Delphi Complete Works of Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics Book 79)

by Dionysius of Halicarnassus

  F. Greek and Latin compared with Modern Languages, in regard to Word-Order

  Something has already been said, incidentally, about certain differences in word-order between the ancient and the modern European languages. In such a comparison Greek and Latin may be placed upon the same footing, as their points of contact are vastly more numerous than their points of divergence, considerable though these are.

  The points of contact become manifest when an attempt is made to translate into Latin, and into English, the sentence from Herodotus which Dionysius quotes, and twice recasts, in his fourth chapter: —

  (1) Κροῖσος ἦν Λυδὸς μὲν γένος, παῖς δ’ Ἀλυάττου, τύραννος δ’ ἐθνῶν τῶν ἐντὸς Ἅλυος ποταμοῦ· ὃς ῥέων ἀπὸ μεσημβρίας μεταξὺ Σύρων τε καὶ Παφλαγόνων ἐξίησι πρὸς βορέαν ἄνεμον εἰς τὸν Εὔξεινον καλούμενον πόντον.

  Herodotus i. 6.

  Croesus genere quidem fuit Lydus, patre autem Alyatte; earum vero nationum tyrannus, quae intra Halym amnem sunt: qui, a meridie Syros ac Paphlagones interfluens, contra ventum Aquilonem in mare, quid vocant Euxinum, evolvitur.

  (2) Κροῖσος ἦν υἱὸς μὲν Ἀλυάττου, γένος δὲ Λυδός, τύραννος δὲ τῶν ἐντὸς Ἅλυος ποταμοῦ ἐθνῶν· ὃς ἀπὸ μεσημβρίας ῥέων μεταξὺ Σύρων καὶ Παφλαγόνων εἰς τὸν Εὔξεινον καλούμενον πόντον ἐκδίδωσι πρὸς βορέαν ἄνεμον.

  Croesus erat filius quidem Alyattis, genere autem Lydus, tyrannusque earum, quae intra sunt Halym amnem nationes; qui, a meridie interfluens Syros ac Paphlagones, in mare, quod vocant Euxinum, evolvitur contra ventum Aquilonem.

  (3) Ἀλυάττου μὲν υἱὸς ἦν Κροῖσος, γένος δὲ Λυδός, τῶν δ’ ἐντὸς Ἅλυος ποταμοῦ τύραννος ἐθνῶν· ὃς ἀπὸ μεσημβρίας ῥέων Σύρων τε καὶ Παφλαγόνων μεταξὺ πρὸς βορέαν ἐξίησιν ἄνεμον ἐς τὸν καλούμενον πόντον Εὔξεινον.

  Alyattis quidem filius erat Croesus, genere autem Lydus, earum, quae intra sunt Halym amnem, tyrannus nationum; qui, a meridie fluens Syros inter ac Paphlagones, contra Boream erumpit ventum in mare, quod vocant Euxinum.

  In these sentences the Latin follows the Greek order closely, and might be made to follow it still more faithfully were it not that it seems better to diverge occasionally for special reasons: e.g. it is desirable, in rendering the original passage of Herodotus, to secure (as far as possible) a good rhythm. In English, on the other hand, the choice lies between a wide deviation and a rendering which is ambiguous and possibly grotesque. In fact (to recur once more to the main point) the freedom with which the order of words can be varied in a Greek or Latin sentence is without parallel in any modern analytical language, and the attendant gain in variety, rhythm, and nicety of emphasis is incalculable.

  Still, the modern languages have great powers, in this as in other ways: powers which will be incidentally illustrated later. M. Jules Lemaître has written, with reference to Ernest Renan: “Je trahis peut-être sa pensée en la traduisant; tant pis! Pourquoi a-t-il des finesses qui ne tiennent qu’à l’arrangement des mots?” These finesses are perhaps, as is here implied, hardly communicable, even though an earlier French writer has commended Malherbe as an author who

  D’un mot mis en sa place enseigna le pouvoir.

  It may well be that these matters, if not altogether the “mysteries” which Dionysius terms them, are eternally elusive because they depend upon the infinite variety of the human mind. Yet some studies in English literary theory, such as might be suggested by Dionysius’ treatise, could not fail to be of interest, and might be instructive also. Something of the kind has been already done, without reference to Dionysius or other Greek critics, by Robert Louis Stevenson in his essay on Some Technical Elements of Style in Literature. Each language has, in truth, a rhetoric of its own. But the various languages, ancient and modern, can help one another in the way of comparison and contrast.

  These methods of comparison and contrast have — as regards word-order — been excellently applied to the ancient and the modern languages by Henri Weil and T. D. Goodell. Weil’s chief service is to have pointed out so clearly the principle that the order of syntax must be separated in thought from the order of ideas, and was by both Greeks and Romans freely so separated in practice, whereas in the modern languages (owing to the lack of inflexions) this practical separation is less frequent. Goodell, starting from the postulate that the order of words in a language represents the order in which the speaker or writer chooses, for various reasons, to bring his ideas before the mind of another, discusses (with constant reference to modern languages) the order of words in Greek, from the standpoint of syntax, rhetoric, and euphony. In the course of a carefully reasoned exposition, he corrects and supplements many of Weil’s observations.

  The full title of Weil’s book is De l’ordre des mots dans les langues anciennes comparées aux langues modernes: question de grammaire générale (3rd edition, Paris, 1879). There is an English translation by C. W. Super (Boston, 1887), with notes and additions. Goodell’s paper on “The Order of Words in Greek” is printed in the Transactions of the American Philological Association vol. xxi. Other writings on the subject are: Charles Short’s “Essay on the Order of Words in Attic Greek Prose,” — prefixed to Drisler’s edition of C. D. Yonge’s English-Greek Lexicon, — which is an extensive collection of examples, but is weak in scientific classification and in clear enunciation of principles; H. L. Ebeling’s “Some Statistics on the Order of Words in Greek,” contributed to Studies in Honour of Basil Lanneau Gildersleeve, and including some valuable investigations into the order in which subject, object, and verb usually come in Greek; inquiries into the practice of individual authors, e.g. Spratt on the “Order of Words in Thucydides” (Spratt’s edition of Thucydides, Book VI.), and Riddell on the “Arrangement of Words and Clauses in Plato” (Riddell’s edition of Plato’s Apology), or various dissertations such as Th. Harmsen de verborum collocatione apud Aeschylum, Sophoclem, Euripidem capita selecta, Ph. Both de Antiphontis et Thucydidis genere dicendi, J. J. Braun de collocatione verborum apud Thucydidem observationes, F. Darpe de verborum apud Thucydidem collocatione; and in Latin such elaborate studies as Hilberg’s Die Gesetze der Wortstellung im Pentameter des Ovid. An interesting book which compares Cicero’s Latin translations (prose and verse) with their Greek originals is V. Clavel’s de M. T. Cicerone Graecorum Interprete. In Harvard Studies in Classical Philology vol. vii. p-233, J. W. H. Walden discusses Weil’s statement that “an emphatic word, if followed by a word which, though syntactically necessary to the sentence, is in itself unemphatic, receives an access of emphasis from the lingering of the attention which results from the juxtaposition of the two.” Reference may also be made to A. Bergaigne’s “Essai sur la construction grammaticale considérée dans son développement historique, en Sanskrit, en Grec, en Latin, dans les langues romanes et dans les langues germaniques,” in the Mémoires de la Société de Linguistique de Paris vol. vii. The subject is, further, glanced at in the Greek Grammars of Kühner and others. But in modern times, as in those of Dionysius, it has on the whole failed to receive the attention which its importance would seem to demand.

  G. Prose and Poetry: Rhythm and Metre

  Readers of the de Compositione cannot fail to notice that, catholic as he is in his literary tastes, Dionysius reserves his highest admiration for two authors, — Homer in poetry and Demosthenes in prose; and that he seems to regard them as equally valid authorities for the immediate purpose which he has in view. Homer is quoted throughout the treatise, on the first page and on the last; and Demosthenes inspires (in c. 25) its most eloquent passage. That outburst is a triumphant vindication of
Demosthenes’ methods as a sedulous artist. Dionysius sees that he is one of those men who spare no pains over the art they love — that Demosthenes, like Homer, φιλοτεχνεῖ (200 18; c 20).

  In seeming thus to draw no very clear line between verse and prose, Dionysius is at one with most of the Greek and Roman critics; and this attitude is readily intelligible in the light of the historical development of Greek literature, in which Homer (who was a master of oratory as well as of poetry) heralds the intellectual life of all Greece, while Demosthenes is the last great voice of free Athens. But the approximations of prose to poetry, and of poetry to prose, which Dionysius describes in his twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth chapters should not create the impression that, in his opinion, the prose-writer was free to borrow any and every weapon from the armoury of the poet. Of one poetical artifice he says, in c. 6, “this principle can be applied freely in poetry, but sparingly in prose”; and elsewhere he calls attention to qualities which he regards as over-poetical in the styles of Thucydides and Plato. Yet he did clearly wish that good prose should borrow as much as possible from poetry, while still remaining good prose. And although he agrees, in general, with Aristotle’s exposition of the formal differences between prose and poetry, he does not adhere quite firmly to the Aristotelian principles.

  In the Rhetoric, Aristotle insists that the styles of poetry and prose are distinct. The difference is this: “prose should have rhythm but not metre, or it will be poetry. The rhythm, however, should not be of too marked a character: it should not pass beyond a certain point.” In the same way, Dionysius (C.V. c. 25) declares that prose must not be manifestly metrical or rhythmical, lest it should desert its own specific character. It should simply appear to be the one and the other, so that it may be poetical although not a poem, and lyrical although not a lyric. But, in practice, Dionysius is found to cast longing eyes upon the formal advantages which poetry possesses, and to wish to infuse into public speeches a definite metrical element, which seems alien to the genius of prose, and which would have failed to gain the sanction of Aristotle, though this appears to be claimed for it. It is not here a question of the ordinary methods of imparting force and variety to word-arrangement. In regard to these, Dionysius’ precepts are, in general, sound and helpful enough; and if, now and then, the process is extolled in what may seem extravagant terms, we have only to think of the vast difference which slight variations of word-order will make even in our modern analytical languages. For example:

  Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight.

  Marlowe Doctor Faustus.

  Killed with report that old man eloquent.

  Milton Sonnets.

  Schön war ich auch, und das war mein Verderben.

  Goethe Faust.

  The effect of these lines would be sadly marred if we were to read “the branch is cut,” “that eloquent old man,” and “ich war auch schön.” In Greek prose, no less than in Greek poetry, inversions like those just quoted would be quite legitimate. This at least we can affirm, though it would be rash to attempt to lay down any general rules with regard to the differences between Greek order in verse and in prose. It is better to follow Dionysius’ example and to cull illustrations from both alike impartially, with only two qualifications. First, the Greek word-arrangement is even freer in verse than in prose, though the clause-arrangement and the sentence-arrangement of Greek poetry show (as Dionysius implies in c. 26) a general tendency to coincide with the metrical arrangement. Second, an absolutely metrical arrangement is foreign to the best traditions of Greek prose. It is the second point that is of importance here; and notwithstanding the almost furtive character which he attributes to the metrical lines detected by him in the Aristocrates, it is obvious that Dionysius has in mind a very close and deliberate approximation to the canons of verse and is prepared to strain his material in order to attain it. Here, again, some modern illustrations may be of interest. The writers of the Tudor period seem to have had a special fondness for, and an ear attuned to, what may be roughly regarded as hexameter measures. This predilection appears both in their rendering of the Bible and in the Book of Common Prayer: —

  How art thou | fallen from | Heaven, O | Lucifer, | son of the | morning.

  How art | thou cut | down to the | ground, which didst | weaken the | nations.

  Why do the | heathen | rage, and the | people im | agine a | vain thing?

  (He) poureth con | tempt upon | princes and | weakeneth the | strength of the | mighty.

  God is gone | up with a | shout, the | Lord with the | sound of a | trumpet.

  (The) kings of the | earth stood | up, and the | rulers took | counsel to | gether.

  Dearly be | loved | brethren, the | Scripture | moveth us |.

  The rhythms into which modern prose-writers drop are usually iambic or trochaic. This is so with Ruskin and Carlyle, and it would be easy to quote examples from their writings. But, as in ancient so in modern times, the best criticism looks with favour on rhythmical, with disfavour on metrical prose. Prose, it is held, loses its true character — as the minister primarily of reason rather than of emotion — if it is made to conform to the rigid laws of metre.

  If Dionysius fails to prove that metrical lines, thinly disguised, are a marked feature of the style of Demosthenes, no greater fortune has attended some attempts made in our own day to establish such exact rhythmical laws as that of the systematic avoidance, in Greek oratory, of a number of short syllables in close succession. It is clear that Demosthenes’ ear, with that kind of instinct which comes from musical aptitude and long training (cp. C.V. 266 13 ff., 268 12), shunned undignified accumulations of short syllables, but not with so pedantic a persistency that he could not on occasion use forms like πεφενάκικεν or διατετέλεκεν or προσαγαγόμενον. If he formulated to himself a principle, instead of trusting to inspiration controlled by long experience, this principle would be that which Cicero attributes to a critic who was almost contemporary with Demosthenes: “namque ego illud adsentior Theophrasto, qui putat orationem, quae quidem sit polita atque facta quodam modo, non astricte, sed remissius numerosam esse oportere” (Cic. de Orat. iii. 48. 184). The necessary limits to be observed in these curious inquiries are well indicated by Quintilian, who utters some sensible warnings against any attempts continually to scent metre in prose or to ban some feet while admitting others: “neque enim loqui possumus nisi syllabis brevibus ac longis, ex quibus pedes fiunt ... miror autem in hac opinione doctissimos homines fuisse, ut alios pedes ita eligerent aliosque damnarent, quasi ullus esset, quem non sit necesse in oratione deprehendi” (Quintil. Inst. Or. ix. 4. 61 and 87).

  On the subject of prose and poetry, Coleridge’s Biographia Literaria (ed. Shawcross, Clarendon Press, 1907) is likely long to hold its unique position. Theodore Watts-Dunton’s article on “Poetry” in the Encyclopaedia Britannica contains an appreciative estimate of the good service done to criticism by Dionysius in the de Compositione. The article by Louis Havet on La Prose métrique (in La Grande Encyclopédie, xxvii. 804-806) deals with what we should call “rhythmical prose,” the French terminology differing here from our own. Some account of enjambement (with ancient and modern illustrations) will be found in the Notes, p ff. The recent writings on Greek rhythm and metre are almost endless. Some of them will be suggested by the names of: Rossbach, Westphal, Weil, Schmidt, Christ, Gleditsch, Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Goodell, Masqueray, Blass.

  With regard to the relation between metre and rhythm, there is not a little suggestiveness in the saying of the historical Longinus: μέτρου δὲ πατὴρ ῥυθμὸς καὶ θεός (Proleg. in Heph. Ench.; Westphal Script. Metr. Graeci i. 82). There is also, in our day, an increasing recognition of the intimate alliance between Greek poetry and Greek music; it is more and more seen that lyric stanzas are formed out of figures and phrases, rather than from mere mechanical feet. Nor is it to be forgotten that poetic rhythm may probably be traced back to the regular movements of th
e limbs in dancing. The views of Blass on ancient prose rhythm are given in his Die attische Beredsamkeit, Die Rhythmen der attischen Kunstprosa (Isokrates, Demosthenes, Platon), and Die Rhythmen der asianischen und römischen Kunstprosa (Paulus, Hebräerbrief, Pausanias, Cicero, Seneca, Curtius, Apuleius); and some of them are summarized in an article which he contributed, shortly before his death, to Hermathena (“On Attic Prose Rhythm” Hermathena No. xxxii., 1906). Probably his tendency was to seek after too much uniformity in such matters as the avoidance of hiatus and of successive short syllables, or as the symmetrical correspondences between clauses within the period. The best Attic orators were here guided, more or less consciously, by two principles to which Dionysius constantly refers: (1) μεταβολή, or the love of variety; (2) τὸ πρέπον, or the sense of propriety. This sense of propriety rejected all such obvious and systematic art as should cause a speech to seem, in Aristotle’s words, πεπλασμένος and ἀπίθανος (Rhet. iii. 2. 4; 8. 1). Still, Demosthenes’ greatest speeches were no doubt carefully revised before they were given to the world; and so the blade may have been cold-polished, after leaving the forge of the imagination. It is to be noticed that, in the matter of hiatus, for example, some of the best manuscripts of Demosthenes do seem to observe a strict parsimony; and this careful avoidance of open vowels may be due ultimately rather to Demosthenes himself than to an early scholar-editor. Whatever the final judgment on Blass’s work may be, he will have done good service by directing attention anew to a point so hard for the modern ear to appreciate as the great part played in artistic Greek prose by the subtle use of time, — of long and short syllables arranged in a kind of general equipoise rather than in any regular and definite succession. How singularly important that part was reckoned to be, such passages of Dionysius as the following help to indicate: οὐ γὰρ δὴ φαῦλόν τι πρᾶγμα ῥυθμὸς ἐν λόγοις οὐδὲ προσθήκης τινὸς μοῖραν ἔχον οὐκ ἀναγκαίας, ἀλλ’ εἰ δεῖ τἀληθές, ὡς ἐμὴ δόξα, εἰπεῖν, ἁπάντων κυριώτατον τῶν γοητεύειν δυναμένων καὶ κηλεῖν τὰς ἀκοάς (de Demosth. c. 39).