Panathenaicus (231-235)

Manifestly I was in such a state of mind; for when I seized a moment of quiet, I did not cease until I had dictated to my boy[*] the speech which a short time before I had delivered with pleasure but which a little later was to cause me distress. For when, after three or four days had elapsed, I was reading and going over it, I found that, while I was not troubled about the things which I had said about Athens (for in everything which had reference to her I had written well and justly),

yet I was distressed and uncomfortable about what I had said with reference to the Lacedaemonians. For it seemed to me that I had not spoken of them with moderation nor in the same manner as the rest of the world but with contempt and with extreme bitterness and altogether without understanding. The result was that I was often on the point of blotting out or burning what I had written and as often changed my mind when I thought with pity of my old age and of the labour which had been spent upon my discourse.

Since I was in this state of confusion, shifting frequently from one impulse to the other, I decided that the best thing for me to do was to call in those of my former disciples who lived in the city and take counsel with them as to whether my discourse was to be entirely destroyed or to be distributed among those who desired to have it, and to follow their judgement whatever it might be. Having so resolved, I lost no time; they whom I have mentioned were summoned at once; I announced to them beforehand the object of their coming together the speech was read aloud, was praised and applauded and accorded even such a reception as is given to successful declamations.[*]

But when all this demonstration had come to an end, the others present began to talk among themselves, presumably about the discourse which had been read. But the man whom I had sent for at first to obtain his advice (the panegyrist of the Lacedaemonians, to whom I had spoken at greater length than I should), having remained silent in the meantime, turned to me and said that he was in doubt what to do in the present situation, for he desired neither to discredit the words which I had spoken nor was he able to credit them entirely.

“For I wonder,” he continued, “whether you were as distressed and uncomfortable about the things which you had said concerning the Lacedaemonians as you allege—for I see nothing in what you have written to indicate such a feeling—and whether you really brought us together because you desired to get our advice about your discourse, since you knew well enough that we always commend whatever you say or do. Men of intelligence are accustomed to take common counsel with others regarding matters about which they are concerned, preferably with those who are wiser than themselves, but, at any rate, with those who will express their own judgement. But you have done the very opposite.