Book 3, Chapter 2

3 Then come the poets. Making a great display of learning and wisdom, they are heard, read, learned by heart, and lodge deep within our minds. But when the people too join them, like some supreme teacher, and the whole multitude on every side agrees in favor of vice, then we are thoroughly infected by corrupt opinions and desert nature. We come to think that those who have judged nothing better for a human being, nothing more desirable or more excellent than honors, commands, and popular glory, have best understood nature’s power. Every person of the finest character is drawn toward this glory; yet in seeking that true moral goodness which alone nature seeks above all, he moves in a world of utter emptiness, pursuing not a distinct likeness of virtue but a shadowy image of glory. For glory is something solid and clearly defined, not a shadow: it is the united praise of good people, the uncorrupted voice of sound judges concerning outstanding virtue. It answers virtue like an echo; and because it generally accompanies right actions, good people should not reject it.

4 But popular fame, which would pass for glory’s likeness, is reckless and thoughtless, and generally praises faults and vices; by its counterfeit of moral goodness it spoils goodness’s shape and beauty. Blinded in this way, people have desired things that were indeed splendid, without knowing where or what they were; some have utterly destroyed their countries, others themselves. These people, while seeking the best, go astray less through their intentions than through mistaking the road. What, then, of those driven by greed for money or lust for pleasures, whose souls are so disturbed that they are not far from madness—as happens to all the unwise? Are they to receive no treatment? Is it because the soul’s illnesses do less harm than the body’s, or because bodies can be cured but no medicine exists for souls?

3 Poets add their influence as well. With their impressive appearance of learning and wisdom, they gain listeners and readers; people learn them by heart, and their words sink far into the mind. Next comes the public, playing the part of the greatest teacher of all. The whole crowd everywhere agrees in encouraging faults. This thoroughly corrupts our beliefs and turns us away from nature. We decide that the people who best understood her power were those who put office, command, and fame with the public above everything else a person could want or possess. It’s the best among us who are drawn toward fame. They want the real moral goodness that nature pursues above all else. Yet their search leads them into complete emptiness: instead of a clearly formed image of virtue, they follow a mere outline of fame. True fame does have substance and a definite shape; it isn’t an outline. When good people agree in praising outstanding virtue, when sound judges speak without corruption, that is fame. Virtue calls it forth as a sound calls forth its echo. Good people needn’t turn it down, since it usually goes together with doing right.

4 But popular acclaim pretends to copy it. Rash and thoughtless, and usually busy praising wrongdoing and vice, it counterfeits moral goodness and ruins its beauty and appearance. Blinded by this, people have wanted things that were indeed splendid, without knowing where to find them or what they were like. Some have utterly destroyed their own states; others have brought about their own deaths. These people at least were aiming at the best things. Their mistake wasn’t so much in their intention as in taking the wrong route. But what about people driven by greed for money or a craving for pleasure? Their minds are so disturbed that they’re close to madness—as happens to everyone who lacks wisdom. Shouldn’t they get treatment? Do mental illnesses do less harm than physical ones? Or can bodies be cured, while there is no medicine for minds?