cartledge, Agesilaos, p. 265). Scholars today differ strongly over the political wisdom of Agesilaus’ hardline, pro-oligarchic policy towards Sparta’s disaffected Peloponnesian League allies, but supposing we had only the Agesilaus version, we could not even begin to argue the issue rationally.

  That political calculus, however, is beside Xenophon’s point in the biography. Once the outline sketch of Agesilaus’ deeds has been got out of the way at breakneck speed in his first two chapters, Xenophon can lovingly enumerate and illustrate his hero’s principal virtues, above all – and in this significant order – piety, justice, self-control, courage and wisdom. At the end of the Memoirs of Socrates, in respect of Socrates, and again towards the end of the Cyropaedia (8.1.23–33), we find the same first three of these virtues singled out, and in the same order. But eusebeia or duly reverential attitude and practice in relation to what Xenophon calls variously ho theos (‘the god’), hoi theoi (‘the gods’), to theion/ta theia (‘the divine matter(s)’) or to daimonion (‘the supernatural’) – that for him was always the cardinal virtue, the primary point of reference on his moral map.