went to hear a famed Redemptorist father who was preaching a "retreat" in a great French cathedral. It was at a solemn pontifical high mass. All the conditions to affect the senses and lead up to crusadic enthusiasm were there: the stage-settings were perfect; a vast concourse of nearly ten thousand people, a choir of six hundred male voices, magnificent instrumental music, the altar a blaze of light, the celebrant and attending priests in bejeweled vestments of cloth-of-gold, two hundred boys in crimson cassocks and fine laces, the sweet-smelling incense, the impressive ceremonial, the tremulous intonation of that age-abiding confession of faith, Credo in unum Deum, by the very old, feeble, but patriarchal-looking archbishop, the soul-stirring choral outburst of the Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus,- all properly forced one up to the fitting climax of that sermon. The preacher ascended the pulpit, escorted by six pompous beadles in gorgeous livery. He was in strange contrast to all this splendor, severe of mien and in garb. But what eloquence! True, his hearers were French: some wept, others beat their breasts, a few of the really fashionable dames most gracefully fainted. Had he insisted upon our going forth to strange lands and wars I verily believe I would have started.

Yet

a week after I could not recall a sentence that man had uttered. The impression he made was momentary, superficial, merely sensual; verily a Peter the Hermit.

For years and years I have watched and almost fasted and prayed to get a glimpse of someone who would give me even a faint idea of what we are told was the eloquence of Demosthenes. I have listened in vain to famed pulpit-orators, to statesmen, and to advocates of renown; I have as vainly haunted the halls as well as the courts and the churches of many lands. Young men often have given promise of great things, but a few years of contact with their fellows has swollen them with conceit or otherwise marred the promised quality of their oratory. Among young or old we do not know, nor have we heard of, or read in history about, any one orator who has approached his high attainments in politics, in the forum, or before the bar, or who is even moderately well qualified to wear the mantle of the great Athenian.

At this remote time, and knowing that distance lends enchantment, and that seldom do tales lose anything in the telling,

there is always the danger of forming an exaggerated opinion of men and events of twenty centuries ago. We realize that our neighbor, who is a most ordinary fellow to-day, may do something, quite accidentally and without the slightest thought for posterity, that will have him canonized, apotheosized, or otherwise set upon a pinnacle, a hundred years hence, as one of the most thoughtful and far-seeing benefactors of the human race. But not so with Demosthenes. As we know him to-day and esteem him, so was he known and esteemed at all times back to his own day. Contemporaneous evidence abounds as to the esteem in which his fellows held him; and, while we have progressed in many sciences, who is there to-day who is, in matters of Art or in the qualities Demosthenes is to be judged upon, a peer of those same old Athenians?

Had they enthused over him in all things, turned his vices into virtues and sworn by them, as it has been and is common enough to do with popular idols, we might accept their evidence with a pinch of salt; but that they appraised him at his true value and sought not to conceal his faults nor even his weaknesses, is amply proven in the epitaph (where men are usually only extolled) they inscribed upon the bronze statue they cast in his memory:

"Divine in speech, in judgment, too, divine,

Had valor's wreath, Demosthenes, been thine.
Fair Greece had still her freedom's ensign borne,
And held the scourge of Macedon in scorn."

Plutarch tells us that Demosthenes took gold from the Persians to stir up strife and keep the Macedonians' attention diverted from them. We would call it bribery, yet, measured by the standard of the times, I doubt if even Phocion's was a nobler character, and we may still call our orator the "uncorruptible Greek." Plutarch further tells us that the great orator was "vindictive by nature and implacable in his resentments," but he is just enough to take Theopompus to task for saying that Demosthenes had no steadiness of purpose, and he then goes on to prove that the latter abode by the faction or party he first cast his lot with, even to the giving of his life rather than forsake that early alliance.

We have evidence in the praise of the man's own arch-enemy, an orator of no mean ability himself. Cicero tells us that, Eschines having opposed Ctesiphon, who

proposed to the Athenians that they reward Demosthenes, for his public services, with a crown of gold, and the matter coming to trial, Eschines delivered his famous address belaboring Demosthenes through Ctesiphon, and picking the former's character and services to pieces. This was the occasion upon which Demosthenes replied in his immortal "Oration on the Crown" that drove Eschines, beaten and humbled, into exile. The people of Rhodes, where he abode, besought Æschines to read them his memorable address. He did, and the next day read them Demosthenes' oration with as much fire and vim as he had previously put into his own. The people applauded both,-"but," said he to them, "how much more would you have admired it if you had heard Demosthenes deliver it himself!»

Cicero, in his own estimation of Demosthenes, says that he "is the man who approaches the character of a complete orator so nearly that you may apply it to him without hesitation."

In seeking to place credit where credit is due, however, for the training, the tutelage of so great a genius,- and while "self-made" to a degree we know he must have sat at the knees of Plato or of Isocrates, or was indebted to some other master of his time for precept and example, one is confronted with the difficulties thrown in the way by that troublesome characteristic so dominant in the writings of Greek historians,—and, alas! not so very uncommon in the writings of to-day either, the placing of men and events where they best suit the author's taste or his idea of where they ought to have been. In other words Herodotus may have been the "Father of Lies," but his sons and successors in the field of History have patterned after the old gentleman's example pretty closely, to our great loss.

If

Greek historians have ever sought, too, to systematize or group their great men; it is so easy to fit in so-and-so as such another's son, or connect them by marriage, or, at the very least, to make one the other's pupil. It gave sequence, was ingenious, and helped out the drama. they could not bring in their desired actor gracefully and naturally through the wings, they would bob him up through a trap or drop him from the "gridiron." As at one of our modern "benefits," they wanted all the stars upon the stage at

once.

Demosthenes was a star par excellence. Then, say the sages, «< we must have him spring from Isocrates or from Plato; from whose hands else could he come ?»

In his very last work Isocrates bemoans the success of Demosthenes. Is it natural that he would have been jealous of a pupil ? Would he not rather have proudly claimed his success as of his, the master's, making?

Onetor, a known disciple of Isocrates, was a sworn enemy of Demosthenes. Isocrates often mentions the former as his pupil, but not once does he speak of the latter in such connection. The latter's first pleading was against another pupil of Isocrates, Androtion. Most of the pupils of that master were rich and ambitious, and, from Demosthenes' very first appearance they were arrayed as a powerful coterie against him. This was most rarely the spirit found in the pupils of the same school or master. There was usually a most clannish, close fellowship that kept them together, "a solid mass against all other schools and individuals;" and had so notable an exception existed we would certainly find frequent mention of it.

No; according to Perrot and the best of modern authorities Demosthenes was not a pupil of Isocrates: he may have listened to, and we know he read, that master's principal orations, but he was in no sense his disciple.

And so with Plato,- the claims that make him a master of Demosthenes rest upon no sounder foundation. Hermippus was the first to advance that assertion. Cicero bases his theory of that discipleship upon certain letters of Demosthenes that later authorities agree were not authentic, mere stage-letters! It has even been claimed that he drew his masterly' addresses from Aristotle's "Rhetoric, "— a theory that Dennys quickly disproved by showing that that work was not written until our orator had achieved his greatest

successes.

As Perrot says, it is most natural to suppose that a wide-awake young man, as Demosthenes must have been, was benefited and influenced somewhat by his great and senior contemporaries, but no case has ever been made out awarding him, as a pupil, to either.

The eloquence of Demosthenes, severe, aggressive, full of action, a debate sui generis, with all the pros and cons well weighed, a challenge to his opponents, was the very opposite of that of Isocrates,

the man of luxury, who took his time about it and assumed that his every statement was a proof positive per se; who, so far from debating, would have been horrified had anyone the temerity to hint that any of his statements were even debatable.

That Demosthenes had read Plato and was somewhat influenced by his writings is conceded. Plato did not affect the corrupt so-called poetical-prose of the decadents of his time, yet his writings were elegant, dainty in composition, full of metaphor, brilliant imagery, and poetic thought, while on the contrary there is no more severe, rugged prose in all Greek literature than that of Demosthenes, who never resorted to the slightest poetical or merely rhetorical flourish.

But there was a vein of similarity in their lofty aspirations; their philosophy was unlike absolutely unlike—that of their contemporaries, and in that was Demosthenes perhaps influenced by his elder,— an influence, or at least a coincidence, that led Panætius and Quintilianus into the supposition that Demosthenes must have been a Platonian disciple. Said they:

"Does not that famous oath, where Demosthenes took to witness those who had died at Marathon and at Salamina, prove clearly enough that Plato was his master?"

Demosthenes cared only for the moral value of the acts he counseled, as the just Plato's only desire was to be virtuous, caring not for the punishments or the rewards men meted out to him.

We know what natural difficulties Demosthenes had to surmount in acquiring his mastery over spoken thought, his studious qualities, his efforts and partial success in the prosecution of those who had defrauded him out of his patrimony. His pleadings against Aphobus and against Onetor brought him, early in life, to the attention of the Athenians: he was but twenty-five when he gave his great discourse against Spudias and Callicles. But such advancement was not solely selfimpelled, and it does not abate one jot or tittle from his glory that he received help, tangible and practical, in those early struggles. Who of our brilliant young lawyers, diplomats (if we have any), or statesmen has not had kindly advice and help-perhaps financial assistance-from some older member of his craft?

And so was it with our orator. It has been most clearly proven that he was not absolutely self-made, but was a pupil of Isæus claims to that honor for others notwithstanding.

Isæus helped him in his first debates and trials, collaborated with him, and was proud of his success. Already an old man, and seeking to free himself from the cares of public life, he first entrusted one case to his young pupil and then another; helped him to build up a clientèle from his own practice; and then, absolutely carried away with his enthusiastic admiration of his disciple's brilliancy, he actually went forth, and, to use a slangy but most expressive term, "drummed up trade" for him.

When Demosthenes secured a foothold, and later actually dominated in the affairs of his country, who sang his praises louder and more persistently than did his old master? Compare the latter's attitude to that of Isocrates, and, without the wisdom of Solomon or resorting to his drastic tests, it will be easy to discover to whom belongs the pupil.

Nor was Demosthenes ungrateful when he had gotten fame and some fortune. We find records of "the sum of 10,000 drachmas (almost $2,000 of our money) he paid unto Isæus as a price for his early lessons and care," a sum that "sufficed unto the latter a goodly income for the remainder of his days."

Some of the old writers refuse to acknowledge his pupilage under Isæus because, forsooth, he was a greater man than the master. A strange argument for men of our times to repeat. It would require a large volume indeed to record the names of all who, in the Arts, Letters, or Sciences, have absorbed all their masters could teach and then forged ahead far and beyond those masters' attainments. And yet, were not those masters instrumental in bringing out the very best qualities, sometimes most latent, of those pupils? Aye, and we have records of their actually forcing those disciples to their high estate. Should they not then enjoy some of the reflected glory of the genius they have fostered?

Demosthenes early learned to surmount obstacles, and to meet conditions and men face to face. His most active years were not entirely passed in preparing his pleadings and his writings. He sought by every means in his power to acquire a complete

and general education. But his efforts were directed. To Isæus is due the credit for the pupil's breadth of view, his clear insight into what was in and behind men's intentions. Under Isæus's guidance he attended the tribunals and the assemblies; together they were frequent spectators at the games and at the plays. Isæus picked out the writings of the great philosophers of Athens, her poets, and chiefly her historians, that would most benefit his young mind.

And in his more mature writings Demosthenes shows the enormous benefits of this guidance among men and places most uncongenial to him, and that, left to himself, he would not have frequented. As a result he "exhibits such an abundance of facts and of thoughts, such a variety of knowledge, such exalted views, a certain manner of mastering, of absolutely dominating his subject, as to prove his possession of a culture as wide and remarkable as it is profound."

In this breadth and information he, our authorities tell us, "much surpassed Lysias and even Isæus;" but does not that very fact redound to the greater glory of the master, who, recognizing the possibilities of the pupil, unselfishly bent his every effort to the greater development of the genius that he, we believe, fully realized would pass his master in the race for fame?

Whatever may have been Isæus's faults he was profound philosopher enough to discern what was right and noble, and broad enough to attempt to guide his chosen disciple in the path that he in his own youth may not have followed without wandering into its byways and crossroads.

Athens then was a city of pleasure, "as renowned for her cooks as for her writers and her artists," the gastronomical as well as the intellectual capital of the world. It was at Athens that was "found the finest fish, as also the most savory and learned sauces to garnish the same;" it was sometimes in Corinth, but "generally in Athens, that were to be found the most celebrated courtesans." The Greeks loved money, and, between their lust for it and for power and pleasure, short shrift was given to virtue and honor. It was not an ennobling atmosphere for a youth to grow in.

The Greek youth, thus early tasting

this voluptuous and ignoble mode of life, found it difficult, to say the least, ever to abandon those early habits.

"They accustomed themselves to satisfying their every caprice, all their passions; . . if they grew up as lawyers, and had by birth or acquirement any standing before the people or before the jury, they made traffic of their influence in favor of him who paid them the most. . . . The profession at all times has had its profits [?] but never to the extent that obtained during the time of Philip, who had at his disposal, to grease the traitors, all the gold of Pangæus. What temptations for a Philocrates, for a Demades, and for an Eschines, who were ever sufferers from an emptied purse!"

That Demosthenes withstood these general temptations and the special ones that, as he grew greater, were entwined about him, impoverished as he was by the hand of those who had sworn to his dying father to protect the boy; that he walked along a different path from that trodden by the overwhelming majority of his contemporaries, who, to fatten their own pockets, "neglected every civic duty, and, when forced to war by Philip, hired mercenaries to take their places in the ranks of their country's defenders;" that he was noble and public-spirited-regardless of Droysen's, Grote's, or Duruy's contentions as to the results of that publicspiritedness, were due to the fact that in the first years of his youth he by nature and force of circumstances was preserved from the dissipations of the times. must also attribute part—yes, and the greater part, too-of that preservative influence to the tender solicitude, the fatherly care, given him by his master Isæus,- a care that bore fruit in afteryears in that not only did Demosthenes remain uncorruptible and lead a dignified and useful—a great-life, but that he was preserved so long from even the breath of "those vague and calumnious imputations under which he finally succumbed in that unfortunate affair of Harpalus." Would that that had never happened! The world's history might then have preserved to us at least one statesman's record unclouded by the weakest accusation or even by the slightest suspicion of corruption.

WASHINGTON, D.C.

We

F. W. FITZPATRICK.