Chapter XXXIII. That in Accordance With the Opinions of the Multitude They Injudiciously Belauded the Poets, Who Had Displayed Nothing Worthy of the Philosophical Life

[OENOMAUS]

‘”IMMORTAL and renowned in song thy son, Telesicles, among all men shall be.”

‘Now this son was Archilochus.

“A son, Mnesarchus, thou shalt have, whom all Mankind shall honour, who to noble fame Shall rise, encircled with the festal grace Of sacred crowns.”

‘The son was Euripides.

‘Homer was told:

“Life hath a twofold destiny for thee; This shall in darkness veil twin orbs of light; That with immortal gods, in life, in death, Shall set thee equal.”

‘And for this cause it was said of him:

“Happy and hapless, born to either doom.”

‘The speaker is not a man, but one who has sometimes insisted that he must not

“As god be careless of the woes of men.”

‘Come then, thou god, be not careless even of us. For we desire, if it be not wrong, some of us worthy fame, others sacred crowns, others equality with the gods, and others immortality itself. ‘What then was that, for which Archilochus seemed to thee worthy of heaven? Grudge not to other men that upward path, thou of all gods best friend to man! What dost thou bid us do? Or must we, of course, do what Archilochus did, if we would show ourselves worthy of the home of you gods? Abuse bitterly the maidens who are unwilling to marry us, and associate with profligates far baser than the basest of men? But not without poetry, for that is the language of gods, as well as of god-like men like Archilochus. And no wonder perhaps. For through excellence in this art the home is well ordered, and the private life is happy, and cities are kept in concord, and nations are well governed.

‘Not unnaturally therefore he was regarded by thee as a servant of the Muses, and his murderer deemed worthy neither of admission to you gods, nor of speech from you, because he had slain a man of skilful speech.

‘There was no injustice then in the threat against Archias, nor anything inopportune in the Pythia avenging Archilochus though long since dead, and commanding the blood-guilty one to depart out of the temple; for he had slain a servant of the Muses.

‘To me at all events thou didst not appear to be out of order in avenging the poet; for I remembered the other poet also, and the sacred crowns of Euripides; though indeed I was in doubt, and desirous of hearing, not that he had been crowned, but how these crowns were “sacred”; nor that his fame sprang up, but in what way it was “noble” fame.

‘For he used to be applauded in the crowds, I know: also he was agreeable to tyrants, this too I know: and he practised an art which won admiration not only for the lover of it himself, but also for the city of Athens, because it alone gave birth to tragic poets.

‘If therefore the applause is a competent judge, and the table in the Acropolis, I have nothing more to say, since I see Euripides supping in the Acropolis, and the commons both of the Athenians and the Macedonians applauding. But if apart from these the gods have any vote, and that trustworthy, and not inferior to the vote of the tyrants or to that of the crowds, come tell us, for which of his excellences did you gods give your vote in favour of Euripides, that we may hasten at full speed to heaven in the track marked out by your praises.

‘For surely there is no lack even now of Sapaeans or Lycambes ready to be caricatured, nor in the present day would either a Thyestes, or an Oedipus, or the hapless Phineus object to be made a subject of tragedy; nor would they, I think, be envious of any one who desired the friendship of the gods: but even those of old, if they had learned that there would be a certain Euripides, a man who came to be dear to the gods for having dressed them up, they would, I think, have ceased to care for their old misfortunes, and instead of giving their mind to better ways would have turned to making verses. And if they heard loud-sounding names of men of former times, they would use them for their journey to heaven, that on their arrival they might sit in Olympus among the boxers, in the hall of Zeus. For this is what the poet at Delphi says.

‘Now let us look at the question which “the happy” Homer asks of the god: for I suppose it was something about heaven, and important enough to call forth an answer from the god; otherwise he would not so readily have pronounced him “happy,” and in addition to this happiness have awarded him an answer.

“Thou seek’st a fatherland, but none is thine. A motherland thou hast, nor near, nor far From Minos’ realm: there is thy doom to die, When from the tongues of schoolboys thou hast heard A long-drawn hymn thou canst not understand.”

‘Was it then a terrible thing, O thou wisest of men, or rather of gods, if this “happy” man should know neither where on earth he sprang from his mother’s womb, nor where he should close his eyes and lie? I should have thought it of equal importance, whether a Homer or one of the beetles came to consult the god on these points, and that the god could no more have given any guidance on such unknown matters to Homer than to a beetle.

‘As for example, if a beetle did not spend his life and his old age on that same dunghill on which he was begotten, but fell in with an adverse wind, and a cruel beetle-daemon, who caught him up into the air and carried him away by force to some other land and some other dunghill, and then he came to Delphi and inquired which was the dunghill of his fatherland, and what land would receive him when dead.’

Let this suffice then about the poets.