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Thucydides, and that excellent writer has doubtless faithfully reported the general line of his arguments. But the manner, which in oratory is of at least as much consequence as the matter, was of no importance to his narration. It is evident that he has not attempted to preserve it. Throughout his work, every speech on every subject, whatever may have been the character or the dialect of the speaker, is in exactly the same form. The grave king of Sparta, the furious demagogue of Athens, the general encouraging his army, the captive supplicating for his life, all are represented as speakers in one unvaried style, a style moreover wholly unfit for oratorical purposes. His mode of reasoning is singularly elliptical,-in reality most consecutive,-yet in pearance often incoherent. His meaning, in itself sufficiently perplexing, is compressed into the fewest possible words. His great fondness for antithetical expression has not a little conduced to this effect. Every one must have observed how much more the sense is condensed in the verses of Pope and his imitators, who never ventured to continue the same clause from couplet to couplet, than in those of poets who allow themselves that license. Every artificial division, which is strongly marked, and which frequently recurs, has the same tendency. The natural and spicuous expression which spontaneously rises to the mind, will often refuse to accommodate itself to such a form. It is necessary either to expand it into weakness, or to compress it into almost impenetrable density. The latter is generally the choice of an able man, and was assuredly the choice of Thucydides.

per

It is scarcely necessary to say that such speeches could never have been delivered. They are perhaps among the most difficult passages in the Greek language, and would probably have been scarcely more intelligible to an Athenian auditor than to a modern reader. Their obscurity was acknowledged by Cicero, who was as intimate with the literature and language of Greece as the most accomplished of its natives, and who seems to have held a respectable rank among the Greek authors. Their difficulty to a modern reader lies, not in the words, but in the reasoning. A dictionary is of far less use in studying them, than a clear head and a close attention to the context. They are valuable to the scholar as displaying, beyond almost any other compositions, the powers of the finest of languages:-they are valuable to the philosopher, as illustrating the morals and manners of a most interesting age:-they abound in just thought and energetic expression. But they do not enable us to form any accurate opinion on the merits of the early Greek orators.

Though it cannot be doubted, that, before the Persian wars, Athens had produced eminent speakers, yet the period during which eloquence most flourished among her citizens was by no

means that of her greatest power and glory. It commenced at the close of the Peloponnesian war. In fact, the steps by which Athenian oratory approached to its finished excellence, seem to have been almost contemporaneous with those by which the Athenian character and the Athenian empire sunk to degradation. At the time when the little commonwealth achieved those victories which twenty-five eventful centuries have left unequalled, eloquence was in its infancy. The deliverers of Greece became its plunderers and oppressors. Unmeasured exaction, atrocious vengeance, the madness of the multitude, the tyranny of the great, filled the Cyclades with tears, and blood, and mourning. The sword unpeopled whole islands in a day. The plough passed over the ruins of famous cities. The imperial republic sent forth her children by thousands to pine in the quarries of Syracuse, or to feed the vultures of Ægospotami. She was at length reduced by famine and slaughter to humble herself before her enemies, and to purchase existence by the sacrifice of her empire and her laws. During these disastrous and gloomy years, oratory was advancing towards its highest excellence. And it was when the moral, the political, and the military character of the people was most utterly degraded; it was when the Viceroy of a Macedonian Sovereign gave law to Greece, that the courts of Athens witnessed the most splendid contest of eloquence that the world has ever known.

The causes of this phænomenon it is not, I think, difficult to assign. The division of labour operates on the productions of the orator as it does on those of the mechanic. It was remarked by the ancients, that the Pentathlete, who divided his attention between several exercises, though he could not vie with a boxer in the use of the cestus, or with one who had confined his atten tion to running in the contest of the stadium, yet enjoyed far greater general vigour and health than either. It is the same with the mind. The superiority in technical skill is often more than compensated by the inferiority in general intelligence. And this is peculiarly the case in politics. States have always been best governed by men who have taken a wide view of public affairs, and who have rather a general acquaintance with many sciences than a perfect mastery of one. The union of the political and military departments in Greece contributed not a little to the splendour of its early history. After their separation more skilful generals and greater speakers appeared;-but the breed of statesmen dwindled and became almost extinct. Themistocles or Pericles would have been no match for Demosthenes in the assembly, or for Iphicrates in the field. But surely they were. incomparably better fitted than either for the supreme direction of affairs.

There is indeed a remarkable coincidence between the progress of the art of war, and that of the art of oratory, among the Greeks. They both advanced to perfection by contemporaneous steps, and from similar causes. The early speakers, like the early warriors of Greece, were merely a militia. It was found, that in both employments, practice and discipline gave superiority *. Each pursuit therefore became first an art, and then a trade. In proportion as the professors of each became more expert in their particular craft, they became less respectable in their general character. Their skill had been obtained at too great expense to be employed only from disinterested views. Thus, the soldiers forgot that they were citizens, and the orators that they were statesmen. I know not to what Demosthenes and his famous. contemporaries can be so justly compared as to those mercenary troops, who, in their time, overran Greece; or those, who, from similar causes, were some centuries ago the Scourge of the Italian republics, perfectly acquainted with every part of their profession, irresistible in the field, powerful to defend or to destroy, but defending without love, and destroying without hatred. We may despise the characters of these political Condottieri, but it is impossible to examine the system of their tactics without being amazed at its perfection.

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I had intended to proceed to this examination, and to consider separately the remains of Lysias, of Eschines, of Demosthenes, and of Isocrates, who, though strictly speaking, he was rather a pamphleteer than an orator, deserves, on many accounts, a place in such a disquisition. The length of my prolegomena and digressions compels me to postpone this part of the subject to

*It has often occurred to me, that to the circumstances mentioned in the text, is to be referred one of the most remarkable events in Grecian history, I mean the silent but rapid downfal of the Lacedæmonian power. Soon after the termination of the Peloponnesian war, the strength of Lacedæmon began to decline. Its military discipline, its social institutions were the same. Agesilaus, during whose reign the change took place, was the ablest of its kings. Yet the Spartan armies were frequently defeated in pitched battles,— an occurrence considered impossible in the earlier ages of Greece. They are allowed to have fought most bravely, yet they were no longer attended by the success to which they had formerly been accustomed. No solution of these circumstances is offered, as far as I know, by any ancient author. The real cause, I conceive, was this. The Lacedæmonians, alone among the Greeks, formed a permanent standing army. While the citizens of other commonwealths were engaged in agriculture and trade, they had no employment whatever but the study of military discipline. Hence, during the Persian and Peloponnesian wars, they had that advantage over their neighbours which regular troops always possess over militia. This advantage they lost, when other states began, at a latter period, to employ mercenary forces, who were probably as superior to them in the art of war as they had hitherto been to their antagonists.

another occasion.

A Magazine is certainly a delightful invention for a very idle or a very busy man. He is not compelled to complete his plan or to adhere to his subject. He may ramble as far as he is inclined, and stop as soon as he is tired. No one takes the trouble to recollect his contradictory opinions or his unredeemed pledges. He may be as superficial, as inconsistent, and as careless as he chooses. Magazines resemble those little angels, who, according to the pretty Rabbinical tradition, are generated every morning by the brook which rolls over the flowers of Paradise,-whose life is a song,--who warble till sunset, and then sink back without regret into nothingness. Such spirits have nothing to do with the detecting spear of Ithuriel or the victorious sword of Michael. It is enough for them to please and be forgotten. T. M.

HYMN TO THE PARTHENON.

The first beams of the red uprising sun
Are on thee, glorious Temple. Mute beneath,
Altars, tombs, statues, palaces, and fanes
Sleep in the grey shroud of the chilly dawn.
Hast thou a voice to answer to that light ;-
A secret voice, a mystic harmony-

Uttering the praise that hills and mountains peal

When the day smites them?-Dancest thou with joy,
Like the broad ocean, when the level sun
Spreads a far line of lustre on his breast?
Or singest thou, sweetly as forest flower
Unfolding its pure heart to the soft ray,
To drink in life and joy. Beautiful temple,
Why art thou dumb as the deep-hiding grave?

Seat of Minerva, dwelling obscure of Wisdom!
If by that name and symbol be reveal'd
The mighty influence, the enduring light,
The formless beauty, and the viewless strength,
That roll the worlds in their eternal orbs,

peace

in the low wind,

Or breathe a song of
O! midst thy incense and thy erring rites,

Hast thou not seen a shadowy beam of truth
Hovering around thy dim and clouded shrines,
Like some pale star that lights the pilgrim's way?
Awake, mute dwelling of that shapeless beam!
Awake, best image of all beauteous forms!
Before the step of man pollute thy gates,

Lift up thine own clear voice of righteous praise!

Why rear thy columns their proportion'd forms
Of simple splendour, deep magnificence,
Graceful solidity, o'erpowering height?

More warm than life, why glows thy sculptured frieze
With mimic fire ?-why stand thy steadfast groups,
Heroes or Gods, with an awe-shedding look

Of keen reality, though grand abstractions
Of shapes more glorious than the earth has seen,
Condensing all of beauty and of truth?
Is it to please the vainly-curious eye
Of dull beholders, or to lend a pomp

Of scenic grandeur to the solemn cheats

Of priests and auguries? Who stamp'd those forms
Upon the plastic mind? who shew'd the image.
Of all thy unwrought loveliness and pride?
Who breath'd the great idea till it grew

Like a creation? Answer to earth and heaven,
That He who view'd the world before time was,
And number'd every star; and He who saw,
As in a mirror, this fair-liveried globe,

Its seas and mountains, vales, torrents, and streams,
Yea, that conceived all being, say that He

Clothed thee with beauty. Stand, proud temple, stand!

Stand the great sign that Nature works in Art,
And God in each; stand till the ocean-breeze
Scatter thy dust around the desert hill.

E'en then thy crumbling marbles shall bequeath
To other climes, trophies of conquering mind,
Pregnant with life.

VOL. III. PART 1.

K