Delphi Complete Works of Dio Chrysostom

by Dio Chrysostom

  Some maintain that Dio gave this address on more than one occasion and that traces of different recensions to make the address suit different places and audiences are to be found in the versionsº that have come down to us.

  The Twelfth or Olympic Discourse: or, On Man’s First Conception of God

  Can it be, Sirs, that here before you, just as before many another audience — to use a familiar saying — I have met with the strange and inexplicable experience of the owl? For though she is no whit wiser than the other birds nor more beautiful in appearance, but on the contrary only what we know her to be, yet whenever she utters her mournful and far from pleasing note, they all flock to her — yes, and even when they merely see her, the reason being, as it seems to me, that they look with scorn upon her insignificance and weakness; and yet people in general say that the birds admire the owl.

  [2] Surely, however, the birds ought rather to admire the peacock when they see him, beautiful and many-coloured as he is, and then again truly when he lifts himself up in pride and shows the beauty of his plumage, as he struts before his hen with his tail spread out and arched all about him like a fair-shaped theatre or some picture of the heavens studded with stars — a figure well deserving of admiration for the colouring also, which is nearest to gold blended with dark blue; and then too on the tips of his feathers there are eyes, as it were, or markings like rings both in shape and in their general similitude. [3] And, if you want something further, observe the lightness of his plumage, so light indeed that it is not an encumbrance nor hard to carry on account of its length. In the centre of it he offers himself to the spectator’s gaze, quite calm and unconcerned, turning himself this way and that as if on parade; and when he wishes really to astound us, he rustles his feathers and makes a sound not unpleasing, as of a light breeze stirring some thick wood.

  But it is not the peacock with all this fine display that the birds want to see, nor when they hear the song of the nightingale as she rises at early dawn are they at all affected by her — [4] nay, not even the swan do they greet on account of its music, not even when in the fullness of years it sings its last song, and through joy, and because it has forgotten the troubles of life, utters its triumphant notes and at the same time without sorrow conducts itself, as it seems, to a sorrowless death — even then, I say, the birds are not so charmed by its strains that they gather on some river’s bank or on a broad mead or the clean strand of a mere, or on some tiny green islet in a river.

  [5] And since you likewise, though having so many delightful spectacles to behold, and so many things to hear — able orators, most charming writers of both verse and prose, and finally, like gorgeous peacocks, sophists in great numbers, men who are lifted aloft as on wings by their fame and disciples — since you, I say, despite all these attractions, draw near and wish to listen to me, a man who knows nothing and makes no claim to knowing, am I not right in likening your interest to that which the birds take in the owl, one might almost say not without some divine purpose? [6] This purpose is seen in men’s belief that this bird is beloved of Athenê also, the fairest of the gods and the wisest, and indeed at Athens it was honoured by the art of Pheidias, who did not count the owl unworthy to share a dedication with the goddess, the popular assembly approving; but Pericles and his own self he depicted covertly, so we are told, on the shield of the goddess.

  However, it does not occur to me to regard all this as good fortune on the part of the owl, unless she really does in fact possess some superior sagacity. [7] And this, I imagine, is the reason why Aesop composed the fable in which he represents her as being wise and as advising the birds, when the first oak tree began to grow, not to let it happen, but by all means to destroy the plant; for, she explained, the tree would produce a drug from which none might escape, the bird-lime, and they would be caught by it. Again, when men were sowing flax, she bade them pick up this seed also, since if it grew, no good would come of it. [8] And in the third place, when she saw a man armed with a bow, she prophesied, saying: “Yonder man will outstrip you with the help of your own feathers, for though he is on foot himself, he will send feathered shafts after you.”

  But the other birds mistrusted her words of warning. They considered her foolish, and said she was mad; but afterwards through experience they came to admire her and to consider her in very truth exceedingly wise. And that is the reason why, whenever she shows herself, they draw near to her as to one possessing all knowledge; but as for her, she no longer gives them advice, but merely laments.

  [9] So perhaps there has been delivered unto you some true word and salutary counsel, which Philosophy gave to the Greeks of old, but the men of that time comprehended it not and despised it; whereas those of the present day, recalling it, draw near to me on account of my appearance, thus honouring Philosophy as the birds honour the owl, although it is in reality voiceless and reticent of speech. For I am quite well aware that I have not hitherto said anything worthy of consideration, and that now I have no knowledge superior to your own. [10] But there are other men who are wise and altogether blessed; and if you wish, I shall make them known to you, mentioning each one by name. For indeed this alone I consider to be profitable — to know the men who are wise and able and omniscient. To such if you are willing to cleave, neglecting all other things — both parents and the land of your birth, the shrines of the gods, and the tombs of your forefathers — following wherever they lead, or remaining wherever they establish themselves — whether in the Babylon of Ninus and Semiramis, or in Bactra, or Sousa, or Palibothra, or in some other famous and wealthy city — giving them money or in some other way winning their favour, you will become happier than happiness itself. [11] But if you not willing to do this yourselves, mistrusting your own natural ability, or pleading poverty or age or lack of physical strength, you will at least not begrudge your sons this boon nor deprive them of the greatest blessings, but will entrust them to these teachers if they are willing to receive them; and if they are unwilling, you will persuade them or compel them by any and all means, to the end that your sons, having been properly educated and having grown wise, may thenceforth be renowned among all Greeks and barbarians, being pre-eminent in virtue and reputation and wealth and in almost every kind of power. For not only do virtue and renown attend upon wealth, as we are told, but wealth likewise and of necessity accompanies virtue.

  [12] This is the prophecy and counsel that I give you in the presence of yonder god, moved by a spirit of goodwill and friendship toward you. And I suppose that it would be my duty to urge and exhort myself first of all, if only the state of my health and my advanced age permitted, but the fact is that, on account of the infirmities which afflict me, I am under the necessity, if perchance I shall find it in any way possible, of discovering some bit of wisdom which has already been from the ancients cast aside as it were, and had grown stale for lack of teachers who are both better and still living.

  And I shall tell you of another respect too in which I am like the owl, even if you are ready to laugh at my words. [13] For just as that bird makes no use herself of the others that fly to her side, but to the fowler is the most useful of all possessions — since he has no need to throw out feed or mimic a call, but merely to show the owl and then have a great multitude of birds — so I too have nothing to gain by the interest of the many. For I do not take disciples, since I know there is nothing I should be able to teach them, seeing that I know nothing myself; but to lie and deceive by my promises, I have not the courage for that. But if I associated myself with a professional sophist, I should help him greatly by gathering a great crowd to him and then allowing him to dispose of the catch as he wished. However, for some reason or other, not one of the sophists is willing to take me on, nor can they bear the sight of me.

  [14] Now I am almost sure that you believe me when I speak of my own inexperience and lack of knowledge and sagacity — and it seems to me that you not only believe me on this point, but would have believed Socrates also, when he continually
and to all men advanced on his own behalf the same defence — that he knew nothing; but that Hippias and Polus and Gorgias, each of whom was more struck with admiration of himself than of anyone else, you would have considered wise and blessed. [15] But notwithstanding, I declare to that, great as is your number, you have been eager to hear a man who is neither handsome in appearance nor strong, and in age is already past his prime, one who has no disciple, who professes, I may almost say, no art or special knowledge either of the nobler or of the meaner sort, no ability either as a prophet or a sophist, nay, not even as an orator or a flatterer, one who is not even a clever writer, who does not even have a craft deserving of praise or of interest, but who simply — wears his hair long!

  But if you think it a better and wiser course,

  [16] I must do this and try to the best of my ability. However, you will not hear words such as you would hear from any other man of the present day, but words much less pretentious and wearisome, in fact just such as you now observe. And in brief, you must allow me to pursue any thought that occurs to me and not become annoyed if you find me wandering in my remarks exactly as in the past I have lived a life of roving, but you must grant me your indulgence, bearing in mind that you are listening to a man who is a layman and who is fond of talking.

  For in fact, as it happens, I have just finished a long, long journey, all the way from the Ister and the land of the Getae, or Mysians as Homer, using the modern designation of the race, calls them. [17] And I went there, not as a merchant with his wares, nor yet as one of the supply-train of the army in the capacity of baggage-carrier or cattle-driver, nor was I discharging a mission as ambassador to our allies or on some embassy bearing congratulations, the members of which join in prayers with the lips only. I went

  Unarmed, with neither helm nor shield nor lance,

  [18] nor indeed with any other weapon either, so that I marvelled that they brooked the sight of me. For I, who could not ride a horse and was not a skilled bowman or man-at-arms, nor yet a javelin-thrower, or slinger, belonging to the light-armed troops who carry no heavy armour, nor, again, was able to cut timber or dig a trench, nor to mow fodder from an enemy’s meadow ‘with many a glance behind,’ nor yet to raise a tent or a rampart, just as certain non-combatants do who follow the legions as helpers, [19] I, who was useless for all such things, came among men who were not dullards, and yet had no leisure to listen to speeches, but were high-strung and tense like race-horses at the starting barriers, fretting at the delay and in their excitement and eagerness pawing the ground with their hoofs. There one could see everywhere swords, everywhere corselets, everywhere spears, and the whole place was crowded with horses, with arms, and with armed men. Quite alone I appeared in the midst of this mighty host, perfectly undisturbed and a most peaceful observer of war, [20] weak in body and advanced in years, not bearing ‘a golden sceptre’ or the sacred fillets of any god and arriving at the camp on an enforced journey to gain a daughter’s release, but desiring to see strong men contending for empire and power, and their opponents for freedom and native land. Then, not because I shrank from the danger — let no one think this — but because I recalled to mind an old vow, I turned my course hither to you, ever considering that things divine have the greater claim and are more profitable than things human, however important these may be.

  [21] Now is it more agreeable and more opportune for you that I should describe what I saw there — the immense size of the river and the character of the country, what climate the inhabitants enjoy and their racial stock, and further, I suppose, the population and their military strength? Or should you prefer that I take up the older and greater tale of this god at whose temple we are now? [22] For he is indeed alike of men and gods the king and ruler and lord and father, and in addition, the dispenser of peace and of war, as the experienced and wise poets of the past believed — to see if perchance we can commemorate both his nature and his power in a brief speech, which will fall short of what it should be even if we confine ourselves to these two themes alone.

  [23] Should I, then, begin in the manner of Hesiod, a man good and beloved of the Muses, imitating the way in which he, quite shrewdly, does not venture to begin in his own person and express his own thoughts, but invites the Muses to tell about their own father? For this hymn to the goddesses is altogether more fitting than to enumerate those who went against Ilium, both themselves and the benches of their ships seriatim, although the majority of the men were quite unknown. And what poet is wiser and better than he who invokes aid for this work in the following manner? —

  [24] O ye Pierian Muses, who glorify man by your lays,

  Draw nigh me, and sing for me Zeus your father, and chant his praise.

  It is he through whom mortal men are renowned or unrenowned;

  At the pleasure of Zeus most high by fame are they crowned or discrowned;

  For lightly he strengtheneth this one, and strength unto that one denies;

  Lightly abases the haughty, the lowly he magnifies;

  Lightly the crooked he straightens, and withers the pride of the proud,

  Even Zeus who thunders on high, who dwelleth in mansions of cloud.

  [25] Answer, therefore and tell me whether the address I offer and the hymn would prove more suitable to this assemblage, you sons of Elis — for you are the rulers and the directors of this national festal gathering, both supervisors and guardians of what is said and done here — or perhaps those who have gathered here should be spectators merely, not only of the sights to be seen, admittedly altogether beautiful and exceedingly renowned, but, very specially, of the worship of the god and of his truly blessed image, which your ancestors by lavish expenditure and by securing the service of the highest art made and set up as a dedication — of all the statues which are upon the earth the most beautiful and the most dear to the gods, Pheidias having, as we are told, taken his pattern from Homer’s poesy, where the god by a slight inclination of his brows shook all Olympus, [26] as the great poet most vividly and convincingly has expressed it in the following verses:

  He said, and nodded with his shadowy brows;

  Wav’d on th’ immortal head th’ ambrosial locks,

  And all Olympus trembled at his nod.

  Or, should we somewhat more carefully consider these two topics themselves, I mean the expressions of our poets and the dedications here, and try to ascertain whether there is some sort of influence which in some way actually moulds and gives expression to man’s conception of the deity, exactly as if we were in a philosopher’s lecture-room at this moment?

  [27] Now concerning the nature of the gods in general, and especially that of the ruler of the universe, first and foremost an idea regarding him and a conception of him common to the whole human race, to the Greeks and to the barbarians alike, a conception that is inevitable and innate in every creature endowed with reason, arising in the course of nature without the aid of human teacher and free from the deceit of any expounding priest, has made its way, and it rendered manifest God’s kinship with man and furnished many evidences of the truth, which did not suffer the earliest and most ancient men to doze and grow indifferent to them; [28] for inasmuch as these earlier men were not living dispersed far away from the divine being or beyond his borders apart by themselves, but had grown up in his company and had remained close to him in every way, they could not for any length of time continue to be unintelligent beings, especially since they had received from him intelligence and the capacity for reason, illumined as they were on every side by the divine and magnificent glories of heaven and the stars of sun and moon, by night and day encountering varied and dissimilar experiences, seeing wondrous sights and hearing manifold voices of winds and forest and rivers and sea, of animals tame and wild; while they themselves uttered a most pleasing and clear sound, and taking delight in the proud and intelligent quality of the human voice, attached symbols to the objects that reached their senses, so as to be able to name and designate everything perceived, [29] thus
easily acquiring memories and concepts of innumerable things. How, then, could they have remained ignorant and conceived no inkling of him who had sowed and planted and was now preserving and nourishing them, when on every side they were filled with the divine nature through both sight and hearing, and in fact through every sense? They dwelt upon the earth, they beheld the light of heaven, they had nourishment in abundance, for god, their ancestor, had lavishly provided and prepared it to their hand. [30] As a first nourishment the first men, being the very children of the soil, had the earthy food — the moist loam at that time being soft and rich — which they licked up from the earth, their mother as it were, even as plants now draw the moisture therefrom. Then the later generation, who were now advancing, had a second nourishment consisting of wild fruits and tender herbs along with sweet dew and

  fresh nymph-haunted rills.

  Furthermore, being in contact with the circumambient air and nourished by the unceasing inflow of their breath, they sucked in moist air as infants suck in their food, this milk never failing them because the teat was ever at their lips. [31] Indeed, we should almost be justified in calling this the first nourishment for both the earlier and the succeeding generations without distinction. For when the babe, still sluggish and feeble, is cast forth from the womb, the earth, its real mother, receives it, and the air, after breathing into it and quickening it, at once awakens it by a nourishment more liquid than milk and enables it to emit a cry. This might reasonably be called the first teat that nature offered to human beings at the moment of birth. [32] So experiencing all these things and afterwards taking note of them, men could not help admiring and loving the divinity, also because they observed the seasons and saw that it is for our preservation that they come with perfect regularity and avoidance of excess in either direction, and yet further, because they enjoyed this god-given superiority over the other animals of being able to reason and reflect about the gods. [33] So it is very much the same as if anyone were to place a man, a Greek or a barbarian, in some mystic shrine of extraordinary beauty and size to be initiated, where he would see many mystic sights and hear many mystic voices, where light and darkness would appear to him alternately, and a thousand other things would occur; and further, if it should be just as in the rite called enthronement, where the inducting priests are wont to seat the novices and then dance round and round them — pray, is it likely that the man in this situation would be no whit moved in his mind and would not suspect that all which was taking place was the result of a more than wise intention and preparation, even if he belonged to the most remote and nameless barbarians and had no guide and interpreter at his side — provided, of course, that he had the mind of a human being? [34] Or rather, is this not impossible? impossible too that the whole human race, which is receiving the complete and truly perfect initiation, not in a little building erected by the Athenians for the reception of a small company, but in this universe, a varied and cunningly wrought creation, in which countless marvels appear at every moment, and where, furthermore, the rites are being performed, not by human beings who are of no higher order than the initiates themselves, but by immortal gods who are initiating mortal men, and night and day both in sunlight and under the stars are — if we may dare to use the term — literally dancing around them forever — is it possible to suppose, I repeat, that of all these things his senses told him nothing, or that he gained no faintest inkling of them, and especially when the leader of the choir was in charge of the whole spectacle and directing the entire heaven and universe, even as a skilful pilot commands a ship that has been perfectly furnished and lacks nothing?