At the junction of the converging lines of scarped rock is the bēma, or altar, of the Pnyx, with a platform in front, from which, it is believed, the orators addressed the people. It will be seen that the steps, at the side of the cubical mass of rock, which has been called an altar, ascend right up to the top of it; and it seems probable that we have here rather the basis of the altar than the altar itself. The latter may very well have been movable. Above the bēma will be seen the remains of a semicircular row of seats, apparently the seats of the Prytanes, facing the people. In the middle distance of the drawing the Acropolis rises majestically, and is finely opposed by the long line of Mount Hymettos.
eloquence, on the part of those who were ambitious of a political career, and it was open to all citizens who chose to attend. The result was that the Athenians became as pre-eminent in their power of expression in language as in the visible forms of art. One of the most interesting spots in Athens is the Pnyx, where the Assembly usually met—“that angry, waspish, intractable, little old man, Demos of Pnyx”—to quote the words of Aristophanes. The place of meeting was a semicircular space on the face of a low rocky hill, a quarter of a mile west of the Acropolis. Where the diameter of the circle would be, but forming an obtuse angle, is a wall of hewn rock, fifteen feet high at its central part, but getting lower towards the sides. In front of this wall, about where the centre of the circle would be, there is a block of stone eleven feet long and as many broad, resting on a platform of three steps about thirty feet wide at its front base, cut out of the natural rock. This is believed to have been the bēma (“stone in the Pnyx”) from which the speakers in the Assembly sometimes addressed 6000 or 7000 citizens chiefly resident in Athens or the immediate neighbourhood and belonging to the middle or lower classes. Round part of the semicircle, retaining-walls can still be traced, which appear to have been originally much higher, so that the enclosure would slope down towards the bema or platform, and thus bring the speaker within sight and hearing of the whole Assembly.
It was in the Pnyx that the great debates took place which determined the policy of Athens and influenced the destiny of all Greece. Here might be heard the demagogue Cleon, who knew how to play on the passions and prejudices of the mob. By the strange working of the Athenian constitution, he found himself on two important occasions at the head of the army, first at Sphacteria, when the forces under his command inflicted on Sparta one of the greatest humiliations which it ever suffered at the hands of Athens, and again at Amphipolis, when the Spartan general Brasidas gained the victory, though at the cost of his own life, Cleon also being slain by a spear-wound in the back when he was fleeing from the field. Here too Phocion delivered his opinions, the plain, blunt, warm-hearted soldier who studied brevity and candour in all his utterances, never condescending to flatter or even to please his audience. On one occasion, when some remark he had made was loudly applauded, he turned round to a neighbour and inquired whether he had said anything very much amiss! His wisdom was not always equal to his honesty and courage, but his career was long and honourable, as he was forty-five times elected general for a year, and on many occasions rendered signal service to his country. The conduct of the citizens, assembled in the theatre, in refusing him a hearing (an old man of eighty-four years) before condemning him to death as a traitor, will always be a blot on the history of the Athenian democracy.
In the Pnyx, as well as in the law courts, might be heard the consummate orator, whose extant speeches are pronounced by general consent to be the finest specimens of parliamentary and forensic eloquence in ancient or in modern times. The power of Demosthenes in delivery seems to have been equal to his skill in argument and his clearness and felicity of expression—the result of marvellous patience and perseverance in the face of difficulties which would have seemed to most men to be insuperable, arising from defective articulation, a weak voice, short breath and an awkward manner. His devotion to his country was equal to his enthusiasm as an orator; and if it had been still possible to teach the democracy wisdom and preserve the liberties of Athens, Demosthenes would have been the man to do so. But his lot fell in evil times, and fate was against him. His end, like that of many of the great men of antiquity, was a very sad one. In 324 B.C., six years after delivering his great speech De Corona, which has been fitly called “the funeral oration of Greek liberty,” he was thrown into prison on a charge of conspiring against the Macedonian authority. He made his escape and took refuge in the Peloponnesus, where he was living at the time of the death of Alexander the Great—an event which kindled in the breasts of patriotic Greeks a fresh hope of regaining their liberties. Demosthenes took the lead in the movement for liberation and secured for his countrymen the help of Peloponnesian allies in a last effort to throw off the Macedonian yoke. On landing at Piræus he received a magnificent welcome from all classes of his fellow-citizens. But the rising was soon suppressed. Antipater compelled the city to surrender at discretion; and within a year Demosthenes was again a fugitive under sentence of death, passed against him by the remnant of citizens who were still permitted to abide at Athens. In his extremity he took refuge in a temple of Poseidon at Calauria, which had been an inviolable asylum from time immemorial. The Athenian who was at the head of the Thracian force sent by Antipater to take him was afraid to desecrate the sanctuary, and tried to entice him beyond its precincts by promising that his life would be spared. But Demosthenes knew how little faith was to be put in such a promise. He knew that even if his life were spared he might have his tongue cut out, like other orators who had done what they could to warn their countrymen against Macedonian aggression. Despairing of being able to render any further service to his country he resolved to put an end to his life by swallowing the poison which he had secreted about his person to meet such an emergency. As soon as he felt the poison begin to work he arose and walked slowly out of the sanctuary, calling for support to his tottering steps, in order to save the temple from being desecrated by his death.
A few words may be added regarding another aspect of Athenian greatness during the period of the democracy, which has already been incidentally mentioned. The latter half of the fifth century B.C., which was the golden age of the sophists, also saw the rise of a new intellectual movement, which was destined to secure for Athens a position of supremacy in the department