How to Tell a Flatterer from a Friend (26-27)

Seeing, therefore, that there are certain fatal faults attending upon frankness, let us in the first place divest it of all self-regard by exercising all vigilance lest we seem to have some private reason for our reproaches, such as a personal wrong or grievance. For people are wont to think that anger, not goodwill, is the motive of a man who

speaks on his own behalf, and that this is not admonition but fault-finding. For frankness is friendly and noble, but fault-finding is selfish and mean. For this reason those who speak frankly are respected and admired, while fault-finders meet with recrimination and contempt. Agamemnon, for instance, has no patience with Achilles, who appears to have spoken with moderate frankness only, but when Odysseus assails him bitterly and says,

Hopeless and helpless! Would you had to rule some other Paltry band, not this,[*]

he yields and puts up with it, quieted by the friendly concern and good sense of the other’s words. For Odysseus, who had no ground for anger personally, spoke boldly to him in behalf of Greece, while Achilles seemed to be incensed chiefly on his own account. And it is true that Achilles himself, although he was not a man of sweet or gentle temper, [*] but a

Terrible man, who is given to blaming even the blameless,[*]

submitted himself to Patroclus in silence, although Patroclus often launched upon him strictures like this:

Ruthless man, your sire was not the knightly Peleus, Nor was Thetis your mother; no, the grey-gleaming ocean Bore you, and high rugged rocks, you are so hard-hearted.[*]

The orator Hypereides [*] used to tell the Athenians that it was only right that they consider, not merely whether he was bitter, but whether he was so upon no cause; and in the same way, the admonition of a thing to be treated with respect and reverence, not to be faced out. And if one also makes it clear that in speaking frankly he is leaving out of all account or consideration his friend’s lapses toward himself, but taking him to task for certain other shortcomings, and that it is in the interest of other persons that he visits him with stinging reproof so unsparingly, the force of such frankness is irresistible, and the generous attitude of the speaker serves only to intensify the bitterness and severity of his admonition. Therefore, while it has been well said that when we are angry or at variance with friends, we ought then most of all to be doing or planning what will be for their advantage or interest, yet it is no less material in friendship, when we feel that we ourselves are slighted and neglected, to speak frankly in behalf of others who are likewise being neglected, and to remind our friends of them. For example, Plato, in the midst of suspicions and disagreements with Dionysius, asked him for an appointment for an interview, and Dionysius granted it, supposing that Plato had some long tale of fault-finding to rehearse on his own account. But Plato talked with him somewhat after this fashion: If you should learn, Dionysius, that some ill-disposed man had made the voyage to Sicily, cherishing the desire to do you harm, but unable to find an opportunity, would you allow him to sail away, and should you let him withdraw unscathed? Far from it, Plato, said Dionysius, for not only the acts of enemies but their intentions as well must be detested and punished. If now, said Plato, somebody has come hither out of goodwill to you, wishing to be the author of some good to you, but you give him no opportunity, is it proper to let such a man go without showing him any gratitude or attention? When Dionysius asked who the man was, Aeschines, he said, in character as fair as any one of Socrates’ companions, and potent in speech to improve those with whom he may associate; but after sailing hither over a vast expanse of the sea in order to discuss philosophy with you, he finds himself neglected. These words so moved Dionysius, that he straightway embraced Plato affectionately, marvelling at his kindliness and high-mindedness, and afterwards he paid to Aeschines honourable and distinguished attentions.

In the second place, then, let us purge away, as it were, and eliminate from our frankness all arrogance, ridicule, scoffing, and scurrility, which are the unwholesome seasoning of free speech. Just as a certain orderliness and neatness should pervade the work of a surgeon when he performs an operation, but his hand should forbear all dancing and reckless motions, all flourishes and superfluity of gesticulation, so frankness has plenty of room for tact and urbanity, if such graciousness does not impair the high office of frankness; but when effrontery and offensiveness and arrogance are coupled with it, they spoil and ruin it completely. There was point, therefore, and polish in the retort with which the harper [*] stopped Philip’s mouth when Philip attempted to argue with him about playing upon his instrument. God forbid, said he, that your Majesty should ever fall so low as to have a better knowledge of these matters than I. But Epicharmus was not right in his retort upon Hiero, who had made away with some of his intimate friends, and then a few days later invited

Epicharmus to dinner. But the other day, said Epicharmus, you held a sacrifice without invitation, of friends! As badly answered Antiphon, when the question was up for discussion in the presence of Dionysius as to what is the best kind of bronze, and he said, The kind from which they fashioned the statues of Harmodius and Aristogeiton [*] at Athens. For the offensiveness and bitterness of such retorts profits nothing, their scurrility and frivolity gives no pleasure; but a retort of this kind betokens intemperance of the tongue combined with malice and arrogance, and not without enmity. By employing it men eventually bring about their own destruction, since they are simply dancing on the edge of the pit. For Antiphon was put to death by order of Dionysius, and Timagenes lost his place in Caesar’s [*] friendship because, while he never indulged in any high-minded utterance, yet in social gatherings and in discussions, for no serious purpose at all, but

Whatsoever he thought would move the Argives to laughter,[*]

he would on every possible occasion put forward friendship’s cause as an artful excuse for railing. It is true that the comic poets [*] addressed to their audiences many stern rebukes of value to the citizens; but the admixture of drollery and scurrility in them, like a vile dressing with food, made their frankness ineffective and useless, so that there was nothing left for the authors but a name of malice and coarseness, and no profit for the hearers from their words. On other occasions jest and laughter may well enough be employed with friends, but frankness of speech ought to have seriousness and character. And if it concern matters of greater moment, let feeling be so evident, the countenance so serious, and the voice so earnest that the words may claim credence and touch the heart. Failure to observe the proper occasion is in any case exceedingly harmful, but particularly when frankness is concerned it destroys its profitableness. That in the midst of wine and hard drinking we must be on our guard against anything of this sort is plain enough. It is like overcasting fair weather with a storm-cloud, when in the midst of jesting and merrymaking someone starts a discussion that makes others frown and sets the face in rigid lines, as though the topic were meant to combat the god of Relaxation who relaxes the bond of troubled cares, as Pindar [*] puts it. This neglect of occasion contains a great danger also. For men’s minds are perilously inclined to anger on account of the wine, and oftentimes heavy drinking takes control of their frankness and creates enmity. And in general, it does not show a noble or stout heart, but unmanliness rather, for one who never displays boldness of speech when he is sober to be bold at table, as is the way of cowardly curs. There is no need, then, to multiply words on this subject.