On Listening to Lectures (5-9)

Now the presence of envy, attended by malice and hostility, is not a good thing for any undertaking, but it stands in the way of all that is honourable; and it is the very worst associate and counsellor for one that would listen to a lecture, inasmuch as it makes what is profitable to be vexatious, unpleasing, and unacceptable, because envious persons are pleased with anything rather than with the good points of a discourse. Now the man that is stung by the wealth, or repute, or beauty possessed by another, is merely envious; for he is depressed by the good fortune of others; but one who feels discontentment at an excellent discourse is vexed by what is for his own good. For just as light is a good thing for those who can see, so is discourse for those who can hear, if they be willing to receive it.

Now while envy in other matters is engendered by certain untrained and evil dispositions of a man,

the envy that is directed against a speaker is the offspring of an unseasonable desire for repute and a dishonest ambition, and it does not suffer the person in such a mood even to pay attention to what is being said, but it confuses and distracts his mind which at one moment is engaged in reviewing its own condition to see whether it be inferior to that of the speaker, then anon it turns to dwell on the other persons present to see whether they are showing any pleasure or admiration; it is disconcerted by their approval, and irritated at the audience if they find the speaker acceptable; disregards and dismisses the part of the discourse already delivered because the memory of it is painful, but for what still remains trembles with anxiety lest that part prove better than the part already delivered; eager that the speakers may most quickly have done when they are speaking most excellently; and when the lecture is over, it does not ponder upon any point of the discussion, but proceeds to count as votes the comments and attitudes of those present; if any approve, fleeing and recoiling from these as though frantic; if any disapprove or distort the things said, hastening to join their company; and if it be impossible to distort, then it falls to making comparisons with others who could have spoken better and more forcibly to the same purport—until by spoiling and maltreating the lecture it has succeeded in making the whole thing useless and unprofitable to itself.

Therefore a man must let his desire to hear make truce with his desire for repute, and listen cheerfully and affably as though he were a guest at some dinner or ceremonial banquet, commending the speaker’s ability in those parts wherein he

achieves a success, and favourably accepting the goodwill, if nothing else, of the speaker who propounds his opinions and tries to persuade others by the reasons which have persuaded himself. Where he is successful we must reflect that the success is not due to chance or accident, but to care, diligence, and study, and herein we should try to imitate him in a spirit of admiration and emulation; but where there are mistakes, we should direct our intelligence to these, to determine the reasons and origin of the error. For as Xenophon [*] asserts that good householders derive benefit both from their friends and from their enemies, so in the same way do speakers, not only when they succeed, but also when they fail, render a service to hearers who are alert and attentive. For poverty of thought, emptiness of phrase, an offensive bearing, fluttering excitement combined with a vulgar delight at commendation, and the like, are more apparent to us in others when we are listening than in ourselves when we are speakers. Wherefore we ought to transfer our scrutiny from the speaker to ourselves, and examine whether we unconsciously commit such mistakes. For it is the easiest thing in the world to find fault with one’s neighbour, and also a useless and inane proceeding unless it be applied in some way to correcting or avoiding similar faults. And everyone ought to be ready ever to repeat to himself, as he observes the faults of others, the utterance of Plato,[*] Am I not possibly like them ? For as we see our own eyes brightly reflected in the eyes of those near us, so we must get a picture of our own discourses in the discourses of others, that we may not too rashly disdain others, and may give more careful attention to ourselves in the matter of speaking. To this end the process of comparison is useful, if, when we have come away from the lecture and are by ourselves, we take some topic that seems to have been ineffectually or inadequately treated, and try our hand at the same thing, and address ourselves to supplying a deficiency here, or amending there, to saying the same thing in other words, or attempting to treat the subject in a wholly new way; and this is what Plato [*] actually did for the discourse of Lysias. For to offer objections against a discourse which has been delivered is not difficult, but very easy; but to set up a better against it is a very laborious task. As the Spartan [*] said, on hearing that Philip had razed the city of Olynthus to the ground, Yes, but even he could not possibly set up such another. Whenever, therefore, in discoursing thus upon a given subject, we find that we do not much excel those who have already spoken, we abate much of our disdain, and our presumption and self-esteem are very speedily cut short by being put to the test in such comparisons.

Now admiration, which is the antithesis of disdain, obviously betokens a kindlier and gentler nature, but even this requires certainly no little caution, perhaps even more. For while it is true that disdainful and self-confident persons are less apt to get benefit from the speakers, yet the enthusiastic and ingenuous are more apt to get harm; and they cause no one to question the saying of Heracleitus,[*] that A fool is wont to be agog at

every word that’s said. In praising a speaker we must be generous, but in believing his words cautious; as touching the style and the delivery of the performers, we should observe with a kindly and simple mind; but as for the utility and the truth of what they say, we must play the keen and heartless critics, that the speakers may feel no hatred, yet their words may do no harm. For we unwittingly receive into our minds a great many false and vicious doctrines by feeling goodwill and confidence towards the speakers. Upon a time the Spartan officials, after approving the proposal made by a man whose life had not been good, appointed another man of good repute in his life and character to present it, thus quite rightly and for the good of the State trying to accustom the people to being influenced more by the behaviour than by the speech of their counsellors. [*] But in a philosophic discussion we must set aside the repute of the speaker, and examine what he says quite apart. For as in war so also in lectures there is plenty of empty show. For example, a speaker’s grey hair, his formality, his serious brow, his self-assertion, and above all the clamour and shouting of the audience as he brings them to their feet, combine to disconcert the young and inexperienced listener, who is, as it were, swept away by the current. The speaker’s style also has a spice of deception when it is pleasing and copious, and is applied to the subject with dignity and artfulness. For as most of the mistakes of persons singing to the flute escape the audience, so an exuberant and impressive style flashed upon the listener blinds him to the matter set forth. It seems to have been Melanthius, who being asked about Diogenes’ tragedy, said he could not get a sight of it, there were so many words in the way; and the discussions and exercises of most popular lecturers not only use words to conceal their thoughts, but they so sweeten their voice by certain harmonious modulations and softenings and rhythmic cadences, as to ravish away and transport their hearers. It is an empty pleasure they give, and an even more empty renown they acquire, so that the remark of Dionysius [*] fits their case exactly. For he, as it appears, at some performance promised to a harp-player of great repute certain large gifts, but afterwards gave him nothing, on the ground that he had already discharged his obligation. For, said he, all the time that you were giving pleasure to us with your singing, you were enjoying the pleasure of your hopes. And this is just the meed that such lectures have for those who deliver them; for the speakers are admired in as far as they are entertaining, and afterwards, no sooner has the pleasure of listening passed away, than their repute deserts them, and so the time of their hearers and the life of the speakers is simply wasted.

One ought therefore to strip off the superfluity and inanity from the style, and to seek after the fruit itself, imitating not women that make garlands, but the bees. For those women, culling flowerclusters and sweet-scented leaves, intertwine and plait them, and produce something which is pleasant enough, but short-lived and fruitless; whereas the bees in their flight frequently pass through meadows of violets, roses, and hyacinths, and come to rest upon the exceeding rough and pungent thyme, and on this they settle close,

Making the yellow honey their care,[*]

and when they have got something of use, they fly away home to their own special work. In such wise, then, the sincere and single-minded student ought to regard flowery and dainty language and theatrical and spectacular subject matter as the pasturage of drones who practise the popular lecture; these he should leave alone and use all diligence to sound the deep meaning of the words and the intention of the speaker, drawing from it what is useful and profitable, and remembering that he has not come to a theatre or music-hall, but to a school and classroom with the purpose of amending his life by what is there said. Hence it follows that in making his examination and forming his judgement of the lecture he should begin with himself and his own state of mind, endeavouring to estimate whether any one of his emotions has become less intense, whether any one of his troubles weighs less heavily upon him, whether his confidence and his high purpose have become firmly rooted, whether he has acquired enthusiasm for virtue and goodness. As a matter of course, when he rises to leave the barber’s shop, he stands by the mirror and feels his head, examining the cut of his hair and the difference made by its trimming; so on his way home from a lecture or an academic exercise, it would be a shame not to direct his gaze forthwith upon himself and to note carefully his own spirit, whether it has put from it any of its encumbrances and superfluities, and has become lighter and more cheerful. For, as Ariston says, neither a bath nor a discourse is of any use unless it removes impurity.

Let the young man, then, find pleasure when

he finds profit from a discourse; but he should not hold that the pleasure derived from the lecture is an end in itself, nor would I have him hum a merry note or show a jovial face as he leaves the philosopher’s school, any more than he should seek to be sprinkled with perfume when he needs a fomentation and a hot poultice; but he should feel grateful if by pungent discourse someone has cleansed his mind teeming with fogginess and dullness, as a beehive is cleared by smoke. For even though it is quite right for a speaker not to be altogether neglectful of pleasantness and persuasion in his style, yet the young man should make least concern of this, at any rate at first. Afterwards no doubt he may have an eye to that; for just as those who drink, after they have quenched their thirst, begin then to observe the ornamentation of the drinking-cups and to turn them about, so the young man, when he is well replenished with doctrines and has some respite, may be allowed to inspect the style to see whether it contains anything elegant and exquisite. But he who at the very outset does not stick to the subject matter, but insists that the style shall be pure Attic and severely plain, is like the man who is unwilling to swallow an antidote for a poison unless the cup be of the finest Attic ware, or unwilling to put on an overcoat in winter unless the wool be from Attic sheep, but must needs sit still and inactive, with a delicate thin jacket of Lysias’s language cast over him. Indeed, this sort of unhealthiness has produced much barrenness of mind and of good sense, much foolery and bibble-babble in the schools, since younger men do not keep in view the life, the actions, and the public conduct of a man who follows philosophy, but rate as matters for commendation points of style and phrasing, and a fine delivery, while as for what is being delivered, whether it be useful or useless, whether essential or empty and superfluous, they neither understand nor wish to inquire.