Delphi Complete Works of Dio Chrysostom

by Dio Chrysostom

  [38] For example, do you not observe how the sun gives place to night, permitting the more obscure heavenly bodies to rise and shine, and again how it allows the moon to flood with light the whole earth during the absence of the greater luminary? And again, how the stars make way for the sun and do not feel they are being mistreated or destroyed through that god’s power? And again, how the sun sometimes about mid-day is darkened when the moon passes over it — the moon to which he himself gives his light — and furthermore, how the sun often is hidden by the most tenuous clouds or by some thin vapor arising near ponds and rivers, so that at times the sun is completely shut in, while at other times it sends its ray through the vapour thin and feeble? [39] And again, the ceaseless circling dance of the planets, which never get in each other’s way? Moreover, the earth is content with having drawn the lowest place, like a ship’s prop, and the water with having been poured about it, and, above them both is the atmosphere, soft and fresh, and, highest of all and all-embracing, is the ether, a divine fire encompassing the others. Now if these beings, strong and great as they are, submit to their partnership with one another and continue free from hostility, cannot such puny, petty towns of ordinary mortals, such feeble tribes dwelling in a mere fraction of the earth, maintain peace and quiet and be neighbours to one another without uproar and disturbance?

  [40] Why, birds make their nests near each other, yet do not plot against each other or quarrel over food and twigs; and ants do not quarrel either, though they have their burrows close together, often carrying home grain from the same threshing-floor, but instead they make way for each other and turn off the trail and co-operate frequently; no more do several swarms of bees, though they range over the same meadow, neglect their labours and wrangle over the nectar of the flowers. [41] What is more, herds of cattle and droves of horses often mingle in the pasture and graze quietly and tranquilly, insomuch that to the eye the two breeds form but a single group. And again, goats and sheep which have mingled in the pasture and passed the day together are easily and gently separated by their keepers. However, human beings are worse than cattle and creatures of the wild, it would seem, in regard to friendship and partnership with one another. For what Nature has done in the cause of friendship turns out, as we can see, to be a source of enmity and hatred. For example, the first and high friendship is that of parents toward children. . . .

  THE FORTY-FIRST DISCOURSE: TO THE APAMEIANS ON CONCORD

  This short address constitutes the sequel to Or. , which it must have followed closely in point of time. Dio is speaking before the Council of Apameia as a member of the official delegation from Prusa sent to conclude the reconciliation which forms the theme of both speeches. That the question was of widespread interest is shown by the presence in the audience of others than members of the Council (§ 1).

  The first half of the address is aimed at dispelling the distrust and hostility toward Dio occasioned by his seeming indifference to the Apameians in the past. This he attempts to bring about by recalling the ties which bound him and his family to that city and by explaining the delicacy of his situation as a member of both communities. The remainder of the speech is devoted to praising the blessings of concord and stressing the peculiarly intimate nature of the ties existing between the two cities. Here there are many echoes of Or. 40.

  The abruptness of the close might suggest that the speech is incomplete. However, such a supposition is not unavoidable. Dio has presumably achieved his immediate purpose — to restore himself to good favour at Apameia and, as a delegate from Prusa, to make his voice heard in support of concord. It is not as if he were the only delegate to be heard.

  The Forty-first Discourse: To the Apameians on Concord

  Members of the Council and you other most fair-minded gentlemen here present, I believe I know for a fact that you are kindly and amiably disposed toward me. For I am sure I myself esteem highly your favourable regard and have never said or done anything against you, and besides, immediately on my reaching home you honoured me officially with a resolution which you sent me, expressing your joy over my return and inviting me to pay you a visit. [2] And perhaps there was nothing remarkable in what you did; for wherever I have been, not only cities in general, but even, I may say, most of those which are of equal rank with yourselves, have presented me with citizenship, with membership in the Council, and with highest honours without my asking it, believing me to be not unserviceable to themselves or unworthy of being honoured. And your action is not that of strangers but rather, as it were, of a fatherland honouring its own son in token of goodwill and of gratitude. Yet that there should be some here — as is natural in a democracy — who, if I may say so, are not too pleased with me would not surprise me, because of the rivalry between our two cities. Though I am aware that I cannot please even all the citizens of Prusa, but, on the contrary, that some of them are vexed with me for the very reason that I seem to be too patriotic and enthusiastic. [3] However, a man who is reasonable and fair-minded must allow his fellow citizens this licence too. For it is not to be expected of democracies, nor is it reasonable, that they should not allow anyone in a city either to raise his voice against a single person or to find fault with him, even when that person shows himself to be behaving well in all respects, but such immunity from criticism is more likely to be accorded to dictators than to benefactors. Therefore, if there are some who are ill disposed toward me, it is they in whom I have the most confidence. For it is clear that they feel as they do because they believe I love my fatherland and try to foster it in every way. Therefore, if they become convinced that I regard this city too as my fatherland and am eager to do in its behalf all in my power, they will readily change and come to love me as the others do.

  [4] Now love of native land is a thing which, above all, I do not disclaim. But I ask them whether they regard this as the mark of an unjust man and one who is base, and whether they would not care to have that kind of citizen in their state. Well then, you have the opportunity to have as a citizen above suspicion not only me but the best of the other Prusans as well. And furthermore, you might more justly feel confidence in me for this very reason; for whoever is inconsiderate toward his natural parents would never be a dutiful son to his parents by adoption; [5] whereas he who cherishes those to whom he owes his being would never neglect those who have become parents as an act of grace. For Nature operates without our choice, whereas grace is an act of freewill. Now then, I am a citizen of each of our two cities; but while I need not feel grateful to the men of Prusa in that connexion, it is only fair that I should requite you as benefactors. For it is through your kindness and generosity that I am a member of your city.

  However, for all who have gained citizenship by themselves there is only the benevolence inspired by the grant, and the compulsion which Nature imposes is not attached to it. [6] But as for me, I partake of both; for my grandfather, along with my mother, acquired from the emperor of that day, who was his friend, not only Roman citizenship, but along with it citizenship in Apameia too, while my father got citizenship here from you; consequently I am your fellow townsman by both grace and birth. Again, to my children at least this is fatherland rather than Prusa. While, therefore, necessity dictates that the children follow the father, it is much more pleasant for this father to follow his children.

  [7] These, then, are the reasons why I happen to be well disposed toward you and have a citizen’s state of mind; and, moreover, I have shown it openly too. For when strife had broken out between our cities and the city of my birth very considerately disliked to trouble me against my wishes, though it was very eager to take up the problem, often inviting my support by the honours it bestowed upon me, I did not give heed to this inducement alone — not that I should have had any reluctance about acting in behalf of Prusa, since I might possibly have accomplished as much as any one and had not a few friends, and friends, too, not lacking in influence, not to say anything invidious or likely to hurt some persons’ feelings; furthermore,
it was not because I shrank from the journey, since I had to go abroad in any case. [8] Well then, in spite of these considerations I held off from the affair, not as a traitor to the men of Prusa, but out of consideration for you, and because I believed I should be more serviceable to both sides if I could make the cities friends, not alone by ridding them of their past subjects of dispute, but also by turning them toward friendship and concord for the future. For this is the best course of all and the most expedient, not only in dealings between equals, but also in dealings between superiors and inferiors.

  [9] Now I understand how difficult it is to eradicate strife from human beings, especially when it has been nurtured for a fairly long period of time, just as it is not easy to rid the body of a disease that has long since become a part of it, especially in case one should wish to effect a painless cure. But still I have confidence in the character of your city, believing it to be, not rough and boorish, but in very truth the genuine character of those distinguished men and that blessed city by which you were sent here as friends indeed to dwell with friends. That city, while so superior to the rest of mankind in good fortune and power, has proved to be even more superior in fairness and benevolence, bestowing ungrudgingly both citizenship and legal rights and offices, believing no man of worth to be an alien, and at the same time safeguarding justice for all alike.

  [10] In emulation of that city it is fitting that you should show yourselves gentle and magnanimous toward men who are so close to you, virtually housemates, not harsh and arrogant neighbours, since they are men with whom you have common ties of wedlock, offspring, civic institutions, sacrifices to the gods, festive assemblies, and spectacles; moreover, you are educated together with them individually, you feast with them, you entertain each other, you spend the greater portion of your time together, you are almost one community, one city only slightly divided. Besides, several citizens of Prusa you have even made citizens of Apameia, you have made them members of the Council, you have deemed them not unworthy of becoming magistrates among you, and you admitted them to partnership in these august privileges which pertain to Roman citizenship. [11] How, then, is it reasonable to regard individuals singly as friends and to show them honour, and then as a community to view their city as a foe, as Apameia and Prusa both are doing? For when men love the inhabitants of a city and mingle with them and welcome them to citizenship, what explanation remains except that they do not like each other’s climate and the position of each other’s city, or else — an unholy thing even to suggest — that they detest each other’s gods? Furthermore, any enmity towards any people is an irksome, grievous thing. For there is no enemy so weak as not on occasion to hurt even the man who appears to be very strong, or to display his hatred by either saying some painful word or doing some injurious act.

  [12] For the fruit of hatred is never, so to speak, sweet or beneficial, but of all things most unpleasant and bitter, nor is any burden so hard to bear or so fatiguing as enmity. For example, while it always interferes with strokes of good fortune, it increases disasters, and while for him who suffers from something else it doubles the pain, it does not permit those who are enjoying good fortune to rejoice in fitting measure. For it is inevitable, I suppose, that the masses should be harmed by one another, and, on the other hand, be despised and held in low esteem by the others, not only as having antagonists to begin with, but also as being themselves foolish and contentious. [13] However, there is nothing finer or more godlike than friendship and concord, whether between man and man or between city and city. For who are they who acquire the good things of life more becomingly, when it is their friends who assist in supplying them? Who escape the bad things more easily than those who have friends as allies? Who are less affected by distress than those who have persons to share their suffering and to help them bear it? To whom is good fortune sweeter than to those who gladden by their success not only themselves but others too? For I would not count that man fortunate who has no one to share his pleasure. [14] Again, what helper, what counsellor, is more welcome to behold than a friend met unexpectedly? In fact one might almost say that he is also an augury, not only most auspicious, but even most helpful, and to whomever he may meet a loyal friend. But the works of hatred, indeed, and of enmity are painful and grievous everywhere. The presence of an enemy is a grievous thing, whether in a serious business or in the midst of good cheer, a painful thing to behold and painful to recall, but beyond all things most baneful to experience.

  THE FORTY-SECOND DISCOURSE: AN ADDRESS IN HIS NATIVE CITY

  This delightful little bit, obviously the introduction to a more pretentious performance, served to disarm the audience and make it sympathetic with the speaker. Its note of self-depreciation sounds quite modern. Incidentally, we get valuable information about the fate of literary works even in the lifetime of their authors, as well as about the activity of the booktrade and the low cost of its product.

  Arnim asserts that our little “curtain-raiser” is unmistakably from Dio’s philosophical period. Actually all that seems unmistakable about the piece is that its author either has achieved fame as a public speaker or thinks he has. The very title is not above suspicion, for the remarks which follow afford no clue to the identity of the speaker or to either place or occasion of delivery.

  The Forty-second Discourse: An Address in his Native City

  What your purpose is about me and my wisdom — or folly, as the case may be — I can’t imagine; whether you really want a speech from me with the expectation of hearing something wonderful, something the like of which you could not hear from any other man now living, or, just the reverse, with a view to showing me up and proving that I know nothing important or weighty. [2] For if this is your purpose, I put myself at your disposal with full confidence, to the end that you may satisfy your desire; but if such is not one, I am apprehensive as to the opposite opinion, lest when you have heard me you may pass unfavourable judgement upon me undeservedly, merely for the reason that you yourselves had formed an incorrect opinion about me. For I have never given any one to understand that I am an able speaker or thinker or that I possess more knowledge than the average; but on that very point I strongly insist, on every occasion, to those who ask me to speak, and I correct that false impression before settling down to my speech; and many consider this very protest of mine to be ostentation.

  [3] However that may be, I myself also take now this path and now that. For, on the one hand, whenever I consider myself and my inexperience, my inexperience in simply everything, but especially in speaking, recognizing that I am only a layman, I am minded for the future to live the life of a layman; on the other hand, when I consider those who take me seriously and invite me to make a speech, I am constrained to feel suspicious of myself, lest some quality of mine may after all be worth while, and without being aware of it, I may be in the same position as certain members of the animal kingdom, which, though they are useful to mankind and have within them some power to cure diseases, whether it be a potency of bile or blood or fat or hair, are unaware of it, while human beings, aware of this power, pursue and try in every way to capture them, not for the sake of their meat, but for that power of theirs.

  [4] Perhaps, then, in my case too people are always trying to make me speak, not because they have any need of my speech, but of something else. For I cannot imagine they have shown such interest in me from being ignorant and from never having heard me, as many no doubt desire many things because of ignorance. For almost all men are acquainted with my speeches, and they distribute them broadcast in all directions, just as lads in the cities sing cheap ditties at eventide. Moreover, almost all report my speeches to one another, not as they were delivered, but after having made them still better in accordance with their own ability, some making improvements purposely and [5] — evidently being ashamed to remember such stuff — introducing numerous changes and rearrangements by way of betterment, while others possibly do so unconsciously through not remembering very well. And so one no
longer buys my wisdom from the market in abundant supply at an obol, as somebody has it, but instead one merely stoops and plucks it from the ground. One might almost say, therefore, that my speeches have had much the same fate as the pottery of Tenedos; for while all who sail that way put on board pottery from there, yet no one finds it easy to get it across in sound condition; but many crack or smash it, and ere they are aware they have naught but shards.

  THE FORTY-THIRD DISCOURSE: A POLITICAL ADDRESS IN HIS NATIVE CITY

  This Discourse, like the one preceding, is merely a prelude to a longer speech. As the title indicates, this prelude deals with political problems. In his concluding sentences Dio enumerates the separate counts in what he calls his κρυφαία τις γραφή, but various clues sprinkled here and there prove the scene to have been, not the courtroom, but a town meeting. However, Dio is on the defensive, if not against a formal indictment, still against slanders spread by an anonymous person, who appears to have been the tool and lackey of an official whom Dio labels ἡγεμόνα πονηρόν. This official Arnim identifies with that Julius Bassus whose conduct as proconsul of Bithynia figures largely in the correspondence of Pliny. If we may believe Dio (§ 11), that conduct would seem to deserve the name tyranny which he applies to it, but in the trial itself (A.D. 103 or 104) the only count on which Bassus was condemned was that of accepting bribes. It is assumed that the acts enumerated by Dio were held at Rome to have been in line with his official duty.