Complete Works of Xenophon (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics) (169 page)

5.
“Despots are oppressed by yet another trouble, Simonides, which I will tell you of. They recognize a stout-hearted, a wise or an upright man as easily as private citizens do. But instead of admiring such men, they fear them, — the brave lest they strike a bold stroke for freedom, the wise lest they hatch a plot, the upright lest the people desire them for leaders.
[2]
When they get rid of such men through fear, who are left for their use, save only the unrighteous, the vicious and the servile, — the unrighteous being trusted because, like the despots, they fear that the cities may some day shake off the yoke and prove their masters, the vicious on account of the licence they enjoy as things are, the servile because even they themselves have no desire for freedom? This too, then, is a heavy trouble, in my opinion, to see the good in some men, and yet perforce to employ others.
[3]

“Furthermore, even a despot must needs love his city, for without the city he can enjoy neither safety nor happiness. But despotism forces him to find fault even with his fatherland. For he has no pleasure in seeing that the citizens are stout-hearted and well armed; rather he delights to make the foreigners more formidable than the citizens, and these he employs as a body-guard.
[4]
Again, even when favourable seasons yield abundance of good things, the despot is a stranger to the general joy; for the needier the people, the humbler he thinks to find them.

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]