Oration 38

Dio Chrysostom

Translated by Thothica

In the atlas

30 min

When I reckon up the reasons, men of Nicomedia, for which you made me a citizen — for I do not see that I possess great wealth, so as to suppose that I was sought after by you on account of money, nor am I aware in myself of any aptitude for courting the crowds; nor, then, do you seem to need me for this, that I should be ready to serve your every impulse; and what is more, I am no convivial companion, nor sociable in gatherings of that kind, so as to afford the multitude pleasure on that score — if then I am not mistaken about your disposition toward me, and if I understand in what respects I am able to be useful to you, what remains, the reason for which I was made a citizen among you with such eagerness, is nothing other than this: that I am perhaps more able and more willing than others to give counsel concerning the common good.
If this is not in fact the case, then you have been mistaken in your eagerness about me, and I, for my part, seem to have obeyed you in vain, in the hope of proving useful to the city, since you have no use for me in the one thing for which alone I am fit. But if every city — and the great ones above all — has need both of the wealthy, that they may furnish the customary public outlays and vie in generosity, and of flatterers, that men may take pleasure in being courted by them, and also of counsellors, that their constitutions may be preserved, then I too, so far as is in my power, will not shrink from benefiting the city by advising it on the greatest matters.
Now there are indeed certain other things among you that deserve correction, and I shall attend to them one by one, if, in speaking the truth, I am believed about the greater matters. But what has come over me, or what do I intend, that I do not give counsel first about the lesser things, nor test the people's compliance in those, but at once think fit to take the risk of advising on the greatest of matters? It is because it seems to me far easier to persuade men about the greatest things than about the lesser and meaner. For of the latter one may even make light of the harm that comes from them; but he who is unwilling to be persuaded about the things without which it is impossible for him to be saved plainly will not so much as listen about the lesser.
That you will be persuaded by me about the matters on which I am here to advise, if you will endure the counsel, of this I am indeed wholly confident. But this is the hard part: that you should not consider the hearing of the matter either burdensome, or superfluous, or untimely. So that these objections may not be made to me at the outset on your part — "Why do you give us counsel about things we do not even deliberate upon in the first place? Why do you grant yourself a voice that we did not grant you? Why, when so many men have taken part in our public affairs — natives, adopted citizens, orators, philosophers, old men, young men — has no one ever dared to offer us this counsel?" —
this very thing I wish to ask of you, men of Nicomedia: grant me this favour and endure to hear a discourse that is superfluous, untimely, and not likely to persuade you. And I do not even think the gift a great one. For if you shall be persuaded, it is worth hearing the man who speaks what is profitable; and if it lies with you whether to be persuaded, what hardship is there in granting a hearing to a friend who wishes to speak in vain? And what then is this thing about which I mean to advise, yet shrink from naming? The name is not unpleasant, men of Nicomedia, neither in households, nor among kindred, nor in friendships, nor in cities, nor among nations.
For it is concerning concord that I come to speak — a fair name and a fair thing — but if I add at once the question concerning concord with whom, this I fear: that you will believe concord in itself to be a fine thing, but will think it impossible to be in concord with those men with whom I say you ought to be in concord. For this is what to this day sets you at enmity with one another and does not allow friendship to arise — the conviction, held without reason, that concord between the cities is not possible. But do not raise an uproar when I am only beginning; rather, endure.
I say that you ought, men of Nicomedia, to be reconciled with the Nicaeans. Hear me, and do not yet take it ill, until I have stated my reasons. For neither does the sick man grow angry with the physician when he prescribes the treatment, but listens with displeasure as he is told that he must be cut and cauterized, and yet is persuaded all the same; for the danger concerns his life. And yet why did I say this? For the medicine that I offer to the cities is the most pleasant of medicines, and one without which no man of sound mind would consent to live.
I wish to divide my discourse and first to speak of concord itself in general — of what nature it is and of what things it is the cause — distinguishing on the opposite side faction and enmity from friendship; and then — for it will follow, once concord has been shown to be beneficial to all men, to prove this concord of these cities to be both most necessary for you and most profitable. Nor shall I refrain from saying how, once it has come about, it might endure; for this too I see troubling many.
And I pray to all the gods, both yours and theirs, that — if I now say these things out of goodwill toward you alone, hunting after no private glory or advantage of my own from your reconciliation, and above all if it is going to profit the city — they may grant me to speak words worthy of the matter, and may dispose you to be willing to be persuaded of what is in your interest.
Concord, then, all men have ever praised, both in speech and in writing; the poems and the treatises of the philosophers are full of its encomia, and all who have published histories have, on the evidence of the very deeds, shown it to be the greatest of human goods. And although many of the sophists have ere now dared to argue paradoxical theses, this one alone they have never thought to put forward — that concord is not a fine and saving thing. To those, then, who now wish to praise it, and to those who would do so forever, the material for discourse is abundant, and it will always be possible to say more and finer things about it.
For if one should wish to busy himself with the question of its origin, he must trace its beginning back to the greatest of divine things. For it is the very same as friendship and reconciliation and kinship, and embraces all these. And what else but concord unites even the elements? And that through which all the greatest things are preserved is this; and that through which all things perish is the opposite. If, then, we men were not a mortal race, and there were not many things appointed to destroy us, there would be no faction even in human affairs, just as there is none in things divine. But in this one respect we fall short of the happiness of the gods and of their imperishable permanence: that not all of us perceive concord, but there are some who love its opposite, faction, of which the parts and instruments are wars and battles; and these things turn about among peoples and nations, just as diseases do in the body.
For knowing health to be the greatest of human goods, we ourselves nevertheless often plot against it to our own hurt — some, persuaded by pleasures, others fleeing wholesome toils and temperate regimens. And if the greatest of evils had not this aid at hand — the pleasure of the moment — it would have no power at all to harm us; but as it is, Nature has given it the power to deceive and to delight those whom it wrongs.
And that for which one might most of all envy these evils is this: that all evils give pain to men who know them for what they are. If, then, one were to ask a single man, or many together, demanding their names — in what category things of this kind are classed: wars and factions and diseases and the like — no one would hesitate to answer that these are ranked among evils, and that thus, as it stands, they are reckoned and called evils.
And as for the opposites of these — peace and concord and health — no one would deny that these too both are, and are called, goods. But though the conflict of evils and goods is so manifest, there are nevertheless some — or rather many — who take delight in the acknowledged evils. So too with the ship: all who sail know that this is the one salvation, that the sailors be in concord and obey the helmsman, and that when faction and disobedience arise in her, even the favourable winds often turn to oppose the ship and they fail to reach a harbour though it is near; yet sometimes the sailors fall into faction through folly, and this destroys them, though they know the cause of their ruin.
And though the salvation of households lies in the like-mindedness of masters and the obedience of servants, faction among masters and bad service have nevertheless ruined many a house. For what salvation is left to the chariot when the horses will not run together? For when they begin to part and to pull, each a different way, the driver must of necessity be endangered. And what else is a good marriage but the concord of husband with wife? And what else is a bad marriage but their discord? And what benefit are children to their parents, when through folly they begin to be at faction with them? And what is brotherhood but the concord of brothers?
And what is friendship but the concord of friends? And all these things are not only good and fine, but also most pleasant; while their opposites are not only evil but also unpleasant — and yet we often choose them in preference to the most pleasant goods. Wars, indeed, men have ere now taken up in preference to peace, the matters at stake being great — not as though fighting were better, or pleasanter, or more just than keeping the peace, but some for the sake of empire, others for freedom, others acquiring land which they had not, others securing the sea; and yet, though such great prizes lay before them, many have laid war aside as not worth the choosing, even for the greatest of stakes.
But to make war and fight without even a pretext — what else is this but utter madness and, through it, a craving for evils? Wild beasts, indeed, men hate for this reason above all, that our war with them is forever irreconcilable. Yet many even of ourselves, treating men as though they were beasts, take pleasure in the battle waged against their own kind. And we do not even perceive the divine signs, all those by which the gods have proclaimed, teaching us to be in concord with one another.
For certain heralds are said to come from the gods, and on this account among us peace too is proclaimed by herald, while wars for the most part are waged without heralds. And men go unarmed as envoys for peace into the midst of armed men, and it is unlawful for anyone to do them harm, since all who are messengers on behalf of friendship belong to the gods. And whenever, as armies are joining in battle, some sudden sign from heaven appears, or an earthquake occurs, men at once turn back and withdraw from one another, as though the gods did not wish them to fight.
But of war no sign is supposed to be divine. And all the things that are most pleasant to men and tokens of happiness — all these we do when peace has come: we put on garlands, and sacrifice, and keep festival; but the opposites of all these we do in wars, as in times of mourning: we shut ourselves within the gates, and dread everything, and despair of ourselves; and then the women weep for their husbands and the children for their fathers, as over the greatest of evils.
Now whenever pestilence or earthquake occurs, we lay the blame on the gods as furnishing men the causes of evils, and we say that they are not just nor kindly to men — not even though they chastise us with justice when we have done the greatest wrongs; so great is our hatred toward the evils that come of themselves. But war, which destroys no less than an earthquake, we ourselves choose, and we lay no charge whatever against the men who cause it, as we do against the gods for those other things; rather, we think these men friends of the people, and listen to them most gladly when they speak, and obey them when they counsel us, and offer them — in return for evils — not requitals (for requitals would be a returning of evils in kind), but thanks and honours and praises. So that they would be exceedingly foolish to spare any of those who are still grateful to them for the evils they have done.
First, then, men of Nicomedia, let us look at the causes of the faction. For if they are so great that it is worth waging a war — not a short one, such as would be fought with arms and would have for its consolation the swiftness of the decision, but a long and endless one, such as is left behind even to children and to descendants, and never to admit any hope of reconciliation — then let us contend and form factions and make all the trouble for one another that it is possible to make, vexed that we cannot make even more. But if, on the contrary, there is no prize at all for this evil, and the things that seem to be prizes are small and paltry, and not even private men ought to fall into faction over them — much less cities so great — then let us not suffer something like the senseless among children, who, ashamed to seem to be angry with their fathers or mothers for nothing, are unwilling to be reconciled easily.
Now we do not even fight over land or sea; rather, the Nicaeans make no claim against you for the sea, but have gladly drawn the boundary so as to give no occasion of strife. And neither do we contend over revenues, but each side is content with its own; and these too happen to be defined, as indeed is everything else, as in peace and friendship. There are exchanges of produce, and intermarriages, and from these many kinships have ere now arisen; and we have ties of public guest-friendship and private friendships. You worship the same gods and keep most of the festivals alike. And neither, indeed, is there any quarrel between you over customs. Yet though all these things furnish no cause for enmity, but on the contrary for friendship and concord, we fight.
And if someone, coming up, should ask you, "What wrong do the Nicaeans do you?" — you would have nothing to say. And if again he should inquire of them, "What wrong do the Nicomedians do you?" — neither would they have a single thing to say. But there is a prize lying in the midst, over which you dispute. And what is this? The things that are worth naming, and worth acknowledging, and concerning which one might even pardon the combatants — of these there is none; while the things that really are at issue cannot even be spoken or admitted as creditable: such are they, so small, so trivial — things over which the foolish might perhaps vie, but no man of sense.
For those who summon you to the faction — by what motives I am perhaps not the one to expose — but those at any rate who delight in it say only this: "We are contending for primacy." These very men, then, I shall ask in turn: "Primacy in what? And will it be conferred in deed and substance, or is your battle solely about a name?" For I hear that long ago this very thing was the cause of a Greek faction, and that the Athenians and the Lacedaemonians went to war over primacy.
And as to the fact that for them, too, the faction and the war did not prove profitable, but that, contending against one another over primacy, they both lost it — all of you know this, and perhaps I too shall speak of it a little later. But what of it? Do they put this forward as similar to that case? The Athenians warred for the right to collect tribute from the islanders, and contended for the right to try at home all the lawsuits of the Greeks, and in general the war was about empire for those cities.
But we, if we recover the primacy with the Nicaeans surrendering it without a fight — shall we then collect the tributes that they now collect? Or shall we summon hither the cities that contribute to the court in their territory? Or shall we send out governors to them? Or shall we render less of the tithes from the Bithynians to them? Or what will come of it? And what advantage will we gain? For my part, I hold that in all their doings men strive not in vain nor at random, but that the contest is always for the sake of something.
For he who makes war either contends for freedom, when others would enslave him, or for empire, himself enslaving others. And he who sails the sea does not toss about at random; for he runs the risk either for the sake of a journey or of trade. But, not to bring forward all my examples, in a word we men do everything for the sake of some good end, and shun the opposite actions for the sake of some evil end. But to be earnest, or to labour, without a cause — this is what befits the foolish alone.
If, then, some private man should be eager to be called a king, knowing perfectly well in his own heart the truth about himself, he will, contrary to his expectation, incur ridicule, using a false name without the substance. And so likewise in all other cases: if a man wishes to be thought a flute-player who does not know how to play the flute, or a musician who knows nothing of music, or a lyre-player who cannot even touch the lyre with skill — such men nothing will hinder from being thought mad as well. Yet do we suppose that, if we inscribe ourselves first somewhere, we shall possess the primacy?
What primacy, men of Nicomedia? For I will ask you a second and a third time: of what use is it? What is its work? Shall we from it become richer, or greater, or more powerful? Vain glory is held to be foolish even in the case of private men, and these above all we laugh at and despise, and in the end we pity those who do not know how a false reputation differs from a true; and none of the educated is so disposed toward it as to desire a profitless thing. Yet shall anyone say that to cities, in common, there belongs what does not belong even to the noble and educated among private men?
And in general, if someone should ask you, "Men of Nicomedia, which do you wish — to be first in truth, or to be called first without being so?" — you would surely agree that you would rather be first than be so called in vain. For names do not have the power of things; but whatever things are truly of such a kind are also, of necessity, so named.
Strive, then, to be first among the cities — first by reason of your care for them: for this, inasmuch as you are the mother-city, is your special task; and then by showing yourselves just toward all and moderate, and by not grasping in anything nor using force. For such conduct of necessity stirs up hatred and dissension, since by nature the lesser are suspicious toward the greater, as men sure to be overreached in every way; and when this actually happens in fact, the hatred is the more justly inflamed.
And it is in your power to do good to the cities both more and more greatly than they can — first and above all by reason of the sea, from which (of all that is now conveyed — and the city must bestow these things publicly, not privately upon certain persons) some things you yourselves pilfer, and others you ask for at every turn. And you never refuse those who make the request; but the thing itself is nonetheless burdensome — to be under the necessity of the asking. But if you will allow the peoples who make daily request, according to the urgency of their need, to share in all these things as well, how is it not likely that you will be greater in their eyes, since you are doing them good? And at the same time you will make great the concord that will pass through all.
Try also to inspire respect in the governors, by always making it plain that it is not enough for you that you alone be well administered, but that you care for the whole race of the Bithynians, and are no less indignant at wrongs done to others than at those done to yourselves; and if any take refuge with you, asking for help, that you assist them readily and impartially. These things will hand over to you the true primacy, not your quarrel with the Nicaeans about names.
And I should wish them, too, to do the same, and they will do it if you are reconciled, and your power, being joined together, will be the greater. For when the cities are made one, you will rule over them all, and there will come to the governors more hesitation and fear toward you, should they wish to do wrong. But as things now are, the other cities are raised up by your faction; for you seem to have need of them, and in truth you do have need, because of your struggle against one another, and you suffer just what men suffer whenever two men equally distinguished are political rivals: of necessity they court everyone, even those who fall far short of them.
So that, while you fight over primacy, the primacy is in danger of resting with those who are courted by you. For it is not possible that those should be thought not to possess that very thing which you yourselves think fit to receive from them. And so it will become wholly necessary for the cities to recover their own rank, and — as is fitting and just — for them to have need of you, not you of them. And on this account I will not require you to treat them in tyrannical fashion, but gently and with moderation, as I suggested a little before, so that your primacy may not be burdensome, but may be both a primacy and a thing beloved.
As for how matters now stand with the governors — what need is there to speak to those who know? Or do you not perceive the tyranny which your faction gives to those who rule you? For straightway the man who wishes to wrong the province comes already knowing what he must do to escape paying the penalty. For either he attaches himself to the faction of the Nicaeans and has their party as his support, or, choosing the Nicomedians, he is saved by you. And he loves neither party, but seems to love the one; yet he wrongs all. And while wronging them, he is saved through the men who alone suppose themselves to be loved by him.
They have publicly condemned you for folly, and treat you like little children, to whom the smallest things are often offered in place of the greatest; and the children, through ignorance of what is truly great and through their pleasure in the merest trifles, rejoice in what is nothing. And so it is with you: in place of justice, in place of your cities not being plundered nor men robbed of their own, in place of their not being insulted toward you, in place of their not committing outrages, they offer you names, and either have called you "first" or have so written you down; and thereafter they are without risk, treating you for the rest as of the lowest account.
For such things, on which you pride yourselves, are spat upon by all right-thinking men, and among the Romans above all stir laughter, and are called — the more insultingly still — "Greek failings." And they are failings indeed, men of Nicomedia, in truth, but not Greek — unless one should say that they are Greek precisely in this, that those men too once laid claim to glory, both the Athenians and the Lacedaemonians. But of their case I have said, I believe, already before, that it was not vainglorious, but a struggle for real empire — unless you now suppose that those men contended nobly over the right of precedence in a procession, as though sporting at some mystery-rite over another's affair.
But if the name of mother-city is yours as a special distinction, while that of primacy is shared in common, in what respect are you the losers by this? For my part, I would venture to say that even if you withdrew from all the names, you would withdraw from no substance. Or what do you think will happen on this account? That the sea will recede from you, or that your land will become smaller, or your revenues less? Have you ever had a share in a spectacle? Or rather, do you not almost daily behold the tragic actors and the rest, who seem to come upon the stage for the sake of pleasure and delight, but who in fact benefit those who perceive what is going on? Does anyone there, then, really seem to you to be a king or a tyrant or a god?
And yet all these are called both Menelaus and Agamemnon, and they have not only the names of gods and heroes, but also their masks and their robes, and they give many commands, as those men did; but when the play is finished, they go away being nothing. A man wishes to be named first; let him be. Another is first; even though someone else be named so, he is first. For names are not the warrants of things, but things are the warrants even of names.
Consider, then, this further benefit that will come of concord. Now each of you has your own men; but if you are reconciled, you will have each other's as well; and you may reckon your ambitions doubled — for a city needs these too — and your services doubled. Is someone among you clever at speaking? He will benefit them too. Is someone among them rich? He will perform public services among you as well. And in general, no one who is worthy of being first in his city, and who has won good repute on that account, will be slandered among you for speaking against them, or among them for speaking against you; nor will any base man, found deserving of punishment, escape his penalty by passing from here to there, or from there to here.
But as things now stand, the cities lie at anchor against one another, so to speak, and there is for those who have wronged the one a refuge to the other. But once concord has come about, men must of necessity be good and just, or else depart from Bithynia. You pride yourselves on your excess of population: you will be more. You think you have land enough: you will have more than enough. In a word, all things being mingled — produce and money and the worth of men and resources — what belongs to both becomes doubled.
And that for the sake of which men do all things, pleasure, is beyond all telling. For the removal of the things that pain you — envy and contentiousness and the faction that comes of them, and your plotting against one another, and your delight in the misfortunes of your neighbours, and your distress at their goods — and the entry of the opposites of these into the cities in their stead — a partnership in goods, like-mindedness, the shared joy of both in the same things — does not all this resemble a public festival?
Reckon it thus. If one of the gods, men of Nicomedia, gave you the choice — whether you wished to hold not only your own city but also that of the Nicaeans — would it not, by reason of its greatness, appear an unhoped-for good to you, and would you not make every prayer to obtain it? But this thing that seems unhoped-for it is now in your power to bring about: that Nicaea be yours, and your possessions theirs.
Or do we admire, among brothers, those who dwell altogether in the common house and have not divided the patrimony out of pettiness — and their wealth is admired the more, as greater on this very account, that it has not been divided, nor has half of all become each man's, but the whole seems to belong to both; and further, all men look upon them as good, and as just, and as truly brothers — and yet, when this same brotherhood arises among cities, will it not be a greater good, and a finer, and a richer?
And it is fitting that it should come about, both because of the ancestors common to both cities and because of the gods, whose honours are alike both among them and among you. For this is the thing at which one might most of all grieve: that, having all things in common — ancestors and gods and customs and festivals, and many of us private kinships and friendships besides — we yet fight like Greeks against barbarians, or, what is still more like what is being done by you, like men against beasts. Will you not look upon one another?
Will you not hear one another? Will not the cities exchange the right hand of friendship, once you have made the beginning toward one another? Will you not, being reconciled, acquire all the goods that belong to both? Will you not use them willingly? Would that it were possible to make the people of Ephesus also your brother! Would that the buildings of the Smyrnaeans too had become common to you!
Yet all these so great goods you throw away for the sake of a single name — for what benefit, for what pleasure? But that the reconciliation, once it comes about, will profit the cities, and that the faction has up to now not profited you, and the goods that will come from concord, and the evils that exist because of the enmity — these things I have set forth, I think, with sufficient measure.
It remains to say that these things will also endure once you are reconciled. For there are already some who fear even this; and I accept the cause of their fear, if indeed they say it because they truly desire concord and dread lest it be dissolved — and not, on the contrary, put this forward for the very purpose of preventing it from coming about at all. Let this, then, be for you the greatest and most trustworthy pledge that concord will endure: that it is to your advantage. For things which, merely shown in argument to be advantageous, already seem able to persuade you, how should they not, from the evidence of the deeds themselves, hold a more secure power of persuasion?
And I am of good cheer also because, through habit, you are men hard to part from a thing. For if faction, so great an evil, has remained with you so long a time merely through habit, how is it not likely that reconciliation — being both pleasanter and more just — will both prove pleasanter and make even the habit pleasanter? And you will need to guard against a few small things, and above all against men of no repute, in case they ever slander you to one another. For do not listen to them when they are hunting some private advantage, should they wish that there be again some room for themselves. And do not be provoked over small matters.
And it is likely that the gods, more than all, will take care that the concord remain. For I think that this very beginning came from them, and that I should not otherwise have dared to be moved to speak among you about so great a matter, concerning which no one before, neither young nor old, has spoken. And it is fitting to pray to them again. So, then, at the outset I prayed to them that they would render you obedient to me; but since you now seem to be doing this, it remains to pray concerning their guarding forever the resolutions you have nobly made.