Interlocutor. What verse?
Dio.
Both potter at potter doth rage and joiner at joiner.
[2] Int. Many other verses of Hesiod’s will be seen to have been well expressed about both men and gods, and, I may almost add, about more important matters than the sort just mentioned; yet here too, no doubt, he has expressed himself very truthfully as well as with experience of human nature.
Dio. Shall we, then, consider them more carefully?
Int. Why, how will so large a gathering bear with us if we discuss such matters?
Dio. Why not; have they not come to hear wise words and about wise words?
Int. They would say so, it seems to me.
Dio. But they do not regard Hesiod as commonplace and of small account, do they?
Int. By no means.
Dio. Well, is it not useful for them to hear about envy and jealousy, and who those are who are envious and jealous of one another, and for what reasons?
Int. Of course, most useful of all.
[3] Dio. Then it is useful also to test the patience of the gentlemen without delay. Well now, does Hesiod have any other reason for saying that these men of his are envious and ill-disposed toward one another than because each would make less profit from his occupation, whatever that occupation may be, if there were many of a similar occupation?
Int. Why, what other reason could it be?
Dio. Then, if it is profitable for a potter that there should be no other potter in the same city or village, is this not profitable for a butcher, to the end that he may have the opportunity to sell whatever kind of meat he has to those who need it, even if by chance he has bought a very lean or oldish carcass?
Int. Evidently it is profitable for a butcher too.
[4] Dio. Well then, is it not preferable for a dyer to ply his trade as a dyer all by himself rather than in competition with other craftsmen, so that he may be able to sell his dyes, of whatever quality they may be, to the women? For they will then be satisfied to buy dyes even slightly better than the kind than they are themselves accustomed to use for dyeing on their farms, dyes picked up at random, and they will not demand fast colours and royal purples.
Int. Of course they will not.
Dio. Well, how about a brothel-keeper? Is it not more profitable and better with a view to his earnings that he alone should have this reproach and alone be called vile names rather than in company with others, alike whether supporting and training that kind of cattle in the city or taking to the road and dragging his stock about to the congress at Thermopylae and to the other great festive gatherings as well?
Int. Indeed I am quite sure that the brothel-keeper would pray that fellow artists might be very scarce.
[5] Dio. Then, was it about all, that is, all who are engaged in the same line of business, that he was making an assumption so sweeping, believing that all are detrimental to one another and a hindrance in the gaining of their living?
Int. Yes, he meant all, most likely.
Dio. Aye, it was not like him, I suppose, to take them up one by one. For certainly in other matters it is his custom to treat of the whole topic by means of one or two examples. For instance, when he says that a man would not even lose an ox except for the depravity of his neighbour, he surely does not mean that, while a bad neighbor would destroy an ox or condone the crime in others, he would not steal a sheep, provided he could escape detection, or one of the fine goats which yield abundant milk and bear twins; nay, manifestly he speaks to those who read his poems as to intelligent persons. [6] Are we, then, putting it concisely, to say that the poet, speaking thus briefly, refers to all who belong to the same craft as not loving one another and not benefiting one another?
Int. Most assuredly.
Dio. Well now, in Heaven’s name, is seafaring a craft, or would it receive that label in any degree less than the craft of the potter or of the butcher?
Int. Not less, I suppose.
Dio. Then in a large ship with many sails and a large cargo and a crowd of passengers would a single sailor be successful, and would it be to his advantage to have no other sailor on board, be his knowledge of nautical affairs either greater or less than his own; and, on the other hand, if there are many of them, will they be detrimental to one another and harmful, and on that account on a ship do the majority of the sailors hate each other?
[7] Int. This matter of the sailors is a different story. Yet at any rate a pilot, I fancy, would not enjoy seeing another pilot sailing with him.
Dio. When there is a violent storm and the pilot cannot control each of his two rudders because of old age or the violence of the sea, even at such a time does he not like another pilot or pray that the one to relieve him may make his appearance; or, again, when he needs to sleep, having been without sleep for many nights and days opening, even in such circumstances too does he feel the same hatred, and does he consider it his loss if a second pilot is on board?
Int. Perhaps he would not hate him then; how could he? Still, we are not speaking of a sailor’s craft or of nautical affairs either.
[8] Dio. Very well. The physician, at any rate, practises his healing art on land and has a profession not inferior to that of the joiners.
Int. Well, what of that?
Dio. Do you really suppose he would like to be the only one acquainted with his art in a city as large as this, particularly if many are ill?
Int. What is to prevent his wishing to be the only one? For though for everybody else the situation may be worse, since they cannot all be treated by a single physician, still his work is prized more highly under these conditions. Nor can one tell the amount and the number of the fees he might take in if he, single-handed in the midst of so many sick, were able to provide treatment.
Dio. But I am not speaking to you of a physician who is crazy.
[9] Int. What! Do you consider it the mark of insanity in a man to wish to be very highly prized and to amass great wealth?
Dio. Yes, if when he himself is a victim of lethargic fever or has an attack of inflammation of the brain he is delighted that he has no one to cure him and give him a potion of mandragora to drink or some other healthful drug, his purpose being, forsooth, to be the only one to get the fees and honours in the city. But if, then, besides himself, his children also and his wife and his friends should be ill, all dangerously ill, would he even then pray that no other physician be found to come to his rescue; and if one does make his appearance, is the physician likely, as Hesiod puts it, to rage and to regard as an enemy his own saviour and the saviour of those dearest to him?
[10] Again, suppose there should occur some such thing as once befell the Egyptian physicians. You see, they tried to cure Darius the Persian — for in falling from his horse his ankle bone happened to slip out of place — and they were unable by means of their own art to correct the injury, but, instead, they brought upon him insomnia and awful pains by pulling the joint and trying to force it into place. So Darius gave orders to keep these men in prison, intending that they should be tortured to death. But learning that among his captives there was a certain Greek who endeavoured to heal people, summoning him in desperation he ordered him to help him if he could. [11] Now the man was Democedes of Croton, who was considered the ablest of the Greek physicians of that day. And he did immediately cause him to fall asleep, and then by means of poultices and fomentations and so forth within a few days he made him sound and well. But when Darius bade him take as reward anything he pleased, he besought him to release the physicians. And, indeed, they were released, because Democedes had requested it. Now I ask you whether in such circumstances they were jealous of Democedes and regarded him as an enemy, as Hesiod says is true with the potters or the joiners, because they believed it to be to their advantage if no other physician turned up and cured the king, or whether they felt a strong affection for Democedes and were grateful to him.
Int. It would be reasonable to suppose they were grateful.
[12] Dio. Again, t
here are corselet-makers in the cities and helmet-makers and wall-builders and spear-polishers and many others; whether, therefore, it is to their advantage that only one in each city should be a worker at each craft rather than enough to do the work is a matter I would gladly learn. For it is clear that, if enemies attack at a time when the walls have not been completed and not all the citizens have been equipped with arms, then they would be forced to hazard all without arms and walls. [13] Therefore, if the city were taken, though possibly these craftsmen might escape with their lives, still, taken captive and in chains, they would work for the foe without pay and at forced labour, all because previously they had lived pampered lives and sold their corselets and helmets and spears at an excessive price, and they would recognize that it was not right nor for their own good for a craftsman to be jealous or angry because of his craft, whether it was blacksmith against blacksmith or joiner against joiner, and that it was not more profitable or better for him to be the only worker at his craft than to have a few fellow workers.
[14] Well then, for the others, I dare say, what Hesiod says they desire is not always preferable, but only for the potters and butchers and dyers and brothel-keepers. Then jealousy and envy and the desire that no one else shall ply the same trade, whether it be that of the butcher or the dyer or the potter, are even still more suitable for the brothel-keepers than for physicians and pilots or for those who are engaged in any other more serious pursuit.
Very good. But if for pilots and physicians and those just mentioned it is not better to live where there is a shortage of their fellow craftsmen, can it be that for men of prudence and wisdom it is better and more profitable to find themselves without associates?
Int. By no means.
[15] Dio. Yes, because with the man of intelligence and benevolence, in addition to his being magnanimous and inoffensive, in addition to his knowing that virtue is beneficial to him, both his own virtue and that of his neighbours, and in addition to the unlikelihood that any one, even of the commoner sort, would ever be jealous one toward another regarding these things which are the common blessings of all mankind — in addition, I say to all this, of the other things which are the occasion of envy and reciprocal ill-will among the masses, not only does he not admire a single one, but he does not consider any to deserve serious regard, just as yesterday we were saying with reference to wealth. [16] Consequently, neither would he envy any one gold or silver or cattle or house or any other thing such as we were speaking of — as another poet says, not expressing his own private sentiment but expounding the opinion of mankind,
The things whereby men live at ease and gain
The epithet of affluent,
his idea being that they merely are called affluent, but are not truly so.
[17] Very well; then we are agreed, the high-minded, perfect man is above material wealth; but in the matter of reputation would he perhaps quarrel with and envy those whom he sees more highly honoured by the crowd and winning greater plaudits? or shall we say that he is not unaware that fame is the praise bestowed by the masses; but if the masses, evidently the unintelligent?
Int. By no means is it likely that he is ignorant of that.
[18] Dio. Well then, do you believe that a good flautist takes pleasure in his skill and is proud when praised by unmusical and unskilled persons, and that, if youthful swineherds and shepherds crowding around him express their admiration and applaud him, he is elated over this thing itself and feels that praise from those persons is worth everything? Why, the Theban flautist made it plain that he did not pay very much attention either to the audience in the theatre or to the judges, inexperienced in flute-playing as they were — and that, too, although he was contending for a prize and victory — but for all that, he did not venture to depart even slightly from the proper rhythm, but he said that he was piping for himself and the Muses. What then! [19] Do you suppose that Orpheus, the son of the Muse — if the tale about him is true — would rejoice more when the birds flew down to him as he sang and the wild beasts were entranced by his voice and stood by tamely and quietly every time he began to make melody, and when, moreover, the trees came toward him with their fruit and flowers, and when the stones moved and came together, so that great cairns of stones were collected near him — do you suppose, I say, that at the sight of these doings he was delighted and proud, believing that he had reached the pinnacle of musical success, more than if his mother Calliopê had praised his playing the cithara and had stroked his head and said that he was fairly competent in music and very skilful in the fine points of his art? [20] I fancy he would rather be praised by Philammon for musical skill or by any one then living who was acquainted with the art of singing to the cithara, than by absolutely all the beasts and birds together; nay, even if the swans had uttered cries of praise and had accompanied him with their notes, he would not have given them a moment’s notice, because they did not possess skill, or even knowledge, about the art of making melody.
Very good; what then? In the matter of health would the man of sound judgement desire to win the testimony and commendation of a single individual who is a skilled physician and conversant with care of the body, or, instead, that of countless thousands who have no understanding, who, as likely as not, on seeing him bloated with disease and swollen and ulcerous, would congratulate him as they would Pulydamas the Thessalian and Glaucus the Carystian, supposing him to be in prime condition? [21] Well, if as regards flute-playing and singing to the cithara and pre-eminence as a wrestler or a boxer the praise of experts above all others is sweetest to the ears of connoisseurs and worth the most serious attention, as regards wisdom and justice and virtue as a whole is the praise of fools and nobodies sufficient to cheer the heart of the man of sense and to satisfy his intelligence?
Int. By no means.
[22] Dio. Again, do you think that he who is acquainted with the joiner’s art, when he wants a piece of furniture to be made true and straight, after he has fitted his work together by applying one straight-edge and one gauge is happier and more confident of the accuracy of his work than if he had done the adjusting and the measuring with several different and uneven strips of wood?
By Heaven, have you heard about the doings of an accomplished painter who had exhibited in public a painting of a horse, a wonderful work of art and true to life? [23] They say, you remember, that he ordered his servant to observe those who looked at it, to see if they found fault with it or praised it, and to remember what they said and report back to him. The story goes on to relate that every man of them had something different to say about the painting and criticized it, one, I imagine, finding fault with the head, another with the haunches, another with the legs, to the effect that, if these parts had been done so and so, the work would be much better. And when the painter heard what his servant had to report, he made another painting, which conformed with the judgement and conception of the crowd, and he gave orders to place it beside the earlier one. Now the difference between the two was great; for the one was quite true to life, while the other was extremely ugly and ludicrous and resembled anything at all rather than a horse.
[24] Clearly, therefore, if a person is going to be exceedingly anxious to win the praise of the crowd as well, believing that its praise or censure has more weight than his own judgement, his every act and wish will be aimed to show himself the sort of person that the crowd expects. And manifestly he will presently be very like, not that first horse, which was executed with sincerity and in harmony with one man’s conception of his art, but like that amazing product of multiple workmanship, not pleasing even to those men themselves, its creators, having been put together by the conception and workmanship of all the world!
[25] Just so the myth says of Pandora, that she was fashioned, not by a single one among the gods, but jointly by them all, one contributing one gift and adding it to the whole, another another, the form thus fashioned proving to be by no means wise or destined for a good end either, but, as it turned out, a heteroge
neous and complicated plague to those who got her. But when a multitude of gods, yes, a democratic rabble, jointly creating and labouring at their task, proved unable by all their labour to turn out an excellent and faultless work, what would one say of that which is fashioned and created by human opinion, be it a way of life or a man? Evidently, then, if one is by nature really prudent, he would pay no heed at all to the talk of the masses, nor would he court their praise by any and every means, and consequently he will never regard this praise as important or valuable or, if I may say so, good. But not regarding it as a good, he will be incapable of viewing with malice on that account those who have it.
[26] Accordingly, so high-minded, sane, and chastened a man as the one we have in mind is not the sort that chases after riches and praise and Olympic or Pythian crowns, nor after letters carved on tablets of stone and written testimonials of communities and kings, with a view to being universally admired and conspicuous; instead, he journeys through life without ostentation and free from arrogance, so far as possible, humble and chastened by himself and by his own conscience, having no need of any extraneous adornment or adventitious honour, nor of trappings and plumes, like your cowardly hireling soldiers, who affect plumes and crests and Gorgons on their shields, who rattle their little lances and then take to their heels if some trifling danger overtakes them.
[27] Persons of this description are to be seen in large numbers among the would-be great — condottieri of a sort, popular leaders, and sophists, in theatres or before their pupils or among the tents inside a camp, uttering loud boasts on occasions when they chance to be tipsy at mid-day,
That each will be a match for one, yes, two
Full companies of Trojan men;
yet these same persons, if a single human being runs at them and offers to give chase, will be seen to flee in utter rout, the pack of them not showing themselves a match for that lone man.
Delphi Complete Works of Dio Chrysostom Page 84