Chapter 2. Curiosity, Aptitude, and Intense Awareness

As we have seen, Cyrus’ philanthrôpia and philotîmia are intimately connected. How does Cyrus’ philomatheia (love of learning) fit in? Our investigation will entail a survey of Xenophon’s treatments of learning elsewhere, especially in the Oeconomicus, Memorabilia, and Anabasis, but we will begin with the Cyropaedia. Aside from Xenophon’s summary statement on Cyrus’ three superlative traits, philomatheia first appears in 1.4. There, Xenophon describes the many reasons for Cyrus’ chattiness (polylogia): The first thing to note about Cyrus’ philomatheia is that it seems to be a natural curiosity. I say, “natural,” because Xenophon does not attribute Cyrus’ inquisitiveness to any encouragement he receives from others, nor does it seem to be influenced by particular interests. The young Cyrus is merely interested in having the causes of things explained to him. To this extent he is like Plato’s Philosopher King, who is both a philomathês and a lover of wisdom (philosophos). {45|46} This is the only instance, however, where Cyrus’ curiosity is portrayed as open-ended, without any ulterior motive or particular field.

Instead, when he visits Astyages in Media, Cyrus is outfitted with fancy clothes and given a horse, which he takes exceeding pleasure in learning to ride (cf. μανθάνων ὑπερέχαιρεν, 1.3.3.6). [1] Xenophon explains that this delight derives from Cyrus’ love of beauty and love of being honored. Later, his love of learning horsemanship manifests itself in Cyrus’ competitiveness with his Medan age-mates and his decision to remain in Media despite his mother’s protestations (1.3.15). Cyrus is curious to learn to hunt and eagerly asks his elders what animals he should and should not pursue (cf. 1.4.7.6, 1.4.8.1). That Cyrus loves to learn about the hunt for its own sake is implied by the killer instinct he shows at the moment he spots his first wild deer and then a boar, which he pursues regardless of all that he had been taught, despite the danger (1.4.8). Clearly, he also hopes to win honor and to benefit his friends because he shares the meat from the hunt (1.4.10).

When Cyrus learns from his father that the art of hunting may be applied to warfare, he studies this subject, too. Cambyses explains that philomatheia in war entails not only learning the traditional strategies against an enemy but also devising new ones (1.6.38.). Due has noted the thorough attention that Xenophon pays to military tactics and innovations in equipment and weaponry. [2] For his part, Cyrus devises a new style of chariot (6.1.28), introduces Persian commoners to the army (2.1.9), and even observes how his troops invent new tactics (2.3.17–20). Cyrus is obviously interested in warfare for the purpose of winning glory but, as in the hunt, he sometimes participates in battle for its own sake and even irrationally, like a “noble but inexperienced hunting-dog” (1.4.21–22).

There is precedence for curiosity in Persian kings in Herodotus, but a morbid one. Herodotus’ Cyrus places the conquered Croesus on the pyre, either as an offering to the gods or because he “desired to know if some god would save him from being burned alive” (Histories 1.86). Cyrus’ son, Cambyses, shows a similar morbid curiosity after his conquest of Egypt. Herodotus says that Cambyses “made trial of the king Psamminitus’ soul” by marching his daughter as a slave in front of him and then marching his son off to be executed (3.14). When Psamminitus shows no reaction to these atrocities but instead bursts into tears at the sight of an old friend reduced to poverty, he becomes an object of wonder to Cambyses. {46|47}

The only trial of character that Xenophon’s Cyrus makes is of the conquered Armenian king. Yet, his investigation is not conducted out of morbid curiosity, but in accordance with his ethical curiosity and political ambition. [3] When Tigranes appeals to him to defend his father, Cyrus acquiesces, knowing that Tigranes had studied under a sophist who had won his admiration. Cyrus “strongly desires” to hear whatever he had to say and enthusiastically tells him to speak whatever he knows. [4] Tigranes proceeds to convince Cyrus that the Armenian king has learned self-restraint (something fear and respect can induce) and that he would be a valuable ally to the Medes. Thus, Cyrus accomplishes his primary goal–securing tribute and reinforcements from the Armenians–and even makes them into friends by virtue of his gentleness and wisdom (3.1.41). In his desire to hear profitable speeches, Cyrus follows the example of Isocrates more than Herodotus. Isocrates explains in a letter to the Cyprian Demonicus:

In addition to his eagerness to hear Tigranes in the trial of the Armenian king, Cyrus asks for intelligence reports throughout his campaign. He also has the modesty to ask for counter-proposals to what he himself proposes. [5] In addition to a willingness to hear proposals from others (a practice that might seem designed only to build concord among the group), Cyrus seeks to know things from his followers and values their contributions. He praises Chrysantas not only for his obedience and good will, but also for the way Chrysantas advises him and modifies his orders according to whatever Chrysantas understands to be better (8.4.11). When Cyrus prepares to appear in his first public procession {47|48} in Babylon, he explains how he imagines the procession should go, but also asks his comrades to “teach” him a better way if need be:

In the same spirit as Herodotus’ Cyrus, who keeps the conquered Croesus and Astyages in close company, Xenophon’s Cyrus not only spares Croesus but employs him as a counselor. [6]

Cyrus’ intellectual interests strongly resemble those of his descendant, Cyrus the Younger. The younger Cyrus was “most kingly” (basileukotatos), Xenophon explains, because of his exceptional achievements in horsemanship, warfare, and hunting compared to his Persian age-mates: This is the final of the four uses of the philomath- stem in Xenophon, and it again seems to have application to a specific field. Xenophon does not treat all forms of the “love of learning” as pleasurable in themselves, though certain subjects may be so. In this respect Xenophon disagrees with Plato’s Socrates, who says that a lover of something must be a lover of all aspects of something, whether the person in question is a lover of a person or a lover of honor (Republic 474c–475e). As lovers of learning, both of Xenophon’s Cyruses seem to love learning specific subjects more than the learning itself. {48|49}

The same is true of Xenophon’s Socrates, who disdains cosmology and natural science in favor of ethics and leadership. [8] Accordingly, he sought pupils whose love of learning was directed at ethical, political, and domestic lessons: Socrates himself regards pleasure in learning a subject (farming) as the basis of philosophy: From the foregoing examples, it would seem that Xenophon’s understanding of the love of learning is not generally open-ended; only in limited ways does it seem to be learning for its own sake. We might say, for example, that Cyrus loves learning to hunt as an end in itself (since he pursues it so monomaniacally) but also as a means of winning honor, as evidenced by the fact that he is eager to share the spoils of the hunt with his grandfather and friends.

Rather than a strict love of learning, philomatheia seems to be a propensity or aptitude for learning, two manifestations of which are the ability to excel in contests of learning and to pick up lessons quickly. We recall Xenophon’s descriptions of Cyrus the Younger’s excellence in learning to ride a horse and of the quick-learning Socratic pupil. These features of learning are treated in accounts of Cyrus outside Xenophon, too. Whereas Ctesias does not describe any interaction between Cyrus and his Medan contemporaries, he does show {49|50} the ways in which Cyrus, starting out from a family of goatherds, [9] worked his way into Astyages’ court. Cyrus’ progression seems to be a kind of hierarchical education for the low-born. The Ctesian Cyrus advances as a slave from external palace decorator to interior decorator to lamp-bearer until he become so distinguished that he lands the prestigious job of wine-pourer to the king’s dining companions. The chief supervisor in this version is Artembares, [10] who serves as Cyrus’ mentor and eventually his adoptive father. He observes how Cyrus pours wine attentively and gracefully and thus appoints him to be his successor. It is from this point that Cyrus comes to win favor from Astyages and eventually plots the liberation of Persia from Media.

Xenophon’s Cyrus also plays at being a cup-bearer and seems to excel at it as much as Ctesias’ Cyrus. [11] Just as he learns the character lessons of his Persian education “by observation,” so does he mimic the wine-pourer Sacas “just as he as observed him” (cf. 1.2.8, 1.3.9). Just as Ctesias’ Cyrus rises from the lowest ranks of the Persian goatherds by learning newer and more important roles, so does Xenophon’s Cyrus become the best student in the company of the other Persian elites because he learns quickly all that is necessary (1.3.1).

In fact, much of what Xenophon’s Cyrus does as a youth evinces a mental ease and quickness, guided by a high capacity for empathy. In our discussion in Chapter One on Cyrus’ ability to blend in with his contemporaries, we saw how he “quickly” came to be on familiar terms with them and “quickly” won over their fathers (1.4.1). He also “quickly” declares his intent to remain in Media when his mother asks him to decide, which might at first seem to be indicative of impulsiveness until Cyrus thoughtfully explains that it is the best opportunity to learn to ride (1.3.15). Again, Cyrus answers “quickly” when his teachers question him, a contributing factor to his chattiness (1.4.3). In a triplet of quickness, Cyrus equals and surpasses his comrades at horsemanship; then on the hunt he exhausts the supply of animals in his grandfather’s preserve (cf. ταχὺ … ταχὺ … ταχὺ, 1.4.5).

Cyrus’ philomatheia involves not only a general desire to learn, but a desire to learn specific honorific subjects (horsemanship, hunting, warfare, ethics, {50|51} politics). Additionally, it involves a certain aptitude or inclination to observe, process, and emulate those around him, which presupposes a high capacity for empathy if not sympathy, that is, a high emotional intelligence. This is not to say that Cyrus’ observations are always correctly processed; for example, he assumes that the wine-pourer, Sacas, is poisoning Astyages and his friends because they become intoxicated from the wine he serves (1.3.10).

Xenophon seems to be drawing his formulation of Cyrus’ philomatheia not only from fourth-century Greek conceptions of it (especially Socrates, as Xenophon understood him), but also from his understanding of the Persian education. By being “most loving of learning” (philomathestatos), Cyrus becomes “best in his class,” just like his descendent Cyrus the Younger. Finally, since Xenophon claims that Cyrus was celebrated in Persian lore as philomathestatos (1.2.1), he may be drawing from a tradition (preserved in some form by Ctesias) of a legendary figure and man of the people, who worked his way into the highest political positions by his aptitude for learning (e.g. quickly imitating and mastering various roles along a cursus honorum). This tradition may explain why Xenophon says that Cyrus is “celebrated” in song as a most exceptional learner.

One term for describing Cyrus’ mental activity is so closely related to philomatheia as to be synonymous with it. As we noted above, Cyrus the Younger was philomathestatos at learning the arts of war. He was also “most attentive” in practicing them (meletêrotatos). Similarly, our Cyrus is described as being philomathês about the affairs of war; he is eager to know all about them. This behavior suggests a certain “awareness” or “attentiveness” to all the questions that need to be answered. The trait that typically describes someone with this awareness in Xenophon is epimeleia. As philomatheia is the disposition to investigate, we might think of epimeleia is the exercise of that disposition on particular subjects. It is to the curious mind what work is to the vigorous body: just as loving to be honored entails a love of labor (1.2.1), so the love of learning seems to entail “loving to pay attention.” Socrates says in the Memorabilia that the general and estate manager both need to be attentive and lovers of toil in their affairs (cf. καὶ ἐπιμελεῖς καὶ φιλοπόνους 3.4.9.6).

Attentiveness is an apparently prosaic leadership trait, but Xenophon prizes it highly, and we would do well to note its pervasiveness in his Theory of Leadership. Not only is attentiveness to individual matters required, but a comprehensive awareness of all facets of an endeavor. For example, Cambyses advises Cyrus on the eve of his expedition against the Assyrians that the leader {51|52} must pay attention to strategy as well as to the overall needs of the troops (resources, wealth, and military strength), much as an estate manager must oversee all facets of a household. [12] Cambyses says Cyrus must be especially attentive to the health of his followers (cf. ἡ τῆς ὑγιείας ἐπιμέλεια, 1.6.16.4). While on campaign Cyrus applies these recommendations first by interrogating his uncle, Cyaxares, about the nature of his army and then by looking for information from every available source (2.1.2–8). When Cyrus comes to rule Babylon, he allots leisure time to attend to the most important affairs of state (cf. ἐπιμελεῖσθαι, 8.1.13.3). He applies the metaphors of the household manager and military commander by paying attention to the revenues of the empire and organizing it according to the units of the army. This arrangement leaves him more free time than someone watching over a single house or ship (8.1.15).

As Cambyses explains, the leader’s attentiveness requires losing sleep while taking thought for all the contingencies of a campaign: The tradition of the “wakeful leader” in Greek literature goes back to Homer’s Iliad, where Cambyses’ sentiment is first articulated by Dream, who stresses the importance of paying attention to the sleeping Agamemnon:

After stressing the importance of paying attention, Cambyses proceeds to explain to Cyrus, in laborious detail, what such a degree of attention would consist of. Like Isocrates to the studious Demonicus, he says that Cyrus must be a learner of many things: {52|53}

Cambyses acknowledges that Cyrus already knows that these questions are important; the key is to ask them throughout the campaign: Cyrus follows Cambyses’ advice throughout his campaign. Xenophon portrays him as continually restless in monitoring his army: “he himself in fact did not occupy one place but he rode around, now here, now there, looking out and paying attention to see if the army needed anything.” [14] Even in his youth, Cyrus shows this inquisitiveness and wakefulness. As soon as Cyrus learns of the encroachment that the Assyrians have made on Medan territory, he dons his armor and joins his grandfather, to his astonishment (1.4.18). Once Cyrus takes a survey of the situation, he poses a series of questions and then advocates making a charge upon the enemy, at first against Astyages’ better judgment (note again Cyrus’ “kingly” daring). He eventually prevails upon his grandfather who again marvels at Cyrus’ “sensibility and wakefulness” (cf. καὶ ἐφρόνει καὶ ἐγρηγόρει, 1.4.20.2). Later among his Persian contemporaries the young Cyrus wins a reputation for outstanding diligence toward his lessons (1.5.1). The payoff of attentiveness is more than mental: on the eve of their first battle with the Assyrians, Cyrus inspires his men with the assurance that he has been “observing” their valor since childhood (1.5.7). {53|54}

The role that paying attention plays in proper leadership, while implicit in these previous examples, is made explicit in several other places in the Cyropaedia. Cambyses declares that attentive people live more securely than those who are off their guard (cf. ἐπιμελουμένους, 1.6.5). Cyrus himself stresses the importance of attentiveness to his followers (1.5.11.10–11) and in particular for keeping their empire secure: By showing that he observes all of his followers’ behavior, Cyrus instills an intense philotîmia in them. Because of their constant practice, they together perform every kind of noble deed (8.1.39). Because of his great memory, Cyrus learns the names of his followers and oversees the selection of his closest associates. [15] Xenophon says that Cyrus saw good leaders as “a law with eyes,” not only able to give instruction like the written law but also able to observe transgressors and punish them. [16]

Epimeleia even enhances Cyrus’ ability to practice philanthrôpia. Cyrus’ attentiveness in providing food and water to his slaves wins him the title father (8.1.44). Not only does Cyrus far surpass others in the value of the gifts he gives (which Xenophon says is not surprising) but in the nurturing care and attentiveness he shows to his friends. [17] In general, whenever someone is sick, Cyrus visits and provides whatever is needed, a preparation he made even in youth on campaign (8.2.25, 1.6.15).

Xenophon features epimeleia in the Oeconomicus , giving it as prominent a role in the art of farming as he does in generalship and kingship. The estate manager, Ischomachus says, increases his estate by being attentive and not lax (11.12.6). Estate managers fail at producing grain, wine, and fruit because they “do not care” to go through the steps necessary to produce them (20.4.2, 4.4, 4.6). Successful generals, too, differ from unsuccessful ones not in intelligence but in attentiveness (20.6.4). For estate managers and for leaders in general, oversight is {54|55} crucial to instilling a love of labor and a love of honor in the followers (12.19.4). Ischomachus quotes the Persian king that “the master’s eye” is key to the accomplishment of any noble works (12.20.6, cf. 21.5). Cyrus the Younger, he says, pays attention to farming and warfare as the noblest of pursuits. [18] He, too, travels around his country and oversees as much of it as possible and what he cannot see himself he learns about through reports (4.8). The consistent refrain of the Oeconomicus is that the knowledge required to lead depends more on attentiveness than intelligence or ingenuity. Ischomachus insists that the art of farming is “most easy to learn” (15.4.5). Socrates, too, says that both geometry and astronomy are easy to acquire, insofar as they are of practical importance for travel, telling time, or setting night-watches. [19] Attentiveness can even add to someone’s natural allotment of courage. [20] For Cyrus’ father, Cambyses, attentiveness is the foundation of wisdom (recall that pleasure in learning is the foundation of philosophy for Socrates). When he tells Cyrus that the best path to seeming to be wise is actually being wise, he explains, “it is more characteristic of the wiser man to be attentive to what is needed than to be neglectful” (1.6.23).

One final aspect of awareness that we should note is Cyrus’ awareness of himself. There are at least three instances where we can see this introspection at work. In Book Five, Cyrus has a lengthy dialogue on the power of love (erôs) with Araspas, who has been put in charge of the Susan noblewoman, Pantheia. Araspas urges Cyrus to behold her beauty, arguing that since love is a matter of free will, Cyrus will be immune to it. Cyrus declines, arguing on the contrary that he knows that erôs has the power to make him vulnerable to Pantheia’s beauty (5.1.8). Unconvinced, Araspas ignores the risk and attends Pantheia until he is smitten with her common kindness to him. Erôs leads Araspas to force himself on Pantheia and almost costs him his life, but for Cyrus’ gentleness and understanding. His folly serves as a pointed contrast to Cyrus’ prudent self-awareness.

Beyond the dangers of love, Cyrus worries about his propensity for greed. He admits to Croesus, “I myself cannot overcome this thing which the gods have put into the souls of humans and which renders us all impoverished in the same way, but I too am insatiate of wealth just like others” (8.2.20). He explains that the only way he overcomes his greed is by not hoarding his wealth but rather giving it to his friends, thereby winning safety (asphaleia) and a good reputation {55|56} (eukleia). Cyrus contrasts with Croesus, who had made war on him despite being warned by the Delphic oracle to “know thyself,” (i.e. to know his limitations as a general) (7.2.20). After his defeat, Croesus admits that he had been spoiled by wealth, bribes, and the flattery of those who claimed he would become the greatest of men by making war on Cyrus. Ultimately Croesus realizes that he did not know himself (7.2.23).

This presentation of self-knowledge is, we might say, both Socratean and anti-Herodotean. In the Memorabilia Socrates emphasizes the importance and means of acquiring self-knowledge (and of avoiding self-delusion), also citing the Delphic Oracle (4.2.24–30, 3.7.9). Herodotus’ Cyrus is initially aware of his own mortality when he sees Croesus, a proud king like himself, about to be burnt on the pyre. Nevertheless his success eventually leads him to think of himself as “something more than human” and invincible in war (Histories 1.86, 1.204). This delusion of grandeur directly contributes to his downfall: he attempts to extend the Persian Empire to the Massagetae and is soundly defeated, his head soaked in blood.

Unlike his counterpart in Herodotus, Xenophon’s Cyrus is continually wary that he could become fearful, proud, or recklessly happy. In one exhortation to his men on the eve of the great battle with the Assyrians, he hedges against living a completely virtuous life by vowing never “willingly” to do anything wicked or shameful (cf. ἑκών, 7.1.13.6). Cyrus later explains on his deathbed that one reason for his success was “my abiding fear that at some point in time I might see or hear or suffer something problematic. This fear prevented me from thinking excessively proud thoughts or feeling extravagant delight” (8.7.7). It is as if Xenophon’s Cyrus “remembers” what happened to himself in Herodotus. And for all the connotations of divinity in his philanthrôpia (Chapter One, pp. 42–44), Cyrus is aware of his mortal vulnerability, which may be linked to his high capacity for pity. [21]

The extreme importance in Xenophon for any type of leader to pay attention—to himself, to his followers, to the enemy, to the land—seems to explain the emphasis he places on Cyrus’ philomatheia. This trait suggests curiosity, inquisitiveness, and an aptitude for learning, especially about moral and political subjects, beyond any special keenness or genius (though Cyrus shows signs of these at times as well). In short, Cyrus does not display the epic cleverness of Odysseus or Oedipus’ ability to solve riddles or the Philosopher King’s conceptual brilliance, but these mental skills do not seem to matter as much {56|57} to Xenophon’s vision of the best leadership. [22] At any rate, they are not fundamental but may be the product of curiosity and attentiveness.

Here we conclude what we have thus far discovered about Cyrus’ three superlative traits of character. Philanthrôpia, loosely translated as a “love of humanity,” is more precisely a fondness for others, for mingling with them, taking pleasure in their company, and being concerned with their well-being. It may involve showing signs of encouragement or sympathy in good fortune or bad, gestures of attentive care to the sick or wounded, gentleness, affection, match-making, and gift-giving and benefaction, often on a grand and civilizing scale, such that it may be appropriate to call it “divine.” Cyrus’ philotîmia is in part a love of being honored by the community at large, but Xenophon often portrays it as a desire for popularity or approval from those in Cyrus’ close company, e.g. his father, his grandfather, his uncle, his Medan and Persian contemporaries. This desire for popularity, however, may involve acts of daring and risk-taking (especially in hunting, warfare, and personal expenditure) beyond what others deem safe and thus marks Cyrus as a character of lofty ambition (megalopsychia) and worthy of royal sovereignty. Cyrus’ philomatheia is a desire and aptitude to master subjects that bring honor, and seems to entail an abiding attentiveness (epimeleia), especially in the form of self-awareness.

As we noted in the introduction, there are five different contexts within which we may understand Cyrus’ character traits, namely, the Greek literary tradition, Greek historiographers of Persia, Xenophon’s other writings, the writings of other fourth-century Athenians, and Persian history, insofar as we can recover it from inscriptions and artifacts or infer it from an oral tradition embedded in Xenophon but different from what Herodotus and Ctesias report. It is one thing to say that these contexts exist and to believe that they all play a critical role in Xenophon’s depiction of Cyrus. It is much more difficult, however, to say exactly how and to what extent they do play this role, and we have tried to proceed with due caution in explaining the various sources for Xenophon’s characterization of Cyrus.

Having examined the form and meaning of Cyrus’ three superlative traits of soul, we will now assess their fundamentality to other traits in Xenophon’s Theory of Leadership. {57|}