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seulpture there is an intimate and inseparable connexion, not to be found between these arts and Greek music or painting. The argument by which he seeks to prove this position involves some statements which seem to be questionable in fact, and others to which it is not easy to attach any very definite meaning. That Greek thought differed widely from Eastern thought no one will deny or doubt; that the growth of the Greek in art of every kind was the result of emotions which may be traced to the single impulse that made him obedient and truthful to nature, few will be disposed to question. But we scarcely know what is meant by saying tható architecture corresponds with the phase when man's thoughts about himself are still indistinct; the building may hint, but it cannot express, the artist's personality; Egyptian art has been called • a Memnon waiting for the day' (I. xcvii). Are we justified in regarding the reference to Egyptian art as relevant? In what sense, again, can an art which belongs to all ages be said to correspond to an intellectual phase which marks the infancy only of the human mind? The architect of the Erechthæum might himself be the artist who fashioned the image of the god within it; and unless his edifice expressed his thoughts not only about himself but about nature generally, how could it have a claim to be regarded as a work of that art which by its very name is mistress and queen of all arts, pressing all alike into its service ? How, yet more, may we trust a comparison which infers a closer likeness between Greek oratory and sculpture than between these and Greek music or painting, when of the two latter we know so little, and when we have many indications that for the Greeks sculpture had not the prominence which this comparison would assign to it? We know, indeed, how much even the greatest works of Greek sculptors depended for their effect on accessories of colour; and we know too that what Mr. Jebb says of the emotions excited by a speech in the Athenian Ekklesia or an Athenian law court may be said of all great works in modern music and perhaps also of the music of the old Greek world. Thus the types which Mr. Jebb regards as the special characteristics of Athenian oratory and sculpture are found to pervade all Athenian art, while the circumstances of the orator, bound as he is to suit himself to changing conditions and to keep his mind fixed not on ideal but on practical issues, seem to show that there must be something strained in any comparison of his work with that of the sculptor which goes beyond the general spirit of Greek art in all its forms. We do not say that long disquisitions on this general spirit are necessary in a history of Athenian eloquence; but we gladly admit that when Mr. Jebb gets away from his favourite parallel, his remarks have the full force of truthfulness and originality. There can be no question that the condition of Greek thought with regard to the natural world determined the condition of Greek art in that wonderful age which stands alone in history. Nothing can be more delightful than the pages in which Mr. Jebb dwells on the glories of Athenian workmanship so long as, in his own phrase, the life of society and of the state ran in the same channel, and on the decay which passed over it so soon as the streams diverged (ii. 242). For the Oriental mind the thought of the human body brought up directly the sense of shame; to the Greek the human form was the model of all beauty, the crown of all perfection; to the Christian of the Middle Ages it was a fabric which had been marred, a prisonhouse from which he longed to be set free. For the Greek no such curse had fallen either upon his own body or on the natural world. Bright and joyous, beautiful himself and dwelling among a people whose loveliness, in the words of the Delian hymn, might tempt the beholder to think that death could never touch them, he grew up under influences which all tended in the one direction of freedom and truthfulness. Every Athenian citizen was a judge of what was beautiful and true. From the great tribunal thus formed none could escape; but this subjection, far from carrying with it any feeling of restraint, only gave a greater impulse to the natural powers of the Greek, while it trained his sense of beauty into a taste absolutely faultless, and left no room for those blots of grotesque caprice which have marred the art of so many ages and countries. It is indisputably true that mannerism and
exaggeration may be made the fashion of a clique, but, where public opinion is really free, they will never be popular. The * Greek artist who, in rivalry with brother-artists, sought for • the approbation of his fellow-citizens gathered in the theatre, ' or going about their daily work amid gracious forms of marble
or living shapes still more beautiful, in the clear air of Athens ' and close to the foam and freshness of the sea, knew that 'no refinements of the study could save him if he was false to ' nature, and knew, also, that his loyalty to nature would be ' recognised just in proportion as he brought out, not the trivial
or transient things, not such things as depend for their in• terest on an artificial situation, but those lineaments of nature
which have the divine simplicity of permanence' (ii. 436). The picture thus drawn by Mr. Jebb may have for us the charm which the Siren's song had for the ears of Ulysses,
and in spite of the horrors of its reverse side it is also true. We cannot forget that Greek oratory, Greek art, and Greek taste all rested on a hideous and cruel slavery, and covered a yawning gulf which at any moment might swallow the most refined and delicate amongst them. But although this great curse casts its shadow between us and them, Mr. Jebb is more than justified in saying that for the free Athenians generally • the immortal things of humanity' were more human than • its accidents; and, therefore, the poorest of them, they could • rise out of the mean or grievous things of daily life into a
contemplation which educated the passions that it moved, and ' resolved the anguish of pity or of terror in a musical or chastened joy' (ii. 436).
But this faculty became pre-eminent chiefly or simply because it was common to the great body of the people, and received in all the same constant and life-long training. Under no other conditions could it have reached this wonderful perfection. In this sense,' as Mr. Jebb forcibly remarks, 'it may justly be said that nothing is so democratic as taste' (ii. 437). Nor can we doubt that, although the oligarchic party strove from time to time to turn the weapons of Athenian eloquence to their own purposes, the growth of oratory was determined by the growth of the demos, and the strength of the one was the strength of the other. Each citizen had his place in the Assembly, and was free to take part in its debates. At any moment, too, he might be summoned to a law court to plead on a civil or criminal charge, or might be compelled in selfdefence to come forward as an accuser. In either case he must speak in his own person. Athenian usage allowed no prosies, and a study of rhetoric became in whatever measure one of the needs of practical life. But this necessity was scarcely felt before the days of Kleisthenes, and virtually, it may be said, the rise of Athenian oratory must be assigned to the epoch of the Persian wars. Down to that time poetry was everywhere Bupreme, and it had scarcely entered into the mind of any to suppose that artistic composition would assume any other than a metrical form. When at length it was found that the common language of daily life was an instrument capable of indefipite cultivation, the growth of a prose literature was insured; but the trammels of metre were not easily or quickly shaken off. There was the temptation first to indulge in ornament which, being wholly out of place, became simply oppressive; and when this temptation was conquered, there survived the notion of a severe or grand style which was supposed to suit all conceivable conditions, and which everyone must be taught
A more free and elastic method came in at the end of the age which closed with Antiphon; but to the description which Mr. Jebb gives of the earlier style it must be remembered that we have a signal exception in the case of Herodotus. - The newly-created art,' we are told, ' has the continual con'sciousness of being an art. It is always on its guard against • sliding into the levity of a conversational style. The com* poser feels above all things that his written language must be • so chosen as to produce a greater effect than would be pro• duced by an equivalent amount of extemporary speaking. • Every word is to be pointed and pregnant; every phrase is ' to be the condensed expression of his thought into ultimate
shape, however difficult it may be to the reader or hearer ' who meets it in that shape for the first time; the movement
of the whole is to be slow and majestic, impressing by its 'weight and grandeur, not charming by its life and tow' (i. 20). The whole description, like many others which are scattered through these volumes, has an air of exaggeration against which the reader may be tempted to enter a protest; but it is undeniably true that the speeches got up for Athenian public speakers were for a long time cast in a single mould. Young and old, the intriguer and his victim, the assassin arraigned on a capital charge, the prisoner brought up to answer for the results of a frolic or a brawl, were all to speak after the same fashion. It was a practice convenient for those who were paid for writing the speeches, but not likely to bring about any great achievements of oratory. Discourses so composed might exhibit an austere dignity, an epigrammatic terseness, a skilful readiness in the management of antitheses and verbal parallelisms; but they would touch rather the intellect than the heart, and the impression left by them would be more that of wisdom and force than of an earnestness which springs from an intense moral conviction. Yet the fact that men could be found to compose speeches to be delivered by others (and such speeches were delivered in the Assembly as well as in the law courts), proves that oratory was regarded as an art, while we have abundant evidence that the term conveyed no such notion of exceptional ability and power as that which modern usage has assigned to it. In Mr. Jebb's words, the Roman term orator related not to a faculty, but to a profes*sional or official attitude' (I. Ixx). The Greek word rhetor had not even this limitation. It denoted simply the speaker, and became naturally the designation of those who taught others to speak, or of those who habitually spoke in the public Assembly. Men of the former class might easily earn much
money, but there was always the danger that exceptional ability might bring them a reputation rather mischievous than beneficial. They were the professors of a fine art; but their lives were almost of necessity passed behind the scenes, and their success in bringing about the acquittal of real or supposed offenders would do little more than win them a name for cleverness and subtlety in making the worse appear the better reason. They lived, in short, more or less under a cloud; and if ever they came forward as speakers themselves, it was certain that nothing but thorough uprightness of character and honesty of intention could counteract the popular impression of their unfitness for public life. At the head of these men, and the first professional teacher of deliberative and forensic eloquence, was Antiphon.
Of this ill-famed and able man it may be briefly said that his method of thought and form of expression exhibit a close resemblance to those of Thucydides. There is in both the same manifest anxiety to bring, as Mr. Jebb puts it, ' a large
complex idea into a framework in which the whole can be seen at a glance,' the same love of telling antitheses, in which the several clauses of long sentences balance each other with the nicest accuracy, the same desire of bringing an argument to a point by a single word of pregnant meaning, or by words used in a strange and unusual sense. The movement of such a style as this could only be dignified and slow. Each word was dropped with deliberation, and now and then some im
portant word ... came down like a sledge-hammer.' (i. 26). It follows that only so long as slow and measured declamation • remained in fashion could the orator attempt thus to put a 'whole train of thought into a single weighty word’ (i. 27), This austere oratory, with its superb decorum,' might lend itself, indeed, to the advocacy of the most opposite principles, but it must necessarily embody them all in the same language. The speeches of Antiphon may accordingly be compared with those of the great historian in whose pages the merciless severity of Kleon and the humane prudence of Diodotos, the sobriety of Pericles and the daring license of Alcibiades, are exhibited in sentences of precisely the same mould.
In the plan of Mr. Jebb’s volumes a short but most careful biography of each orator precedes the chapters in which he treats of their style and examines the works which bear their
These memoirs are among the most interesting portions
Mr. Jebb regards the tradition that Thucydides was a pupil of Antiphon as not improbable, but as resting on no evidence (i. 5).