The characteristic feature of the austere arrangement is this: — It requires that the words should be like columns firmly planted and placed in strong positions, so that each word should be seen on every side, and that the parts should be at appreciable distances from one another, being separated by perceptible intervals. It does not in the least shrink from using frequently harsh sound-clashings which jar on the ear; like blocks of building stone that are laid together unworked, blocks that are not square and smooth, but preserve their natural roughness and irregularity.
It is prone for the most part to expansion by means of great spacious words. It objects to being confined to short syllables, except under occasional stress of necessity.
In respect of the words, then, these are the aims which it strives to attain, and to these it adheres. In its clauses it pursues not only these objects but also impressive and stately rhythms, and tries to make its clauses not parallel in structure or sound, nor slaves to a rigid sequence, but noble, brilliant, free. It wishes them to suggest nature rather than art, and to stir emotion rather than to reflect character. And as to periods, it does not, as a rule, even attempt to compose them in such a way that the sense of each is complete in itself: if it ever drifts into this accidentally, it seeks to emphasize its own unstudied and simple character, neither using any supplementary words which in no way aid the sense, merely in order that the period may be fully rounded off, nor being anxious that the periods should move smoothly or showily, nor nicely calculating them so as to be just sufficient (if you please) for the speaker’s breath, nor taking pains about any other such trifles. Further, the arrangement in question is marked by flexibility in its use of the cases, variety in the employment of figures, few connectives; it lacks articles, it often disregards natural sequence; it is anything rather than florid, it is aristocratic, plain-spoken, unvarnished; an old-world mellowness constitutes its beauty.
This mode of composition was once zealously practised by many authors in poetry, history, and civil oratory; pre-eminently in epic poetry by Antimachus of Colophon and Empedocles the natural philosopher, in lyric poetry by Pindar, in tragedy by Aeschylus, in history by Thucydides, and in civil oratory by Antiphon. At this point the subject would naturally call for the presentation of numerous examples of each author cited, and possibly the discourse would have been rendered not unattractive if bedecked with many such flowers of spring. But then the treatise would probably be felt to be excessively long — more like a course of lectures than a manual. On the other hand, it would not be fitting to leave the statements unsubstantiated, as though they were obvious and not in need of proof. The right thing, no doubt, is after all to take a sort of middle course, neither to exceed all measure, nor yet to fall short of carrying conviction. I will endeavour to do so by selecting a few samples from the most distinguished authors. Among poets it will be enough to cite Pindar, among prose-writers Thucydides; for these are the best writers in the austere style of composition. Let Pindar come first, and from him I take a dithyramb which begins —
Shed o’er our choir, Olympian Dominations,
The glory of your grace,
O ye who hallow with your visitations
The curious-carven place,
The heart of Athens, steaming with oblations,
Wide-thronged with many a face.
Come, take your due of garlands violet-woven,
Of songs that burst forth when the buds are cloven.
Look on me — linked with music’s heaven-born glamour
Again have I drawn nigh
The Ivy-wreathed, on earth named Lord of Clamour,
Of the soul-thrilling cry.
We hymn the Babe that of the Maid Kadmeian
Sprang to the Sire throned in the empyrean.
By surest tokens is he manifested: —
What time the bridal bowers
Of Earth and Sun are by their crimson-vested
Warders flung wide, the Hours.
Then Spring, led on by flowers nectar-breathing,
O’er Earth the deathless flings
Violet and rose their love-locks interwreathing:
The voice of song outrings
An echo to the flutes; the dance his story
Echoes, and circlet-crowned Semele’s glory.
That these lines are vigorous, weighty and dignified, and possess much austerity; that, though rugged, they are not unpleasantly so, and though harsh to the ear, are but so in due measure; that they are slow in their time-movement, and present broad effects of harmony; and that they exhibit not the showy and decorative prettiness of our day, but the austere beauty of a distant past: this will, I am sure, be attested by all readers whose literary sense has been tolerably developed. I will attempt to show by what method such results have been achieved, since it is not by spontaneous accident, but by some kind of artistic design, that this passage has acquired its characteristic form.
The first clause consists of four words — a verb, a connective, and two appellatives. Now the mingling and the amalgamation of the verb and the connective have produced a rhythm which is not without its charm; but the combination of the connective with the appellative has resulted in a junction of considerable roughness. For the words ἐν χορόν are jarring and uneuphonious, since the connective ends with the semivowel ν, while the appellative begins with one of the mutes, χ. These letters by their very nature cannot be blended and compacted, since it is unnatural for the combination νχ to form part of a single syllable; and so, when ν and χ are the boundaries of adjacent syllables, the voice cannot be continuous, but there must necessarily be a pause separating the letters if each of them is uttered with its proper sound. So, then, the first clause is roughened thus by the arrangement of its words. (You must understand me to mean by “clauses” not those into which Aristophanes or any of the other metrists has arranged the odes, but those into which Nature insists on dividing the discourse and into which the disciples of the rhetoricians divide their periods.)
The next clause to this — ἐπί τε κλυτὰν πέμπετε χάριν θεοί — is separated from the former by a considerable interval and includes within itself many dissonant collocations. It begins with one of the vowels, ε, in close proximity to which is another vowel, ι — the letter which came at the end of the preceding clause. These letters, again, do not coalesce with one another, nor can ι stand before ε in the same syllable. There is a certain silence between the two letters, which thrusts apart the two elements and gives each a firm position. In the detailed arrangement of the clause the postposition of the appellative part of speech κλυτάν to the connectives ἐπί τε with which the phrase opens (though perhaps the first of these connectives should rather be called a preposition) has made the composition dissonant and harsh. For what reason? Because the first syllable of κλυτάν is ostensibly short, but actually longer than the ordinary short, since it is composed of a mute, a semi-vowel, and a vowel. It is the want of unalloyed brevity in it, combined with the difficulty of pronunciation involved in the combination of the letters, that causes retardation and interruption in the harmony. At all events, if you were to remove the κ from the syllable and to make it ἐπί τε λυτάν, there would be an end to both the slowness and the roughness of the arrangement. Further: the verbal form πέμπετε, subjoined to the appellative κλυτάν, does not produce a harmonious or well-tempered sound. The ν must be firmly planted and the π be heard only when the lips have been quite pressed together, for the π cannot be tacked on to the ν. The reason of this is the configuration of the mouth, which does not produce the two letters either at the same spot or in the same way. ν is sounded on the arch of the palate, with the tongue rising towards the edge of the teeth and with the breath passing in separate currents through the nostrils; π with the lips closed, the tongue doing none of the work, and the breath forming a concentrated noise when the lips are opened, as I have said before. While the mouth is taking one after another shapes that are neither akin nor alike, some time is consumed, during which the smoothness and euphony of the arrangement is interrupted. Moreover, the first syllable of πέμπετε has not a soft sound either, but is rather rough to the ear, as it begins with a mute and ends with a semi-vowel. θεοί coming next to χάριν pulls the sound up short and makes an appreciable interval between the words, the one ending with the semi-vowel ν, the other beginning with the mute θ. And it is unnatural for a semi-vowel to stand before any mute.
Next follows this third clause, πολύβατον οἵ τ’ ἄστεος ὀμφαλὸν θυόεντα ἐν ταῖς ἱεραῖς Ἀθάναις οἰχνεῖτε. Here θυόεντα which begins with θ, being placed next to ὀμφαλὸν which ends in ν, produces a dissonance similar to that previously mentioned; and ἐν ταῖς ἱεραῖς which opens with the vowel ε, being linked to θυόεντα which ends with the vowel α, interrupts the voice by the considerable interval of time there is between them. Following these come the words πανδαίδαλόν τ’ εὐκλέ’ ἀγοράν. Here, too, the combination is rough and dissonant. For the mute τ is joined to the semi-vowel ν; and the interval between the appellative πανδαίδαλον and the elided syllable which follows it is quite an appreciable gap; for both syllables are long, but the syllable which unites the two letters ε and υ, consisting as it does of a mute and two vowels, is considerably longer than the average. At any rate, if the τ in the syllable be removed and πανδαίδαλον εὐκλέ’ ἀγοράν be read, the syllable, falling into the normal measure, will make the composition more euphonious.
The words ἰοδέτων λάχετε στεφάνων are open to the same criticism as those already mentioned. For here two semi-vowels, ν and λ, come together, although they do not naturally admit of amalgamation owing to the fact that they are not pronounced ‹at the same regions nor› with the same configurations of the mouth. The words that follow these have their syllables lengthened and are widely divided from one another in arrangement: στεφάνων τᾶν τ’ ἐαριδρόπων. For here also there is a concurrence of long syllables which exceed the normal measure, — the final syllable of the word στεφάνων which embraces between two semi-vowels a vowel naturally long, and the syllable linked with it, which is lengthened by means of three letters, a mute, a vowel pronounced long, and a semi-vowel. Separation is produced by the lengths of the syllables, and dissonance by the juxtaposition of the letters, since the sound of τ does not accord with that of ν, as I have said before. Next to ἀοιδᾶν, which ends in ν, comes Διόθεν τε, which begins with the mute δ, and next to σὺν ἀγλαΐᾳ, which ends in ι, comes ἴδετε πορευθέντ’ ἀοιδᾶν, which begins with ι. Many such features may be found on a critical examination of the whole ode.
But in order to leave myself time for dealing with what remains, no more of Pindar. From Thucydides let us take this passage of the Introduction: —
“Thucydides, an Athenian, composed this history of the war which the Peloponnesians and the Athenians waged against one another. He began as soon as the war broke out, in the expectation that it would be great and memorable above all previous wars. This he inferred from the fact that both parties were entering upon it at the height of their military power, and from noticing that the rest of the Greek races were ranging themselves on this side or on that, or were intending to do so before long. No commotion ever troubled the Greeks so greatly: it affected also a considerable section of the barbarians, and one may even say the greater part of mankind. Events previous to this, and events still more remote, could not be clearly ascertained owing to lapse of time. But from such evidence as I find I can trust however far back I go, I conclude that they were not of great importance either from a military or from any other point of view. It is clear that the country now called Hellas was not securely settled in ancient times, but that there were migrations in former days, various peoples without hesitation leaving their own land when hard pressed by superior numbers of successive invaders. Commerce did not exist, nor did men mix freely with one another on land or by sea. Each tribe aimed at getting a bare living out of the lands it occupied. They had no reserve of capital, nor did they plant the ground with fruit-trees, since it was uncertain, especially as they had no fortifications, when some invader would come and rob them of their property. They also thought that they could command the bare necessities of daily life anywhere; and so, for all these reasons, they made no difficulty about giving up their land.”
There is no need for me to say, when all educated people know it as well as I, that this passage is not smooth or nicely finished in its verbal arrangement, and is not euphonious and soft, and does not glide imperceptibly through the ear, but shows many features that are discordant and rough and harsh; that it does not make the slightest approach to attaining the grace appropriate to an oration delivered at a public festival or to a speech on the stage, but is marked by a sort of antique and self-willed beauty. Indeed, the historian himself admits that his narrative is but little calculated to give pleasure when heard: “it has been composed as a possession for all time rather than as an essay to be recited at some particular competition.” I will briefly point out to you the principles by following which the author has made the arrangement so rugged and austere. Small things will readily serve you as samples of great: you can easily go on noting resemblances and making comparisons for yourself.
At the very beginning the verb ξυνέγραψε, being appended to the appellative Ἀθηναῖος, makes an appreciable break in the verbal structure, since σ is never placed before ξ with a view to being pronounced in the same syllable with it. The sound of σ must be sharply arrested by an interval of silence before the ξ is heard; and this circumstance causes roughness and dissonance. Moreover, the interruptions of the voice in what follows, in consequence of the four successive juxtapositions νπ, ντ, νπ, νκ, grate violently upon the ear, and cause a remarkable succession of jolts when he says τὸν πόλεμον τῶν Πελοποννησίων καὶ Ἀθηναίων. Of these words there is not one that must not first be checked by the mouth with a stress on the last letter, in order that the next letter to it may be uttered clearly and purely with its own proper quality. Furthermore, the juxtaposition of vowels which is found at the end of this clause in the words καὶ Ἀθηναίων has broken and made a gap in the continuity of the arrangement, by demanding quite an appreciable interval, since the sounds of ι and α are unmingled and there is an interruption of the voice between them: whereas euphony is caused by sounds which are continuous and smoothly blended.
Again, in the second period the first clause ἀρξάμενος εὐθὺς καθισταμένου has been pretty successfully arranged by the author in the way in which it would produce the most smooth and euphonious effect. But he roughens and dislocates the very next clause by sundering its joints: καὶ ἐλπίσας μέγαν τε ἔσεσθαι καὶ ἀξιολογώτατον τῶν προγεγενημένων. For thrice in close succession vowels are juxtaposed which cause clashings and obstructed utterance, and make it impossible for the ear to take in the impression of one continuous clause; and the period which he ends with the words τῶν προγεγενημένων has no well-defined and rounded close, but seems to be without beginning or conclusion, as if it were part of the second period and not its termination.
The third period has the same characteristics. There is a lack of roundness and stability in its foundation, since it has for its concluding portion τὸ δὲ καὶ διανοούμενον. Further, it too contains many clashings of vowel against vowel and of semi-vowels against semi-vowels and mutes — discords produced by things in their very nature inharmonious. To sum up, here are some twelve periods adduced by me — if the breathing-space be taken as the criterion for the division of period from period; and they contain no fewer than thirty clauses. Yet of these not six or seven clauses in all will be found to be euphoniously composed and finished in their structure; while of hiatus between vowels in the twelve periods there are almost thirty instances, together with meetings of semi-vowels and mutes which are dissonant, harsh, and hard to pronounce. It is to this that the stoppages and the many retardations in the passage are due; and so numerous are these concurrences that there is one of the kind in almost every single section of it. There is a great lack of symmetry in the clauses, great unevenness in the periods, much innovation in the figures, disregard of sequence, and all the other marks which I have already noted as characteristic of the unadorned and austere style. I do not consider it necessary to waste our time by going over the whole ground once more with the illustrative passages.