“Oh fatal, fatal ties!
Ye gave us birth, and we being born ye sowed
The self-same seed, and gave the world to view
Sons, brothers, sires, domestic murder foul,
Brides, mothers, wives.... Ay, ye laid bare
The blackest, deepest place where Shame can dwell.”[59]
Here we have in either case but one person, first Oedipus, then Jocasta; but the expansion of number into the plural gives an impression of multiplied calamity. So in the following plurals—
“There came forth Hectors, and there came Sarpedons.”
And in those words of Plato’s (which we have 4 already adduced elsewhere), referring to the Athenians: “We have no Pelopses or Cadmuses or Aegyptuses or Danauses, or any others out of all the mob of Hellenised barbarians, dwelling among us; no, this is the land of pure Greeks, with no mixture of foreign elements,”[60] etc. Such an accumulation of words in the plural number necessarily gives greater pomp and sound to a subject. But we must only have recourse to this device when the nature of our theme makes it allowable to amplify, to multiply, or to speak in the tones of exaggeration or passion. To overlay every sentence with ornament[61] is very pedantic.
[XXIV]
On the other hand, the contraction of plurals into singulars sometimes creates an appearance of great dignity; as in that phrase of Demosthenes: “Thereupon all Peloponnesus was divided.”[62] There is another in Herodotus: “When Phrynichus brought a drama on the stage entitled The Taking of Miletus, the whole theatre fell a weeping”—instead of “all the spectators.” This knitting together of a number of scattered particulars into one whole gives them an aspect of corporate life. And the beauty of both uses lies, I think, in their betokening emotion, by giving a sudden change of complexion to the circumstances,—whether a word which is strictly singular is unexpectedly changed into a plural,—or whether a number of isolated units are combined by the use of a single sonorous word under one head.
[XXV]
When past events are introduced as happening in present time the narrative form is changed into a dramatic action. Such is that description in Xenophon: “A man who has fallen, and is being trampled under foot by Cyrus’s horse, strikes the belly of the animal with his scimitar; the horse starts aside and unseats Cyrus, and he falls.” Similarly in many passages of Thucydides.