23
“For my part I hold that the toadies are far worse than the men they toady to, and that they alone are to blame for the arrogance of the others. When they admire their possessions, praise their plate, crowd their doorways in the early morning and go up and speak to them as a slave speaks to his master, how can you expect the rich to feel? If by common consent they refrained but a short time from this voluntary servitude, don’t you think that the tables would be turned, and that the rich would come to the doors of the poor and beg them not to leave their happiness unobserved and unattested and their beautiful tables and great houses unenjoyed and unused? It is not so much being rich that they like as being congratulated on it. The fact is, of course, that the man who lives in a fine house gets no good of it, nor of his ivory and gold either, unless someone admires it all. What men ought to do, then, is to reduce and cheapen the rank of the rich in this way, erecting in the face of their wealth a breastwork of contempt. But as things are, they turn their heads with servility.
24
“That common men who unreservedly admit their want of culture should do such things might fairly be thought reasonable; but that many selfstyled philosophers should act still more ridiculously than they—this is the surprising thing! How do you suppose I feel in spirit when I see one of them, especially if he be well on in years, among a crowd of toadies, at the heels of some Jack-in-office, in conference with the dispensers of his dinner-invitations? His dress only marks him out among the rest and makes him more conspicuous. What irritates me most is that they do not change their costume: certainly they are consistent play-actors in everything else. Take their conduct at dinners—to what ethical ideal are we to ascribe it?
