It may well be imagined that nothing else is so important in the whole
art of oratory as the proper use of the passions. A slender genius,
aided by learning or experience, may be sufficient to manage certain
parts to some advantage, yet I think they are fit only for instructing
the judges, and as masters and models for those who take no concern
beyond passing for good speakers. But to possess the secret of forcibly
carrying away the judges, of moving them, as we please, to a certain
disposition of mind, of inflaming them with anger, of softening them to
pity, so as to draw tears from them, all this is rare, tho by it the
orator is made most distinguished and by it eloquence gains empire over
hearts. The cause itself is naturally productive of arguments, and the
better share generally falls to the lot of the more rightful side of the
question, so that whichever side wins by dint of argument, may think
that so far they did not lack an advocate. But when violence is to be
used to influence the minds of the judges, when they are to be turned
from coolly reflecting on the truth that works against us, then comes
the true exercise of the orator's powers; and this is what the
contending parties can not inform us of, nor is it contained in the
state of their cases. Proofs, it is true, make the judges presume that
our cause is the better, but passion makes them wish it to be such, and
as they wish it, they are not far from believing it to be so. For as
soon as they begin to absorb from us our passions of anger, favor,
hatred, or pity, they make the affair their own. As lovers can not be
competent judges of beauty, because love blinds them, so here a judge
attentive to the tumultuous working of a passion, loses sight of the way
by which he should proceed to inquire after the truth. The impetuous
torrent sweeps him away, and he is borne down in the current. The effect
of arguments and witnesses is not known until judgment has been passed,
but the judge who has been affected by the orator, still sitting and
hearing, declares his real sentiments. Has not he who is seen to melt
into tears, already pronounced sentence? Such, then, is the power of
moving the passions, to which the orator ought to direct all his
efforts, this being his principal work and labor, since without it all
other resources are naked, hungry, weak, and unpleasing. The passions
are the very life and soul of persuasion.