In what city was this Discourse delivered? Arnim argues with much plausibility that it must have been Rome; for in §§ 3- we are told that foreigners in most outlandish dress, who came from remote parts of the empire, were a common spectacle about the streets; furthermore, we are told in § 5 that the local type of cult statue differed from that found in Egypt and Phoenicia but was identical with the Greek type; and, lastly, § 6 shows clearly that the city in question was not Greek. No other city seems to suit these clues so well as Rome. It is suggested that Dio is speaking there on his first visit following his return from exile.
The Seventy-second Discourse: On Personal Appearance
Why on earth is it that, whenever men see somebody wearing a tunic and nothing more, they neither notice him nor make sport of him? Possibly because they reason that the fellow is a sailor and that there is no occasion to mock him on this account. Similarly, if they should spy some one wearing the garb of a farmer or of a shepherd — that is, wearing an exomis or wrapped in a hide or muffled in a kosymba — that are not irritated, nay, they do not even notice it to begin with, feeling that the garb is appropriate to the man who follows such a calling. [2] Take our tavern-keepers too; though people day after day see them in front of their taverns with their tunics belted high, they never jeer at them but, on the contrary, they would make fun of them if they were not so attired, considering that their appearance is peculiarly suited to their occupation. But when they see some one in a cloak but no tunic, with flowing hair and beard, they find it impossible to keep quiet in his presence or to pass by in silence; instead, they step up to him and try to irritate him and either mock at him or speak insultingly, or sometimes they catch hold of him and try to drag him off, provided they see one who is not himself very strong and note that no one else is at hand to help him; and they do this although they know that the garb he wears is customary with the philosophers, as they are called, yes, as one might say, has been prescribed for them.
[3] But what is even more astounding still is this. Here in your city from time to time are to be seen persons, some of whom are wearing felt caps on their heads — as to-day certain of the Thracians who are called Getae do, and as Spartans and Macedonians used to do in days gone by — and others wearing a turban and trousers, as I understand Persians and Bactrians and Parthians and many other barbarians do; and some, still more outlandish than these, are accustomed to visit your city wearing feathers erect on their heads, for instance the Nasamonians; yet the citizens do not have the effrontery to make any trouble at all even for these, or to approach and annoy them. And yet as for Getae or Persians or Nasamonians, while some of them are seen here in no great numbers and others rarely visit here, [4] the whole world to-day is virtually crowded with persons such as I have described, yes, I might almost say that they have grown more numerous than the shoemakers and fullers and jesters or the workers at any other occupation whatever. Therefore in our day too possibly it could be said with good reason that every catboat is under sail and every cow is dragging a plow.
[5] Moreover, it is not for the above reason alone that this spectacle is familiar to them, nay, they also have before their eyes the statues in the temples — as, for example, statues of Zeus and Poseidon and many other gods — arrayed in this type of costume. For while among Egyptians and Phoenicians and certain other barbarians you do not find the same type of statues as you do, I believe, among the Greeks, but far different, here you find the same. Likenesses of men too, citizens of your city, they have before their eyes both in the market-place and in the temples, likenesses of generals and kings set up in this guise with flowing beards. By why need I tell you all this? [6] For I might almost say that most of the Greeks also feel as you do about this matter, and their familiarity with the sight does not keep them from teasing or even insulting whenever they spy a man of that appearance — I mean, whenever they see one of the common sort of no repute, whom they do not fear as being able to retaliate; for of course those who have that ability they virtually cringe before and admire!
Well, possibly what goes on is like this: the sailors and the farmers and shepherds, yes, and the Persians and Nasamonians too, the people believe do not look down on them or have any concern with them, and so they do not give them a thought. [7] The philosophers, however, they view with misgivings, suspecting that they scorn them and attribute to them vast ignorance and misfortune; and they suspect that, though the philosophers do not laugh at them in public, privately among themselves they view them in that light, holding that the unenlightened are all pitiable creatures, beginning, in fact, with those who are reputed to be rich and prosperous, persons whom these mockers themselves envy and believe to be little different from the gods in felicity; furthermore, they suspect that these philosophers disparage and ridicule them as being extravagant in eating and drinking, as wanting a soft bed to sleep on and the company of young women and boys whenever they repose, and plenty of money, and to be admired and looked up to by the mob, things which they believe to be more important and better than anything else.
[8] Because of this suspicion they of course dislike those who do not admire or prize the same things as they do and do not hold the same opinion about the things of chief importance. Therefore they seize for themselves the initiative in reviling and jeering at the philosophers as being luckless and foolish, knowing that if they succeed in showing that the philosophers are senseless and daft they will at the same time also prove themselves to be prudent and sensible; whereas if they give way to them, recognizing that the philosophers know what they should and are highly estimable, at the same time they will be admitting that they themselves are luckless and thick-witted and know absolutely none of the things free men should.
[9] Again, if they see a man rigged out as a sailor, they know that he is about to put to sea, and if they see some one else rigged out as a farmer, they know that he is about to engage in farming, and of course they know also that he who is clad in shepherd’s garb is on his way to his sheep and will spend his time attending to them, and so, since they are not irritated by any of these, they let them alone; but when they see a man in the garb of the philosopher, they reason in his case that it is not for sailing or for farming or for tending sheep that he is thus arrayed, but rather that he has got himself ready to deal with human beings, aiming to admonish them and put them to the test and not to flatter or to spare any one of them, but, on the contrary, aiming to reprove them to best of his ability by his words and to show what sort of persons they are. [10] They cannot, therefore, look upon the philosophers with any pleasure, but instead they clash with them and fight with them, just as boys too cannot look with pleasure upon any whom they see in the guise of tutors and prepared as if they meant to rebuke them and not to allow them to go astray or be careless. In truth, if the boys were at liberty to mock at and insult such persons, there is nothing they would rather do than that.
However, not all have this motive in coming up and making themselves a nuisance; on the contrary, there are persons who indulge in this kind of curiosity and, in a way, are not bad persons either. [11] These approach any whom, because of their dress, they take to be philosophers, expecting to hear from them some bit of wisdom which they could not hear from any one else, because they have heard regarding Socrates that he was not only wise but also accustomed to speak words of wisdom to those who approached him, and also regarding Diogenes, that he too was well provided with statement and answer on each and every topic. And the masses still remember the sayings of Diogenes, some of which he may have spoken himself, though some too were composed by others.
[12] Indeed, as for the maxims of the Seven Sages, they hear that these were even inscribed as dedications at Delphi in days gone by, firstfruits, as it were, of the wisdom of those men and at the same time intended for the edification of mankind, the idea being that these maxims were truly divine, and if I may say so, even more divine than the responses which the Pythian priestess was wont to give as she sat upon her tripod and fi
lled herself with the breath of the god. For the response which is made to each for himself he listens to and then goes his way, and such responses are not dedicated and thereby made known to all mankind too; but the maxims of the Seven Sages have been appointed for the common use of all who visit the god, as being profitable for all alike to know and to obey.
[13] And there are those who think that Aesop too was somewhat like the Seven Sages, that while he was wise and sensible, yet he was crafty too and clever at composing tales such as they themselves would most enjoy to hear. And possibly they are not wholly mistaken in their suppositions and in reality Aesop did in this way try to admonish mankind and show them wherein they were in error, believing that they would be most tolerant toward him if they were amused by his humour and his tales — just as children, when their nurses tell them stories, not only pay attention to them but are amused as well. As the result, then, of this belief, that they are going to hear from us too some such saying as Aesop used to utter, or Socrates, or Diogenes, they draw near and annoy and cannot leave in peace whomever they may see in this costume, any more than the birds can when they see an owl.
[14] Indeed, this is why Aesop composed a fable which I will relate. The birds came together to call upon the owl, and they begged her to withdraw from the shelter afforded by the human habitations and to transfer her nest to the trees, just like themselves, and to their branches, “whence,” they declared, “it is actually possible to sing a clearer note.” And in fact, as the fable has it, they stood ready to settle upon an oak, which was just then starting to grow, as soon as it should reach its prime, and to enjoy its green foliage. However, the story continues, the owl advised the birds not to do this and not to exult in the shoot of a plant whose nature it is to bear mistletoe, a bane to feathered folk. [15] But the birds not only did not applaud the owl for her advice, but, quite the reverse, they took delight in the oak as it grew, and when it was of proper size they alighted on it and sang. But because the mistletoe had grown on it, they now were easily captured by the men and repented of their conduct and admired the owl for her advice. And even to this day they feel this way about her, believing her to be shrewd and wise, and on this account they wish to get near her, believing that they are deriving some benefit from association with her; but if they do, they will approach her, I fancy, all in vain and to their cost. For though that owl of olden days was really wise and able to give advice, those of to-day merely have her feathers, eyes, and beak, but in all else they are more foolish than the other birds. [16] Therefore they cannot benefit even themselves; for otherwise they would not be kept at the bird-catcher’s, caged and in servitude.
Just so, though each of us has the garb of Socrates and Diogenes, in intellect we are far from being like those famous men, or from living as they did, or from uttering such noble thoughts. Therefore, for no other reason than because of our personal appearance, we, like the owls, collect a great company of those who in truth are birds, being fools ourselves besides being annoyed by others of like folly.
THE SEVENTY-THIRD DISCOURSE: ON TRUST
Although this Discourse begins with no formal address, it presents the appearance of a letter, for in the final paragraph the author applies his remarks to some one individual, whose name, unfortunately, is not given. Certainly, if we were to assume that we had before us an oral communication, we should expect to find now and then some appeal to the listener and an occasional response, however brief and perfunctory.
Dio appears to be writing to some acquaintance, possibly a former pupil, who seems to be considering acceptance of some responsibility, the nature of which it is idle to conjecture. All but the final paragraph is devoted to an exposition of the discomforts and even dangers attendant upon such a decision. As horrible examples of the ingratitude of both state and private citizen Dio passes in review some of the most notable personages of myth and history, besides calling attention to the many nameless persons who were repaid for their services as guardians or trustees by reproach or even by prosecution in the courts. We infer that he would have his anonymous acquaintance remain true to philosophy.
The Seventy-third Discourse: On Trust
Do you really mean to say that being trusted is a good thing for those who are trusted and comparable to being wealthy or healthy or honoured for those who are honoured or healthy or wealthy, because it brings to those persons themselves some benefit? I mean, for instance, if a person should chance to be trusted in an official capacity, by his own state or by another, with an army or money or fortifications, just as in the past many have had such things entrusted to them, and in some instances even the cities themselves, women and children and all, not only in times of peace, but also sometimes when in the grip of war. [2] And, by Heaven, if a person were to be trusted by a king or a tyrant with gold or silver or ships or arms or a citadel or the supreme command — for example, Leptines often received command of Syracuse from his brother, and Philistus received it from the younger Dionysius, and the Magi received from Cambyses charge of his palace in Persia at the time when he was campaigning against Egypt, and Mithranes received from Darius the citadel of Sardis, and Persaeus received Acrocorinth from Antigonus, and, much earlier than these, Atreus received Argos from Eurystheus, when Eurystheus was campaigning against Athens for refusing to surrender the children of Heracles, and, furthermore, the son of Atreus, Agamemnon, when setting sail for Troy, entrusted to a musician his wife and his house — [3] shall we say that all those who were trusted themselves derived some good from the trust?
Again, how about those who are entrusted by men in private station with either wives or children or estate? For instance, many, I fancy, leave behind them guardians and protectors, some when going on a journey and others when dying; and some place deposits in trust without the presence of witnesses, having no fear of being defrauded; and some, because the laws forbid their naming as heirs those whom they themselves prefer, name others, instructing them to turn over the property to the friends of the deceased — [4] are we to say that all such derive an advantage from the transaction and from the high opinion about them which leads those who do so to entrust them with their possessions, but particularly in the case of those last mentioned, who seem to be trusted in violation of the laws? Or, on the contrary, shall we say that such a responsibility is vexatious and the source of much trouble and many worries, sometimes indeed even of the greatest perils?
But we may examine the question by beginning immediately with those who are thought to be of highest rank; for those of necessity neglect their private interests, both property and children, and devote their attention to the public interests and are absorbed in them; and often at the hands of those who plot against their cities, whether foreign foes or some of their fellow citizens, they meet with disaster, and often, too, at the hands of the cities themselves, because of unjust accusation. For some have been deprived of property, and some even have suffered disgrace of various kinds, having been convicted on a charge of embezzlement, others have been banished from their native land, and others have even been put to death.
[5] For example, they say that Pericles was convicted of embezzlement in an Athenian court, the noblest and best champion the city ever had; and that Themistocles was banished on a charge of treason, the one who, after having taken charge of the Athenians at a time when they were no longer able to occupy the soil of their native land but were yielding to the foe their city itself and their shrines, not only restored all these things, but even made the Athenians leaders of the Greeks, wresting the leadership from the Spartans, who had held this honour from the beginning.
[6] Again, Miltiades, who had been the first to vanquish the barbarians, with only his fellow citizens to aid him, and to humble the pride of the Persians, a pride which they formerly held, believing themselves to be superior to all other men — this man, I say, not much later was cast into prison by the Athenians; and, besides, his son Cimon would have been deprived of civic rights for the rest of his life if he had not
given his sister Elpinicê in marriage to a man of humble origin but great wealth, who in his behalf paid the fine of fifty talents. And yet later on Cimon gained Cyprus for the Athenians, and in a joint account by land and sea vanquished the barbarians in the neighbourhood of Pamphylia. Still, though so remarkable himself and the son of so remarkable a father, if he had not secured considerable money the Athenians would have suffered him to be without civic rights in his city.
[7] And take the case of Phocion of a later period, who lived to be more than eighty years of age, and who for most of these years had served as general, had preserved the state in its moments of direst need, and had been dubbed excellent by those very Athenians — this man they were not content merely to put to death, nay, they would not even permit his corpse to rest in Attic soil, but cast it forth beyond their borders. Or take Nicias son of Niceratus — because he was trusted by his fellow citizens, though he knew full well what the campaign in Sicily would be like, both from the warnings of the god and from his own reasoning, still he was compelled to make the expedition, ill as he was, because of this trust of theirs. Moreover, if after losing his army or a portion of it he himself had come back in safety, clearly on reaching home he would have been put to death. But since, knowing this, he persevered in every way, he was taken captive and suffered that fate at the hands of the enemy.
[8] Now these observations of mine have been made about a single city and about the statesmen in a single city, nor have all of these been named. But as to those who at the courts of the tyrants enjoyed a reputation for trustworthiness, were I to recount fully what sort of fate has been theirs I should perhaps need very many days. For one might almost say that it is impossible for such men to go scot free. For any who lay themselves open to a charge of misconduct are put to death on that account, and there is no chance of obtaining any pardon; while those who show themselves to be good men and competent to safeguard what has been entrusted to them, though at the moment they obtain a certain honour, not much later they meet with disaster, being victims of envy and suspicion. [9] It does not, you see, seem to be advantageous to absolute monarchs that any man in their service should be good, or that any man should patently stand high in the esteem of the masses. On the other hand, trusts bestowed by men in private life, though possibly they involve less risk, because the business in hand is less important, still entail untold trouble and labours, and often not even gratitude, however slight, is their reward. On the contrary, it often happens that the very men who have received benefits at their hands charge them with not having paid all that is due with justice and clean hands.
Delphi Complete Works of Dio Chrysostom Page 81
