While thus striking out for himself a bold and original style, Demosthenes had still greater difficulties to overcome in regard to the external requisites of an orator. He was not endowed by nature, like Æschines, with a magnificent voice; nor, like Demades, with a ready flow of vehement improvisation. His thoughts required to be put together by careful preparation; his voice was bad and even lisping—his breath short—his gesticulation ungraceful; moreover he was overawed and embarrassed by the manifestations of the multitude. Such an accumulation of natural impediments were at least equal to those of which Isokrates complains, as having debarred him all his life from addressing the public assembly, and restrained him to a select audience of friends or pupils. The energy and success with which Demosthenes overcame his defects, in such manner as to satisfy a critical assembly like the Athenian, is one of the most memorable circumstances in the general history of self-education. Repeated humiliation and repulse only spurred him on to fresh solitary efforts for improvement. He corrected his defective elocution by speaking with pebbles in his mouth; he prepared himself to overcome the noise of the assembly by declaiming in stormy weather on the sea-shore of Phalerum; he opened his lungs by running, and extended his powers of holding breath by pronouncing sentences in marching up-hill; he sometimes passed two or three months without interruption in a subterranean chamber, practising night and day either in composition or declamation, and shaving one half of his head in order to disqualify himself from going abroad. After several trials without success before the assembly, his courage was on the point of giving way, when Eunomus and other old citizens reassured him by comparing the matter of his speeches to those of Perikles, and exhorting him to persevere a little longer in the correction of his external defects. On another occasion, he was pouring forth his disappointment to Satyrus the actor, who undertook to explain to him the cause, desiring him to repeat in his own way a speech out of Sophokles, which he (Satyrus) proceeded to repeat after him, with suitable accent and delivery. Demosthenes, profoundly struck with the difference, began anew the task of self-improvement; probably taking constant lessons from good models. In his unremitting private practice, he devoted himself especially to acquiring a graceful action, keeping watch on all his movements while declaiming before a tall looking-glass.[565] After pertinacious efforts for several years, he was rewarded at length with complete success. His delivery became full of decision and vehemence, highly popular with the general body of the assembly; though some critics censured his modulation as artificial and out of nature, and savoring of low stage-effect; while others, in the same spirit, condemned his speeches as over-labored and smelling of the lamp.[566]
So great was the importance assigned by Demosthenes himself to these external means of effect, that he is said to have pronounced “Action” to be the first, second, and third requisite for an orator. If we grant this estimate to be correct, with reference to actual hearers, we must recollect that his speeches are, (not less truly than the history of Thucydides), “an everlasting possession rather than a display for momentary effect.” Even among his contemporaries, the effect of the speeches, when read apart from the speaker, was very powerful. There were some who thought that their full excellence could only be thus appreciated;[567] while to the after-world, who know them only by reading, they have been and still are the objects of an admiration reaching its highest pitch in the enthusiastic sentiment of the fastidious rhetor Dionysius.[568] The action of Demosthenes,—consummate as it doubtless was, and highly as he may himself have prized an accomplishment so laboriously earned,—produced its effect only in conjunction with the matter of Demosthenes; his thoughts, sentiments, words, and above all, his sagacity in appreciating and advising on the actual situation. His political wisdom, and his lofty patriotic idéal, are in truth quite as remarkable as his oratory. By what training he attained either the one or the other of these qualities, we are unfortunately not permitted to know. Our informants have little interest in him except as a speaker; they tell us neither what he learned, nor from whom, nor by what companions, or party-associates, his political point of view was formed. But we shall hardly err in supposing that his attentive meditation of Thucydides supplied him, not merely with force and majesty of expression, but also with that conception of Athens in her foretime which he is perpetually impressing on his countrymen,—Athens at the commencement of the Peloponnesian war, in days of exuberant energy, and under the advice of her noblest statesman.
In other respects, we are left in ignorance as to the mental history of Demosthenes. Before he acquired reputation as a public adviser, he was already known as a logographer, or composer of discourses to be delivered either by speakers in the public assembly or by litigants in the Dikastery; for which compositions he was paid, according to usual practice at Athens. He had also pleaded in person before the Dikastery; in support of an accusation preferred by others against a law, proposed by Leptines, for abrogating votes of immunity passed by the city in favor of individuals, and restraining such grants in future. Nothing can be more remarkable, in this speech against Leptines, than the intensity with which the young speaker enforces the necessity of strict and faithful adherence to engagements on the part of the people, in spite of great occasional inconvenience in so doing. It would appear that he was in habitual association with some wealthy youths,—among others, with Apollodorus son of the wealthy banker, Pasion, whom he undertook to instruct in the art of speaking. This we learn from the denunciations of his rival, Æschines;[569] who accuses him of having thus made his way into various wealthy families,—especially where there was an orphan youth and a widowed mother,—using unworthy artifices to defraud and ruin them. How much truth there may be in such imputations, we cannot tell. But Æschines was not unwarranted in applying to his rival the obnoxious appellations of logographer and sophist; appellations all the more disparaging, because Demosthenes belonged to a trierarchic family, of the highest class in point of wealth.[570]
It will be proper here to notice another contemporary adviser, who stands in marked antithesis and rivalry to Demosthenes. Phokion was a citizen of small means, son of a pestle-maker. Born about the year 402 B. C., he was about twenty years older than Demosthenes. At what precise time his political importance commenced, we do not know; but he lived to the great age of eighty-four, and was a conspicuous man throughout the last half-century of his life. He becomes known first as a military officer, having served in subordinate command under Chabrias, to whom he was greatly attached, at the battle of Naxos in 376 B. C. He was a man of thorough personal bravery, and considerable talents for command; of hardy and enduring temperament, insensible to cold or fatigue; strictly simple in his habits, and above all, superior to every kind of personal corruption. His abstinence from plunder and peculation, when on naval expeditions, formed an honorable contrast with other Athenian admirals, and procured for him much esteem on the part of the maritime allies. Hence, probably, his surname of Phokion the Good.[571]
I have already remarked how deep and strong was the hold acquired on the Athenian people, by any public man who once established for himself a character above suspicion on the score of personal corruption. Among Athenian politicians, but too many were not innocent on this point; moreover, even when a man was really innocent, there were often circumstances in his life which rendered more or less of doubt admissible against him; thus Demosthenes,—being known not only as a person of somewhat costly habits, but also as frequenting wealthy houses, and receiving money for speeches composed or rhetoric communicated,—was sure to be accused, justly or unjustly, by his enemies, of having cheated rich clients, and would never obtain unquestioned credit for a high pecuniary independence, even in regard to the public affairs; although he certainly was not corrupt, nor generally believed to be corrupt,—at least during the period which this volume embraces, down to the death of Philip.[572] But Phokion would receive neither money nor gifts from any one,—was notoriously and obviously poor,—went barefoot and without an upper garment even in very cold weather,—had only one female slave to attend on his wife; while he had enjoyed commands sufficient to enrich him if he had chosen. His personal incorruptibility thus stood forth prominently to the public eye; and combined as it was with bravery and fair generalship, procured for him testimonies of confidence greater than those accorded even to Perikles. He was elected no less than forty-five times to the annual office of Stratêgus or General of the city,—that is, one of the Board of Ten so denominated, the greatest executive function at Athens,—and elected too, without having ever on any occasion solicited the office, or even been present at the choice.[573] In all Athenian history, we read of no similar multiplication of distinct appointments and honors to the same individual.
According to the picture of Athens and her democracy, as usually presented by historians, we are taught to believe that the only road open to honors or political influence, was, by a seductive address, and by courting the people with fine speeches, unworthy flattery, or unmeasured promises. Those who take this view of the Athenian character, will find it difficult to explain the career of Phokion. He was no orator,—from disdain rather than incompetence.[574] Besides receiving a good education, he had profited by the conversation of Plato, as well as of Xenokrates, in the Academy;[575] and we are not surprised that in their school he contracted a contempt for popular oratory, as well as a love for brief, concentrated, pungent reply. Once, when about to speak in public, he was observed to be particularly absorbed in thought. “You seem meditative, Phokion,” said a friend. “Ay, by Zeus,” was the reply; “I am meditating whether I cannot in some way abridge the speech which I am just about to address to the Athenians.” He knew so well, however, on what points to strike, that his telling brevity, strengthened by the weight of character and position, cut through the fine oratory of Demosthenes more effectively than any counter-oratory from men like Æschines. Demosthenes himself greatly feared Phokion as an opponent, and was heard to observe, on seeing him rise to speak, “Here comes the cleaver of my harangues.”[576] Polyeuktus,—himself an orator and a friend of Demosthenes,—drew a distinction highly complimentary to Phokion, by saying, that “Demosthenes was the finest orator, but Phokion the most formidable in speech.”[577] In public policy, in means of political effect, and in personal character,—Phokion was the direct antithesis of Demosthenes; whose warlike eloquence, unwarlike disposition, paid speech-writing, and delicate habits of life, he doubtless alike despised.
As Phokion had in his nature little of the professed orator, so he had still less of the flatterer. He affected and sustained the character of a blunt soldier, who speaks out his full mind without suppression or ornament, careless whether it be acceptable to hearers or not.[578] His estimate of his countrymen was thoroughly and undisguisedly contemptuous. This is manifest in his whole proceedings; and appears especially in the memorable remark ascribed to him, on an occasion when something that he had said in the public assembly met with peculiar applause. Turning round to a friend, he asked, “Have I not, unconsciously, said something bad?” His manners, moreover, were surly and repulsive, though his disposition is said to have been kind. He had learnt, in the Academy, a sort of Spartan self-suppression and rigor of life.[579] No one ever saw him either laughing, or weeping, or bathing in the public baths.
If, then, Phokion attained the unparalleled honor of being chosen forty-five times general, we may be sure that there were other means of reaching it besides the arts of oratory and demagogy. We may indeed ask with surprise, how it was possible for him to attain it, in the face of so many repulsive circumstances, by the mere force of bravery and honesty; especially as he never performed any supereminent service,[580] though on various occasions he conducted himself with credit and ability. The answer to this question may be found in the fact that Phokion, though not a flatterer of the people, went decidedly along with the capital weakness of the people. While despising their judgment, he manifested no greater foresight, as to the public interests and security of Athens, than they did. The Athenian people had doubtless many infirmities and committed many errors; but the worst error of all, during the interval between 360-336 B. C., was their unconquerable repugnance to the efforts, personal and pecuniary, required for prosecuting a hearty war against Philip. Of this aversion to a strenuous foreign policy, Phokion made himself the champion;[581] addressing, in his own vein, sarcastic taunts against those who called for action against Philip, as if they were mere brawlers and cowards, watching for opportunities to enrich themselves at the public expense. Eubulus the orator was among the leading statesmen who formed what may be called the peace-party at Athens, and who continually resisted or discouraged energetic warlike efforts, striving to keep out of sight the idea of Philip as a dangerous enemy. Of this peace-party, there were doubtless some who acted corruptly, in the direct pay of Philip. But many others of them, without any taint of personal corruption, espoused the same policy merely because they found it easier, for the time, to administer the city under peace than under war—because war was burdensome and disagreeable, to themselves as well as to their fellow-citizens—and because they either did not, or would not, look forward to the consequences of inaction. Now it was a great advantage to this peace-party, who wanted a military leader as partner to their civil and rhetorical leaders, to strengthen themselves by a colleague like Phokion; a man not only of unsuspected probity, but peculiarly disinterested in advising peace, since his importance would have been exalted by war.[582] Moreover most of the eminent military leaders had now come to love only the license of war, and to disdain the details of the war-office at home; while Phokion,[583] and he almost alone among them, was content to stay at Athens, and keep up that combination of civil with military efficiency which had been, formerly, habitual. Hence he was sustained, by the peace-party and by the aversion to warlike effort prevalent among the public, in a sort of perpetuity of the strategic functions, without any solicitation or care for personal popularity on his own part.
The influence of Phokion as a public adviser, during the period embraced in this volume, down to the battle of Chæroneia, was eminently mischievous to Athens: all the more mischievous, partly (like that of Nikias) from the respectability of his personal qualities—partly because he espoused and sanctioned the most dangerous infirmity of the Athenian mind. His biographers mislead our judgment by pointing our attention chiefly to the last twenty years of his long life, after the battle of Chæroneia. At that time, when the victorious military force of Macedonia had been fully organized, and that of Greece comparatively prostrated, it might be argued plausibly (I do not say decisively, even then) that submission to Macedonia had become a fatal necessity; and that attempts to resist could only end by converting bad into worse. But the peace-policy of Phokion—which might be called prudence after the accession of Alexander—was ruinously imprudent as well as dishonorable during the reign of Philip. The odds were all against Philip in his early years; they shifted and became more and more in his favor, only because his game was played well, and that of his opponents badly. The superiority of force was at first so much on the side of Athens, that if she had been willing to employ it, she might have made sure of keeping Philip at least within the limits of Macedonia. All depended upon her will; upon the question, whether her citizens were prepared in their own minds to incur the expense and fatigue of a vigorous foreign policy—whether they would handle their pikes, open their purses, and forego the comforts of home, for the maintenance of Grecian and Athenian liberty against a growing, but not as yet irresistible destroyer. To such a sacrifice the Athenians could not bring themselves to submit; and in consequence of that reluctance, they were driven in the end to a much graver and more irreparable sacrifice—the loss of liberty, dignity, and security. Now it was precisely at such a moment, and when such a question was pending, that the influence of the peace-loving Phokion was most ruinous. His anxiety that the citizens should be buried at home in their own sepulchres—his despair, mingled with contempt, of his countrymen and their refined habits—his hatred of the orators who might profit by an increased war-expenditure[584]—all contributed to make him discourage public effort, and await passively the preponderance of the Macedonian arms; thus playing the game of Philip, and siding, though himself incorruptible, with the orators in Philip’s pay.
The love of peace, either in a community or in an individual, usually commands sympathy without farther inquiry, though there are times of growing danger from without, in which the adviser of peace is the worst guide that can be followed. Since the Peloponnesian war, a revolution had been silently going on in Greece, whereby the duties of soldiership had passed to a great degree from citizen militia into the hands of paid mercenaries. The resident citizens generally had become averse to the burden of military service; while on the other hand the miscellaneous aggregate of Greeks willing to carry arms anywhere and looking merely for pay, had greatly augmented. Very differently had the case once stood. The Athenian citizen of 432 B. C.—by concurrent testimony of the eulogist Perikles and of the unfriendly Corinthians—was ever ready to brave the danger, fatigue, and privation, of foreign expeditions, for the glory of Athens. “He accounted it holidaywork to do duty in her service (it is an enemy who speaks[585]); he wasted his body for her as though it had been the body of another.” Embracing with passion the idea of imperial Athens, he knew that she could only be upheld by the energetic efforts of her individual citizens, and that the talk in her public assemblies, though useful as a preliminary to action, was mischievous if allowed as a substitute for action.[586] Such was the Periklean Athenian of 431 B. C. But this energy had been crushed in the disasters closing the Peloponnesian war, and had never again revived. The Demosthenic Athenian of 360 B. C. had as it were grown old. Pugnacity, Pan-hellenic championship, and the love of enterprise, had died within him. He was a quiet, home-keeping, refined citizen, attached to the democratic constitution, and executing with cheerful pride his ordinary city-duties under it; but immersed in industrial or professional pursuits, in domestic comforts, in the impressive manifestations of the public religion, in the atmosphere of discussion and thought, intellectual as well as political. To renounce all this for foreign and continued military service, he considered as a hardship not to be endured, except under the pressure of danger near and immediate. Precautionary exigencies against distant perils, however real, could not be brought home to his feelings; even to pay others for serving in his place, was a duty which he could scarcely be induced to perform.