Chapter 1. Philanthrôpia and Philotîmia as Reciprocal Fondness

I begin this study of Cyrus’ three superlative character traits with an early and seemingly simple passage in the Cyropaedia. Xenophon describes how the twelve-year-old Cyrus wins over his Medan contemporaries (hêlikotai), then their fathers, and then his grandfather, Astyages. Both the love of humanity (philanthrôpia) and the love of being honored (philotîmia) explain Cyrus’ behavior. As we proceed through this passage piece by piece, we will see how thoroughly interwoven Xenophon’s entire narrative is and how he is either reworking or incorporating aspects of the Cyrus legend from Herodotus and Ctesias. [1] It is also possible that Xenophon is either inventing aspects of Cyrus on his own or that he is drawing from non-extant Persian folklore. Of particular interest for us will be the ways in which Cyrus comes to form intimate relationships. We will examine his fondness for others, his affection, his ways of showing favor, his gentleness, his sense of fairness, his sympathy, his pity, his nurturing attention, his ability to play “matchmaker,” his practice of giving gifts—all of which serve to win honor and a devoted following.

The scene is set by the departure of Cyrus’ mother, Mandane, from the Medan court of Astyages back to Persia. After expressing concern for the kind of education Cyrus would receive in a decadent and despotic Media, she leaves Cyrus behind. He must rely on his own Persian education, which is tested in several ways. Xenophon describes how Cyrus quickly comes to be on familiar terms with his Medan contemporaries and disarms their fathers. He then wins over Astyages and uses his favor to help the fathers.

As we think about this scene, we should keep in mind how Herodotus’ Cyrus interacts with his Medan contemporaries and their fathers (Histories 1.114–116). Herodotus’ Cyrus is ten years old and, up to this point, raised in the company of herdsmen who have rescued him from exposure (he does not yet know of his royal blood). He plays at being “king” with the Medan youth, but when it is his turn to be king he assigns various tasks, then has one of the boys whipped for refusing to obey. As the boy is seemingly of a higher station than Cyrus, the boy’s father, Artembares, has Cyrus brought before Astyages to be punished for his outrage. Astyages then realizes that Cyrus is the grandson he had tried to have killed as an infant (because he feared his rise to power). Both Xenophon and Herodotus’ Cyrus play at being king but in rather different ways. Xenophon’s Cyrus imagines being ruler (archôn) of Astyages’ wine-pourer Sacas, but in a lighthearted and ultimately harmless manner (Cyropaedia 1.3.11). {22|23}

Unlike Herodotus’ Cyrus, Xenophon says that Cyrus “blended in” so well with his Medan contemporaries that he comes to be on “familiar terms” with them. Other uses of the expression oikeiôs diakeisthai refer to those whose interests and routines are thoroughly intertwined, e.g. by dining together, traveling together, or sharing in any activity with a member of a household (oikos) without technically belonging to it. [2] Cyrus is especially good at forming these kinds of relationships. When he is introduced to his grandfather, he kisses him as one “naturally loving of affection” (philostorgos), as though Astyages were a long-lost friend (1.3.2). Though literally a son, grandson, and nephew, Cyrus assumes the role of family member to others. He is the avenging “son” to the Assyrians, Gobryas and Gatadas. [3] Cyrus plays the “brother” to Abradatas by protecting and caring for his wife Pantheia (6.4.7.5). Ultimately he is a “father” to the citizens of his many nations, and they are his children. [4] Cyrus shows sympathy for Croesus by emphasizing their common humanity. [5] He also wins over the wine-pourer Sacas by becoming “his own Sacas,” by which Xenophon means that, in enlisting the cupbearer’s guidance, Cyrus develops an intuitive sense for when to visit his grandfather (1.4.6). This friendship between Cyrus and Sacas may be a reworking of Ctesias’ account of how the low-born Cyrus insinuates his way into the inner court of the Medan king by becoming his cupbearer. [6]

After mentioning his quick intimacy with the Medan youth, Xenophon gives specific examples of how Cyrus manages to “blend in” with them so well. He attributes none of Cyrus’ familiarity to his half-Medan ancestry but instead portrays what in other contexts is called Cyrus’ mildness or gentleness (praotês). [7] With false bravado Cyrus challenges his contemporaries to riding contests, even though he knows he is inferior. When he fails, he is quick to laugh at himself (1.4.4). When he goes hunting with his comrades, he declines the privilege of being the first to cast his spear, but insists instead that his comrades be allowed to hunt with him on equal terms (1.4.14). When the hunt begins, Cyrus even cheers his comrades in pursuit of their quarry. His grandfather delights in the {23|24} fact that Cyrus does not feel any envy toward them. Instead Cyrus is a source of pleasure to all and of grief to none (1.4.15).

Cyrus’ friendly competitiveness contrasts sharply with the envy of the Assyrian king in the Cyropaedia, who not only murders the son of Gobryas when he bests him in the hunt, but makes Gadatas into a eunuch when he catches the eye of one of his concubines. [8] Cyrus’ gentle competitiveness takes on even greater significance when we consider the context of Ctesias’ Persica. During the reign of Artaxerxes I, Ctesias explains, Megabyzus was slated for execution for hunting a lion against the king’s royal prerogative. [9] Xenophon’s Cyrus apparently has no need for such a privilege.

Fortunately for his claims to royal sovereignty, Cyrus eventually surpasses his comrades in both horsemanship and hunting, but without marginalizing or humiliating them. He is in effect “playing king” all along, as in Herodotus, though without treating his comrades as disobedient slaves. Moreover, with the exception of his uncle, Cyaxares, Cyrus never comes to rival any of his comrades in a threatening or destructive way. Whereas Ctesias’ Cyrus liberates the Persians from the Medes, who are portrayed as inferior and unworthy to rule, [10] Xenophon’s Cyrus adapts to both cultures and eventually incorporates aspects of Medan society into his Persian Empire.

After Xenophon says that Cyrus quickly wins over his Medan comrades, he says that he quickly wins over their fathers as well (1.4.1). He does this first by making an approach to their fathers, an act of some boldness (tolmê), given the reluctance that Cyrus later shows in approaching his own grandfather (cf. 1.4.13). Cyrus then makes clear to the fathers that he holds their sons in his favor. The verb, aspazomai, can mean to greet or welcome someone, often with a handshake. In Xenophon the verb is even more formalized. When Cyrus first meets his grandfather, he greets him (aspazomai) and Astyages greets him in turn (antaspazomai), [11] giving him a beautiful Medan cloak. Here Cyrus is formally recognized as part of the house of Astyages. In contrast, Herodotus’ account has Astyages send Cyrus away immediately upon recognition, feigning affection (Histories 1.121). Later in Xenophon when Cyrus’ uncle, Cyaxares, feels alienated {24|25} from his Medan subjects, Cyrus encourages him to receive their greeting and return it (5.5.42). When Cyrus himself departs Media, he distributes gifts to his contemporaries, giving his Medan robe to one special friend as a sign that he holds him in highest favor. [12] Again, by showing his favor with a beautiful cloak, Cyrus emulates the kingly behavior of his grandfather.

As a consequence of the favor that Cyrus shows their sons, these Medan fathers enlist Cyrus to be an ambassador to Astyages. Cyrus, for his part, considers it a high priority to fulfill all their requests. Xenophon often gives manifold motivations for a character’s actions; in this case Cyrus has two: philanthrôpia and philotîmia. It can be misleading to translate philanthrôpia as “love of humanity” since in English the phrase can suggest a feeling felt by a fortunate person of high status for the poor and downtrodden. In the context of Cyrus’ affection, gentleness, concern for fairness, encouragement of others, and versatile ability “to blend in,” his philanthrôpia seems to be more of a fondness for others and for sharing their company. [13] And while we could translate his philotîmia as “a love of being honored,” the term seems to point more to Cyrus’ affective desire for popularity, approval, or acceptance from his Medan contemporaries. Just as he is fond of them, he hopes to win their fondness in turn, to be their favorite. [14]

Later in Chapter Four, Cyrus’ comrades play upon his desire for popularity in order to convince him to persuade his grandfather to let them go hunting in the wild. When they threaten to find someone else to ask Astyages, Cyrus is “stung” and summons the courage to do it himself (1.4.13). Elsewhere, Cyrus is portrayed striving to win gratitude from Cyaxares and Astyages (1.3.12). After a lengthy campaign, his Persian comrade Hystaspas gently teases him for wanting to rush home to be congratulated by his father (6.1.4–5). Thus, rather than wanting merely symbolic honors bestowed by a community (though he seems to want these, too), Cyrus seems to crave emotional approval and praise from the individuals he himself likes or respects. We recall that in his summary {25|26} statement of Cyrus’ superlative soul, Xenophon says that his philotîmia translated specifically into a desire to be praised. [15]

By contrast, Ctesias’ Cyrus, though certainly a lover of honor, pursues it in a less personal fashion. He forms one close friendship with the Persian Oebaras, who continually plies him with fantasies of winning glory among the Persians by liberating them from Media, even to the point of sacrificing other friends who are an obstacle to the overall mission (F8d*14–19). Yet, Cyrus’ pursuit of glory takes place independently of a desire for the respect and approval of others. Though Astyages is not Cyrus’ grandfather in Ctesias’ version, he shows several signs of feeling affection for the young man (F8d*6–7, 22); he is not the murderously cruel or duplicitous Astyages we see in Herodotus. In fact he feels personally betrayed when Cyrus revolts:

Moreover, Cyrus’ father (Atradates in this version) does not command his son’s respect. In fact, Atradates wins a pardon (and a proper burial) from Astyages for his part in the Persian rebellion on the grounds that Cyrus had been disobedient to him (F8d*37). Whereas in Xenophon Cyrus’ father, Cambyses, is a mentor and dialectician on the level of Socrates, Cyrus’ father in Ctesias is the unwitting dupe of his son’s ambitions. In sum, Ctesias’ Cyrus, in his pursuit of honor, does not show the reverence, gratitude, and obedience of Xenophon’s Cyrus, who learns gratitude as part of his education. [16]

Yet, although wanting acceptance, Xenophon’s Cyrus sometimes keeps to his own standards of what honors he should pursue and accept, despite the commands and censure of others. As we noted above (p. 24), Cyrus shows some initiative in his approach to the fathers of his Medan friends. Xenophon says that he undertakes all labors and all risks to win praise; this principle seems to apply even to the point of disobedience. [17] We see this risk-taking in his first hunting expedition with his uncle, Cyaxares (also in 1.4). Here, Cyrus eagerly {26|27} learns all that he needs to know about which animals he may hunt and which he must avoid. Nevertheless, at the first sight of a deer, Cyrus gives chase and is almost thrown from his horse. He hits the deer with a spear and is subsequently chastised by his elders. Though he is vexed by the criticism, he still darts off in pursuit of a wild boar “like someone possessed” (enthusiôn); Cyrus’ pursuit of honor is not altogether rational. Accordingly, Cyrus is again chastised by his uncle for his boldness (thrasutês). Yet, he begs for the opportunity to give the kill to his grandfather even if he is whipped for it. Cyaxares reluctantly relents, saying, “for you are now our king” (1.4.9). For his part, Astyages is grateful for Cyrus’ gift but does not see that it was worth the risk. In his first battle with the Assyrians, Cyrus is victorious but also a source of concern because he becomes “mad with daring” (cf. τῇ τόλμῃ, 1.4.24.4). Here, all three Cyruses (Xenophon’s, Ctesias’, Herodotus’) share a sense of extraordinarily daring ambition. In Herodotus, Cyrus is also willing to be punished for his treatment of Artembares’ son because the son, after all, had disobeyed a “king” (1.115). In Ctesias, Cyrus is willing to risk even death to liberate the Persians.

Like the other two Cyruses, Xenophon’s subject does not pursue just any honor, but the highest honor. He has a passion for work (cf. 1.4.5.5). He is willing to take risks and endure censure—even corporal punishment—to achieve this honor (1.4.13). He is, we could say, a great-souled man, megalopsychos (or megalophrôn), even though this term is uncommon in Xenophon. [18] Iscocrates says of Evagoras, king of Cyprus, in his encomium to him: Isocrates reports that Evagoras’ own great soul was enough to instill in the Persian king, Artaxerxes II, the fear that he might be overthrown (59). Plutarch reports that Alexander takes a mortal risk to tame the mighty Bucephalus and in doing so wins praise from his father, who says that he should “seek a kingdom greater than Macedonia” (Life of Alexander 6). Not only does Xenophon’s Cyrus show a similar passion for horses, but he has an outsized appetite for hunting, quickly bringing down all the creatures in his grandfather’s zoo and appealing for the opportunity to hunt all the animals in existence, as though they were {27|28} “bred for him” (Cyropaedia 1.4.5). Both Cyrus and Alexander are portrayed as young and future conquerors who pursue the highest honor by taking greater risks than those around them think prudent or necessary. This level of successful risk-taking forms the basis of their claim to greater sovereignty. Both flirt with kingship from a very young age.

In addition to this desire for popularity through the pursuit of the highest honors, Cyrus’ other path to sovereignty is paved with the favors he does for his friends. To return to the central passage of our discussion, Xenophon says that the Medan fathers used Cyrus to deliver petitions to Astyages. This facet of Cyrus’ behavior is interesting for two reasons. First is what it reveals about Astyages’ court: the fact that Cyrus is required to bring petitions from the Medan noble fathers implies a measure of distance between the king and his most prominent subjects. As Azoulay has shown, Cyrus’ court eventually displays the right combination of both distance and intimacy between the leader and his followers, a Medan and Persian blend. [19] Second and more importantly, Cyrus’ practice of serving as an ambassador becomes habitual. On three separate occasions, he reunites Tigranes, Abradatas, and Croesus with their captive wives. [20] He marries the daughter of Gobryas to the Persian Hystaspas and offers to find another wife for Chrysantas, calling himself an accomplice (sunergos) and expert at matching people (5.2.12, 8.4.13–22). Cyrus awards a music-girl to a Medan who is a “lover of music” (5.1.1). Guided by luck or fate, he even pairs the Persian commoner Pheraulas in lasting friendship with a Sacian horseman (8.3.26–50). Cyrus reconciles Tigranes with his father, the king of Armenia, after the king had killed Tigranes’ mentor out of envy (3.1.38–40). He plays the peacemaker between Chaldaeans and Armenians by uniting them through intermarriage and land-sharing. Xenophon concludes his account of their treaty by noting that it continues to this day, underscoring the prudent nature of Cyrus’ arrangement. [21] He says that Cyrus received from the people throughout his empire whatever they had in excess and then returned to them whatever they needed (8.6.23).

Xenophon also points to two instances where Cyrus tries to be a matchmaker. The young Cyrus approves when a larger Persian boy steals a larger coat {28|29} from a smaller boy and gives the boy his own (smaller) coat. [22] On his deathbed, Cyrus attempts, unsuccessfully, to reconcile his two sons for a harmonious transition of power. [23]

The political advantages of Cyrus’ successful pairings are obvious, and Xenophon typically makes them explicit. When Cyrus mounts a campaign against the Assyrians, many Medes follow him because of the service he had done for them in their youth on behalf of their fathers out of philanthrôpia (4.2.10.8–9). In return for Cyrus’ protection of Pantheia, Abradatas gives his life in service to Cyrus’ army. In the union between Gobryas’ daughter and Hystaspas, the Persian and Assyrian nations are also united. In all of these scenes, Cyrus is instrumental in establishing strong romantic or friendly bonds that, in other contexts, he will take pains to weaken (as I discuss below, p. 33).

The ability of a leader to forge these kinds of alliances is nothing new to human history, [24] but it has a certain Xenophontic or perhaps Socratean flavor. In Xenophon’s Symposium, each guest is challenged to tell which skill he is most proud of. Socrates, for his part, answers ironically that he is most proud of his skill as a pimp (mastropeia), explaining that the practitioner of this art beautifies the woman he is to match to her client (3.10). The higher form of this art is practiced by Antisthenes, whom Socrates dubs a “go-between” (proagôgos) for pairing people according to their interests (4.61). Such a skill, Socrates says, has grand social and political significance: Xenophon notes in the Memorabilia that Socrates not only taught others as much as he knew, but also introduced them to those with greater expertise. [25] In an erotic context, Socrates so effectively plays the “pimp” for the courtesan Theodote by telling her how her beauty can capture rich men that she jokingly asks him to be her “co-hunter” (Memorabilia 3.11.15). {29|30}

Both Socrates and Cyrus are adept at pairing the interests of others. In order to secure favors for the fathers of his Medan contemporaries, however, Cyrus works another aspect of philanthrôpia with his grandfather and does it so well that Astyages cannot resist any request from him. Xenophon says that Cyrus surpasses all others in tending to Astyages’ needs when he is sick and in showing his sympathy by weeping constantly for him. By contrast, Ctesias’ Cyrus uses the pretense of being an attentive healer, not to Astyages but to his own father. By claiming to want to nurse his father back to health, Cyrus plays on Astyages’ affection to secure leave from his court so that he may plot an attack on the Medes and liberate the Persians (F8d*22).

In Xenophon, however, Cambyses advises the young Cyrus to express sympathy and show attentive or “hands on” care (therapeia) to his followers, which he does on numerous occasions. In Book Eight, as part of a long list of “philanthropic” activities, Xenophon explains that before Cyrus is able to benefit others materially, he does his best to show that he takes “pleasure in their good fortune” (recall Cyrus cheering his comrades in the hunt) and that he “felt bad for their misfortune.” [26] Again, Cyrus contrasts sharply with the Assyrian king, who does not show any remorse or sympathy for Gobryas after he had killed his son (Cyropaedia 4.6.5).

Cyrus, for all his self-mastery, is also the most lachrymose character in Xenophon’s works, at least statistically. Fifteen of twenty-six references to tears or shedding tears occur in the Cyropaedia and five refer to Cyrus (i.e. when he leaves the Medes as a boy, when he sympathizes with Cyaxares’ frustration over losing the affection of his own soldiers, and when he witnesses the suicide of Pantheia and the funeral of Abradatas). [27] Only five other characters in Xenophon feel pity (eleos) and none in more than one instance, making Cyrus also the most compassionate character. In fact, all instances of Cyrus’ pity are for non-Persians and extend to several different nations: Gadatas (an Assyrian), the Egyptians, and the Lydians, Pantheia and Croesus. [28] {30|31}

As part of his expressions of therapeia, Cyrus visits the injured Gadatas, who marvels that Cyrus should care for him without any obligation to do so (5.4.10–11). In the same battle-scene, a “clearly distressed” Cyrus tends to the wounded Cadusians so diligently that he skips dinner either to look after them in person or to send someone to care for them (5.4.17). On another occasion at a dinner, Cyrus notices the bandages of his wounded soldiers and asks about the cause (2.3.19–20). In pursuit of the Assyrians, Cyrus captures some of the Chaldaeans but has their shackles removed and orders surgeons to tend to their wounds (3.2.12.4). Cyrus wins over the Chaldaeans in much the same way as Xenophon’s other great king, Agesilaus: As king of Babylon, Cyrus gathers the best physicians, equipment, and supplies at his palace. When someone is sick and requires attention, Cyrus watches over him and provides whatever he needs, not failing to show gratitude to the physicians (8.2.24–25). He even challenges his closest followers to compete with him in therapeia toward others (8.2.13–14). In performing the role of physician, Cyrus {31|32} conforms to the education he receives from his father, Cambyses, who insists that a leader must ensure that his followers do not become sick at all. [29]

Cyrus’ attentive care is similar to other “philanthropic” characters in Greek literature. Aristophanes in Plato’s Symposium describes Eros as the “most philanthropic” of gods for being a physician to the ills brought on by erotic love (189d1). Pindar describes the divine centaur Cheiron as a wild creature “with a mind that is loving of men,” whose love is expressed through his tutelage of the physician Asclepius, himself celebrated as a philanthrôpos in the fifth and fourth century. [30]

In other versions of Cyrus’ rise to prominence in the Medan court, Cyrus is Astyages’ official cup-bearer or his gardener, but in Xenophon it is by his therapeia that Cyrus works his way into his grandfather’s favor. [31] Nor does he overcome the Medes by domination and conquest but by winning over his contemporaries with his generosity and winning over their fathers with his favor toward their sons. In every case, his behavior is dually motivated by a fondness for others (philanthrôpia) and a desire for their fondness (philotîmia).

We have looked at several ways in which Cyrus expresses his fondness for others and wins them over, for example by being gentle, encouraging, sympathetic, and attentive. Yet, we have only taken a cursory glance at perhaps the most obvious method: giving gifts. This, too, is a practice Cyrus partakes of in his youth and develops over time. At the table of Astyages, Cyrus portions out pieces of meat to various servants as tokens of gratitude (1.3.7). Such a gesture also has the effect of winning distinction for Cyrus because it displays his capacity for self-mastery over food and drink (enkrateia). There is evidence to suggest that the practice of distributing food was common among Persian kings as a thoughtful way of compensating the servant staff. [32] Xenophon may be casting the young Cyrus as the inventor of this practice. Interestingly, Xenophon also advocates a similar practice in his dialogue between Simonides and the tyrant Hieron (Hieron). After Hieron has complained of the financial burden of main- {32|33} taining a standing army, Simonides points out to him that it is less expensive for a monarch to give friendly greetings and to dole out prizes: “Don’t you see how in horse races and gymnastic and choral competitions small prizes produce great expenditure, many labors, and many cares in humans?” (Hieron 9.11). Here it seems that Cyrus is engaging in a practice that has precedence in a Greek understanding of Persian history as well as in Xenophon’s own opinions on how to practice efficient leadership through thoughtful gift-giving.

As a general practice, Cyrus allows servants to take food on an expedition and leads the servants to water like beasts of burden, both highlighting his generosity and reinforcing their servant status. [33] On the eve of the attack on Sardis, Cyrus performs a sacrifice, from which he continually gives meats “to the one most in need” (7.1.1.5). As a commander, Cyrus orders a generous meal to be prepared for the Medes and Hyrcanians when they return from pursuing the enemy on horseback (4.2.37–41; cf. 4.5.1). Once Cyrus has the wealth to transform his philanthrôpia into material benefaction, he excels at sharing fine food and giving thoughtful and lavish gifts (cf. ἡ πολυδωρία, 8.2.8.1). He hires the finest chefs, serving his guests the same food that he himself eats and assigning them honorific positions at the table. [34]

These practices not only have the predictable effect of winning honor for Cyrus but also the less obvious effect of minimizing the extent to which others may plot against him. Xenophon explains that Cyrus practiced philanthrôpia as a way of winning the good will of his followers but also of improving his own security (8.1.48–8.2.1). Because they were so thoughtful and so unique to the king, Cyrus’ gifts rendered his followers more loyal to him than they were even to their own families (8.2.9). We see now that for Xenophon philanthrôpia does not have an absolute form of expression: sometimes it may involve bringing his followers closer together by matching their interests (e.g. reuniting Abradatas, Tigranes, and Croesus with their wives) or keeping them apart. What matters is whether the gesture brings honor (and security) to Cyrus.

Now that we have touched upon numerous instances where Cyrus’ love of honor and love of humanity are carefully intertwined, we should consider if there are any ways to disentangle them. Scholars have long been bothered by this connection. [35] It can be worrisome to see Cyrus doing so much to win honor, and we {33|34} would perhaps prefer a more “selfless” leader who leads either exclusively out of a love for fellow human beings or, like Plato’s Philosopher King, out of a passion for conceptualizing the perfect state in conformity with the idea of the Good. Xenophon’s Cyrus does not seem to share this preference. The question, then, is: is Cyrus’ love of humanity subordinate to his love of being honored, i.e. a means to an end? Scholars have attempted to answer this question by pointing to places where Cyrus seems to use trickery or manipulation of his followers to his own advantage; showing philanthrôpia could be just such a trick. Coupled with this criticism is a more general criticism of Cyrus’ apparent ambition for empire. Yet the fact that Xenophon attributes distinct motives, philanthrôpia and philotîmia, to Cyrus in the passage we considered at the outset of this chapter would suggest that he sees Cyrus exhibiting his love of humanity for its own sake. Fortunately, there are other places in the Cyropaedia we may look to in order to settle this question.

To clarify our understanding of this question further, we may consider four examples on the extreme end of “helping others for their own sake” that do not seem to fit exactly with Cyrus’ expressions of philanthrôpia. First, Cyrus does not seem to have a “maternal instinct” toward his fellow humans or even his closest friends. Note Socrates’ description of the mother: Even though he is a “father” to many, it seems there is nothing that would qualify as self-sacrifice in Cyrus. More common, we might say, is what Danzig calls a “coexistence of self-interest with a genuine concern for the good of others.” [36] A good illustration of this coexistence is spelled out by Cyrus himself when he exhorts his comrades to help the eunuch Gadatas on the grounds that both sides will benefit (Cyropaedia 5.3.31).

Nor does Cyrus seem to exhibit quite the helping behavior of Jason, leader of the Argonauts and also an aspiring king. On one famous occasion Jason {34|35} encounters Hera disguised as an old woman at the flood of the River Anaurus. Hera explains why she helps him win the Golden Fleece: Here Jason takes pity on an old woman and helps her cross the flooding river, apparently at some risk to himself. Cyrus, by contrast, is seldom shown risking himself for the unfortunate or those of a lower class, unless it is a gesture of gratitude, whereby he hopes to ensure their future services. Instead he competes to help his uncle, Cyaxares, and his grandfather, Astyages, the two most powerful men in Media, and feels especial delight in winning their favor (1.3.12). The closest comparison between his and Jason’s behavior is in Cyrus’ treatment of Pantheia after she commits suicide over the body of her husband, Abradatas, though this treatment involves no personal risk. Cyrus pities Pantheia, sheds copious tears, and honors both her and her husband with a lavish funeral (7.3.15–16). In fact, the Greek words describing Jason’s feeling for Hera and Cyrus’ for Pantheia are similar (cf. ὀλοφύρατο, κατολοφυράμενος). We could imagine that Cyrus honors Pantheia for his own political advantage; perhaps he wanted a reputation as someone who took care of his friends. Xenophon does not make any effort to suggest this, however. His Cyrus sheds real tears.

For all the comparisons that scholars have found between the two, Cyrus is also different from Xenophon’s Socrates. [38] To defend him against the charge of corrupting the youth of Athens, Xenophon calls Socrates “philanthropic” and “caring toward the people” (dêmotikos) because he shared his wisdom for free {35|36} and always improved those around him. [39] Socrates’ philanthrôpia, he argues, was even more extraordinary than conventional benefaction: Like Socrates, Cyrus’ philanthrôpia does not seem motivated by a love of material gain; in fact, he goes to great lengths to pass up the wealth of others and to entrust it to his closest friends. [41] But Cyrus’ philanthrôpia is wedded to the goal of winning honor, whereas it is difficult to say whether Socrates is ever very concerned with winning honor for himself. In the Memorabilia , Socrates defends his decision to remain aloof from political office on the grounds that he can do a greater service to the city by training many young men for the role (1.6.15).

Finally, we may contrast Cyrus with a helping character from within the Cyropaedia, the Persian commoner Pheraulas, who debuts in Book Two when Cyrus proposes that all members of the army be rewarded according to their accomplishments in battle rather than by a uniform dispensation (2.3.7–16). After following Cyrus on campaign, Pheraulas becomes a wealthy and esteemed man. He is intelligent, loving of beauty and order, and careful to please Cyrus (8.3.5). He is so devoted (or deranged) that when a Sacian knight pelts him with a clod of dirt, he continues to deliver a message with a bloodied face, never pausing {36|37} to address the injury. [42] That Pheraulas desires to benefit others is indicated by the faithful and abiding friendship he forms with the Sacian soldier (8.3.49–50). Nevertheless Pheraulas is not called a philanthrôpos. Xenophon describes him as having a philetairetic nature, something we might translate as “a sense of loyalty or devotion.” [43] philetaireia seems to have an element of good will toward others, but less forethought and material benefaction than philanthrôpia. Xenophon says that Pheraulas, for his part, wanted nothing to do with the responsibility of vast wealth (8.3.40) and “loved the Sacian soldier because he was willing to manage everything” (8.3.50.6–7). Pheraulas is another example of someone who cares about helping others for the sake of friendship, in an apolitical context.

In sum, whatever we say about Cyrus’ desire to help others, it does not seem to go so far as to help them selflessly, anonymously, indiscriminately, without honor, or without an opportunity to secure greater authority or responsibility for himself. His philanthrôpia is something grand and highly political. That said, we can still look for ways in which Cyrus’ motives can be over-determined, that is, he might want both to win honor and to enjoy helping people as an end in itself. The first passage that gives direct insight into this question is a dinner scene in Book Seven where philanthrôpia is the topic of conversation. Banquets in the Cyropaedia often function as classrooms, with Cyrus sometimes playing the role of the student, gathering perspectives and intelligence from his inner circle of followers, and other times taking the role of the teacher. Sometimes his trusty comrade Chrysantas plays the “substitute teacher” for Cyrus, giving the impression that the course of action under discussion is more a product of group-thinking than Cyrus’ own personal initiative. At one point Cyrus praises Chrysantas not only for his obedience but for his ability to look out for Cyrus’ interests above and beyond specific orders. Much of this discussion happens by design. Xenophon says that Cyrus likes to keep these occasions charming but also conducive to some good. [44]

Thus, Cyrus converses about philanthrôpia with the Assyrian nobleman Gobryas after the two have worked together to capture Babylon. [45] Gobryas remarks that Cyrus seems to enjoy practicing philanthrôpia more than generalship (strateia). Cyrus explains that in practicing generalship he must do harm {37|38} but in practicing philanthrôpia he only helps others. [46] This example in itself does not prove that Cyrus likes to help others for its own sake, but that given two paths to winning honor, warfare and munificence, he prefers the latter.

Others notice Cyrus’ pleasure (hêdonê) in helping others. The Persian Pheraulas supports putting Cyrus in charge of distributing the spoils of war because Cyrus, he says, takes “more pleasure” in giving than he does in keeping something for himself (cf. ἥδιον, 2.3.12.6). The king of the Hyrcanians later makes a similar observation (cf. ἥδεσθαι, 5.1.28.8). In the midst of dividing the spoils of Lydia, a soldier speculates that Cyrus’ generosity implies that he must be keeping a lot for himself, but another insists that Cyrus takes more pleasure in giving than acquiring. [47] As we have already noted, Cyrus also feels pity on several occasions, which suggests that Xenophon means to represent a direct interest in the well-being of others that, while often alloyed with Cyrus’ own interests and ambitions, is still distinct from them.

As a young man, Cyrus is naturally affectionate. [48] He excels in satisfying the needs of his uncle, Cyaxares, and his grandfather, Astyages, because he takes exceeding “delight” in gratifying them. [49] While Cyrus is otherwise restrained in drinking, he is “thirsty” to gratify a Mede who would take a music-girl as his spoil (cf. διψῶ, 5.1.1.13). There is an Isocratean flavor to his philanthrôpia, which we see when the Athenian philosopher instructs the Cyprian king Nicocles on the proper disposition for helping others: Yet we might believe that Cyrus’ pleasure in helping others derives more from the anticipation of some honor or security for himself than from an immediate delight in causing another person to prosper (believing that happy followers will praise and protect their leaders). For example, Cyaxares admits in a {38|39} moment of envy that he would take greater pleasure in giving gifts to Cyrus than in receiving them from him because in failing to give he has lost face in front of his comrades (5.5.27.1). Thus the pleasure of giving need not be intrinsic; it may be felt by someone whose more basic pleasure lies in feeling superior.

We might also think that Cyrus merely displays pleasure in helping others in order to charm his followers. [51] Xenophon and his contemporaries were well aware of how a leader might give off an air of friendliness simply to advance his own interests. In the Memorabilia the painter, Parrhasius, admits that it is possible to capture a subject’s soul by an imitation of their facial expressions, both friendly (philphronôs) and hateful (3.10.4). In a climactic scene in the Anabasis , the treacherous Persian satrap, Tissaphernes, wins over the Spartan general Clearchus by showing a friendly disposition (philophronoumenos). [52] Despite the misgivings of others in the Greek army, Tissaphernes lures Clearchus into a meeting and has him killed along with many others (Anabasis 2.5.27–34). According to Demosthenes, Philip of Macedon once drank with Theban ambassadors at a sacrificial banquet, treating them “philanthropically” with money and gifts, so that he might convince them to betray their fellow citizens (cf. φιλανθρωπευόμενος, On the False Embassy 139.6; cf. 140.4). In the same speech, Demosthenes criticizes Aeschines for seeking a self-interested peace with Philip under the pretense of the name of philanthrôpia (99.1). Aeschines himself says that feelings of philanthrôpia are easily aroused by the actor’s art (On the False Embassy 15.8–9). In an especially indignant tone, Isocrates rails against the masses for their vulnerability to flattery and displays of good will and kindness. He thus cynically advises Timotheus: It is thus conceivable that Xenophon meant to fashion his Cyrus with similar gestures, making him into someone who succeeds at winning over others by pretending sympathy and rehearsing all the smiles, handshakes, toasts, and benefactions that can charm others without any sincere good will on the part of the performer. It is unlikely, however, given our direct window into Cyrus’ emotional states, that Xenophon means to portray him with such pretenses.

It is even less likely that Xenophon would have felt the need to be subtle or delicate about describing Cyrus’ supposed pretenses, given that they were such familiar ways to interpret fourth-century leaders. [53] Moreover, on his deathbed, Xenophon’s Cyrus counts it as a prime component of his own happy life that he has witnessed his friends made happy by his own efforts (8.7.7.1). Most importantly for our investigation is the fact that he imagines pleasure in being reunited with the earth after death, since they are both philanthrôpoi: These dying confessions seem to be the best proof that Cyrus enjoys helping others as an end in itself, [54] and strongly suggest that the good will others perceive in Cyrus is in fact meant by Xenophon to be sincere.

Part of the genius of Cyrus’ leadership, we could say, is that he so prudently combines his fondness for helping others with his own desire to be honored and accepted. [55] This is not to say that, from our perspective or even an ancient Greek perspective, Xenophon’s Cyrus always achieves this coalescence (a question we will pursue in further chapters).

One particular instance bears brief mention here: Cyrus’ employment of the eunuch Gadatas as a table-companion and close confidant. This arrangement is beneficial for Cyrus because, as he explains, eunuchs can still be courageous but are also exceedingly loyal since they do not have familial or romantic interests to divide them (7.5.59–65). This one instance is not per se a failure of Cyrus to {40|41} coalesce his interests with those of his followers since Cyrus had both rescued and avenged Gadatas, who felt intense gratitude. Xenophon explains that Cyrus made a regular practice of employing eunuchs, however, and it is not clear whether he chose men who had already been made into eunuchs elsewhere or caused them to be castrated. This problem is further complicated by the fact that, as offensive as it is to our own contemporary sensibility, it was possible to see the process of becoming a eunuch as “voluntary” and thus consistent with Cyrus’ “philanthropic” practice of leading by “willing obedience.” [56]

Cyrus’ “philanthropic” death in Xenophon is much different from the one Herodotus gives him on the eastern extremes of the Persian Empire, battling queen Tomyris of the Massegetae, his head soaked in blood. [57] In fact, in both Herodotus and Ctesias, Cyrus’ benefactions, such as they are, are limited to the Persian people (he is their liberator and as such their benefactor), whereas it is clear that Xenophon’s Cyrus is beneficial to many nations. The barbaroi (not the Persians specifically) hail him as “philanthrôpotatos,” and he is the “father” to many nations. [58] Sancisi-Weerdenburg has observed that Cyrus’ deathbed speech has many elements common to the speech of Darius’ tomb inscriptions at Naqš-i Rustam, so much so as to suggest that Xenophon had become familiar with them through oral tradition. The elements include divine help in the king’s success as well as his physical prowess, justice, and self-restraint. [59] Ctesias, too, preserves a much less-detailed final speech for his Cyrus (F9.8). But one of the elements missing from both of these accounts is this mention of the king as a benevolent benefactor; missing, too, is the specific association of Cyrus’ philanthrôpia with the philanthrôpia of the earth. This association seems to be largely Xenophontic, or at least preserved by Xenophon independent of known sources. In the Oeconomicus, Ischomachus explains that farming is a “philanthropic” craft, dear to gods and men who are willing to study it. [60] Cyrus the Younger is praised for practicing the art of farming and for taking pride in it even more than in war. [61] {41|42} In the Cyropaedia, the Persian Pheraulas praises the earth’s generosity and then amplifies that of Cyrus himself by comparison (8.3.38).

There is a further tendency elsewhere in Greek literature to associate philanthrôpia with divinity and then with leaders who are in a position to benefit others in grand ways. In the first extant use of superlative philanthrôpia (421 BCE), a Chorus in Aristophanes asks Hermes to help rescue the goddess Peace, praying to him as most generous and most “philanthropic.” [62] As we noted above, it is also Aristophanes who in Plato’s Symposium describes Eros as the “most philanthropic” of gods for being a physician to the ills brought on by erotic love (189d1). Not only does philanthrôpia in superlative form have divine connotations, but the earliest extant use of the philanthrôp- stem describes the god Prometheus when he gives fire to mortals (c. 430 BCE). [63] Whereas gods typically deal with mortals contractually, [64] Prometheus does so because of his “philanthropic” tendency (cf. φιλανθρώπου … τρόπου, Prometheus Bound 11). The idea behind this tendency is captured earlier by Pindar (c. 470 BCE), who describes the divine centaur Cheiron as a wild creature “with a mind that is loving of men.” [65] Isocrates explains how a mortal leader’s philanthrôpia may be analogous to the divine when he encourages Philip of Macedon to emulate his ancestor Heracles’ philanthrôpia toward the Greeks (To Philip 114.4). [66] He gives Philip further invitation to this divine pretension by explaining that good deeds, gentleness, and philanthrôpia win glory and reverence: Isocrates flatters the fourteen-year-old Alexander in a similar way when he praises him as “philanthropic” and a lover of Athens (To Alexander 2.1). Cyrus seems to be assuming the analogy between divine and leaderly philanthrôpia when he surrounds himself with pious friends (theosebeis), thinking that they would be less likely to commit crimes against one another or against him, “for he considered himself their benefactor” (8.1.25.8; cf. 3.3.4.3). The reasoning seems to be that just as Cyrus sees himself as a benefactor like the gods, he seeks to surround himself with those who knew how to revere such munificence.

In sum, divinities with philanthrôpia tend to help mortals in grand, civilizing, and permanent ways. Prometheus gives fire. Hermes helps rescue Peace from beneath a giant mound of stones. Cheiron teaches Asclepius the art of medicine, and the physician Eros cures mortals of lovesickness. Cronus is a “philanthropic” god for assigning nobler spirits to govern humanity (Plato Laws 713d6). For Xenophon’s Socrates the gods provide humanity with everything from the sun and the earth to food and the capacity for reason—out of philanthrôpia. [67] Thus, in crafting a “philanthropic” theme to Cyrus’ deathbed speech, Xenophon seems to be drawing upon his own associations of both farming and grand leadership. He also reflects the Greek tradition of seeing powerful leaders as able to help others in ways that approximate divine “philanthropic” grandeur. Such grand benefaction is captured in the encouragement that Cambyses gives the young Cyrus at the end of Book One as he sets off on a pursuit of the Assyrians that will net him an empire:

Cyrus’ philanthrôpia and philotîmia converge at the point of grandeur.

We conclude that while it is correct to see Cyrus’ as highly motivated to win honor when he engages in helping others, it is incorrect to assume that loving honor (or some other manifestation of personal advantage) must necessarily taint, or even undermine, Cyrus’ desire to help others—or that loving honor {43|44} is Cyrus’ only motive or even his strongest motive. He is not like Achilles, for example, who seems to see his contributions to the Achaean army at Troy, at least at times, as primarily contractual: honor and glory in return for service in reclaiming Helen for Menelaus (Iliad 1.149–171, though cf. 9.323–327). By contrast, Xenophon presents philanthrôpia and philotîmia as distinct though concurrent expressions of Cyrus’ soul (1.2.1). He affirms their distinctiveness when he says that Cyrus helped his age-mates secure favors for their fathers from Astyages, both out of a love of being honored and a fondness for others. This foregoing discussion of philanthrôpia challenges the view that Cyrus is primarily selfish or that he manipulates others for his own ends. One might still argue that Cyrus’ love for others is somehow eclipsed by his love for honor, but it is difficult to dispute the claim that a love for others, in and of itself, is a large part of Cyrus’ character and thus a large part of Xenophon’s Theory of Leadership.

We have sought to identify a number of features to Cyrus’ philanthrôpia and philotîmia, both of which are rich, multi-faceted concepts. Philanthrôpia is for Xenophon a fondness for humans that involves feelings of pity, sympathy, affection, and care. It entails gift-giving, tokens of honor, matchmaking, and attention to illness. It may be grand, civilizing, and long-lasting, coming as it does with associations of divinity. Philotîmia is a love of being honored, but more than just a desire for tokens of distinction. It is often a love of being praised, approved of, or appreciated. Cyrus wants others to feel the fondness for him that he feels for others. Additionally, the love of being honored is a love for the highest honors (megalopsychia) in every important agonistic theater.

We have seen further that in his philanthrôpia and philotîmia Cyrus plays at being a king from a very young age. He imagines himself as the “ruler” of Sacas, the Medan king’s closest companion, granting or denying access to all who would see him. He disperses prizes at the dinner table to worthy servants and may be seen as the “founder” of this practice among the Persians. He gives a cloak to one of his contemporaries to mark him out as his favorite, just as his grandfather had honored Cyrus himself. He takes greater risks than those around him think appropriate. He aims for the highest honors, like hunting all the animals of the world, regardless of censure and punishment. Contrary to the accounts of the young Cyrus in Herodotus and Ctesias, these flirtations with kingship do not involve taking advantage of others, conquering, or humiliating them. Instead, others win honor and distinction along with Cyrus and are encouraged to do as he does. In the following Chapter we will explore the ways in which Cyrus’ love of learning (philomatheia) fits into this picture. {44|}