Dio Chrysostom, Speeches

ToposText · Dio Chrysostom · 1,517 sections

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§ 8.21 No, it is no such battle, for pleasure uses no open force but deceives and casts a spell with baneful drugs, just as Homer says Circe drugged the comrades of Odysseus, and some forthwith became swine, some wolves, and some other kinds of beasts. Yes, such is this thing pleasure, that hatches no single plot but all kinds of plots, and aims to undo men through sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch, with food too, and drink and carnal lust, tempting the waking and the sleeping alike.
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§ 8.22 For it is not possible to set guards and then lie down to sleep as in ordinary warfare, since it is just then of all times that she makes her attack, at one time weakening and enslaving the soul by means of sleep itself, at another, sending mischievous and insidious dreams that suggest her.
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§ 8.23 “Now work is carried on by means of touch for the most part and proceeds in that way, but pleasure assails a man through each and every sense that he has; and while he must face and grapple with work, to pleasure he must give the widest berth possible and have none but unavoidable dealings with her.
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§ 8.24 And herein the strongest man is indeed strongest, one might almost say, who can keep the farthest away from pleasures; for it is impossible to dwell with pleasure or even to dally with her for any length of time without being completely enslaved. Hence when she gets the mastery and overpowers the soul by her charms, the rest of Circe's sorcery at once follows. With a stroke of her wand pleasure coolly drives her victim into a sort of sty and pens him up,
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§ 8.25 and now from that time forth the man goes on living as a pig or a wolf. Pleasure also brings divers and deadly vipers into being, and other crawling things that attend constantly upon her as they lie about her doors, and though yearning for pleasure and serving her, they yet suffer a thousand hardships all in vain.
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§ 8.26 For pleasure, after overpowering and taking possession of her victims, delivers them over to hardships, the most hateful and most difficult to endure. ”This is the contest which I steadfastly maintain, and in which I risk my life against pleasure and hardship, yet not a single wretched mortal gives heed to me, but only to the jumpers and runners and dancers.
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§ 8.27 Neither, indeed, did men have eyes for struggles and labours of Heracles or have any interest in them, but perhaps even then they were admiring certain athletes such as Zetes,22a Calais,22b Peleus, and other like runners and wrestlers; and some they would admire for their beauty and others for their wealth, as, for example, Jason and Cinyras.
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§ 8.28 About Pelops, too, the story ran that he had an ivory shoulder, as if there were any use in a man having a golden or ivory hand or eyes of diamond or malachite; but the kind of soul he had men did not notice. As for Heracles, they pitied him while he toiled and struggled and called him the most'trouble-ridden,' or wretched, of men; indeed, this is why they gave the name'troubles,' or tasks, to his labours and works, as though a laborious life were a trouble-ridden, or wretched life; but now that he is dead they honour him beyond all others, deify him, and say he has Hebe to wife, and all pray to him that they may not themselves be wretched — to him who in his labours suffered wretchedness exceedingly great.
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§ 8.29 “They have an idea, too, that Eurystheus had him in his power and ordered him about, Eurystheus, whom they considered a worthless fellow and to whom no one ever prayed or sacrificed. Heracles, however, roved over all Europe and Asia, though he did not look at all like any of these athletes;
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§ 8.30 for where could he have penetrated, had he carried so much flesh or required so much meat or drink into such depths of sleep? No, he was as alert and lean like a lion, keen of eye and ear, recking naught of cold or heat, having no use for bed, shawl, or rug, clad in a dirty skin, with an air of hunger about him, as he succoured the good and punished the bad.
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§ 8.31 And because Diomedes, the Thracian, wore such fine raiment and sat upon a throne drinking the livelong day in high revel, and treated strangers unrighteously as well as his own subjects, and kept a large stable, Heracles smote him with his club and smashed him as if he had been an old jar. Then Geryones, who had ever so many cattle and was the richest of all western lords and the most arrogant, he also killed along with his brothers and drove his cattle away.
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§ 8.32 And when he found Busiris very diligently training, eating the whole day long, and exceeding proud of his wrestling, Heracles burst him open like an over-filled bag by dashing him to the ground. He loosed the girdle of the Amazon, who tried to coquet with him and thought to win by means of her beauty. For he both consorted with her and made her understand that he could never be overcome by beauty and would never tarry far away from his own possessions for a woman's sake.
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§ 8.33 And Prometheus, whom I take to have been a sort of sophist, he found being destroyed by popular opinion; for his liver swelled and grew whenever he was praised and shrivelled again when he was censured. So he took pity on him, frightened.., and thus relieved him of his vanity and inordinate ambition; and straightway he disappeared after making him whole. ”Now in all those exploits he was not doing a favour to Eurystheus at all.
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§ 8.34 And as to the golden apples that he got and brought back — I mean those of the Hesperides — he did give them to him, since he had no use for them himself, but told him to keep them and go hang; for he explained that apples of gold are of no use to a man, nor had the Hesperides, either, found them to be. Then, finally, when he was growing ever slower and weaker, from fear that he would not be able to live as before, and besides, I suppose, because he was attacked by some disease, he made the best provision that was humanly possible for himself, for he reared a pyre of the very driest wood in the courtyard and showed that he minded the fiery heat precious little.
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§ 8.35 But before that, to avoid creating the opinion that he did only impressive and mighty deeds, he went and removed and cleaned away the dung in the Augean stables, that immense accumulation of many years. For he considered that he ought to fight stubbornly and war against opinion as much as against wild beasts and wicked men."
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§ 8.36 While Diogenes thus spoke, many stood about and listened to his words with great pleasure. Then, possibly with this thought of Heracles in his mind, he ceased speaking and, squatting on the ground, performed an indecent act, whereat the crowd straightway scorned him and called him crazy, and again the sophists raised their din, like frogs in a pond when they do not see the water- snake.
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§ 9.01 The Ninth or Isthmian Discourse
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§ 9.1 When the Isthmian games were in progress, Diogenes, who probably was sojourning at Corinth, went down to the Isthmus. He did not attend the great public gatherings, however, with the same motives as the majority, who wished to see the athletes and to gormandize. No, I warrant he came as an observer of mankind and of men's folly. He knew that men show their real character most clearly at public festivals and large gatherings, while in war and in camp it is more concealed owing to the presence of peril and fear.
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§ 9.2 Moreover, he thought they were more easily healed here (for bodily diseases are more readily treated by the physician when they are plain to be seen than while the trouble remains hidden), but that those who are neglected when engaged in such pursuits most speedily perish. Therefore he used to attend the public gatherings.
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§ 9.3 And he would jestingly remark when taxed for his currish manners, “Well, dogs follow along to the festivals, but they do no wrong to any of those attending; they bark and attack rogues and thieves, and when their masters are in a drunken sleep, they stay awake and guard them.”
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§ 9.4 No Corinthian, however, paid any attention to him when he appeared at the gathering, because they often saw him in the city and around the Craneion. For men do not pay much attention to those whom they are constantly seeing and whom they think they can approach whenever they wish, but they turn to those whom they only see at intervals or have never seen before. So the Corinthians derived the least profit from Diogenes, precisely as if sick people would not consult a physician resident in their midst but thought the bare sight of him in the city sufficient.
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§ 9.5 As regards other persons, it was those from a distance who visited him chiefly, all who came to the festival from Ionia, Sicily, and Italy, and some of those who came from Libya, Massilia, and Borysthenes, and the motive of all those was to see and hear him speak for even a short time so as to have something to tell others rather than to get improvement for themselves.
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§ 9.6 For he had the reputation of having a sharp tongue and being instantly ready with an answer for his interrogators. Accordingly, just as those who know nothing of the Pontic honey try a taste of it and then quickly spit it out because it is bitter and unpleasant in taste, so people in their idle curiosity wished to make trial of Diogenes, but on being put to confusion by him would turn on their heels and flee.
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§ 9.7 They were amused, of course, when others were railed at, but on their own account they were afraid and so would withdraw out of his way. Again, when he jested and joked, as was his wont at times, they were pleased beyond measure; but when he warmed up and became serious, they could not stand his frankness. The situation was the same, I fancy, as when children delight to play with well-bred dogs but are terrified and scared to death when they show anger and bark more loudly. At these meetings also he held to the same line of conduct, not changing his ways nor caring whether anyone of his audience commended or criticized him; no, not even if it was some wealthy and prominent person such as a general or ruler who approached and conversed with him, or some very humble and poor individual.
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§ 9.8 When such people talked nonsense, he usually scorned them merely, but those that assumed airs and prided therefore on their wealth or family or some other distinction he would make the especial object of his attack and castigate thoroughly. Some admired him, therefore, as the wisest man in the world, to others he seemed crazy, many scorned him as a beggar and a poor good-for nothing, some jeered at him,
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§ 9.9 others tried to insult him grossly by throwing bones at his feet as they would to dogs, yet others would approach him and pluck at his cloak, but many could not tolerate him and were indignant. It was just like the way in which Homer says the suitors made sport of Odysseus; he too endured their riotous conduct and insolence for a few days, and Diogenes was like him in every respect. For he really resembled a king and lord who in the guise of a beggar moved among the slaves and menials while they caroused in ignorance of his identity, and yet was patient with them, drunken as they were and crazed by reason of ignorance and stupidity.
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§ 9.10 Generally the managers of the Isthmian games and other honourable and influential men were sorely troubled and held themselves aloof whenever they came his way, and passed on, all of them, in silence and with scowling glances. But when he went so far as to put the crown of pine upon his head, the Corinthians sent some of their servants to bid him lay aside the crown and do nothing unlawful.
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§ 9.11 He, however, asked them why it was unlawful for him to wear the crown of pine and not so for others. Whereupon one of them said, “Because you have won no victory, Diogenes.” To which he replied, “Many and mighty antagonists have I vanquished, not like these slaves who are now wrestling here, hurling the discus and running,
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§ 9.12 but more difficult in every way — I mean poverty, exile, and disrepute; yes, and anger, pain, desire, fear, and the most redoubtable beast of all, treacherous and cowardly, I mean pleasure, which no Greek or barbarian can claim he fights and conquers by the strength of his soul, but all alike have succumbed to her and have failed in this contest — Persians, Medes, Syrians, Macedonians, Athenians, Lacedemonians — all, that is, save myself.
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§ 9.13 Is it I, then, think you, that am worthy of the pine, or will you take and bestow it upon the one who is stuffed with the most meat? Take this answer, then, to those who sent you and say that it is they who break the law; for they go about wearing crowns and yet have won in no contest; and add that I have lent a great lustre to the Isthmian games by having myself taken the crown, which ought to be a thing for goats, forsooth, to fight over, not for men.”
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§ 9.14 And on a later occasion when he saw a person leaving the race-track surrounded by a great mob and not even walking on the earth, but carried shoulder high by the throng, with some following after and shouting, others leaping for joy and lifting their hands towards heaven, and still others throwing garlands and ribbons upon him, he asked, when he was able to get near, what was the meaning of the tumult about him, and what had happened.
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§ 9.15 The victor replied, “I have won the two hundred yards dash for men, Diogenes.” “And what does that amount to?” he inquired; “for you certainly have not become one whit more intelligent for having outstripped your competitors, nor more temperate than you were, nor less cowardly, nor are you less discontented, nor will your wants be less in the future or your life freer from grief and pain.”
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§ 9.16 “No, by heavens,” said he, “but I am the fastest on foot of all the Greeks.” “But not faster than rabbits,” said Diogenes, “nor deer; and yet these animals, the swiftest of all, are also the most cowardly. They are afraid of men and dogs and eagles and lead a wretched life. Do you not know,” he added, “that speed is a mark of cowardice? It is in the order of things that the swiftest animals are likewise the most timid.
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§ 9.17 Heracles, for instance, on account of being slower than many and unable to catch evil-doers by running, used to carry a bow and arrows and to employ them against those who ran from him.” “But,” was the reply, “the poet states that Achilles, who was very swift-footed, was, nevertheless, very brave.” “And how,” exclaimed Diogenes, “do you know that Achilles was swift-footed? For he was unable to overtake Hector although he pursued him all day.
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§ 9.18 ”Are you not ashamed," he continued, “to take pride in an accomplishment in which you are naturally outclassed by the meanest beasts? I do not believe that you can outstrip even a fox. And by how much did you beat the man after all?” “By just a little, Diogenes,” said he; “for you know that is what made the victory so marvellous.” “So,” replied Diogenes, “you are fortunate by just one stride.” “Yes, for all of us who ran were first-rate runners.” “How much more quickly, however, does a crested lark get over the course than you?” “Ah, but it has wings,” he said.
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§ 9.19 “Well,” replied Diogenes, “if the swiftest thing is the best, it is much better, perhaps, to be a lark than to be a man. So then we need not pity the nightingale or the hoopoe because they were changed from human beings into birds according to the myth.” “But,” replied he, “I, a man, am the fleetest of men.” “What of it? Is it not probable that among ants too,” Diogenes rejoined, “one is swifter than another? Yet they do not admire it, do they? Or would it not seem absurd to you if one admired an ant for its speed?
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§ 9.20 Then again, if all the runners had been lame, would it have been right for you to take on airs because, being lame yourself, you had outstripped lame men?” As he spoke to the man in this vein, he made the business of foot-racing seem cheap in the eyes of many of the bystanders and caused the winner himself to go away sorrowing and much meeker.
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§ 9.21 And this was no small service which he rendered to mankind whenever he discovered anyone who was foolishly puffed up and lost to all reason on account of some worthless thing; for he would humble the man a little and relieve him of some small part of his folly, even as one pricks or punctures inflated and swollen parts.
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§ 9.22 On this occasion he saw two horses that were hitched together fall to fighting and kicking each other, with a large crowd standing by and looking on, until one of the animals, becoming exhausted, broke loose and ran off. Then Diogenes came up and placed a crown upon the head of the horse that had stood its ground and proclaimed it winner of an Isthmian prize, because it had “won in kicking.” At this there was a general laugh and uproar, while many applauded Diogenes and derided the athletes. They say, too, that some persons actually left without witnessing their performances — those who had poor lodgings or none.
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§ 10.1 The Tenth Discourse: Diogenes or On Servants Once when Diogenes was leaving Corinth for Athens, he met an acquaintance on the road and asked whither he was going; not, however, as most persons ask such questions and thereby make a show of interest in their friends' affairs, yet have no sooner heard than off they go; no, but just as physicians ask the sick what they are planning to do, with the idea of giving them counsel and recommending what they should do and what they should avoid, so for the same purpose Diogenes asked the man what he was doing.
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§ 10.2 And the latter replied, “I am on my way to Delphi, Diogenes, to make use of the oracle, but when I was about to pass through Boeotia, my slave, who was with me, ran away, and so I am now bound for Corinth, for perhaps I may find the boy there.” At this Diogenes replied with that characteristic earnestness of his, “And so, you ridiculous fellow, are you attempting to make use of the god when you are incapable of using a slave? Or does not the latter strike you as less difficult and dangerous than the former for those who are incapable of using things properly? Besides, what is your object in hunting for the boy? Was he not a bad slave?”
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§ 10.3 “Yes, he certainly was,” replied the latter, “for although I had done him no wrong and, what is more, had made him my body-servant, he ran away.” “Perhaps he thought you were a bad master, for if he had thought you were a good one, he would never have left you.” “Perhaps, Diogenes, it was because he was bad himself.” “And so,” continued Diogenes, “because he thought you were bad, he ran off to avoid injury by you, while you are searching for him although you say he is bad, evidently with the desire to be injured by him!
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§ 10.4 Is it not true that bad men are injurious to those who own them or to those who use them, whether they be Phrygians or Athenians, bond or free? And yet no one hunts for a runaway dog that he thinks is no good; nay, some even kick such a dog if he comes back; but when people are rid of a bad man they are not satisfied, but go to a lot of trouble by sending word to their friends, making trips themselves, and spending money to get the fellow back again.
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§ 10.5 Now do you believe that more have been hurt by bad dogs than by bad men? To be sure we hear that one man, Actaeon, was slain by worthless dogs, and mad ones at that; but it is not even possible to say how many private individuals, kings, and whole cities have been destroyed by bad men, some by servants, some by soldiers and bodyguards, others by so called friends, and yet others by sons and brothers and wives.
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§ 10.6 Is it not, therefore, a great gain when one happens to be rid of a bad man? Should one hunt and chase after him? That would be like hunting after a disease one had got rid of and trying to get it back into one's system again.” The man replied, “What you say is right enough, Diogenes, but it is hard for a man who has been wronged not to seek redress. That renegade suffered no wrong at my hands, as you see, and yet he dared to desert me. At my house he did none of the work that slaves perform, but was kept inside in idleness with nothing else to do but to accompany me.”
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§ 10.7 “Then were you doing him no wrong,” Diogenes answered, “by keeping him in idleness and ignorance and making him as bad as could be? For idleness and lack of occupation are the best things in the world to ruin the foolish. Therefore he was right in deciding that you were his undoing, and he was justified in running off, evidently so as to get work and not become worse and worse all the time by loafing, sleeping, and eating. But you, perhaps, think that it is a trifling wrong when anyone makes another man worse. And yet is it not right to keep away from such a man above all as the deadliest and most treacherous of enemies?” “What shall I do then?” he asked, “for I have no other domestic.
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§ 10.8 ”Well, what will you do," said he, “when you have no other shoes and those you have hurt and lacerate your feet? Will you not take them off as soon as you can and go barefoot? If, however, they fall off themselves, do you tie them on again and pinch your feet? Why, sometimes barefooted persons get about more easily than those who are badly shod; and similarly, many live more comfortably and with less annoyance without domestics than those who have many. See what worries the rich have.
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§ 10.9 Some are taking care of their sick slaves and wanting doctors and nurses — for it is usually the way of slaves to neglect themselves and not be careful when sick, partly through lack of self-control, partly because they think that if anything befalls them, it will be their master's loss and not their own — other rich men inflict corporal punishment daily, others put fetters on them, while yet others are pursuing runaways. And so it goes; they can neither get away from home easily whenever they like nor have leisure if they stay at home.
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§ 10.10 And the most absurd thing of all is that they are often worse off for help than are the poor who keep no servants. Their situation reminds one of the centipede — I think you know it — which has innumerable feet and yet it is the slowest of creeping things. Do you not know that nature has made each man's body to be sufficient to serve him? — feet so as to move about, hands to work with and to care for the rest of the body, eyes to see, and ears to hear.
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§ 10.11 Besides, she has made his stomach of a size in keeping, so that man does not require more nourishment than he is able to provide for himself, but this amount represents what is quite adequate for each man and best and most wholesome. Just as a hand is all the weaker for having more fingers than belong there naturally, and such a man is called a sort of cripple when he has an extra finger on the outside and cannot use the other fingers properly; so when a man gets equipped with many additional feet, hands, and stomachs, by heavens, he becomes not a whit more efficient for any task whatever, nor does he obtain what he must obtain any better, but rather, much less well and with greater difficulty.
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§ 10.12 ”You now provide food for one person," he continued, “but then it was for two; and now, if any illness attacks you, you will have only yourself to treat, but then you had to take care of him, too, when he was ill. Now, when you are in the house all by yourself, you do not worry for fear that you may steal something yourself, nor, when you retire, lest your slave be awake and doing some mischief. All these things you should surely think about. And further, if you have a wife, she would then not have considered it her duty to look after you when she saw a domestic kept in the family, and she would have been likely to annoy you, sometimes by quarrelling with him, at other times by being hard to suit herself; but now she will be less discontented herself and will take better care of you.
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§ 10.13 Then too, wherever there is a servant, the children as they come on are at once spoiled and become lazier and more overbearing as long as there is someone to dance attendance upon them, and as they have somebody whom they look down upon. On the other hand, wherever the children are by themselves, they are much more manly and vigorous and learn to care for their parents from the very start.” “But, Diogenes, I am a poor man, and if it should not be to my advantage to keep the servant, I shall dispose of him.” “In that case,” he rejoined, “are you not ashamed, in the first place, to deceive the purchaser by selling him a bad slave? For either you will conceal the truth or be unable to sell him.
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§ 10.14 Further, if a man sells a cloak or a utensil that is not what it purports to be, or an animal that is diseased and useless, he must take it back; so, by selling you will be none the better off. And even if you shall be able to deceive somebody and he shall not be aware of the slave's depravity, are you not afraid of the money? For perhaps you will buy another still worse slave if you chance upon a seller who is too shrewd for you. Or perhaps you will use the money received for something that will harm you. For by no means in every case does money help those who have gotten it; but men have suffered many more injuries and many more evils from money than from poverty, particularly when they lacked sense.
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§ 10.15 Are you going to try to secure first, not that other thing, which will enable you to derive profit from everything and to order all your affairs well, but in preference to wisdom are you going to seek riches or lands or teams of horses or ships or houses? You will become their slave and will suffer through them and perform a great deal of useless labour, and will spend all your life worrying over them without getting any benefit whatsoever from them.
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§ 10.16 Consider the beasts yonder and the birds, how much freer from trouble they live than men, and how much more happily also, his much healthier and stronger they are, and how each of them lives the longest life possible, although they have neither hands nor human intelligence. And yet, to counter-balance these and their other limitations, they have one very great blessing — they own no property.” “Well, Diogenes, I believe I shall let my servant go, that is, unless he happens to come my way.” “Well, I declare,” exclaimed Diogenes, “that would be like your saying that you would not look for a horse that bites or kicks, but that if you came across him, you would go up to him for the fun of being bitten or kicked!”
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§ 10.17 “Enough of that! But why do you object to my making use of the god?” “What! I object to your making use of the god if you can! That is not what I was saying, but that it is difficult, nay rather impossible, to make use of god or man or one's own self if one does not know how. To make the attempt without knowing how is an extremely harmful thing. Or do you think that the man who is untrained in the use of horses could make use of them?” “I do not.” “And that, if, on the other hand, he should use force, he would get some harm from it rather than good?” “True.”
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§ 10.18 “Now then, will the man ignorant of the use of dogs be able to use them? Or does not the using of anything imply deriving benefit from it?” “I think so.” “No one, therefore, of those injured by a thing really uses the thing by which he is injured, does he?” “Certainly not.” “If, therefore, a man attempts to use dogs without knowing how, will he not receive damage from them?” “Very likely.” “He, therefore, will not be using them either, since use does not properly exist where damage results. And this is true not only in the case of dogs and horses but of oxen and mules also, and — what might surprise you more — not even the using of an ass or a sheep is a matter for inexperienced persons.
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§ 10.19 Or do you not know that from the keeping of sheep and the driving of asses some derive benefit and others injury?” “I do.” “Is it not simply because the inexperienced necessarily receive damage and those who know benefit, whether it be a question of asses or swine of geese or any other creature?” “It appears so.” “Furthermore, can it be that, as regards the use of things, the same reasoning does not hold good, but that one who has no knowledge of music could use a lyre, or would he not be ridiculous for trying, not to speak of his accomplishing nothing and ruining the lyre and breaking the strings?
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§ 10.20 Then again, if one who is not a flautist should wish to use the flute and appear in the theatres and play upon it, would he not be pelted as a punishment and be likely to smash his flute into the bargain? And if a man undertakes to handle a rudder without knowing how to steer, will he not assuredly capsize the boat in short order and cause the death of both himself and his fellow-passengers? Still further, does the use of spear or shield do any good when wielded by timid and inexperienced persons, or rather, would they not by such an attempt at use lose not only their weapons but their own lives as well?” “I grant it, Diogenes,” he replied; “but you are letting the sun down with your interminable questions.”
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§ 10.21 “And is it not better,” said he, “to let the sun go down if one is listening to useful words than to go on an idle journey?” “And likewise in almost all cases where practical experience in'using' is lacking, it is difficult to be zealous, and the damage is likely to be greater where the things concerned are greater. Do you, then, think that the'use' of an ass is like the'use' of a horse?” “Of course not.” “Well, then, is the'use' of a man like the'use' of a god?” “But that question does not deserve an answer, Diogenes,” said he. “Is there anyone, then, who can make use of himself who does not know himself?” “How could he?” replied the other. “Because the one who does not understand man is unable to'use' man?” “Yes, because he cannot.”
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§ 10.22 “So he who does not understand himself would not be able to make use of himself, would he?” “I believe not.” “Have you ever heard of the inscription at Delphi:'Know thyself'?” “I have.” “Is it not plain that the god gives this command to all, in the belief that they do not know themselves?' ”It would seem so." “You, therefore, would be included in the'all'?” “Certainly.” “So then you also do not know yourself?” “I believe not.” “And not knowing yourself, you do not know man; and not knowing man, you are unable to'use' man; and yet, although you are unable to'use' a man, you are attempting to'use' a god, an attempt which we agree is altogether the greater and more difficult of the two.
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§ 10.23 ”Tell me, do you think Apollo speaks Attic or Doric? Or that men and gods have the same language? Yet the difference is so great that the Scamander river in Troy is called Xanthus by the gods, and that the bird kymindis is called chalkis, and that a certain spot outside the city which the Trojans called Batieia was called the Sema Myrines by the gods. From this it naturally follows that the oracles are obscure and have already deceived many men.
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§ 10.24 Now for Homer perhaps it was safe to go to Apollo at Delphi, as being bilingual and understanding the dialects — if he really did understand them all and not just a few things, like persons who know two or three Persian, Median, or Assyrian words and thus fool the ignorant. “But how about you? Have you no fear, lest, when the god says one thing you may understand another? As, for instance, the story of the famous Laius, the man who became the lover of Chrysippus; when he had gone to Delphi, he asked the god how he might have issue. The god bade him'not to beget, or, having begotten, to expose.'
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§ 10.25 And Laius was so foolish as to misunderstand both commands of the god, for he begot a son and did not rear him. Afterwards both he and all his house were destroyed, all because he had undertaken to'make use of' Apollo when he lacked the ability. For if he had not received that oracle, he would not have exposed Oidipus, and the latter, having been reared at home, would not have slain Laius, for he would have known that he was his son.
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§ 10.26 Then you have heard the story about Croesus, the Lydian, who, imagining that he was most faithfully carrying out the behests of the god, crossed the river Halys, lost his empire, was bound in chains himself, and barely escaped being burned alive. Or do you, pray, think that you are wiser than Croesus, a man of such wealth, who ruled over so many people and had met Solon and a great many other wise men?
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§ 10.27 As for Orestes, I presume you see him also in tragic performances inveighing against the god in his fits of madness, and accusing him as though he had counselled him to slay his mother. But do not imagine that Apollo ever ordered those that consult him to commit any dreadful or disgraceful act. It is as I said: although men are incapable of'using' the god, they go ahead, try, and then blame him and not themselves. ”You, then, if you follow my advice, will take heed and aim first to know yourself; afterwards, having found wisdom, you will then, if it be your pleasure, consult the oracle.
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§ 10.28 For I am persuaded that you will have no need of consulting oracles if you have intelligence. Why just consider! If the god bids you to read and write correctly when you have no knowledge of letters, you will not be able to do so; but if you know your letters, you will read and write well enough, even without any command from the god. In the same way, if he advises you to do anything else when you do not know how, you will not be in a condition to obey. You will not be able to live properly, either, if you do not know how, even though you importune Apollo day after day and he gives you all his time. But if possessed of intelligence, you will know of yourself what you ought to do and how to go about it.
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§ 10.29 “There is one thing, however, that I forgot to say about Oidipus: He did not go to Delphi to consult the oracle but fell in with Teiresias and suffered great calamities from that seer's divination on account of his own ignorance. For he knew that he had consorted with his own mother and that he had children by her; and subsequently, when perhaps he should have concealed this or made it legal in Thebes, in the first place he let everybody know the fact and then became greatly wrought up, lifted up his voice and complained that he was father and brother at once of the same children, and husband and son of the same woman.
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§ 10.30 But domestic fowls do not object to such relationships, nor dogs, nor any ass, nor do the Persians, although they pass for the aristocracy of Asia. And in addition to all this, Oidipus blinded himself and then wandered about blind, as though he could not wander while still keeping his sight.” The other on hearing this replied, “You, Diogenes, make Oidipus out to be the greatest dullard in the world; but the Greeks believe that, though he was not a fortunate man, he was the most sagacious of all men. At any rate they say that he alone solved the Sphinx's riddle.”
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§ 10.31 At this Diogenes broke into a laugh and said, “He solve the Sphinx's riddle! Have you not heard that the Sphinx prompted him to give the answer'man'? As to the meaning of'man,' however, he neither expressed himself nor knew, but when he said the word'man' he thought he was answering the question. It was just as if one were asked,'What is Socrates?' and should give no other answer than the word' Socrates.' I have heard someone say that the Sphinx stands for stupidity;
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§ 10.32 that this, accordingly, proved the ruin of the Boeotians in the past just as it does now, their stupidity preventing their knowing anything, such utter dullards they are; and that while the others had an inkling of their ignorance, Oidipus, who thought that he was very wise and had escaped the Sphinx, and who had made the other Thebans believe all this, perished most miserably. For any man who in spite of his ignorance deludes himself with the belief that he is wise is in a much sorrier plight than anyone else. And such is the tribe of sophists.”
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§ 11.01 The Eleventh Discourse Maintaining that Troy was not Captured
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§ 11.1 I am almost certain that while all men are hard to teach, they are easy to deceive. They learn with difficulty — if they do learn anything — from the few that know, but they are deceived only too readily by the many who do not know, and not only by others but by themselves as well. For the truth is bitter and unpleasant to the unthinking, while falsehood is sweet and pleasant.
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§ 11.2 They are, I fancy, like men with sore eyes — they find the light painful, while the darkness, which permits them to see nothing, is restful and agreeable. Else how would falsehood often prove mightier than the truth, if it did not win its victories through pleasure? But though, as I have said, it is hard for men to learn, it is immensely more difficult for them to unlearn and learn over again, especially when they have been listening to falsehood for a long time, and not only they themselves, but their fathers, their grandfathers, and, generally speaking, all former generations have been deceived.
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§ 11.3 For it is no easy matter to disabuse these of their opinion, no matter how clearly you show it to be wrong. I presume it is the same as when people have brought up supposititious children: it is hard to get these away from them afterwards when you tell them the truth, but if you had told them in the beginning, they would not have undertaken to rear them. So strong is this tendency that many prefer to claim bad children and to acknowledge them, to their own disadvantage, as their own, if they have originally believed them to be so, rather than good children of whom they learn long afterward.
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§ 11.4 Therefore, I should not be surprised at you, men of Ilium, if you were going to put greater faith in Homer, notwithstanding his most grievous misstatements against you, than in my present statement of the truth, and hold him to be a wise and inspired man, and to teach your children his epic from their very earliest years, though he has nothing but denunciation for your city, and untruthful at that, but should refuse to listen to me when I tell the facts as they occurred, just because I was born many years later than Homer.
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§ 11.5 And yet most people say that time is the very best judge of things, but whenever they hear anything after a long lapse of time, they consider it incredible for that very reason. Now if I had the hardihood to contradict Homer before the Argives and to show the error in his poetry regarding the most important things, perhaps it would be natural for them to be angry at me and drive me from their city if they saw that I was dispelling and destroying the reputation which their city has derived from that source. You, on the other hand, should be grateful and hear me gladly, for I have been zealous in defence of your ancestors.
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§ 11.6 I wish to say at the outset that this discourse must be delivered before other audiences also, and that many will hear about it, of whom some will not comprehend it, while others will pretend to treat it lightly though they really do not, and yet others will attempt to refute its arguments, especially, I suppose, the miserable sophists. I know quite well that it will not please you, I suppose, either. For most men are so completely corrupted at heart by opinion that they would rather be notorious for the greatest calamities than suffer no ill and be unknown.
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§ 11.7 Even the Argives, I believe, would not wish that the events told of Thyestes, Atreus, and the house of Pelops had happened otherwise, but would be greatly displeased if anyone disproved the myths set forth in the tragic poets by asserting that Thyestes did not defile the wife of Atreus and that the latter did not slay his brother's sons nor cut them up and then serve their remains as a feast for Thyestes, or that Orestes did not kill his own mother. Should any man make any such assertions, they would feel aggrieved on the ground that they were being insulted.
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§ 11.8 I believe, too, that the feelings of the Thebans would be exactly the same, should anyone assert that there was no truth in their tales of woe and insist that Oidipus did not kill his father or wed his mother or blind himself, or that his sons did not die before the walls, each by the other's hand, or that the Sphinx did not come and devour the children of the city. Nay, on the contrary, they are delighted to hear that Sphinx was sent to molest them because of Hera's anger, that Laius was slain by his son and that Oidipus, after what he did and suffered, wandered in blindness,
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§ 11.9 and that the sons of an earlier king, Amphion, who founded the city, were slain by the arrows Apollo and Artemis because they were the fairest among men. These are the themes that they can endure to hear interpreted by the flute or song in their theatres, and they offer prizes for the most pathetic interpretation of the story in words or in music; but the man who says that none of these things occurred they expel from their city.
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§ 11.10 So far have the majority carried their folly, and so completely has their infatuation got the better of them. They want to be talked about as much as possible, but as to the nature of what is said, they care not a whit. Generally speaking, men are too cowardly to be willing to undergo severe suffering, since they fear death and pain, but they highly prize being mentioned as having so suffered.
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§ 11.11 But as for me, desiring neither to gain your favour nor to quarrel with Homer, much less to rob him of his fame, I shall try to show all the false statements I think he has made with regard to the events which happened here, and I shall use no other means of refuting him than his own poetry. In this I am simply defending the truth, and for Athena's sake especially, that she may not be thought to have destroyed her own city unjustly or to have set her will against her father's; but I speak no less in behalf of Hera and Aphrodite also.
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§ 11.12 For it is passing strange that the consort of Zeus did not consider him a competent judge of her beauty unless it should be pleasing to one of the shepherds of Ida also, and that she had any contest at all with Aphrodite for the prize of beauty, she who asserted that she was the eldest of the children of Cronus, as Homer himself has expressed it in the verse, “Me as the eldest child hath Cronus the crafty begotten.”
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§ 11.13 Furthermore, it is strange that she became so bitterly disposed towards Paris when she herself had entrusted the judgment to him; and yet, even in human affairs, the man who refers a dispute to arbitration does not regard the arbitrator as an enemy when the decision is not in his favour. It is strange also that Aphrodite should have bestowed a gift so scandalous, so fraught with evil and injustice, and that she was so regardless both of Helen, her own sister, and of Paris, who had decided in her favour, but rewarded the latter with such a marriage that he was destined through it to ruin himself, his parents, and his city.
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§ 11.14 Furthermore, the position of Helen, in my judgment, should not be ignored either; for she, the reputed daughter of Zeus, has become through unjust report a byword for disgrace, and yet has been held as a deity among the Greeks on account of her grace. Yet, though such very serious matters are involved in the present discussion, some of the sophists will declare that I am guilty of impiety in gainsaying Homer and will seek to slander me to their wretched disciples, for whom I care less than for so many monkeys.
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§ 11.15 In the first place, they say that Homer being constrained by dire poverty, went begging throughout Greece, and yet they think such a man was unable to lie to please those whose dole he received and that he would not have recited the sort of stories that were likely to please them. Beggars of the present time, however, tell nothing but lies, we are told, and nobody would accept the evidence of any of them on any matter whatsoever or receive their praise as sincere.
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§ 11.16 For every one knows that they are compelled to cajole in all they say. It has been said, further, that some gave of their bounty to Homer the beggar, and others to Homer the madman, and it is believed that the people his day held him for a madman when he told the truth rather than when he distorted it. Now on this score I certainly have no criticism to bring against Homer; for there is nothing to prevent a wise man from going begging or pretending to be mad; but I do say that, according to the opinion those men entertain of Homer and his kind, there is probably nothing trustworthy in what he said.
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§ 11.17 And, further, they do not think that falsehood was foreign to the character of Homer or that he made no use of it. Odysseus, at any rate, whom he praised most highly, he has represented as telling numerous falsehoods. He says, too, that Autolycus actually perjured himself and that he learned this from Hermes. And as regards the gods, practically every man, including his warmest admirers, admits that Homer does not speak a word of truth, and they seek to offer such excuses as this, that at such times he is not speaking his real mind but is using riddles and figures of speech.
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§ 11.18 Then what is to prevent him having spoken in the same way of men also? For when a man does not frankly tell the truth about the gods, but, on the contrary, puts the matter in such a way that his readers get the wrong idea of them and without any advantage to himself either, why would he hesitate to utter any falsehood whatsoever regarding men? That he has represented the gods as suffering pain, groaning, being wounded, and almost dying; that he tells of their amours withal, of their durance vile, of their giving bonds — on these matters I do not dwell; many others have already done that. For I have no desire to impeach Homer, but only to show how the truth stands. For indeed I shall even tell in his defence what I think to be the facts.
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§ 11.19 But this I do assert, that he made the freest possible use of falsehood and considered it no shame. Whether he was right in this or not, I forbear to consider now. Omitting, then, what he has pictured concerning the gods in his poems that is shocking and unbecoming to them, I say merely this, that he did not hesitate to repeat conversations of the gods, which he says they held with one another, not only those held in open court when all the other deities were present, but also those which some had privately with one,
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§ 11.20 as, for instance, when Zeus was angered at Hera for deceiving him and bringing on the defeat of the Trojans, or that previous conversation which she had with Aphrodite, in which she urged her to drug her father and lend her the love charm, to wit, the embroidered girdle — a request which she presumably made in secret. For it is unlikely even in human affairs that any outsider knows of those occasional scenes where husbands and wives fall out and abuse one another. Yet Homer has a passage in which Odysseus puts this matter properly so as not to seem a mere impostor, namely, where he tells of the debates which the gods held concerning him. For he says that he heard these debates from Calypso and that she had learned of them from someone else; but about himself Homer has made no such claim of having received his information from some god.
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§ 11.21 Such utter contempt did Homer show for men, and not a whit did he care if all his statements were regarded as false. For of course he did not imagine that he would convince anyone that he knew [of his own knowledge about] the debates among the gods. He tells also of the dalliance of Zeus and Hera that occurred on Mount Idea, and what words Zeus spoke before the meeting, as though he had personally seen and heard, and apparently no obstacle was presented by the cloud in which Zeus had wrapped himself to escape being seen.
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§ 11.22 And to all this Homer has just added the finishing touch. For, not to keep us in doubt as to how he came to understand the gods, he talks to us almost as though he were acquainted with their language, tells us that it was not the same as ours, and that they do not apply the same names to the various things as we do. He draws attention to this in the case of a bird, which he says the gods call chalkis and men kymindis, and in the case of a place before Troy which men call Batieia, but the gods call the Sema Myrines.
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§ 11.23 And after telling us that the river is called not Scamander but Xanthus by the gods, Homer himself proceeds to call it by this latter name in his verses, as though it were his privilege not only to mix the various dialectal forms of the Greeks freely, using now the Aeolic, now a Dorian, and now an Ionic form, but to employ even the Zeus dialect in the bargain. I have spoken in this way just as I have said, not by way of criticism, but because Homer was the boldest liar in existence and showed no less assurance and pride in his lying than in telling the truth.
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§ 11.24 Thus regarded, none of my statements seems strange and incredible any longer; nay, they appear as but insignificant human falsehoods in comparison with great superhuman ones. For when Homer undertook to describe the war between the Achaeans and the Trojans, he did not start at the very beginning, but at haphazard; and this is the regular way with practically all who distort the truth; they entangle the story and make it involved and refuse to tell anything in sequence, thus escaping detection more readily. Otherwise they are convicted by the very subject-matter.
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§ 11.25 This is just what may be seen happening in courts of justice and in the case of others who lie skilfully; whereas those who wish to present each fact as it really occurred do so by reporting the first thing first, the second next, and so on in like order. This is one reason why Homer did not begin his poem in the natural way. Another is that he planned especially to do away with its beginning and its end as far as possible and to create the very opposite impression concerning them.
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§ 11.26 That is why he did not dare to tell either the beginning or the end in a straightforward way and did not bind himself to say anything about them, but if he does make mention of them anywhere, it is incidental and brief, and he is evidently trying to confuse. For he was ill at ease with respect to these parts and unable to speak freely. The following device, too, is usually employed by those who wish to deceive: They mention some parts of the story and dwell upon them, but what they are particularly anxious to conceal they do not bring out clearly or when their auditor is paying attention, nor do they put it in its proper place, but where it may best escape notice. They do this, not only for the reason just mentioned, but also because lying makes them ashamed and reluctant to go on with it, especially when it is about the most important matters.
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§ 11.27 And so liars do not speak aloud when they come to this part. Some of them falter and speak indistinctly, others as if they themselves did not know but spoke from hearsay. He, however, who speaks the truth, does so without fear or reserve. Now Homer was not straightforward or frank when telling of the abduction of Helen or the fall of Troy. Nay, with all that boldness which I have said he had, he nevertheless flinched and weakened because he knew he was telling the reverse of the truth and falsifying the essential part of his subject.
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§ 11.28 Or at what point of the story might Homer have more properly begun than with Paris' wanton crime itself, which caused the war, since all the readers of his poem would then have joined in indignation and would have been eager for the outcome, and no one would have pitied the sufferings of the Trojans? For by so doing Homer would have been assured of a more sympathetic and interested audience.

Via ToposText (topostext.org), a project of the Aikaterini Laskaridis Foundation created by Brady Kiesling. Translated by James Wilfred Cohoon (1878-1946) and Henry Lamar Crosby (1880-1954). Composed ca. 112 CE. Licence: public domain. Source.