Dio Chrysostom, Speeches

§ 15.27 “But how can that be? For if being captured makes a man a slave, the men who themselves were captured deserve that appellation more than their descendants do; and if it is having been born of slaves that makes men so, it is clear that by virtue of being sprung from those who were taken captive and were consequently free-born, their descendants would not be slaves. For instance, we see that those famous Messenians after the lapse of so many years recovered not only their freedom but their territory as well.

§ 15.28 For when the Spartans were defeated at Leuctra by the Thebans, the latter marched into the Peloponnese supported by their allies, and not only compelled the Spartans to give back the Messenian territory, but settled in Messene again all the original Messenians' descendants, the Helots as they were called, who had previously been in servitude to the Spartans. And not a man says that the Thebans therein acted unjustly, but all agree that altogether nobly and justly. Consequently, if this method of gaining possession, from which all the others take their beginning, is not just, it is likely that no other one is either, and that the term'slave' does not in reality correspond to the truth.

§ 15.29 ”But perhaps it was not in this way that the term'slave' was originally applied — that is, to a person for whose body someone paid money, or, as the majority think, to one who was sprung from persons who were called slaves, but rather to the man who lacked a free man's spirit and was of a servile nature. For of those who are called slaves we will, I presume, admit that many have the spirit of free men, and that among free men there are many who are altogether servile. The case is the same with those known as'noble' and'well-born.' For those who originally applied these names applied them to persons who were well-born in respect to virtue or excellence, not bothering to inquire who their parents were. Then afterwards the descendants of families of ancient wealth and high repute were called'well-born' by a certain class.

§ 15.30 Of this fact there is the clearest indication: for in the case of cocks and horses and dogs the designation was retained, just as it had been applied to men in olden times. For instance, when one sees a spirited and mettlesome horse that is well built for racing, without stopping first to enquire whether its sire by any chance came from Arcadia or from Media or is Thessalian, he judges the horse on its own merits and says that it is'well-bred.' And it is the same with any connoisseur of dogs: whenever he sees a dog that is swift and keen and sagacious in following the scent, he does not go on to enquire whether it is of Carian or Spartan or some other breed, but says that it is a'noble' dog. And it is exactly the same in regard to the cock and the other animals.

§ 15.31 Therefore it is clear that it would be the same in the case of a man also. And so when a man is well-born in respect to virtue, it is right to call him'noble,' even if no one knows his parents or his ancestors either. “But,” you will object, “it is impossible for anyone to be'noble' without being'well-born' at the same time, or for one who is'well-born' not to be free; hence we are absolutely obliged to conclude that it is the man of ignoble birth who is a slave. For surely, if it were the custom to use the terms freedom and slavery with reference to horses and cocks and dogs, we should not call some'noble' and others'free,' nor say that some were'slaves' while others were of'ignoble' birth or breed.

§ 15.32 ”In the same way, then, when we are speaking of men, it is not reasonable to call some'noble' and'well-born,' and others'free'; but we should make no distinction between the two classes. Nor is it reasonable either to say that some are of ignoble birth and mean, and that others are slaves. “In this way, then, our argument shows that it is not the philosophers who misuse the terms but the common run of ignorant men, because they know nothing about the matter.”

§ 16.1 The Sixteenth Discourse: On Pain and Distress of Spirit That the majority of us are mastered by Pleasure can perhaps be explained: it is because we are under her spell and witchery that we stay in her company, whereas accepting servitude to Pain is altogether irrational and strange. For although suffering pain and agony from the severest of all tortures, we nevertheless remain in it and do not accept the word of reason that frees and delivers us from our distress. And yet what more abject creature is there than a man who is held in thrall to Pain? What sight is there so shameful? For it seems to me that his condition actually affects his body also, and makes it shrunken and scowling and distorted in appearance.

§ 16.2 But this yielding to the mind's disturbance, and not only that but also the devising of certain external signs of it, such as black raiment, wringing the hands, sitting in a dejected posture, so that by all these the mind is in a certain sense compelled never to get away from its pain and distress, but to be always conscious of being in pain, although one knows perfectly well that there will be some relief from this and that there will not be found always and ever some cause for the suffering — is this not utterly silly?

§ 16.3 For instance, either the death of a relative, or the illness of one of them, or of oneself, may occur and besides these, loss of reputation, a financial reverse, complete or partial failure in some undertaking, pressure of affairs, danger, and all the countless other misfortunes which occur in life (and one of these is practically sure always to be present);

§ 16.4 and finally, if after all a time does come when no trouble confronts one, yet all the same, the constant expectation of such things and the knowledge that they may occur will lay hold upon the mind of those who are of that temperament. Therefore one should not seek a special consolation for each of these troubles — for the task would be endless, and life is full of painful things — but one should tear that morbid state out of his soul completely, get a firm hold on the truth that the intelligent man ought not to feel pain about anything whatever, and be a free man henceforth. Then there will be release from dread of all that causes distress. For in fact there is nothing that in itself should cause fear; it is only false opinion and weakness on our part that make it so.

§ 16.5 The great majority, for instance, whenever any one of the things happen which are commonly regarded as untoward, keep continually recalling that thing, distressing though the recollection is, their state of mind being something like that of children, who are bent on touching the fire, for example, although they suffer great pain in doing so: yet if you give them permission they will do it again.

§ 16.6 So, just as when men go forth to war it is no use for them to march out without their armour and then merely hope to dodge each flying missile, for it is impossible to guard against them all; but the soldier needs a stout breastplate and his full panoply too, so that, even if a missile does strike him, it may not penetrate — in the same way those also who have marched out into life cannot possibly dodge or so guard themselves as not to be struck by any of Fortune's shafts, thousands of which are flying against each man; but what they need is a stout heart, preferably invulnerable and yielding before no blow; or if that may not be, at least one that is not easily wounded or by any ordinary blow; for otherwise it must often be stabbed and receive a thousand wounds.

§ 16.7 Why, those who have feet which are tender and not calloused at all by use, and then attempt to walk with them bare, will never find a road so smooth that their feet will not be gashed or in pain, but any little thing hurts them; whereas for feet hardened by practice not even the roughest road causes trouble. Therefore, since there are so many distressing things, beginning with those due of the body, what should anyone expect, or how is it possible, for anyone who pays attention to each of them and easily gives way, to avoid being the most unhappy man alive, ever praying the gods that this or that may not happen?

§ 16.8 It is just as if a man should go out in a rain without any covering, and should trust merely to prayers for avoiding each single dro (and yet much thicker than the raindrops are the afflictions which Fortune sends); or exactly as if a man sailing a boat, instead of giving his attention to the steering-oars and meeting skilfully each oncoming wave, should pray that none might strike the ship. Just think, you misguided man — even if everything else turns out as your heart wishes, yet what assurance have you of living even till the morrow, and not being suddenly, in the midst of everything, torn away from your fancied blessings? Consequently, this is the first thing about which you should be in painful anxiety and fear — the uncertainty of everything.

§ 16.9 Yet if you have the wisdom to reflect that absolutely no man is master of his life, but that all those who have been thought blessed and exceedingly fortunate are dead, and that this goal awaits you at any moment, even if you live to the ripest old age, you will consider it great nonsense and utter simplicity to imagine that anything at all which happens is terrible or great or marvellous, except this one achievement of living at least one day free from painful fretting, fear, and similar emotions.

§ 16.10 The story goes that the famous Jason anointed himself with a certain potent salve which he got from Medea, and it was after that, I fancy, that no harm came to him from either the dragon or the bulls which belched out fire. This, therefore, is the potent thing of which we should acquire possession, getting it from Medea, that is, from Meditation or Intelligence, and then with our intelligence look with scorn thenceforth upon all things. Otherwise everything will be fire for us and everything sleepless dragons.

§ 16.11 And yet every man who suffers pain and distress of spirit says that what has happened to himself is a most terrible thing and most worth grieving over, just as every person who carries a load imagines that what he is carrying is very heavy. But this really indicates a weak and sickly body, for another and stronger man will take and carry the same load easily.

§ 17.1 The Seventeenth Discourse: On Covetousness The majority of men think that they should speak only on those subjects concerning which the common man has not the true opinion, in order that they may hear and get guidance on the matters whereof they are ignorant; but regarding what is well known and patent to all alike they think it superfluous to instruct. Yet for my own part, if I saw that we were holding to what we believe to be right and were doing nothing out of harmony with the view we already have, I should not myself hold it necessary to insist on matters that are perfectly clear.

§ 17.2 However, since I observe that it is not our ignorance of the difference between good and evil that hurts us, so much as it is our failure to heed the dictates of reason on these matters and to be true to our personal opinions, I consider it most salutary to remind men of this without ceasing, and to appeal to their reason to give heed and in their acts to observe what is right and proper. For instance, just as we see physicians and pilots repeating their orders time and again to those under their command, although they were heard the first time — but still they do so when they see them neglectful and unattentive — so too in life it is useful to speak about the same things repeatedly, when the majority know what is their duty, but nevertheless fail to do it.

§ 17.3 For it is not the main thing that the sick should know what is beneficial to them, but, I suppose, that they should use the treatment; since it is this that will bring them health; nor that men in general should learn what things are helpful and what are injurious to their lives, but that they would make no mistake by their choice between these. For just as one may see persons who are suffering from ophthalmia and know that it hurts to put their hands to their eyes, but still are unwilling to refrain from so doing, so likewise in regard to matters in general, the majority, even though they know perfectly well that it is not advantageous to do a certain thing, none the less fall to doing it.

§ 17.4 Who, for instance, does not know that intemperance is a great evil to its victims? But for all that you can find thousands that are intemperate. Yes, and idleness everybody must certainly know is not only unable to provide the necessaries of life, but, in addition, is destructive to what one already has; and yet in very truth you can find more idlers than men willing to work.

§ 17.5 Consequently, in my opinion it devolves upon the more thoughtful on all occasions and continually to speak of these matters, in the hope that it may prove possible to make men change their ways and to force them to the better course. For just as in the Mysteries the initiating priest more than once explains beforehand to those who are being initiated each single thing that they must do, in like manner it is profitable that the words concerning things beneficial be repeated often, or rather, all the time, just like some sacred admonition.

§ 17.6 We know, for instance, that inflamed parts of the body do not yield at once to the first fomentation, but that if the treatment is continued, the swelling is softened and relief is given. So in a like manner we must be well content if we are able to assuage the inflammation in the souls of the many by the unceasing use of the word of reason. So I maintain in regard to covetousness too, that all men do know it is neither expedient nor honourable, but the cause of the greatest evils; and that in spite of all this, not one man refrains from it or is willing to have equality of possessions with his neighbour.

§ 17.7 And yet you will find that, although idleness, intemperance and, to express it in general terms, all the other vices without exception are injurious to the very men who practice them; and although those who are addicted to any of them do deservedly, in my opinion, meet with admonishment and condemnation, still you certainly will find that they are not hated or regarded as the common enemies of all mankind. But greed is not only the greatest evil to a man himself, but it injures his neighbours as well. And so no one pities, forsooth, the covetous man or cares to instruct him, but all shun him and regard him as their enemy.

§ 17.8 If, then, each of those here present wishes to know the enormity of this wickedness, let him consider how he himself feels toward those who attempt to overreach him; for in this way he can get an idea as to how other men must feel toward him if he is that sort of man. And further too, Euripides too, a poet second to none other in reputation, brings Iocasta on the stage addressing Eteocles and urging him to refrain from trying to overreach his brother, in some such words as these:

§ 17.9 At greed, the worst of deities, my son, Why graspest thou? Do not; she is Queen of wrong. Houses many and happy cities enters she, Nor leaves till ruined are her votaries. Thou art mad for her! —'tis best to venerate Equality, which knitteth friends to friends, Cities to cities, allies to allies. Nature gave men the law of equal rights, And the less, ever marshalled against The greater, ushers in the dawn of hate.

§ 17.10 I have quoted the iambics in full; for when a thought has been admirably expressed, it marks the man of good sense to use it in that form. In this passage, then, are enumerated all the consequences of greed: that it is of advantage neither to the individual nor to the state; but that, on the contrary, it overthrows and destroys the prosperity of families and of states as well; and, in the second place, that the law of men requires us to honour equality, and that this establishes a common bond of friendship and peace for all toward one another, whereas quarrels, internal strife, and foreign wars are due to nothing else than the desire for more, with the result that each side is deprived even of a sufficiency.

§ 17.11 For what is more necessary than life, or what do all men hold as of more importance than this? But nevertheless men will destroy even that for money, and some too have caused even their own fatherlands to be laid waste. The same poet then goes on to say that there is no greed among the divine beings, wherefore they remain indestructible and ageless, each single one keeping its own proper position night and day and through all the seasons. For, the poet adds, if they were not so ordered, none of them would be able to survive. When, therefore, greed would bring destruction even to the divine beings, what disastrous effect must we believe this malady causes to human kind? And he aptly mentions measures and weights as having been invented to secure justice and to prevent any man from over-reaching another.

§ 17.12 And Hesiod says that the half is even more than the whole, having in mind, I presume, the injuries and losses resulting from greed. For what king or potentate or people has ever attempted to transgress the principle of justice and grasp at the greater share but he has lost all his former felicity and has suffered great and overpowering disasters, bequeathing to all men thereafter unmistakable examples of folly and wickedness? Or of those who were willing to receive the lesser share and to endure cheerfully the seeming defeat, what man has not gained more than the others many times over, things that accrued to him automatically and without effort on his part, and has gained for the longest time fair prosperity and in the greatest security has enjoyed Fortune's blessings?

§ 17.13 Illustrations are at hand: Did not the sons of Iocasta, when they became at variance in their desire for more, the one wishing to be sole ruler, and the other seeking by fair means or foul to secure his portion of the kingdom — did they not, though brothers, slay each the other and bring the greatest evils, both of them, upon those who espoused their causes, since the invaders of the land straightway perished, while those who fought to defend it were worsted soon after because they would not allow the corpses to be buried?

§ 17.14 And again, on account of the greed of one man who carried off Helen and the possessions of Menelaus, the inhabitants of Asia's greatest city perished along with their children and wives, for harbouring one woman and a little property they paid so huge a penalty. Then take the case of Xerxes, the master of the other continent. When he cast covetous eyes upon Greece too, and collected and brought against her so mighty a fleet and so many myriads, he shamefully lost all his armament and with difficulty saved his own person by taking to flight himself; and afterwards he was forced to endure the ravishing of his country and of his cities on the seacoast.

§ 17.15 As a further illustration take Polycrates: They say that so long as he was ruler of Samos alone he enjoyed the greatest felicity of any man in the whole world; but that when he wished to meddle somewhat in the affairs of the people of the opposite mainland and sailed across for the purpose of getting money from Orestes, he met with no easy death, but was impaled by that barbarian prince and thus perished. These instances, in order that they be warning examples to you, I have taken not only from exceedingly ancient, but also from subsequent times, and as related both in poetry and in narrative prose.

§ 17.16 Then it is worth your while to call to mind the attitude of the god likewise, that he also by his very nature punishes the covetous. When, for instance, the Spartans consulted his oracle to ask if he gave Arcadia to them, he not only refused them, but rebuked their insatiable greed in the following words: Arcadia thou askest of me?'Tis much! Nay, give it I'll not, but also imposed a penalty upon them and foretold the future, yet in such a way that they did not understand, but marched against Tegea to meet with disasters known of all men. And yet, while plainly denying Arcadia to them, he would not give them Tegea either. For this was the strongest and most important place in Arcadia. But, speaking generally, the majority of mankind are so covetous that they have not even ears to hear, nor do they so much as understand words of warning when spoken.

§ 17.17 At another time, when the Athenians asked about the island of Sicily, the oracle answered that they should annex to their city' Sikelia,' this being the name of a hill near the city. But they paid no attention to what was near at hand and before their eyes; so bereft of sense were they on account of their lust for more, that they imagined the god was telling them to enclose without one wall Athens and an island some ten thousand stades distant. As a result they sailed thither, and not only failed to get Sicily, but lost Attica as well, and saw their city itself in the hands of her enemies.a

§ 17.18 And if you should wish to enumerate all such examples as these, it is clear that not even in a year's time would you run out of them. Then consider, I beg of you, that most men regard physical strength as one of the blessings of life; yet I believe that in the case of those who have the greatest physical strength and greatly excel in bodily vigour, it is of advantage to sacrifice a part of this; for in my opinion what exceeds the right proportion is very troublesome. In the same manner wealth which may be put to use does not, if it be moderate, injure its possessor, but makes his life easier and certainly frees it from want; but if it becomes excessive, it causes far more worries and troubles than that which passes for pleasure; and many have rued the day when they acquired enormous wealth, while some for this very reason have come to lack even the barest necessities.

§ 17.19 So far so good! But let us take our own selves: If each element that makes up our being should wish to have the advantage, would it be possible for us to keep alive for the shortest time? I mean, for example, if the blood should increase a little beyond the proper proportion, or even if something or other in us should increase the pressure of the warm breath beyond its due and proper proportion, do you not know that serious and dangerous illnesses inevitably come on? And in the harmonies of these instruments of our bodies, if any one of the strings should get more than its share of tension, in Heaven's name must not the harmony as a whole be destroyed?

§ 17.20 As for me, I wonder greatly how we should have acted if we had not received the shortest span of life from the gods! However, just as if we were making our plans for an endless life, we strive earnestly each to have more than his neighbour. Just as any man, then, who knowing that he has a voyage of only two or three days' duration at the most before him, should nevertheless put enough provisions on board to last a year, will be regarded as a fool; in the same way, any man who, being fully aware that he could not live more than the allotted span of seventy years, should provide himself with substance to last him a thousand years would he not be equally and in the same way insane? Indeed there are some who lay in stores so great that, if they were out at sea, their ship would founder at once. And I swear it does happen to countless numbers.

§ 17.21 So much for that. Well then, if a man has invited ten or fifteen guests to a banquet and although needing to satisfy only so many, should then go on and make ready food enough for five hundred or a thousand, will he not be thought to be quite out of his mind? In like manner we also, although we know that the needs of the body are easy enough to count — for clothing, I suppose, and shelter and nourishment we do need — nevertheless strain ourselves to the utmost as if we were gathering supplies for an army and, I swear, there is good reason for our doing so; for the great majority are feeding in their hearts a whole army of desires. As for clothing, nobody wants to have it too large for his body, knowing that it would be inconvenient to wear; but property altogether too large for their needs all men crave, net understanding that this is more objectionable than the other.

§ 17.22 I think, too, that Croesus the Lydian, when he wanted to expose the insatiable greed of men, did this admirably. He conducted a group of men into his treasure-house and permitted them to take away just as much gold as each man could carry on his person. For we see that most of them not only filled the bosoms of their clothing, but carried away some of the dust upon their heads and in their mouths and that they could scarcely walk, cutting a ridiculous figure, all twisted out of shape as they were. In life also, methinks, certain men walk along in an unseemly posture and cut a ridiculous figure on account of their greed.

§ 18.1 The Eighteenth Discourse: On Training for Public Speaking Although I had often praised your character as that of a good man who is worthy to be first among the best, yet I never admired it before as I do now. For that a man in the very prime of life and second to no one in influence, who possesses great wealth and has every opportunity to live in luxury by day and night, should in spite of all this reach out for education also and be eager to acquire training in eloquent speaking, and should display no hesitation even if it should cost toil, seems to me to give proof of an extraordinarily noble soul and one not only ambitious, but in very truth devoted to wisdom. And for that matter the best of the ancients said that they went on learning not only in the prime of life but also as they grew old.

§ 18.2 And you, as it seems to me, are altogether wise in believing that a statesman needs experience and training in public speaking and in eloquence. For it is true that this will prove of very great help toward making him beloved and influential and esteemed instead of being looked down upon. For when men are afraid, what does more to inspire them than the spoken word? And when they wax insolent and uplifted in spirit, what more effectively brings them down and chastens them? What has greater influence in keeping them from indulging their desires? Whose admonitions do they endure more meekly than the man's whose speech delights them?

§ 18.3 Time and again, at any rate, there may be seen in our cities one group of men spending, handing out largess, adorning their city with dedications, but the orators who support these measures getting the applause, as though they and not the others had brought these things about. For this same reason the poets of the earliest times, who received their gift of poetry from the gods, never spoke of either the strong or the beautiful as being'looked upon as gods,' but reserved this praise for the orators. So it is because you not only have observed all this, but are also endeavouring to put it into practice that I commend and admire you.

§ 18.4 And I acknowledge on my own behalf a gratitude beyond the ordinary because you have believed that I could be useful to you in carrying out this purpose and this endeavour. For up to the present, as one of the writers of old said that he was'a good enough prophet for his own self,' so I too considered that I should do well enough for myself in oratory, though barely even that. But you elate me and persuade me to take courage, in the hope that I can be of use to one who not only has attained so high a degree of culture, but is also as gifted as yourself. And perhaps I could, just as a boy or some aged herdsman might, be useful to a strong and vigorous wayfarer in pointing out a shorter road or a beaten track of which he did not happen to know.

§ 18.5 But to cut my preface short, I must at once endeavour to carry out your instructions. For a mere lad, now, or a young man who wishes to withdraw from political life and devote himself to training and to the acquisition of forensic ability, there is need of a different regimen in both tasks and activities. But you are not unacquainted with the task, nor are you able to forsake the political career, nor is it the eloquence and effectiveness of a pleader in the courts of law of which you stand in need, but rather that which is alike fitting and sufficient for a statesman.

§ 18.6 So first of all, you should know that you have no need of toil or exacting labour; for although, when a man has already undergone a great deal of training, these contribute very greatly to his progress, yet if he has had only a little, they will lessen his confidence and make him diffident about getting into action; just as with athletes who are unaccustomed to the training of the body, such training weakens them if they become fatigued by exercises which are too severe. But just as bodies unaccustomed to toil need anointing and moderate exercise rather than the training of the gymnasium, so you in preparing yourself for public speaking have need of diligence which has a tempering of pleasure rather than laborious training. So let us consider the poets: I would counsel you to read Menander of the writers of Comedy quite carefully, and Euripides of the writers of Tragedy, and to do so, not casually by reading them to yourself, but by having them read to you by others, preferably by men who know how to render the lines pleasurably, but at any rate so as not to offend. For the effect is enhanced when one is relieved of the preoccupation of reading.

§ 18.7 And let no one of the more'advanced' critics chide me for selecting Menander's plays in preference to the Old Comedy, or Euripides in preference to the earlier writers of Tragedy. For physicians do not prescribe the most costly diet for their patients, but that which is salutary. Now it would be a long task to enumerate all the advantages to be derived from these writers; indeed, not only has Menander's portrayal of every character and every charming trait surpassed all the skill of the early writers of Comedy, but the suavity and plausibility of Euripides, while perhaps not completely attaining to the grandeur of the tragic poet's way of deifying his characters, or to his high dignity, are very useful for the man in public life; and furthermore, he cleverly fills his plays with an abundance of characters and moving incidents, and strews them with maxims useful on all occasions, since he was not without acquaintance with philosophy.

§ 18.8 But Homer comes first and in the middle and last, in that he gives of himself to every boy and adult and old man just as much as each of them can take. Lyric and elegiac poetry too, and iambics and dithyrambs are very valuable for the man of leisure, but the man who intends to have a public career and at the same time to increase the scope of his activities and the effectiveness of his oratory, will have no time for them.

§ 18.9 But the historians for many reasons the statesman must read attentively, because, even apart from the speeches they contain, it is most essential that the statesman, the man who chooses to conduct public affairs, should be acquainted with measures and successes and failures, which happen not only in accordance with reasonable expectation, but also at times contrary thereto, to both men and states. And the reason for this statement is that it is the man with the widest knowledge of what had happened to others who will best carry out his own undertakings, and, so far as it is possible, safely, while every reverse he will bear nobly because of the fact that even in his successes he was never unaware of the possibility of a change to the opposite fortune.

§ 18.10 As for Herodotus, if you ever want real enjoyment, you will read him when quite at your ease, for the easy-going manner and charm of his narrative will give the impression that his work deals with stories rather than with actual history. But among the foremost historians I place Thucydides, and among those of second rank Theopompus; for not only is there a rhetorical quality in the narrative portion of his speeches, but he is not without eloquence nor negligent in expression, and the slovenliness of his diction is not so bad as to offend you. As for Ephorus, while he hands down to us a great deal of information about events, yet the tediousness and carelessness of his narrative style would not suit your purpose.

§ 18.11 When it comes to the orators, however, who does not know which are the best — Demosthenes for the vigour of his style, the impressiveness of his thought, and the copiousness of his vocabulary, qualities in which he surpasses all other orators; and Lysias for his brevity, the simplicity and coherence of his thought, and for his well concealed cleverness. However, I should not advise you to read these two chiefly, but Hypereides rather and Aeschines; for the faculties in which they excel are simpler, their rhetorical embellishments are easier to grasp, and the beauty of their diction is not one whit inferior to that of the two who are ranked first. But I should advise you to read Lycurgus as well, since he has a lighter touch than those others and reveals a certain simplicity and nobility of character in his speeches.

§ 18.12 At this point I say it is advisable — even if some one, after reading my recommendation of the consummate masters of oratory, is going to find fault — also not to remain unacquainted with the more recent orators, those who lived a little before our time; I refer to the works of such men as Antipater, Theodorus, Plution, and Conon, and to similar material. For the powers they display can be more useful to us because, when we read them, our judgment is not fettered and enslaved, as it is when we approach the ancients. For when we find that we are able to criticize what has been said, we are most encouraged to attempt the same things ourselves, and we find more pleasure in comparing ourselves with others

§ 18.13 when we are convinced that in the comparison we should be found to be not inferior to them, with the chance, occasionally, of being even superior. I shall now turn to the Socratics, writers who, I affirm, are quite indispensable to every man who aspires to become an orator. For just as no meat without salt will be gratifying to the taste, so no branch of literature, as it seems to me, could possibly be pleasing to the ear if it lacked the Socratic grace. It would be a long task to eulogize the others; even to read them is no light thing.

§ 18.14 But it is my own opinion that Xenophon, and he alone of the ancients, can satisfy all the requirements of a man in public life. Whether one is commanding an army in time of war, or is guiding the affairs of a state, or is addressing a popular assembly or a senate, or even if he were addressing a court of law and desired, not as a professional master of eloquence merely, but as a statesman or a royal prince, to utter sentiments appropriate to such a character at the bar of justice, the best exemplar of all, it seems to me, and the most profitable for all these purposes is Xenophon. For not only are his ideas clear and simple and easy for everyone to grasp, but the character of his narrative style is attractive, pleasing, and convincing, being in a high degree true to life in the representation of character, with much charm also and effectiveness, so that his power suggests not cleverness but actual wizardry.

§ 18.15 If, for instance, you should be willing to read his work on the March Inland very carefully, you will find no speech, such as you will one day possess the ability to make, whose subject matter he has not dealt with and can offer as a kind of norm to any man who wishes to steer his course by him or imitate him. If it is needful for the statesman to encourage those who are in the depths of despondency, time and again our writer shows how to do this; or if the need is to incite and exhort, no one who understands the Greek language could fail to be aroused by Xenophon's hortatory speeches.

§ 18.16 My own heart, at any rate, is deeply moved and at times I weep even as I read his account of all those deeds of valour. Or, if it is necessary to deal prudently with those who are proud and conceited and to avoid, on the one hand, being affected in any way by their displeasure, or, on the other, enslaving one's own spirit to them in unseemly fashion and doing their will in everything, guidance in this also is to be found in him. And also how to hold secret conferences both with generals apart from the common soldiers and with the soldiers in the same way; the proper manner of conversing with kings and princes; how to deceive enemies to their hurt and friends for their own benefit; how to tell the plain truth to those who are needlessly disturbed without giving offence, and to make them believe it; how not to trust too readily those in authority over you, and the means by which such persons deceive their inferiors, and the way in which men outwit and are outwitted -

§ 18.17 on all these points Xenophon's treatise gives adequate information. For I imagine that it is because he combines deeds with words, because he did not learn by hearsay nor by copying, but by doing deeds himself as well as telling of them, that he made his speeches most convincingly true to life in all his works and especially in this one which I chanced to mention. And be well assured that you will have no occasion to repent, but that both in the senate and before the people you will find this great man reaching out a hand to you if you earnestly and diligently read him.

§ 18.18 Writing, however, I do not advise you to engage in with your own hand, or only very rarely, but rather to dictate to a secretary. For, in the first place, the one who utters his thoughts aloud is more nearly in the mood of a man addressing an audience than is one who writes, and, in the second place, less labour is involved. Again, while it contributes less to effectiveness in delivery than writing does, it contributes more to your habit of readiness. But when you do write, I do not think it best for you to write these made up school exercises; yet if you must write, take one of the speeches that you enjoy reading, preferably one of Xenophon's, and either oppose what he said, or advance the same arguments in a different way.

§ 18.19 And yet repeating what his speeches contain is better still if you have a good memory for it. For this makes one thoroughly familiar with both the way he expresses his thoughts and the accuracy with which his thoughts are conceived. I say this, not to encourage you to string together line for line an entire treatise, as schoolboys do, but that you may thoroughly master anything that happens to please you especially. I should have written at great length about this to a lad, but for you, thus much is sufficient. For if you call to memory only very small portions, you will derive great benefit; whereas if you should feel disinclined and find the effort painful, this work is not absolutely necessary.

§ 18.20 Well, I seem to have extended my advice to great length, but you yourself are to blame for that by persuading and challenging me. Just as expert wrestlers sometimes give way to those who are weaker and make them believe that they are stronger, so you seem to have led me on to write and tell what you, as it happens, know better yourself, just as if you did not know it so well. But I should prefer, if it proved agreeable to you, that we should get together some time and by reading the ancient writers and discussing them render some service to each other.

§ 18.21 Just as it is not enough to say to painters and to sculptors that their colours should be just so and that their lines should be just so, but they derive the greatest help if the critic can see them at work, painting or modelling; and just as it is not sufficient for the gymnastic masters to name the different holds in wrestling, but they must go on and demonstrate them to the youth who wishes to learn; so too in consultations like this, the help would be greater if one were to see the man who has given the advice in action himself. I declare for my part that even if I had to read aloud to you while you listened, for the sake of helping you I should not hesitate, since I both love you and admire you for your ambition, and am grateful for the honour you have shown me.

§ 19.1 The Nineteenth Discourse: On the Author's Fondness for Listening to Music, the Drama, and Oratory A number of my intimate friends had long been asking for an opportunity to meet me; and besides, many of my fellow-citizens were said to be eager to see me, considering that I have a certain advantage over most men because of my wanderings and the reversal of my fortunes, and the bodily hardships which I was supposed to have experienced. And finally they went so far as actually to find fault with me and maintain that I was not treating them fairly. But I for my part refused to go near to the actual boundary; on the contrary, it seemed to me that any such act befitted a man who was utterly crushed by his exile and very eager to be restored; just as those who have left nothing in the cup are evidently very thirsty.

§ 19.2 So I went to Cyzicus and stopped there to give any of my friends who wished it the chance to confer with me. And then came the bard of the proverb and saved me by singing a song to them. For there came to Cyzicus a bard who, as some assert, is the best of those of this time and in fact a man inferior not even to any of the great bards of the past, nay not even to Arion, who was saved from the sea — they must evidently have judged by divination, for how else could they be sure when they had not heard that famous bard of old? — and as soon as they learned that the man was in town, straightway tremendous interest was aroused and all the people began to wend their way to the senate house.

§ 19.3 So I too, thinking that I also might listen and thus enjoy a share in such a splendid entertainment, as one of the throng of three thousand and more, arrived among the first, very expectant indeed. I am fond of indulging my ears and absolutely devoted to music, although I have no great skill myself in it; so that, if it had been my fortune to live in Orpheus' time, I fancy that I should have been the first one to follow in his train, even though I should have been obliged to mingle with a drove of fawns and calves; and I should have felt no shame. For even now I am often affected as they were, whenever I attend a sophist's lecture, on account of the uncontrolled craving which possesses me for the spoken word; and so I herd with the sort of creatures I have mentioned, graceful and beautiful, to be sure, but yet noisy and eager for a chance to kick up their heels.

§ 19.4 And this is the way I have nearly always been affected when listening to sophists and orators. Just as beggars on account of their own destitution envy the moderately well-to do, so I admire and applaud those who are in any way at all proficient in speech, because I myself am lacking in such proficiency. But I must say that the performance of those who sing to the harp, aye, and of the actors too, seems to me in no small degree superior to the pleasure it gives. For their voices are louder and undoubtedly better modulated, while their language is not extempore like that of the orators, who generally try to speak without preparation; but poets have composed painstakingly and at their leisure.

§ 19.5 And the most of what they give us comes from ancient times, and from much wiser men than those of the present. In the case of comedy everything is kept; in the case of tragedy only the strong parts, it would seem, remain — I mean the iambics, and portions of these they still give in our theatres — but the more delicate parts have fallen away, that is, the lyric parts. I might illustrate by the case of old men: all the firm parts of the body resist the ravages of time, namely, the bones and the muscles; but everything else shrivels up. This is the reason that the bodies of the extremely old men are seen to be wasted and shrunken, whereas all those old men who are corpulent because of their wealth and luxury, although they have no strength left but only fat instead of flesh, do seem well nourished and younger to the great majority.

§ 20.1 The Twentieth Discourse: On Retirement Just what, pray, is the meaning of the word'retirement,' and whom should we define as men who are'retiring'? Is it those who are giving up their proper tasks and activities of whom we should say that they are retiring? For example, if some one enjoying Athenian citizenship, when the obligation falls on him to serve in the field in defence of his country because the Spartans have invaded Attica, or Philip is attacking them, or some other enemy, should retire or withdraw to Megara or Aigina in order to avoid serving or risking his life, could this man be described as having retired?

§ 20.2 Or if some one possesses a great fortune should for the sake of avoiding the public services required of the rich leave the city? Or if a man who is qualified to heal the sick, and then when the sick are friends and intimates of his, should abandon them and go on a visit to some other place in order to avoid catching the disease and the trouble of treating them? Or if somebody else, on being required to present himself for public duty in the city along with the rest, should be unwilling to hold an office or assist those in office or do any service as guard which would necessitate his losing sleep, but in order to be rid of all these duties and not let even one man call him to account or hinder him from drinking and sleeping and loafing, should retire to some other place — should these men be described as'retiring'? No, these men are evidently fleeing and deserting, and there can be no excuse for them or pardon for taking a vacation in this manner and running away.

§ 20.3 It may be, then, that it is those who withdraw from unprofitable enterprises and time-consuming activities which do not properly concern them, and who get themselves some leisure from useless annoyances, that should be defined as'retiring.' But if that is right, it is not the man who has moved from some city to another one or from one place to another that could be described as'retiring.' For wherever he goes, there will be many things getting in his way and not allowing him to do the things which properly concern him. For the fact is that spending much time in somebody's company and in continual drinking, or dicing, or in doing some other harmful and unprofitable thing are practices to be met with everywhere — and wasting all one's time in palavering with anyone you happen to meet, and in listening to talk that is utterly futile, or spending your time discoursing about the affairs of the Emperor or of what's his name, as some one has said.

§ 20.4 For the fool is not master of his own soul, but is whirled this way and that and is easily led by any chance pretext or association. Consequently the majority of men are just like spendthrifts, who would be unable to render an accounting for the money they have spent, explaining what they have spent each several item for, although enormous sums have clearly been expended: so neither could these men render an accounting for what they have spent each day, or month, or year, although life is clearly passing by and time being spent, this being of no little value to man, of no less value to him, in my opinion, than money.

§ 20.5 But all the same, when one drachma has been lost, the man cannot help noticing it and being in some way distressed; and if a person loses several, there are not many who remain undisturbed by such a matter. I do not mean that they are pained and hurt because of their carelessness and because they failed to give heed to avoid such conduct as should properly have hurt them, but simply at the loss of the drachmas.

§ 20.6 But when a day is gone and lost, or two or three of them, there is no one who gives that a thought! Yet in the one case they are able to reckon thus much: that if they fail to give heed and take thought of such matters, all their property may slip away and be lost without their noticing it. But in the matter we are now discussing, men are not able to apply the same method of reckoning in order to reach the same conclusions, to wit, that if they do not take thought for each day and watch lest they aimlessly throw it away, their whole life may slip away and be lost before they know it.

§ 20.7 But clearly it is not the place where you are nor this going abroad that affords an escape from doing sundry trivial things, nor is it even one's having retired to Corinth or to Thebes, but rather the being occupied with one's own self, when one so wishes. For in Thebes and in Megara, yes, anywhere almost that one may go, whether in Greece or in Italy, it is possible for one to live in idleness and to take one's ease; and one will not lack a pretext, wherever he happens to be, for spending quite a good deal of time, if it so happens, in busying one's self with affairs as well as in loafing.

§ 20.8 I am therefore inclined to think that the best and most profitable kind of retirement is retirement into oneself and giving attention to one's own concerns, whether one happens to be in Babylon, or in Athens, or in a military camp, or alone on a little island. For retirements and sojournings abroad of the kind we have mentioned conduce very little to one's having leisure and doing only what one ought to do. Sick persons, for instance, by changing from one bed to another do sometimes get a little relief, but certainly not enough nor such as would rid them of their malady.

§ 20.9 And we often see how even in the midst of a very great turmoil and throng the individual is not hampered in carrying on his own occupation; but, on the contrary, the man who is playing the flute or teaching a pupil to play it devotes himself to that, often holding school in the very street, and the crowd does not distract him at all, nor the din made by the passers-by; and the dancer likewise, or dancing master, is engrossed in his work, being utterly heedless of those who are fighting and selling and doing other things; and so also with the harper and the painter. But here is the most extreme case of all: The elementary teachers sit in the streets with their pupils, nothing hinders them in this great throng from teaching and learning.

§ 20.10 And I remember once seeing, while walking through the Hippodrome, many people on one spot and each one doing something different: one playing the flute, another dancing, another doing a juggler's trick, another reading a poem aloud, another singing, and another telling some story or myth; and yet not a single one of them prevented anyone else from attending to his own business and doing the work that he had in hand.

§ 20.11 However, you will object, there is none of these occupations that concentrates the mind, steadies it, and causes it to look with disdain upon all other things; and education, apparently, and philosophy, which best accomplish this, do require great seclusion and retirement; and, just as the sick, unless there is silence and quiet all about them, are unable to get any sleep, so, you see, it is with seekers after learning — unless everybody about them is quiet, and unless there is nothing distracting to be seen or heard, their mind will find it impossible to give attention to its own affairs and to concentrate on these.

§ 20.12 Yet I for my part notice that people who live by the sea are not affected by its sounds, but are able to put their minds on anything they like, that they speak and listen and sleep when they feel that the time has come for these things, because they think that the sound is no concern of theirs and so do not mind it. But if they did care to take notice when the roar increased or diminished, or to count the waves that break upon the shore, or to watch the gulls and other birds, how they alight on the waves and float easily on them, they would not have time to do anything else.

§ 20.13 So, too, the man who can bring himself to reflect in regard to the crowds and the din they cause and their various affairs, that these things differ not one whit from what takes place on the sea, will not be troubled by any of them. Nay, we have in this, it would seem, a very valuable lesson and bit of instruction — that we should accustom the mind to follow reason and not to let it be diverted to any other thing whatsoever than the matters which are before it and thought to be fitting.

§ 20.14 And when we have thus accustomed the mind by reason will be able to accomplish all its proper work; but the mind that spins this way and that and fidgets and turns to one thing after another, whenever anything comes in sight at any time which offers some pleasure or relaxation, like water that turns in every way as it chances on a piece of uneven ground, will derive no benefit whatever from even perfect quiet and seclusion.

§ 20.15 I myself know that when well trained and willing dogs are unleashed, they straightway pick up the trail, and not even if all the hunters should try to call them back, would they ever leave it; no, not even if many voices from all sides should reach them and many odours emanating from the fruits and flowers should be mingled with the scent, and a great host of men and other creatures should come to view, and tracks of horses here and cattle or sheep there. Such a dog sees none of these things, picks out the trail on all sides and follows until she finds and puts up the hare; and after this she keeps up the pursuit, no matter what country she has to pass through, and neither plain nor road nor exceedingly rough ground, nor ravine nor stream can stop her, in spite of all the doublings the hare makes in its attempts to put her off the scent.

§ 20.16 But ignorant and untrained dogs I find are slow to pick up the trail and quick to give up the chase, and if a noise reaches their ears from any quarter, whether the barking of dogs, or the shouting of men, whether wayfarers or herdsmen, they straightway lift their noses from the trail and rush off in that direction. For all these things, just as I have said, habit is responsible. And in the same way the mind also should be made accustomed never to turn aside or withdraw from what it regards as its proper work. Otherwise it will not be easy to rise above one's surroundings or to accomplish anything satisfactorily.

§ 20.17 Or is it not wildernesses and places undisturbed by sounds, or chiefly there, that foolish men, trying not to concentrate their thoughts upon the essential things, have conjured up many strange imaginings, things amid which they yearn to live, shaping for themselves in fancy sovereign power and riches and other such marvels? Some dig up treasures of gold and silver and thus suddenly come into possession of an enormous quantity of them; and others make themselves emperors and absolute rulers of cities and nations, then straightway putting into practice everything that goes with a tyranny: putting some to death and banishing others, making free with any virgins or boys or matrons that they choose, and taking part in the most costly banquets and feasts;

§ 20.18 others put out money on usury or engage in other enterprises, dreaming all kinds of bright dreams to themselves just as if they were wide awake with their eyes open. Aye, and sometimes, to be sure, as the result of these dreams there comes from them the most trivial and absurd awakening from such dreams! For tyrannies are not at all likely to spring from such things, since a tyranny is not apt to be sought by a mind that is slothful and in a sense always asleep, but on the contrary, by keen and unsleeping thought. But lavish expenditures, love intrigues, and such like adventures have undoubtedly often fallen to the lot of many.

§ 20.19 I may cite Alexander as an instance: I fancy that, when he happened to be enjoying a respite from his herdsman's duties on Mount Ida, the thought and with it the desire came to him, what a fortunate and blissful thing it would be to have the most beautiful woman in the whole world to wife, and that neither a throne was as valuable as this prize, nor wealth, nor the conquest of the whole world in war; next he began to speculate as to who and where this woman of his fancy might be, among what people she lived, and by what means he could compass to splendid an alliance;

§ 20.20 and so he began to despise the nymphs and maidens of Ilium with a prince's disdain and to think them not worth his winning, and in the same way also he despised the women of Lydia and Phrygia, and those in Lesbos and Mysia. But learning that in Sparta there was a certain reputed daughter of Zeus, living in wedlock with Menelaus, a king in his own right and brother of the king of all Greece, a woman whom the first and foremost of the Greeks had wooed and sought to win by offering many wedding-gifts and presents and, to crown all, that she had, according to report, brave brothers twain, Polydeuces and Castor, true sons of Zeus. So he coveted this woman for his wife.

§ 20.21 Now in the ordinary course of events he thought that this was not at all feasible, but that if some god should promise and give her, so wild an ambition might perhaps be realized. What goddess, then, he asked himself, was likely to grant favours of this kind other than she who held authority and ruled over all that pertained to marriage and to love? Therefore, if she offered him this bride, he thought the marriage not impossible. How, then, could he persuade her to grant him this favour unless in some way he should ingratiate himself with the goddess by giving her some boon or favour? But he reflected that she did not stand in need of wealth, since she was'golden' and possessed all the wealth in the world, absolutely; nor sacrifices either, since all men everywhere offered her sacrifice; nor would she readily heed anything else one might say or any mere petition. But if, he thought, one were to present her with the thing which she desired most of all, what she had looked upon as the most valuable thing in the world, and should bear witness for her that she was the most beautiful goddess, perhaps she would consent.

§ 20.22 Then to win the victory and to be preferred in this contest of beauty — over what divinity, he asked himself, would she think she could afford to prevail except over the foremost and greatest of them, Athena and Hera? And this would be all the more so if these two should put in an appearance, offering great and wonderful gifts for the sake of winning. So after canvassing the matter in this way and elaborating his own imagining and conceit, like a soul which in its sleep follows out its phantasies and imaginings and spins out some long and coherent dream, he is appointed by Zeus, he fancies, umpire over the goddesses; and as to the other goddesses, he disregarded both their persons and their gifts, and chose the third in return for the bribe and gift of winning that woman as wife who had been the object of his thoughts and for whom he had prayed.

§ 20.23 If, then, he had been nothing more than a herdsman and a commoner in rank, no trouble would have come to him from that ambitious dream. But as it was, since he was of kingly blood and a mighty prince, and of great influence owing to his wealth and the dominion over the greatest city of those days, and the affection which his parents bore for him, he forthwith realized the rest of his dream, just as if the first part had actually happened; and after building ships and assembling a retinue, he sailed for Greece and Sparta, entered the home of Menelaus and Helen, where he was hospitably received, induced her to leave her husband and Hellas, and then returned to his home, bringing into Troy the beginning of many grievous troubles and disasters.

§ 20.24 Thus, whereas the thoughts and desires of the soul of a man in private station and without influence are wind-begotten and ineffectual, and no difficulty arises from them, but just as real dreams are gone at once when the dreamers rise from their beds, and no part of them can endure the sun or the day, as the saying is, so it is with desires and hopes of this kind; yet those of monarchs, on the other hand, or of men of wealth or of those who possess some other power, quite often reach a fulfilment that is both grievous and terrible.

§ 20.25 And this sort of thing, in my opinion, is just like wind-begotten products of generation. For they do indeed say that some eggs are produced in this way without the intercourse and impregnation of the male seed, and they are called wind-eggs as if begotten by a gust of wind. And this is the reason, as it seems to me, why even Homer, in the belief that it was not impossible or incredible that a wind-begotten breed of horses should have appeared to men, said that the North Wind, becoming enamoured of some Trojan mares, impregnated them with his seed so that a breed of horses came from them. In like manner, what begins with a mistaken and impossible idea often ends in an accomplished fact.

§ 20.26 All that I have said follows from that initial digressive remark that the mind should accustom itself to do and think what is essential to it everywhere, even in a perfect din as well as in perfect quiet. Otherwise seclusion and quiet offer no advantage and no greater safeguard, for men who are fools, to keep them from conceiving and committing many strange and wicked deeds.

§ 33.1 The Thirty-third, or First Tarsic, Discourse I wonder what on earth is your purpose, and what your expectation or desire, in seeking to have such persons as myself discourse for you. Do you think us to be sweet-voiced and more pleasant of utterance than the rest, so that, as if we were song-birds, you long to hear us make melody for you; or do you believe that we possess a different power in word and thought alike, a power of persuasion that is keener and truly formidable, which you call rhetoric, a power that holds sway both in the forum and on the rostrum; or is it because you expect to hear some laudation directed at yourselves, some patriotic hymn in praise of your city, all about Perseus and Heracles and the Lord of the Trident and the oracles that you have received, and how you are Hellenes, yes, Argives or even better, and how you have as founders heroes and demigods — or, I should say, Titans?

§ 33.2 You may even, methinks, expect to hear a eulogy of your land and of the mountains it contains and of yonder Cydnus, how the most kindly of all rivers and the most beautiful and how those who drink its waters are'affluent and blessed,' to use the words of Homer. For such praise is true indeed and you are constantly hearing it both from the poets in their verse and from other men also who have made it their business to pronounce encomia; but that sort of performance requires ample preparation and the gift of eloquence.

§ 33.3 What, then, do you expect us to say? Or what above all are you eager to hear from men who are not of nimble wit and know not how to make gratification the aim of their discourse, who are not flatterers nor moved by insolence to mount the platform? For that you are not expecting money from us nor any other contribution, I am well aware. Well then, let me state my own suspicions.

§ 33.4 You seem to me to have listened frequently to marvellous men, who claim to know all things, and regarding all things to be able to tell how they have been appointed and what their nature is, their repertoire including, not only human beings and demigods, but gods, yes, and even the earth, the sky, the sea, the sun and moon and other stars — in fact the entire universe — and also the processes of corruption and generation and ten thousand other things. And then, methinks, they come to you and ask you what you want them to say and upon what topic — as Pindar put it, Ismenus or Melia of the golden distaff or noble Cadmus; and whatsoever you may deem suitable, the speaker starts from there and pours forth a steady and copious flood of speech, like some abundant river that has been dammed upon within him.

§ 33.5 Then, as you listen, the thought of testing his several statements or of distrusting such a learned man seems to you to be shabby treatment and inopportune, nay, you are heedlessly elated by the power and the speed of his delivery and are very happy, as, without a pause for breath, he strings together such a multitude of phrases, and you are affected very much as are those who gaze at horses running at a gallop — though not at all benefited by the experience, still you are full of admiration and exclaim, “What a marvellous thing to own!” And yet in the case of the horses it is frequently not the owners who may be seen handling the reins, but rather some worthless slave.

§ 33.6 Well then, the sort of recitation of which I speak, being a kind of spectacle or parade, has some resemblance to the exhibitions of the so called physicians, who seat themselves conspicuously before us and give a detailed account of the union of joints, the combination and juxtaposition of bones, and other topics of that sort, such as pores and respirations and excretions. And the character is all agape with admiration and more enchanted than a swarm of children. But the genuine physician is not like that, nor does he discourse in that fashion for the benefit of those who actually need medical attention — of course not — but instead he prescribes what should be done, and if a man wants to eat or drink, he stops him, or he takes his scalpel and lances some abscess of the body.

§ 33.7 Just as, therefore, in case the sick were to assemble and then proceed to serenade the physician and call for a drinking-bout, the outcome would not meet their expectation, nay, they might well be annoyed at their reception, such it seems to me, is the situation of the masses when they gather before a man like me and bid him make a speech, obviously never having sampled the words of truth and consequently expecting to hear something sweet and pleasant. Come then, tell me, in heaven's name, will you be indulgent toward a speaker, provided he is not wholly outspoken and does not touch upon all the ailments that afflict you, but rather confines himself to just one item or maybe two?

§ 33.8 Take care, I warn you, lest you meet with the same experience as those people of Ilium, who, when a certain tragic actor paid them a visit, annoyed him by demanding an exhibition of his skill, until he finally bade them to let him alone and keep quiet. “For,” said he, “the better my performance, so much the more hapless will you appear.” So then, with the philosopher, it is better for the masses to let him hold his tongue.

§ 33.9 But consider what the situation is. The Athenians, for example, being accustomed to hearing themselves abused, and, on my word, frequenting the theatre for the express purpose of hearing themselves abused, and, having established a contest with a prize for the most proficient in that sort of thing — not having hit upon the idea by themselves but acting upon the advice of the god — used to listen to Aristophanes and Cratinus and Plato and inflicted no punishment on them. But when Socrates without the protection of stage and benches undertook to carry out the instructions of his god, indulging in no vulgar dances or idiotic piping, they would not endure it.