# Xenophon/Chapter 6

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CHAPTER VI.
THE 'EDUCATION OF CYRUS.'
The 'Cyropædeia,' or 'Education of Cyrus,' is, like the 'Anabasis,' misnamed. For only the first few chapters are about the education, properly so called, of the Persian monarch. The remainder of the work, extending to eight books, and being nearly the largest of the writings of Xenophon, treats of the successful exploits of Cyrus as a general, and a military and civil organiser, under his uncle Cyaxares, till he finally receives from the latter the hand of his daughter in marriage, and is placed on the throne of Media. The work closes with an account of the distribution into satrapies of the countries conquered by Cyrus; and of the sage advice which he gave, when his death drew nigh, to his sons and his chief officers of state—advice, says Xenophon, which was but too much neglected by his successors, who forgot his maxims, and by their misrule suffered the excellent institutions of Cyrus to fall into abeyance, and the national character of the Persians to decay.
​And yet the name conveys generally the main purpose which Xenophon apparently had in view when writing this work. He wished, not to write history, but to compose a historical romance, in which should be depicted a perfect governor of men. And the perfection of the generalship, administration, and monarchical rule of Cyrus, was meant to be attributed in the first instance to the excellent education which he had received in youth. All is of a piece with this conception. The hero of the book is possessed of Utopian excellence. His virtues are unalloyed by any vice, and his successes by a single reverse. Evidently, then, we have before us one of those novels with a purpose which have been common enough in modern times, and which are generally considered to be rather poor works of art. Xenophon's is the first elaborate production of the kind which remains to us from antiquity, though probably the allegorical sermons of the Sophists (see above, p. 109) were in the same direction.
In giving any account (and much will not be required) of the 'Education of Cyrus,' we must remind the reader that this is not the same Cyrus as he whom Xenophon knew personally, and under whom he marched from Sardis to Cunaxa. The Cyrus of the ​'Anabasis' (see above, p. 11) was a mere pretender to the Persian throne, and died B.C. 400. The Cyrus of the 'Cyropædeia' was the Great Cyrus, who founded the Persian Empire, and died about 525 B.C. Of this great conqueror's history there are three accounts remaining; the first is that of Herodotus, the father of history; the second is that of Ctesias, a Greek physician, who was employed at the court of Persia, and wrote a history of the country; the third is that given by Xenophon, and of all the three the last mentioned is generally considered as the least to be depended on. The curious thing is that Xenophon, writing what he meant to be a historical romance, has made it infinitely tamer than the account of Cyrus given by Herodotus, who aimed at merely setting down the historical facts as they had been told him. The Cyrus of Herodotus is sent out, when newly born, by his grandfather to be murdered; he is saved by interposition of Providence, brought up as the child of a herdsman, and subsequently recognised; he revolts against his grandfather, overthrows the Median kingdom, founds the Persian Empire, and finally is slain in a great battle against Tomyris, queen of the Massagetæ. The Cyrus of Xenophon is brought up in all decorum as befitted the grandson and nephew of a king; he is duly appointed to high offices in the state, obtains many easy victories, and inaugurates many state improvements; he succeeds peacefully to the throne of his uncle, and on a quiet death-bed gives lectures to his admiring friends upon the arts of government and the immortality of the soul. This was a case, then, in which truth was ​stranger than fiction; for the purpose of Herodotus was truth, whereas the purpose of Xenophon was fiction of a particular kind—not the fiction which grasps the poetry of human life, but the dry fiction which treats all incidents as a mere framework on which ethical or political moralisings may be hung.
It may be supposed, however, that Xenophon, who under the younger Cyrus had penetrated into the heart of the Persian territory, must have had great opportunities of studying Persian customs, and that his book would be found to contain valuable information with regard to those customs, and to the Oriental character viewed on its best side. But in this expectation the reader is disappointed, for here again we find that it was Xenophon's object to set forth, not facts, but his own conceptions of what ought to be. Throwing the scene of his Utopia into the far East, and the time of his narrative one hundred and fifty years back, he appears to have thought himself emancipated from restrictions of truth, or even probability, and accordingly he transfers to ancient Persia all that he most admired in the Lacedæmonian institutions of his own time. Even the distinctive and remarkable characteristics of the Persian religion are blurred over and confused by his constantly attributing to his hero the performance of sacrifices according to the Grecian mode, and the practice of the art of divination, of which he was personally so fond.
Taking the 'Cyropædeia' as we find it—not as a history, nor as a true picture of national life and manners, nor yet as a romance of the higher kind, like ​one of Walter Scott's novels, but as a fiction composed with the object of setting forth views on education and politics—we must allow it certain merits. The purity and elegance of its style are universally acknowledged. And it possesses, as Colonel Mure says, an epic unity of action, within which numerous episodes are artistically introduced, some of them quite idyllic in character. It will be sufficient for our purpose to introduce to the reader a few specimens of these, as there would be little use or pleasure in dwelling on the details of the pseudo-historical campaigns of Cyrus.
Xenophon commences by saying that, on reflecting how constantly governments of all kinds are overthrown, he had come to the conclusion that mankind are far harder to govern than cattle or horses, which are easily brought into obedience. One man, however, had possessed, in a pre-eminent degree, the faculty of ruling over his fellow-men, and that was Cyrus the Persian. How Cyrus should have been able to conquer and hold in subjection so large a portion of the world, seemed to him a problem worth investigation. He had made all the inquiries he could about the natural qualities and education which had produced so remarkable a ruler, and would now proceed to state them, as follows:—
Both the historians and the poets of Persia agree in describing Cyrus as beautiful in person, humane in disposition, and so keen in the pursuit both of knowledge and of glory as to endure all labours and encounter all dangers for their sake. The education which he ​received was in accordance with the system of public instruction of his country. For Persia, unlike other countries (this is meant as a hit at Athens, and at the same time as a compliment to Sparta), did not content herself with legislating against crime; she moulded the minds of her citizens from childhood, by a public educational system, to virtue. This system, according to Xenophon, extended only to the higher classes of society. Unlike our Committee of the Privy Council, the Persian educational department appears to have begun from the top. Only those were admitted to the privileges of the state education who were above the necessity of manual labour.
The headquarters of public instruction in Persia are described as being in the metropolis, in a grand square, where the king's palace and the public offices stood, and from which all merchandise and trades, with their "noise and vulgarity," were banished. The square was divided into four parts, which were severally assigned to the boys, youths, men, and elders. The first three classes attended regularly from early morning. The elders appear to have joined the place of instruction at such times as suited them, chiefly to furnish an example to their juniors, but, when on the spot, to have been under discipline like the rest. The youths, till married, slept round the public offices, in light armour, as guards. Each of the four classes was under the control of presidents. In the boys' quarter the time appears chiefly to have been occupied in trying, under the president, all cases of crime and misdemeanour which had arisen among the boys them​selves. Theft, deceit, calumny, and ingratitude were thus brought to punishment. And it was commonly said that the Persian boys went to school to learn justice, as elsewhere boys go to school to learn to read. To this arrangement the trifling objection might be made, that it seems to imply a very abundant and continuous crop of naughtiness among the boys themselves, else the trials would have come to an end, and the study of "justice" would have been stopped. Xenophon, however, makes no remark on this point, nor does he mention any other subjects of study as entering into the curriculum of this model university. Indeed, the education given seems very much to have been based on those "Aryan principles" of instruction of which we have heard of late, and according to which book-learning will always be at a discount. A Spartan system of diet appears to have been prescribed for the boys, consisting of bread and cresses, with water to drink. The boys learned shooting with the bow, and throwing the javelin; and at the age of seventeen they passed into the class of youths.
From seventeen to twenty-seven the chief means of cultivation for the youths appear to have consisted in patrol-duty and hunting. On the advantages of hunting as a preparation and training for war, the Persians, according to Xenophon, laid great stress, and the youths were constantly engaged in formal hunting-parties under the king. They bivouacked in the open fields, and were restricted to the most ascetic fare; and as a result of this system Xenophon mentions that every Persian avoids, as a piece of bad manners, ​either spitting or blowing his nose—"a rule which it would be impossible to observe, except by men who had practised great moderation in diet and exhausted the moisture of their bodies by exercise."
Under this mode of instruction, which Xenophon does not further describe, Cyrus was brought up till twelve years old. He was then taken to see his grandfather, Astyages, king of the Medes. By his lively prattle he pleased Astyages, and was invited to remain for some time at his court. Cyrus begged his mother to let him stay, because, he said, "he knew how to shoot well enough already, and by stopping amongst the Medes he should have a better opportunity than at home of learning to ride." His mother's objection was that he would forget all about "justice." But Cyrus said that he quite understood justice, and did not require to learn it any more. "How so?" said Mandane. "Why," said Cyrus, "I have often been appointed to decide cases, and I only made one mistake. That was in the case of the boys and the coats. There was a big boy who had a little coat, quite too small for him. And there was a little boy with a large coat, very loose upon him. So the big boy made the little boy exchange coats with him, and I decided that he was right in doing so, and that each boy should keep the coat that best fitted him. But the master beat me for giving this decision, for he said that it was against the law to force a person to give up his property, and that justice consisted in obeying the law. So, now I know what justice is." This story—which has probably been made familiar ​to most of our readers by that most delightful book for childhood, 'Sandford and Merton'—shows the sort of materials from which Xenophon constructed his work; for it evidently conveys in a lively form one of the favourite doctrines of Socrates (see above, page 114). A combination of the teachings of Socrates with the institutions of Sparta is what Xenophon wishes to recommend under the shallow disguise of Persian names and the picture of a foreign court.
The educational institutions of Sparta, by themselves, Xenophon would probably not have deemed adequate, as not being sufficiently awakening to the intellect. One of the most interesting indications on the subject of education which he gives is contained in a charming description of the boy Cyrus, of whom he says: "He was, perhaps, a little over-talkative, but this was partly from education; because he was obliged by his master to give a reason for what he did, and to require reasons from others, when he had to give his opinion in judgment; and partly, because, being very eager for knowledge, he was always putting questions to those about him on many subjects, to ascertain how such and such things were; and from being of a quick apprehension, he gave very ready answers to all questions that were asked him;—so that from all these circumstances he acquired a habit of loquacity." The method of instruction here indicated, in this Émile of the fourth century before Christ, is well worth attention. It implies that the one thing, to be aimed at in educating boys is, to arouse their intelligence into activity. This forms a great contrast ​to the spirit of modern education, which aims rather at imparting results and foregone conclusions, and which many people are now beginning to complain of, as fostering servility of mind and want of self-reliance. Cyrus, according to the account of Xenophon, stayed four or five years at the court of his grandfather, during which time he was not at all spoilt by the indulgence which all showed him, and the luxury which he saw around him. He developed in manly qualities, became a bold and passionate rider, hunted the animals in the royal park (or "paradise"), and then took to more real and dangerous sport in riding after the boar and other animals in their native wilds. On one occasion the Assyrians made a raid over the Median borders, and Astyages took out troops to intercept them. The youthful Cyrus, about fifteen years old, went with him in a new suit of armour, and at an opportune moment advised that a dash should be made at the enemy. The charge was made, the boy joined, and gradually headed it. "As a generous dog," says Xenophon, "that has no experience, hurries headlong without caution upon a boar, so Cyrus pressed forward, minding only to strike whomsoever he overtook, and heedless of anything else." The enemy gave way, and the Median cavalry had complete success. Cyrus was almost mad with excitement; and while the rest were retiring, he did nothing but ride round by himself, and gaze upon those who had fallen in the action.
Such was his first essay in arms. He was shortly afterwards recalled by his father, in order that he ​might complete his education. On returning to Persia, he continued another year in the class of the boys. He lived cheerfully on the same rigorous fare as the rest, and surpassed them all in exercises and in diligence of attention. With the exception of some advice from his father, which has very much the appearance of some of the conversations of Socrates, we hear no more, after this, of the "education of Cyrus." He had now reached man's estate, and on a war between Media and Assyria breaking out, he was appointed to command the Persian force of some forty thousand men which was sent to assist the Medes. He immediately made a long speech, in the style of the Xenophontic orations in the 'Anabasis,' to his chosen body-guard. After this follows an account of improvements effected by Cyrus in the army—a topic which gave Xenophon a good opportunity for developing many of his favourite theories on military organisation. Ambassadors arrived from "the king of India" to learn the particulars of the quarrel between Media and Assyria, and Cyrus sagaciously conciliated them by proposing that the king of India should be made arbitrator in the question.
The chief of Armenia, a country subject to the Medes, showed signs of revolt at this juncture, and Cyrus took his army for the purpose of reducing him to obedience. Having adroitly surrounded the Armenian chief, and made him prisoner, he proceeded to try him solemnly on the charge of treason. Xenophon uses this opportunity to introduce a conversational debate, after his own heart. Tigranes, son of the ​Armenian, had resided in Persia, and had often been one of the hunting companions of Cyrus. Cyrus recollected that he had noticed this young man associating with a philosopher, who went about with him and instructed him. He now came forward and requested to be heard in his father's defence. Being readily allowed by Cyrus to speak, he pleaded, not that his father had been innocent, but that by captivity and fear he had been reformed, and that it would be infinitely better policy in Cyrus to accept him as a humbled and grateful dependant, instead of putting him to death. The arguments of Tigranes, backed by his own generous impulses, prevailed with Cyrus, and in the handsomest terms, mixed with some badinage, he spared the life of the Armenian chief, only taking from him a moderate fine. He then turned to Tigranes and asked what had become of his friend the philosopher. "He is no more," said Tigranes, "for my father here put him to death." "What crime," asked Cyrus, "did he find him committing?" "He said that he corrupted me," answered Tigranes; "and yet, Cyrus, so noble and excellent a man he was, that, when he was going to die, he sent for me and told me not to bear my father the least ill-will for putting him to death, because he was doing it not out of malice, but out of ignorance, and whatever faults men commit through ignorance ought to be considered involuntary." "Alas, poor man!" said Cyrus. On this the Armenian chief interposed, and said, "It was jealousy, Cyrus; ​I could not help hating that man, because I thought he stole my son's heart away from me. My son admired him more than he did myself." "Well," said Cyrus, "that was a natural weakness of yours, and your son must now forgive you." The introduction of this incident, in obvious allusion to the treatment of Socrates by the "fathers" of Athens, is very characteristic of the manner of the 'Cyropædeia.'
Perhaps the most famous episode which the book contains is the tale of Abradâtes and Panthea. In one of Cyrus's battles with the Assyrians, the enemy's camp was stormed, and a great prize, both in spoil and prisoners, was taken. Among the captives was Panthea, a lady of Susa, the wife of Abradâtes, an Assyrian prince, who was himself absent, having been sent on a mission to Bactria. The Median officers, in disposing of the booty, set aside this lady as a complimentary offering to Cyrus. He, learning what had been arranged, requested Araspes, for whom he had had a sort of friendship from boyhood, to take charge of the lady. Araspes, on receiving the order, asked, "But have you seen the person whom you wish me to take charge of?" Cyrus replied that he had not. On which the other said, "I have seen her, though, and she is simply the most beautiful creature that was ever born of mortals throughout the whole of Asia. Even when she was sitting on the ground, covered with a veil, there was something about her that distinguished her from the other women. But when she stood up, still veiled and weeping, she was not only divinely tall, but had an indescribable grace and tragic ​nobleness in her attitude. To comfort her, we told her that no doubt her husband was an excellent gentleman, but that she would now belong to one who in every respect was at least his equal, for that if there was a man in the world that deserved admiration, it was Cyrus. On hearing this, she rent her veil and uttered a lamentable cry, and her women cried out with her. And we saw the greater part of her face and her hands. There never was such a woman. You must go and see her yourself."
"By heavens! I shall do nothing of the kind, if she is such as you describe," said Cyrus. "Why not?" asked the young man. "Why, because if I were now to yield to your description, and go and see her, overwhelmed as I am with business, I daresay the sight of her might make me wish to go again, and thus I might perhaps neglect what I have to do, in order to sit gazing at her." At this Araspes laughed, and asked Cyrus "if he thought that the beauty of any human being could put a constraint on another, so as to force him to act differently from what he judged best? Love," he argued, "is an affair of the will; else, why does not a brother fall in love with his sister, or a father with his daughter?" But Cyrus said, "If love be voluntary, why cannot a person cease loving when he wishes to do so? I have seen people," he added, "weeping from love—made regular slaves—giving away all they had, wanting to get rid of their love, and yet held as if by an iron chain—victims of a complete fascination." "They must be poor creatures," said Araspes; "any man who is worth anything can ​look at a beautiful woman without its making any difference to him. At least, I am sure I feel this about our beautiful captive." "Have a care," said Cyrus, "and above all things guard this lady well, for she may be of great political importance to us some day or other."
So ended the conversation, and the confident boastings of Araspes; who, partly from seeing the beauty of his prisoner, and partly from her worth and goodness, and partly from waiting on her and finding her not ungrateful, and partly from her attentions to him when he was ill—from all these causes combined, succumbed to the fate which he had derided, and became hopelessly in love with Panthea. Which, as Xenophon remarks, was not a very wonderful occurrence after all. When, however, Araspes at last ventured to intimate to her the change in his feelings which had come about, and the great passion by which he was now possessed, Panthea would not listen to him for a moment. She protested her unswerving love and constancy to her absent husband; and when Araspes in despair uttered cruel threats, she sent a private messenger to Cyrus to acquaint him with what had happened. Cyrus, on hearing it, burst out laughing at the man who had said that he was above the power of love. He sent Artabazus, a confidential officer, to enjoin Araspes most strictly to do no violence to the lady, but at the same time to say that he had carte blanche to make as much impression on her as, by fair means, he could. Artabazus, however, appears not to have given this exact message. He rated ​Araspes soundly for his unfaithfulness to a sacred trust, and for his weakness, impiety, and wickedness; so that Araspes was overwhelmed with shame and confusion, and half-dead with fear of some great punishment at the hands of Cyrus. Cyrus, hearing of his distress, sent for him alone; bid him be reassured; told him that he might easily be forgiven, since both gods and men yielded to the power of love; and finally took the blame to himself, as having shut him up with such an irresistible creature. Araspes, however, still made moan, that all men would point at him, and that even his friends advised him to keep out of the way of Cyrus, as likely to do him harm. "This is most opportune," said Cyrus, "for now you will be just the man for me to send as a spy into Lydia. You can pretend to fly from me and go over to the enemy, and you will get their confidence, and be able to give us the most valuable information." This arrangement was speedily made, and the love-stricken Araspes departed on his mission, and disappeared from the scene.
The beautiful Panthea now suggested that she should send for her husband, who, in gratitude for the treatment she had received, would be certain to desert his Assyrian master, and come over to Cyrus. She was allowed to send; and Abradâtes, having recognised his wife's tokens, and heard how matters stood, marched joyfully to the camp of Cyrus, bringing with him about a thousand horse. Having declared who he was, he was admitted within the lines, and embraced his wife tenderly after so long a separation. He then ​waited upon Cyrus, and extending his right hand, said, "In return for the benefits that you have bestowed on us, Cyrus, I can say nothing more than that I give myself to you, as a friend, a servant, and an ally." Cyrus said, "I accept your kindness, and take leave of you for the present, that you may go to supper with your wife; at some other time I shall hope to receive you in my tent, together with your friends and mine."
Not long after this, it came about that Cyrus had to fight a great battle against the enemy, who were now an army of all nations under the command of Crœsus, king of Lydia. While the disposition of the forces was being made, Abradâtes, prince of Susa, obtained, partly by entreaty and partly by lot, a conspicuous position in the front line of Cyrus's army. He made a splendid figure, for he had a chariot with four poles, drawn by eight horses; and his wife Panthea had arrayed him in a golden helmet and golden arm-pieces which she had procured, and a purple robe reaching to his feet, which she had made. When he was preparing to mount his chariot, she bade him farewell, saying, "You know, Abradâtes, that if ever a woman loved her husband better than her own soul, I am such a one. And yet, loving you as I do, I love honour more, and would rather be buried with you, in your glory, than live with you if either of us were dishonoured. You will remember the debt of gratitude which we owe to Cyrus, and in this battle you will discharge it." Abradâtes laid his hand gently on her head, and, lifting his eyes to heaven, exclaimed, "May ​I prove worthy of the love of Panthea, and of the friendship of Cyrus!" He then mounted, and Panthea, as a last adieu, kissed the chariot, and was borne off by her attendants to her tent, and the line began to move against the enemy.
There was a mighty battle against great odds, for the army of Crœsus quite outflanked that of Cyrus, and enclosed it, "as a large brick might enclose a smaller one," on all sides but the rear. But the gallantry of the smaller force prevailed, and none on that day made a fiercer charge than Abradâtes of Susa, who, being posted against the Egyptians, overwhelmed and crushed them in his weighty chariot, armed with scythes. But in the furious melée that ensued, the prince himself, pursuing his victorious course, was thrown from his chariot, and, fighting like a brave man on foot, was cut down and killed.
The next day after the battle had been won, Cyrus asked, "Where was Abradâtes, that he did not come to see him?" They said that he was no longer alive, and that his wife had carried his body to a spot near the river Pactolus, where her eunuchs were digging a grave for him, while she sat on the ground with the dead man's head upon her knee. On learning this, Cyrus struck his thigh, and leaping upon his horse, rode, with an escort, to the scene of affliction. When he reached the spot, he approached the corpse, and shedding tears, he said, "Ah! brave and faithful soul, hast thou then left us for ever?" and he took hold of the right hand, but the hand came away, for the wrist had been cut through by an Egyptian. On ​this Panthea shrieked, and taking the hand kissed and replaced it, and said, "All his body is like this, Cyrus, and it is my doing, for, not thinking of the result, I exhorted him not to spare himself for your sake. And now he is dead, and I who encouraged him sit here alive." After weeping for some time in silence, Cyrus said, "He has died a noble death, and numbers of men shall raise a monument to him, which shall not be unworthy of him or of us, and sacrifices shall be performed in honour of his bravery. And for you, every care shall be taken of you; and when you tell me where you wish to be sent, it shall be done." Panthea replied, "You shall soon know, Cyrus, to whom I wish to go." Cyrus now departed, sorrowing. And Panthea, having ordered her eunuchs to retire, called her nurse, and bade her, when she was dead, to wrap her and her husband in one mantle. She then produced a sword, which she had provided, and stabbed herself, and the nurse, wailing, covered them both as Panthea had directed, and three of the faithful eunuchs slew themselves on the bodies of their master and mistress. Cyrus, when he heard of it, lamented exceedingly, and caused a lofty monument to be raised over the noble and unfortunate pair.
This narrative, which we have given as nearly as possible in the words of Xenophon, is the first extant instance of a prose love-story in European literature. It was much admired by the ancients, and probably gave rise to many imitations of itself. Plutarch, in his essay to prove "that the doctrines of Epicurus do not secure even pleasure in living," asks (p. 1093) ​"whether the actual enjoyments of love could be superior to the imaginative pleasures felt in reading the tale of Panthea as related by Xenophon, or the tale of Timoclea as told by Aristobulus, or of Thebe by Theopompus?" These two last writers were historians of the time of Alexander the Great, who appear to have introduced love episodes into their histories, which are now lost. As in old Homer, and as in India at the present day, the conception of love in the story of Panthea is a conception of post-nuptial, and not ante-nuptial, passion. The action commences, so to speak, at a point after the third volume of a modern novel would have concluded. As such, and on account of its simplicity, the tragical story of Abradâtes and Panthea may be despised by the English reader, especially if unmarried. But taking the ancient Greeks as they are, we may find some interest in observing the points in which they differ from ourselves.
After his victory over Crœsus, and after taking the city of Sardis, Cyrus proceeded to the conquest of Babylon. Xenophon, like the other authorities, represents him as effecting this by diverting the course of the Euphrates, and entering the city by the river-bed at midnight, while all the Babylonians were engaged in a revel. The whole account is interspersed with a record of the sagacious provisions and wise exhortations of Cyrus, which takes off from its liveliness, and makes the narrative unworthy of the greatness of the event. In vividness and reality this crowning act in the creation of the Persian empire falls far short of those smaller incidents in which ​Xenophon had himself taken part, and which he describes in the graphic pages of the 'Anabasis.'
Henceforth the measures of Cyrus for the consolidation of his rule over the conquered nations, and his maxims of government, are recorded. Some of these may be mentioned. His first care was to provide attached and faithful attendants about his own person. In selecting these, the principle he went upon was, to choose men who had fewest family ties, who belonged to the most despised and isolated class, and who could be most absolutely bound by obligations of favour and gratitude. And of these he formed his bureaucracy.
Next, Cyrus turned his attention to the civil business of the empire, which he arranged by a system of bureaux and departments, so as to keep a centralised control of all the ramifications of state affairs. "He was thus enabled, by speaking with a few persons only, to keep every department of business under superintendence; and he had consequently more leisure than another man who had charge but of a single house or a single ship." Having by orderly arrangement secured a certain amount of leisure both for himself and others, he proceeded to employ this in moulding the characters of the upper ranks of society. He encouraged, by many artifices, "all who were able to subsist by the labour of other men" to be in constant attendance at his court, and he set himself to be "a living law" and example of life and manners to these. Each day had its appointed religious services, under the direction of the Magi, and commenced with a ​hymn to the gods, which was sung at daybreak. Great moderation and simplicity characterised the style of living in the palace. Everything unseemly was carefully avoided. A strict code of etiquette and politeness was introduced, and differences of rank were marked with appropriate observances. No outbreak of anger or rude laughter was ever to be heard. "You would have thought that the whole court lived entirely for the beautiful."
As a preparation for war (here Xenophon introduces one of his favourite ideas, and not a bad one), Cyrus used to take out all the gentlemen of his court to hunt wild animals on horseback with spears. Thus a great emulation arose in riding and skill of various kinds. And all became inured to hardy habits and long fasts in the open air; and Cyrus himself outvied them all, and showed them his opinion, "that no man has any business with government who is not himself better than those whom he governs." But while setting this example, and taking all this trouble for the education of the upper classes, with respect to the lower ranks of society he took a very different course. He studiously avoided inciting them to any liberal pursuit, and even prevented them as far as possible from exercising the virtues of self-denial. For when a crowd of the common people had to act as beaters in the mountains and forests, he had provisions carried for them, but none for the nobles. So that the lower orders, not understanding his aims, and being well cared for, "called him their father, for arranging that they should always continue slaves." This Machia​vellian policy, which of course is to be considered as an idea of Xenophon's, and not as historical, is in accordance with the ancient Greek notions that society must be based on slavery. It is also akin with the Spartan principle that the government must be for the interests of a ruling caste, while an outlying caste (like the Helots) is to be treated as a mere instrument, with no rights of its own, in the state arrangements.
The policy of Cyrus in governing "dependencies" (for such was Babylon when first conquered) is represented as consisting in constant conciliation of the upper classes, who were to be drawn closely round the monarch; while all the rest were to be equitably treated, but held at a distance. Thus Xenophon describes him as spending infinite trouble and tact on personal attentions to the nobles, who were by these means to be captivated, and turned more and more into friends of the king. All this is interesting, and might be compared, or contrasted, as the case may be, with the action of England (too often without a theory) in relation to its dependencies, such as Ireland of old and India in later times.
After the settlement of Babylon came the division of the whole Persian empire into satrapies, which is better related by Herodotus. And then there were various journeys of Cyrus to revisit his home, where his father and mother were now dead. From his uncle Cyaxares, whom Cyrus had made the head of the greatest empire in the world, he received the hand of a daughter in marriage, with the throne of Media for her dower.
​At last, when he was on one of his visits to Persia, being now advanced in years, though apparently in perfect health—after performing some sacrifices and leading in person a national dance—Cyrus was in the night warned by a vision of his approaching end. A being of superhuman dignity seemed to come to him, and to say, "Cyrus, prepare thyself, for thou art now going to the gods." After this vision he awoke, and, taking victims, went to the summit of a mountain, where he sacrificed to Jupiter, the sun, and the rest of the gods, thanking them for their care of him during his long and prosperous life, and for all the omens and signs they had sent him as indications of what he ought to do; and praying for a blessing on his family, his friends, and his country. He then returned home, and lay down to rest. Feeling no inclination to eat, he took nothing for three days, after which he called round him his sons and the chief men of Persia, and addressed them. He told them that he knew his end was at hand, and that when he was gone they were to think of him as one who had lived a happy life. "I have realised," said he, "all that is most highly prized in the successive ages of life—as a child in childhood, as a young man in youth, as a man in maturity. My strength has seemed to increase with the advance of time; I have failed in nothing that I undertook. I have exalted my friends and humbled my enemies, and have brought my country from obscurity to the summit of glory. I have kept hitherto from anything like boasting, knowing that a reverse might come; but now that ​the end has arrived, I may safely claim to be called fortunate."
He then turned to his sons, and having assigned the succession to the throne to one, and an immense satrapy to another, he exhorted them to live in concord. And he based this exhortation not only on grounds of natural affection and mutual interest, but also on a regard to what would be pleasing to his own disembodied spirit. He said, "You cannot surely believe that when I have ended this mortal life I shall cease to exist. Even in lifetime you have never seen my soul; you have only inferred its existence. And there are grounds for inferring the continuance of the soul after death. Have we not seen what a power is exercised by the souls of murdered men—how they send avenging furies to punish their murderers? It is only to this belief in the power of the soul after death that the custom of paying honour to the dead is due; and the belief is reasonable, for the soul, and not the body, is the principle of life. When soul and body are separated, it is natural to think that the soul will live. And the soul, too, is the principle of intelligence. When severed from the senseless body, it will surely not lose its intelligence, but only become more pure and bright; just as in sleep, when the soul is most independent of the body, it seems to gain the power, by prophetic dreams, of seeing into futurity. Do, then, what I advise, from a ​regard to my immortal spirit; but if I be mistaken in thinking it so, then act out of regard for the eternal gods who maintain the order of the universe, and watch over piety and justice. Respect, too, Humanity, in its perpetual succession, and act so as to be approved by all posterity. When I am dead, do not enshrine my body in gold or silver, but restore it to the earth, for what can be better than to be mixed up and incorporated with the beneficent source of all that is good for men? While life, which still lingers in me, remains, you may come near and touch my hand, and look upon my face; but when I have covered my head for death, I request that no man may any more look upon my body. But summon all the Persians and the allies to my tomb, to rejoice with me that I shall now be in safety, and cannot suffer even any more, whether I shall have gone to God, or whether I shall have ceased to exist. Distribute gifts among all who come. And remember this my last word of advice: 'By doing good to your friends, you will gain the power of punishing your enemies.' Farewell, dear children; say farewell to your mother from me: all my friends, absent as well as present, farewell." Having said this, and taken every one by the right hand, he covered his face, and expired.
* ↑ See page 10.
* ↑ Some modern translators have tried to find a name which should apply to the whole contents of the book, by calling it 'The Institution of Cyrus,'—the word "institution" being in obsolete English capable of being taken for "education," and also being applicable to the "form of government" described as being introduced by Cyrus. But the word pædeia in Cyropædeia has no such double application.
* ↑ The word used by Xenophon is "sophist," which means a professional teacher of philosophy and rhetoric.
* ↑ The arguments here given in favour of the immortality of the soul, are exactly quoted by Cicero at the end of his dialogue, "On Old Age."
* ↑ This is quite at variance with the Persian customs, as related by Herodotus. Bodies could neither be buried nor burnt, because both the earth and fire were too sacred for contamination. They were therefore exposed to be consumed by vultures—a practice still universally maintained by the Parsees, the modern representatives of the old Persian religion.