Oration 34

I am not ignorant, men of Tarsus, that it is the custom both among you and among the rest for citizens to come forward and give counsel — not the chance ones, but the notable and the wealthy, and besides those who have well performed their public services. For it is not reasonable, perhaps, that you should share in the wealth of the rich, but not enjoy their judgment, whatever sort it may be. And yet, when you wish to hear citharodes or flute-players or to watch athletes, you do not call the wealthy nor the citizens, but those who know and are able — not you only, but all such men.

Nor again does this escape me, that it is customary with the many to call those in this garb Cynics; and they not only think they differ in nothing from themselves nor are competent to discourse about serious matters, but at the outset do not even think them temperate, but consider them certain mad and wretched men. And some of these are ready to mock and laugh, and often do not even allow them to keep silent, much less endure their speaking.

Further, they say that you have at present been even too greatly provoked against the philosophers, and that you curse — not all, but some of them — doing this very cautiously and moderately, in that you did not blaspheme in common against all, if any of those here erred, but being ignorant perhaps of this, that, if you cursed, it was not the philosophers. For there is no philosopher among the unjust and wicked, not even if he go about more naked than the statues. But those who harm the fatherland and conspire against the citizens seem to me far removed from this name.

What, then, did I hope, and what wishing, have I come forward, being such a one at such a season? For this is the mark of true madness — since I myself need nothing from you, but have been earnest for the sake of your benefit. If, then, you do not endure me, plainly you will damage yourselves, not me. And yet it does not befit you, if you think me really mad, on this very account not to hear me. For do not think that eagles and hawks foreshow men what is needful, and that the counsel from such creatures is trustworthy because of its being spontaneous and divine, but that a man who has come thus and is in no way related to you has not come according to the divine to say something and to counsel.

And yet the matters of the birds one must conjecture, but of the things said by me it is possible, having heard, to understand and consider, whether perchance there be anything clearly useful. And I wish, since I mentioned such things, to tell something that happened in Phrygia, that straightway from this you may have something to laugh at. A Phrygian man was riding upon a beast. And when he saw a crow, drawing an omen from it — for the Phrygians are clever at such things — he throws a stone and somehow hits it. He was greatly pleased, and thinking the evil had been turned upon that bird, takes it up and, mounting, drove on. But the crow, after a little, recovered; and the beast, taking fright, throws off the man, and he, falling, breaks his leg. So that man fared thus, having become ungrateful concerning the omen.

But I seem to myself to have deliberated much more safely than the crow, and to have come to more reasonable men than the Phrygian. For if I seem to you to talk nonsense, you will surely not throw stones at me, but will make an uproar. Come then, since you are silent and bear with me, first I will show this, if you do not clearly know it, that you need judgment at the present time, and that your affairs are such as to be worthy of counsel and much forethought; then, that no one can readily advise you the needful in these matters — some through ignorance of the advantageous, and some through cowardice toward you or toward others, and some perhaps looking rather to their own interest;

then, the judgment which I myself hold about these things, and what I think will be advantageous to you in doing it at the present, and how in general it will profit you who preside over the city, for all time and the future. For it has befallen you, men of Tarsus, to be first of the province, not only by your having the greatest city of those in Cilicia and being a metropolis from the beginning, but because you had the second Caesar disposed toward you in a friendly way above all. For the misfortune that befell the city through him reasonably made him well disposed toward you and eager that his favours to you should appear greater than the calamities through him.

Therefore the things which one might give to friends really and allies who had displayed so great zeal, he too furnished to you — land, laws, honour, authority over the river, over the sea in your region; whence the city quickly grew greater, and through no long time having passed from the capture, just as those who have suffered a great sickness but quickly recovered, when they meet with sufficient care thereafter, often become more vigorous.

And indeed the things that followed did not, as one thinks, benefit the city — namely, that some of the governors became violent and you proceeded against them. For toward your appearing to be somebody and to help not only yourselves but also others, and, by Zeus, so that those after them might err more reluctantly, the bringing them to justice was advantageous; but otherwise it made the city envied and made you seem more harsh by nature and to accuse readily. For frequent accusation has now sometimes seemed a sign of slander, especially when the discourse is about governors before governors. For they suspect that the hatred arises not from suffering more, but from not wishing to be ruled.

Again, then, another thing that happened on your behalf has become in a manner like this. For the Aegeans, having taken up a foolish rivalry against you — erring in the matter of the registers — themselves stumbled, but still more wrought up the envy against you and a quiet slander of this sort against the city, as oppressive and grievous to the rest.

And these things are from the former time. But now the Mallotae are at variance with you, themselves doing all manner of wrong and being insolent, but, through being weak and much inferior, ever the more taking the position of the wronged. For some men do not consider what they do, but who they are, nor are they willing often to examine the wrongdoers or the violent, but those whom it is likely do violence through being able to do more. If, at least, anything such had been done by you as has now been done by them, you would seem to be sacking the cities and beginning revolt and war, and that there was need of an army against you.

We suffer dreadful things, then, someone will say, if it shall be permitted these men to do whatever they wish and they shall enjoy this from their own desolation, but we shall be in danger if we only stir. Let it be dreadful and unjust. But, if something is by nature not just in its happening, one ought not, contending against this, to involve oneself in some absurdity, but rather to foresee and guard against it. For what happens is like the case of athletes, when a lesser fights against a much greater.

For to the one nothing is permitted contrary to the rule, but even if he err unwillingly, he is scourged; but no one sees the other doing all that he can. Therefore there too it belongs to a temperate man and one truly stronger to prevail by power, but to let go these grasping advantages; and you too, if you have sense, will prevail by justice and by the greatness of the city over those who envy you, but will do nothing in anger or out of indignation. And about these things again, as I think I proposed.

But now I will go through the rest too, on account of which the present time needs more consideration than, I say, it requires. The hatred and faction of the Mallotae ought to grieve you less. But that these Soleis and Adanians, and perhaps certain others, are similarly disposed and in no way more reasonable, but are even oppressed and blaspheme and wish to obey others rather, makes a suspicion that perhaps neither the Aegeans nor the Mallotae are altogether unjustly vexed, nor that the one through envy, the others wishing to grasp more, have been estranged from you, but that perhaps there is something of the sort about the city, and that you somehow outrage and trouble the lesser.

For these things are not true, but the same things, as though true, would harm you. Come now, reckon up how your affairs stand toward the governor. Formerly there was only a suspicion that you were not pleasantly disposed, but nonetheless he conducted his administration toward you and you toward him, and nothing was manifest; but lately you, provoked by seeming to be slighted, said something, and he too was led on to write in anger and to do this very thing which he had not done before.

By Zeus, but the affairs of the city itself and toward one another proceed for you as they ought. Was not yesterday and the day before the people apart, and apart the council, and now still by themselves the elders, each privately considering, plainly, their own advantage — just as if, when men are sailing, the sailors should privately seek their own advantage, and privately the helmsman, and privately the shipmaster? For even if these things are often said, yet it is fitting not on this account to pass them over. For one ought not eagerly to accept what is said for the first time, nor what one has not heard before, but what is proper to the matter and has some use.

By Zeus, but now we are agreed and deliberate in common. And who would consider such concord safe and secure, which has arisen from anger and is of three or four days? For one would not say that the man feverish a little before is safely in health. Do not, then, you either say that you are of one mind, before, best of all, many times that interval has passed for you; or at least as long as you were at variance; nor, if you once uttered the same thing and had the same impulse, think therefore that the disease of the city has been removed.

For even in instruments out of tune the notes sometimes sound together for a little while, then straightway are discordant. As, then, to wound something and to divide it is done quickly and very easily, but to fuse and bring it together needs time and attention, so it is also in the case of cities. To fall out and form factions is ready at hand and happens often through small matters, but to settle down and to take the fitting disposition and trust is not, by Zeus, possible for those who have spoken or seemed to repent to have at once.

For perhaps not among you alone, but among all the rest too, this needs some great treatment, or rather a prayer. For it is not possible otherwise than, having been freed from the evils that move and disturb — envy, greed, contentiousness, the seeking of each to exalt himself and his fatherland and letting go the common advantage — to breathe together strongly at some time and choose the same things. For among those with whom these and other such things are strong, these must of necessity be for all time precarious and fall together and be disturbed through small matters, just as in a sea when contrary winds prevail.

Since indeed do not think that the council itself is of one mind, nor you the people. If, at least, one should go through them all, it seems to me one could not find even two men in the city of the same mind, but, just as some of the incurable and grievous diseases, which are wont to go through the whole bodies and there is no part into which they do not descend, so this roughness and the well-nigh all being turned away from one another has spread through the city.

For, to leave aside the council and the people and the young and the old, there is a multitude not small, as it were outside the constitution; and these some are wont to call linen-workers; and at one time they are oppressed and say they are a superfluous crowd and the cause of the uproar and disorder, and again they consider them a part of the city and deem them of much worth. Whom if you think harm you and begin faction and disturbance, you ought wholly to drive out and not admit to the assemblies; but if in a manner they are citizens, by their not only dwelling but most of them having been born here and knowing no other city, it is surely not fitting to dishonour them nor to cut them off from yourselves.

But now of necessity they stand aloof in their mind from the common advantage, being reproached and seeming aliens. And nothing is more harmful to cities than this, nor what more rouses faction and division, just as in the case of bodies the added bulk, if it be akin to the rest of the body and grown together, makes good health and greatness; but if not, becomes a cause of disease and corruption.

What, then, do you bid us do? To register all as citizens. Yes, I say, and worthy of the same things, and at the same time neither to reproach nor cast them off, but to consider them, as they are, a part of yourselves. For not, if one pay down five hundred drachmas, is he able to love you and to have at once become worthy of the city; but if one, being poor or not having shared in the name through someone's registering him, having not only himself been born among you but also his father and his ancestors, cannot love the city nor consider it his fatherland — and if one works linen, he is worse than another and one must cast this up to him and revile him; but if one is a dyer or cobbler or carpenter, it is in no way fitting to reproach these things.

And in general it was not this most of all of the things in the city that I wished to speak about, nor perhaps am I able to show how it is, that I have come forward, but to make that plain to you, how you are disposed toward one another, and, by Zeus, whether it is right for you to trust the present condition and truly to think you have now breathed together. For I, for my part, think one ought thus to test a house and a ship and the rest, not considering the present, whether it now shelters and does not let in the sea, but in general how it has been prepared and put together, whether nothing is parted nor rotten.

And indeed what I said before exalted the city — this I do not see now belonging to you, namely to lay up an extraordinary benefaction and favour with the ruler, plainly through his needing nothing of the sort; except that you have nothing more toward him than the rest; so that the things which you then obtained from him through goodwill and friendship, these you ought to guard for the rest of the time through good order and through giving no cause against yourselves.

And let no one suppose that I say these things simply counselling you to endure all and to suffer everything, but that, being experienced in your own affairs, you may now deliberate better and henceforth so demand of the one who comes forward not to introduce anything to you readily nor as it may occur, but knowing everything and having considered about everything. For indeed a physician who has examined exactly the matters of the sick, so that nothing escapes him, is likely to treat best.

That, then, the present circumstances need attention and a better counsellor than those who come forward by chance and through money or through birth, you see somewhat from this. For when neither you yourselves are firmly of one mind, nor the most of the surrounding cities are friendly to you, but some envy, long ambitiously rivalling you, others are hostile through disputing about the territory, others I know not how say they are troubled, and the governor thinks indeed that you are rather ill disposed toward them, and you have been compelled to clash even formerly with one another, and besides are considered envied for the greatness of the city and for being able to take much of what exists — how, on account of these things, do you not need careful and well-considered judgment?

What then? Are the citizens not competent to perceive these things and to advise? How could they? For if those who preside and conduct public affairs in the cities were competent to find what is needful, all would always fare well and be free of evils, unless some calamity should otherwise spontaneously befall some. But I think, both of old and now, one would find more grievous things happen to cities through ignorance of the advantageous and the errors of those who preside than from the divine and from fortune.

For some, able to see nothing of the needful nor having taken care of themselves before, not even competent to manage a village fittingly, but otherwise combining through money or birth, approach the conduct of public affairs; and some, thinking this is care, if they heap together words and string these somehow more quickly than the many, being in other respects no better than anyone. And the greatest thing: not for the best nor for the sake of the fatherland itself, but pursuing reputations and honours and being able more than another and crowns and front seats and purple robes, looking to these and depending on them, they do and say such things as will make them seem somebody.

Therefore one may see many crowned in each city and sacrificing in common and going forth in purple; but a noble and prudent man and a true caretaker of his own fatherland, both thinking and speaking the truth, and through whom the city that obeys is better governed and has shared in some good, is rare to find. And this must in a manner happen.

For when they think that those who have performed public services or those who are going to must counsel them, and if one be a gymnasiarch or some magistrate, and to such a one alone they entrust speaking, or, by Zeus, to the so-called orators, it is just as if they called only the heralds or the citharodes or the bankers. Therefore men come forward both foolish and reputation-hunting and gaping at the uproar from the multitude, and speak nothing from sure judgment nor with understanding, but, as if walking in the dark, are ever carried along by the applause and the shouting.

And yet if one should say to helmsmen that they should seek by all means to please the passengers, and being applauded by them should so steer as they wish, they will not need any great storm to be overturned. For often a rustic seasick man or a woman, if she see rocks, thinks she has seen land and a harbour, and begs to put in.

But I say the good counsellor and the one worthy to preside over a city ought to be prepared for everything that seems grievous, simply, but most of all for the revilings and the anger of the multitude, and to be like the headlands that form the harbours, which receive all the violence of the sea, but keep what is within unmoved and calm; and that man too ought to expose himself to the people, even if it sometimes wishes to be angry and to speak ill and to do anything whatever, but to suffer nothing from such uproars, neither, if he be praised, to be exalted on this account, nor, if he seem to be outraged, to be cast down.

But what happens among you is not such, and no one, as I learn, of those engaged in public affairs has this purpose, nor is any longer of the common men; but some have wholly withdrawn, and others approach incidentally, only touching the matter, like those touching a libation, saying it is not safe to devote themselves to public life. And yet no one could competently manage shipping or money-lending or farming making it a by-work, but they attempt public life out of superabundance and putting everything before this.

And some, if they come into some office, in it alone seek to lay hold of some action, that they may go off more renowned, looking to this alone. Therefore they are manly to you for six months, often not even for the advantage of the city. So that now this one is the speaker, and to him straightway another, then another; and the man who thirty days before was brilliant and said he alone cared for the city, one cannot even see approaching the assembly,

just as, I think, each of those in a procession, desiring to be seen, has been eager about this, until he has passed by; but having gone off a little, he loosed the figure and is one of the rest and departs however he may. It were fitting, however, that the one presiding over the office should consider the six months the limit — for this the law bids — but the one engaged in public life should not, by Zeus, have any extraordinary season of goodwill toward you and of care and zeal for the common things, and that too so brief, but should strip for this very thing and ever continue at it.

But now, like those sailing with the land-breezes, or rather with the winds from the storm-clouds, so are you carried, men of Tarsus, neither such a public life nor that voyage having anything firm or safe. For such assaults are not able to last to the end or to any distance, but often have sunk men by falling untimely. But a city so great and brilliant ought to have men who truly take forethought. But thus, perhaps, under these creatures of a day and demagogues for a little while, it is not possible to suffer any good.

About these things, then, and ten thousand others, one might have much to say. But since I myself, from the day I sojourned among you, have become a demagogue to you, and that too reproaching such men, nonetheless I will say what I promised, what I know about the present matters. And first the matters toward the governor. And my discourse will be about all. I say, then, that those who happen to be in such a condition as now exists among all ought so to think as neither to endure everything and to furnish themselves simply for those in authority to use as they wish, even if they proceed to any whatever of insolence and greed, nor to be so disposed as that they will bear nothing at all, nor to expect that some Minos or Perseus will now come to you to take care of you.

For wholly to renounce helping oneself is the mark of slaves, and it is dangerous if no hesitation nor suspicion is left to the unreasonable. But to be hated by the multitude and to scrutinize everything is not on your behalf. For if you sometimes seem to accuse unreasonably and someone of you prevail — and this might happen for many causes — I fear lest you wholly lose your frankness. And see those about Ionia, that they voted to accuse no one at all. The men of sense must foresee all these things, and not, like the inexperienced in fighting who readily let go their present advantage, be unarmed thereafter and have nothing to do, even if someone slaughter them.

But this I say in general, that such defiance is in no way advantageous, by which, having resolved to do nothing, you come into suspicion with the governors; but the one whom you judge to convict, and who seems to do such wrong that to pass it over is not advantageous, prepare to convict, and have your mind at once as toward an enemy and one plotting against you. But the one about whom you otherwise take forethought that he does nothing wrong, or nothing great, or for whatever cause you do not think it suitable, this one neither provoke nor lead into anger against the city;

just as, I think, these burdens, if they press very much and we cannot endure them, we seek to throw off as quickly as possible, but if moderately troubled and seeing it is necessary to bear either this or another greater, we consider how it may rest most lightly. These are the marks of a temperate city. Thus the most will love you and someone will fear to wrong you, and they will not consider you an unjust multitude nor an unreasonable crowd, using some impulse and onrush.

For this, which the prytanis now does, would be altogether foolish even if you had resolved to accuse; for it is not yet the season to be so openly at variance and to give warning. But since one of your citizens at necessary seasons offered himself to the city and seemed brilliant, having accused two governors in succession, the many think they need some such deed. But this is like as if one, seeing a physician mix into some of the useful drugs partly something deadly too, knowing nothing else, neither how it was compounded nor how much one must take, should wish to imitate it. To improvise the greatest things and to think that to preside over a city belongs to everyone who has hoped to is not far removed from such things.

But I, having spoken about the matters toward the Mallotae and the other cities, will cease at last. For indeed you seem to me to have borne with me sufficiently. Toward these, then — I mean the Mallotae — if they have done anything thoughtlessly, as they have done, having laid down your anger and granted them the punishment which you thought owed to you, decide about the matter; and as for the matter of the territory, the bearing of such things and not contending, consider this, as it is, a great thing and altogether the mark of better men, especially toward those so much inferior —

for there is no danger that you will seem weaker than the Mallotae if they prevail — and do not regard those who provoke you, but most of all, having become yourselves judges and carefully examined the matter without any hatred and without favour toward yourselves, lay it to rest, not only standing off from the strife and from seeking by all means to have more, but yielding and granting them whatever is moderate. For just as among private men too you praise the reasonable and those who choose rather to suffer some harm than to fall out with someone, so it befalls such cities to be of good repute in common.

The dunes, then, and the place by the lake are worth nothing. For what is the revenue or profit of these? But to appear good and magnanimous it is not possible to say of how much it is justly considered worthy. For to contend with all men over justice and virtue, and to take the lead in friendship and concord, and in these to surpass the rest and prevail, is the fairest of all victories and the safest. But to seek by every means, fighting, to be superior is more the mark of game-cocks than of men.

If, then, Mallus was going to be greater than Tarsus on account of the dunes and the pasture on the sand, perhaps you ought to be zealous to so great a degree. But now it is a shame and a laughing-stock, the things over which you are at variance. Why, then, did those people not despise them? Because they are not better than you. But you, by Zeus, wish to be. But I, for my part, thought you should send and rebuke them by word. For this is the part of those who are superior and prudent. But to be moved more than is fitting and to take refuge in the authority straightway and to think you are outraged is more the mark of petty-citizen men.

And likewise also toward the other cities I think fit that you behave gently and with care and ambition and not with hatred. For thus all will willingly follow you, admiring and loving you; which is greater than for Mallus to sacrifice among you and to plead at law. For these things have not the slightest benefit, that either the Adanians or the Aegeans should come hither to sacrifice, but conceit and deceit and an otherwise senseless ambition.

But goodwill and to appear distinguished in virtue and humanity — these are really goods, these are worthy of emulation and zeal. And consider these; for the present things are a laughing-stock. And whether the Aegeans against you, or the Apamenes against the Antiochenes, or, among those farther off, the Smyrnaeans against the Ephesians contend — they are at variance, as the saying is, about an ass's shadow. For to preside and to rule over others belongs to others.

But formerly too there was once a jealousy between the Athenians and the Lacedaemonians, and at first the Laconians led, then it befell the Greeks to incline rather toward the Athenians after the Persian wars. What, then, did the Spartan do? Letting go the islander and the Ionian and the Hellespontine, he disciplined himself and looked to the affairs of Sparta, knowing clearly that there is need to make nothing of more account than the laws and good order. Therefore they especially prospered at that time.

But it befell the Athenians, so long as the cities were intimately disposed toward them and they led by goodwill, well; but afterward, as accusations and envy were gathered against them and they thought fit to rule the unwilling, to suffer many grievous things; and first of all to lose the praise and good report, then both their strength and their money, and at last to come under their enemies; and likewise the Lacedaemonians, when they too again held to empire, standing off from their former judgment, to come into the same case.

And yet their affairs had real power and great advantages, if one must so call grasping; but the disputes of those now and the causes of the hatred, I think, one would even be ashamed seeing. For it is fellow-slaves quarrelling with one another about reputation and primacy. What then? Is there nothing good in this time about which one ought to be earnest? There are the greatest and only things worthy of zeal, both then existing and now and ever to exist; of which no one, doubtless, has authority either to furnish to another or is able to take away from the possessor, but it is always in his power, whether he be a private man or a city; about which it is perhaps too long to speak to you.

And yet it has not escaped me that many think the philosophers relax everything and slacken the zeal for affairs, and on this account rather harm — just as if one should mock the musician for tuning, then slackening some of the notes and again tightening others. So indeed it is with the affairs of cities too.

For the wicked and useless zeals and ambitions are more strained than is fitting and in a manner all break asunder through themselves; but those for the noblest things are wholly slack. Consider straightway, if you wish, the intensity of avarice, of incontinence. But I seem to be advancing too far, and like those who in calm waters swim too far out, not to foresee the future.