Hippodromus of Larissa landed at Smyrna, and, following the crowd, entered a hall where one Megistias had drawn together an audience. Hippodromus was in travelling gear. Approaching Megistias, he said: "Change clothes with me. Lend me your mantle for a moment." The other looked at him to see if he might be a maniac; but the exchange was made. "And now give me a subject of declamation," continued Hippodromus. They gave him one, which he treated so skilfully that Megistias exclaimed with surprise: "But who are you?" "I am Hippodromus the Thessalian." In a few moments the report of the illustrious rhetor's arrival had spread through the town, and the whole population rushed to see and hear him. [Footnote 96]
[Footnote 96: Philostratus, Life of the Sophists, I. xxiv.4.]
Again the challenger would be some great celebrity. Anatolius, prefect of the praetorium, and gifted with remarkable eloquence, announced his speedy arrival at Athens, challenging all speech-makers to an encounter, and proposing one of the most difficult questions capable of discussion by trained intelligences. Great agitation ensued. Anatolius was a formidable judge, both by his science and by his exalted position in the state. Eunapus tells us that Greece trembled more on that occasion than at the approach of the Persians. He was Prohaeresius, the great Prohaeresius, victor in every battle, to whom Rome was to erect a statue bearing the inscription: Rome, queen of the world, to Prohaeresius, king of eloquence. The Greeks decreed even a grander title to him. He was no mere mortal; he was Mercury disguised in human form. One day when he had finished speaking, the people gathered round him and kissed his hands and feet, nay, licked his breast, as if he had been in very deed a god. And would you know by what manifestation of power he had deserved this idolatry? After improvising a long discourse, he had forthwith repeated it word for word, without missing a single syllable. The prodigy could not be denied, for reporters had been provided for the occasion, who had noted down every expression. [Footnote 97]
[Footnote 97: Eunapus, Prohaeresius.]
These transports on the part of the public, these passionate demonstrations, bordering sometimes on delirium, are so foreign to our habits that we should be inclined to suspect exaggeration in the recital of Eunapus, if many other authorities did not testify also to the ecstasies excited in the populace by eloquence. Habits of mind are, perhaps, harder to eradicate than those of the soul, and Christianity succeeded in introducing austere ideas in the spiritual life without immediately curing this excessive love of eloquence. Applause was heard sometimes in churches, and St. John Chrysostom had to impose silence more than once upon his hearers, who clapped him, forgetful of the sanctity of the place in their enthusiasm for the orator.
We have seen the bright side of the subject, but every medal has two sides. Without speaking of the jealousies and enmities inherent to the profession, can one be sure of being equal to one's self every day and all day? You appear before an imposing assembly; all eyes are fixed upon you. Let emotion seize you, a little lapse of memory, a slight absence of mind, and you are lost. The thought is enough to intimidate the most intrepid rhetor. And it was a misfortune not without example. Herodius Atticus, on one occasion, stopped short in the presence of the emperor, and thought for an instant of drowning himself in the Ister. A similar accident happened to Heraclides, who took the accident more philosophically, and sought consolation for his disgrace in abusing improvisation, and composing a work in praise of labor. [Footnote 98]
[Footnote 98: Philostratus, Life of Soph. II. i. 36; xxvi. 3, 5. Here belongs an anecdote showing the pleasure taken by rhetors in insulting each other. Heraclides sent his Panegyric of Labor (Greek text) to one Ptolemaeus, and adept in improvisation. Ptolemaeus returned it to him, after erasing the first letter, so that the title stood, "Panegyric of an Ass." The biographer does not mention that Heraclides found the epigram to his taste.]
And who can count on the good nature of his audience? Listeners have a certain malice of their own at times, as Philagrius once discovered to his cost. He had composed a discourse in Asia, and learned it by heart. On arriving in Athens, he presented himself before the amateurs and burst forth into improvisation. By a wonderful coincidence, they had given him precisely the subject which he had so carefully treated. Philagrius, sure of his ground, began boldly, and wandered on like one led by the moment's inspiration. He grew diffusive and pathetic; but, strange to relate, as the discourse proceeded, the audience gave evidence of merriment, first by subdued tittering, finally by uproarious bursts of laughter. Philagrius paused in wrath and amazement. To calm this excitement, his hearers produced a copy of the address which he had repeated without altering a sin
[Footnote 99: Philostratus, Life of Soph. II. viii. 3.]
The abuse of this false eloquence could not fail in the end to produce disgust. Serious men began to ask themselves if these brilliant exercises were true oratorical art or merely a vain tissue of words. A few even of those who had yielded to the fascination began to look pityingly on declaimers. Lucian lavished satire upon them, but the trade was still prosperous in his day. Synesius, coming later, spared them as little. From him we learn their misery as well as their presumption. We see that the palmy days of the profession had passed away.