How To Be Great, According To Xenophon

The love that sets you apart

Feb 02, 2026

This essay is part of our Education of Cyrus group readalong.

Xenophon admired Cyrus’s virtues, but wrote his story arc so those very talents led the Persian King of Kings down a dark path.

Since I already discussed where Cyrus went wrong in The Education of Cyrus, I want to highlight something Cyrus does right, perhaps explaining, in Xenophon’s words, his “strength of soul.” This self-chosen “code” leads him to success after success, even if some of his accomplishments aren’t praiseworthy.

At 1.4.4–5, Xenophon lists what Cyrus demands of himself when he reaches manhood. Without external pressure, he decides on the following:

To stop competing against peers he’s superior to, and compete only when he’s inferior. When entering into these disadvantaged contests, he boldly proclaims that he’ll win.
When he inevitably loses, he laughs at himself. This makes him immune to the mockery of others, who often laugh at those who set ambitious goals but fall short.

This lines up with the Stoic philosopher Seneca’s advice:

“No one prompts laughter if he has already gotten a laugh at his own expense. Tradition relates how Vatinius, a man born for both laughter and hatred, was a charming and witty joker. He said a great many things at the expense of his own feet and his scarred neck. This is how he avoided being made fun of by his enemies, who were as numerous as his deformities…”
— Seneca, On the Constancy of the Wise Person, 17.2

After being thrashed again and again by his opponents, Cyrus decides he’ll never stop competing. He’ll keep at it till he wins, taking as many lickings as required.
He “immersed himself,” in practicing what he was weak at so that he could improve rapidly.

Very quickly, Xenophon tells us, Cyrus overtook the most experienced in all fields of aristocratic competition. He achieved this because “he loved the work.” Not winning. Not being superior to everyone else. He loved the work.

Compare this to the seed of his downfall I described earlier:

He “endured every labor and faced every risk for the sake of being praised.” (1.2.1)

Cyrus’s praise-driven achievements and virtues are not worthwhile unto themselves. They are not enjoyed by him, nor do they make him happy. He later insists they’re only good instrumentally for achieving desired ends.

But this earlier skill training? He loves it for its own sake, even when he’s bad at it. It’s the work that calls him back for another round.

This, I think, is the most applicable lesson for the modern era, or any era. This is everything humans don’t want to do.

We don’t want to learn how weak we are through losing contests, nor to spend time painfully working on those deficits. We’d rather focus on our strengths. And how many of us really “love the work” as opposed to what the work gets us?

People want to have written a book, but they don’t enjoy writing. They want to be fit, but don’t love working out. They want health, sure, just as long as they don’t have to endure healthy food.

Most people will not love the hard thing, the laughed-at-thing, the thing without prestige, even if mastery and achievement lie at the other end of the struggle. But whether or not we will is something that’s entirely up to us.

You may ask — but how do I love the thing instead of what the thing gets me? Is it possible to change what one values?

I say yes. This is dragging negotium into otium. This is coming to embrace virtue for its own sake.

Nothing can stop us from working on ourselves and seeking mastery. Xenophon has been in the ground for 2,300 years, but if there are humans around in another thousand, Cyrus’s personal code will be just as valuable to them.