Praeparatio Evangelica 5 part 4/4

And you seem to me to be no better than the so-called soothsayers, nor even than the other charlatans and sophists. But as for them, I was not at all surprised that they dupe people for a fee; it is you, the god, and mankind, that amaze me—that you dupe, and that they let themselves be duped, for a fee.

Then that Socrates answered neither one to the man who asked whether he should marry or not, but said that he would regret either choice. And to the man desiring children he said that he would not be acting well—since, having abandoned the effort to consider how, if children should be born to him, he might raise them best, he took no account of this at all, but considered only this one thing: how they might be born to him.

And to another who had decided to travel abroad because things were going badly for him at home, he said that he was not deliberating rightly; for he would leave his native land behind there and depart, but would carry his own ignorance along with him, which would make him displeased there too, just as here. And he did this not only when he was asked, but also coming unbidden to such gatherings.

'For the twenty days before the rising of the Dog-star, and the twenty after, use Dionysus as your physician, in a shady house.' To the Athenians troubled by the heat—this is medical advice, not prophecy.

'Erginus, son of Clymenus, offspring of Presbon, late have you come seeking offspring; yet even so, fit a new tip to the old plough-pole.' That an old man should live with a young wife, if he desires children—this too is not the mark of a seer, but of one who understands nature. But desire drives fools out of their senses.

Therefore I also advise you to take up a ferule against them, if you cannot persuade them to learn something worthy of the divine school of inquiry instead of these despicable questions—or to say to Antiochus of Paros, who had lost his substance in political nonsense and came to you in grief: 'Antiochus, go to Thasos, and dwell in that renowned island'—when he would have profited far more had he heard instead: 'Antiochus, come to your senses, and do not lament in poverty.'

Or to those who came from Crete: 'Dwellers of Phaestus and Tarrha, and of Dium of the many streams, I bid you perform the Pythian purification of Phoebus with due reverence, that you may dwell in Crete in prosperity, honoring your ancestral laws, and revering Zeus.'

For whom it would have been better to hear this instead: 'Dwellers in nonsense and madness, together with much vain pride, I bid you perform a fitting purification from nonsense with due reverence, that you may dwell in wisdom, honoring prosperity not by your ancestral laws, but by divine ones'—lest you yourself should stand in need of purification more than Crete does, fancying yourself performing some Orphic or Epimenidean purifications.

And why is it, O wisest one, that you say: 'If Charilaus and Archelaus, kings of the Lacedaemonians, should divide the allotted portion of the newly-acquired territory, giving half to Apollo, it will be far better for them'? To what other Apollo do you refer? For surely not to yourself—lest anyone should rebuke you yourself, as one who so shamefully shares the spoils with robbers!

Let this, then, stand as it is. But come, let us add to these also the matters through which Apollo again shows admiration for Archilochus—a man who employed, in his own poems, every sort of shameful and unspeakable abuse against women, such as no self-controlled man would even endure to hear; and for Euripides, who fell away from the discipline and philosophy of Socrates, and even now still is made the subject of tragedy upon the stage; and Homer besides these, whom the noble Plato expels from his own Republic as being in no way beneficial, but rather as having become a poet of words that corrupt the young in the most extreme ways. Concerning these, again, the aforementioned man mocks the oracle-giving god in this manner:

Immortal and celebrated in song shall your child be among men, O Telesicles. And the child was Archilochus.

There shall be a son for you, son of Mnesarchides, whom all men shall honor, and he shall rush to noble fame, and shall put on the sweet grace of sacred crowns.

And the son was Euripides. 'Homer, to you life allotted a double portion: the one of two darkened suns, the other equal in share to the immortals, both while living and once departed.' And for this reason he was called both blessed and ill-starred, for you partook of both.

It is not a man who says this, but someone who once maintained forcefully that, being a god, he ought not concern himself with the sufferings of ill-fated men. Come then, O god, do not overlook us either. For we desire — if we do no wrong — some of us noble fame, others sacred crowns, others equal portion with the gods, others immortality itself.

What then was this, on account of which Archilochus seemed to you worthy of heaven? Do not begrudge, O most kindly of the gods, other men too the road above. What do you bid us to do? Clearly the very things Archilochus did, if we are to appear worthy of your hearth.

To revile bitterly the women who refuse to marry us, and to attack also the catamites, since they are much more wicked than other evildoers — and not without meter, for this is the very speech of the gods, as it is also of divine men, such as Archilochus.

And perhaps this is nothing to wonder at. For because of excellence in these things a household is well managed, a private life is well lived, and cities stand together harmoniously and nations abide by good order.

Not unreasonably, then, did he seem to you also to be a servant of the Muses, and his slayer not worthy of entry to you the gods, nor of a word from you, having killed a man of eloquent voice.

So the threat against Archias was not unjust, nor was the Pythia untimely in avenging Archilochus, though long since dead, and commanding the accursed man to leave the temple; for he had killed a servant of the Muses.

So you did not seem to me improper in coming to the poet's defense; for I recalled also the other poet and the sacred crowns of Euripides — though I was at a loss and desired to hear, not that he was crowned, but how these crowns were sacred; nor that his fame had rushed forth, but how this was noble.

He was applauded among the crowds, I know, and he pleased tyrants too — this I also know. And he practiced an art on account of which not only was he himself, its lover, admired, but already the city of the Athenians as well, because it alone had produced tragedians.

If then applause is a sufficient judge, and the table on the Acropolis, I say nothing further, seeing Euripides dining on the Acropolis while both the people of the Athenians and of the Macedonians clap along. But if, apart from these, there is also some vote of the gods, and this is trustworthy, no less than that of tyrants or of crowds — come, tell us on account of what fine thing you gods cast your vote for Euripides, so that we may hasten and pursue heaven in the very footsteps of your praises.

For surely there are even now people ready enough to be made subjects of comedy — Sabaeans and Lycambae alike; and as for being made subjects of tragedy, not even now would Thyestes, or Oedipus, or that Phineus object, nor, I think, would they begrudge anyone desiring the friendship of the gods. Rather, it seems to me that those very men, had they perceived that there would arise some man Euripides who, by dramatizing them, became beloved of the gods, would have taken pains over those evils of theirs — not to turn to nobler thoughts, but to turn to versifying them.

And if they heard that the names of men of old were full of grandeur, they would use them for the journey to heaven, so that having arrived they might sit in Olympus with the boxers in the court of Zeus; for this is what the poet at Delphi says.

Come, let us also look at the question of blessed Homer, which he asked the god; for surely it must have been some heavenly matter, and sufficient to summon the god — for the god would not so readily have hailed him as 'blessed,' and then, in return for that blessedness, allotted him this oracle: 'You seek your fatherland; but it is a motherland for you, not a fatherland. From the land of Minos, neither near nor far, it is your fate to end your life there, when, hearing it from the tongue of children, you fail to understand a riddle uttered in many words.'

It is a terrible thing, O wisest of men — or rather of gods — if a blessed life should know neither where on earth it sprang forth from its mother, nor where it shall lie down having closed its eyes. But I had thought that Homer, in approaching the god about these matters, stood on equal footing with some dung-beetle, and that the god would be no more inclined to explain such matters of ignorance to Homer than to a beetle.

As if, for instance, some dung-beetle, once born, had not lived out its life nor grown old in that dung-heap, but happened upon a hostile wind and a harsh beetle-demon, which snatched it up aloft and carried it off by force to some other land and another dung-heap — and then, coming to Delphi, it should ask which, after all, was its ancestral dung-heap, and which land would receive it when it died. So much, then, concerning the poets.

But since the marvelous god, through his own oracles, has deified not only poets but now boxers and athletes as well, it seems to me fitting that the man already mentioned should refute these things too, with these words:

'O you who know the number of the sand and the measures of the sea, who understand the mute and hear the one who does not speak.' Would that you had been ignorant of all such things, and had instead known this: that boxing differs in nothing from mule-kicking — in which case you would have made even donkeys immortal — or else you should not have deified Cleomedes, the boxer of Astypalaea, saying thus: 'Last of heroes, Cleomedes of Astypalaea, honor him with sacrifices, for he is no longer mortal.'

For why, O ancestral interpreter of the Greeks, as Plato calls you, did you deify this man? Was it because at Olympia, striking his opponent with a single blow, he tore open his side and, thrusting in his hand, seized hold of his lung?

O Apollo, a deed worthy of a god! Or was it not only that, but also because, having been fined an additional penalty of four talents for it, he could not bear it, but out of resentment and heavy-heartedness vented his rage upon the boys in the schoolroom, pulling out the pillar that held up the roof? Is it, O maker of gods, on account of these things that Cleomedes ought to be honored by you?

Or will you add also that other proof of his manliness together with his belovedness by the gods — that indeed, having climbed into a sacred chest and pulled the lid shut over himself, he became ungraspable by his pursuers who tried to drag him out? O Cleomedes, hero no longer mortal, what devices you devised for the sake of immortality!

The gods, at any rate, at once perceived your good deed and snatched you up, just as Homer's gods did Ganymede — but him for his beauty, you for your strength and the good use of that strength.

Would then, O prophet, as I said, that having set aside the sand and the sea-brine, you had learned instead how much boxing is truly worth — so that you might have counted boxers as donkeys among gods, and wild asses as the best of the gods; and there would have been a fitting oracle for a dead wild ass rather than for your boxer: 'Foremost of the immortals is the wild ass, not Cleomedes — honor him with sacrifices, for he is no longer mortal.'

Do not be surprised, then, if even a wild ass should lay claim to immortality, being sufficiently furnished with divine qualities; and hearing this, imagine Cleomedes himself unable to bear it, but threatening — that he would strike him and hurl him into the pit, and not allow him to ascend into heaven.

For he claims to be more worthy than it of these divine gifts, inasmuch as he stands ready to fight not the ass alone — even should it use iron thongs — but the Thasian boxer as well, both together at once, the very boxer on whose account — that is, on account of his statue — the gods grew wrathful and made the land of the Thasians barren.

And concerning this too we believe not a man, but that same god. From which I have come fully to understand that boxing was in truth a divine pursuit — a thing that had escaped the notice of the many, even those who thought themselves wise, so that, giving up being noble and good, they practiced instead the arts of the Thasian boxer, to whom the gods did not grant immortality as they did to Cleomedes, yet whom they loved greatly.

Thus his bronze statue too displayed something beyond the images of other men, falling upon the enemy who was scourging it, by some, as it seems, divine impulse.

But the foolish Thasians, ignorant of divine matters, grew indignant and denounced the statue as accursed, exacted a penalty of it, and dared to sink it into the sea.

The Thasians, however, did not escape: the gods showed how great an evil had been dared by them, sending famine, the minister of divine justice, which taught them — with difficulty — the counsels of the gods; and you, most kindly of the gods, sent them help in your own manner, saying: 'Bringing the exiles back to their fatherland, you shall reap Demeter's harvest.'

But the foolish ones again supposed it was fugitive men whom they must call back — understanding badly. For what indeed do the most unkindly gods care about men being called back, as much as about statues? Indeed, the land gained nothing by this so as to cease from its affliction, until one of the wise, who understood the divine mind, realized that the sunken statue was the 'exile.' And so it was: for as soon as it was set upright again, at once the land flourished, and thereafter they reaped abundant grain for Demeter.

How then are these not clear proofs of the god-befitting character of athletics, that it is honored by the gods? For indeed, when a pentathlete's statue was insulted, the gods grew wrathful, and the Locrians went hungry on this account, just as the Thasians did, until an oracle of yours healed them, running thus: 'Holding in honor the one dishonored, then shall you till the land in prosperity.'

For the Locrians did not perceive the divine intention until you became their sponsor in this matter. They had thrown Euthycles the pentathlete into prison, accusing him of having taken bribes against his fatherland; and not only this, but even after his death they went on outraging his images, until the gods, no longer enduring what was being done, let loose upon them the mightiest famine. And they would have perished from that famine, had not help come from you, declaring that they must honor men fattened at the stall, whom the gods love no less than the oxen the millers fatten — through which men sometimes win your favor by sacrifice, no less, perhaps, but indeed much more, do fat men gladden you than fat oxen, so that at times you rage against a whole city and a whole nation, though it be one or two of these creatures who do the wrong.

How you ought, O prophet, to have become for us a trainer instead of a prophet — or both prophet and trainer together, so that just as there is a Delphic oracle, there might also be a gymnasium; for it would not have been foreign to a Pythian contest for the gymnasium too to be Pythian. To these I will append also what he says in exposing how those concerning whom our discourse treats are accustomed also to flatter tyrants.

'This man who descends into my house is Cypselus son of Aeacus, king of glorious Corinth.' So then tyrants too, not only the plotters against tyrants, are flattered: Cypselus, who indeed shall work many woes for Corinth, and Melanippus, who wrought many good things for the city of the Geloans.

But how, O wretched one, if Cypselus is blessed, is not Phalaris also blessed, being of the same stamp as Cypselus? So that in that manner it would be better for you to say: 'Fortunate were Phalaris and Melanippus, leaders of divine discord among men.'

I have also heard from you a prose oracle concerning Phalaris, praising and honoring him, because, having seized those plotting against him, he tortured them, but, admiring those who endured steadfastly, released them: 'Loxias and father Zeus have voted a postponement of death for Phalaris, in return for the gentle manner with which he treated Chariton and Melanippus.' But well, and with difficulty, you have shown us the truth about death and about life — that life is a most beautiful thing. To all these let this also be added.

'But it will be far better for the inhabitants of Methymna to honor the wooden head of Dionysus.' For cities sacrifice and hold rites not only to wooden heads of Dionysus, but also to stone, bronze, and golden ones, and not only to wooden heads, but also to the Dionysiac festivals themselves and to countless other Hesiodic gods.

'For truly thrice ten thousand there are upon the much-nourishing earth' — not immortals, but stone and wooden masters of men. If these watched over men's insolence and lawful order, so great an absurdity would not have been raised up as to have already spread even as far as you, crossing over even into Olympus, where, they say, 'the seat of the gods is ever secure.'

And yet if it were secure, it would not be accessible to absurdity, nor would even one of the Olympians have come to such derangement as to deify an olive-wood log which the Methymnaeans hauled up entangled in the threads of their dragnet — and twice, if you like, and thrice, and many times more, did the men net it in the very same place, and having from that point drifted aground on the Libyan coast, never once cast it out onto dry land; since otherwise, by Dionysus, it would no longer have been entangled in their nets.

But the log had a head-like shape at its top (O Apollo, what a strange piece of workmanship!). What, then, was it doing on the open sea? One might well be at a loss. For what else, by Zeus, was it doing but sitting there, waiting until men gone mad — for I will not say gods as well — happening upon it, should judge it not 'fallen from Zeus' but 'fallen from Poseidon,' and then carry it off to the city, as though it were some good fortune, though it was truly an evil one — not fortune, but a blinding delusion? Or was it not enough for them that it was already destroying them from within their own homes, but must it also be strengthened and its madness intensified, as one might say, by reinforcement summoned from Delphi?

So much, then, from Oenomaus. But now, after what has been said, turning again to the 'Philosophy from Oracles' of the man who compiled this attack against us, read from the oracles of the Pythian god concerning fate — and see whether, for you too, being alien to divine power, the argument concerning these much-vaunted oracles will fall into disrepute all the more.