is reported to have expressed himself on a similar occasion, that
_it was in him, and it should come out_; beside, he was encouraged
by a few discerning spirits. One aged man, who had heard Pericles,
cheered him with the assurance that he reminded him of that unequalled
orator; and the actor Satyrus pointed out the faults of his delivery,
and instructed him to amend them. He now set himself in earnest to
realize his notions of excellence; and the singular and irksome methods
which he adopted, denoting certainly no common energy and strength of
will, are too celebrated and too remarkable to be omitted, though the
authority on which they rest is not free from doubt. He built a room
under ground, where he might practise gesture and delivery without
molestation, and there he spent two or three months together, shaving
his head, that the oddity of his appearance might render it impossible
for him to go abroad, even if his resolution should fail. The defect in
his articulation he cured by reciting with small pebbles in his mouth.
His lungs he strengthened by practising running up hill, while reciting
verses. Nor was he less diligent in cultivating mental than bodily
requisites, applying himself earnestly to study the theory of the art
as explained in books, and the examples of the greatest masters of
eloquence. Thucydides is said to have been his favorite model, insomuch
that he copied out his history eight times, and had it almost by heart.
Meanwhile, his pen was continually employed in rhetorical exercises;
every question suggested to him by passing events served him for
a topic of discussion, which called forth the application of his
attainments to the real business of life. It was perhaps as much
for the sake of such practice, as with a view to reputation, or the
increase of his fortune, that he accepted employment as an advocate,
which, until he began to take an active part in public affairs, was
offered to him in abundance.
Such was the process by which he became confessedly the greatest orator
among the people by whom eloquence was cultivated, as it has never been
since by any nation upon earth. He brought it to its highest state of
perfection, as did Sophocles the tragic drama, by the harmonious union
of excellences which had before only existed apart. The quality in his
writings, which excited the highest admiration of the most intelligent
judges among his countrymen in the later critical age, was the Protean
versatility with which he adapted his style to every theme, so as to
furnish the most perfect examples of every order and kind of eloquence.
Demosthenes, like Pericles, never willingly appeared before his
audience with any but the ripest fruits of his private studies, though
he was quite capable of speaking on the impulse of the moment in a
manner worthy of his reputation. That he continued to the end of his
career to cultivate the art with unabated diligence, and that, even
in the midst of public business, his habits were those of a severe
student, is well known.
The first manifestation of that just jealousy of Philip, the ambitious
king of Macedon, which became the leading principle of his life, was
made 252 B. C., when the orator delivered the first of those celebrated
speeches called Philippics. This word has been naturalized in Latin
and most European languages, as a concise term to signify indignant
invective.
From this time forward, it was the main object of Demosthenes to
inspire and keep alive in the minds of the Athenians a constant
jealousy of Philip’s power and intentions, and to unite the other
states of Greece in confederacy against him. The policy and the
disinterestedness of his conduct have both been questioned; the former,
by those who have judged, from the event, that resistance to the power
of Macedonia was rashly to accelerate a certain and inevitable evil;
the latter, by those, both of his contemporaries and among posterity,
who believe that he received bribes from Persia, as the price of
finding employment in Greece for an enemy, whose ambition threatened
the monarch of the East. With respect to the former, however, it
was at least the most generous policy, and like that of the elder
Athenians in their most illustrious days—not to await the ruin of
their independence submissively, until every means had been tried for
averting it; for the latter, such charges are hard either to be proved
or refuted. The character of Demosthenes certainly does not stand above
the suspicion of pecuniary corruption, but it has not been shown, nor
is it necessary or probable to suppose, that his jealousy of Philip
of Macedon was not, in the first instance, far-sighted and patriotic.
During fourteen years, from 352 to 338, he exhausted every resource of
eloquence and diplomatic skill to check the progress of that aspiring
monarch; and whatever may be thought of his moral worth, none can
undervalue the genius and energy which have made his name illustrious,
and raised a memorial of him far more enduring than sepulchral brass.
In 339 B. C., Philip’s appointment to be general of the Amphictyonic
League gave him a more direct influence than he had yet possessed;
and in the same year, the decisive victory of Cheronea, won over the
combined forces of Thebes, Athens, &c., had made him master of Greece.
Demosthenes served in this engagement, but joined, early in the flight,
with circumstances, according to report, of marked cowardice and
disgrace. He retired for a time from Athens, but the cloud upon his
character was but transient for, shortly after, he was entrusted with
the charge of putting the city in a state of defence, and was appointed
to pronounce the funeral oration over those who had been slain. After
the battle of Cheronea, Philip, contrary to expectation, did not
prosecute hostilities against Athens; on the contrary, he used his
best endeavors to conciliate the affections of the people, but without
success. The party hostile to Macedon soon regained the superiority,
and Demosthenes was proceeding with his usual vigor in the prosecution
of his political schemes, when news arrived of the murder of Philip, in
July, 336.
The daughter of Demosthenes had then lately died; nevertheless, in
violation of national usage, he put off his mourning, and appeared
in public, crowned with flowers and with other tokens of festive
rejoicing. This act, a strong expression of triumph over the fall of
a most dangerous enemy, has been censured with needless asperity;
the accusation of having been privy to the plot for Philip’s murder,
beforehand, founded on his own declaration of the event some time
before intelligence of it came from any other quarter, and the manifest
falsehood as to the source of the information, which he professed to
derive from a divine revelation, involves—if it be judged to be well
founded—a far blacker imputation.
Whether or not it was of his own procuring, the death of Philip was
hailed by Demosthenes as an event most fortunate for Athens, and
favorable to the liberty of Greece. Thinking lightly of the young
successor to the Macedonian crown, he busied himself the more in
stirring up opposition to Alexander, and succeeded in urging Thebes
into that revolt, which ended in the entire destruction of the city,
B. C., 335. This example struck terror into Athens. Alexander demanded
that Demosthenes, with nine others, should be given up into his hands,
as the authors of the battle of Cheronea and of the succeeding troubles
of Greece; but finally contented himself with requiring the banishment
of Charidemus alone.
Opposition to Macedon was now effectually put down, and, until the
death of Alexander, we hear little more of Demosthenes as a public
man. During this period, however, one of the most memorable incidents
of his life occurred, in that contest of oratory with Æschines, which
has been more celebrated than any strife of words since the world
began. The origin of it was as follows. About the time of the battle
of Cheronea, one Ctesiphon brought before the people a decree for
presenting Demosthenes with a crown for his distinguished services;
a complimentary motion, in its nature and effects very much like a
vote in the English parliament, declaratory of confidence in the
administration. Æschines, the leading orator of the opposite party,
arraigned this motion, as being both untrue in substance and irregular
in form; he indicted Ctesiphon on these grounds, and laid the penalty
at fifty talents, equivalent to about $50,000. Why the prosecution
was so long delayed, does not clearly appear; but it was not brought
to an issue until the year 330, when Æschines pronounced his great
oration “against Ctesiphon.” Demosthenes defended him in the still
more celebrated speech “on the crown.” These, besides being admirable
specimens of rhetorical art, have the additional value, that the rival
orators, being much more anxious to uphold the merits of their own
past policy and conduct, than to convict and defend the nominal object
of prosecution, have gone largely into matters of self-defence and
mutual recrimination, from which much of our knowledge of this obscure
portion of history is derived. Æschines lost the cause, and not having
the votes of so much as a fifth part of the judges, became liable,
according to the laws of Athens, to fine and banishment. He withdrew
to Rhodes, where he established a school of oratory. On one occasion,
for the gratification of his hearers, he recited first his own, then
his adversary’s speech. Great admiration having been expressed of the
latter, “What then,” he said, “if you had heard the brute himself?”
bearing testimony in these words to the remarkable energy and fire of
delivery which was one of Demosthenes’ chief excellences as an orator.
A fate similar to that of his rival, overtook Demosthenes himself, a
few years later, B. C. 324. Harpalus, an officer high in rank and favor
under Alexander, having been guilty of malversation to such an extent
that he dared not await discovery, fled to Greece, bringing with him
considerable treasures and a body of mercenary soldiers. He sought the
support of the Athenians; and, as it was said, bribed Demosthenes not
to oppose his wishes. Rumors to that effect got abroad, and though his
proposals were rejected by the assembly, Demosthenes was called to
account, and fined fifty talents, nearly $50,000, as having been bribed
to give false counsel to the people. Being unable to pay the amount
of the fine, it acted as a sentence of banishment, and he retired into
Ægina. Like Cicero, when placed in a similar situation, he displayed
effeminacy of temper, and an unmanly violence of regret, under a
reverse of fortune.
In the following year, however, the death of Alexander restored him
to political importance; for when that event opened once more to the
Athenians the prospect of shaking off the supremacy of Macedonia,
Demosthenes was recalled, with the most flattering marks of public
esteem. He guided the state during the short war waged with Antipater,
the Macedonian viceroy, until the inequality of the contest became
evident, and the Macedonian party regained its ascendency. Demosthenes
then retired to the sanctuary of Calauria, an island sacred to Neptune,
on the coast of Argolis. Sentence of death was passed on him in his
absence. He was pursued to his place of refuge by the emissaries of
Antipater, and being satisfied that the sanctity of the place would not
protect him, he took poison, which, as a last resort, he carried about
his person, concealed in a quill.
Most of the speeches of Demosthenes are short, at least compared with
modern oratory. He rarely spoke extempore, and bestowed an unusual
degree of pains on his composition. That style which is described by
Hume as “rapid harmony, exactly adapted to the sense; vehement reason,
without any appearance of art; disdain, anger, boldness, freedom,
involved in a continued stream of argument”—instead of being, as it
would seem, the effervescence of a powerful, overflowing mind, was the
labored produce of much thought, and careful, long-continued polish.
If we compare the two greatest orators of antiquity—Cicero and
Demosthenes—it may seem difficult to decide between them. By devoting
his powers almost exclusively to oratory, the latter excelled in
energy, strength, and accuracy; and as a mere artist, was probably the
superior. Cicero, by cultivating a more extended field, was doubtless
far the abler lawyer, statesman and philosopher. Of the value of their
works to mankind, there is no comparison; for those of Cicero are
not only more numerous and diversified, but of more depth, wisdom,
and general application. We must also remark, that while the soul of
Demosthenes appears to have been selfish and mean, that of Cicero ranks
him among the noblest specimens of humanity, whether of ancient or
modern times.
If we compare the speeches of these great men with the efforts of
modern orators, we shall see that the latter greatly surpass them in
range of thought, power of diction and splendor of illustration. The
question then arises, why did the orations of Cicero and Demosthenes
produce such electrical effects upon their auditors? The reason
doubtless was, that they paid the greatest attention to action,
manner and tones of voice—thus operating upon their hearers by
nearly the same powers as the modern opera. There was stage effect in
their manner, and music in their tones, combined with most perfect
elocution—and the application of these arts, carried to the utmost
perfection, was made to the quick Italians or mercurial Athenians.
These suggestions may enable us to understand the fact, that speeches,
which, uttered in the less artful manner of our day, and before our
colder audiences, would fall flat and dead upon the ear, excited the
utmost enthusiasm, in more southern climes, two thousand years ago.
[Illustration]
APELLES
Apelles was a celebrated painter of Cos, a little island in the Egean
Sea. The date of his birth is not known, but he painted many portraits
of Philip, and was still nourishing in the time of Alexander, who
honored him so much that he forbade any other artist to draw his
picture. His chief master was Pamphilius, a famous painter of Macedon.
He was so attentive to his profession, that he never spent a day
without employing his pencil,—whence the proverb of _Nulla die sine
linea_. His most perfect picture was the Venus Anadyomene, which,
however, was not wholly finished when the painter died.
He executed a painting of Alexander, holding thunder in his hand, so
much like life, that Pliny, who saw it, says that the hand of the king
with the thunder seemed to come out of the picture. This was placed in
Diana’s temple at Ephesus. He made another picture of Alexander; but
the king, on coming to see it after it was painted, appeared not to
be satisfied with it. It happened, however, at that moment a horse,
passing by, neighed at the horse in the picture, supposing it to be
alive; upon which the painter said, “One would imagine that the horse
is a better judge of painting, than your majesty.” When Alexander
ordered him to draw the picture of Campaspe, one of his favorites,
Apelles became enamored of her, and the king permitted him to marry
her. He wrote three volumes on painting, which were still extant in the
age of Pliny,—but they are now lost. It is said that he was accused,
while in Egypt, of conspiring against the life of Ptolemy, and that he
would have been put to death, had not the real conspirator discovered
himself, and thus saved the artist. Apelles put his name to but three
pictures; a sleeping Venus, Venus Anadyomene, and an Alexander.
Apelles appears to have been not only an excellent artist, but a man
of admirable traits of character. Being once at Rhodes, he met with
the productions of Protogenes,[10] which so greatly delighted him
that he offered to purchase the whole. Before this, Protogenes was
entirely unappreciated by his countrymen, but the approbation of one so
distinguished as Apelles, brought him into notice, and his fame soon
became established.
Another story of Apelles is told as having given rise to the well-known
maxim, _Ne sutor ultra crepidam_: Let the shoemaker stick to his last.
Apelles placed a picture, which he had finished, in a public place, and
concealed himself behind it, in order to hear the criticisms of the
passers-by. A shoemaker observed a defect in the shoe, and the painter
forthwith corrected it. The cobbler came the next day, and being
somewhat encouraged by the success of his first remark, began to extend
his censure to the leg of the figure, when the angry painter thrust out
his head from behind the figure, and told him to keep to his trade.
Apelles excelled in grace and beauty. The painter, who labored
incessantly, as we have seen, to improve his skill in drawing, probably
trusted as much to that branch of his art, as to his coloring. We are
told that he only used four colors. He used a varnish which brought
out the colors, and at the same time preserved them. His favorite
subject was the representation of Venus, the goddess of love,—the
female blooming in eternal beauty; and the religious system of the age
favored the taste of the artist.
Apelles painted many portraits of Alexander the Great, who, we are
told, often visited his painting room. It is not easy to reconcile
his rambling life with this account, unless we suppose that Apelles
followed him into Asia; a conjecture not altogether improbable, if we
read the account of the revelries at Susa, after Alexander’s return
from India, and of the number of all kinds of professional artists then
assembled to add to the splendor of the festival.
[Illustration]
[Footnote 10: Protogenes, a painter of Rhodes, who flourished about
328 years B. C. He was originally so poor that he painted ships to
maintain himself. His countrymen were ignorant of his merits, before
Apelles came to Rhodes and offered to buy all his pieces, as we have
related. This opened the eyes of the Rhodians; they became sensible of
the talents of their countryman, and liberally rewarded him. Protogenes
was employed seven years in finishing a picture of Jalysus a celebrated
huntsman, supposed to have been the son of Apollo and the founder of
Rhodes. During all this time the painter lived only upon lupines and
water, thinking that such aliment would leave him greater flights of
fancy; but all this did not seem to make him more successful in the
perfection of his picture. He was to represent in this piece a dog
panting, and with froth at his mouth; but this he could never do with
satisfaction to himself; and when all his labors seemed to be without
success, he threw his sponge upon the piece in a fit of anger. Chance
alone brought to perfection what the utmost labors of art could not
do; the fall of the sponge upon the picture represented the froth
of the mouth of the dog in the most perfect and natural manner, and
the piece was universally admired. Protogenes was very exact in his
representations, and copied nature with the greatest nicety; but this
was blamed as a fault by his friend Apelles. When Demetrius besieged
Rhodes, he refused to set fire to a part of the city, which might have
made him master of the whole, because he knew that Protogenes was then
working in that quarter. When the town was taken, the painter was
found closely employed, in a garden, finishing a picture; and when
the conqueror asked him why he showed not more concern at the general
calamity, he replied, that Demetrius made war against the Rhodians; and
not against the fine arts.]
DIOGENES.
This eccentric individual was a native of Sinope, a city of Pontus,
and born 419 B. C. Having been banished from his native place, with
his father, upon the accusation of coining false money, he went to
Athens, and requested Antisthenes, the Cynic,[11] to admit him among
his disciples. That philosopher in vain attempted to drive away the
unfortunate supplicant. He even threatened to strike him; but Diogenes
told him he could not find a stoic hard enough to repel him, so long
as he uttered things worthy of being remembered. Antisthenes was
propitiated by this, and received him among his pupils.
Diogenes devoted himself, with the greatest diligence, to the lessons
of his master, whose doctrines he afterwards extended and enforced. He
not only, like Antisthenes, despised all philosophical speculations,
and opposed the corrupt morals of his time, but also carried the
application of his principles, in his own person, to the extreme. The
stern austerity of Antisthenes was repulsive; but Diogenes exposed the
follies of his cotemporaries with wit and humor, and was, therefore,
better adapted to be the censor and instructor of the people, though he
really accomplished little in the way of reforming them. At the same
time, he applied, in its fullest extent, his principle of divesting
himself of all superfluities. He taught that a wise man, in order to
be happy, must endeavor to preserve himself independent of fortune, of
men, and of himself; and, in order to do this, he must despise riches,
power, honor, arts and sciences, and all the enjoyments of life.
He endeavored to exhibit, in his own person, a model of Cynic virtue.
For this purpose, he subjected himself to the severest trials, and
disregarded all the forms of polite society. He often struggled
to overcome his appetite, or satisfied it with the coarsest food;
practised the most rigid temperance, even at feasts, in the midst of
the greatest abundance, and did not consider it beneath his dignity to
ask alms.
By day, he walked through the streets of Athens barefoot, with a long
beard, a stick in his hand, and a bag over his shoulders. He was clad
in a coarse double robe, which served as a coat by day and a coverlet
by night; and he carried a wallet to receive alms. His abode was a
cask in the temple of Cybele. It is said that he sometimes carried a
tub about on his head which occasionally served as his dwelling. In
summer he rolled himself in the burning sand, and in winter clung to
the marble images covered with snow, that he might inure himself to the
extremes of the climate. He bore the scoffs and insults of the people
with the greatest equanimity. Seeing a boy draw water with his hand,
he threw away his wooden goblet, as an unnecessary utensil. He never
spared the follies of men, but openly and loudly inveighed against vice
and corruption, attacking them with keen satire, and biting irony.
The people, and even the higher classes, heard him with pleasure, and
tried their wit upon him. When he made them feel his superiority, they
often had recourse to abuse, by which, however, he was little moved.
He rebuked them for expressions and actions which violated decency and
modesty, and therefore it is not credible that he was guilty of the
excesses with which his enemies reproached him. His rudeness offended
the laws of good breeding, rather than the principles of morality.
On a voyage to the island of Ægina, he fell into the hands of pirates,
who sold him as a slave to Xeniades, a Corinthian. He, however,
emancipated him, and entrusted to him the education of his children. He
attended to the duties of his new employment with the greatest care,
commonly living in summer at Corinth, and in the winter at Athens. It
was at the former place that Alexander found him at the road-side,
basking in the sun; and, astonished at the indifference with which
the ragged beggar regarded him, entered into conversation with him,
and finally gave him permission to ask him a boon. “I ask nothing,”
answered the philosopher, “but that thou wouldst get out of my
sunshine.” Surprised at this proof of content, the king is said to have
exclaimed, “Were I not Alexander, I would be Diogenes.” The following
dialogue, though not given as historical, is designed to represent this
interview.
_Diogenes._ Who calleth?
_Alexander._ Alexander. How happeneth it that you would not come out
of your tub to my palace?
_D._ Because it was as far from my tub to your palace, as from your
palace to my tub.
_A._ What! dost thou owe no reverence to kings?
_D._ No.
_A._ Why so?
_D._ Because they are not gods.
_A._ They are gods of the earth.
_D._ Yes, gods of the earth!
_A._ Plato is not of thy mind.
_D._ I am glad of it.
_A._ Why?
_D._ Because I would have none of Diogenes’ mind but Diogenes.
_A._ If Alexander have anything that can pleasure Diogenes, let me
know, and take it.
_D._ Then take not from me that you cannot give me—the light of the
sun!
_A._ What dost thou want?
_D._ Nothing that you have.
_A._ I have the world at command.
_D._ And I in contempt.
_A._ Thou shalt live no longer than I will.
_D._ But I shall die, whether you will or no.
_A._ How should one learn to be content?
_D._ Unlearn to covet.
_A._ (_to Hephæstion._) Hephæstion, were I not Alexander, I would wish
to be Diogenes.