Agesilaus — Story, Setting & Ideas

Diction of Contrast: Spartan vs. Persian

Xenophon repeatedly frames Agesilaus's virtues through opposition to Persian customs. When the satrap Tithraustes offers gifts, Agesilaus replies: “with us it is deemed nobler for a ruler to enrich his army than himself; it is expected of him to wrest spoils from the enemy rather than take gifts.” The direct speech, rendered in Dakyns's translation, pits Spartan collective ethos against Persian individual enrichment. Similarly, the anecdote of Megabates—who attempts to kiss Agesilaus in the Persian manner—becomes a test of self-restraint. Agesilaus refuses, saying he would rather “fight that battle over again than that everything on which I set my eyes might turn to gold.” The diction here is concrete: battle, gold, kiss. Xenophon avoids abstract moralizing, letting the contrast between Spartan hardness and Persian softness emerge through action and quoted refusal.

The King’s Body as a Site of Virtue

Xenophon dwells on Agesilaus's physical habits to illustrate his character. He “regarded drunkenness as a thing to hold aloof from like madness, and immoderate eating like the snare of indolence.” The king’s couch was “sorrier than that of any of his company,” and he took the lion’s share of “the sun’s heat in summer, or winter’s cold.” These details are not merely descriptive; they are structural choices that align the king’s body with the ideal of the leader who labors beyond others. Xenophon even notes that Agesilaus “exulted in hard work: indolence he utterly repudiated.” The phrasing—exulted, repudiated—gives emotional weight to physical endurance. The double portion at banquets is redistributed, not consumed, a detail that turns a privilege into a tool for honor. Through such observations, Xenophon builds a portrait where the king’s body is a public instrument, not a private vessel.

Narrative Structure: Anecdote as Proof

Rather than a chronological biography, Xenophon organizes the encomium by thematic chapters, each introduced with a general claim followed by illustrative anecdotes. For instance, the claim that Agesilaus was enslaved by no pleasure is supported by the Megabates kiss episode and the refusal of gifts. This structure—claim, then evidence—mirrors forensic rhetoric. The anecdotes are often self-contained, with dialogue and dramatic tension. In the Megabates story, Xenophon includes a comrade’s question (“If I persuade him, will you bestow on him a kiss?”) and Agesilaus’s vehement refusal. The narrative pauses for direct speech, creating a miniature scene. This method allows Xenophon to praise without appearing to flatter: the actions speak. The reader is left to infer the moral, though Xenophon occasionally adds a concluding remark, such as “I ask whether such an incident does not reveal on the face of it the self-respect of the man.”

Translator’s Voice: Dakyns’s Archaic Register

H. G. Dakyns’s 19th-century translation employs a formal, slightly archaic English that shapes the reader’s perception of Xenophon’s prose. He uses inversions (“No kiss might he accept”), periodic sentences, and a vocabulary drawn from classical rhetoric: “adduced,” “gainsayer,” “ensamples.” This register distances the text from modern colloquialism, reinforcing the sense of reading an ancient encomium. Dakyns also includes scholarly footnotes, referencing Plutarch and other sources, which add a layer of commentary. The translator’s preface notes that the text was typed from a four-volume set, indicating a Victorian scholarly context. For the modern reader, Dakyns’s choices affect tone: the king’s virtues sound stately, even austere. The translation does not attempt to naturalize Xenophon’s voice but preserves its oratorical cadence, making the encomium feel like a speech delivered across centuries.

Readers approaching the Agesilaus should attend to how Xenophon selects and shapes evidence: the encomium is not a neutral record but a deliberate construction of an ideal. The translator’s footnotes offer context, but the core pleasure lies in observing how diction, anecdote, and contrast work together. For those familiar with Xenophon’s other works, this text shares themes with the Cyropaedia and Hellenica, yet stands apart in its concentrated focus on a single figure. It rewards close reading of its rhetorical strategies.

The rain kept pace with Xenophon’s measured praise of Agesilaus, that quiet study of Spartan virtue. It made me wonder about the daily texture beneath the encomium—the laws, the households, the slow weight of custom. So I found myself reaching for The History and Antiquities of the Doric Race, Vol. 2 of 2 — Text and Context, as if following a footpath to the fields beyond the portrait.