Delphi Complete Works of Dio Chrysostom

by Dio Chrysostom

  The Thirty-third, or First Tarsic, Discourse

  I wonder what on earth is your purpose, and what your expectation or desire, in seeking to have such persons as myself discourse for you. Do you think us to be sweet-voiced and more pleasant of utterance than the rest, so that, as if we were song-birds, you long to hear us make melody for you; or do you believe that we possess a different power in word and thought alike, a power of persuasion that is keener and truly formidable, which you call rhetoric, a power that holds sway both in the forum and on the rostrum; or is it because you expect to hear some laudation directed at yourselves, some patriotic hymn in praise of your city, all about Perseus and Heracles and the Lord of the Trident and the oracles that you have received, and how you are Hellenes, yes, Argives or even better, and how you have as founders heroes and demigods — or, I should say, Titans? [2] You may even, methinks, expect to hear a eulogy of your land and of the mountains it contains and of yonder Cydnus, how the most kindly of all rivers and the most beautiful and how those who drink its waters are ‘affluent and blessed,’ to use the words of Homer. For such praise is true indeed and you are constantly hearing it both from the poets in their verse and from other men also who have made it their business to pronounce encomia; but that sort of performance requires ample preparation and the gift of eloquence. [3] What, then, do you expect us to say? Or what above all are you eager to hear from men who are not of nimble wit and know not how to make gratification the aim of their discourse, who are not flatterers nor moved by insolence to mount the platform? For that you are not expecting money from us nor any other contribution, I am well aware.

  Well then, let me state my own suspicions. [4] You seem to me to have listened frequently to marvellous men, who claim to know all things, and regarding all things to be able to tell how they have been appointed and what their nature is, their repertoire including, not only human beings and demigods, but gods, yes, and even the earth, the sky, the sea, the sun and moon and other stars — in fact the entire universe — and also the processes of corruption and generation and ten thousand other things. And then, methinks, they come to you and ask you what you want them to say and upon what topic — as Pindar put it,

  Ismenus or Melia of the golden distaff or noble Cadmus;

  and whatsoever you may deem suitable, the speaker starts from there and pours forth a steady and copious flood of speech, like some abundant river that has been dammed upon within him. [5] Then, as you listen, the thought of testing his several statements or of distrusting such a learned man seems to you to be shabby treatment and inopportune, nay, you are heedlessly elated by the power and the speed of his delivery and are very happy, as, without a pause for breath, he strings together such a multitude of phrases, and you are affected very much as are those who gaze at horses running at a gallop — though not at all benefited by the experience, still you are full of admiration and exclaim, “What a marvellous thing to own!” And yet in the case of the horses it is frequently not the owners who may be seen handling the reins, but rather some worthless slave.

  [6] Well then, the sort of recitation of which I speak, being a kind of spectacle or parade, has some resemblance to the exhibitions of the so-called physicians, who seat themselves conspicuously before us and give a detailed account of the union of joints, the combination and juxtaposition of bones, and other topics of that sort, such as pores and respirations and excretions. And the character is all agape with admiration and more enchanted than a swarm of children. But the genuine physician is not like that, nor does he discourse in that fashion for the benefit of those who actually need medical attention — of course not — but instead he prescribes what should be done, and if a man wants to eat or drink, he stops him, or he takes his scalpel and lances some abscess of the body. [7] Just as, therefore, in case the sick were to assemble and then proceed to serenade the physician and call for a drinking-bout, the outcome would not meet their expectation, nay, they might well be annoyed at their reception, such it seems to me, is the situation of the masses when they gather before a man like me and bid him make a speech, obviously never having sampled the words of truth and consequently expecting to hear something sweet and pleasant.

  Come then, tell me, in heaven’s name, will you be indulgent toward a speaker, provided he is not wholly outspoken and does not touch upon all the ailments that afflict you, but rather confines himself to just one item or maybe two? [8] Take care, I warn you, lest you meet with the same experience as those people of Ilium, who, when a certain tragic actor paid them a visit, annoyed him by demanding an exhibition of his skill, until he finally bade them to let him alone and keep quiet. “For,” said he, “the better my performance, so much the more hapless will you appear.” So then, with the philosopher, it is better for the masses to let him hold his tongue.

  [9] But consider what the situation is. The Athenians, for example, being accustomed to hearing themselves abused, and, on my word, frequenting the theatre for the express purpose of hearing themselves abused, and, having established a contest with a prize for the most proficient in that sort of thing — not having hit upon the idea by themselves but acting upon the advice of the god — used to listen to Aristophanes and Cratinus and Plato and inflicted no punishment on them. But when Socrates without the protection of stage and benches undertook to carry out the instructions of his god, indulging in no vulgar dances or idiotic piping, they would not endure it. [10] Those comic poets, you see, being distrustful and timid, flattered the assembled multitude as one flatters a master, tempering their mild snapping with a laugh, just as nurses, whenever it is necessary for their charges to drink something rather unpleasant, themselves smear the cup with honey before they hold it out to the children. So it happens that the comic poets did no less harm than good, by infecting the city with effrontery and gibes and ribald jests. On the other hand, the philosopher censured and rebuked his auditors.

  [11] And, indeed, how much better it is to abuse the people and to hold up to the light each man’s stupidity and wickedness than to court favour by what is said and by compliments debauch one’s auditors, you will discover best from what I am about to tell you. For while there have been since the world began two poets with whom no other poet deserves to be compared, namely, Homer and Archilochus, one of them, Homer, praised practically everything — animals, plants, water, earth, armour, and horses; in fact it may be said that there is nothing which he failed to mention with praise and honour. At any rate, there is only one out of all the characters in his poems about whom he said harsh things, namely, Thersites, and even Thersites is called a ‘clear-voiced speaker.’ [12] But Archilochus went to the other extreme, toward censure — seeing, I imagine, that men have greater need of that — and first of all he censures himself. That is why he alone, not only after his death, but before his birth, obtained the highest tribute from the deity. Certainly Apollo drove his slayer from the temple, declaring that he had slain a servant of the Muses. And again, when the man stated in self-defence that he had slain him in war, once more Apollo called Archilochus a servant of the Muses. And when the father of Archilochus was consulting the oracle prior to the birth of his son, Apollo prophesied that he was destined to have a son who would be immortal.

  [13] So, you see, he who is good at rebuking and upbraiding, and at revealing by his words the sins of men, is evidently superior and preferred above those who praise. If, then, it is praise that gives you more delight, you must betake yourselves to other men than me. Therefore, whenever you see someone flattering himself first and foremost and in everything he does, and courting favour by his table and his dress, and moving about in licentious fashion, you may be sure that man will flatter you as well, and you may expect from him sweet words, which you call praise — dainty language from a dainty man. [14] But whenever you see someone who is unkempt and wears his garments closely wrapped about him and has no companions on his walks, a man who makes himself the first target for examination and reproof, do not expect from such a man any fla
ttery or deception, or that clever and seductive language which is most in use in dealing with democracies and satraps and dictators.

  Not so are they who wait upon such men,

  But rather youths with handsome cloaks and frocks,

  Whose locks are ever sleek, whose faces fair.

  Aye, for these men enter upon life as if they were going to some revel, piping and singing and drinking on the supposition that it is a kind of festival or conclave of wastrels into which they have burst.

  [15] But if a man, having seen how much there is that is dreadful and hateful in the world, and that everywhere are countless enemies, both public and private, with whom wantonness and deceit hold sway,

  Subdues his body with injurious blows,

  Casts round his shoulders sorry rags, in guise

  A slave, steals into the wide-wayed town of those

  Who hold debauch,

  meaning no harm to his neighbours — such as Odysseus meant to the suitors when he came in that guise — but on the contrary seeking if perchance he may unobtrusively do them some good — if, I say, such a man comes among you, why do you stir him up, or why do you call upon one who will appear to you to be a churlish and savage person as a speaker? For your ears have not been prepared for the reception of harsh and stubborn words; nay, as the hooves of cattle are tender when they are reared in soft, smooth country, so men’s ears are dainty when reared in the midst of flattery and lying speech.

  [16] Why, then, are you eager to hear what you will not endure? Something must have happened to you like what Aesop says happened to the eyes. They believed themselves to be the most important organs of the body, and yet they observed that it was the mouth that got the benefit of most things and in particular of honey, the sweetest thing of all. So they were angry and even found fault with their owner. But when he placed in them some of the honey, they smarted and wept and thought it a stinging, unpleasant substance. Therefore, do not you yourselves seek to taste the words that philosophy has to offer, as the eyes tasted honey; if you do, methinks, not only will you be vexed when they cause a smart, but perhaps you will even say that such a thing cannot possibly be philosophy, but rather abuse and mischief.

  [17] The fact is, my friends, that you consider yourselves fortunate and blessed because your home is in a great city and you occupy a fertile land, because you find the needs of life supplied for you in greatest abundance and profusion, because you have this river flowing through the heart of your city, and because, moreover, Tarsus is the capital of all the people of Cilicia. But Archilochus, who, as I have said, found favour in the eyes of Apollo, in speaking of a general thus expresses his opinion:

  A general who is tall doth please me not,

  Who walks with legs apart, delights in curls,

  And shaves the hair that grows upon his calves.

  ‘Nay,’ says he, ‘let me rather have one who is bandy-legged, stands firmly, and has hairy shins.’ [18] Therefore you must not think that if Archilochus had no love for the sort of general he has described and did not gauge the value of a general by his height or hair, he would ever have praised a city because he found in it such things as rivers and baths and fountains and porticoes and a multitude of houses and a wide extent of space, for such things are simply like hair and ringlets on a man; to me at least it appears that in place of these things he would have preferred a city that is both small and weak, even if perched upon a rock, provided it is wisely managed.

  [19] Well, there you have what Archilochus has to say, but how about Homer? Did not Odysseus come from an island, and not even from one of medium size — of course not — nor yet from a fertile one, but rather from one of which the poet could only say by way of praise that it ‘pastured goats’? But still Homer says that it was by that man’s counsel and judgement that even Troy was taken, a city that was so great, and held sway over so many peoples,

  Seaward as far as Lesbos, the abode

  Of gods, and, landward, Phrygia and the stream

  Of boundless Hellespont;

  a city which he declares all men call ‘rich-in-gold, rich-in-copper’. [20] Did Troy receive any benefit from either the magnitude of its wealth, or the number of its subjects or allies, or the beauty of its fields, or of Mt. Ida or Simoïs or ‘eddying Xanthus’,

  whom Zeus the immortal created?

  And yet the poet says that there were also certain springs of rare beauty in the suburbs, one that was warm and whose waters were most pleasant, such that steam actually rose from it, and the other as cold as ice, even in summer, so that both in summer and in winter the lovely daughters of the Trojans could do their washing without discomfort. [21] And not only were the Trojans distinguished for wealth and richness of soil and number of inhabitants, but also human beings born at Troy were very beautiful, both men and women, horses were very fleet, the people were held to be dear to the gods, and they were fenced about with a circuit-wall most strong — in fact that wall of theirs was the work of Poseidon and Apollo. Moreover, Zeus declared that of all the cities beneath the sun he loved that city most. Such was the fleetness of their steeds that they could run upon the tips of the heads of grain, such the beauty of Ganymede that he was made the cupbearer of Zeus; and Alexander lured away from Greece the noblest woman of that land; as for Cassandra, Homer declares that she was not inferior to Aphroditê in beauty.

  [22] But despite all that, because luxury and insolence came upon them and they thought they had no need of culture and sobriety, they have become by far the most unfortunate of all men. Has not the whole earth been filled with the tale of their disasters? Yea, neither the speed of their horses nor Zeus nor Ganymede availed them aught, but a man from a city so wretched and obscure destroyed them, and that citizen of Ithaca was able to overcome the men of Ilium one and all and to pillage utterly and destroy the ‘wide-wayed land.’

  [23] Aye, the gods no longer love men who are wanton and senseless and unrestrained and inclined toward insolence and laziness and luxury. Therefore, rely not on these speakers of yours and do not accept their words of congratulation and admiration or the men themselves who are so clever at singing praises; for they only deceive and vainly excite you like foolish children; but rather welcome the man who will point out to you some of your faults, and will first of all, if he can, enable you to think, because such things as I have name do not make you blessed, not even if the mighty Nile itself should flow through your city with waters clearer than Castalia; not even if Pactolus, appearing here, should bear to you its gold, not grain by grain, as they say it used to do for the Lydians in days gone by, but in a mass like mud; not even if you should surpass Egypt and Babylon in the costliness of your buildings. [24] For if these are the things which can make men blessed — rivers or climate or situation or even harbours opening on the sea or temples or fortifications — it is impossible to list the cities that surpass you.

  You are told that the people of Byzantium yonder, who dwell close beside the Pontus itself but a short distance outside its entrance [reap much profit from their situation], since from time to time fish are thrown out upon their shores without man’s intervention; but still no one would call Byzantines blessed because of their fish — unless he would say the same of cormorants — nor would he call Egyptians blessed because of the Nile, or Babylonians because of their wall. [25] Does not the Peneus flow through a Thessaly that is desolate? Does not the Ladon flow through an Arcadia whose people have been driven from their homes? Is not the Cydnus itself purer higher up? What then? Will you say that on that account the people in that region are superior to yourselves? You might be speaking the truth if you said they were — though you will not say it — for those who are unacquainted with luxury and rascality are in my opinion better off. What of Italy itself? Take Sybaris, for example; is it not true that the more luxurious it became the more speedily it perished? And as for Croton, Thurii, Metapontum, and Tarentum, in spite of the high level of prosperity to which they each attained and the great power that once was
theirs, what city is there that they do not now surpass in desolation?

  [26] But it would be a vast undertaking to attempt to catalogue all who through luxury have suffered ruin: the Lydians long ago, the Medes, the Assyrians who preceded them, and lastly the Macedonians. For the Macedonians, although they had but lately shed their rags and were known as shepherds, men who used to fight the Thracians for possession of the millet-fields, vanquished the Greeks, crossed over into Asia and gained an empire reaching to the Indians; yet when the good things of the Persians came into their possession, the bad things also followed in their train. [27] Accordingly both sceptre and royal purple and Median cookery and the very race itself came to an end, so that to-day, if you should pass through Pella, you would see no sign of a city at all, apart from the presence of a mass of shattered pottery on the site. And yet the districts belonging to the cities and peoples I have named still remain just as they used to be, and no one has diverted the rivers into other channels, nor was anything else of that sort different once from what it is today; but in spite of that, whatever is touched by extravagance and luxury cannot long endure.

  [28] For think not that rams and siege-towers and the other engines of war are as ruinous as luxury, whether it is a man whom one wishes to see prostrate or a city. No, it is not river or plain or harbour that makes a city prosperous, nor quantity of riches or multitude of houses or treasuries of the gods — objects to which deity pays no heed — nay, not even if some people do transport to their cities the mountains and rocks at the cost of great physical pain and labour and untold expense, does that bring happiness; instead it is sobriety and common sense that save. These make blessed those who employ them; these make men dear to the gods, not frankincense or myrrh, God knows, nor roots and gum of trees or the fragrant herbs of India and Arabia. [29] But as for you, if by chance the river shifts its course and flows with more turbid stream than usual, you are annoyed and feel that you must offer an explanation to people who have come to Tarsus for the first time; on the other hand, though you see the manners of the city shifting and growing worse and ever more and more disordered, you pay no heed. [30] Yet, though you want water to be pure, not only for drinking but also for sightliness, you fail to seek a character that is pure and free from excess. Indeed one may often hear men say: “Yet perhaps it is not we alone who have changed, but practically everybody.” But that is just as if in time of epidemic someone, because all, or nearly all, were ill, should not care to take any precautions for his own health, or, by Zeus, as if a man storm-tossed at sea, perceiving that all on board were in peril, should therefore neglect his own safety. What! If an entire fleet goes down, does that make the disaster any the less portentous!