III

The Setting

A. THE CHARACTERS AND THEIR INTENTIONS

“Simonides the poet came once upon a time to Hiero the tyrant. After both had found leisure, Simonides said… .” This is all that Xenophon says thematically and explicitly about the situation in which the conversation took place. “Simonides came to Hiero”: Hiero did not come to Simonides. Tyrants do not like to travel to foreign parts,1 and, as Simonides seems to have said to Hiero’s wife, the wise are spending their time at the doors of the rich and not vice versa.² Simonides came to Hiero “once upon a time”: he was merely visiting Hiero; those coming to display before the tyrant something wise or beautiful or good prefer to go away as soon as they have received their reward.³ The conversation opens “after both had found leisure” and, we may add, when they were alone: it does not open immediately on Simonides’ arrival. It appears in the course of the conversation that prior to the conversation Hiero had acquired a definite opinion of Simonides’ qualities, and Simonides had made some observations about Hiero. It is not impossible that the business which each had before both found leisure was a business which they had with each other. At any rate, they were not complete strangers to each other at the moment when the conversation starts. Their knowledge of, or their opinions about, each other might even explain why they engage in a leisurely conversation at all, as well as how they behave during their conversation from its very beginning.

It is Simonides who opens the conversation. What is his purpose? He starts with the question whether Hiero would be willing to explain to him something which he is likely to know better than the poet. The polite question which he addresses to a tyrant who is not his ruler keeps in the appropriate middle between the informal request, so frequently used by Socrates in particular, “Tell me,” or the polite request, “I want very much to learn,” on the one hand, and the deferential question addressed by Socrates to tyrants who were his rulers (the “legislators” Critias and Charicles), “Is it permitted to inquire…?” on the other.4 By his question, Simonides presents himself as a wise man who, always desirous to learn, wishes to avail himself of the opportunity of learning something from Hiero. He thus assigns Hiero the position of a man who is, in a certain respect, wiser, a greater authority than he is himself. Hiero, fully aware of how wise Simonides is, has not the slightest notion as to what sort of thing he could know better than a man of Simonides’ wisdom. Simonides explains to him that since he, Hiero, was born a private man and is now a tyrant, he is, on the basis of his experience of both conditions, likely to know better than Simonides in what way the life of a tyrant and that of private men differ with regard to human enjoyments and pains.⁵ The choice of the topic is perfect. A comparison of a tyrant’s life and private life is the only comprehensive, or “wise,” topic in the discussion of which a wise man can with some plausibility be presented as inferior to a tyrant who once had been a private man and who is not wise. Moreover, the point of view which, as Simonides suggests, should guide the comparison—pleasure–pain as distinguished from virtue-vice—seems to be characteristic of tyrants as distinguished from kings.⁶ Simonides seems then to open the conversation with the intention of learning something from Hiero, or of getting some first-hand information from an authority on the subject which he proposes.

Yet the reason with which he justifies his question in the eyes of Hiero is only a probable one. It leaves out of consideration the decisive contribution of judgment, or wisdom, to the correct evaluation of experiences.⁷ Moreover, the question itself is not of such a nature that peculiar experiences which a wise man may or may not have had (such as those which only an actual tyrant can have had) could contribute significantly to its complete answer. It rather belongs to the kind of question to which the wise man as such (and only the wise man as such) necessarily possesses the complete answer. Simonides’ question concerning the manner of difference between the tyrant’s life and private life in regard to pleasures and pains is identical, in the context, with the question as to which of the two ways of life is more desirable; for “pleasure-pain” is the only ultimate criterion of preference which is thematically considered. The initial question is rendered more specific by the assertion which Simonides makes soon afterward that the tyrant’s life knows many more pleasures of all kinds and many fewer pains of all kinds than private life, in other words, that tyrannical life is more desirable than private life.8 Even Hiero states that Simonides’ assertion is surprising in the mouth of a reputedly wise man: a wise man should be able to judge of the happiness or misery of the tyrant’s life without ever having had the actual experience of tyrannical life.⁹ The question as to whether, or how far, tyrannical life is more desirable than private life, and in particular whether, or how far, it is more desirable from the point of view of pleasure, is no longer a question for a man who has acquired wisdom.¹⁰ If Simonides was a wise man, he must then have had a motive other than eagerness to learn for inquiring with Hiero about that subject.

Hiero expresses the view that Simonides is a wise man, a man much wiser than he himself is. This assertion is borne out to a certain extent by the action of the dialogue, by which Simonides is shown to be able to teach Hiero the art of ruling as a tyrant. While Simonides is thus shown to be wiser than Hiero, it is by no means certain that Xenophon considered him simply wise. What Xenophon thought of Simonides’ wisdom can be definitely established only by a comparison of Simonides with Socrates, whom Xenophon certainly considered wise. It is possible, however, to reach a provisional conclusion on the basis of the parallelism of the Hiero and the Oeconomicus as well as of the following consideration: If Simonides was wise, he had conversation skill; i.e., he could do what he liked with any interlocutor,¹¹ or he could lead any conversation to the end which he desired. His conversation with Hiero leads up to such suggestions about the improvement of tyrannical rule as a wise man could be expected to make to a tyrant toward whom he is well disposed. We shall then assume that the wise Simonides opens the conversation intending to be of some benefit to Hiero, perhaps in order to be benefited in turn or to benefit the tyrant’s subjects. During his stay with Hiero, Simonides had observed several things about the ruler—some concerning his appetite, some concerning his amours;¹² and Simonides knew that Hiero was making certain grave mistakes, such as his participating at the Olympic and Pythian games.¹³ To express this more generally, Simonides knew that Hiero was not a perfect ruler. He decided to teach him how to rule well as a tyrant. More specifically, he considered it advisable to warn him against certain grave mistakes. But, to say nothing of common politeness, no one wishes to rebuke, or to speak against, a tyrant in his presence.¹⁴ Simonides had, then, by the least offensive means to reduce the tyrant to a mood in which the latter would be pleased to listen attentively to, and even to ask for, the poet’s advice. He had at the same time, or by the same action, to convince Hiero of his competence to give sound advice to a tyrant.

Before Simonides can teach Hiero how to rule as a tyrant, he has to make him aware, or to remind him, of the difficulties with which he is beset and which he cannot overcome, of the shortcomings of his rule, and indeed of his whole life. To be made aware by someone else of one’s own shortcomings means, for most people to be humbled by the censor. Simonides has to humble the tyrant; he has to reduce him to a condition of inferiority; or, to describe Simonides’ intention in the light of the aim apparently achieved by him, he has to dishearten the tyrant. Moreover, if he intends to use Hiero’s recognition of his shortcomings as the starting point for his teaching, he has to induce Hiero expressly to grant all the relevant unpleasant facts about his life. The least he can do, in order to avoid unnecessary offense, is to talk, not about Hiero’s life, but about a more general, a less offensive, subject. To begin with, we shall assume that when starting a conversation with Hiero about the relative desirability of the life of the tyrant and private life, he is guided by the intention to dishearten the tyrant by a comparison of the life of the tyrant, and therewith of Hiero’s own life, with private life.

To reach this immediate aim in the least offensive manner, Simonides has to create a situation in which not he, but the tyrant himself, explains the shortcomings of his life, or of tyrannical life in general, and a situation in which, moreover, the tyrant does this normally unpleasant work not only spontaneously but even gladly. The artifice by means of which Simonides brings about this result consists in his giving to Hiero an opportunity of vindicating his superiority while demonstrating his inferiority. He starts the conversation by presenting himself explicitly as a man who has to learn from Hiero, or who is, in a certain respect, less wise than Hiero, or by assuming the role of the pupil. Thereafter, he makes himself the spokesman of the opinion that tyrannical life is more desirable than private life, i.e., of the crude opinion about tyranny which is characteristic of the unwise, of the multitude, or the vulgar.15 He thus presents himself tacitly, and therefore all the more effectively, as a man who is absolutely less wise than Hiero. He thus tempts Hiero to assume the role of the teacher.¹⁶ He succeeds in seducing him into refuting the vulgar opinion, and thus into proving that tyrannical life, and hence his own life, is extremely unhappy. Hiero vindicates his superiority by winning his argument, which, so far as its content is concerned, would be merely depressing for him: by proving that he is extremely unhappy, he proves that he is wiser than the wise Simonides. Yet his victory is his defeat. By appealing to the tyrant’s interest in superiority, or desire for victory, Simonides brings about the tyrant’s spontaneous and almost joyful recognition of all the shortcomings of his life and therewith a situation in which the offering of advice is the act, not of an awkward schoolmaster, but of a humane poet. And besides, in the moment that Hiero becomes aware of his having walked straight into the trap which Simonides had so ingeniously and so charmingly set for him, he will be more convinced than ever before of Simonides’ wisdom.

Before Simonides starts teaching Hiero, in other words, in the largest part of the Hiero (ch. 1–7), he presents himself to Hiero as less wise than he really is. In the first part of the Hiero, Simonides hides his wisdom. He does not merely report the vulgar opinion about tyranny, he does not merely hand it over to Hiero for its refutation by asking him what he thinks about it; he actually adopts it. Hiero is justifiably under the impression that Simonides is ignorant of or deceived about the nature of tyrannical life.17 Thus the question arises as to why Simonides’ artifice does not defeat his purpose: why can Hiero still take him seriously? Why does he not consider him a fool, a foolish follower of the opinions of the vulgar? The situation in which the conversation takes place remains wholly obscure as long as this difficulty is not satisfactorily explained.

The difficulty would be insoluble if to be vulgar merely meant to be simply foolish or unwise. The vulgar opinion about tyranny can be summarized as follows: Tyranny is bad for the city but good for the tyrant, for the tyrannical life is the most enjoyable and desirable way of life.¹⁸ This opinion is founded on the basic premise of the vulgar mind that bodily pleasures and wealth or power are more important than virtue. The vulgar opinion is contested, not only by the wise, but above all by the gentlemen. According to the opinion of the perfect gentleman, tyranny is bad, not only for the city, but above all for the tyrant himself.¹⁹ By adopting the vulgar view, Simonides tacitly rejects the gentleman’s view. Could he not be a gentleman? Could he lack the moderation, the self-restraint of the gentleman? Could he be dangerous? Whether this suspicion arises evidently depends on what opinion is held by Hiero about the, relation of “wise” and “gentlemen.” But if it arises, the theoretical and somewhat playful discussion will transform itself into a conflict.

The ironic element of Simonides’ procedure would endanger the achievement of his serious purpose if it did not arouse a deeper emotion in the soul of the tyrant than the somewhat whimsical desire to win a dialectical victory. The manner in which he understands, and reacts to, Simonides’ question and assertion is bound to be determined by his view of Simonides’ qualities and of his intention. He considers Simonides a wise man. His attitude toward Simonides will then be a special case of his attitude toward wise men in general. He says that tyrants fear the wise. His attitude toward Simonides must be understood accordingly: “Instead of admiring” him, he fears him.20 Considering the fact that Simonides is a stranger in Hiero’s city, and therefore not likely to be really dangerous to Hiero’s rule,²¹ we prefer to say that his admiration for Simonides is mitigated by some fear, by some fear in statu nascendi, i.e., by distrust. He does not trust people in any case; he will be particularly distrustful in his dealings with a man of unusually great abilities. Hence he is not likely to be perfectly frank. He is likely to be as reserved as Simonides, although for somewhat different reasons.²² Their conversation is likely to take place in an atmosphere of limited straightforwardness.

The tyrant’s fear of the wise is a specific one. This crucial fact is explained by Hiero in what is even literally the central passage of the Hiero.²³ He fears the brave because they might take risks for the sake of freedom. He fears the just because the multitude might desire to be ruled by them. As regards the wise, he fears that “they might contrive something.” He fears, then, the brave and the just because their virtues or virtuous actions might bring about the restoration of freedom or at least of nontyrannical government. This much, and not more, is explained by Hiero in unequivocal terms. He does not say explicitly what kind of danger he apprehends from the wise: Does he fear that they might contrive something for the sake of freedom or of just government, or does he fear that they might contrive something for some other purpose?²⁴ Hiero’s explicit statement leaves unanswered the crucial question, Why does the tyrant fear the wise?

The most cautious explanation of Hiero’s silence would be the suggestion that he does not know what the wise intend. Having once been a private man, a private citizen, a subject of a tyrant, he knows and understands the goals of the brave and the just as well as they themselves do. But he has never been a wise man: he does not know wisdom from his own experience. He realizes that wisdom is a virtue, a power, hence a limit to the tyrant’s power, and therefore a danger to the tyrant’s rule. He realizes, besides, that wisdom is something different from courage and justice. But he does not clearly grasp the specific and positive character of wisdom: wisdom is more elusive than courage and justice. Perhaps it would not be too much to say that for the tyrant wisdom, as distinguished from courage and justice, is something uncanny. At any rate, his fear of the wise is an indeterminate fear, in some cases (as in the case of Hiero’s fear of Simonides) hardly more than a vague, but strong, uneasiness.

This attitude toward the wise is characteristic not only of tyrants. The fate of Socrates must be presumed always to have been present to Xenophon’s mind. It confirmed the view that wise men are apt to be envied by men who are less wise or altogether unwise, and that they are exposed to all sorts of vague suspicion on the part of “the many.” Xenophon himself suggested that the same experience which Socrates had had under a democracy would have been had by him under a monarchy: wise men are apt to be envied, or suspected, by monarchs as well as by ordinary citizens.25 The distrust of the wise, which proceeds from lack of understanding of wisdom, is characteristic of the vulgar, of tyrants and nontyrants alike. Hiero’s attitude toward the wise bears at least some resemblance to the vulgar attitude.

The fate of Socrates showed that those who do not understand the nature of wisdom are apt to mistake the wise man for the sophist. Both the wise man and the sophist are in a sense possessors of wisdom. But whereas the sophist prostitutes wisdom for base purposes, and especially for money, the wise man makes the most noble or moral use of wisdom.²⁶ The wise man is a gentleman, whereas the sophist is servile. The error of mistaking the wise man for the sophist is made possible by the ambiguity of “gentlemanliness.” In common parlance, “gentleman” designates a just and brave man, a good citizen, who as such is not necessarily a wise man. Ischomachus, that perfectly respectable man whom Xenophon confronts with Socrates, is called a gentleman by everyone, by men and women, by strangers and citizens. In the Socratic meaning of the term, the gentleman is identical with the wise man.²⁷ The essence of wisdom, or what distinguishes wisdom from ordinary gentlemanliness, escapes the vulgar, who may thus be led to believe in an opposition between wisdom and the only gentlemanliness known to them: they may doubt the gentlemanliness of the wise. They will see this much, that wisdom is the ability to contrive the acquisition of that possession which is most valuable and therefore most difficult to obtain. But believing that the tyrannical life is the most enjoyable and therefore the most desirable possession, they will be inclined to identify wisdom with the ability to become a tyrant or to remain a tyrant. Those who succeeded in acquiring tyrannical power, and in preserving it for ever so short a time, are admired as wise and lucky men: the specific ability which enables a man to become, and to remain, a tyrant is popularly identified with wisdom. On the other hand, if a wise man manifestly abstains from striving for tyrannical power, he may still be suspected of teaching his friends to be “tyrannical.”28 On the basis of the vulgar notion of wisdom, the conclusion is plausible that a wise man would aspire to tyranny or, if he is already a tyrant, that he would attempt to preserve his position.

Let us now return to Hiero’s statement about the various types of human excellence. The brave would take risks for the sake of freedom; the just would be desired as rulers by the multitude. The brave as brave would not be desired as rulers, and the just as just would not rebel. As clearly as the brave as brave are distinguished from the just as just, the wise as wise are distinguished from both the brave and the just. Would the wise take risks for the sake of freedom? Did Socrates, as distinguished from Thrasybulus, take such risks? While blaming “somewhere” the practices of Critias and his fellows, and while refusing to obey their unjust commands, he did not work for their overthrow.²⁹ Would the wise be desired as rulers by the multitude? Was Socrates desired as a ruler by the multitude? One has no right to assume that Hiero’s view of wisdom and justice is identical with Xenophon’s. The context suggests that, according to Hiero, the wise as wise have a purpose different from those of the brave and of the just, or, if courage and justice combined are the essence of gentlemanliness, that the wise man is not necessarily a gentleman. The context suggests that the wise have another goal than the typical enemies of tyranny, who are concerned with restoring freedom and “possession of good laws.”³⁰ This suggestion is far from being contradicted by Simonides, who avoids in his teaching the very terms “freedom” and “law.” There is only one reasonable alternative: the tyrant fears the wise man because he might attempt to overthrow the tyrant, not in order to restore nontyrannical government, but to become a tyrant himself or because he might advise a pupil or friend of his as to how he could become a tyrant by overthrowing the actual tyrant. Hiero’s central statement does not exclude but rather suggests the vulgar view of wisdom;³¹ it does not exclude but rather suggests the view that the wise man is a potential tyrant.³²

Hiero is somehow aware of the fact that wise men do not judge of happiness or misery on the basis of outward appearance because they know that the seat of happiness and misery is in the souls of men. It therefore seems surprising to him that Simonides should identify, for all practical purposes, happiness with wealth and power, and ultimately with the tyrannical life. He does not say, however, that Simonides, being a wise man, cannot possibly mean what he says, or that he must be joking. On the contrary, he takes Simonides’ assertion most seriously. He does not consider it incredible or impossible that a wise man should hold the view adopted by Simonides.33 He does not consider it impossible because he believes that only the experience of a tyrant can establish with final certainty whether tyrannical life is, or is not, more desirable than private life.³⁴ He does not really know the purpose of the wise. He is then not convinced that the wise man is a potential tyrant. Nor is he convinced of the contrary. He oscillates between two diametrically opposed views, between the vulgar view and the wise view of wisdom. Which of the two opposed views he will take in a given case will depend on the behavior of the wise individual with whom he converses. Regarding Simonides, the question is decided by the fact that he adopts the vulgar opinion according to which the tyrannical life is more desirable than private life. At least in his conversation with Simonides, Hiero will be disturbed by the suspicion that the wise man may be a potential tyrant, or a potential adviser of possible rivals of Hiero.³⁵

Hiero’s fear or distrust of Simonides originates in his attitude toward wise men and would exist regardless of the topic of their conversation. But if there were any one topic which could aggravate Hiero’s suspicion of Simonides, it is that topic which the wise man in fact proposed—a topic relating to the object with regard to which the tyrants fear the wise. In addition, Simonides explicitly says that all men regard tyrants with a mixture of admiration and envy, or that they are jealous of tyrants, and Hiero understands the bearing of this statement sufficiently to apply it to Simonides by speaking of Simonides himself being jealous of tyrants.³⁶ Hiero does not possess that true understanding of the nature of wisdom which alone could protect him from being suspicious of Simonides’ question about the relative desirability of tyrannical and private life. Lacking such understanding, Hiero cannot be certain that the question might not serve the very practical purpose of eliciting some first-hand information from the tyrant about a condition of which the poet is jealous or to which he is aspiring for himself or someone else. His fear or distrust of Simonides will be a fear or distrust strengthened and rendered definite by Simonides’ apparently believing that the tyrannical life is more desirable than private life. Simonides’ apparently frank confession of his preference will seem to Hiero to supply him with an opportunity of getting rid of his uneasiness. His whole answer will serve the very practical purpose of dissuading Simonides from looking at tyrants with a mixture of admiration and envy.

By playing upon this intention of Hiero,37 Simonides compels him to use the strongest possible language against tyranny and thus finally to declare his bankruptcy, therewith handing over the leadership in the conversation to Simonides. Simonides’ intention to dishearten Hiero and Hiero’s intention to dissuade Simonides from admiring or envying tyrants produce by their cooperation the result primarily intended by Simonides, viz., a situation in which Hiero has no choice but to listen to Simonides’ advice.

In order to provoke Hiero’s passionate reaction, Simonides has to overstate the case for tyranny. When reading all his statements by themselves, one is struck by the fact that there are indeed some passages in which he, more or less compelled by Hiero’s arguments, grants that tyranny has its drawbacks, whereas one finds more passages in which he spontaneously and strongly asserts its advantages. The statements of Simonides on tyranny would justify Hiero in thinking that Simonides is envious of tyrants. Yet the ironic character of Simonides’ praise of tyranny as such (as distinguished from his praise of beneficent tyranny in the second part of the Hiero) can hardly escape the notice of any reader. For instance, when he asserts that tyrants derive greater pleasure from sounds than private men because they constantly hear the most pleasant kind of sound—viz., praise—he is not ignorant of the fact that the praise bestowed upon tyrants by their entourage is not genuine praise.³⁸ On the other hand, Hiero is interested in overstating the case against tyranny. This point requires some discussion since the explicit indictment of tyranny in the Hiero is entrusted exclusively to Hiero, and therefore the understanding of the tendency of the Hiero as a whole depends decisively on the correct appreciation of Hiero’s utterances on the subject.

It is certainly inadmissible to take for granted that Hiero simply voices Xenophon’s considered judgment on tyranny: Hiero is not Xenophon. Besides, there is some specific evidence which goes to show that Hiero’s indictment of tyranny is, according to Xenophon’s view, exaggerated. Hiero asserts that “the cities magnificently honor the tyrannicide”; Xenophon, however, tells us that those murderers of Jason who survived were honored “in most of the Greek cities” to which they came.³⁹ Hiero asserts that the tyrants “know well that all their subjects are their enemies”; Xenophon, however, tells us that the subjects of the tyrant Euphron considered him their benefactor and revered him highly.40 Hiero describes the tyrant as deprived of all pleasures of gay companionship; Xenophon, however, describes the tyrant Astyages as securely enjoying those pleasures to the full.⁴¹ Yet Hiero may have said more against tyranny than Xenophon would grant; he may still have said exactly what he himself thought about the subject on the basis of his bitter experiences. Now, no reader however careful of the speeches of Hiero can possibly know anything of the expression of Hiero’s face, of his gestures, and of the inflections of his voice. He is then not in the best position to detect which words of Hiero’s rang true and which rang false. One of the many advantages of a dialogue one character of which is a wise man is that it puts at the disposal of the reader the wise man’s discriminating observations concerning the different degree of reliability of the various utterances which flow with an equal ease, but not necessarily with an equal degree of conviction, from his companion’s mouth. When reading the Hiero cursorily, one is bound to feel that Hiero is worried particularly by the tyrant’s lack of friendship, confidence, patriotism, and true honor as well as by the constant danger of assassination. Yet Xenophon’s Simonides, who is our sole authority for the adequate interpretation of the speeches of Xenophon’s Hiero, was definitely not under the impression that Hiero’s greatest sorrow was caused by the lack of the noble things mentioned, or by those agonies of perpetual and limitless fear which he describes in so edifying a manner. He has not the slightest doubt that Hiero has blamed tyranny most of all with a view to the fact that the tyrant is deprived of the sweetest pleasures of homosexual love, i.e., of pleasures which Simonides himself declares to be of minor importance.⁴² Simonides is then not greatly impressed by Hiero’s indictment of tyranny. That indictment, however touching or eloquent, has therefore to be read with a great deal of reasonable distrust.

When proving that private men derive greater pleasure from victory than tyrants, Hiero compares the victory of the citizens over their foreign enemies with the victory of the tyrant over his subjects: the citizens consider their victory something noble, and they are proud of it and boast of it, whereas the tyrant cannot be proud of his victory, or boast of it, or consider it noble.⁴³ Hiero fails to mention not only the victory of a party in a civil war but above all the victory of the citizens governed or led by their tyrannical ruler over their foreign enemies: he forgets his own victory in the battle of Cumae. He fails to consider the obvious possibility that a tyrant, who takes the chief responsibility for the outcome of a war, might be more gratified by victory than might the ordinary citizen; for it was the prudent counsel and efficient leadership of the tyrant that brought about the happy issue, while the ordinary citizen never can have had more than a small share in the deliberations concerning the war. Hiero fails to consider that this great pleasure might fully compensate the tyrant for the lack of many lesser pleasures.

We may speak of a twofold meaning of the indictment of tyranny, which forms the first and by far the largest part of the Hiero. According to its obvious meaning, it amounts to the strongest possible indictment of tyranny: the greatest possible authority on the subject, a tyrant who as such speaks from experience, shows that tyranny is bad even from the point of view of tyrants, even from the point of view of the pleasures of the tyrant.44 This meaning is obvious; one merely has to read the first part of the Hiero, which consists chiefly of speeches of Hiero to this effect, in order to grasp it. A less obvious meaning of the first part of the Hiero comes into sight as soon as one considers its conversational setting—the fact that the distrustful tyrant is speaking pro domo—and, going one step further in the same direction, when one considers the facts recorded in Xenophon’s historical work (the Hellenica). These considerations lead one to a more qualified indictment of tyranny, or to a more truthful account of tyranny, or to the wise view of tyranny. This means that in order to grasp Xenophon’s view of tyranny as distinguished from Hiero’s utterances about tyranny, one has to consider Hiero’s “speeches” in the light of the more trustworthy “deeds” or “actions” or “facts,”⁴⁵ and in particular that most important of “facts,” the conversational setting of the Hiero. To the two meanings correspond then two types of reading, and ultimately two types of men. It was with a view to this difference between types of men and a corresponding difference between types of speaking that Socrates liked to quote the verses from the Iliad in which Odysseus is described as using different language when speaking to outstanding men on the one hand, and when speaking to the common people on the other;⁴⁶ and that he distinguished the superficial understanding of Homer on the part of the rhapsodes from that understanding which grasps the poet’s “insinuations.”⁴⁷ The superficial understanding is not simply wrong, since it grasps the obvious meaning which is as much intended by the author as is the deeper meaning. To describe in one sentence the art employed by Xenophon in the first part of the Hiero, we may say that by choosing a conversational setting in which the strongest possible indictment of tyranny becomes necessary, he intimates the limited validity of that indictment.48

B. THE ACTION OF THE DIALOGUE

No genuine communication could develop if Hiero were animated exclusively by distrust of Simonides, or if Simonides did not succeed in gaining the tyrant’s confidence to some extent. At the beginning of the conversation he reassures Hiero by declaring his willingness to learn from Hiero, i.e., to trust him in what he is going to say about the relative desirability of tyrannical and private life. The first section of the dialogue (ch. 1) is characterized by the interplay of Simonides’ intention to reassure Hiero with his intention to dishearten him. That interplay ceases as soon as Hiero is completely committed to the continuance of the conversation. From that moment Simonides limits himself to provoking Hiero to express his unqualified indictment of tyranny.

Hiero, perhaps offended by Simonides’ inevitable reference to his pretyrannical past and at the same time desirous to know more about Simonides’ intentions and his preferences, emphasizes how remote he considers that past by asking Simonides to remind him of the pleasures and pains of private men: he pretends to have forgotten them.¹ In this context he mentions the fact that Simonides is “at present still a private man.” Simonides seems to accept the challenge for a moment. At any rate, he makes to begin with a distinction between himself and private men (“I seem to have observed that private men enjoy …”); but he soon drops that odious distinction by identifying himself unreservedly with the private men (“We seem to enjoy …”).² In complying with Hiero’s request, Simonides enumerates various groups of pleasurable and painful things. The enumeration is in a sense complete: it covers the pleasures and pains of the body, those of the soul, and those common to body and soul. Otherwise, it is most surprising. While it is unnecessarily detailed as regards the pleasures and pains of the body, it does not give any details whatsoever as regards the other kinds of pleasure and pain mentioned. It is reasonable to assume that the selection is made, at least partly, ad hominem, or that it is meant to prepare a discussion which serves a specific practical purpose. Simonides enumerates seven groups of things which are sometimes pleasant and sometimes painful for private men, and one which is always pleasant for them: that which is always pleasant for them is sleep—which the tyrant, haunted by fears of all kinds, must strive to avoid.3 This example seems to show that the purpose of Simonides’ enumeration is to remind the tyrant of the pleasures of which he is supposed to be deprived, and thus to induce him to make clear to himself the misery of tyrannical life. It is for this reason, one might surmise to begin with, that the enumeration puts the emphasis on the pleasures of the body,⁴ i.e., on those pleasures the enjoyment of which is not characteristic of actual or potential tyrants. However, if Simonides’ chief intention had been to remind Hiero of the pleasures of which he is actually or supposedly deprived, he would not have dropped the topic “sleep” in the discussion which immediately follows (in ch. 1). Furthermore, Simonides’ initial enumeration fails to have any depressing effect on Hiero. It seems therefore preferable to say that his emphasizing the pleasures of the body in the initial enumeration is chiefly due to his intention to reassure Hiero. Emphasizing these pleasures, he creates the impression that he is himself chiefly interested in them. But men chiefly interested in bodily pleasures are not likely to aspire to any ruling position.⁵

Hiero is satisfied with Simonides’ enumeration. He gives Simonides to understand that it exhausts the types of pleasure and pain experienced by tyrants as well as by private men. Simonides strikes the first obvious note of dissonance by asserting that the life of a tyrant contains many more pleasures of all kinds and many fewer pains of all kinds than private life. Hiero’s immediate answer is still restrained. He does not assert that tyrannical life is inferior to private life as such; he merely says that tyrannical life is inferior to the life of private men of moderate means.⁶ He admits by implication that the condition of tyrants is preferable to that of poor men. Yet poverty and wealth are to be measured, not by number, but with a view to use, or to need.⁷ At least from this point of view, Simonides may be poor and hence justified in being jealous of tyrants. At any rate, he now reveals that he looks at tyrants with a mixture of admiration and envy and that he might belong to the “many who are reputed to be most able men” who desire to be tyrants. The tension increases. Hiero strengthens his reply, which is more emphatic than any previous utterance of his, by an oath, and he expresses his intention to teach Simonides the truth about the relative desirability of tyrannical and private life.⁸ Speaking as a teacher, he embarks upon a discussion of the various kinds of bodily pleasure which keeps in the main to the order followed by Simonides in his initial enumeration.⁹ Hiero now tries to prove the thesis that tyrannical life is inferior, not merely to a specific private life, but to private life as such.10

The discussion of bodily pleasures (1.10–38) reveals the preferences of the two interlocutors in an indirect way.¹¹ According to Hiero, the inferiority of tyranny shows itself most clearly with regard to the pleasures of sex, and especially of homosexuality.¹² The only proper name occurring in the Hiero (apart from those of Simonides, Hiero, Zeus, and the Greeks), i.e., the only concrete reference to Hiero’s life, as well as Hiero’s second emphatic oath (which is his last emphatic oath), occurs in the passage dealing with homosexual love.¹³ Simonides is particularly vocal regarding the pleasures of hearing, i.e., the pleasures of hearing praise, and, above all, regarding the pleasures of food. His most emphatic assertion, occurring in the discussion of bodily pleasures, concerns food.¹⁴ Two of his five “by Zeus” occur in the passage dealing with food.¹⁵ That passage is the only part of the Hiero where the conversation takes on the character of a lively discussion, and in fact of a Socratic elenchus (with Hiero in the role of Socrates): Hiero is compelled, point by point, to refute Simonides’ assertion that tyrants derive greater pleasure from food than private men.¹⁶ Only in reading the discussion concerning food does one get the impression that Hiero has to overcome a serious resistance on the part of Simonides: four times he appeals from Simonides’ assertion to Simonides’ experience, observation, or knowledge. How much Hiero is aware of this state of things is shown by the fact that after Simonides had already abandoned the subject, Hiero once more returns to it in order to leave no doubt whatsoever in Simonides’ mind as to the inferiority of tyrannical life in the matter of the pleasures of the table: he does not rest until Simonides has granted that, as regards these pleasures, tyrants are worse off than private men.¹⁷ As an explanation we suggest that Simonides wants to reassure Hiero by presenting himself as a man chiefly interested in food, or in “good living” in general, or by ironically overstating his actual liking for “good living.”¹⁸

At the end of the discussion of the bodily pleasures, we seem to have reached the end of the whole conversation. Simonides had originally enumerated eight groups of pleasurable or painful things: (1) sights, (2) sounds, (3) odors, (4) food and drink, (5) sex, (6) objects perceived by the whole body, (7) good and bad things, and (8) sleep. After four of them (sights, sounds, food and drink, odors) have been discussed, he says that the pleasures of sex seem to be the only motive which excites in tyrants the desire for tyrannical rule.¹⁹ By implication, he thus dismisses as irrelevant three of the four groups of pleasant or painful things which had not thereto been discussed (objects perceived by the whole body, good and bad things, sleep). Hence, he narrows down the whole question of the relative desirability of tyrannical and private life to the question, Do tyrants or private men enjoy to a higher degree the pleasures of sex? So doing, he completely reassures Hiero: he practically capitulates. For of nothing is Hiero more convinced than of this, that precisely as regards the pleasures of sex, tyrants are most evidently worse off than private men. He is so much convinced of the truth of his thesis and of the decisive character of the argument by which he upholds it that he can speak later on of his having “demonstrated” to Simonides the true character of a tyrant’s amatory pleasures.20 At the end of the discussion of sex, i.e., at the end of the discussion of the bodily pleasures, Hiero has proved to Simonides what the latter had admitted to be the only point which still needed proof if Hiero’s general thesis were to be established securely. On the level of the surface argument the discussion has reached its end. The discussion would have reached its end as well if Simonides had no other intention than to find out what Hiero’s greatest worries are, or to remind him of the pleasures from the lack of which he suffers most, or to give him an opportunity of speaking freely of what disturbs him most. All these aims have been reached at the end of the discussion of sex: Hiero is concerned most of all with the tyrant’s lack of the sweetest pleasures of homosexual love,²¹ and the later discussion is devoted to entirely different subjects. On the other hand, the continuation of the conversation is evidently necessary if Simonides’ intention is to defeat Hiero by playing upon the tyrant’s fear of the wise.

The first round ends, so it seems, with a complete victory for Hiero. He has proved his thesis without saying too much against tyranny and therewith against himself. Now the struggle begins in earnest. In the preceding part of the conversation, Simonides’ expressions of jealousy of the tyrants had been mitigated, if not altogether retracted, by his emphasis on the pleasures of the body. Now he declares in glaring contrast to all that has gone before, and in particular to what he has said about the unique significance of the pleasures of sex, that the whole preceding discussion is irrelevant, because it dealt only with what he believes to be very minor matters: many of those who are reputed to be (real) men ()²² just despise the bodily pleasures; they aspire to greater things, namely, to power and wealth; it is in relation to wealth and power that tyrannical life is manifestly superior to private life. In the preceding part of the conversation, Simonides had tacitly identified himself with the vulgar; now he tacitly makes a distinction between himself and the vulgar. But the nonvulgar type to which he tacitly claims to belong is not the type of the “gentleman” but of the “real man.”23 While elaborating the thesis that tyrannical life brings greater wealth and power than private life, he supplements his initial enumeration of pleasurable and painful things (in which the “good and bad” things have almost disappeared amid the throng of objects of bodily pleasure) by an enumeration of the elements of power and wealth. In doing this he seems to imply that power and wealth are unambiguously “good” and in fact the only things that matter.²⁴ Since Simonides knows that Hiero considers him a real man, and since he declares explicitly that he himself considers the bodily pleasures as of very minor importance, Simonides thus intimates²⁵ an unequivocal taste for tyranny. In enumerating the various elements of power and wealth, he reveals his taste more specifically, and more subtly, by what he mentions and by what he fails to mention.²⁶

From this moment the conversation changes its character in a surprising manner. Whereas Simonides had been fairly vocal during the rather short discussion of the bodily pleasures (his contribution consisting of about 218 words out of 1058), he is almost completely silent during the much more extensive discussion of the good or bad things (his contribution consisting of 28 words out of about 2000). Besides, the discussion of the bodily pleasures had kept, in the main, to the items and the sequence suggested in Simonides’ initial enumeration, and this had been due largely to Simonides’ almost continuous interference with Hiero’s exposition. But now, in the discussion of the good or bad things, Hiero deviates considerably, not to say completely, from Simonides’ enumeration of these things and their sequence by introducing topics which had barely been hinted at by Simonides.²⁷ The purpose of Hiero’s procedure is evident. In the first place, he can refute only with difficulty the cautious assertion to which the wise Simonides had limited himself,²⁸ that the tyrant possesses greater power and wealth than private men. Above all, he is very anxious to push “wealth” into the background in favor of the other good things because wealth is so highly desired by “real men” of the type of Simonides as well as by the actual tyrant himself.²⁹ The topics not mentioned by Simonides but introduced by Hiero are: peace and war, friendship,³⁰ confidence, fatherland, good men, city and citizens, fear and protection. Simonides’ declaration asserting the superiority of tyrants as regards power and wealth provokes Hiero to an eloquent indictment of tyranny which surpasses in scope everything said in the first section: the tyrant is cut off from such good things as peace, the pleasant aspects of war, friendship, confidence, fatherland, and the company of good men; he is hated and conspired against by his nearest relatives and friends; he cannot enjoy the greatness of his own fatherland; he lives in perpetual fear for his life; he is compelled to commit grave crimes against gods and men; those who kill him, far from being punished, are greatly honored. Simonides has succeeded in increasing Hiero’s tenseness far beyond the limits which it had reached during the discussion of the bodily pleasures. This shows itself particularly in those passages where the tyrant speaks of subjects already mentioned in the first section.31 And this increase of tension is due, not only to the declaration with which the poet had opened the second round, but, above all, to the ambiguous silence with which he listens to Hiero’s tirade. Is he overawed by Hiero’s indictment of tyranny? Does he doubt Hiero’s sincerity? Or is he just bored by Hiero’s speech because his chief concern is with “food,” with the pleasures of the body, the discussion of which had interested him sufficiently to make him talk? Hiero cannot know.

The meaning of Simonides’ silence is partly revealed by its immediate consequence. It leads to the consequence that the topics introduced by Hiero are hardly as much as mentioned, and certainly not discussed by Simonides in the first two sections of the dialogue. His silence thus brings out in full relief the contrast between the topics introduced in the first two sections by Hiero on the one hand and by Simonides on the other. Simonides introduces the pleasures of the body as well as wealth and power; Hiero introduces the loftier things. Simonides, who has to convince Hiero of his competence to give sound advice to tyrants, must guard by all means against appearing in Hiero’s eyes as a poet: he limits himself to speaking about the more pedestrian things.³² Hiero, who tries to dissuade Simonides from being jealous of tyrants or from aspiring to tyranny, has to appeal from Simonides’ craving for low things to his more noble aspirations. The lesson which Xenophon ironically conveys by this element of the conversational setting seems to be this: a teacher of tyrants has to appear as a hardboiled man; it does not do any harm if he makes his pupil suspect that he cannot be impressed by considerations of a more noble character.

The poet interrupts his silence only once. The circumstances of that interruption call for some attention. Hiero had given Simonides more than one opportunity to say something, especially by addressing him by name.33 This applies especially to his discussion of friendship. Therein one can almost see Hiero urging him toward at least some visible reaction.³⁴ After all his efforts to make Simonides talk have failed, he turns to what he considers the characteristic pleasures of private men: drink, song, and sleep, which he, having become a tyrant, cannot enjoy any longer because he is perpetually harassed by fear, the spoiler of all pleasures.³⁵ Simonides remains silent. Hiero makes a last attempt, this one more successful. Reminding himself of the fact that Simonides had been most vocal while food was being discussed, he replaces “strong drink and sleep” by “food and sleep.”³⁶ Referring to the poet’s possible experience of fear in battle, he asserts that tyrants can enjoy food and sleep as little as, or less than, soldiers who have the enemy’s phalanx close in front of them. Simonides replies that his military experience proves to him the possibility of combining “living dangerously” with a healthy appetite and a sound sleep.³⁷ Saying this, he tacitly denies more strongly than by his statement at the beginning of the second section the reassuring implications of his previous emphasis on the pleasures of the body.³⁸

We must now step back and look again at the picture as a whole. Taken as a whole, the second section consists of Hiero’s sweeping indictment of tyranny, to which Simonides listens in silence. The meaning of this silence is finally revealed by what happens in the third section (ch. 7). The third section, the shortest section of the Hiero, contains, or immediately prepares for, the peripeteia. It culminates in Hiero’s declaration that the tyrant can hardly do better than to hang himself. By making this declaration, Hiero abdicates the leadership in the conversation in favor of Simonides, who keeps it throughout the fourth and last section (ch. 8–11).³⁹ We contend that this crucial event—Hiero’s breakdown or the change from Hiero’s leadership to Simonides’ leadership—is consciously and decisively prepared by Simonides’ remaining silent in the second section.

The third section opens again with a surprising move of Simonides.⁴⁰ He grants to Hiero that tyranny is as toilsome and as dangerous as the latter had asserted; yet, he says, those toils and dangers are reasonably borne because they lead to the pleasure deriving from honors, and no other human pleasure comes nearer to divinity than this kind of pleasure: tyrants are honored more than any other men. In the parallel at the beginning of the second section Simonides had spoken only of what “many of those who are reputed to be (real) men” desire, and had merely implied that what they desire is power and wealth. Now he openly declares that the desire for honor is characteristic of real men as such, i.e., as distinguished from ordinary “human beings.”41 There seems to be no longer any doubt that Simonides, who is admittedly a real man, longs for tyrannical power.

Hiero’s immediate reply reveals that he is more alarmed than ever before. He had mentioned before the facts that the tyrant is in perpetual danger of being assassinated and that tyrants commit acts of injustice. But never before had he mentioned these two facts within one and the same sentence. Still less had he explicitly established a connection between them. Only now, while trying to prove that the tyrant does not derive any pleasure from the honors shown to him, does he declare that the tyrant spends night and day like one condemned by all men to die for his injustice.⁴² One might think for a moment that this increase in the vehemence of Hiero’s indictment of tyranny is due to the subject matter so unexpectedly introduced by Simonides: Hiero might seem to suffer most of all from the fact that the tyrant is deprived of genuine honor. But if this is the case, why does he not protest against Simonides’ later remark that Hiero had depreciated tyranny most because it frustrated the tyrant’s homosexual desires? Why did he not bring up the subject of “honor” himself instead of waiting until Simonides did it? Why did he not find fault with Simonides’ misleading initial enumeration of pleasures? Last but not least, why did the earlier discussion of a similar subject—praise⁴³—fail to make any noticeable impression on his mood? It is not so much the intrinsic significance of Simonides’ statement on honor as its conversational significance which accounts for its conspicuous and indeed decisive effect.

At the beginning of his statement on honor, Simonides alludes to Hiero’s description of the toils and dangers which attend the life of a tyrant. But Hiero had described not merely those toils and dangers, but also the moral depravity to which the tyrant is condemned: he is compelled to live “by contriving something bad and base”; he is compelled to commit the crime of robbing temples and men; he cannot be a true patriot; he desires to enslave his fellow citizens; only the consideration that a tyrant must have living subjects who walk around seems to prevent him from killing or imprisoning all his subjects. After Hiero has finished his long speech, Simonides declares that in spite of everything that the tyrant has said, tyranny is highly desirable because it leads to supreme honor. As regards the toils and dangers pointed out by Hiero, Simonides pauses to allude to them; as regards the moral flaws deplored by Hiero, he simply ignores them. That is to say, the poet is not at all impressed by the immorality, or the injustice, characteristic of the tyrannical life; certainly its inevitable immorality would not prevent him for a moment from aspiring to tyranny for the sake of honor. No wonder then that Hiero collapses shortly afterward: what overwhelms him is not Simonides’ statement on honor itself, but the poet’s making it in this particular context. Because it is made in that context, and merely because it is made in that context, does it make Hiero realize to what lengths a man of Simonides’ exceptional “wisdom” could go in “contriving something” and in particular in “contriving something bad and base.” It is by thus silently, i.e., most astutely, revealing a complete lack of scruple that the poet both overwhelms Hiero and convinces him of his competence to give sound advice to a tyrant.44

The lesson which Xenophon conveys by making Simonides listen silently to Hiero’s long speech, as well as by his answer to that speech, can now be stated as follows. Even a perfectly just man who wants to give advice to a tyrant has to present himself to his pupil as an utterly unscrupulous man. The greatest man who ever imitated the Hiero was Machiavelli. I should not be surprised if a sufficiently attentive study of Machiavelli’s work would lead to the conclusion that it is precisely Machiavelli’s perfect understanding of Xenophon’s chief pedagogic lesson which accounts for the most shocking sentences occurring in the Prince. But if Machiavelli understood Xenophon’s lesson, he certainly did not apply it in the spirit of its originator. For, according to Xenophon, the teacher of tyrants has to appear as an utterly unscrupulous man, not by protesting that he does not fear hell nor devil, nor by expressing immoral principles, but by simply failing to take notice of the moral principles. He has to reveal his alleged or real freedom from morality, not by speech but by silence. For by doing so—by disregarding morality “by deed” rather than by attacking it “by speech”—he reveals at the same time his understanding of political things. Xenophon, or his Simonides, is more “politic” than Machiavelli; he refuses to separate “moderation” (prudence) from “wisdom” (insight).

By replying to Hiero’s long speech in the manner described, Simonides compels him to use still stronger language against tyranny than he had done before. Now Hiero declares that a tyrant, as distinguished from a man who is a benefactor of his fellows and therefore genuinely honored, lives like one condemned by all men to die for his injustice. Arrived at this point, Simonides could have replied in the most natural manner that, this being the case, the tyrant ought to rule as beneficently as possible. He could have begun at once to teach Hiero how to rule well as a tyrant. But he apparently felt that he needed some further information for sizing Hiero up, or that Hiero needed a further shock before he would be prepared to listen. Therefore he asks Hiero why, if tyranny is really such a great evil for the tyrant, neither he nor any other tyrant ever yet gave up his position voluntarily. Hiero answers that no tyrant can abdicate because he cannot make amends for the robbing, imprisoning, and killing of his subjects; (just as it does not profit him to live as a tyrant, it does not profit him to live again as a private man); if it profits any man (to cease living), to hang himself, it profits the tyrant most of all.45 This answer puts the finishing touch to the preparation for Simonides’ instruction. Simonides’ final attack had amounted to a veiled suggestion addressed to the tyrant to return to private life. That suggestion is the necessary conclusion which a reasonable man would draw from Hiero’s comparison between tyrannical and private life. Hiero defends himself against that suggestion by revealing what might seem to be some rudimentary sense of justice: he cannot return to private life because he cannot make amends for the many acts of injustice which he has committed. This defense is manifestly hypocritical: if tyranny is what he has asserted it to be, he prefers heaping new crimes on the untold number of crimes which he has already committed rather than stop his criminal career and suffer the consequences of his former misdeeds. His real motive for not abdicating seems then to be fear of punishment. But could he not escape punishment by simply fleeing? This is indeed the crucial implication of Hiero’s last word against tyranny: as if there never had been a tyrant who, after having been expelled from his city, lived quietly thereafter in exile, and although he himself had said on a former occasion⁴⁶ that while making a journey abroad, the tyrant might easily be deposed, Hiero refuses to consider the possibility of escape from his city. He thus reveals himself as a man who is unable to live as a stranger.⁴⁷ It is this citizen spirit of his—the fact that he cannot help being absolutely attached to his city—to which the wandering poet silently appeals when teaching him how to be a good ruler.

Hiero has finally been rendered incapable of any further move. He has been reduced to a condition in which he has to fetter himself by a sincere or insincere assertion, or in which he has to use the language of a man who is despondent. He uses entirely different language in the two fairly brief utterances which he makes in the fourth or last section. Whereas his indictment of tyranny in the first part of the Hiero had presented the tyrant as the companion of the unjust and had culminated in the description of the tyrant as injustice incarnate, he describes him in the last part of the dialogue—i.e., a few minutes later—as a man who punishes the unjust,48 as a defender of justice. This quick change of language, or of attitude, is most astonishing. As we have seen, the vehemence of Hiero’s indictment had been increasing from section to section because Simonides had not been deterred from praising tyranny by the shortcomings of tyranny pointed out by Hiero. Now, Hiero had spoken against tyranny in the third section more violently than ever before, and in the fourth section Simonides continues praising tyranny.⁴⁹ Hence one should expect that Hiero will continue still increasing the vehemence of his indictment of tyranny. Yet he takes the opposite course. What has happened? Why does Simonides’ praise of tyranny in the fourth section, and especially in the early part of that section (8.1–7), fail to arouse Hiero’s violent reaction? We suggest the following answer: Simonides’ praise of tyranny in the fourth section—as distinguished from his praise of tyranny in the preceding sections—is not considered by Hiero an expression of the poet’s jealousy of tyrants. More precisely, Simonides’ immediate reaction to Hiero’s statement that a tyrant can hardly do better than to hang himself, or the use which Simonides makes of his newly acquired leadership, convinces Hiero that the poet is not concerned with “contriving something” of an undesirable character. The action by which Simonides breaks down the walls of Hiero’s distrust, is the peripeteia of the dialogue.

The difficult position into which Hiero has been forced is not without its advantages. Hiero had been on the defensive because he did not know what Simonides might be contriving. By his defeat, by his declaration of bankruptcy, he succeeds in stopping Simonides to the extent that he forces him to show his hand. He presents himself as a man who knows that neither of the two ways of life—the tyrannical and the private life—profits him, but who does not know whether it would profit him to cease living by hanging himself (“if it profits any man …”).⁵⁰ Simonides could have taken up in a fairly natural manner the question implicitly raised by Hiero as to whether suicide is an advisable course of action, and in particular whether there are not other forms of death preferable to, or easier than, hanging.⁵¹ In other words, the poet could conceivably have tried to persuade the tyrant to commit suicide, or to commit suicide in the easiest manner. To exaggerate grossly for purposes of clarification: the victory of the wise man over the tyrant, achieved solely by means of speech prudently interspersed with silence, is so complete that the wise man could kill the tyrant without lifting a finger, employing only speech, only persuasion. But he does nothing of the kind: he who has the power of persuasion, he who can do what he likes with any interlocutor, prefers to make use of the obedience of a living man rather than to kill him.52 After having made Hiero realize fully that a wise man has the power of going to any length in contriving anything, Simonides gives him to understand that the wise man would not make use of this power. Simonides’ refraining from acting like a man who wants to do away with a tyrant, or to deprive him of his power, is the decisive reason for the change in Hiero’s attitude.

But silence is not enough: Simonides has to say something. What he says is determined by his intention to advise Hiero, and by the impossibility of advising, a man who is despondent. It is immaterial in this respect that Hiero’s complaints about his situation are of questionable sincerity; for Simonides is not in a position openly to question their sincerity. He has then to comfort Hiero while advising him or prior to advising him. Accordingly, his teaching of the tyrannical art is presented in the following form: Tyranny is most desirable (“comfort”) if you will only do such and such things (“advice”). The comfort element of Simonides’ teaching—the praise of (beneficent) tyranny—is due to the conversational situation and cannot be presumed to be an integral part of Xenophon’s teaching concerning tyranny until it has been proved to be so. On the other hand, Simonides’ advice can be presumed from the outset to be identical with Xenophon’s suggestions about the improvement of tyrannical rule as a radically faulty political order.

It would not have been impossible for Simonides to refute Hiero by showing that the latter’s account of tyranny is exaggerated, i.e., by discussing Hiero’s indictment of tyranny point by point. But such a detailed discussion would merely have led to the conclusion that tyranny is not quite as bad as Hiero had asserted. That dreary result would not have sufficed for restoring Hiero’s courage or for counteracting the crushing effect of his final verdict on tyranny. Or, to disregard for one moment the conversational setting, an exact examination of Hiero’s arguments would have destroyed completely the edifying effect of the indictment of tyranny in the first part of the Hiero. Xenophon had then to burden his Simonides with the task of drawing a picture of tyranny which would be at least as bright as the one drawn by Hiero had been dark. The abundant use of the modus potentialis in Simonides’ speech as well as the silence of the Hiero and indeed of the whole Corpus Xenophonteum about happy tyrants who actually existed anywhere in Greece make it certain that Simonides’ praise of tyranny in the second part of the Hiero was considered by Xenophon even more rhetorical than Hiero’s indictment of tyranny in the first part.

Hiero had tried to show that tyrannical life is inferior to private life from the point of view of pleasure. In the existing situation, Simonides cannot appeal directly from the pleasant to the noble, for Hiero had just declared in the most emphatic manner that, as a matter of fact, a tyrant is a man who has committed an untold number of crimes. Simonides is therefore compelled to show (what in the first part he had hardly more than asserted) that tyrannical life is superior to private life from the point of view of pleasure. Being compelled to accept the tyrant’s end, he must show that Hiero used the wrong means. In other words, he must trace Hiero’s being out of heart with tyranny not to a wrong intention but to an error of judgment, to an erroneous belief.53

Simonides discovers the specific error which he ascribes to Hiero by reflecting on the latter’s reply to the poet’s statement concerning honor. Hiero had compared the honors enjoyed by tyrants with their sexual pleasures: just as services rendered by those who do not love in turn, or who act under compulsion, are no favors, services rendered by those who fear, are no honors. The tertium comparationis between the pleasures of sex and those of honor is that both must be granted by people who are prompted by love () and not by fear. Now Hiero is worried most by his being deprived of the genuine pleasures of sex. But Simonides might offend him by emphasizing this fact and thus asserting that Hiero is more concerned with sex than with honor and hence perhaps not a “real man.” He elegantly avoids this embarrassment by escaping into something more general, viz., into that which is common to “honor” and “sex.”⁵⁴ For whether Hiero is chiefly concerned with the one or the other, he is in both cases in need of love (). And in both cases his misery is due to his belief that being a tyrant and being loved are mutually exclusive.⁵⁵ This is then the diagnosis of Hiero’s illness from which Simonides starts: Hiero is out of heart with tyranny because, desiring to be loved by human beings, he believes that tyrannical rule prevents him from being so loved.⁵⁶ Simonides does not limit himself to rejecting this belief. He asserts that tyrants are more likely to gain affection than private men. For whatever might have to be said against tyranny, the tyrant is certainly a ruler, hence a man of high standing among his fellows, and “we” naturally admire men of high social standing. Above all, the prestige attending ruling positions adds an unbought grace to any act of kindness performed by rulers in general and hence by tyrants in particular.57 It is by means of this assertion that Simonides surreptitiously suggests his cure for Hiero’s illness, a cure discovered, just as the illness itself was, by reflecting on Hiero’s comparison of “honor” and “sex.” Hiero had granted as a matter of course that in order to receive favors, to be loved in return, one must first love: the misery of the tyrant consists in the very fact that he loves and is not loved in turn.⁵⁸ Simonides tacitly applies what Hiero had granted as regards sexual love to love in general: he who wants to be loved must love first; he who wants to be loved by his subjects in order to be genuinely honored by them must love them first; to gain favors he must first show favors. He does not state this lesson in so many words, but he transmits it implicitly by comparing the effects of a tyrant’s acts of kindness with the effects of a private man’s acts of kindness. He thus shifts the emphasis almost insensibly from the pleasant feelings primarily desired to the noble or praiseworthy actions which directly or indirectly bring about those pleasant feelings. He tacitly advises the tyrant to think not of his own pleasures but of the pleasures of others; not of his being served and receiving gifts, but of his doing services and making gifts.⁵⁹ That is to say, he tacitly gives the tyrant exactly the same advice which Socrates explicitly gives his companions, nay, which Virtue herself explicitly gives to Heracles.⁶⁰

Simonides’ virtuous advice does not spoil the effect of his previous indifference to moral principles because the virtuous character of his advice is sufficiently qualified by the context in which it is given. Socrates and Virtue shout their advice from the housetops to men who are of normal decency, and even potential paragons of virtue. Simonides, on the other hand, suggests substantially the same advice in the most subdued language to a tyrant who has just confessed having committed an untold number of crimes. It is true, Simonides’ language becomes considerably less restrained toward the end of the conversation. But it is also true that throughout the conversation he presents the pleasant effects of a tyrant’s kind actions as wholly independent of the manner in which the tyrant had come to power and of any of his previous misdeeds. Simonides’ alleged or real freedom from scruple is preserved in, and operates in, his very recommendation of virtue.⁶¹

Hiero answers “straightway,” “at once.” This is the only occasion on which either of the two interlocutors says something “straightway.”⁶² It is Simonides’ reaction to Hiero’s statement that the tyrant can hardly do better than to hang himself, which induces the tyrant to answer “at once,” i.e., to proceed without that slowness, or circumspection, which characterizes all other utterances of the two men. Dropping his habitual reserve, Hiero gives a sincere, not exaggerated account of the difficulties confronting the tyrant. He no longer denies that tyrants have greater power than private men to do things by means of which men gain affection; he merely denies that they are for this reason more likely to be loved than private men, because they are also compelled to do very many things by which men incur hatred. Thus, e.g., they have to exact money and to punish the unjust; and, above all, they are in need of mercenaries.63 Simonides does not say that one should not take care of all these matters.⁶⁴ But, he believes, there are ways of taking care of things which lead to hatred and other ways which lead to gratification: a ruler should himself do the gratifying things (such as the awarding of prizes) while entrusting to others the hateful things (such as the inflicting of punishment). The implication of this advice as well as of all other advice given to Hiero by Simonides is, of course, that Hiero needs such advice, or that he is actually doing the opposite of what Simonides is advising him to do, i.e., that he is at present a most imperfect ruler. Imitating in his speech by anticipation the hoped-for behavior of his pupil Hiero, or rather giving him by his own action an example of the behavior proper to a tyrant, Simonides soon drops all explicit mention of the hateful things inseparable from tyranny, if not from government as such, while he praises the enormous usefulness of offering prizes: the hateful aspects of tyranny are not indeed annihilated, but banished from sight.⁶⁵ Simonides’ praise of beneficent tyranny thus serves the purpose not merely of comforting Hiero (who is certainly much less in need of comfort than his utterances might induce the unwary reader to believe), but above all of teaching him in what light the tyrant should appear to his subjects: far from being a naïve expression of a naïve belief in virtuous tyrants, it is rather a prudently presented lesson in political prudence.⁶⁶ Simonides goes so far as to avoid in this context the very term “tyrant.”⁶⁷ On the other hand, he now uses the terms “noble” as well as “good” and “useful” much more frequently than ever before, while speaking considerably less of the “pleasant.” With a view to the difficulty of appealing directly from the pleasant to the noble, however, he stresses for the time being the “good” (with its “’utilitarian” implications) considerably more than the “noble” or “fair.”⁶⁸ Furthermore, he shows that striving for honor is perfectly compatible with being the subject of a tyrant, thus blotting out completely the odious implications of his previous statement about honor. He shows, too, that honoring subjects by means of prizes is an excellent bargain.69 And what is most important, he strongly (but by implication) advises against disarming the citizens when he suggests that prizes be offered them for certain achievements of a military nature.⁷⁰

Only after all these steps have been taken does there appear some agreement between Hiero and Simonides on the subject of tyranny. Only now is Hiero prepared not only to listen to Simonides’ advice but to address to him a question, his only question, concerning the proper conduct of tyrannical government. The formulation of the question shows that he has learned something: he does not speak any longer of “tyrant,” but of “ruler.” The purport of the question is established by these facts: First, that Simonides had not said anything about the mercenaries whom Hiero had described in his preceding statement as an oppressive burden on the citizens;⁷¹ and second, that Simonides’ speech might seem to imply a suggestion that the mercenaries be replaced by citizens. Accordingly, Hiero’s question consists of two parts. First, he asks Simonides to advise him how he could avoid incurring hatred on account of his employing mercenaries. Then he asks him whether he means that a ruler who has gained affection is no longer in need of a bodyguard.⁷² Simonides answers emphatically that a bodyguard is indispensable:⁷³ the improvement of tyrannical government should not go to the extreme of undermining the very pillar of tyrannical rule. Thus Simonides’ answer to Hiero’s only question is tantamount to strong counsel against the abdication which he had tentatively suggested earlier. Besides, Hiero’s question as to whether a bodyguard might not be dispensed with might have been prompted by his desire to save the enormous expenses involved. With a view to this possibility, Simonides’ statement implies the answer that such expenses are indeed inevitable, but that the proper use of the mercenaries will dispose the subjects to pay the cost of them most cheerfully.⁷⁴ Yet, Simonides says, adding a word of advice for which he had not been asked, while the ample use of prizes and the proper use of the mercenaries will help greatly in the solution of the tyrant’s financial problems, a tyrant ought not to hesitate to spend his own money for the common good.⁷⁵ Nay, a tyrant’s interests are better served if he spends money for public affairs rather than for his own affairs. In this context Simonides gives the more specific advice—the giving of which may have been the only purpose of Simonides’ starting a conversation with Hiero—that a tyrant should not compete with private men in chariot races and the like, but rather should take care that the greatest number of competitors should come from his city.⁷⁶ He should compete with other leaders of cities for victory in the noblest and grandest contest—viz., in making his city as happy as possible. By winning that contest, Simonides promises him, he will gain the love of all his subjects, the regard of many cities, the admiration of all men, and many other good things; by surpassing his friends in acts of kindness he will be possessed of the noblest and most blessed possession among men: he will not be envied while being happy.77 With this outlook the dialogue ends. Any answer of the tyrant to the poet’s almost boundless promise would have been an anticlimax, and, what would have been worse, it would have prevented the reader from reasonably enjoying the polite silence in which a Greek tyrant, old in crime and martial glory, could listen to a siren-song of virtue.⁷⁸

C. THE USE OF CHARACTERISTIC TERMS

One may say that “the gist of Xenophon’s counsel to despots is that a despot should endeavour to rule like a good king.”¹ It is therefore all the more striking that he avoids consistently the very term “king.” By avoiding the term “king” in a work destined to teach the art of a tyrant, he complies with the rule of tact which requires that one should not embarrass people by mentioning things from the lack of which they can be presumed to suffer: a tyrant must be presumed to suffer from the lack of a valid title to his position. Xenophon’s procedure may have been the model for the apparently opposite but fundamentally identical device of Machiavelli, who in his Prince avoids the term “tiranno”: individuals who are called “tiranni” in the Discourses and elsewhere are called “principi” in the Prince.² We may also note the absence of the terms demos and politeia³ from the Hiero.

As for Simonides in particular, he never uses the term “law.” He mentions justice only once, making it clear that he is speaking of that justice only which is required of subjects rather than rulers: justice in business dealings.⁴ He never speaks of truth or of falsehood or of deceiving. While laughing is never mentioned by Simonides or by Hiero, Simonides speaks once of . This is not insignificant because in the only remark of that kind which occurs in the Hiero, Xenophon notes that Simonides made a certain statement—it concerns Hiero’s love affairs—“laughingly”; Hiero is always serious.⁵ Simonides, who never mentions courage ,⁶ once mentions moderation which is never mentioned by Hiero. On the other hand, Hiero uses the terms , , and which are never used by Simonides.7

Some consideration should also be given the distribution of characteristic terms between the two main parts of the dialogue, namely, the indictment of tyranny on the one hand, the suggestions concerning the improvement of tyrannical rule on the other. Terms which are avoided in the second part are: law, free (freedom), nature, courage, misery. On the other hand, moderation is mentioned only in the second part. “Tyrant” (and derivatives) occurs relatively much more frequently in the first part (83 times) than in the second part (7 times); on the other hand, “ruling” (and derivatives) occurs much more frequently in the much shorter second part (12 times) than in the much more extensive first part (4 times): Simonides wants to induce Hiero to think of his position in terms of “ruling” rather than in terms of “tyranny”; for it is not good for any man to think of his activity in odious terms. How well Simonides succeeds is shown by the fact that in his last remark⁸ Hiero speaks of “ruler” and no longer of “tyrant.” Terms designating pleasure and pain occur relatively much more frequently in the first part (93 times) than in the second part (6 times). On the other hand, “noble” (“fair”) and “base” (“ugly”) occur relatively much more frequently in the second part (15 times) than in the first part (9 times). The reason is obvious: Simonides wants to educate Hiero to take his bearings by the fair rather than by the pleasant. (and derivates) occurs relatively much more frequently in the second part (9 times) than in the first part (4 times). (and derivatives) occurs relatively less frequently in the second part (9 times) than in the first part (16 times).