Discourses and Selected Writings
In effect, he makes rounds like a doctor, taking his patients’ pulse, alternately saying, [73] ‘You have a fever, you have a headache, you have gout; you should fast, you should eat, you should not bathe; you need an operation, you have to be cauterized.’ [74] How is someone encumbered by private duties going to find time for this? And he has to put little coats on his children’s backs, and send them off to school with little notebooks and little pens, and make up a little bed for them at night; because, after all, his children will not be Cynics straight out of the womb.25 If he does not do all this for them, he would have done better to expose them at birth, rather than kill them by long neglect. [75] Now look at the condition we’ve reduced our Cynic to – he’s more a butler than a king.
[76] ‘Yes, but Crates had a wife.’26 You are talking about a circumstance that arose out of love, and a wife who was Crates’ virtual twin. We, on the other hand, are discussing normal marriages, not special circumstances; and our analysis has not discovered, in our present state, that marriage is advisable for the Cynic.
[77] ‘Then how will he help the community carry on?’
For God’s sake, who benefits society more, people who produce two or three brats with runny noses to survive them or those who supervise in each person’s life what they care about, or mistakenly neglect? [78] Who benefited the Thebans more – those who gave them children, or Epaminondas, who died childless? Did Priam, with his fifty worthless sons, or Danaus, or Aeolus, contribute more to society than Homer?27 [79] Their contribution to society as poet, or general, is considered more than fair return for their failure to marry or have children; should not the kingdom of the Cynic be reckoned reasonable exchange as well?
[80] I fear we don’t appreciate its grandeur, nor do we have a fair idea of Diogenes’ character. We are influenced by the sad spectacle of today’s Cynics, these dogs who beg at table and hang about the gate28 who have nothing in common with the Cynics of old except maybe for farting in public, not much else. [81] Because, if we did, we would not be surprised or disappointed if a Cynic does not marry or procreate. My friend, he fathers everyone: every man is his son, every woman his daughter. That is how he regards everyone, and how much he cares for them. [82] Don’t think he hectors strangers in a spirit of impudence; he is acting like a father, or a brother – like the vicar of God, the father of everyone.
[83] Now go on, ask me whether he will take part in public life. [84] Look, is any form of public life superior to his? Why should he stoop to preparing speeches about income and expenditures for the Athenians, say, when he is called upon to address everyone – Athenians, Corinthians, Romans – and not about debits and credits, or war and peace, but about happiness and unhappiness, success and misfortune, freedom and slavery? [85] You are asking me if someone will take part in politics when they are already engaged in politics on a major scale. Ask me further if he will hold office, and again I will say to you, ‘Fool, what office is superior to the one he has?’
[86] Furthermore, the Cynic’s body should be in good shape, since his philosophy will not carry as much conviction coming from someone pale and sickly. [87] He not only needs to show his qualities of soul in order to convince ordinary people that it is possible to be a gentleman without the material goods they usually admire, he also has to prove, with his physique, that his simple, frugal life outdoors is wholesome. [88] ‘What I testify to, my body testifies to as well.’ Which is what Diogenes did: he went about with a healthy glow on his face, and his body alone was enough to win the common people over. [89] A Cynic who excites pity is taken for a beggar; everyone is disgusted and walks around him. The Cynic shouldn’t be so filthy that he drives people away; his very ruggedness should be of a clean and pleasant kind.
[90] The Cynic ought to be naturally sharp and witty, too (otherwise he’s just a boring windbag), to be equal to every occasion that calls for a quick reply – [91] the way Diogenes responded to the man who greeted him with, ‘So Diogenes, you don’t believe the gods exist?’ with ‘How can you say that, when I know that you are headed for hell?’ [92] Or again, when Alexander the Great stood over him while he was resting, and recited: A man charged with making decisions shouldn’t sleep the night away, Diogenes, still half-asleep, replied: Who has the people in his care, and so many concerns.29
[93] Above all, though, his mind should be purer than the sun, because anyone guilty of wrongdoing who presumes to lecture others can only be considered slick and unscrupulous. [94] For you see how it is: the kings and tyrants of this world, even if they are corrupt, can reprimand and punish offenders by virtue of their arms and soldiers; instead of weapons and bodyguards, his conscience gives the Cynic the same authority. [95] For he works overtime on his fellow man’s behalf; what sleep he gets only leaves him purer than when he first lay down;30 his thoughts are never unworthy of a friend and minister of the gods, and he shares in Zeus’ administration. ‘Lead me, Zeus, lead me, Destiny’ is always on his lips, as well as ‘If it pleases the gods, so be it.’ [96] Conscious of all this, why shouldn’t he venture to speak truth to his own brothers, his own children – his own relations, in a word?
[97] A person of his conscience is neither bossy nor officious; he is not poking into other people’s business when he looks after the common welfare, he is tending to his own. If you disagree, then by your lights a general who inspects, drills and oversees his troops, punishing those who get out of line, is intrusive too.
[98] If, however, you reprimand others with a bit of cake under your arm, I will say, Wouldn’t you rather go and wolf down in secret what you’ve stolen there? [99] What are other people’s affairs to you? Who are you – are you the bull, or the queen of the hive? Show me proof of your authority, such as the queen is endowed with by nature. If you are a drone disputing control over the bees, expect your fellow citizens to get rid of you, just as worker bees get rid of the drones.
[100] The Cynic’s powers of endurance should be such that he appears to most people insensible, a veritable block of wood. As far as he’s concerned, nobody insults or hits or hurts him. He has personally surrendered his body to be used or abused however anyone likes. [101] He knows that whatever is inferior, in that respect in which it is inferior, must yield to what is superior; and that his body is inferior to the crowd – what’s physically weaker, in other words, is inferior to what is physically stronger. [102] So he never condescends to compete with them on their level. He has completely renounced things outside himself and makes no claim to things that are by nature enslaved.
[103] But when it comes to matters of the will and the use of impressions, then you’ll see how many eyes he has – enough to make Argus seem blind by comparison.31 [104] With him there is no premature assent, mistaken impulse, frustrated desire, unsuccessful aversion or unrealized purpose; hence no blame, envy or humiliation. [105] All his effort and energy go into this. As for the rest, he yawns away, in a state of perfect indifference. Of free will there can be neither thief nor tyrant; [106] of the body, however, yes. Of material things? Yes. Of honours and offices – yes. Which is why he is not interested in them. When someone tries using these things to affect him, he says, ‘Go look for children to intimidate; masks are meant to frighten them; I know there’s nothing behind them.’
[107] This, then, is the nature of Cynicism. You consider undertaking it; then please take some time to judge your aptitude. [108] And remember what Hector said to Andromache:
No, go inside, and see to your weaving instead. Men will see to war; men, and me in particular.32 [109] He sensed both his own endowment, you see, and his wife’s incapacity.
III 23 On rhetorical display
[1] First, tell yourself what you want to be, then act your part accordingly. This, after all, is what we find to be the rule in just about every other field. [2] Athletes decide first what they want to be, then proceed to do what is necessary. If they decide to be a distance runner, it means one particular diet, racecourse, workout and mode of physical therapy. If
they want to be sprinters, those factors are different. And if it’s a pentathlete they want to be, they vary again. [3] You will find the same thing true of the crafts. If you want to be a carpenter, you will have one kind of training, if you want to be a sculptor, quite another. All our efforts must be directed towards an end, or we will act in vain. If it is not the right end, we will fail utterly.
[4] Now, there are two standards of reference, one general and one particular. To begin with, then, we must act like a human being, which means, not like a sheep, however gentle, nor violently like a wild beast. The particular standard relates to the skill and the end to which it is put. The musician should act like a musician, the carpenter like a carpenter, the philosopher like a philosopher, the orator like an orator. Therefore, when you say, [6] ‘Come and hear me lecture,’ be sure you have a purpose in lecturing. When you find your direction, check to make sure that it is the right one. [7] Is your goal to educate or be praised?
Right away the answer comes back, ‘What do I care for the praise of the vulgar masses?’ And those are fine words. The musician too, qua musician, does not care about praise, any more than praise matters to a mathematician.
[8] So you aim to educate, you say. But for what purpose? Tell us, so we will go running to the auditorium too. Can anyone educate others, though, if they have not first been educated themselves? No – any more than a person who is not a carpenter can give lessons in carpentry, or someone who is not a cobbler can give lessons in making shoes. [9] Do you want to know if you are educated? Show us your values, philosopher. What is the goal of the faculty of desire? ‘Not to fail in desire.’ [10] Of aversion? ‘Not to get what it doesn’t want.’ Well – are we meeting these goals? Tell me the truth; because if you lie, I will say to you, ‘The other day your audience greeted you rather coolly∗ and didn’t applaud– and you left dejected. [11] Another day, having been acclaimed, you went around and said to everyone, ‘How do you think I did?’
‘Splendidly, sir, on my word.’
‘How did that one part come off?’
‘Which?’
‘The one where I described Pan and the Nymphs.’33
[12] ‘It was marvellous!’
‘Then you try to tell me that with regard to desire and aversion you are behaving in line with nature? Get lost, try telling it to somebody else. [13] Didn’t you praise someone just the other day in defiance of your true opinion? Weren’t you sucking up to some officer? How would you like it if your children acted that way?’
[14] ‘God forbid.’
‘Then why were you praising and extolling him so?’
‘He’s a clever young man and a fan of rhetoric.’
‘How do you know?’
‘He praises me.’
Oh, well, that proves it, of course. Look, what do you think is really going on? Don’t these same people secretly despise you? [15] I mean, if someone hears himself described by a philosopher as ‘a great talent, ingenuous and unspoiled’ when he’s well aware that he hasn’t done the man any good or even wished him well, what must he be thinking except, ‘He must want me for some favour or another.’ [16] If that’s wrong, then tell me, what sign of great talent has he displayed? I mean, he’s been with you for some time, he’s heard you engage in dialogue, he’s heard you lecture on philosophy – has he gained self-control, has he taken himself in hand, has he come to a realization of his faults? [17] Has he shed his presumption, and begun looking for a teacher?
‘He has.’
One who will teach him how to live? No, fool – one who will teach him how to turn a phrase instead; because that is precisely what he admires you for. Just listen to what he says: ‘This person writes with great sophistication, much better than Dio.’34 [18] It’s a whole other matter. He doesn’t say, ‘The man is civil, he is constant, he is calm.’ And even if he had said it, I would have asked, ‘Since this man is constant, what characteristics does the constant man have?’35 And if he could not say, I would have added, ‘Understand what words you use first, then use them.’ [19] So in your sorry state – eager for admirers, counting the number of audience members – do you intend to come to others’ assistance?
‘Today I had a much bigger audience.’
‘There certainly was a crowd.’
‘I put the turnout at around five hundred.’
‘Nonsense, it was a thousand at least.’
‘That many never showed up to hear Dio.’
‘Him? Never.’
‘And it was a sophisticated audience, too, where their taste in rhetoric was concerned.’
‘Sir, beauty can even move a stone.’
[20] There are the words of a philosopher for you, and the character of a man bound to benefit humanity! There’s one who has listened to reason, certainly, and read the Socratic discourses as coming from Socrates, not from Lysias or Isocrates.36
‘I often wondered by what sort of arguments…’37
‘Stop right there: “… by what sort of argument” reads better.’
[21] You read them as if they were pretty poems. If you read them properly, you wouldn’t care about that, you would attend more to this: ‘Anytus and Meletus can kill me, but they cannot harm me.’38 ‘I’ve always been the sort to attend to the argument that seems best to me upon inspection, even to the detriment of my own affairs.’39 [22] Which is why no one ever heard him say, ‘I know something and I teach it.’40
[23] No, I suppose you think he would say to his companion, ‘Come listen to me speak today at the house of Codratus.’
Why should I hear you speak? You want to show me that you arrange words elegantly? So you do; but what do you gain by it?
‘You’re supposed to praise me.’
[24] ‘What do you mean, “praise me” ’?
‘Shout “bravo!” and “marvellous!”’
Fine, I’ll shout it. But if praise is one of those things that philosophers categorize as ‘good’, then how can I praise you? Teach me that it is good to be eloquent, and I will praise you.
[25] Should listening to speeches be an experience totally devoid of pleasure, then? Of course not. I take pleasure in listening to lyre players, too. But is that good enough reason for me to get up and play the lyre? Listen to what Socrates says: ‘It would not suit me at my age, gentlemen, to come before you formulating phrases like a callow youth.’41 [26] It is an exquisite little art, this choosing up words, joining them together, then appearing in public to give them an artistic reading. And how delightful if during the recital someone shouts out, ‘Not many people can appreciate this, by God!’∗
[27] Does a philosopher solicit an audience? As the sun draws sustenance to itself, that is how a true philosopher attracts people who stand in need of help.42 What sort of doctor is it that invites patients to be treated by him? And yet I hear that in Rome now even the doctors advertise for patients. In my day it was the other way around. [28] ‘I invite you to come and hear how unwell you are. How you care for everything except what counts. How you don’t know good from evil. That you are unhappy and unsuccessful.’ What a charming invitation! And yet if the philosopher does not make such an impression with his speech, it’s dead, and the speaker might as well be too. [29] Rufus43 used to say, ‘If you have nothing better to do than praise me for it, then my speech was a failure.’ He used to address us in such a way as to make everyone sitting there suppose that someone had informed on them – that’s how well he intuited the truth, and how vividly he evoked for each one of us our private faults.
[30] Friends, the school of a philosopher is a hospital. When you leave, you should have suffered, not enjoyed yourself. Because you enter, not in a state of health, but with a dislocated shoulder, it may be, or an abscess, a fistula, or head pain. [31] So am I supposed to sit down alongside you and recite clever thoughts and phrases, so that patients applaud and leave with their shoulder in the same condition as when they were admitted, their head, their abscess, their fistula the same? [32] Is it for this that young pe
ople should travel abroad, leaving behind their parents, friends, relations and possessions – all so that they can say ‘Bravo!’ when you deliver your clever phrases? Is this what Socrates, Zeno or Cleanthes did?
[33] ‘Well, isn’t there the protreptic style of discourse?’ Naturally – as there are the elenctic and didactic styles. But whoever included the epideictic style in the curriculum as a fourth subject?44 [34] The hortatory style purports to expose to all the conflict in which they are embroiled, and how they are interested in everything except what they want. Because what people want is what conduces to happiness; but they look for it in the wrong place. [35] If this is to happen, do we really need a thousand chairs set up, invitations sent out and the speaker turned out in a fancy robe or gown, astride a podium, narrating the death of Achilles? For gods’ sake, do your best to honour such famous names and deeds by forbearing to name them.
[36] There is nothing more inspiring than a speaker who makes clear to his audience that he has need of them. [37] Tell me – has anyone who has ever heard you read or discourse felt self-remorse as a result, or experienced self-realization, or afterwards left thinking, ‘The philosopher touched a nerve there; I can’t go on acting as I have’?