Oration 13

When it befell me to be banished on account of my supposed friendship with a man not wicked, who stood very near to those then prosperous and in power, and who for that very reason was put to death — the man for whom many, indeed almost all, accounted him happy, namely his intimacy and kinship with those persons — when, I say, this charge was brought against me, as being a friend and counsellor of the man: for this is a kind of custom with tyrants, that, just as among the Scythians they bury cup-bearers and cooks and concubines together with their kings, so to those who die at their hands they add many others on no charge at all —

then, accordingly, when it was decided that I should go into exile, I began to consider whether exile is really something hard and unfortunate, as the multitude believe, or whether all such things are like that other experience which is said to occur in the divination of the women in the temples. For those women lift up a clod or a stone and by it examine the matter about which they inquire; and indeed they say that to some of them it becomes light, but to others heavy, so that they cannot easily even move it.

May it not be, then, that exile too, and poverty, and old age indeed, and sickness, and all such things, appear to some heavy and grievous, but to others light and easy — there, perhaps, the divine power lightening the weight according to the difference of the object, but here, I think, according to the strength and judgment of the one who handles it?

And indeed I recalled how Odysseus in Homer often laments over himself — a hero by no means unable to endure, yet uttering many unworthy words and bewailing himself again and again beside the sea, out of longing for his fatherland; and in the end, as the poet says, he desired to see the smoke rising from his own land, even if he should have to die straightway; and neither his former deeds consoled him, nor a goddess most beautiful and good who made much of him, so as to promise to make him immortal, but over all these prevailed his longing and love for his fatherland;

and again, in another poet of later times, how Electra, inquiring about her brother with grief and pitying him for his exile, asks somewhat thus: Where on earth does the wretched man endure his wretched exile? And how he answers no less pitiably: He wastes away, accounting no single place of a city his own; and how she asks again: Surely he does not lack his daily bread? And how he speaks thus: He has it, but scantily, being a man in exile.

And besides these, the countless ventures that have been dared, and the wars waged by exiles that they might return home, against the peoples and the tyrants who had driven them out, beyond their strength, counting it a great thing even to die fighting in their own land — all these things astounded me and compelled me to consider what had befallen terrible and grievous. But when I bethought myself that Apollo advised Croesus, the king of the Lydians, when a certain thing had happened, to go willingly into exile, leaving his kingdom, and to be in no way ashamed on this account, even if he should seem base to men, prophesying somewhat thus:

But when a mule becomes king of the Medes, then, soft-footed Lydian, flee along the pebbly Hermus, and stay not, nor be ashamed to be base — clearly using shame here in place of disgrace, as is the poets' custom, and being base in place of reputation among the many —

from this I bethought me that exile is not in every case harmful nor disadvantageous, nor is remaining good and worth much; for Apollo would not have urged and counselled the one of them, namely flight, and forbidden the other outright, namely remaining — and that too in prophesying to a man who was most diligent in matters divine, who offered the most sacrifices and had sent the greatest dedications of all who ever made offerings at Delphi.

As I reflected on these things, it seemed good to me, having gone to the god, to make sufficient use of him as a counsellor, according to the ancient custom of the Greeks. For it would be strange that he should counsel sufficiently concerning sickness and childlessness, if children were not born to someone, and concerning crops, but should be less able concerning such a matter. And indeed, when I consulted him, he gave me a strange oracle, not easy to interpret. For he bade me do this very thing in which I am engaged with all eagerness, as a fine and profitable occupation, until, he said, you come to the uttermost part of the earth. Yet it is hard for even a man to lie, let alone a god.

I reasoned, then, that Odysseus, after so many wanderings, did not shrink from wandering again, carrying an oar, on the counsel of Teiresias, a dead man, until he should meet with men who did not even know the sea by report; and shall I not do this when the god commands it? So then, exhorting myself neither to fear nor to be ashamed of the matter, I put on humble dress, and chastening myself in other ways too, I wandered everywhere.

And the people I met, seeing me, some called me a vagabond, others a beggar, and some too a philosopher. From this it came about that little by little, and without myself having planned it or thought highly of myself, I obtained this name. For the many of those called philosophers proclaim themselves, like the heralds at Olympia; but I, when others spoke, was not able always and with all to dispute.

But perhaps it also befell me to gain some advantage from the reputation. For many came up and asked me what seemed to me good or evil; so that I was compelled to give thought to these matters, that I might have something to answer those who asked. Again, they bade me speak, taking my stand before the public. So this too became necessary — to speak about the things proper for men and from which they were likely to profit, the things that appeared good to me.

And all men, so to speak, seemed to me foolish, and no one did any of the things that ought to be done, nor considered how, being rid of his present ills and of much ignorance and confusion, he might live more decently and better; but all alike were tossed about and carried along in the same place and about almost the same things — money and reputations and certain bodily pleasures — no one able to be rid of these nor to set free his own soul; just as, I think, things that fall into eddies are rolled about and whirled round and are unable to escape from the whirling.

Reproaching all others, and most of all and first myself for these and such things, sometimes from perplexity I had recourse to a certain ancient argument, uttered by a certain Socrates, which he never ceased to utter, everywhere and to all men crying aloud and insisting, in the wrestling-schools and in the Lyceum and at the workshops and in the marketplace, like a god from the machine, as someone said.

I did not, however, pretend that the argument was my own, but whose it was, and I asked them, if perchance I should be unable to recall accurately all his words, nor the whole sense, but should say something more or less, to grant me pardon; nor, because I am saying these things which happen to have been spoken many years before, to give heed the less on that account. For perhaps, I said, in this way you would be most benefited. For it is surely not likely that ancient words, like drugs that have lost their savour, have lost their power.

For that man, whenever he saw a number of people in the same place, complaining and rebuking, would cry out very boldly and unsparingly: Whither are you borne, O men, and you know it not, doing none of the things you ought, taking care for money and procuring it by every means, that you yourselves may have it in abundance and may hand down still more to your children, but neglecting your very children, and before them your fathers, all alike, having found neither any education nor any training sufficient and profitable for men, by being trained in which you will be able to use your money rightly and justly, and not harmfully and unjustly and to your own loss — that which you ought to consider more important than money — both for sons and daughters and wives and brothers and friends, and they for you.

But do you suppose that by learning to play the lyre and to wrestle and to read letters from your parents, and by teaching your sons the same, you will govern the city more prudently and better? And yet, if someone should gather together the lyre-players and the trainers and the schoolmasters who know each of these best, and settle a city out of them, or even a nation, as you once settled Ionia, what kind of city do you think it would become, and in what manner would it be governed? Would it not be far worse and more shameful than the city of hucksters in Egypt, where all are hucksters, men and women alike? Would not these whom I speak of dwell far more absurdly — the teachers of your children, the trainers and lyre-players and schoolmasters, with the addition of the rhapsodes and the actors?

For indeed, whatever men learn, they learn for this purpose: that, whenever the need arises for which each learned it, he may do what belongs to his art; as the helmsman, when he embarks on the ship, directs it with the rudder, for it was for this that he learned to steer; and the physician, when he takes over the sick man, heals him with drugs and with regimen, for the sake of which he acquired his experience.

Do you too, then, he said, whenever it is needful to take counsel about the city, having gathered into the assembly, some of you stand up and play the lyre, others wrestle, and others take up something of Homer or of Hesiod and recite it? For these things you know better than others, and from these you suppose you will be good men and able to manage rightly both public and private affairs; and now, upon these hopes, you govern the city and prepare your sons to be men capable of managing both their own and the public affairs, whoever can sufficiently play upon the lyre Pallas, sacker of cities, the dread one, or beat the ground with the foot to the lyre; but how you shall know what is profitable for yourselves and your fatherland, and shall conduct your public life and dwell lawfully and justly with concord, no man wronging or plotting against another — this you have never learned, nor has it ever been a care to you, nor even now do you give it a thought.

And yet you watch tragedies on each occasion at the Dionysia, and pity the misfortunes of the men in the tragedies; but nevertheless you have never reflected that these evils befall not the unlettered, nor those who sing out of tune, nor those who do not know how to wrestle, nor that anyone is poor — no one has produced a tragedy on this account. On the contrary, one would find all the tragedies concerned with the Atreuses and Agamemnons and Oedipuses, who possessed the most wealth of gold and silver and land and cattle; and indeed they say that the most unfortunate of them had a golden lamb.

And in truth Thamyris, who knew very well how to play the lyre, and contended with the very Muses concerning harmony, was for this reason blinded, and besides unlearned the lyre-playing. And the letters that Palamedes discovered availed him nothing towards not being stoned to death unjustly by the Achaeans whom he had taught; but so long as they were unlettered and ignorant of this learning, they let him live; but when he had taught the rest letters, and the sons of Atreus first of all, evidently, and along with the letters how one must raise the beacons and reckon the multitude — since before they did not know how even to count the crowd properly, like shepherds their sheep — then, having become wiser and better, they killed him.

But if, he said, you think the orators competent for taking counsel, and their art able to make men good, I wonder that you have not also entrusted to them the judging concerning your affairs, instead of to yourselves; and how it is that, if you have supposed them most just and best, you have not also entrusted to them the management of your money. For you would do much as if you should appoint the rowers or the boatswains as helmsmen and admirals of the triremes.

But if some one of the statesmen and orators should say to him that, using this very education, the Athenians, when the Persians made war upon the city with so many myriads, twice in succession, and upon the rest of Greece — the king first sending a force and generals, and afterwards Xerxes himself arriving with all the multitude of Asia — conquered all of these, and everywhere prevailed over them both in counsel and in fighting; and yet how could they have prevailed over so great an armament and so vast a multitude, had they not been superior in virtue? Or how could they have been superior in virtue, if they had not attained the best education, but a mean and useless one?

To the one who said such things he would reply that those Persians too came having been trained in no education, nor knowing how to take counsel about affairs, but having practised shooting and riding and hunting, and to strip the body seemed to them most shameful, and to spit in public; and these things were not going to profit them at all; so that there was not even one general among them, nor a king, but countless myriads of men, all foolish and ill-fated. And there was a certain one among them with an upright tiara and seated upon a golden throne, by whom all, as if by a demon, were driven by force — some into the sea, others down the mountains — and, scourged and frightened and pushed and trembling, they were compelled to die.

As, then, if two men who did not know how to wrestle should wrestle, the one would sometimes throw the other, not through skill, but through some chance, and often the same man twice in succession — so also, when the Persians engaged the Athenians, at one time the Athenians prevailed, at another the Persians, as later, when they even threw down the walls of the city, warring along with the Lacedaemonians.

Since you could tell me whether the Athenians had then become less cultured and less lettered. Then again, in the time of Conon, when they won the sea-battle off Cnidus, did they wrestle and sing better? Thus, then, he showed that they had attained no good education. And this has befallen not the Athenians only, but well-nigh all men, both formerly and now.

And indeed, that to be uneducated and to know none of the things one ought, nor to be sufficiently equipped for life, and yet to attempt to live and to manage such great matters — this did not please even those very men; for they reproach the ignorant and uneducated as unable to live rightly; and the ignorant are not those who do not know how to weave or cobble, nor those who do not know how to dance, but those who do not know the things by knowing which a man is honourable and good.

And so indeed he exhorted men to take care and give heed to themselves and to philosophize; for he knew that, in seeking this, they would do nothing else than philosophize. For to seek and be eager that one may be honourable and good is nothing else than to philosophize. He did not, however, often use the word thus, but only bade them seek how they should be good men.

To the others, then, I would discourse on well-nigh these ancient and homely matters; and since they would not allow me, when I was in Rome itself, to keep quiet, I did not dare to deliver any discourse of my own, lest I be laughed at and seem foolish through fear, since I was conscious in myself of much antiquity and ignorance; but I reflected: Come, if, imitating those men, I should deliver such discourses about the things admired among them, that none of them is good, and about luxury and licentiousness, and that they need much and good education, perhaps they will not laugh at me when I say these things, nor call me foolish;

and if they do, I shall be able to say that these discourses are those of a man whom all the Greeks admired for his wisdom, and indeed Apollo too accounted him wise. And Archelaus, king of the Macedonians, knowing much and having associated with many of the wise, invited him with gifts and wages, that he might hear him delivering these discourses.

So in this way I too tried to discourse to the Romans, when they invited me and thought it right that I should speak — not taking them aside by twos and threes in the wrestling-schools and the walks; for it was not possible thus to associate with them in that city; but to many and to crowds gathered into the same place: that they need a better and more diligent education, if they are to be happy in truth and reality, and not in the opinion of the many men, as now — an education which, taking them up, will convert and teach them that none of these things is good for which they are eager and acquire with all eagerness, and which they suppose that, the more they acquire, the better and more blessedly they will live;

but that if they will practise temperance and courage and justice, and take them up into their souls, having found from somewhere teachers of these things and neglecting all the rest — whether Greeks or Romans, or whether among the Scythians or the Indians there be a man who is a teacher of the things I have named — just as, I suppose, of archery and horsemanship, or, by Zeus, as a physician who knows how to treat the diseases of the body, so being competent to heal the diseases of the soul, whoever shall be able to rid those mastered by them of licentiousness and greed and such infirmities — this man, taking up and bringing in, having persuaded him by argument or friendship;

for with money it is not possible to persuade such a man, nor with other gifts — and having set him up in the acropolis, to proclaim by law that all the young men should resort to him and associate with him, and no less the elders, until all, having become wise and enamoured of justice, despising gold and silver and ivory, and dainties indeed and perfume and the pleasures of love, may dwell happily and ruling, most of all and first over themselves, and then over the rest of mankind;

for then, I said, your city will be great and strong and ruling in truth; whereas now its greatness is suspect and not altogether secure. For the more, I said, that courage and justice and temperance arise among you, the less there will be of silver and gold and ivory furniture and amber and crystal and cedar and ebony, and the adornment of women and the embroideries and the dyes, and, in short, all that is now valued and fought over in the city — of these you will have need of fewer;

and when you have come to the summit of virtue, of none at all; and you will dwell in smaller and better houses, and will not maintain so great a throng of slaves, idle and useful for nothing. But the most paradoxical thing of all: the more pious and holy you become, the less there will be among you of frankincense and incense and garlands, and you will offer fewer sacrifices and at less expense, and the whole multitude now maintained among you will be far less, and the entire city, like a ship lightened, will rise up and be far lighter and safer.

These same things you will find also the Sibyl prophesying to you, and Bacis, if indeed those two were good oracle-mongers and seers. But as the present circumstances are disposed, on account of the multitude of money, which has all been gathered from every quarter into this one place, with luxury and greed prevailing, it is like as if Achilles, having adorned the pyre of Patroclus with much wood and many bodies and clothing, and besides fat and oil withal, should summon the winds, pouring libations and promising sacrifices, to come and set it ablaze and kindle it.

For such things are no less apt to kindle the insolence and licentiousness of men. I did not, however, say that it was hard for them to be educated, since in other matters too, I said, though being formerly no better than anyone, you readily learned whatever you wished; I mean horsemanship and archery and the art of arms.