The World's Greatest Orator
During the days of the decline of Athens, the centre of thought to
Greece, there roamed about the streets of that city a delicate, sickly
lad, so feeble in frame that, at his mother's wish, he kept away from
the gymnasium, lest the severe exercises there required should do him
more harm than good. His delicate clothing and effeminate habits were
derided by his playmates, who nicknamed him Batalus, after, we are told,
a
spindle-shanked flute-player. We do not know, however, just what
Batalus means.
As the boy was not fit for vigorous exercise, and never likely to make a
hardy soldier or sailor, it became a question for what he was best
fitted. If the body could not be exercised, the mind might be. At that
time Athens had its famous schools of philosophy and rhetoric, and the
art of oratory was diligently cultivated. It is interesting to know that
outside of Athens Greece produced no orators, if we except Epaminondas
of Thebes. The Boeotians, who dwelt north of Attica, were looked upon
as dull-brained and thick-witted. The Spartans prided themselves on
their few words and hard blows.
The Athenians, on the contrary, were enthusiastically fond of oratory,
and ardently cultivated fluency of speech. It was by this art that
Themistocles kept the fleet together for the great battle of Salamis. It
was by this art that Pericles so long held control of Athens. The
sophists, the philosophers, the leaders of the assembly, were all adepts
in the art of convincing by eloquence and argument, and oratory
progressed until, in the later days of Grecian freedom, Athens possessed
a group of public speakers who have never been surpassed, if equalled,
in the history of the world.
It was the orators who particularly attracted the weakly lad, whose mind
was as active as his body was feeble. He studied grammar and rhetoric,
as did the sons of wealthy Athenians in general. And while still a mere
boy he begged his tutors to take him to hear Callistratus, an able
public speaker, who was to deliver an oration on some weighty political
subject. The speech, delivered with all the eloquence of manner and
logic of thought which marked the leading orators of that day, deeply
impressed the susceptible mind of the eager lad, who went away doubtless
determining in his own mind that he would one day, too, move the world
with eloquent and convincing speech.
As he grew older there arose a special reason why he should become able
to speak for himself. His father, who was also named Demosthenes, had
been a rich man. He was a manufacturer of swords or knives, in which he
employed thirty-two slaves; and also had a couch or bed factory,
employing twenty more. His mother was the daughter of a rich
corn-dealer of the Bosphorus.
The father died when his son was seven years old, leaving his estate in
the care of three guardians. These were rich men, and relatives and
friends, whom he thought he could safely trust; the more so as he left
them legacies in his will. Yet they proved rogues, and when Demosthenes
became sixteen years of age--which made him a man under the civil law of
Athens--he found that the guardians had made way with nearly the whole
of his estate. Of fourteen talents bequeathed him there were less than
two left. The boy complained and remonstrated in vain. The guardians
declared that the will was lost; their accounts were plainly fraudulent;
they evidently proposed to rob their ward of his patrimony.
This may seem to us to have been a great misfortune. It was, on the
contrary, the greatest good fortune. It forced Demosthenes to become an
orator. Though he never recovered his estate, he gained a fame that was
of infinitely greater value. The law of Athens required that every
plaintiff should plead his own cause, either in person or by a deputy
speaking his words. Demosthenes felt that he must bring suit or consent
to be robbed. That art of oratory, towards which he had so strong an
inclination, now became doubly important. He must learn how to plead
eloquently before the courts, or remain the poor victim of a party of
rogues. This determined the young student of rhetoric. He would make
himself an orator.
He at once began an energetic course of study. There were then two
famous teachers of oratory in Athens, Isocrates and Isaeus. The school of
Isocrates was famous, and his prices very high. The young man, with whom
money was scarce, offered him a fifth of his price for a fifth of his
course, but Isocrates replied that his art, like a good fish, must be
sold entire. He then turned to Isaeus, who was the greatest legal pleader
of the period, and studied under him until he felt competent to plead
his own case before the courts.
Demosthenes soon found that he had mistaken his powers. His argument was
formal and long-winded. His uncouth style roused the ridicule of his
hearers. His voice was weak, his breath short, his manner disconnected,
his utterance confused. His pronunciation was stammering and
ineffective, and in the end he withdrew from the court, hopeless and
disheartened.
Fortunately, his feeble effort had been heard by a friend who was a
distinguished actor, and was able to tell Demosthenes what he lacked.
"You must study the art of graceful gesture and clear and distinct
utterance," he said. In illustration, he asked the would-be orator to
speak some passages from the poets Sophocles and Euripides, and then
recited them himself, to show how they should be spoken. He succeeded in
this way in arousing the boy to new and greater efforts. Nature,
Demosthenes felt, had not meant him for an orator. But art can sometimes
overcome nature. Energy, perseverance, determination, were necessary.
These he had. He went earnestly to work; and the story of how he worked
and what he achieved should be a lesson for all future students of art
or science.
There were two things to do. He must both write well and speak well.
Delivery is only half the art. Something worth delivering is equally
necessary. He read the works of Thucydides, the great historian, so
carefully that he was able to write them all out from memory after an
accident had destroyed the manuscript. Some say he wrote them out eight
separate times. He attended the teachings of Plato, the celebrated
philosopher. The repulse of Isocrates did not keep the ardent student
from his classes. His naturally capable mind became filled with all that
Greece had to give in the line of logical and rhetorical thought. He not
only read but wrote. He prepared orations for delivery in the law courts
for the use of others, and in this way eked out his small income.
In these ways he cultivated his mind. That was the lightest task. He had
a great mind to begin with. But he had a weak and incapable body. If he
would succeed that must be cultivated too. There was his lisping and
stammering voice, his short breath, his low tones, his ungraceful
gesture,--all to be overcome. How he did it is a remarkable example of
what may be done in self-education.
To overcome his stammering utterance he accustomed himself to speak with
pebbles in his mouth. His lack of vocal strength he overcame by running
with open mouth, thus expanding his lungs. To cure his shortness of
breath he practised the uttering of long sentences while walking
rapidly up-hill. That he might be able to make himself heard above the
noise of the assembly, he would stand in stormy weather on the sea-shore
at Phalerum, and declaim against the roar of the waves. For two or three
months together he practised writing and speaking, day and night, in an
underground chamber; and that he might not be tempted to go abroad and
neglect his studies he shaved the hair from one side of his head. Dread
of ridicule kept him in till his hair had grown again. To gain a
graceful action, he would practise for hours before a tall mirror,
watching all his movements, and constantly seeking to improve them.
Several years passed away in this hard and persistent labor. He tried
public speaking again and again, each time discouraged, but each time
improving,--and finally gained complete success. His voice became strong
and clear, his manner graceful, his delivery emphatic and decisive, the
language of his orations full of clear logic, strong statement, cutting
irony, and vigorous declamation, fluent, earnest, and convincing. In
brief, it may be said that he made himself the greatest orator of
Greece, which is equal to saying the greatest orator of the world.
It was not only in delivery that he was great. His speeches were as
convincing when read as when spoken. Fortunately, the great orators of
those days prepared their speeches very carefully before delivery, and
so it is that some of the best of the speeches of Demosthenes have come
down to us and can be read by ourselves. The voice of the whole world
pronounces these orations admirable, and they have been studied by every
great orator since that day.
Demosthenes had a great theme for his orations. He entered public life
at a critical period. The states of Greece had become miserably weak and
divided by their jealousies and intrigues. Philip of Macedon, the
craftiest and ablest leader of his time, was seeking to make Greece his
prey, and using gold, artifice, and violence alike to enable him to
succeed in this design. Against this man Demosthenes raised his voice,
thundering his unequalled denunciations before the assembly of Athens,
and doing his utmost to rouse the people to the defence of their
liberties. Philip had as his advocate an orator only second to
Demosthenes in power, AEschines by name, whom he had secretly bribed, and
who opposed his great rival by every means in his power. For years the
strife of oratory and diplomacy went on. Demosthenes, with remarkable
clearness of vision, saw the meaning of every movement of the cunning
Macedonian, and warned the Athenians in orations that should have moved
any liberty-loving people to instant and decisive action. But he talked
to a weak audience. Athens had lost its old energy and public virtue. It
could still listen with lapsed breath to the earnest appeals of the
orator, but had grown slow and vacillating in action. AEschines had a
strong party at his back, and Athens procrastinated until it was too
late and the liberties of ancient Greece fell, never to rise again, on
the fatal field of Chaeronea.
"If Philip is the friend of Greece we are doing wrong," Demosthenes had
cried. "If he is the enemy of Greece we are doing right. Which is he? I
hold him to be our enemy, because everything he has hitherto done has
benefited him and hurt us."
The fall of Greece before the sword of its foe taught the Athenians that
their orator was right. They at length learned to esteem Demosthenes at
his full worth, and Ctesiphon, a leading Athenian, proposed that he
should receive a golden crown from the state, and that his extraordinary
merit and patriotism should be proclaimed in the theatre at the great
festival of Dionysus.
AEschines declared that this was unconstitutional, and that he would
bring action against Ctesiphon for breaking the laws. For six years the
case remained untried, and then AEschines was forced to bring his suit.
He did so in a powerful speech, in which he made a bitter attack on the
whole public life of Demosthenes. When he ceased, Demosthenes rose, and
in a speech which is looked upon as the most splendid master-piece of
oratory ever produced, completely overwhelmed his life long opponent,
who left Athens in disgust. The golden crown, which Demosthenes had so
nobly won, was his, and was doubly deserved by the immortal oration to
which it gave birth, the grand burst of eloquence "For the Crown."
In 323 B.C. Alexander the Great died. Then like a trumpet rang out the
voice of Demosthenes, calling Greece to arms. Greece obeyed him and
rose. If she would be free, now or never was the time. The war known as
the Lamian war began. It ended disastrously in August, 322, and Greece
was again a Macedonian slave. Demosthenes and others of the patriots
were condemned to death as traitors. They fled for their lives.
Demosthenes sought the island of Calauri, where he took refuge in a
temple sacred to Poseidon, or Neptune. Thither his foes, led by Archias,
formerly a tragic actor, followed him.
Archias was not the man to hesitate about sacrilege. But the temple in
which Demosthenes had taken refuge was so ancient and venerable that
even he hesitated, and begged him to come out, saying that there was no
doubt that he would be pardoned.
Demosthenes sat in silence, his eyes fixed on the ground. At length, as
Archias continued his appeals, in his most persuasive accents, the
orator looked up and said,----
"Archias, you never moved me by your acting. You will not move me now by
your promises."
At this Archias lost his temper, and broke into threats.
"Now you speak like a real Macedonian oracle," said Demosthenes, calmly.
"Before you were acting. Wait a moment, then, till I write to my
friends."
With these words Demosthenes rose and walked back to the inner part of
the temple, though he was still visible from the front. Here he took out
a roll of paper and a quill pen, which he put in his mouth and bit, as
he was in the habit of doing when composing. Then he threw his head back
and drew his cloak over it.
The Thracian soldiers, who followed Archias, began to gibe at his
cowardice on seeing this movement. Archias went in, renewed his
persuasions, and begged him to rise, as there was no doubt that he would
be well treated. Demosthenes sat in silence until he felt in his veins
the working of the poison he had sucked from the pen. Then he drew the
cloak from his face and looked at Archias with steady eyes.
"Now," he said, "you can play the part of Creon in the tragedy as soon
as you like, and cast forth my body unburied. But I, O gracious
Poseidon, quit thy temple while I yet live. Antipater and his
Macedonians have done what they could to pollute it."
He walked towards the door, calling on those surrounding to support his
steps, which tottered with weakness. He had just passed the altar of the
god, when, with a groan, he fell, and died in the presence of his foes.
So died, when sixty-two years of age, the greatest orator, and one of
the greatest patriots and statesmen, of ancient times,--a man whose fame
as an orator is as great as that of Homer as a poet, while in foresight,
judgment, and political skill he had not his equal in the Greece of his
day. Had Athens possessed any of its old vitality he would certainly
have awakened it to a new career of glory. As it was, even one as great
as he was unable to give new life to that corpse of a nation which his
country had become.