Xenophon/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII.
XENOPHON'S MINOR WORKS.
Xenophon, after the completion of his campaigns, had, as we have seen above,[1] a long tranquil life, probably from his fortieth till nearly his ninetieth year, devoted to literature, during which he not only collected materials for his 'Hellenica' (the contemporary history of Greece), but also wrote his 'Anabasis,' his 'Recollections of Socrates,' his 'Education of Cyrus,' and several minor works above enumerated.[2] These opuscula, composed from time to time, as the fancy took him, show Xenophon as the earliest of essay-writers. His subjects were varied enough, and this circumstance gives an interest to his works; but yet we find that his ideas were somewhat limited. He constantly reproduces under different forms the same ideal type of human life and character. And this ideal type is nothing transcendental or impossible; it is thoroughly healthy, but it has a certain suggestion of mediocrity.
Xenophon had a great capacity for friendship, and a tendency to what in modern times has been called "hero-worship." During his earlier life he had, at successive periods, two great objects for these sentiments—Socrates and Agesilaus, a philosopher and a king. In his 'Eulogy of Agesilaus' he pays a tribute to the king, analogous to that which, in the 'Recollections of Socrates,' he paid to the philosopher. He does not write the life of Agesilaus, but merely gives a brief summary of some of his chief public performances in war and diplomacy, and then dilates upon his virtues. Agesilaus—who, according to Plutarch, was a short, rather mean-looking man, lame of one foot—appears to have produced a great impression upon Xenophon. But Xenophon had not the dramatic faculty requisite for portrait-painting in words. The catalogue of qualities assigned to his hero does not bring a living personality before us, but rather reads like the list of particulars in the Linnæan classification of a plant. Nor is it easy to distinguish the historical Agesilaus of Xenophon, drawn from the life, from the pseudo-historical Cyrus, drawn from fancy. Xenophon in this matter appears almost like a school-boy who can only draw one face, which he accordingly repeats for ever.
Agesilaus was, of course, according to Xenophon, a great disciplinarian, and very scrupulous in all religious observances. "A spectator would have been cheered at seeing Agesilaus first, and after him the rest of the soldiers, crowned with chaplets whenever they returned from the place of exercise, and dedicating their chaplets to Diana; for how can it be otherwise than that a cause should be hopeful, when it supporters reverence the gods, practise warlike exercises, and observe obedience to their commanders?" Item, he was very trustworthy, and "paid such respect to what was divine, that even his enemies considered his oaths and compacts more to be relied on than friendship among themselves." Item, he was extremely moderate and self-controlled in eating, drinking, sleep, and all the pleasures of sense. He acted on the principle that "it becomes a prince to surpass private persons, not in effeminacy, but in endurance." Item, he was very brave in war, and very successful as a general; very patriotic and subordinate to the laws of his country; very affable and unostentatious as king; living plainly, being accessible to all, and as unlike as possible to the kings of Persia. He attained a great age in health and vigour, and "was borne to his eternal home" honoured and lamented by all. Such is the character of Agesilaus, as given by Xenophon in eleven chapters. It is a dull picture, conveying the notion rather of respectability than of greatness. Those who wish to see a portrait of the same man in brighter colours may refer to Plutarch's 'Lives.'
The 'Hiero,' another of Xenophon's minor works, is a neat little essay in the form of a dialogue, on the advantages, or otherwise, in the lot of a "tyrant,"—that is, an absolute monarch, whose rule has been founded on the overthrow of constitutional government. The history of the Second Empire in France tends to give a particular interest to this discussion, which Xenophon attributes to the courtly Greek poet Simonides and Hiero I., the tyrant of Syracuse. Many would like to have had the opportunity of questioning Louis Napoleon at the period of his greatest prosperity as to his enjoyment, or otherwise, of the power reached by the coup d'état of the 2d December; and such was the kind of question supposed to be addressed to King Hiero by Simonides. Hiero's answer is of the most gloomy description. He says that it is a mere popular delusion to fancy that tyrants are to be envied. They have not half the pleasure, and they suffer twice the pains, that private individuals do. Their enjoyments are dulled by satiety—they cannot travel, they cannot realise the full pleasures of love because they never can be sure that their affection is returned. "Indeed, there are none from whom conspiracies against kings proceed more frequently than from those who have affected to love them with the greatest sincerity." "If peace is thought to be a great good to mankind, tyrants have the least participation of it; if war is deemed a great evil, kings have the greatest share of it. Private individuals, if they go to make war in an enemy's country, still find, as soon as they return home, that there is safety for them there; but tyrants, when they come to their capitals, are conscious that they are then in the midst of the greatest number of enemies." "They distinguish, no less than private persons, which of their subjects are wise and just, and of a constitutional spirit; but, instead of regarding such characters with admiration, they look upon them with dread. They fear men of courage, lest they should make some bold attempt in favour of liberty; men of abilities, lest they should engage in some conspiracy; men of virtue, lest the multitude should desire to be governed by them. But when, from apprehension, they have removed such characters out of the way, what others are left them to employ in their service except the dishonest, and licentious, and servile?" So far from a tyrant being happier than other men, his state of mind may be summed up by saying that "he passes day and night as if he were condemned by the whole human race to die for his usurpation."
On hearing this statement, Simonides asks, "Why, if such be all that your position of royalty has to give, do you not voluntarily abdicate?" But Hiero answers that this very thing is one of the worst features of usurped royalty—that it is impossible to set one's self free from it. "For how can any tyrant command sufficient resources to make restitution of property to those from whom he has taken it, or how can he make atonement to those whom he has cast into prison, or for those whom he has unjustly put to death? In short, a tyrant can have no comfort either in keeping his throne or resigning it; so the only thing left for him to do is—to hang himself." Simonides, however, offers consolation by observing that the dissatisfaction felt by Hiero proceeds from the amiability of his disposition, which leads him to desire the love of mankind. He assures him that this may still be obtained by a right use of the advantages of his position—by showing graciousness and affability; by developing the resources of the state, and so benefiting all; by using his mercenary soldiers as police for the repression of crime; by spending his private means on public objects; and that thus, by enacting the part of a benevolent tyrant, he will be forgiven for being a tyrant at all, and will attain that most desirable end, of being happy without being envied;—all which is pleasing theory, but perhaps hardly borne out by history.
Several of Xenophon's tracts are on special practical subjects, and of these one of the most interesting is his "Essay on the Revenues of Athens," in which he gives advice for improving the financial position of his country. During the flourishing times of the Republic, the great body of Athenian citizens had been trained to habits of idleness. The state revenues were almost entirely drawn from the contributions of tributary allies, and were largely expended in payments to the citizens for sitting as jurymen (see above, page 96), and performing other unproductive functions, and in the provision of theatrical exhibitions and other pageants.
Xenophon observes that this system was based on a certain amount of injustice towards the allies from whom tribute was exacted, and he proceeds to offer suggestions for rendering Athens more dependent on herself for the means of meeting state charges. These suggestions have not very well borne the test of modern criticism. They are evidently the production of an amateur financier, and not of a practical statesman. One thing particularly strikes the modern reader, and that is—the smallness of the sums in which Xenophon thinks. He speaks of Attica (which, though possessing a silver mine and marble quarries, was still like a small county, with a thin soil) as "qualified by nature to afford very large revenues." And he seems to think it an immense point to add £10,000 or £20,000 to the revenues of the state.
One of the ways by which he proposes to do this is to increase the number of foreigners settling at Athens, and paying a yearly tax of twelve drachmæ (nine shillings) a-head. In Xenophon's time the citizens of Athens, exclusive of slaves, appear to have amounted to only about 20,000. Therefore in order to obtain £10,000 of additional revenue by means of the alien-tax, it would have been necessary to have more foreigners than citizens residing at Athens. To secure this desirable object, Xenophon proposes to give encouragement to foreign settlers by exempting them from military service, and granting them sites for houses—all for the sake of nine shillings per head. The foreigners especially referred to by Xenophon were "Lydians, Phrygians, and Syrians;" and Boeckh, in his 'Public Economy of Athens,' points out that the proposal was similar to what it would be in modern times to encourage the settlement of "Jew traders" in a country, till they outnumbered the original inhabitants, at the same time exempting them from military service, and allowing them to hold land. In any country which was exposed to war, and which had adopted such a policy, it is clear that the citizens would gradually be swept away in battle, while the aliens without patriotic feelings or noble motives would be left in possession of the state.
Xenophon's next idea is, that the commerce of Athens should be stimulated by encouragements, and facilitated as much as possible. It seems to us an odd suggestion that rewards should be offered to those judges who in mercantile suits should give judgment with the least delay; and that those merchants who had brought vessels and goods of great account to the port, should be honoured with seats of distinction on public occasions. Xenophon thinks that the state should directly speculate in ships to be let out on profitable terms, and in lodging-houses, warehouses, and shops; a loan should be raised for this purpose, and our financier assumes that the profit on these ventures would be sure to enable the stock-holders to receive 20 per cent on their contributions. It does not occur to him to ask why, if this form of investment would be so remunerative, private capital should not find its way into it, without passing through the hands of the state.
Another speculation which he recommends to the Government of Athens is the purchase of slaves to be hired out to private individuals, for the purpose of working the silver mines of Laurion, near the southern promontory of Attica. He thinks that the state might gradually collect a little family of ten thousand slaves, and let them out at the rate of an obolus (112d.) per head per diem. This would give an annual revenue of a hundred talents, or about £24,000. These slaves would be employed by the citizens, or foreigners, in mining for silver, and one twenty-fourth part of all the ore obtained would be paid to the state as a royalty. The whole calculation is based on the assumption that the silver mines of Laurion were inexhaustible, and that under all circumstances of the price of provisions, &c., they could be worked to a profit by slave labour. It is needless to say that such an assumption was unjustifiable.
Boeckh says, that of all the schemes and recommendations of Xenophon for improving the revenues of his country, the only one that is unexceptionable is his exhortation to peace. For the preservation of peace, he has great faith in moral measures. He advises the appointment of "peace-commissioners;" and he recommends that the independence of the temple of Delphi—a question analogous in ancient Greece to the neutrality of Belgium in modern Europe—should be maintained rather by diplomacy than by arms. He adds, "Should any one ask whether I mean that if any power should unjustly attack our state, we must maintain peace with that power?—I should not say I had any such intention; but I may safely assert that we shall retaliate on any aggressors with far greater facility, if we can show that none of our people does wrong to any one, for then our enemies will not have a single supporter." This simple belief in the efficacy of virtue and justice in international relationship, received a rude commentary in the subjugation of Athens to the power of Macedon very shortly after the above sentence was written.
In the 'Œconomicus,'[3] or 'Treatise on Housekeeping,' we have Xenophon's ideas on the management of the house and the farm given under the form of a dialogue, in which Socrates is represented as instructing our old friend Critobulus (see above, page 120), now a family man about forty years old. There is nothing specially Socratic in the instruction—the philosophy is that of Xenophon. The first point in housekeeping, we learn, is to have a good wife. She must be made so by her husband, being married in her fifteenth year. She must be taught by him that her main duty is to have a regard for property. She must learn to stow away things neatly, as on board ship, so that they may take up little room, and may be found when wanted. She must renounce painting and rouging, and must keep up her good looks by taking plenty of exercise within doors in the shape of household duties, such as kneading dough, making the beds, &c., in addition to going about to superintend the work of the slaves. No word is said of her reading, or sharing any intellectual pursuit with her husband; and altogether Xenophon's ideal of an Athenian wife is a flagrant case of "the subjection of women."
After the house comes the farm. Xenophon eloquently sets forth the praises of agriculture, but in the rules of the art he is little explicit. He rather lays it down that agriculture is the easiest of all arts to be learnt; that it is a mere application of common-sense; and that a successful farmer differs from an unsuccessful one, not in knowledge, but in care and diligence. All this has a very dilettante appearance. It contrasts strongly with modern ideas of agricultural chemistry, the application of geology, botany, and physiology to farming, and the constant improvement of machinery for lessening human toil in agricultural operations. In lieu of such things, or even of the special processes of the ancients, Xenophon gives us a picture of an ideal gentleman farmer, who keeps his body vigorous by active and temperate habits, who practises his horse across country a good deal, and who is a great "ruler of men," having the desirable qualification of making others work for him cheerfully and efficiently.
Xenophon's three remaining treatises on 'Horsemanship,' on 'Cavalry Management,' and on 'Hunting,' cannot be accused of superficiality. They treat of their respective subjects in a thorough spirit, and are evidently the work of a man writing con amore about his favourite topics. The 'Horsemanship' has been much admired by those who have read it from a professional point of view. It gives rules first for choosing a horse, and afterwards for grooming, mounting, sitting, and managing him. In order to avoid being cheated in the purchase of a horse, Xenophon tells the reader that he must observe the points of the animal, beginning with the feet as the most important of all. He specifies the properties to be approved and condemned in the hoof, and from this ascends to the legs, and all the other points in a horse's body. If a horse is not a mere colt, his age must be looked to, "for a horse that has no longer the marks in his teeth neither delights the buyer with hope, nor is so easy to be exchanged." If he is already broken, sufficient trial must be made of his paces, mouth, and temper; and if a war-horse is wanted, we must try especially his powers of leaping.
When bought, the horse must be placed in a stable which is under the master's eye. It must be made as difficult to steal the horse's food from his stall as the provisions from the master's larder. It must be observed whether the horse scatters his food from the manger—a sure sign that he is off his feed, and for some reason out of sorts. The ground outside the stable should be laid down with round stones, in order to harden the horses' feet. This sort of precaution was especially requisite among the Greeks, as they had not attained the art of shoeing horses with iron. Xenophon's anxiety on this subject leads him to give the mistaken advice that the groom should never wash a horse's legs, but only dry-rub them; for "daily wetting," he says, "does harm to the hoofs." He is far from countenancing the practice adopted in modern times of cropping the ears and tails of horses. On the contrary, he is for stimulating with water the growth of the tail and forelock, in order to give the animal as much defence as possible against flies; and of the mane, in order to give the rider an ample grasp in mounting. This business of mounting must have been a serious one in Xenophon's day, for the simple expedient of stirrups had never been invented. In fact, if we want to form an accurate idea of rider and horse as conceived by Xenophon, we should look at some of the friezes from the Parthenon in the British Museum. Modern sculptors appear to consider stirrups prosaic, and frequently omit them on that account; but Phidias omitted them in his equestrian figures, because in his time they did not exist. And, without them, the only ways the ancients had of mounting were either to vault on horseback, or to use as a step a transverse bar affixed to the shaft of the spear, or to have "a leg up," which the Persians managed in a dignified manner, by using the shoulder of a slave. Xenophon gives several directions for the process of mounting, and recommends the reader to practise mounting from the right side as well as the left, as being an accomplishment often useful in war.
All his maxims for the treatment of the horse are of the most judicious description. He gives it as the one golden rule in these matters, "Never approach a horse in a fit of anger; for anger is thoughtless, and will be sure to lead you to do what you will afterwards repent." A horse is never to be struck for shying, as that will only make him associate the pain he feels with the object which before caused him alarm. The rider should touch the object of which the horse was afraid, and then gently lead him up to it, so as to show that it is nothing terrible. Xenophon's system, in short, proceeds on the same humane principles as that of Professor Rarey. He even thinks that a horse may be taught the most showy paces, such as caracolling and rearing, by the use of the bit and by signs and encouragements, without striking him on the legs at all. "It is on horses thus trained that gods and heroes are painted riding, and those who are able to manage them skilfully may truly be said
'To witch the world with noble horsemanship.'
So beautiful and grand a sight is a horse that bears himself proudly, that he fixes the gaze of all, both young and old, and no one tires of contemplating him, so long as he continues to display his magnificent attitudes."
The 'Hipparchicus,' or 'Cavalry Officer's Manual,' is a treatise on the duties of the Commandant of the Knights, and is addressed in a friendly tone to the person holding that office at Athens. The regulation number of the Knights was one thousand, but Xenophon intimates that the corps had fallen below that number, and he even suggests that foreign troopers should be enlisted to fill up the ranks. This shows how weak was the cavalry arm of the Athenian republic, and on how small a scale all its operations must be conceived. Xenophon, in treating of these, does not seem to have had any clear idea of the functions of cavalry, as distinguished from infantry, in war. No military rules referring to this subject are given. In one place, indeed, he advises that when the enemy are on a march, and any weaker force gets detached from the main body, a dash should be made at it by the cavalry; and in this he says that the tactics of beasts and birds of prey in attacking whatever is left unguarded should be imitated. Elsewhere he says that cavalry should be supported by infantry, and that the cavalry may be made to conceal infantry among and behind them. But it would have been more interesting if Xenophon had given us precisely the military ideas of the day as to how each force was to act. Perhaps such ideas were little developed; and Xenophon, both in this work and in his 'Anabasis,' shows that to his mind war was not a science. His contrivances for deceiving the enemy by mixing up grooms with poles in their hands among the troopers, so as to make the numbers appear larger, and other tricks of the kind, have a puerile appearance. We cannot help thinking how futile would be such stratagems against the powerful field-glasses of modern times. But this treatise, and much of Xenophon's writing, shows in a strong light the comparative pettiness of ancient warfare, and, we may add, the material insignificance of the Athenian republic. All the more honour to her that in intellectual things she was so great! Xenophon does not fail to lecture his commandant of cavalry on the moral qualities necessary for his position, and, above all, on the temperance, endurance of fatigue, and manly energy which he will be required to exhibit; and he repeats over and over again that the enterprises of war can only be successful with the help of the gods, and must never be undertaken without sacrifices and propitious omens.
Nothing was more personally characteristic of Xenophon than his fondness for hunting, and we have seen above (p. 129) that he considered this exercise the best school of warlike prowess and manly virtue. His 'Cynegeticus,' or 'Treatise on Hunting,' embodies the results of his experience in the art, and reinforces the principles which he held in relation to it. This little book is written with all the enthusiasm of an Izaak Walton dilating upon his favourite pastime, and it contains much minute and accurate observation of nature. It was first translated into English by Blane, the well-known writer on 'Rural Sports,' and he speaks of the work with the highest admiration. He says, "I have been indeed astonished in reading the 'Cynegeticus' of Xenophon to find the accurate knowledge that great man had of the nature of the hare, and the method of hunting her; and to observe one of the finest writers, the bravest soldiers, the ablest politicians, the wisest philosophers, and the most virtuous citizens of antiquity, so intimately acquainted with all the niceties and difficulties of pursuing this little animal, and describing them with a precision that would not disgrace the oldest sportsman of Great Britain, who had never any other idea to interfere to perplex his researches."
The greater part of the 'Cynegeticus' is devoted to the subject of hunting the hare; and it is perhaps a little disappointing, after all that Xenophon says about hunting in general as a preparation for war, to find such a very safe kind of sport made so prominent. Doubtless, however, even running with beagles hardens the physique, and Xenophon was quite right in maintaining (what perhaps in his time it was necessary to maintain) that those nations are most likely to do well in war of which the upper classes have a taste for field-sports. He says, that for a young man who has a competency, the first thing is to devote himself to hunting, and the second thing is to learn other accomplishments.
Hare-hunting, with Xenophon, means to find the hare in her form by the use of dogs tracking her scent; when found, to drive her with these dogs into nets previously set in her runs, or, failing this, to tire her out and run her down in the open. The dramatis personæ in the hunt are the master, who manages the dogs himself, and his net-setter, who must he an active young slave keen for the sport, and, as Xenophon adds, implying his own ignorance of foreign tongues, "he must be able to speak Greek." The dogs to be used are two breeds of the Spartan hound; and Xenophon first says what they ought not to be and what they ought not to do, giving an elaborate and amusing catalogue of the bad styles of hunting which a dog may exhibit. Afterwards he describes the shape and action of a perfect hound. His conception, however, is different from that which Shakespeare had in describing the dogs of Theseus in the "Midsummer Night's Dream":—
So flewed, so sanded; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-kneed, and dewlapped like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells,
Each under each."
Xenophon thinks that the ears should be "small, thin, and without hair at the back," that the neck should be "long, flexible, and round," and the knees "straight." But he does not expect great speed in his dogs, for he says that the hare can hardly ever be caught by the dogs by pure coursing. He gives many directions for breeding and training hounds, and adds a capital list of names for them, all dissyllables, such as Psyché, Thymus, Phylax, Rhomé, Porpax, Æther, Actis, Hybris, Augo, Nöes, &c. (Spirit, Courage, Warder, Forceful, Shield-hasp, Æther, Sunbeam, Wanton, Bright-eyes, Marker).
The sport begins in the early morning, while the scent still lies on the track made by the hares in returning to their forms. Xenophon prefers a northerly wind for scent,— bethinks the moisture contained in the south wind to be a disadvantage; and he says that the full moon by its warmth dulls the scent—added to which the light makes the hares skip, so that their steps are at longer intervals, which is unfavourable to scenting. Truly the moon is made to answer for a great many things in this world! The spring and the autumn Xenophon considers the best seasons of the year for scent; but he would have sympathised with that modern sportsman who talked about "stinking violets," for he says that in spring, "when the ground is covered with flowers, it inconveniences the dogs by mingling the odour of the flowers with that of the hare." It is clear that he was accustomed to hunt the hare all the year round, regardless of breeding-times, and to follow her by her tracks in the snow—in short, to kill with dogs and nets whenever the chance occurred. This total want of the idea of game-preserving makes it easy to understand the apparent scarcity of hares in Xenophon's country. He seems to have considered that to kill a single hare was a fair day's sport.
His description of the hare is excellent, and he draws a most graphic picture of puss lying in her form. "When she is awake she winks with her eyelids, but when she is asleep, the eyelids are raised and fixed, and the eyes continue unmoved; also, while asleep, she moves her nostrils frequently, but when not asleep, less often." The huntsman, sallying forth in a light loose dress, with light sandals on, and a thick staff in his hand, when he gets to the hunting-ground, vows to Apollo and to Diana the huntress a share of what may be captured; he then sets his dogs to draw for the scent, which we will suppose to be quickly discovered. "Off go the dogs now with joy and spirit, discovering two or three scents as the case may be, proceeding along and over them as they intersect, form circles, run straight or winding, are strong or weak, are caught up or not; the animals passing by one another, waving their tails about incessantly, hanging down their ears, and flashing their eyes. When they are near the hare, they soon let the huntsman know it, by vibrating their whole bodies, and jealously vying for the lead, now clustering together, now spreading abroad, again dashing on, till at last they hit upon the hare's form and rush in upon her. Up she springs, and away she starts, and the huntsman gives the view-hallo, 'Forward, dogs, forward! right, dogs, right!' and wrapping his coat round his arm, he takes his staff and runs after the dogs, taking care not to head the chase." The hare, running in a ring, is expected to come round to where the nets are set, and so get caught. If not, the hunt must be pursued, as with beagles in modem times; and all the incidents of the day are described in the most lively manner by Xenophon, with instructions for the tactics to be pursued, and the proper cries and modulations of the voice to be used. When the hare has been caught, either by hunting or by driving it into the nets, the huntsman takes up his snares, and having rubbed down the dogs, quits the hunting-field, stopping occasionally, if it be noon-tide in summer, that the dogs' feet may not become sore on the way.
The element of nets in Xenophon's hare-hunting may be considered by some to give it a poaching character, which consists in having too great an eye to the pot—that is, to the actual capture of the animal by whatever means, instead of considering the pursuit itself, conducted in noble form and under honourable restrictions, to be the truer end in the sportsman's mind. But, on the other hand, Xenophon's genuine interest in the working of the dogs is a sportsmanlike feature. It is to be feared that no point so favourable can be found in his account of hunting the deer or antelope. One plan that he recommends is to lie in wait before daybreak, and watch the hinds bringing back their suckling fawns into the grassy glades. Then to seize up a fawn from its bed, on which the hind, its mother, hearing its cries, will rush upon the man that holds it and try to take it horn him, when she may easily be worried by the hunter's dogs and despatched with his spear. Another plan is, when the fawns are grown older, to separate one of them from the herd of deer, and run down it with fleet and strong Indian dogs. A third is to set snares in the deers' path, consisting each of a noose with a clog attached. When a deer puts its foot into one of these, the clog will impede its running; it may then be tired out, and speared by the hunter.
Boar-hunting in Xenophon is a more dangerous and manly sport. When the boar is tracked to his lair, nets are set in the neighbouring outlets, and he is roused by dogs, the hunters following with spears. When he has involved himself in a net he is speared; but he often turns and charges, and then the spear is used like a fixed bayonet on which to receive his charge. The boar may by a twist of his head wrest the spear from the hunter's hand, who then must immediately throw himself flat on his face, so as to prevent the boar from being able to wound him with his upward-turned tusks, and a comrade must instantly step forward and divert the beast by another attack. Such was the boar-hunting of the ancients—not, perhaps, equal in thrilling excitement to the "pig-sticking" of Anglo-India, and yet full of adventure and risk. Horace[4] places the love for this sport among the "ruling passions" of mankind, and describes the hunter, when the boar has broken through the nets and got away, remaining out all day in pursuit of him, forgetful of the tender bride whom he has recently married.
Of hunting large game—that is, lions, leopards, lynxes, panthers, and bears—Xenophon speaks briefly as a foreign sport. He mentions that in some places the beasts are poisoned with aconite mixed in lumps of food, and placed in their way. In other places they are intercepted in the plains when they have come down from the mountains at night, and are speared by men on horseback. Elsewhere they are taken by means of pitfalls, with live goats for bait.
Thus far the treatise is of a purely technical character; but Xenophon, in concluding it, gives way to his love of moralising, and preaches a somewhat incongruous and irrelevant sermon. He returns to his old theme, the excellence of the practice of hunting as preparing a man to serve his country. Then he goes on to the worth of toilsome pursuits in general, and, though virtue is toilsome, says that mankind would not shun the pursuit of her if they could only see in bodily form how beautiful she is. This train of thought reminds him of the "Sophists," or professional teachers of morals and rhetoric. These he denounces as impostors, and in reference to the subject which he has been treating, he calls them "hunters for rich young men." There is, he adds, another spurious kind of hunters; namely, the political place-hunters. Their example young men should avoid, and should rather devote themselves to field-sports, with a happy faith that the gods delight in and approve of these, and that by practising them they may become a benefit to their parents, their friends, and their country.
The whole of this peroration is so little in keeping with the former part of a very excellent treatise, that some are inclined to think that it must have been added on by the hand of a forger. But the manner of the writing is like that of Xenophon, when in his most sermonising and rhetorical vein.[5] It was perhaps written at a different period of his life from the main body of the 'Treatise on Hunting.' We know that the ancients indulged in frequent revisions of their works; and it is not impossible that Xenophon, at a period when his taste and style had been somewhat impaired by age, took up the chapters on hunting which he had written in his vigorous manhood, and, by way of a finish, added to them this cold harangue.
- ↑ See page 80.
- ↑ See page 84.
- ↑ With the word 'Œconomicus,' as with 'Hipparchicus,' &c., the word logos, discourse, treatise, or theory, is to be understood.
- ↑ Odes, I. i:—
"Regardless of his gentle bride,
The huntsman tarries from her side,
Though winds blow keen 'neath skies austere,
If his stanch hounds have tracked the deer,
Or by the meshes' rent is seen
Where late a Marsian boar hath been."
—Mr Martin's Translation. - ↑ See above, page 109.