This short address constitutes the sequel to Or. 40, which it must have followed closely in point of time. Dio is speaking before the Council of Apameia as a member of the official delegation from Prusa sent to conclude the reconciliation which forms the theme of both speeches. That the question was of widespread interest is shown by the presence in the audience of others than members of the Council (§ 1).

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

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

The Forty-first Discourse:

To the Apameians on Concord

Members of the Council and you other most fair-minded gentlemen here present, I believe I know for a fact that you are kindly and amiably disposed toward me. For I am sure I myself esteem highly your favourable regard and have never said or done anything against you, and besides, immediately on my reaching home1 you honoured me officially with a resolution which you sent me, expressing your joy over my return and inviting me to pay you a visit. 2 And perhaps there was nothing remarkable in what you did; for wherever I have been, not only cities in general, but even, I may say, most of those which are of equal rank with yourselves, have presented me with citizenship, with membership in the Council, and with highest honours without my asking it, believing me to be not unserviceable to themselves or unworthy of being honoured. And your action is not that of strangers but rather, as it were, of a fatherland honouring its own son2 in token of goodwill and of gratitude. Yet that there should be some here — as is natural in a democracy — who, if I may say so, are not too pleased with me3 would not surprise me, because of the rivalry between our two cities. Though I am aware that I cannot please even all the citizens of Prusa, but, on the contrary, that some of them are vexed with me for the very reason that I seem to be too patriotic and enthusiastic.4 3 However, a man who is reasonable and fair-minded must allow his fellow citizens this licence too. For it is not to be expected of democracies, nor is it reasonable, that they should not allow anyone in a city either to raise his voice against a single person or to find fault with him, even when that person shows himself to be behaving well in all respects, but such immunity from criticism is more likely to be accorded to dictators than to benefactors. Therefore, if there are some who are ill disposed toward me, it is they in whom I have the most confidence. For it is clear that they feel as they do because they believe I love my fatherland and try to foster it in every way. Therefore, if they become convinced that I regard this city too as my fatherland and am eager to do in its behalf all in my power, they will readily change and come to love me as the others do.

4 Now love of native land is a thing which, above all, I do not disclaim. But I ask them5 whether they regard this as the mark of an unjust man and one who is base, and whether they would not care to have that kind of citizen in their state. Well then, you have the opportunity to have as a citizen above suspicion not only me but the best of the other Prusans as well. And furthermore, you might more justly feel confidence in me for this very reason; for whoever is inconsiderate toward his natural parents would never be a dutiful son to his parents by adoption; 5 whereas he who cherishes those to whom he owes his being would never neglect those who have become parents as an act of grace. For Nature operates without our choice, whereas grace is an act of freewill. Now then, I am a citizen of each of our two cities; but while I need not feel grateful to the men of Prusa in that connexion, it is only fair that I should requite you as benefactors. For it is through your kindness and generosity that I am a member of your city.

However, for all who have gained citizenship by themselves there is only the benevolence inspired by the grant, and the compulsion which Nature imposes is not attached to it. 6 But as for me, I partake of both; for my grandfather, along with my mother, acquired from the emperor of that day, who was his friend, not only Roman citizenship, but along with it citizenship in Apameia too,6 while my father got citizenship here from you; consequently I am your fellow townsman by both grace and birth. Again, to my children at least this is fatherland rather than Prusa.7 While, therefore, necessity dictates that the children follow the father, it is much more pleasant for this father to follow his children.

7 These, then, are the reasons why I happen to be well disposed toward you and have a citizen's state of mind; and, moreover, I have shown it openly too. For when strife had broken out between our cities and the city of my birth very considerately disliked to trouble me against my wishes,8 though it was very eager to take up the problem, often inviting my support by the honours it bestowed upon me, I did not give heed to this inducement alone — not that I should have had any reluctance about acting in behalf of Prusa, since I might possibly have accomplished as much as any one and had not a few friends, and friends, too, not lacking in influence,9 not to say anything invidious or likely to hurt some persons' feelings; furthermore, it was not because I shrank from the journey, since I had to go abroad in any case. 8 Well then, in spite of these considerations I held off from the affair,10 not as a traitor to the men of Prusa, but out of consideration for you, and because I believed I should be more serviceable to both sides if I could make the cities friends, not alone by ridding them of their past subjects of dispute, but also by turning them toward friendship and concord for the future.11 For this is the best course of all and the most expedient, not only in dealings between equals, but also in dealings between superiors and inferiors.

9 Now I understand how difficult it is to eradicate strife from human beings, especially when it has been nurtured for a fairly long period of time, just as it is not easy to rid the body of a disease that has long since become a part of it, especially in case one should wish to effect a painless cure. But still I have confidence in the character of your city, believing it to be, not rough and boorish, but in very truth the genuine character of those distinguished men and that blessed city by which you were sent here as friends indeed to dwell with friends.12 That city, while so superior to the rest of mankind in good fortune and power, has proved to be even more superior in fairness and benevolence, bestowing ungrudgingly both citizenship and legal rights and offices, believing no man of worth to be an alien, and at the same time safeguarding justice for all alike.

10 In emulation of that city it is fitting that you should show yourselves gentle and magnanimous toward men who are so close to you, virtually housemates, not harsh and arrogant neighbours, since they are men with whom you have common ties of wedlock, offspring, civic institutions, sacrifices to the gods, festive assemblies, and spectacles; moreover, you are educated together with them individually, you feast with them, you entertain each other, you spend the greater portion of your time together, you are almost one community, one city only slightly divided.13 Besides, several citizens of Prusa you have even made citizens of Apameia, you have made them members of the Council, you have deemed them not unworthy of becoming magistrates among you, and you admitted them to partnership in these august privileges which pertain to Roman citizenship.14 11 How, then, is it reasonable to regard individuals singly as friends and to show them honour, and then as a community to view their city as a foe, as Apameia and Prusa both are doing? For when men love the inhabitants of a city and mingle with them and welcome them to citizenship, what explanation remains except that they do not like each other's climate and the position of each other's city, or else — an unholy thing even to suggest — that they detest each other's gods? Furthermore, any enmity towards any people is an irksome, grievous thing. For there is no enemy so weak as not on occasion to hurt even the man who appears to be very strong, or to display his hatred by either saying some painful word or doing some injurious act.

12 For the fruit of hatred is never, so to speak, sweet or beneficial, but of all things most unpleasant and bitter, nor is any burden so hard to bear or so fatiguing as enmity. For example, while it always interferes with strokes of good fortune, it increases disasters, and while for him who suffers from something else it doubles the pain, it does not permit those who are enjoying good fortune to rejoice in fitting measure.15 For it is inevitable, I suppose, that the masses should be harmed by one another, and, on the other hand, be despised and held in low esteem by the others, not only as having antagonists to begin with, but also as being themselves foolish and contentious. 13 However, there is nothing finer or more godlike than friendship and concord, whether between man and man or between city and city. For who are they who acquire the good things of life more becomingly, when it is their friends who assist in supplying them? Who escape the bad things more easily than those who have friends as allies? Who are less affected by distress than those who have persons to share their suffering and to help them bear it? To whom is good fortune sweeter than to those who gladden by their success not only themselves but others too? For I would not count that man fortunate who has no one to share his pleasure. 14 Again, what helper, what counsellor, is more welcome to behold than a friend met unexpectedly? In fact one might almost say that he is also an augury, not only most auspicious, but even most helpful, and to whomever he may meet a loyal friend.16 But the works of hatred, indeed, and of enmity are painful and grievous everywhere. The presence of an enemy is a grievous thing, whether in a serious business or in the midst of good cheer, a painful thing to behold and painful to recall, but beyond all things most baneful to experience.

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

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

The Forty-second Discourse:

An Address in his Native City

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

3 However that may be, I myself also take now this path and now that.1 For, on the one hand, whenever I consider myself and my inexperience, my inexperience in simply everything, but especially in speaking, recognizing that I am only a layman, I am minded for the future to live the life of a layman; on the other hand, when I consider those who take me seriously and invite me to make a speech, I am constrained to feel suspicious of myself, lest some quality of mine may after all be worth while, and without being aware of it, I may be in the same position as certain members of the animal kingdom, which, though they are useful to mankind and have within them some power to cure diseases, whether it be a potency of bile or blood or fat or hair,2 are unaware of it, while human beings, aware of this power, pursue and try in every way to capture them, not for the sake of their meat, but for that power of theirs.

4 Perhaps, then, in my case too people are always trying to make me speak, not because they have any need of my speech, but of something else. For I cannot imagine they have shown such interest in me from being ignorant and from never having heard me, as many no doubt desire many things because of ignorance. For almost all men are acquainted with my speeches, and they distribute them broadcast in all directions, just as lads in the cities sing cheap ditties at eventide. Moreover, almost all report my speeches to one another, not as they were delivered, but after having made them still better in accordance with their own ability, some making improvements purposely and 5 — evidently being ashamed to remember such stuff — introducing numerous changes and rearrangements by way of betterment, while others possibly do so unconsciously through not remembering very well. And so one no longer buys my wisdom from the market in abundant supply at an obol, as somebody has it,3 but instead one merely stoops and plucks it from the ground. One might almost say, therefore, that my speeches have had much the same fate as the pottery of Tenedos; for while all who sail that way put on board pottery from there, yet no one finds it easy to get it across in sound condition; but many crack or smash it, and ere they are aware they have naught but shards.

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

However, in the performance of that duty, Bassus seems to have found an all too zealous henchman in the person whom Dio pillories. The turbulence and unrest that characterized Bithynia as a whole at just this period undoubtedly gave an unscrupulous man, such as he appears to have been, ample opportunity both to satisfy personal grudges and to line his pocket. Dio's own reputation and connexions protected him against direct attack, but his foe seems to have tried covertly to undermine his reputation and thus to remove him from the scene as a champion of the common people, who were the man's natural victims. Dio had an unusual sympathy for the disfranchised and under-privileged (cf. Or. 34.21 23 and Or. 50.3 4). It has been suggested that in the present instance he had displayed that sympathy by using his personal influence with Bassus during his consulship. If so, the malice of Dio's unnamed foe is understandable.

We have observed already that at the close of his remarks Dio professes to report certain charges on which he is to be tried. It is plain from the final sentence that these charges were to be aired in the argument to which our Discourse forms the prelude. However, Arnim points out that they really apply, not to Dio, but to his antagonist. Therefore, although we do not know clearly the business before the assembly which Dio is addressing, it may have concerned the attitude of Prusa toward the approaching trial of Bassus at Rome (cf. § 11). Possibly the journey which Dio says he must make (§ 8) is a journey to Rome for the purpose of influencing Trajan against Bassus, and Dio may have wished to carry with him some official message from Prusa.

The Forty-third Discourse:

A Political Address in his Native City

According to the fable, a Lydian had no troubles, but he went out and bought some. Very well, the Lydian deserved to have troubles, seeing that he himself desired them; as for myself, on the other hand, although I have no desire for troubles, I have them because of ineffectual, envious fellows for no other reason than that I am thought to be fond of you, and because I have already done some good turns to my native city, having raised it to the level of the leading cities in the matter of distinction,1 and, God willing, shall do it other good turns in the future. 2 And I have said this, not as a bit of idle boasting — for you know yourselves that I have never referred to these services of mine in all the many speeches I have delivered in your hearing2 — but rather in self-defence against those who eye with malice you and me, in order that, if such a thing is possible, they may burst with rage — which from the standpoint of the city as a whole is the best thing that could happen — or else that they may at least suffer pain. But that the same persons dislike me as dislike the city you yourselves can testify, if you care to recollect both those who love and those who hate you. And yet they treat me more fairly than they treat you; for they accuse me here, whereas they accuse you from the witness-box.3

3 Now if I am seen to employ illustrations from Greek history, as is my habit, don't jeer at me. For I am not showing scorn for my fatherland, nor do I suppose you to be incapable of understanding such matters for yourselves, nor do I regard either Assembly or Council as ignorant. Therefore, I desire most of all that you should have the character which is Greek and be neither ungrateful nor unintelligent; but if that is asking too much, it is at least not a bad plan to listen to words which, in my opinion, might improve your character.4

4 Very well then, what is my illustration? there was a certain man in Thebes called Epaminondas;5 he loved his country above all else; and, seizing such opportunities as existed at that period, he performed for it many great services. For, instead of the craven, helpless, subservient people they had been, he made them foremost among the Greeks and contenders for leadership.6 For in those days these things were possible, whereas to day the times are different — though of course goodwill and devotion are always the same. For the breed of traitors and informers and persons who do anything to harm their fellow citizens existed in the cities even then; moreover, while patriots and men who do not wish their fellow citizens to suffer any harm and who are ambitious to exalt their country were plentiful then and performed mighty deeds, they are fewer now and not able to perform as many noble deeds.

5 However that may be, the famous Epaminondas was hated by those who were not like him, and there were some who maligned him, and the common people — as common people will — did not understand and were misled. And on one occasion one of the desperate, disfranchised group, a fellow who had done any and every thing to harm the city when it was in slavery and ruled by a dictator, abused Epaminondas in town meeting and said many harsh things — for every man who is a liar seeks to discover, not what he can say that is true, being unable to say anything that is true, but rather something offensive. Now when Epaminondas himself in turn took the floor, he did not speak regarding the other matters, nor did he defend himself against a single charge, but he merely said to his accuser, speaking in his own Boeotian dialect, “May Damater be wroth wi' ye!” But the Thebans on hearing that were delighted and burst into laughter, as well they might, recalling, I suspect, the friendliness of Epaminondas toward the people and the scurvy conduct of the man who was trying to vilify him. 6 Accordingly, if a certain person should say to me something I do not deserve, whether in plain terms or in figurative language to win renown as an orator — though his own figure is far from comely7 — I shall use toward him the reply of Epaminondas.

But rest assured that they do and say these things because they are irked at my presence here in Prusa,8 and for no other reason; for I do not lie in wait for any of the citizens, nor do I take pay from anybody, nor do I stand ready to levy tribute on your country, nor do I make myself a nuisance to anyone in the market-place — for I am no orator — nor have I defended anyone in court, save one luckless fellow alone whom I saved from being torn to pieces by his kinsmen and guardians, after they had first stolen his documents and pillaged much of his estate and afterwards tried by false witness to ruin him;9 7 but I have spoken in no other case at law, so that I am in no respect offensive to any one. No, it is with the purpose that in case a crisis ever arises such as certain persons pray for, a crisis similar to that earlier one10 — the kind that is not going to arise — but supposing that it should, the purpose is, I say, to prevent my being present to aid the commons, and to insure that the victims of blackmail shall not even have any one to intercede for them or to express sympathy for them; that, I repeat, is why a certain person is incensed that I am here in Prusa. For if there were several to assume that rôle — as indeed there are — no one would speak more readily than I; and I can speak to you more frankly than any one else. The reason is that I have both sacrificed for you my own good fortune11 and also shared with you your ill fortune. 8 And now I must leave my country, not, as on that other occasion,12 without repining, attended as I then was by the affection and admiration of all, but rather attended by the enmity of some; since I myself have suffered no harm,

For never did they lift my cows or mares.13

However, I am not surprised at my present troubles; since even the famous Socrates, whom I have often mentioned, during the tyranny of the Thirty14 did everything in behalf of the people and took no part in the crimes of that régime, but, when ordered by the Thirty to fetch Leon of Salamis, he refused to obey, and he openly reviled the tyrants, saying they were like wicked herdsmen, who, having received the cows when strong and numerous, make them few and weaker;15 9 but nevertheless it was by the government of the people, on whose account he then risked his life, that later on when that government was flourishing, because he had been slandered by certain informers, he was put to death.16 Now his accuser was Meletus, a loathsome fellow, and a liar too. Said he, “Socrates is guilty of corrupting young men and of not honouring the deities whom the city honours but of introducing other new divinities”17 — virtually the opposite to what Socrates was wont to do. 10 For not only did he honour the gods more than did anybody else, but he had composed a hymn in praise of Apollo and Artemis, this paean which even now I myself am wont to chant,18 and he tried to prevent, not merely the young men, but their elders too, from being corrupted, rebuking and reproving them, in case any one was greedy or licentious or tried to make money out of politics, some by arranging an acquittal for a bribe, some by blackmailing people, and some by pillaging the wretched islanders on the pretext of tribute19 or in connexion with the drafting of soldiers, just as some men are doing in Prusa. This is why they hated him and claimed he was corrupting the young men.

11 But my bill of indictment20 was longer and, one might say, nobler, a sort of occult bill apparently: “Dio is guilty, first, of not honouring the gods either with sacrifices or with hymns, by abolishing the festivals of our fathers; secondly, of so misleading a wicked proconsul21 as to cause him to torture the people and to banish as many as possible, and even to put some to death, making it necessary for them to die a voluntary death because, old as they were, they could not go into exile or endure to abandon their native land; thirdly, of co operating in everything even now with the man who took the rôle of tyrant over our nation, and of arranging, so far as it is in his power to arrange, that that tyrant shall be successful in his struggle and shall take by force the cities and their popular governments;22 12 fourthly, of spoiling even democracy itself, setting himself up as its accuser, and with his own words and tongue committing crimes against his fellow citizens, yes, the members of his own community, and doing many other things which I am ashamed to specify; fifthly, of making himself a bad example of laziness and high-living and faithlessness for both young and old; and sixthly, of bribing the masses, so that no one may reproach him with what was done in those days,23 but that people may instead acquire a sort of forgetfulness of his hatred and treachery.

Well then, men of Prusa, I shall defend myself against these charges,24 and if it seems good to you when you have heard me, condemn me; for the Athenians heard Socrates before they condemned him.

Internal evidence makes it fairly certain that this Discourse was delivered in the winter of A.D. 96 97, shortly after Dio's return from his long exile of fourteen years. The occasion was a town meeting at which it was proposed to accord him certain unnamed honours. These honours he modestly deprecates, pointing out that Prusa has honoured him sufficiently in having honoured various members of his family. Taking advantage of the present temper of his audience, he then urges the advisability of a reform in the conduct of the citizens. Though he is adroit in making his plea, it is abundantly evident from other speeches in this group that such a plea was warranted, for Prusa, in common with other cities of the province, was in a state of social and political upheaval. It is hinted that such reform is a necessary prerequisite to securing the concessions alluded to in § 11.

At the conclusion of his remarks, he announces that he is going to read to his hearers some correspondence between himself and the Emperor. Unfortunately that correspondence has not been preserved, but it becomes reasonably certain from Or. 45.2 3 that his imperial correspondent was Nerva, with whom he was on very friendly terms, and that their exchange of letters concerned, not only an invitation to visit Rome, but also certain aspirations on the part of Prusa, aspirations thwarted temporarily by Nerva's untimely death.

The Forty-fourth Discourse:

An Address of Friendship for his Native Land

on its Proposing Honours for him

Fellow citizens, no sight is more delightful to me than your faces, no voice dearer than yours, no honours greater than those you bestow, no praise more splendid than praise from you. Even if the whole Greek world, and the Roman people too, were to admire and to praise me, that would not so cheer my heart.1 For though, in truth, Homer has spoken many wise and divine words, he never spoke a wiser or a truer word than this:

For naught is sweeter than one's native land.2

2 Indeed, you may rest assured that I find all my honours, both those you now propose and any others there may be, contained in your goodwill and friendship, and I need naught else. For it is quite sufficient for a reasonable human being to be loved by his own fellow citizens, and why should the man who has that love need statues too or proclamations or seats of honour? Nay, not even if it be a portrait statue of beaten gold set up in the most distinguished shrines.3 For one word spoken out of goodwill and friendship is worth all the gold and crowns and everything else deemed splendid that men possess; so take my advice and act accordingly.

3 But if really I must have some such honours also, I have here at Prusa many other honours already — in the first place, those belonging to my father, all those honours bestowed upon him for being a good citizen and for administering the city with uprightness as long as he lived; then, too, those belonging to my mother, in whose memory you not only set up a substitute but also established a shrine;4 furthermore, the honours bestowed upon my grandsires5 and my other ancestors; and more than that, the honours possessed by my brothers6 and other kinsmen. 4 For numerous statues and state funerals and funeral games and many other precious marks of distinction have been accorded them by this city — none of which have I forgotten, nay, I know them all as well as any man could — and I feel that I myself owe you the thanks for these honours, and I pray the gods I may be able to discharge the debt. For though I know they proved themselves very worthy and had a right to all they received, still the city was more than generous in each instance. For their fatherland thanked them even for all they wished, but through some turn of fortune proved unable, to accomplish. 5 For example, if my grandfather had enjoyed the friendship of the emperor of that day for a longer period and if the time left to him had not been altogether brief, he had in mind, as I am told, to obtain independence for Prusa,7 and indeed he had already drafted his plea to that end. However, there is no need to abandon hope so long as the city continues to bear noble, patriotic men such as those it bears to day. For though I have been in many cities, I do not know better men than the men of Prusa.

Now I might go on to speak at some length of individuals, were it not that, since virtually all are my kinsmen, I shrink from the task of praising them, even though I should be making to each and all a contribution, as it were, due in return for the honours paid to me. 6 For, indeed, I have listened to these men too8 — though greatly awed on account of the speakers themselves, admiring their generosity and their devotion, and, what is more, their gift of eloquence. No wonder, then, if I myself9 have loved such a fatherland so greatly that I would not have chosen either Athens or Argos or Sparta, the foremost and most distinguished of the Greek cities, as my native land in preference to Prusa; and I have given practical demonstration of this too. For although many people in many lands have invited me both to make my home with them and to take charge of their public affairs, not merely at the present time, but even earlier, at the time when I was an exile — and some went so far as to send the Emperor resolutions thanking him for the honour he had done me10 — yet I never accepted such a proposal even by so much as a single word, but I did not even acquire a house or a plot of ground anywhere else, so that I might have nothing to suggest a home-land anywhere but here.

7 For indeed it would be shocking if human beings are to prove more unjust than bees. For no bee ever abandons its own hive and shifts to another which is larger or more thriving, but it rounds out and strengthens its own swarm, no matter if the district be colder, the pasturage be poorer, the nectar scantier, the work connected with the honeycomb more difficult, and the farmer more neglectful. But, according to report, so great is their love for one another and of each for its own hive, that when they are caught outside the hive in winter and a great wind springs up, they each seize with their feet a pebble as if for ballast before beginning to fly, so that they may not be borne astray by the gale or miss their hive.11

8 But when a man has a country which is both so devoted and so fine, why should he not regard all else as of minor importance? Taking all this into account, I rejoice to see my own son, my nephew, and the other young men too — and by God's grace I see many who one and all are both of goodly lineage and, at least in personal appearance, resemble goodly men — I rejoice, I say, to see them aiming without envy and jealousy to vie with one another, and with all other men as well, concerning character and good repute both their own and that of their country too, and also striving that each may gain first rank in his fatherland for being just and patriotic and not incapable of promoting his country's welfare. 9 For you may rest assured that, although Prusa is not the largest of our cities and has not been settled for the longest time, it is more illustrious than many, even in the estimation of the outside world, and that it has long caused its citizens to rank, not last, or even third or second, in competition with virtually all Greeks everywhere.12 And I say this, not for my own sake, but rather for the sake of the others, some of whom through foreign travel and through becoming notable men in a number of countries have gained a notable renown, while others through performing their civic duties here and remaining at home are not inferior to those just mentioned in either speech or action.

10 But I observe that it is not from the pursuit of eloquence alone13 but also from the pursuit of wisdom that men of character and distinction are being produced here in Prusa; and I shall not hesitate to exhort our young men in behalf of these things both in private and in public whenever there is opportunity. And I ask of you the people that, as to privileges which must come from our rulers,14 you cherish the hope of their realization and pray that some measure of honour or fame or affluence may accrue;15 but that, on the other hand, as regards the blessings which must come from yourselves, you possess them by being superior to the other self-governed communities in orderly behaviour, in respect for others, in obedience to your men of character, in industry, in temperance in your daily lives, in neglecting neither your bodies nor your souls, insofar as each man's private circumstances grant him leisure, in devotion to the task of rearing and educating your children, in making your city truly Hellenic, free from turmoil, and stable, and in devoting your native shrewdness and courage and intelligence to greater and finer things, while refraining from discord and confusion and conflict with one another so far as possible.16

11 For, my friends, education can be predicated of a people also and morality of a state, a morality based upon love of learning and fair-dealing. Moreover, not only did the Spartans and the Athenians in ancient days — and certain other peoples too — through orderly behaviour in civic matters have the good fortune to make their cities great and illustrious even out of very small and weak beginnings, but such an achievement as that is possible also for those to day who wish it. For if you follow the practices I have mentioned, they will benefit you more than either the size of your Council, or the right to settle your disputes at home, or the gaining of some revenue from without, or even than independence itself, should you be so fortunate as to obtain that too some day.17 12 For rest assured that what is called independence, that nominal possession which comes into being at the pleasure of those who have control and authority, is sometimes impossible to acquire, but the true independence, the kind which men actually achieve, both the individual and the state obtain, each from its own self, if they administer their own affairs in a high-minded and not in a servile and easy-going manner. But that you may know my opinion from another source as well, I will read you a letter which I myself sent to the Emperor in answer to his invitation to visit him, because in that letter I begged to be excused in favour of you, and also the letter which he wrote in reply.18

This Discourse seems to have been delivered in A.D. 101 orº 102 in a meeting of the popular assembly at Prusa (§§ 1 and 8). We do not know for certain the reason for the meeting, but, since Dio concludes his address with a vigorous defence of his programme to enhance the beauty and dignity of his city, that programme may have been the main item of business on the agenda.

As suggested by its title, the speech covers Dio's relations with the city of Prusa. It is unusually rich in details, but unfortunately the language employed is sometimes so allusive and vague as to leave the modern reader in doubt as to the actual facts involved.

Dio begins by referring briefly to the period of his exile, speaking with bitterness of Domitian, who had sent him into exile, and recalling with pride the courage he had displayed in opposing the Emperor. After a brief reference to the friendship which had existed between the speaker and Nerva and to the loss which he and his city had sustained through Nerva's untimely death, Dio passes to a discussion of a recent visit which he had made at the court of Trajan, from which he had brought back certain concessions which had long been sought after by Prusa. It appears that Dio's enemies had been critical of what he had accomplished, and he takes pains to point out, not only that he had sacrificed his own personal advantage to further the welfare of Prusa, but that the concessions he had won were such as had been granted to only one other city, “the most illustrious city in all Asia.”

Although Dio does not specify what those concessions were, we may infer that they included a revision of finances (§§ 6 p205and 10) and either the establishment or the enlargement of the Council at Prusa (§ 7). It would appear that Dio's enemies had accused him of wire-pulling in connexion with the election of the hundred members of this new Council, and he is at some pains to establish his innocence in the matter.

The last topic to be discussed is his programme for municipal improvements. He devotes much space to explaining that, although he was ambitious to make far-reaching improvements and had possibly allowed his enthusiasm to lead him into indiscreet remarks upon that theme, what he was then undertaking was relatively conservative in its scope. His concluding sentences contain a most interesting recital of the manner in which his project had been ratified — the proconsul had called a meeting of the Assembly without the previous knowledge of Dio and had himself read to the members in attendance either a motion to approve the plan or some statement in support of it; Dio had made an extempore speech advocating its adoption and explaining what it involved; and, if we may believe his words, not only was the vote in favour of the measure unanimous, but all promised to lend it their financial support.

The Forty-fifth Discourse:

In Defence of his Relations with his Native City

Fellow citizens, I want to render you an account of this sojourn of mine, since I believe that the time remaining to me is going to be very brief.1 Well, how I bore my exile, not succumbing to loss of friends or lack of means or physical infirmity; and, besides all this, bearing up under the hatred, not of this or that one among my equals, or peers as they are sometimes called, but rather of the most powerful, stern man, who was called by all Greeks and barbarians both master and god,2 but who was in reality an evil demon; and this too without fawning upon him or trying to avert his hatred by entreaty but challenging him openly, and not putting off until now, God knows, to speak or write about the evils which afflicted us, but having done both already, and that too in speeches and writings broadcast to the world, not being goaded by madness or desperation to do these things, but trusting in a greater power and source of aid, that which proceeds from the gods, though most men scorn it and deem it useless3 — 2 but to speak of these things in detail I think is superfluous, for these matters are better known among other men4 and enjoy a renown and honour which is their due, whereas if I narrate in Prusa the course of my exile, men will say, not that I am lamenting, but far rather that I am boasting.

However that may be, when that man had died and the change of administration had been effected,5 I was on the point of going to visit the most noble Nerva; but, having been prevented by a serious illness, I lost that opportunity completely, being robbed of an emperor who was humane and fond of me and an old-time friend.6 And I swear to you by all the gods, it is not because of what I might have obtained for myself or for some member of my family that I am distressed at having missed it, no, because of what I might have achieved for you and for the state at large; for this I count a great injury and loss. 3 For what we have now obtained7 we might have had then, and we might have employed the present opportunity toward obtaining further grants. However that may be, when I had experienced at the hands of the present Emperor a benevolence and an interest in me whose magnitude those who were there8 know full well, though if I speak of it now I shall greatly annoy certain persons9 — and possibly the statement will not even seem credible, that one who met with such esteem and intimacy and friendship should have neglected all these things and have given them scant attention, having formed a longing for the confusion and bustle here at home,10 to put it mildly — for all that, I did not employ that opportunity or the goodwill of the Emperor for any selfish purpose, not even to a limited degree, for example toward restoring my ruined fortunes or securing some office or emolument, but anything that it was possible to obtain I turned in your direction and I had eyes only for the welfare of the city.

4 But the question whether these concessions are useful and important, or whether they have been granted, not to many other cities, but to one only, and that too, I venture to state, one of the most illustrious in all Asia, a city possessing so great a claim upon the Emperor, inasmuch as the god they worship had prophesied and foretold his leadership to him and had been the first of all openly to proclaim him master of the world11 — I am not speaking of anything like that. But that you desired these concessions12 most of all, and that there had been a long period during which you were in a state of expectancy, victims of deception, constantly bestowing extravagant honours upon those private persons who merely gave you promises — for of course none of the proconsuls ever either expected or promised these concessions13 — inasmuch as you went in a body far from Prusa to meet the men of whom I speak, and waited for them in other cities — this perhaps is a matter worth bearing in mind. 5 And yet, seeing that only trifling, yes worthless, concessions were effected by them, the high-minded man, the man who was not the slave of envy and malice, should have said at the time, “You are crazy and deluded in clinging so tenaciously to men like that and in cultivating such low fellows in order to gain favours that are neither essential nor important, to say nothing of their being vague and of your having no assurance.” But, I suspect, any of these things, no matter how it was brought to pass, was to them difficult. Yet surely the people were not equally distressed that it was this or that proconsul who had effected the concession and presented it to them instead of one of our own citizens. Besides, they had a lurking hope which cheered them regarding concessions that never came to pass.14

6 And yet this too I have heard from many sources, that when one of the proconsuls on a previous occasion had sent a rescript regarding the administration of our finances15 and the project came to naught, many ridiculed the city — I don't mean many of our neighbours, for the outrage would have been less in that case, but many of our own fellow citizens — alleging that the city was aiming at things beyond its reach and in point of folly proving in no wise superior to the sons of kings. And in saying these things they were not ashamed to be disparaging their own country and discrediting it so thoughtlessly by their words. For if they are among the foremost in it or among those held in honour, they are discrediting themselves, having been the outstanding men of a weak and ignoble city; while if they are among the outcast and lowest group,16 they are making their own disgrace still greater and more grievous, if they happen to occupy the lowest station in a city of the lowest grade.

7 But, not to be diverted from my theme by these incidental reflections, now that these favours have been obtained in whatever way they were, and brought to Prusa,17 consider whether I have made myself obnoxious to any of our citizens, either privately by speaking to my own interest, or publicly by parading and casting in your teeth favours conferred, or by having given preferment to certain men of my choice; or whether, on the contrary, though no fewer than a hundred councillors were enrolled, while others had put in friends of their own and had schemed to have in the Council persons to aid them and to give their support to whatever they might wish to accomplish, I neither did anything of the kind nor discussed such a thing, in the belief that they18 would have sided with me rather than with somebody else had I so desired. 8 No, I held that, if possible, no other man should introduce such a practice or conduct state affairs by means of political clubs19 or split the city into factions, but if they did, that I at any rate should abstain from such misdeeds, even if it meant that I should have much less influence than any of the others and be considered of no importance at all.

Then what error have I committed in the matters under consideration, or in what have I been found remiss? I have the right to admit to you that I was neither doing anything unjust or illegal myself nor trying to prevent the others from so doing, although by a single word I could have prevented and, by presenting myself, have disclosed to you and the proconsuls what was going on, though you knew it already. And, in case you paid no heed and the matter did not impress the proconsuls either, it would not have been difficult to send word to the Emperor. 9 It was this, therefore, that made me keep quiet, that I might not be suspected of accusing certain persons or of maligning the city and, in general, that I might not be too irritating to anyone at Prusa. Now then, the matter of the Council was managed as follows, correctly for the most part, for you elected men who were neither mediocre nor undeserving; however, since they all received the same rank — even though they obtained it justly and through their own merits — they nevertheless, like those who are being initiated into the mysteries, required mystagogoi.20 Yet I did not see fit even to vote on a single candidate, yes, I alone, lest such action on my part might seem to lend some weight and testimony, and lest some of the others might be reluctant to write and declare themselves in opposition to me.21 10 What then? When the voting had been in progress for two or three days I left Prusa and did not intend by being present at the proceedings to have any one as my debtor or confederate or owing me thanks because of the affair. For it was for you, not for myself, that I had asked for the councillors.

And again, when now for the first time the question of financial administration22 had been brought up, though I had been wronged by many men in many matters — as indeed it was to be expected that a man should be who had come home after so many years of exile — and although with regard to some I did not even need to go to law, but rather to speak to them and remind them of what was being held in their possession, nevertheless I did not mention these matters to any one or make any statement, although so many slaves had run away and obtained freedom, so many persons had defrauded me of money, so many were occupying lands of mine, since there was no one to prevent such doings. 11 For if Odysseus, who had left at home a father, a faithful wife, and friends, had the misfortune to be so despised because of his absence from home that some took possession of his house and feasted and drank there every day, draining his wine casks and killing off his cattle, and finally did not even keep their hands off his wife, but tried to make her marry again against her will and to abandon her husband and her home, was it not to be expected that I should have suffered many such wrongs at the hands of many men, since all had come to despair of me and no one any longer expected me to return in safety?23

12 However, though possibly I have not been like others in regard to such matters — I mean that, as compared not only with laymen but even with many who are known as philosophers, I may have acted with more self-restraint — still I have offended the city in the matter of the public improvements.24 Concerning these, how they came about, you have often heard me speak;25 yet perhaps I should take this occasion also to refresh your memory. For, gentlemen, that I wished in the first place to beautify the city and equip it with, not merely colonnades and fountains, but also, if that were possible, fortifications and harbours and shipyards, I freely admit. 13 And also that I have had another passionate desire — call it either so childish or so foolish as you will — I do not deny. I mean my desire to make our city the head of a federation of cities and to bring together in it as great a multitude of inhabitants as I can, and not merely dwellers in this distinct either, but even, if possible, compelling other cities too to join together with us, just as Epaminondas once brought Boeotia into union with Thebes, and as Theseus brought Attica into union with Athens, and as the people of Mytilenê once, according to report, having become masters of Aeolis and of the regions about the Hellespont and the Troad, gathered all Lesbos into their own state as a unit.26

14 However, being acquainted with the views of some of the people here, as well as with my own limitations and responsibilities and the duration of my sojourn in Prusa — for the time at my disposal is altogether brief27 — I neither undertook anything too ambitious nor entertained any such expectations, only I could not control my own thoughts, but, just as lovers when alone together expatiate on such things as they most desire, so I too would often mention those things which I did believe it would profit the city to have for its equipment and its establishment of a federation and its revenues and countless other things. 15 And if the opportunity should ever arise for the fulfilment of these projects and some god should bring them to pass, then you will see the extravagance of the hostility of certain persons and of their hatred of me — to say nothing of their hatred of you — since they will no longer be ambiguous and mild in their speech and their abuse, but open and outspoken, and if they prove unable to block proceedings, they will hang themselves sooner than see the city become such a city as, God willing, it is not impossible for it to come to be.28 At that time, at any rate, when the proconsul accepted the proposal29 — possibly through your efforts, but perhaps through mine as well — and convened an assembly, though I had had no previous warning, and began to read a statement about these matters, I could not keep quiet, but took the floor and gave the measure my support and explained the project for those who lacked information on the subject. 16 And as to what happened after that, it is not that you the Assembly desired the improvements but a certain one of the officials opposed them, nor yet that, while no one opposed them, none was found enthusiastically in favour of them and ready to co operate; on the contrary, one and all, believing that the undertaking was fine and for the city's good, were ready not only to vote for it but also to contribute to it; and thus the proposal was carried, as being fine and magnificent and beneficial to the city.

The title of this Discourse, though doubtless truthful, affords no information as to either the contents or the occasion. Such a title must have been given by a person who was interested in the chronology of the speeches. It is the only title of the sort preserved in our MSS., though Synesiusa found several of that type in his copy of Dio.

Relying on internal evidence, Arnim dates the speech shortly prior to Dio's exile. Although the clues when taken separately may not be conclusive on that point, their combined witness supports that dating. The speaker is conscious of his powers as an orator (§ 7) and has appeared as an advocate in court (§ 8); he has been in possession of his inheritance for some time, though he has not yet collected all the debts due the estate; he has excited the envy of the masses by his reputed wealth (§§ 5 6); he appears to have only one infant child (§ 13); he has recently built a pretentious villa and some workshops (§ 9). Furthermore, he rests his claim to respect upon the reputation of his forebears rather than upon any merits of his own (§§ 2 4), and his failure to appeal for sympathy on the score of having been an exile is in marked contrast with his behaviour in the speeches which are demonstrably subsequent to that exile.

The occasion for the address is briefly as follows. As a result of the rising price of grain at Prusa a bread riot has taken place. The excited mob rushed to attack the properties of Dio and an unnamed neighbour, either because they were suspected of having manipulated the grain market or because it was felt that they should be doing something toward the relief of the masses or because of pure hatred of the poor for the rich. Having reached a narrow lane near Dio's estate, the mob suddenly was seized with panic and withdrew. The following morning the local authorities call a town meeting to discuss ways and means of easing the situation. In this meeting of citizens Dio rises to protest against his maltreatment by the mob. The gathering is hostile, and he appeals for a fair hearing both in the beginning of his remarks and later when he speaks of the price of grain; but he shows himself a man of fearless courage both in defending himself and in upbraiding his fellow townsmen. The address is interesting, not only as presumably the spontaneous eloquence of a distinguished speaker, but also as portraying in vivid colours the social and economic unrest that must have characterized more than one community in Bithynia.

The Forty-sixth Discourse:

Delivered in his Native City prior to his Philosophical Career

I am not so astounded at your conduct, gentlemen, shocking as it is, but since I cannot see any justification for your anger against me, I am in a quandary. For while justifiable anger can be assuaged by entreaty, hatred that is unjust who could heal? However, I ask you to give me a hearing,1 since I speak as much on your account as on my own. For if I am guilty of no wrong, neither do you, I presume, wish to hate without a cause one of your own citizens; while if I am guilty, my words will be harmful instead of helpful to me; and thus I shall undergo at your hands a punishment greater than you yourselves are seeking. For it is in every way more dreadful to be proved a scoundrel than to be stoned to death or consumed by fire.2 2 And you must recognize first of all that the things which seem terrible to you — stones and fire — are not terrible to anybody, and that you are not really strong because of these things, but weakest of all — unless one were to take into account the strength of brigands and madmen. But as for a city and a government by the people, strength lies in other things, and first and foremost in wisdom and fair dealing.

Now with reference to my father, there is no need for me to tell whether he was a good citizen, for you are always singing his praises, both collectively and individually, whenever you refer to him, as being no ordinary citizen.3 3 You should know, however, that these words of praise of yours are of no use to him; on the other hand, when you give your approval to me, his son, then you have been mindful of him too. Again, no one could say of my grandfather4 either that he disgraced the city or that he spent nothing on it out of his own means. For he spent on public benefactions all that he had from his father and his grandfather, so that he had nothing left at all, and then he acquired a second fortune by his learning5 and from imperial favour. 4 Moreover, it is plain that he asked for no favour for himself, though held in such great friendship and esteem, but rather that he guarded and husbanded for you the goodwill of the Emperor.6 But if anyone thinks it foolishness to remind you of goodwill and nobility on the part of your own citizens, I do not know how such a man can wish to be treated well himself. Being descended, then, from such forebears, even if I were an utter knave myself, yet surely on their account I should merit some consideration instead of being stoned or burned to death by you.

5 But consider my own claims too, gentlemen, not unsympathetically. For my father left us an estate which, while reputed to be large, was small in value, yes, much less than that of others; for no less than four hundred thousand drachmas were in bills receivable, besides foreign business ventures of such nature that they were far more troublesome than the bills. For we had no security, I might say, for any part of our assets, but my father had acquired all his wealth through trusting to his own influence, believing that no one would contest his claims. 6 Yet, left as I was in such a situation, while I have not even now succeeded in securing a settlement of that part of the loans which fell to me,7 I have performed for you the greatest liturgies,b in fact no one in the city has more of them to his credit than I have. Yet you yourselves know that many are wealthier than I am. What is it, then, that makes you angry with me, and why of all the citizens have you singled out for dishonour me and what's-his name, and why do you threaten us with stoning and burning? And let no one say that I am speaking in behalf of that man. For though perhaps you should not be so exasperated at any one, even among the wrongdoers, still my own troubles are enough for me.8

7 And pray consider what sort of citizen I am in other respects also, comparing me with whom you please — of all whom you do not consign to the flames. For example, though I have real estate, all in your territory too, yet none of my neighbours, whether rich or poor — and many of the latter class are my neighbours too — has ever lodged complaint against me, either justly or unjustly, alleging that he was being deprived of something or being evicted. Nor am I either over-clever as a speaker or, if I may say so, poorest of all in that art. 8 Well then, is there any one whom I have injured by my words, by causing trouble for any one who loves peace and quiet or by contriving some outrage against him? Or have I placed anyone in jeopardy touching his estate, pretending that it belongs to Caesar, or have I as advocate played false to any one?

Again, no man is more blameless than I am in connexion with the present shortage. Have I produced the most grain of all and then put it under lock and key, raising the price? Why, you yourselves know the productive capacity of my farms — that I rarely, if ever, have sold grain, even when the harvest is unusually productive, and that in all these years I have not had even enough for my own needs, but that the income from my land is derived exclusively from wine and cattle. Nay but, some one may claim, though I lend money, I am unwilling to supply it for the purchase of grain. There is no need for me to say anything on that score either, for you know both those who lend money in our city and those who borrow.9

9 What is it, then, which I might do to relieve you from your distress but which I refuse to do, or what is it that makes you feel toward me as you do? It is because, by Heaven, I have built the colonnades near the hot springs, and workshops too; for this is the injury some claim the city is suffering at my hands! Yet whom have either you or any other person ever taken to task for building a house on his own farm? Or is it that which makes grain dearer? Why, I bought the land at fifty thousand drachmas, a price altogether higher than its worth!10 Nay, I am ashamed, by all that's holy, if any of the citizens — for of course it is not the city itself — is so depraved as to feel hurt and jealous if he sees that somebody has built a colonnade or a workshop!

10 Besides, though the matter over which you have become incensed truly does require some attention, still it is not beyond repair or such as to make you act as you are acting. For while the cost of grain has risen higher than what is customary here, it is not so high as to make you desperate. Why, there are cities in which it always is at that price, when conditions are best! There you go, making a tumult once more,11 as if I were saying it ought to be that price at Prusa too, and never lower. But the point I am making is that, while it is necessary to take steps to make it cheaper, still it is not necessary to feel so bitter over what had happened or to lose your senses; for the way you have acted just now is not the conduct befitting such a matter, nay, if I had murdered your children and your wives you could not have behaved with greater savagery. 11 For to be enraged at one's own fellow citizens — I care not whether justly or unjustly, but at all events at fellow citizens, citizens in good standing, yes, as good as anybody — and not to let them explain or to make an explanation to them, but without more ado to try to stone them and burn their houses, with a view to consuming in one conflagration, if possible, them and their children and their wives — what kind of human beings act that way? In my opinion, I swear by all that's holy, no matter if you will be angry to hear it, such conduct is not that of men in needy circumstances or lacking the necessaries of life. For need develops self-control.

And if you do not suppose these remarks of mine are being offered for your good, you are very much mistaken. 12 For if you are going to be like this and, in case you become angry with any one — and many things are likely to happen in a city, both right and wrong — you are going to see fit to exact so extreme a punishment as forthwith to try to consume with fire the victim of your rage along with his children and to force some of the women, free citizens as they are, to appear before you with garments rent, supplicating you as if in time of war, what mortal is so foolish, so unfortunate, that he will choose to live in such a city a single day? The fact is, it is far better to be an exile and a sojourner on foreign soil than to be subjected to such outrage. Why, even now the alleged reason which, they say, made you turn back from my house — having become suspicious, forsooth, at the depth of the lane12 — see how flimsy it is! 13 For if that is what saved me, it is high time from now on, as if the city were an armed camp, to occupy the difficult terrain and the lofty or precipitous positions! And yet, God knows, not even in armed camps does one soldier seek a safer spot than his neighbour in which to pitch his tent; no, their precautions are aimed at the men with whom they are at war.

So, although my thanks are due to the lucky chance which made you turn back, whether this was your motive or anything else at all; still you had no real reason to be suspicious. For I should not have warded you off, no, so far as that is concerned, you are absolutely safe in burning down my house any time you please, and I was content to take my wife and baby and leave.

14 And let no one imagine that it is in anger over my own position that I have said these things rather than in fear for yours, lest possibly you may some day be accused of being violent and lawless. For nothing which takes place in the cities escapes the attention of the proconsuls — I mean the more important ones in these parts; on the contrary, just as relatives denounce to the teachers the children who are too disorderly at home, so also the misdeeds of the communities are reported to the proconsuls.13 Now while such conduct as yours would not be honourable or advantageous for yourselves, to demand that there should be supervision of your market and that those men should be elected who are financially able and have not performed liturgies, but if that cannot be, that then the choice of supervisors should rest with you, this, I say, is the course of sensible human beings and in this no one will oppose you.14

The theme of this Discourse is Dio's pet project of embellishing his native city. He seems to have conceived the idea soon after his return from exile (A.D. 96). We learn both from the present address and from Or. 40.11 that the people of Smyrna, Ephesus, Tarsus, and Antioch, not to mention lesser communities in that quarter of the Roman world, were taking energetic measures to beautify their respective cities, and Dio was concerned that Prusa should not lag behind. The full magnitude of his ambitious scheme is suggested by Or. 45.12 14, where he says he had dreamed of constructing not merely colonnades and fountains but also fortifications, harbours, and shipyards and of increasing the population of Prusa by attracting immigration from all directions and even by incorporating with Prusa while communities, “as Epaminondas once brought Boeotia into union with Thebes and as Theseus had brought Attica into union with Athens.”

The opening paragraphs of Or. 40 form a valuable supplement to our present Discourse, which it seems to have preceded by not more than a few months. By combining both sources of information we gather that thus far Dio's operations have been confined to the construction of one or more colonnades; that the project had been sponsored by one or more proconsuls, as well as by Trajan himself; and that it had been welcomed by the people of Prusa, who on more than one occasion had heard the plan explained and had repeatedly expressed enthusiastic approval and guaranteed financial support by private subscription. However, the work involved the demolition of older structures and the removal of certain landmarks, both sacred and profane, and Dio son found himself the target for hostile criticism. He seems to have been attacked on the charge of impiety and lack of local patriotism and as being chiefly concerned to serve his personal pride and ambition. It was no doubt by means of such charges that the small but energetic group of opponents tried to discourage payment of subscriptions to the building fund and thus to block proceedings. In the concluding paragraphs of the present address Dio deals ironically with the criticisms of one enemy in particular, whose gossipy remarks are treated as if they were intended for Dio's own good but who seems to have likened him to a tyrant.

Dio tells us, no doubt truthfully, that his active opponents are relatively few; yet his long exile had made him seem to be an outsider, his social and financial status undoubtedly raised him above the general level at Prusa, and his intimacy with Trajan and other influential Romans, while on occasion it was capitalized to the advantage of his people, laid him open to popular suspicion and jealousy. Again, it is human nature for men to be carried away by enthusiasm when plans are first proposed but to find their ardour cooling when work is in progress and subscriptions are falling due. Whatever may have been the cause, it is apparent that affairs have reached such a stage that Dio feels he must abandon his earlier intention of making no more public appeals in support of the work. The speech which he proceeds to deliver is notably sarcastic and bitter, but the justice of his case is made so manifest and his threat to wash his hands of Prusa is so disturbing that his hearers seem to have burst forth into shouts calling for the work to be carried forward. That it was carried forward to completion and acclaimed as a success may reasonably be inferred from the close of Or. 45, which Arnim dates in A.D. 101 or 102, at most but a few months later than the present Discourse.

We find welcome testimony regarding conditions in Bithynia in the tenth book of Pliny's Letters. Immediately following Pliny's entry into that province, A.D. 100 or 111, he reports (17A and B) that finances are in bad shape, that on various pretexts private individuals are in possession of public funds, that public grants have been made for illegal purposes, but that substantial sums may be recoverable from certain contractors at Prusa. Letter 23 and Trajan's reply concern a project to “repair an ancient and ruinous bath” at Prusa. A sequel is found in 70, in which Pliny proposes to abandon the original structure, once a private residence of some pretensions but now “a hideous ruin,” and to build afresh in a district now “exceedingly deformed.” More interesting still for our present purpose is 81, in which it is reported that Cocceianus Dio had been eager to have the Council of Prusa accept for the city “a public edifice which had been erected under his charge.” A certain Flavius Archippus, acting through his attorney Eumolpus, had demanded that Dio first render an account of expenditures, charging that the work had not been carried out according to specifications and adding that Dio had been guilty of a grave offence in setting up a statue of Trajan in the same edifice in which were buried Dio's wife and son. Dio had been prompt in presenting to the proconsul the required statement and was urging a speedy hearing, but his opponents continued to create delays. We do not know the outcome of the squabble, but Trajan's reply (82), while recommending an inspection of Dio's accounts, as a matter of public interest, exhibits slight concern over the charges laid against him.

Thus we are led to infer that the popular support achieved by Or. 47 sustained Dio in the years that followed the completion of the colonnade and encouraged him to undertake with renewed zeal some of the projects associated with the ambitious program spoken of in Or. 45.12 14. It is equally clear that he still had to contend with the opposition of some of his fellow citizens.

The Forty-seventh Discourse:

A Speech in the Public Assembly at Prusa

In the first place, my friends, do not by any means suppose when I rise to speak that you are about to hear a discourse that is extraordinary or remarkable; I mean, for example, one composed to produce a kind of pleasure or to exhibit beauty or wisdom. For possibly I should not in any event have been equal to that sort of thing, but it may be that by good luck I have deceived the public and all the cities; yet be that as it may, it stands to reason that now at all events I have experienced a great lack, indeed a complete forgetfulness, of that sort of eloquence. For a man's words must needs be coloured by the nature of what he is doing and in which he is engrossed; and in my case I have long been engaged in petty and inglorious affairs.1

2 Now perhaps this experience of mine is a matter of necessity, for previously I used to be surprised at those philosophers who abandoned their own countries under no compulsion and chose to dwell among other peoples, and what is more, despite their own claim that a man should honour his fatherland and regard it as of supreme importance, and that activity in public affairs and playing one's part as a citizen is the natural duty of a human being.2 I am referring to Zeno, Chrysippus, and Cleanthes, not one of whom stayed at home, despite these brave words. Did they not, then, mean what they said? They above all others did, to my way of thinking. 3 Why, they regarded concern for a man's own city as a noble and truly blessed and appropriate function for men of wisdom; on the other hand, they used to view with distrust the difficulties and vexations it involved — not only ignorance on the part of some, but malice on the part of others, and sheer heedlessness on the part of still others — unless a man of wisdom could at the same time possess the strength and power of a Heracles; however, they considered this impossible.

4 And yet we hear of Heracles himself that, though he made himself master of Egypt and Libya, and also of the people who dwelt about the Euxine Sea, both Thracians and Scythians, and though he captured Ilium, having crossed over with a small army, and though, after gaining control over all these peoples, he actually set himself up as king;3 still when he arrived in Argos4 he busied himself with removing the dung from the stables of Augeas or hunting serpents5 or chasing birds, to keep them from troubling the farmers in Stymphalus, or with performing other such menial and humble tasks at the bidding of another; and finally, they say, he was sent to Hades,6 with such exceeding fairness did his fellow townsman7 treat him! But we hear that, though the Argives and Thebans8 praised and admired Heracles, still they shut their eyes to his mistreatment.

5 It was the thought of this, it seems to me, which made Homer, who was not only a fine poet but also in his way a philosopher, spend all his time abroad — so much so that no one could determine his country — and prefer to get twenty-five drachmas by begging,9 and that too in the rôle of a madman, rather than live at home. And so it was that in later days all men claimed him as their countryman.10 Again, while Homer's name is well known among all Greeks and barbarians,11 most men, it is safe to day, have not even heard of Ios12 — if he really was born there — and there is not much talk of Chios or of Colophon either; and yet Colophon can show a poet not inferior to Homer, namely Apollo.13 Again, Pythagoras of his own volition fled from Samos when it was under the tyrant,14 and yet among all other peoples, and especially, I believe, about the shores of Italy, he was honoured as a god.15

6 “What of it,” some one in this audience has been saying long since, “are you comparing yourself with Homer and Pythagoras and Zeno?” Nay, by Heaven, not I, except that it was the opinion of all the philosophers that life in their own native land was hard. For what think you? That they did not love their home-lands, but that Homer, while he lamented over Odysseus and declared that Odysseus was willing to die forthwith if only he could see the smoke rising from Ithaca,16 did not himself cherish his own city, but, on the contrary, that he was not confessing under the name of Odysseus his own love and longing for his native heath? 7 On the other hand, while I cannot say whether the man who always remained in his father land, doing whatever seemed best to his fellow citizens and the laws,17 benefited the Athenians to any great extent, I do know the loss which they sustained in his death. For even now they still are reproached concerning Socrates for not having behaved toward him either justly or piously, and it is said that this conduct of theirs occasioned all the evils which befell them later.

8 Now this is merely idle talk which you have heard from a “vagabond” and a “chatterbox.”18 But as I was saying,19 I beg you not to expect from me at present any high-minded, sage address, but rather one which is amateurish and commonplace, just as are the matters of which it treats. But let me assure you, just as from the moment of my arrival this time20 I had purposed to maintain a discreet silence, I should not have said a single word had not something urgent taken place. For I have taken in hand a problem which has caused me many real problems21 and amazing unpleasantness. Consequently, although formerly I did not understand what in the world was meant by the saying that the Thessalian witches draw down to themselves the moon,22 now I have come to understand it fairly well. 9 And I used to envy Aristotle at times because, being a native of Stageira — Stageira was a village in the territory of Olynthus — and having become the teacher of Alexander and an acquaintance of Philip's after the capture of Olynthus, he brought it about that Stageira was resettled,23 and they used to say that he alone had had the good fortune to become founder of his fatherland. But meanwhile, quite recently, I came upon a letter in which he exhibits a change of heart and laments, saying that some of these settlers are trying to corrupt, not only the king, but also the satraps who came there, so as to thwart any good outcome and to prevent entirely the resettlement of the city.

10 But when some persons, exiles and homeless as they were, were actually annoyed by the prospect of having a fatherland and enjoying constitutional government in independence, but preferred to be scattered in villages like barbarians rather than to have the form and name of a city, would it be proper, I ask you, to feel surprise no matter what else annoys certain persons? Accordingly, just as Aristotle has written in his letter as one who has become sick and tired of his troubles — for he says he is holding up his fingers24 — you may consider that I too am holding up my own fingers, as well as any other fingers there are. 11 For in truth the infatuation of those fellows proved more than a match for the exertions of Aristotle, so that they did not permit the petty village to grow to the rank of a city, and to this day the spot is uninhabited.25 But let no one charge me with calling this city of ours a Stageira and a village; for I can declare on oath that no other city has appeared to me more excellent, even were it to possess only the smithy of So-and-so,26 which I, the “sacker of cities and citadels,”27 tore down.

12 However, that I may not forget the reason why I took the floor, perhaps I have been guilty of a human error.28 Well then, what penalty do you want me to suffer now in payment for this error, or what do you wish me to do? I ask you to give me your advice. Should I tear down at my own expense the work thus far accomplished and make everything just as it was before? But perhaps I shall not be able to do so. 13 Or what shall I do, in Heaven's name? Do tell me! For I thought as I perceived that other cities were ambitious in such matters — not merely the cities in Asia29 and Syria and Cilicia, but these neighbouring cities so close at hand, Nicomedia, Nicaea, and Caesarea30 yonder, well-born folk and very Greek, yet occupying a city much smaller than our own; — and that those who enjoyed the rights of citizenship in each of these cities, no matter if they differed concerning other matters, agreed on such matters as these; and that the Emperor, as luck would have it, was sending written instructions to this effect, stating that he wishes your city to be developed in every way31 — but just let me read you his letter, since it would take too long to read the letter of Aristotle and it would not be worth the trouble — 14 I thought, as I was saying, that it would be this way with you people too, and that no one would be vexed because the city was being embellished. And so far as that is concerned it turned out as I had expected; for you approved these plans, and you yourselves made many and frequent contributions and showed yourselves enthusiastic.

What, then, do you wish? For I swear to you by all the gods, if it meant paining you, or any among you, or being thought a nuisance, I should not choose to have for my very own the palace of Dareius or of Croesus, or to have my own ancestral dwelling golden in very truth instead of in name alone like the house of Nero.32 15 For there is no advantage in a golden house any more than there is in a golden pot or in the Persian plane tree.33 On the other hand, there is advantage when a city becomes good-looking, when it gets more air, open space, shade in summer and in winter sunshine beneath the shelter of a roof, and when, in place of cheap, squat wrecks of houses, it gains stately edifices that are worthy of a great city, the purpose being that, just as with well-bred colts and puppies, those who see them can forecast their future height if the legs are long and sturdy, whereas if they are short and stunted men say they will always remain so,34 thus it may be also with our city.

16 But what use is there in you speaking of these things now? One of the sophists did well to call me a nightingale, though he intended it as an insult; his reason, no doubt, was that the poets call the nightingale a tiresome chatterer. But perhaps I may be like the cicadae; for when parched with thirst from exposure of that sun, they sing out of sheer folly, since they are in no wise benefited thereby. Yet perhaps I should not fail to add this much at least on the subject of the tombs and shrines, namely, that it is not likely that the people of Antioch did not lay hands upon anything of this kind; the reason is that they were providing much more space than we are, for their city is •thirty-six stades in length and they have constructed colonnades on both sides;35 nor is it likely that the people of Tarsus did not either; nor indeed the people of Nicomedia, who passed a resolution to transfer their tombs. 17 And Macrinus, whom you have recorded as a benefactor of the city, removed from the market-place the tomb of King Prusias,36 and his statue as well. The explanation is that the cities I have named have no one who is public-spirited or scrupulous in religious matters; but we had many such!

However, just suit yourselves in these matters. For what concern of mine is the colonnade in this city? As if I could not promenade in any place I please — in the Painted Porch at Athens,37 in the Persian Porch at Sparta,38 in the golden colonnades in Rome,39 in those of Antioch and Tarsus — attended by marks of greater respect, or as if I expected that I alone should sally forth and promenade but no other citizen!40 Why, no one has either a municipal gymnasium all to himself where he exercises or a colonnade or a bath or any other public structure. Or else I have become demented or feeble-minded.

18 However, as I have requested,41 give me your advice. For though it is my desire to please you in every way possible, I am at a loss. For as things are now, if I take the business in hand and try go get the work done, some persons say I am acting the tyrant42 and tearing down the city and all its shrines. For of course it was I who set fire to the temple of Zeus! Yet I saved the statues from the scrap-pile, and now they are placed in the most conspicuous spot in the city. But if, on the contrary, I hold my peace, not wishing to make any one groan or to give offence to any one, you cry out, “Let the work proceed, or else let what has been accomplished to date be torn down!” — as if by this you were taunting and reproaching me. 19 Well, what do you wish me to do? For I will do whatever you say, and as to everything essential I will raise no objection, no matter if some one has done a job for which he has rendered no accounting,43 no matter if he is still at work and receiving funds regularly from the annual officials, just as if he were destined to continue receiving these funds for the jar that never fills, no matter what else may take place — for what have I to do with these matters? For I shall not go walking through your colonnade, you may be sure. But do you wish me to go ahead with the work, and to visit the proconsul and beg him to collect the subscriptions,44 gently and with regard to ability to pay, from those who have promised them? you ready to do even this; not only so, but even to contribute a portion of what has been subscribed myself, so as to lighten the burden of the rest. 20 Only do give me some instructions; otherwise I shall hold my peace and let you shout — or rather I shall go away. For unlike the fox who ate the meat and could not get out of the oak because she had stuffed herself,45 I shall find no difficulty in getting out on that score, for I have grown much thinner than I was when I came in.46

And in Heaven's name don't imagine you are showing me kindness when you shout about the colonnade,47 for there is, I may say, only one man in the city, so I hear, who is showing me kindness and taking special thought for my welfare; moreover, no one, whether friend or kinsman, shows concern for me in that way.48 But consider whether you will think he reasons well in my behalf and is devoted to me, 21 seeing that, in the first place, he believes that after all my perils and hardships I should live here quietly and devote myself to my private affairs and neither cultivate proconsuls49 nor have any other occupation; also, since I have recovered only a small part of my property, and since, on top of my earlier losses, when my sister died I not only derived no profit from her estate but even lost everything of mine that she controlled50 and had to make a loan for the purchase my farm, he argues that I should repay this obligation, as well as the earlier debts, and not be building a colonnade or incurring expenses beyond my ability to carry; 22 furthermore, since I am on terms of acquaintance, perhaps even of intimacy, with the Emperor, as well as with many others who may be called the most influential among the Romans, he suggests that I should associate with them, enjoying their esteem and admiration,51 instead of being taken to task in your city before this or that individual; again, if I really like foreign travel, I should, he says, visit the greatest cities, escorted with much enthusiasm and éclat, the recipients of my visits being grateful for my presence and begging me to address them and advise them flocking about my doors from early dawn,52 all without my having incurred any expense or having made any contribution, with the result that all would admire me and perhaps some would exclaim,

Ye gods! his dear and honoured is this man
To whatsoever town and folk he comes;53

23 but I should not spend money out of slender resources, be busied with unprofitable ventures, destroy with neglect my body, which calls for treatment and much attention, allow my soul to go so long without a taste of philosophy and kindred subjects, and be called to account before this or that man and be subjected to abuse at times and made to smart.

By Heaven, is not the man who frets and reasons thus in my behalf most well disposed toward me of all and most deserving of my love? However, when I hear that a certain person is talking about me as if I were a tyrant, it seems to me to be amazing, yes, ridiculous. 24 For according to my understanding tyrant's acts are like the following: seduction of married women and ruining of boys, beating and maltreating free men in the sight of all, sometimes even subjecting men to torture, as, for example, plunging them into a seething cauldron, and at other times administering a coat of tar; but I do naught of this. Furthermore, I know regarding a female tyrant, Semiramis,54 that, being advanced in years and lustful, she used to force men to lie with her. And of male tyrants I have heard it said that so-and-so did the same thing, outrageous old sinner!55

25 But what has all this to do with me? Is it because I build my house in costly style56 instead of letting it tumble down? Or because I myself wear purple instead of a miserable rag or cloak? Can it be because I wear long hair and have a beard?57 But, possibly this is not the mark of a tyrant but rather of a king. However that may be, some one58 has said that being roundly abused, though doing kindly deeds, is also a mark of royalty.

This address, like the one preceding, is closely related to Dio's project for embellishing Prusa, of which we are to hear no more. The immediate occasion is the presence in Prusa of Varenus Rufus, newly appointed proconsul of Bithynia. He has just arrived in the province and plans on the morrow to leave Prusa on a tour of inspection. The populace of Prusa, exercising its newly regained right of public assembly, has gathered for the purpose of greeting the new governor. Dio pleads with them not to treat the occasion as an opportunity to air their local grievances against certain fellow townsmen, but to present a united front and postpone to a later date such charges as may require attention. These charges appear to involve members of the upper class at Prusa, some of whom have been tardy in paying their pledges to the building project (§ 11), while others are accused of having state money in their possession (§§ 3 and 9), presumably obtained in connexion with that same enterprise. Dio urges patience and a sympathetic treatment of the points at issue, defending the character of the persons involved and extolling the blessings of concord.

If the date of the proconsulship of Varenus were known, the dating of this Discourse would present no problem. By close reasoning from internal evidence Arnim arrives at the summer of A.D. 102 as the date of this address. Of importance for his argument is the turmoil in Bithynia, so prominent in this speech, a turmoil which Arnim connects with the maladministration of the province by Julius Bassus, the immediate predecessor of Varenus. Although Dio is at great pains to minimize the manifestations of unrest at Prusa and to attribute them to injection from without, the space devoted to that effort is in itself fair proof that conditions at Prusa must have been bad.

The Forty-eighth Discourse:

A Political Address in Assembly

In the first place, my friends, we ought to feel grateful to the most noble Varenus, not only for the general goodwill he has displayed toward our city, but also because, when we wished to hold an assembly once more, he gave his permission, not only readily but even gladly.1 For this was the act of one who trusts you and knows you will not use the privilege for any disagreeable purpose. For just as no one, I assume, collects green logs to build a fire, knowing in advance that there is bound to be much disagreeable smoke, so no proconsul of good judgement convenes a meeting of a community which is in a state of turmoil, unless some major emergency overtakes him. 2 On the present occasion, therefore, it is your duty not to prove false to his conception of you, but rather to show yourselves temperate and well-behaved in assembly, and first and foremost, I believe, to adorn yourselves with mutual friendship and concord, and if he comes in answer to our invitation,2 to defer the other matters about which you were so vociferous; for he will inquire into the public problems himself, even if you wish to prevent him. But for the present express your appreciation of his goodness, greet him with applause, and welcome him with auspicious words and honour, to the end that he may visit you, not as a physician visits the sick, with apprehension and worry over their treatment, but rather as one visits the well, with joy and eagerness. 3 For though now, indeed, he will possibly leave here to morrow, he will return a little later; and then, unless in the meantime we ourselves3 can win you to our view, in case some one really has something belonging to the commonwealth,4 by using one another as both judges and arbitrators, then, I say, you will have the opportunity not only to speak but also to shout others down. At all events I suspect it is very senseless to start a riot prematurely. For where have you put the matter to the test, or when have you made any demand upon them,5 or who has refused to listen to you?

Furthermore, I do entreat you, address to all the praise you are offering me.6 For just as at a banquet it is very disgraceful for only one of the guests to be drinking, and for this reason we take umbrage, not merely at the cupbearer, but also at the man who is drinking, this same principle obtains in regard to the official resolutions of commendation. 4 Besides, if you do this, you will be bringing honour upon yourselves, since the greatest honour a city has is the praise its citizens receive. On what else do you base your pride? Do not other cities excel you in point of size, and also, God knows, in wealth and plenty and their public edifices? However, this is the one particular in which we rival practically all the world, namely, our having men competent both to act and to speak, and, what is the most important of all, men who love their country. But if any one takes this from you, to what city, even the humblest, will you be deemed superior? For now, in case you have a quarrel with any city — which may none of the gods bring to pass! — and the people of that city consequently revile our citizens, saying they are rapacious, untrustworthy, in what temper will you take it? Will you not be angry? Will you not straightway shout, be abusive, possibly come to blows, as has often happened in the past? 5 Then what you do not tolerate from the lips of others will you yourselves say against yourselves? If ever a quarrel arises and your adversaries taunt you with having wicked citizens, with dissension, are you not put to shame? As for myself, I swear to you by all the gods, I was indeed violently angry when a certain person7 said to me, “Bring reconciliation to the city,” and I was vexed with him. For may I never see the day when you need reconciliation, but, as the saying goes, may such things be diverted to the heads of our enemies, that is, to the accursed Getae, but not to any others, members of our own race.

6 Why, what would be the good of my presence here, if I should fail to lead you to such a policy by persuasion, having constantly engaged with you in discussions conducive to concord and amity, so far as I am able, and trying in every way to eradicate unreasonable and foolish enmity and strife and contention? For truly it is a fine thing and profitable for one and all alike to have a city show itself of one mind, on terms of friendship with itself and one in feeling, united in conferring both censure and praise, bearing for both classes, the good and the bad, a testimony in which each can have confidence. 7 Yes, it is a fine thing, just as it is with a well-trained chorus, for men to sing together one and the same tune, and not, like a bad musical instrument, to be discordant, emitting two kinds of notes and sounds as a result of twofold and varied natures,8 for in such discord, I venture to say, there is found not only contempt and misfortune but also utter impotence both among themselves and in their dealings with the proconsuls. For no one can readily hear what is being said either when choruses are discordant or when cities are at variance.9 Again, just as it is not possible, I fancy, for persons sailing in one ship each to obtain safety separately, but rather all together, so it is also with men who are members of one state. 8 And it becomes you, since you excel in cultivation and in natural gifts and are in fact pure Hellenes, to display your nobility in this very thing.10

I might go on to say a great deal on these topics, I believe, and things commensurate with the importance of the subject before us, were it not that I am in quite poor health,11 and also, as I was saying,12 if I did not observe that your condition is not permanent. For no incident has yet happened, nor does this malady13 thrive among you, but it is possibly a slight attack of distrust, which, like sore eyes, we have caught from our neighbours. But this is a thing which often befalls the sea too — when the depths have been violently disturbed and there has been a storm at sea, often there are faint signs of the disturbance in the harbours also.14

9 Do you imagine there is any advantage in market or theatre or gymnasia or colonnade or wealth for men who are at variance? These are not the things which make a city beautiful, but rather self-control, friendship, mutual trust. But when you find fault with the Council, with the leaders of the government, with the duly elected officials, are you not finding fault with yourselves? For if the better men among you are base, what should one assume regarding the others? “Shall we, then, lose what belongs to us?” some one retorts. No one is suggesting that; on the contrary, you may rest assured that in all our cities there are public funds, and a few persons have these funds in their possession, some through ignorance and some otherwise; and it is necessary to take precautions and try to recover these funds, yet not with hatred or wrangling.

10 These men15 are generous; they have often made contributions to you out of their own resources. Use persuasion on them, appeal to them; if they are stubborn, urge the justice of your claims before them privately, with no outsider present.16 Is it not you who often praise us all day long, calling some of us nobles, some Olympians, some saviours, some foster-parents? Then, by all that's holy, are you going to be convicted of false witness in your own household, and is it anger which now prompts your words, or was it flattery then; and is it that you are the victims of deception now, or were you guilty of deception then? Will you not cease your turbulence and recognize that you have fellow citizens of refinement and a city that can be prosperous? I can accomplish many things, if Heaven wills, with these men as my helpers; however, I cite the proverb, one man is no man.17

11 But possibly you were displeased that the work has not been completed. It is going forward, and it will be completed very speedily, especially with the enthusiastic and earnest interest of these men, provided they give willingly; for you know they were not unwilling when they gave their promise. But why do you demand payment from these men and not from me? Because I am supposed to have made payment to you already? Then do you regard it as my doing, if I have made my own fatherland more highly esteemed by providing some working capital, as it were, from the Council fees,18 and, and by Zeus, from increase in income brought about through the revision of our finances?19 Why, these matters are as if I had prayed in your behalf, while the gods did the work.

12 Aye, and if I am able to do it again I will do it again.20 And I shall be able to do so with confidence, provided I have the friendship of the people of Prusa, and I shall not charge you anything for such efforts. For neither do parents charge to the account of their children the prayers offered in their behalf. Do you imagine I should be speaking of a colonnade or anything else, if I saw you wrangling? Why, that would be just as if, when a man is ill and suffering from brain fever, though the proper treatment, no doubt, would be to put him to bed and apply a poultice, one were to rub him with perfume and administer a garland! These things are a luxury for the well, for those who have no affliction. Do not you suppose that at the time when the Athenians were in the grip of civil war and had brought upon themselves the enemy and were betraying one another — poor devils! — they had both the Propylaea and the Parthenon and the colonnades and Peiraeus? Aye, but the Propylaea and the dockyards and the Peiraeus itself only echoed the more loudly to their cries.

13 And yet a great and populous city suffering from civil war and folly can for a time endure its misfortune; still you can see how terrible even such things are. Do not the Athenians accuse one another, do they not drive men into exile, do they not put one party into the Council and drive out the other? Is not everything subject to upheaval as in an earthquake, everything unsettled, nothing stable? They have reached the point of not being satisfied with their own leaders, but, just as in the case of incurable diseases, require physicians from abroad. Then comes what happens with intractable horses — when the bit fails to hold them in check, a curb is put upon them from without.21

14 My concern is partly indeed for you, but partly also for myself. For if, when a philosopher has taken a government in hand, he proves unable to produce a united city, this is indeed a shocking state of affairs, one admitting no escape, just as if a shipwright while sailing in a ship should fail to render the ship seaworthy, or as if a man who claimed to be a pilot should swerve toward the wave itself, or as if a builder should obtain a house and, seeing that it was falling to decay, should disregard this fact but, giving it a coat of stucco and a wash of colour, should imagine that he is achieving something.

If my purpose on this occasion were to speak in behalf of concord, I should have had a good deal to say about not only human experiences but celestial also, to the effect that these divine and grand creations, as it happens, require concord and friendship; otherwise there is danger of ruin and destruction for this beautiful work of the creator, the universe.22 15 But perhaps I am talking too long, when I should instead go and call the proconsul to our meeting. Accordingly I shall say only this much more — is it not disgraceful that bees are of one mind and no one has ever seen a swarm that is factious and fights against itself, but, on the contrary, they both work and live together, providing food for one another and using it as well? “What!” some one objects, “do we not find there too bees that are called drones, annoying creatures which devour the honey?” Yes, by Heaven, we do indeed; but still the farmers often tolerate even them, not wishing to disturb the hive, and believe it better to waste some of the honey rather than to throw all the bees into confusion. 16 But at Prusa, it may be, there are no lazy drones, buzzing in impotence, sipping the honey. Again, it is a great delight to observe the ants, how they go forth from the nest, how they aid one another with their loads, and how they yield the trails to one another. Is it not disgraceful, then, as I was saying, that human beings should be more unintelligent than wild creatures which are so tiny and unintelligent?23

Now this which I have been saying is in a way just idle talk. And civil strife does not deserve even to be named among us, and let no man mention it. 17 However, I propose that after purifying the city — not with squill nor yet with water, but with what is far more pure, namely, reason — we negotiate in public meeting what yet remains, not only concerning ourselves with our clerks of the market24 and so forth, but also calling the attention of the Council to these matters, so that it may make provision for the city, as is its practice; for these things will be quite easy for you to do. Besides, this deserves your serious attention also on account of the archon whom you have created, in order that, having taken a man of inexperience, you may not later abandon him in wave and tempest.25

The major portion of this Discourse is devoted to a consideration of the importance of the philosopher in the administration of affairs of state and of his duty to accept office for the good of the state. It appears that Dio, without his previous consent, had been set up as a candidate for election to the archonship, the highest office in the government. That election to this office was a function of the Council is clear, not only from the fact that Dio's excuses are offered to that body, but especially from the natural interpretationº of §§ 14 15. Furthermore, we learn from § 15 that the Council had once before elected him to that office by acclamation. Arnim argues with much cleverness that the election just referred to took place the year preceding our Discourse, A.D. 102, that Dio declined to serve on that occasion, and that he used his influence to bring about the substitution of his son to fill his place (cf. Or. 48.17 and note). On the occasion referred to Dio, in support of his request to be excused, urged the imminence of his departure from Prusa. Not yet having made good that announcement, he now feels called upon to assert his good faith and to declare that this time he is really about to leave (§ 15).

For what reason was he to take his departure? In the initial sentence of Or. 45 (A.D. 101 or 102) he says he believes he has not much longer to stay in Prusa. One infers from his use of the verb οἴομαι that his departure is not wholly a matter of personal choice. In that same speech (§ 3) and in Or. 47 he suggests that he might reasonably look to Trajan for some preferment. Arnim concludes that some such offer of preferment had been made prior to Or. 45 and that Dio's earlier uncertainty as to the precise moment of his departure was due to the Emperor's absence from Rome in connexion with his campaign in Dacia. That campaign is now over and Dio is due to begin his journey to Rome.

The Forty-ninth Discourse:

A Refusal of the Office of Archon Delivered before the Council

To reasonable and cultivated men the holding of office is neither distasteful nor difficult. For they enjoy nothing more than doing good; and the ruler of a city, or of a tribe, or of still larger aggregations of mankind, not only has the fullest opportunity for doing good, but also is practically bound to do so; but if he fails in that respect, the ruler who does harm is not tolerated, I do not say by human beings, reputed to be the most petulant of all creatures, but not even by the stupidest of the beasts. 2 For example, neither do cattle willingly submit to neglect on the part of the hersdmen nor do flocks of goats and sheep submit to keepers who ruin them. For some run away and do not obey, and others even retaliate against their wicked guardians. In fact horses inflict much worse punishment on ignorant drivers by throwing them off than the drivers inflict by striking them with the whip. But of all these creatures man is the most clever and has the most intelligence; accordingly man is most hostile of all toward a bad ruler, though most kindly of all toward one who is good. Thus being a ruler is pleasant for those who know the art — though no pursuit could be difficult for the man who had practised it from the start and had equipped himself for it.

3 But he who is really a philosopher will be found to be devoting himself to no other task than that of learning how he will be able to rule well, whether it be ruling himself or a household or the greatest state or, in short, all mankind, provided they permit it, and, while himself needing no ruler other than reason and God, he will be competent to care for and give heed to the rest of mankind. Moreover, this fact has not escaped the notice even of kings themselves, or of any men in power who are not utterly bereft of judgement. For they entreat men of cultivation to become their counsellors in their most important problems, and, while giving orders to everybody else, they themselves accept orders from those counsellors as to what to do and what not to do.

4 Take Agamemnon for example — Homer says that Agamemnon also sought the opinion of Nestor especially, and that every time he did not follow Nestor's advice he bewailed the fact and promptly repented.1 Again, Philip, who is reputed to have been the cleverest of kings, engaged Aristotle as teacher and ruler for his son Alexander, believing that he himself was not competent to give instruction in the science of kingship; nay, while he thought himself fit to rule the other Macedonians and Thracians and Illyrians and all the Greeks, he handed his son over to another to be ruled, and while he gave orders to so many myriads, he did not dare give orders to that one man. The reason is that he did not feel his own risk to be as great if he should err where it concerned any one else as it would be if he should commit some error in connexion with his son.

5 And yet previously Philip himself, while a hostage at Thebes, not only was associated with Pelopidas, a man of cultivation — in consequence of which it was even said that Pelopidas had been his lover — but he also witnessed the deeds of Epaminondas and listened to his words; and it was not mere accident that Epaminondas had acquired such power among the Greeks and had wrought so great a change in Greece as to overthrow the Spartans,2 despite their long-continued rule, but because he had conversed with Lysis,3 the disciple of Pythagoras. This, I fancy, explains why Philip was far superior to those who previously had become kings of Macedonia. Yet for all that, though he had the good fortune to obtain so good an education, he did not have the courage to instruct Alexander himself.

6 However, while one would find that philosophers have rarely become rulers among men — I mean holding positions termed “offices,” serving as generals or satraps or kings — on the other hand, those whom they ruled have derived from them most numerous and most important benefits — the Athenians from Solon, from Aristeides, and from Pericles, the disciple of Anaxagoras; the Thebans from Epaminondas; the Romans from Numa, who, as some say, had some acquaintance with the philosophy of Pythagoras;4 and the Italian Greeks in general from the Pythagoreans, for these Greeks prospered and conducted their municipal affairs with the greatest concord and peace just so long as those Pythagoreans managed their cities.

7 Furthermore, since they cannot always be ruled by kings who are philosophers, the most powerful nations have publicly appointed philosophers as superintendents and officers for their kings. Thus the Persians, methinks, appointed those whom they call Magi, because they were acquainted with Nature and understood how the gods should be worshipped;5 the Egyptians appointed the priests who had the same knowledge as the Magi, devoting themselves to the service of the gods and knowing the how and the wherefore of everything; the Indians appointed Brachmans, because they excel in self-control and righteousness and in their devotion to the divine,6 as a result of which they know the future better than all other men know their immediate present; 8 the Celts appointed those whom they call Druids,7 these also being devoted to the prophetic art and to wisdom in general. In all these cases the kings were not permitted to do or plan anything without the assistance of these wise men, so that in truth it was they who ruled, while the kings became are servants and the ministers of their will, though they sat on golden thrones, dwelt in great houses, and feasted sumptuously.

And indeed it is reasonable to expect that man to administer any office most capably who, occupying continuously the most difficult office of all, can show himself free from error. 9 For example, the philosopher is always master of himself; and this is altogether more difficult than to be king over all the Greeks or all the barbarians. For what race of men is as savage as are anger and envy and contentiousness, things over which the philosopher must maintain control? What race is as knavish and intrigue number and traitorous as are pleasures and lusts, by which he must never be overcome? What race is as violent and terrifying and debasing to men's souls as are fear and pain, to which he must never be seen to yield? 10 Again, what armour, what defences does he possess for protection against these efforts such as both kings and generals have against a foe? What allies or bodyguards can he employ against them, unless it be words of wisdom and prudence? Whom else can he bid do sentry duty or trust to stand guard, or what servants can he employ? Is he not, on the contrary, obliged to hold this watch himself both night and day, with anxious thought and vigilance, lest, ere he is aware of it, he may be excited by pleasures or terrified by fears or tricked by lust or brought low by pain and so be made to abandon those acts which are best and most righteous, turning traitor to himself? 11 However, the man who administers this office with firmness and self-control does not find it difficult from then on to show himself superior even to the whole world.

But when I enter into these details regarding philosophers, let no one think I am speaking with a view to the outward appearance and the label.8 For as sensible men do not judge wine from the jar in which it is stored — for often you will find in an excellent jar the spoiled wine of the taverns — so also they do not judge the man of cultivation by his dress. 12 Yet I am not surprised that most men are deceived by such a thing as that. For example, the suitors pitted Odysseus against Irus because of their dress, supposing the two to be no different.9 But one of the philosophers who lived a short time ago has well said that it made Ismenias10 especially angry that the pipers at funerals should be called flautists, though that is not quite the same thing, it seems to me. For the pipers at funerals do no harm to the dead nor do they annoy them, whereas some of those who profess to be philosophers really do many grievous things.11 13 However, the function of the real philosopher is nothing else than to rule over human beings. But if a man, alleging that he is not competent, is reluctant to administer his own city when it wishes him to do so and calls upon him, it is as if some one should refuse to treat his own body, though professing to be a physician, and yet should readily treat other men in return for money or honours, just as if his health were a smaller recompense than another kind; or again, it is as if some one who claimed to be an able trainer of athletes or a teacher of letters should be willing to teach the sons of others, but should send his own son to some one else of less standing; or as if some one who neglected his own parents should be ready to prefer the parents of others, provided he found them to be more wealthy or more distinguished than his own. 14 For it is neither more righteous nor, by Heaven, more pleasant to disdain those who are related by ties of blood and then to be of service to those who are not relatives at all.

Very well, the conclusion to be drawn from these remarks is that the philosopher should hold office, since you wish it. However, you may be sure that, if there were not some insuperable obstacle, I should not be waiting to be asked but should myself be asking, yes, entreating you.12 For this too is a mark of those who are noble and sound-minded, that a man should rule his fellow citizens, himself announcing his candidacy and being grateful for his election instead of depreciating the honour, or even making it a dishonour. 15 What, then, is the insuperable obstacle in the present instance? I think I deserve to be believed in everything else whereof I speak — for in my opinion I have never deceived you in anything, nor have I in the past said one thing and meant another13 — yet I have always had too many engagements,14 and against my own inclination I have thus far been prevented from abandoning them.15 And now it is no longer possible at all, practically speaking. For it is not to my interest, and possibly not to yours either, that I should tarry here. Therefore I beg to decline my election. For I feel sure that I should not have had to submit to investigation, but that, just as previously you elected me unanimously by acclamation16 when you suspected I was willing to take office, you would have done the same now too. However, I am not so minded; but while I know that in order to hold office I should not have been obliged to call upon you, yet in order to be excused from holding office I am not ashamed to be calling upon you.

This Discourse is really earlier in date than Or. 49, though the interval between the two is presumably very brief. In the one Dio disclaims the ambition to become archon, announcing his intention to leave Prusa (50.7), in the other he declines that office in an election already in progress, referring to his departure as to an event of the immediate future (49.15). The projected journey is referred to briefly also in the opening sentence of Or. 45. A possible explanation of the reason for the journey and for the repeated postponement of it is suggested in the Introduction to Or. 49.

Our Discourse affords no sure clue as to the reason for the meeting of the Council. It may have been a regular session of that body, though we learn (§ 10) that Dio had been charged with having interfered with its convening. At all events the setting for this defence of his past record was highly dramatic. The presiding officer must have been his own son (τὸν υἰὸν τοῦτον, § 5), to whose recent election as archon Dio seems to refer at the close of Or. 48. Dio himself was a member of the Council, for in § 10 he is at some pains to explain why he has not been in attendance upon earlier sessions.

Arnim argues with some plausibility that, when on a previous occasion Dio had declined election as archon, he had engineered the substitution of his son for that position. We do not know the precise age of the son at the time of his election, but the reference to his inexperience (Or. 48.17) leads us to suppose that he was young for the highest office in the state, and that supposition is confirmed by the concluding sentence of the present Discourse as emended by Capps. What more natural, then, than that Dio's enemies should have spread the report that the son was merely a cat's paw for the father, and that, while evading the responsibilities of office, Dio was exercising all its prerogatives — πάντα ἁπλῶς νομίζουσι τὰ τῆς ἀρχῆς γίγνεσθαι κατὰ τὴν ἐμὴν γνώμην, § 10? Against that rumour Dio offers the favourite Greek argument of probability, pointing to his previous record and claiming that it would be inconsistent, especially for one of his age, to refrain from exercising the prerogatives of a member of the Council, while at the same time trying to usurp the functions of its presiding officer. The fact that shortly thereafter he was put up as a candidate for that office suggests either that his arguments or his flattery or both had silenced the opposition or else that his foes were really a very small minority. There is in these Bithynian addresses abundant testimony to his popularity and influence at Prusa.

The Fiftieth Discourse:

Regarding his Past Record,

spoken before the Council

My friends, I admired you even ere this, as indeed it was to be expected that a man of fairness and no fool would cherish that element in his native city which is most sensible and trustworthy; on the other hand, to rank others ahead of you is as if a man who professed to be patriotic were to delight in the private houses and workshops in his city, but to regard with more indifference the market-place, the town-hall, the council-chamber, and the other sacrosanct places;1 or as if, by Heaven, a Spartan were to be fond of the common people, but were to hold in low esteem the kings and ephors and elders, men by far superior to all others in prudence, men by whose efforts the city as a whole was being preserved.2 2 Again, take the Athenians, who had the most democratic government in the world and gave the most numerous privileges to the masses and the people's party; they never had any demagogue, not even the notorious Hyperbolus3 or Cleon, so audacious as to regard the Areopagus or the Council of the Six Hundred4 with less reverence than the common people. But if I am continually referring to the Spartans and Athenians, let the carping critics pardon me, because I am judging you worthy of such comparisons and because in addressing Greeks, as I take to be the case, I deem it appropriate not to refer to any others than Greeks of the first rank.

3 However that may be, let this be your evidence of my goodwill toward you, as well as of my trust in you, that I come before you with assurance neither because I rely upon some political club nor because I have among you some familiar friends; moreover, I believe I should stand as high with you as any man, obviously because I have based my confidence upon my friendship toward all and my goodwill toward all, and not upon my being elected to be an influential or formidable person or seeking to be favoured for such a reason. On the other hand, if I did pity the commons at the time when they were subjects for pity, and if I tried my best to ease their burdens,5 this is no sign that I am on more friendly terms with them than with you. We know that, in the case of the body, it is always the ailing part which we treat, and that we devote more attention to the feet than to the eyes, if the feet are in pain and have been injured while the eyes are in sound condition. 4 Again, if I have said that the commons were subjects for pity, let no one assume that I mean they have been treated unfairly and illegally,6 for we also pity persons who are subjected by physicians to surgery or cautery, although such treatment is for their recovery, and since their mothers and fathers alike weep over them, although they know that they are being benefited.

However, as I was saying,7 though I admired you even ere this, before ever I had had sufficient experience of your disposition, now certainly, I swear to you by all the gods, I for my part not only judge the Council worthy of respect and affection, but am even amazed at your power and truthfulness and independence. 5 Moreover, I have conducted myself in such a way that, while I have, as I think, repaid the people in full to the best of my ability as a citizen, yet to you I am still indebted, and I could never outdo your benevolence toward me.8 And in fact that expression which was used by one of the orators of old which was considered to contain a certain excess of flattery, namely, “I might with good reason carry the commons around with me in my eyes,” I could justly use with reference to you. And what is more, this son of mine, if he is sensible and prudent, I believe will dedicate his whole life to your service and consult your welfare no less than I do.

6 “What had happened,” some one will say, “and what experience of the gentlemen have you had, that you are so extravagant in your language?”9 Possibly it is an inspiration which has come to me spontaneously, a spiritual impulse of that sort in your direction; but one thing at any rate I would have you know clearly — that I cannot cherish or favour with my eloquence either commons or Council or man, be he satrap or prince or tyrant, without first praising them to myself and approving the character of their spirit. But in your case, practically every time there has been a test of your disposition, I see you have never displayed any injustice or double-dealing or baseness or fickleness or insensibility or yielding to clamour or annoyance. 7 And so I might say with assurance, that, while you have had excellent leaders, you have had none as excellent as you deserve, no, not even my father or my grandfather of days gone by, nor the forebears of the rest of you, all good men and deserving of honour as they were.10

And let no one imagine that I am trying through oratory to force my way into the presidency of the Council; for I am leaving Prusa for a variety of reasons — and you must believe that this time at least I speak the truth11 and perhaps not for the sake of special profit or any self-indulgence; indeed I have not been able to hide my purpose.12 8 Besides, there is no fear that I may ever be thought guilty of flattering you, since I did not flatter the hateful tyrant13 or utter a single ignoble or servile word, at a time when many were glad to save their lives by any deed or word at all. On the contrary, your way of doing things seems to me to be grand, yes, superhuman. For, while I do not know with absolute precision what you are like in private life — though I believe you to be superior to most people — I do know that as a corporate body, whenever you gather here, or, it may be, in the Assembly, you have never said or thought anything base or servile, and that entreaty has no weight with you, nor promises, nor threats — supposing of course there is any one so low as to try to prevail by threats. But why should I not speak my mind — as if the philosopher had to confine himself to exposing what is bad and concealing what is better, or as if the truth were beneficial only in connexion with evils, instead of no less so in connexion with good things because it is laudatory!

9 “But did you, then,” some one will ask, “rise to your feet merely to deliver a eulogy of the Council?” And what is there shocking in that, provided the eulogy be true? However, this eulogy of mine, in case you are clearly unlike what is said of you, is not a eulogy of you, but rather an accusation of the speaker. Still, for all that, I should not have delivered any such speech at all if I had not been very much hurt, as I was once before,14 on hearing that I am compromising your position. And this explains why I have defended myself, not disdaining to make a defence — why should I?— nor judging it to be beneath me. For while it is humiliating to make a defence before a dozing judge, as the saying goes, and also, by Heaven, before a malicious and rascally tyrant, to do so before fellow citizens and kinsmen and friends whom one regards as fair-minded is not humiliating, but reasonable and just. So not only was my conduct correct on that former occasion,15 but it is much more so now that I know you better. 10 For I learn — and there has been a flood of talk of that kind — that some have believed the charge that I blocked the assembling of the Council; indeed I have heard also that they believe that absolutely every act of the government takes place to suit my wishes. But as for me, while I do not rob my son of one thing, I mean his unwillingness to do anything within his own control against my wishes or in any other way than guessing at my opinion too, nevertheless I swear I never gave him any orders at all — I mean orders on public matters — though for one who is a father to advise what seems to him to be preferable does have the status of an order. Moreover, because of this suspicion of which I have spoken, for some time past I have not attended the sessions of the Council. For to have deemed him worthy of municipal activities as being competent by now to be a Councillor and to administer the commonwealth, but meanwhile actually to try to make him a private citizen and to rob him of the authority which is legally his — this, I say, is from any point of view neither reasonable nor yet fair for men of my age.16

Of the Diodorus mentioned in the title of the present Discourse we know absolutely nothing. Dio supplies no clues in the speech itself. In fact, he does not address him directly. Consequently we may infer that the name rests upon reliable tradition. It would appear that the man in question had just made a speech in Assembly lauding some citizen of Prusa. It is plain from § 8 that this citizen had effected certain reforms in connexion with the ephebes.1 Diodorus may have moved — or seconded — a resolution to give him wider jurisdiction of similar character (cf. § 6). Dio followed him with this brief speech, whose purpose is both to register his own approval of the proposal and at the same time to cast suspicion upon the sincerity of the previous speaker.

If we are left in the dark as to Diodorus, we are in almost equal darkness as to the unnamed recipient of the city's favour. Arnim states confidently that he is Dio's son. This is possible, but the speech provides no proof of the assumption. On the contrary, the speaker exhibits remarkable self-restraint, if we are to think of him as the father of the person who is receiving signal honours. Most of his remarks are devoted to the merits of his city, and when he does refer to the man whom that city is honouring, it is by means of a colourless τούτου or τούδε. In fact, the rather satirical tone of the opening sentence in § 2, the grudging acknowledgement at the beginning of § 4, and the possible suggestion of hasty judgement contained in the clause εὐθὺς ἡγεισθε καὶ ὑμᾶς ἀμείνους δύνασθαι ποιεῖν (§ 8), give the impression that Dio was not enthusiastic over the task before him.

The Fifty-first Discourse:

In Reply to Diodorus

My friends, it strikes me as exceedingly surprising when a man who does not approve of some one or does not like him nevertheless rises to praise him in a speech, and on occasion enters into a long eulogy, one very carefully composed. For such a person has on his conscience all that is most disgraceful — envy, meanness of spirit, and, worst of all, servility. Not inappropriately, at any rate, is that term used for it by the ancients in the verse

A slave's word this thou hast spoken.2

Aye, how could that man be other than a slave, who in the presence of so many people3 acts at variance with his own thoughts — and that too, not with frankness, but with premeditation and cold calculation — and indulges in frequent flattery and admiration of a person whom he does not like? Indeed that is to put it mildly!

2 As a matter of fact, you know, no doubt, that with us everybody lauds everybody; and so I rejoice with you and count you fortunate if we all are so fond of everybody — for this is the natural inference! However, I wish that, just as it is possible to hear many eulogies in meetings of the Council and of the Assembly, so also it might be in the market-place and the other places where men come together. But as it is, the words which are spoken are thus or thus in keeping with the place, and, just like those who are training themselves in the schools, we too try our hands at both sides of the question.4 Therefore, if a stranger attends a meeting of the Assembly, he will imagine that ours is a city of heroes, as it were, or sages; whereas if he bursts into the market-place — there is no need to tell what kind of people he will think us, for you know that yourselves. 3 “What then,” some one will exclaim, “have you taken the floor to censure those who praise?” Not so, by Heaven, but in order that, if possible, we may demonstrate our love of humanity and of nobility, not here alone, but in every place and on every occasion.

Now although I observe that the laudation of the gentleman5 has been made complete by you, so that nothing remains to be added,6 yet it is fitting that you also should be praised. For you seem to me to be far superior to all other communities. And I should not have said this if I did not think it so too. For example, all the others have an eye only for what is profitable, and those who give them something — or might do so — alone receive their praise; whereas you regard as of great importance both the earnest desire and the willingness to give. 4 And I do not mean by this that our friend has not really rendered much important service, for he has, but rather that for you at least his mere willingness was sufficient. And again, the others stamp with approval the least important achievements — I mean such things as involve some expenditure of money — whereas you appreciate the greatest things as they deserve. And in fact it is an altogether greater achievement for a man to be really concerned for the city and to show himself well-disposed toward you than it is for him to spend money. Furthermore, while those who admonish, even if only verbally,7 are hated by most men, but those who delight with flattery are approved to a surprising degree, in your case, on the contrary, he who uses the fullest frankness and reproves those who go astray and tries to bring them to their senses is most admired.

5 Who, then, could fail to admire the kind of city and administration in which the honours conferred outweigh the efforts made to obtain them, in which he who admonishes with kindly intent is more beloved than he who speaks to flatter, in which the masses are more eager to submit to correction and to be set right than to be courted and to live luxuriously? Or who could fail to be amazed at you and, on the other hand, to congratulate this man on having been chosen by men like you as worthy to hold office here?8

6 And yet I myself see that the task that lies before him with regard to you is a great one. For when an entire city and people voluntarily entrusts itself to a man for instruction and chooses him as supervisor of its public morals and gives him the supreme authority over temperance and orderliness and the right conduct of the individual, is that man not confronted by a mighty task, the task of not being found in any way inferior to your opinion of him? But, that you may recognize the truth of what I say, observe that not one of the men of old, not even of those who have always been admired, has gained from his fellow citizens such honour as you have now bestowed. 7 For instance the illustrious Pericles — who, we are told, flourished at Athens when the city was in its prime — though he repeatedly obtained the post of general, was not deemed worthy of holding office all the time.9 [But Socrates . . .]10 and that too, not as an administrator of funds nor as one concerned with buildings,11 but rather with the purpose of making his fellow citizens good men — chose both to admonish the erring ones and, at least so far as lay in his power, to make them better. Yet the men of that day did not tolerate him, because of their own lack of discipline.12 8 How far superior, then, are you, who submit yourselves to instruction, yes, even demand it, to those who were irritated even if some one of his own accord was eager to do this for them, and who not merely refrained from honouring, but even put to death the man who tried to take them under his care, as the Athenians did in the case of Socrates!

Accordingly, what more beautiful eulogy could any one pronounce, either of this man or of yourselves? For since you have seen that he has improved the ephebes and the young men, you immediately jump to the conclusion that he can improve you too. And, by Heaven, it is not true that, while the ephebes have need of instruction and virtue, those who are advanced in years, and in fact the entire city, do not. That would be just as if some physician were to think that boys or young men had need of medical attention, but not the adults. 9 Yet must we not concede that in the matter of honours the city's magnanimity is surprising? For what mark of highest esteem have you not eagerly conferred? Have you not voted portraits, statues, embassies to the cities and to the Emperor?13 Have you not shown honour by public recognition; have you not shown honour by individual greeting? Therefore what man would not be pleased when these rewards are so distinguished? Or what man would not be eager to do you any service in his power? Well then, I at least believe I have spoken in praise of this man too as effectively as I could; for the eulogy directed toward those who approve and honour a man clearly would be that man's highest praise.

This Discourse is not merely an interesting bit of ancient literary criticism but also our chief source of information as to two of the three plays with which it deals, the Philoctetes of Aeschylus and that of Euripides, both known to day only in scanty fragments. In Or. 59 Dio presents in prose paraphrase the prologue of a Philoctetes, which by means of the present Discourse is recognized as that of Euripides, together with a portion of the ensuing dialogue between Odysseus and Philoctetes. The Euripidean play clearly appealed to Dio's rhetorical instincts; yet we are reminded of the situation in the Frogs of Aristophanes, the god of the drama yielding the palm to Aeschylus, though unmistakably prejudiced in favour of Euripides.

There was little occasion for Homer to refer to Philoctetes, whom he names in only three passages. His most illuminating reference is Il. 2.716 726, from which we learn that Homer at least knew the story. Fuller details were obtainable from three epics belonging to what is known as the Cycle — the Cypria, the Little Iliad, and the Iliupersis. The high points in the epic version are as follows. Heracles, out of gratitude for services rendered, had given Philoctetes his bow and arrows, once the property of Apollo. When the Greeks sailed for Troy, Philoctetes guided them to the island of Chrysê, where they were to offer sacrifice. There a venomous serpent bit Philoctetes on the foot. His cries of anguish and the stench of his wound caused the Greeks to abandon him on the shores of Lemnos. Ten years later, when the Greek fortunes were at a low ebb, upon the advice of the seer Calchas and by the stratagem of Odysseus the Trojan seer Helenus was taken captive. He revealed that Troy could be taken only with the aid of Philoctetes and his bow, and that Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles, must come from Scyros. Accordingly Diomedes is sent for Philoctetes and Odysseus for Neoptolemus. Philoctetes is healed of his wound, slays Paris, and in company with Neoptolemus causes the downfall of Troy. For further details the reader is referred to the introduction to Jebb's edition of the Philoctetes of Sophocles.

The occasion on which our Discourse was delivered is unknown. Dio's reference to the chill of the morning might suggest his home in Prusa as the setting for his adventure in dramatic criticism. His allusion to ill health and his manifest sympathy for the lonely Philoctetes, victim of misfortune, suggest the period subsequent to Dio's exile as the time of composition.

The Fifty-second Discourse:

On Aeschylus and Sophocles and Euripides

or The Bow of Philoctetes

Having risen about the first hour of the day, both on account of the feeble state of my health and also on account of the air, which was rather chilly because of the early hour and very much like autumn, though it was mid-summer, I made my toilet and performed my devotions. I next got into my carriage and made the round of the race-course several times, my team moving along as gently and comfortably as possible. After that I took a stroll and then rested a bit. Next, after a rub-down and bath and a light breakfast,a I fell to reading certain tragedies.

2 These tragedies were the work of topmost artists, I may say, Aeschylus and Sophocles and Euripides, all dealing with the same theme, which was the theft — or should I say the seizure? — of the bow of Philoctetes. However that may be, Philoctetes was portrayed as being deprived of his weapons by Odysseus and as being carried off to Troy along with them, for the most part willingly, though in some measure also yielding to the persuasion of necessity, since he had been deprived of the weapons which furnished him with not only a living on his island, but courage in his sore affliction, and at the same time fame.

3 So I was feasting my eyes on the spectacle portrayed by these dramas and figuring to myself that, even if I had been in Athens in those days, I could not have witnessed such a contest as this of those distinguished poets.1 On the contrary, while there were some who did witness contests between the youthful Sophocles and the aged Aeschylus and some who saw the older Sophocles compete with Euripides, his junior, yet the career of Euripides fell quite outside the period of Aeschylus;2 and besides, probably the tragic poets seldom or never competed against one another with plays on the same theme. And so I was evidently having a rare treat and a novel solace for my illness. 4 Accordingly, I played choregus3 for myself in very brilliant style and tried to pay close attention, as if I were a judge passing judgement on the premier tragic choruses.4

Yet I could not on oath have produced a single reason why any one of those great poets could have been defeated. For both the nobility of character and the antique flavour of Aeschylus, as well as the ruggedness of his thought and diction, seemed suited to tragedy and to the old-time manners of the heroes,5 nor was there aught of premeditation or prating or humility in their bearing. 5 For example, even his Odysseus he brought upon the scene as a shrewd and crafty person,6 as men were in those days, yet far removed from the rascality of to day, in consequence of which he might seem truly ancient as compared with those who to day lay claim to simplicity and nobility of character. And again, Aeschylus had no need to add Athena for the purpose of transforming Odysseus so as not to be recognized by Philoctetes for the man he was, as Homer has handled the problem,7 and also Euripides in imitation of Homer. So possibly one of those who do not like Aeschylus might complain that he was not at all concerned to make his Odysseus convincing in the scene where he is not recognized by Philoctetes. 6 But in my opinion the poet would have a defence against such a criticism; for while the lapse of time was perhaps not sufficient to explain his not recalling the lineaments of Odysseus since only ten years had passed, yet the affliction and distress of Philoctetes and the lonely life he had led in the interval made this lapse of memory not impossible. For many in the past, either from illness or from misfortune, have had that experience.

Furthermore, the chorus of Aeschylus had no need for special pleading, as did that of Euripides. 7 For both poets made their choruses to consist of Lemnians; yet, while Euripides has represented them as immediately apologizing for their former neglect, admitting that during so many years they had neither come near Philoctetes nor rendered him any aid, Aeschylus simply brought his chorus on the scene, a course which is altogether more in keeping with a tragedy and more natural, whereas the other course is more courteous and more strictly correct. Of course, if poets, were able to avoid all violations of logic in their tragedies, perhaps there might be reason for refusing to gloss over even this instance; but as the truth is, the poets often cause their heralds to complete in a single day a journey which calls for several days.8 8 Again, it was quite impossible to conceive that not a single Lemnian had come near Philoctetes or given him any attention at all, for in my opinion he could not even have survived those ten years without receiving some aid; no, it is reasonable to suppose that he did get some aid, though but rarely and of no great importance, and, furthermore, that no one chose to take him into his house and give him medical attention because of the disgusting nature of his ailment.9 At any rate Euripides himself does bring upon the scene one Lemnian, Actor, who approaches Philoctetes as being already known to him and as having often met him.

9 Furthermore, I do not feel that one could justly find fault with Aeschylus for this either — that his hero narrates to the chorus, as if they were in ignorance, the details concerning his desertion by the Achaeans and his experiences in general. The reason is that the victims of misfortune are wont to recall their trials repeatedly, and by their constant rehearsing of details they bore those who know every detail already and have no need to be told. Then again, the deception which Odysseus practised upon Philoctetes and the arguments by which he won him over are not merely more becoming and suited to a hero — though not the words of a Eurybates or a Pataecion10 — but in my opinion they are even more plausible. 10 For what need was there for subtle craft and scheming in dealing with a sick man and, what is more, an archer, whose means of defence had lost its power the moment you merely got close to him? Besides, the device of having Odysseus report that the Achaeans had met with disaster, that Agamemnon had died, that Odysseus had been charged with an act that was utterly disgraceful,11 and that in general the expedition had gone to rack and ruin, was not merely serviceable toward cheering Philoctetes and making the discourse of Odysseus more acceptable; no, in a way it was not without plausibility even, because of the length of the campaign and because of what had happened not so long before in consequence of the wrath of Achilles, at the time when Hector barely missed burning the naval station.12

11 Again, the sagacity of Euripides and his careful attention to every detail, as a result of which not only does he not tolerate anything which lacks plausibility or is marred by carelessness, but also he handles the action, not in artless style, but with entire mastery in the telling — all this forms, as it were, an antithesis to the nature of Aeschylus, being to a high degree characteristic of the citizen and the orator and capable of proving most useful to those who read him. At the very outset of Euripides' play, for instance, Odysseus is introduced as speaker of the prologue and as not only inwardly debating questions of civic nature in general, but first and foremost expressing embarrassment on his own account, lest, while generally reputed to be wise and distinguished for sagacity, he may really be the opposite. 12 For, though he might live free from care and trouble, he is ever being involved in troubles and perils of his own volition. But the cause of this, he claims, is the ambition which actuates gifted men of noble birth. For, in aiming at a fine reputation and general acclaim, they voluntarily undertake very great and difficult labours.

For nothing quite so proud as man exists.13

Odysseus then reveals clearly and precisely the plot of the drama and why he has come to Lemnos. 13 And he says he has been disguised by Athena, so that when he meets Philoctetes he may not be recognized by him, Euripides having imitated Homer in this detail.14 For Homer has represented Odysseus, in his sundry encounters with Eumaeus and Penelopê and the others, as having been disguised by Athena. Odysseus goes on to say that an embassy from the Trojans will soon visit Philoctetes for the purpose of entreating him to place at their disposal both himself and their weapons, offering the throne of Troy as his reward; thus he complicates the plot and invents occasions for debate, in the course of which he shows himself most resourceful and most proficient in combating the opposing arguments, no matter with whom he is compared.15 14 Again, Euripides causes Odysseus to arrive not unattended but in company with Diomedes, another Homeric touch.16 Thus all in all, as I was saying, throughout the whole play he displays the greatest dexterity and plausibility in the action; an irresistible, yes, amazing, power of language; a dialogue that is clear and natural and urbane; and lyrics that not only are delightful but also contain a strong incentive toward virtue.

15 As for Sophocles, he seems to stand midway between the two others, since he has neither the ruggedness and simplicity of Aeschylus nor the precision and shrewdness and urbanity of Euripides, yet he produces a poetry that is august and majestic, highly tragic and euphonious in its phrasing, so that there is the fullest pleasure coupled with sublimity and stateliness. In his management of the action he is most excellent and convincing; for instance, he causes Odysseus to arrive in company with Neoptolemus — since it was ordained that Troy should be taken by Neoptolemus and Philoctetes together, Philoctetes wielding the bow of Heracles — and he makes Odysseus conceal himself but send Neoptolemus to Philoctetes, suggesting to him what he must do. Furthermore, he has composed his chorus not of the natives of Lemnos, as Aeschylus and Euripides do, but of those who sailed in the ship along with Odysseus and Neoptolemus.

16 Again, as Sophocles portrays them, the characters in the drama are wonderfully dignified and noble, his Odysseus being much more gentle and frank than Euripides has depicted him, and his Neoptolemus surpassing all in artlessness and good breeding — at first he aims to get the better of Philoctetes, not by craft and deception, but by strength and without disguise; then, after he has been prevailed upon by Odysseus and has tricked Philoctetes and gained possession of the bow, when Philoctetes becomes aware of what had happened, is indignant at the deception which has been practised upon him, and demands the return of his weapons, Neoptolemus does not try to retain possession of them but is prepared to return them — though Odysseus appears on the scene and tries to prevent this — and he finally does return them; yet after he has handed them over he tries by argument to persuade Philoctetes to accompany him voluntarily to Troy. 17 But when Philoctetes will by no means yield or be persuaded, but entreats Neoptolemus to take him back to Greece, as he had promised to do, Neoptolemus once more gives his promise, and he is prepared to keep his word, until Heracles comes upon the scene and persuades Philoctetes to sail to Troy of his own free will.17

The lyrics of Sophocles do not contain the didactic element to any great extent, nor any incentive to virtue such as we find in the lyrics of Euripides, but a marvellous sweetness and magnificence, such that Aristophanes could say of him not without reason words like these:

But he in turn the lips of Sophocles,

With honey smeared, did lick as if as a jar.18

This Discourse, like the one preceding, lies mainly in the field of literary criticism. However, it contains less suggestion of independent judgement, being in the main a cursory survey of what various philosophers have thought and said about Homer. The fundamental importance of Homer in the scheme of Greek education is too well known to require documentation. If we may trust the words of the Greeks of the classic period, they gave little thought to the beauty of his language, prizing him rather than as a teacher par excellence. Dio, on the other hand, shows a consciousness of the beauty of his work. That he should have stressed in his appraisal of the poet the views of the philosophers, and above all Plato, was only to be expected. His familiarity with those views points to a relatively late period in his career as the time of composition of our Discourse.

The occasion to which we owe the speech is unknown. In style and theme it would be appropriate as an introduction to some public recitation from Homer. Though we hardly need additional testimony to the enduring fame of Homer, Dio's tribute affords striking testimony to the surprising range of the influence exerted by the poet (§§ 6 8). Somewhat similar testimony is afforded by Or. 36.9 14.

The Fifty-third Discourse:

On Homer

Democritus1 expresses his opinion of Homer in these words: “Homer, having been blessed with a divinely inspired genius, fashioned an 'ornament of verses'2 of every kind,” thus indicating his belief that without a divine and superhuman nature it is impossible to produce verses of such beauty and wisdom. Many others too have written on this subject, some expressly lauding the poet and at the same time pointing out some of his wise sayings, while others have busied themselves with interpreting the thought itself, this group including not merely Aristarchus3 and Crates4 and several others of those who later were called grammarians but formerly critics. In fact Aristotle himself, with whom they say that literary interpretation and criticism began, treats of the poet in many dialogues, admiring him in general and paying him honour, as does also Heracleides of Pontus.5

2 Prior to these, however, Plato mentions Homer at every opportunity, marvelling at the charm and grace of his poesy,6 though often censuring him in respect of his myths and tales about the gods, holding that he has told what was not at all beneficial to mankind when he narrates in detail about the gods instances of greed, of scheming against one another, and of adultery and wrangling and contentiousness.7 And finally he reaches the point of refusing to admit Homer to partnership in his own state and constitution,8 which, as he himself believed, was to be founded upon wisdom, his purpose being, not only that those whom he appoints as guardians and leaders of the state should not as boys hear such tales about gods, but also that no melancholy account of conditions in the lower world should cause them to be more faint-hearted in the face of battle and death9 or, like colts which have been badly broken in, suspicious from the start bat things which are not really terrifying.10

3 Regarding these matters there is indeed another theory, which is fuller, longer, and not easy to expound, dealing with the question whether Homer erred in these particulars, or whether he was merely transmitting to mankind certain doctrines about natural phenomena embodied in the myths after the fashion then in vogue.11 Indeed it is not easy to arbitrate a question like that, just as, in my opinion, it is not easy to decide against one of two men who are your friends, both being worthy of respect, when each makes charges against the other.

4 But to continue, Zeno12 the philosopher also has written on both the Iliad and the Odyssey, and, in fact, on the Margites13 too; he believes that this poem also was composed by Homer at the time when he was rather young and was testing his poetic genius. 5 However, Zeno finds fault with none of the work of Homer, undertaking to interpret it and at the same time to show that the poet has written some things in accord with fancy and some things in accord with reality, Zeno's purpose being to save Homer from appearing to be at war with himself in certain matters which are held to be inconsistent with each other as narrated by Homer.14 But Antisthenes15 anticipated Zeno in this theory, namely, that some things have been spoken by the poet in accord with fancy and some in accord with reality; however, Antisthenes did not elaborate the theory, whereas Zeno made it plain in each of its details. Moreover, Persaeus, the pupil of Zeno, also has followed the same plan in his writings, as have several others as well.

But to return to Plato, while finding fault with Homer, as I have said, he at the same time declares his poetic power to be something amazing, his idea being that Homer is capable of everything and reproduces literally every voice, even of rivers, winds, and waves; moreover, he very jestingly gives instructions to bind the poet's brows with a fillet of wool, pour perfume on him, and — send him somewhere else.16

6 Furthermore, Plato himself in praising Homer's poesy for its charm admires the man exceedingly.17 Indeed, without divine favour, without inspiration of the Muses and Apollo, it is simply impossible for poetry to be created which is so lofty and magnificent, and withal so sweet,18 as to enthral for so many years, not merely men who have the same tongue and language as the poet, but even many of alien race, yes, so that not only men who speak two languages and are of mixed stock, though unacquainted with much else that is Greek, are very familiar with Homer's verses, but even some who live very far away. For example, it is said that Homer's poetry is sung even in India, where they have translated it into their own speech and tongue. 7 The result is that, while the people of India have no chance to behold many of the stars in our part of the world — for example, it is said that the Bears are not visible in their country — still they are not unacquainted with the sufferings of Priam, the laments and wailings of Andromachê and Hecuba, and the valour of both Achilles and Hector: so remarkable has been the spell of one man's poetry! It even seems to me that by this power of his he has surpassed both the Sirens and Orpheus. 8 For in what respect is it a greater feat to cast a spell upon stones and trees and wild beasts and to make them follow than to have mastered so completely men of alien race who do not understand the Hellenic speech, men who have acquaintance with neither the poet's tongue nor the deeds of which his poem tells, but are, as I believe, simply enchanted by a lyre? Moreover, I believe that many barbarians who are still more ignorant than those men of India have heard of the name of Homer, if nothing more, though they have no clear notion what it signifies, whether animal or vegetable or something else still.

9 However that may be, Homer's life deserves praise much more than his verse. For example, his having lived in poverty, a wanderer, and making from his poems only enough to sustain life is evidence of remarkable fortitude and nobility of soul;19 and besides, his never having written his name anywhere, yes, never having even referred to himself anywhere in his poetry, though all other writers with any reputation for skill in composing either verse or prose write their names both at the beginning and at the end, and many even in the body of their works,20 both prose and verse. Take, for example, Hecataeus21 and Herodotus and Thucydides, 10 Thucydides, in fact, solemnly affirming, not merely once at the beginning of his history, but many times, in connexion with each winter and summer,22 “Thucydides composed this.” Homer, on the contrary, was so liberal and magnanimous that nowhere in his poetry will he be found to refer to himself, but in fact, like the prophets of the gods, he speaks, as it were, from the invisible, from somewhere in the inmost sanctuary.23

11 Again, since everything Homer wrote is both beneficial and practically serviceable, if one were to review all he has said on the subject of virtue and vice, it would be a vast undertaking; however, on the subject of kings a brief statement must be made as to what he says they should be like. Whenever, for instance, he praises any king, he calls him “the peer of Zeus in wisdom”; and all the good kings are “Zeus-nurtured”; and Minos, who has the highest reputation among the Greeks for justice, he says is both the associate and pupil of Zeus,24 his idea being that Minos was the first and greatest king of all, and the only one who himself understood and handed down the art of kingship, and also that good kings should shape their course with an eye to Minos, patterning their own conduct after a god, so far as humanly possible. 12 Moreover, the poet makes manifest the character of Zeus and the nature of his kingship in a multitude of ways, but, to put it briefly and succinctly, he frequently indicates his power and disposition by the constant epithet, “father of gods and of men,” the notion being that the care exercised by kings should be that of a solicitous father, accompanied by kindness and affection, and that he should never lead and govern men in any other way than with love and protective care, since Zeus does not disdain being called men's father.

The Fifty-fourth Discourse:

On Socrates

This little tribute to Socrates is presumably the prelude to some longer discussion. It affords no clue as to either the occasion or the place where the speech was delivered, but the speaker's rather scornful treatment of the sophists, who occupy fully one-third of the piece, and his affectionate regard for Socrates point clearly to some date subsequent to Dio's exile.

Hippias of Elis, Gorgias of Leontini, Polus, and Prodicus are all familiar figures among the sophists who made such a stir in Greece toward the close of the fifth century B.C. All make their appearance in the pages of Plato, Hippias and Gorgias having provided the titles for three of his dialogues. One might wonder why Dio refrains from naming “the man from Abdera” (§ 2). Abdera's fame may be said to rest upon that of two of her native sons, Democritus, the famous philosopher, and Protagoras, no less famous as a sophist. In spite of the verb φιλοσοφῶν in § 2, we infer that it is the latter whom Dio has in mind, and also he would naturally take his place beside the four sophists already named. Like them, he figures prominently in Plato's dialogues, and one of them bears his name.

The sophists, Hippias of Elis and Gorgias of Leontini and Polus and Prodicus, flourished in Greece for some time and won marvellous acclaim, not alone in the cities at large, but even in Sparta and Athens,1 and they amassed much wealth, each according to his ability, both by public grant from the several states and also from certain princes and kings and men in private life.2 But though they made many speeches, their speeches were devoid of sense, even the slightest — the kind of speech from which, no doubt, it is possible to make money and to please simpletons!3 2 But there was another, a native of Abdera, who, far from acquiring money from others, not only was steadily ruining his own estate, which was a large one, but finally lost it by pursuing philosophy, foolishly, it is plain to see, and seeking after what was of no material advantage to him.4

3 And there was also Socrates, a poor man at Athens and a man of the people, who also was not driven by his poverty to accept anything; and yet he had a wife who had no hatred for money, and also sons who required support, and, besides, he is said to have associated with the wealthiest among the young men, some of whom are reported to have begrudged him literally nothing.5 However, he was in general sociable in his nature and a lover of his kind, and in particular he made himself accessible to all who wished to approach and converse with him, not only spending his time for the most part about the market-place, but visiting the palaestra6 and sitting down near the tables of the money-changers — quite like the people who display their petty wares in the market or peddle them from door to door — on the chance that some one, whether young or old, might wish to ask some question and hear his answer. Now then, most of the influential persons and professional speakers pretended not even to see him; but whoever of that description did approach him, like those who have struck something with their foot, got hurt and speedily departed.

4 However, while the words of those sophists, who won such admiration, have perished and nothing remains but their names alone,7 the words of Socrates, for some strange reason, still endure and will endure for all time, though he himself did not write or leave behind him either a treatise or a will. In fact, Socrates died intestate as to both his wisdom and his estate. Yet though he had no estate that could be made public property through confiscation — as is commonly done in the case of men who have been condemned as criminals — his words in reality have been made public property, not by foes, God knows, but by his friends; nevertheless, though they are even now not only accessible for all but also held in high esteem, few understand them and partake of their wisdom.

In his thirteenth discourse (§ 31) Dio speaks of having given instruction during his exile to groups of two and three. The document before us, if not actually a stenographic report of such a proceeding, at least portrays the method employed by Dio. Similar examples have been met already in Or. 21, 23, 25, and 26. In these, and in others like them to be met later, just as in some dialogues of Plato, there is at first a lively debate between teacher and pupil, after which the teacher takes possession of the field and expounds his doctrine with little or no interruption from the pupil. The text of Dio, however, does not reveal the identity of speakers other than the master himself. This may be regarded as a token that the dialogue is an authentic transcript of an actual experience, the reporter having been concerned to preserve a record of what was said and the pupil involved in the discussion being considered of too little consequence to deserve to have his name recorded. Dio certainly understood the psychological advantage that Plato derived from using real persons as the participants in his dialogues and calling them by name (cf. § 12), and it is hard to believe that if Dio's dialogues were mere literary fictions he would have failed to avail himself of that advantage.

The theme of the present Discourse is that Socrates acquired his art as a teacher from Homer. The anonymous interlocutor is sceptical on that point, objecting that Socrates never met Homer, and also calling attention to the wide difference between the function of the poet and that of the philosopher. After successfully demolishing these objections, Dio proceeds to note certain points of resemblance between Homer and Socrates — their modesty, their scorn of wealth, their interest in ethical problems, their use of parables or similes as vehicles of instruction, and their method of employing specific human beings to illustrate virtues and vices. To this last-named point Dio devotes fully a third of his dialogue. His arguments seem to have silenced his pupil, for there is no rejoinder.

The Fifty-fifth Discourse:

On Homer and Socrates

Interlocutor. Since you make it evident that on general grounds you are an admirer of Socrates and also that you are filled with wonder at the man as revealed in his words, you can tell me of which among the sages he was a pupil; just as, for example, Pheidias the sculptor was a pupil of Hegias,1 and Polygnotus the painter and his brother2 were both pupils of their father Aglaophon, and Pherecydes3 is said to have been a teacher of Pythagoras, and Pythagoras in turn a teacher of Empedocles and Sophocles. And indeed we are able to name the teachers of most other famous men — and to tell through association with whom each became noteworthy — with the exception of Heracleitus of Ephesus and Hesiod of Ascra. For, to spare us the trouble of seeking for his teacher, Hesiod says he received his poetic gift from the Muses in a branch of laurel as he was tending his flocks on Helicon,4 2 while Heracleitus with even more graciousness says that he himself discovered what the nature of the universe really is without anybody's teaching him, and that he became wise by his own efforts.5 As for Homer, this point, like everything else connected with him, is obscure to the Greeks. But while we have heard that Socrates as a boy studied the calling of his father,6 be so good as to tell us clearly who was his teacher in the wisdom which has proved so helpful and noble.

3 Dio. Why, this is plain, I imagine, to many people, provided they are familiar with both men, namely, that Socrates is in truth a pupil of Homer, and not of Archelaüs, as some say.7

Int. And how can it possibly be said that the man who neither met Homer nor ever saw him, but lived so many years later, was a pupil of Homer?

Dio. What of it? Supposing a man lived in Homer's day but had heard none of the poetry of Homer, or, if he had heard, had given none of it his attention, shall we be able to say he was a pupil of Homer?

Int. By no means.

4 Dio. Then it is not absurd that the man who neither met nor saw Homer and yet understood his poetry and became familiar with all his thought should be called a pupil of Homer; or will you go so far as to maintain that no one can be a zealous follower of anyone with whom he has never been associated?

Int. Not I.

Dio. Then, if a follower, he would also be a pupil. For whoever really follows any one surely knows what that person was like, and by imitating his acts and words he tries as best he can to make himself like him. 5 But that is precisely, it seems, what the pupil does — by imitating his teacher and paying heed to him he tries to acquire his art. On the other hand, seeing people and associating with them has nothing to do with the process of learning. For instance, many persons not only see pipers but associate with and hear them every day, and yet they could not even blow on the pipes unless they associate with the pipers for professional ends and pay strict heed. However, if you shrink from calling Socrates a pupil of Homer, but would prefer to call him just a follower, it will make no difference to me.

6 Int. Why, to my way of thinking, the one seems no less surprising than the other. For Homer has proved to be a poet without a peer, whereas Socrates is a philosopher.

Dio. Very well; on that principle you would not call even Archilochus a follower of Homer, because he has not used the same metre as Homer's for all his poetry but has used any metres for the most part; nor would you call Stesichorus his follower either, because, while Homer composed epic poetry, Stesichorus was a melic poet.8

7 Int. Yes I would; all the Greeks agree on this, that Stesichorus was a follower of Homer, and indeed is very like him in his poetic art. But wherein does Socrates seem to you to resemble Homer?

Dio. First and foremost, he resembles him in his character; for neither of the two was boastful or brazen, as the most ignorant of the sophists are. For instance, Homer did not even deign to tell whence he came, or who were his parents, or what he himself was called. On the contrary, so far as he was concerned we should not even know the name of the man who wrote the Iliad and the Odyssey. 8 As for Socrates, while he could not make a secret of his fatherland because of its greatness and because Athens was exceedingly famous and dominated the Greeks at that period, yet he never said anything boastful about himself nor laid claim to any wisdom, and yet Apollo had solemnly declared that he was wisest among Greeks and barbarians.9 And finally, Socrates did not even put his words into writing and himself bequeath them to posterity, and in this he outdid Homer. For just as we know the name of Homer by hearing it from others, so too we know the words of Socrates because others have left them to us.10 Thus both were exceedingly self-restrained and modest.

9 Again, both Socrates and Homer alike scorned the acquisition of wealth. Besides, they both were devoted to the same ends and spoke about the same things, the one through the medium of his verse, the other in prose — human virtue and vice, actions wrong and actions right, truth and deceit, and how the masses have only opinions, while the wise have true knowledge.

Furthermore, they were most effective at making similes and comparisons.

Int. This is indeed surprising if with Homer's comparisons of fire and winds and sea and eagles and bulls and lions and so forth, figures with which he adorned his poetry, you shall see fit to compare the potters and cobblers of Socrates.

10 Dio. I shall, my dear fellow, since indeed we compare the fox of Archilochus11 with the lions and leopards of Homer and declare it to be not at all, or not much, inferior. However, perhaps you disapprove also of such Homeric similes as those in which he refers to starlings or daws or locusts or a firebrand or ashes or beans and chickpeas, or the one in which he has depicted men winnowing12 — 11 perhaps these seem to they to be the most inferior portions of Homer's work, while you admire only his lions and eagles and Scyllas and Cyclopes, with which he was wont to beguile stupid people, just as nurses beguile children with tales of the Lamia.13 Indeed, just as Homer through myths and history undertook to instruct human beings, who are very troublesome to instruct, so also Socrates often used this sort of device, sometimes admitting that he was in earnest and sometimes pretending to be joking, with the aim of benefiting mankind — though in so doing he perhaps came into conflict with mythologists and historians.14

12 Again, it was not without conscious purpose that he15 represented Gorgias or Polus or Thrasymachus or Prodicus or Meno or Euthyphro or Anytus or Alcibiades or Laches as speaking, when he might have omitted their names; on the contrary, he knew that by this device most of all he would benefit his hearers, if perchance they grasped the point; for to comprehend human beings from their words, or their words from human beings, is not an easy task for any but philosophers and educated persons. On the other hand, most men suppose that such items16 are purposeless, and they regard them as mere vexation and nonsense. 13 But Socrates held that, every time he introduces a boastful man, he is speaking of boastfulness; every time he introduces a shameless, loathsome man, he is speaking of shamelessness and loathsomeness; every time he introduces an unreasonable, irascible man, he is turning his hearers against unreason and anger. Moreover, in all other cases similarly he revealed the true nature of the passions and maladies of men in the persons of the very ones who were afflicted by the passions or the maladies more distinctly than if he were using the words by themselves.

14 But it appears to me that he took this too from Homer. For example, when Homer tells about Dolon, how he conceived a longing for the horses of Achilles, and how, when he might have fled from the enemy, he halted with his lance planted close beside him and obtained no benefit from his fleetness, and how his teeth chattered and struck together from terror, and how he talked to the enemy, not only when they asked him a question, but even on topics about which no one was inquiring — for instance, he gave information about the Thracian horses and about Rhesus, of whose arrival no one knew17 — by telling all this so very plainly does Homer not seem to you to be discoursing on cowardice and love of notoriety?

15 And again, when he tells about Pandarus, how he violated the truce in the hope of rewards from Alexander son of Priam, and how he not only failed to slay Menelaüs by his shot, although reputed but an able bowman,18 but also by violating the truce made the Trojans more discouraged as to the war through their constant recollection of their broken oaths — as witness these lines:

But now we fight as traitors to our oaths;

On that account 'tis not so well for us19 —

16 and how not much later his tongue was cut off and he died before ever Alexander could even put into words his gratitude to him20 — in recounting these things with such scrupulous attention to detail, does Homer appear to you to be talking of anything else than of bribe-taking and impiety and in general of folly? Why, Pandarus even cursed his arrows and threatened to smash and burn them, as if the arrows were in fear of him!21

17 Take another example. When Homer says of Asius son of Hyrtacus that, after his commander22 had given orders to leave the horses outside the trench, he alone did not obey,

But with them neared the speedy ships, the fool!
Nor was he fated, dodging the spirits dire,
To come again, exulting in team and car,
Back from the ships to wind-swept Ilium,23

18 driving into such difficult terrain amid trench and wall and ships, where even the men on foot found it not to their advantage when caught by the foe, but most of them were slaughtered when a small rescue party24 issued from within the gate; yet Asius, elated as he was by his horses and the beauty of his chariot, though thinking to drive past the wall, was prepared to plunge into the sea and to fight from his chariot — think you not that Homer then is speaking of disobedience and boastfulness?

19 On the other hand, when he contrasts with these Polydamas giving orders to be cautious and not to cross the trench, pointing now to the enterprise as a risky venture25 and now to the omen they had had26 — for he felt that, while no one would listen to his words in any other way, perhaps by the omen he might persuade Hector; or, to take another illustration, when, as Agamemnon and Achilles are reviling one another, Homer depicts Nestor as trying to make them cease their rage, and foretelling plainly what will befall them in consequence of their strife,27 and later upbraiding Agamemnon as being in the wrong and forcing him to entreat Achilles;28 or again, Odysseus setting right the blunder of Agamemnon29 through which, while wishing to test the army to see how it stood the war's delay, he almost brought about its flight — is it not likely that by scenes like these Homer is trying to give advice regarding prudence and generalship and prophecy, and more than this, regarding tact and tactlessness?

20 As for the Odyssey, while I shall omit all else, I shall recall just one character, Antinoüs. For Homer has portrayed him as the most braggart of the suitors and the most dissolute. For example, in the first place he scorned Odysseus because he was in rags, while Antinoüs himself in costly raiment was drinking from golden goblets — and those not his own — and was dining sumptuously, not on his father's viands, but rather playing the parasite in a house that lacked a master;30 moreover, while he professed to be enamoured of Penelopê, he was seducing the maidservants of Odysseus and behaving licentiously in general; 21 and he ended by attempting to draw the bow, though he was unacquainted with archery and his hands were so spoiled by dainty living as not to be able to grasp the bow-string unless some smeared it with tallow;31 and what is more, he did this in the sight of Odysseus and in the presence of the object of his wooing, in the midst of such a crowd of men, not even being able to bend the bow, nor understanding how Telemachus was going to set up the axes.32 But for all that, Homer caused this man also33 to meet his death by a telling blow through the throat, instead of in some chance spot, just as, you remember, he caused Pandarus to be smitten through the tongue.34 For indeed if such things do take place by some chance, still in many instances it is possible to say that this man ought to die from a blow through the belly and that man through the genitals and another man through the mouth.

22 Well, then, Homer does not seem to you to say anything without a purpose, does he? No more, then, did Socrates employ his words or illustrations at random; on the contrary, when conversing with Anytus he would refer to tanners and cobblers; but if he conversed with Lysicles, it would be lambs and fleeces; if with Lycon, law-suits and blackmail; if with Meno the Thessalian, lovers and boy friends.35

This document, like the one preceding, appears to be a transcript of a conversation between Dio and an unnamed pupil. In his opening sentence Dio proposes Agamemnon as a topic likely to improve the mind. Having secured the pupil's acceptance of that theme, he proceeds, in true Platonic fashion, to elicit a definition of the word king; “he who exercises general supervision of human beings and gives them orders without being accountable to them.” That definition having been obtained, he demolishes it by calling attention, first to the restraint imposed upon the kings at Sparta by the ephors, and then to Agamemnon's dependence upon Nestor and his council of elders. Having seemingly induced the pupil to concede the point, Dio suddenly suggests that they drop the question, as having been dealt with adequately the day before, and turn to something else. The pupil protests that he is just beginning to understand what Dio has in mind and is eager for a full discussion, but our document goes no farther. Either the reporter decided for some unknown reason to stop at that point or Dio's literary executor felt that this much was sufficient to illustrate this particular theme. The various aspects of kingship are considered by Dio not only in the first four orations in our collection — assigned by Arnim to the opening years of Trajan's reign — but, at least incidentally, in several others.

The Fifty-sixth Discourse:

Agamemnon or On Kingship

Dio. Do you wish to hear words of practical wisdom on the subject of Agamemnon, words by which the mind can be improved, or does it annoy you to have Agamemnon son of Atreus named in my discussions?

Interlocutor. Not even if you should speak of Adrastus son of Talaüs or of Tantalus or of Pelops, should I be annoyed, provided I am likely to be improved.1

Dio. Very well, I have just called to mind certain words which I might speak, if you would consent to answer when I question you.

Proceed, for I will answer.

2 Dio. Are there certain persons who are rulers of men, just as there are some who are rulers of goats, others of swine, others of horses, others of cattle, these one and all having in common the title herders; or have you not read this verse of Cratinus?

My post is herder; goats and kine I tend.2

Int. I could not tell you whether it is better to call all who tend animals herders or not.

Dio. Not merely those who tend brute beasts, my good fellow, but human beings too, if one should put any faith in Homer regarding these matters.3 But why did you not answer the original question?

Int. What question?

Dio. Whether there are indeed certain rulers of men.

Int. Why, of course there are.

3 Dio. Who are these? What do you call them? I am not speaking of those who rule soldiers in war, for those who are leaders of the army as a whole we are wont to call generals; just as also, considered unit by unit, the ruler of a company is called captain; of a regiment, colonel; of the fleet, admiral; and of a single trireme, trierarch; moreover, there are several others similarly named who in warfare exercise rule over small units,4 because at that time men need fullest care and leadership. 4 Nor, as it happens, am I asking what the leaders of the choruses are called, who give orders to the singers and set the tune,5 nor am I asking about the leaders of symposia,6 nor about any others who for a single act or for a set time assume a certain oversight and control over a group of men; on the contrary, I mean rather those who at any time rule human beings in their activities as citizens, or in their farming, it may be, or simply in their living, as Cyrus, for example, ruled the Persians, Deïoces7 the Medes, Hellen those named for him,8 Aeolus the Aeolians, Dorus the Dorians, Numa the Romans, and Dardanus the Phrygians.

5 Int. Why, your question is not a hard one; for all these whom you now name were called kings, and kings they were; and this rule of which you speak, whereby a man exercises general control over human beings and gives them orders without being account able to them, is called kingship.

Dio. Then you do not regard as kingship the rule of the Heracleidae, who were kings in Lacedaemon for so long a time?9 For they did not do everything according to their own pleasure, 6 but in many matters they were subject to the ephors, who, once this office had been established in Sparta in the reign of Theopompus,10 from their year of office had no less authority than the kings, insomuch that they wished to throw into prison even Pausanias son of Cleombrotus, the victor at Plataea, and when he had fled for refuge to the shrine of Athena, they killed him there,11 and it profited him nothing that he was of the line of the Heracleidae, or that he was guardian of a boy,12 or that he had been leader of all Hellas and not of Sparta alone. 7 And later on, when Agesilaüs was at war with the Great King and had been victorious in battle in the neighbourhood of Sardis and had gained control over all lower Asia, the ephors sent a subordinate to summon him home; and Agesilaüs did not delay a single day,13 although he had gained authority over so many Greeks and so many barbarians. Was Agesilaüs, then, not king of Sparta, since he was subject to other rulers?

Int. Why, how could these be kings in the strict sense of kingship?

8 Dio. Will you, then, hold that not even Agamemnon was king of both Argives and Achaeans at Ilium, since he had an older man as supervisor of his rule, Nestor of Pylus? Moreover, it was at that man's bidding that the wall about the ships was built and the trench dug about it as protection for the naval station,14 and at his direction too Agamemnon divided the army into detachments, though previously, as it would seem, it had fought without organization, both infantry and cavalry, all being mixed together in confusion, both Pylians and Argives and Arcadians and Boeotians. However, Nestor later bade him divide the army by tribes,

That phratry may aid phratry and tribe aid tribe.15

9 “Moreover,” said he, “in this way wilt thou recognize both the valorous and the cowardly among thy leaders” — but if among the leaders, obviously among the common soldiers too — and at the same time he explained the magnitude of the advantage that would result.

Int. And with what purpose did Nestor do this?

Dio. In order that even after Nestor's death Agamemnon might understand the art of generalship. But Agamemnon was so wholly obedient to Nestor that he not only did eagerly anything Nestor commanded in person, but even if in a dream he imagined that Nestor was saying something, he would not disregard that either. For instance, the dream about the battle deceived him in this way, because of its resemblance to Nestor.16

10 However, he was not only obedient to Nestor, who was deemed the wisest of the Achaeans, but also he would not attempt anything without the elders. For instance, when he was about to lead forth his army in obedience to the dream, he did not do so until the council of the elders had held a session by the ship of Nestor.17 Moreover, with regard to the test which he wished to make of the army, to see if it was willing to remain longer and fight it out despite the wrath of Achilles, he did not make the test in any other way before first consulting the council.18 On the other hand, most demagogues do not hesitate to bring before the popular assembly measures which have not been passed upon by the council. Yet Agamemnon conferred with the elders, and only then reported to the soldiery on the state of the war.

11 Int. This is nothing strange, that, king though he was, he gave the others a chance to be heard and had an advisor who was trusted because of his years, though he himself had full authority in all matters. Else why did he act as he did in the matter of Briseïs instead of obeying the most noble Nestor?19

Dio. Why, it is just like the case of many men in private station who, not obeying their rulers or the laws, commit many unlawful acts, acts for which they even have to submit to an accounting; so when they are brought before the court they are subjected to whatever penalty they severally are thought to merit.

Int. Certainly.

12 Dio. Well then, does it not seem to you that Agamemnon, because he disobeyed on that occasion, was later called to account by Nestor? I refer to the passage in which Nestor accuses him of that act in the presence of the wisest of the allies, the leaders themselves, adding what he was to suffer or to pay by way of penalty, a most grievous assignment — for he was an able speaker — wherein he says he has long been troubled by Agamemnon's conduct:

13 E'er since that day, oh son of Zeus, when thou
Didst go and snatch Briseïs from the tent,
Despite Achilles' rage, and not at all
As I was minded. Many words I spake
Against it; yet to thy proud heart thou didst
Submit, dishonouring the bravest man,
Whom e'en the gods had honoured; for his prize
Thou hast by seizure; still let us plan e'en now.20

14 And, by the gods, he not only called him to account by his words but even laid upon him the heaviest penalty of all for his misconduct. For he bids him entreat Achilles and go to all lengths to persuade him. And Agamemnon, like men convicted in the courts, first makes a counter proposal of a fine, such as he says he is able to pay, as compensation for his insult; then, among other things, he undertakes to offer sacrifice and to swear an oath regarding Briseïs, that he has not even touched her since the day he took her from Achilles; 15 and in payment for merely having removed her from one tent to another, he offers to give much gold, horses, tripods, cauldron, women, and cities; and finally, thinking this not enough, he offers Achilles whichever of his three daughters he may desire to have as wife.21 Such a penalty no man had ever been condemned to undergo — in payment for a maidservant, and her a captive woman, although she had suffered no harm, to be forced to give his own daughter in marriage, together with a huge dower, and without any presents from the groom!22 In truth we know of no suit involving a man in private station that has received a more bitter decision than this one.

16 Does it seem to you, in Heaven's name, that Agamemnon ruled the Greeks without being subject to an accounting, and that he did not give very strict account for all he did? Very well, let us drop our discussion of these matters just here, since they were dealt with adequately yesterday, and let us turn to some other topic.

Int. Nay, by Heaven, rather try to say all you can upon the same topic, since I am now at last just beginning to understand the drift of your argument. For I imagine you wish to discuss government or kingship or some such thing.

This little Discourse has as its immediate aim a defence of Nestor's behaviour in the famous passage in the first book of the Iliad, in which he seems to boast of his former prowess and importance. Dio maintains with some skill, not only that Homer intended the old man to speak as he did, but also that he did not mean to depict him as a braggart — the self-praise of Nestor was to serve the useful purpose of checking the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles.

Having made his point, Dio (§ 10) lets his audience into the secret that his sermon on Nestor was really designed to forestall possible criticism of himself when he should presently deliver an address which he had previously delivered before the Emperor. The emperor in question was doubtless Trajan, and the speech to which our Discourse was to serve as prelude may well have been one of Dio's four discourses On Kingship; see Vol. I of the Loeb Library edition and the Introductions. Such is the view of Arnim, who dates our Discourse in Dio's latest period and finds in it evidence of what he takes to have been the speaker's frequent practice, the repetition of speeches previously delivered somewhere else. If one may hazard a guess as to which of the four speeches just mentioned Dio was about to repeat, Or. 2 seems a natural choice, for it is full of Homeric quotations and illustrations selected for their edifying quality, attention is called to Homer's admiration for oratory, and Nestor himself is twice mentioned in that connexion (§§ 18 24).

The Fifty-seventh Discourse:

Nestor

Why in the world do you suppose Homer caused Nestor to speak the following verses to Agamemnon and Achilles when he was trying to pacify them and teach them not to quarrel with one another?

For once in bygone days I dealt with men
Still braver than ye are, yet they did ne'er
Make light of me. Such men I had not seen,
Nor ever shall, as were Peirithoüs
And Dryas, shepherd of the soldiery,
And Caeneus and Exadius, Polypheme
Divine and Theseus son of Aegeus, like
The deathless gods. Aye, they were reared most strong
Of earthly men; most strong were they and with
The strongest strove, wild creatures of the hills,
And slew them ruthlessly. They understood
My counsels and they hearkened to my word.
And so should ye, since hearkening is best.1

2 Can it be that Homer has made a braggart of Nestor when he says of Peirithoüs and Dryas and the others that, though they were not only marvellous by nature, but also far superior to Agamemnon and Achilles, still they wanted his opinion too, going on to say that he had come from Pylus to Thessaly by invitation, since they wanted to enjoy his company and to converse with him?2 For why, after having said that they were the strongest of men, does Nestor seem to offer as a weighty testimonial in their favour, that they understood his mind and hearkened to his words? Or do we say his purpose was virtually this — that no man of understanding ever disobeys those whose words are right; nay, disobedience is tantamount to lack of understanding?3

3 Come then, let us examine also the other aspects of the case, to see if Nestor has spoken rightly or as a braggart. Certainly foolish persons universally scorn men of no reputation and pay no heed to them, even though they may chance to be giving most excellent advice; but, on the other hand, when they see men being honoured by the multitude or by persons of greatest power, they do not disdain to be guided by them. This is one count, therefore, on which Nestor commends himself, namely, that in days gone by he has been able to persuade many men of influence, and that Agamemnon and Achilles will refuse to obey, if they do refuse, because of their own folly and lack of perception, and not because Nestor is incompetent to give advice about things of highest importance. 4 Accordingly, just as Nestor would not have hesitated to disparage himself, if by disparaging and saying that no one ever deigned to consult him about anything he were likely to move Agamemnon and Achilles to obey his words, so, if he thought his self-praise would move them to this, it was reasonable for him to resort to praise. 5 Or is it not the mark of a foolish person to be ashamed to praise himself when by praise he is likely to confer the greatest benefits; just as it is also, I fancy, to do the opposite — put on airs and talk about oneself a great deal, in case some risk or loss should be involved? Therefore, just as when a physician who wants a patient to submit to surgery or cautery or to the drinking of some unpleasant drug, knowing the patient to be cowardly and foolish, mentions others who have been saved by him because they willingly submitted to his treatment, no one says the man who makes these statements is bragging, 6 so it seems to me that Nestor could not justly be accused of bragging either.

This, then, was one benefit resulting from his words. And here is another — Nestor knew that both Agamemnon and Achilles were misbehaving for no other reason than because of insolence; and he believed that men are insolent most of all, one might say, when they despise the others and deem them far inferior to themselves, being puffed up through reputation or power, and he perceived that this was why Achilles and Agamemnon were puffed up and wrangling, each of them because of arrogance. For the one, as he saw, being a son of Peleus and Thetis and pre-eminent among the men of his day in fighting, believed that it befitted his dignity not to listen to anyone at all or to regard anyone as superior to himself; 7 but in Agamemnon's case the cause of his arrogance was the power attached to his kingship and his being sole ruler of all the Greeks. Seeing, therefore, that they had been spoiled by these things and could not live at peace with one another, but that they were swollen in spirit — as later Achilles declares,

My heart with wrath does swell4 —

Nestor wished to humble them and, if possible, reduce their pride, just as persons reduce swellings by pricking or squeezing. This explains why he mentioned men of fame and power, and besides, I fancy, men of former times, knowing as he did that fame attaches rather to such men. 8 Moreover, he did not leave to his hearers to determine what opinion they should hold about the men,5 but instead he himself expressly declares that they were far superior to Agamemnon and Achilles, in the hope that they might abate somewhat their folly and madness.6

Do you think, I ask you, that Homer put these words into Nestor's mouth at random, the Nestor whom he declares to be most eloquent of men and whose power of eloquence he likens to the sweetness of honey,7 which is most pleasant and sweetest of all to those who are well, though to those who are ill and suffering from fever, so I hear, it is most unpleasant and has the natural power of cleansing and causing to smart parts which are festered and diseased? 9 For instance, the speech of Nestor, though it appeared sweet to the others, seemed bitter to Achilles and Agamemnon, diseased as they were and corrupted by their rage, and as a result they did not obey him because of their folly. Therefore Homer did not say this at random either or, as some imagine, by chance.

10 Well then, let us say no more on these topics. However, there is one matter which calls for consideration in the light of what has been said. Suppose that some one in addressing ordinary men tells them that on a previous occasion, having addressed others who were far superior — popular assemblies or kings or tyrants — he did not fail of his purpose with them but secured their attention and compliance, is it just that such a man should be thought a braggart, on the assumption that he had mentioned those words of his for the purpose of being admired and deemed a genius, or was it rather for the purpose of having the compliance of his hearers, imitating the teaching of Nestor? 11 For indeed it is odd if, while Socrates was accustomed to walk but a short distance and then report to those in the Academy the words he had spoken in the Lyceum and, vice versa, had no reluctance to go to the Lyceum and use the words he had spoken in the Academy,8 and while it has now been so long a time since they9 began to bring out the same tragedies and comedies year after year, we, on the other hand, shall be thought to be acting strangely in case, when you wish to listen to speeches, we now report the words we have spoken in the presence of the Emperor,10 as if it were a matter of no consequence to know whether those words are beneficial and serviceable, both for you and for the rest of mankind as well, or trivial and useless. 12 For rest assured that, while words addressed to private persons pertain to those men themselves and to few others, words addressed to kings are like public prayers or imprecations. For that reason I believe the Persian king was especially unwise in being accustomed to dispatch in all directions ordinary persons, King's Ears11 as they were called, and to entrust them with the responsibility of listening to everything, it being necessary to protect the real ears of the king much more carefully than the golden plane-tree,12 to prevent their hearing anything disagreeable and harmful.

This lively little sketch, whose spirit resembles strongly that of many of the dialogues of Lucian, is regarded by Arnim as a paraphrase of some dramatic composition, either a satyr play or some Cynic tragedy. The space devoted to a discussion of the relative merits of hoplite and archer reminds him of a similar discussion in the Heracles of Euripides (157 164 and 188 203), a play supposed to have been composed about the year 420 B.C., and he therefore suspects Dio's original to have come from about that period, a period when, for some unknown reason, that topic was of live interest at Athens. Sophocles wrote a satyr play called Achilles' Lovers, which might have been the play here used by Dio.

The tradition according to which Cheiron the Centaur was tutor to Achilles is as old as Homer (Il. 11.830 832). According to Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3.13.6 8, Thetis, detected by Peleus in the act of making Achilles immortal by passing him through the fire, abandoned her baby and her home and rejoined the Nereids. Thereupon Peleus entrusted the babe to Cheiron. But when Achilles was nine years of age, Thetis, having heard of the prophecy of Calchas, that Troy could not be taken without the aid of Achilles, and knowing that if he took part in the expedition he would meet his death, took him and dressed him as a girl and placed him in the care of Lycomedes on the island of Scyros. We must, therefore, suppose the lad to be not older than nine at the time of our Discourse.

The Fifty-eighth Discourse:

Achilles

Achilles questioned Cheiron and said, “Why are you teaching me to use the bow?” “Because,” said he, “this too is one of the warlike accomplishments.” “The accomplishment of cowards,” retorted Achilles, “directed against cowards!” “How so?” returned Cheiron. “It does not allow the foe to come near,” said Achilles. “It does not allow the foe to get far away,” replied Cheiron. “The weapon belongs to men who flee.” “Nay; instead it is directed at men who flee.” “With his own hands a man should overpower those who flee.” “More slowly or more quickly?” “As quickly as possible.” “Then,” said Cheiron, “could a man overpower more quickly by running or by flying?” “You don't mean overpower with his own hands, do you?” “Who does it then?” “The missile.” 2 “But if you hurl a javelin,” said Cheiron, “who overpowers?” “I don't know.” “Well, when do you yourself overpower and slay? When you lay hold of your victim and tear him to pieces, as wild beasts do? Do you perhaps,” said Cheiron, “regard the women as more manly, because they fight at very close quarters, hurling themselves at each other?” But Achilles, as he heard these words, was filled at one and the same time with rage and tears, and he abused Cheiron and said he was not going to stay with him any longer, but was going back to his father in Phthia to be educated at his court; for Peleus, he claimed, was much better than Cheiron and not a sophist like Cheiron. Now Achilles was then still a lad, not yet nearing the age of puberty.

3 “Why then,” said Cheiron, “if he is better than I am, does he not educate you himself?” “Because,” retorted Achilles, “he has no time for it.” “Because of what?” “Because of his kingship.” “Is being king, then, in any way more important than being a teacher?” “Much! But you — you offer me a bit of horn, a piece of sinew, and some tiny bits of iron attached to slender little reeds, as if I were going to hunt birds instead of giving battle to heroes or wild beasts. But any one would find out how wretched the weapons are if ever he came to close quarters and had to use them in hand-to hand conflict. Nay, with them a man must fight as he runs away, in constant terror, guarding against even being seen, like a cowardly slave; indeed, even if one should make a kill, he could not despoil his victim of his armour, nor will he ever be seen bespattered with his foeman's blood.1 That is the sort of stuff you are trying to teach me — how to use the bow and to strum the lyre; yes, and only the other day even to grub roots, as the witches do!”2

4 “Don't you like riding a horse either?” Cheiron asked him. “No, and I don't like you either,” said he, “horsey creature that you are! For you seem to me to be better equipped for running away than for standing your ground.” And Cheiron, flying into a rage at him, his mane bristling with anger, darting a terrible glance of menace like a flash of lightning, but with difficulty refraining from striking him, for he was disposed to be fond of him, cried out, 5 “You bad, bold brat of a briny mother, who has spoiled you vilely, puffing you up with pride of birth! yes, and your father has spoiled you still more than she has, with his tale of how the gods sang at his wedding; but the fact is, you have no connexion with either sea or sky!3 But let me tell you, a warrior you will never be, though you will have that reputation with the unthinking, nor even a leader of men, no matter where you may engage in warfare, for all that you are the son of Peleus and Thetis. Yet because of your audacity and fleetness of foot and physical strength men in flattery will call you most valiant of men.4 However, they will prefer to be ruled by other princes, while as for you, they will compel you by gifts and empty praises to do battle and risk your life for them until you finally meet your death. 6 But I fancy you will not even keep your hands off the dead; on the contrary, you will even stab the corpses and trail them in the dust,5 as if, in sooth, you were doing something grand, just as foolish youngsters drag round and round whatever they kill. But for all your arrogance, you will meet your death, not at the hands of some man of nobility, as you imagine; on the contrary, while you will find it easy to slay those who are like you, brave but stupid, you will be slain by a man of sagacity and military science, and, what is more, without ever having seen him.”6

This Discourse, as possibly also the one preceding, paraphrases a drama, the prologue of Euripides' Philoctetes. Dio has furnished a synopsis of practically the same material in Or. 52, by comparison with which we are enabled to identify the original drama. The synopsis, however, contains two details not found in the paraphrase, namely, that Diomedes arrived in company with Odysseus (§ 14) and the nature of the chorus and its behaviour toward Philoctetes. Arnim believes that these omissions, and the abortive reference to the Trojan mission, indicate either that Dio failed to complete our Discourse or else that his editor, for some unknown reason, chose to eliminate certain portions of the work.

Such a conclusion seems not inevitable. As Lemarchand observes (Dion de Pruse, p17), Dio himself, when recommending that the student of oratory should memorize for recitation speeches from Xenophon, prescribes that he should not make a slavish copy of the original but that he should rather select such passages as seemed most pertinent (Or. 18.19). Whether our Discourse be viewed as a school exercise or as intended for Dio's own delivery, it has undeniable unity as it stands. The rôle of Diomedes was undoubtedly minor. As handled by Euripides, after his initial entry with Odysseus Diomedes may well have temporarily withdrawn, leaving his companion to deliver the soliloquy with which our paraphrase begins. Furthermore the dialogue between Odysseus and Philoctetes took place prior to the entry of the chorus, as is obviously true of the entry of the Trojan envoys. Indeed, the concluding words of Philoctetes give the impression that at this point in the play both he and Odysseus went indoors, thus paving the way for the entry of the chorus.

Though unpretentious in style and marked by frequent hiatus, our paraphrase is so like Greek tragedy in spirit that more than one have been tempted to try to recover from Dio's version the original lines of Euripides. Nauck, Trag. Graec. Frag., p616, prints six such lines, which, with very little change, have been recreated with some degree of probability. These six lines are given below, preceded in each instance by the prose wording from which they were evolved:

1. (§ 6):

πολλὴν ἔοικας φράζειν ἀλογίαν τῆς δεῦρο ὁδοῦ

πολλὴν γ᾽ ἔοικας ἀλογίαν φράζειν ὁδοῦ.

2. (§ 7):

πόθεν δή; τοῦτο γὰρ πρῶτον εἰκός με εἰδέναι.

πόθεν δέ; πρῶτον γὰρ τοδ᾽ εἰδέναι θέλω.

3. ibid.:

πόθεν; εἰπὲ πάλιν, ὡς εἰδῶ σαφέστερον.

πόθεν; λεγ᾽ αὗθις, ἵνα μάθω σαφέστερον.

4. ibid.:

οὐ δυνατόν, εἴπερ Ἕλλην ὢν τυγχάνεις, τὸ μὴ ἀπολωλέναι σε ἐν τῇδε τῇ ἡμέρᾳ.

οὐ δυνατόν, εἴπερ τυγχάνεις Ἕλλην γεγώς,

τὸ μὴ οὐκ ὀλωλέναι σε τῇδ᾽ ἐν ἡμέρᾳ.

5. (§ 8):

πότερον ἐκ τοῦ φανεροῦ μάχῃ κρατήσας ἢ μετὰ δόλου τινός;

μάχῃ κρατήσας ἢ δόλου τινός μετά;1

By good fortune, four of the seventeen fragments of the play now extant find their parallel in Dio's version and will be reported in the notes, each in its appropriate place.

The Fifty-ninth Discourse:

Philoctetes

Odysseus. I fear 'twill prove that my allies were rash when they conceived of me the thought that I, in sooth, am best and wisest of the Greeks. And yet what kind of wisdom and prudence may this be which makes a man to toil beyond the others to gain the salvation and the victory of the group, seeing that, were he deemed to be but one among the throng, 'twere his to share these blessings with the best?2 Ah well, no doubt 'tis difficult to find a thing so proud, so jealous of honour, as man is born to be. For 'tis the prominent, those who dare to undertake more labours than the rest, I dare say, whom we all do view with wonder and regard as truly men.3

2 This thirst for glory is what leads even me to bear unnumbered woes and live a life of toil beyond all other men, accepting ever fresh peril, fearing to mar the glory won by earlier achievements.4 So now a task most hazardous and hard brings me to Lemnos here, that Philoctetes and the bow of Heracles I may bear off for my allies. For the one most gifted in prophecy of all the Phrygians,5 Helenus Priam's son, when by good fortune taken captive, disclosed that without these the city never could be seized.

3 Now to the princes I did not agree to undertake the venture, knowing well the malice of that man,6 since 'twas I myself caused him to be marooned, that day when by ill fortune he was stung by a fierce and deadly viper. Thus I could not hope to find persuasion such that he should ever feel a kindly feeling toward me; nay, I thought he'd slay me out of hand. But after, Athena urging me in dreams, as is her wont, boldly to go and fetch the man — for she herself would change my form and voice, that I might meet him safe from detection — so did I pluck up courage, and am here.

4 But word has come that envoys from the Phrygians too have secretly been sent, if haply they may win Philoctetes by means of bribes, and through his hatred of us Greeks as well, and so take back to Troy him and his bow. With such a prize before him, why should not any man grow keen? For, should one fail in this endeavour, all previous achievements, it seems, have been but labour lost.

5 (Aside) Hah! the man draws nigh. 'Tis he himself, the son of Poeas, as is plain from his affliction, toiling along with labour and in pain. Oh what a grievous, awful spectacle! Aye, his person is frightful, thanks to his disease, his garb unwonted too — skins of wild beasts cover his nakedness. Come, Mistress Athena, be thou mine aid, nor show thyself to have promised me safety all in vain!

6 Philoctetes. What is thy purpose, whoe'er thou art, by what audacity inspired hast thou come to this my poor retreat — to pillage, or to spy upon my evil fortune?

Od. Believe me, no man of violence dost thou see.

Phil. Yet surely not of thy former wont hast thou come here.

Od. Aye, not former wont; yet may it prove that coming even now is opportune.

Phil. Methinks thou dost betray much lack of reason in thy coming here.

Od. Then rest assured, not lacking reason have I come, and to thee at least no stranger shall I prove.

7 Phil. How so? This first of all 'tis fair that I should know.

Od. Well, I'm an Argive, one of those who sailed for Troy.

Phil. How can that be? Repeat thy words, that I may more clearly know.

Od. Then dost thou hear it yet a second time: of those Achaeans7 who advanced on Troy I claim to be.

Phil. Faith, thou didst well in claiming to be friend of mine, seeing thou art revealed among my bitterest foes, the Argives! So for their injustice shalt thou this very instant pay the penalty.

Od. Nay, by the gods, forbear to loose thy shaft!

Phil. It cannot be, if haply thou art Greek in truth, that thou shouldst fail to die this very day.

8 Od. Nay, I have suffered at their hands such things that I should rightly be a friend to thee, to them a foe.

Phil. And what is this thou hast suffered so terrible?

Od. Odysseus drove me an exile from the camp.

Phil. What hadst thou done to meet with such a doom?

Od. Methinks thou knowest Palamedes son of Nauplius.

Phil. In truth no common man was he who sailed with us, nor little worth to men and generals.

Od. Aye, such the man the common spoiler of the Greeks destroyed.

Phil. O'ercoming him in open fight, or with some guile?

Od. Charging betrayal of the camp to Priam's sons.

Phil. But was it so in fact, or has he met with calumny?

Od. Could aught at all that scoundrel8 did be just?

9 Phil. Oh thou who hast refrained from naught most cruel, thou utter villain both word and deed, Odysseus, once more how fine the man thou hast destroyed, of no less value to the allied host than thou, methinks, inventing and devising the best and sagest plans! Just so in fact didst thou make me a castaway, when for the salvation and the victory of us all I met with this disaster, because I showed them Chrysê's altar,9 where they must first make sacrifice if they would overcome the foe; else, I declared, our expedition was being made in vain. Yet what hast thou to do with Palamedes' lot?

10 Od. Know well, the cursed feud was visited on all his friends, and all have perished, save such as could take to flight. Thus I too during the night just sped, sailing across alone, found refuge here. So I myself am placed in much the same necessity as thyself. If, then, thou hast some scheme, by adding thy eagerness to mine touching my voyage home, thou wilt have done a kindly deed toward me and wilt besides send home to thy own friends him who will bear the story of thy present ills.

11 Phil. Nay, wretched creature, thou art come for aid to such another as thou art, helpless himself and lacking friends besides, an outcast on this shore, in niggard fashion and with toil providing with this bow both food and clothing, as thou dost see. For what raiment I had before time hath consumed. But if thou wilt share with me here this life of mine until some second chance of safety falls thy way, I'd grudge it not. Distressing, truly, what thou wilt see indoors, my friend10 — wrappings polluted with an ulcer's filth and other tokens of my malady — and I myself am far from being pleasant company when the pain comes on me. And yet the worst of my disease time hath assuaged, though at the start it was in no wise bearable.

Dio's purpose in this little dialogue is apparently to display his dexterity in reconstructing Greek myth rather than to impart ethical instruction. A somewhat similar tour de force presents itself in the Trojan Discourse (Or. 11). Such exercises constituted a well-known feature of sophistic training and are not to be confused with the effort to rid ancient mythology of its grosser elements, an effort at least as old as Pindar.

In the present instance the myth in question seems not to have been popular. Though it may have figured in the cyclic epic, The Taking of Oechalia, there is no proof that it did. The only ancient Greek writers known to have dealt with the tale of Nessus and Deïaneira are the two named in the opening paragraph of our dialogue — Archilochus and Sophocles. All that is known of the version of Archilochus is contained in this brief reference and in two meagre scholia on Apollonius Rhodius and the Iliad respectively. The Sophoclean version is contained in his Trachiniae. There the murdered Nessus wreaks a posthumous vengeance upon his murderer in the manner here outlined by Dio. The dramatist puts into the mouth of Deïaneira herself the account of the attempt upon her honour (Trachiniae 555 577).

The anonymous interlocutor in Dio's dialogue is a colourless individual, whose function seems to be, first of all, to afford Dio an opportunity to display his dexterity, and finally to pay “certain philosophers” the doubtful compliment of comparison with coroplasts. The natural inference from that comparison is that Dio himself has attained the standing of a philosopher; but the interlocutor does not say so in plain terms and there is little in the Discourse that smacks of philosophy. In general it seems more suited to Dio's sophistic period.

The Sixtieth Discourse:

Nessus or Deïaneira

Interlocutor. Can you solve me this problem — whether or not people are warranted in finding fault now with Archilochus and now with Sophocles in their treatment of the story of Nessus and Deïaneira? For some say Archilochus makes nonsense when he represents Deïaneira as chanting a long story to Heracles while an attack upon her honour is being made by the Centaur, thereby reminding him of the love-making of Acheloüs — and of the events which took place on that occasion1 — in consequence of which Nessus would have ample time to accomplish his purpose; others charge that Sophocles has introduced the shooting of the arrow too soon, while they were still crossing the river;2 for in those circumstances, they claim, Deïaneira too would have perished, since the dying Centaur would have dropped her in the river. However, do not, as you usually do, speak quite counter to the general belief and give any version rather than what a man would naturally believe.

2 Dio. Then do you bid me tell you those things which a man would believe who believes correctly, or what a man would believe even though not correctly?

Int. I prefer what one would believe who believes correctly.

Dio. Then what about beliefs which the masses hold? Must he who desires to interpret correctly speak counter to the belief of the masses?

Int. He must.

Dio. Then do not be irritated as you follow the argument, if what is said is of that nature,3 but rather consider whether it is not suitably expressed.

Int. Very well, speak and proceed with your exposition as seems good to you.

Dio. Very good; I tell you that the whole misconception connected with the myth is the matter of the Centaur's attempt to violate Deïaneira.

Int. What, did he not attempt it?

3 Dio. No. Or does it seem to you plausible that in full view of Heracles, who was carrying his bow, and after having previously had experience of Heracles' valour — the time when he alone of the Centaurs escaped from the cave of Pholus, though they had done no such injury as that to Heracles4 — Nessus should attempt to violate the hero's wife?

Int. Yes, there is a certain difficulty in a matter of that sort; however, if we raise this question, perhaps we may destroy the myth altogether.

Dio. By no means, provided we consider first how the affair occurred, and how it was likely to have occurred.

Int. Very good; I wish you would tell me.

4 Dio. Nessus attempted to corrupt Deïaneira the moment he began to carry her across the stream, as well as in the crossing, as I shall explain — not through violence, as men say, but by speaking to her words suited to his purpose and showing how she might obtain mastery over Heracles, saying: “Now he is fierce and stern and will stay with you only a short while, and that too in fretful temper, because of his labours and his expeditions abroad and the life he has chosen. But if,” said he, “you win him over, partly by solicitude for his welfare and partly by argument, urging him to give up this life of hardship and his labours and to live a life of ease and pleasure, he will not only be far kinder toward you, but will also live a better life and remain at home and keep you company from then on.”

5 Now the Centaur went into these details with designs on Heracles, in the hope that he might somehow turn him in the direction of indulgence and indolence, for he knew that as soon as he changed his mode of living and his occupation he would be easy to manage and weak. But Deïaneira, as she heard him, paid no casual attention to his words, but rather considered that the Centaur was correct in what he said, as indeed might have been expected, since she wished to have her husband under her control. Heracles, on the other hand, suspecting that the Centaur was saying nothing honourable, judging from the earnestness with which he was talking to Deïaneira, and because she gave him her attention, therefore shot him with his bow. 6 But, though dying, nevertheless the Centaur bade Deïaneira to remember what he had said and to act as he had advised.5

Later on, when Deïaneira recalled the words of the Centaur, and when also Heracles did not relax at all but made an even lengthier journey away from home — his final journey, during which he captured Oechalia — and when in fact he was reported to have become enamoured of Iolê,6 thinking it better that what the Centaur had advised should be accomplished, she set to work upon Heracles and — 7 such is the nature of female wile and cunning — she did not desist until, partly by coaxing and saying that she was anxious about him, lest he come to grief by persisting winter and summer alike in going unclothed, wearing only his lion's skin, she at last persuaded him to doff the skin and put on dress like that of other men. And this, of course, was what is called the shirt of Deïaneira, which Heracles put on.7

8 But along with his dress, she made him change his mode of living in general, now sleeping on bedding and not camping in the open for the most part, as was his former custom, nor labouring with his own hands, nor using the same food as formerly, but rather eating grain most carefully prepared and fish and sweet wine and in fact whatever goes with these things. But as an outcome of this change, as was inevitable methinks, falling into weakness and flabbiness of body, and thinking that, having once adopted self-indulgence, it was no longer easy to lay it aside, he therefore set himself on fire, not only because he believed it better to be freed from such a life as that, but also because he was distressed that he had allowed himself to take up a life of luxury.8

So there you have my reasoning, such as I have been able to express it, regarding the myth.

9 Int. And, by Heaven, it seems to me not at all a bad one or unconvincing either. And somehow or other I have the feeling that the method of some philosophers in dealing with their arguments resembles in a way that of the makers of figurines. For those craftsmen produce a mould, and whatever clay they put into this they render like to the mould in form; and some of the philosophers ere now have proved like that, with the result that, whatever myth or story they take in hand, by tearing it to pieces and moulding it to suit their fancy they render it beneficial and suited to philosophy, the sort of philosopher in fact that Socrates in particular proved to be, as we are told. 10 For Socrates indeed entered the lists in all kinds of arguments and all sorts of lectures — against orators, sophists, geometricians, musicians, athletic trainers, and all the other craftsmen — and, whether in palaestra or symposium or market-place, he was not prevented in any way at all from plying his calling as philosopher or from impelling toward virtue those who were with him, not by introducing any topic of his own or any preconceived problem, but rather by consistently employing the topic at hand and applying it to philosophy.