The date of this Discourse may be determined roughly from a consideration of § 10, where Dio says that everybody wishes that Nero were still alive. This statement was approximately true if made in the reign of the bloodthirsty tyrant Domitian. At that time even Dio, who was unjustly suffering exile by Domitian's orders, would have preferred Nero. In the good reigns of Vespasian and Titus, who preceded Domitian, and of Nerva and Trajan, who followed him, Dio could not have made that statement. Then too, at Domitian's death in A.D. 96 Nero would have been in his sixtieth year had he lived, so that in the following period, some twenty-eight years after Nero's death, it is unlikely that the great majority, as Dio says in the same section, still believed him to be alive. Finally, at the end of this section Dio's companion accuses him of “everlastingly” ridiculing his fellow-men. This was a characteristic of the Cynic philosophers, and we infer from the thirteenth Discourse that Dio did not appear in the rôle of a philosopher before his banishment, even if he was converted to a belief in philosophy prior to this.

At the opening of the Discourse Dio is led by the sight of the statue of a handsome youth to express regret that beauty among males is dying out because unappreciated, while that of females is increasing. If, then, there are no longer any really handsome men, we Greeks are coming round to the view of the Persians that women are superior to men in beauty. The mention of the Persians leads Dio to speak of certain unnatural sexual practices among them, and this in its turn recalls to his mind the wickedness of Nero. Finally Dio's companion gets a chance to ask about the parentage of the young men represented by the statue and is told that he had no father. However, he is distinctly Greek in type, for maintains that there is a distinctly Greek type of beauty.

This Discourse, then, is in the form of conversation between Dio and another man, younger probably and a Greek also, in which Dio informally gives some of his views on beauty. One cannot fail to notice the discursiveness and loquacity so characteristic of our author.

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The Twenty-first Discourse:

On Beauty

Dio. How majestic the youth is and handsome; and, what is more, his appearance is ancient or classic1 in type, such as I have not seen in our modern statues, but only in those set up at Olympia, the very old ones. The images of the subsequent periods even show a steady decline and clearly represent less noble features, to some extent owing to the sculptors, but chiefly because the persons portrayed are themselves like their statues.

Interlocutor. It is surely a sad state of affairs, according to what you say, if the beautiful have died out in the course of time just like some plant or animal — the fate which they do say has overtaken the lions in Europe; for the race of lions is now extinct there, though formerly they were to be found in Macedonia and in other places as well — it is unfortunate, I repeat, if beauty has really disappeared from mankind in this way.

2 Dio. Masculine beauty at least has, my good sir; feminine beauty, however, is perhaps increasing. But a handsome man is not only getting to be a rare sight nowadays; but when there is one, the majority fails to notice his beauty, much more than muleteers fail to observe beautiful horses. And if people do by any chance take an interest in handsome men, it is in a wanton way and for no good purpose. The result is, in my opinion, that even the handsome men that do appear speedily drop out and disappear. For it is not only virtue that is increased by commendation, but so is beauty likewise by those who honour and revere it. But when it is disregarded and esteemed by no one, or when wicked men esteem it, it fades away like reflections in a mirror.

Int. Should we, then, adopt the frequent practice of the Athenians and in a similar way record the present time as being an interregnum2 3 because there is no beautiful man?

Dio. Yes indeed we ought, at least as the Persians regarded beauty; but no one of the Greeks so regarded it, except one of the Thirty. Or do you not know the story about that Critias,3 who was a member of the Thirty? He said that the most beautiful figure among males was the effeminate, but among the females, on the other hand, the opposite. Therefore the Athenians were justified in choosing him as lawgiver that he might alter the old laws,4 for in fact he left not one of them unchanged.

Int. Very well! But how did the Persians regard beauty?

4 Dio. Why, does it need any explanation, seeing that they made eunuchs of the beautiful males in order that they might have them as beautiful as possible? So greatly superior in beauty did they think the female to be. And practically all the barbarians treated them in the same way, just as they did the animals — because the only thing they thought of was the lust of the flesh. Then, just as Daedalus is said to have acted when he deceived the bull by stretching a cow's hide over a framework of wood,5 so they try to put a feminine appearance on the males, being incapable of loving them in any other way. 5 But perhaps in the case of the Persians the way the boys are reared is the cause, I mean that for a long time they are brought up by women and the older eunuchs, and that young boys do not associate much with other young boys, nor the striplings with others of their own age, and that they do not go naked in the wrestling schools and gymnasia.6 This is the reason why, in my opinion, cases have occurred where they had intercourse with their mothers; just as colts, when they still follow their dams although fairly well grown, try to cover them. 6 Moreover, the influence of their nurture is shown in the following case also. A horse is certainly far more beautiful than an ass, but yet the asses, because they are of a different breed, feel no passion for mares, except when they have been raised on mare's milk; and similarly, a horse that has been suckled by an ass is affected in the same way.7

In human beings unlimited power also is a lawless sort of thing.8 Take Nero for instance: we all know how in our own time that he not only castrated the youth whom he loved, but also changed his name for a woman's, that of the girl whom he loved and his subsequent wife,9 for whom he conceived a passion and wedded after openly incarcerating his former wife,10 to whom he was already married when he became Emperor.

7 Int. And what was the woman's name which he gave to the eunuch?

Dio. What concern of yours is that? At any rate she was not called Rhodogunê.11 But that youth of Nero's actually wore his hair parted, young women attended him whenever he went for a walk, he wore women's clothes, and was forced to do everything else a woman does in the same way. And, to cap the climax, great honours and boundless sums of money were actually offered to anyone who should make him his wife.

Int. Well, then, did they actually promise to do so?

8 Dio. Why should they not have promised that man who offered so much? Or do you not know how great the might of the giver is? For example, wherever and whenever it is necessary to appoint an Emperor, they choose the wealthiest man, any one from whom they hope to get the most money; but as to the other qualifications, they do not care what sort of man he is, even if he sooner or later is to geld them all after taking over the government — everybody including the men who have received the money, and, besides, intends to deprive them of every blessed thing they have. 9 This, indeed, was especially true of Nero, and no one contradicted him in anything, whatever he said, or affirmed that anything he commanded was impossible to perform, so that even if he ordered anyone to fly,12 the man promised that too and for a considerable time he would be maintained in the imperial household in the belief that he would fly. For Nero was the only man who was utterly regardless of money both in giving and in taking. It was solely on account of this wantonness of his, however, that he lost his life — I mean the way he treated the eunuch. For the latter in anger disclosed the Emperor's designs to his retinue; and so they revolted from him and compelled him to make away with himself as best he could. Indeed the truth about this has not come out even yet; 10 for so far as the rest of his subjects were concerned, there was nothing to prevent his continuing to be Emperor for all time, seeing that even now everybody wishes he were still alive. And the great majority do believe that he is, although in a certain sense he has died not once but often along with those who had been firmly convinced that he was still alive.13

Int. You are everlastingly hunting up reasons for ridiculing what your fellow-men do and think, and now with scarcely a shadow of a pretext you have got round to this topic. Consequently you have given me no chance to ask a question I wanted to ask.14

11 Dio. Oh yes, I suppose you look down on me and think that I am drivelling because I am not talking about Cyrus and Alcibiades, as the wise-acres do, even at this late date, but about Nero and subjects of that kind, more recent and inglorious, which I can remember. The reason for this is that I do not much care for the writers of Tragedy nor try to emulate them; for I know that it is a disgrace to mention people of the present day in a tragedy, but that it is some ancient event which I should have touched upon and one not very credible either. Yet men of former times certainly were not ashamed to name people of their own day whether in speaking or in writing; but those of the present day strive to name the ancients on any pretext. 12 I shall tell you what wisdom they show in doing this — and don't you declare everything I say is nonsense; perhaps, however, it is anything but nonsense — for surely you have noticed what some of our booksellers do?

Int. Just what is your reason for asking me this?

Dio. Because they, knowing that old books are in demand since better written and on better paper, bury the worst specimens of our day in grain in order that they may take on the same colour as the old ones, and after ruining the books into the bargain they sell them as old. But what was it that you have been wanting all this while to ask me?

13 Int. It is about this young man here. Who is he and to whom does he belong? I declare that I have never been so struck with admiration for anyone. For while his appearance shows him to be a boy of sixteen perhaps, or seventeen years, he is as tall as any man; and then his modesty is such that he makes anyone approaching feel abashed at once. And it is impossible to gaze longer at his face unless he himself should chance to look away. For no one is so shameless or made of stone as to hold his ground and stand looking at him face to face, but one must at once turn away and drop one's eyes. And this effect surprises me very much — that beauty when combined with modesty makes even brazen-faced men turn away and forces them to feel abashed.

14 Dio. Yes, for perhaps you have not noticed what occurs in the water.

Int. What is that?

Dio. That when the sun is shining straight down, the reflection is strongest. And perhaps you have seen on walls a moving and dancing light, not a real light, but the reflection of the sun's light in the water — in contrast to the most direct reflection. Now there is a somewhat similar reflection from true modesty, which makes the beholders appear to be abashed. Then as soon as they go away, they are once more unashamed.15

Int. Just as I thought that even the gymnastic trainer, hardened as he is, seemed in the youth's presence to be, as it were, dumbfounded as well as entranced.

15 Dio. Therefore you will be all the more surprised to learn that this handsome youth belongs to no one.

Int. What do you mean by his belonging to no one?

Dio. Just what you meant by asking to whom he belongs. For I suppose you were asking whose son he is.

Int. Well, is he one of the Sown Men?16

Dio. That would be in keeping with his stature and manliness, if they had been gentle and kindly in disposition, just as this youth is, and not altogether rough and wild, real children of the earth; for as to his physique, you are not far wrong in likening him to a Boeotian rather than to a Spartan or an Athenian. For that he is utterly Greek, I presume is quite patent.

16 Int. Why, I should like to know? Can there be any racial distinction as regards beauty? Or do you think that no handsome man is to be found among foreigners?

Dio. Well, do you not think that there is a foreign type of beauty, as there is of general appearance, and an Hellenic type, just as their language and dress differ, or do you think that Achilles and Hector were handsome in just the same way?

Int. Why, does not the poet discourse about Hector as a brave man only?

Dio. Yes, where he is setting fire to the ships. For it would not, I think, have been fitting to mention beauty at that point. But after he had been slain and stripped, the Achaeans were simply amazed on beholding his beauty, so the poet says in about the following words:

“Then gazed they upon the wonderful form and beauty of Hector.”17

17 For I imagine that before this they had been too busily occupied to gaze upon him critically. And the poet goes on to describe him more vividly, one may almost say, and in great detail than he describes any other of the most handsome men. For he says that his head was graceful, his hair quite black,18 and his body not hard.19 But about Achilles' appearance he gives no detail except to say that his hair was auburn; and he mentions the hair of Euphorbus and of Patroclus as of men who had died in the very prime of life;20 and about each of the other men and most beautiful women he has very little to say; however, nobody would assert that these men could have been handsome in the same way, or that Alexander, or Euphorbus,21 or Troïlus22 bore any resemblance to Menelaus and Patroclus and Nireus,23 any more than among the barbarians Sesostris24 the Egyptian did or Memnon25 the Ethiopian, or Ninyas,26 Eurypylus, or Pelops.

We have here just a fragment of this Discourse. In § 3 Dio does mention his subject, but all that precedes and follows is of an introductory nature. He says that there are many questions which are the common concern of both philosophers and orators. One class of these common questions comprises those which have to do with the state (πολιτικὰ ζητήματα); and some of these, such as that about peace and war, have to do with what is advisable. Then in questions of advisability the philosophers and orators make a division, the philosophers dealing with those of a general nature and the orators with particular cases.

This was the division made by Posidonius, the distinguished Stoic philosopher, born in 135 B.C. at Apamea, a city not far from Dio's native Prusa. That the followers of Plato and Aristotle made the same division appears from Cicero, De Oratore 1.45 and 46. In this matter, then, Dio is clearly siding with the philosophers against the rhetoricians or teachers of oratory such as Hermagoras, who claimed all political questions for oratory and rhetoric. It is possible that what Dio says here is based upon Posidonius, as von Arnim thinks, and at any rate we may conclude that Dio composed this Discourse after his conversion to philosophy.

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The Twenty-second Discourse:

Concerning Peace and War

Many things in general and absolutely everything involving any work or activity will be found common to philosophers and orators — all those orators, that is, who do not carry on their business in the market-place and work for hire with their eyes fixed on matters of money only and on private disputes regarding contracts or loans out at interest, but aspire to advise and legislate for the state. That is, I think, what Pericles and Thucydides1 must have done at Athens, and Themistocles still earlier, and Cleisthenes, and Peisistratus, so long as he still let himself be called 'orator' and 'popular leader'2 — 2 for Areisteides, Lycurgus, Solon, Epaminondas, and others of the same sort should be regarded as philosophers in politics, or orators in the noble and real sense of the term. And I use the word 'philosopher' of men who, for example, deliberate and legislate about the training of the young, just as Lycurgus did at Sparta, and about the association of 'lovers,' about the acquisition of money — how much one should make and in what manner — about marriage, about the duties of citizenship, about coinage, about civic rights and the loss of them, about the setting up of households, and as to whether one should live in a walled city or, as the god advised the Spartans, in an unwalled one; about training for war and the organization of not merely the heavy-armed troops in general, but also of the formation which Epaminondas is said to have invented, in which he put the 'lovers' along with their beloved in order that they might have a better chance of coming through safely and might be witness to one another's courage or cowardice — and history tells us that this Sacred Band, as it was called, conquered the Spartans in the battle of Leuctra3 though these were supported by all Greece. 3 But the main question of all, and one with which many have often had to deal, concerns peace and war; and this now, as it so happens, is my theme.

All problems of this sort are called by the philosophers questions of propriety: for example, whether one should marry, whether one should go into public life, whether a monarchy should be adopted, or a democracy, or some other form of government; and in these subjects, in my opinion, is included this one too, whether war should be entered into.

Indeed the philosophers not only considered these questions in their general aspect, but also these: when, with reference to whom, and after what occurrence or non-occurrence each separate action should be taken. But there is this important difference — that the orators consider definite cases; for example, whether it is of advantage for the Athenians to make war on the Peloponnesians, for the Corcyraeans to go to the help of Corinthians,4 for Philip to support the Thebans in the war against the Phocians,5 or for Alexander to cross over into Asia. 4 Then too, in all these deliberations the following sort of question is apt to crop up: Is it right to go to war with those who have not provoked a war by some wrongful act? if a wrong has been done by those against whom you propose to wage war, how serious is this wrong which has been done?

But philosophers look at events from a distance and examine into what their character is in the abstract; for it is much better to have already deliberated about everything a long time in advance and since they have already reached a decision, to be able, when the moment for any action has come, with full knowledge either to handle the situation themselves or to give advice to the others,6 and not to be caught off their guard, as it were, and so be in a state of confusion and obliged to resort to improvising measures concerning situations of which they have no knowledge. 5 For whenever the orator-politicians have to consider any question, since they know nothing more than anybody else and have not considered the matter before, in a sense they both deliberate themselves and give advice to the others at one and the same time. The philosophers, on the other hand, know in advance about the course to be adopted and have deliberated upon it long beforehand. Consequently, if they are called in to advise cities, nations, or kings, they are in a better and safer position to set forth, not just what occurs to them, nor one thing at one moment and the opposite at the next, influenced by anger, contentiousness, or bribery, acting just as the tongue of a balance does, as I believe some one of the orator-politicians themselves said, ever tipping according to what is received.7 And I say this, not to criticize the art of oratory, or the good orators, but the poor ones and those who falsely claim that profession as their own.

1

This is one of the twelve discourses that are in the form of a dialogue between Dio, the teacher, and one of his pupils, reported directly. It would appear to reproduce an actual experience of Dio's in which he sets forth the Stoic doctrine that only the wise man is happy.

The line of thought is as follows: Homer and Euripides have said that man is unfortunate and unhappy; but just the opposite is true, or rather, partially true. For each man has a fortune or guiding spirit; and if this fortune or guiding spirit is good, then the man is good-fortuned (i.e., fortunate) and happy. But if the man has a bad fortune or guiding spirit, then the man is bad-fortuned (i.e. unfortunate) and unhappy. But if the guiding spirit is good in the sense that it gives good fortune, it is also good as meaning 'just and useful and sensible' — which is a non sequitur — and since it apparently gives its own qualities to the man who has it, this man is at the same time also just and useful and sensible, in other words, wise. The good δαίμων, to use the Greek word, being good in both senses, gives both happiness and wisdom. The two are inseparable.

Then the pupil raises the question as to whether any guiding spirit can be bad, since all are divine; and Dio admits that he has merely been accepting the popular belief, not following his own, in assuming that some guiding spirits are good and others bad. He really believes with the philosophers that all guiding spirits are good. If a man listens to his good and wise guiding spirit, he gets at one and the same time both happiness and wisdom; if he does not, he is both unhappy and a fool. Therefore, only the wise man is happy.

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The Twenty-third Discourse: That the Wise Man is Fortunate and Happy

Dio. Do you believe man is happy, and if not, that he has been or will be; or do you hold that such a thing as this is impossible to predicate of man, just as if a person were to say that man is immortal? For it is, perhaps, possible that you hold the same view as Homer and a good many others of our poets.

Interlocutor. And where does Homer express this view on this question?

Dio. Where he has represented Zeus himself, and not some other one of the gods, as saying that none of all living creatures is more miserable than man,

Of all that breathe and move upon the earth.2

Do you not think that by misery he means expressly some great unhappiness?

Int. I do.

2 Dio. And another poet, not speaking of any particular man, but expressing a general sentiment to the audience in a contest of tragedies, proposes that we should

That man bewail who's born and all life's ills confronts,

But him who's dead and free from all his toils3

he thinks we should “with joy and gladness speed from out the house.”

Int. That is so.

Dio. Well, that was not sound advice he gave; for if we ought to weep once for mankind because of their misfortune, then it is fitting that we should both bewail their lot when they are born, because of all the evils that are in store for them, and when they die, because they have had experience of many terrible sufferings, and likewise while they live, because they are in the midst of evils. 3 Consequently there would never be a fitting time, according to the poet, for men to cease lamenting — much more truly than for the nightingales. For while those creatures are said to mourn for Itys4 in the springtime only — yet in the case of human beings it stands to reason that they should mourn both summer and winter. But how much better it would be to let them perish at once of their ills as soon as they are born, instead of wrapping them up in swaddling clothes and bathing them and nursing them and giving them so much care, simply in order that they may be wretched — for such solicitude would befit enemies, not friends or those who care for them — or, better still, to remove their own selves from life in the first place! 4 For it is very likely, according to this line of reasoning, that the only sensible people to be born were those born in Colchis from the dragon's teeth which Jason sowed.5 For these people, just as soon as they understood that they were born, forthwith proceeded to make away with one another until they left not one, helping one another, evidently, and doing this through friendship, not through hatred.

5 Int. Well, for my part, I think that what this poet6 says is nonsense. But Homer's statement disturbs me because, wise though he was, he expressed that view about mankind.

Dio. And what absurdity is there in it? He does not say that all men without exception are wretched, but that there is no creature more wretched than man when he is wretched, just as we too undoubtedly should say; for, mark you, man is perhaps the only unfortunate creature of them all, just as he is the only fortunate one; for, you see, man alone is said to be 'senseless,' just as man alone is said to be 'sensible.' It is clear that a horse cannot be either unjust or dissolute, nor can a pig or a lion, just as it cannot be uncultured or illiterate.

6 Int. Well, I think you have made an excellent correction of Homer's statement, and I reply that I believe man is fortunate.

Dio. Then when a man's fortune or guardian spirit is good, you maintain that the man is fortunate, but when it is bad, that he is unfortunate, do you?7

Int. I do.

Dio. And do you speak of a guardian spirit as good in a different sense?

Int. What do you mean?

Dio. In the sense in which a man is good and, still more, a god; or if you do think that the gods are good, do you think that they are not just and sensible and self-controlled and in possession of all the other virtues, but unjust and senseless and intemperate?

Int. I certainly do not.

Dio. Then in the case of a guardian spirit also, if you really consider any to be good, is it not clear that you consider it just and useful and sensible?

Int. Why, of course.

Dio. Pray, when you think that any person is bad, do you believe that he is at the same time evil and unjust and senseless?

Int. Most assuredly so.

7 Dio. Well, then, do you not think that each man lives under the direction of his own guiding spirit, of whatever character it may be, and is not directed by a different one?

Int. Certainly not directed by that of a different one.

Dio. Then do you believe that the man to whom Fortune has given a good guardian spirit lives justly and prudently and temperately? For this is the character that you agree his spirit has.

Int. Certainly.

Dio. And that the man to whom Fortune has given the bad guardian spirit lives wickedly and senselessly and foolishly and intemperately?

Int. That appears to follow from what we have just said.

Dio. Then when a man is in possession of intelligence and is just and temper, is this man fortunate because he is attended by a good spirit; but when a man is dissolute and foolish and wicked, must we maintain that he is unfortunate because he is yoked to a bad spirit and serves it?

Int. True.

8 Dio. And do you describe as wise anyone except the man who is sensible and just and holy and brave, and as a fool him who is unjust and unholy and cowardly?

Int. I do.

Dio. Then you should no longer be surprised when people say that they hold the wise man alone and without exception to be fortunate or happy, whereas of fools there is none that is not unfortunate or unhappy; you should agree to this inasmuch as you also seem to hold that view.

9 Int. What you have said so far I think has been quite reasonable; but how are we to consider any spirit to be wicked and unjust and senseless, I am unable to say; and besides, it is not like you philosophers, if you really hold that the guiding spirit is divine, to assume any such thing.

Dio. Well, just now I have not been expressing my own view for the most part except in this one matter — that I believe every wise man is fortunate and happy and he alone; but in everything else I have accepted the views of the majority of men, that I may not seem to be forcing my own views on them. 10 For just consider: If you really believe that the guiding spirit is divine and good and the author of no evil to anyone, how do you explain a man's becoming unfortunate, that is, unhappy? Or does that happen when he does not heed or obey his guiding spirit, this being good? It is just as if we should think that all physicians are good in the matters of their profession and that none of them is a bad physician or harmful, but yet should see some of their patients doing poorly and suffering harm in their illnesses; evidently we should say that they refuse to obey orders and that such patients as do obey cannot but come through well; and nothing that should happen to them would surprise anyone.

Int. That is right.

11 Dio. Do you think, therefore, that the really self-controlled and sober and sensible patients are those who would disobey their physicians when these are skilled and prescribe the treatment that is good for them, or, on the contrary, the senseless and uncontrolled?

Int. Evidently the uncontrolled.

Dio. Then again, do you hold that to obey the guardian spirit when it is good, and to live in conformity with its direction, is a mark of those who are temperate and sensible or of those who are wicked and senseless?

Int. Of those who are temperate.

12 Dio. And that to refuse to obey and give heed and to act contrary to that which is divine and from the guardian spirit is a mark of the bad and foolish?

Int. How could we say anything else?

Dio. And that those who obey the guiding spirit, since it is of this character, are 'fortunate and happy,' and that those who disobey are 'unfortunate and unhappy?'

Int. Necessarily so.

Dio. Therefore, here also it turns out that the wise and sensible man is 'fortunate and happy' in every case, but that the worthless man is 'unfortunate and unhappy,' not because his guardian spirit is bad, but because, although it is good, he does not heed it.

This Discourse, like the fourteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth, begins by saying that the majority of men act wrongly in respect to something and then proceeds to set them right. This same admonishing attitude is found also in Discourse 13.16 28, where Dio tells of the beginning of his 'preaching' activity during his exile. For this reason von Arnim believes that all these Discourses, except the last of course, belong to the period of Dio's exile.

The great majority of men, says Dio, select their occupation in life without first considering the important question of what the life of man should be, and what is the highest good for him, the ideal toward which he should strive. Only the man who knows what this highest good is and subordinates everything else to it can gain true success and happiness.

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The Twenty-fourth Discourse:

On Happiness

The majority of men have not as a rule concerned themselves at all with the question of what kind of men they ought to be, nor of what is ideally man's best good, to the attainment of which he should direct all his other activities; but, each in accordance with his taste, they have devoted themselves, some to horsemanship, some to military commands, some to athletic competitions, others to music, or farming, or expertness in oratory.1 But what practical utility each of these pursuits has for themselves, they do not know or even try to ascertain. 2 The consequence is that while some become good horsemen — in case they work hard at that and train diligently — and some become more efficient in wrestling than others, or in boxing, or running, or in other contests, or in avoiding crop failures, or in sailing the seas without wrecking their ships, and in knowledge of music some surpass others; yet the good and prudent man, one who can answer the all-important question, 'What man is he who is virtuous and intelligent?' cannot be found among them all.

3 Take oratory,2 for instance. There are many well-born men and, in public estimation, ambitious, who are whole-heartedly interested in it, some that they may plead in courts of law or address the people in the assembly in order to have greater influence than their rivals and have things their own way in politics, while the aim of others is the glory to be won thereby, that they may enjoy the reputation of eloquence; but there are men who say they desire the mere skill derived from experience, some of these being indeed speakers, but others only writers, of whom a certain man of former times said they occupied the borderland between philosophy and politics.3 But what their activity profits them, or to what end the glory is of use to them, or in what respect this experience is worth their while, all this they fail to consider.

4 But as for me, I claim that without this knowledge of which I speak and the quest for it, all the other things are little worth; but that for the man who has reflected upon that important point and has come to understand it, then practicing eloquence, exercising military command, or any other activity that may occupy him, is to his advantage and is directed toward a good. For the truth is that, for and of itself, receiving the approbation of senseless persons, which is just what the majority are, or having influence with men of that kind, or leading a pleasant life, will not, so far as happiness is concerned, be one whit better than being censured by them, or having no influence, or leading a laborious life.4

This Discourse, like the twenty-first, twenty-third, and twenty-sixth, is one of the twelve Discourses which are in the form of a dialogue reported directly and are believed to belong to the period of Dio's exile, although in this case after the first few exchanges Dio does all the speaking. He introduces and illustrates the apparently original view, a suggestion for which he may have got from Plato's Republic 540B, that the 'guiding spirit' (δαίμων) is not something within the man himself, but is some other man who controls him and determines his destiny. One man may even control a great number of men, such as are found in a city, a race, or an empire, and be the cause of their faring well or ill. In this case he is their δαίμων.

Even though Dio does not in this Discourse keep his promise given at the outset, to tell about the view of the philosophers that only the wise man is happy, yet the Discourse appears to be complete in the form in which we have it.

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The Twenty-fifth Discourse:

On the Guiding (or Guardian) Spirit

Interlocutor. People say the philosophers maintain that really only the wise man can be happy.1

Dio. Yes, that is what they maintain.

Int. Well, do you think they speak the truth?

Dio. I do.

Int. Then why have you never stated their view to me?

Dio. I will, if you tell me first what you think the guiding spirit is.

Int. For my part, I believe that it is that which controls each individual and under whose direction each human being lives, alike whether he be a free man or a slave, whether he be rich or poor, a king or a plain citizen, and no matter what his business in life is.

Dio. And do you think that this principle is within the man himself, this thing which controls the individual, which we call the guiding spirit,2 or that, while being a power outside of the man, it yet rules him and is master of him?

Int. The latter is my belief.

2 Dio. Do you mean a different person? For I suppose it is a person who in one case controls one particular man, and in another case many men, one who leads them where and how he himself wishes, by using either persuasion, or force, or both.3 And I am saying nothing that is unknown, but refer to the popular leaders whom the cities obey in everything and do exactly as those men direct and advise, whether they advise them to go to war, or to remain at peace, or to build fortifications, or to construct triremes, or to offer sacrifices, or to banish some of their number, or to confiscate their property, or even to cut their throats; and I refer also to both kings and tyrants, and likewise to all masters of servants, who whether by paying down money for a person or by some other means have got anybody into their possession. 3 It is just as if you should call Lycurgus a guiding spirit of the Spartans — for at his command even now the Spartans are scourged and sleep in the open and go lightly clad and endure many other things that would seem hardships to other peoples — and Peisistratus the guiding spirit of the ancient Athenians. For you know, I presume, that when Peisistratus was leader and ruler, the people did not come down to the city, but stayed on the land and became farmers, and that Attica, which was formerly bare and treeless, they planted with olive trees by the order of Peisistratus,4 and in everything else they did exactly as he wished.

4 And, later on, one might perhaps say that not only others but Themistocles and Pericles also became guiding spirits; for I take it that you have heard about these two men, how the one5 compelled the Athenians, who had been foot soldiers before, to fight on the sea, to give up their country and their city to the barbarians, as well as the temples of their gods and the tombs of their ancestors, and stake all their fortunes on their fleet, and afterwards to fortify the Peiraeus6 with walls of more than ninety stades in length and enjoined upon them by his orders other measures of the same kind, some of which they continued to carryº out only as long as he was present, and others even when he was in banishment and after his death.7 Yes, and at a still later time certain other men, you may perhaps say, have become guiding spirits of the Athenians, for example, Alcibiades the son of Cleinias, and Nicias,8 Cleon,9 and Hyperbolus10 — some few of them honourable men perhaps, but the rest utterly wicked and cruel.

5 Then again you might say that Cyrus11 became for a time a guiding spirit of the Persians, a spirit kingly indeed and liberal in character, who, when the Persians were enslaved to the Medes, gave them liberty and made them masters of all the peoples of Asia; and you might go on to name Cambyses and Darius and their successors; Cambyses,12 who squandered their money, shot his subjects down, sent them on toilsome campaigns without intermission, and never allowed them to stay at home; and Darius, who amassed as much money as possible, caused the land to be cultivated, and like the other forced them to wage difficult and dangerous wars, for instance, as I recall, the one against the Scythians and the one against the Athenians.13

6 And thus also by the Romans Numa14 might perhaps be named as their guiding spirit, and Hanno and Hannibal by the Carthaginians, and Alexander, by the Macedonians, or else Philip, who, when the Macedonians were inglorious and weak, and his father had ceded part of his kingdom to the Olynthians, made them strong and warlike and masters of nearly all Europe.15 Then afterwards Alexander, succeeding Philip, led them over into Asia and made them at once the wealthiest of all peoples and at the same time the poorest, at once strong and at the same time weak, the same men being both exiles and kings, because while he annexed Egypt, Babylon, Sousa,16 and Ecbatana,17 he deprived them of Aegae,18 Pella,19 and Dium.20 7 And the Carthaginians Hanno21 made Libyans instead of Tyrians, forced them to live in Libya instead of Phoenicia, caused them to possess great wealth, many trading-centres, harbours, and warships, and to rule over a vast land and a vast sea. Then in addition to Libya, Hannibal enabled them to control Italy itself for a period of seventeen years; but after that he was responsible for their being driven from their homes and for their capital itself being moved at the order of the Romans,22 after he had previously slain great numbers of these Romans and come within a little of taking Rome itself, although, men say, he had no desire to do this, on account of his political opponents at home.

And yet Hannibal, perhaps, neither the Carthaginians nor the Romans could fittingly claim as their good guiding spirit. 8 But Numa took over Rome when it was still small, unknown to fame, and situated in a land owned by others, when it had as its inhabitants an unprincipled rabble, who were, besides, at enmity with all their neighbours, were both poverty-stricken and savage, and lived a precarious existence because of the harshness of Romulus' rule; caused them to hold their land in security and to be on terms of friendship with their neighbours, and gave them a code of laws, and gods to worship, and a political constitution, thus becoming the author of all their subsequent felicity of which all men speak.

9 I could go on to speak in the same way about the other cities, and populations which have fared well or ill on account of certain men who were their rulers and leaders. However, my own opinion has, I think, been made sufficiently clear. So, if you do call those I have mentioned in very truth guiding spirits of those who were under their sway and who severally fared better or worse on account of them, I should be glad to hear what you have to say.

This is another of the twelve dialogues reported directly and probably all written by Dio while in exile. In this one Dio considers with his interlocutor the meaning of 'deliberation' (τὸ βουλεύεσθαι). It does not mean making a blind guess as to the truth of something. There must be some knowledge, however imperfect, upon which to base the conjecture. If, on the other hand, there is complete knowledge of the thing, no room is left for conjecture, that is, deliberation. Then Dio attempts to show that one cannot deliberate about the future because it is non-existent. One must have something real about which to deliberate. This position rather surprises us, because deliberation is most naturally about some course of action in the future. After this Dio, unconsciously perhaps, shifts his position and maintains that to deliberate is to form correct conclusions about a matter from a full knowledge of all factors involved. However, one must admit that it was Dio's companion, rather than Dio himself, who was so certain that deliberation comes into play only in those cases where there is some knowledge, but not enough to enable one to decide with certainty. Dio concludes by exhorting men earnestly to strive to gain full knowledge about the most important things in life in order that their deliberations in these matters may lead to the right conclusions.

Sonny (Ad Dionem Chrysostomum Analecta, p196 f.) expresses the view that this Discourse and the pseudo-Platonic Sisyphus, which apparently was written about 350 B.C., were drawn from a common source, while Dümmler (Academica, p194) would go further and name Antisthenes' paradox ὅ τι οὐκ ἔστι ζητεῖν (seeking that which is not) as this common source. On the other hand, Hirzel (Der Dialog II, p105), von Arnim, as one may infer from his note on §§ 4 5, and Wegehaupt (De Dione Chrysostomo Xenophontis Sectatore, p65 ff.) maintain that Dio used the Sisyphus directly. Wegehaupt points to so many parallels between this Discourse and the Sisyphus as to make his theory appear very reasonable. If this theory is not correct, then Dio and the author of the Sisyphus followed their common source very closely.

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The Twenty-sixth Discourse:

On Deliberation1

Dio. For a long time, as I sat and listened to you men when you spent many hours at the home of one of our public men in deliberating about certain affairs of state, I have been considering by myself and examining the meaning of that which you call deliberation, or what deliberation in the abstract is.2 Does a person really deliberate about a matter which he knows and understands?

Interlocutor. I do not think that when a person knows certain things, he deliberates about them, but that he already knows them.

Dio. Well then, when there are things he does not know or understand, is it about these that he deliberates, casting about as it were like a diviner, and thus seeking to find out what he does not know?3

Int. It does not seem to me that this man, either, can deliberate about things when he has no knowledge about them.

2 Dio. Then can deliberation be something like this — that when men know some things but do not know other things, this is the subject about which they deliberate?4 And in order that we may follow the argument better, we shall make it clear by an illustration. For instance, we assume that we know Charicles and Charixenus, but do not know where they live, and so are making conjectures about their place of residence; 3 is not this deliberation — the drawing of inferences from what we do know about that which we do not yet know?5 Or, just as people playing at odd and even6 know that the challengers have something in their hands but now how much; yet sometimes they do hit upon the right answer and in that way come off victorious.7 May we conclude, then, that deliberation too is like this — that though there is something we do know, yet concerning all the other things which we do not know, we make a guess and sometimes accidentally hit it although without any knowledge?

4 Now come, let us see what the nature of the thing is:8 Things which are in being both are, and have come to be, and exist, while things that are not in being neither are, nor have come into be, nor do they exist. Now we do not need deliberation for things which are already in being; for there is no profit in deliberating about things which have come into being and exist. In fact, what imaginable reason will we have for deliberating about them? In order that things that have come into being may not come into being? It is impossible for them not to have come into being. Well, is it in order that things which are in being may not be? Absurd! Can we prevent their being just as they have come to be? Well, is it in order that they may not exist? Everything which is in being has existence. But about things that are in being why should a person deliberate anyway? 5 About what things, then, do we deliberate? About the future, as the argument suggests. But the future neither is, nor has been, nor exists. Hence, about things that are not and do not exist, who is able to deliberate? For the thing not in being is nothing, and about that which is not no one can deliberate. Hence no one can deliberate about things which are yet to be; for deliberation deals with a thing that is, and that which is yet to be does not exist. Therefore deliberation cannot possibly be about the future either.

6 Take another case: Would the unmusical person and the one who has no knowledge of harmony, melody, rhythm, and their arrangement and movement be able to deliberate successfully about music and the operations involved in music?9

Int. Certainly not.

Dio. Another point: Would the man who has no knowledge of geometry, in deliberating about a solid body, its length, width, and height, deliberate successfully?10

Int. No, he also would not.

Dio. Then further: Would the man who does not know how to command a ship, in deliberating about the command of a ship and the duties of the captain, deliberate competently?11

Int. No, he would not, either.

7 Dio.º Then a person who has had no competent education and no knowledge whatever about a thing is not competent to deliberate about it, either. Therefore it is necessary to give the greatest attention to prudence and education,12 in order that it may be easy for us to deliberate about all things whatsoever and to know what is going to suit each deliberation and not to make serious mistakes; but just as musicians, geometricians, and ship-captains consider with professional skill their own particular work, and as all persons who possess skill in any matter are also competent to understand their work, in like manner let us also be competent to deliberate and speak about our own business. 8 For it is absurd that while those playing at odd and even show intelligence, and that too when they are guessing and do not see the thing about which they make a guess, yet those who are deliberating about public matters should display neither intelligence, nor knowledge, nor experience, although these matters are sometimes of the greatest importance, such as concord and friendship of families and states, peace and war, colonization and the organization of colonies, the treatment of children and of wives.13

The qualities of mind and character of individual men stand revealed at our national festivals1 no less than at symposia,2 except that at festivals the revelation is more varied and extends over a longer period of time.3

As of the symposia, we may assume that some persons attend for the sake of drinking and devote themselves to that, just as thirsty wayfarers when they come to a spring stoop down and drink. Yet travellers, when they have drunk their fill and quenched their thirst, quietly go their way without having done or said anything indecorous, but the others, on the contrary, both say and do many disagreeable things at times. 2 For Dionysus does not welcome his votaries who need him with the same sort of welcome as the Nymphs do theirs;4 but since he is of a frenzied nature and the child of lightning and thunder, as the poets say, he literally fills with fire those who use him in too ignorant a way, and actually makes the majority of them thunderstruck or stupefied. Nay rather, his votaries, being practically crazed, do many evil things, just as Homer says of the Centaur that in a fit of drunkenness he wrought evil in the home of Peirithoüs.5 3 And others, too, who are naturally loquacious, feeling that they have got their table-companions for an audience, recite stupid and tedious speeches; while still others sing in tune and out of tune,6 although they have no gift whatever for music; and one might almost say that they give more annoyance than those who quarrel and use abusive language. But there is another class of men who claim to be abstemious and temperate, that bore people to death by their disagreeable manner,7 since they will not condescend either to drink moderately or to take part in the general conversation. 4 But the man that is gentle and has a properly ordered character, easily endures the rudeness of the others, and acts like a gentleman himself, trying to the best of his ability to bring the ignorant chorus into a proper demeanour by means of fitting rhythm and melody. And he introduces appropriate topics of conversation and by his tact and persuasiveness attempts to get those present to be more harmonious and friendly in their intercourse with one another.

5 So much for symposia. But people also attend the national festivals, some just to see the sights and the athletic contests in particular; and all those who take a very great interest in these continue doing nothing else from early dawn. Many too bring in merchandise of all sorts, the tradespeople, that is; and some display their own arts and crafts; 6 while others show off their accomplishments, many of them declaiming poems, both tragedies and epics, and many others prose works, so that they annoy the man who has come for a rest and wishes to have a holiday. And these people seem very much like those who hum tunes and sing songs at the symposia, whom you cannot help hearing even if you do not wish it.

But the man who in the midst of these folk has the ability to speak words edifying and profitable and thus make the whole gathering more decorous and better, because of the general disturbance and the great throng of those of the other sort keeps quiet and withdraws into himself.

7 For really most men feel towards the words of philosophy exactly as they do, I believe, toward the drugs which physicians administer; that is, no one resorts to them at first, nor buys them until he contracts some unmistakable illness and has pain in some part of his body. And in the same way people are, as a general rule, not willing to listen to the words of the philosopher until some affliction visits them, something which men consider grievous. 8 To give an illustration: the prosperous man — I use the term in the sense in which the majority use it — for instance, a man who derives a large income from his loans, or has a good deal of land, and not only enjoys good health, but has children and a wife living, or a man who has some position of authority and a high office without war, or rebellion, or any open dangers — such a person you would not easily find approaching these philosophers, or caring to listen to the teachings of philosophy. 9 But if some disaster should overtake any one touching his livelihood, and he should become either poor after having been wealthy, or weak and powerless after having been influential, or should meet with some other misfortune, then he becomes much more friendly disposed toward that craft, somehow manages to endure the words of the philosophers, and practically admits that he needs comfort. And if it is his misfortune to lose any of his relatives, either his wife, or child, or a brother, he asks the philosopher to come and speak words of comfort, as if he thought it were only then necessary to consider how one may endure with resignation what happens and be able to face the future; before that he does not. 10 It is much the same as the feeling of ignorant persons in regard to their bodies: ordinarily they have no concern whatever about their health, but enjoy foods, wine, and women, and all their other regimen as intemperately and unconcernedly as possible; but if any weariness or fever does unexpectedly seize them owing to the changes in the weather, then they indeed demand to be treated, since their health is greatly disordered and they are suffering from severe illnesses, such as you expect would attack people of this sort. But how to avoid having any need of a physician is a problem which they do not consider at all.8

1 Dio, accompanied by at least one friend, comes up from the harbour — of Naples presumably — to witness the athletic contests then being held, and has his attention drawn especially to a tall handsome boxer who is training, surrounded by a great crowd of admirers. On asking one of the bystanders who the man is, he learns that it is the boxer Iatrocles, so often the antagonist of Melancomas, who has recently died. This bystander speaks in the highest terms of Melancomas both as a boxer and as a man, and is evidently greatly distressed by his death. Thereupon Dio offers various reflections to comfort him.

vonº Arnim, chiefly from a study of this Discourse and the following one, which is the funeral oration for Melancomas, comes to the conclusion that the occasion of it was the Games in honour of Augustus (Ludi Augustales) as held at Naples in the year A.D. 74, when Titus, soon to be emperor and now thirty-three years old — Dio himself would be of about the same age — was either Director of Games (γυμνασίαρχος) there or Exhibitor of Games (ἀγωνοθέτης).a

On the other hand, Lemarchand (Dion de Pruse, Les Oeuvres d'avant l'Exil,º p30 ff.) gives various reasons for thinking that Melancomas is a purely imaginary character. He considers it rather remarkable that, apart from one passage in Themistius (i.e. Oration 10, p139), who got his information from Dio (see Scharold, Dio Chrysostomus und Themistius, Burghausen 1912), there is no other reference in ancient literature to this incomparable athlete and boxer, no inscription that has come to light commemorating any victory of his. He also shows in detail that this Melancomas is the embodiment of all the youthful qualities and virtues for which Dio shows admiration in other Discourses, and that Dio at times, as in the Euboean Discourse, describes what is ideal rather than actual. And in Dio's time, he adds, the Romans began to take an interest in athletics, so that outstanding athletes came from Greece and Asia Minor to give exhibitions — note that Melancomas' father is represented as coming from Caria in Asia Minor. Their contests served to recall the glorious past of Greece. Therefore, may not Dio, who was an ardent Hellenist and who looked with disapproval on the cruel gladiatorial exhibitions (see Discourse 31.121), have wished to increase the interest in athletics by creating and describing this ideal athlete, this gentle boxer, who would not think of injuring his opponent by striking him with his fist armed with the terrible caestus?b But this gentleness would make little appeal to most men of Dio's time.

As a literary effort the twenty-eighth Discourse is superior to the twenty-ninth, and toward the end the hortatory and preaching element, which is regarded as typical of what Dio wrote during his exile, is somewhat in evidence. It is possible, then, that this Discourse was written considerably later than the following one.

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The Twenty-eighth Discourse: Melancomas II

After coming up from the harbour, we strolled over at once to have a look at the athletes, just as if the sole purpose of our trip had been to view the contests. When we got near the gymnasium we saw a number running on the track outside of it, and there was a roar as the crowd cheered them on; and we also saw the athletes who were exercising in other ways. To those, however, we thought it hardly worth while to pay attention; but wherever we saw the biggest crowd, there we would stroll. 2 So we noticed a great number of people standing near the Arcade of Heracles and a stream of others coming up, and some also going away because they could not see. At first we tried to see by looking over other people's shoulders, and with difficulty managed to catch a glimpse of the head of a man who was exercising with his hands up.2 Then we gradually got in closer. He was a very tall and beautiful young man; and besides, the exercises he was taking made his body seem, quite naturally, still taller and more beautiful. He was giving a most brilliant performance, and in so spirited a way that he seemed more like a man in an actual contest. 3 Then, when he stopped exercising and the crowd began to draw away, we studied him more closely. He was just like one of the most carefully wrought statues, and also he had a colour like well blended bronze.3

4 After he had gone, we asked one of the bystanders, an old man, who he was; and the man said with a frown:

“Why that is Iatrocles, the opponent of Melancomas, the only man who would not give in to him, at least, that is, if he could help it. Still he could not get the better of him, for he was always defeated, sometimes after competing for a whole day. However, Iatrocles had already given up trying, so that in the last contest here in Naples, Melancomas defeated no opponent more quickly than he did Iatrocles. But you see how confident he is now, and how large a crowd he has about him as he takes his exercise. For my part, I really believe that he feels a malicious joy at the other man's misfortune; and naturally enough, for he knows that not only the next crown4 but all others are now his own.”

5 “What!” I exclaimed, “Is Melancomas dead?” — for even we knew his name at least, although we had never seen the man himself.

“Yes,” he replied, “he died not long ago. I believe this is the second day since he was buried.”

“And in what respect,” I asked, “was he superior to this man and to the others also? Was it in size, or in courage?”

“That man, sir,” he replied, “was more courageous and bigger than any other man in the world, not merely than any of his opponents; and furthermore, he was the most beautiful. And if he had remained an amateur and had not gone in for boxing at all, I believe that he would have become widely known simply on account of his beauty; for even as it was, he attracted everybody's attention whenever he went anywhere, even that of people who did not know who he was. 6 And yet he did not dress up in fine clothes or in any other way try to attract notice rather than to remain inconspicuous; but when he was stripped, nobody would look at anyone else, although many boys and many men were training.5 And although beauty is wont to lead to softness, even with those who are only moderately endowed with it, beautiful as he was, he was even more remarkable for his self-control and moderation; and though despising his beauty, he none the less preserved it in spite of his rough profession. 7 At any rate, although boxing was his specialty, he remained as free from marks as any of the runners; and he had trained so rigorously and went so far beyond others in toilsome exercising that he was able to remain for two whole days in succession with his hands up, and nobody could catch him letting them down or taking a rest, as athletes usually do. Then he used to force his opponents to give up, not only before he himself had received a blow but even before he had landed one on them. For he did not consider it courage to strike his opponent or to receive an injury himself, but thought this indicated lack of stamina and a desire to have done with the contest.6 8 But to last out the full time without either being done up by the weight of his arms, or becoming out of breath, or being distressed by the heat — that, he thought, was a splendid achievement.”

“He had the right idea though,” said I, breaking in. “For in war the worst soldiers throw away their shields though they know well enough that when unprotected they are more apt to be wounded. Thus, we see, they are overcome more by their exhaustion than by their wounds.”7

9 “That is just the reason,” he rejoined, “why, from the time Melancomas began to compete in the Pythian games, he was the first man to our knowledge who remained undefeated, after winning the most and the greatest crowns and facing antagonists who were neither negligible nor few in number.8 And his own father — a very famous man, the well-known Melancomas who came from Caria and among his other victories also won at Olympia — he had surpassed before he came to manhhod; for his father did not remain undefeated.9 However, splendid as this young athlete was, 10 he came to a wretched end, after enduring the laborious work of athletics to the uttermost without experiencing any of the joys of life. And he was by nature so exceedingly ambitious that even on his deathbed he inquired of Athenodorus, the pancratiast,10 who had been his friend from boyhood, just how many days of the athletic meet were left.” And as he said this, the old man burst into tears.

11 “Ah!” said I, “it is pardonable in you to grieve so excessively; he must certainly be related to you in some way.”

“In heaven's name no,” he answered, “no relation of mine. For he was neither a blood kinsman of mine, nor was he trained by me; no, I trained one of the boys among the pancratiasts. As for him, he was such a splendid fellow that all who know him felt grief at his death.”

12 “Then,” said I, “you have no reason for calling him wretched. On the contrary, he must be most blessed and fortunate if he was the sort of man report makes him. It was his good fortune to come of an illustrious family, to possess beauty, and, in addition, courage, physical strength, and self-control — things that are certainly the greatest blessings. But what was indeed the most surprising thing about a man is, to have remained undefeated not only by his opponents but also by toil and heat and gluttony and sensuality; for the man who is going to prove inferior to none of his opponents must first be undefeated by these things. 13 And as for pleasures, who ever enjoyed greater than he, who, being very ambitious, always won, and being admired, knew that he was admired? And it seems to me that the gods loved him exceedingly and honoured him especially in his death, in order that he might experience none of life's great sorrows.11 For if his life had been spared, he would inevitably have become more ugly after being most beautiful, weaker after being strongest,12 and perhaps have been defeated too. But the man who passes away in the midst of the greatest blessings after the finest achievements, that man has the happiest death; and you will find that in ancient times too, those whom the gods loved had a short span of life.”13

“Whom do you mean?” he asked.

14 “Achilles,” I replied, “and Patroclus and Hector and Memnon and Sarpedon,”14 and as I was going on to name still others, he exclaimed:

“What you have said is well suited to comfort those who are in mourning, and I wish that I could listen to you longer; but really it is high time for me to be at the training of the boy, and I am off.”

1

This Discourse is in the form of a funeral oration for a young boxer Melancomas, who had died very suddenly. As to the question whether there ever was such a Melancomas and as to the time and place of this oration the reader is referred to the Introduction to the preceding Discourse.

If we follow von Arnim and others in believing that there really was such a Melancomas and that this funeral oration really was delivered, then arises the question of who delivered it. Apparently it was not Dio himself, because the speaker had been a close friend of the deceased and was deeply moved by his death; while Dio, on the other hand, had known Melancomas only by name, as he says in Discourse 28.5. Then too, the speaker represents himself as quite youthful and not a fluent speaker. But if Dio merely wrote the oration for some one else to deliver, who was that person? One thinks first of Titus, who according to a Neapolitan inscription was the agonothete at the Games in Naples three times and gymnasiarch once before A.D. 81 and was reputed to have been a lover of Melancomas (Cf. Themistius, Oration 10, p139 Hard.). But it seems unlikely that a man of Titus' disposition, high place, and maturity — he was possibly thirty-three years old at the time when this oration is supposed to have been delivered — and fresh from the capture of Jerusalem, would have represented himself as youthful and immature; or have ranked athletics higher than warfare, as the speaker does in § 15. It is more likely that this oration was delivered by a Greek who was a high official at the Games.

The thought content of this Discourse and the information given about Melancomas are practically the same as in the preceding Discourse; but a good deal more is said in praise of the deceased; and athletics, as already said, are put on a higher plane than warfare.

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The Twenty-ninth Discourse: Melancomas I2

Ah sirs! I cannot think of anything at all to say, so great is my grief alike and my consternation at this sudden bereavement; for not only on account of the office which I hold does the disaster come home to me more than to any other citizen, but Melancomas was also a personal friend of mine beyond all others, as most of you know. And to me at least it seems an absurd custom, when citizens die, that those most deeply afflicted should be thought the most fitting persons to speak at their obsequies; since those who are most grief-stricken are for that very reason incapable of speech. 2 Moreover, I am at the time of life when all men find that, while their ability to speak is always less than it was, yet the emotions of both joy and sorrow3 are greatest in intensity. Since, however, a eulogy spoken by a general over a good soldier who has passed away does him a greater honour, and one spoken by any ruler a greater honour than one spoken by a private citizen, so it devolves upon me also, in view of the office I hold, to speak to the best of my ability. And it would be in keeping with the merit of the deceased and my own youth to demand of me no lengthy or studied eulogy, but praise that comes from the heart.

In the first place, he had the good fortune to be truly well-born. For it is not because he chanced to have forebears who were rich — nay, not even if they were kings but in other respects were quite without merit — that this man was well-born. 3 That term applies to those who have come from good parents, as this man did.4 For his father stood out conspicuous among all men of his time for those fairest gifts — nobility of soul and bodily strength. This is proved by the victories that he won, both at Olympia and in the other games.5

Then he was himself by nature's gift the most beautiful of men, not only of those of the present day but, as one may infer from his surpassing beauty, of absolutely all those of all time who have been renowned for beauty, all those, I mean, who were born mortal. 4 For the majority of those who have been regarded as beautiful because they did possess comeliness in certain parts of their body afterwards have got the reputation of being beautiful; since the eye ever wishes to direct itself to the most pleasing things to the neglect of what is inferior. And certain others were not favoured by nature with a beautiful body, but a lovely prime had arrived for them, so that those who met them, succumbing thereto, called it beauty, since the heyday of life always bourgeons in all animals and plants alike. 5 Thousands of persons of this sort can be found who at one time seem beautiful and at another time ugly; and though they please some exceedingly, with others they get no notice at all. But when it is a question of perfect and true beauty, it would be surprising if anyone ever possessed it as this man did. For he had it in his whole body and always to the same degree, both before he reached years of manhood and afterward; and he would never have lived long enough, even if he had reached an extreme old age, to have dimmed his beauty.6

6 And here is an indication of the surpassing quality of his beauty: not that he stood out pre-eminent in any company of professional men, or was admired merely by some few who saw him, no indeed, but that he was always admired when in a company of those who are perhaps the most beautiful men in the world — the athletes among whom he moved. For the tallest and most comely men, whose bodies receive the most perfect care, are these. And he was seen by practically all mankind. For there was no city of repute, and no nation, which he did not visit; and among all alike the same opinion of him prevailed — that they had seen no one more beautiful. And since he was admired by the greatest numbers, and amongst the most beautiful men he alone possessed the fame of sheer beauty, it is evident that he was blest with what we may term a form truly divine.

7 I therefore in the first place felicitate him for his beauty, a thing which certainly is the most conspicuous of the blessings that can fall to man, which, while being most pleasing to gods and most pleasing to men, is yet fraught with least pain to its possessor and is easiest to recognize. For while the other blessings that a man may have might easily pass unnoticed, such as courage and temperance and wisdom, unless some deed should happen to reveal them, yet beauty cannot remain hidden. For it becomes manifest the moment its possessor appears; nay, one might say that it becomes manifest even sooner, so penetrating is the impression it makes on the senses. Furthermore, most men envy all other blessings and become hostile to their possessor, but beauty makes friends of those who perceive it and allows no one to become an enemy.7

8 But if anyone says that I am uttering an encomium of beauty and not of the man himself, his criticism is unjust. To illustrate: it would be called a eulogy of a man if we should dwell upon his manly courage. Very well, then: when it is a matter of dispute as to whether a person possesses any given quality, then it is necessary to prove he does; but when he is known to possess it, we need only to praise the nature of the good trait which is admittedly his. For the eulogy of this will be at the same time also a eulogy of its possessor.

And what is most admirable in Melancomas is that, with all his beauty of figure, he surpassed in manly courage. 9 Indeed, it seems to me that his soul vied with his body and strove to make herself the means of his winning a greater renown. He therefore, recognizing that, of all the activities conducive to courage, athletics is at once the most honourable and the most laborious, chose that. Indeed, for the soldier's career no opportunity existed, and the training also is less severe. And I for my part would venture to say that it is inferior also in that there is scope for courage alone in warfare, whereas athletics at one and the same time produce manliness, physical strength, and self-control.8 10 Furthermore, he chose, not the easiest branch of athletics, but the most laborious, since he trained for boxing. Now it is difficult to reach the top even in the humblest branch, let alone to surpass all others in the greatest and most difficult one, as this man.

To give the full record, one after another, of his crowns and the contests in which he won them is superfluous in the presence of you who know of them, and especially since anyone could name others who gained these same victories. But that which has fallen to the lot of no one else, 11 although you are aware of it as well as I, yet for that very reason must be mentioned; for even those who do not know of it also find it difficult to credit — I mean that, although he met so many antagonists and such good ones, he went down before none of them, but was himself always victorious.9 Yet you could find in all the past no general who was never defeated, no hero in war who did not actually some time or other flee from battle. For one could not say of our friend that he remained undefeated simply because he died early, since, after all, he went through far more contests than anyone else; and the chance of losing depends upon the attempts made and not upon the length of life. Furthermore, a person might have been amazed at this — that he won all his victories without being hit himself or hitting his opponent, so far superior was he in strength and in his power of endurance. 12 For often he would fight throughout the whole day, in the hottest season of the year, and although he could have more quickly won the contest by striking a blow, he refused to do it, thinking that it was possible at times for the least competent boxer to overcome by a blow the very best man, if the chance for making it were offered; but he held that it was the truest victory when he forced his opponent, although uninjured, to give up; for then the man was overcome, not by his injury, but by himself; and that for an adversary to give up because of the condition of his whole body and not simply of the part of his body that was struck, meant brilliant work on the part of the victor; whereas the man who rushed in to win as quickly as possible by striking and clinching was himself overcome by the heat and by the prolonged effort.10

13 But if anyone does not look at the matter in this light, let him reflect that boars and stags, as long as their strength holds out, do not come to close quarters with either men or dogs, and that it is only when they give out from exhaustion that they come in close and prefer wounds and death to enduring the fatigue of pursuit any longer. It is the same with men in war: although they know well that they are more likely to be struck when in flight than when they stand their ground, yet because they are unwilling to suffer distress through weariness any longer, they retire, in this way exposing themselves to the blows of their enemies in their rears. Therefore contempt for wounds is not a mark of courage but of the opposite.

14 So I think that under one and the same head everything has been said, not only about manliness and courage, but also about self-control and about temperance. For if Melancomas had not been self-controlled and temperate, I imagine that he would not have been so superior in strength, even if nature did make him the strongest man. And I for my part should not hesitate to say that even of all the ancient heroes whose praises everyone chants, he possessed valour inferior to none, inferior neither to those who warred at Troy nor to those who in later times repulsed the barbarians in Greece. Indeed, if he had lived in their day, his deeds would have matched theirs.

15 And, speaking generally, I give athletics the preference over distinction in warfare on the following scores: first, that the best men in athletics would distinguish themselves in war also; for the man who is stronger in body and is able to endure hardship the longer time is, in my opinion, he who, whether unarmed or armed, is the better man; second, it is not the same thing to contend against untrained opponents and men who are inferior in every way, as it is to have for one's antagonists the best men drawn from the whole inhabited earth. Besides, in war the man who once conquers slays his antagonist, so as not to have the same opponent the second time; whereas in athletics the victory is just for that one day, and afterwards the victor has for his opponents, not only the men he has beaten, but anyone else who cares to challenge. 16 Further, in athletics the better man proves superior to the inferior man, since he must conquer with nothing else but his courage and physical strength; while in war the might of steel, which is much superior to mere human flesh, does not allow the excellency of men's bodies to be tested and often takes the side of the inferior man.11 Moreover, everything that I have said about athletics I have also said about one who wasº an athlete, aye, and one who has been proved to be the best of the men in that profession; and perhaps both for me and for this audience my speech may appropriately show that this is for the best.12

Now since his was beauty of body, his was courage and a stout heart and, besides, self-control and the good fortune of never having been defeated, what man could be called happier than he? 17 And yet for a man like him these twin virtues, courage and self-control, are most difficult to achieve; since beauty is stronger than any other influence to make people conceited and to entice them to a life of luxury and ease, as though they had no need of any other glory when they are noted for their comeliness, and as though an idle life were more pleasant. And one might find in reckoning over the most beautiful men of former times from the beginning that the great majority of them did no deed which gave proof of manliness or of virtue in general. Nay, while in the case of Ganymede they thought it was because he disappeared from the sight of man when a boy that he did not perform any brilliant exploit; 18 yet regarding Adonis,13 or Phaon,14 or similar men, all of whom gained extraordinary fame for their loveliness, we hear nothing except about their beauty. The only exceedingly beautiful men who were brave that we can mention were Theseus and Achilles, and these men did not have very much self-control; for otherwise the former would not have carried off Helen by force,15 and the other would not have quarrelled at Troy for reasons that he did. Hippolytus16 did have self-control, but it is not clear whether or not he had manly courage, since hunting is no real proof of it.

19 But the man who actually gained all the blessings found among mankind must be worthy to be accounted happy in his death also. For if the longest possible time were best for man, we might well have lamented over him in that regard; but as it is, seeing that all the life given to man is but short, you will find that with very many men it would have been much better if they had died sooner, so many are the misfortunes that overtake them. 20 Again, in the case of the most eminent men of ancient times, history tellsº us that none of them reached a great age, neither Patroclus nor Antilochus, and further, neither Sarpedon, nor Memnon, nor Achilles, nor Hippolytus; nor the Boeotians, Otus and Ephialtes, who, Homer says, were the tallest and handsomest men ever born next to Orion,17 nor Orion18 himself. But these men perished owing to their folly, while the others whom I have mentioned were called by men children and offspring of gods. Now the gods would not have given an early death to their own children and those whom they especially loved if they did not consider this a good thing for mankind.

21 Therefore, sirs, you should take these considerations into account and regard him as blessed, and should yourself therefore be none the less eager for toil and the distinction it brings, since you may be sure that, if it should be anyone's lot to die too soon, he will be without part in any of these blessings; for the man who gains fair renown departs laden with blessings. Come then, train zealously and toil hard, the younger men in the belief that this man's place has been left to them, the older in a way that befits their own achievements; yes, and take all the pride in these things that men should who live for praise and glory and are devotees of virtue. 22 And after the departed, honour him by remembrance, not by tears; for that tribute would not be a seemly one for noble men to give a noble man, nor should I commend Homer for saying that the sands and their armour were bedewed with the tears of the Achaeans.19 However, he aimed rather to give poetic pleasure when he pictured excessive lamenting, but do you bear your grief with self-control.

At the beginning Dio is speaking with a certain Timarchus and the younger of his two sons, also named Timarchus, about the death of the older son, Charidemus, who had had a great love and admiration for Dio. From the father Dio learns that Charidemus shortly before his death had dictated an address for the consolation of his father, brother, and friends. On learning this Dio at once urges the father to read the address to him and the father complies.

In this address three possible explanations of the life of man are offered. According to the first one, §§ 10 24, this world is a prison in which men are punished by the gods, who hate them because they are of the blood of the Titans. When any man's punishment is completed, or he has left a son to suffer punishment in his stead, he is allowed to escape by death. According to the second explanation, §§ 26 27, this world is a colony founded by the gods for men, their descendants, whom at first they kept under their protection, but afterwards allowed to shift for themselves. The third explanation represents this world as a beautiful palace where men are entertained at a banquet from which God summons to himself those who have comported themselves best.

After hearing this address Dio commends it highly and attempts to console the bereaved father and the younger son.

In form this Discourse is a dialogue, reported directly, which contains a verbatim report of Charidemus' address, which, in its turn, is made up almost entirely of indirect reports of what certain men, not definitely indicated, have said in explanation of man's life in this world. The important part of the Discourse is, of course, Charidemus's address, which gives these three explanations, while the conversation between Dio and the two bereaved ones is merely a framework to hold it. In Plato's Phaedo also, which according to Philostratus (Lives of Sophists, 8.1 f. K.) was Dio's favourite book on philosophy, the important part consists of the last words of Socrates as reported by Phaedo to his friend Echecrates. Corresponding to these last words of Socrates we have here the deathbed message of Charidemus. And further, Charidemus shows in the face of death the same fortitude and resignation that Socrates did.

But did such a person as Charidemus, Dio's ideal of a young religious philosopher, ever have an existence, as Socrates did; or have we merely a product of the imagination? von Arnim feels sure that he is a real character, while others are not so certain. On this point there is the same difference of opinion as there is regarding the actuality of Melancomas, Dio's ideal young athlete. All, however, seem agreed that the conversation between Dio and the two bereaved is fictitious. But those who believe that Charidemus is a real character have next to consider whether the address on the life of man is really his work, modified perhaps by Dio, or whether it is altogether Dio's. von Arnim thinks that the address is not at all like any of Dio's work, but Friedrich Wilhelm (Philologus, vol. 75, 1918, pp364 365) has pointed out enough idea of Dio's in it that are found in other Discourses of his, and also enough of his familiar words and phrases, to refute this view.

In the next place, can we identify the man who, Charidemus says, offered him the explanation that this world is a prison? Dümmler (Academica, p90 f.) and Hagen (Questiones Dioneae, p21) suggest that he is the Cynic philosopher Antisthenes, while Friedrich Wilhelm (loc. cit., p367, footnote) maintains that he is a fictitious character. But we note that, although Charidemus begins with giving this explanation with § 10, he gives no hint of its source until he reaches the end of § 19, where, as if forgetting himself for the moment, he speaks as if it were his own. Then, at the beginning of § 20, he credits a wandering philosopher with giving him when a child some details about the chain to which all men are bound. After giving these details and therewith finishing the first explanation of man's life, Charidemus says in § 25 that he believes this explanation comes from 'some morose man who had suffered a great deal in his life and only late had gained true education' (just like the two dogs in Discourse 7.17). — It is this description of the man which makes Dümmler, Hagen, and Sonny think of Antisthenes. Now is Charidemus crediting this 'morose man' with the first explanation as a whole, or only with the part beginning with § 20? If the latter is the case, and the 'wandering philosopher' is identical with the 'morose man,' then Dio himself answers fairly well to this description. For Dio became a wandering philosopher during his exile and only then, as he believed, got true education, when he was 42 years of age or older. This would be 'late in life' for getting an education; or does he mean that this 'morose man' learned later not to regard this world as a prison? And it may well be that he was made 'morose' for the time being from having 'suffered a great deal in his life.' Is Dio thinking of himself when he uses these words, just as he is in Discourse 12.51, where he speaks of a 'sore distressed soul, having in the course of life drained the cup of many misfortunes and griefs, nor ever winning sweet sleep'? And besides, would not the injustice of his exile and the hardships which he endured tend to make him have a gloomy outlook on life and accept the opinions of those who regarded this world as a prison?

Of course, when we identify the 'morose' man with the 'wandering philosopher' the first part of the explanation, where the world is spoken of as a prison, is not really credited to any one person, but it would seem reasonable to suppose that the man believing the second part of the first explain would accept the first part also, especially as the idea of men being bound to a chain is common to both. On the other hand, if we think of the 'morose man' as not identical with the 'wandering philosopher,' then in this morose man with his many sufferings in life we still have a fairly good description of the exiled Dio with only the one detail of his wandering life lacking, and the first explanation as a whole is definitely ascribed to him.

Once more, who is the 'peasant,' also mentioned in § 25, 'who spoke with a very rustic drawl and accent,' the one from whom Charidemus says he heard the second and third explanations? Dümmler believes that it was one of the later Cynics, possibly Bion; but Sonny, while agreeing in the main, thinks that this later Cynic was more likely Cleanthes, because the man is described as a peasant. For Diogenes Laertius (7.2, pp168 171) says that Cleanthes made his living by watering a garden and digging earth. And further, the words 'in praise of Zeus and the other gods' may refer to Cleanthes' Hymn to Zeus. Friedrich Wilhelm, on the other hand, thinks that this peasant is a purely imaginary character.

But no matter how we identify the 'morose man' and the 'peasant,' it seems reasonable to suppose that the three explanations of life represent three stages in Dio's own belief. After returning from exile he naturally acquired a more cheerful outlook on life and came to think of the gods as merely having become indifferent to men, and then later the prison has become a beautiful palace in which the king of the gods gives royal entertainment to men and rewards the best. Yet some parts of Dio's belief did not change. He believed throughout that the gods exist, that they have something to do with man, and that man may overcome evil and receive his reward.

And finally, there is the question as to the immediate and the ultimate sources of these three explanations of life and this world. Of course, if we believe that Antisthenes, the founder of the Cynic sect, offered the first and Cleanthes the second and third, for us a good deal of the question is settled. If we do not, then there is a great uncertainty. However, it has been shown that the idea of the world as a prison is Pythagorean and Orphic in origin,1 while Friedrich Wilhelm has offered a good many reasons for believing that Dio drew upon Posidonius for parts of all three explanations, although he with others thinks that there is a large Cynic element in the third. And since there are some thoughts that can be paralleled in Xenophon and Plato, it is reasonable to suppose that Dio drew to some extent also from these, his favourite authors.

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The Thirtieth Discourse:

Charidemus

Dio. I had heard about the death of Charidemus some time ago, even before I saw you;2 for when I landed here, I straightway made inquiries about certain other persons and most especially about these two, wishing to learn where they were and how they were getting on. Then I chanced upon a man who did not know them very well, but had merely heard their names,3 who asked me if I meant the sons of Timarchus; and when I replied in the affirmative, he told me that this one, meaning the younger, was still in Messenia with you on account of his mourning for his brother; for, he said, the elder of the two had died. 2 So it was clear that he was reporting the death of Charidemus. Yet even then there appeared to be some uncertainty, although the man had spoken clearly enough; but afterwards we came to know with more certainty. Now I believe that I myself was almost as deeply pained as you men were; for to say 'more pained' would not be right nor proper for me, even if it were indeed true that one had loved him more than you, his father and his brother, did. 3 And yet the strength of natural affection does seem to be not very great in persons of the common sort. Something like this happened, I hear, in the case of our Opuntian4 friend here after he had lost a son, an agreeable and clever young man, who was also our companion; but nevertheless they tell me that he grieved less over his death than if he had lost anything else out of his house. You two, however, seem to be very much distressed by your affliction, and no wonder; for such a man as Charidemus certainly would speedily have turned out to be, would have been useful, not only to your city, but to all Hellas, if he had lived. I, for my part, never knew any young lad of higher spirit than he nor of better natural parts.

4 Timarchus. Yes, and if you knew how he felt towards you, your praise would be much warmer. It seemed to me that he held you in more honour than he did even me, his father, not to mention other people, since in his illness and even when he was practically at death's door, and we were at his bedside along with other relatives, fellow citizens and acquaintances, he kept mentioning you by name, although by then he could scarcely speak at all, and bade us say when we met you that he was thinking of you when he died. For he retained consciousness and the power to speak up to the very last. Furthermore, even when he was alive and well, he was so attached to you that he imitated you in his taciturnity,5 his gait, and in all other respects, as people who knew used to say.

5 Dio. Oh no, he was not imitating in those matters either me or anybody else; but they were natural with him. Perhaps you did not notice it at first when he was still a child; then as he grew older, it became more marked. For a manly and dignified bearing came much more naturally to him than to anybody else. But I wonder if he pained you at all by these characteristics or appeared to you to be somewhat gloomy of countenance.

Tim. No, on the contrary, I thought that he was more cheerful than many and ready to play such games as were proper for free-born children, and always somehow ready to give a smile to people whom he knew; but I did not often see him laughing without restraint. So he caused us no worry; and what is more, he won the commendation of many people, and our fellow citizens had more respect for him, although he was only twenty-two years old — for that was his age when he died — than they had for those who were older and in the public eye.

6 Dio. But did he give you any other commission or say anything else on his death-bed?

Tim. Yes, many remarkable things — at least, so I, his father, think. For, although he was departing from life at such an early age, so far was he from lamenting his fate or showing any grief that on the contrary he tried to comfort us. Then finally, he called the servant and dictated to him, like one inspired, an address for our consolation, so that I began to suspect that perhaps it was because his mind was now wandering on account of the nearness of death that he was doing this. Those who were at his bedside, though, praised it highly.

Dio. Pray, have you what he wrote?

7 Tim. Yes, indeed.

Dio. Then are you willing to repeat it?

Tim. O yes, only ashamed for fear that it is not in proper shape, because it was spoken by a comparatively young man and at such a time. For I really thought that he would have been more careful in what he said, had you been the only one present, than he was with all the rest there.

Dio. It is no outsider that you will be reading to, my good friend; and, at the same time, it is not the style that I am anxious to observe so much as what his state of mind was as revealed by what he said, whether he was really of good cheer and courageous on his deathbed.

8 Tim. Well, here it is:6

The Dying Words of Charidemus

“What has happened to me has happened in accordance with God's will; and we should not consider anything that he brings to pass as harsh, nor bear it with repining: so wise men advise us,7 and Homer not least when he says that the gifts of the gods to man should not be spurned by man8 — rightly calling the acts of the gods 'gifts,' as being all good and done for a good purpose.9 9 As for me, this is my feeling, and I accept the decree of fate calmly, saying this, not at any ordinary time, but when that fate itself is present, and I see my end so near at hand. And do you, I pray, believe me, since I have had even greater concern for the truth than for you, and, so far as in you lies, do not give way to your grief, knowing that nothing terrible has befallen me; no, not even if one offers the explanation of death which is the most difficult to accept.

10 This explanation I will now give to you, although it is very likely not at all cheering, nor pleasing — for I imagine it was not devised to please us — and it has something of the marvellous about it perhaps. It is to the effect that all we human beings are of the blood of the Titans.10 Then, because they were hateful to the gods and had waged war on them, we are not dear to them either, but are punished by them and have been born for chastisement, being, in truth, imprisoned in life for as long a time as we each live. And when any of us die, it means that we, having already been sufficiently chastised,11 are released and go our way.

11 This place which we call the universe, they tell us, is a prison prepared by the gods,12 a grievous and ill-ventilated one, which never keeps the same temperature and condition of its air, but at one time is cold and frosty, and infected with wind, mud, snow, and water, and at another time is hot and stifling; for just a very little time of the year it is endurable; it is visited by cyclones, typhoons occur, and sometimes the whole of it quakes to the very bottom. Now all these are terrible punishments. 12 For men are invariably dismayed and terrified by them whenever they occur. Then in addition to all this, because men cannot endure the bad air and changes of temperature, they devise for themselves other small prisons, namely, their houses and cities, which they construct of timber and stone, just as if a person should build other smaller enclosures inside of a large one.

And the plants which grow all about us and the fruits of the earth are created, they assure us, simply in order that we may serve out our time here. They are just like the unappetizing and wretched food which is given to prisoners, but we nevertheless put up with it on account of the necessity which is upon us and our helplessness. 13 For in the case of men who are being punished by us, whatever is furnished appears appetizing because they are hungry and used to it. These foods are in reality bad and spoiled, and that they are spoiled is shown by the frailty of our bodies. And, further, it is not even furnished us ready at hand, nor yet supplied in abundance to everyone, but must be won with intolerable toil and hardships.13

“Also, we are composed of the very things which torture us, namely, soul and body. 14 For the one has within it desires, pains, angers, fear, worries, and countless such feelings; and by day and by night it is ever racked and wrenched by them.14 Even the man who is of a better bodily condition than most, is free from none whatever of these troubles, but has them shut up within him just like wild animals compelled to keep quiet by force and persuasion alike; but if he stops singing charms to them and watching them, for even a short time, they instantly become very active. 15 Our body too is subject to vertigo, convulsions, epilepsy, and other diseases, so numerous that it is not even possible to enumerate them, since it is full of blood and air, and, further, is composed of flesh and sinews and bones, of both soft and hard things, of moist and dry things, complete opposites. Then our foods, as I said, being bad and the weather variable, aggravate some of our diseases and bring us others, which, though they do not seem to be there at first, yet are actually inherent in the nature of our bodies. These are the evils which lie within our own selves. 16 The other chastisements, which come from without, are lighter in comparison with those that come from our own nature. For the effect of fire or steel, of blows, or of other things is sharp and quickly passes from consciousness even if it becomes at any time a little excessive. But in the case of diseases sometimes the effects last for a very long time.15

17 “Such, then, are the tortures, and so numerous, by which men are afflicted while they remain in this prison and dungeon, each for his appointed time; and the majority do not get out until they produce another person from their own loins and leave him to succeed to the punishment in their stead, some leaving one and others even more. They do not stay voluntarily, but are all bound fast by one chain, body and soul, just as you may see many persons bound by us by one chain in a row, some of them small, some large, some ugly and some good looking; but none the less all of them are held on equal terms in the same constraint.16

18 “And, likewise, men are superior one to the other in their fortunes, reputations, and honours, just as they are in their bodies. Some of them are kings, others are in private station, some are wealthy, and others are without means. Yet no whit less on this account do the fortunate, as they are called, suffer and are held fast in the same bondage, than do the poor and unknown, nay, they suffer more than the others.17 19 For since the poor are leaner, the bond which lies about each of them is looser and easier. But as for kings and tyrants, just because they are puffed up in soul and are in exceedingly good bodily condition, so the chains lie heavier upon them and gall them the more; exactly as in the case of persons whose bodies are bound, the fetter pinches the stout and bulky more than it does the thin and under-nourished. However, a very few enjoy some relief by the kindness of God; and while they are indeed bound, yet the bond is very light on account of their goodness — a class of men concerning whom we shall speak again.18

20 “But first it is right to say that once when a child I heard a wandering philosopher explain what the nature of the chain is, that it is not at all like such chains as we have, made of iron or bronze as our chains are, but much stronger, and yet similar in form and construction. For just as our chains are forged out of a number of links that are interlocked with one another, and that from one end to the other; so too is that other one by which we asserted that men are bound by the gods. 21 This chain, he said, is composed entirely of both pleasure and pain, and these things are intertwined, the pleasant and the painful, and the one always of necessity follows the other, just as, I suppose, are the links of a chain.19 Great pleasures are followed by great pains, the small pleasures by smaller pains, and very greatest pleasure at the end is death. This is the reason that the pain which comes before death is the greatest; for it is clear that man has no greater pain and suffering than this which ends in death.

22 “He said, further, that for each man there are other bonds, in some cases lighter, in other cases heavier, which lie upon him just like fetters: they are called hopes by us.20 Now just as the fetters are at the lower part of the body and around our extremities, so the hopes too are at the very bottom and surround the final part of our life. They most of all hold men in their thrall and compel them to endure even though they suffer all tortures. In the case of the senseless and the foolish, these fetters are massive and exceedingly thick, but for the more intelligent, the shackles that surround them are loose and light.

23 “And, mark you, he also compared something to a file, very manfully sticking to his parable. This, he said, is found only by the intelligent and shrewd; for it is locked away very carefully, just as a person might hide a file in a prison in order that none of the prisoners might get hold of it and then free himself. Now the ambitious and industrious have trouble in finding it, but still they do find it. And the name they give to it is 'Reason.' Then, as soon as they find it, they use it to file the fetters and make the part of the chain that binds themselves21 as thin and weak as possible, until they overcome the pleasures and pains so far as one may. 24 But this is slow work. Only with difficulty does their 'reason' affect the chains because they are of adamantine hardness,22 and it wears them away only gradually, but is not able to wear them entirely through and tear them asunder. And when a man does get hold of this remedy, and uses it industriously by day and night to the best of his ability, he now endures his confinement cheerfully, walks around past the others as if he were a free man, and when his fated time comes, he goes his way without hindrance, as though no longer restrained by force or clamped to the chain.23 Of such men the gods at times make some their coadjutors on account of their virtue and wisdom, after completely freeing them from their punishment.24

25 “Now this explanation was given, in my opinion, by a certain morose man who had suffered a great deal in his life and only late had gained true education;25 but it is not the right explanation, nor one that befits the gods. There is another one better than that, which I am much more eager to give. I heard it from a peasant who spoke with a very rustic drawl and accent. However, perhaps there is no need for us to imitate this, and we shall attempt merely to record his thought.

26 “He said, in reciting the praises of Zeus and the other gods,26 that they are good and love us27 as being of kin28 to them. For it is from the gods, he declared, that the race of men is sprung and not from Titans or from Giants. For when they got the universe into their power, they established mankind upon the earth, which was hitherto uninhabited, as a sort of colony made up of their own people, on the basis of inferior honours and felicity, but with the same righteous laws as their own; precisely after the fashion in which great and prosperous cities found the small communities.29 And I thought that he meant, without expressly adding the proper names, just as Athens colonized Cythnos and Seriphos, or Sparta founded Cythera in ancient times, giving them the same laws as they themselves had. And in these various colonies you may behold copies of the customs and the form of government which their founders enjoy, but all are weak and inferior. 27 However, the superiority of the colonizers over their colonies not as great; for in the one case it is the superiority of men over men, whereas the greater excellence of the gods as compared with ourselves is an infinite one. Now, as long as life was but newly established, the gods both visited us in person and sent harmosts,30 as it were, from their own number at first to look after us, such as Heracles, for example,31 Dionysus, Perseus, and the others, who, we are told, were the children of the gods, and that the descendants of these were born among us.32 Afterwards they permitted us to manage for ourselves as best we could. And then it was that sin and injustice began.

28 “The peasant also chanted a second monody,33 telling how the universe is a house very beautiful and divine, constructed by the gods; that just as we see houses built by men who are called prosperous and wealthy, with portals and columns, and the roof, walls, and doors adorned with gold and with paintings, in the same way the universe has been made to give entertainment and good cheer to mankind, beauteous and bespangled with stars, sun, moon, land, sea, and plants,34 all these being, indeed, portions of the wealth of the gods and specimens of their handiwork.35

29 “Into this universe comes mankind to hold high festival, having been invited by the king of the gods to a most splendid feast and banquet that they may enjoy all blessings.36 They recline in different places, just as at a dinner, some getting better and others inferior positions, and everything resembles what takes place among us at our entertainments, except that we are comparing the divine and great with the small and mean. For the gods furnish us with light of two kinds by means of lamps as it were, at one time a brighter and at another a dimmer light, the one at night and the other by day;37 30 and tables are set beside us, loaded with everything, with bread and fruit, some of it wild and some cultivated, and with meats too, some from domestic animals, some from wild, and fish also from the sea. And these tables, the peasant said, speaking like a true rustic, are the meadows, plains, vales, and coast-land, on which some things grow, others pasture, and yet others are hunted. And different persons have different things in greater abundance according to the tables at which they have severally reclined. For some happen to have settled by the sea, others on the plains, and yet others in the mountains. 31 And the waiters are the Seasons,38 as being the youngest of the gods, beautifully dressed and fair to behold, and they are adorned, not, methinks, with gold, but with garlands of all manner of flowers. And some of the flowers themselves they distribute and also attend to the viands of the banquet in general, serving some and removing others at the right time. And there is dancing and every other sort of merrymaking. 32 Furthermore, that labour which we think we undergo in farming and hunting and the care of the vines, is no more than it is for those at a table to reach out for a thing and take it in their hand. To return now to my statement that different persons reclined in different places, the reason for that is the differences in the climate. For those at the head of the tables and those at the foot, more than of the others, are either in the cold or in the heat, because they are either near the light or far from it.

33 “Now all, so the man continued, do not enjoy the merrymaking and banqueting in the same way, but each according to his own nature.39 The dissolute and intemperate neither see nor hear anything, but bend over and eat, like pigs in a sty, and then nod in sleep. Again, some of them are not satisfied with what is near, but reach out their hands for the things that are farther away, as, for example, people living inland want fish and take trouble to get it; 34 while others, who are insatiable and wretched, fearing that food will fail them, collect and pile up for themselves as much as they can, and after this, when they have to go, they depart without having a share of anything, but utterly destitute, and leave these things to others; for they cannot take them with them. Now these persons are a laughing-stock and disgrace. 35 Others play at draughts and yet others with dice; but the draughts and dice are not like those to which we give these names, but are made some of gold and some of silver — we call them coins — and over them they quarrel and each seeks to get the greater share. It is these last-named men who cause the greatest uproar and disorder — I mean those who play at dice — and they appear to be the most disagreeable of the revellers. Sometimes, too, they fight and come to blows and wound one another. 36 But it is the drunken who are most inclined to act this way. However, it is not wine that makes them drunk, as it is with us, but pleasure. For this is the beverage that the gods furnish at this banquet to which all mankind is invited, so that the character of each man may be revealed. And two cup-bearers stand at their elbows, one male, the other female; the one of them is called Intelligence and the other Intemperance. Now those banqueters who are sensible have the male cup-bearer and from him alone they accept the drink sparingly, in small cups, and only when it has been so mixed that it is quite harmless; 37 for there is only one bowl,40 that of Sobriety, has been placed before them, nevertheless there are many bowls available for all and differing in taste, as though filled with many kinds of wine, and they are of silver and of gold; and besides, they have figures of animals encircling them on the outside and certain scrolls and reliefs. But the bowl of Sobriety is smooth, not large, and of bronze, to judge by its appearance. So from this bowl they must take many times as large a portion and mix with it a little of the pleasure and drink. 38 Now for those whose cup-bearer he is, Intelligence pours out the wine just so, fearing and giving close heed lest in some way he should fail to get the right mixture and cause the banqueter to stumble and fall. But Intemperance pours out a neat draught of pleasure for the great majority without mixing even a little of sobriety with it, though for some she puts in just a very little for the name of it; still this little straightway disappears and is nowhere to be seen. And the drinkers do not take intervals of rest, but hurry her on and bid her come faster to them, and each one of them grabs first at what she brings. But she hurries and runs about panting and dripping with sweat. 39 Some of her guests dance and lurch, falling prostrate in the sight of all, and fight and shout, just as men do who are drunken with wine. However, these do so only for a little while and moderately; for they are content to sleep a little while, and after that they feel better than ever, since their intoxication was slight. But those who have become stupefied by pleasure, being affected by a stronger potion, act this way all through life; and it is impossible for them to get free while they live but only when dead. For death is the only sleep for people intoxicated in this way and it alone helps them. 40 Many too vomit from surfeit, and it is accompanied by retching and the severest pain — this casting out of the pleasure. But whoever persists is relieved and gets on better for the future. Yet it rarely happens that a person wishes to vomit; much rather do they wish to keep on drinking. For their thirst does not cease, but ever becomes more intense, just as with people who use untempered wine.

41 “Such, then, is the character of these people, and they disgrace and insult the bounty of the gods; whereas the temperate and reasonable enjoy pleasure in moderation and at intervals, owing to their fear; and just as a gentleman who has been invited by some superior, such as a king or a prince, neglects the food and drink, except in so far as he cannot avoid eating and drinking, and pays attention to what is in the palace and enjoys this; so the reasonable neglect the drinking and draughts and dice and look at the state of things within, admire the banqueting-hall in which they are reclining, try to learn how it was made, and observe everything that is in it, just as they would some fair and beautiful paintings; and they notice the management also and its orderly system, and the Seasons too, observing how well and intelligently they do everything;41 they observe attentively all these things and alone perceive their beauty. 42 They are anxious also not to appear to take part in all this like persons who are blind and deaf, but they wish to have something to tell about it when they leave, if anyone should ask them about what they saw and observed. And throughout the banquet they continue to take thought for these things and to enjoy the pleasure intelligently and moderately, while they debate man to man, or in congenial groups of two or three.42 Sometimes, however, when a great noise and disturbance is caused by those who are drunk, they look in their direction and then straightway again give attention to their own concerns.

43 “And when they have to depart, the dissolute and intemperate are pulled and dragged away by their slave attendants with discomforts and spells of sickness, shouting and groaning all the while, and having no knowledge whatever where they have been or how they have feasted, even if one or another of them remains a very long time. But the others depart erect and standing securely upon their own feet after bidding farewell to their friends, joyous and happy because they have done nothing unseemly.43 44 God, therefore, looking upon these things and observing all the banqueters, as if he were in his own house, how each person has comported himself at the banquet, ever calls the best to himself; and if he happens to be especially pleased with any one, he bids him remain there and makes him his boon companion;44 and thenceforth this man regales himself with nectar. This resembles the beverage of Sobriety, but is clearer by far than the other and purer because, as I think, it belongs to divine and true sobriety.”

45 Dio. Alas, Charidemus, what a man has been lost to us in your death! How far you would have surpassed the men of your generation, and what a splendid revelation of your character you have given to your father and your fellow citizens, a display, not of words assuredly, but of great and true manliness. For my part, I know not how to console you of his family, bereft of such a man, by exhorting you not to sorrow too deeply, for I am not able adequately to console even myself for the purpose. 46 You alone, Timarchus, are able to lighten this father's grief and to bring healing to his misfortune, by making it your concern not to be found much inferior to the departed. For it would be strange indeed if, while you have already received part of his property, great as it was, and will receive the other part in the future when your father here dies, yet you should forsake sobriety, courage, and a love for all that is most beautiful, as if in these matters you were of no kin at all to Charidemus.

Some information about the island of Rhodes and its capital city of the same name may contribute to an appreciation of this Discourse.

The island, which has an area of •approximately 424 square miles, lies in the extreme eastern part of the Aegean Sea and is about ten miles south of Cape Alypo , the ancient Cynossema Promontorium, on the coast of Asia Minor. From it one can see to the north the elevated coast of Asia Minor and in the south-west Mount Ida of Crete. It is still noted for its delightful climate and its fertile soil.

There is a legend that the earliest inhabitants of Rhodes were the Telchines, skilled workers in metal, and the Children of the Sun, who were bold navigators; yet, whatever the racial affinity of these people may have been, in historic times the population was Dorian.

In the fifth century before Christ its three cities of Lindus , Ialysus , and Camirus were enrolled in the Delian League, but in 412 B.C. they revolted from Athens. Then in 408 they united to form the new city of Rhodes on the north-east tip of the island. This city presented a very impressive appearance, laid out as it was by the architect Hippodamus in the form of an amphitheatre on a gentle slope running down to the sea.

After the founding of this city the prosperity and political importance of the island steadily increased. It threw off the yoke of Athens in the Social War, 357 354, and although it submitted first to Mausolus of Caria and then later to Alexander the Great, it reasserted its independence after the latter's death, greatly expanded its trade, and became more powerful than before, so that its standard of coinage and its code of maritime law became widely accepted in the Mediterranean. In 305 4 the city successfully withstood a siege by the redoubtable Demetrius Poliorcetes, who by means of his formidable fleet and artillery attempted to force the city into an active alliance with King Antigonus. On raising the siege Demetrius presented the Rhodians with his mighty siege-engines, from the sale of which they realized enough to pay for the Colossus, the celebrated statue of the Sun-god, •one hundred and five feet high, which was executed by Chares of Lindus and stood at the entrance of the harbour.

In 227 Rhodes suffered from a severe earthquake, the damages of which the other states helped to restore because they could not endure to see the state ruined. Chiefly by her fleet Rhodes supported Rome in her wars against Philip V of Macedon, Antiochus III, and Mithridates, who besieged the city unsuccessfully in 88. It assisted Pompey against the pirates and at first against Julius Caesar; but in 42 that Caius Cassius who formed the conspiracy against Caesar's life captured and ruthlessly plundered the city for refusing to submit to its exactions; and although befriended by Mark Antony after this, it never fully recovered from the blow. In the year 44 of our era, in the reign of Claudius, it lost its freedom temporarily, but recovered it at the intercession of Nero, who throughout his life remained very friendly to Rhodes. Then at the beginning of the reign of Vespasian it was reduced to a Roman province. This has been considered the end of Rhodes' freedom. Von Arnim, however (Leben und Werke, 217 218), gives good reason for believing that Rhodes was given its freedom again for a short time under Titus. This view is accepted by Van Gelder (Geschichte der alten Rhodier, 175), who suggests that this may have occurred somewhat later under Nerva or Trajan, by Hiller von Gaertringen in his article on Rhodes in Pauly-Wissowa, Suppl. V, col. 810, and by Lemarchand in his Dion de Pruse, 84.

Rhodes was noted for its paintings and its sculpture. In Dio's time the city is said to have had 3000 statues. (See Pliny the Elder 34.7.36 and cf. § 146 of this Discourse.) Then too it was the birthplace of the philosopher Panaetius, whose pupil, the philosopher and historian Poseidonius, had his school there; Apollonius Rhodius also spent part of his life there; and in this city both Cicero and Caesar in their youth studied rhetoric under Apollonius Molo.

This Rhodian oration, by far the longest of Dio's extant Discourses, purports to have been delivered by Dio before the Rhodian Assembly. In it Dio urges the Rhodians by all possible arguments to give up their bad habit of not actually having the statue of a man made and set up when one was decreed him as an honour, but of simply having his name engraved on some statue already standing, after first chiselling out the name, if any was there, which was already on the statue.

This Discourse throws an interesting light upon the time in which Dio lived. Then it was thought one of the highest honours for a man to have a statue of himself which was erected by public decree in a city like Rhodes, so that even Romans sought this honour. No doubt it was because so many Romans whom Rhodes could not afford to offend brought pressure to bear in order to secure the honour of a statue, that this practice of 'switching inscriptions' developed. The city already had some 3000 statues in its temples and streets, and yet many others were anxious for the honour of a statue. This was all the vogue at that time. Lemarchand (op. cit., 58) quotes from Cicero, Plutarch, Philo, Favorinus, Pausanias, Pliny the Elder, and Dio Cassius to show that the practice was not unknown elsewhere. Yet perhaps it had well-nigh ceased by Dio's time, for in §§ 105 106, 123 he says that the Thracians alone are guilty of it.

Von Arnim thinks that this address was not actually delivered, that it was merely written. The Rhodians, he says, met in Assembly to deal with matters of state, would not have been willing to listen to such a “long-winded expectoration” on a subject not on the order of the day. He points also to the unusually careful avoidance of hiatus. Lemarchand, on the other hand, who believes that we have here at least two addresses by Dio on the same subject, which were later made into one by some editor (perhaps by Dio himself, who then carefully removed cases of hiatus), thinks that at least the first address was actually delivered. He feels that the speech is not a unit on account of the numerous repetitions and contradictions in it which he lists, and on account of two different styles and tones, the one dry and dull, the other vigorous and at times impassioned.

Von Arnim, in attempting to date this Discourse, takes into account three factors: Rhodes is a free city (see for example §§ 111 113), Nero is dead (as may be inferred from §§ 148 150), and the Discourse shows Dio as a sophist, yet not hostile to philosophy, as he was in early life according to Synesius. To be sure Rhodes was free until 70 or 71 of our era, but he feels that even then Dio, who would have been about twenty-four years old, he says (about thirty would be nearer the truth if Dio was born about A.D. 40), would still have been too immature to compose such a speech as this. Therefore he would put this speech in the reign of Titus, when, as he attempts to show, Rhodes regained its freedom for a time.

Lemarchand, on the other hand, with his theory of two speeches, at least, combined into one, would place the first speech in the early years of Vespasian's reign, when Rhodes had just lost its freedom. For in this first speech Dio does not one refer to the freedom of Rhodes and sections 45 46 imply that it is not free, he says. The second speech, where Rhodes is spoken of as free, he would put in the reign of Titus; and he would accept von Arnim's contention that Rhodes then regained its freedom for a short time.

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The Thirty-first Discourse:

The Rhodian Oration

It is reasonable to suppose, men of Rhodes, that the majority of you are thinking that I have come to talk to you about some private matter; consequently, when you perceive that I am attempting to set right a matter which concerns your own general interests, you will perhaps be vexed that I, who am neither a citizen nor have been invited to come here, yet venture to offer advice, and that too concerning no one of the subjects for the consideration of which you have assembled. 2 But for my part, if after hearing me you find that the topic on which I am speaking is either inappropriate or not altogether urgent, I say that I shall be rightly regarded as both foolish and officious. But if you find that my topic is really of the greatest possible importance, and, furthermore, that the situation of which I speak is very bad indeed, so that the state as such is in evil repute on that account, and that you yourselves, one and all, though you bear a good reputation in everything else, in this one matter do not enjoy the general esteem to which you are entitled, you would have good reason to be grateful to me and to regard me as a true friend of yours. For it is evident that even if any person1 is not altogether content with you, the world at large, as you presumably know, cares not at all about those matters which may bring upon you some shame or injury. 3 Is it not, therefore, very strange that, whereas if a man, a foreigner or a resident alien, were offering you a gift of money out of his own means, you would not consider him officious just because, although under no apparent obligation to do so, he was zealous on your behalf even though you did not demand it, and yet, if a man offers you useful advice, just because he happens not to have been invited to do so or is not a citizen you are going to listen with considerable vexation to whatever he has to say? And yet as for money, perhaps you are in no pressing need of it at the present moment, and, besides, thousands can be found to whom it would be a greater benefit to have taken away from them some of the money they have; but as for good advice, there is no one who does not stand in need of it at every moment and for every circumstance of life, even the man who is regarded as most successful.

4 Now if I were speaking about one of the questions which are before you, you would not be so greatly benefited by me, for you would be reasonably sure to arrive at the proper conclusion by yourselves if you were once to consider the problem. But since, in discussing the matter concerning which you are not even making any attempt at all to ascertain what the situation is, I assert that I shall prove that it is being most disgracefully managed, shall I not have done you an altogether useful service — that is, if I shall, indeed, prove not to be misrepresenting the facts?a And what I think myself is, that it is right to welcome any man who, moved by a spirit of friendliness, has anything whatever to say, and to regard no such one as a nuisance, and especially, that you, men of Rhodes, should do so. For evidently the reason that you come together to deliberate every day and not, as other people do, reluctantly and at intervals and with only a few of you who are regarded as free-born being present, is that you may have leisure to hear about all matters and may leave nothing unexamined.

5 So much it was necessary to say by way of preface in order that you might understand the situation at the very beginning; and now I shall proceed to the subject itself, after simply adding that I think it is our duty to conduct all the affairs of life justly and honourably, and especially is it the duty of those who do anything in the name of the people; not only because official acts are more readily observed than private misdeeds, but also because, while the mistakes of persons in private station do not at once put the city in a bad light, improper action in public affairs inevitably causes every individual citizen to be looked upon as a knave. 6 For in a democracy the character of the majority is obviously the character of the state, since it is their will, surely, and no one else's, that prevails. And I myself would venture to say that it is especially fitting that the majority should scrupulously observe the noblest and most sacred obligations; for in the state where such considerations are neglected, such neglect even reveals a sort of vicious defect in the body politic and no other matter can be properly administered. 7 Furthermore, if we except the honours which we owe the gods, which we must regard as first in importance, of all other actions there is nothing nobler or more just than to show honour to our good men and to keep in remembrance those who have served us well — that is my opinion and needs no argument; and yet one may most clearly see in the principle also a practical advantage. For those who take seriously their obligations toward their benefactors and mete out just treatment to those who have loved them, all men regard as worthy of their favour, and without exception each would wish to benefit them to the best of his ability; and as a result of having many who are well-disposed and who give assistance whenever there is occasion, not only the state as a whole, but also the citizen in private stationº lives in greater security.

8 It is in regard to these matters, men of Rhodes, that I ask you to believe that the situation here among you is very bad and unworthy of your state, your treatment, I mean, of your benefactors, and of the honours given to your good men, although originally you did not handle the matterº thus — most assuredly not! Why, on the contrary, just as a person might very emphatically approve and admire any other practice of yours, so it is my opinion that you once gave very especial attention to bestowing honour, and one might recognize this to be so by looking at the great number of your statues — but it is only that a habit in another way bad has prevailed here for some time, and that nobody any longer receives honour among you, if you care to know the truth, and that the noble men of former times who were zealous for your state, not alone those in private station, but also kings and, in certain cases, peoples, are being insulted and robbed of the honours which they had received.2 9 For whenever you vote a statue to anyone — and the idea of doing this comes to you now quite readily because you have an abundant supply of statues on hand — though for one thing I could not possibly criticise you, I mean for letting a little time elapse and delaying action; for, on the contrary, as soon as any person is proposed for the honour by you — presto! there he stands on a pedestal, or rather, even before the vote is taken! But what occurs is quite absurd: your chief magistrate, namely, merely points his finger at the first statue that meets his eyes of those which have already been dedicated, and then, after the inscription which was previously on it has been removed and another name engraved, the business of honouring is finished; and there you are!b The man whom you have decreed to be worthy of the honour has already got his statue, and quite easily, it seems to me, and at a good bargain, when you look at the matter from this point of view — that the abundance of supply is wonderful and your business a thing to envy, if you are the only people in the world who can set up in bronze any man you wish without incurring any expense, and in fact, without either yourselves or those whom you honour putting up a single drachma. 10 Who, pray, from this point of view, could help admiring the cleverness of your city?

But I imagine that many things in life which require both special effort and no little expense can be done without cost and quite easily, if one disregards propriety and sincerity. Take, for instance, the sacrifices which we duly offer to the gods: it is possible simply to say they have been offered without offering them, merely, if you please, putting on our wreaths and approaching the altar, and then touching the barley groats and performing all the other rites as we do in an act of worship. And here is an idea! We might lead the same sacrificial victim up to all the statues in turn: to that of Zeus, to that of Helius, to Athena's, and after pouring libations at each one, make believe that we have sacrificed to all the gods — would not that be easy? 11 Who is going to prevent our doing this? And if we wish now to set up an altar or a temple to some god — for even though altars of all the gods are to be found among you, I take it that it is not impossible both to build a better altar than the last one you built and also deliberately to honour the same god by a greater number of them — is it not quite feasible to dispossess one of the other gods, or to shift one that has been already consecrated? Or else simply to alter the inscription — exactly as we are now doing? Indeed, some do maintain that Apollo, Helius, and Dionysus are one and the same, and this is your view, and many people even go so far as to combine all the gods and make of them one single force and power,3 so that it makes no difference at all whether you are honouring this one or that one. But where men are concerned the situation is not at all like that; on the contrary, whoever gives A's goods to B robs A of what is rightfully his.

12 “Yes, by Zeus,” someone says, “but there is no similarity between violating our obligation towards the gods and that toward men.”

Neither do I say there is. But still it is possible to violate one's obligation towards men also, when one does not deal honestly with them, when one does not even permit those who have received anything to keep what they have justly acquired, or actually gives what the giver asserts he is giving to those who have been considered worthy of the same reward, but deprives the one class of their gift and deceives and hoodwinks the other. 13 Now the essential nature of the act is the same,4 and doing anything whatever with deceit and trickery and the extreme of niggardliness amounts to the same thing; but there is this difference, that unseemly actions in what concerns the gods are called impiety, whereas such conduct when done by men to one another is called injustice. Of these two terms let it be conceded that impiety does not attach to the practice under examination; and henceforth, unless it seems to you worth guarding against, let this matter be dropped. 14 And yet even impiety might perhaps be found to attach to such conduct — I am not speaking about you nor about your city, for you have never formally approved nor has the practice ever been officially sanctioned; I am considering the act in and of itself from the private point of view — for is it not true that wrong treatment of those who have passed away is rightly called impiety and is given this designation in our laws, no matter who those are against whom such acts are committed? But to commit an outrage against good men who have been the benefactors of the state, to annul the honours given them and to blot out their remembrance, I for my part do not see how that could be otherwise termed. 15 Why, even those who wrong living benefactors cannot reasonably be clear of this reproach. At any rate those who wrong their parents, because these were the authors of the first and greatest benefaction to us, are quite fairly held guilty of impiety. And as for the gods, you know, I presume, that whether a person makes a libation to them or merely offers incense or approaches them, so long as his spirit is right, he has done his full duty; for perhaps God requires no such thing as images or sacrifices at all.5 But in any event these acts are not ineffectual, because we thereby show our zeal and our disposition towards the gods. 16 But when we come to men, they require crowns, images, the right of precedence, and being kept in remembrance; and many in times past have even given up their lives just in order that they might get a statue and have their name announced by the herald or receive some other honour and leave to succeeding generations a fair name and remembrance of themselves. At any rate, if anyone should inquire of you, all things such as these having been taken away and no remembrance being left for future times nor commendation given for deeds well done, whether you think there would have been even the smallest fraction of men who are admired by all the world either because they had fought zealously in some war, or had slain tyrants, or had sacrificed themselves or their children in behalf of the common weal, or had undergone great labours for virtue's sake, as they say Heracles6 did, and Theseus and the other semi-divine heroes of the past, no man here among you, I think, would answer yes. 17 For you will find that there is nothing else, at least in the case of the great majority, that incites every man to despise danger, to endure toils, and to scorn the life of pleasure and ease. This is the reason why brave men are found on the battlefield wounded in front instead of having turned and fled, though safety was often ready at hand. This is what the poet gives as Achilles' reason for refusing to grow old and die at home,7 and for Hector's standing alone in defence of his city, ready if need be to fight against the entire host. This is what made a mere handful of Spartans stand in the narrow pass against so many myriads of Persians.8 18 It was this which made your ancestors fill every land and sea with their monuments of victory, and when the rest of Hellas in a sense had been blotted out, to guard the national honour of the Hellenes by their unaided efforts up to the present time.9 For this reason I think that you are justified in feeling greater pride than all the rest of them taken together. 19 For whereas the others at the beginning did win successes against the barbarians and made themselves a brilliant name, for the rest they failed by giving a display of jealousy, folly, and quarrelsomeness rather than of virtue, until, although no foreign power was troubling them, they deteriorated of themselves and finally invited anyone who wished to be their master. But you Rhodians, who have won so many wars, have settled them all no less honourably than you have gallantly waged them. 20 However, this much is clear, that neither you nor any others, whether Greeks or barbarians, who are thought to have become great, advanced to glory and power for any other reason than because fortune gave to each in succession men who were jealous of honour and regarded their fame in after times as more precious than life. For the pillar, the inscription, and being set up in bronze are regarded as a high honour by noble men, and they deem it a reward worthy of their virtue not to have their name destroyed along with their body and to be brought level with those who have never lived at all, but rather to leave an imprint and a token, so to speak, of their manly prowess.10

21 You see what hardships these athletic competitors endure while training, spending money, and finally often even choosing to die in the very midst of the games. Why is it? If we were to abolish the crown for the sake of which they strive, and the inscription which will commemorate their victory at the Olympian or the Pythian games, do you think that they would endure for even one day the heat of the sun, not to mention all the other unpleasant and arduous things which attach to their occupation? Well then, if it becomes clear to them that any statue of them which their countrymen may set up another man is going to appropriate, first removing the name of the victor who dedicated it and then putting his own name there, do you think that anyone will go there any longer even to witness the games, to say nothing of competing? It is for this reason, I think, that kings, too, claim such testimony as this.11 22 For all men set great store by the outward tokens of high achievement, and not one man in a thousand is willing to agree that what he regards as a noble deed whole have been done for himself alone and that no other man shall have knowledge of it.

In Heaven's name, do you fail to recognize that this action of yours not only deprives those men of honour, but also leaves the city destitute of men who will be well-disposed and strenuous in her behalf?12 For let not the thought enter the mind of any of you, that even if you do abolish that one honour, the honour of the grant of a statue, the other honours, nevertheless, cannot be taken away. For, in the first place, those who annul the greatest honour and that which every man is most anxious to gain, admit, I presume, that they are doing injury to the state in the greatest degree, since they concede that it would be injurious that all honours should have been abolished.

23 Moreover, there is this also to be considered — that wherever one part of an institution has been changed, there all parts alike have suffered change and no similar institution is secure. For those who have infringed the principle by observing which it was believed that a certain undesirable thing13 would not happen, and because they thought the principle was of no importance, have thereby undermined every institution whose stability rested upon the same premises.14 For instance, if a person should do away with any one whatsoever of the penalties of the law, he has not left any of the others secure either. 24 And if a man were to do away with the greatest of your punishments, banishment or death, it would necessarily be thought in the future that the lesser penalties also were not even on the statute books. Therefore, just as men who falsely stamp the currency, even if they injure only a part, are regarded as having ruined the whole by making it suspect, in like manner those who annul any of the honours or the punishments are doing away with the whole system and showing that it is worth nothing whatever. 25 Moreover, if anyone were to put this question to me: Admitted that each of the two things causes the greatest possible harm, namely, that there should be no confidence in the honours which a city bestows and that the punishment it inflicts should be ineffectual, if it is not possible to guard against both, which of them I consider more conducive to justice and characteristic of more respectable men, I should unhesitatingly say in reply, “That its punishments should be ineffectual,” since this can be credited to humanity, to pity, and to other sentiments of that nature, the very qualities that characterize good men. But to let the memory of the noblest men be forgotten and to deprive them of the rewards of virtue cannot find any plausible excuse, but must be ascribed to ingratitude, envy, meanness and all the basest motives.15 Again, whereas the former, when they relax their punishments, merely slacken their constraint upon those who are really bad, the latter are themselves committing the greatest sins against their benefactors. This is just as much worse than the other as committing a wrong yourself is worse than failing rigorously to prevent another man from committing a wrong.16

26 So, then, it cannot be said, either, that this is not the greatest of the gifts that have been given to any persons, since, apart from the fact that the truth is patent to everyone, those who deny it will be contradicting themselves. For they protest that it is necessary to honour many of the leading men at the present time, and that if it proves necessary to get statues made for them all, enormous expense will be incurred, since the other honours are not in keeping with their position, and the men themselves would not accept them, as being far too inadequate. 27 As to the matter of expense, you will see in a short time what there is in that plea. But that this is the greatest of your honours which they are taking away from the former recipients, is by this protest conceded.

Again, since it is preposterous to pass over any one of those who are worthy of honour and to offer no recompense for his benefaction, as those men above all others must admit who think it a terrible thing even to bestow a lesser honour than a person deserves; is it not an excess of wrong-doing to honour men and then, though having no fault to find with them, to deprive them of what has been given them? The one act, namely, means being ungrateful to your benefactors, but the other means insulting them; the one is a case of not honouring the good men, the other, of dishonouring them. 28 For whereas in the one case you merely fail to grant to men of excellent character what you believe is their due, in the other case you give them the treatment which is customarily accorded to men who are utterly base. If, for instance, any man who formerly was thought respectable should afterwards commit any unpardonable and grievous sin, such as plotting treason or a tyranny, the practice is to revoke this man's honours, even if previously he had received the honour of an inscription.17 Then is it not a disgrace for you to consider that men who are admittedly the noblest deserve the same treatment as that which the laws command to be imposed on the impious and unholy, men who have not even a claim to a burial?18 29 Consequently, I think that, great as is the desire which all men have to receive honour among other peoples, they will have just as great a desire, or even a greater, that they may never receive any such honour among you; inasmuch as everyone considers the insult and contumely to be a greater evil than he has regarded the honour a good. If, for instance, you were to invite anyone to take a seat of honour or should enroll him as a citizen with the intention of afterwards unseating him or depriving him of his citizenship, he would earnestly implore you to leave him alone. Take tyrants, for instance, or those kings whose statues were destroyed afterwards and whose names were blotted out by those who had been governed with violence and in defiance of law — the very thing, I am inclined to think, that has happened in your time also — I should emphatically say that, if they had foreseen that this was going to take place, they would not have permitted any city either to set up statues of themselves or to inscribe their names upon them.

30 And yet this argument shows, not only that these men are suffering injustice and outrageous treatment, but also that the argument by which some will perhaps urge that you shall continue your present practice is only an empty subterfuge, or rather, that it argues against the practice. I mean, if they shall say that it is both necessary and expedient to honour men of a later time also, is it not the very reverse of this to insult the men who in the past have received these honours? For what any man of former times would not have chosen to accept if he had known that this was going to happen, is it at all reasonable to suppose that any man of the present day is glad to accept when he sees what is being done? Consequently, even if not on account of those former benefactors, yet at any rate on account of these whom we are now honouring, it stands to reason that you should guard against the practice. 31 For all men look with suspicion on gifts which are proffered by those who to their knowledge disregard in this manner any person who formerly received public commendation and was regarded as a friend; but those men are especially suspicious who are getting the very honours of which they see that the previous recipients have been deprived. But if your motive should be that they were to receive this honour themselves, or, rather, be thought to have received it, they must at once look upon the action as downright pretence and a mockery. It would be much better to tell those who prefer to have you give yourselves very little concern about those who have previously been honoured, that there is no longer any need for honouring anybody at all, rather than, on the contrary, to bring into disrepute that practice which men say your city has the greatest need of and with respect to a greater number of persons now than ever before.

32 And yet, by Zeus and the gods, even if those who think they are now getting statues were going to feel the warmest gratitude towards you and to praise your democracy to the skies, not even so should this thing have been done. For merely to seek how one can please a person in what one does and how win his good will, and not to consider whether one will be wronging another person whom one should not wrong by so doing, or will be doing anything at all that one should not — by the gods I declare this befits neither liberal-minded men nor men of decent character. For no one, even the most wicked, chooses any base action which he does not think is to his own advantage at the time, but the essence of wickedness consists in being led by the desire of gain and profit to shrink from no base or unjust action and not to care about the nature of the act, but only whether it is profitable. 33 Therefore, the man who courts the person who is present but slights his former friend, and having forgotten the service this friend has rendered, places highest importance upon the hoped-for benefit from the other — do you not know the term that is applied to him? Is such a man not called a toady everywhere? Is he not considered ignoble, a man not to be trusted? As the case now stands, therefore, the city does not even get the advantage that sundry men are courted by her and so think they are getting a grand thing when their names are put into an inscription. For in fact the opposite is the case: they are annoyed and find fault when by themselves, even if on other occasions they are silent because they do not wish to give offence. Or if you should offer a man a counterfeit coin as a present, there is nobody who would ever willingly take it but would consider the offer an insult rather than a gift, and yet do you imagine that a counterfeit honour, a thing utterly worthless, is ever accepted by persons who have any sense? 34 Yet if any one sells another man's slave, or chattel, falsely claiming that it is his own, the man who is deceived is without exception very indignant, and it would surprise me if you would not even punish the offence with death; but if a person should be tricked into taking another man's statue to which he has no right from those who have no authority to give it — for what a person gives to another, he no longer has the authority to give to yet another — do you think that he is grateful to those who have duped him? 35 But I ask you, if my words seem rather bitter, not to be at all vexed with me; for I am by no means saying that it is you who do this, but that it happens, in a manner of speaking, against the wish of your city. Still, if the practice is of such a nature that it seems utterly shameful when subjected to examination, the more eagerly ought you to listen to the speaker, so as to be free from the shame of it for the future. For neither can our bodily troubles be healed without pain; and often the very presence of marked pain in the part treated is itself an indication that the treatment is making marked progress.

36 So what I said at the beginning I would not hesitate to say at this point also — that in every situation it is proper that good men should show themselves to be morally sound and to have in their character no equivocal or hateful trait, but, on the contrary, should be utterly free from deceit and baseness — I mean men who are like yourselves — and I think this applies especially to conferring honour and the giving of gifts. For to put any shame upon a noble practice, and to carry out unjustly that which is the most just thing in the world, is the mark of men who have no delicate sense of the nature of each act. Hence just as those who commit sacrilege are worse than those who err in respect to anything else, so too are those who prove unjust and wicked in the matter under discussion. 37 For what is more sacred than honour or gratitude? Do you not know that the majority of men regard the Graces as indeed goddesses?19 Therefore, if anyone mutilated their statues or overturns their altars, you hold this man guilty of impiety; but if injury or ruin is done to that very grace (charis) from which these goddesses have derived their name (Charites) by anyone's performing a gracious act in a way that is not right, but in an ignoble, illiberal, and crafty manner showing rank ingratitude to his benefactors, can we say that such a man has sense and is more intelligent than his fellows? Nay, tradesmen who cheat in their measures, men whose livelihood from the very nature of the business depends upon base gain, you hate and punish; but if your city shall gain the reputation of playing the knave in connection with her commendations of good men and of making a traffic of her gifts, will you feel no shame that she makes her sacred awards equivocal and subject to repeated sale?20 38 And do you give not even a thought to this truth — that nobody will ever again willingly have dealings with those tradesmen whose measures are dishonest?

And besides, that the practice is in essence such as I have shown, and that it is not my speech which casts reproach upon it, I ask you to see from the following consideration: If anyone were to inquire of you whether you prefer, in the case of those who receive honours from you and on whom you think you are bestowing the statues, that they should know the truth and what sort of transaction it is, or that they should be kept in ignorance, it is perfectly clear what you would say if you are in your right senses. For what was there to prevent your writing explicitly in the decree to begin with, just like its other provisions, this also: that 'their statue shall be one of those already erected' or 'shall be So-and so's', if you really wanted the recipients also to understand? But you will never put this in your decrees, I warrant! 39 Well, it is perfectly clear that no one tries to disguise things that are done in a straightforward fashion and have nothing irregular about them. And I think it is even more obvious that nobody would be in the least inclined to take precautions to prevent men who are receiving favours at their hands from knowing in just what manner they were getting them and anything whatsoever that was being done in connection with the honour, at least if the action taken were done in a sincere and honourable way. So what is now happening must necessarily be contemptible in every way and ill-befitting for even a man in private station. For the man who, in the very act of doing a kindness to others either because he has previously received a kindness from them, or because he is actually taking the initiative and inviting them to be his friends, then deceives and cheats — what would such a man do in an honest fashion?

So, then, you do know that no one is unaware of what is going on, nay, it is notorious and on everybody's tongue, not only now that certain cities have followed this practice to great excess and with utter lack of restraint, but because it is being done even among you. 40 For the high standing of your city and her greatness allow nothing that goes on here to remain unknown; and the greater decorum of your conduct as compared with that of any other city; and, besides, I presume, your being the most prosperous of the Greeks, all arouse dislike and jealousy, so that there are many who watch to see if you appear to be at fault in any matter. Therefore those who prefer that what they do shall remain utterly unknown thereby reveal a sign of baseness, while those who think that what nobody is ignorant of goes unnoticed show their simplicity; and you would not care to have your city held guilty of both these faults!

41 “Oh yes!” you say, “but we shall be put to expense if we do not use those we already have! And what sums will be required if we are to have new statues made for all those to whom we vote them!”

And how much better it would be to make the gift to fewer persons rather than to deceive a larger number, since you will be condemned and hated by a larger number, for they know well what you are doing!

Again, if they are not very distinctly superior men whose memorials you are now setting up in some fashion or other — and if you are wise, you will by no means say that they are — see what takes place: on account of the inferior you are wronging the excellent; for your ancestors, I dare assert, did not bestow their admiration at random or upon any undeserving person.21 On the other hand, if you are honouring good men, then these have good reason to be indignant at your action. 42 For what fair-minded man would wish another to be ill-treated on his account and deprived of what had been justly given? How could he help being angry at such treatment, instead of feeling grateful? To take another case: no man, if he were honourable, would consent to get a wife through having committed adultery with her, because by that act he had done an injury to her former husband;22 or rather, a man would not willingly take any woman at all away from another, her husband, although this is often done without any base motive. But an honour, which it is not possible justly to take away from another person or without inflicting an injury23 on him — do you think that anyone cares to have, even though he is not expecting to be subjected to any such treatment himself? Nay, a man who is buying a slave inquires if he ever ran away, and if he would not stay with his first master; but a gift or a favour which a man believes was not given in good faith and which he knows well enough has no permanence in it at all — would he willingly accept that?

43 “Yes,” you say, “for the majority of them are Romans and who would think of touching24 them? But those who stand beside them here are Macedonians, while these over here are Spartans, and by heavens, it is these we touch.”

And yet all that stood here formerly, or the most of them at any rate, you will admit were erected in acknowledgement of a benefaction, whereas of those now receiving honour many are being courted owing to their political power. Now the question which of the two classes has the greater right to be held in higher regard I will pass over; but this further question, which of the two classes — assuming that the honours granted are not to belong rightfully to all — can more reasonably be expected to take them on the basis of so uncertain a title, this question, I say, even these men themselves know well how to answer. For all know how much more permanent a benefaction is than power, for there is no strength which time does not destroy, but it destroys no benefaction. 44 Assuming, therefore, that we may reject that extreme view, which in a sense is true, that those who are seeking to be honoured in this way are quite displeased with your city and take what is done as an insult and affront to themselves, yet at least I assert positively that they feel no gratitude whatever to you and do not think that they are getting anything, knowing as they do what is taking place and the unscrupulousness displayed in it. In heaven's name, when even if the men in question do accept from us honours which we should have no right to take away from their former recipients, are we, then, to take them away from whoever possesses them, even though we do not really 'give' them to another set of men?

45 Furthermore, if in cases where the city is thought to need anything, we shall consider the expense alone and how the thing can be done most easily, examining into no other aspects of the matter, what is to prevent our having not only this gift ready at hand, but any other favour you may wish to bestow upon any one, such as land, money, or a house, by simply taking them away from those who have them? Or what need is there to seek ways and means and to expend the public money when occasion arises to repair either a wall or ships, instead of merely taking So-and so's property, either that of some citizen or of one of the strangers who are sojourning among you?c

“Never, by Zeus,” you say, “they will raise an outcry and say that it is an outrage.”

46 Then it will be possible, presumably, to pay no attention to them. For even if there are now those25 to whom they can appeal when you act this way, in the old days, at any rate, there was no person who had greater authority than the people.

“Can it be that the men of that time treated individuals in that way?”

What nonsense! Why, they considered it to be the worst thing imaginable, and prayed the gods that the time might never come in which it would be necessary that each individual citizen should ever be obliged to pay a tax out of his own private means; and it is said that so extreme a measure has only rarely been taken among you in spite of all your wars, except at a time when your city was in extreme peril.26

47 Now perhaps some one will say that the statues belong to the city. Yes, and the land also belongs to the city, but none the less every one who possesses any has full authority over what is his own. Speaking in a political sense, if anyone inquires who owns the Island27 or who owns Caria, he will be told that the Rhodians own it. But if you ask in a different sense about this specific estate here or this field, it is clear that you will learn the name of the private owner. So also with the statues; in a general sense men say that they belong to the people of Rhodes, but in the particular or special sense they say that this or that statue belongs to So-and so or to So-and so, naming whatever man it has been given to. And yet, whereas in the case of estates, houses, and other possessions, you cannot learn who owns them unless you inquire, the statue has an inscription on it and preserves not only the name but also the lineaments of the man to whom it was first given, so that it is possible to step near and at once know whose it is. I refer to those on which the truth is still given.28

48 Moreover, the plea that they stand on public property is most absurd, if this is really held to be an indication that they do not belong to those who received them, but to the city. Why, if that be true, it will be possible to say that also the things which are on sale in the centre of the market-place belong to the commonwealth, and that the boats, no doubt, do belong, not to their possessors, but to the city, just because they are lying in the harbours.

Then, too, an argument which I heard a man advance, as a very strong one in support of that position, I am not disposed to conceal from you: he said that you have made an official list of your statues. What, pray, is the significance of that? Why, the country lying opposite us,29 Carpathos yonder,30 the mainland,31 the other islands, and in general many possessions can be found which the city has listed in its public records, but they have been parcelled out among individuals. 49 And in fine, even if each man who has been honoured does not in this sense 'possess' his statue as he would possess anything else he has acquired, it cannot for that reason be said that it belongs to him any the less or that he suffers no wrong when you give his statue to another. For you will find countless senses in which we say that a thing 'belongs' to an individual and very different senses too, for instance, a priesthood, a public office, a wife, citizenship, none of which their possessors are at liberty either to sell or to use in any way they like. 50 But certainly a common principle of justice is laid down in regard to them all, to the effect that anything whatsoever which any one has received justly — whether he happens to have got it once for all32 or for a specified time, just as, for instance, he obtains public offices — that is his secure possession and nobody can deprive him of it. How, then, is it possible to have anything more justly, than when a man who has proved himself good and worthy of gratitude receives honour in return for many noble deeds? Or from whom could he receive it that has fuller authority and is greater than the democracy of Rhodes and your city? For it is no trifling consideration that it was not the Calymnians33 who gave it, or those ill-advised Caunians;34 just as in private business the better and more trustworthy you prove the man to be from whom you obtain any possession, the stronger your title to it is, and by so much more no one can dispute it. Yet any city which one might mention is in every way better and more trustworthy than one private citizen, even if he has the highest standing,35 and arrangements made by the state are more binding than those which are negotiated privately.

51 Then consider, further, that all men regard those agreements as having greater validity which are made with the sanction of the state and are entered in the city's records; and it is impossible for anything thus administered to be annulled, either in case one buys a piece of land from another, a boat or a slave, or if a man makes a loan to another, or frees a slave, or makes gift to any one. How in the world, then, has it come to pass that these transactions carry a greater security than any other? It is because the man who has handled any affair of his in this way has made the city a witness to the transaction. 52 In heaven's name, will it then be true that, while anything a person may get from a private citizen by acting through the state cannot possibly be taken from him, yet what one has received, not only by a state decree, but also as a gift of the people, shall not be inalienable?36 And whereas an action taken in this way by anybody else will never be annulled by the authority of the state, yet shall the state, in the offhand way we observe here, cancel what it has itself done? — and that too, not by taking it away in the same manner in which it was originally given, that is, by the commonwealth officially, but by letting one man, if he happens to be your chief magistrate,37 have the power to do so? 53 And besides, there are official records of those transactions of which I have spoken; for the decrees by which honours are given are recorded, I take it, and remain on public record for all time. For though repaying a favour is so strictly guarded among you, yet taking it back from the recipients is practised with no formality at all. Then, while the one action cannot be taken except by a decree passed by you as a body, yet the other comes to pass by a sort of custom, even though it is the will of only one person. Note, however, that, as I said, these matters have been recorded officially, not only in the decrees, but also upon the statues themselves, on which we find both the name of the man who received the honour and the statement that the assembly has bestowed it, and, again, that these statues are set up on public property.

54 Well then, that there is nothing in the official list,38 or in the fact that these memorials stand on public property, which tends to show that they do not belong to those who have received them, has perhaps long been evident; but in order that nobody may even attempt to dispute it, let me mention this: You know about the Ephesians, of course, and that large sums of money are in their hands, some of it belonging to private citizens and deposited in the temple of Artemis, not alone money of the Ephesians but also of aliens and of persons from all parts of the world, and in some cases of commonwealths and kings, money which all deposit there in order that it may be safe, since no one has ever yet dared to violate that place, although countless wars have occurred in the past and the city has often been captured. Well, that the money is deposited on state property is indeed evident, but it also is evident, as the lists show, that it is the custom of the Ephesians to have these deposits officially recorded.39 55 Well then, do they go on and take any of these monies when any need arises, or do they 'borrow' them at any rate — an act which, perhaps, will not seem at all shocking?40 No; on the contrary, they would sooner, I imagine, strip off the adornment of the goddess than touch this money. Yet you would not say that the Ephesians are wealthier than yourselves. The very opposite is the case, for not only were you the richest of the Greeks in former times, but now you are still richer; whereas the Ephesians, one can see, are less prosperous than many.

56 Pray do not say this: “The people who deposited that money have the privilege of withdrawing it, but no one has in this way the disposal of his own statue,” and do not consider the cases dissimilar. For in my desire to show that not all things deposited in a public place and recorded officially belong forthwith to the city, I used this case as an illustration. The fact, however, that no one has a statue for any other purpose than to stand in your midst — the one respect in which these men differ from those who deposit their money there41 — speaks still more in their behalf. For when it is not lawful for even the recipients of gifts to annul them, can it possibly be right that the donors should have the power to do so?

57 However, I seem to be arguing quite needlessly against the man who asserts that all the statues belong to the city; for this is no indication that what is being done is not an outrage. For instance, consider the votive offerings in the sacred places: the city made them at its own expense and dedicated them. No one would dispute that they are the property of the people. Then will it not be an outrage if we misappropriate them for some other purpose?

“Yes, by heaven,” you rejoin, “for these are dedications, but the statues are marks of honour; the former have been given to the gods, the latter to good men, who, to be sure, are nearest of kin to them.”

58 “And yet,” I reply, “all men of highest virtue are both said to be and in fact are beloved of the gods.42 Can it be, then, that while not he who deprives us of any of our possessions, but whoever does an injury to our friends, is guilty of an altogether greater wrong, yet we are to say of the gods, as it seems we are doing, that they are more inclined to slight their friends than they are their possessions?

Nay, on the contrary, it is right that in regard to all sorts of possessions those who have acquired them should be secure in their tenure, especially in a democracy and among a people like yourselves, who take the greatest pride in having matters in your state handled in accordance with law and justice, and above all, I should imagine, your honours and expressions of gratitude; not only because even a man of no account might have all other things, such as money, houses, slaves, lands, whereas those two are possessions enjoyed by virtuous men alone, but also for the reason that these things can be acquired through some other means, such as inheritance or purchase, whereas such things as honours and grateful recognition are acquired through virtue alone.

59 Furthermore, those things for which a man has paid the price to their owners nobody even thinks of maintaining, I presume, that he cannot justly be permitted to keep for himself, and the more so, the greater price he has paid. Well, each and every one of these men has paid a price for his statue and no moderate price either; some of them brilliant service as generals in defence of the city, others as ambassadors, while others have given trophies won from the enemy, and certain others money as well, perhaps — not, by heavens, a mere matter of a thousand or five hundred drachmas, sums for which it is possible to erect statues.

60 Well, what then? Is it not the established usage, at any rate among men who are not utterly lacking in sense of justice, that whoever is dispossessed of any piece of property should recover at least what he paid from those who have seized it? Would you, then, be willing to give back the favours in return for which you voted those honoured men their statues? It is to your advantage, at any rate, to make payment — since there are those who think a man ought to look out for his own advantage from whatever source.43 61 Therefore, if a man has carried through a war successfully, a war so threatening that, had he not had the good fortune to win it for the people of his day, we who now live would not have our city, or if he has won back our freedom for us, or is one of the Restorers44 of our city — for we cannot state specifically what persons have enjoyed this good fortune, or will enjoy it, since that comes as it will and only by caprice, so to speak — I am afraid the conclusion may be unpleasant to state, namely, that if we wish to do the right thing, we shall actually have to cede to him the city herself! But if there should be any man who has indeed made such a splendid offering that even with the best of intentions we are unable to repay him — and countless are those who have sacrificed their lives on behalf of the city and at the price of life itself have bought their statue and the inscription — are they not, as I asked before, being treated shamefully?

62 And what is more, we cannot say that it is not ourselves who have received these benefits. For, in the first place, all the obligations incurred by our ancestors are debts which are owed, no less than they were owed by the ancestors themselves, by all those to whom their blood has descended. For you will not say that you withdraw from the succession! In the second place, all the benefits, valuable and great as they are, which have accrued from the services which certain men rendered to your ancestors in their time, and from what they gladly suffered or did in their behalf, are now yours: the glory of your city, its greatness, its pre-eminence over all other cities save one.45 63 If, therefore, simply because these benefactors did not receive their gifts from you directly, you think you are committing a lesser wrong than if you take away from a man a piece of property that came into his hands in some other way, you are blind to truths most patent: first, that all those who deprive anybody of anything whatsoever do just as great a wrong to the man from whom he once happens to have received it; for instance, those who demolish any public building which some individual benefactor built as an expression of his gratitude to you, would seem to wrong the builder more than the city. Therefore, when it is the city that has given something to one of its own citizens, the same argument applies to the man who would deprive him of this. For this reason, in addition to wronging the persons whose statues you have set up, you are also, in my opinion, wronging the city which gave them, that is, your own selves. 64 But whereas he who sins against another man and thereby benefits himself is guilty of wrongdoing only, in the eyes of the majority, he who wrongs his own self while wronging another man shows an exceeding measure of depravity and is looked upon as needlessly a fool also.

Besides this, one might consider another point also. The man who simply takes away from any one that which is justly in his possession, no matter how he got it, errs in this very act, since he is doing a thing which is by its very nature unseemly; but the man who deprives any one of what he himself has given in the way of honour and gratitude, not only violates that universal principle which says that we should injure no one, but also does wrong to a good man, and that, too, the man whom he ought least of all to wrong. For in no case do you see honours being given to worthless men or to those from whom no benefit has been received. 65 How very much worse it is to rob good men of honours bestowed than to rob anybody else, and to injure your benefactors than to injure any chance person, is something that nobody fails to see.

Moreover, let us take the case of the Ephesians: Leaving aside scruples having to do with the goddess,46 one would say that they commit a misdeed if they take from the deposits to which I have referred, so far as the act itself is concerned;47 but that people who treat the statues in this way do an injustice, not merely, to be sure, for the reasons already given — that they would be wronging persons in no wise related to themselves, the majority of whom they did not even know — but also on account of the ill repute which arises from their act. For to those who have not taken good care of a deposit entrusted to them nobody would thereafter entrust any of his own property; but those who insult their benefactors will by nobody be esteemed to deserve a favour. Consequently, the danger for you is that you will no longer receive benefactions at the hands of anybody at all, while the danger to the Ephesians is merely that they will no longer have other persons' property to take care of.

66 I wish, moreover, to mention a deed of yours which took place not very long ago, and yet is commended by everyone no less than are the deeds of the men of old, in order that you may know by making comparison whether on principle it is seemly for people like you to be guilty of such behaviour as this. After that continuous and protracted civil war among the Romans,48 during which it was your misfortune to suffer a reverse on account of your sympathy with the democracy,49 when, finally, the terrible scenes came to an end, and all felt they were safe at last, just as in a severe illness there is often need of some heroic remedy, so then, too, the situation seemed to require a similar corrective measure. Consequently all the provinces were granted a remission of their debts.50 67 Now the others accepted it gladly, and saw in the measure a welcome gift; but you Rhodians alone of all rejected it, although the capture of your city had recently occurred, as I have said, and the enemy had spared nothing in the city except your dwellings. But nevertheless, you thought it would be a shame to violate any principle of justice in any crisis whatsoever and on account of the disasters that had befallen you to destroy your credit to boot; and while deferring to the Romans in everything else, you did not think it right to yield to them in this one respect — of choosing a dishonourable course for the sake of gain.51 68 For the things, methinks, which you saw that Rome did not lack because of its high character at once and of its good fortune, these you demonstrated that your city did not lack, because of its high character alone. Certainly you will not say, men of Rhodes, that gratitude is owing less to those who have done a service than to those who were ready to contribute the amount of your debt.52

After that, though you thought it a scandal not to pay your debts willingly, yet is it an equitable act, having discharged an obligation, then to rob the recipient of his requital?53 For surely you have not supposed that it is more shameful to act dishonourably in common with all the world than to be alone in so doing! And yet when that great revolution occurred at the time I have mentioned and there was repudiation of every kind, the gifts which had been made remained undisturbed in the possession of those who had received them previously, and no one was so bold as to try to exact a return from those who already had anything.54 You, however, are at this present time not leaving undisturbed even what you were so prompt to pay to your benefactors, but although at that time you would not consent to follow in any respect the same course as all the others took, and that too, in spite of the reverses you had suffered, now when you are prosperous you do what not a single one of the peoples in that crisis did!

69 And yet the action taken in regard to the debts you will find was taken at other times as well; Solon, for instance, is said to have taken it once at Athens.55 For apart from the fact that this measure often becomes necessary in view of the insolvency of those who have contracted loans, there are times also when it is even justifiable on account of the high rate of interest, on occasions when lenders have got back in interest their principal many times over. But to deprive the recipients of the tokens of gratitude which they have received in return for their benefactions can find no plausible excuse, nor has anyone ever yet formally proposed the adoption of this procedure; no, this is almost the only thing in the world for which there has never yet been found any occasion.

70 Furthermore, the following two practices have alike been considered worthy of being most carefully guarded against in our laws and as deserving of execration and the most extreme penalties, namely, a proposal that debts be cancelled, or that the land ought to be redistributed. Well, of these two measures, the former has never been adopted in your city; the latter, however, of which we have not the slightest knowledge that it ever has been taken, please consider by comparing it with the practice under examination. If the land were being parcelled out anew, the very worst consequence would be that the original holder should be put on an equality with the man who possessed no land at all; but where a man's statue has been given to another, the one who has been robbed is by no means on an equality with the man who received it. For the latter has gained the honour, if you can really call it such, whereas the other has nothing left.

71 Come, then, if any one were to question the magistrate who is set over you, who commands that the inscription be erased and another man's name engraved in its place, asking: “What does this mean? Ye gods, has this man been found guilty of having done the city some terrible wrong so many years after the deed?” In heaven's name, do you not think that he would be deterred, surely if he is a man of common decency? For my part I think that even the mason will blush for shame. And then if children or kinsmen of the great man should happen to appear, what floods of tears do you think they will shed when some one begins to obliterate the name? 72 No, not they merely, but everybody will protest, coming before you, in your assembly, creating an uproar. Let me ask you, then: Even if such a demonstration does occur, will you refrain from trying to prevent the deed, and take no notice at all? I for my part cannot conceive of your taking such a course, but rather maintain that even now you do not know that this is going on, but that you will not permit it, now that you have learned of it; anyhow you know it all now at any rate, I imagine, so that it is your duty to put a stop to the practice once for all.

“Oh! but assuredly your illustration is not apposite,” someone may object, “since many of them are persons who have no surviving relative and the practice is not followed in the case of any person who is well known.”

73 Well, for my part, I will pass over the point that even if some are unaware, as is likely, that some of these honoured men are related to them, yet none the less on this account they suffer an injustice if their ancestors are dishonoured. But far more grievous at all events, it seems to me, is the wrong done to those honoured men who have not one single surviving relative. For in the case of the living it seems a greater indignity to wrong those who have not even one person left to help them. For on that principle you might as well say that it is not cruel to injure orphans either, children utterly alone in the world, who cannot protect themselves and have no one else to care for them. But you, on the contrary, look upon such conduct with even greater displeasure, and through the state appoint guardians to protect them from any possible wrong.

74 But, speaking in general terms, while none of the pleas that these people intend to urge has any equitable basis whatever, the most absurd plea of all is to say that after all they are not molesting any of the statues of well-known persons, nor those whose owners any one knows, but that they take liberties with sundry insignificant and very ancient ones. It is as if a person should say that he did not wrong any prominent citizen, but only those of the common crowd, persons whom nobody knows! And yet, by heavens, I maintain that the two cases are not alike. For in the case of the living one person is more prominent than another owing to his good birth or his good character, and it may also be on account of his wealth or for other good reasons; but in the case of the statues, on the contrary, one cannot point to one group and say 'These are statues of better men.' For it is not due to their humble birth or any baseness that we do not know them, seeing that they have received the same honours as the most famous men, but our ignorance has come about through lapse of time.

75 Moreover, insofar as the men of the past were, as all believe, always superior by nature to those of the succeeding generations,56 and as in ancient times it was a rarer thing for any men to receive this honour, just in so far were those better men and the authors of greater blessings against whom it is acknowledged wee are sinning. And that both these statements are true is clear, for we know that the exceedingly ancient men were demi-gods and that those who followed them were not much inferior to them; in the second place, we understand that their successors steadily deteriorated in the course of time, and finally, we know that the men of to day are no better than ourselves. Indeed formerly even those who gave their lives for the state were not set up in bronze,57 but only the occasional man who performed extraordinary and wonderful exploits; but now we honour those that land at our ports,58 so that we should transfer to new owners, if transfer we must, rather the later statues and those which have been set up nearest the present time. 76 For you are not unaware, I presume, that all persons of good sense love their old friends more and esteem them more highly than those who have become their friends but recently, and that they honour their ancestral family friends altogether more than they do those whose acquaintance they themselves have made. For any who transgress the rights of these letter wrong them alone, but those who annul any of the rights of the former must also despise the men who accept their friendship.59 77 And, to state a general principle, just as when any man now living whom you do not know very well personally or not at all is being subjected to a judicial examination in your courts, you listen to those who do know him and cast your vote according to what the witnesses say, especially if they are not knaves; so do the same thing now also. Since we too are speaking concerning men whom they say that no one now alive knows anything about,60 learn from those who did know them.61 Well then, those who lived in their time, who knew them perfectly, regarded them as benefactors of the city and considered them worthy of the highest honours. These are witnesses whom you have no right to disbelieve, being indeed your own forefathers — nor yet to declare that they were knaves.62

78 Furthermore, you cannot advance any such argument, either, as to say that those who were honoured long ago have held their honours for a long time. For it will not be possible for you to prove that those men have been honoured for a longer time by the city than the city has been the recipient of their benefactions. Hence, just as a man who incurred a debt long ago and long ago repaid it has done not a whit more than the man who pays back now what he has just received, so does a similar statement apply if it was very long ago indeed that a man requited another for a benefit received from him at that time. 79 But the case would be different if you had given exemption from taxes, money, land, or some other such thing and were now taking it away — then perhaps those who would have received such an exemption afterwards would indeed suffer a greater wrong; for the man who has held such things for any length of time has received benefit and advantage therefrom already. But in the case of an honour conferred there is nothing like this. For whereas the former are better off for the future as well, since what they acquired then is the source of wealth which they enjoy now; the others, on the contrary, find that they have suffered an actual diminution of their honours. For in the one case the loss is less because the men have enjoyed the usufruct for a long time, but in the other case the dishonour is greater, since the victims are being deprived of a very ancient honour.

80 And that the present practice is not free from impiety either, especially in view of the way these men describe it, I shall now prove, even if some will think that I speak with intent to exaggerate — not, as I said before,63 because offences committed with reference to the dead are all without exception acts of impiety, but also because it is generally believed that the men of very ancient times were semi-divine, even if they have no exceptional attribute, simply, I presume, on account of their remoteness in time. And those who are so highly revered and have been held worthy of the highest honours, some of whom actually enjoy the mystic rites given to heroes, men who have lain buried so many years that even the memory of them has disappeared — how can they possibly be designated in the same way64 as those who have died in our own time or only a little earlier, especially when these latter have not shown themselves worthy of any honour? 81 And assuredly, acts of impiety toward the heroes everyone would agree without demur should be put in the same class as impiety toward the gods. Well then, is it not a wrongful act to blot out their memory? To take away their honour? To chisel out their names? Yes, it is a shame and an outrage, by Zeus. 82 But if anyone removes a crown that will last perhaps one or two days, or if one puts a stain on the bronze, you will regard this man guilty of impiety; and yet will you think that the man who utterly blots out and changes and destroys another's glory is doing nothing out of the way? Why, if anyone takes a spear out of a statue's hand, or breaks the crest off his helmet, or the shield off his arm or a bridle off his horse, you will straightway hand this man over to the executioner, and he will suffer the same punishment as temple-robbers — just as many undoubtedly have already been put to death for such reasons — and they give them no more consideration because it is one of the nameless and very old statues they have mutilated. Then shall the city in its official capacity prove altogether worse and more contemptible in the treatment of its heroes?

83 Again, if a person comes in and says that some stranger or even citizen has stolen either a hand or a finger that he has taken from a statue, you will raise an outcry and bid him be put to the torture forthwith. Yet, even though the statue has been deprived of a hand or a spear, or a goblet if it happens to be holding one, the honour remains and the man who received the honour retains the symbol of his merits; it is the bronze alone that has suffered a loss. But when the inscription is destroyed, obviously its testimony has also been destroyed that the person in question is “considered to have shown himself worthy of approbation.”

84 And so I now wish to tell you of a practice which I know is followed at Athens, and here too, I imagine, in accordance with a most excellent law. In Athens, for instance, whenever any citizen has to suffer death at the hands of the state for a crime, his name is erased65 first. Why is this done? One reason is that he may no longer be considered a citizen when he undergoes such a punishment but, so far as that is possible, as having become an alien. 85 Then, too, I presume that it is looked upon as not the least part of the punishment itself, that even the appellation66 should no longer be seen of the man who had gone so far in wickedness, but should be utterly blotted out, just as, I believe, traitors are denied burial, so that in the future there may be no trace whatever of a wicked man. Come, therefore, if anyone says that in the case of benefactors the same course is followed in your city as is customary among many peoples in the case of evil-doers, will you not be exceedingly offended? Then do not be vexed at the man who seems to have given expression to this criticism on the present occasion, for you may find that he is to be thanked for its not being said again in the future or even always.

86 Again, if any one chisels out only one word from any official tablet, you will put him to death without stopping to investigate what the word was or to what it referred; and if anyone should go to the building where your public records are kept and erase one jot of any law, or one single syllable of a decree of the people, you will treat this man just as you would any person who should remove a part of the Chariot.67 Well then, does the man who erases the inscription on a statue commit a less serious offence than the man who chisels something off the official tablet? Indeed the fact is that he erases the entire decree by virtue of which that man received his honour, or rather he annuls the record of it. But if anyone who for any offence whatever is condemned to some punishment erases his own name secretly or by intrigue, he will be thought to be destroying the constitution. Accordingly, you think it a more serious matter for a person to free himself from punishment than to deprive another man of his honour!

87 Neither can I, furthermore, pass over another thing, inasmuch as I have based my argument on the assumption of an act of impiety. For you Rhodians are perfectly aware that, while the whole city is sacred, yet you will find that many of the statues which stand within your very sanctuaries have been subjected to this indignity. For it so happened that these are very ancient; and whenever one of your chief magistrates wants to flatter any person, he is always eager, carrying out the idea that you are giving the honour, to have him set up in bronze in the finest possible place. What need is there of words? For I suppose that no one would deny that even of the statues so placed, even though the facts do not exactly accord with the statement I made a moment ago, the greater number have had the names on them changed, and some, I believe, that stand very close indeed to the statues of the gods.68 88 What then? Is it not outrageous if we shall be found to be wronging our benefactors in the very place where it is not the custom to wrong even those who have committed some evil deed, if they flee there for refuge? And are such places to be unable, as seems to be the case, to afford to good men alone the sanctuary they afford to worthless men? Nay, if anyone merely shifts from its position a censer or a goblet belonging to the treasures dedicated inside a temple, he will be regarded as guilty of sacrilege just as much as those who filch those sacred things; 89 but if it is a statue and an honour that he shifts, does he do nothing out of the way? And yet any of us could say that the statues too are just as much votive offerings belonging to the gods, that is, the statues which stand in gods' sanctuaries; and one may see many of them inscribed to that effect; for instance, “So-and so set up a statue of himself (or of his father, or of his son) as dedicate to a god” (whatever god it might be). Hence, if one removes the name of the person so honoured from any of the other dedications69 and inscribes the name of a different person, are we to say that the person now in question is alone not guilty of impiety? Apollo would not allow, as you know, the man of Cymê70 to remove the nestlings from his precinct, saying that they were his suppliants.

90 Moreover, the arguments by which some persons will attempt to make the practice appear more consistent with honour will prove it to be in every way less creditable: for instance, when they say that itº is the very old statues that they misuse and that some of them also bear no inscriptions. Well, if one were inclined to concede to them that this is the case, I should not make the obvious retort, that, after all, I am at present speaking about those which do bear inscriptions; on the contrary, I maintain that they have no right to touch those others either. As for my reasons, just consider, men of Rhodes, what the motive was which in all probability led to the statues being set up uninscribed. For it is not reasonable to suppose that the man who set them up merely overlooked this matter, or hesitated to inscribe the names, or wanted to save the expense of an inscription; for there was no expense. 91 There remains, consequently, one of two possible reasons: in the case of some, since they were very great men indeed and in very truth heroes, it was considered unnecessary to add an inscription, in the thought that the statues would be recognized by everybody and because it was believed that, on account of the surpassing glory then71 attaching to these men, their names would remain for all future time; or else because the persons honoured, being the sons of certain demi-gods or even of gods, had later through lapse of time been forgotten. For it is not the custom to put inscriptions on the statues of the gods, so that I rather expect that some of the others, too, are in this class. 92 In Thebes, for example, a certain Alcaeus72 has a statue which they say is a Heracles and was formerly so called; and among the Athenians there is an image of a boy who was an initiate in the mysteries at Eleusis and it bears no inscription; he, too, they say, is a Heracles. And in various other places I know of many statues, some of which represent demi-gods and others heroes, as, for example, Achilles, Sarpedon,73 Theseus, which for this reason had not been inscribed from the first; and they say there is in Egypt a colossal statue of Memnon similarly uninscribed.74 But in the case of some of them their glory has remained and time has guarded their fame; but for some reason this did not happen in the case of all of them. 93 Therefore, among you also it is not impossible that there are some like these. So you might, for instance, be giving a statue of Heracles, or, let us say, of Tlepolemus,75 or of one of the children of Helius,76 to So-and so, no doubt an excellent man and deserving of honour. For even supposing all are such whose favour the city seeks to win — and we may well pray that they may all be good men, and especially your rulers — yet they are not the equals of those great men of the past. How could they be? Not even the men themselves would maintain that they are only a little inferior to them; nay, they would actually be afraid to make any such claim. Does it seem to you from the arguments which have been advanced that you should choose to begin with those statues — I mean with those which have no inscription — and extend the practice to all, or that you should very decidedly spare all of that kind?

94 And yet, after all, this plea of ignorance and of antiquity is about the same as if a person should say that those who rifle the very old tombs do no wrong, on the ground that no one of the dead is related to them and we do not even know who they are. No, the tomb is rather an indication, not of its occupant's excellence, but of his affluence; nor can we say of those who rest in sepulchres that they were good men, except where there is evidence in a particular case that the person had received burial by the state,77 just as I suppose happened to those men in a sense. But the statue is given for distinguished achievement and because a man was in his day regarded as noble. For that no one of these men was given a statue who had been convicted of theft or adultery is perfectly clear; nor was the award made for ordinary performances, but for the very greatest possible deeds.

95 Again, because men such as these also share in a sort of divine power and purpose, one might say, I wish to tell of an incident that happened in the case of a statue. Theagenes was a Thasian athlete.78 He was thought to surpass in physical strength the men of his own day, and in addition to many other triumphs had won the victor's crown three times at Olympia. And when he gave up competing and returned to his native city, thenceforth, though his body was past its prime, he was a man inferior to none in the affairs of his country, but was, so far as a man may be, a most excellent citizen. For that reason, probably, he incurred the enmity of one of the politicians. 96 And although while he lived, the other man merely envied him, yet after the death of Theagenes the other committed a most senseless and impious act; for under cover of night he would scourge the man's statue, which had been erected in the centre of the city. Consequently, whether by accident79 or because some divinity was incensed at him, the statue at one time moved from its base and, following the lash back, slew the man. And since there was a law which required, in case any inanimate object should fall upon a person and cause his death, that they should first give it a trial and then sink it in the sea,80 the relatives of the dead man got judgment against the statue and sank it in the sea. 97 And then, when a most grievous pestilence broke out, so they say, and the people of Thasos, being unable in any way to get rid of the plague, finally consulted the oracle, the god announced to them that they should “restore the exiles.” When all who were in exile had returned and no improvement came, and the Thasians consulted the god again, the story is that the Pythian priestess gave them the following reply:

“Him that did fall in the ocean's deep sands you now have forgotten,

Even Theagenes staunch, victor in myriad games.”81

These lines make it evident both that the oracle was not delivered in the first place for the exiles' sake but for Theagenes', and also that what afterwards happened82 had been due to no other cause.

98 And let no one interrupt and say:

“What of it? Do we make away with our statues or throw them aside?”

No, but you are dishonouring the men whose statues they are and you are robbing their rightful owners, just as the god felt on the occasion to which we refer, since it is not reasonable to suppose that it was the image of bronze about which he was troubled. Do not, therefore, think that, although the god was so indignant at the insult shown to the Thasian, no one of those who have been honoured in your city is dear to Heaven or that none is a hero.

99 Neither can we be so sure, moreover, that such treatment might not be brought about by some persons through hatred, I mean if it so happens that one of your chief magistrates has a grudge against any of his predecessors. You have heard how the Theagenes incident, at any rate, grew out of political envy and jealousy. For even if they urge that now they follow this practice only in the case of the old statues, yet as time goes on, just as ever happens in the case of all bad habits, this one too will of necessity grow worse and worse.83 The reason is that it is utterly impossible to call the culprit to account because the whole business from first to last lies in his84 hands.

“Yes, by heavens,” you say, “but the kinsmen will certainly put a stop to it.”

Well then, if the kinsmen happen to be absent or to have had no knowledge of the matter, what do we propose to do when they do learn of it? Will it be necessary to chisel out again the man's name which someone has been in a hurry to insert?

100 Again, since this practice is quite improper, or impious rather, it would be less of an outrage if it were not done under the pretext which some offer by way of excusing the city. For everybody considers it a greater disgrace to do for money anything whatsoever that is in other respects disgraceful, than to do it for any other reason. So when they put forward as a plea the cost and the necessity of going to heavy expense if you shall ever undertake to make another lot of statues, and thus seek to condone the practice, it is clear that they make the reproach all the worse, since men are going to think that you are doing a wrong thing for the sake of money, and that too although you are rich, richer than the people of any other Hellenic state.

101 And yet why, pray, did not something like this happen in the time of your ancestors, seeing that they had no more wealth than you now possess? For you must not suppose that anyone is unaware that your island has not deteriorated, that you draw revenue from Caria and a part of Lycia and possess tribute-paying cities, that large sums of money are continually being entrusted to your commonwealth by many men, and that none of the earlier depositors has withdrawn anything.

102 Furthermore, you will not claim that you have heavier expenses than had the men of those earlier times, since in that period there were expenditures for every purpose for which they are made now — for their national assemblies, sacred processions, religious rites, fortifications, jury service, and for the council. But in these days the heaviest outlays of those borne in earlier times do not exist. For instance, their expenditures for war, seeing that they were almost continually at war and rarely, if ever, had a respite, are, in my opinion, not to be brought into comparison with those which are made in times of peace. 103 Indeed, it was not the same thing at all to send out an expedition of one hundred ships or even more, and again, one of seventy and then a third of thirty others,85 and then sometimes not to disband this expedition for three or four years; or for warships to sail continuously, not merely across to Cyprus and Cilicia, but sometimes to Egypt and at other times to the Black Sea and finally on the Ocean itself, or the keep mercenary soldiers to garrison the forts and the country — it is not possible to compare all that with what may now be seen in our time, when you appear with merely one or two undecked ships every year at Corinth. 104 I say all this, not by way of reproaching you, nor to show that you are inferior to your ancestors; for it is not because you are unable to match their deeds, but because the occasion for such things is past, that you live in uninterrupted peace. For it is clear that they too would have preferred to keep out of danger, and that their object in exerting themselves was in order to win security in the end. The point I am making, however, is that their scale of expenditures was not on as low a level as yours. To pass over the other items, such as your shipyards, the arms and armour, the war engines, the mere upkeep of the walls, to which I just made reference, as they are now kept up in your time, is assuredly not comparable. For if one does suppose that there is no difference in the care given to them, yet, you see, they are kept in shape in a leisurely fashion, a little at a time, and whenever a magistrate so desires; but in former times they had to be kept standing. And while now they are built to be tested by yourselves, then they were to be tested by the enemy. 105 So much for that. Well then, neither can it be said that the persons you honour are more numerous; for the mere number of the statues standing which date from that time reveals the truth. And apart from that, who would say that those who are zealous to serve the state are now more numerous than then?

Oh yes! you may say, “but we simply must honour the commanders86 who rule over us, one and all.”

What of it? Do not also the Athenians, Spartans, Byzantines, and Mytilenaeans pay court to these same? But nevertheless, whenever they decide to set up in bronze one of these, they do so, and they manage to find the cost. 106 Indeed I once heard a certain Rhodian remark — “The position of those people is not comparable to ours. For all that they, the Athenians excepted, possess is liberty and the Athenians have no great possessions either; but our city is the envy of all because it is the most prosperous, and consequently it needs a greater number of loyal friends. Furthermore, none of the Romans particularly cares to have a statue among those peoples, but they do not despise that honour here.”

107 All this is true, and that is all the more reason why you should give up that practice. For we may reasonably assume that those who put any value upon having this honour in your city do not overlook the manner in which they get it, but at the same time take into consideration also the spirit in which you give it; and on the other hand, it would not be reasonable to assume that those who acknowledge that the wealth of their city arouses envy should take into account the matter of the expense. For assuredly you do not because of that consideration honour a greater number than do the other states in proportion to the relatively greater wealth which you possess.

And besides, even at this moment you are having statues made of the emperors and other men also who are of high rank. For even you must have noticed that to be set up in your present way means nothing!87 Whom, then, do you think of honouring in the future that you continue a practice so shameful and so unworthy of your own selves? 108 I ask this because, if you were treating everybody alike with the exception of the emperors, you would not be shown up as you being at present. But as it is, there are persons for whom you do set up statues of themselves; consequently from these cases you make it evident to all the others that you are not really honouring them. And if these persons are commoners and could have rendered no service at all, what motive have you for this unseemly conduct? What is your object in courting the favour of those persons, and that too when it is possible for you to show your solicitude for them in other ways? For the fact is that for the commoner several gifts of friendship and lavish entertainment were sufficient; and if a person is of higher rank a simple decree in addition was enough, whether indeed he was invited to dine in the city hall or to take a seat of honour. For as things are, you give the impression that you are doing what ship-captains do whose vessels are heavily laden and consequently in danger of foundering — jettisoning your statues!

109 But come, consider: if anyone told you that it was better after all to sell the most of them in order to be well supplied with funds, you could not possibly help considering the speaker a base slavish sort of man. Yet this is just what you are doing now; for what a statue would cost to make is just so much gain for you; except that you are selling them to yourselves and not for export, just as you deport to foreign parts, I presume, your vilest slaves. But in general, you well know that there is nothing great or valuable in such gifts anyhow, except as it is in the givers — if they give it for what it is. But if a man makes a present from his own property of whatever any person wants, giving it carelessly and to any person that comes along, soon the gift will be looked upon as utterly valueless. 110 For this reason it is a matter of greater pride to the recipient to be invited to a seat of honour just once in your city than to get a statue elsewhere. And a resolution of commendation voted by you from your seats in the assembly is a splendid distinction; but other peoples, even if they burst their lungs with cheering, seem not to show honour enough.

You doubtless know that the Olympian crown is olive leaves, and yet this honour many people have preferred to life itself, not because there is anything wonderful about the olive that grows there, but because it is not given carelessly or for slight achievement. This explains why very recently, in our own time, one of the emperors, as you know, was so taken with this practice and was so eager to win the victory that he actually competed at the Elean festival and considered this the height of happiness.88 But if it had been their custom to crown all the potentates that came to the spectacle, what emulation would the crown any longer have aroused and what sort of glory would it have won? On the contrary, they say that the Eleans do not even open the letters 111 written by those who would recommend a particular athlete,89 until he has competed. And this has never brought upon them any risk of harm, but, on the contrary, honour and applause, because they are considered worthy to supervise the games. For you must not suppose that the Romans are so stupid and ignorant as to choose that none of their subjects should be independent or honourable but would rather rule over slaves.

112 Then again, whereas the Eleans, who are not superior in other respects to any of the other Peloponnesians, put so high a value upon their own position, are you Rhodians so afraid of all your casual visitors that you think if you fail to set up some one person in bronze, you will lose your freedom?90 But if your freedom is in so precarious a state that it can be stripped from you on any petty pretext, it would in every way be better for you to be slaves forthwith. So too when men's bodies are so dangerously ill that there is no longer hope for their recovery, death is better than life. 113 Why, if your long-standing loyalty and good will91 toward that people, and your having shared with them every fortune, are unable to give your state security, nor yet the subjugation of Mithridates or of Antiochus, nor the command of the sea which you have delivered over to them at the cost of so many dangers and hardships, nor the vows of friendship taken so many years ago, nor the tablets92 which up to the present time have stood at the very side of your statue of Zeus, nor your mighty93 fleet, which has shared in their battles as far as the Ocean's edge, nor finally, the capture of your city94 endured for their sake, yet if you omit to flatter ignobly this man and that man, all these things have come to naught — if this is your condition, so that you are always expecting some outbreak of wrath or hatred, then your position is extremely wretched and rests upon no firm foundation. And I, for my part, would say, even at the risk of angering you, that slaves in the interior of Phrygia, and those in Egypt and Libya, fare better than yourselves. 114 For it is less shameful that a man who is unknown and thought to be utterly without desert should resort to any and every expedient; but that a people so distinguished as yourselves and so admired throughout the world should be constrained like low-bred curs to fawn upon every passer by, is scandalous.

Come then, tell me this: Suppose that it should be necessary to honour all the world in this fashion and that we should assume the city to be in desperate financial straits, how much better it would be to send the simple decree in which the statue is voted to each man so honoured, in order that, if he chooses, he may set it up at his own expense!

115 “Good heavens!” you exclaim, “but it would be a disgrace if we are to admit such straightenedº circumstances, and beneath the dignity of the people of Rhodes!”

And yet what person in his right mind would not prefer to be thought poor rather than unprincipled? Or does the present situation seem to you in a less degree disgraceful than any other — that a person is able to describe your statues in the same way as your houses, saying that this one used to belong to So-and so but that now it has come into the hands of So-and so; and when the present owner dies it will in turn belong to whoever has inherited it — or who buys it? And yet it is not possible for any right-minded man to transfer the ownership of a statue as he does that of a house.

116 Well, I once heard a man make an off-hand remark to the effect that there are other peoples also where one can see this practice being carried on; and again, another man, who said that even in Athens many things are done now which any one, not without justice, could censure, these being not confined to ordinary matters, but having to do even with the conferring of honours. “Why, they have conferred the title of 'Olympian,' “95 he alleged, upon a certain person he named, “though he was not an Athenian by birth, but a Phoenician fellow who came, not from Tyre or Sidon, but from some obscure village or from the interior, a man, what is more, who has his arms depilated and wears stays”;d and he added that another, whom he also named, that very slovenly96 poet, who once gave a recital here in Rhodes too, they not only have set up in bronze, but even placed his statue next to that of Menander.97 Those who disparage their city and the inscription on the statue of Nicanor are accustomed to say that it actually bought Salamis for them.98 117 But I, for my part, if any one makes these statements either to reproach the Athenians and to show that its present inhabitants are not worthy of it or of the glory which the Athenians of old bequeathed to them, or to express in a general way a feeling of commiseration for Hellas, that she has fallen to so low an estate, when such acts are committed by a people who for a time were regarded as the foremost of the race, I believe he is right; but if it is his thought that you also should be lacking in pride and should be no better than they, then I am unable to characterize the utter lack of fine feeling shown by the speaker. 118 For as it is the custom of all men to recount the admirable institutions and practices which are found among other peoples for the purpose of encouraging eager emulation of them, we should not in the same way mention any bad practice that is current elsewhere for the sake of encouraging imitation of it, but, on the contrary, only in order that one's people may be on their guard against it and may not fall unawares into that sort of thing. Indeed if a man were in fact reciting any such things by way of praising that other people and of showing that they enjoyed a reputation no whit worse one that account, he must surely be reckoned a simple, or rather a reckless, person; but yet according to his own opinion he was not offering any incentive to those wishing to do wrong. But if all men cite these practices as a shame and a reproach and not one of those who eulogize the city99 would mention any such thing, but only a person who wanted either to slander or in some other way to criticize and assail it, that man is an utter simpleton who thinks that by such means he could induce you to abandon your own customs. 119 It is just as if a person, in trying to persuade an athlete to give up and forego the crown for the price of a piece of silver, should say to him: “Do you not see yonder man, the one who is being scourged, just in front of you, because he dropped out of the contest?”100 Or, by heavens, just as if a man should point out to one of the actors several who were being hissed off the stage, and should offer this sort of encouragement: “See to it that you also pay no attention to your part, but go through the performance the way they did.” And now those whom we have just described are to all intents and purposes saying to you: “Do you not see how the Athenians are disgracing themselves, how they are getting a bad name, how they are an example to all the world of baseness and of the kind of insolence with which they outrage their own country?”

120 And yet, let me ask, shall anyone class the Athenians as your rivals, as these persons demand, or rather — and this is in every way better and fairer — hold both them and the Spartans and all others like them to be your co partners, or you theirs? But it is not sensible to imitate your rivals when they err, but on the contrary to endeavour so much the more to do right yourselves, in order that you may be found superior to them in every respect and ever win credit, not only on account of their demerits, but also on account of your own virtue; nor should you copy your friends and relatives, but should try to check them if possible, or, if you do copy them, should by the merit of your own conduct try to minimize their shortcomings.

121 Moreover, if you were no whit superior to the Athenians in other respects, perhaps you would not find it necessary to feel any jealousy of them in this one matter and to consider how you might have a reputation better than theirs. But as matters now stand, there is no practice current in Athens which would not cause any man to feel ashamed. For instance, in regard to the gladiatorial shows the Athenians have so zealously emulated the Corinthians, or rather, have so surpassed both them and all others in their mad infatuation, that whereas the Corinthians watch these combats outside the city in a glen, a place that is able to hold a crowd but otherwise is dirty and such that no one would even bury there any freeborn citizen,101 the Athenians look on at this fine spectacle in their theatre under the very walls of the Acropolis, in the place where they bring their Dionysus into the orchestra and stand him up,102 so that often a fighter is slaughtered among the very seats in which the Hierophant and the other priests must sit. 122 And the philosopher103 who spoke about this matter and rebuked them they refused to obey and did not even applaud; on the contrary, they were so incensed that, although in blood he was inferior to no Roman, but enjoyed a reputation greater than any one man has attained for generations, and was admittedly the only man who since the time of the ancients had lived most nearly in conformity with reason, this man was forced to leave the city and preferred to go and live somewhere else in Greece. But you, O men of Rhodes, would not tolerate any such thing as that, since among you there is a law which prescribes that the executioner must never enter the city.

123 What, then, was my object in mentioning this? Not, I assure you, any desire to abuse the Athenians; for, on the contrary, all decent men instinctively feel pity for them; it was rather in order that you might know that from this time on your reckoning is not with them but your own selves and with all others who are sober-minded. And yet everything that might be said in criticism of the Athenians or of the Spartans or any other peoples among whom are found other practices which are bad and due to gross carelessness, will reinforce my argument; for in the matter of statues you can find no such abuse among them as prevails here; must we not, therefore, of necessity conclude that this particular form of wrongdoing, which is not practiced even among those we have mentioned who are utterly lost to shame, is beyond all exaggeration monstrous?104

124 And this characterization becomes still more convincing if some few details of what happens in connection with the honours you grant are brought into comparison by themselves. If, for instance, it is considered an outrage to place any man of the present day beside any of the ancients, how much more of an outrage is it to deprive, as you are doing, an ancient of his honour for the purpose of bestowing it upon another? And if the inscribing of one person's name over that of another and a much inferior person brings so great condemnation, completely to erase and remove the name of the better man, if it so happens — in what sort of light do you think this act appears?

Moreover, if anyone says that you are no better than the Caunians105 or Myndians,106 you will be very angry and think that he is slandering your city; how, then, could any man any longer bring forward before you in defence of any practice prevalent among you the argument that that very thing is done by those other peoples also? 125 It is just as if a person thought that you ought to demolish your own walls, or let them lie when they fall, simply because they lie fallen in the other cities, or rather, in practically all the others. Yet with them the walls are neglected because of their condition of peace and servitude, one of which everybody welcomes, to wit, peace, whereas the other is no longer a sign of baseness; but when people treat in this way their benefactors of long ago, the reason is ingratitude. But I for my part venture to assert that even among your neighbours yonder wrong is not done to benefactors! For who among the Caunians has ever proved himself a noble man?107 Or who has ever conferred any benefaction upon them? Why, they are in a state of abject slavery, not alone to you but also to the Romans, on account of their excessive folly and wickedness having made their slavery a double one. And this one might also say about others who have the same reputation.

126 But, speaking generally, I think that a people who take such pride in themselves as you justly do should not, in shaping their conduct, keep their eyes on these others, especially on those who are so much their inferiors, but rather upon their own reputation and the proud position of their city.108 It would have been absurd if one of your own citizens, that famous Dorieus,109 or Leonidas,110 men who are said to have won so many victories at Olympia, had done his training with his eye on some other athlete, and him a man who had never been crowned. However, if you wish to measure yourselves against the Spartans or the Athenians, I concede the point in regard to the Athenians of the olden days,111 when any people similar to yourselves might with good reason have tried to be comparable to them. 127 Take, for instance, the athlete: If he is still eager for honours and is not yet declining in bodily vigour, it is not sensible for him to challenge the famous prize-winners of his own time who are sick, nor yet the dead, nay rather, if there are any who are at the top of their strength, he should select these and strive with them for the victory; but if none such are available, he should aim to achieve an exploit of such a kind as will show that he is no whit inferior in strength to any athlete of former times.112 That is sound reasoning about such matters. But if after all it is necessary to make some concession, do not test the question by making a comparison with the peoples who in former times were the strongest, nor yet with those of the present day who are no better than any people of the most worthless sort, but measure yourselves against those who are in between, or against those who are still lower in the scale than they.

128 Well then, among the Athenians of the time of Philip, and at very near the time when they had given up the primacy among the Greeks and their liberty was the only thing to which they still clung, there was a certain Leptines who proposed a law to the effect that all should be deprived of the privileges of exemption from public duties113 who had received it from the people, with the exception of the descendants of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, and that for the future it will be no longer permissible to grant to any one this gift. Well, what happened? Did they by any chance accept that law? They did not, but the law's proposer was convicted on an indictment for introducing an illegal measure. 129 Come then, compare this custom with that law, and if it seems to you in any way better, retain it and make it stronger for the future — which is bound to happen if it is not abolished now — but if after considering it on all sides you find it to be inferior, then imitate the Athenians of that early period and abolish now that practice which is more monstrous than the one abolished formerly by them.

130 However, as to any attempt to show that the city is insincere, is faithless in its gifts, and that it wrongs its benefactors by robbing them of their rewards — such reproaches apply in all respects equally to both Athens and Rhodes. But whereas at Athens those who had formerly received exemption from public burdens could not possibly have received no benefit at all — for whatever they had previously acquired from the immunity remained theirs in every respect for the future as for the past, and they could not fail to be better off on account of it; those, on the other hand, who have had their statues taken away from them have nothing left over from the honour they had formerly enjoyed — except the insult and the dishonour. 131 And, in addition, the Athenian who, on the occasion I have mentioned, proposed the law attacked a considerable number of those who had received exemption from public duties and tried to show that the majority of them were knaves, not merely unworthy of any favour, so that the unfairness of it was that, while not accusing all, he was proposing to deprive all of their gifts. But in Rhodes here it is utterly impossible for those who have deprived men of their statues to say anything against them; for when they do not even know who the original recipients were, as they admit,114 how is it possible to bring a charge against them? 132 Furthermore, that law proposed to make an exception in favour of those who were regarded as having conferred the greatest benefactions upon the city, to wit, the descendants of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, but here no exception is made. For since the practice is carried on without any record being kept and is not regulated by either law or decree, absolutely no concession is made for anyone, and this indignity may happen to anyone at the pleasure of the chief magistrate at any time. 133 Again, the Athenian law was thought to be committing an outrage in depriving the people of their authority in the matter, so that not even in the future would it be possible for them to vote this gift.115 Yet how much better to prevent the people from granting any honour or any privilege than, while leaving the right to confer a favour, to place the power of taking it away in the hands of one man! For while it is disgraceful, as no man would deny, to take any gift away from those who have received it, according to that Athenian law this was happening just once, but according to this Rhodian custom it takes place all the time!

134 Besides, if it appears vexatious that your city should be deprived of any power, it is you your own selves who are depriving it of the power to guarantee for the recipients the security of its gifts. For whenever you confer this honour upon a man, it is no longer in your power to allow him to keep it; on the contrary, one official always has this in his control, namely, the chief magistrate. And yet, it is worse for you to lack this power owing to custom than to be estopped by law. For in the one case men in a certain sense have not been deprived of the control of that which they have by law renounced their right willingly because of the advantage thereby gained. 135 But when we have to deal with a custom, one cannot even say that men have deprived themselves — if deprived they have been — of a thing on which they have neither passed judgment nor deliberated.

And although in Athens the people had some consolation — in that the measure was impartial and general, since all alike were being deprived of their exemption from public burdens — here it is only the recipient of the statue who has been deprived of it, and often he is the better man. Moreover, in Athens it was not in order that another person might receive the exemption that the law proposed to take it away from the possessor, but in your city that is precisely why it is done, a thing that is altogether more distressing than merely to be dispossessed. 136 Furthermore, no one, I presume, is unaware how much more grievous it seems to suffer any harsh treatment on account of another than it is to suffer it on your own account. So, whereas it was the intention of the Athenian law to divest all others of their privilege of exemption in order to prevent certain men, whom it designated as undeserving, from retaining theirs, the result of your custom is that the owners of statues are robbed of them in order that others may receive them; 137 and this treatment is altogether more grievous to those affected.

If, further, any one wishes, confining his consideration of the matter strictly to those cases in which the loss suffered is most nearly irreparable, to ask who are being wronged by this custom of yours and who were bound to be hurt by that Athenian law, let him disregard, not only those who were enjoying exemption from public burdens there, but also those who have received a statue here, and then let him consider those who are not in either class.116 Since those who had been honoured at Athens were in a sense not suffering any loss at all, for it was only what they would have received by way of a supplement117 that they were losing, whereas the greater gift continued to be theirs; but as regards the other gifts, the reckoning would come out the same for both classes.118 But, I think, the case is quite self-evident: For in proportion as the grant of a statue is a greater honour than the exemption, in just that degree those who receive the former are superior men. The argument can be made still clearer, though, if stated thus: 138 Whereas the exemption from public burdens makes the recipients of it wealthier, and those men are especially eager for it who are interested in money-making, the statue implies only dignity and honour; so just in proportion as those are superior men, as we would all agree, who choose to confer benefits upon others without remuneration and rather for reputation's sake than those who set a price upon it and are moved by desire for gain, by just so much, as I at least would assert, are not only they better men whom this custom of yours wrongs, but also by just so much are those persons whom you are preventing from conferring benefits upon yourselves superior to those whom the Athenian laws prevented from benefitting the Athenians.

139 But for my part I am at a loss to understand why on earth you do not pass a law on this matter to regulate it for the future, if such is your pleasure.

“Good heavens!” you exclaim, “Why, the existence of a law like that in a city brings no little shame.”

And so it is not disgraceful to do what you think it is disgraceful to enact in writing? And yet how much better it is to refrain from following any written laws which are badly conceived than to do bad things! Or what class of men would you call the better, those who are so disposed toward improper things that they refrain from doing them even when they are authorized, or those who do them even though they are not allowed? 140 But as for me, I would say that, while it is agreed that one should by no means do any unjust or unseemly act, yet among peoples where such acts are under the control of law there would be less cause for reproach than among people where they are regulated by custom. For, in the first place, the law is explicit and can never become worse, since it is not possible either to take away from or add to its written terms; whereas the custom, if it is a bad one, must necessarily become steadily worse because it is not clearly apprehended or defined.119 141 I mean, for instance, the case we now have before us: they tell us that this practice began with the statues that were broken and not even standing on their pedestals; it was these that the chief magistrates used after repairing them and in a way making them altogether different; then the next step was that those which were well preserved but bore no inscriptions were inscribed; and at last came the taking of some statues which did have inscriptions on them, provided they were very old. Well, let us assume that their statement of the case is true. In the future there will necessarily be no distinction made at all — for this is the way it is with all other evils, such as extravagance, disorderly conduct, luxury — 142 you will never find any really bad custom halting or remaining stationary until it is utterly suppressed. For because it continually receives some accretion and because a gradual process is almost impossible to detect and does not readily become perceptible to anyone, inasmuch as the present state is worse than the former it goes on to extremes as, I believe, is the case with some ulcers and all those diseases whose nature it is inevitably to get worse.120

Then there is this further consideration — that those who do anything which the law makes wrong, do it, not as being such, but under a misconception, whereas with those who do things which custom regards as base, would one and all admit that they sin deliberately, those acts being of such a kind that even the perpetrators themselves think they are not fit to be forbidden by an enactment.

143 Moreover, just because the practice began some while ago and considerable time has elapsed, do not for this reason consider that it is any the less your duty to get rid of it; for those people who perpetuate such practices as this incur no less disgrace than those who first allowed them; nay, on the contrary, they are more exposed to the attack of any who wish to censure. When the thing was done first, it may well have even escaped the notice of the people of that time, particularly as those who practised it were still cautious about it; but when a thing has been going on for a long time, nobody can be unaware of it; and, besides, that excuse has been completely taken away from you, because you are sitting here passing judgment on this very matter. Therefore, just as if you felt it to be necessary to initiate some honourable usage, you would not hesitate on that account,121 so you have every reason now to act with equal readiness if it is desirable to abolish some unworthy practice. 144 Therefore, do not let its antiquity support the custom if it is really a vicious one, as I think I have long since made clear. For I do not think that just because a thing has injured you for a long time it ought never to cease injuring you. For instance, if you take into custody a man who has been wicked for a long time, you will not release him on account of the length of time which he has spent in being a bad man. Nor yet if a person should be able to cure a disease that had long been harassing him, would he count the cost of enjoying good health all over again. 145 And you, in my opinion, if some god should reveal to you a thing that your city was sure to regret some time in the future, would by all means take measures to prevent it, if it lay in your power to do so. Then, while you will of course not neglect guarding against anything that will harm others simply because the injury will be in the future, are you going to give free rein to that which is now doing the greatest injury to yourselves, because it originated in the past? Nay, it is utterly foolish for a man to think that he should never check a practice which, while customary, is nevertheless shocking.

146 I ask you to bear in mind, rather, that, although there are many things about your city on all of which you have a good right to pride yourselves — your laws in the first place, and orderliness of your government (things of which you are wont to boast most), and, in the second place, I imagine, such things also as temples, theatres, shipyards, fortifications, and harbours, some of which give evidence of your wealth and high aspirations and the greatness of your former power, others of your piety toward the gods122 — you rejoice no less in the multitude of your statues,123 and rightly; 147 for not only do such things do you credit just as any of your other dedicated monuments do, but they also more than anything reveal the strength of your city and its character. For it is no ordinary people that receives benefactions from many or that wishes or perhaps has the means to honour many. And note this also — that it is not only because the statues you have here are very great in number that the practice in question has arisen, but also, I think, because the Romans, who have often seized from every land the furnishings of sacred places and of palaces, have never disturbed any of those which you possess. 148 Why, even Nero, who had so great a craving and enthusiasm in that business that he did not keep his hands off of even the treasures of Olympia or of Delphi — although he honoured those sanctuaries above all others — but went still farther and removed most124 of the statues on the Acropolis of Athens and many of those at Pergamum,125 although that precinct was his very own (for what need is there to speak of those in other places?), left undisturbed only those in your city and showed towards you such signal goodwill and honour that he esteemed your entire city more sacred than the foremost sanctuaries. 149 You remember the notorious Acratus,126 who visited practically the whole inhabited world in this quest and passed by no village even127 — you recall how he came here likewise, and when you were, quite naturally, distressed, he said he had come to see the sights, for he had no authority to touch anything here. Therefore, apart from the beautiful sight which all the world may enjoy, the great number of your statues brings you a renown of another sort! For these things are manifestly a proof of your friendship for your rulers and of their respect for you. 150 So then, when the Romans and Nero guarded your possessions so scrupulously and esteemed them inviolate, shall you yourselves fail to protect them? Nero, that most immoderate of emperors, who took the most liberties and considered everything subject to his own unlimited power, took away the statue of no one of those who had received honour from the people of Rhodes, and from them only. And do you, your own selves, rob these men? Yet how much better it would have been, had the same thing happened here also! I mean that whereas elsewhere the names of the men who have been honoured are left and no one would think of erasing the inscriptions, you chisel them out just as if the men had done you some wrong. 151 And yet, one might say even if your statues were being carried off by the emperors, the men were not being so grievously wronged as at present; for the emperors were engaged in removing such things, not with the intention of giving them to others, but because they wanted objects of embellishment, so that none of them would think of removing the name, nor would persons be any the worse off because, instead of being set up as offerings at Megara or Epidaurus or in the market-place of Andros or of Myconos, they were set up in the sacred places of the Romans. But dismissing these considerations, it would have been better, so far as you are concerned, had these men's tokens of honour been thus obliterated. For then there would have been no fault on your part, nor would you yourselves be wronging your own benefactors and your heroes, but, if there were any wrong at all, you would be suffering it in common with them.

152 And further, if anyone should inquire of you, absurd though it may seem, why on earth do neither you nor anyone else make of clay the statues of those who have been adjudged worthy of this gift, since that, no doubt, is easier to manage and involves very little or no expense, you would reply, I suppose: “Not only to avoid giving insult but also in order that the honours which are given to good men may abide forever if that is possible.” Yes, but as the case stands, I would have you know that all your statues are less permanent than waxen ones. For it is not a question of whether they can endure the sun, since it is the desire to flatter another group of men which ruins them; and if it seems good to this or that magistrate for any reason whatsoever, the honoured men of former times are no more!128 153 And this sort of distinction is much worse; for in the old days the fragility of the material would be blamed, but now men think it is the city's moral weakness that is being brought to light. And so you go on handing out your statues very much as parents do who buy for their children these cheap dolls. For they too are so casual about their gifts that very soon there is sorrow — when the gifts have fallen to pieces!129

Can it be that you are unaware of the shame which attaches to this practice, and how ridiculous you make yourselves by this deception practised by your state, and that too so openly? 154 For instance, in your decrees you propose 'to erect a statue of So-and so.' “But just how,” someone might ask you, “do you propose, men of Rhodes, to 'erect' the statue that has been erected possibly for the last five hundred years?” After doing that, can you adjudge those women who palm off other women's children as their own130 to be wicked and regard their deception as a horrible thing, while you yourselves are not ashamed of doing the same thing with your images by saying that the statues belong to those to whom they do not belong, and that too when you cannot help hearing of the jests with which your city is reviled? 155 For instance, many people assert that the statues of the Rhodians are like actors. For just as every actor makes his entrance as one character at one time and at another as another, so likewise your statues assume different rôles at different times and stand almost as if they were acting a part. For instance, one and the same statue, they say, is at one time a Greek, at another time a Roman, and later on, if it so happens, a Macedonian or a Persian; and what is more, with some statues the deception is so obvious that the beholder at once is aware of the deceit. For in fact, clothing, foot-gear, and everything else of that kind expose the fraud. 156 And I pass over countless instances of what happens, such as that often the name of some young man is inscribed on the statue of a very old man — a most wonderful gift, methinks, you have discovered, if along with the honour you can also make a present of youth; and again, we hear of a statue of a certain athlete which stands here, that it represents an utter weakling of a man, quite ordinary of body. For while we admit that there is perhaps no incongruity in your having before everybody's eyes in your city the figure of So-and so mounted upon a horse in the act either of grappling with a foeman or of marshalling an army, even though he was a fellow who never touched the earth with his own feet or descended from the shoulders of the carriers who bore him; but what can one say of So-and so, who stands in your midst in the pose of a boxer!131

157 Now I say all this, I assure you, with no desire to incur your hatred or to disparage your city, but in order to prevent its being found doing anything unworthy of itself or alien to the general decorum of its public life. And it seems to me that anyone would have good reason for being moved, by his good will toward all the Hellenes, and not alone toward you, if in fact there should be any practice here in Rhodes that is not as it should be, to mention it and make it known to you. For in the past, indeed, many elements contributed to the high standing in which we all share, and many peoples exalted Hellas — you, the Athenians, the Spartans, the Thebans, the Corinthians for a while, and in ancient times the Argives; 158 but at the present time all the rest count for naught.132 For while some of them have been utterly destroyed and have perished, others disgrace themselves by doing the sort of things of which you hear and in every way blotting out their ancient glory, thinking that they are having an easy life, fools that they are, and counting it gain that there is no one to keep them from erring. But you are left, for you alone still are believed to have proved yourselves to be in truth a people of consequence and not utterly despised. In fact, because of those who treat as they do their native countries, there was nothing to prevent the Hellenic race from having become long since — as some men are saying with perfect truth — more despised than the Phrygians or Thracians. 159 Therefore, just as, when a prosperous and great family has been left desolate and only one male descendant survives, everything depends upon him, and if he errs in any way and bears a bad name, he destroys all the glory of his family and puts shame upon all who preceded him, so too is your position now in respect to Hellas. For you must not take it for granted, Rhodians, that you hold first place in Hellas, nay you must not. For it is only those Hellenes who still live and are sensible of the difference between honour and dishonour of whom it is possible for any to be first. But all the former are past and gone, have perished in an utterly shameful and pitiable way; and as to the rest,133 it is no longer possible to form a conception of the pre-eminence and splendour of their deeds and, as well, their sufferings, by looking at the men of the present time. 160 Nay, it is rather the stones which reveal the grandeur and the greatness of Hellas, and the ruins of her buildings; her inhabitants themselves and those who conduct her governments would not be called descendants of even the Mysians.134 So to me, at least, it seems that the cities which have been utterly destroyed have come off better than those which are inhabited as they are now. For the memory of those men remains unimpaired, and the fame of those noble men of the past suffers insult for naught; just as it is true, methinks, with the bodies of the dead — it is in every way better that they should have been utterly destroyed and that no man should see them any more, than that they should rot in the sight of all!

161 And although these thoughts, which have come to me as I have portrayed the situation as a whole, have perhaps been more numerous than is usual, yet it was my wish to make this point clear to you — that you alone are left of the Hellenic peoples to whom advice could be offered and regarding whom it is still possible to grieve when they seem to err.

It would, therefore, be reasonable to expect you to give heed to yourselves and to examine all such matters as these more carefully than did your ancestors. For whereas they had many other ways in which to display their virtues — in assuming the leadership over the others, in lending succour to the victims of injustice, in gaining allies, founding cities, winning wars — for you it is not possible to do any of these things.135 162 But there is left for you, I think, the privilege of assuming the leadership over yourselves, of administering your city, of honouring and supporting by your cheers a distinguished man unlike that of the majority, of deliberating in council, of sitting in judgement, of offering sacrifice to the gods, and of holding high festival — in all these matters it is possible for you to show yourselves better than the rest of the world. That indeed is the reason why you are admired for such characteristics as I shall mention — and they are regarded by all the world as no trifling matters — your gait, the way you trim your hair, that no one struts pompously through your city's streets, but that even foreigners sojourning here are forced by your conventional manners to walk sedately;136 just as, I fancy, one may see even the country clowns, when they enter a wrestling-school or a gymnasium, move their limbs less clumsily than is their wont. 163 Then again, take the mode you affect in dress — which perhaps toº some appears ridiculous — the width of the purple stripe; we come now to things still more noticeable — your remaining silent as you watch the games, your applauding by making a clucking sound with your lips137 — all these manners lend your city dignity, they all cause you to be looked upon as superior to the others, for all these customs you are admired, you are loved; more than by your harbours, your fortifications, your shipyards are you honoured by that strain in your customs which is antique138 and Hellenic, so that when anybody comes among you he recognizes instantly on disembarking, even if he happens to be of barbarian race, that he has not come to some city of Syria or of Cilicia. But in other cities, unless the stranger hears some one mention the name of the place he sees, that it is called, let us say, 'Lyceum' or 'Academy,' they are all alike to him!

164 What is my object, then, in mentioning these matters when I am about to conclude, and what do I wish to make clear? It is that you ought to be all the more jealous about your city and to be indifferent to nothing that takes place here. And if you have this spirit in everything you do, perhaps men will think that you are no whit worse than your ancestors. For that you do preserve your character in your present situation, and hold fast to your rôle of moral excellence is, in my opinion at least, an admirable thing. 165 An apt illustration is found, I think, in the conduct of men on board a ship at sea: when a storm strikes them or a hurricane, not even the most wanton of them is to be seen doing anything base; but they are all giving undivided attention to the sailing; whereas in fair weather recklessness prevails among both the sailors and the passengers, even if they do not indulge in licentiousness.139 In the same way I believe that war is wont to arouse and to sway even the meaner souls;140 but in such peaceful and quiet times as these, it is the part of the best men not to drift into any shameful or disorderly practices.

This Discourse was delivered before the people of Alexandria in their great theatre. Public meetings were not infrequently held in Greek theatres. The purpose of this particular meeting is not known, but the great length of Dio's address and the seeming patience with which his audience listened to him lend colour to the supposition that Dio was known to be the bearer of an important message, and the people had assembled especially to hear it. Arnim, who argues with plausibility that the speech was delivered in the reign of Trajan, regards Dio as being, in fact if not in name, the emissary of that emperor. Several passages recall thoughts and phrases found in the four Discourses on Kingship, which are thought to have been addressed to Trajan, and Dio speaks as one who enjoys the friendship of the emperor.

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.

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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,1 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.2

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.3 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,4

and

What deed is there that Athens would abjure?5

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.6

7 But you have no such critic, neither chorus7 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 hata 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.8 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 be, 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.9 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 deity10 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,11 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.12

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,13

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 remarks14 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.15

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,16 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.17

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.18

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,
Billows the Southeast wind doth raise, with force
Rushing from out the clouds of Father Zeus;19

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.20

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.21 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,22 gladly dispensing the benefits, but dealing out hardship among their subjects rarely and only as necessity demands,23 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.

27 In like manner democracy is of two kinds: the one is reasonable and gentle and truly mild, disposed to accept frankness of speech and not to care to be pampered in everything, fair, magnanimous, showing respect for good men and good advice, grateful to those who admonish and instruct; this is the democracy which I regard as partaking of the divine and royal nature, and I deem it fitting that one should approach and address it, just as one directs with gentleness a noble steed by means of simple reins, since it does not need the curb. 28 But the more prevalent kind of democracy is both bold and arrogant, difficult to please in anything, fastidious, resembling tyrants or much worse than they, seeing that its vice is not that of one individual or of one kind but a jumble of the vices of thousands; and so it is a multifarious and dreadful beast,24 like those which poets and artists invent, Centaurs and Sphinxes and Chimaeras, combining in a single shape of unreal existence attributes borrowed from manifold natures. And to engage at close quarters with that sort of monster is the act of a man who is truly mad or else exceedingly brave and equipped with wings, a Perseus or a Bellerophon.

29 So, applying our analysis to the populace of Alexandria, the 'unnumbered multitude,' to use the current phrase, in which class shall we put it? I for my part offered you my services on the assumption that you were of the better sort; and perhaps someone else, one of my superiors,25 will decide to do likewise. And assuredly you Alexandrians could present no more beautiful and surprising spectacle than by being yourselves sober and attentive. For indeed it is a supernatural and truly solemn and impressive sight when the countenance of the assembly26 is gentle and composed, and neither convulsed with violent and unrestrained laughter nor distorted by continuous and disorderly clamour, but, on the contrary, listening as with a single pair of ears, though so vast a multitude.

30 But consider yourselves at this moment and then what you are like when you are watching the performances to which you are accustomed. For, to my mind, you now appear to be a sight worth seeing, for kings as well as for plain citizens, and there is nobody who would not admire and honour you as soon as he came into your presence; and so if this address of mine has accomplished nothing else, it has at any rate rendered you this service, and no small one — one hour of sobriety! As, for instance, it is of critical importance toward the recovery of the sick to have had a brief interval of calm.27 However, amid the varied activities which occupy your attention, whenever there falls upon you the blast of turbulence, as when a harsh gale stirs up a muddy, slimy sea, as Homer says, we see froth and scum and a mass of seaweed being cast up on the beach,28 so exactly with you, I fancy, we find jibes and fisticuffs and laughter.

31 Who, pray, could praise a people with such a disposition? Is not that the reason why even to your own rulers you seem rather contemptible? Someone already, according to report, has expressed his opinion of you in these words: “But of the people of Alexandria what can one say, a folk to whom you need only throw plenty of bread and a ticket to the hippodrome,29 since they have no interest in anything else?” Why, inasmuch as, in case a leading citizen misbehaves publicly in the sight of all, you will visit him with your contempt and regard him as a worthless fellow, no matter if he has authority a thousand times as great as yours, you yourselves cannot succeed in maintaining a reputation for dignity and seriousness so long as you are guilty of like misconduct. 32 Do you not know, that just as a prince or king is most conspicuous when he appears in public at such a time, the populace also is in like case when it too appears in public and forms a throng? One ought, of course, in my opinion, to behave with sobriety at other times as well; still whatever a man does privately does not concern the general public or the state, but in the theatre the people's character is revealed. But with you it is there above all that you are off your guard and will prove traitors to the good name of your city: you act like women of low repute, who, however wanton they may be at home, should behave with decorum when they go abroad, and yet it is especially in the streets that they are most guilty of misconduct.

33 “How now,” perhaps someone will say, “is that our only fault, our bad behaviour at the theatre? Is that all you have to say about us and nothing more?” I dread the thought of attacking all your failings in one indictment. And yet perhaps someone will claim that, despite my long harangue, I have given you no advice and have not made clear what it is I criticize you for most; and that such is the function of anyone who offers instruction. But for my own part I believe that I have already made many valuable observations — at least for those of you who have been listening — regarding the god, the nature of the demos, and your duty to listen to counsel even though you are not convinced by what is said.30 For the most urgent need of all, I fancy, was that I should first put you into a frame of mind to listen patiently. And so, if my address has accomplished nothing else of much importance to you, I have this at least to my credit, that for this space of time you have kept your seats in self-restraint. For, let me remind you, with the sick it is of critical importance toward recovery to have had a brief interval of calm.31 34 And, on my word, to examine into all your failings, and that too in one day's time, and to force you to condemn utterly all your vice and your shortcomings, is not within my power,

E'en though I had ten tongues, as many mouths,
A voice unyielding, in my breast a heart
Of bronze; unless the heavenly Muses, sprung
From Aegis-bearing Zeus, should call to mind
The varied evils found in all mankind,32

and not in you alone.

35 But to take just that topic which I mentioned in the beginning, see how important it is. For how you dine in private, how you sleep, how you manage your household, these are matters in which as individuals you are not at all conspicuous; on the other hand, how you behave as spectators and what you are like in the theatre are matters of common knowledge among Greeks and barbarians alike. For your city is vastly superior in point of size and situation, and it is admittedly ranked second among all cities beneath the sun.33 36 For not only does the mighty nation, Egypt, constitute the framework of your city — or more accurately its appanage — but the peculiar nature of the river, when compared with all others, defies description with regard to both its marvellous habits and its usefulness;34 and furthermore, not only have you a monopoly of the shipping of the entire Mediterranean by reason of the beauty of your harbours, the magnitude of your fleet, and the abundance and the marketing of the products of every land, but also the outer waters that lie beyond are in your grasp, both the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean, whose name was rarely heard in former days.35 The result is that the trade, not merely of islands, ports, a few straits and isthmuses, but of practically the whole world is yours. For Alexandria is situated, as it were, at the cross-roads of the whole world, of even the most remote nations thereof, as if it were a market serving a single city, a market which brings together into one place all manner of men, displaying them to one another and, as far as possible, making them a kindred people.36

37 Perhaps these words of mine are pleasing to your ears and you fancy that you are being praised by me, as you are by all the rest who are always flattering you; but I was praising water and soil and harbours and places and everything except yourselves. For where have I said that you are sensible and temperate and just? Was it not quite the opposite? For when we praise human beings, it should be for their good discipline, gentleness, concord, civic order, for heeding those who give good counsel, and for not being always in search of pleasures. But arrivals and departures of vessels, and superiority in size of population, in merchandise, and in ships, are fit subjects for praise in the case of a fair, a harbour, or a market-place, but not of a city; 38 nay, if a man speaks in praise of water, he is not praising men but wells; if he talks of good climate, he does not mean that the people are good but the land; if he speaks of fish, he is not praising the city — how absurd! — but a sea, a lake, or a stream. Yet if someone eulogizes the Nile, you Alexandrians are as elated as if you yourselves were rivers flowing from Ethiopia. Indeed, it is safe to say that most other people also are delighted by such things and count themselves blessed if they dwell, as Homer puts it, 'on a tree-clad isle' or one that is 'deep-soiled' or on a mainland 'of abundant pasture, rich in sheep' or hard by 'shadowy mountains' or 'fountains of translucent waters,'37 none of which is a personal attribute of those men themselves; however, touching human virtue, they care not at all, not even in their dreams!

39 But my purpose in mentioning such matters was neither to elate you nor to range myself beside those who habitually sing such strains, whether orators or poets. For they are clever persons, mighty sophists, wonder-workers; but I am quite ordinary and prosaic in my utterance, though not ordinary in my theme. For though the words that I speak are not great in themselves, they treat of topics of the greatest possible moment. And what I said just now about the city was meant to show you that whatever impropriety you commit is committed, not in secrecy or in the presence of just a few, but in the presence of all mankind. 40 For I behold among you, not merely Greeks and Italians and people from neighbouring Syria, Libya, Cilicia, nor yet Ethiopians and Arabs from more distant regions, but even Bactrians and Scythians and Persians and a few Indians, and all these help to make up the audience in your theatre and sit beside you on each occasion; therefore, while you, perchance, are listening to a single harpist, and that too a man with whom you are well acquainted, you are being listened to by countless peoples who do not know you; and while you are watching three or four charioteers, you yourselves are being watched by countless Greeks and barbarians as well.

41 What, then, do you suppose those people say when they have returned to their homes at the ends of the earth? Do they not say: “We have seen a city that in most respects is admirable and a spectacle that surpasses all human spectacles, with regard both to beauty and sanctuaries and multitude of inhabitants and abundance of all that man requires,” going on to describe to their fellow citizens as accurately as possible all the things that I myself named a short while ago — all about the Nile, the land, and the sea, and in particular the epiphany of the god;38 “and yet,” they will add, “it is a city that is mad over music and horse-races and in these matters behaves in a manner entirely unworthy of itself. For the Alexandrians are moderate enough when they offer sacrifice or stroll by themselves or engage in their other pursuits; but when they enter the theatre or the stadium, just as if drugs that would madden them lay buried there,39 they lose all consciousness of their former state and are not ashamed to say or do anything that occurs to them. 42 And what is most distressing of all is that, despite their interest in the show, they do not really see, and, though they wish to hear, they do not hear, being evidently out of their senses and deranged — not only men, but even women and children. And when the dreadful exhibition is over and they are dismissed, although the more violent aspect of their disorder has been extinguished, still at street-corners and in alley-ways the malady continues throughout the entire city for several days; just as when a mighty conflagration has died down, you can see for a long time, not only the smoke, but also some portions of the buildings still aflame.” 43 Moreover, some Persian or Bactrian is likely to say: “We ourselves know how to ride horses and are held to be just about the best in horsemanship”40 — for they cultivate that art for the defence of their empire and independence — “but for all that we have never behaved that way or anything like it”; whereas you, who have never handled a horse or mounted one yourselves, are unable to restrain yourselves, but are like lame men squabbling over a foot-race. That may explain why, cowards and slackers though you are, you have won so many cavalry battles in the past!41

44 And take heed lest these people prove to have spoken more truthfully about you than Anacharsis the Scythian is said to have spoken about the Greeks — for he was held to be one of the sages, and he came to Greece, I suppose, to observe the customs and the people.42 Anacharsis said that in each city of the Greeks there is a place set apart in which they act insanely day after day — meaning the gymnasium — for when they go there and strip off their clothes, they smear themselves with a drug.43 “And this,” said he, “arouses the madness in them; for immediately some run, others throw each other down, others put up their hands and fight an imaginary foe, and others submit to blows. And when they have behaved in that fashion,” said he, “they scrape off the drug and straightway are sane again and, now on friendly terms with one another, they walk with downcast glance, being ashamed at what has occurred.”

45 Anacharsis was jesting and making sport about no trifling matter, it seems to me, when he said these things; but what might a visitor say about yourselves? For as soon as you get together, you set to work to box and shout and hurl and dance — smeared with what drug? Evidently with the drug of folly; as if you could not watch the spectacle sensibly! For I would not have you think I mean that even such performances should not take place in cities; for perhaps they should, and it may be necessary, because of the frailty of the masses and their idle habits; and possibly even among better people too there are those who need some diversion and amusement in life, but they should take it with decorum and as befits free men. 46 For it will not cause any of the horses to run more slowly or any of the singers to sing less pleasingly if you preserve a due decorum. But as things are now, if one of the charioteers falls from his chariot, you think it terrible and the greatest of all disasters, whereas when you yourselves fall from the decorum that befits you and from the esteem you should enjoy, you are unconcerned. And if you hear the harpist sing out of tune or off pitch, you are well aware of it, whereas when you yourselves utterly abandon the harmony prescribed by nature and are most discordant, you are quite indifferent.

47 And yet how many here have met destruction because of these allurements?44 Loss of reputation, at any rate, everyone has suffered. And did the Sirens do anything else according to the story?45 Did they not regularly destroy those who took extravagant delight in them? Yet the Sirens dwelt in a lonely sea and far away, all by themselves, on a lofty cliff, where no one could easily approach; and even there the man of sense escaped in safety and heard them with composure. These entertainers of Alexandria, however, ply their trade in what is practically the centre of the civilized world and in the most populous city of all, not, by Zeus, because of any charm or power of their own, but rather because of your fatuity. For why is it that outside Alexandria they produce an impression quite like that produced by the usual run of performers, nay, frequently have been thought to be unpleasant? Can it be that the ears of the people in those places have been stopped?

48 What, then, does their success with you signify? Not, by Zeus, musical power or artistic pre-eminence, but rather the shallowness of your listeners and the weakness of your city. It is said, at any rate, that some who have already met their ruin through such a cause, instead of trying by entreaty to escape their death, with youthful bravado have implored the privilege of listening to their destroyers even more. And here is an amazing thing which bring reproach and ridicule upon the city — that whereas elsewhere nobles and tyrannicides are held in memory because they gave their lives for the salvation of the fatherland, with you it is for a bit of catgut that men meet their fate and because of an enjoyment that is fleeting, or, more properly, a fancy that has no substance. 49 For it is not through real enjoyment so much as through wishful thinking that these men sacrifice their lives.

And so great is misfortune of the poor wretches, that they regard as manly what is most unmanly of all, and as dignified what is most shameful. Why, I would rather be put to death for robbery than for such a cause. For in the one case it is the death of a bad man but a man, in the other of a slave in hard luck. The one possibly came to such a pass because he had been wronged and was striving to get redress over and above the laws, and it may be that he might have achieved something actually noble, had he not encountered such an evil genius; but the other came to his inglorious end merely through shouting and a frenzy caused by an ill-starred voice and a wicked nod of the head, by dissonant variations and nonsense and a cynical, pestilential behaviour. But such is the death of a fly! For whatever tastes sweet to the fly is the thing at which it meets destruction. 50 What distinction, then, can your conduct bring you, you luckless creatures? For whereas in the cause of justice and virtue and ancestral rights and laws and for a good king, a noble soul, one that does not cling to life, will, if need be, suffer and even die; yet if a man hangs himself for the sake of his chorus-girl, a low-born outcast, not fit to live, what depths of disgrace does that betoken!

And now let us say no more about these poor unfortunates; but, directing our attention to the spectacle itself, is the conduct of the spectators not disgraceful and replete with every variety of wantonness? — I mean the intensity of their gaze, their souls all but hanging on their lips — as if, one would think, it were through the ear that men receive felicity — and applying the terms 'saviour' and 'god' to a pitiful human being! With what boundless laughter, think you, must the gods laugh you to scorn, when next in your worship of them you conduct yourselves in the same fashion and find yourselves compelled to use those same terms in honouring the deity? However, god is indulgent, I suppose, since he is god, and he treats lightly the folly of the masses. 51 Accordingly to you as his children has he given as guardians and guides those who are more prudent than you Alexandrians, and by their companionship, not only at the theatre but elsewhere too, your conduct is improved.46 For otherwise how could you keep your hands off one another?

And yet what kind of human beings do you think they are for whom freedom is not advantageous? “None, by Zeus,” someone says, “for freedom is by nature advantageous. For do not other cities also have singing, aye, by Zeus, and flute-playing and foot-racing and all those other entertainments that are found, not only here in Alexandria, but among certain other people too?” Aye, but nowhere is there such a passion for that sort of thing, such a mad desire, as with yourselves. 52 For example, you know that the Rhodians, your near neighbours, enjoy freedom and complete independence of action; however, in Rhodes even running within the city limits is held not to be respectable, but, on the contrary, they even reprove strangers for being careless in their walk.47 So it is with good reason that the Rhodians should enjoy fair renown and universal honour. For since they are the first to show respect to themselves and to refrain from any foolish act, it is with good reason, I believe, that they have the respect of men in general and of their teachers as well.

The fact is, we shall find that in most other matters too the wise engage in the same activities as the foolish, such as eating, walking, playing, attending the theatre and the games. 53 For nature compels them to have many needs in common with the foolish; there are, however, differences of behaviour in all these matters. Take feasting as the first instance: whereas the wise behave neither boorishly nor regardless of decorum, but with elegance combined with courtesy, as men beginning a joyous feast and not a drunken debauch, being gracious toward their companions, not subjecting them to effrontery; the foolish, on the other hand, behave disgustingly and without restraint, giving vent to anger or to laughter with shouts and disorder, trying to get more than their companions, not inviting them to partake, and finally, before leaving for home, either they have done some damage to their fellow banqueters or received damage themselves, as we are told was the case at the party once held by the Centaurs.48

54 And yet why run through all the other differences one by one? But just take walking, for example, an activity common to all men and surely a simple one. One man's gait reveals the composure of his nature and the attention he gives to his conduct, while that of another reveals his confusion of mind and his shamelessness: he is hurried as he approaches, talks as he walks, or bursts in and jostles someone, comes to blows with someone else.49 Similarly also with reference to the theatre: some persons are insatiate and greedy and all aflutter over everything alike, however commonplace, but others participate in the spectacle decorously and in peace. 55 But not so with you; on the contrary, you sit dumbfounded, you leap up more violently than the hired dancers, you are made tense with excitement by the songs: for while other people are moved to song and dance by drink with you the opposite is true — song is the occasion of drunkenness and frenzy. So while wine's natural effect is as we have seen, producing inability to preserve one's self-control, but on the contrary forcing those who use it stupidly and in excess to commit many distasteful acts, yet men intoxicated by song and in far worse condition than those who are crazed by wine — and what is more, at the very start and not by easy stages as at a drinking party — such men, I say, are to be found nowhere but in Alexandria. 56 Among certain barbarians, it is true, we are told that a mild kind of intoxication is produced by the fumes of certain incense when burned.50 After inhaling it they are joyful and get up and laugh, and behave in all respects like men who have been drinking, and yet without doing injury to one another; but of the Greeks you alone reach that state through ears and voice, and you talk more foolishly than do those barbarians, and you stagger worse and are more like men suffering the after-effects of a debauch.

And yet the arts of the Muses and Apollo are kindly and pleasing. For Apollo is addressed as Healer and as Averter-of-Evil, in the belief that he turns men aside from misfortune and implants health in soul and body, not sickness or madness; and the Muses are called maidens, implying their modesty and their chastity. 57 Furthermore, music is believed to have been invented by men for the healing of their emotions, and especially for transforming souls which are in a harsh and savage state. That is why even some philosophers attune themselves to the lyre at dawn, thereby striving to quell the confusion caused by their dreams. And it is with song that we sacrifice to the gods, for the purpose of insuring order and stability in ourselves. And there is, moreover, a different type of song, accompanied by the flute, that is employed at time of mourning, as men attempt, no doubt, to heal the harshness and the relentlessness of their grief and to mitigate the pain by means of song, song that operates scarce noticed amid lament, just as physicians, by bathing and softening wounds that are inflamed, remove the pain.

58 And the spell of music has been deemed no less appropriate also in social gatherings, because it brings harmony and order spontaneously into the soul and along with a kindred influence abates the unsteadiness that comes from delight in wine — I mean that very influence blended with which the unsteadiness itself is brought into tune and tempered to moderation.51 All this, of course, in the present instance has been reversed and changed to its opposite. For it is not by the Muses but by a kind of Corybantes that you are possessed, and you lend credibility to the mythologizings of the poets, since they do indeed bring upon the scene creatures called Bacchants,52 who have been maddened by song, and Satyrs too. No doubt in your case the fawn-skin and the thyrsus are lacking, nor do you, like the Bacchants, bear lions in your arms;53 yet in all else you do appear to me to be quite comparable to Nymphs and Satyrs. 59 For you are always in merry mood, fond of laughter, fond of dancing; only in your case when you are thirsty wine does not bubble up of its own accord from some chance rock or glen, nor can you so readily get milk and honey by scratching the ground with the tips of your fingers;54 on the contrary, not even water comes to you in Alexandria of its own accord, nor is bread yours to command, I fancy, but that too you receive from the hand of those who are above you; and so perhaps it is high time for you to cease your Bacchic revels and instead to turn your attention to yourselves. But at present, if you merely hear the twang of the harp-string, as if you had heard the call of a bugle, you can no longer keep the peace.

60 Surely it is not the Spartans you are imitating, is it? It is said, you know, that in olden days they made war to the accompaniment of the pipe; but your warfare is to the accompaniment of the harp. Or do you desire — for I myself have compared king with commons55 do you, I ask, desire to be thought afflicted with the same disease as Nero? Why, not even he profited by his intimate acquaintance with music and his devotion to it.56 And how much better it would be to imitate the present ruler in his devotion to culture and reason!57 Will you not discard that disgraceful and immoderate craving for notoriety? Will you not be cautious about poking fun at everybody else, and, what is more, before persons who, if I may say so, have nothing great or wonderful to boast of?58 61 For if an Ismenias were piping in your presence or à Timotheus59 of early times were singing or an Arion, at whose song, according to tradition, the dolphins in the deep flocked to his ship and afterwards, when he had plunged overboard, rescued him by lucky chance and brought him safe ashore60 — if those artists were performing for you, what would be your state of mind? For among these performers here there is no Amphion61 and no Orpheus either; for Orpheus was the son of a Muse,62 but these are unmusical offspring of Disharmony herself, having perverted and shattered the majesty of song and in every way outraged the grand old art of the Muses.

62 For who of the lot can produce a finished song or a noble rhythm? Nay, it is a potpourri of effeminate ditties and music-hall strummings of the lyre and the drunken excesses of monsters which, like villainous cooks with an itch for novelty, they mash together to form their arias and thus excite an ignorant and avid audience. Accordingly not from swans or nightingales has their passion got its name with you, but rather, as it seems, you liken it to the whining and howling of dogs; and yet, while I knew that there are philosophers called Cynics, harpists of that canine breed have been produced in Alexandria alone. So while Amphion to the accompaniment of his melody, according to the tale, built the walls and towers of his city, these creatures are engaged in the work of overturning and destroying. And as for Orpheus, by his song he tamed the savage beasts and made them sensitive to harmony; yet these performers here have turned you human beings into savages and made you insensible to culture.

63 And I have, furthermore, a story to tell that I heard from a Phrygian, a kinsman of Aesop's, who paid a visit here, a story that he told about Orpheus and yourselves. However, that story is more weird and lengthier than your jokes. Consider, therefore, if you wish to hear it, and don't be vexed if I tell it. Well then, the man from Phrygia said that Orpheus sang his songs throughout Thrace and Macedonia, as we have been told,63 and that the creatures there came up to him — a great company, I imagine, of all the animals. “And,” he continued, “most numerous among them were the birds and the sheep. 64 For the lions and other animals of that sort were more distrustful because of their strength and savage nature, and so would not even come near him, while others immediately withdrew, not being pleased with the music; but the feathered creatures and the sheep not only came to him more readily but also did not leave him afterwards — the sheep, no doubt, because of their guilelessness and fondness for human society, while the birds, of course, are a musical tribe themselves and fond of song. So then, as long as Orpheus was alive they followed him from every quarter, listening as they fed — for indeed he spent his time for the most part on the mountains and about the glens; but when he died, in their desolation they wailed and were distressed; and so it came about that the mother of Orpheus, Calliopê, because of her goodwill and affection toward her son, begged Zeus to change their bodies into human form; yet their souls remained as they had been before.”

65 Well, the remainder of the tale from this point on is painful and I am reluctant to tell it to you in plain language. For the Phrygian went on to say that from those wild creatures whom Zeus transformed a tribe of Macedonians was born, and that it was this tribe which at a later time crossed over with Alexander and settled here. He added that this is the reason why the people of Alexandria are carried away by song as no other people are, and that if they hear music of the lyre, however bad, they lose their senses and are all aquiver in memory of Orpheus. And he said that they are giddy and foolish in behaviour, coming as they do from such a stock, since the other Macedonians certainly have shown themselves to be manly and martial and steadfast of character.

66 The Phrygian also spoke regarding the harpists of your city about as follows: He said that in their association with Orpheus the other animals merely experienced pleasure and wonder but made no attempt at imitation; but that some of the dogs, being of course a shameless and inquisitive bred, applied themselves to music and then and there began to practice it, going off by themselves, and that after they had been changed to human form they maintained their addiction to the art. And he declared that this very breed is the stock from which the harpists sprang; therefore they have been unable wholly to slough off their own nature, but, while retaining some small part of the instruction derived from Orpheus, for the most part their music has remained canine in character.b

67 All this the Phrygian spoke in jest. But I want to tell you something that happened at Sparta, how the people of that land behaved toward a harpist who was much in vogue among the Greeks in those days. Just because this harpist had the reputation of being very charming and unusual, they did not, by Zeus, honour him, but instead they took his harp from him, cut away the strings, and ordered him to leave their city.64 Such, you see, were the misgivings the Spartans entertained regarding his calling and such the care they took of their ears, lest their hearing be corrupted or become more fastidious than was fitting; but you have been thus ignominiously enslaved by that kind of pleasure.

68 And through your influence, it would seem, the disease is already affecting, not only public speakers, but some philosophers as well — though it would be more correct to say that public speakers are no longer easy to recognize. For since they observe your interest in singing and your passion for it, they all sing now, public speakers as well as sophists,65 and everything is done to music; if you were to pass a courtroom, you could not easily decide whether a drinking-party was in progress or a trial; and if there is in your neighbourhood a sophist's lecture-room, you will be unable to distinguish the lecture. And in my opinion people will presently go so far as to use song to accompany their exercise in the gymnasium, yes, even to heal the sick. For even now, when physicians discourse to you on their art, they chant.

69 But in all likelihood life with you has become, one may almost say, just one continuous revel, not a sweet or gentle revel either, but savage and harsh, a revel of dancers, whistlers, and murderers all combined. But the Spartans were vastly different from you Alexandrians, for they were cautious in these matters, as I have said. For while they showed capacity to rule, having held the leadership in Greece for many years and being always victorious over the barbarians without exception,66 you do not understand even how to be good subjects. Therefore, if you had not been fortunate in your present leaders,67 hardly, I fancy, would your existence be secure. 70 As evidence I cite the most recent chapters in your history. For instance, when you were still independent, did not your king busy himself with piping and concentrate on that alone; and were you not on hostile terms with him and torn with faction among yourselves, each faction separately and independently working the ruin of the state — Simaristoi and other parties of like names — in consequence of which you forced your king to flee, and later on to obtain his return by means of war, and with the aid of Romans, too?68 And finally he with his piping and you with your dancing destroyed the state.69 71 And though you now have such reasonable men as governors, you have brought them to a feeling of suspicion toward themselves, and so they have come to believe that there is need of more careful watchfulness than formerly; and this you have brought about through arrogance and not through plotting. For would you revolt from anybody? Would you wage war a single day? Is it not true that in the disturbance which took place the majority went only as far as jeering in their show of courage, while only a few, after one or two shots with anything at hand, like people drenching passers-by with slops,70 quickly lay down and began to sing, and some went to fetch garlands, as if on their way to a drinking party at some festival?71

72 And surely you recall that comical incident — how the excellent Conon72 treated you when, advancing to the place where your forces were most concentrated and pointing out a little stretch of ground, he declared: “If I can get there myself, I am the victor, and you must depart by yourselves and leave the field; but if you,” said he, “can win your way as much as four or five steps, I will take a walk myself.” This he said out of a desire to spare you, laughing at you and playing with you as if you were children; since the army had halted and he would not permit a single soldier to lay hands on you, seeing, as he did, that you all were unarmed and faced with destruction. What then? Force was next employed by the headstrong and unruly spirits, who purposely aimed at a complete overthrow and utter chaos, and they did not let you go until you had had a taste of warfare, and what you formerly had dreaded had become a matter of bitter experience.

73 Why, then, have I mentioned these events also? Because I wanted you to understand the natural outcome of this disorderliness that rules your lives. For it is not possible that those who get so excited over trifles and things of no importance, those who behave so thoughtlessly and with such lack of self-control in these matters of daily life, should be temperate in other matters and competent to plan wisely regarding things of greater moment. For the frivolity of your conduct and your lack of reason do not permit you to call a halt at things of minor importance, and the folly of your misconduct knows no bounds, but instead goes right on to any length without discrimination, and touches everything with equal recklessness. 74 So do not think that a man is dealing with trifles when he speaks to your about your disorders in the theatre. For poverty follows quickly enough from gradual losses, but not as quickly as wickedness progresses from these successive errors, until finally, having attained its growth, it brings men to the very end — destruction.

So much, then, on the subject of the theatre. However, when you enter the stadium, who could describe the shouts you utter there, and your hubbub and anguish and bodily contortions and change of colour, and the many awful curses that you emit? For if you were not merely watching the horses race — and horses, too, that are used to racing — but were yourselves being driven by the whips of tragedy,73 you would not exhibit the agony you do. 75 Why even Ixion himself, methinks, you show to have been a second-rater, the Ixion who is represented by the poets as bound on the wheel and punished for some such impiety as yours.74 Well then, if in the midst of it all some god should take his stand beside you and in a loud voice should say:

“Fools, you are mad; no more your spirit hides

Your food and drink.75

Why are you so violently disturbed? What is the excitement? What the contest? For it is not Pelops who is driving, or Oenomaüs, or Myrtilus,76 nor is it a question of a kingship or a wife or a death that hangs in the balance, nay, it is only a contest of slaves for a paltry bit of silver, slaves who sometimes are defeated and sometimes victorious, but slaves in any case.” 76 If the god should speak thus, what would your reply be? Or is it clear that you would not even listen at such a moment as that, not even if the grandsire77 of Pelops were himself the speaker?

What succour, then, can one find, or what divine power must one propitiate? There is at Olympia, at the centre of the race-course, an altar to Poseidon Taraxippos, or Terror of Horses, on the spot where it happened that the horses most frequently became frightened and where many chariots were smashed.78 So the Eleans decided to erect an altar on the spot, believing that some deity was there. And from that time forward, they say, the place has been safe. 77 Well then, much more earnestly do I advise you to propitiate this god and raise an altar of the same kind, not, by Zeus, for the sake of the horses, but rather for the sake of yourselves, so that you may not be terrorized yourselves or be pitched headlong from your proper station. For perhaps all such disasters are the work of a deity, requiring unusual efforts to avert. It is said that an ancient Cretan queen, one of the daughters of Helius, became enamoured of a bull, and that after union with him she brought forth a savage, mighty monster.79 So I myself am apprehensive lest this passion for horses that infects the city may in time bring forth some strange and distressing offspring for you. 78 They say also that at Athens this very species that you so much admire became the object of infatuation, and today there is in that city a site that bears the name, Sanctuary of Horse and Maiden.80 For the maiden's father confined his daughter along with the horse, and thus, they say, she was ruined. 79 And do you beware lest you also through a passion like that be destroyed.

For what Homer or what mortal man at all can describe the things that happen here? For example, in Homer's narrative the chariots do not sink so low at times and then rise so high on the course as your spirits may be seen to rise and fall. And this is the way he puts it, if I may favour you with a short passage:

At times the cars clung close to bounteous earth,

At times they bounded high; the drivers still

Stood firm, though hearts did pound as each man strove

To win the goal, and each called to his team.81

80 In this passage it is the charioteers who are represented as contestants and rivals, while the spectators look on in silence,82 as indeed was fitting. And only at the end does the poet say that Ajax the Locrian behaved in rather unseemly fashion as a spectator by abusing Idomeneus with reference to the horses of Eumelus.83 It was Ajax, moreover, who also was guilty of impiety toward Athena at the capture of Troy84 and on that account was himself smitten with a thunderbolt and thereby caused the storm and shipwreck that befell them all.85 For the man who in such matters as those is brazen and forward cannot act sanely in other matters, as I have said before.86

81 Here, then, you have an instance of wickedness and folly alike, and from men also such as are at Alexandria, except that in fighting, in deeds of valour, and in capturing cities no man here is the equal of Ajax. But among you not a man keeps his seat at the games; on the contrary you fly faster than the horses and their drivers, and it is comical to see the way you drive and play the charioteer, urging the horses on and taking the lead and — getting spilled.87 And so it is no bad parody that has been composed by one of your feeble versifiers:

82 At times the cars clung close to bounteous earth,
At times they bounded high; but in their seats
The gaping crowd did neither stand nor sit,
Pallid with fear and fright, and in their zeal
To win they shouted each to each, and, hands
Upraised, they vowed great offerings to all the gods.
Just as the scream of cranes or cry of daws
Doth rise, when they have drunk of beer and wine
O'ermuch, and clamourous they fly to reach
The course; as daws or starlings in a cloud
83 With baleful screaming swoop, when they behold
A horse onrushing, bearing death to fools;
So these with yells upon each other fell.
Just as the wind o'er sacred floor doth bear
The chaff, as flaming fire doth sweep deep glens,
Whirled by the wind now here now there, and 'neath
Its onslaught thickets shrivel, root and branch;
So these did strive like fire; nor couldst thou say
That either sun or moon was safe from them.
84 Just like the growth of leaves, so that of men,
Shallow of mind, devoted to song, and proud,
And from both sides the noise pierced heaven's vault,
The courts of Zeus. And thus one turned and spake
Unto his neighbour: “Heavy with wine art thou;
Thou hast the eyes of a dog, the heart of a hind.
Why dost thou quake and stare at a car in the race?
Just try me, then, if thou wouldst mangled lie.”
Hippocoön to him made this reply:
“Kind sir, in silence sit and heed my word:
A weak thing is thy driver, slow thy team.”
85 To him then spake the charger fleet from 'neath
The yoke: “See'st not how fine a steed am I,
How handsome and stalwart? Still for even me
Doth wait grim death and stubborn-hearted fate.
I would that you yourselves had all received
From white-armed Hera just such hooves as mine;
No more would you sit and murmur each to each.”
He spake. But they made vows to Zeus the King.88

86 There you have just a few out of many sorry verses, to prove that you are not the only ones to seem ridiculous. And certainly it is disgraceful, men of Alexandria, that those who inquire about your city are told how wonderful everything else is here, but that with respect to yourselves nothing is mentioned of which to be proud or fit to emulate, but that, on the contrary, you are given a bad name as being worthless fellows, mere mimes and buffoons instead of men of real valour, as one of the comic poets said of people like yourselves,

An unbridled mob, a disorderly gang of tars.89

87 In fact it is just as if you should see a house that is very beautiful, but should discover that the master himself is a slave and not fit to be even the porter. On the whole it is better to face empty benches90 than to behold no more than fifteen substantial citizens in the midst of an innumerable horde of wretched, raving creatures, a sort of concentrated dunghill piled high with the sweepings of every kind. Why, the word 'city' could not justly be applied to a community composed of men like that,91 any more than 'chorus' befits a chance company of nondescripts or 'army' just any mob!

88 For example, even the host of Xerxes was not brilliant, except at breaching a wall or digging a canal or some other manual labour;92 nor was the city of the Trojans fortunate, since it consisted of depraved, licentious citizens. And yet it was both large and famous; but still the man from Ithaca93 sacked it, yes, the man from that tiny, inglorious island sacked a city of exceedingly wide domain. Therefore I fear that you also may perish like those Trojans — if I may be permitted the trite observation that Troy also is said to have been destroyed by a certain horse; however, while the Trojans perhaps were taken captive by a single horse, your capture is the work of many horses. 89 For you must not think that the taking of a city consists alone in levelling its ramparts, slaughtering its men, leading its women into captivity, and burning its dwellings; nay, those happenings may mark the final stage, a stage of short duration and one that makes the victims more deserving of pity than of ridicule; but in the case of people who disregard all that is noble and are passionately enamoured of one thing that is ignoble, who centre their attention upon that alone and spend their time on that, constantly leaping and raving and beating one another and using abominable language and often reviling even the gods themselves and flinging away their own belongings94 and sometimes departing naked from the show — that is a disgraceful, an ignominious capture for a city.

90 For I assert that men have been taken captive, not by pirates only or other persons, but also by a courtesan or gluttony or by any other low desire. The term 'captive,' then, may well be used, not only of a person, but of a city too, provided that city, abandoning the nobler pursuits and having neither eyes nor ears for anything conducive to salvation, but yielding instead to the clutches of drink or singing girls or racing chariots, is made the prize of conquest and thrown into utter confusion thereby and bereft of its senses. Yes, by Zeus, the man who experienced such a capture might well be said to have been taken by storm and manacled to boot. For if when a man's body has been overpowered and confined by chains or guards, we consider that these disagreeable happenings constitute captivity and slavery and violent seizure, when the soul has been taken captive and ruined, we should not dissimulate or underrate it.95

91 And yet, while such experiences are doubtless terrible even in the case of individuals, they are altogether more disgraceful when they happen to a people. For indeed all other afflictions, as long as they affect a single person, receive no great or awful label; but when the visitation becomes general, it is called a plague. For, on the whole, all varieties of human weakness might be discovered anywhere at all, and drunkards, perverts, and woman-crazed wretches are present in every city; and yet not even that condition is disturbing or beyond endurance; but when malady becomes prevalent and a common spectacle, then it becomes noteworthy and serious and a civic issue.

92 For example, what city is there, unless it be one very sparsely populated and small, in which day by day there is not at least one person ill with fever? However, fever has all but taken possession of the Caunians, and in their case it is a reproach to the community, because they all suffer from it;96 just as also certain peoples have won admiration and esteem for traits that are better. For instance, how many Athenians or Megarians or Corinthians, do you suppose, used to cultivate their bodies and live laborious lives? Many, obviously, and especially in the days when they had to be valiant in defence of their countries. 93 Why is it, then, that the Spartans alone among them got a name for that and have enjoyed the reputation ever since? It is because as a people they acquired the love of honour. And as to the Athenians, because they were more devoted to the cultivation of the arts of speech and poetry and choral song and dance, that devotion, for the same reason, caused them in their turn to be admired in these fields. But take care lest the reputation that you gain resemble, not that of the Athenians and the Spartans, but rather that of certain others — for I do not care to name them. For, as I have often said,97 shameful conduct is more shameful and ridiculous when it involves whole cities. 94 Just as in the case of comedies and revues98 when the poets bring upon the scene a drunken Carion or a Davus,99 they do not arouse much laughter, yet the sight of a Heracles in that condition does seem comical,100 a Heracles who staggers and, as usually portrayed, is clad in womanish saffron; in much the same way also, if a populace of such size as yours warbles all through life or, it may be, plays charioteer without the horses,101 it becomes a disgrace and a laughing stock. Indeed this is precisely what Euripides says befell Heracles in his madness:

Then striding to a car he thought was there,
He stepped within its rails and dealt a blow,
As if he held the goad within his hand.102

95 Maybe, then, like so many others, you are only following the example set by Alexander, for he, like Heracles, claimed to be a son of Zeus.103 Nay rather, it may be that it is not Heracles whom your populace resembles, but some Centaur or Cyclops in his cups and amorous, in body strong and huge but mentally a fool.

In heaven's name, do you not see how great is the consideration that your emperor has displayed toward your city?104 Well then, you also must match the zeal he shows and make your country better, not, by Zeus, through constructing fountains or stately portals — for you have not the wealth to squander on things like that, nor could you ever, methinks, surpass the emperor's magnificence105 — but rather by means of good behaviour, by decorum, by showing yourselves to be sane and steady. For in that case not only would he not regret his generosity because of what has happened,106 but he might even confer on you still further benefactions. And perhaps you might even make him long to visit you. 96 For it is not so much the beauty of your buildings that might attract him, for he has buildings of every kind finer and more costly than anywhere; but he may be attracted when he hears that the people to receive him are worthy of his favour and his trust, and when each of his emissaries and ministers speaks highly of you. For you must not imagine, that, although you yourselves inquire about those who enter your harbour, what kind of people they chance to be, and your judgement concerning them at once corresponds to their reputation, yet the emperor's agents are not curious to learn what kind of people the Alexandrians are. Therefore, if they hear that you are sensible, and not, as is now the common report, flighty, easy-going, inclined to admire petty things, with a weakness for trivialities, passionately devoted to jockeys and harpists, there is no doubt how they will feel.

97º Theophilus,107 they say, who proved himself a man of wisdom here in Alexandria, preserved silence toward you and would hold no converse with you. And yet what do you think was his purpose? Was it because he thought you to be wise yourselves and in need of treatment: or rather had he despaired of you as being incurable? For it is very much as if a trader with many precious wares should land at a city, and then, constrained by certain winds or by some mischance, should spend a long time there without either setting out any of his wares or displaying them at all; for evidently it would be because he was convinced either that the inhabitants were in extreme poverty, or else that they were ignorant, and so he would be unwilling to go to useless trouble, feeling certain that no one of the inhabitants would either make a purchase or, perhaps, come to see him. 98 Theophilus too, we conclude, though he had many notable wares inside of him, kept them to himself, being aware that you were extremely poor, not in money, but in judgement and understanding. Well, then, he is dead, having by his silence passed adverse judgement on your city, and, though you have often heard so-and-so speak and can well recall his jokes, and also the songs of what's-his-name, I am not sure that you have ever heard Theophilus; just as someone has said of the beetles in Attica, that, though Attica has the purest honey, the beetles never taste of it, not even if it is poured out for them, but only of the other kind of food.108

99 But, someone will say, you are a jolly folk and the best jesters in the world. That is no calling for a people — how could it be? — nor for a city, but rather for a Thersites. At least Homer says that Thersites himself came among all the Greeks as a jester, not speaking with decorum,

But what he thought would make the Argives laugh.109

Yet not what makes men laugh is good or honourable, but rather what makes them joyful; and for lack of joy and for ignorance thereof men seek laughter. You must have heard of the plant called Sardonian, which produces laughter, but sure, but a laughter which is distressing and disastrous.110 100 Therefore be not so devoted to that laughter, nor cause the Graces to be unmusical and vulgar and boorish, but rather imitate Euripides in these lines of his:

May I ne'er cease to join in one
The Muses and the Graces;
Such union is surpassing sweet,111

and thus will your Mouseion112 be regarded, not just as a place in the city, as indeed, I fancy, there are other places with labels devoid of meaning, not possessing a character to match the name.

101 But enough of this, for I fear that I too have had the experience that they say befell a certain Egyptian, a musician of the very early school. For the story goes that the deity once told that musician in a dream that he was destined to sing into an ass's ears. And for a while he paid no heed and gave no thought to the dream, as being a matter of no consequence. But when the tyrant of Syria came to Memphis, since the Egyptians admired the artist, he summoned him. So the musician gave a performance with all zest and displayed the more intricate phases of his art; but the tyrant — for he had no appreciation of music — bade his cease and treated him with disdain. And the musician, recalling that forgotten dream, exclaimed, “So that was the meaning of the saying, 'to sing into an ass's ears' ”. And the tyrant, having heard from his interpreters what the musician had said, bound and flogged the man, and this incident, they say, was the occasion of a war.113

In this Discourse Dio appears to be addressing a public gathering of the people of Tarsus upon invitation. Like the comic poets to whom he refers, he treats his audience to λοιδορία, inveighing against their wantonness and moral decay. Fully half of what he has to say is concerned with what he calls ῥέγκειν. Though his treatment of that topic is manifestly humorous, it is designed to make palatable the serious charges that he desires to make.

The word ῥέγκειν is said to mean now 'snort,' now 'snore.' For lack of an English word of like flexibility, the translator has elected to use consistently that one of the two conventional meanings that seemed the better adapted to the majority of occurrences. 'Snort,' however, is doubtless inadequate as an interpretation of Dio's meaning. He himself appears to be perplexed as to the proper label for the sound to which he has applied the term (55). He does give some clues. It is a sound made by some persons when asleep (34), by small boys, and by some mature men of good standing (33 34). It might be taken to denote the presence of a brothel (36). It is made by persons of uncertain sex (36). It is more suitable for the elderly (45). It is produced by the nose (50). It is a symptom of bad morals (50 51). It is not clucking or smacking of the lips or whistling, nor is it employed by shepherds, plowmen, huntsmen, or sailors (55). It is a sound peculiar to neither man nor woman, not even to a harlot, but rather to a male of the most debased sort (60). If, then, Dio himself, in spite of elaborate efforts to define the sound, has found no better term to symbolize his meaning, perhaps indulgence may be shown the translator.

To the modern reader Tarsus inevitably suggests the name of Paul. The picture of that ancient city, half Greek and half oriental, to be found in this Discourse and in the one to follow, awakens the keener interest for that reason. Sir William Ramsay holds that the Athenodorus of whom we hear exerted an influence upon the thought of Paul. Arnim assigns the present Discourse to Dio's latest period.

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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?1 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.2 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 generation3 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;4

and whatsoever you may deem suitable, the speaker starts from there5 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.6 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.”7 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 god8 — used to listen to Aristophanes and Cratinus and Plato9 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,10 indulging in no vulgar dances or idiotic piping, they would not endure it. 10 Those comic poets, you see, being distrustful and timid,11 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.12 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,13 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.'14 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.15 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,16 do not expect from such a man any flattery 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.17

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,18

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.19 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.20 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.'21 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.22

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'?23 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;24

a city which he declares all men call 'rich-in gold, rich-in copper'.25 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?26

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.27 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,28 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.29 Moreover, Zeus declared that of all the cities beneath the sun he loved that city most.30 Such was the fleetness of their steeds that they could run upon the tips of the heads of grain,31 such the beauty of Ganymede that he was made the cupbearer of Zeus;32 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.33

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.'34

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;a not even if Pactolus,35 appearing here, should be dear 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;36 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?37 Does not the Ladon flow through an Arcadia whose people have been driven from their homes?38 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?b Take Sybaris, for example; is it not true that the more luxurious it became the more speedily it perished?39 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?40

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.41 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-towers42 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 rocks43 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.44 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!

31 “Well, what is the fault we are guilty of?” Your other faults I shall refrain from mentioning. For it would be ludicrous if one should try to tell a man who had absolutely no knowledge of the harp, and yet goes on to strike its strings at random, what particular mistake he has made or what note he has misplayed. But so much at least is worth mentioning, and nobody could deny it: I assert that an amazing thing has happened in this city to many people, something that I used to hear occurred formerly in other cities rather than at Tarsus. 32 However, if I prove unable to explain clearly what that thing is, at least you may try to guess my meaning; and, furthermore, do not think that I am telling any secret or something that the guilty ones attempt to disguise, no matter if their conduct does appear most amazing. At any rate, however amazing it may be, while on your feet, walking or talking, most of you all the while are fast asleep; and even if you seem to most men to be awake, that would mean nothing at all. For instance, anyone unacquainted with rabbits will say they are awake, even if he sees them sleeping.45 How, then, has this state been recognized? From certain other signs which indicate their sleeping, since their eyes at least are wide open.

33 What, then, do these people do that marks persons who are asleep? Many indeed are the other symptoms; for practically all their actions bear a resemblance to the dream state. For example, they experience joy and sorrow, and courage and timidity, for no reason at all, they are enthusiastic, they desire the impossible, and what is unreal they regard as real, while what is real they fail to perceive. However, these traits, perhaps, they share in common with ourselves. But this, in my opinion, is the clearest mark of slumber — they snort.46 For, by heaven, I have no more becoming name to give it. And yet even among sleepers few suffer from that affliction, while with everybody else it occurs only when men are drunk, or have gorged themselves with food, or are reclining in an uncomfortable position.

34 But I claim that such conduct shames the city and disgraces it as a state, and that the greatest outrage is dealt to their country by these daytime slumberers, and that they would deservedly be banished, not only by you, but by all men everywhere. For indeed this habit is no trifling matter nor of rare occurrence either; nay, it occurs all the time and everywhere in the city, despite all threats and jests and ridicule. And what is more, the sound is by now habitual even with the very small boys, and such adults as have a reputation for good form are often led to indulge in it as a kind of local usage, and even though they may check it in embarrassment, at any rate they have given vent to a sound quite similar.

35 Now, it there existed any city in which you were continually hearing persons making lament, and in which no one would walk even a short distance without encountering that ill-omened sound, is there anyone, by Zeus, who would like to visit such a place? And yet lamentation, one might say, is a sign of misfortune, whereas sound of which I am speaking is a sign of shamelessness and of extreme licentiousness. Surely it is reasonable that men should prefer to spend their time among those who are unfortunate rather than among those who are licentious. I for my part would not choose to hear even the pipes constantly; nay, if there exists a place in which there is a constant sound of pipes or song or lyres, as indeed they say is the case with the Sirens' crag,47 which ever resounds with melody, I could not bring myself to go and live there. 36 But as for that boorish and distressing sound you make, what ordinary mortal could endure it? Why, if a man in passing by a house hears a sound like that, of course he will say it's a brothel. But what will men say of the city in which almost everywhere just one note prevails, and whose inhabitants make no exception of season or day or place, but, on the contrary, in alley-ways, in private houses, at market, at the theatre, in the gymnasium this snorting is dominant? Besides, while I have never up to the present moment heard anybody play the pipes at sunrise in the city, this amazing tune of yours starts going at break of day.

37 However, I am not unaware that some may believe that I am talking nonsense when I inquire into matters such as this, provided only that you continue to bring in your vegetables by the wagon-load and to find bread in abundance for all to buy, and your salt fish and meats as well. But still let them consider the matter for themselves in this way: Supposing one of them came to a city in which everybody always uses his middle finger in pointing to anything,48 and, if he offers his right hand, offers it in that fashion, and, if he extends his hand for any purpose, either for voting in assembly or in the casting of his ballot as a juryman, extends it so, what sort of place would the newcomer think that city to be? And suppose everybody walked with his clothes pulled up, as if wading in a pool? 38 Are you not aware that such conduct has provided occasion for slander against you, with the result that those who are ill-disposed toward you are supplied with material wherewith to defame you as a people? Well, how comes it that people shout at you the name Cercopes?49 And yet men say that it should make no difference either to you or to anybody else what others say, but only what you yourselves do. Well then, supposing certain people should as a community be so afflicted that all the males got female voices and that no male, whether young or old, could say anything man-fashion, would that not seem a grievous experience and harder to bear, I'll warrant, than any pestilence, and as a result would they not send to the sanctuary of the god and try by many gifts to propitiate the divine power? And yet to speak with female voice is to speak with human voice, and nobody would be vexed at hearing a woman speak. 39 But who are they who make that sort of sound? Are they not the creatures of mixed sex?50 Are they not men who have had their testicles lopped off? Nay, even they do not always make that sound, nor to all persons, but it is reserved for themselves, a sort of password of their own.

Come, suppose you all were accustomed to walk with clothes girt tight, or playing the tambourine,51 and that this practice did not seem to you at all vexatious. Suppose you happened to possess a lofty rock, or, by Zeus, an overhanging mountain such as other cities have, and that a man who made the ascent could not hear distinctly individual voices but only the general murmur, what kind of sound do you think would have been borne aloft to him? Would it not, evidently, be the sound made by the majority, prevailing as if by harmony of tone? 40 And suppose one had to guess from what was heard who made the sound, as Homer says about Odysseus when he approached his own home, that he did not have to wait to see the suitors at their feast but straightway said to Eumaeus, as the note of the harp smote his ear, that he

Knew well that many were feasting in his hall;52

and again, when from the island of the Cyclopes he heard both the bleating of sheep and the voices of men (as he would, methinks, if they were pasturing their sheep), that he perceived that it was the country of shepherds53 — 41 well then, suppose that a man were to judge you too by the sound that came to him from a distance, what kind of men would he guess you were and what your occupation? For you haven't the capacity for tending either cattle or sheep! And would any one call you colonists from Argos,54 as you claim to be, or more likely colonists of those abominable Aradians?55 Would he call you Greeks, or the most licentious of Phoenicians?

I believe it is more appropriate for a man of sense to plug his ears with wax in a city like yours than if he chanced to be sailing past the Sirens. For there one faced the risk of death, but here it is licentiousness, insolence, the most extreme corruption that threatens. 42 And here we find no real enjoyment and no love of learning either, I imagine. At any rate in days gone by it was the counsel of the better citizens that had its way,56 whereas now, it seems, it is the counsel of the worse. And one might wonder why the majority here in Tarsus follow that baser counsel so eagerly, and why that tendency is constantly growing more general as time goes on. Just as formerly an Ionian mode became dominant in music, and a Dorian, and then a Phrygian also, and a Lydian, so now the Aradian mode is dominant and now it is Phoenician airs that suit your fancy and the Phoenician rhythm that you admire most, just as some others do the spondiac.º 43 Or can it be that a race of men has been created with the gift of music in their noses (as swans are said to have the gift of music in their wings),57 so that like shrill-voiced birds these men delight one another in the streets and at symposia without any need of lyre and pipes? No doubt the lyre and pipes are antiquated and, furthermore, instruments that produce a harsh and rustic kind of music. Ah well, another style now is flourishing, superior to lyres and more agreeable. Therefore, in course of time, we shall even institute choruses to accompany that variety of tune, choruses of boys and girls, most carefully instructed.

44 Well, I understand perfectly that you are vexed with me for what I have been saying, and indeed I told you beforehand58 that you would not receive my words with any pleasure. However, you may have supposed that I was going to discourse on astronomy and geology. And though some of you are angry and claim that I am insulting your city, still they do not blame those who guilty of the things I mention; on the other hand, others may be laughing at me because I could find nothing better to talk about. However, I find that physicians too sometimes handle things they would rather not, parts of the body that are not the most beautiful, and many of their patients, I know, are irritated when the physician touches the sore spot. But he often scarifies and lances it despite the outcry. I, therefore, shall not cease to talk upon this theme until I make you smart indeed. And yet, after all, it is a very mild medicine you are getting in this speech of mine, much less severe than your case calls for.

45 Come now, in the name of Heracles and Perseus and Apollo and Athenê and the other deities whom you honour, tell me freely whether any one of you would want to have a wife like that — I mean a wife whom men would habitually call by a name derived from the practice of which I speak,59 just as a woman receives the name of harpist or flautist or poetess, and so forth, each in keeping with its own activity. And pray do not be displeased or vexed; for these words of mine are words that the situation itself supplies to any man who chooses to deal with the subject, rather than some invention of my own. Well then, no one among you would be willing to live with a wife like that, not even, methinks, for five hundred talents; then would he choose a daughter of her kind? I grant you that perhaps, by Zeus, it may not be so distressing to have a mother of that sort and to support her in old age; for evidently snorting is a solemn performance and rather suited to the elderly! 46 Very well, then if, when it is a question of wife or daughter, you cannot endure even to hear of such a thing, does it not seem to you an awful calamity to reside in a city or a country of that kind? And furthermore — a thought which makes it altogether more distressing — a city or a country which was not like that to begin with, but which you yourselves are making so? And yet the city in question is your mother-city, and so it has the dignity and the esteem belonging to a mother-city; but still neither its name nor its antiquity nor its renown are spared by you. 47 What would you think, if, just as you might reasonably expect (and as men report) that founding heroes or deities would often visit the cities they have founded, invisible to everybody else (both at sacrificial rites and at certain other public festivals) — if, I ask you, your own founder, Heracles, should visit you (attracted, let us say, by a funeral pyre such as you construct with special magnificence in his honour),60 do you think he would be extremely pleased to hear such a sound? Would he not depart for Thrace instead, or for Libya, and honour with his presence the descendants of Busiris or of Diomedes61 when they sacrifice? What! Do you not think that Perseus62 himself would really pass over your city in his flight?

48 And yet what need have we to mention deities? Take Athenodorus,63 who became governor of Tarsus, whom Augustus held in honour — had he known your city to be what it is to day, would he, do you suppose, have preferred being here to living with the emperor? In days gone by, therefore, your city was renowned for orderliness and sobriety, and the men it produced were of like character; but now I fear that it may be rated just the opposite and so be classed with this or that other city I might name. And yet many of the customs still in force reveal in one way or another the sobriety and severity of deportment of those earlier days. Among these is the convention regarding feminine attire, a convention which prescribes that women should be so arrayed and should so deport themselves when in the street that nobody could see any part of them, neither of the face nor of the rest of the body, and that they themselves might not see anything off the road.64 49 And yet what could they see as shocking as what they hear? Consequently, beginning the process of corruption with the ears, most of them have come to utter ruin. For wantonness slips in from every quarter, through ears and eyes alike. Therefore, while they have their faces covered as they walk, they have their soul uncovered and its doors thrown wide open. For that reason they, like surveyors, can see more keenly with but one of their eyes.65

50 And while this nasal affliction66 is wholly manifest, it is inevitable that everything else also must be a fit accompaniment for a condition such as that. For you must not suppose that, just as other disorders often attack certain particular parts of other people, such as hands or feet or face, so also here among you a local disorder has assailed your noses; nor that, just as Aphroditê, angered at the women of Lemnos, is said to have polluted their armpits,67 to also here in Tarsus the noses of the majority have been polluted because of divine anger, in consequence of which they emit that dreadful noise. Rubbish! No, that noise is a symptom of their utter wantonness and madness, and their belief that nothing is dishonourable. 51 So I assert that the talk of these women is quite in keeping with their gait and the glance of their eye. And if they cannot make anything so manifest by means of their eyes as to cause everyone to turn and gaze at them, or if they have not yet carried their art so far, still they are by no means the more respectable in other ways.

In view of that are you irritated at the people of Aegae and of Adana68 when they revile you, while on the other hand you fail to banish from Tarsus those of your own people who testify to the truth of what your neighbours declare? 52 Do you not know that, while the charge of doing some forbidden thing, something in violation of Nature's laws, in most cases rests only on suspicion, and no one of the masses has really seen anything at all, but, on the contrary, it is in some dark and secret retreat that the wretched culprits commit their heinous deeds all unobserved; yet such symptoms of their incontinence as the following reveal their true character and disposition: voice, glance, posture; yes, and the following also, which are thought to be petty and insignificant details: style of haircut, mode of walking, elevation of the eye, inclination of the neck, the trick of conversing with upturned palms.69 For you must not think that the notes of pipes and lyre or songs reveal sometimes manliness and sometimes femininity, but that movements and actions do not vary according to sex and afford no clue to it.

53 But I should like to tell you a story, one that you may possibly have heard before.70 It seems that one of the clever people of Tarsus — so the story runs — once went to a certain city. He was a man who had made it his special business to recognize instantly the character of each individual and to be able to describe his qualities, and he had never failed with any person; but just as we recognize animals when we see them and know that this, for instance, is a sheep, if such is the case, and this a dog and this a horse or ox, so that man understood human beings when he saw them and could say that this one was brave and this one a coward and this one an impostor and this man wanton or a catamite or an adulterer. 54 Because, therefore, he was noted for his display of power and never made a mistake, the people brought before him a person of rugged frame and knitted brows, squalid and in sorry state and with callouses on his hands, wrapped in a sort of coarse, gray mantle, his body shaggy as far as the ankles and his locks wretchedly shingled; and our friend was asked to tell what this man was. But after he had observed the man for a long while, the expert finally, with seeming reluctance to say what was in his mind, professed that he did not understand the case and bade the man move along. But just as the fellow was leaving, he sneezed, whereupon our friend immediately cried out that the man was a catamite.71

55 You see, then, that the sneeze revealed the character of a man, and in the face of all his other traits was sufficient to prevent his eluding detection; and might not some such thing subject a city to false accusations and infect it with an evil reputation, and too in a matter requiring no expert to determine what disorder the trait betokens? However, I for my part should like to ask the experts what this snorting resembles or what it means — for it is neither a clucking sound nor a smacking of the lips nor yet an explosive whistling — or to what line of work it is related and when it is most likely to be made; for neither shepherds nor plowmen nor huntsmen employ that sound, nor does it belong to sailors. 56 Is it, then, a sound made by men when they greet one another or call to one another or display affection? On the contrary, just as the hymeneal is a special song of early origin and used at weddings, so this must be a rhythm of recent origin, no doubt, and used at a different kind of festival.

However, you will depart in high dudgeon, declaring that I have talked nonsense, if I have uttered so many words in vain and to no useful purpose. For you will assert that no harm is encountered in consequence of this snorting and that the city is none the worse in its administration because of it. 57 But among the Greeks in times gone by it used to be regarded as an awful thing to tamper with the art of music, and they all cried out against those who tried to introduce a different rhythm or to complicate the melody, holding that Greece was being corrupted in the theatre. So carefully did they safeguard their ears; and they attributed to what was heard such power as to effeminate the mind and violate the virtue of self-control if the principles of harmony should give way ever so little.72 For instance, they say that the Spartans, on an occasion when Timotheus was visiting their city, he being already an artist of distinction and an authority in music, not only took away from him his lyre but even cut out the superfluous strings.73 Do you likewise, men of Tarsus, in imitation of the Spartans, cut out the superfluous sound.

58 The ancient story relates that Circê worked transformations by means of her drugs, so that swine and wolves were produced from men; and we are incredulous when Homer says:

Both heads and voice and hair of swine had they,
And e'en the shape.74

59º Their minds, however, remained steadfast, he says, whereas the mind of the men of Tarsus has been the very first thing to be ruined and utterly corrupted. And really it is not so terrible that human beings should for a time take on the voice of sheep or kine or that they should neigh or howl — as indeed the poets say of Hecuba, that, as a climax to all her terrible misfortunes, the Furies made her

Like to a hound with flashing eyes; and when
She poured her brazen cry from hoary jaws,
Ida gave ear and sea-girt Tenedos
And all the wind-swept crags of Thrace.75

60 Not so terrible, in my opinion, nor so abominable was that portent as when someone who is a male and retains a male's distinctive marks and his proper speech — being incapable of erasing also the marks of Nature, even though he makes every effort to hide them from the world, just as the thief hides stolen goods — being smitten by Furies and perverted and in every way made effeminate, is ready to do anything at all, but nothing in accord with his own nature. And then, 'some Proteus like,' in the course of his changes and bodily transformations he discovers how to emit a sound belonging to neither man nor woman nor to any other creature, not even patterning after a harlot in the practice of her calling but rather, it would seem, producing such a sound as he would make if engaged in the most shameful action, the most licentious conduct, and, what is more, in the light of day, under the rays of the sun, and in the presence of many. 61 Not so terrible a portent was it when the hides of cattle crawled and their flesh bellowed.76

What Homer, then, or what Archilochus has the power to exorcize these evil doings? For it seems to me, by Heracles, that a noble and tragic kind of poet is needed by the conduct of these men, one who will be able to check and repel so mighty a surge of evil; since what is taking place already is like a madness that is disgraceful and unseemly. 62 And this plague of impropriety and shamelessness, as it goes on its rounds among you, is already leading to every sort of deed and cry and posture, and attacking and invading every portion of your bodies — feet, hands, eyes, and tongue. Therefore, I can do no good at all, nor can this easy-going, feeble exhortation to which you have listened; no, a Stentor is required with throat of bronze or iron,77 who will be able to shout more loudly and more clearly than I can. For consider the progress of the malady. 63 The first innovation consisted in trimming the beard; and this was looked upon as moderate enough, merely not to let it grow too long, and nothing more, but just to make a slight improvement upon Nature. Well then, the man so trimmed was thought by many to look smart. The next step was to shave as far as the cheeks;78 and even that was nothing terrible; and yet the comic poet did bid that even such a man be burned

Upon a heap of sixteen fig-wood phalluses.79

However, they did have faces that were comely and boyish beyond their years when rid of that down. Next — since this was still to try — they shaved the legs and chest, to insure that in all other respects as well they might resemble boys. Then they progressed as far as the arms; then shifted to the genitals, where evidence of youthful vigour is indeed superfluous. Thus ridicule and scorn are being showered by the clever younger set upon the artistry of Nature as being something out of date and extremely foolish, seeing that she has attached to the body things that are useless and superfluous. 64 For instance, what need had you of nails and hair? No, not even of hands, perhaps, or feet. All that Nature had to do for you was to create genitals and bellies and to supply food and the other things from which one may derive enjoyment. That is why we trim ourselves and remove from our chins and private parts the hair which is distinctive of the full-grown male. And, if it were possible to borrow from the female certain other attributes, clearly then we should be supremely happy, not defective as at present, but whole beings and natural — epicenes!c

This Discourse, like the one preceding, was evidently delivered before a public gathering of the citizens of Tarsus. Which of the two was the earlier we have no means of knowing. Both seem to belong to Dio's later years. Yet the tone of each is so distinct as to proclaim two separate visits. In the one the speaker has much to say regarding the decadence of the times, but he still feels at liberty to treat that theme in lighter vein, laughing both at and with his audience and interlarding his remarks with quotations from the ancient poets and with literary criticism, and in general showing himself quite at ease, as indeed would befit one who spoke on invitation. In the other there seems to be no question of an invitation: Dio comes as a messenger from God in time of need. He gives not a single line of verse, and his only reference to classic times consists in the citation of Sparta and Athens as horrible examples of the fate reserved for arrogance and selfishness. The few touches of humour only serve to emphasize the speaker's earnestness.

Thus the two speeches serve to complement each other and to reveal a proud city of ancient origin, thoroughly alive, though suffering from the natural results of too great prosperity. Despite the oriental element in the population, Tarsus could be relied upon to understand allusions to Greek poetry and myth and history, and the gymnasium and the sports connected with it might well explain Paul's fondness for athletic phrase and imagery.

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The Thirty-fourth, or Second Tarsic, Discourse

I am well aware, men of Tarsus, that it is customary both here and elsewhere for citizen to mount the platform and give advice; not just any citizens, but those who are prominent and men of wealth, and particularly those who have honourably performed their special services toward the state.1a For it is not reasonable, if I may say so, that you should have your share in the possessions of the wealthy but fail to profit by their intelligence, whatever that may be. And yet, whenever you wish to listen to harpists or pipes or to enjoy the sight of athletes, you do not call upon only men of wealth or your fellow citizens, but rather upon those who have expert knowledge and capacity, and this is true not only of you but of everybody like you.2

2 However, I am well aware also that it is customary for most people to give the name of Cynic to men who dress as I do;3 not only do they think Cynics to be no better than themselves and incompetent in practical affairs, but they consider them to be not even of sound mind to begin with, but a crazy, wretched lot. And some are prone to mock and ridicule such people, and all too often not even to endure their silence, much less listen patiently when they speak.

3 And furthermore, I hear that at the present moment you have a personal grievance4 against philosophers, and indeed that you uttered curses against them — not as a class, to be sure, but in a few instances, displaying great reserve and moderation in so doing, inasmuch as you refrained from cursing philosophers in general if merely the philosophers in Tarsus were guilty of some blunder, but possibly failing to note that, though you cursed indeed, it was not really at philosophers. For no one is a philosopher5 who belongs among the unjust and wicked, not even if he goes about more naked than the statues are.6 But those, in truth, who seek to harm their fellow-citizens seem to me somewhat far removed from that classification.

4 Then in what expectation and with what purpose has a man of my stamp come before you at such a crisis? For such a step savours of real madness. I am here because there is nothing which I myself require of you, while on the contrary I have been much concerned to be of service to you. If, then, you refuse to bear with me, clearly it will be your loss and not my own. Yet is it not fitting, if you believe that I am really mad,7 that you should for that very reason listen to me? For you must not think that eagles and falcons foretell to mankind what is required of them and that the counsel derived from such creatures is trustworthy because of its spontaneity and its divine inspiration, while refusing to believe that a man who has come, as I have come, having no connection with you from any point of view, has come by divine guidance to address and counsel you. 5 Moreover, the messages of birds of omen require conjecture for their interpretation, whereas, as soon as one has heard my message one can understand its meaning and can take it under consideration, if in fact it clearly is something useful.

But now that I am on the subject,8 I want to tell you something that happened in Phrygia, in order that at the very outset you may have an opportunity to laugh at my expense.9 A man of Phrygia was riding on an ox. And when he spied a crow, having made the proper observation of the omen (for Phrygians are clever at that sort of thing), he hurled a stone at it and, by good luck, struck the bird. Accordingly he was much pleased, and, thinking that his own ill-fortune had thus been diverted to the crow, he picked up the bird, remounted the ox, and rode along. But the crow after a brief interval recovered; and the ox, taking fright, threw the man, and he broke his leg in the fall. So that is the way he fared for having shown ingratitude for the sign.10 6 But I, methinks, have planned much more safely than the crow, and have come to men who are more considerate than the Phrygian. For if I seem to you to be talking rubbish, you will surely not pelt me with stones but will merely raise a hubbub.

Well then, since you are silent and indulgent toward me, first of all I wish to point out to you one thing, in case you are not fully aware of it — that you need good judgement in the present emergency, and that your problems are such as to merit counsel and much foresight; secondly, that no man in this company can readily advise you as to the proper course of action, some being really ignorant of your true advantage and some being swayed by fear of you or of others, and in certain instances, I dare say, looking rather to their own interests. 7 Next I shall indicate my own opinion with reference to these affairs and suggest by what course of action on your part at the moment and by what general policy in your leadership of the city, things will, as I believe, work out in all respects to your advantage for the future also.

For, men of Tarsus, it has come to pass that you are foremost among your people, not merely because your city is the greatest of all the cities of Cilicia and a metropolis from the start,11 but also because you beyond all others gained the friendly support of the second Caesar.12 For the misfortune that befell the city on his account naturally made him well disposed toward you, and eager that the favours received at his hands should appear in your eyes of greater importance than the misfortunes he had occasioned.13 8 Accordingly everything a man might bestow upon those who were truly friends and allies and had displayed such eagerness in his behalf he has bestowed upon you:14 land, laws, honour, control of the river and of the sea in your quarter of the world. And this is why your city grew rapidly, and also because not much time had elapsed since its capture;15 just as with men who have experienced serious illness but have speedily recovered: when they receive adequate care thereafter, they are frequently in better health than before.

9 Furthermore, as to subsequent events at least, contrary to popular belief it benefited your city when some of your superior officers proved to be men of violence and you proceeded to prosecute them.16 Certainly in order to show that you amounted to something, and could aid yourselves and others too — and also, by Zeus, to make their successors not quite so ready to do wrong — it was really beneficial for those men of violence to pay the penalty for their misdeeds; and yet, in another way, it made the city an object of hatred, and gave you the reputation of being naturally captious and prone to bring accusations rashly. For to make many accusations has ere this been held to be a sign of malicious prosecution, especially when the accusation involves men in authority, and is brought before men in authority. For people suspect that the hostility arose, not because you were treated too severely, but because you were unwilling to submit to authority.

10 To continue then, another happening in which you were concerned has, in a measure, turned out like that just mentioned. For the people of Aegae,17 having resumed a foolish quarrel with you, being at fault in the matter of the registers,18 did indeed fail in that enterprise, but they made the dislike against you still greater, and they stealthily developed a prejudice against your city as being obnoxious and oppressive toward the other cities. 11 And these instances, it is true, are drawn from times gone by; but at this present moment the people of Mallus19 certainly are at odds with you and, although wholly in the wrong themselves and guilty of insolence, yet because of their weakness and their inferiority as compared with you, they always assume the air of being the injured party. For it is not what men do that some persons consider but who they are; nor is it the wrong-doers or those who actually resort to force whom they often wish to criticize, but rather those who may be expected to resort to force because they have the greater power. At any rate, if anything had been done by you such as has been done by Mallus in the present instance,20 people would think that you were sacking their cities and starting a revolution and war, and that an army must take the field against you.

12 Well, it is a shame, then,” someone will say, “if they are to be at liberty to do whatever they please and to derive that advantage from their very helplessness, while we are to be in danger if we make a single move.” Granted that it is a shame and unfair, still, if some unfairness is the natural consequence, you should not through obstinacy on that point cause yourselves to be involved in an absurd situation, but should rather look to the future and be on your guard. For what is happening to you resembles what happens in the case of athletes when a smaller man contends against one much larger. 13 For the larger man is not allowed to do anything against the rules, but even if unwittingly he is guilty of a foul, he gets the lash;21 whereas nobody observes the smaller, though he does anything within his power. Accordingly not only in athletics is it the part of a man of discretion and one who is really the better man to win by his strength and overlook these unfair advantages, but also in your case, if you are sensible, you will by justice and by the greatness of your city overcome those who bear you malice, and you will do nothing in anger or vexation. And on that subject more later, as indeed, methinks, I promised in the beginning.22

14 But at the moment I shall treat the other items that still remain, giving to them that fuller consideration which I claim is required by the present crisis. At any rate the hatred and rebellion of Mallus ought to disturb you less than it does. But the fact that your neighbours in Soli and in Adana,23 and possibly some others, are in a similar frame of mind and are not a whit more reasonable, but chafe under your domination and speak ill of you and prefer to be subject to others than yourselves — all this creates the suspicion that possibly the people of Aegae and of Mallus also are not wholly unwarranted in their vexation, and that their estrangement has not been due in the one instance to envy and in the other to a determination to get unfair advantage, but that possibly there is an element of truth in what they say about your city, namely, that it does somehow bully and annoy peoples who are weaker. 15 For although these charges are not actually true, still they might do you the same harm as if they were.

Well then, consider also the nature of your relations with the general.24 At first there was merely distrust, on the assumption that you were not agreeably disposed toward him; but still he performed his civic duties toward you and you toward him, and there was nothing visible on the surface; but recently you, irritated by the thought that you were getting the worst of it, made a statement, and he on his part was moved to write angrily and to put that anger into operation, a thing he had never done before.

16 'Yes, by Zeus,' some one may retort, 'but at least the business of the city itself and our dealings with one another are proceeding as they should.' Is it not true that but a day or two ago the Assembly took one course and the Council another and that the Elders25 still maintain a position of independence, each body clearly consulting its own self-interest? It was just as if, when a ship is putting in for shore, the sailors should seek their own advantage, the pilot his, and the owner his. For even if this comparison26 is made repeatedly, still it is your duty not on that account to disregard it. For it is not that which is told for the first time nor that which one has never heard before which one should eagerly accept as true,27 but rather that which is germane to the situation and may be put to some practical use.

17 “Oh yes,” you may reply, “but now we have reached an agreement and are united in our counsel.” Nay, who could regard as safe and sure that sort of concord, a concord achieved in anger and of no more than three or four days' standing? Why, you would not say a man was in assured good health who a short time back was burning with fever. Well then, neither must you say you are in concord until, if possible, you have enjoyed a period of concord many times as long as that — at any rate as long as your discord — and just because perhaps on some occasion you all have voiced the same sentiment and experienced the same impulse, you must not for that reason assume that now at last the disease has been eradicated from the city. 18 For the fact is that with discordant instruments of music sometimes the notes do sound in unison for a brief moment, only straightway to clash again. Or again, just as the act of wounding and dismembering takes place quickly and quite easily, but the process of healing and knitting together requires time and serious attention, so it is also in the case of cities: quarrelling and party strife within easy reach and frequently occur for paltry reasons, whereas men may not, by Zeus, immediately arrive at a real settlement of their difficulties and acquire the mental state and the confidence of their neighbours befitting such a settlement merely by claiming to be repentant, nor yet by being thought to be repentant.

19 For not among you alone, I dare say, but also among all other peoples, such a consummation requires a great deal of attentive care — or, shall I say, prayer? For only by getting rid of the vices that excite and disturb men, the vices of envy, greed, contentiousness, the striving in each case to promote one's own welfare at the expense of both one's native land and the common weal — only so, I repeat, is it possible ever to breathe the breath of harmony in full strength and vigour and to unite upon a common policy. Since those in whom these and similar vices are prevalent must necessarily be in a constant state of instability, and liable for paltry reasons to clash and be thrown into confusion, just as happens at sea when contrary winds prevail. 20 For, let me tell you, you must not think that there is harmony in the Council itself, nor yet among yourselves, the Assembly. At any rate, if one were to run through the entire list of citizens, I believe he would not discover even two men in Tarsus who think alike, but on the contrary, just as with certain incurable and distressing diseases which are accustomed to pervade the whole body, exempting no member of it from their inroads, so this state of discord, this almost complete estrangement of one from another, has invaded your entire body politic.

21 For instance, to leave now the discord of Council and Assembly, of the Youth and the Elders,28 there is a group of no small size which is, as it were, outside the constitution. And some are accustomed to call them 'linen-workers,'29 and at times the citizens are irritated by them and assert that they are a useless rabble and responsible for the tumult and disorder in Tarsus, while at other times they regard them as a part of the city and hold the opposite opinion of them. Well, if you believe them to be detrimental to you and instigators of insurrection and confusion, you should expel them altogether and not admit them to your popular assemblies; but if on the other hand you regard them as being in some measure citizens, not only because they are resident in Tarsus, but also because in most instances they were born here and know no other city, then surely it is not fitting to disfranchise them or to cut them off from association with you. 22 But as it is, they necessarily stand aloof in sentiment from the common interest, reviled as they are and viewed as outsiders. But there is nothing more harmful to a city than such conditions, nothing more conducive to strife and disagreement. Take for example the human body: the bulk that comes with the passing years, if it is in keeping with the rest of the person and natural to it, produces well-being and a desirable stature, but otherwise it is a cause stature, but otherwise it is a cause of disease and death.

23 “Well then, what do you bid us do?” I bid you enroll them all as citizens — yes, I do — and just as deserving as yourselves, and not to reproach them or cast them off, but rather to regard them as members of your body politic, as in fact they are. For it cannot be that by the mere payment of five hundred drachmas a man can come to love you and immediately be found worthy of citizenship;30 and, at the same time, that a man who through poverty or through the decision of some keeper-of the rolls has failed to get the rating of a citizen — although not only he himself had been born in Tarsus, but also his father and his forefathers as well — is therefore incapable of affection for the city or of considering it to be his fatherland; it cannot be that, if a man is a linen-worker, he is inferior to his neighbour and deserves to have his occupation cast in his teeth and to be reviled for it, whereas, if he is a dyer or a cobbler or a carpenter, it is unbecoming to make those occupations a reproach.31•a

24 But, speaking generally, it was not, perhaps, with the purpose of treating this special one among the problems of your city nor of pointing out its seriousness that I came before you, but rather that I might make plain to you how you stand with regard to one another, and, by Zeus, to make plain also whether it is expedient that you should rely upon the present system and believe that now you are really united. Take, for example, a house or a ship or other things like that; this is the way in which I expect men to make appraisal. They should not consider merely present conditions, to see if the structure affords shelter now or does not let in the sea, but they should consider how as a whole it has been constructed and put together, to see that there are no open seams or rotten planks. 25 And I must add that I do not find existing in your favour now that asset which I said32 had in the past increased the prestige of Tarsus — your having placed to your credit with the Emperor exceptional service and kindness — evidently because he has no further need of such assistance. However, the fact remains that you have no advantage with him over the other dominions; consequently what you obtained from Caesar on that former occasion through your loyalty and friendship you should safeguard for the future through good behaviour and through giving no occasion for criticism.

26 And let no one suppose that in saying this I am advising you to put up with absolutely anybody and to endure any and every thing; nay, my purpose is rather that you, being acquainted with your own situation, may not only take better counsel in the present instance, but may also in the future demand that the man who comes forward to speak shall make his proposals to you, not in an off-hand manner nor on the inspiration of the moment, but with full knowledge and after careful examination of every detail. For the physician who has investigated minutely the symptoms of his patient, so that nothing can escape him, is the one who is likely to administer the best treatment.

27 That your present situation, then, demands careful attention, and a better adviser than those who ascend the rostrum by chance or for mercenary reasons or because of family position, you can perceive in some measure from what follows. For at a time when your own harmony is not assured, and when most of the cities that surround you are not on friendly terms with you, but some are envious through long rivalry with you, while others are actively hostile because of disputes over territory, and still others claim to be subject to annoyance in one form or another, and when the general supposes, to be sure, that your feeling toward him is improving, although you and he have been compelled to clash with one another even previously, and when, furthermore, you are viewed with jealousy because of the very magnitude of your city and the ability you will have to rob your neighbours of many of their possessions — at a time like this, how can you for these reasons fail to require careful and well-considered judgement?

28 “Well then,” you interject, “are not the citizens competent to appraise this situation and to give advice regarding it?” Absurd! For if the leaders and statesmen in the cities were competent to hit upon the proper course, all men would always fare handsomely and be free from harm — unless of course some chance misfortune should perversely befall one city or another. But on the contrary, in my opinion, both in former days and at the present time you would find that more dreadful things have happened to cities through ignorance of what is to their interest and through the mistakes of their leaders than the disasters that happen by divine will or through mere chance.

29 For sometimes men without any ability to perceive what is needful, men who have never given heed to their own welfare in the past, incompetent to manage even a village as it should be managed, but recommended only by wealth or family, undertake the task of government; still others undertake that task in the belief that they are displaying diligence if they merely heap up phrases and string them together in any way at all with greater speed than most men can, although in all else they are in no way superior to anybody else. And what is most serious is that these men, not for the sake of what is truly best and in the interest of their country itself, but for the sake of reputation and honours and the possession of greater power than their neighbours, in the pursuit of crowns33 and precedence34 and purple robes,35 fixing their gaze upon these things and staking all upon their attainment, do and say such things as will enhance their own reputations. 30 Consequently one may see in every city many who have been awarded crowns, who sacrifice in public, who come forth arrayed in purple; but a man of probity and wisdom, who is really devoted to his own country, and thinks and speaks the truth, whose influence with the city that follows his advice insures better management and the attainment of some blessing — such a man is hard to find.

31 Yes, this is bound to happen, one might say. For when men think it is those who have performed liturgies1b or will some day do so36 who should counsel them, and when, provided a man is gymnasiarch37 or demiourgos,38 he is the only one whom they allow to make a speech — or, by Zeus, the so called orators39 — it is very much as if they were to call upon only the heralds or the harpists or the bankers. Accordingly men come forward to address you who are both empty-headed and notoriety-hunters to boot, and it is with mouth agape for the clamour of the crowd, and not at all from sound judgement or understanding, that they speak, but just as if walking in the dark they are always swept along according to the clapping and the shouting.

32 And yet if someone should tell pilots that they should seek in every way to please their passengers, and that when applauded by them they should steer the ship in whatever way those passengers desired, it would take no great storm to overturn their ship. Frequently, you know, a seasick land-lubber or some nervous female at the sight of rocks fancies that land and harbour are in view and implores the skipper to steer for shore.b 33 But I say that the counsellor who is a good counsellor and fit to be leader of a city should be prepared to withstand absolutely all those things which are considered difficult or vexatious, and especially the vilifications and the anger of the mob. Like the promontories that form our harbours, which receive the full violence of the sea but keep the inner waters calm and peaceful, so he too should stand out against the violence of the people, whether they are inclined to burst into a rage or abuse him or take any measures whatever, and he should be wholly unaffected by such outbursts, and neither if they applaud him, should he on that account be elated, nor, if he feels he is being insulted, should he be depressed.

34 However, what happens at Tarsus is not like that. No one of your statesmen, as I am told, holds that40 to be his function, nor is it so any longer with the commons; but, on the contrary, some persons stand absolutely aloof, and some come forward to speak quite casually, barely touching on the issue — as people touch the libation with their lips — claiming that it is not safe for them to dedicate their lives of that government. And yet, though no one could be successful as a ship-owner or money-lender or farmer if he made those occupations a side-issue, still men try to run the government out of their spare time and put everything else ahead of statecraft. 35 And some, in case they do accept office, seek therein only to engage in some enterprise out of which they may emerge with added glory for themselves, making that their sole aim. Accordingly for six months41 they are your 'men of valour,' frequently not to the advantage of the city either. And so at one moment it is So-and so who makes the motions, and hard upon his heels comes someone else in quick succession, and then a third; and he who but one brief month ago was resplendent and claimed to be the only one who cared for the city cannot be seen even coming to the assembly. 36 It reminds me of a parade, in which each participant, eager to catch the public eye, exerts himself to that end until he has passed beyond the spectators, but when he gets a short distance away, he relaxes his pose and is just one of the many and goes home in happy-go lucky style. However, while your president should regard his six months as the limit to his term of office — for so the law prescribes — still the statesman should not, by heaven, observe any set term for the exercise of benevolence toward you and of care and concern for the commonwealth — and that too a term so brief — nay, he should strip for action for that very purpose and hold himself in readiness for service constantly. 37 But at present, just like men who sail with offshore breezes — or rather with gusts from the storm-clouds — so are you swept along, men of Tarsus, though neither such statecraft nor such voyaging has aught of certainty or of safety in it. For such blasts are not the kind to last for ever or to blow devoid of interruption, but they often sink a ship by falling upon it with undiminished violence. And a city of such size and splendour as your own should have men who truly take thought on its behalf. But as things go now, I dare say, under these transitory, short-lived demagogues no good can come to you.

38 Well then, on these topics, as well as on countless others too, there is a great deal one might say. But since I myself also from the very day of my arrival here have played the demagogue for you, and that though I find fault with men of that sort, I must notwithstanding express my opinion regarding your present situation, as indeed I promised to do.42 And first of all, your dealings with the general — but what I have to say will cover everything. Very well then, I say that men who find themselves in such a situation as yours,43 which of course is the common situation everywhere today, should be so minded as not, on the one hand, to submit to any and every thing and allow those in authority to treat them simply as they please, no matter to what lengths of insolence and greed they may proceed; nor, on the other hand, to be disposed to put up with nothing disagreeable whatever, or to expect, as you might, that some Minos or Perseus44 will arrive in these days to take care of them. 39 For to refrain entirely from coming to one's own assistance is the conduct of slaves, and it is a serious matter if no remnant of hesitancy or distrust is to be left in the minds of those who deal unfairly. And yet for the populace to incur hatred and be constantly prying into everything is not to your advantage either. For if you get the reputation of making complaints now and then without good reason, and someone gets the better of you — and there are many reasons why this might happen — I fear that you may lose the right of free speech altogether. Pray consider what the people of Ionia have done. They have passed a decree prohibiting accusations against anyone at all. So men of sense should foresee all these contingencies and not, like men inexperienced in fighting, rashly abandoning the equipment they have, be defenceless from then on and unable to act at all, not even if an enemy threatens them with slaughter.

40 This, however, I declare as a general principle: that so uncompromising a policy which, although you have no intention to proceed to active measures, nevertheless makes you incur the distrust of your superior officers; but on the contrary, when you decide that you are going to remove some one, and it is thought that he is guilty of such misdeeds that it is not expedient to ignore them, make yourselves ready to convict him and immediately behave toward him as toward a personal enemy, and one who is plotting against you. But regarding a man concerning whom you foresee a different outcome, if you believe him to be guilty of no misdeeds — or none of any importance — or if for whatever reason you do not believe him to deserve such treatment, do not irritate him or move him to anger against the city. 41 In very much the same way, I fancy, if those burdens that we bear are very oppressive and we cannot endure them, we seek to cast them off as speedily as possible, whereas if we are only moderately inconvenienced by them and see that we must carry either the load we have or another that is greater, we consider how they may rest upon our shoulders as lightly as possible.

That is the policy of a prudent state. Under such a policy not only will most people be fond of you, but a man will fear to do you wrong, and men in general will not think you to be a wicked populace or an unreasoning mob, a mob that acts on a kind of impulse and in headlong fashion. 42 For this thing that your president is now doing45 would truly be altogether foolish, even if you were of a mind to bring accusations — though perhaps it may not yet be the proper moment to quarrel so openly and to make pronouncements; but remember that as soon as one of your fellow-citizens has in a moment of urgent need placed himself at the disposal of the state and gained a brilliant reputation by accusing two officials in quick succession, the masses think that they too must try some such exploit. But that is very much as if a man, on seeing a physician mix with some beneficent drug a small portion also of one that is deadly, and without any further knowledge as to how the medicine was compounded or how much to take, should wish to follow his example. Yet surely the belief that impromptu action in matters of highest moment and political leadership are within the competence of any one who has aspired to undertake it is not far removed from such behaviour.

43 However, when I have made a few more remarks regarding your dealing with the people of Mallus and with the other cities, I shall cease; for you seem to me to have displayed sufficient patience. Well then, with reference to the first — I mean the people of Mallus — if they have behaved at all senselessly, as indeed they have, lay aside your anger, graciously forgive them the revenge that you thought to be your due, and come to terms regarding your boundary dispute, believing that to endure such treatment and not to court a quarrel is, as in fact it is, a great achievement and one befitting men who are altogether superior, especially in relation to men so vastly inferior. 44 For there is no danger that you will be thought weaker than any men of Mallus that the future may produce. And do not listen to those who try to stir you up, but, if at all possible, act as your own judges, and, examining the matter with care apart from all malice or partiality for your own interests, make a settlement of the trouble; do not merely refrain from strife and from seeking to gain the advantage by any and all means, but concede and yield to them anything within reason. For just as you have words of praise for those in private life who are reasonable and prefer occasionally to submit to wrong rather than to quarrel with people, so also in public relations we find that cities of that sort are in good repute.

45 No, sand-dunes and swamp-land are of no value — for what revenue is derived from them or what advantage? — yet to show one's self to be honourable and magnanimous is rightly regarded as inexpressibly valuable. For to vie with the whole world in behalf of justice and virtue, and to take the initiative in friendship and harmony, and in these respects to surpass and prevail over all others, is the noblest of all victories and the safest too. But to seek by any and every means to maintain ascendancy in a conflict befits blooded game-cocks rather than men. 46 It may be true that, if Mallus because of the dunes and the pasturage on the sand were likely to become greater than Tarsus, you ought possibly to show so much concern; but as it is, disgrace and mockery are all you stand to gain from the objects of your quarrel. “Why, then,” you may ask, “did not the people of Mallus scorn those things?” Because they are no better than you are. But, by heaven, it is you who want them to be so.46 However, what I thought fitting was that you should send them messengers and file an oral protest — for that would have been the procedure of superior and sensible men — but to be unduly excited and to have recourse immediately to the assertion of your authority and to feel insulted is rather to be expected of small-town folk.

47 So also with reference to the other cities, I ask that you behave mildly, considerately, with regard to your honour, and not in a spirit of hostility and hatred. For if you do, all men will follow your leadership willingly, with admiration and affection; and that is of more importance than to have Mallus sacrifice in Tarsus and there conduct its litigation.47 For it is of no advantage to you at all to have the people of either Adana or Aegae come to Tarsus to offer sacrifice; it is merely vanity and self-deception and empty, foolish pride. 48 On the other hand, goodwill and a reputation for superiority in virtue and kindliness — those are your true blessings, those are the objects worthy of emulation and serious regard. And you would pay heed to them, since your present behaviour is ridiculous. And whether it is a question of Aegaeans quarrelling with you, or Apameans with men of Antioch,48 or, to go farther afield, Smyrnaeans with Ephesians, it is an ass's shadow, as the saying goes, over which they squabble;49 for the right to lead and to wield authority belongs to others.50

49 Yes, there was a time in days gone by when jealous rivalry existed also between Athens and Sparta; and, at first, Sparta held the ascendancy, and then it came to pass that the Greeks inclined rather toward Athens, after the Persian wars. What, then, did the Spartan do? Abandoning his claims upon the islander, the Ionian, and the Greek of Hellespont, he proceeded to teach himself self-control and confined his attention to the affairs of Sparta, understanding clearly that nothing should be held more dear than law and order. Accordingly Sparta achieved its greatest prosperity during that period. 50 And as for the Athenians, it so happened that, as long as the cities were on friendly terms with them, and the Athenians behaved kindly as their leaders, they too prospered; but afterwards, when accusations and ill-will toward them accumulated and they saw fit to rule unwilling subjects, they suffered many disagreeable things. And the first thing of all to happen was to lose their commendation and good repute, and next to lose their power and wealth, and finally to become subject to their foes. And the Spartans had a similar experience: when they too once more held the reins of empire, departing from their own former principle, they found themselves in the same position as the Athenians.51 51 And yet those states of old possessed real power and great utility, if it be correct to call self-seeking by that name; whereas anyone seeing the disputes and occasions for hostility of the present time would, methinks, blush for shame, for in reality they make one think of fellow-slaves quarrelling with one another over glory and pre-eminence.

What then? Is there nothing noble in this our day to merit one's serious pursuit? The greatest things, yes the only things worthy of serious pursuit, were present then, are present now, and always will be; and over these no man, surely, has control, whether to confer them on another or to take them away from him who has them, but, on the contrary, they are always at one's disposal, whether it be a private citizen or the body politic. But the discussion of these matters perhaps would take too long. 52 And yet I am not unaware that the philosophers are believed by many to be engaged in relaxing everything and in slackening the serious pursuit of practical affairs and on that account in working more harm than good.52 It is just as if one should wish to watch a musician tuning his instrument, and then, seeing the same man slacken some strings53 and tighten others again, should scoff at him. 53 That in fact is precisely the situation in civic matters. For the base and unprofitable pursuits and ambitions have become more tense than is fitting, and all who are swayed by them, through no one's fault but their own, become broken men, as one may say; but those pursuits and ambitions which aim at what is noblest are wholly relaxed. And consider, for example, if you will, the tension that marks covetousness, that marks incontinence!

But I seem to be going too far afield, and, like those who in calm weather swim too far, I seem not to foresee what lies ahead.54

Celaenae, as Dio himself tells us, was situated at the headwaters of the Maeander in the heart of Phrygia, on the main highway between East and West and was the focus of five other well-marked natural routes (Ramsay, Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia). From Herodotus (7.26) we learn that Xerxes paused there on his way to Greece; and there too the younger Cyrus tarried thirty days in 401 B.C. while assembling forces (Xenophon, Anabasis 1.2.5 8). Despite its manifest importance, Celaenae does not appear again in literature until Roman times. In fact Strabo, who devotes considerable space to the site (12.8.15 18), uses the name Apamea rather than Celaenae. He explains that Antiochus Soter (280 261 B.C.), on moving inhabitants a short distance away, renamed the settlement in honour of his mother. According to Ramsay, the old name was revived in the second century of our era, presumably in consequence of a 'reinvigorated national sentiment.'

Arnim locates this Discourse in the same general period of Dio's career as the three that precede it. We are in the dark regarding the occasion of its delivery. Dio seems to be quite at his ease and enjoys the opportunity to introduce himself and to flatter and amuse his audience. Much of what he says was doubtless uttered with a twinkle of the eye.

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The Thirty-fifth Discourse

delivered in Celaenae in Phrygia

Gentlemen, I have come before you not to display my talents as a speaker nor because I want money from you, or expect your praise. For I know not only that I myself am not sufficiently well equipped to satisfy you by my eloquence, but also that your circumstances are not such as to need my message. Furthermore, the disparity between what you demand of a speaker and my own powers is very great. For it is my nature to talk quite simply and unaffectedly and in a manner in no wise better than that of any ordinary person; whereas you are devoted to oratory to a degree that is remarkable, I may even say excessive, and you tolerate as speakers only those who are very clever.

2 Nay, my purpose in coming forward is not to gain your admiration — for I could not gain that from you even were I to utter words more truthful than those of the Sibyl or of Bacis1 — but rather that no one may look askance at me or ask others who I am and whence I came. For at present quite possibly people suspect that I am one of your wiseacres, one of your know-it alls, basing their suspicion upon a ludicrous and absurd bit of evidence, namely, that I wear my hair long.2 For if long hair were accountable for virtue and sobriety, mankind would need no great power nor one difficult of attainment.

3 However, I fear that fools get no good from their long hair, not even if they get shaggy to the very heart — as in the case of Aristomenes,3 the Messenian, who caused a deal of trouble for the Spartans, and who, though taken captive many times, always managed to escape from them — he, we are told, when at last he met his death, was found to be in that condition. I claim, therefore, that these nude philosophers4 get no good from their shagginess — not even if they should join the light infantry — at least with regard to justice and true sobriety and wisdom, nay, not even if they should strip off still more clothing and run about stark naked in winter time, or else adopt the garb of Medes and Arabs;5 just as they will not acquire proficiency with the flute by merely donning the costume of flautists.6 Neither can asses7 become horses even if they have their nostrils slit still more, or even if they have their jaws bored and a curb-chain placed between their teeth, or even if their pack-saddles are taken from them; nay, they will still bray before the walls right lustily and perform the other acts that befit their nature.

4 Therefore, let no one suppose that my guise makes me different from any other man, or that it is this that gives me confidence to speak. On the contrary, let it be understood by all that I can see that, if I keep absolutely silent and do not talk with anyone at all, people are much more likely to distrust me, I fancy, as giving myself airs, as concealing something of importance — for, in fact, in many instances men have won admiration merely by reason of their silence;8 whereas, if I take my stand in your midst and show myself to be no better as a speaker than any huckster or muleteer, I see that none will be vexed with me, once they have seen for themselves what sort of man I am.

5 This is virtually what you may see occurring with other men also. For example, when certain people suspect a man of having the very thing for which they happen to be searching, they go up to him and put him through a close questioning. If, then, he draws his cloak about him and declines to answer, they are all the more suspicious, but if he immediately unwraps and it becomes evident that he is concealing nothing, they go away convinced that they have been in error. You see, it is far better for those who are not seeking notoriety to disclose themselves to the people, and for a person by speaking to reveal himself for the benefit of those who can understand what sort of man he is. For I fancy that they will clearly show contempt for me, to judge by the treatment I have been receiving,9 and that we shall not understand one another, neither I my audience nor they their speaker. And the blame for this misunderstanding I would set down to my account rather than to yours.

6 This, then, is one reason for my coming forward. But there is another reason — my fear that I myself may become spoiled through your suspicions of me and come to believe that there is actually something of importance in my make-up. For when many people display admiration for one man and consider him superior to the rest, great wisdom and strength of character are seemingly needed if he is to preserve his common sense and not be made a fool or be uplifted, as by wings, by the words of the crowd — as Homer has portrayed Achilles,10a through vainglory because of his new armour, being uplifted and in full career:

To him they were as wings and raised aloft
The shepherd of the host.10b

7 And how great the power of the populace is to make men believe anything they please may perhaps best be learned from children: when a sane man is followed by urchins who keep calling him crazy. For at first the man goes away inwardly annoyed, and then, from constantly falling foul of them and reviling and chasing them one by one, he gets into that very state and ends by going mad, and the spoken word he took to be a manifestation of deity,11 not merely the utterance of men, but even that of boys.

8 And, methinks, the tribe of sophists also owes its development to some such cause as this. When a lot of young men with nothing to do go leaping about a man with cries of admiration, as the Bacchants leap about Dionysus, inevitably that man after no great lapse of time will gain a reputation with many others for talking sensibly. Why, that is very much the way in which parents teach their children how to talk, expressing keen delight over anything the children may utter. Accordingly, in consequence of that applause, the children take courage and make further progress and keep speaking more and more distinctly, until finally they have mastered the language of their associates, be they Greeks or barbarians. The sophists also can't help adopting the thought of their listeners, saying and thinking such things as fit the nature of those listeners, whatever it happens to be; but the majority of these are pretty much simpletons, victims of an unkind fate.

9 Well then, conceivably there is no great risk involved if a man appears to himself and others to be clever, and draws in his train a crowd of fools — just as it is said of Orpheus, that he drew to himself trees and rocks and stones — but that, while himself a fool, a coward, intemperate, in no wise superior to dumb cattle, a man should believe that he has any claim to virtue and gentility — that indeed is utterly preposterous and a mark of the most grievous folly and madness. Nay, whenever fame lays hold upon a man and that sort of talk starts to smoulder, he should tear off his garments and leap forth naked upon the public highways, proving to all the world that he is no better than any other man. 10 And if someone follows at his heels claiming to be his pupil, he must try to drive him away, striking him with his fists and pelting him with clods of earth and stones,12 knowing that the fellow is either fool or knave.

However, my remarks are not levelled at all sophists, for there are some who follow that calling honourably and for the good of others, men to whom we should pour libation and offer incense; nay, I mean rather those whom they appoint to serve you as experts in wisdom, three or four long-haired persons like the high-priests of your local rites. I refer to the 'blessed ones,' who exercise authority over all your priests, whose title represents one of the two continents in its entirety.13 For these men too owe their 'blessedness' to crowns and purple14 and a throng of long-haired lads bearing frankincense.

11 Well then, whatever be the truth in these matters, let this suffice. However, I still maintain that long hair must not by any means be taken as a mark of virtue. For many human beings wear it long because of some deity; and farmers wear long hair, without ever having even heard the word philosophy; and, by Zeus, most barbarians also wear long hair, some for a covering and some because they believe it to be becoming. In none of these cases is a man subjected to odium or ridicule. 12 The reason may well be because their practice is correct. For instance, you observe that rabbits,15 weak creatures that they are, are protected by their shaggy coats, and that among the birds even the weakest find their feathers a sufficient protection against wind and rain. But as for us human beings, while we shear off our locks (just as horse-breeders shear the manes of mares16 that they plan to mate with asses) and also shave our beards,17 we make coverings for our heads. Yet we observes that cocks require nothing extra as human beings do, goat-skin coats and caps of felt and other similar coverings which we stitch together. And yet what cap of Arcadian or Laconian make could be more suitable than a man's own hair? “Besides,” someone will ask, “what need is there for so many coverings for the body?” No need, at least for men of wealth; indeed they do not need hands or feet either.18

13 But [speaking of protection],19 I perceive that this city of yours is inferior to none of the first rank, and I rejoice with you and am content that it is so. For example, you occupy the strongest site and the richest on the continent; you are settled in the midst of plains and mountains of rare beauty; you have most abundant springs and a soil of greatest fertility, bearing, all told, unnumbered products,

Both wheat and spelt and broad-eared barley white;20

and many are the droves of cattle and many the flocks of sheep you tend and pasture. And as for rivers, the largest and most serviceable have their source here — the Marsyas yonder, bearing its waters through the midst of your city, and the Orgas, and the Maeander, by far the most godlike21 and the wisest of all rivers, a river which with its countless windings visits, one may almost say, all that is best in Asia.22 14 Furthermore, you stand as a bulwark in front of Phrygia and Lydia and Caria besides;23 and there are other tribes around you whose members are most numerous, Cappadocians and Pamphylians and Pisidians, and for them all your city constitutes a market and a place of meeting.24 And also many cities unknown to fame and many prosperous villages are subject to your sway. And a very great index of your power is found in the magnitude of the contributions with which you are assessed. For, in my opinion, just as those beasts of burden are judged to be most powerful which carry the greatest loads, so also it is reasonable to suppose that those cities are the most considerable which pay the largest assessments.

15 And what is more, the courts are in session every other year in Celaenae, and they bring together an unnumbered throng of people — litigants, jurymen, orators, princes, attendants, slaves, pimps, muleteers, hucksters, harlots, and artisans. Consequently not only can those who have goods to sell obtain the highest prices, but also nothing in the city is out of work, neither the teams nor the houses nor the women. 16 And this contributes not a little to prosperity; for wherever the greatest throng of people comes together, there necessarily we find money in greatest abundance, and it stands to reason that the place should thrive. For example, it is said, I believe, that the district in which the most flocks are quartered proves to be the best for the farmer because of the dung, and indeed many farmers entreat the shepherds to quarter their sheep on their land. 17 So it is, you see, that the business of the courts is deemed of highest importance toward a city's strength and all men are interested in that as in nothing else. And the foremost cities share this business each in its turn in alternate years.25 However, it is said that now the interval is going to be longer, for they claim that the people resent being constantly driven here and there. Yes, you share also in the sanctuaries of Asia and in the expenditures they entail, quite as much as do these cities in which with the sanctuaries are.26

Accordingly I know of no city that is more favoured by fortune than Celaenae and no people that leads a better existence — save only the people of India. 18 For in India,27 according to the report, there are rivers, not of water as in your land, but one of milk, one of translucent wine, another of honey, and another of olive oil. And these streams spring from hills near by, as if from the breasts of Mother Earth. And also these products are immeasurably superior to those we have both in flavour and in potency. For what we have in our country we gather in scanty measure and with difficulty from certain animals and plants, crushing the fruits of trees and plants28 and extracting the food of living creatures by milking and by robbing the hive; while the products of India are altogether purer, untainted, methinks, by violence and ruthlessness. Moreover, the rivers flow during one month for the king, and that constitutes his tribute, while for the rest of the year they flow for the people.

19 So every day the Indians assemble with their children and their wives at the springs and river-banks, sporting and laughing as if in expectation of a feast. And by the banks there grows the lotus— a sturdy plant and, one might say, the sweetest of all foods, not, as the lotus in our land, mere fodder for quadrupeds — and also much sesame and parsley, at least as one might judge from the outward similarity of those plants, although for quality they are not to be compared. And that country produces also another seed, a better food than wheat and barley and more wholesome. And it grows in huge calyxes, like those of roses but more fragrant and larger. This plant they eat, both root and fruit, at no expense of labour.29

20 And there are many canals which issue from the rivers, some large and some small, mingling with one another and made by man to suit his fancy. And by their aid the Indians convey with ease the fluids I have named, just as we convey the water of our gardens. And there are baths also close by at their disposal, the water of which in the one case is warm and whiter than silver and in the other it is blue from its depth and coldness. In these they swim, women and children together, all of them beautiful. And after the bath, I dare say, reclining in the meadows they sing and hum.

21 And there are in that land meadows of utter beauty and a variety of flowering trees that provide shade from high above, though they bring their fruit within reach of all who wish to pluck it as the branches nod. And the birds charm them by their song, some seated in the meadows, a great flock of them, and some high up among the topmost branches, their notes more tuneful than those of our musical instruments. And a gentle breeze is ever blowing, and the climate is nearly constant throughout the year, and it resembles most closely that of early summer. And what is more, not only is their sky clearer, but also the stars are more numerous and more brilliant. And these people live more than four hundred years, and during all that time they are beautiful and youthful and neither old age nor disease nor poverty is found among them.

22 So wonderful and so numerous are these blessings, and yet there are people called Brachmanes30 who, abandoning those rivers and the people scattered along their banks, turn aside and devote themselves to private speculation and meditation, undertaking amazing physical labours without compulsion and enduring fearful tests of endurance. And it is said that they have one special fountain, the Fountain of Truth, by far the best and most godlike of all, and that those who drink their fill thereof have never been known to lie. Regarding conditions in that land, then, it is a true story that you have heard. For some of those who have been there have vouched for it; though only a few do go there, in pursuit of trade, and they mingle only with the people of the coast.31 23 And that branch of the Indian race is in low repute, and all the others say harsh things of them.32

It must be admitted that the people of India are more fortunate than you are, but that you are more fortunate than all the others — with the exception of just one more race of mortals, namely, those most rich in gold. And their gold is obtained from ants. These ants are larger than foxes, though in other respects similar to the ants we have. And they burrow in the earth, just as do all other ants. And that which is thrown out by their burrowing is gold, the purest of all gold and the most resplendent. Now there are close to one another a series of what might be called hills of gold dust, and the whole plain is agleam. Therefore it is difficult to look thereon in the sunlight, and many of those who have made the attempt have lost their sight. 24 But the people who live near that land, having traversed the intervening territory (desert land of no great extent) in chariots drawn by horses of greatest speed, arrive at midday, at which time the ants have gone underground; and then these men seize the gold that has been cast forth and flee. And the ants, becoming aware of what has happened, give chase, and, having overtaken their quarry, fight until they either meet their death or kill the foe — for they are the most valiant of all creatures.33 And so these at any rate know what their gold is worth, and they even die sooner than give it up.

25 Well then, what other people among the nations of our time are said to be fortunate? The people of Byzantium, who enjoy a most fertile land and a sea abounding in fruits. But they have neglected the land because of the excellence of the sea. For whereas the land produces its fruits for them only after a long interval of time and toil is required to secure them, the sea yields up its treasures at once without any labour on their part.34

which Dio delivered in his Native Land

In this Discourse Dio recounts for the benefit of his fellow-townsmen a conversation which took place between himself and certain citizens of Borysthenes in Pontus. Borysthenes was an ancient Greek trading-centre near the mouth of the Hypanis (Bug), and Dio states that he had gone there in the hope of pushing into the interior for the purpose of visiting the Getae, whose culture he was to describe in Τὰ Γετικά, a work no longer extant.

Arnim holds that Dio was in Borysthenes in A.D. 95 and suggests that his failure to reach the land of the Getae at that time may have been due to trouble between Rome and Dacia. It is plain that he had met with disappointment and that people knew of his purpose to leave Borysthenes by ship. If Arnim's date is correct, his destination could hardly have Prusa — despite the word οἴκαδε used by Hieroson in section 25 — for in A.D. 95 he was still an exile. However, he seems to have been at home as early as A.D. 97, and Arnim supplies arguments in favour of A.D. 101 as the year in which he made this report to the people of Prusa.

The narrative opens in leisurely manner and with a natural charm somewhat reminiscent of the opening of Plato's Phaedrus, to which, indeed, Dio may have owed also some of the ideas to which he gives expression, although for the most part he seems to be employing Stoic doctrine. In the course of his account he introduces a myth which he ascribes to the Zoroastrian lore of the Magi. That myth is responsible for not a little of the fame enjoyed by this Discourse. Dio, like Plato, was fond of myths and used them to good advantage. Some of them at least are believed to have been his own invention; what shall we say of this one?

It would not be surprising if the Greek world of that day had some acquaintance with Zoroastrianism. The name Zoroaster occurs in Greek as early as the pseudo-Platonic Alcibiades, and Herodotus, Xenophon, Strabo, and other Greeks who antedate Dio have not a little to tell of the Magi, some of the information being demonstrably authentic. Hirzel (Der Dialog) is of the opinion that, whatever may be true of other myths in Dio, this one at least emanates from Zoroastrian sources, and Jackson (Zoroastrian Studies) shares that belief, though admitting that 'the conception may have received some Greek colouring in its transmission.' Whatever Dio's indebtedness to the Magi, resemblances between their extant records and this myth are so slight as to warrant the belief that in its present form it is Dio's own creation, in the formation of which he may have drawn upon more than one source of inspiration, among which it seems safe to suggest the Phaedrus and the Timaeus of Plato, as well as familiar Stoic concepts on related subjects.

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The Thirty-sixth, or Borysthenitic, Discourse

which Dio delivered in his Native Land

I happened to be visiting in Borysthenes1 during the summer, for I had sailed there then,2 after my exile, with the purpose of making my way, if possible, through Scythia to the Getan country, in order to observe conditions there. Well, one day toward noon I was strolling along the Hypanis. I should explain that, although the city has taken its name from the Borysthenes because of the beauty and the size of that river, the actual position, not only of the present city, but also of its predecessor, is on the bank of the Hypanis, not far above what is called Cape Hippolaüs,3 on the opposite shore. 2 This part of the land, near where the two rivers meet, is as sharp and firm as the beak of a ship. But from there on these rivers form a marshy lake down to the sea for a distance of approximately •two hundred stades; and the breadth of the two rivers in that district is not less than that. The fact is that most of that stretch consists of shoals, and in fair weather unruffled calm prevails as in a swamp. But on the right there are signs of a river, and sailors inward bound judge its depth by the current.4 And this explains why the water does make its way out to sea, because of the strength of the current; but for that it would easily be held in check when the south wind blows strongly dead against it. 3 As for the rest, we have only muddy shore overgrown with reeds and trees. And many of the trees are to be seen even in the midst of the marsh, so as to resemble masts of ships; and at times some who were less familiar with those waters have lost their way, supposing that they were approaching ships. And it is here also that we find the vast number of salt-works from which most of the barbarians buy their salt,5 as do also those Greeks and Scythians who occupy the Tauric Chersonese.6 The rivers empty into the sea near the Castle of Alector,7 which is said to belong to the wife of the Sauromatian8 king.

4 The city of Borysthenes, as to its size, does not correspond to its ancient fame, because of its ever-repeated seizure and its wars. For since the city has lain in the midst of barbarians now for so long a time — barbarians, too, who are virtually the most warlike of all — it is always in a state of war and has often been captured, the last and most disastrous capture occurring not more than one hundred and fifty years ago. And the Getae on that occasion seized not only Borysthenes but also the other cities along the left shore of Pontus as far as Apollonia.9 5 For that reason the fortunes of the Greeks in that region reached a very low ebb indeed, some of them being no longer united to form cities, while others enjoyed but a wretched existence as communities, and it was mostly barbarians who flocked to them. Indeed many cities have been captured in many parts of Greece, inasmuch as Greece lies scattered in many regions. But after Borysthenes had been taken on the occasion mentioned, its people once more formed a community, with the consent of the Scythians,10 I imagine, because of their need for traffic with the Greeks who might use that port. For the Greeks had stopped sailing to Borysthenes when the city was laid waste, inasmuch as they had no people of common speech to receive them, and the Scythians themselves had neither the ambition nor the knowledge to equip a trading-centre of their own after the Greek manner.

6 Evidence of the destruction of Borysthenes is visible both in the sorry nature of its buildings and in the contraction of the city within narrow bounds. For it has been built adjacent to one section of the ancient circuit-wall where a few towers, but only a few, yet remain, not at all in keeping with the original size or power of the city. The intervening space in that quarter has been blocked off by means of the houses, built so as to form a continuous whole.11 However, a bit of wall has been constructed parallel to this line of houses, quite low and weak. As for the towers, there are some which stand quite apart from the portion of the city that is now inhabited, so that you would not surmise that they once belonged to a single city. These, then, are clear tokens of the city's capture, as well as the fact that not a single statue remains undamaged among those that are in the sanctuaries, one and all having suffered mutilation, as is true also of the funeral monuments.

7 Well, as I was saying,12 I chanced to be strolling outside the city, and there came to meet me from within the walls some of the people of Borysthenes, as was their custom. Thereupon Callistratus at first came riding by us on horseback on his way from somewhere outside of town, but when he had gone a short distance beyond us, he dismounted, and, entrusting his horse to his attendant, he himself drew near in very proper fashion, having drawn his arm beneath his mantle.13 Suspended from his girdle he had a great cavalry sabre, and he was wearing trousers14 and all the rest of the Scythian costume, and from his shoulders there hung a small black cape of thin material, as is usual with the people of Borysthenes. In fact the rest of their apparel in general is regularly black, through the influence of a certain tribe of Scythians,15 the Blackcloaks, so named by the Greeks doubtless for that very reason.

8 Callistratus was about eighteen years of age, very tall and handsome, having much of the Ionian in his appearance. And it was said also that in matters pertaining to warfare he was a man of courage, and that many of the Sauromatians he had either slain or taken captive. He had become interested also in oratory and philosophy, so that he had his heart set on sailing away in my company. For all these reasons, then, he was in high repute with his fellow-townsmen, and not least of all because of his beauty, and he had many lovers. For this practice has continued among them as a heritage from the city of their origin16 — I refer to the love of man for man — so much so that they are likely to make converts of some of the barbarians, for no good end, I dare say, but rather as those people would adopt such a practice, that is to say, like barbarians and not without licentiousness.

9 Knowing, then, that Callistratus was fond of Homer, I immediately began to question him about the poet. And practically all the people of Borysthenes also have cultivated an interest in Homer, possibly because of their still being a warlike people, although it may also be due to their regard for Achilles, for they honour him exceedingly, and they have actually established two temples for his worship, one on the island that bears his name17 and one in their city; and so they do not wish even to hear about any other poet than Homer. And although in general they no longer speak Greek distinctly, because they live in the midst of barbarians, still almost all at least know the Iliad by heart.

10 Accordingly I said to him by way of jest, “Callistratus, which do you think is the better poet, Homer or Phocylides?”18 And he laughed and said, “Why, as for myself, I do not even know the other poet's name, and I suppose that none of these men does, either. For we do not believe in any other poet than Homer. But as for Homer, you might say that no man alive is ignorant of him. For Homer is the only one whom their poets recall in their compositions,19 and it is their habit to recite his verses on many an occasion, but invariably they employ his poetry to inspire their troops when about to enter battle, just as the songs of Tyrtaeus20 used to be employed in Lacedaemon. Moreover, all these poets are blind, and they do not believe it possible for any one to become a poet otherwise.”

11 “That at any rate,” said I, “their poets caught from Homer,21 as it were from a case of sore eyes. But as for Phocylides, while you people do not know him, as you state, for all that he is certainly rated among the famous poets. Therefore, just as, when a merchant sails into your port who has never been there before, you do not immediately scorn him but, on the contrary, having first tasted his wine and sampled any other merchandise in his cargo, you buy it if it suits your taste, otherwise you pass it by; just so,” said I, “with the poetry of Phocylides you may take a sample of small compass. 12 For he is not one of those who string together a long and continuous poem as your Homer does, who uses more than five thousand verses of continuous narration in describing a single battle;22 on the contrary, the poems of Phocylides have both beginning and end in two or three verses. And so he adds his name to each sentiment, in the belief that it is a matter of interest and great importance, in so doing behaving quite differently from Homer, who nowhere in his poetry names himself. 13 Or don't you think Phocylides had good reason for attaching his name to a maxim and declaration such as this?

This too the saying of Phocylides:
The law-abiding town, though small and set
On a lofty rock, outranks mad Nineveh.23

Why, in comparison with the entire Iliad and Odyssey are not these verses noble to those who pay heed as they listen? Or was it more to your advantage to hear of the impetuous leaping and charging of Achilles, and about his voice, how by his shouts alone he routed the Trojans?24 Are those things more useful for you to learn by heart than what you just have heard, that a small city on a rugged headland is better and more fortunate, if orderly, than a great city in a smooth and level plain, that is to say, if that city is conducted in disorderly and lawless fashion by men of folly?'

14 And Callistratus, receiving my remarks with no great pleasure, replied, “My friend, we admire and respect you greatly; for otherwise no man in Borysthenes would have tolerated your saying such things of Homer and Achilles. For Achilles is our god, as you observe, and Homer ranks almost next to the gods in honour.” And I in turn, wishing to appease him and at the same time to guide him in the direction of his own advantage, said, “I beg you to forgive me, to use the Homeric phrase,

'if aught of harm hath now been spoken.'25

For some other time we shall praise both Achilles and Homer in so far as the poet seems to us to speak correctly. 15 But now we might well consider the case of Phocylides, since in my opinion he speaks very nobly regarding the city.” “Pray do so,” said he, “since you can see that all these men now present are just as eager as I am to listen to you, and that for that very reason they have streamed together here beside the river, although in no very tranquil state of mind. For of course you know that yesterday the Scythians made a raid at noon and put to death some of the outposts who were not on their guard, and in all likelihood took others captive; for we do not yet know definitely about that, because their rout took them some distance away; for their flight was not toward the city.”26

16 And in truth it was precisely as he had said, and not only were the city gates fast shut but also there had been hoisted on the ramparts the standard that betokens war. Yet they were such ardent listeners, so truly Greek in character, that almost all the inhabitants were present, under arms, eager to hear me. And I, admiring their earnestness, said, “If it please you, shall we go and sit down somewhere in the city? For perchance at present not all can hear equally well what is said as we stroll; on the contrary, those in the rear find it difficult themselves and also make it difficult for those ahead through their eagerness to get closer.” 17 And no sooner had I made this suggestion than they all set out together for the temple of Zeus, where they are wont to meet in council. And while the eldest and the most distinguished and the officials sat on benches in a circle, the rest of the company stood close by, for there was a large open space before the temple. A philosopher would have been vastly pleased at the sight, because all were like the ancient Greeks described by Homer, long-haired and with flowing beards,27 and only one among them was shaven, and he was subjected to the ridicule and resentment of them all. And it was said that he practised shaving, not as an idle fancy, but out of flattery of the Romans and to show his friendship toward them. And so one could have seen illustrated in his case how disgraceful the practice is and how unseemly for real men.

18 But when quiet had been secured, I said that in my opinion they did well, seeing that they dwelt in a city that was ancient and Greek, in wishing to hear about a city. “And,” said I, “surely the first essential is that we should know precisely the true nature of the thing about which we are to speak; for in that way you would at the same time have perceived what its attributes are. For most men,” said I, “know and employ merely the names of things, but are ignorant of the things themselves. 19 On the other hand, men who are educated make it their business to know also the meaning of everything of which they speak. For example, anthropos is a term used by all who speak Greek, but if you should ask any one of them what anthropos really is — I mean what its attributes are and wherein it differs from any other thing — he could not say, but could only point to himself or to some else in true barbarian fashion. But man who has expert knowledge, when asked what anthropos is, replies that it is a mortal animal endowed with reason. For that happens to be true of anthropos alone and of nothing else. 20 Well, in that way also the term 'city' is said to mean a group of anthropoi dwelling in the same place and governed by law.28 It is immediately evident, therefore, that that term belongs to none of those communities which are called cities but are without wisdom and without law. Consequently not even in referring to Nineveh could the poet use the term 'city,' since Nineveh is given over to folly. For just as that person is not even an anthropos who does not also possess the attribute of reason, so that community is not even a city which lacks obedience to law. And it could never be obedient to law if it is foolish and disorderly.

21 Perhaps, then, someone might inquire whether, when the rulers and leaders of a community are men of prudence and wisdom, and it is in accordance with their judgement that the rest are governed, lawfully and sanely, such a community may be called sane and law-abiding and really a city because of those who govern it; just as a chorus might possibly be termed musical provided its leader were musical and provided further that the other members followed this lead and uttered no sound contrary to the melody that he set — or only slight sounds and indistinctly uttered. 22 For no one knows of a good city made wholly of good elements as having existed in the past, that is, a city of mortal men, nor is it worth while to conceive of such a city as possibly arising in the future, unless it be a city of the blessed gods in heaven, by no means motionless or inactive, but vigorous and progressive, its guides and leaders being gods, exempt from strife and defeat. For it is impious to suppose that gods indulge in strife or are subject to defeat, either by one another, friends as they are, or by more powerful beings; on the contrary, we must think of them as performing their several functions without let or hindrance and with unvarying friendship of all toward all in common, the most conspicuous among them each pursuing an independent course — I don't mean wandering aimlessly and senselessly, but rather dancing a dance29 of happiness coupled with wisdom and supreme intelligence — while the rest of the celestial host are swept along by the general movement, the entire heaven having one single purpose and impulse.

23 For that, indeed, is the only constitution or city that may be called genuinely happy — the partnership of god with god; even if you include with the gods also everything that has the faculty of reason, mankind being thus included as boys are said to share in citizenship with men, being citizens by birth though not by reason of conceiving and performing the tasks of citizens or sharing in the law, of which they have no comprehension. However, if we take communities of a different kind, though everywhere and in every instance, we may almost say, they are absolutely faulty and worthless as compared with the supreme righteousness of the divine and blessed law and its proper administration, still for our present purpose we shall be supplied with examples of the type that is fairly equitable when compared with that which is utterly corrupt, just as among persons who are all ill we compare the man who had the lightest case with the one who is in worst condition.”

24 Well then, I was launching forth upon that general line in my discussion, when one of those who were present, the eldest in the company and held in high esteem, spoke up, interrupting me, and in a very guarded manner said, “Stranger, pray do not think it boorish or barbarous of me to intervene in the midst of your discourse. For while in your country such conduct is not good manners, because of the great abundance of philosophical discussions and because one may listen to many men upon any topic he may desire, in ours this visit of yours to our city seems almost a miraculous event. 25 As a usual thing those who come here are nominally Greeks but actually more barbarous than ourselves, traders and market-men, fellows who import cheap rags and vile wine and export in exchange products of no better quality. But you would appear to have been sent to us by Achilles himself from his holy isle,30 and we are very glad to see you and very glad also to listen to whatever you have to say. However, we do not believe that this visit of yours is to be of very long duration, nor do we desire it to be, but rather that you may have a prosperous voyage home as speedily as possible.31 26 Now therefore, since in your remarks you have touched upon the divine form of government, I myself am tremendously excited, and I see that my friends here also are all worked up in anticipation of that theme. The fact is that in our opinion everything you have said has been magnificently expressed, in a manner not unworthy of your theme, and precisely as we should most desire to hear. For although we are unacquainted with this more refined form of philosophy, yet we are, as you know, lovers of Homer, and some, not many, lovers of Plato too. To this latter group I myself belong, for I always read his writings as best I can; and yet it may perhaps seem odd that one who speaks the poorest Greek of all the people of Borysthenes should delight in the man who is most Greek and most wise and should cultivate that man's society, quite as if a person almost wholly blind were to shun every other light but turn his gaze upward to the sun itself.

27 “This, then, is our situation; and if you wish to do us all a favour, postpone your discussion of the mortal city — possibly our neighbours may after all grant us leisure tomorrow, and not compel us to exert ourselves against them as is generally our wont — and tell us instead about that divine city or government, whichever you prefer to call it, stating where it is and what it is like, aiming as closely as possible at Plato's nobility of expression, just as but now you seemed to us to do.32 For if we understand nothing else, we do at least understand his language because of our long familiarity with it, for it has a lofty sound, not far removed from the voice of Homer.”

28 I in turn was exceedingly pleased with the simple frankness of the old gentleman, and with a laugh I said, “My dear Hieroson,33 if yesterday when the enemy made their attack you had bidden me to take up arms and give battle like Achilles, I should have obeyed one part of your injunction, endeavouring to come to the aid of men who are my friends; but the other part, I fancy, I could not have managed, however much I should have wished to do so, to fight as your Achilles did. Similarly in the present instance also I will do part of what you bid — I will strive to tell my story as best I can in my own way;

Though ancient heroes I'll not try to match,34

whether it be Plato or Homer. For, you remember, the poet says that in the case of Eurytus himself such rivalry worked not to his advantage, since it was aimed at his superiors.35 However, I shall not lack for devotion,” I added. 29 Yet, despite my brave words to Hieroson, I was moved and heaved a sigh, as it were, when I bethought me of Homer and Plato.

“Well then,” said I, “the term 'city' must be taken on the understanding that our sect36 is not literally defining the universe as a city; for that would be in direct conflict with our doctrine of the city, which, as I have said, the Stoics define as an organization of human beings;37 and at the same time it would possibly not be suitable or convincing, if, after stating in the strict sense of the term that the universe is a living creature,38 they should then call it a city, 30 for that the same thing is both a city and a living being is a proposition that, I imagine, no one would readily consent to entertain. Yet the present orderly constitution of the universe ever since the whole has been separated and divided into a considerable number of forms of plants and animals, mortal and immortal, yes, and into air and earth and water and fire,39 being nevertheless by nature in all these forms one thing and governed by one spirit and force — this orderly constitution, I say, the Stoics do in one way or another liken to a city because of the multitude of the creatures that are constantly either being born or else ending their existence in it, and, furthermore, because of the arrangement and orderliness of its administration.

31 “This doctrine, in brief, aims to harmonize the human race with the divine, and to embrace in a single term everything endowed with reason, finding in reason the only sure and indissoluble foundation for fellowship and justice. For in keeping with that concept the term 'city' would be applied, not, of course, to an organization that has chanced to get mean or petty leaders nor to one which through tyranny or democracy or, in fact, through decarchy or oligarchy or any other similar product of imperfection, is being torn to pieces and made the victim of constant party faction. Nay, term would be applied rather to an organization that is governed by the sanest and noblest form of kingship, to one that is actually under royal governance in accordance with law, in complete friendship and concord. 32 And this, indeed, is precisely what the wisest and eldest ruler and law-giver ordains for all, both mortals and immortals, he who is the leader of all the heaven and lord of all being, himself thus expounding the term and offering his own administration as a pattern of the happy and blessed condition, he whom the divine bards, instructed by the Muses, praise in song and call the 'father of gods and men.'

33 “For the chances are, indeed, that poets as a class are not utterly bad marksmen when they speak of sacred things and that they are not missing the mark when they use such expressions as that repeatedly; on the other hand, it is not likely that they have received a real initiation according to the rites and regulations of true initiates, or that with reference to the universe they know anything, if I may say so, which is true and clear. But we may think of them as merely like the attendants at the rites, who stand outside at the doors, decking portals nthe altars which are in full view and attending to the other preparations of that kind but never passing within. Indeed that is the very reason why the poets call themselves 'attendants of the Muses,'40 not initiates or any other august name. 34 So, as I was saying, it is reasonable to suppose that not only do those who busy themselves near some ritual, hard by the entrance to the sanctuary, gain some inkling of what is going on within, when either a lone mystic phrase rings out loudly, or fire appears above the enclosure, but also that there comes sometimes to the poets — I mean the very ancient poets — some utterance from the Muses, however brief, some inspiration of divine nature and of divine truth, like a flash of fire from the invisible. This is what happened to Homer and Hesiod when they were possessed by the Muses.41 35 But the poets who came after them in later days, bringing to stage and theatre naught but their own wisdom, uninitiate addressing initiate, have ofttimes disclosed imperfect patterns of holy rites; but, being applauded by the multitude, they tried in their own right to initiate the mob, actually, as we might say, building open booths for Bacchic rites at tragic crossroads.42

“Yet all these poets in precisely the same fashion call the first and greatest god Father of the whole rational family collectively, yes, and King besides. 36 And trusting to these poets men erect altars to Zeus the King and, what is more, some do not hesitate even to call him Father in their prayers, believing that there exists some such government and organization of the universe as that. Therefore, from that standpoint at least, it seems to me, they would not hesitate to apply the term 'home of Zeus'43 to the entire universe — if indeed he is father of all who live in it — yes, by Zeus, and his 'city' too, our Stoic similitude, to suggest the greater office of the god. 37 For kingship is a word more appropriate to a city than to a home. For surely men would not apply the term King to him who is over all and then refuse to admit that the whole is governed by a king, nor would they admit that they are governed by a king and then deny that they are members of a state or that there is a kingly administration of the universe. And again, conceding 'administration,' they would not balk at accepting 'city,' or something very like it, as descriptive of that which is administered.

38 “This, then, is the theory of the philosophers, a theory which sets up a noble and benevolent fellowship of gods and men which gives a share in law and citizenship, not to all living beings whatsoever, but only to such as have a share in reason and intellect, introducing a far better and more righteous code than that of Sparta, in accordance with which the Helots have no prospect of ever becoming Spartans, and consequently are constantly plotting against Sparta.

39 “Moreover, there is besides a myth which arouses admiration as sung in secret rites by the Magi, who extol this god of ours as being the perfect and original driver of the most perfect chariot. For the chariot of Helius, they claim, is relatively recent when compared with that of Zeus, though visible to the many because its course is run in full view. Therefore, they say, the chariot of Helius has enjoyed a reputation with all mankind, since the poets, beginning practically with the earliest times, so it would seem, are always telling of its rising and its setting, all in the same manner describing the yoking of the horses and Helius himself mounting his car.44

40 “But the mighty, perfect chariot of Zeus has never been praised as it deserves by any of the poets of our land, either by Homer or by Hesiod;45 and yet Zoroaster sings of it, as do the children of the Magi, who learned the song from him. For the Persians say that Zoroaster, because of a passion for wisdom and justice, deserted his fellows and dwelt by himself on a certain mountain; and they say that thereupon the mountain caught fire, a mighty flame descending from the sky above, and that it burned unceasingly. So then the king and the most distinguished of his Persians drew near for the purpose of praying to the god; and Zoroaster came forth from the fire unscathed, and, showing himself gracious toward them, bade them to be of good cheer and to offer certain sacrifices in recognition of the god's having come to that place. 41 And thereafter, so they say, Zoroaster has associated, not with them all, but only with such as are best endowed with regard to the truth, and are best able to understand the god, men whom the Persians have named Magi, that is to say, people who know how to cultivate the divine power, not like the Greeks, who in their ignorance use the term to denote wizards.46 And all else that those Magi do is in accordance with sacred sayings, and in particular they maintain for Zeus a team of Nisaean horses47 — and these horses are the finest and largest to be found in Asia — but for Helius they maintain only a single horse.

42 “These Magi narrate their myth, not in the manner of our prophets48 of the Muses, who merely present each detail with much plausibility, but rather with stubborn insistence upon its truthfulness. For they assert that the universe is constantly being propelled and driven along a single path, as by a charioteer endowed with highest skill and power, and that this movement goes on unceasingly in unceasing cycles of time. And the coursing of Helius and Selenê, according to their account, is the movement of portions of the whole, and for that reason it is more clearly perceived by mankind. And they add that the movement and revolution of the universe as a whole is not perceptible to the majority of mankind, but that, on the contrary, they are ignorant of the magnitude of this contest.49

43 “What follows regarding the horses and their driving I really am ashamed to tell in the manner in which the Magi set it forth in their narrative, since they are not very much concerned to secure consistency at all points in their presentation of the picture. In fact, quite possibly I may appear absurd when, in contrast with Greek lays of grace and charm, I chant one that is barbarian;50 but still I must make the venture.

“According to the Magi, that one of the horses which is the highest in the heavens51 is immeasurably superior in beauty, size, and speed, since it has the outside track and runs the longest course, a horse sacred to Zeus himself. Furthermore, it is a winged creature, brilliant in colour with the brilliance of the purest flame; and in it Helius and Selenê are to be seen as conspicuous signs or marks — like, I fancy, the marks which horses bear here on earth, some crescent-shaped and some of other patterns. 44 And they say that these 'marks' appear to us to be in close array, as it were great sparks of fire darting about in the midst of brilliant light, and yet that each has its own independent motion. Furthermore, the other stars also which are visible through that Horse of Zeus, one and all being natural parts of it, in some instances revolve along with it and have the same motion, and in others follow different tracks. And they add that among men these stars which are associated with the Horse of Zeus have each its own particular name;52 whereas the rest are treated collectively in groups, distributed so as to form certain figures or patterns.53

45 “Well then, the horse that is most brilliant and most spangled with stars and dearest to Zeus himself, being praised by the Magi in their hymns for some such attributes as these, quite properly stands first in sacrifice and worship as being truly first. Next in order after that, in closest contact with the Horse of Zeus, comes one that bears the name of Hera,54 a horse obedient to the rein and gentle, but far inferior in strength and speed. In colour this horse is of its own nature black, but that portion which receives the light of Helius is regularly bright, whereas where it is in shadow in its revolution it has its own proper colour.55 46 Third comes a horse that is sacred to Poseidon,56 still slower than the second. Regarding this steed the poets have a myth to the effect that its counterpart appeared among men — he whom they call Pegasus, methinks — and they claim that he caused a fountain to burst forth at Corinth by pawing with his hoof.57 But the fourth is the strangest conception of them all, a horse both firm and immovable, to say nothing of its having no wings, and it is named after Hestia.58 However, the Magi do not shrink from its portrayal; on the contrary, they state that this steed also is harnessed to the chariot, and yet it remains immovable, champing its adamantine curb. 47 And from all sides the other horses press close to him with their bodies and the pair that are his neighbours59 swerve toward him abreast, falling upon him, as it were, and crowding him, yet the horse that is farthest off60 is ever first to round that stationary steed as horses round the turn in the hippodrome.61

“Now for the most part the horses continue in peace and friendship, unharmed by one another. But on one occasion in the past, in the course of a long space of time and many revolutions of the universe, a mighty blast from the first horse fell from on high, and, as might have been expected from such a fiery-tempered steed, inflamed the others, and more especially the last in order;62 and the fire encompassed not alone its mane, which formed its personal pride, but the whole universe as well.63 48 And the Magi say that the Greeks, recording this experience as an isolated occurrence, connect it with the name of Phaethon, since they are unable to criticize the driving of Zeus and are loath to find fault with the coursings of Helius. And so they relate that a younger driver, a mortal son of Helius, desiring a sport that was to prove grievous and disastrous for all mankind, besought his father to let him mount his car and, plunging along in disorderly fashion, consumed with fire everything, both animals and plants, and finally was himself destroyed, being smitten by too powerful a flame.64

49 “Again, when at intervals of several years the horse that is sacred to Poseidon and the Nymphs rebels, having become panic-stricken and agitated beyond his wont, he overwhelms with copious sweat that same steed, since they two are yoke-mates. Accordingly it meets with fate which is the opposite of the disaster previously mentioned, this time being deluged with a mighty flood. And the Magi state that here again the Greeks, through youthful ignorance and faulty memory, record this flood as a single occurrence and claim that Deucalion, who was then king, saved them from complete destruction.65

50 “According to the Magi, these rare occurrences are viewed by mankind as taking place for their destruction, and not in accord with reason or as a part of the order of the universe, being unaware that they occur quite properly and in keeping with the plan of the preserver and governor of the world. For in reality it is comparable with what happens when a charioteer punishes one of his horses, pulling hard upon the rein or pricking with the goad; and then the horse prances and is thrown into a panic but straightway settles down to its proper gait.

“Well then, this is one kind of driving of which they tell, attended by violence but not involving the complete destruction of the universe. 51 On the other hand, they tell also of a different kind that involves the movement and change of all four horses, one in which they shift among themselves and interchange their forms until all come together into one being, having been overcome by that one which is superior in power. And yet this movement also the Magi dare to liken to the guidance and driving of a chariot, though to do so they need even stranger imagery. For instance, it is as if some magician were to mould horses out of wax, and then, subtracting and scraping off the wax from each, should add a little now to this one and now to that, until finally, having used up all the horses in constructing one from the four, he should fashion a single horse out of all his material. 52 They state, however, that in reality the process to which they refer is not like that of such inanimate images, in which the craftsman operates and shifts the material from without, but that instead the transformation is the work of these creatures themselves, just as if they were striving for victory in a contest that is great and real. And they add that the victory and its crown belong of necessity to that horse which is first and best in speed and prowess and general excellence, I mean to that one which we named in the beginning of our account as the special steed of Zeus. 53 For that one, being most valiant of all and fiery by nature, having speedily used up the others — as if, methinks, they were truly made of wax — in no great span of time (though to us it seems endless according to our reckoning) and having appropriated to itself all the substance of them all, appeared much greater and more brilliant than formerly; not through the aid of any other creature, either mortal or immortal, but by itself and its own efforts proving victor in the greatest contest. And, standing tall and proud, rejoicing in its victory, it not only seized the largest possible region but also needed larger space at that time, so great was its strength and its spirit.

54 “Having arrived at that stage in their myth, the Magi are embarrassed in search of a name to describe the nature of the creature of their own invention. For they say that now by this time it is simply the soul of the charioteer and master; or, let us say, merely the intellect and leadership of that soul. (Those, in fact, are the terms we ourselves employ when we honour and reverence the greatest god by noble deeds and pious words). 55 For indeed, when the mind alone had been left and had filled with itself immeasurable space, since it had poured itself evenly in all directions and nothing in it remained dense but complete porosity prevailed — at which time it becomes most beautiful — having obtained the purest nature of unadulterated light, it immediately longed for the existence that it had at first. Accordingly, becoming enamoured of that control and governance and concord which it once maintained not only over the three natures of sun and moon and the other stars, but also over absolutely all animals and plants, it became eager to generate and distribute everything and to make the orderly universe then existent once more far better and more resplendent because newer. 56 And emitting a full flash of lightning, not a disorderly or foul one such as in stormy weather often darts forth, when the clouds drive more violently than usual, but rather pure and unmixed with any murk, it worked a transformation easily, with the speed of thought. But recalling Aphroditê and the process of generation, it tamed and relaxed itself and, quenching much of its light, it turned into fiery air of gentle warmth, and uniting with Hera and enjoying the most perfect wedlock, in sweet repose it emitted anew the full supply of seed for the universe. Such is the blessed marriage of Zeus and Hera66 of which the sons of sages sing in secret rites. 57 And having made fluid all his essence, one seed for the entire world, he himself moving about in it like a spirit that moulds and fashions in generation, then indeed most closely resembling the composition of the other creatures, inasmuch as he might with reason be said to consist of soul and body, he now with ease moulds and fashions all the rest, pouring about him his essence smooth and soft and easily yielding in every part.

58 “And having performed his task and brought it to completion, he revealed the existent universe as once more a thing of beauty and inconceivable loveliness, much more resplendent, indeed, than it appears to day. For not only, I ween, are all other works of craftsmen better and brighter when fresh from the artistic hand of their maker, but also the younger specimens of plants are more vigorous than the old and altogether like young shoots. And indeed animals, too, are charming attractive to behold right after their birth, not merely the most beautiful among them — colts and calves and puppies — but even the whelps of wild animals of the most savage kind. 59 For, on the one hand, the nature of man is helpless and feeble like Demeter's tender grain, but when it has progressed to the full measure of its prime, it is a stronger and more conspicuous creation than any plant at all. However, the entire heaven and universe when first it was completed, having been put in order by the wisest and noblest craft, just released from the hand of the creator, brilliant and translucent and brightly beaming in all its parts, remained helpless for no time at all, nor weak with the weakness that nature ordains for man and other mortal beings, but, on the contrary, was fresh and vigorous from the very beginning. 60 At that time, therefore, the Creator and Father of the World, beholding the work of his hands, was not by any means merely pleased, for that is a lowly experience of lowly beings; nay, he rejoiced and was delighted exceedingly,

As on Olympus he sat, and his heart did laugh
For joy, beholding the gods67

who were now all created and present before him.”

But the form of the universe at that moment — I mean both the bloom and the beauty of that which is for ever ineffably beauteous — no man could conceive and fitly express, neither among men of our time nor among those of former days, but only the Muses and Apollo with the divine rhythm of their pure and consummate harmony. 61 For that reason let us also refrain for the present, now that we have not shirked exalting the myth to the best of our power. And if the form of that myth has turned out to be utterly lofty and indistinct, just as those who are expert in augury declare that the bird which ascends too high into the heavens hides itself in the clouds makes divination incomplete, still it is not I whom you should blame, but rather the insistence of those men of Borysthenes, because it was they who bade me speak that day.

This Discourse is plainly not the work of Dio. It is inferior in style, replete with allusions, and often out of harmony with accepted tradition as to matters of history. Moreover, the speaker calls himself a Roman (§§ 25 and 26). Emperius long ago named Favorinus as the author, and that identification has met with general approval.

The most detailed information regarding Favorinus is provided by Philostratus, Vitae Sophistarum 1.8, though Aulus Gellius, who had studied under Favorinus, often praises his learning. Favorinus was a native of Arelatêº (Arles). He may have obtained his early education at Marseilles, where he could have acquired that facility with the Greek language of which he was so proud (§§ 25, 26, 33). According to Philostratus, he was said to have listened to Dio, but to have been “as far removed from him as those who hadn't.” He created a great stir in Rome, even among those who knew no Greek but were “charmed by the sound of his voice, the significance of his glance, and the rhythm of his tongue.”

Favorinus at first enjoyed the favour of Hadrian, but he lost it, at least for a time, when accused of adultery with the wife of a consul. In consequence, the Athenians threw down the bronze statue with which they had honoured him. It is perhaps that incident to which he makes veiled allusion in § 35. One infers from §§ 32 36 that Corinth had taken similar action for the same reason, but the peroration, in which the speaker seems to be apostrophizing the missing statue, is very mystifying. A literal reading of the passage would lead to the supposition that there is some hocus pocus by means of which the statue is suddenly placed on view, a prearranged unveiling, as it were. However, Edmonds may be right (Lyra Graeca, I p237, L. C. L.) in identifying the σιγηλὸν εἴδωλον of § 46 with the oration then being delivered rather than with any statue, real or imaginary. In that case Favorinus might be regarded as dedicating his address to posterity. That he had escaped punishment at the hands of Hadrian might be inferred from the confident tone of §§ 34 and 35, even if we lacked the express testimony of Philostratus. That he should have travelled widely was to be expected in the case of a man of his calling and reputation, and he refers to his travels with much pride in §§ 26 and 27. His most famous pupil was doubtless Herodes Atticus, whom he made his heir.

This Discourse may have been included among the works of Dio because of its superficial likeness to Or. 31 in subject matter, since both dealt with the popular custom of erecting statues and with the strange fate that sometimes overtook such marks of esteem.

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The Thirty-seventh Discourse:

The Corinthian Oration

When I visited your city the first time, nearly ten years ago, and gave your people and magistrates a sample of my eloquence, I seemed to be on friendly, yes intimate, terms with you to a degree not equalled even by Arion of Methymnê.1 At any rate you did not have a statue made of Arion. Of course when I say you, I am speaking of your forebears and of Periander the sage,2 son of Cypselus, in whose day Arion flourished, being the first not only to compose a dithyramb3 but also to call it by that name and to present a dithyrambic chorus in Corinth.

2 Now Arion was so dear to the gods that, when on his voyage back to Corinth, bringing great riches which he had had the good fortune to win by his labours in the neighbourhood of Tarentum and among the Greeks of that region, as he was about to be cast into the sea by the sailors — no doubt because of that very wealth of his — he besought them ere they threw him overboard to let him sing, just as men say that swans about to die and foreseeing their death are wont, as it were, to put their soul on board “the bark of song.”4 3 So then he sang — calm and silence brooded on the deep — and dolphins heard his song, and as they heard it they rushed about the ship. And when Arion ceased and the sailors showed no relenting, he leaped into the sea; but a dolphin rose beneath him and carried the singer in safety to Taenarum5 just as he was, gear and all. So then Arion, saved in this manner and having outstripped the sailors, was in Corinth narrating these very happenings to Periander. 4 And when the sailors later entered port and the matter was brought to trial, the sailors were put to death, but Arion — not Periander, mark you, but Arion — ordering a bronze likeness of no great size, set it up at Taenarum, a likeness of himself astride the back of his benefactor.6

And about this same time Solon too came to Corinth, fleeing from the tyranny of Peisistratus,7 but not from that of Periander. 5 No, for that was a different matter — while Peisistratus was tyrant of Athens through having destroyed the democracy, Periander was tyrant through having received the royal power by inheritance from his father, whom the Greeks were wont to call tyrant, though the gods called him king.8 For is not this the way the oracle has it?

A happy man is he who to my fane
Doth come, Eëtion's Cypselus, the king
Of famous Corinth, he and his children too.9

6 One of these children was Periander himself, who succeeded his father. So then Periander, called king by the god, was proclaimed a sage by the Greeks. No better title did any king or tyrant ever gain, no, not even Antiochus, surnamed Divine,10 nor Mithridates, surnamed Dionysus.11 And even Pittacus of Mitylenê might have been proud to be called at one and the same time both tyrant and sage; but, as a matter of fact, in clinging to the second title he stripped himself of his tyranny.12 Yet as for Periander, while he shared the name of sage with a few and that of tyrant with many, as both tyrant and sage he stood alone. 7 Well then, when Solon visited Periander and received a share of their common possessions — for the possessions of friends are held in common13 — still he received no statue, though surely he did not disdain a statue, no, he esteemed highly the honour of having had a bronze likeness of himself set up at Salamis;14 then why not so at Corinth, the promenade of Hellas? Again, Herodotus the historian also paid you a visit, bringing tales of Greece, 1and in particular tales of Corinth — not yet fallacious tales — in return for which he expected to receive pay from the city. But failing of obtaining even that — for your forebears did not deem it fitting to traffic in renown — he devised those tales we all know so well, the tales about Salamis and Adeimantus.15

8 However, in my own case, upon my second visit to Corinth you were so glad to see me that you did your best to get me to stay with you, but seeing that to be impossible, you did have a likeness made of me, and you took this and set it up in your Library, a front-row seat as it were,16 where you felt it would most effectively stimulate the youth to persevere in the same pursuits as myself. For you accorded me this honour, not as to one of the many who each year put in at Cenchreae17 as traders or pilgrims or envoys or passing travellers, but as to a cherished friend, who at last, after a long absence, puts in an appearance.

9 Yet Honour, dreamlike, takes wing and flies away.18

Therefore I have come to be perplexed, not only as to my own case, but now, by Heaven, as to that of some one else19 as well, wondering whether I did not truly see, and what took place was not the happenings of my waking moments but merely a dream, or whether the events were really so in all detail, both the enthusiasm of the populace and the decision of the Council, and yet, as luck would have it, the statue was one of the works of Daedalus and slipped away without our notice.20 10 However, not since the death of Daedalus down to the present day has any one made such progress in the art of sculpture as to impart to bronze the power of flight; nay, though they make statues of men with a fine and noble stride, and sometimes even riding on horseback, still these all maintain their pose and station and, unless some one moves them, so far as they are concerned bronze has no power to flee, not even if the statue has wings, like the Perseus of Pythagoras.21

11 But supposing my statue to be actually of the ancient craftsmanship of Daedalus, for what strange reason would it have taken leave of your city, the city for which they say the two gods, Poseidon and Helius, vied with one another, the one being lord of fire, the other lord of water? And after the twain had striven and had entrusted the decision to a third god who was their elder,

Whose heads were many, many too his arms,22

having, as I say, left to him the decision, they both have held this city and district ever since,23 surely no slight or obscure sign of its superiority over all other cities. 12 For while the others are portion and property of the gods individually — Argos of Hera and Athens of Athena — and while, with reference to these very gods of whom I speak, Rhodes belongs to Helius and Onchestus to Poseidon,24 Corinth belongs to each of the two. You might imagine, since the myth suggests it, that the strip of land between two seas was an exceptional grant made by Helius because Poseidon wished it so.

13 Now then, both myth and history, while singing in fair harmony on this theme, invite the Sibyl of prophetic song as a third for their trio of praise; and she, having obtained as her prerogative the voice of a god, sings aloud:

What place to thee so happy as the blest
Isthmus of Ephyrê,25 Ocean's child, whereon
Poseidon, sire of Lamia,26 mother mine,
Did first with Helius appoint the games,27
Though his alone the honours there received?

14 For the fact is, you know, men say not only that the contest was first established there by the two gods, but also that Castor won the single course and Calaïs the double — for we are told that Calaïs ran, refraining from flying.28 But now that we have broached the subject, the others too who were prize-winners and victors should be named. Orpheus was victorious with the lyre, Heracles in the rough-and-tumble, in boxing Polydeuces, in wrestling Peleus, in the discus Telamon, in the contest in armour Theseus. And there had been instituted also a contest for horses, and Phaëthon won with a courser, and Neleus with a team of four. 15 And there was also a boatrace, in which Argo was the winner, and after that she sailed no more, but Jason dedicated her there to Poseidon, and he carved on her a couplet, which men say is the work of Orpheus:

I am the good ship Argo, to God by Jason devoted,
Victor in Isthmian Games, crownèd with Nemean pine.29

But a place where gods control the games, and heroes the victors and the vanquished, and Argo lies at rest — what lovelier place than this could Daedalus himself discover as he flew with wings — to say nothing, of course, of that statue made by Daedalus?30 16 Nay, that statue of mine neither ran away nor tried to do so nor had any such intention at all; therefore we are left to conclude that the Corinthians themselves banished it, not only without holding any trial, but also without having any charge at all to bring against it. And would any one have believed this to the discredit of the Corinthians, whose forefathers were pre-eminent among the Greeks for cultivating justice? For, I ask you, was it not they who put an end to the tyrannies in the cities and established the democracies and freed Athens from her tyrants — first from Hippias and later from Cleomenes31 — 17 and who after that, when Athenians themselves undertook to play the rôle of Hippias and Isagoras32 and to set up a tyranny over Hellas, being the first to sense what was going on and being especially pained thereat, led the way to freedom for the others and maintained that purpose, not only in the case of the Athenians, but also in that of the Spartans? For example, in company with the states of Thebes and Elis they opposed the Spartans in defence of the common rights of Hellas;33 and by this act they also showed that they were not mere lovers of honour, but rather lovers of Hellas, of justice, of freedom, and haters of villainy and tyranny. 18 Yes, and they were such haters of barbarians that they dispatched to Thermopylae four hundred of their own troops on the same occasion on which the Spartans sent three hundred.34 And at Salamis they won the prize for valour and became responsible for the victory. For I pay no heed to Herodotus35 but rather to the funeral monument and to Simonides, who composed the following epitaph for the Corinthian dead who were buried in Salamis:

O stranger, once we dwelt in Corinth blest
With fountains; now the isle of Ajax holds
Our bones. With ease we took Phoenician ships,
Vanquished alike the Persians and the Medes,
And saved our sacred Hellas from the foe.36

19 And Simonides also has another epitaph referring particularly to the commander himself:

Here lies that Adeimantus by whose designs
Greece bound about her brows fair freedom's crown.37

And what is more, the Corinthians also freed Sicily from the foreigner and Syracuse too from her tyrants.38 And Dionysius was then to be seen in Corinth — a most glorious spectacle! — shorn of all his power; and yet no one wronged even him or tried to banish him or to deprive him of the wealth he brought with him from Sicily.39

20 But who overturned the statue dedicated by the city? Of course, if it was a whirlwind or a hurricane or a thunderbolt that struck it, causing it to totter and darting lightning at it! — But if it is a question of some trial of a statue, such as they say took place in Syracuse — but how it took place I shall not shrink from telling by way of parenthesis. The Syracusans, your colonists, in the course of their many wars against the Carthaginians and the other aliens who dwelt in Sicily and Italy, had run short of bronze and currency; 21 so they voted that the statues of their tyrants — most of the statues in their city were made of bronze — should be broken up, that is, after the people had held a trial to determine which of the statues deserved to be melted down and which did not; and — for you must hear this too — Gelon40 son of Deinomenes survived the trial. As for the others, they all were broken up, except of course the statue of Dionysius,41 the elder of the pair portrayed wearing the attributes of Dionysus.

22 Then supposing some such decree were to be passed in Corinth too, prescribing that statues should be subjected to an accounting — or rather, if you please, supposing this to have been already decreed and a trial to have been instituted — permit me, pray permit me, to make my plea before you in my own behalf as if in court.

Gentlemen of the jury, it is said that anything may be expected in the course of time; but he who stands before you is in jeopardy of first being set up as the noblest among the Greeks and then being cast out as the worst, all in a brief span of time. 23 Now then, to prove that I was set up fairly and justly and to the good of your city and of all the Greeks, I could speak at length, but there is one thing I do want to tell you which took place in that same Syracuse. For indeed the illustration is germane, and there may be justice in it too — just as the people of Syracuse honour their mother-city, so also it is well that you should follow the example of your colony.

24 Very well, in those early days, because a certain Lucanian spoke Doric in reporting some mission before the Assembly, those Syracusans were so pleased by his dialect that they not only sent him home successful in the general purposes of his mission but also presented him with a talent and set up a likeness of him,42 and on that account the Syracusans won much commendation from the neighbouring cities and from the Dorians of that region, especially from those who dwelt in Italy,43 who felt that they had requited the man in fine and elegant fashion in behalf of the Dorian race, whose dialect he had cultivated to the point of being actually eloquent in it.

25 Well, if some one who is not a Lucanian but a Roman,44 not one of the masses but of the equestrian order, one who has affected, not merely the language, but also the thought and manners and dress of the Greeks, and that too with such mastery and manifest success as no one among the Romans of early days or the Greeks of his own time, I must say, has achieved — for while the best of the Greeks over there45 may be seen inclining toward Roman ways, he inclines toward the Greek and to that end is sacrificing both his property and his political standing and absolutely everything, aiming to achieve one thing at the cost of all else, namely, not only to seem Greek but to be Greek too — taking all this into consideration, ought he not to have a bronze statue here in Corinth? 26 Yes, and in every city — in yours because, though Roman, he has become thoroughly hellenized, even as your own city has;46 in Athens because he is Athenian in his speech; in Sparta because he is devoted to athletics; in all cities everywhere because he pursues the study of wisdom and already has not only roused many of the Greek to follow that pursuit with him but also attracted even many of the barbarians. 27 Indeed it seems that he has been equipped by the gods for this express purpose — for the Greeks, so that the natives of that land may have an example before them to show that culture is no whit inferior to birth with respect to renown; for Romans, so that not even those who are wrapped up in their own self-esteem may disregard culture with respect to real esteem; for Celts,47 so that no one even of the barbarians may despair of attaining the culture of Greece when he looks upon this man.

Well then, it is for some such reasons as these that I have been erected — not to expose myself to opprobrium by naming more. 28 But in truth planning for the erection of a statue is not like planning for its tearing down. Why? Because each one of these statues which have been erected by your city — be its subject better, be it worse — is at once invested with the attributes of sanctity, and the city should defend it as a votive offering. One might urge many reasons in support of the claim that Gorgias the sophist should not have a statue at Delphi, and what is more, a statue on a lofty base and made of gold.48 Why do I name Gorgias, when you may see there even Phrynê of Thespiae, perched on a pillar like Gorgias?49

29 However that may be, while it is possibly legitimate and within the right of citizens to object at the outset, later on to go and try to cancel the resolution authorizing the erection of a statue is, by Apollo, a grievous wrong; and none of the Amphictyons would have permitted it.50 For indeed if statues were erected wrongfully, once they have gained the advantage of having been erected they hold their position rightfully from the moment they gained that advantage. For just as with the officials who are elected for a year, even if one of them is unworthy of holding office, he continues in office at least for the year for which he was elected, so also with statues that term should be valid for which they were erected; and this term is all time to come. 30 Otherwise how will you differ from the men who fashion their images of clay? And what fine answer will you have to offer those who demand of you the reason why the honours in your city are mortal but the dishonours immortal? If, then, this practice is in no wise disgraceful — as it certainly is shocking — what an absolutely crazy government it is whose statues are annuals, like their crops! For men whom you honour with statues of bronze, not to have them desert you immediately, but to have them remain with you as long as possible, you show to be of softer stuff than even the images of wax.

31 Or, by Heaven, will the excuse be that men thus honoured were later on, as it happened, seen to be rogues? If they have turned rogues subsequently, that does not free the city of its guilt; for it is not because of what is to be but rather because of what has been that you confer your honours. If, on the other hand, a man who previously was a scoundrel was only subsequently discovered to be so, by which course of action do you suppose you would be more likely to win esteem among the Greeks, and by which course would you more effectively appeal to those who wish to do you favours — by undoing your decision, or by abiding by what has been decided once for all? As for myself, I believe it is by the second course of action. For the one course is that of men who have missed their aim, the other that of men of steady purpose.

32 I have not yet mentioned the most important consideration, which is that so signal an honour should be upset, if at all, not in consequence of slander, but by due process of law; and not for some casual fault, but only for the greatest. For so far as slander is concerned, even Socrates might be a corrupter of youth and a subverter of all the cherished beliefs of men, beginning with the gods. For whom have these men failed to slander who slander any one at all? Have they not slandered Socrates, Pythagoras,51 Plato?52 Have they not slandered Zeus himself, Poseidon, Apollo, and all the other gods?53 33 And they lay impious hands even upon the female deities, for whom they might be expected to feel even more reverence than for the male.54 Aye, by Heaven, for you hear what they say of Demeter55 and Aphroditê56 and Eos;57 and they do not keep their hands off even Athena or Artemis; on the contrary, they strip Artemis58 naked for Actaeon, and they unite Athena with Hephaestus and almost make a mother of the Virgin.59 Therefore, knowing all this as you do, are you surprised if there has been spread abroad against this man too some censure,60 a thing which absolutely none of those who have lived distinguished lives has had the power to escape, but which in his case is based upon the charm of his eloquence, or whatever one should call that gift to which you yourselves, along with women and children, give approval?

34 Will you not consider the matter? Will you not test your memory to see whether any such thing has been done by him in Corinth? Although you live in a city favoured by Aphroditê61 beyond all that are or ever have been, nevertheless you have heard nothing of the sort regarding him, and, I venture to assert, no other Greek has either. Then do you believe that the man who has lived a decent life in Greece, in the midst of greater licence and indulgence, has suffered transformation in Rome, in the presence of the Emperor himself and the laws? Why, there is very much as if one were to say of the athlete that, though privately he keeps the rules, in the stadium and in the presence of the Master of the Games he violates the code!

35 However, I hold freedom of speech to be a two-sided matter — one side is that of the man who has knowledge of some misdeed, the other is that of the Master of the Games.62 If the latter has given credence to an accusation he will exact full satisfaction from the wrongdoer, but a man who has heard a report of it will turn informer, which is precisely what the man in question63 did. But when you followed the lead of persons who64 — however, I shall say nothing of them by way of retaliation, save only that it would have been more proper for them to follow your lead than for you to follow theirs. 36 For you are now, as the saying goes, both prow and stern of Hellas, having been called prosperous and wealthy and the like by poets and gods from olden days, days when some of the others too had wealth and might; but now, since wealth has deserted both Orchomenos and Delphi,65 though they may surpass you in exciting pity, none can do so in exciting envy.

37 Now these remarks have been offered in the interest of the city, which must not suffer disgrace in the eyes of the Greeks, seeing that all men not merely welcome with delight him whom you have banished, but even send for him and dispatch him on missions here and there and, among other things, show him honour by actually erecting statues of him. On the other hand, I shall now in my own behalf and in behalf of my statue use a phrase which Anaxagoras used when he had lost a son: “I knew I had begotten a mortal.”66 However, I did not know that my progeny was as mortal as that; for though each statue is erected as if were to last for ever, still they perish by this fate or by that, the most common and most fitting fate and the one ordained for all things being the fate of time; 38 and the poet was idly boasting who composed this epitaph, which they say has been inscribed on the funeral mound of Midas:

A maid of bronze am I. I mark the grave
Of Midas. While water flows and trees grow tall,
Here will I bide by the tear-drenched tomb and tell
The passers-by that Midas lies here.67

39 Well, my self-announcing maiden, we hear indeed the poet's words, but, though we sought, we found not thee nor yet the tomb of Midas. And though those waters still flow and those trees still thrive, in time even they are likely to vanish with the rest, like Midas, like maiden.

Hippaemon the man was called, Podargus his horse,
Lethargus his hound, and Babês his serving-man68

Well now, who of the Greek race knows, I won't say the horse, but Hippaemon himself? None, I fancy, even at Magnesia, whence Hippaemon came. He, then, has vanished from the sight of men, Babês, Podargus and all.

40 However, the statues of other men still stand and are known, though they wear the label of others,69 and what is going on is like an antispast70 in poetry, and, as one might say, the authors71 give counter information — Greek character, but Roman fortune. I have seen even Alcibiades, the handsome son of Cleinias — I know not where, but I saw him in a commanding site in Greece — wearing the label Chalcopogon,72 and also another likeness of him with both arms lopped off, a likeness said to have been the work of Polycles73 — ye gods, a fearsome spectacle, Alcibiades a cripple! 41 And I know that Harmodius and Aristogeiton have served as slaves in Persia,74 and that fifteen hundred statues of Demetrius of Phalerum have all been pulled down by the Athenians on one and the same day.75 Aye, they have even dared to empty chamber-pots on King Philip.76 Yes, the Athenians poured urine on his statue — but he poured on their city blood and ashes and dust.77 In fact it was enough to arouse righteous indignation that they should class the same man now among the gods and now not even among human beings.

42 Then, knowing as I do that men spare not even the gods, should I imagine you to have been concerned for the statue of a mere mortal? Furthermore, while I think I shall say nothing of the others, at any rate the Isthmian,78 your own Master of the Games, Mummius tore from his base and dedicated to Zeus — disgusting ignorance! — illiterate creature that he was, totally unfamiliar with the proprieties,79 treating the brother as a votive offering! It was he who took the Philip son of Amyntas, which he got from Thespiae, and labelled it Zeus, and also the lads from Pheneüs80 he labelled Nestor and Priam respectively! But the Roman mob, as might have been expected, imagined they were beholding those very heroes, and not mere Arcadians from Pheneüs.

43 Indeed you may well laugh at these doings; but in all seriousness, it has occurred to me to congratulate Agesilaüs, king of Sparta, on the stand he took, for he never thought it fitting to have either a statue or a portrait made of himself, not because he was deformed, as people say, and short81 — for what was to hinder the statue's being tall, or having shapely legs, like Euphranor's Hephaestus?82 — but rather because he saw clearly that one should not try to prolong the allotted span of human life or expose the body to the vicissitudes of stone or bronze. Would that it might be possible to take leave even of the body which we have!

44 But farewell to Daedalus and to the imitative devices of that artist; enough of Prometheus, enough of clay.83 In fact it is said that even the body of noble souls is foreign substance,

For very many things do lie between84

body and soul. For the soul is not present when the body is outworn nor is it concerned for it.85 Cambyses was mad when, as if it were Amasis, the king of the Egyptians, he stabbed and flogged his dead body.86 To be sure, the Egyptians say that Amasis, having long viewed with distrust the cruelty of Cambyses, caused his own body to be hid away and another to be substituted for it, and that this was the corpse which fell in the way of Cambyses. 45 However, O ye Egyptians and Cambyses too, no matter whether it was some one else who suffered this treatment or Amasis himself, at all events it was a form sans blood, sans flesh, sans soul. This, so please you, you may drag, you may rend, you may stab, yet real Amasis you have failed to catch. Again, another man who was endowed with life and breath and feeling exclaimed, “Grind, grind the sack of Anaxarchus; for the real Anaxarchus you do not grind!”87 You see, this man, having been thrown into a mortar and being pounded by the pestles, declared that he himself was not being ground, but only that thing of his in which, as it chanced, he had been enclosed — just as we are told that the peers of the realm in Persia are beaten — their cloak instead of their body.88

46 Well then, though Persians may resent so slight a chastisement, a Greek allowed his body to be pounded as if it were a cloak; and shall not I allow my statue to go to the melting-pot, even supposing it to have sensation? But as matters stand, while Anaxarchus was superior to sensation, I, in the language of Euripides' Laodameia,

Would not desert a friend, though void of life.89

Accordingly I wish to speak words of comfort to my friend, my statue, as to one possessing sensation: O thou mute semblance of my eloquence, art thou not visible? No more was Aristeas visible, who lived before thee. For he too had this experience, as I conjecture, the experience of being raised up by the men of Proconnesus90 and then being spirited away by his foes, and of having a tale disseminated by these same men to the effect that Aristeas was not to be seen, either living or dead.91 However, Aristeas was alive then, lives now, and will live always.

47 Some one, I ween, will yet remember me,92

as Sappho very beautifully says; and far more beautifully Hesiod:

But fame is never utterly destroyed
Which many people voice; a goddess she.93

I myself will raise thee up and place thee in the precinct of the goddess,94 whence naught shall tear thee down — not earthquake or wind or snow or rain or jealousy or foe;95 but lo! e'en now I find thee in thy station! Aye, ere now forgetfulness hath tripped and cheated sundry others too, but judgement plays no tricks on any man of worth,96 and 'tis because of this that thou standest upright for me like a man.

This is the first in a series of speeches by Dio dealing affairs in his native Bithynia, speeches which shed much light upon the troubles and problems referred to by Pliny the Younger in his correspondence while governor of that province. The administration of Bithynia was clearly no easy task. Besides the natural resentment of the provincial toward his Roman overlord, who in some instances seems to have been unworthy of the office, we learn of much social and economic distress and unrest, financial mismanagement, and civic bickerings. Still another source of trouble was the bitter rivalry between cities of the district such as forms the subject of the present Discourse.

Nicomedia and Nicaea were near neighbours. While Nicomedia profited from its nearness to the sea and was the “metropolis” of the district, Nicaea lay on an important trade route and seems to have outstripped its neighbour in material prosperity. Under the Empire it appears to have enjoyed the special favour of Rome. As early as 29 B.C. Augustus established there the cults of Roma and of Julius Caesar, and at the time of our Discourse Nicaea was honoured with the title πρώτη. This title it continued to hold despite the counterclaims of Nicomedia, and that it was no empty honour seems to be attested both by coins and inscriptions and by Dio's own words (§ 26), which seem to negative the disparaging reference immediately preceding. His efforts to establish concord between these rivals seem not to have had lasting success, for as late as the Council of Chalcedon the bishops of these two cities presented counterclaims to the right of ordaining bishops in Bithynia.

Dio does not provide a clue as to the precise date of our Discourse, but both his choice of theme and the spirit in which he deals with it indicate with some clearness that it belongs to his philosophic period. With what appears to be false modesty, he professes not to know why he, a native of Prusa, •some sixty miles distant, should have been honoured with citizenship in Nicomedia. Possibly it had been the first city of the province so to honour him. However that may be, in his address before the people of Apameia (Or. 41.2) he states in no uncertain terms that such marks of distinction had become for him a common experience “wherever I have been, not only cities in general, but even, I may say, most of those which are of standing equal to your own, have presented me with citizenship, with membership in the Council, and with their highest honours without my asking it, believing me to be not unserviceable to themselves or unworthy of being honoured.” Although loyal to his birthplace and ambitious for its advancement, Dio's long exile had fostered in him wider sympathies, and he seems to have been sincerely concerned for the welfare of Bithynia at large. It was only to be expected that the cities of the province should welcome the opportunity to enlist in their support a man with such an outlook, to profit by his wisdom, and to shine by his reflected glory.

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The Thirty-eighth Discourse:

To the Nicomedians on Concord with the Nicaeans

Men of Nicomedia, when I undertake to compute the reasons why you gave me citizenship, I am at a loss;1 for I do not see that I have great wealth such as to warrant my believing that I have been sought after by you for mercenary reasons,2 nor am I conscious of having an attitude for flattering the masses; so you do not seem to want me even for the purpose of readily serving your every whim. No, the fact is that I am not even good company at a banquet or a sociable person at gatherings of that sort, so as to be able at least to afford pleasure for the populace from that quality. However, if I do not wholly mistake your purpose regarding me, and also if I am cognizant of all the matters in which I am capable of serving you, the only thing left to account for my having been made a citizen by you is naught else than that, perhaps to a greater degree than others, I have both the desire and the ability to give advice on the interests of the commonwealth. 2 However, if such is not the case, then not only have you been misguided in your interest in me but I too, it would appear, was rash in heeding your call in the hope of proving useful to your city in the future, since you are not making that use of me for which alone I am adapted. If, on the other hand, all cities, or rather the great cities, need not only the men of wealth, both to finance the public spectacles and liberally to provide such customary expenses, and flatterers to afford pleasure by their demagogic clap-trap, but also counsellors to provide safety by their policies,3 I myself shall not shrink from aiding the city to the best of my ability by giving advice on matters of greatest importance.

3 Well now, there are indeed some other things in your city which deserve correction, and one after the other I shall apply my treatment to them, provided I win your confidence by speaking the truth about the greater matters. But for what strange reason or with what purpose do I not first give advice about the smaller matters and in those matters test the willingness of the people to be persuaded, instead of choosing to jeopardize my reputation at the start by offering advice on the weightiest matter of all? It is because it seems to me far easier to persuade men concerning the weightiest matters than concerning those which are slighter or trivial. For while one may actually scorn the harm resulting from these minor matters, a man who, when it is a question of policies apart from which it is impossible for him to be saved, has refused to be persuaded regarding these things is clearly a man who will not even listen concerning the minor matters.

4 So then, if you will endure my advice with patience, I am indeed very confident you will be persuaded by me in the matters about which I am here to advise you. What then? It is a hard task to get you to view my remarks upon the subject which I have in mind as neither tiresome nor superfluous nor untimely. In order, therefore, that I may not at the outset encounter such objections on your part as: “But why do you offer advice in matters about which, to begin with, we are not even deliberating?” “But why do you accord yourself the privilege of the floor, when we have not bestowed it on you?” “But for what reason, when so many have been active in politics in our city, native-born and adopted, orators and philosophers, old and young, has no one ever presumed to give us this advice?” — to forestall all such objections, 5 I wish to make this very special request of you, men of Nicomedia — and do me the favour of being patient — that you listen to a speech which is superfluous and untimely and which may not convince you. Moreover, I do not consider it a great favour I am asking either; for if you are persuaded by my words, it is worth your while to have listened to one who tells you what is to your advantage; while, on the other hand, if you reserve your acquiescence, what is there unpleasant in having allowed a friend to take the floor who is willing to speak to no avail?”4

Very well, what is this subject on which I am about to offer advice, and yet am reluctant to name it? The word, men of Nicomedia, is not distasteful whether in the home or the clan or in friendly circles or cities or nations; 6 for concord is what I am going to talk about, a fine word and a fine thing; but if I proceed to add forthwith concord with whom, I fear lest, while you may be convinced that concord of and by itself is fine, you may believe that being concordant with those persons with whom I claim you should be concordant is impossible. For what till now has set you at your present enmity one toward another, and has prevented the establishment of friendship, is the unreasoning conviction that concord is impossible for your cities. Nay, don't raise an outcry when I make a fresh start but bear with me.

7 What I say, men of Nicomedia, is that you must achieve concord with the Nicaeans; but hear me out and don't get angry yet before I state my reasons. For neither is the sick man angry with his physician when he prescribes his treatment, but, though he dislikes to hear him say he must submit to surgery or cautery, still he obeys; for his life is at stake. And yet why have I said this? For my remedy, the one I offer your cities, is a most pleasant remedy, and one without which no man would wish to live, if he has good sense.

8 But I want to break up my address, and first of all to speak about concord itself in general, telling both whence it comes and what it achieves, and then over against that to set off strife and hatred in contradistinction to friendship. For when concord has been proved to be beneficial to all mankind, the proof will naturally follow that this particular concord between these particular cities is both quite indispensable for you and quite profitable as well. I shall not, however, refrain from telling also how concord may endure when once achieved; for that problem, indeed, I see is bothering many.5 9 But I pray to all the gods, both yours and theirs,6 that if what I now say is said because of goodwill to you alone and not in pursuit of any personal glory or advantage to be devoted from your reconciliation, and above all if it is destined to be of advantage to the state — if this is true, I pray that the gods may not only grant me such eloquence as is worthy of my cause, but that they may also make you willing to take my advice in the matters which are to your advantage.

10 Well then, concord has been lauded by all men always in both speech and writing. Not only are the works of poets and philosophers alike full of its praises, but also all who have published their histories to provide a pattern for practical application7 have shown concord to be the greatest of human blessings, and, furthermore, although many of the sophists have in the past ventured to make paradoxical statements, this is the only one it has not occurred to them to publish — that concord is not a fine and salutary thing. Therefore, not only for those who now desire to sing its praises, but also for those who at any time would do so, the material for their use is abundant, and it will ever be possible to say more and finer things about it.

11 For example, if a man should wish to delve into its origin, he must trace its very beginning to the greatest of divine things. For the same manifestation is both friendship and reconciliation and kinship, and it embraces all these. Furthermore, what but concord unites the elements?8 Again, that through which all the greatest things are preserved is concord, while that through which everything is destroyed is its opposite. If, then, we human beings were not by nature a race of mortals, and if the forces which destroy us were not bound to be numerous, there would not be strife even in human affairs, just as also still not in things divine.9 However, the only respect in which we fall short of the blessedness of the gods and of their indestructible permanence is this — that we are not all sensitive to concord, but, on the contrary, there are those who actually love its opposite, strife, of which wars and battles constitute departments and subsidiary activities, and these things are continually at work in communities and in nations, just like the diseases in our bodies. 12 For in fact, though we know full well that health is the greatest of human blessings, still many times we ourselves plot against it to our own undoing, some yielding to the seduction of pleasures and some shirking labours which are healthful and habits which are prudent. On the other hand, if the greatest of our evils did not have for their support the pleasure of the moment, they would have no power at all to harm us; yet as it is, Nature has given that to them, and so they can deceive and delight their victims.

13 Moreover, what might actually make one most indignant toward mankind is this — that all the evils afflict them though knowing well their nature. At any rate, if one were to question a single person, or a company of persons, about the terms themselves, asking in what category are to be placed such terms as wars, factions, diseases, and the like, no one would hesitate a moment to reply that these are classed among the evils, and that they not only are so but have been so considered and are called evils. 14 And as for their opposites, peace and concord and health, no one would deny that they likewise both are and are called goods. But though the conflict between with the evil things and the good is so manifest, yet there are some among us — or rather a good many — who delight in the things which are admittedly evil. And take, for example, a ship — though all on board are well aware that the one hope of reaching port in safety lies in having the sailors on good terms with one another and obedient to the skipper, but that when strife and mutiny arise in it, even the favourable winds often veer round to oppose the ship's course and they fail to make their harbours, even when close at hand,10 still the sailors sometimes foolishly quarrel, and this works their ruin, though they know the cause of their destruction.

15 Again, take our households — although their safety depends not only on the like-mindedness of master and mistress but also on the obedience of the servants, yet both the bickering of master and mistress and the wickedness of the servants have wrecked many households. Why, what safety remains for the chariot, if the horses refuse to run as a team? For when they begin to separate and to pull one this way and one that, the driver is inevitably in danger. And the good marriage, what else is it save concord between man and wife? And the bad marriage, what is it save their discord? Moreover, what benefit are children to parents, when through folly they begin to rebel against them? And what is fraternity save concord of brothers? And was is friendship save concord among friends?

16 Besides, all these things are not only good and noble but also very pleasant, whereas their opposites are not only evil but also unpleasant; and yet we often prefer them instead of the most pleasant goods. For example, there have been times when people have chosen wars instead of peace, despite the great differences between the two, not under the delusion that fighting is better or more pleasant and more righteous than keeping the peace, but because some were striving for kingly power, some for liberty, some for territory they did not have, and some for control of the sea. And yet, though the prizes await the victor are so rich, many have laid war aside as an evil thing and not fit to be chosen by them in preference to the things of highest value. 17 But, the waging of war and fighting even without occasion, what is that but utter madness and a craving for evils which is occasioned by madness? Now the chief reason why we human beings hate wild beasts is that remorseless warfare exists between them and us for ever; yet many even of us treat human beings too as wild beasts and take pleasure in the conflict waged with those of our own kind.

18 What is more, we take no notice of the signs sent by the gods, all those signs and omens by which they try to teach us to live on good terms with one another. Indeed they are said to be, as it were, heralds sent by the gods, and for that reason among ourselves also, while peace is proclaimed by heralds, wars for the most part take place unheralded. Furthermore, men go unarmed into an armed camp as envoys to sue for peace and it is not permitted to wrong any of them, the belief that all messengers in behalf of friendship are servants of the gods. Again, whenever, as armies come together for battle, there suddenly appears an omen from heaven or there occurs a quaking of the earth, immediately the men wheel about and withdraw from one another, believing the gods do not wish them to fight; 19 but no divine portent is deemed a signal for war. And furthermore, when peace is brought about, we do all those things which are not only most pleasant for mortals but also tokens of happiness — we bedeck ourselves with garlands, offer sacrifice, and hold high festival; but we do quite the opposite in time of war, just as in time of mourning — we shut ourselves within the gates, live in dread of every thing, and abandon ourselves to despair. Moreover, at such times the women wail for their husbands and the children for their fathers, as they would over the greatest calamities.

20 Again, whenever there comes a pestilence or an earthquake, we blame the gods, in the belief that they cause misery for mankind, and we claim they are not righteous or benevolent, not even if they are punishing us justly for most grievous sins; so great is our hatred of those evils which occur through chance. Yet war, which is no less destructive than an earthquake, we choose of our own volition; and we do not blame at all the human beings who are responsible for these evils, as we blame the gods for earthquake or pestilence, but we even think them patriotic and we listen to them with delight when they speak, we follow their advice, and in payment for the evils they occasion we give them every kind of — I won't say return, for return would mean evil for evil — but rather thanks and honours and words of praise; and so they would be very witless indeed if they spared those who are even grateful for their evils.

21 First of all, then, men of Nicomedia, let us inspect the reasons for your strife. For if the issues are so great that it is fitting to wage a war that is no short one, such as could be waged by force of arms and have as its consolation the speed of its decision, but instead a long war without cessation, one to be handed on to our children and our children's children and never achieve the hope of settlement, then let us engage in the struggle, maintain the strife, and make all the trouble we can for one another, being vexed that our powers are not even greater. But if at best the prize for which this evil is endured is a mere nothing and the supposed issues are both small and trifling and it is not fitting even for private persons to squabble over them, much less cities of such importance, then let us not behave at all like foolish children who, ashamed lest they may seem to their fathers or their mothers to be enraged without a cause, do not wish to make it up with one another lightly.

22 Well now, surely we are not fighting for land or sea; on the contrary, the Nicaeans do not even present counterclaims against you for the sea, but they have gladly withdrawn from competition so as to afford no cause for conflict. And what is more, we are not contending for revenues either, but each side is content with what is its own; moreover, these matters, as it happens, have been clearly delimited — and so indeed is all else besides — just as if in peace and friendship. Furthermore, there is interchange of produce between the two cities, as well as intermarriage, and in consequence already there have come to be many family ties between us; yes, and we have proxenies11 and ties of personal friendship to unite us. Besides, you worship the same gods as they do, and in most cases you conduct their festivals as they do. In fact you have no quarrel as to your customs either. Yet, though all these things afford no occasion for hostility, but rather for friendship and concord, still we fight. 23 And if some one comes up and asks you, “But how are the Nicaeans wronging you?” you will have nothing to reply. And if he asks them in turn, “But how are the men of Nicomedia wronging you?” they too will not have a single thing to say.

However, there is a prize at stake between you, one over which you are at odds. And what is this prize? It is none of those things which are fit to name or to acknowledge, and the competitors for which one might even pardon, nay, its constituent elements it is not well even to mention or acknowledge; they are of such a nature, so petty, so commonplace, things upon which fools perhaps might pride themselves, but not any man of good sense. 24 For those who summon you to the contest — but their motives it is perhaps not for me to scrutinize — however that may be, those who delight in it prate of naught but this: “We are contending for primacy.” Very well, I will reply to these same persons with the query: “What primacy? And is it a primacy to be actually and in fact conceded to you, or is your battle for a name and nothing more?”

Yes, I hear that this is not the first time this same thing has served as the cause of strife among the Greeks — that the Athenians and the Spartans went to war for the primacy.12 25 Moreover, that strife and warfare were not profitable in their case either, but in struggling with one another for the primacy they both lost it, you all know and I myself may possibly mention a bit later.13 What then? In proposing this struggle of yours do they speak of it as similar to that of the Athenians and the Spartans? The Athenians waged war that they might continue to receive tribute from the islanders,14 and they and their opponents fought each other over the right of every man to have his lawsuits tried in his own home city, and, broadly speaking, the war between those states was for the prize of empire.

26 But if we recover the primacy, the Nicaeans relinquishing it without a fight, shall we receive the tribute they get now? Shall we summon for trial here the cities which now are subject to their jurisdiction? Shall we send them military governors?15 Shall we any the less permit them to have the tithes from Bithynia? Or what will be the situation? And what benefit will accrue to us? For I believe that in all their undertakings men do not exert themselves idly or at random, but that their struggle is always for some end. 27 For example, the man who goes to war fights either for liberty — in which case others are trying to enslave him — or for sovereignty — in which case he himself is trying to enslave the others. Similarly the man who goes to sea does not undertake an aimless roving, for surely the risks he takes are either for the purpose of reaching some destination or else for trafficking. But, not to present all the various illustrations, in a word we human beings not only do all we do because of an end that is good, but we also avoid the opposite activities because of an end that is evil. On the other hand, to exert oneself or toil without a reason 28 is appropriate for fools alone. If, for example, a man should entertain a serious purpose to be called King when he is merely a private citizen — and when, moreover, he knows that fact about himself perfectly well — quite contrary to his fond imagining, he would become a laughing-stock, inasmuch as he would be using a false title devoid of reality. And it is much the same in all the other matters too, whether a man wishes to be thought a flautist when he doesn't know how to blow the pipes, or musical when he knows nothing of the art of music, or a player of the cithara when he cannot even touch the harp intelligently. While, therefore, there will be nothing to prevent men like that from being deemed actually crazy, do we imagine that, provided we are somewhat registered as “first,” we shall actually have the primacy? 29 What kind of primacy, men of Nicomedia? You see, I am going to ask you a second time,16 and even a third time. A primacy whose utility is what? Whose function is what? One by reason of which we shall become wealthier or greater or more powerful? Vainglory has come to be regarded as a foolish thing even in private individuals, and we ourselves deride and loathe, and end by pitying, those persons above all who do not know wherein false glory differs from the genuine; besides, no educated man has such a feeling about glory as to desire a foolish thing.

Shall we say, then, that all these things befit our cities as communities which do not befit even persons in private life who are men of breeding and cultivation? 30 But, speaking generally, if some one were to question you and say, “Men of Nicomedia, what do you want? To be first in very truth, or to be called first when you are not?” Surely you would admit that you prefer to be first rather than to be called first to no purpose. For names have not the force of facts; whereas things that are in very truth of a given nature must also of necessity be so named. 31 Try, therefore, to hold first place among our cities primarily on the strength of your solicitude for them — for since you are a metropolis,17 such indeed is your special function — and then too by showing yourselves fair and moderate toward all, by not being grasping in any matter or trying to gain your end by force. For greed and violence necessarily stir up hatreds and disagreements, since it is natural that the weaker party should be disposed to look with suspicion on the stronger, believing they are due to be overreached in every matter, and when that does actually take place, their hostility is still more justly aroused.

32 On the other hand, you have it in your power to benefit the cities more fully and more effectively than the Nicaeans, first and foremost because of the sea, all the revenue of which the cities share even now, partly as a favour — though your city should grant favours officially and not to certain persons privately — partly also through their own smuggling operations, and partly on application in each separate case; and while you never refuse such applicants, still the very necessity of making application is irksome. If, however, you will actually allow the communities who day by day petition for what is urgent for their need the privilege in sharing in all these rights, is it not reasonable to suppose that you will stand higher in their estimation when you become their benefactors? And at the same time you will also increase the concord which will spread everywhere.

33 But you must also strive to give the provincial governors occasion to respect you, by continually making it manifest that you are not content with merely being well governed yourselves, but that you are concerned for the welfare of the whole Bithynian people, and that you are no less displeased over the wrongs inflicted upon the others than you are over those inflicted upon yourselves; moreover, that if any persons flee to you for succour, you aid them promptly and impartially. This line of conduct is what will yield you that primacy which is genuine, and not your squabble with Nicaeans over titles.

34 And I should like the Nicaeans also to pursue the same course, and they will do so if you come to terms with them, and the power of each will become greater through union. For by joining forces you will control all the cities, and, what is more, the provincial governors will feel greater reluctance and fear with regard to you, in case they wish to commit a wrong. But as things are now, the other cities are elated by the quarrel between you; for you seem to have need of their assistance, and in fact you do have need of it because of your struggle with each other, and you are in the predicament of two men, both equally distinguished, when they become rivals over politics — of necessity they court the favour of everybody, even of those who are ever so far beneath them. 35 And so while you are fighting for primacy, the chances are that the primacy really is in the hands of those who are courted by you. For it is impossible that people should not be thought to possess that which you expect to obtain from these same people. And so it is going to be absolutely necessary that the cities should resume their proper status, and, as is reasonable and right, that they should stand in need of you, not you of them. And applying this principle I shall expect you to behave toward them, not like tyrants, but with kindness and moderation, just as I suggested a little while ago,18 to the end that your position as leaders may not be obnoxious to them, but that it may be not only leadership but a welcome thing as well.

36 Again, what need is there to discuss the present situation of your governors in the presence of you who are informed? Or is it possible you are not aware of the tyrannical power your own strife offers those who govern you? For at once whoever wishes to mistreat your people comes armed with the knowledge of what he must do to escape the penalty. For either he allies himself with the Nicaean party and has their group for his support, or else by choosing the party of Nicomedia he is protected by you. Moreover, while he has no love for either side, he appears to love one of the two; yet all the while he is wronging them all. Still, despite the wrongs he commits, he is protected by those who believe they alone are loved by him. 37 Yet by their public acts they19 have branded you as a pack of fools, yes, they treat you just like children, for we often offer children the most trivial things in place of things of greatest worth; moreover, those children, in their ignorance of what is truly valuable and in their pleasure over what is of least account, delight in what is a mere nothing. So also in your case, in place of justice, in place of the freedom of the cities from spoliation or from the seizure of the private possessions of their inhabitants, in place of their refraining from insulting you, in place of their refraining from drunken violence, your governors hand you titles, and call you “first” either by word of mouth or in writing; that done, they may thenceforth with impunity treat you as being the very last!

38 In truth such marks of distinction, on which you plume yourselves, not only are objects of utter contempt in the eyes of all persons of discernment, but especially in Rome they excite laughter and, what is still more humiliating, are called “Greek failings!” And failings they are indeed, men of Nicomedia, though not Greek, unless some one will claim that in this special particular they are Greek, namely, that those Greeks of old, both Athenians and Spartans, once laid counterclaims to glory. However, I may have said already20 that their doings were not mere vain conceit but a struggle for real empire — though nowadays you may fancy somehow that they were making a valiant struggle for the right to lead the procession, like persons in some mystic celebration putting up a sham battle over something not really theirs.

39 But if, while the title “metropolis” is your special prerogative, that of leader is shared with others, what do you lose thereby? For I would venture to assert that, even if you lose all your titles, you are losing nothing real. Or what do you expect to be the consequence of that?21 That the sea will retreat from your shores, or your territory be smaller, or your revenues less? Have you ever yet been present at a play? More properly speaking, almost every day you behold not only tragic actors but the other sort too, the various actors who appear to come upon the scene to give pleasure and enjoyment, but who really benefit those who are sensitive to the action of the play. Well then, does any one in the cast appear to you to be really king or prince or god? 40 And yet they are called by all these titles, as well as by the names Menelaüs and Agamemnon, and they have not only names of gods and heroes, but their features and robes as well, and they issue many orders, just as would the characters they represent; however, when the play is over, they take their departure as mere nonentities. A person wishes to be dubbed “first”; very good. Some one really is first, and no matter if another wears the title, first he is. For titles are not guarantees of facts, but facts of titles.

41 Well, here is another outcome of concord for you to take into account. At present you two cities have each your own men; but if you come to terms, you will each have the other's too; and as for honours — for a city needs these too — set them down as doubled, and likewise the services. Some one in your city is gifted as a speaker; he will aid the Nicaeans too. There is a rich man in Nicaea: he will defray public expenses in your city too. And in general, neither will any man who is unworthy of first place in a city achieve fame with you by assailing the Nicaeans, or with the Nicaeans by assailing you; nor, in case a man is found to be a low fellow and deserving of punishment, will he escape his just deserts by migrating from Nicomedia to Nicaea or from Nicaea to Nicomedia. 42 Yet as things are now, you two cities, as it were, are lying in wait for each other at your moorings, and men who have wronged the one can find refuge with the other. But once concord is achieved, persons must be men of honour and justice or else get out of Bithynia. You are proud of your superiority in population; you will be still more populous. You think you have sufficient territory; you will have more than sufficient. In fine, when all resources have been united — crops, money, official dignities for men, and military forces — the resources of both cities are doubled.

43 Furthermore, that which is the aim of all human action, pleasure, becomes greater than tongue can tell. For to achieve, on the one hand, the elimination of the things which cause you pain — envy and rivalry and the strife which is their outcome, your plotting against one another, your gloating over the misfortunes of your neighbours, your vexation at their good fortune — and, on the other hand, the introduction into your cities of their opposites — sharing in things which are good, unity of heart and mind, rejoicing of both peoples in the same things — does not all this resemble a public festival? 44 But figure it this way. If some god, men of Nicomedia, had given you the option of having not merely your own city, but also that of the Nicaeans, would not that have seemed to you a boon of incredible magnitude, and would you not have made all sorts of vows in the hope of obtaining it? Well, this thing which seems incredible can take place at once — Nicaea can be yours and your possessions theirs. 45 Or, since we admire those brothers who share completely a common estate and have not because of stinginess divided their patrimony; whose wealth, moreover, is even more admired, since it is greater for the very reason that it has not been divided and half of everything is thought to belong to both; and whom, furthermore, all men regard as good and just and really brothers — since this is true, if this spirit of brotherhood is achieved in your cities, will it not be an even greater blessing, more beautiful and richer?

46 Moreover, it deserves to be achieved, not alone because of the ancestors which both cities have in common, but also because of the gods, whose rites are alike both in their city and in yours. For this is a fact which might cause one even greater sorrow, that though we have everything in common — ancestors, gods, customs, festivals, and, in the case of most of us, personal ties of blood and found, still we fight like Greeks against barbarians, or, what is still more like your conduct than that, like human beings against wild beasts! 47 Will you not look each other in the face? Will you not listen to each other? Will your two cities not clasp hands together, you being the first to extend your hand? Will you not by making peace acquire for yourselves all the good things both possess? Will you not enjoy them eagerly? Oh that it were possible for you to make even the Ephesians your brothers! Oh that the edifices of Smyrna too might have been shared by you! 48 But all these things, mighty blessings that they are — are you forfeiting them for lack of one single word, gains so rich, pleasure so great?

However, that the reconciliation will be profitable to you two cities when it is achieved, and that the strife still going on has not been profitable for you down to the present moment, that so many blessings will be yours as a result of concord, and that so many evils now are yours because of enmity — all this has been treated by me at sufficient length. 49 But it remains for me to add that these advantages will be permanent when you have made peace with one another. For already there are some who have fears on this score too, men whose reasons for fear I understand, at least if they give utterance to it from a genuine desire for concord and a fear that concord may be destroyed, and if they are not, instead, putting forth this idea for the very purpose of preventing any reconciliation at all.

Well, let the greatest and most trustworthy guarantee that your concord will be permanent by its expediency. For if the mere recital of the reasons which show that it will be advantageous apparently is already convincing you, why should not these reasons when supported by experience have a persuasiveness even more unshakable? 50 But what is more, I am hopeful also because of your being difficult to dislodge from accustomed habit. For instance, if strife, which is so great an evil, has remained among you so long merely through force of habit, why is it not reasonable to expect that your reconciliation, since it is more pleasant and more righteous, will make that habit also more potent? But you will need also to be watchful of little matters, and above all to be watchful of the men of no reputation, in case they ever malign you to each other — for you must not listen to them when they pursue some selfish purpose, in case they with again to secure for themselves a kind of pleasure — and you will need also to avoid becoming irritated for petty reasons. 51 A further reason for my optimism is that it is likely the gods will make it their prime concern that concord shall endure. In fact, I feel that even this beginning is due to them, and that otherwise it would not have occurred to me to dare to speak in your presence on so great a topic, a topic on which no one previously, whether old or young, has ever spoken.22 And it is even fitting that I pray to them once more. You remember that in the beginning I prayed them to make you heed my words;23 but now that you evidently are doing this already, it remains for me to pray that they may preserve for ever your admirable resolutions.

As noted in the introduction to the preceding Discourse, Bithynia was a turbulent province. The present Discourse, as its title indicates, was delivered following a period of civil strife in Nicaea. Neither the occasion nor the date is known. Arnim would place the speech in the period following Dio's return from exile, but Schmid and Lemarchand would assign it to his sophistic period on stylistic grounds. The speaker's allusion to frail health would lend some support to the later dating.

The opening paragraphs are of special interest as an expression of that pride which the several communities of the province took in their Greek ancestry, but which unfortunately failed to knit them together to form a harmonious entity. Whatever may have been the ancestry of the inhabitants of this region, they were evidently eager to claim Greek blood and the patronage of Greek gods. Their pride of race may have been heightened because of their proximity to the world of the barbarian.

Ancient tradition is not united regarding the founding of Nicaea. On the evidence of its coinage, Dionysus would seem to have been claimed as founder and the name of the city to have been derived from the nymph Nicaea. Strabo (12.565) mentions Antigonus as the original founder, adding that he called his settlement Antigoneia, but Strabo says that it was founded a second time by Lysimachus, who renamed it Nicaea in honour of his wife, the daughter of Antipater. Stephanus of Byzantine calls it a castle of Bottiaea, which may be interpreted as referring its founding to veterans of Alexander's army. Whatever may have been the truth of the matter, at the time of our Discourse Nicaea could boast of a fair degree of antiquity.

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The Thirty-ninth Discourse:

On Concord in Nicaea

upon the Cessation of Civil Strife

I am delighted at being honoured1 by you, as indeed it is to be expected that a man of sound judgement would be when honoured by a city which is noble and worthy of renown, as is the case with your city in regard to both power and grandeur, for it is inferior to no city of distinction anywhere, whether in nobility of lineage or in composition of population, comprising, as it does, the most illustrious families, not small groups of sorry specimens who came together from this place and from that, but the leaders among both Greeks and Macedonians, and, what is most significant, having had as founders both heroes2 and gods.

2 But it is fitting that those whose city was founded by gods should maintain peace and concord and friendship toward one another. For it is disgraceful if they do not prove to be extremely lucky and blessed of heaven and to some extent superior to the others in good fortune, desiring, as they must, to show birth to be something real and not merely a sham and empty term. For founders, kinsmen, and progenitors who are gods desire their own people to possess nothing — neither beauty of country nor abundance of crops nor multitude of inhabitants — so much as sobriety, virtue, orderly government, honour for the good citizens and dishonour for the base. 3 Even as I myself rejoice at the present moment to find you wearing the same costume, speaking the same language, and desiring the same things. Indeed what spectacle is more enchanting than a city with singleness of purpose, and what sound is more awe-inspiring than its harmonious voice?3 What city is wiser in council than that which takes council together? What city acts more smooth than that which acts together? What city is less liable to failure than that which favours the same policies? To whom are blessings sweeter than to those who are of one heart and mind? To whom are afflictions lighter than to those who bear them together, like a heavy load? To whom do difficulties occur more rarely than to those who defend each other? 4 What city is dearer to its people, more honoured by the stranger, more useful to its friends, more formidable to its foes? Whose praise is held more trustworthy, whose censure more truthful? Who are more nearly equal in honour to their rulers, and whom do the rulers more respect? Whom do good rulers so admire, and bad rulers less despise? Why, is it not manifest that not merely the rulers, but even the gods, pay heed to men who live in concord, while men who are torn by civil strife do not even hear one another? For no one readily hears the words either when choruses do not keep together or when cities are at variance.

5 Again, what sort of edifices, what size of territory, what magnitude of population render a community stronger than does its domestic concord? For example, when a city has concord, as many citizens as there are, so many are the eyes with which to see that city's interest, so many the ears with which to hear, so many the tongues to give advice, so many the minds concerned in its behalf; why, it is just as if some god had made a single soul for so great and populous a city.4 Conversely, neither abundance of riches nor number of men nor any other element of strength is of advantage to those who are divided, but all these things are rather on the side of loss, and the more abundant they are, so much the greater and more grievous the loss. Just so too, methinks, it is with human bodies — that body which is in sound health finds advantage in its height and bulk, while the body which is diseased and in poor condition finds a physical state of that kind to be most perilous and productive of severest risk.5 6 Similarly too any ship which sails the sea with concord existing between the skipper and his crew not only is safe itself but also maintains in safety those on board; otherwise the more numerous the sails so much the more violent must be the impact of the storm and so much greater the confusion.6 This same thing is true in the case of a chariot — if the driver knows how to exercise proper control, and if at the same time the horses are not only in agreement with one another but also obedient to the driver, there is hope that in a race such a chariot will win the prize and in a war emerge in safety; but on the other hand, if strife and confusion are present, the danger increases in proportion to the strength and speed of the horses.7 7 In much the same way also when a city enjoys concord, all such things are useful — abundance of riches, size of population, honours, fame, and power; but otherwise they are hard to use well and vexatious, just as when, for example, many wild animals or cattle are kept in the same enclosure, penned within a single stockade, they go butting and trampling and leaping upon one another.

Well now, if I were blessed with robust health, I should not have abandoned my theme before discussing it adequately to the best of my ability; but as it is, not only are you perhaps more intent upon other matters, but I myself am far too frail to match the importance of the occasion. 8 Therefore, all that remains for me to do is to make the briefest and most efficacious appeal, I mean the appeal to the gods. For the gods know what men mean to say even when they speak in whispers. After all, possibly this too is typical of one who is especially well-intentioned; for instance, good fathers use admonition with their children where they can, but where persuasion fails they pray the gods on their behalf. Accordingly I pray to Dionysus the progenitor of this city, to Heracles its founder, to Zeus Guardian of Cities, to Athena, to Aphroditê Fosterer of Friendship, to Harmony, and Nemesis,8 and all the other gods, that from this day forth they may implant in this city a yearning for itself, a passionate love, a singleness of purpose, a unity of wish and thought; and, on the other hand, that they may cast out strife and contentiousness and jealousy, so that this city may be numbered among the most prosperous and the noblest for all time to come.

As indicated by the title, the background of this Discourse is a quarrel between Prusa, the home of the speaker, and its near neighbour, Apameia. The precise nature of the quarrel remains in doubt, but it seems to have involved business relations, and possibly also property rights. The relations between the two cities were extremely intimate. Prusa used the port of Apameia, and Apameia looked to Prusa for its timber. There was constant intercourse of many kinds between the two, and citizens of the one not infrequently were citizens also of the other, sometimes even receiving a seat and vote in the Council of the second city. Dio's own connexion with Apameia was especially close. As we learn from Or. 41, not only had he himself been honoured with citizenship there, but also his father before him; his mother and her father too had been awarded citizenship in Apameia along with the grant of Roman citizenship; and, finally, it would appear that Dio's household had found a refuge in that city during his exile.

Whatever the nature of the quarrel, it had lasted for some time prior to the date of our Discourse (A.D. 101), and it had been so bitter that Dio had feared to accept the invitation of Apameia to pay a visit joint upon his return from exile, lest by doing so he might offend the city of his birth, and for the same reason he had resisted a request to intervene in behalf of Apameia in its quarrel. He had, to be sure, urged upon his fellow citizens, as occasion offered, the desirability of reconciliation with Apameia, and negotiations to that end were actually in progress when Dio, responding with some reluctance to the summons of his fellow townsmen, appeared in town-meeting and pleaded afresh the cause of concord. It would appear that his words received a favourable hearing, for in the next Discourse in our collection, delivered at Apameia shortly afterwards, he speaks as a member of an official delegation to arrange terms of agreement.

This Discourse, as well as several to follow, is valuable both as shedding light upon doings in Bithynia, doings about which we get supplementary information from the correspondence of Pliny the Younger written during his term as proconsul of that province, and also as supplying biographical data regarding the speaker.

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The Fortieth Discourse:

Delivered in his Native City

on Concord with the Apameians

I used to think, fellow citizens, that now at least, if not before — now that I am home again — I could look forward to enjoying complete leisure, and that I was not going to engage in any public business, either voluntarily or otherwise.1 One reason was because I see that many older men, by the grace of God, and many younger men as well, are ever ready and able to direct the city and to defend your interests rightly, being deficient in neither speech nor action, and what is more, being thoroughly acquainted with your form of government, while, on the other hand, I suspected — for the truth will out — that some were vexed with me as being an outsider and a nuisance.2 2 A second reason is that, in my opinion, I should take some thought, not only for my body, exhausted as it is from great and unremitting hardship, but also for my domestic affairs, now in thoroughly bad condition, affairs which, though so long in ruinous state, have met with no improvement. For when a proprietor's absence from home, if protracted, suffices to ruin even the greatest estate, what should one expect in the course of so many years of exile? From such an exile no one could have expected me to come home safe except yourselves — because of your extreme partiality for me. And yet as long as poverty was the only risk confronting me, that was nothing to be afraid of. For I am not unprepared, I may say, to cope with that, having wandered so long, not only without hearth and home, but even without a single servant to bear me company. Furthermore, I did not expect my son to find poverty a grievous thing to bear either, since his nature is not inferior to my own.

3 But since the question before us concerns my not proving false toward my native land and not defrauding you of the promise I made under no compulsion, a promise by no means easy to make good and involving no small outlay of money, this I conceive to be a difficult matter and one calling for much serious cogitation.3 For there is nothing more weighty, no debt bearing higher interest, than a favour promised. Moreover, this is the shameful and bitter kind of loan, when, as one might say, because of tardy payment the favour turns into an obligation, an obligation the settlement of which those who keep silent demand altogether more sternly than those who cry aloud. 4 For nothing has such power to remind those who owe you such obligations as your having utterly forgotten them. For these reasons, therefore, I felt it had become necessary for me to devote myself to my own affairs and not to any public business, not even to the extent of making a speech, until, as the poet says, I shall perceive

What ill or good has happened in my halls.4

5 The fact is that hitherto I had not had even a moment's leisure, possibly because of my own officiousness, when I ought merely to have met you and given you friendly greetings and sacrificed to the gods, and, of course, read the letter from the Emperor, since that was a matter of necessity, and then to have retired immediately and turned to my own affairs,5 instead I made a speech in behalf of a certain undertaking,6 not on my own responsibility alone, but with the backing of the proconsuls as well, who possibly were minded to do you a favour, and perhaps me as well, and also to put the city into better shape and make it more impressive as a whole.7 For formerly, as you doubtless are aware, we were behind even our neighbours in such matters.

6 Well, when I made that speech on the occasion referred to, not only was the Assembly aroused with enthusiasm for it — for you are not illiberal or insensible in your nature — but also many of the citizens were even moved to patriotic fervour in its support. And again, when later on I repeatedly laid the matter before you, now in the council chamber and now in the theatre,8 to make sure that I should not offend anyone in case you did not approve or desire the project — for I had my misgivings as to the hard work which would be connected with the enterprise — the proposal was repeatedly sanctioned by you and by the proconsuls too with not a dissenting voice.

7 However, when the work was started, all the trouble to which I myself was put in taking measurements and allotting space and making computations, to insure that the project should not be unbecoming or useless — as in other cities many public works have been ruined for lack of planning — and finally in making a cursed excursion to the mountains,9 though I was not at all experienced in such matters and did not lack for something to do either, but might rather have occupied myself with other activities, possibly more important, from which I was likely to enjoy renown with others besides yourselves — all this I now refrain from narrating in detail; for nothing was too burdensome for me, seeing that I bore it for your sake.

8 But there was a lot of talk — though not on the part of many persons — and very unpleasant talk too, to the effect that I am dismantling the city; that I have laid it waste, virtually banishing the inhabitants; that everything has been destroyed, obliterated, nothing left. And there were some who were violent in their lamentations over the smithy of So-and so,10 feeling bitter that these memorials of the good old days were not to be preserved. One might have supposed that the Propylaea at Athens were being tampered with, or the Parthenon, or that we were wrecking the Heraeum of the Samians, or the Didymeium of the Milesians, or the temple of Artemis at Ephesus,11 9 instead of disgraceful, ridiculous ruins, much more lowly than the shed under which the flocks take shelter, but which no shepherd could enter nor any of the nobler breeds of dogs, structures that used to make you blush, aye, be utterly confounded when the proconsuls essayed to enter,12 while men who bore you malice would gloat over you and laugh at your discomfiture — hovels where even the blacksmiths were scarcely able to stand erect but worked with bowed head; shanties, moreover, in tumbledown condition, held up by props, so that at the stroke of the hammer they quivered and threatened to fall apart. And yet there were some who were distressed to see the signs of their former poverty and ill-repute disappearing, who, far from being interested in the columns which were rising, or in the eaves of the roof,13 or in the shops under construction in a different quarter,14 were interested only in preventing your ever feeling superior to that crew.

10 For, let me assure you, buildings and festivals and independence in the administration of justice and exemption from standing trial away from home or from being grouped together with other communities like some village,15 if you will pardon the expression — all these things, I say, make it natural for the pride of the cities to be enhanced and the dignity of the community to be increased and for it to receive fuller honour both from the strangers within their gates and from the proconsuls as well. But while these things possess a wondrous degree of pleasure for those who love the city of their birth and are not afraid lest some day they may be found to be not good enough for it, to those who take the opposite stand and wish to wield authority over weak men and who deem the glory of the city to be their own ignominy, these things necessarily bring pain and jealousy. 11 And yet, while it is true that the shoe must fit the wearer and his own special foot, and if the shoe is judged to be too large it must be trimmed down, one must never curtail a city or reduce it to one's own dimensions or measure it with regard to one's own spirit, if one happens to have a small and servile spirit, particularly in the light of existing precedents — I mean the activities of the men of Smyrna, of the men of Ephesus, of those men of Tarsus, of the men of Antioch.16

Again, I know perfectly that on former occasions too certain persons were ready to burst with rage on hearing me talk this way and were incensed that you were growing accustomed to listening to such words, and that any one should presume to name your city in company with such distinguished cities.17 12 But still, because of their angry protests at these proceedings, because of the things they say, because of their attempts to prevent any one's making a contribution, and because of their efforts to block operations, they have put me into such a frame of mind as almost to condemn myself to voluntary exile. For it really was ridiculous if, after having experienced so long an exile, so many tribulations, and so tyrannical a foe,18 after reaching home at last with the hope of finding respite and of being able to forget past hardships from then on — like a man who had through the kindness of some god unexpectedly and with difficulty been rescued from a dreadful, savage sea and tempest — I should then in port, so to speak, meet shipwreck here.

13 But I am especially amazed at the malevolence of sundry persons — or rather at their folly — as I call to mind what sort of tales they invented, first of all in connexion with the mission of congratulation which you sent.19 For they claimed that he20 was not glad to receive your envoys, but was vexed, as if it were incumbent upon him to meet at the gate and there embrace all arrivals, or to speak the names of those who had not yet arrived, or to inquire about this one and that one, wanting to know how they were or why they had not all come. 14 And others invented the tale that he gave the delegates from Smyrna very many presents, and that he sent untold riches along with the images of Nemesis,21 and, by Heaven, that after some one else had delivered an address he granted him ten thousand councillors and ordered a flood of gold22 to be turned in the direction of his city, and countless thousands of guineas were bestowed — not a word of which was true, though for my part I wish it were. 15 For to see many people meeting with success and gaining great favours would never disturb a man of discernment, especially a man who had been the first to encounter such good fortune, and had possibly furnished the precedent for it.23 For it is quite as if a man were to demand that for him alone the sun should shine, or Zeus send his rain, or the winds blow, or that no one else should be permitted to drink from the springs. On the contrary, being at once most benevolent and most sagacious of all men, the Emperor not only gave me what I asked,24 but also gave others what they asked.

16 Well, why have I made all this harangue, when you were considering other matters?25 Because previously I not only had touched upon this matter, but had also in this place made many speeches in behalf of concord, believing that this was advantageous for the city, and that it was better not to quarrel with any man at all, but least of all, in my opinion, with those who are so close, yes, real neighbours.26 However, I did not go to them or speak any word of human kindness in anticipation of the official reconciliation of the city and the establishment of your friendship with them. And yet at the very outset they sent me an official resolution expressing their friendship toward me and inviting me to pay them a visit.27 Furthermore, I had many obligations toward them, like any other citizen of Prusa; but still I did not undertake to show my goodwill toward them independently, but preferred rather to make friends with them along with you. So they looked upon me with distrust and were displeased.

17 Besides, at the present moment, although I had heard of the breaking off of hostilities, and that this compact of friendship was being negotiated, and although you had voted to summon me, possibly even for this very business — for you may have expected that everything would be easier to achieve and surer if I participated in it; and in fact even now by their honouring, not only those who are already in Apameia, but me too along with the others,28 taking into account that I too am a citizen of yours, they may conceivably have become better disposed toward you — still, for all that, I was in no great haste to come before you, being wary lest my coming might prove a stumbling-block, not to the Apameians, but to some of the men from here. For, it is safe to say, many persons are wont to look with disfavour, not on the business under consideration, but rather on the negotiators. 18 Why, even a year ago the leaders in Apameia were making these proposals to me, and you might at that time have been freed from trouble; yet I had misgivings lest the proposal might prove repugnant to some from here and they might be irritated if I acted in the matter. And so now too I have, as one might say, delayed intentionally. Accordingly, whatever can be accomplished for the city through others as well as through myself I ask to have entrusted to others preferably, so that no one may make opposition or be offended because of malice toward me.29 On the other hand, anything which cannot easily be achieved by any one else from here, but which is possibly very difficult to achieve at all, you may be sure always has my lively interest as long as I draw the breath of life. 19 Nay more, whoever is enthusiastic in matters concerning the city and has the ability to accomplish anything to your advantage will find me the first to bear him witness and to lend a hand in his endeavour, and I would much more gladly, yes, more eagerly, praise the same enterprise, provided it be upright, if some one else were active in it than if I myself were its moving spirit. For it is not from a desire to be popular or because I lack men to praise me or because of a craving for notoriety, but rather because of my goodwill toward you, that I wish whatever is needful to come to pass, and I pray to all the gods that, as I grow old, I may behold the greatest possible number of men more competent than myself to benefit the city.

20 And now in this enterprise I praise both the official in charge and the man who made the motion. For practically every enmity, every disagreement arising in connexion with any person at all, is a vexatious thing and unpleasant for both state and private citizen, no matter how they may be situated. For enmity can not only expose and humiliate the weak, to say nothing of the hardships they have already, but also annoy those who are prosperous and distress their spirits. Therefore sensible persons prefer to submit to defeat in ordinary matters and to be not too precise in defending their rights, rather than, by quarrelling over every matter and never making any concessions to any one, always to have persons plotting against them and making war on them, persons who feel resentment at their good fortune and, so far as they are able, try to stand in the way of it, and who, on the other hand, if any reverse should take place — and many are the reverses which do occur, as is natural among men — 21 rejoice and seize the opportunity to attack. For there is no one so weak or impotent by nature, man for man, who does not chance upon some opportunity to display his malice and hatred, either alone or in conjunction with others, and to make some statement by which he is certain to cause pain, or to contrive some situation sure to cause injury. Similarly there is no disease so imperceptible to those afflicted with it as never to do harm or become a hindrance to some activity, but even if it does not greatly hamper the strength of a man while awake and walking, at least it confronts him when he goes to bed and causes him distraction and destroys his slumber.

22 So I claim it is never profitable even for the greatest city to indulge in hostility and strife with the humblest village; but of course when the hostility is directed against men who occupy no small city, who have a superior form of government, and who, if they are prudent, enjoy a measure of distinction and influence with the proconsuls30 — for you must hear the truth and not be vexed if a man praises others in his desire to benefit you — men who, above all, share your borders, are neighbours to your city, and mingle with you almost every day, most of you being bound to them by ties of marriage, while some citizens, yes, virtually the most influential citizens among us, have obtained the honour of citizenship with them31 — how in these circumstances should we regard this hostility as causing no pain and doing no harm?

23 And let no one imagine that I mean we should be wholly submissive, and that when they are not at all just or fair in their policies we should beg and entreat them; nay, but when they choose friendship and display an eagerness for it, to show ourselves more favourable to this policy and to transfer the rivalry growing out of our disagreement to this alternative course is far more creditable, a course whose aim is to make it plain that we ourselves are more reasonable and more scornful of wealth and personal advantage.32 24 For it is not so disgraceful to prove inferior in actions prompted by hatred and, by Heaven, in those which provoke enmity as it is in those which are inspired by a spirit of moderation and benevolence. For while he who is overcome in the one is likely to gain a reputation for mere weakness, in the other it will be for boorishness and contentiousness. Indeed, the better it is to be deemed weak rather than base, so much the more preferable is it to be tardy in making war rather than in making peace.

25 Now there may be other grounds also on which you might with reason pay heed to me rather than to those others, but that is especially true because you observe that I have no private interest and am not disposed through any dread of annoyance or expense on my part to disregard the course which is becoming to you. For I know full well you will not trouble me against my wishes, or order me to go abroad as if I had already made too long a stay in Prusa33 — and besides, I do not believe I can assist you by sacrificing my leisure or by going abroad34 in this manner — however, as I was saying,35 I consider it better for men in general, and not merely for you, both to refrain from entering lightly into an enmity which is not extremely necessary and also by every means possible to put an end to enmities already existing, recognizing that the damage resulting from quarrelling with any people is greater than the loss incident to the reconciliation. 26 For any peace, so they say, is better than war, and any friendship is far better and more profitable for men of right judgement than enmity, not only individually for our families, but also collectively for our cities. For peace and concord have never damaged at all those who have employed them, whereas it would be surprising if enmity and contentiousness were not very deadly, very mighty evils. Moreover, while concord is a word of good omen, and to make trial of it is most excellent and profitable for all, strife and discord are forbidding and unpleasant words even to utter, and much worse are their deeds and more forbidding. For the fact is, strife and discord involve saying and hearing said many things one might wish to avoid, and doing and experiencing them too.36

27 But the wrangling and hatred of men who are such near neighbours, yes, who share common borders, is like nothing else than insurrection in a single city, since many have ties both of marriage and of business, and there is almost daily visiting back and forth, and the inhabitants are all related and intimate and, as one might say, on terms of hospitality with one another.37 But a neighbouring city that is at enmity and ill disposed is a grievous thing in every way and hard to get along with, even as a city that is well disposed and friendly is beneficial and much to be desired. 28 Furthermore, consider how much more pleasant it is to visit one's neighbours when they are on terms of intimacy and not of hostility, and how much better it is for those who are entertained away from home to be received without distrust,38 and how much better and more sensible it is at the common religious gatherings and festivals and spectacles to mingle together, joining with one another in common sacrifice and prayer, rather than the opposite, cursing and abusing one another. 29 And how different are the shouts of the partisans of each of two cities in the stadium and the theatre, when uttered in praise and generous acclamation, from the cries which are uttered in hatred and abuse! For these outbreaks are not for reasonable men or well-behaved cities, but rather for indecent harlots, who are not at all ashamed to utter licentious phrases, each from her respective chamber,39 as Homer puts it,

Who in a rage to mid-assembly go
And bandy insults, so their choler bids.40

30 How much, then, is it worth to avoid experiencing these things? How much more to avoid inflicting them on others? What amount of money or extent of territory would be such as to warrant sensible men in bartering therefor the seemly language of their daily lives, their becoming conduct at spectacles, and their readiness to go abroad? Furthermore, the very land and sea and mountains in every way bring you people together and, even if you did not wish it, compel you to deal with one another.41 For not only do the Apameians need our timber and many other things as well, but we ourselves have no other harbour through which to import foreign goods or to export our own domestic products.

31 Is it not, then, most unfortunate that each should have to buy from men who are not friends and sell to men who hate them, to enter the port of men who are irked at their presence, to afford hospitality to men who revile them, and at times to recline at a banquet next to men who are most hostile to them; if one takes passage on a ship, to know clearly that both the skipper and all his crew are muttering curses at him; and to have ever before one's eyes, whether sailing or walking, the most distasteful sight of all, that of enemies, and always to encounter such persons in greatest numbers on one's travels — an evil and disagreeable omen42 — as the result of which one is absolutely sure to have said something disagreeable or to have heard it said about himself as he passes by? 32 So I have often reflected on the folly and the corruption of mankind, noting that men are spiritually inferior to the most despised and meanest creatures. For human beings often come to blows on meeting one another, and before they part they have exchanged abusive language; yet the ants, although they go about in such swarms, never bother one another, but quite amicably meet and pass and assist each other.43

33 Again, that which has now come to pass regarding our city in truth touches intimately many people and irritates without exception those who are not from Prusa, because it is you who hear their law-suits and it is in your city that they must stand trial;44 then you ought on that account to be the more gracious and not make yourselves obnoxious. For example, from what place will envoys chosen for this function45 set out? Will it not be from Apameia? Will they not set out on their voyage from the shores of their bitterest foes, and use the harbour of the enemy's city? Or will they make a detour around it, as if the sea at our doors were difficult and inaccessible? As for me, I believe that those also who in days gone by were at variance with their neighbours found such incidents harder to bear and more grievous than that people should take up arms and invade their country or attack their fortifications or cut down their trees or set fire to their crops. 34 For although, in my opinion, such actions are hard to bear, altogether harder to bear are the passions of enmity and hatred which cause them. For from such activity as this nothing beneficial or useful can ever possibly come to pass. For the fruit of enmity is most bitter of all and most stinging, just as, methinks, its opposite, the fruit of goodwill, is most palatable and profitable. For the unwillingness ever to yield or make concessions to our neighbour — that is, without a feeling of humiliation — or while receiving some things ourselves, to concede some to the others, is not manly conduct, as some imagine, but, on the contrary, senseless and stupid.

35 Do you not see in the heavens as a whole and in the divine and blessed beings that dwell therein46 an order and concord and self-control which is eternal, than which it is impossible to conceive of anything either more beautiful or more august? Furthermore, do you not see also the stable, righteous, everlasting concord of the elements, as they are called — air and earth and water and fire — with what reasonableness and moderation it is their nature to continue, not only to be preserved themselves, but also to preserve the entire universe? 36 For even if the doctrine will seem to some an airy fancy and one possessing no affinity47 at all with yourselves, you should observe that these things, being by nature indestructible and divine and regulated by the purpose and power of the first and greatest god, are wont to be preserved as a result of their mutual friendship and concord for ever, not only the more powerful and greater, but also those reputed to be the weaker. But were this partnership to be dissolved and to be followed by sedition, their nature is not so indestructible or incorruptible as to escape being thrown into confusion and being subjected to what is termed the inconceivable and incredible destruction, from existence to non-existence. 37 For the predominance of the ether of which the wise men speak — the ether wherein the ruling and supreme element of its spiritual power they often do not shrink from calling fire — taking place as it does with limitation and gentleness within certain appointed cycles, occurs no doubt with entire friendship and concord. On the other hand, the greed and strife of all else, manifesting itself in violation of law, contains the utmost risk of ruin, a ruin destined never to engulf the entire universe for the reason that complete peace and righteousness are present in it and all things everywhere serve and attend upon the law of reason, obeying and yielding to it.

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.48 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.49 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 friendship50 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.51 . . .