The sentence just transcribed (the last sentence in the Œkonomikus) brings to our notice a central focus in Xenophon’s mind, from whence many of his most valuable speculations emanate. “What are the conditions under which subordinates will cheerfully obey their commanders?” — was a problem forced upon his thoughts by his own personal experience, as well as by contemporary phenomena in Hellas. He had been elected one of the generals of the Ten Thousand: a large body of brave warriors from different cities, most of them unknown to him personally, and inviting his authority only because they were in extreme peril, and because no one else took the initiative.[30] He discharged his duties admirably: and his ready eloquence was an invaluable accomplishment, distinguishing him from all his colleagues. Nevertheless when the army arrived at the Euxine, out of the reach of urgent peril, he was made to feel sensibly the vexations of authority resting upon such precarious basis, and perpetually traversed by jealous rivals. Moreover, Xenophon, besides his own personal experience, had witnessed violent political changes running extensively through the cities of the Grecian world: first, at the close of the Peloponnesian war — next, after the battle of Knidus — again, under Lacedæmonian supremacy, after the peace of Antalkidas, and the subsequent seizure of the citadel of Thebes — lastly, after the Thebans had regained their freedom and humbled the Lacedæmonians by the battle of Leuktra. To Xenophon — partly actor, partly spectator — these political revolutions were matters of anxious interest; especially as he ardently sympathised with Agesilaus, a political partisan interested in most of them, either as conservative or revolutionary.
[30] The reader will find in my ‘History of Greece,’ ch. 70, p. 103 seq., a narrative of the circumstances under which Xenophon was first chosen to command, as well as his conduct afterwards.
This text affords subjects for the Hieron and Cyropædia — Name of Sokrates not suitable.
We thus see, from the personal history of Xenophon, how his attention came to be peculiarly turned to the difficulty of ensuring steady obedience from subordinates, and to the conditions by which such difficulty might be overcome. The sentence, above transcribed from the Œkonomikus, embodies two texts upon which he has discoursed in two of his most interesting compositions — Cyropædia and Hieron. In Cyropædia he explains and exemplifies the divine gift of ruling over cheerful subordinates: in Hieron, the torment of governing the disaffected and refractory. For neither of these purposes would the name and person of Sokrates have been suitable, exclusively connected as they were with Athens. Accordingly Xenophon, having carried that respected name through the Œkonomikus and Symposion, now dismisses it, yet retaining still the familiar and colloquial manner which belonged to Sokrates. The Epilogue, or concluding chapter, of the Cyropædia, must unquestionably have been composed after 364 B.C. — in the last ten years of Xenophon’s life: the main body of it may perhaps have been composed earlier.
Hieron — Persons of the dialogue — Simonides and Hieron.
The Hieron gives no indication of date: but as a picture purely Hellenic, it deserves precedence over the Cyropædia, and conveys to my mind the impression of having been written earlier. It describes a supposed conversation (probably suggested by current traditional conversations, like that between Solon and Krœsus) between the poet Simonides and Hieron the despot of Syracuse; who, shortly after the Persian invasion of Greece by Xerxes, had succeeded his brother Gelon the former despot.[31] Both of them had been once private citizens, of no remarkable consequence: but Gelon, an energetic and ambitious military man, having raised himself to power in the service of Hippokrates despot of Gela, had seized the sceptre on the death of his master: after which he conquered Syracuse, and acquired a formidable dominion, enjoyed after his death by his brother Hieron. This last was a great patron of eminent poets — Pindar, Simonides, Æschylus, Bacchylides: but he laboured under a painful internal complaint, and appears to have been of an irritable and oppressive temper.[32]
[31] Plato, Epistol. ii. p. 311 A. Aristot. Rhetor. ii. 16, 1391, a. 9; Cicero, Nat. Deo. i. 22, 60. How high was the opinion entertained about Simonides as a poet, may be seen illustrated in a passage of Aristophanes, Vespæ, 1362.
[32] See the first and second Pythian Odes of Pindar, addressed to Hieron, especially Pyth. i. 55-61-90, with the Scholia and Boeckh’s Commentary. Pindar compliments Hieron upon having founded his new city of Ætna — θεοδμάτῳ σὺν ἐλευθεριᾳ. This does not coincide with the view of Hieron’s character taken by Xenophon; but Pindar agrees with Xenophon in exhorting Hieron to make himself popular by a liberal expenditure.
Questions put to Hieron; view taken by Simonides. Answer of Hieron.
Simonides asks of Hieron, who had personally tried both the life of a private citizen and that of a despot, which of the two he considered preferable, in regard to pleasures and pains. Upon this subject, a conversation of some length ensues, in which Hieron declares that the life of a despot has much more pain, and much less pleasure, than that of a private citizen under middling circumstances:[33] while Simonides takes the contrary side, and insists in detail upon the superior means of enjoyment, apparent at least, possessed by the despot. As each of these means is successively brought forward, Hieron shews that however the matter may appear to the spectator, the despot feels no greater real happiness in his own bosom: while he suffers many pains and privations, of which the spectator takes no account. As to the pleasures of sight, the despot forfeits altogether the first and greatest, because it is unsafe for him to visit the public festivals and matches. In regard to hearing — many praises, and no reproach, reach his ears: but then he knows that the praises are insincere — and that reproach is unheard, only because speakers dare not express what they really feel. The despot has finer cookery and richer unguents; but others enjoy a modest banquet as much or more — while the scent of the unguents pleases those who are near him more than himself.[34] Then as to the pleasures of love, these do not exist, except where the beloved person manifests spontaneous sympathy and return of attachment. Now the despot can never extort such return by his power; while even if it be granted freely, he cannot trust its sincerity and is compelled even to be more on his guard, since successful conspiracies against his life generally proceed from those who profess attachment to him.[35] The private citizen on the contrary knows that those who profess to love him, may be trusted, as having no motive for falsehood.