HIERO

By Xenophon

Translation by H. G. Dakyns

Contents

PREPARER'S NOTE

This was typed from Dakyns' series, "The Works of Xenophon," a four-volume set. The complete list of Xenophon's works (though there is doubt about some of these) is:

Text in brackets "{}" is my transliteration of Greek text into English using an Oxford English Dictionary alphabet table. The diacritical marks have been lost.

HIERO

The Hiero is an imaginary dialogue, c. 474 B.C., between Simonides of Ceos, the poet; and Hieron, of Syracuse and Gela, the despot.

HIERO, or "THE TYRANT"

A Discourse on Despotic Rule

I

Once upon a time Simonides the poet paid a visit to Hiero the "tyrant," (1) and when both obtained the leisure requisite, Simonides began this conversation:

Would you be pleased to give me information, Hiero, upon certain matters, as to which it is likely you have greater knowledge than myself? (2)

And pray, what sort of things may those be (answered Hiero), of which I can have greater knowledge than yourself, who are so wise a man?

I know (replied the poet) that you were once a private person, (3) and are now a monarch. It is but likely, therefore, that having tested both conditions, (4) you should know better than myself, wherein the life of the despotic ruler differs from the life of any ordinary person, looking to the sum of joys and sorrows to which flesh is heir.

Would it not be simpler (Hiero replied) if you, on your side, (5) who are still to-day a private person, would refresh my memory by recalling the various circumstances of an ordinary mortal's life? With these before me, (6) I should be better able to describe the points of difference which exist between the one life and the other.

Thus it was that Simonides spoke first: Well then, as to private persons, for my part I observe, (7) or seem to have observed, that we are liable to various pains and pleasures, in the shape of sights, sounds, odours, meats, and drinks, which are conveyed through certain avenues of sense—to wit, the eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth. And there are other pleasures, those named of Aphrodite, of which the channels are well known. While as to degree of heat and cold, things hard and soft, things light and heavy, the sense appealed to here, I venture to believe, is that of the whole body; (8) whereby we discern these opposites, and derive from them now pain, now pleasure. But with regard to things named good and evil, (9) it appears to me that sometimes the mind (or soul) itself is the sole instrument by which we register our pains and pleasures; whilst at other times such pains and pleasures are derived conjointly through both soul and body. (10) There are some pleasures, further, if I may trust my own sensations, which are conveyed in sleep, though how and by what means and when precisely, are matters as to which I am still more conscious of my ignorance. Nor is it to be wondered at perhaps, if the perceptions of waking life in some way strike more clearly on our senses than do those of sleep. (11)

To this statement Hiero made answer: And I, for my part, O Simonides, would find it hard to state, outside the list of things which you have named yourself, in what respect the despot can have other channels of perception. (12) So that up to this point I do not see that the despotic life differs in any way at all from that of common people.

Then Simonides: Only in this respect it surely differs, in that the pleasures which the "tyrant" enjoys through all these several avenues of sense are many times more numerous, and the pains he suffers are far fewer.

To which Hiero: Nay, that is not so, Simonides, take my word for it; the fact is rather that the pleasures of the despot are far fewer than those of people in a humbler condition, and his pains not only far more numerous, but more intense.

That sounds incredible (exclaimed Simonides); if it were really so, how do you explain the passionate desire commonly displayed to wield the tyrant's sceptre, and that too on the part of persons reputed to be the ablest of men? Why should all men envy the despotic monarch?

For the all-sufficient reason (he replied) that they form conclusions on the matter without experience of the two conditions. And I will try to prove to you the truth of what I say, beginning with the faculty of vision, which, unless my memory betrays me, was your starting-point.

Well then, when I come to reason (13) on the matter, first of all I find that, as regards the class of objects of which these orbs of vision are the channel, (14) the despot has the disadvantage. Every region of the world, each country on this fair earth, presents objects worthy of contemplation, in quest of which the ordinary citizen will visit, as the humour takes him, now some city (for the sake of spectacles), (15) or again, the great national assemblies, (16) where sights most fitted to entrance the gaze of multitudes would seem to be collected. (17) But the despot has neither part nor lot in these high festivals, (18) seeing it is not safe for him to go where he will find himself at the mercy of the assembled crowds; (19) nor are his home affairs in such security that he can leave them to the guardianship of others, whilst he visits foreign parts. A twofold apprehension haunts him: (20) he will be robbed of his throne, and at the same time be powerless to take vengeance on his wrongdoer. (21)

Perhaps you will retort: "Why should he trouble to go abroad to seek for such things? They are sure to come to him, although he stops at home." Yes, Simonides, that is so far true; a small percentage of them no doubt will, and this scant moiety will be sold at so high a price to the despotic monarch, that the exhibitor of the merest trifle looks to receive from the imperial pocket, within the briefest interval, ten times more than he can hope to win from all the rest of mankind in a lifetime; and then he will be off. (22)

To which Simonides: Well, granted you have the worst of it in sights and sightseeing; yet, you must admit you are large gainers through the sense of hearing; you who are never stinted of that sweetest of all sounds, (23) the voice of praise, since all around you are for ever praising everything you do and everything you say. Whilst, conversely, to that most harsh and grating of all sounds, the language of abuse, your ears are sealed, since no one cares to speak evil against a monarch to his face.

Then Hiero: And what pleasure do you suppose mere abstinence from evil words implies, when it is an open secret that those silent persons are cherishing all evil thoughts against the tyrant? (24) What mirth, do you imagine, is to be extracted from their panegyrics who are suspected of bestowing praise out of mere flattery?

Simonides made answer: Yes, I must indeed admit, I do concede to you, that praise alone is sweetest which is breathed from lips of free men absolutely free. But, look you, here is a point: you will find it hard to persuade another, that you despots, within the limits of those things whereby we one and all sustain our bodies, in respect, that is, of meats and drinks, have not a far wider range of pleasures.

Yes, Simonides (he answered), and what is more, I know the explanation of the common verdict. The majority have come to the conclusion that we monarchs eat and drink with greater pleasure than do ordinary people, because they have got the notion, they themselves would make a better dinner off the viands served at our tables than their own. And doubtless some break in the monotony gives a fillip of pleasure. And that explains why folk in general look forward with pleasure to high days and holy days—mankind at large, but not the despot; his well-stocked table groaning from day to day under its weight of viands admits of no state occasions. So that, as far as this particular pleasure, to begin with, goes, the pleasure of anticipation, the monarch is at disadvantage compared with private people.

And in the next place (he continued), I am sure your own experience will bear me out so far: the more viands set before a man at table (beyond what are sufficient), (25) the more quickly will satiety of eating overtake him. So that in actual duration of the pleasure, he with his many dishes has less to boast of than the moderate liver.

Yes, but good gracious! surely (broke in Simonides), during the actual time, (26) before the appetite is cloyed, the gastronomic pleasure derived from the costlier bill of fare far exceeds that of the cheaper dinner-table.

But, as a matter of plain logic (Hiero retorted), should you not say, the greater the pleasure a man feels in any business, the more enthusiastic his devotion to it?

That is quite true (he answered).

Hiero. Then have you ever noticed that crowned heads display more pleasure in attacking the bill of fare provided them, than private persons theirs?

No, rather the reverse (the poet answered); if anything, they show a less degree of gusto, (27) unless they are vastly libelled.

Well (Hiero continued), and all these wonderfully-made dishes which are set before the tyrant, or nine-tenths of them, perhaps you have observed, are combinations of things acid to the taste, or pungent, or astringent, or akin to these? (28)

To be sure they are (he answered), unnatural viands, one and all, in my opinion, most alien to ordinary palates. (29)

Hiero. In fact, these condiments can only be regarded as the cravings (30) of a stomach weakened by luxurious living; since I am quite sure that keen appetites (and you, I fancy, know it well too) have not the slightest need for all these delicate made things.

It is true, at any rate (observed Simonides), about those costly perfumes, with which your persons are anointed, that your neighbours rather than yourselves extract enjoyment from them; just as the unpleasant odour of some meats is not so obvious to the eater as to those who come in contact with him.

Hiero. Good, and on this principle we say of meats, that he who is provided with all sorts on all occasions brings no appetite to any of them. He rather to whom these things are rarities, that is the man who, when some unfamiliar thing is put before him, will take his fill of it with pleasure. (31)

It looks very much (interposed Simonides) as if the sole pleasure left you to explain the vulgar ambition to wear a crown, must be that named after Aphrodite. For in this field it is your privilege to consort with whatever fairest fair your eyes may light on.

Hiero. Nay, now you have named that one thing of all others, take my word for it, in which we princes are worse off than lesser people. (32)

To name marriage first. I presume a marriage (33) which is contracted with some great family, superior in wealth and influence, bears away the palm, since it confers upon the bridegroom not pleasure only but distinction. (34) Next comes the marriage made with equals; and last, wedlock with inferiors, which is apt to be regarded as degrading and disserviceable.

Now for the application: a despotic monarch, unless he weds some foreign bride, is forced to choose a wife from those beneath him, so that the height of satisfaction is denied him. (35)

The tender service of the proudest-souled of women, wifely rendered, how superlatively charming! (36) and by contrast, how little welcome is such ministration where the wife is but a slave—when present, barely noticed; or if lacking, what fell pains and passions will it not engender!

And if we come to masculine attachments, still more than in those whose end is procreation, the tyrant finds himself defrauded of such mirthfulness, (37) poor monarch! Since all of us are well aware, I fancy, that for highest satisfaction, (38) amorous deeds need love's strong passion. (39)

But least of all is true love's passion wont to lodge in the hearts of monarchs, for love delights not to swoop on ready prey; he needs the lure of expectation. (40)

Well then, just as a man who has never tasted thirst can hardly be said to know the joy of drinking, (41) so he who has never tasted Passion is ignorant of Aphrodite's sweetest sweets.

So Hiero ended.

Simonides answered laughingly: How say you, Hiero? What is that? Love's strong passion for his soul's beloved incapable of springing up in any monarch's heart? What of your own passion for Dailochus, surnamed of men "most beautiful"?

Hiero. That is easily explained, Simonides. What I most desire of him is no ready spoil, as men might reckon it, but rather what it is least of all the privilege of a tyrant to obtain. (42) I say it truly, I—the love I bear Dailochus is of this high sort. All that the constitution of our souls and bodies possibly compels a man to ask for at the hands of beauty, that my fantasy desires of him; but what my fantasy demands, I do most earnestly desire to obtain from willing hands and under seal of true affection. To clutch it forcibly were as far from my desire as to do myself some mortal mischief.

Were he my enemy, to wrest some spoil from his unwilling hands would be an exquisite pleasure, to my thinking. But of all sweet favours the sweetest to my notion is the free-will offering of a man's beloved. For instance, how sweet the responsive glance of love for love; how sweet the questions and the answers; (43) and, most sweet of all, most love-enkindling, the battles and the strifes of faithful lovers. (44) But to enjoy (45) one's love perforce (he added) resembles more an act of robbery, in my judgment, than love's pastime. And, indeed, the robber derives some satisfaction from the spoils he wins and from the pain he causes to the man he hates. But to seek pleasure in the pain of one we love devoutly, to kiss and to be hated, to touch (46) and to be loathed—can one conceive a state of things more odious or more pitiful? For, it is a certainty, the ordinary person may accept at once each service rendered by the object of his love as a sign and token of kindliness inspired by affection, since he knows such ministry is free from all compulsion. Whilst to the tyrant, the confidence that he is loved is quite foreclosed. On the contrary, (47) we know for certain that service rendered through terror will stimulate as far as possible the ministrations of affection. And it is a fact, that plots and conspiracies against despotic rulers are oftenest hatched by those who most of all pretend to love them. (48)

II

To these arguments Simonides replied: Yes, but the topics you have named are to my thinking trifles; drops, as it were, in the wide ocean. How many men, I wonder, have I seen myself, men in the deepest sense, (1) true men, who choose to fare but ill in respect of meats and drinks and delicacies; ay, and what is more, they voluntarily abstain from sexual pleasures. No! it is in quite a different sphere, which I will name at once, that you so far transcend us private citizens. (2) It is in your vast designs, your swift achievements; it is in the overflowing wealth of your possessions; your horses, excellent for breed and mettle; the choice beauty of your arms; the exquisite finery of your wives; the gorgeous palaces in which you dwell, and these, too, furnished with the costliest works of art; add to which the throng of your retainers, courtiers, followers, not in number only but accomplishments a most princely retinue; and lastly, but not least of all, in your supreme ability at once to afflict your foes and benefit your friends.

To all which Hiero made answer: That the majority of men, Simonides, should be deluded by the glamour of a despotism in no respect astonishes me, since it is the very essence of the crowd, if I am not mistaken, to rush wildly to conjecture touching the happiness or wretchedness of people at first sight.

Now the nature of a tyrrany is such: it presents, nay flaunts, a show of costliest possessions unfolded to the general gaze, which rivets the attention; (3) but the real troubles in the souls of monarchs it keeps concealed in those hid chambers where lie stowed away the happiness and the unhappiness of mankind.

I repeat then, I little marvel that the multitude should be blinded in this matter. But that you others also, you who are held to see with the mind's eye more clearly than with the eye of sense the mass of circumstances, (4) should share its ignorance, does indeed excite my wonderment. Now, I know it all too plainly from my own experience, Simonides, and I assure you, the tyrant is one who has the smallest share of life's blessings, whilst of its greater miseries he possesses most.

For instance, if peace is held to be a mighty blessing to mankind, then of peace despotic monarchs are scant sharers. Or is war a curse? If so, of this particular pest your monarch shares the largest moiety. For, look you, the private citizen, unless his city-state should chance to be engaged in some common war, (5) is free to travel wheresoe'er he chooses without fear of being done to death, whereas the tyrant cannot stir without setting his foot on hostile territory. At any rate, nothing will persuade him but he must go through life armed, and on all occasions drag about with him armed satellites. In the next place, the private citizen, even during an expedition into hostile territory, (6) can comfort himself in the reflection that as soon as he gets back home he will be safe from further peril. Whereas the tyrant knows precisely the reverse; as soon as he arrives in his own city, he will find himself in the centre of hostility at once. Or let us suppose that an invading army, superior in force, is marching against a city: however much the weaker population, whilst they are still outside their walls, may feel the stress of danger, yet once within their trenches one and all expect to find themselves in absolute security. But the tyrant is not out of danger, even when he has passed the portals of his palace. Nay! there of all places most, he feels, he must maintain the strictist watch. (7) Again, to the private citizen there will come eventually, either through truce or terms of peace, respite from war; but for the tyrant, the day of peace will never dawn. What peace can he have with those over whom he exercises his despotic sway? (8) Nor have the terms of truce been yet devised, on which the despotic ruler may rely with confidence. (9)

Wars doubtless there are, (10) wars waged by states and wars waged by autocratic monarchs against those whom they have forcibly enslaved, and in respect of these wars there is no hardship which any member of the states at war (11) can suffer but the tyrant will feel it also. That is to say, both must alike be under arms, keep guard, run risks; and whatever the pains of defeat may be, they are equally sustained by both. Up to this point there is no distinction. The "bitters" are equal. But when we come to estimate the "sweets" derivable from warfare between states, (12) the parallel ceases. The tyrant, if he shared the pains before, no longer shares the pleasures now. What happens when a state has gained the mastery in battle over her antagonist? It would be hard (I take it) to describe the joy of that occurrence: joy in the rout, joy in the pursuit, joy in the slaughter of their enemies; and in what language shall I describe the exultation of these warriors at their feats of arms? With what assumption they bind on their brows the glittering wreath of glory; (13) with what mirth and jollity congratulate themselves on having raised their city to newer heights of fame. Each several citizen claims to have shared in the plan of the campaign, (14) and to have slain the largest number. Indeed it would be hard to find where false embellishment will not creep in, (15) the number stated to be the slain exceeding that of those that actually perished. So truly glorious a thing it seems to them to have won a great victory. (16)

But the tyrant, when he forebodes, or possibly perceives in actual fact, some opposition brewing, and puts the suspects (17) to the sword, knows he will not thereby promote the welfare of the state collectively. The cold clear fact is, he will have fewer subjects to rule over. (18) How can he show a cheerful countenance? (19) how magnify himself on his achievement? On the contrary, his desire is to lessen the proportions of what has taken place, as far as may be. He will apologise for what he does, even in the doing of it, letting it appear that what he has wrought at least was innocent; (20) so little does his conduct seem noble even to himself. And when those he dreaded are safely in their graves, he is not one whit more confident of spirit, but still more on his guard than heretofore. That is the kind of war with which the tyrant is beset from day to day continually, as I do prove. (21)

III

Turn now and contemplate the sort of friendship whereof it is given to tyrants to partake. And first, let us examine with ourselves and see if friendship is truly a great boon to mortal man.

How fares it with the man who is beloved of friends? See with what gladness his friends and lovers hail his advent! delight to do him kindness! long for him when he is absent from them! (1) and welcome him most gladly on his return! (2) In any good which shall betide him they rejoice together; or if they see him overtaken by misfortune, they rush to his assistance as one man. (3)

Nay! it has not escaped the observation of states and governments that friendship is the greatest boon, the sweetest happiness which men may taste. At any rate, the custom holds (4) in many states "to slay the adulterer" alone of all "with impunity," (5) for this reason clearly that such miscreants are held to be destroyers of that friendship (6) which binds the woman to the husband. Since where by some untoward chance a woman suffers violation of her chastity, (7) husbands do not the less honour them, as far as that goes, provided true affection still appear unsullied. (8)

So sovereign a good do I, for my part, esteem it to be loved, that I do verily believe spontaneous blessings are outpoured from gods and men on one so favoured.

This is that choice possession which, beyond all others, the monarch is deprived of.

But if you require further evidence that what I say is true, look at the matter thus: No friendship, I presume, is sounder than that which binds parents to their children and children to their parents, brothers and sisters to each other, (9) wives to husbands, comrade to comrade.

If, then, you will but thoughtfully consider it, you will discover it is the ordinary person who is chiefly blest in these relations. (10) While of tyrants, many have been murderers of their own children, many by their children murdered. Many brothers have been murderers of one another in contest for the crown; (11) many a monarch has been done to death by the wife of his bosom, (12) or even by his own familiar friend, by him of whose affection he was proudest. (13)

How can you suppose, then, that being so hated by those whom nature predisposes and law compels to love him, the tyrant should be loved by any living soul beside?

IV

Again, without some moiety of faith and trust, (1) how can a man not feel to be defrauded of a mighty blessing? One may well ask: What fellowship, what converse, what society would be agreeable without confidence? What intercourse between man and wife be sweet apart from trustfulness? How should the "faithful esquire" whose faith is mistrusted still be lief and dear? (2)

Well, then, of this frank confidence in others the tyrant has the scantiest share. (3) Seeing his life is such, he cannot even trust his meats and drinks, but he must bid his serving-men before the feast begins, or ever the libation to the gods is poured, (4) to taste the viands, out of sheer mistrust there may be mischief lurking in the cup or platter. (5)