Plato and the Other Companions of Sokrates, 3rd ed. Volume 1

Simonides in reply, after sympathising with Hieron’s despondency, undertakes to console him by showing that such consequences do not necessarily attend despotic rule. The despot’s power is an instrument available for good as well as for evil. By a proper employment of it, he may not only avoid being hated, but may even make himself beloved, beyond the measure attainable by any private citizen. Even kind words, and petty courtesies, are welcomed far more eagerly when they come from a powerful man than from an equal: moreover a showy and brilliant exterior seldom fails to fascinate the spectator.43 But besides this, the despot may render to his city the most substantial and important services. He may punish criminals and reward meritorious men: the punishments he ought to inflict by the hands of others, while he will administer the rewards in person — giving prizes for superior excellence in every department, and thus endearing himself to all.44 Such prizes would provoke a salutary competition in the performance of military duties, in choric exhibitions, in husbandry, commerce, and public usefulness of every kind.

Even the foreign mercenaries, though usually odious, might be so handled and disciplined as to afford defence against foreign danger, — to ensure for the citizens undisturbed leisure in their own private affairs — to protect and befriend the honest man, and to use force only against criminals.45 If thus employed, such mercenaries, instead of being hated, would be welcome companions: and the despot himself may count, not only upon security against attack, but upon the warmest gratitude and attachment. The citizens will readily furnish contributions to him when asked, and will regard him as their greatest benefactor. “You will obtain in this way” (Simonides thus concludes his address to Hieron), “the finest and most enviable of all acquisitions. You will have your subjects obeying you willingly, and caring for you of their own accord. You may travel safely wherever you please, and will be a welcome visitor at all the crowded festivals. You will be happy, without jealousy from any one.”46

The dialogue of which I have given this short abstract, illustrates what Xenophon calls the torment of Tantalus — the misery of a despot who has to extort obedience from unwilling subjects:—especially if the despot be one who has once known the comfort and security of private life, under tolerably favourable circumstances. If we compare this dialogue with the Platonic Gorgias, where we have seen a thesis very analogous handled in respect to Archelaus, — we shall find Plato soaring into a sublime ethical region of his own, measuring the despot’s happiness and misery by a standard peculiar to himself, and making good what he admits to be a paradox by abundant eloquence covering faulty dialectic: while Xenophon, herein following his master, applies to human life the measure of a rational common sense, talks about pleasures and pains which every one can feel to be such, and points out how many of these pleasures the despot forfeits, how many of these pains and privations he undergoes, — in spite of that great power of doing hurt, and less power, though still considerable, of doing good, which raises the envy of spectators. The Hieron gives utterance to an interesting vein of sentiment, more common at Athens than elsewhere in Greece; enforced by the conversation of Sokrates, and serving as corrective protest against that unqualified worship of power which prevailed in the ancient world no less than in the modern.

That the Syrakusan Hieron should be selected as an exemplifying name, may be explained by the circumstance, that during thirty-eight years of Xenophon’s mature life (405-367 B.C.), Dionysius the elder was despot of Syrakuse; a man of energy and ability, who had extinguished the liberties of his native city, and acquired power and dominion greater than that of any living Greek. Xenophon, resident at Skillus, within a short distance from Olympia, had probably47 seen the splendid Thêory (or sacred legation of representative envoys) installed in rich and ornamented tents, and the fine running horses sent by Dionysius, at the ninety-ninth Olympic festival (384 B.C.): but he probably also heard the execration with which the name of Dionysius himself had been received by the spectators, and he would feel that the despot could hardly shew himself there in person. There were narratives in circulation about the interior life of Dionysius,48 analogous to those statements which Xenophon puts into the mouth of Hieron. A predecessor of Dionysius as despot of Syracuse49 and also as patron of poets, was therefore a suitable person to choose for illustrating the first part of Xenophon’s thesis — the countervailing pains and penalties which spoilt all the value of power, if exercised over unwilling and repugnant subjects.50

But when Xenophon came to illustrate the second part of his thesis — the possibility of exercising power in such manner as to render the holder of it popular and beloved — it would have been scarcely possible for him to lay the scene in any Grecian city. The repugnance of the citizens of a Grecian city towards a despot who usurped power over them, was incurable — however much the more ambitious individuals among them might have wished to obtain such power for themselves: a repugnance as great among oligarchs as among democrats — perhaps even greater. When we read the recommendations addressed by Simonides, teaching Hieron how he might render himself popular, we perceive at once that they are alike well intentioned and ineffectual. Xenophon could neither find any real Grecian despot corresponding to this portion of his illustrative purpose — nor could he invent one with any shew of plausibility. He was forced to resort to other countries and other habits different from those of Greece.

To this necessity probably we owe the Cyropædia: a romance in which Persian and Grecian experience are singularly blended, and both of them so transformed as to suit the philosophical purpose of the narrator. Xenophon had personally served and communicated with Cyrus the younger: respecting whom also he had large means of information, from his intimate friend Proxenus, as well as from the other Grecian generals of the expedition. In the first book of the Anabasis, we find this young prince depicted as an energetic and magnanimous character, faithful to his word and generous in his friendships — inspiring strong attachment in those around him, yet vigorous in administration and in punishing criminals — not only courting the Greeks as useful for his ambitious projects, but appreciating sincerely the superiority of Hellenic character and freedom over Oriental servitude.51 And in the Œkonomikus, Cyrus is quoted as illustrating in his character the true virtue of a commander; the test of which Xenophon declares to be — That his subordinates follow him willingly, and stand by him to the death.52

It is this character Hellenised, Sokratised, idealised — that Xenophon paints into his glowing picture of Cyrus the founder of the Persian monarchy, or the Cyropædia. He thus escapes the insuperable difficulty arising from the position of a Grecian despot; who never could acquire willing or loving obedience, because his possession of power was felt by a majority of his subjects to be wrongful, violent, tainted. The Cyrus of the Cyropædia begins as son of Kambyses, king or chief of Persia, and grandson of Astyages, king of Media; recognised according to established custom by all, as the person to whom they look for orders. Xenophon furnishes him with a splendid outfit of heroic qualities, suitable to this ascendant position: and represents the foundation of the vast Persian empire, with the unshaken fidelity of all the heterogeneous people composing it, as the reward of a laborious life spent in the active display of such qualities. In his interesting Preface to the Cyropædia, he presents this as the solution of a problem which had greatly perplexed him. He had witnessed many revolutions in the Grecian cities — subversions of democracies, oligarchies, and despotisms: he had seen also private establishments, some with numerous servants, some with few, yet scarcely any house-master able to obtain hearty or continued obedience. But as to herds of cattle or flocks of sheep, on the contrary, he had seen them uniformly obedient; suffering the herdsman or shepherd to do what he pleased with them, and never once conspiring against him.

The first inference of Xenophon from these facts was, that man was by nature the most difficult of all animals to govern.53 But he became satisfied that he was mistaken, when he reflected on the history of Cyrus; who had acquired and maintained dominion over more men than had ever been united under one empire, always obeying him cheerfully and affectionately. This history proved to Xenophon that it was not impossible, nor even difficult,54 to rule mankind, provided a man undertook it with scientific or artistic competence. Accordingly, he proceeded to examine what Cyrus was in birth, disposition, and education — and how he came to be so admirably accomplished in the government of men.55 The result is the Cyropædia. We must observe, however, that his solution of the problem is one which does not meet the full difficulties. These difficulties, as he states them, had been suggested to him by his Hellenic experience: by the instability of government in Grecian cities. But the solution which he provides departs from Hellenic experience, and implies what Aristotle and Hippokrates called the more yielding and servile disposition of Asiatics:56 for it postulates an hereditary chief of heroic or divine lineage, such as was nowhere acknowledged in Greece, except at Sparta — and there, only under restrictions which would have rendered the case unfit for Xenophon’s purpose.

The heroic and regal lineage of Cyrus was a condition not less essential to success than his disposition and education:57 and not merely his lineage, but also the farther fact, that besides being constant in the duties of prayer and sacrifice to the Gods, he was peculiarly favoured by them with premonitory signs and warnings in all difficult emergencies.58

The fundamental principle of Xenophon is, that to obtain hearty and unshaken obedience is not difficult for a ruler, provided he possesses the science or art of ruling. This is a principle expressly laid down by Sokrates in the Xenophontic Memorabilia.59 We have seen Plato affirming in the Politikus60 that this is the only true government, though very few individuals are competent to it: Plato gives to it a peculiar application in the Republic, and points out a philosophical or dialectic tuition whereby he supposes that his Elders will acquire the science or art of command. The Cyropædia presents to us an illustrative example. Cyrus is a young prince who, from twenty-six years of age to his dying day, is always ready with his initiative, provident in calculation of consequences, and personally active in enforcement: giving the right order at the right moment, with good assignable reasons. As a military man, he is not only personally forward, but peculiarly dexterous in the marshalling and management of soldiers; like the Homeric Agamemnon61 —