Our Discourse is notable for the frankness with which the speaker attacks the foibles and vices of the populace for which the Alexandria of that day was so notorious. Not all the allusions can be explained with certainty, for the history of the period is none too well documented. The very scarcity of contemporary documents, however, lends especial value to the testimony of Dio. Modern writers have drawn heavily upon his statements.
The Thirty-second Discourse: To the People of Alexandria
My friends, would you kindly be serious for a brief while and give heed to my words? For you are forever being frivolous and heedless, and you are practically never at a loss for fun-making and enjoyment and laughter — indeed you have many who minister to such tendencies — but I find in you a complete lack of seriousness. [2] And yet there are those who praise you for your wisdom and cleverness, asserting that, although you assemble here in thousands, you not only can conceive what is fitting but at the same time are quick to put your conceptions into words. But I for my part should prefer to praise you as being slow to speak, indeed, and self-restrained enough to keep silent, and yet correct of judgement. Pray display these qualities now, in order that you may acquire, in addition to that other praise, new praise of a different nature, both greater and more honourable — for having all become silent in this great throng when useful counsel was being given and, furthermore, for having shown that you can not merely think before you speak but also listen before you formulate your thought. For while it is praising a chorus to say that they all speak the words together in unison — or rather not even a chorus, for what if all in common miss the tune? — the highest praise you can accord a mass-meeting is to say that it listens well.
[3] For nowadays, you know, you make the mistake which the Athenians once made. I mean, when Apollo said that, if they wished to have good men as citizens, they should put that which was best into the ears of their boys, they pierced one of the ears of each and inserted a bit of gold, not understanding what the god intended. In fact such an ornament was suitable rather for girls and for sons of Lydians and Phrygians, whereas for sons of Greeks, especially since a god had given the command, nothing else was suitable but education and reason, for it is natural that those who get these blessings should prove to be good men and saviours of the state.
[4] The Athenians, as we see, made a bad use of the ears of their sons, but you are making a worse use of your own. For the organ of hearing of a people is the theatre, and into your theatre there enters nothing beautiful or honourable, or very rarely; but it is always full of the strumming of the lyre and of uproar, buffoonery, and scurrility, things that bear no resemblance to gold. For that reason, therefore, I was right in saying that you lack seriousness; for neither are you yourselves serious, nor are they serious with whom you are familiar, and who often come before you in the guise of
Both mimes and dancers plying nimble feet,
And men astride swift steeds, most apt to stir
Dire strife amid spectators crude — the fools! —
And bring a general ruin to multitudes.
[5] That indeed is the nature of what you regularly see, and you are devoted to interests from which it is impossible to gain intelligence or prudence or a proper disposition or reverence toward the gods, but only stupid contention, unbridled ambition, vain grief, senseless joy, and raillery and extravagance.
In saying these things I am not trying to divert you from such entertainments and pastimes of your people or bidding you put an end to them — I should be mad to attempt that — but I am asking, that just as you devote yourselves readily and constantly to that sort of thing, so you should at length listen to an honest speech and welcome a frankness whose aim is your own welfare. [6] Why even the Athenians, to whom I referred a moment ago, we shall find to have been not always in error. On the contrary, at least this custom of theirs was very much to their credit — that they gave their poets licence to take to task, not merely persons individually, but even the state at large, in case the people were doing something unseemly. Accordingly, among many other illustrations that might be cited, we find in their comedies utterances such as these:
Old Demos of Pnyxtown, testy little old man,
A bit inclined to deafness,
and
What deed is there that Athens would abjure?
And, moreover, they listened to these sayings while holding high festival, even during the democratic regime, at a time when they were not only in complete control of their own citizens, in case they desired in a fit of anger to destroy anyone who used such language, but also when they exercised authority over the other Greeks as well, so that they might have avoided listening to anything disagreeable, had they so desired.
[7] But you have no such critic, neither chorus nor poet nor anyone else, to reprove you in all friendliness and to reveal the weaknesses of your city. Therefore, whenever the thing does at last appear, you should receive it gladly and make a festival of the occasion instead of being vexed; and even if vexed, you should be ashamed to call out, “When will the fellow stop?” or “When is a juggler coming on?” or “Rubbish!” or some such thing. For, as I have said, that sort of entertainment you always have in stock and there is no fear that it will ever fail you; but discourses like this of mine, which make men happier and better and more sober and better able to administer effectively the cities in which they dwell, you have not often heard — for I do not care to say that you would not listen to them.
[8] And perhaps this situation is not of your making, but you will show whether it is or not if you bear with me today; the fault may lie rather at the door of those who wear the name of philosopher. For some among that company do not appear in public at all and prefer not to make the venture, possibly because they despair of being able to improve the masses; others exercise their voices in what we call lecture-halls, having secured as hearers men who are in league with them and tractable. [9] And as for the Cynics, as they are called, it is true that the city contains no small number of that sect, and that, like any other thing, this too has had its crop — persons whose tenets, to be sure, comprise practically nothing spurious or ignoble, yet who must make a living — still these Cynics, posting themselves at street-corners, in alley-ways, and at temple-gates, pass round the hat and play upon the credulity of lads and sailors and crowds of that sort, stringing together rough jokes and much tittle-tattle and that low badinage that smacks of the market-place. Accordingly they achieve no good at all, but rather the worst possible harm, for they accustom thoughtless people to deride philosophers in general, just as one might accustom lads to scorn their teachers, and, when they ought to knock the insolence out of their hearers, these Cynics merely increase it.
[10] Those, however, who do come before you as men of culture either declaim speeches intended for display, and stupid ones to boot, or else chant verses of their own composition, as if they had detected in you a weakness for poetry. To be sure, if they themselves are really poets or orators, perhaps there is nothing so shocking in that, but if in the guise of philosophers they do these things with a view to their own profit and reputation, and not to improve you, that indeed is shocking. For it is as if a physician when visiting patients should disregard their treatment and their restoration to health, and should bring them flowers and courtesans and perfume.
[11] But there are only a few who have displayed frankness in your presence, and that but sparingly, not in the same way as to fill your ears therewith nor for any length of time; nay, they merely utter a phrase or two, and then, after berating rather than enlightening you, they make a hurried exit, anxious lest before they have finished you may raise an outcry and send them packing, behaving in very truth quite like men who in winter muster up courage for a brief and hurried voyage out to sea. But to find a man who in plain terms and without guile speaks his mind with frankness, and neither for the sake of reputation nor for gain makes false pretensions, but out of good will and concern for his fellow-men stands ready, if need b
e, to submit to ridicule and to the disorder and the uproar of the mob — to find such a man as that is not easy, but rather the good fortune of a very lucky city, so great is the dearth of noble, independent souls and such the abundance of toadies, mountebanks, and sophists.
[12] In my own case, for instance, I feel that I have chosen that rôle, not of my own volition, but by the will of some deity. For when divine providence is at work for men, the gods provide, not only good counsellors who need no urging, but also words that are appropriate and profitable to the listener. And this statement of mine should be questioned least of all by you, since here in Alexandria the deity is most in honour, and to you especially does he display his power through almost daily oracles and dreams. Think not, therefore, that the god exercises his watchful care only over sleeping men, disclosing to each in private what is for his good, but that he is indifferent toward them when they are awake and would not disclose to them, in public and collectively, anything beneficial; for often in the past he has given aid to men in their waking moments, and also in broad daylight he has clearly foretold the future. [13] You are acquainted no doubt with the prophetic utterances of Apis here, in neighbouring Memphis, and you know that lads at play announce the purpose of the god, and that this form of divination has proved to be free from falsehood. But your deity, methinks, being more potent, wishes to confer his benefits upon you through the agency of men rather than boys, and in serious fashion, not by means of few words, but with strong, full utterance and in clear terms, instructing you regarding most vital matters — if you are patient — with purpose and persuasiveness.
[14] And first of all — to begin, as I ought, with matters close at hand — rest assured of this, that all things which happen to men for their good are without exception of divine origin; not only is this true if a voyager has the luck to find a pilot with experience, or a nation or a city to secure good leaders, but also if a physician arrives in time to save his patient, we must believe that he is a helper come from god, and if one hears words of wisdom, we must believe that they too were sent by god. [15] For, in general, there is no good fortune, no benefit, that does not reach us in accordance with the will and the power of the gods; on the contrary the gods themselves control all blessings everywhere and apportion lavishly to all who are ready to receive; but evils come from quite a different source, as it were from some other fount close beside us. Take for example the water of Alexandria — that which keeps us alive and nourishes us and is truly the author of our being: it descends from some region up above, from some divine fount; whereas the filthy, evil-smelling canals are our own creation, and it is our fault that such things exist. For it is through man’s folly and love of luxury and ambition, that life comes to be vexatious and full of deceit, wickedness, pain, and countless other ills.
[16] However, for these maladies one remedy and cure has been provided by the gods, to wit, education and reason, and the man who throughout life employs that remedy with consistency comes at last to a healthy, happy end; but those who encounter it rarely and only after long intervals,
Alternate live one day, are dead the next.
But, nevertheless, there have been occasions when even such persons have been turned aside when portentous disasters were impending. But those who are wholly unacquainted with the remedy of which I speak, and never give ear to chastening reason, are utterly wretched, having no refuge or defence against their sufferings,
But storm-tossed on the sea of life they drift,
Devoid of shelter and in misery,
as if embarked upon a rotten and wholly shattered hulk, amidst a sea of senseless opinion and misery.
[17] And it so happens that it is the most depraved and unfortunate men who flee the farthest from the voice of reason and will not listen to it, not even if you try to force them — just as, I fancy, those sores which are especially disgusting shrink from the touch, and that in itself is a sign of their extremely bad condition. But such sufferers will have to visit a different kind of physician, however unwillingly, whose treatment will be more drastic. For there are two systems for the treatment of vice and its prevention, just as there are for maladies in general: the one may be likened to dieting and drugs, and the other resembles cautery and the knife, this being more suitable for the use of magistrates and laws and jurymen, that is, for those whose business it is to remove growths that are abnormal and incurable. But much to be preferred are those who do not lightly resort to removal. [18] The other treatment is, I claim, the proper function of men who have the power through persuasion and reason to calm and soften the soul. These indeed are the saviours and guardians of all who can be saved, confining and controlling vice before it reaches its final stage.
It is true, no doubt, that both types of practitioners are required by the state, but the type to be found in public office should be much the milder of the two. For in administering punishment one should be sparing, but not so in imparting instruction; and a good prince is marked by compassion, a bad philosopher by lack of severity. For while the harshness of the one in punishing destroys, the other’s severity of speech is by nature salutary. [19] It is likely, however, that you have a great dearth of men who are expert in the latter branch of healing; for its practitioners gain neither wealth nor power thereby, but rather hatred, abuse, and reviling, though perhaps one should pay no more attention to such things. Accordingly, when the philosophers quit the field and are silent, there springs up among you a multitude of quarrels and lawsuits, harsh cries, tongues that are mischievous and unrestrained, accusers, calumnies, writs, a horde of professional pleaders — just as, I suspect, the lack of physicians, or else their incompetence, accounts for the increase in number of the undertakers!
[20] In my opening remarks also I laid the blame for this upon the philosophers who will not appear before the people or even deign to converse with you, but, while wishing to maintain their dignity, are seen to be of no utility, and like those degenerate athletes who are a nuisance to wrestling-schools and gymnasia with their make-believe sparring and wrestling, but refuse to enter the stadium, viewing with suspicion the sun’s heat and the blows. However, the trouble becomes truly difficult because of you. For it is not easy to endure the uproar of such a crowd as this, or to face countless thousands of human beings without the support of song and lyre. For music is an antidote in dealing with the populace of your city, just as, we are told, the fat of certain creatures is beneficial in dealing with one of the serious disorders.
[21] I, for instance, had I the gift of song, should not have come here before you without some tune or lay. But the truth is, I lack that magic spell; yet a god, as I said, has given me courage, the god
Who routs with ease the hero brave
And robs him of his conquest, then again
Himself doth urge and cheer to victory.
If, then, in addressing you I were to use the words of Hermes as he is portrayed in the Odyssey, excusing himself to Calypso for the unpleasant message that he bore for her, no doubt you would declare that I was talking nonsense, and yet speak them I must:
Zeus bade me hither come, though I was loath;
For who of his own choosing would traverse
The salty sea so vast, unspeakable?
Nor is there near a town of mortal men.
[22] If Hermes, a god and a winged god besides, complains of the waves and the sea and the lack of cities and men on the way, was I, a mere mortal, a nobody from nowhere, clad in a mean cloak, with no sweetness of song and a voice no louder than common, not afraid of your noise, your laughter, your anger, your hissing, your rough jokes — the means by which you terrify all men and always dominate men everywhere, both private citizens and princes — and that too, though I hear Homer and the other poets constantly singing of the mob as being cruel and unruly and prone to violence? This is what Homer has to say:
[23] Then stirred was the assembly, as the sea
Sends forth long billows on the Icarian deep,
Billo
ws the Southeast wind doth raise, with force
Rushing from out the clouds of Father Zeus;
and here are the words of another:
Unstable and evil is the populace,
And wholly like the sea: beneath the gale
’Tis fanned to fury; should a calm ensue,
A little puff doth ruffle it. So let
Some change be made, the victim is engulfed.
[24] So you too might perhaps engulf me with your uproar and your turmoil, in spite of my desire to serve you. But if you wait and hear me through, all men will think you wonderful, and will give you credit for acquaintance, not alone with twanging lyres and dancing feet, but with words of wisdom too, that I also may thus have a just defence to offer those who blame and condemn me for coming here; for they will blame me, you may be sure, and will say that I am a notoriety-hunter and a madman to have thus exposed myself to the mob and its hubbub. Let me, then, be able to assert that not every populace is insolent and unwilling to listen, and that not every gathering of the people must be avoided by men of cultivation.
[25] But I will explain to you more clearly, if you wish, the nature of the demos, in other words, the nature of yourselves. In fact such an explanation is a useful thing, and it will do you more good than if I were to speak about heaven and earth. Well then, I claim that the demos most closely resembles a potentate, and a very strong one too, one that has great authority and power, and a more powerful potentate and holding sway over a greater number in proportion as the people itself is more numerous and belongs to a prouder city. [26] Among these over-lords, then, are included kings, who have been deified for the general safety of their realm, real guardians and good and righteous leaders of the people, gladly dispensing the benefits, but dealing out hardship among their subjects rarely and only as necessity demands, rejoicing when their cities observe order and decorum. But others, on the contrary, are harsh and savage tyrants, unpleasant to listen to and unpleasant to meet; their rage is prompt to rise at anything, like the rage of savage beasts, and their ears are stopped, affording no entrance to words of fairness, but with them flattery and deception prevail.
Delphi Complete Works of Dio Chrysostom Page 46