Chapter IV: Introduction: I (1)

SUMMARY OF THE _DE COMPOSITIONE_

A GENERAL account of the life and literary activities of Dionysius will be found in the volume entitled _Dionysius of Halicarnassus: the Three Literary Letters_, where the _de Compositione Verborum_ is briefly described in connexion with the other critical essays of its author. Here a fuller summary of the treatise seems necessary before an attempt is made to estimate its value and to follow up some of the highly interesting questions which it raises.

The date of the _de Compositione_ is not known, but may be conjectured to lie between the years 20 and 10 B.C. The book is a birthday offering from Dionysius, as a teacher of rhetoric in Rome, to his pupil Rufus Metilius.

=c. 1.= This book is a birthday present which deals with the art of speech, and so will be found particularly useful to youths who look forward to a public career. Oratorical excellence depends on skill exercised in two directions—in the sphere of subject matter and in the sphere of expression (πραγματικὸς τόπος and λεκτικὸς τόπος). In the former sphere, maturity of judgment and experience is required: in the latter the young are more at home, but they need careful guidance at the start. The λεκτικὸς τόπος has two subdivisions, ἐκλογὴ ὀνομάτων and σύνθεσις ὀνομάτων. The _composition_ of words is to be treated now: the _choice_ of words is to be treated next year, if Heaven keeps the author “safe and sound.” The chief headings in the present treatise are to be the following:—

(1) The nature of composition, and its effect;

(2) Its aims, and how it attains them;

(3) Its varieties, with their characteristic features and the
author’s preferences among them;

(4) The poetical element in prose and the prose element in verse, and the means of cultivating both—of imparting the flavour of poetry to prose and the ease of prose to poetry.

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=c. 2.= “_Composition_ is, as the very name indicates, a certain mutual arrangement of the parts of speech, or elements of diction, as some prefer to call them.” The parts of speech recognized by Theodectes and Aristotle and their contemporaries were three in number, viz. nouns, verbs, and connectives. The number was raised, by the Stoics and others, to four through the separation of the article from the connectives. Later were added the adjective, the pronoun, the adverb, the preposition, the participle, and certain other subdivisions. These principal parts of speech form, when joined and set side by side, the _cola_ (‘members,’ ‘clauses’). The union of _cola_ completes the “periods,” and these make up the entire discourse. The functions of composition are to arrange the words fittingly, to assign the proper structure to the _cola_, and to divide the discourse carefully into periods.

In its effects, though not in order of time, the composition of words comes before the choice of words.

=c. 3.= Our thoughts are uttered either in verse or in prose. In both alike, composition can invest the lowliest words with charm and distinction. By way of foretaste, two passages (one of poetry, the other of prose) may be quoted in illustration. The first is from the opening of the 16th _Odyssey_, where the lines allure not by elaborate language or lofty theme, but by the sheer beauty with which the words are grouped. The prose example is furnished by that passage of Herodotus (i. 8-10) which describes the unworthy behaviour of Candaules towards his wife. Here, too, the charm resides not in the incident nor in the words which describe it, but in the deft arrangement of the language.

=c. 4.= The powerful effect of composition will be still further realized if some choice passages of verse and prose be taken and the order of the words disturbed. Homer and Herodotus once more provide examples. Certain lines in the twelfth and thirteenth books of the _Iliad_ are chosen, and transformed, with disastrous effects, from hexameters into two varieties of tetrameters. A short passage of Herodotus is turned about in a similar way, one of the two versions being in the style of Thucydides, the other in the odious manner of Hegesias. Composition may in fact be likened to the Homeric Athena, who with a touch of her magic wand could make the same Odysseus resemble either a beggar or a gallant prince. The neglect of composition has lamentable results in writers like Duris, Polybius, Chrysippus, and others. Failing to find the subject satisfactorily treated by previous authors, Dionysius has himself endeavoured to discover some natural principle to form a starting-point (φυσικὴ ἀφορμή). He has not succeeded, but he will describe his attempt.

=c. 5.= It had occurred to him that, in a natural order, verbs would

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follow nouns and precede adverbs, while things which happened first in time would come first in narration. But these (and other) rules were seen to be untrustworthy, when tested by the actual practice of the great authors.

=c. 6.= As far as words (or elements of discourse) are concerned, the art of composition operates in three ways—through (1) the choice of elements likely to combine effectively; (2) the discernment of the particular shapes or constructions (i.e. singular or plural number, nominative or oblique case, active or passive voice, etc.) to be given to each element in order that the structure may be improved; (3) the perception of the modification which these shapes need in view of the materials. Each of the processes can be illustrated from the arts of house-building and ship-building—of civil and marine architecture. This analogy is developed at some length.

=c. 7.= In the case of the _cola_, the processes are two. (1) The _cola_ must be rightly arranged. For instance, in a passage of Thucydides (iii. 57) the order in which they come makes all the difference. So, too, in Demosthenes _de Corona_ § 119.

=c. 8.= (2) The right “turn,” or “shaping,” must be given to the _cola_, so that they may faithfully reflect the various aims and moods of the speaker or writer. A good example will be found in Demosthenes _de Corona_ § 179.

=c. 9.= Under (2) it is to be noted that the _cola_ may be lengthened or shortened for the sake of literary effect. Examples are given from Demosthenes, Plato, Sophocles, and again Demosthenes.—The same remarks will apply to periods as to _cola_. Further, the art of composition must determine when it is fitting to employ periods and when not.

=c. 10.= Next come the aims and methods of good composition. The two chief aims are charm and beauty or nobility: the ear craves these in composition, just as the eye in a work of pictorial art. The two qualities are, however, not identical. Thucydides, for example, and Antiphon possess beauty but lack charm. Ctesias, on the other hand, and Xenophon are charming (pleasing, agreeable), but deficient in beauty. Herodotus combines the two excellences.

=c. 11.= The chief sources of charm and beauty (or nobility) are four: music, rhythm, variety, and propriety. Charm and beauty, themselves, have many subdivisions. The instinctive appreciation of music and rhythm on the part of a popular audience may be noticed during a performance in some house of entertainment. Variety, too, and propriety are indispensable. As to the music of speech, it is to be observed that there is a sort of oratorical cadence which differs from music proper in quantity only, not in quality. The speaking voice does not rise in pitch above three tones and a half: it confines itself to the interval of the Fifth. The singing voice, on the other hand, uses a greater number of intervals, not only the Fifth but

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(beginning with the Octave) the Fifth, the Fourth, the Tone, and the Semitone, and, as some think, still slighter intervals. Other points of difference are that, in singing, the words are subordinate to the air, and the length of the syllables is regulated by the musical time. So the speaking voice can show good melody without being “melodic,” and show good rhythms without being “rhythmic.” There is, in fact, music in speech, but not the whole of music.

=c. 12.= Various sounds affect the ear in various ways. The cause lies in the nature of the letters; and as their nature cannot be changed, there should be a judicious intermixture of pleasant with unpleasant sounds. Short words, too, must be mingled with long, and long with short. The same variety, too, must be practised in the use of figures, and in other ways. But even variety must not be carried to excess: uniformity is sometimes equally pleasant. Tact is needed, and to impart tact is no easy task. It is to be remembered that not even the commonest words need be shunned by good writers: they can all be dignified by means of composition, as is seen in Homer’s poems.

=c. 13.= Beauty of composition will be attained by the same means as charm of composition,—by melody, rhythm, variety, propriety. And the nature of the letters themselves will play an equal part in determining the character of the composition.

=c. 14.= The twenty-four letters of the Greek alphabet are now examined from the phonetic point of view. The object is to trace to some of its ultimate elements the secret of the variety and music found in beautiful language. The nature and the qualities of the letters must be understood by the writer who would know how to vary his style in an ever-changing and musical way. The letters (γράμματα), or elements (στοιχεῖα), may be divided into vowels (φωνήεντα, φωναί) and consonants (ψόφοι), and the consonants into semivowels (ἡμίφωνα) and mutes (ἄφωνα). The vowels can be pronounced by themselves; the semivowels sound best when combined with vowels; the mutes cannot be uttered at all except in combination. There are seven vowels: two short, ε and ο; two long, η and ω; and three common,—α, ι, and υ. The semivowels are eight in number: five single, viz. λ, μ, ν, ρ, ς, and three double, viz. ζ, ξ, ψ. The nine mutes may be classified as: ψιλά (_tenues_) κ, π, τ; δασέα (_aspiratae_) χ, φ, θ; and μέσα (_mediae_) γ, β, δ. Or they may be arranged according to the part chiefly concerned in their production: whether it is the _lip_,—π, φ, β; the _teeth_,—τ, θ, δ; or the _throat_,—κ, χ, γ. That is to say, Dionysius recognizes (though he does not use the technical adjectives) a division into _labials_, _dentals_, and _gutturals_. Among these various letters a regular hierarchy is established by him. Long vowels are held to be more euphonious than short vowels. The order of euphony for the vowels is, from the top downwards, as follows: ᾱ, η, ω, υ, ι, ο, ε; and (for the semivowels) first the double

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consonants, then λ, μ, ν, ρ, and lastly ς, which is condemned in strong terms. Among the mutes, the rough (the aspirates) are regarded as superior to the middle, and the middle to the smooth. The physiological processes by which the several letters are produced are described with some particularity in the light of the phonetics of the day.

=c. 15.= _Syllables_, as well as letters considered singly, contribute to variety of style. Of the syllables (or small groups of letters) there are many different kinds. The principal difference is that some are short and others long. But the difference does not end there, since some are shorter than the short and others longer than the long. The fact is that, from the metrical point of view, the vowels and final consonants alone count in determining the length of a syllable, whereas in actual delivery the initial consonants also have to be considered. For instance, a speaker will find that the initial syllable of στρόφος takes more time to utter than that of τρόπος; and so with τρόπος by the side of Ῥόδος, and with Ῥόδος by the side of ὁδός. In the same way, σπλήν is really longer than the vowel η standing by itself. And further: syllables differ not only in quantity but in sound, some being pleasant and others unpleasant, according to the nature of the letters which compose them. Great poets and prose-writers have an instinctive perception of these facts, and skilfully adapt their very syllables and letters to the emotions which they wish to portray; e.g. Homer in _Odyss._ ix. 415, 416, and in _Il._ xvii. 265, xxii. 220, 221, 476, xviii. 225.

=c. 16.= Poets and prose-writers frame, or borrow from their predecessors in earlier generations, such imitative forms (words whose sound suggests their sense) as ῥοχθεῖ, κλάγξας, βρέμεται, σμαραγεῖ, ῥοῖζος: all of which are found in Homer. Nature is here the great teacher; she prompts us to use, in their right connexion, words so expressive as μύκημα, χρεμετισμός, φριμαγμός, βρόμος, πάταγος, συριγμός, and the like. The first writer to broach the subject of etymology was Plato, particularly in his _Cratylus_.

With regard to the music of sounds, the general conclusion is that variety and beauty of style depend upon variety and beauty of words, syllables, and letters. To clinch the matter, Dionysius quotes (with appropriate comments) further illustrations from Homer—_Odyssey_ xvii. 36, 37, vi. 162, 163, etc. Theophrastus, in his work on _Style_, has distinguished two classes of words—those which are beautiful (or noble) and those which are mean and paltry. Our aim should be to intermingle the latter kind, when we are forced to employ them (as sometimes we are), with the better sort, as has been done by Homer (_Il._ ii. 494-501) in his enumeration of the Boeotian towns.

=c. 17.= Rhythm, also, is an important element in good composition. For our present purpose, a _rhythm_ and a _foot_ may be regarded as synonymous. Of disyllabic and trisyllabic feet the following descriptive list is given:—

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_A. Disyllabic Feet._

Name. |Quantities.| Qualities.
| |
1. ἡγεμών, πυρρίχιος. | ᴗ ᴗ | Wanting in seriousness and dignity.
| |
2. σπονδεῖος. | – – | Full of dignity.
| |
3. ἴαμβος. | ᴗ – | Not lacking in nobility.
| |
4. τροχαῖος. | – ᴗ | Less manly and noble than the iambus.

_B. Trisyllabic Feet_

Name. |Quantities.| Qualities.
| |
1. χορεῖος, τρίβραχυς. | ᴗ ᴗ ᴗ | Mean and unimpressive.
| |
2. μολοττός. | – – – | Dignified and far-striding.
| |
3. ἀμφίβραχυς. | ᴗ – ᴗ | Effeminate and unattractive.
| |
4. ἀνάπαιστος. | ᴗ ᴗ – | Stately.
| |
5. δάκτυλος. | – ᴗ ᴗ | Contributes greatly to beauty of style.
| |
6. κρητικός. | – ᴗ – | Not lacking in nobility.
| |
7. βακχεῖος. | – – ᴗ | Virile and grave.
| |
8. ὑποβακχεῖος. | ᴗ – – | Virile and grave.

Various lines are quoted from the poets in order to illustrate the effect of these several feet.

=c. 18.= As each word has a rhythmical value (great or small) which cannot be changed, all depends on the skill with which we arrange the words at our disposal so as to blend artistically the inferior with the better. To illustrate his meaning, Dionysius quotes, and gives a rhythmical analysis of, passages from Thucydides, Plato, and Demosthenes. The excerpt from Thucydides is a part of the Funeral Oration attributed to Pericles (ii. 35). The rhythms here used are shown to be dignified ones, such as spondees, anapaests, dactyls, etc. Thucydides, we are told, deservedly has a name for elevation and for choice language, since he habitually introduces noble rhythms. From Plato is taken a short passage of the _Menexenus_ (236 D); and this too is shown to owe its dignity and beauty to the beautiful and striking rhythms that compose it. If Plato had only been as clever in the choice of words as he is unrivalled in the art of combining them, he “had even outstript” Demosthenes, as far as beauty of style is concerned, or “had left the issue in doubt.” Demosthenes is the foremost of orators, and may be regarded as a model alike in his choice of words and in the beauty with which he arranges them. The opening of the _Crown_, with its careful avoidance of all ignoble rhythms, will prove his pre-eminence. Deficiency in this respect can be illustrated just as conspicuously

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by the writings of Hegesias, who would seem to have shunned good rhythms out of sheer wilfulness. A passage is quoted from Hegesias’ _History_—a passage which, if well written, would have moved to sympathetic tears rather than to derisive laughter. With it are contrasted some famous lines of the _Iliad_ (xxii. 395-411) which, we are told, owe their nobility largely to the beauty of their rhythms.

=c. 19.= The third element in good composition is variety (ἡ μεταβολή). In the use of rhythms to impart variety, prose enjoys much greater freedom than poetry. Epic poets must needs employ the hexameter line: the writers of lyric verse must make antistrophe correspond to strophe, however greatly they may strive for liberty in other respects. That prose style is best which exhibits the greatest variety in the way of periods, clauses, rhythms, figures, and the like; and its charm is all the greater if the art that fashions it lies hidden. In point of variety, Herodotus, Plato and Demosthenes hold the foremost place: Isocrates and his followers are distinguished rather by monotony of style.

=c. 20.= The fourth element is fitness or propriety (τὸ πρέπον). Propriety is described as the harmony which an author establishes between his style, and the actions and persons of which he treats. Common experience proves that ordinary people, in describing an event, will vary the order of their words (and the point here is the arrangement, not the choice of words) in accordance with the emotions which it excites in them. Similarly, artistic writers should follow their own aesthetic instincts in the matter. Homer has done so with surpassing effect. A fine instance is furnished by the lines (_Odyssey_ xi. 593-598) which depict the torment of Sisyphus—the slow upheaval of his rock, and its rapid rolling down the hill once it has reached the top.

=c. 21.= After these theoretical and technical discussions there arises the question: what are the different kinds of composition or arrangement,—what are the different _harmonies_? The answer given is that there are three: (1) the austere (αὐστηρά), (2) the smooth (γλαφυρά), (3) the harmoniously blended (εὔκρατος) or intermediate (κοινή).

=c. 22.= The characteristic features of austere composition are set forth in considerable detail: both generally and in reference to words, clauses, periods. Among its principal representatives are mentioned: Antimachus of Colophon and Empedocles in epic poetry, Pindar in lyric, Aeschylus in tragic; in history, Thucydides; in oratory, Antiphon. The beginning of a Pindaric dithyramb and the opening sentences of the introduction to Thucydides’ _History_ are minutely examined from this point of view. [Any attempt to summarize fully this chapter and those which follow is hardly possible owing to the nature of the subject matter. The chapters are important, and will repay a careful study.]

=c. 23.= Smooth composition is next characterized in a similar

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way. Its chief representatives may be taken to be: Hesiod, Sappho, Anacreon, Simonides, Euripides, Ephorus, Theopompus, Isocrates. In illustration are quoted (with sundry comments) Sappho’s _Hymn to Aphrodite_ and the introductory passage from Isocrates’ _Areopagiticus_.

=c. 24.= “The third, the mean of the two kinds already mentioned, which I call _harmoniously blended_ (or _intermediate_) for lack of a proper and better name, has no form peculiar to itself, but is a judicious blend of the other two and a selection from the most effective features of each.” This third is the best variety of composition because it is a kind of golden mean; and its highest representative is Homer, in whom we find a union of the severe and the polished forms of arrangement. On a lower plane are other votaries of the golden mean: among lyric poets Stesichorus and Alcaeus, among tragedians Sophocles, among historians Herodotus, among orators Demosthenes, and among philosophers Democritus, Plato and Aristotle. Illustrative examples are, in this case, unnecessary.

=c. 25.= These discussions lead up to a final question,—that of the relations between prose and poetry. And first: in what way can prose be made to resemble a beautiful poem or lyric? It is in metre, even more than in the choice of words, that poetry differs from prose. Consequently prose cannot become like metrical and lyrical writing, unless it contains, though not obtrusively, metres and rhythms within it. It must not be manifestly _in_ metre or _in_ rhythm (for in that case it will be a poem or a lyric and will desert its own specific character), but it is enough that it should simply appear rhythmical and metrical. It will thus be poetical, although not a poem; lyrical, although not a lyric. Passages are then taken from the opening of the _Aristocrates_ and the _Crown_ of Demosthenes and are subjected to a minute metrical analysis. The result of the scrutiny is (it is claimed) to show that many metrical lines are latent in good prose, the author having taken care to disguise slightly their metrical character. In an eloquent passage Dionysius then submits that the great end in view warranted all these anxious pains on the part of Demosthenes. Demosthenes was no mere peddler, but a consummate artist who had the judgment of posterity always before his mind. Isocrates, also, and Plato spent no less trouble on their writings, as witness the story about the opening passage of the _Republic_. It is, further, to be noticed that such careful processes, though deliberate at first, become in the end unconscious and almost instinctive, just as accomplished musicians do not think of every note they strike on their instrument, nor skilled readers of every single letter which meets their eyes in the book that lies open before them.

=c. 26.= Secondly (and lastly) comes a question which is the counterpart of that asked in c. 25: namely, in what way can a poem or lyric be made to resemble beautiful prose? The two principal means are: (1) so to arrange the clauses that they do not invariably

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begin and end together with the lines; (2) to vary the clauses and periods in length and form. These things are more difficult to do where the metre is uniform, as in heroic and iambic verse. In lyric poems the task is easier, since the variety of their metres brings them a point nearer to prose. At the same time, while avoiding monotony and while generally causing his verse to resemble beautiful prose, the poet must remember that the so-called “prosaic character” is a defect. We are, however, here thinking not of vulgar prose but of the highest civil oratory. In order to show that, in poetry, clauses can be of different sorts and sizes, and can also be so far independent of the metre as almost to give the effect of an unbroken prose-narrative, Dionysius draws some concluding illustrations from the 14th _Odyssey_, the _Telephus_ of Euripides, and the _Danaë_ of Simonides.

* * * * *

The following Tabular Analysis may help to make the general structure of the treatise still clearer:—

I. CHAPTERS 1-5. INTRODUCTORY. The nature of composition, and its effect.—Instances of the fatal neglect of composition.—The secret of composition not to be found in grammatical rules.

II. CHAPTERS 6-20. GENERAL THEORY AND TECHNIQUE OF COMPOSITION:—

1. cc. 6-9: (α) Three processes in the art of composition, c. 6.

(β) Grouping of clauses, c. 7.
(γ) Shaping of clauses, c. 8.
(δ) Lengthening and shortening of clauses and periods, c. 9.

2. cc. 10-20: Charm and beauty of composition, and the four means
of attaining these qualities:—

(α) Preliminary remarks, cc. 10-13.
(β) Four means: (1) μέλος, cc. 14-16.
(2) ῥυθμός, cc. 17, 18.
(3) μεταβολή, c. 19.
(4) τὸ πρέπον, c. 20.

III. CHAPTERS 21-24. THREE MODES OF COMPOSITION:—

(1) σύνθεσις αὐστηρά, c. 22.
(2) σύνθεσις γλαφυρά, c. 23.
(3) σύνθεσις εὔκρατος (or κοινή), c. 24.

IV. CHAPTERS 25, 26. RELATION OF PROSE TO POETRY, AND OF POETRY TO PROSE.

NOTE.—The existing division into chapters is not always a happy one. As a help to the reader, a few words of summary have been prefixed to each chapter of the English Translation.

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The Greek Epitome is about one-third the length of the original. It is of early but uncertain date (cp. Usener _de Dionysii Halicarnassensis Libris Manuscriptis_ p. viii, n. 7), and is preserved in the following codices: Darmstadiensis, Monacensis, Rehdigeranus, Vaticanus Urbinas. It has survived along with the original; and instead of superseding and extinguishing the unabridged work, as ancient epitomes seem often to have done, it contributes not a little to its elucidation. Had it been preserved at the expense of the original, we should have still possessed the Sappho, but should have lost the Simonides. Towards the end, the Epitome is executed with less care than at the beginning.

II

THE ORDER OF WORDS IN GREEK

The strong and the weak points of the _de Compositione Verborum_ will appear from the foregoing summary, and still more from the treatise itself and the notes appended to it. Dionysius’ book is unique: no other of its kind has come down to us from classical antiquity. Its immediate subject is the Order of Words in Greek. But its author is happily led to raise fundamental questions such as the relations between Prose and Poetry, together with incidental points of Greek Pronunciation and Accentuation; and generally to take so wide a range that no English title less comprehensive than _On Literary Composition_ seems to fit the contents of the work.[3] The discursive enthusiasm of the writer is obvious. Not less striking, however, is the sound literary taste which converts his quotations into a true anthology and preserves some priceless remains of Sappho and Simonides. It will be necessary to point out certain weaknesses of Dionysius from time to time. But his weaknesses are far more than counterbalanced by his great excellences. Some of his shortcomings are those of his age,—an age which was a stranger to the modern method of comparison as applied to literary investigation. Others, again, are more apparent than real. When, for example, certain omissions are observable in some directions along with ample expatiations in others, it is to be remembered (1) that Dionysius is dealing with the department

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of expression and not with that of subject matter, (2) that, in the department of expression, he is concerned with the composition (or arrangement) of words and not with their selection, and (3) that, in regard to composition, he is here interested primarily not in lucidity nor in emphasis, but in euphony. Hence we must not expect him to dwell on that great governing principle of literary composition,—logical connexion. To its importance, however, he is fully alive, as is clear from a passage in his essay on Isocrates: “The thought” [in Isocrates, who pays excessive heed to smoothness of style and a pleasant cadence] “is often the slave of rhythmical expression, and truth is sacrificed to elegance.... But the natural course is for the expression to follow the ideas, not the ideas the expression.”[4] And though, in the _de Compositione_, it is his business to discourse rather upon sound than upon sense, yet the orderly way in which the subject matter of the treatise is presented shows in itself that Dionysius was well aware that the chief essential for a book is a basis of clear thinking and broad logical arrangement, and that, as a consequence, its excellence is to be sought even more in its chapters and its paragraphs than in its flowing periods.[5] It may be well to touch, with a similar regard to sequence and with occasional references to modern parallels or contrasts, upon one or two aspects of his main theme which his own treatment of it suggests as suitable for further discussion and elucidation.

A. _Freedom and Elasticity_

In his fifth chapter Dionysius shows, with no difficulty and with much vivacity, that it is impossible to lay down universal rules governing the order of words in Greek. He admits that he had been inclined to entertain _a priori_ views on the question of the natural precedence of certain parts of speech and to hold that nouns should precede verbs, verbs adverbs, and so forth.[6]

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But he had proceeded, with that sound practical judgment which distinguishes him, to test his theories in the light of Homer’s usage. He had then found them wanting. “Trial invariably wrecked my views and revealed their utter worthlessness.” The examples of variety in word-order which he quotes from the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ are most interesting and instructive. But a modern reader, familiar with languages whose paucity of inflexions often offers freedom only at the price of ambiguity, has more cause than any ancient writer to wonder at the liberty which Greek enjoys in this respect. No doubt the long gap between πολὺν and χρόνον in the _Frogs_ has, and is intended to have, a comic effect. But there is no sort of ambiguity in the sentence, since the poet takes care to use no noun with which the adjective could agree until the right noun at length comes and relieves the listener of his suspense and growing curiosity,—

εἰ δ’ ἐγὼ ὀρθὸς ἰδεῖν βίον ἀνέρος ἢ τρόπον ὅστις ἔτ’ οἰμώξεται,
οὐ =πολὺν= οὐδ’ ὁ πίθηκος οὗτος ὁ νῦν ἐνοχλῶν,
Κλειγένης ὁ μικρός,
ὁ πονηρότατος βαλανεὺς ὁπόσοι κρατοῦσι κυκησιτέφρου
ψευδολίτρου κονίας
καὶ Κιμωλίας γῆς,
=χρόνον= ἐνδιατρίψει.

Aristophanes _Ranae_ 706-13.

Here as many as twenty-one words divide an adjective from its noun, though noun and adjective are usually placed close together.[7] But, even in serious poetry, the same thing is to be noticed, though on a less surprising scale. For example:

ἦν δ’ οὐδὲν αὐτοῖς οὔτε χείματος =τέκμαρ=
οὔτ’ ἀνθεμώδους ἦρος οὔτε καρπίμου
θέρους =βέβαιον=.

Aeschylus _Prometheus Vinctus_ 454-6.

Here the adjective follows the noun, but (as before) there is no ambiguity, though there is much added emphasis due to the apparent afterthought. Similarly:

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ἐν δὲ =νομὸν= ποίησε περικλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις
ἐν καλῇ βήσσῃ =μέγαν= οἰῶν ἀργεννάων.[8]

Homer _Iliad_ xviii. 587, 588.

And in prose the dependence of a genitive may be quite clear, though the distance between it and the words on which it depends be great: e.g.

=τῶν μὲν οὖν λόγων=, οὓς οὗτος ἄνω καὶ κάτω διακυκῶν ἔλεγε περὶ τῶν
παραγεγραμμένων νόμων, οὔτε μὰ τοὺς θεοὺς οἶμαι ὑμᾶς μανθάνειν
οὔτ’ αὐτὸς ἐδυνάμην συνεῖναι =τοὺς πολλούς=.

Demosthenes _de Corona_ § 111 (cp. § 57).

In prose, again, the extremely antithetic and artificial arrangement of words possible (without complete loss of clearness) in a highly inflected language may be illustrated from Thucydides:—

καὶ οὐ περὶ τῆς ἐλευθερίας ἄρα οὔτε οὗτοι τῶν Ἑλλήνων οὔθ’ οἱ
Ἕλληνες τῆς ἑαυτῶν τῷ Μήδῳ ἀντέστησαν, περὶ δὲ οἱ μὲν σφίσιν
ἀλλὰ μὴ ἐκείνῳ καταδουλώσεως, οἱ δ’ ἐπὶ δεσπότου μεταβολῇ οὐκ
ἀξυνετωτέρου, κακοξυνετωτέρου δέ.

Thucydides vi. 76.[9]

The following sentence of Demosthenes, with its carefully chosen position for the main subject Φίλιππος and the main verb ἐπηγγείλατο, shows how well _suspense_ and the _period_ can be worked in such a language:—

ὡς δὲ ταλαιπωρούμενοι τῷ μήκει τοῦ πολέμου οἱ τότε μὲν βαρεῖς
νῦν δ’ ἀτυχεῖς Θηβαῖοι φανεροὶ πᾶσιν ἦσαν ἀναγκασθησόμενοι
καταφεύγειν ἐφ’ ὑμᾶς, =Φίλιππος=, ἵνα μὴ τοῦτο γένοιτο μηδὲ
συνέλθοιεν αἱ πόλεις, ὑμῖν μὲν εἰρήνην ἐκείνοις δὲ βοήθειαν
=ἐπηγγείλατο=.

Demosthenes _de Corona_ § 19.[10]

In an analytical language such as English a separate introductory

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sentence[11] would be almost necessary in order to bring out the point of a familiar passage in the _Cyropaedia_:—

παῖς μέγας μικρὸν ἔχων χιτῶνα ἕτερον παῖδα μικρὸν μέγαν ἔχοντα
χιτῶνα, ἐκδύσας αὐτόν, τὸν μὲν ἑαυτοῦ ἐκεῖνον ἠμφίεσε, τὸν δὲ
ἐκείνου αὐτὸς ἐνέδυ.

Xenophon _Cyropaedia_ i. 3. 17.

And the force and variety gained by juxtaposition, or by chiastic arrangement, is obvious in such examples as:—

(1) τίπτε με, Πηλέος υἱέ, ποσὶν ταχέεσσι διώκεις,
=αὐτὸς θνητὸς ἐὼν θεὸν ἄμβροτον=;

Homer _Iliad_ xxii. 8, 9.

(2) τί δῆτα, ὦ Μέλητε; τοσοῦτον =σὺ ἐμοῦ= σοφώτερος εἶ =τηλικούτου
ὄντος τηλικόσδε ὤν=;

Plato _Apology_ 25 D.

(3) οὐ γὰρ ἐπὶ κρίσει μέν τις δικασθεὶς οὐκ ἂν ἐπὶ τῶν =δικαίων καὶ
καλῶν= ἐλεύθερος καὶ ὑγιὴς ἂν κριτὴς γένοιτο· ἀνάγκη γὰρ τῷ
δωροδόκῳ τὰ οἰκεῖα μὲν φαίνεσθαι =καλὰ καὶ δίκαια=.

Longinus _de Sublimitate_ c. xliv.

(4) καὶ τῶν κώλων ... =ἀνίσων τε ὄντων καὶ ἀνομοίων= ἀλλήλοις
=ἀνομοίους τε καὶ ἀνίσους= ποιούμενοι τὰς διαιρέσεις.

Dionys. Halic. _de Comp. Verb._ c. xxvi.

The two last examples of elegant variation might, no doubt, be closely reproduced in modern languages. To the more important matter of emphasis, which arises in some of the other instances, a separate section must be devoted later.[12]

B. _Normal Order_

Though Dionysius does right to deny the existence of a

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natural or inevitable order in Greek and to emphasize the essential freedom of the language, he might well have recognized more explicitly that there is what may be termed a normal or usual order, and that it is precisely the departure from this normal usage which does much to give a definite character (good or bad, as the case may be) to the style of individual Greek authors. For instance, it is usual in Greek for an adjective to follow its noun, and for a negative to precede the word or words which it qualifies. There are, further, certain customary positions for the article (according as it is attributive or predicative); for the demonstrative pronouns in conjunction with the article; for αὐτός, according to the meaning which it bears; for the particles; for prepositions, conjunctions, and relative pronouns; and so forth. There is, in short, a grammatical order sanctioned by prevailing usage, an order which might be shown to hold good, commonly though not universally, in some of the grammatical constructions indicated by Dionysius in his fifth chapter. Now between this normal order, and lucidity of expression, there exists a close connexion.

C. _Lucidity_

It might easily be concluded, by a reader who knew the _de Compositione_ alone among Dionysius’ critical essays, that he set little store by that clear writing which, as it presupposes clear thinking, is a rare and cardinal excellence of style. As the noun σαφήνεια occurs but once in the treatise and the adjective σαφής not much oftener, it might be supposed that he underrated a quality to which Aristotle and other writers of antiquity assign so high a place. Aristotle, indeed, regards it as a first essential of good style, which must be “clear without being mean” (λέξεως δὲ ἀρετὴ σαφῆ καὶ μὴ ταπεινὴν εἶναι, Aristot. _Poet._ xxii. 1: cp. _Rhet._ iii. 2. 1). Similarly Cicero puts clearness (_sermo dilucidus_) before ornament, asking how it is possible, “qui non dicat quod intellegamus, hunc posse quod admiremur dicere” (Cic. _de Orat._ iii. 9. 38). Horace’s approving reference to _lucidus ordo_ has become proverbial.[13] And Quintilian allots the primacy

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to the same great quality: “nobis prima sit virtus perspicuitas, propria verba, rectus ordo, non in longum dilata conclusio; nihil neque desit neque superfluat” (_Inst. Or._ viii. 2. 22), and puts a high and not always attainable ideal before the orator in relation to his judicial auditor: “quare non, ut intellegere possit, sed, ne omnino possit non intellegere, curandum” (_ibid._ viii. 2. 24).

If Dionysius in the present treatise says little about lucidity, the sole reason is that he _assumes_ it as a necessary and indispensable quality of style. In the _de Thucydide_ c. 23 it is classed (together with purity and brevity) as one of the ἀρεταὶ ἀναγκαῖαι (in contradistinction to the ἀρεταὶ ἐπίθετοι, such as ἐνάργεια, ἡ τῶν ἠθῶν τε καὶ παθῶν μίμησις, etc.). The Greek critics recognized, however, that the plainer styles were more likely than the more elaborate ones to excel in lucidity,—that, in this respect, a Herodotus and a Lysias might be expected to surpass a Thucydides and a Demosthenes.[14] Among these authors let us choose Lysias and Thucydides, and see what praise or blame Dionysius awards to them upon this score. In the fourth chapter of the _de Lysia_, the lucidity of Lysias is contrasted with the obscurity often found in Thucydides and Demosthenes; and it is pointed out that this excellence is, in him, all the more admirable in that it is combined with a studious brevity, an opulent vocabulary, and a mind of great native force. And no finer example of pellucid clearness of narration could well be imagined than that quoted from Lysias in the sixth chapter of the _de Isaeo_: ἀναγκαῖόν μοι δοκεῖ εἶναι, ὦ ἄνδρες δικασταί, περὶ τῆς φιλίας τῆς ἐμῆς καὶ τῆς Φερενίκου πρῶτον εἰπεῖν πρὸς ὑμᾶς, κτλ. To the obscurities of Thucydides, on the other hand, as seen in his History and particularly in his Speeches, constant and mournful reference is made in the essay which has the historian for its subject. “You can almost count on your fingers,” says Dionysius, “the people who are capable of comprehending the whole of Thucydides; and not even they can

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do so without occasional recourse to a grammatical commentary.”[15] Dionysius, further, gives it as his opinion that the language of Thucydides was unique even in his own day; and he combats the view that a historian (as distinguished, say, from an advocate) may plead in excuse for an artificial style that he does not write for “people in the market-place, in workshops or in factories, nor for others who have not shared in a liberal education, but for men who have reached rhetoric and philosophy after passing through a full curriculum of approved studies, to whom therefore none of these expressions will appear unfamiliar.”[16] Obscurity and eccentricity, he says in effect, are not virtues except in the eyes of literary coteries; presumably a speaker speaks, and a writer writes, in order to be understood.[17]

D. _Emphasis_

Dionysius’ inadequate recognition of a normal order is naturally attended by some uncertainty in his attitude towards that kind of _emphasis_ which a departure from the normal order produces. It may, indeed, be thought that the effect of emphasis, and the best means of attaining it, are considered at the opening of the sixth chapter of the treatise, and that it comes under the heading both of σχηματισμός and of ἁρμονία. In the fifth chapter, however, we should have welcomed a clearer recognition of the emphasis which, as it seems to modern readers, falls upon ἄνδρα, μῆνιν, and ἠέλιος, when they come at the beginning of the line and so are the first words to accost the ear. Certainly in his own writing Dionysius shows that he appreciates the emphasis gained by thrusting a word to the front of the sentence: e.g. καιροῦ δὲ οὔτε ῥήτωρ οὐδεὶς οὔτε φιλόσοφος εἰς τόδε χρόνου τέχνην ὥρισεν (=132= 21). Towards the end of chapter 7 he quotes from Demosthenes the words τὸ λαβεῖν οὖν τὰ διδόμενα ὁμολογῶν ἔννομον εἶναι, τὸ χάριν τούτων ἀποδοῦναι παρανόμων γράφῃ. He changes the order to ὁμολογῶν οὖν ἔννομον

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εἶναι τὸ λαβεῖν τὰ διδόμενα, παρανόμων γράφῃ τὸ τούτων χάριν ἀποδοῦναι, and then asks whether the passage will be ὁμοίως δικανικὴ καὶ στρογγύλη. To us it would seem that the chief loss is the loss of emphasis which is entailed (in Greek) by removing from the beginning of the clauses the important and contrasted phrases τὸ λαβεῖν τὰ διδόμενα and τὸ χάριν τούτων ἀποδοῦναι. Possibly this loss of emphasis is implied (among other things) in the words “δικανικὴ καὶ στρογγύλη.”[18]

Where it occurs in Dionysius, the word ἔμφασις bears the sense of ‘hint,’ ‘suggestion,’ ‘soupçon’ (_de Thucyd._ c. 16 ῥᾳθύμως ἐπιτετροχασμένα καὶ οὐδὲ τὴν ἐλαχίστην ἔμφασιν ἔχοντα τῆς δεινότητος ἐκείνης): a sense which is akin to its technical use of ‘hidden meaning’ (“significatio maior quam oratio,” Cic. _Orat._ 40. 139; cp. Quintil. viii. 3. 83, ix. 2. 3, 64).[19] In our sense of emphasis due to position, the word ἔμφασις is perhaps hardly used even in the scholiasts; and it is possible that Greek has no single term to express the idea, though it may doubtless be one of the elements in view when a writer uses such expressions as ἁρμονία, σχηματισμός, and ὑπερβατόν.

A modern student of Greek, having to feel his way with practically no help from ancient authorities, will probably reach the conclusion that the rhetorical emphasis he has in mind is attained by placing a word in one of the less usual positions open to it. The word thus emphasized may come at the beginning, in the middle, or at the end of a sentence, the real point being that the position should be (for that particular word) a little out of the ordinary. In Greek, however, as contrasted with English, the emphasis tends to fall on the earlier rather than the later words.[20] In delivery, it would seem that the Greeks found it more natural to stress the beginning than the conclusion of a

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sentence. But an emphatic word may be found at the end as well as at the beginning, and may sometimes be placed neither at the end nor at the beginning.[21]

Allusion has already been made to the rhetorical emphasis which falls upon the opening words of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_. As with “arma virumque cano” in the _Aeneid_, the words μῆνιν and ἄνδρα seem to strike the keynote of the following Epics. And, in a less degree, a certain emphasis due to initial position (and contributing either to emotional effect or to logical clearness) is to be discerned throughout the poems: e.g. in the sixth book of the _Iliad_:—

=δυστήνων= δέ τε παῖδες ἐμῷ μένει ἀντιόωσιν.

Homer _Iliad_ vi. 127.

and

=πέπλον= δ’, ὅς τίς τοι χαριέστατος ἠδὲ μέγιστος
ἔστιν ἐνὶ μεγάρῳ καί τοι πολὺ φίλτατος αὐτῇ,
τὸν θὲς Ἀθηναίης ἐπὶ γούνασιν ἠϋκόμοιο, κτλ.

Homer _Iliad_ vi. 271.

Similarly with the following ten miscellaneous examples of various emphasis, taken chiefly from Dionysius’ favourite speech:—

(1) ἐκεῖνος γὰρ πολλοὺς ἐπιθυμητὰς καὶ ἀστοὺς καὶ ξένους λαβών,
=οὐδένα= πώποτε μισθὸν τῆς συνουσίας ἐπράξατο, ἀλλὰ πᾶσιν
ἀφθόνως ἐπήρκει τῶν ἑαυτοῦ.

Xenophon _Memorabilia_ i. 2. 60.

(2) καὶ ταραχώδης ἦν ἡ ναυμαχία, ἐν ᾗ αἱ Ἀττικαὶ νῆες
παραγιγνόμεναι τοῖς Κερκυραίοις, εἴ πῃ πιέζοιντο, =φόβον= μὲν
παρεῖχον τοῖς ἐναντίοις, =μάχης= δὲ οὐκ ἦρχον δεδιότες οἱ
στρατηγοὶ τὴν πρόρρησιν τῶν Ἀθηναίων.[22]

Thucydides i. 49.

(3) =Ἀναξαγόρου= οἴει κατηγορεῖν, ὦ φίλε Μέλητε, κτλ.

Plato _Apology_ 26 D.

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(4) οὐ γὰρ =τὰ ῥήματα= τὰς οἰκειότητας ἔφη βεβαιοῦν, μάλα σεμνῶς
ὀνομάζων, ἀλλὰ τὸ ταὐτὰ συμφέρειν.

Demosthenes _de Corona_ § 35.

(5) οἱ μὲν κατάπτυστοι Θετταλοὶ καὶ ἀναίσθητοι Θηβαῖοι φίλον,
εὐεργέτην, σωτῆρα τὸν Φίλιππον ἡγοῦντο· =πάντ’= ἐκεῖνος ἦν
αὐτοῖς· οὐδὲ φωνὴν ἤκουον εἴ τις ἄλλο τι βούλοιτο λέγειν.

id. _ib._ § 43.

(6) οὓς σὺ =ζῶντας μέν,= ὦ κίναδος, κολακεύων παρηκολούθεις,
=τεθνεώτων δ’= οὐκ αἰσθάνει κατηγορῶν.

id. _ib._ § 162.

(7) καὶ τότ’ εὐθὺς ἐμοῦ διαμαρτυρομένου καὶ βοῶντος ἐν τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ
“=πόλεμον= εἰς τὴν Ἀττικὴν εἰσάγεις, Αἰσχίνη, πόλεμον
Ἀμφικτυονικόν, κτλ.”

id. _ib._ § 143.

(8) ὃς γὰρ =ἐμοῦ= φιλιππισμόν, ὦ γῆ καὶ θεοί, κατηγορεῖ, τί οὗτος
οὐκ ἂν εἴποι;

id. _ib._ § 294.

(9) ἀλλ’ οἶμαι οὐ δυνάμεθα· =ἐλεεῖσθαι= οὖν ἡμᾶς πολὺ μᾶλλον εἰκός
ἐστίν που ὑπὸ ὑμῶν τῶν δεινῶν ἢ χαλεπαίνεσθαι.

Plato _Republic_ i. 336 E.

(10) μηδ’ εἵμασι στρώσασ’ ἐπίφθονον πόρον
τίθει· =θεούς= τοι τοῖσδε τιμαλφεῖν χρεών.

Aeschylus _Agamemnon_ 921.

It will be seen from some of the above examples that words may have emphasis if, though not actually placed at the very beginning of a sentence or a clause, they come as early as they well can. The three following passages will further illustrate this point:—

(1) καὶ ἐς Νικίαν τὸν Νικηράτου στρατηγὸν ὄντα ἀπεσήμαινεν, ἐχθρὸς
ὢν καὶ ἐπιτιμῶν, ῥᾴδιον εἶναι παρασκευῇ, εἰ =ἄνδρες= εἶεν οἱ
στρατηγοί, πλεύσαντας λαβεῖν τοὺς ἐν τῇ νήσῳ, καὶ αὐτός γ’ ἄν,
εἰ ἦρχε, ποιῆσαι τοῦτο.

Thucydides iv. 27.

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(2) ὅ τι μὲν ὑμεῖς, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, πεπόνθατε ὑπὸ τῶν ἐμῶν
κατηγόρων, οὐκ οἶδα· ἐγὼ δ’ οὖν καὶ αὐτὸς ὑπ’ αὐτῶν ὀλίγου
ἐμαυτοῦ ἐπελαθόμην· οὕτω πιθανῶς ἔλεγον. καίτοι =ἀληθές γε=, ὡς
ἔπος εἰπεῖν, οὐδὲν εἰρήκασιν.

Plato _Apology_ init.

(3) ἀλλὰ μὴν τὸν τότε συμβάντα ἐν τῇ πόλει =θόρυβον= ἴστε μὲν
ἅπαντες, μικρὰ δ’ ἀκούσατε ὅμως, αὐτὰ τἀναγκαιότατα ... οἱ δὲ
τοὺς στρατηγοὺς μετεπέμποντο καὶ τὸν σαλπιγκτὴν ἐκάλουν, καὶ
=θορύβου= πλήρης ἦν ἡ πόλις.

Demosthenes _de Corona_ §§ 168, 169.

Sometimes, however, emphatic words will be thrust right to the front through such devices as the postponement of an interrogative particle: e.g.

=ἑστάναι, εἶπον, καὶ κινεῖσθαι τὸ αὐτὸ ἅμα κατὰ τὸ αὐτὸ= ἆρα
δυνατόν;

Plato _Republic_ iv. 436 C.

and

=οἷον δίψα ἐστὶ δίψα= ἆρά γε θερμοῦ ποτοῦ ἢ ψυχροῦ, ἢ πολλοῦ ἢ
ὀλίγου, ἢ καὶ ἑνὶ λόγῳ ποιοῦ τινος πώματος;

id. _ib._ iv. 437 D.[23]

An uninflected language may well envy the grammatical resources which enable Greek or Latin poets to secure at once clearness and the utmost height of emotion in such lines as:

Ζεῦ πάτερ, ἀλλὰ σὺ ῥῦσαι ὑπ’ ἠέρος υἷας Ἀχαιῶν,
ποίησον δ’ αἴθρην, δὸς δ’ ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἰδέσθαι·
=ἐν δὲ φάει= καὶ ὄλεσσον, ἐπεί νύ τοι εὔαδεν οὕτως.

Homer _Iliad_ xvii. 645.

_Me, me,_ adsum qui feci, in me convertite ferrum,
O Rutuli.

Virgil _Aeneid_ ix. 427.[24]

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The end as well as the beginning of a clause or sentence may bring emphasis when it is an unusual position for the particular word or phrase which stands there. Illustrations may perhaps be drawn from expressions conveying the idea of “death,” which (according to Dionysus in the _Frogs_) is the “heaviest of ills,” and which (be that as it may) is as little likely as any to be entertained lightheartedly, or to be mentioned without some degree of feeling and emphasis. At the beginning of a sentence, τεθνᾶσι clearly has emphasis in

=τεθνᾶσ’= ἀδελφοὶ καὶ πατὴρ οὑμὸς γέρων.

Euripides _Hercules Furens_ 539.

And in the following passage of Plato, it will be seen that the τὸν θάνατον which comes near the beginning of a clause is more emphatic than the τὸν θάνατον which comes at the end of a clause:—

οἶσθα δ’, ἦ δ’ ὅς, ὅτι =τὸν θάνατον= ἡγοῦνται πάντες οἱ ἄλλοι
τῶν μεγάλων κακῶν;—καὶ μάλ’, ἔφη.—οὐκοῦν φόβῳ μειζόνων
κακῶν ὑπομένουσιν αὐτῶν οἱ ἀνδρεῖοι τὸν θάνατον, ὅταν
ὑπομένωσιν;—ἔστι ταῦτα.

Plato _Phaedo_ 68 D.

The τὸν θάνατον before ἡγοῦνται is here emphatic on the same principle as the θάνατον before εἰσέθηκε in the passage (already alluded to) of the _Frogs_:—

=θάνατον= γὰρ εἰσέθηκε βαρύτατον κακόν.

Aristophanes _Ranae_ 1394.

But a word like θάνατος may also come with emphasis at the end of a sentence, if that order is rendered unusual by the interposition of additional words or by any other means which create a feeling of suspense and even of afterthought. For example:

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τί δέ; τὰν Αἵδου ἡγούμενον εἶναί τε καὶ δεινὰ εἶναι οἴει τινὰ
θάνατου ἀδεῆ ἔσεσθαι καὶ ἐν ταῖς μάχαις αἱρήσεσθαι πρὸ ἥττης τε
καὶ δουλείας =θάνατον=;

Plato _Republic_ iii. 386 B.

Here the θάνατον seems intended to repeat with emphasis the preceding θανάτου to which, itself, a considerable degree of prominence is assigned. So, perhaps,

ἀλλὰ νόμον δημοσίᾳ τὸν ταῦτα κωλύσοντα τέθεινται τουτονὶ καὶ
πολλοὺς ἤδη παραβάντας τὸν νόμον τοῦτον ἐζημιώκασιν =θανάτῳ=.

Demosthenes _Midias_ § 49.

and

... καὶ φοβερωτέρας ἡγήσεται τὰς ὕβρεις καὶ τὰς ἀτιμίας, ἃς ἐν
δουλευούσῃ τῇ πόλει φέρειν ἀνάγκη, =τοῦ θανάτου=.

Demosthenes _de Corona_ § 205.

Some miscellaneous examples of words coming emphatically at the end of a clause or sentence are:—

(1) αἰτοῦμαι δ’ ὑμᾶς δοῦναι καὶ νῦν παισὶ μὲν καὶ γυναικὶ καὶ
φίλοις καὶ πατρίδι =εὐδαιμονίαν=, ἐμοὶ δὲ οἷόν περ αἰῶνα
δεδώκατε τοιαύτην καὶ τελευτὴν δοῦναι.

Xenophon _Cyropaedia_ viii. 7.

(2) ἀλλὰ καὶ τούτους κολυμβηταὶ δυόμενοι ἐξέπριον =μισθοῦ=.[25]

Thucydides vii. 25.

(3) ὑψοῦ δὲ θάσσων ὑψόθεν χαμαιπετὴς
πίπτει πρὸς οὖδας μυρίοις οἰμώγμασι
=Πενθεύς=.[26]

Euripides _Bacchae_ 1111.

(4) ἴστε γὰρ δήπου τοῦθ’ ὅτι πάντες οἱ ξεναγοῦντες οὗτοι πόλεις
καταλαμβάνοντες Ἑλληνίδας ἄρχειν ζητοῦσιν, καὶ πάντων, ὅσοι
περ νόμοις οἰκεῖν βούλονται τὴν αὑτῶν ὄντες ἐλεύθεροι, κοινοὶ
περιέρχονται κατὰ πᾶσαν χώραν, εἰ δεῖ τἀληθὲς εἰπεῖν, =ἐχθροί=.

Demosthenes _Aristocrates_ § 139.

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(5) δεῖ δὲ τοὺς ἀγαθοὺς ἄνδρας ἐγχειρεῖν μὲν ἅπασιν ἀεὶ τοῖς
καλοῖς, τὴν ἀγαθὴν προβαλλομένους ἐλπίδα, φέρειν δ’ ἃν ὁ θεὸς
διδῷ =γενναίως=.[27]

Demosthenes _de Corona_ § 97.

(6) εἶθ’ οὗτοι τὰ ὅπλα εἶχον ἐν ταῖς χερσὶν =ἀεί=.

id. _ib._ § 235.

(7) εἰ γὰρ ταῦτα προεῖτ’ ἀκονιτεί, περὶ ὧν οὐδένα κίνδυνον ὅντιν’
οὐχ ὑπέμειναν οἱ πρόγονοι, τίς οὐχὶ κατέπτυσεν ἂν =σοῦ=; μὴ γὰρ
τῆς πόλεώς γε, μηδ’ ἐμοῦ.

id. _ib._ § 200.

(8) ... ἡμῖν δὲ τοῖς λοιποῖς τὴν ταχίστην ἀπαλλαγὴν τῶν ἐπηρτημένων
φόβων δότε καὶ =σωτηρίαν ἀσφαλῆ=.[28]

id. _ib._ § 324.

It may be added that, occasionally, _both_ the earlier and the later positions are emphatic in the same clause or sentence: e.g.

(1) =τέκνα= γὰρ κατακτενῶ
=τἄμ’=.[29]

Euripides _Medea_ 792.

(2) =ὦτα= γὰρ τυγχάνει ἀνθρώποισι ἐόντα ἀπιστότερα =ὀφθαλμῶν=.[30]

Herodotus i. 8.

(3) νῦν δὲ τὸ μὲν παρὸν ἀεὶ προϊέμενοι, τὰ δὲ μέλλοντ’ αὐτόματ’
οἰόμενοι σχήσειν καλῶς, =ηὐξήσαμεν=, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι,
Φίλιππον =ἡμεῖς=, καὶ κατεστήσαμεν τηλικοῦτον ἡλίκος οὐδείς πω
βασιλεὺς γέγονεν Μακεδονίας.[31]

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Demosthenes _Olynthiacs_ i. § 9.

(4) =πολλάκις= δὲ τοῦ κήρυκος ἐρωτῶντος οὐδὲν μᾶλλον ἀνίστατ’
=οὐδείς=, ἁπάντων μὲν τῶν στρατηγῶν παρόντων, κτλ.

Demosthenes _de Corona_ § 117.

(5) καὶ μὴν καὶ =Φερὰς= πρώην ὡς φίλος καὶ σύμμαχος εἰς Θετταλίαν
ἐλθὼν ἔχει καταλαβών, καὶ τὰ τελευταῖα τοῖς ταλαιπώροις
Ὠρείταις τουτοισὶ ἐπισκεψομένους ἔφη τοὺς στρατιώτας πεπομφέναι
κατ’ =εὔνοιαν=· πυνθάνεσθαι γὰρ αὐτοὺς ὡς νοσοῦσι καὶ
στασιάζουσιν, συμμάχων δ’ εἶναι καὶ φίλων ἀληθινῶν ἐν τοῖς
τοιούτοις καιροῖς παρεῖναι.

Demosthenes _Philippics_ iii. § 12.

(6) οὐ =λίθοις= ἐτείχισα τὴν πόλιν οὐδὲ πλίνθοις =ἐγώ=, οὐδ’ ἐπὶ
τούτοις μέγιστον τῶν ἐμαυτοῦ φρονῶ.

Demosthenes _de Corona_ § 299.

(7) =ὑπὲρ τῶν ἐχθρῶν= πεπολίτευσαι πάντα, ἐγὼ δ’ =ὑπὲρ τῆς
πατρίδος=.

id. _ib._ § 265.

In connexion with the imperfect appreciation which the _de Compositione Verborum_ shows of a normal order and of an

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emphasis produced by departure from it, attention may be drawn to the fact that the treatise contains no reference to the ‘figure’ _hyperbaton_; and this although the figure had been recognized long before Dionysius’ time, and continued to be recognized long afterwards. It is first mentioned by Plato, who probably took over the notion from the Sophists: ἀλλ’ ὑπερβατὸν δεῖ θεῖναι ἐν τῷ ᾄσματι τὸ “ἀλαθέως” (Plato _Protag._ 343 E, where the reference is to a poem of Simonides). The author of the _Rhetorica ad Alexandrum_ (c. 30) indicates it in the following terms: ἐὰν μὴ ὑπερβατῶς αὐτὰ [sc. τὰ ὀνόματα] τιθῶμεν, ἀλλ’ ἀεὶ τὰ ἐχόμενα ἑξῆς τάττωμεν. Quintilian treats of it in the passage beginning “_Hyperbaton_ quoque, id est verbi transgressionem, quoniam frequenter ratio comparationis et decor poscit, non immerito inter virtutes habemus” (_Inst. Or._ viii. 6. 62).[32] The author of the _Treatise on the Sublime_ describes and defines it thus: ἔστι δὲ λέξεων ἢ νοήσεων ἐκ τοῦ κατ’ ἀκολουθίαν κεκινημένη τάξις καὶ οἱονεὶ χαρακτὴρ ἐναγωνίου πάθους ἀληθέστατος (Longinus _de Sublim._ c. 22).[33] And, later still, Hermogenes and other writers on rhetoric are well acquainted with the figure. Dionysius, however, mentions it but seldom in any of his writings, and even then (e.g. τὰς ὑπερβατοὺς καὶ πολυπλόκους καὶ ἐξ ἀποκοπῆς πολλὰ σημαίνειν πράγματα βουλομένας καὶ διὰ μακροῦ τὰς ἀποδόσεις λαμβανούσας νοήσεις, _de Thucyd._ c. 52; cp. c. 31 _ibid._) is clearly thinking not of desirable but of highly undesirable “inversions.” He may have thought that its proper place was in poetry rather than in prose.

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E. _Euphony_

A modern writer on style would probably lay more stress on clearness and emphasis than on euphony. The ancient critics, on the other hand, seem to have taken the two former elements more or less for granted. Because they were easily attainable in languages so fully inflected as Greek and Latin, their attainment was regarded as an important matter indeed, but one which called for no special recognition of any kind. As Quintilian says, in reference to clearness, “nam emendate quidem ac lucide dicentium tenue praemium est, magisque ut vitiis carere quam ut aliquam magnam virtutem adeptus esse videaris” (_Inst. Or._ viii. 3. 1).[34] Dionysius, too, in the _de Compositione Verborum_, passes more readily over the two qualities of clearness and emphasis because he is not concerned with the πραγματικὸς τόπος.[35] He keeps rigorously to his real subject; and that is not the relation of words to the ideas of which they are the symbols. It is, rather, their relation to their own constituent elements (letters and syllables of diverse qualities and quantities) and to the pleasant impression which the apt collocation of many various words can make upon the ear. His task is to investigate the emotional power of the sound-elements of language when alone and when in combination—their euphonic and their symphonic effects. Hence the constant recurrence, throughout the treatise, of words like εὐφωνία, εὐρυθμία, εὐστομία, λειότης, ἁρμονία, σύνθεσις. The illustrative excerpts which he gives are so numerous and so happily chosen that no others need be added here.[36] A careful study of his examples, in the context in which they occur, will suggest many reflexions upon the freedom and adaptability of Greek order. But no absolute test of euphony

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