J. C. Stobart

John Clarke Stobart (5 March 1878 – 11 May 1933), commonly known as J. C. Stobart, was a classical scholar, a University of Cambridge lecturer, an HM Inspector of Schools and the BBC's first Director of Education. Quotes The Glory That Was Greece (1911) Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company thumb|It hangs like a jewel on a pendant from the south of Europe into the Mediterranean Sea. thumb|Perched safely on the hill-top and ringed with her wall, the city was able to develop her peculiar civilisation. thumb| With the progress of research, classical scholarship tends more and more towards narrower fields of specialisation. Real students are now like miners working underground each in his own shaft, buried far away from sight or ear-shot of the public, so that they even begin to lose touch with one another. ... No man nowadays can be as fully equipped in archaeology, history, and literary criticism as were great writers of general history in the last century like George Grote and Theodor Mommsen. ... He is compelled to deal in large generalisations, and to tread upon innumerable toes with every step he takes. Every fact he chronicles is the subject of a monograph, every opinion he hazards may run counter to somebody's life-work. He will often have to neglect the latest theory and sometimes he is unaware of the latest discovery. The best that he can hope for is that his archaeology may satisfy the historians and his history the archaeologists. Preface, pp. vii-viii "Greece" and "Greek" mean different things to different people. To the man in the street, if he exists, they stand for something proverbially remote and obscure, as dead as Queen Anne, as heavy as the British Museum. To the average finished product of Higher Education in England they recall those dog-eared text-books and grammars which he put away with much relief when he left school; they waft back to him the strangely close atmosphere of the classical form-room. The historian, of course, will inform us that all Western civilisation has Greece for its mother and nurse, and that unless we know something about her our knowledge of the past must be built upon sand. That is true: only nobody cares very much what historians say, for they deal with the past, and the past is dead and disgusting. To some cultured folk who have read Swinburne (but not Plato) the notion of the Greeks presents a world of happy pagans, children of nature, without any tiresome ideas of morality or self-control, sometimes making pretty poems and statues, but generally basking in the sun without much on. There are also countless earnest students of the Bible who remember what St. Paul said about those Greeks who thought the Cross foolishness and those Athenians who were always wanting to hear something new. St. Paul forgot that "the Cross" was a typical Stoic paradox. Then there are a vast number of people who do not distinguish between "Greek" and "classical." By "classics" they understand certain tyrannous conventions and stilted affectations against which every free-minded soul longs to rebel. They distinguish the classical element in Milton and Keats as responsible for all that is dull and far-fetched and unnatural. Classicism repels many people of excellent taste, and Greek art is apt to fall under the same condemnation. It is only in the last generation that scholars have been able to distinguish between the true Greek and the false mist of classicism which surrounds it. Till then everybody had to look at the Greeks through Roman and Renaissance spectacles, confounding Pallas with Minerva and thinking of Greek art as represented by the Apollo Belvedere and the Laocoon. We are now able, thanks to the labours of scholars and archaeologists, to see the Greeks as they were, perfectly direct, simple, natural, and reasonable, quite as antagonistic to classicism as Manet and Debussy themselves. Introduction, pp. 1-2 You see its long and complicated coast-line, its intricate system of rugged hills, and the broken strings of islands which they fling off into the sea in every direction. On the map it recalls the features of Scotland or Norway. It hangs like a jewel on a pendant from the south of Europe into the Mediterranean Sea. Like its sister peninsulas of Italy and Spain it has high mountains to the north of it; but the Balkans do not, as do the Alps and Pyrenees, present the form of a sheer rampart against Northern invaders. Introduction, p. 5 It is a sheltered, hospitable sea, with chains of islands like stepping-stones inviting the timid mariner of early times to venture across it. You can sail from Greece to Asia without ever losing sight of land. On the west it is not so. Greece and Italy turn their backs upon one another. Their neighbouring coasts are the harbourless ones. So Greece looks east and Italy west, in history as well as geography. The natural affinities of Greece are with Asia Minor and Egypt. Introduction, p. 5 A sea-going people will be an adventurous people in thought as well as action. The Greeks themselves fully realised this. When Themistocles was urging his fellow Athenians to build a great fleet and take to the sea in earnest, opposition came from the conservatives, who feared the political influence of a "nautical mob" with radical and impious tendencies. The type of solid conservative was the heavy-armed land soldier. So in Greek history the inland city of Sparta stands for tradition, discipline, and stability, while the mariners of Athens are progressive, turbulent, inquiring idealists. Introduction, pp. 5-6 A few valleys and small plains are fertile enough to feed their own proprietors, but as regards corn and food-stuffs Greece will have to be an importer, not an exporter. In history we find great issues hanging on the sea-routes by which corn came in from the Black Sea. Wine and olive oil are the only things that Nature allowed Greece to export. As for minerals, Athens is rich in her silver-mines, and gold is to be found in Thrace under Mount Pangaeus. But if Greece is to grow rich it will have to be through the skill of her incomparable craftsmen and the shield and spear of her hoplites. Introduction, p. 6 Although at first sight the peninsula looks as if it possessed a geographical unity, yet a second glance shows that Nature has split it up into numberless small plains and valleys divided from one another by sea and mountain. Such a country, as we see in Wales, Switzerland, and Scotland, encourages a polity of clans and cantons, each jealous of its neighbour over the hill, and each cherishing a fierce local patriotism. Nature, moreover, has provided each plain with its natural citadel. Greece and Italy are both rich in these self-made fortresses. The traveller in Italy is familiar with the low hills or spurs of mountains, each crowned with the white walls of some ancient city. If ever geography made history, it was where those flat-topped hills with precipitous sides, such as the Acropolis of Athens and Acrocorinthus, invited man to build his fortress and his shrine upon their summit. Then, perched safely on the hill-top and ringed with her wall, the city was able to develop her peculiar civilisation even in troubled times while the rest of the world was still immersed in warfare and barbarism. The farmer spends the summer in the plain below for sowing and reaping, the mariner puts out from harbour, the soldier marches out for a summer campaign, but the city is their home, their refuge, and the centre of their patriotism. Introduction, pp. 6-7 The traveller is struck with the small scale of Greek geography. The Corinthian Gulf, for instance, which he remembers to have been the scene of famous sea-battles in history, looks as if you could throw a stone across it. From your hotel window in Athens you can see hill-tops in the heart of the Peloponnese. Doubtless this clearness of the atmosphere encouraged the use of colour and the plastic arts for outdoor decoration. Even to-day the ruined buildings of the Athenian citadel shine across to the eyes of the seafarers five miles away at the Peiraeus. Time has mellowed their marble columns to a rich amber, but in old days they blazed with colour and gilding. In that radiant sea-air the Greeks of old learnt to see things clearly. They could live, as the Greeks still live, a simple, temperate life. Wine and bread, with a relish of olives or pickled fish, satisfied the bodily needs of the richest. The climate invited an open-air life, as it still does. To-day, as of old, the Greek loves to meet his neighbours in the market square and talk eternally over all things both in heaven and earth. Though the blood of Greece has suffered many admixtures, and though Greece has had to submit to centuries of conquest by many masters and oppressors, her racial character is little changed in some respects. The Greek is still restless, talkative, subtle and inquisitive, eager for liberty without the sense of discipline, which liberty requires, contemptuous of strangers and jealous of his neighbour. Introduction, pp. 7-8 External links Category:1878 births Category:1933 deaths Category:Classical scholars Category:Historians from England Category:People educated at Rugby School Category:University of Cambridge alumni Category:Civil servants from the United Kingdom Category:People from Dorset