Complete Works of Xenophon (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics) (167 page)

It may be that, if her body were visible, men would be less careless of virtue, knowing that she sees them as clearly as they see her.
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For when he is seen by his beloved every man rises above himself and shrinks from what is ugly and evil in word or deed, for fear of being seen by him.
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But in the presence of Virtue men do many evil and ugly things, supposing that they are not regarded by her because they do not see her. Yet she is present everywhere because she is immortal, and she honours those who are good to her, but casts off the bad. Therefore, if men knew that she is watching them, they would be impatient to undergo the toils and the discipline by which she is hardly to be captured, and would achieve her.

13.
I am surprised at the sophists, as they are called, because, though most of them profess to lead the young to virtue they lead them to the very opposite. We have never seen anywhere the man whose goodness was due to the sophists of our generation. Neither do their contributions to literature tend to make men good: but they have written
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many books on frivolous subjects, books that offer the young empty pleasures, but put no virtue into them. To read them in the hope of learning something from them is mere waste of time, and they keep one from useful occupations and teach what is bad.
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Therefore their grave faults incur my graver censure. As for the style of their writings, I complain that the language is far-fetched, and there is no trace in them of wholesome maxims by which the young might be trained to virtue.
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I am no professor, but I know that the best thing is to be taught what is good by one’s own nature, and the next best thing is to get it from those who really know something good instead of being taught by masters of the art of deception.
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I daresay that I do not express myself in the language of a sophist; in fact, that is not my object: my object is rather to give utterance to wholesome thoughts that will meet the needs of readers well educated in virtue. For words will not educate, but maxims, if well found.
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Many others besides myself blame the sophists of our generation — philosophers I will not call them — because the wisdom they profess consists of words and not of thoughts.

I am well aware that someone, perhaps one of this set, will say that what is well and methodically written is not well and methodically written — for hasty and false censure will come easily to them.
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But my aim in writing has been to produce sound work that will make men not wiseacres, but wise and good. For I wish my work not to seem useful, but to be so, that it may stand for all time unrefuted.
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The sophists talk to deceive and write for their own gain, and do no good to anyone. For there is not, and there never was, a wise man among them; everyone of them is content to be called a sophist, which is a term of reproach among sensible men. So my advice is:
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Avoid the behests of the sophists, and despise not the conclusions of the philosophers; for the sophists hunt the rich and young, but the philosophers are friends to all alike: but as for men’s fortunes, they neither honour nor despise them.
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Envy not those either who recklessly seek their own advantage whether in private or in public life — bear in mind that the best of them, though they are favourably judged, are envied, and the bad both fare badly and are unfavourably judged.
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For engaged in robbing private persons of their property, or plundering the state, they render less service than private persons when plans for securing the common safety are afoot, and in body they are disgracefully unfit for war because they are incapable of toil. But huntsmen offer their lives and their property in sound condition for the service of the citizens.
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These attack the wild beasts, those others their friends. And whereas those who attack their friends earn infamy by general consent, huntsmen by attacking the wild beasts gain a good report. For if they make a capture, they win victory over enemy forces: and if they fail, they are commended, in the first place, because they assail powers hostile to the whole community; and, secondly, because they go out neither to harm a man nor for sordid gain.
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Moreover, the very attempt makes them better in many ways and wiser; and we will give the reason. Unless they abound in labours and inventions and precautions, they cannot capture game.
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For the forces contending with them, fighting for their life and in their own home, are in great strength; so that the huntsman’s labours are in vain, unless by greater perseverance and by much intelligence he can overcome them.
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In fine, the politician whose objects are selfish practises for victory over friends, the huntsman for victory over common foes. This practice makes the one a better, the other a far worse fighter against all other enemies. The one takes prudence with him for companion in the chase, the other base rashness.
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The one can despise malice and avarice, the other cannot. The language of the one is gracious, of the other ugly. As for religion, nothing checks impiety in the one, the other is conspicuous for his piety.
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In fact, an ancient story has it that the gods delight in this business, both as followers and spectators of the chase. Therefore, reflecting on these things, the young who do what I exhort them to do will put themselves in the way of being dear to the gods and pious men, conscious that one or other of the gods is watching their deeds. These will be good to parents, good to the whole city, to every one of their friends and fellow-citizens.
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For all men who have loved hunting have been good: and not men only, but those women also to whom the goddess has given this blessing, Atalanta and Procris and others like them.

Translated by E. C. Marchant

Set circa 474 B.C., this short work is composed as a dialogue between Hiero, the tyrant of Syracuse, and the lyric poet Simonides. In the dialogue, Xenophon argues that a tyrant has no more access to happiness than a private person.

Hieron I was the tyrant of Syracuse in Sicily from 478 to 467 BC. During his reign, he greatly increased the power of Syracuse. He removed the inhabitants of Naxos and Catana to Leontini, peopled Catana, which he renamed Aetna,  with Dorians, concluded an alliance with Acragas (Agrigentum) and espoused the cause of the Locrians against Anaxilas, tyrant of Rhegium.

HIERO

1.
Simonides, the poet, once paid a visit to Hiero, the despot. When both found time to spare, Simonides said: “Hiero, will you please explain something to me that you probably know better than I?”

“And pray what is it,” said Hiero, “that I can know better than one so wise as yourself?”
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“I know you were born a private citizen,” he answered, “and are now a despot. Therefore, as you have experienced both fortunes, you probably know better than I how the lives of the despot and the citizen differ as regards the joys and sorrows that fall to man’s lot.”
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“Surely,” said Hiero, “seeing that you are still a private citizen, it is for you to remind me of what happens in a citizen’s life; and then, I think, I could best show you the differences between the two.”
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“Well,” said Simonides, taking the suggestion, “I think I have observed that sights affect private citizens with pleasure and pain through the eyes, sounds through the ears, smells through the nostrils, meat and drink through the mouth, carnal appetites — of course we all know how.
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In the case of cold and heat, things hard and soft, light and heavy, our sensations of pleasure and pain depend on the whole body, I think. In good and evil we seem to feel pleasure or pain, as the case may be — sometimes through the instrumentality of the moral being only, at other times through that of the moral and the physical being together.
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Sleep, it seems clear to me, affects us with pleasure; but how and by what means and when are puzzles that I feel less able to solve. And perhaps it is no matter for surprise if our sensations are clearer when we are awake than when we are asleep.”
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“For my part, Simonides,” said Hiero in answer to this, “I cannot say how a despot could have any sensations apart from those you have mentioned. So far, therefore, I fail to see that the despot’s life differs in any respect from the citizen’s.”
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“In this respect it does differ,” said Simonides: “the pleasures it experiences by means of these various organs are infinitely greater in number, and the pains it undergoes are far fewer.”

“It is not so, Simonides,” retorted Hiero; “I assure you far fewer pleasures fall to despots than to citizens of modest means, and many more and much greater pains.”

“Incredible!” exclaimed Simonides.
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“Were it so, how should a despot’s throne be an object of desire to many, even of those who are reputed to be men of ample means? And how should all the world envy despots?”
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“For this reason of course,” said Hiero, “that they speculate on the subject without experience of both estates. But I will try to show you that I am speaking the truth, beginning with the sense of sight. That was your first point, if I am not mistaken.
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“In the first place, then, taking the objects that we perceive by means of vision, I find by calculation that in regard to sight-seeing, despots are worse off. In every land there are things worth seeing: and in search of these private citizens visit any city they choose, and attend the national festivals, where all things reputed to be most worth seeing are assembled.
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But despots are not at all concerned with missions to shows. For it is risky for them to go where they will be no stronger than the crowd, and their property at home is too insecure to be left in charge of others while they are abroad. For they fear to lose their throne, and at the same time to be unable to take vengeance on the authors of the wrong. Perhaps you may say:
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`But, after all, such spectacles come to them even if they stay at home.’ No, no, Simonides, only one in a hundred such; and what there are of them are offered to despots at a price so exorbitant that showmen who exhibit some trifle expect to leave the court in an hour with far more money than they get from all the rest of the world in a lifetime.”
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“Ah,” said Simonides, “but if you are worse off in the matter of sight-seeing, the sense of hearing, you know, gives you the advantage. Praise, the sweetest of all sounds, is never lacking, for all your courtiers praise everything you do and every word you utter. Abuse, on the contrary, that most offensive of sounds, is never in your ears, for no one likes to speak evil of a despot in his presence.”
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“And what pleasure,” asked Hiero, “comes, do you suppose, of this shrinking from evil words, when one knows well that all harbour evil thoughts against the despot, in spite of their silence? Or what pleasure comes of this praise, do you think, when the praises sound suspiciously like flattery?”
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“Well yes,” replied Simonides, “in this of course I agree with you entirely, Hiero, that praise from the freest is sweetest. But this, now, you will not persuade anyone to believe, that the things which support human life do not yield you a far greater number of pleasures.”
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“Yes, Simonides, and I know that the reason why most men judge that we have more enjoyment in eating and drinking than private citizens is this; they think that they themselves would find the dinner served at our table better eating than what they get. Anything, in fact, that is better than what they are accustomed to gives them pleasure.
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This is why all men look forward to the festivals, except the despots. For their table is always laden with plenty, and admits of no extras on feast days. Here then is one pleasure in respect of which they are worse off than the private citizen, the pleasure of anticipation.
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But further, your own experience tells you, I am sure, that the greater the number of superfluous dishes set before a man, the sooner a feeling of repletion comes over him; and so, as regards the duration of his pleasure too, the man who has many courses put before him is worse off than the moderate liver.”
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