Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres: Lecture XXVII — Different Kinds of Public Speaking — Eloquence of Popular Assemblies — Extracts from Demosthenes
After the preliminary views which have been given of the nature of eloquence in general, and of the state in which it has subsisted in different ages and countries, I am now to enter on the consideration of the different kinds of public speaking, the distinguishing characters of each, and the rules which relate to them. The ancients divided all orations into three kinds; the demonstrative, the deliberative, and the judicial. The scope of the demonstrative was to praise or to blame; that of the deliberative, to advise or to dissuade; that of the judicial, to accuse or to defend. The chief subjects of demonstrative eloquence, were panegyrics, invectives, gratulatory and funeral orations. The deliberative was employed in matters of public concern, agitated in the senate, or before the assemblies of the people. The judicial is the same with the eloquence of the bar, employed in addressing judges, who have power to absolve or to condemn. This division runs through all the ancient treatises on rhetoric; and is followed by the moderns, who copy them. It is a division not inartificial; and comprehends most, or all, of the matters which can be the subject of public discourse. It will, however, suit our purpose better, and be found, I imagine, more useful to follow that division which the train of modern speaking naturally points out to us, taken from the three great scenes of eloquence, popular assemblies, the bar, and the pulpit; each of which has a distinct character that particularly suits it. This division coincides in part with the ancient one. The eloquence of the bar is precisely the same with what the ancients called the judicial. The eloquence of popular assemblies, though mostly of what they term the deliberative species, yet admits also of the demonstrative. The eloquence of the pulpit is altogether of a distinct nature, and cannot be properly reduced under any of the heads of the ancient rhetoricians.
To all the three, pulpit, bar, and popular assemblies, belong in common, the rules concerning the conduct of a discourse in all its parts. Of these rules I purpose afterwards to treat at large. But before proceeding to them, I intend to show, first, what is peculiar to each of these three kinds of oratory, in their spirit, character, or manner. For every species of public speaking has a manner or character peculiarly suited to it; of which it is highly material to have a just idea, in order to direct the application of general rules. The eloquence of a lawyer is fundamentally different from that of a divine, or a speaker in parliament: and to have a precise and proper idea of the distinguishing character which any kind of public speaking requires, is the foundation of what is called a just taste in that kind of speaking.
Laying aside any question concerning the pre-eminence in point of rank, which is due to any one of the three kinds before mentioned, I shall begin with that which tends to throw most light upon the rest, viz. the eloquence of popular assemblies. The most august theatre for this kind of eloquence, to be found in any nation of Europe, is, beyond doubt, the parliament of Great Britain. In meetings too, of less dignity, it may display itself. Wherever there is a popular court, or wherever any number of men are assembled for debate or consultation, there, in different forms, this species of eloquence may take place.
Its object is, or ought always to be, persuasion. There must be some end proposed; some point, most commonly of public utility or good, in favour of which we seek to determine the hearers. Now, in all attempts to persuade men, we must proceed upon this principle, that it is necessary to convince their understanding. Nothing can be more erroneous than to imagine, that, because speeches to popular assemblies admit more of a declamatory style than some other discourses, they therefore stand less in need of being supported by sound reasoning. When modelled upon this false idea, they may have the show, but never can produce the effect, of real eloquence. Even the show of eloquence which they make, will please only the trifling and superficial. For, with all tolerable judges, indeed almost with all men, mere declamation soon becomes insipid. Of whatever rank the hearers be, a speaker is never to presume, that by a frothy and ostentatious harangue, without solid sense and argument, he can either make impression on them, or acquire fame to himself. It is, at least, a dangerous experiment; for, where such an artifice succeeds once, it will fail ten times. Even the common people are better judges of argument and good sense, than we sometimes think them; and upon any question of business, a plain man, who speaks to the point without art, will generally prevail over the most artful speaker, who deals in flowers and ornament, rather than in reasoning. Much more, when public speakers address themselves to any assembly where there are persons of education and improved understanding, they ought to be careful not to trifle with their hearers.
Let it be ever kept in view, that the foundation of all that can be called eloquence, is good sense, and solid thought. As popular as the orations of Demosthenes were, spoken to all the citizens of Athens, every one who looks into them, must see how fraught they are with argument; and how important it appeared to him, to convince the understanding, in order to persuade, or to work on the principles of action. Hence their influence in his own time; hence their fame at this day. Such a pattern as this, public speakers ought to set before them for imitation, rather than follow the track of those loose and frothy declaimers, who have brought discredit on eloquence. Let it be their first study, in addressing any popular assembly to be previously masters of the business on which they are to speak; to be well provided with matter and argument; and to rest upon these the chief stress. This will always give to their discourse an air of manliness and strength, which is a powerful instrument of persuasion. Ornament, if they have genius for it, will follow of course: at any rate, it demands only their secondary study: ‘Cura sit verborum; solicitudo rerum.’ ‘To your expression be attentive; but about your matter be solicitous,’ is an advice of Quintilian, which cannot be too often recollected by all who study oratory.
In the next place, in order to be persuasive speakers in a popular assembly, it is, in my opinion, a capital rule, that we be ourselves persuaded of whatever we recommend to others. Never, when it can be avoided, ought we to espouse any side of the argument, but what we believe to be the true and the right one. Seldom or never will a man be eloquent, but when he is in earnest, and uttering his own sentiments. They are only the ‘verae voces ab imo pectore,’ the unassumed language of the heart or head, that carry the force of conviction. In a former lecture, when entering on this subject, I observed, that all high eloquence must be the offspring of passion, or warm emotion. It is this which makes every man persuasive; and gives a force to his genius, which it possesses at no other time. Under what disadvantage then is he placed, who, not feeling what he utters, must counterfeit a warmth to which he is a stranger.
I know, that young people, on purpose to train themselves to the art of speaking, imagine it useful to adopt that side of the question under debate, which, to themselves, appears the weakest, and to try what figure they can make upon it. But, I am afraid, this is not the most improving education for public speaking; and that it tends to form them to a habit of flimsy and trivial discourse. Such a liberty they should, at no time, allow themselves, unless in meetings where no real business is carried on, but where declamation and improvement of speech is the sole aim. Nor even in such meetings, would I recommend it as the most useful exercise. They will improve themselves to more advantage, and acquit themselves with more honour, by always taking that side of the debate to which, in their own judgment, they are most inclined, and supporting it by what seems to themselves most solid and persuasive. They will acquire the habit of reasoning closely, and expressing themselves with warmth and force, much more, when they are adhering to their own sentiments, than when they are speaking in contradiction to them. In assemblies where any real business is carried on, whether that business be of much importance or not, it is always of dangerous consequence for young practitioners to make trial of this sort of play of speech. It may fix an imputation on their characters before they are aware; and what they intended merely as amusement, may be turned to the discredit, either of their principles or their understanding.
Debate in popular courts, seldom allows the speaker that full and accurate preparation beforehand, which the pulpit always, and the bar sometimes, admits. The arguments must be suited to the course which the debate takes; and as no man can exactly foresee this, one who trusts to a set speech, composed in his closet, will, on many occasions, be thrown out of the ground which he had taken. He will find it pre-occupied by others, or his reasonings superseded by some new turn of the business; and, if he ventures to use his prepared speech, it will be frequently at the hazard of making an awkward figure. There is a general prejudice with us, and not wholly an unjust one, against set speeches in public meetings. The only occasion, when they have any propriety, is, at the opening of a debate, when the speaker has it in his power to choose his field. But as the debate advances, and parties warm, discourses of this kind become more unsuitable. They want the native air; the appearance of being suggested by the business that is going on; study and ostentation are apt to be visible; and, of course, though applauded as elegant, they are seldom so persuasive as more free and unconstrained discourses.
This, however, does not by any means conclude against premeditation of what we are to say; the neglect of which, and the trusting wholly to extemporaneous efforts, will unavoidably produce the habit of speaking in a loose and undigested manner. But the premeditation which is of most advantage, in the case which we now consider, is of the subject or argument in general, rather than of nice composition in any particular branch of it. With regard to the matter, we cannot be too accurate in our preparation, so as to be fully masters of the business under consideration; but with regard to Words and expression, it is very possible so far to overdo, as to render our speech stiff and precise. Indeed, till once persons acquire that firmness, that presence of mind, and command of expression, in a public meeting, which nothing but habit and practice can bestow, it may be proper for a young speaker to commit to memory the whole of what he is to say. But after some performances of this kind shall have given him boldness, he will find it the better method not to confine himself so strictly:
but only to write, beforehand, some sentences with which he intends to set out, in order to put himself fairly in the train; and, for the rest, to set down short notes of the topics, or principal thoughts upon which he is to insist, in their order, leaving the words to be suggested by the warmth of discourse. Such short notes of the substance of the discourse, will be found of considerable service, to those, especially, who are beginning to speak in
• public. They will accustom them to some degree of accuracy, which, if they speak frequently, they are in danger too soon of losing. They will even accustom them to think more closely on the subject in question; and will assist them greatly in arranging their thoughts with method and order.
This leads me next to observe, that in all kinds of public speaking. nothing is of greater consequence than a proper and clear method. I mean not that formal method of laying down heads and subdivisions, which is commonly practised in the pulpit; and which, in popular assemblies, unless the speaker be a man of great authority and character, and the subject of great importance, and the preparation too very accurate, is rather in hazard of disgusting the hearers; such an introduction is presenting always the melancholy prospect of a long discourse. But though the method be not laid down in form, no discourse, of any length, should be without method; that is, every thing should be found in its proper place. Every one who speaks, will find it of the greatest advantage to himself to have previously arranged his thoughts, and classed under proper heads, in his own mind, what he is to deliver. This will assist his memory, and carry him through his discourse without that confusion to which one is every moment subject who has fixed no distinct plan of what he is to say. And with respect to the hearers, order in discourse is absolutely necessary for making any proper impression. It adds both force and light to what is said. It makes them accompany the speaker easily and readily, as he goes along; and makes them feel the full effect of every argument which he employs. Few things, therefore, deserve more to be attended to, than distinct arrangement; for eloquence, however great, can never produce entire conviction without it. Of the rules of method, and the proper distribution of the several parts of a discourse, I am hereafter to treat.
Let us now consider the style and expression suited to the eloquence of popular assemblies. Beyond doubt, these give scope for the most animated manner of public speaking. The very aspect of a large assembly, engaged in some debate of moment, and attentive to the discourse of one man, is sufficient to inspire that man with such elevation and warmth, as both gives rise to strong impressions, and gives them propriety. Passion easily rises in a great assembly, where the movements are communicated by mutual sympathy between the orator and the audience. Those bold figures, which I treated formerly as the native language of passion, have then their proper place. That ardour of speech, that vehemence and glow of sentiment, which arise from a mind animated and inflamed by a great and public object, form the peculiar characteristics of popular eloquence, in its highest degree of perfection.
The liberty, however, which we are now giving of the strong and passionate manner to this kind of oratory, must be always understood with certain limitations and restraints, which, it will be necessary to point out distinctly, in order to guard against dangerous mistakes on this subject.
As, first, the warmth which we express must be suited to the occasion and the subject; for nothing can be more preposterous, than an attempt to introduce great vehemence into a subject, which is either of slight importance, or which, by its nature, requires to be treated of calmly. A temperate tone of speech, is that for which there is most frequent occasion; and he who is, on every subject, passionate and vehement, will be considered as a blusterer, and meet with little regard.
In the second place, we must take care never to counterfeit warmth without feeling it. This always betrays persons into an unnatural manner, which exposes them to ridicule. For, as I have often suggested, to support the appearance, without the real feeling of passion, is one of the most difficult things in nature. The disguise can almost never be so perfect, as not to be discovered. The heart can only answer to the heart. The great rule here, as indeed in every other case, is, to follow nature; never to attempt a strain of eloquence which is not seconded by our own genius. One may be a speaker, both of much reputation and much influence, in the calm argumentative manner. To attain the pathetic, and the sublime of oratory, requires those strong sensibilities of mind, and that high power of expression, which are given to few.
In the third place, even when the subject justifies the vehement manner, and when genius prompts it; when warmth is felt, not counterfeited; we must still set a guard on ourselves, not to allow impetuosity to transport us too far. Without emotion in the speaker, eloquence, as was before observed, will never produce its highest effects; but at the same time, if the speaker lose command of himself, he will soon lose command of his audience too. He must never kindle too soon: he must begin with moderation; and study to carry his hearers along with him, as he warms in the progress of his discourse. For, if he runs before in the course of passion, and leaves them behind; if they are not tuned, if we may speak so, in unison to him, the discord will presently be felt, and be very grating. Let a speaker have ever so good reason to be animated and fired by his subject, it is always expected of him, that the awe and regard due to his audience should lay a decent restraint upon his warmth, and prevent it from carrying him beyond certain bounds. If, when most heated by the subject, he can be so far master of himself as to preserve close attention to argument, and even to some degree of correct expression, this self-command, this exertion of reason, in the midst of passion, has a wonderful effect both to please, and to persuade. It is indeed the master-piece, the highest attainment of eloquence; uniting the strength of reason, with the vehemence of passion; affording all the advantages of passion for the purpose of persuasion, without the confusion and disorder which are apt to accompany it.
In the fourth place, in the highest and most animated strain of popular speaking, we must always preserve regard to what the public ear will bear. This direction I give, in order to guard against an injudicious imitation of ancient orators, who, both in their pronunciation and gesture, and in their figures of expression, used a bolder manner than what the greater coolness of modern taste will readily suffer. This may, perhaps, as I formerly observed, be a disadvantage to modern eloquence. It is no reason why we should be too severe in checking the impulse of genius, and continue always creeping on the ground; but it is a reason, however, why we should avoid carrying the tone of declamation to a height that would now be reckoned extravagant. Demosthenes, to justify the unsuccessful action of Cheronsea, calls up the manes of those heroes who fell in the battle of Marathon and Plataea, and swears by them, that their fellow-citizens had done well, in their endeavours to support the same cause. Cicero, in his oration for Milo, implores and obtests the Alban hills and groves, and makes a long address to them: and both passages, in these orators, have a fine effect.* But how few modern orators could venture on such apostrophes? and what a power of genius would it require to give such figures now their proper grace, or make them produce a due effect upon the hearers?
In the fifth and last place, in all kinds of public speaking, but especially in popular assemblies, it is a capital rule to attend to all the decorums of time, place, and character. No warmth of eloquence can atone for the neglect of these. That vehemence, which is becoming in a person of character and authority, may be unsuitable to the modesty expected from a young speaker. That sportive and witty manner which may suit one subject and one assembly is altogether out of place in a grave cause, and a solemn meeting. ‘Caput artis est,’ says Quintilian, ‘decere.’ ‘The first principle of art, is to observe decorum.’ No one should ever rise to speak in public, without forming to himself a just and strict idea of what suits his own age and character; what suits the subject,
* The passage in Cicero is very beautiful, and adorned with the highest colouring of his eloquence. ‘Non est humano consilio, ne mediocri quidem, iudices, deorum immortalium cura, res illa perfecta. Religiones, mehercule, ipsae araeque, cum illam belluam cadere viderunt, commovisse se videntur, et jus in illo suum retinuisse. Vos enim jam Albani tumuli, atque luci, vos inquam imploro atque obtestor, vosque Albanorum obrutae arae, sacrorum populi Romani sociae et aequales, quas ille praeceps amentia, caesis prostratisque, sanctissimis lucis, substructionum insanis molibus oppresserat; vestrae turn arae, vestrae religiones viguerunt, vestra vis valuit, quam ille omni scelere polluerat. Tuque ex tuo edito monte Latiali, sancte Jupiter, cujus ille lacus, nemora, finesque, saepe omni nefario stupro, scelere maculārat, aliquando ad eum puniendum, oculos aperuisti, vobis illae, vobis vestro in conspectu, serae, sed justae tamen, et debitae paenae solutae sunt the hearers, the place, the occasion: and adjusting the whole train and manner of his speaking on this idea. All the ancients insist much on this. Consult the first chapter of the eleventh book of Quintilian, which is employed wholly on this point, and is full of good sense. Cicero’s admonitions, in his Orator ad Brutum, I shall give in his own words, which should never be forgotten by any who speak in public. ‘ Est eloquentiae, sicut reliquarum rerum, fundamentum, sapientia; ut enim in vita, sic in oratione nihil est difficillius quam quod deceat videre; hujus ignoratione saepissime peccatur; non enim omnis fortuna, non omnis auctoritas, non omnis aetas, nec vero locus, aut tempus, aut auditor omnis, eodem aut verborum genere tractandus est, aut sententiarum. Semperque in omni parte orationis, ut vitae, quid deceat considerandum; quod et in re de qua agitur positum est, et in personis et eorum qui dicunt et eorum qui audiunt.’* So much for the considerations that require to be attended to, with respect to the vehemence and warmth which is allowed in popular eloquence.
The current of style should in general be full, free, and natural. Quaint and artificial expressions are out of place here; and always derogate from persuasion. It is a strong and manly style which should chiefly be studied; and metaphorical language, when properly introduced, produces often a happy effect. When the metaphors are warm, glowing, and descriptive, some inaccuracy in them will be overlooked, which, in a written composition, would be remarked and censured. Amidst the torrent of declamation, the strength of the figure makes impression; the inaccuracy of it escapes.
With regard to the degree of conciseness or diffuseness suited to popular eloquence, it is not easy to fix any exact bounds. I know that it is common to recommend a diffuse manner as the most proper. I am inclined, however, to think, that there is danger of erring in this respect; and that by indulging too much in the diffuse style, public speakers often lose more in point of strength, than they gain by the fullness of their illustration. There is no doubt, that in speaking to a multitude, we must not speak in sentences and apothegms: care must be taken to explain and to inculcate; but this care may be, and frequently is, carried too far. We ought always to remember, that how much soever we may be pleased with hearing ourselves speak, every audience is very ready to be tired; and the moment they begin to be tired, all our eloquence goes for nothing. A loose and verbose manner never fails to create disgust; and, on most occasions, we had better run the risk of saying too little than too much. Better place our thought in one strong point of view, and
* ‘Good sense is the foundation of eloquence, as it is of all other things that are valuable. It happens in oratory exactly as it does in life, that frequently nothing is more difficult than to discern what is proper and becoming. In consequence of mistaking this, the grossest faults are often committed. For to the different degrees of rank, fortune, and age among men, to all the varieties of time, place, and auditory, the same style of language, and the same strain of thought, cannot agree. In every part of a (discourse, just as in every part of life, we must attend to what is suitable and decent: whether that be determined by the nature of the subject of which we treat, or by the characters of those who speak, or of those who hear.’
rest it there, than by turning it into every light, and pouring forth a profusion of words upon it, exhaust the attention of our hearers, and leave them flat and languid.
Of pronunciation and delivery, I am hereafter to treat apart. At present it is sufficient to observe, that in speaking to mixt assemblies, the best manner of delivery is the firm and the determined. An arrogant and overbearing manner is indeed always disagreeable: and the least appearance of it ought to be shunned: but there is a certain decisive tone, which may be assumed even by a modest man, who is thoroughly persuaded of the sentiments he utters; and which is calculated for making a general impression. A feeble and hesitating manner bespeaks always some distrust of a man’s own opinion; which is, by no means, a favourable circumstance for his inducing others to embrace it.
These are the chief thoughts which have occurred to me from reflection and observation, concerning the peculiar distinguishing characters of the eloquence proper for popular assemblies. The sum of what has been said, is this: the end of popular speaking is persuasion; and this must be founded on conviction. Argument and reasoning must be the basis, if we would be speakers of business, and not mere declaimers. We should be engaged in earnest on the side which we espouse; and utter, as much as possible, our own, and not counterfeited sentiments. The premeditation should be of things, rather than of words. Clear order and method should be studied; the manner and expression warm and animated; though still, in the midst of that vehemence, which may at times be suitable, carried on under the proper restraints which regard to the audience, and to the decorum of character, ought to lay on every public speaker: the style free and easy; strong and descriptive, rather than diffuse; and the delivery determined and firm. To conclude this head, let every orator remember, that the impression made by fine and artful speaking is momentary; that made by argument and good sense, is solid and lasting.
I shall now, that I may afford an exemplification of that species of oratory of which I have been treating, insert some extracts from Demosthenes. Even under the great disadvantage of an English translation, they will exhibit a small specimen of that vigorous and. spirited eloquence which I have so often praised. I shall take my extracts mostly from the Philippics and Olynthiacs, which were entirely popular orations spoken to the general convention of the citizens of Athens: and, as the subject of both the Philippics, and the Olynthiacs, is the same, I shall not confine myself to one oration, but shall join together passages taken from two or three of them; such as may show his general strain of speaking, on some of the chief branches of the subject. The subject in general is, to rouse the Athenians to guard against Philip of Macedon, whose growing power and crafty policy had by that time endangered, and soon after overwhelmed the liberties of Greece. The Athenians began to be alarmed; but their deliberations were slow, and their measures feeble; several of their favourite orators having been gained by Philip’s bribes to favour his cause. In this critical conjuncture of affairs, Demosthenes arose. In the following manner he begins his first Philippic; which, like the exordiums of all his orations, is simple and artless.'*
‘Had we been convened, Athenians! on some new subject of debate, I had waited till most of your usual counsellors had declared their opinions. If I had approved of what was proposed by them, I should have continued silent; if not, I should then have attempted to speak my sentiments. But since those very points on which these speakers have often times been heard already, are at this time to be considered; though I have arisen first, I presume I may expect your pardon; for if they, on former occasions, had advised the proper measures, you would not have found it needful to consult at present.
‘ First then, Athenians! however wretched the situation of our affairs at present seems, it must not by any means be thought desperate. What I am now going to advance may possibly appear a paradox; yet it is a certain truth, that our past misfortunes afford a circumstance most favourable to our future hopes.† And what is that? even that our present difficulties are owing entirely to our total indolence, and utter disregard of our own interest. For were we thus situated, in spite of every effort which our duty demanded, then indeed we might regard our fortunes as absolutely desperate. But now, Philip hath only conquered your supineness and inactivity; the state he hath not conquered. You cannot be said to be defeated; your force hath never been exerted.
‘If there is a man in this assembly who thinks that we must find a formidable enemy in Philip, while he views on one hand the numerous armies which surround him, and on the other the weakness of our state, despoiled of so much of its dominions, I cannot deny that he thinks justly. Yet let him reflect on this: there was a time, Athenians! when we possessed Pydna, Potidaea, and Melthone, and all that country round: when many of the states, now subjected to him, were free and independent, and more inclined to our alliance than to his. If Philip, at that time weak in himself, and without allies, had desponded of success against you, he would never have engaged in those enterprises which are now crowned with success, nor could have raised himself to that pitch of grandeur at which you now behold him. But he knew well that the strongest places are only prizes laid between the combatants, and ready for the conqueror. He knew that the dominions of the absent devolved naturally to those who are in the field; the possessions of the supine, to the active and intrepid. Animated by these sentiments, he overturns whole nations. He either rules universally as a conqueror, or governs as a protector. For mankind naturally seek confederacy with such as they see resolved, and preparing not to be wanting to themselves.
‘If you, my countrymen! will now at length be persuaded to enter-
* In the following extracts, Leland’s translation is mostly followed. † This thought is only hinted at in the first Philippic, but brought out more fully in the third; as the same thought, occasioned by similar situations of affairs sometimes occur in the different orations on this subject tain the like sentiments; if each of you will be disposed to approve himself an useful citizen, to the utmost that his station and abilities enable him; if the rich will be ready to contribute, and the young to take the field; in one word, if you will be yourselves, and banish these vain hopes which every single person entertains, that the active part of public business may lie upon others, and he remain at his ease; you may then, by the assistance of the gods, recall those opportunities which your supineness hath neglected, regain your dominions, and chastise the insolence of this man.’
‘But when, 0 my countrymen! will you begin to exert your vigour? Do you wait till roused by some dire event? till forced by some necessity? What then are we to think of our present condition? To freemen, the disgrace attending on misconduct is, in my opinion, the most urgent necessity. Or say, is it your sole ambition to wander through the public places, each inquiring of the other, ‘what new advices?’ Can any thing be more new, than that a man of Macedon should conquer the Athenians, and give law to Greece!
‘ Is Philip dead?’— ‘ No- — but he is sick.’ Pray, what is it to you whether Philip is sick or not? supposing he should die, you would raise up another Philip, if you continue thus regardless of your interest.
‘ Many, I know, delight more in nothing than in circulating all the rumours they hear as articles of intelligence. Some cry, Philip hath joined with the Lacedaemonians, and they are concerting the destruction of Thebes. Others assure us, he hath sent an embassy to the king of Persia; others, that he is fortifying places in Illyria. Thus we all go about framing our several tales. I do believe indeed, Athenians! that he is intoxicated with his greatness, and does entertain his imagination with many such visionary projects, as he sees no power rising to oppose him. But I cannot be persuaded that he hath so taken his measures, that the weakest among us (for the weakest they are who spread such rumours)
know what he is next to do. Let us disregard these tales. Let us only be persuaded of this, that he is our enemy; that we have long been subject to his insolence; that whatever we expected to have been done for us by others, hath turned against us; that all the resource left, is in ourselves; and that if we are not inclined to carry our arms abroad, we should be forced to engage him at home. Let us be persuaded of these tilings, and then we shall come to a proper determination, and be no longer guided by rumours. We need not be solid lous to know what particular events are to happen. We may be well assured that nothing good can happen, unless we give due attention to our own affairs, and act as becomes Athenians.’
‘ Were it a point generally acknowledged, that Philip is now at actual war with the state, the only thing under deliberation would then be, how to oppose him with most safety. But since there are persons so strangely infatuated, that although he has already possessed himself of a considerable part of our dominions, although he is
* Ph'l xii.
still extending his conquests; although all Greece has suffered by his injustice; yet they can hear it repeated in this assembly, that it is some of us who seek to embroil the state in war: this suggestion must first be guarded against. I readily admit, that were it in our power to determine whether we should be at peace or war, peace, if it depended on our option, is most desirable to be embraced. But if the other party hath drawn the sword, and gathered his armies round him; if he amuses us with the name of peace, while, in fact, he is proceeding to the greatest hostilities, what is left for us but to oppose him? If any man takes that for a peace, which is only a preparation for his leading his forces directly upon us, after his other conquests, I hold that man’s mind to be disordered. At least it is only our conduct towards Philip, not Philip’s conduct towards us, that is to be termed a peace; and this is the peace for which Philip’s treasures are expended, for which his gold is so liberally scattered among our venal orators, that he may be at liberty to carry on the war against you, while you make no war on him.
‘Heavens! is there any man of a right mind who would judge of peace or war by words, and not by actions? Is there any man so weak as to imagine that it is for the sake of those paltry villages of Thrace, Drongylus, and Cabyle, and Mastira, that Philip is braving the utmost dangers, and enduring the severity of toils and seasons; and that he has no designs upon the arsenals, and the navies, and the silver mines of Athens? or that he will take up his winter quarters among the cells and dungeons of Thrace, and leave you to enjoy all your revenues in peace? But you wait, perhaps, till he declare war against you. He will never do so: no, though he were at your gates. He will still be assuring you that he is not at war. Such were his professions to the people of Oreum, when his forces were in the heart of their country; such his professions to those of Pherae, until the moment he attacked their walls: and thus he amused the Olynthians till he came within a few miles of them, and then he sent them a message, that either they must quit their city, or he his kingdom. He would indeed be the absurdest of mankind; if, while you suffer his outrages to pass unnoticed, and are wholly engaged in accusing and prosecuting one another, he should, by declaring war, put an end to your private contests, warn you to direct all your zeal against him, and deprive his pensioners of their most specious pretence for suspending your resolutions, that of his not being at war with the state. I, for my part, hold and declare, that by his attack of the Megareans, by his attempts upon the liberty of Euboea, by his late incursions into Thrace, by his practices in Peloponnesus, Philip has violated the treaty; he is in a state of hostility with you; unless you shall affirm, that he who prepares to besiege a city, is still at peace, until the walls be actually invested. The man whose designs, whose conduct, tends to reduce me to subjection, that man is at war with me, though not a blow hath yet been given, nor a sword drawn.
All Greece, all the barbarian world, is too narrow for this man’s ambition. And though we Greeks see and hear all this, we send no embassies to each other; we express no resentment; but into such wretchedness are we sunk, that even to this day, we neglect what our interest and duty demand. Without engaging in associations, or forming confederacies, we look with unconcern upon Philip’s growing power; each fondly imagining, that the time in which another is destroyed, is so much time gained on him; although no man can be ignorant, that, like the regular periodic return of a fever, he is coming upon those who think themselves the most remote from danger. And what is the cause of our present passive disposition? For some cause sure there must be, why the Greeks, who have been so zealous heretofore in defence of liberty, are now so prone to slavery. The cause, Athenians! is, that a principle, which was formerly fixed in the minds of all, now exists no more; a principle which conquered the opulence of Persia; maintained the freedom of Greece, and triumphed over the powers of sea and land. That principle was, an unanimous abhorrence of all those who accepted bribes from princes, that were enemies to the liberties of Greece. To he convicted of bribery, was then a crime altogether unpardonable. Neither orators, nor generals, would then sell for gold, the favourable conjunctures which fortune put into their hands. No gold could impair our firm concord at home, our hatred and defiance of tyrants and barbarians. But now all things are exposed to sale, as in a public market. Corruption has introduced such manners, as have proved the bane and destruction of our country. Is a man known to have received foreign money? People envy him. Does he own it? They laugh. Is he convicted in form? They forgive him: so universally has this contagion diffused itself among us.
‘If there be any who, though not carried away by bribes, yet are struck with terror, as if Philip was something more than human, they may see, upon a little consideration, that he hath exhausted all those artifices to which he owes his present elevation; and that his affairs are now ready to decline. For myself, Athenians! should think Philip really to be dreaded, if I saw him raised by honourable means. When forces join in harmony and affection, and one common interest unites confederating powers, then they share the toils with alacrity, and endure distresses with perseverance. But when extravagant ambition and lawless power, as in the case of Philip, have aggrandized a single person, the first pretence, the slightest accident, overthrows him, and dashes his greatness to the ground. For, it is not possible, Athenians! it is not possible, to found a lasting power upon injustice, perjury, and treachery. These may perhaps succeed for once, and borrow for a while, from hope, a gay and a flourishing appearance. But time betrays their weakness, and they fall of themselves to ruin. For, as in structures of every kind, the lower parts should have the firmest stability, so the grounds and principles of great enterprises should be justice and truth. But this solid foundation is wanting to all the enterprises of Philip.
‘Hence among his confederates, there are many who hate, who distrust, who envy him. If you will exert yourselves as your honour and your interest require, you will not only discover the weakness and insincerity of his confederates, but the ruinous condition also of his own kingdom. For you are not to imagine, that the inclinations of his subjects are the same with those of their prince. He thirsts for glory; but they have no part in this ambition. In various excursions he is ever making, they groan under perpetual calamity; torn from their business and their families; and beholding commerce excluded from their coasts. All those glaring exploits, which have given him his apparent greatness, have wasted his natural strength, his own kingdom, and rendered it much weaker than it originally was. Besides, his profligacy and baseness, and those troops of buffoons, and dissolute persons, whom he caresses and constantly keeps about him, are, to men of just discernment, great indications of the weakness of his mind. At present, his successes cast a shade over these things; but let his arms meet with the least disgrace, his feebleness will appear, and his character be exposed. For, as in our bodies, while a man is in apparent health, the effect of some inward debility, which has been growing upon him, may, for a time, be concealed; but as soon as it comes the length of disease, all his secret infirmities show themselves, in whatever part of his frame the disorder is lodged: so in states and monarchies, while they carry on a war abroad, many defects escape the general eye; but, as soon as war reaches their own territory, their infirmities come forth to general observation.
‘Fortune has great influence in all human affairs; but I, for my part, should prefer the fortune of Athens, with the least degree of vigour in asserting your cause, to this man’s fortune. For we have many better reasons to depend upon the favour of Heaven than this man. But, indeed, he who will not exert his own strength, hath no title to depend either on his friends, or on the gods. Is it at all surprising that he, who is himself ever amidst the labours and dangers of the field; who is every where; whom no opportunity escapes; to whom no season is unfavourable; should be superior to you, who are wholly engaged in contriving delays, and framing decrees, and inquiring after news. The contrary would be much more surprising, if we, who have never hitherto acted as became a state engaged in war, should conquer one who acts, in every instance, with indefatigable vigilance. It is this, Athenians! it is this which gives him all his advantage against you. Philip, constantly surrounded by his troops, and perpetually engaged in projecting his designs, can, in a moment, strike the blow where he pleases. But we, when any accident alarms us, first appoint our Trierarchs; then we allow them the exchange by substitution; then the supplies are considered; next, we resolve to man our fleet with strangers and foreigners; then find it necessary to supply their place ourselves. In the midst of these delays, what we are failing to defend, the enemy is already master of; for the time of action is spent by us in preparing; and the issues of war will not wait for our slow and irresolute measures. ‘Consider, then, your present situation, and make such provision as the urgent danger requires. Talk not of your ten thousands, or your twenty thousand foreigners; of those armies which appear so magnificent on paper only; great and terrible in your decrees, in execution weak and contemptible. But let your army be made up chiefly of the native forces of the state; let it be an Athenian strength to which you are to trust; and whomsoever you appoint as general, let them be entirely under his guidance and authority. Forever since our armies have been formed of foreigners alone, their victories have been gained over our allies and confederates only, while our enemies have risen to an extravagant power.’
The orator goes on to point out the number of forces which should be raised; the places of their destination; the season of the year in which they should set out; and then proposes, in form, his motion, as we would call it, or his decree, for the necessary supply of money, and for ascertaining the funds from which it should be raised. Having finished all that relates to the business under deliberation, he concludes these orations on public affairs, commonly with no longer peroration than the following, which terminates the first Philippic; ‘I, for my part, have never, upon any occasion, chosen to court your favour by speaking any thing but what I was convinced would serve you. And on this occasion, you have heard my sentiments freely declared, without art, and without reserve. I should have been pleased, indeed, that, as it is for your advantage to have your true interest laid before you, so I might have been assured, that he who layeth it before you would share the advantage. But uncertain as I know the consequence to be with respect to myself, I yet determined to speak, because I was convinced that these measures, if pursued, must prove beneficial to the public. And, of all those opinions which shall be offered to your acceptance, may the gods determine that to be chosen which will best advance the general welfare!’
These extracts may serve to give some imperfect idea of the manner of Demosthenes. For a juster and more complete one, recourse must be had to the excellent original.
After the preliminary views which have been given of the nature cf eloquence in general, and of the state in which it has subsisted in different ages