VII

Now when he had heard these reasonings, Simonides replied: O Hiero, there is a potent force, it would appear, the name of which is honour, so attractive that human beings strain to grasp it, ¹²⁴ and in the effort they will undergo all pains, endure all perils. It would further seem that even you, you tyrants, in spite of all that sea of trouble which a tyranny involves, rush headlong in pursuit of it. You must be honoured. All the world shall be your ministers; they shall carry out your every injunction with unhestitating zeal. ¹²⁵ You shall be the cynosure of neighbouring eyes; men shall rise from their seats at your approach; they shall step aside to yield you passage in the streets. ¹²⁶ All present shall at all times magnify you, ¹²⁷ and shall pay homage to you both with words and deeds. Those, I take it, are ever the kind of things which subjects do to please the monarch, ¹²⁸ and thus they treat each hero of the moment, whom they strive to honour. ¹²⁹

Yes, Hiero, and herein precisely lies the difference between a man and other animals, in this outstretching after honour. ¹³⁰ Since, it would seem, all living creatures alike take pleasure in meats and drinks, in sleep and sexual joys. Only the love of honour is implanted neither in unreasoning brutes ¹³¹ nor universally in man. But they in whose hearts the passion for honour and fair fame has fallen like a seed, these unmistakably ¹³² are separated most widely from the brutes. These may claim to be called men, ¹³³ not human beings merely. So that, in my poor judgment, it is but reasonable you should submit to bear the pains and penalties of royalty, since you are honoured far beyond all other mortal men. And indeed no pleasure known to man would seem to be nearer that of gods than the delight ¹³⁴ which centres in proud attributes.

To these arguments Hiero replied: Nay, but, Simonides, the honours and proud attributes bestowed on tyrants have much in common with their love-makings, as I described them. Like honours like loves, the pair are of a piece.

For just as the ministrations won from loveless hearts ¹³⁵ are felt to be devoid of grace, and embraces forcibly procured are sweet no longer, so the obsequious cringings of alarm are hardly honours. Since how shall we assert that people who are forced to rise from their seats do really rise to honour those whom they regard as malefactors? or that these others who step aside to let their betters pass them in the street, desire thus to show respect to miscreants? ¹³⁶ And as to gifts, it is notorious, people commonly bestow them largely upon those they hate, and that too when their fears are gravest, hoping to avert impending evil. Nay, these are nothing more nor less than acts of slavery, and they may fairly be set down as such.

But honours have a very different origin, ¹³⁷ as different to my mind as are the sentiments to which they give expression. See how, for instance, men of common mould will single out a man, who is a man, ¹³⁸ they feel, and competent to be their benefactor; one from whom they hope to reap rich blessings. His name lives upon their lips in praise. As they gaze at him, each one among them sees in him a private treasure. Spontaneously they yield him passage in the streets. They rise from their seats to do him honour, out of love not fear; they crown him for his public ¹³⁹ virtue's sake and benefactions. They shower gifts upon him of their own free choice. These same are they who, if my definition holds, may well be said to render honour to their hero by such service, whilst he that is held worthy of these services is truly honoured. And for my part I can but offer my congratulations to him. "God bless him," say I, perceiving that so far from being the butt of foul conspiracy, he is an object of anxiety to all, lest evil should betide him; and so he pursues the even tenour of his days in happiness exempt from fears and jealousy ¹⁴⁰ and risk. But the current of the tyrant's life runs differently. Day and night, I do assure you, Simonides, he lives like one condemned by the general verdict of mankind to die for his iniquity.

Now when Simonides had listened to these reasonings to the end, ¹⁴¹ he answered: How is it, Hiero, if to play the tyrant is a thing so villainous, ¹⁴² and that is your final judgment, how comes it you are not quit of so monstrous an evil? Neither you, nor, for that matter, any monarch else I ever heard of, having once possessed the power, did ever of his own free will divest himself of sovereignty. How is that, Hiero?

For one simple reason (the tyrant answered), and herein lies the supreme misery of despotic power; it is not possible even to be quit of it. ¹⁴³ How could the life of any single tyrant suffice to square the account? How should he pay in full to the last farthing all the moneys of all whom he has robbed? with what chains laid upon him make requital to all those he has thrust into felons' quarters? ¹⁴⁴ how proffer lives enough to die in compensation of the dead men he has slain? how die a thousand deaths?

Ah, no! Simonides (he added), if to hang one's self outright be ever gainful to pour mortal soul, then, take my word for it, that is the tyrant's remedy: there's none better suited ¹⁴⁵ to his case, since he alone of all men is in this dilemma, that neither to keep nor lay aside his troubles profits him.

With honour, honour, honour to him,

Eternal honour to his name.