The occasion to which we owe the speech is unknown. In style and theme it would be appropriate as an introduction to some public recitation from Homer. Though we hardly need additional testimony to the enduring fame of Homer, Dio’s tribute affords striking testimony to the surprising range of the influence exerted by the poet (§§ 6-8). Somewhat similar testimony is afforded by Or. .-.
The Fifty-third Discourse: On Homer
Democritus expresses his opinion of Homer in these words: “Homer, having been blessed with a divinely inspired genius, fashioned an ‘ornament of verses’ of every kind,” thus indicating his belief that without a divine and superhuman nature it is impossible to produce verses of such beauty and wisdom. Many others too have written on this subject, some expressly lauding the poet and at the same time pointing out some of his wise sayings, while others have busied themselves with interpreting the thought itself, this group including not merely Aristarchus and Crates and several others of those who later were called grammarians but formerly critics. In fact Aristotle himself, with whom they say that literary interpretation and criticism began, treats of the poet in many dialogues, admiring him in general and paying him honour, as does also Heracleides of Pontus.
[2] Prior to these, however, Plato mentions Homer at every opportunity, marvelling at the charm and grace of his poesy, though often censuring him in respect of his myths and tales about the gods, holding that he has told what was not at all beneficial to mankind when he narrates in detail about the gods instances of greed, of scheming against one another, and of adultery and wrangling and contentiousness. And finally he reaches the point of refusing to admit Homer to partnership in his own state and constitution, which, as he himself believed, was to be founded upon wisdom, his purpose being, not only that those whom he appoints as guardians and leaders of the state should not as boys hear such tales about gods, but also that no melancholy account of conditions in the lower world should cause them to be more faint-hearted in the face of battle and death or, like colts which have been badly broken in, suspicious from the start about things which are not really terrifying.
[3] Regarding these matters there is indeed another theory, which is fuller, longer, and not easy to expound, dealing with the question whether Homer erred in these particulars, or whether he was merely transmitting to mankind certain doctrines about natural phenomena embodied in the myths after the fashion then in vogue. Indeed it is not easy to arbitrate a question like that, just as, in my opinion, it is not easy to decide against one of two men who are your friends, both being worthy of respect, when each makes charges against the other.
[4] But to continue, Zeno the philosopher also has written on both the Iliad and the Odyssey, and, in fact, on the Margites too; he believes that this poem also was composed by Homer at the time when he was rather young and was testing his poetic genius. [5] However, Zeno finds fault with none of the work of Homer, undertaking to interpret it and at the same time to show that the poet has written some things in accord with fancy and some things in accord with reality, Zeno’s purpose being to save Homer from appearing to be at war with himself in certain matters which are held to be inconsistent with each other as narrated by Homer. But Antisthenes anticipated Zeno in this theory, namely, that some things have been spoken by the poet in accord with fancy and some in accord with reality; however, Antisthenes did not elaborate the theory, whereas Zeno made it plain in each of its details. Moreover, Persaeus, the pupil of Zeno, also has followed the same plan in his writings, as have several others as well.
But to return to Plato, while finding fault with Homer, as I have said, he at the same time declares his poetic power to be something amazing, his idea being that Homer is capable of everything and reproduces literally every voice, even of rivers, winds, and waves; moreover, he very jestingly gives instructions to bind the poet’s brows with a fillet of wool, pour perfume on him, and — send him somewhere else.
[6] Furthermore, Plato himself in praising Homer’s poesy for its charm admires the man exceedingly. Indeed, without divine favour, without inspiration of the Muses and Apollo, it is simply impossible for poetry to be created which is so lofty and magnificent, and withal so sweet, as to enthral for so many years, not merely men who have the same tongue and language as the poet, but even many of alien race, yes, so that not only men who speak two languages and are of mixed stock, though unacquainted with much else that is Greek, are very familiar with Homer’s verses, but even some who live very far away. For example, it is said that Homer’s poetry is sung even in India, where they have translated it into their own speech and tongue. [7] The result is that, while the people of India have no chance to behold many of the stars in our part of the world — for example, it is said that the Bears are not visible in their country — still they are not unacquainted with the sufferings of Priam, the laments and wailings of Andromachê and Hecuba, and the valour of both Achilles and Hector: so remarkable has been the spell of one man’s poetry! It even seems to me that by this power of his he has surpassed both the Sirens and Orpheus. [8] For in what respect is it a greater feat to cast a spell upon stones and trees and wild beasts and to make them follow than to have mastered so completely men of alien race who do not understand the Hellenic speech, men who have acquaintance with neither the poet’s tongue nor the deeds of which his poem tells, but are, as I believe, simply enchanted by a lyre? Moreover, I believe that many barbarians who are still more ignorant than those men of India have heard of the name of Homer, if nothing more, though they have no clear notion what it signifies, whether animal or vegetable or something else still.
[9] However that may be, Homer’s life deserves praise much more than his verse. For example, his having lived in poverty, a wanderer, and making from his poems only enough to sustain life is evidence of remarkable fortitude and nobility of soul; and besides, his never having written his name anywhere, yes, never having even referred to himself anywhere in his poetry, though all other writers with any reputation for skill in composing either verse or prose write their names both at the beginning and at the end, and many even in the body of their works, both prose and verse. Take, for example, Hecataeus and Herodotus and Thucydides, [10] Thucydides, in fact, solemnly affirming, not merely once at the beginning of his history, but many times, in connexion with each winter and summer, “Thucydides composed this.” Homer, on the contrary, was so liberal and magnanimous that nowhere in his poetry will he be found to refer to himself, but in fact, like the prophets of the gods, he speaks, as it were, from the invisible, from somewhere in the inmost sanctuary.
[11] Again, since everything Homer wrote is both beneficial and practically serviceable, if one were to review all he has said on the subject of virtue and vice, it would be a vast undertaking; however, on the subject of kings a brief statement must be made as to what he says they should be like. Whenever, for instance, he praises any king, he calls him “the peer of Zeus in wisdom”; and all the good kings are “Zeus-nurtured”; and Minos, who has the highest reputation among the Greeks for justice, he says is both the associate and pupil of Zeus, his idea being that Minos was the first and greatest king of all, and the only one who himself understood and handed down the art of kingship, and also that good kings should shape their course with an eye to Minos, patterning their own conduct after a god, so far as humanly possible. [12] Moreover, the poet makes manifest the character of Zeus and the nature of his kingship in a multitude of ways, but, to put it briefly and succinctly, he frequently indicates his power and disposition by the constant epithet, “father of gods and of men,” the notion being that the care exercised by kings should be that of a solicitous father, accompanied by kindness and affection, and that he should never lead and govern men in any other way than with love and protective care, since Zeus does not disdain being called men’s father.
THE FIFTY-FOURTH DISCOURSE: ON SOCRATES
This little tribute to Socrates is presumably the prelude to some longer discussion. It affords no clue as to either the
occasion or the place where the speech was delivered, but the speaker’s rather scornful treatment of the sophists, who occupy fully one-third of the piece, and his affectionate regard for Socrates point clearly to some date subsequent to Dio’s exile.
Hippias of Elis, Gorgias of Leontini, Polus, and Prodicus are all familiar figures among the sophists who made such a stir in Greece toward the close of the fifth century B.C. All make their appearance in the pages of Plato, Hippias and Gorgias having provided the titles for three of his dialogues. One might wonder why Dio refrains from naming “the man from Abdera” (§ 2). Abdera’s fame may be said to rest upon that of two of her native sons, Democritus, the famous philosopher, and Protagoras, no less famous as a sophist. In spite of the verb φιλοσοφῶν in § 2, we infer that it is the latter whom Dio has in mind, and also he would naturally take his place beside the four sophists already named. Like them, he figures prominently in Plato’s dialogues, and one of them bears his name.
The Fifty-fourth Discourse: On Socrates
The sophists, Hippias of Elis and Gorgias of Leontini and Polus and Prodicus, flourished in Greece for some time and won marvellous acclaim, not alone in the cities at large, but even in Sparta and Athens, and they amassed much wealth, each according to his ability, both by public grant from the several states and also from certain princes and kings and men in private life. But though they made many speeches, their speeches were devoid of sense, even the slightest — the kind of speech from which, no doubt, it is possible to make money and to please simpletons! [2] But there was another, a native of Abdera, who, far from acquiring money from others, not only was steadily ruining his own estate, which was a large one, but finally lost it by pursuing philosophy, foolishly, it is plain to see, and seeking after what was of no material advantage to him.
[3] And there was also Socrates, a poor man at Athens and a man of the people, who also was not driven by his poverty to accept anything; and yet he had a wife who had no hatred for money, and also sons who required support, and, besides, he is said to have associated with the wealthiest among the young men, some of whom are reported to have begrudged him literally nothing. However, he was in general sociable in his nature and a lover of his kind, and in particular he made himself accessible to all who wished to approach and converse with him, not only spending his time for the most part about the market-place, but visiting the palaestra and sitting down near the tables of the money-changers — quite like the people who display their petty wares in the market or peddle them from door to door — on the chance that some one, whether young or old, might wish to ask some question and hear his answer. Now then, most of the influential persons and professional speakers pretended not even to see him; but whoever of that description did approach him, like those who have struck something with their foot, got hurt and speedily departed.
[4] However, while the words of those sophists, who won such admiration, have perished and nothing remains but their names alone, the words of Socrates, for some strange reason, still endure and will endure for all time, though he himself did not write or leave behind him either a treatise or a will. In fact, Socrates died intestate as to both his wisdom and his estate. Yet though he had no estate that could be made public property through confiscation — as is commonly done in the case of men who have been condemned as criminals — his words in reality have been made public property, not by foes, God knows, but by his friends; nevertheless, though they are even now not only accessible for all but also held in high esteem, few understand them and partake of their wisdom.
THE FIFTY-FIFTH DISCOURSE: ON HOMER AND SOCRATES
In his thirteenth discourse (§ 31) Dio speaks of having given instruction during his exile to groups of two and three. The document before us, if not actually a stenographic report of such a proceeding, at least portrays the method employed by Dio. Similar examples have been met already in Or. , , , and . In these, and in others like them to be met later, just as in some dialogues of Plato, there is at first a lively debate between teacher and pupil, after which the teacher takes possession of the field and expounds his doctrine with little or no interruption from the pupil. The text of Dio, however, does not reveal the identity of speakers other than the master himself. This may be regarded as a token that the dialogue is an authentic transcript of an actual experience, the reporter having been concerned to preserve a record of what was said and the pupil involved in the discussion being considered of too little consequence to deserve to have his name recorded. Dio certainly understood the psychological advantage that Plato derived from using real persons as the participants in his dialogues and calling them by name (cf. § 12), and it is hard to believe that if Dio’s dialogues were mere literary fictions he would have failed to avail himself of that advantage.
The theme of the present Discourse is that Socrates acquired his art as a teacher from Homer. The anonymous interlocutor is sceptical on that point, objecting that Socrates never met Homer, and also calling attention to the wide difference between the function of the poet and that of the philosopher. After successfully demolishing these objections, Dio proceeds to note certain points of resemblance between Homer and Socrates — their modesty, their scorn of wealth, their interest in ethical problems, their use of parables or similes as vehicles of instruction, and their method of employing specific human beings to illustrate virtues and vices. To this last-named point Dio devotes fully a third of his dialogue. His arguments seem to have silenced his pupil, for there is no rejoinder.
The Fifty-fifth Discourse: On Homer and Socrates
Interlocutor. Since you make it evident that on general grounds you are an admirer of Socrates and also that you are filled with wonder at the man as revealed in his words, you can tell me of which among the sages he was a pupil; just as, for example, Pheidias the sculptor was a pupil of Hegias, and Polygnotus the painter and his brother were both pupils of their father Aglaophon, and Pherecydes is said to have been a teacher of Pythagoras, and Pythagoras in turn a teacher of Empedocles and Sophocles. And indeed we are able to name the teachers of most other famous men — and to tell through association with whom each became noteworthy — with the exception of Heracleitus of Ephesus and Hesiod of Ascra. For, to spare us the trouble of seeking for his teacher, Hesiod says he received his poetic gift from the Muses in a branch of laurel as he was tending his flocks on Helicon, [2] while Heracleitus with even more graciousness says that he himself discovered what the nature of the universe really is without anybody’s teaching him, and that he became wise by his own efforts. As for Homer, this point, like everything else connected with him, is obscure to the Greeks. But while we have heard that Socrates as a boy studied the calling of his father, be so good as to tell us clearly who was his teacher in the wisdom which has proved so helpful and noble.
[3] Dio. Why, this is plain, I imagine, to many people, provided they are familiar with both men, namely, that Socrates is in truth a pupil of Homer, and not of Archelaüs, as some say.
Int. And how can it possibly be said that the man who neither met Homer nor ever saw him, but lived so many years later, was a pupil of Homer?
Dio. What of it? Supposing a man lived in Homer’s day but had heard none of the poetry of Homer, or, if he had heard, had given none of it his attention, shall we be able to say he was a pupil of Homer?
Int. By no means.
[4] Dio. Then it is not absurd that the man who neither met nor saw Homer and yet understood his poetry and became familiar with all his thought should be called a pupil of Homer; or will you go so far as to maintain that no one can be a zealous follower of anyone with whom he has never been associated?
Int. Not I.
Dio. Then, if a follower, he would also be a pupil. For whoever really follows any one surely knows what that person was like, and by imitating his acts and words he tries as best he can to make himself like him. [5] But that is precisely, it seems, what the pupil does — by imitating his teacher and paying heed to him he tries to acquire his art. On th
e other hand, seeing people and associating with them has nothing to do with the process of learning. For instance, many persons not only see pipers but associate with and hear them every day, and yet they could not even blow on the pipes unless they associate with the pipers for professional ends and pay strict heed. However, if you shrink from calling Socrates a pupil of Homer, but would prefer to call him just a follower, it will make no difference to me.
[6] Int. Why, to my way of thinking, the one seems no less surprising than the other. For Homer has proved to be a poet without a peer, whereas Socrates is a philosopher.
Dio. Very well; on that principle you would not call even Archilochus a follower of Homer, because he has not used the same metre as Homer’s for all his poetry but has used any metres for the most part; nor would you call Stesichorus his follower either, because, while Homer composed epic poetry, Stesichorus was a melic poet.
[7] Int. Yes I would; all the Greeks agree on this, that Stesichorus was a follower of Homer, and indeed is very like him in his poetic art. But wherein does Socrates seem to you to resemble Homer?
Dio. First and foremost, he resembles him in his character; for neither of the two was boastful or brazen, as the most ignorant of the sophists are. For instance, Homer did not even deign to tell whence he came, or who were his parents, or what he himself was called. On the contrary, so far as he was concerned we should not even know the name of the man who wrote the Iliad and the Odyssey. [8] As for Socrates, while he could not make a secret of his fatherland because of its greatness and because Athens was exceedingly famous and dominated the Greeks at that period, yet he never said anything boastful about himself nor laid claim to any wisdom, and yet Apollo had solemnly declared that he was wisest among Greeks and barbarians. And finally, Socrates did not even put his words into writing and himself bequeath them to posterity, and in this he outdid Homer. For just as we know the name of Homer by hearing it from others, so too we know the words of Socrates because others have left them to us. Thus both were exceedingly self-restrained and modest.
Delphi Complete Works of Dio Chrysostom Page 71