To Those Who Read and Discuss to Show Off[571]

First say to yourself Who you wish to be: then do accordingly what you are doing; for in nearly all other things we see this to be so. Those who follow athletic exercises first determine what they wish to be, then they do accordingly what follows. If a man is a runner in the long course, there is a certain kind of diet, of walking, rubbing, and exercise: if a man is a runner in the stadium, all these things are different; if he is a Pentathlete, they are still more different. So you will find it also in the arts. If you are a carpenter, you will have such and such things: if a worker in metal, such things. For every thing that we do, if we refer it to no end, we shall do it to no purpose; and if we refer it to the wrong end, we shall miss the mark. Further, there is a general end or purpose, and a particular purpose. First of all, we must act as a man. What is comprehended in this? We must not be like a sheep, though gentle; nor mischievous, like a wild beast. But the particular end has reference to each person's mode of life and his will. The lute-player acts as a lute-player, the carpenter as a carpenter, the philosopher as a philosopher, the rhetorician as a rhetorician. When then you say, Come and hear me read to you: take care first of all that you are not doing this without a purpose; then if you have discovered that you are doing this with reference to a purpose, consider if it is the right purpose. Do you wish to do good or to be praised? Immediately you hear him saying, To me what is the value of praise from the many? and he says well, for it is of no value to a musician, so far as he is a musician, nor to a geometrician. Do you then wish to be useful? in what? tell us that we may run to your audience room. Now can a man do anything useful to others, who has not received something useful himself? No, for neither can a man do any thing useful in the carpenter's art, unless he is a carpenter; nor in the shoemaker's art, unless he is a shoemaker.⁵⁷¹

First tell yourself who you want to be. Then act accordingly in whatever you do. We see this in nearly everything else. Athletes first decide what they want to be, then follow the training that suits their goal. A long-distance runner follows a certain diet and routine of walking, massage, and exercise. A runner in the stadium follows a different routine. A pentathlete’s routine is more different still. You will find the same thing in the crafts. If you are a carpenter, you will need certain things. If you work in metal, you will need other things. Whatever we do, if we have no goal in mind, we do it to no purpose. If we aim at the wrong goal, we will miss the mark. There is a general purpose, and there is a particular purpose. First of all, we must act as human beings. What does that involve? We must not be like sheep, though they are gentle. Nor should we be destructive, like wild beasts. But the particular purpose depends on each person’s way of life and what they choose. The lute player acts as a lute player, the carpenter as a carpenter, the philosopher as a philosopher, and the rhetorician as a rhetorician. So when you say, Come and hear me read to you, first make sure you have a purpose. Then, if you find that you do have a purpose, consider whether it is the right one. Do you want to do good or to be praised? At once you hear him say, What value is praise from the crowd to me? And he is right. It has no value to a musician as a musician, or to a mathematician. Do you want to be useful, then? In what way? Tell us, so that we may hurry to your lecture room. Can a man do anything useful for others if he has not learned something useful himself? No. A man cannot do anything useful in carpentry unless he is a carpenter. Nor can he do anything useful in shoemaking unless he is a shoemaker.⁵⁷¹

Do you wish to know then if you have received any advantage? Produce your opinions, philosopher. What is the thing which desire promises? Not to fail in the object. What does aversion promise? Not to fall into that which you would avoid. Well; do we fulfill their promise? Tell me the truth; but if you lie, I will tell you. Lately when your hearers came together rather coldly, and did not give you applause, you went away humbled. Lately again when you had been praised, you went about and said to all, What did you think of me? Wonderful, master, I swear by all that is dear to me. But how did I treat of that particular matter? Which? The passage in which I described Pan and the nymphs?⁵⁷² Excellently. Then do you tell me that in desire and in aversion you are acting according to nature? Be gone; try to persuade somebody else. Did you not praise a cer tain person contrary to your opinion? and did you not flatter a certain person who was the son of a senator? Would you wish your own children to be such persons?—I hope not—Why then did you praise and flatter him? He is an ingenuous youth and listens well to discourses—How is this?—He admires me. You have stated your proof. Then what do you think? do not these very people secretly despise you? When then a man who is conscious that he has neither done any good nor ever thinks of it, finds a philosopher who says, You have a great natural talent, and you have a candid and good disposition, what else do you think that he says except this, This man has some need of me? Or tell me what act that indicates a great mind has he shown? Observe; he has been in your company a long time; he has listened to your discourses, he has heard you reading; has he become more modest? has he been turned to reflect on himself? has he perceived in what a bad state he is? has he cast away self-conceit? does he look for a person to teach him? He does. A man who will teach him to live? No, fool, but how to talk; for it is for this that he admires you also. Listen and hear what he says: This man writes with perfect art, much better than Dion.⁵⁷³ This is altogether another thing. Does he say, This man is modest, faithful, free from perturbations? and even if he did say it, I should say to him, Since this man is faithful, tell me what this faithful man is. And if he could not tell me, I should add this, First understand what you say, and then speak.

Do you want to know whether you have made any progress? Show me your judgments, philosopher. What does desire promise? That you will get what you desire. What does aversion promise? That you will not encounter what you want to avoid. Well, do we fulfill those promises? Tell me the truth. If you lie, I will tell you. Recently, your audience received you rather coldly and did not applaud, and you went away humbled. Then, when you were praised, you went around asking everyone, “What did you think of me?” “Wonderful, master, I swear by all that is dear to me.” “But how did I handle that particular subject?” “Which one?” “The passage where I described Pan and the nymphs?”⁵⁷² “Excellently.” And you tell me that your desires and aversions are in harmony with nature? Go away and try to persuade someone else. Didn’t you praise a certain person against your own judgment? And didn’t you flatter a man who was a senator’s son? Would you want your own children to be like such people? “I hope not.” Then why did you praise and flatter him? “He is an open and honest young man, and he listens well to lectures.” How can you tell? “He admires me.” There is your proof. What do you think? Don’t these very people secretly despise you? Suppose a man knows he has done no good and never thinks about doing any. Then he finds a philosopher who says, “You have great natural talent and an honest, good disposition.” What else do you think the man says to himself but, “This man needs something from me”? Or tell me, what has he done that shows greatness of mind? Consider this. He has spent a long time in your company. He has listened to your lectures and heard you read. Has he become more modest? Has he begun to examine himself? Has he recognized what a bad state he is in? Has he given up his self-conceit? Is he looking for someone to teach him? He is. Someone to teach him how to live? No, fool, someone to teach him how to speak. That is why he admires you too. Listen to what he says: “This man writes with perfect skill, much better than Dion.”⁵⁷³ That is quite another thing. Does he say, “This man is modest, trustworthy, and free from anxiety”? Even if he did, I would say to him, “Since this man is trustworthy, tell me what a trustworthy man is.” If he could not tell me, I would add, “First understand what you are saying, and then speak.”

You then, who are in a wretched plight and gaping after applause and counting your auditors, do you intend to be useful to others?—To-day many more attended my discourse. Yes, many; we suppose five hundred. That is nothing; suppose that there were a thousand—Dion never had so many hearers—How could he?—And they understand what is said beautifully. What is fine, master, can move even a stone—See, these are the words of a philosopher. This is the disposition of a man who will do good to others; here is a man who has listened to discourses, who has read what is written about Socrates as Socratic, not as the compositions of Lysias and Isocrates. 'I have often wondered by what arguments.'⁵⁷⁴ Not so, but 'by what argument': this is more exact than that—What, have you read the words at all in a different way from that in which you read little odes? For if you read them as you ought, you would not have been attending to such matters, but you would rather have been looking to these words: "Anytus and Melitus are able to kill me, but they cannot harm me:" "and I am always of such a disposition as to pay regard to nothing of my own except to the reason which on inquiry seems to me the best."⁵⁷⁵ Hence who ever heard Socrates say, "I know something and I teach;" but he used to send different people to different teachers. Therefore they used to come to him and ask to be introduced to philosophers by him; and he would take them and recommend them.—Not so; but as he accompanied them he would say, Hear me to-day discoursing in the house of Quadratus.⁵⁷⁶ Why should I hear you? Do you wish to show me that you put words together cleverly? You put them together, man; and what good will it do you?—But only praise me.—What do you mean by praising?—Say to me, admirable, wonderful.—Well, I say so. But if that is praise whatever it is which philosophers mean by the name (κατηγορία)⁵⁷⁷ of good, what have I to praise in you? If it is good to speak well, teach me, and I will praise you.—What then? ought a man to listen to such things without pleasure?—I hope not. For my part I do not listen even to a lute-player without pleasure. Must I then for this reason stand and play the lute? Hear what Socrates says, Nor would it be seemly for a man of my age, like a young man composing addresses, to appear before you.⁵⁷⁸ Like a young man, he says. For in truth this small art is an elegant thing, to select words, and to put them together, and to come forward and gracefully to read them or to speak, and while he is reading to say, There are not many who can do these things, I swear by all that you value.

You are in a miserable state, craving applause and counting your listeners. Do you expect to help others? “More people attended my talk today.” Yes, many. Let us say five hundred. “That is nothing. Suppose there were a thousand. Dion never had so many listeners.” How could he? “And they understand what is said beautifully.” Master, what is beautiful can move even a stone. Look, these are the words of a philosopher. This is the attitude of a man who will help others. Here is a man who has listened to philosophical talks and read the writings about Socrates as Socratic writings, not as works by Lysias and Isocrates. “‘I have often wondered by what arguments.’⁵⁷⁴ No, not ‘arguments,’ but ‘argument.’ That is more exact.” Have you read these words any differently from the way you read little poems? If you had read them as you should, you would not have paid attention to such details. Instead, you would have focused on these words: “Anytus and Melitus can kill me, but they cannot harm me.” And: “I am always disposed to pay attention to nothing of my own except the reasoning that, on examination, seems best to me.”⁵⁷⁵ Who ever heard Socrates say, “I know something and I teach”? Instead, he used to send different people to different teachers. So people would come to him and ask him to introduce them to philosophers. He would take them and recommend them. No, of course not. As he went with them, he would say, “Come hear me speak today at the house of Quadratus.”⁵⁷⁶ Why should I listen to you? Do you want to show me that you can put words together cleverly? You can do that, man, but what good will it do you? “Just praise me.” What do you mean by praise? “Say to me, admirable, wonderful.” Very well, I say it. But if praise means calling something good, as philosophers use the word (κατηγορία),⁵⁷⁷ what do I have to praise in you? If speaking well is good, teach me that, and I will praise you. “But shouldn’t a man enjoy listening to such things?” I hope he should. For my part, I even enjoy listening to a lute player. Must I therefore stand up and play the lute myself? Listen to what Socrates says: “It would not be fitting for a man of my age to appear before you like a young man composing speeches.”⁵⁷⁸ Like a young man, he says. For this little art really is an elegant thing: choosing words, putting them together, and coming forward to read or speak them gracefully. And while reading, saying, “There are not many who can do these things, I swear by all that you value.”

Does a philosopher invite people to hear him? As the sun himself draws men to him, or as food does, does not the philosopher also draw to him those who will receive benefit? What physician invites a man to be treated by him? Indeed I now hear that even the physicians in Rome do invite patients, but when I lived there, the physicians were invited. I invite you to come and hear that things are in a bad way for you, and that you are taking care of every thing except that of which you ought to take care, and that you are ignorant of the good and the bad and are unfortunate and unhappy. A fine kind of invitation: and yet if the words of the philosopher do not produce this effect on you, he is dead, and so is the speaker. Rufus was used to say: If you have leisure to praise me, I am speaking to no purpose.⁵⁷⁹ Accordingly he used to speak in such a way that every one of us who were sitting there supposed that some one had accused him before Rufus: he so touched on what was doing, he so placed before the eyes every man's faults.

Does a philosopher invite people to listen to him? The sun draws people to itself, and so does food. In the same way, doesn't a philosopher draw those who will benefit from him? What doctor invites someone to be treated by him? I hear that doctors in Rome now do invite patients, but when I lived there, the doctors were invited. I invite you to come and hear that things are going badly for you. You are taking care of everything except what you should be taking care of. You do not know good from bad, and you are unfortunate and unhappy. What a fine invitation! Yet if the philosopher's words do not have this effect on you, you are dead, and so is the speaker. Rufus used to say: If you have time to praise me, I am speaking for nothing.⁵⁷⁹ He used to speak in such a way that each of us sitting there thought someone had accused him before Rufus. He spoke so directly about what we were doing and made each man's faults so plain to him.

The philosopher's school, ye men, is a surgery: you ought not to go out of it with pleasure, but with pain. For you are not in sound health when you enter: one has dislocated his shoulder, another has an abscess, a third a fistula, and a fourth a head ache. Then do I sit and utter to you little thoughts and exclamations that you may praise me and go away, one with his shoulder in the same condition in which he entered, another with his head still aching, and a third with his fistula or his abscess just as they were? Is it for this then that young men shall quit home, and leave their parents and their friends and kinsmen and property, that they may say to you, Wonderful! when you are uttering your exclamations. Did Socrates do this, or Zeno, or Cleanthes?

Men, a philosopher's school is a doctor's office. You should leave it in pain, not pleasure. For you are not healthy when you enter. One of you has a dislocated shoulder, another an abscess, a third a fistula, and a fourth a headache. Am I, then, to sit here offering you little thoughts and exclamations so that you will praise me and leave? One of you would leave with his shoulder unchanged, another with his head still aching, and a third with his fistula or abscess just as it was. Is this why young men leave home, their parents, friends, relatives, and property? Is it so they can say to you, Wonderful! when you utter your exclamations? Did Socrates do this, or Zeno, or Cleanthes?

What then? is there not the hortatory style? Who denies it? as there is the style of refutation, and the didactic style. Who then ever reckoned a fourth style with these, the style of display? What is the hortatory style? To be able to show both to one person and to many the struggle in which they are engaged, and that they think more about any thing than about what they really wish. For they wish the things which lead to happiness, but they look for them in the wrong place. In order that this may be done, a thousand seats must be placed and men must be invited to listen, and you must ascend the pulpit in a fine robe or cloak and describe the death of Achilles. Cease, I intreat you by the gods, to spoil good words and good acts as much as you can. Nothing can have more power in exhortation than when the speaker shows to the hearers that he has need of them. But tell me who when he hears you reading or discoursing is anxious about himself or turns to reflect on himself? or when he has gone out says, The philosopher hit me well: I must no longer do these things. But does he not, even if you have a great reputation, say to some person? He spoke finely about Xerxes;⁵⁸⁰ and another says, No, but about the battle of Thermopylae. Is this listening to a philosopher?

What then? Is there not a style of encouragement? Who denies it? There is also a style of refutation and a style of teaching. But who ever counted a fourth style among these, the style of display? What is the style of encouragement? It shows one person or many the struggle they are engaged in. It shows them that they think more about anything else than about what they really want. For they want the things that lead to happiness, but they look for them in the wrong place. And to do this, a thousand seats must be set out and people invited to listen. You must climb into the pulpit in a fine robe or cloak and describe the death of Achilles. Stop, I beg you by the gods, doing all you can to spoil good words and good deeds. Nothing is more powerful in encouragement than a speaker showing listeners that he needs them. But tell me, who listens to you read or speak and becomes concerned about himself or reflects on himself? Who goes away and says, The philosopher struck home. I must stop doing these things? Even if you have a great reputation, doesn't he instead say to someone, He spoke beautifully about Xerxes;⁵⁸⁰ while another says, No, but about the battle of Thermopylae? Is this listening to a philosopher?

Si dulcedine famae Succensus recites, maculosas commodat aedes.

If the lure of fame inspires you to give a reading, he lends you his shabby house.