2
“Must we really,” he asked, “give credit to that oft-repeated assertion
that democracy is the kind nurse of genius, and that high literary
excellence has flourished with her prime and faded with her decay?
Liberty, it is said, is all-powerful to feed the aspirations of high
intellects, to hold out hope, and keep alive the flame of mutual rivalry
and ambitious struggle for the highest place.

3
“Moreover, the prizes which are offered in every free state keep the
spirits of her foremost orators whetted by perpetual exercise;[1] they
are, as it were, ignited by friction, and naturally blaze forth freely
because they are surrounded by freedom. But we of to-day,” he continued,
“seem to have learnt in our childhood the lessons of a benignant
despotism, to have been cradled in her habits and customs from the time
when our minds were still tender, and never to have tasted the fairest
and most fruitful fountain of eloquence, I mean liberty. Hence we
develop nothing but a fine genius for flattery.

[Footnote 1: Comp. Pericles in Thuc. ii., ἆθλα γὰρ οἷς κεῖται ἀρετῆς
μέγιστα τοῖς δὲ καὶ ἄνδρες ἄριστα πολιτεύουσιν.]

4
“This is the reason why, though all other faculties are consistent with
the servile condition, no slave ever became an orator; because in him
there is a dumb spirit which will not be kept down: his soul is chained:
he is like one who has learnt to be ever expecting a blow. For, as Homer
says--

5