XV. This orator of ours then (for what we are looking for is not some

declaimer out of a school, or some pettifogger from the forum, but a

most accomplished and perfect orator), since certain topics are given

to him, will run through all of them; he will use those which are

suitable to his purpose according to their class; he will learn also

from what source those topics proceed which are called common. Nor

will he make an imprudent use of his resources, but he will weigh

everything, and make a selection. For the same arguments have not

equal weight at all times, or in all causes. He will, therefore,

exercise his judgment, and he will not only devise what he is to say,

but he will also weigh its force. For there is nothing more fertile

than genius, especially of the sort which has been cultivated by

study. But as fertile and productive corn-fields bear not only corn,

but weeds which are most unfriendly to corn, so sometimes from those

topics there are produced arguments which are either trifling, or

foreign to the subject, or useless; and the judgment of the orator has

great room to exert itself in making a selection from them. Otherwise

how will he be able to stop and make his stand on those arguments

which are good and suited to his purpose? or how to soften what is

harsh, and to conceal what cannot be denied, and, if it be possible,

entirely to get rid of all such topics? or how will he be able to

lead men's minds away from the objects on which they are fixed, or

to adduce any other argument which, when opposed to that of his

adversaries, may be more probable than that which is brought against

him?

And with what diligence will he marshal the arguments with which he

has provided himself? since that is the second of his three objects.

He will make all the vestibule, if I may so say, and the approach to

his cause brilliant; and when he has got possession of the minds of

his hearers by his first onset, he will then invalidate and exclude

all contrary arguments; and of his own strongest arguments some he

will place in the van, some he will employ to bring up the rear, and

the weaker ones he will place in the centre.

And thus we have described in a brief and summary manner what this

perfect orator should be like in the two first parts of speaking. But,

as has been said before, in these parts, (although they are weighty

and important,) there is less skill and labour than in the others.

XVI. But when he has found out what to say, and in what place he is to

say it, then comes that which is by far the most important division of

the three, the consideration of the manner in which he is to say it.

For that is a well-known saying which our friend Carneades used to

repeat:--"That Clitomachus said the same things, but that Charmadas

said the same things in the same manner." But if it is of so much

consequence in philosophy even, how you say a thing, when it is the

matter which is looked at there rather than the language, what can we

think must be the case in causes in which the elocution is all in all?

And I, O Brutus, knew from your letters that you do not ask what sort

of artist I think a consummate orator ought to be, as far as devising

and arranging his arguments; but you appeared to me to be asking

rather what kind of eloquence I considered the best. A very difficult

matter, and, indeed, by the immortal gods! the most difficult of all

matters. For as language is a thing soft and tender, and so flexible

that it follows wherever you turn it, so also the various natures

and inclinations of men have given rise to very different kinds of

speaking.

Some men love a stream of words and great volubility, placing all

eloquence in rapidity of speech. Others are fond of distinct and

broadly marked intervals, and delays, and taking of breath. What can

be more different? Yet in each kind there is something excellent.

Some labour to attain a gentle and equable style, and a pure and

transparent kind of eloquence; others aim at a certain harshness and

severity in their language, a sort of melancholy in their speech:

and as we have just before divided men, so that some wish to appear

weighty, some light, some moderate, so there are as many different

kinds of orators as we have already said that there are styles of

oratory.

XVII. And since I have now begun to perform this duty in a more ample

manner than you did require it of me, (for though the question which

you put to me has reference only to the kind of oration, I have

also in my answer given you a brief account of the invention and

arrangement of arguments,) even now I will not speak solely of the

manner of making a speech, but I will touch also on the manner of

conducting an action. And so no part whatever will be omitted: since

nothing need be said in this place of memory, for that is common to

many arts.

But the way in which it is said depends on two things,--on action

and on elocution. For action is a sort of eloquence of the body,

consisting as it does of voice and motion. Now there are as many

changes of voice as there are of minds, which are above all things

influenced by the voice. Therefore, that perfect orator which our

oration has just been describing, will employ a certain tone of voice

regulated by the way in which he wishes to appear affected himself,

and by the manner also in which he desires the mind of his hearer to

be influenced. And concerning this I would say more if this was the

proper time for laying down rules concerning it, or if this was what

you were inquiring about. I would speak also of gesture, with which

expression of countenance is combined. And it is hardly possible to

express of what importance these things are, and what use the orator

makes of them. For even people without speaking, by the mere dignity

of their action, have often produced all the effect of eloquence; and

many really eloquent men, by their ungainly delivery have been thought

ineloquent. So that it was not without reason that Demosthenes

attributed the first, and second, and third rank to action. For if

eloquence without action is nothing, but action without eloquence is

of such great power, then certainly it is the most important part of

speaking.

XVIII. He, then, who aims at the highest rank in eloquence, will

endeavour with his voice on the stretch to speak energetically; with

a low voice, gently, with a sustained voice, gravely, and with a

modulated voice, in a manner calculated to excite compassion.

For the nature of the voice is something marvellous, for all its great

power is derived from three sounds only, the grave sound, the sharp

sound, and the moderate sound, and from these comes all that sweet

variety which is brought to perfection in songs. But there is also

in speaking a sort of concealed singing, not like the peroration of

rhetoricians from Phrygia or Caria, which is nearly a chant, but that

sort which Demosthenes and Aeschines mean when the one reproaches the

other with the affected modulation of his voice. Demosthenes says even

more, and often declares that Aeschines had a very sweet and clear

voice. And in this that point appears to me worth noting, with

reference to the study of aiming at sweetness in the voice. For nature

of herself, as if she were modulating the voices of men, has placed

in every one one acute tone, and not more than one, and that not more

than two syllables back from the last, so that industry may be guided

by nature when pursuing the object of delighting the ears. A good

voice also is a thing to be desired, for it is not naturally implanted

in us, but practice and use give it to us. Therefore, the consummate

orator will vary and change his voice, and sometimes straining it,

sometimes lowering it, he will go through every degree of tone.

And he will use action in such a way that there shall be nothing

superfluous in his gestures. His attitude will be erect and lofty, the

motion of the feet rare, and very moderate, he will only move across

the tribune in a very moderate manner, and even then rarely, there

will be no bending of the neck, no clenching of the fingers, no rise

or fall of the fingers in regular time, he will rather sway his whole

body gently, and employ a manly inclination of his side, throwing out

his arm in the energetic parts of his speech, and drawing it back in

the moderate ones. As to his countenance, which is of the greatest

influence possible next to the voice, what dignity and what beauty

will be derived from its expression! And when you have accomplished

this, then the eyes too must be kept under strict command, that there

may not appear to be anything unsuitable, or like grimace. For as the

countenance is the image of the mind, so are the eyes the informers as

to what is going on within it. And their hilarity or sadness will be

regulated by the circumstances which are under discussion.

XIX. But now we must give the likeness of this perfect orator and of

this consummate eloquence, and his very name points out that he excels

in this one particular, that is to say, in oratory and that other

eminent qualities are kept out of sight in him. For it is not by his

invention, or by his power of arrangement, or by his action, that

he has embraced all these points, but in Greek he is called [Greek:

raetor], and in Latin "eloquent," from speaking. For every one claims

for himself some share in the other accomplishments which belong to an

orator, but the greatest power in speaking is allowed to be his alone.

For although some philosophers have spoken with elegance, (since

Theophrastus[60] derived his name from his divine skill in speaking,

and Aristotle attacked Isocrates himself, and they say that the Muses

as it were spoke by the mouth of Xenophon; and far above all men who

have ever written or spoken, Plato is preeminent both for sweetness

and dignity,) still their language has neither the vigour nor the

sting of an orator or a forensic speaker. They are conversing with

learned men whose minds they wish to tranquillize rather than to

excite, and so they speak on peaceful subjects which have no connexion

with any violence, and for the sake of teaching, not of charming, so

that even in the fact of their aiming at giving some pleasure by their

diction, they appear to some people to be doing more than is necessary

for them to do.

It is not difficult, therefore, to distinguish between this kind of

speaking and the eloquence which we are now treating of. For the

address of philosophers is gentle, and fond of retirement, and not

furnished with popular ideas or popular expressions, not fettered by

any particular rhythm, but allowed a good deal of liberty. It has

in it nothing angry, nothing envious, nothing energetic, nothing

marvellous, nothing cunning, it is as it were a chaste, modest,

uncontaminated virgin. Therefore it is called a discourse rather than

an oration. For although every kind of speaking is an oration, still

the language of the orator alone is distinguished by this name as its

own property.

It appears more necessary to distinguish between it and the copy of

it by the sophists, who wish to gather all the same flowers which the

orator employs in his causes. But they differ from him in this that,

as their object is not to disturb men's minds, but rather to appease

them, and not so much to persuade as to delight, and as they do it

more openly than we do and more frequently, they seek ideas which are

neat rather than probable, they often wander from the subject, they

weave fables into their speeches, they openly borrow terms from other

subjects, and arrange them as painters do a variety of colours, they

put like things by the side of like, opposite things by the side of

their contraries, and very often they terminate period after period in

similar manners.

XX. Now history is akin to this side of writing, in which the authors

relate with elegance, and often describe a legion, or a battle,

and also addresses and exhortations are intermingled, but in them

something connected and fluent is required, and not this compressed

and vehement sort of speaking. And the eloquence which we are looking

for must be distinguished from theirs nearly as much as it must from

that of the poets.

For even the poets have given room for the question, what the point

is in which they differ from the orators, formerly it appeared to be

chiefly rhythm and versification, but of late rhythm has got a great

footing among the orators. For whatever it is which offers the ears

any regular measure, even if it be ever so far removed from verse,

(for that is a fault in an oration,) is called "number" by us,

being the same thing that in Greek is called [Greek: ruthmos]. And,

accordingly, I see that some men have thought that the language of

Plato and Democritus, although it is not verse, still, because it

is borne along with some impetuosity and employs the most brilliant

illustration that words can give, ought to be considered as poetry

rather than the works of the comic poets, in which, except that they

are written in verse, there is nothing else which is different from

ordinary conversation. Nor is that the principal characteristic of

a poet, although he is the more to be praised for aiming at the

excellences of an orator, when he is more fettered by verse. But,

although the language of some poets is grand and ornamented, still

I think that they have greater licence than we have in making

and combining words, and I think too that they often, in their

expressions, pay more attention to the object of giving pleasure to

their leaders than to their subject. Nor, indeed, does the fact of

there being one point of resemblance between them, (I mean judgment

and the selection of words,) make it difficult to perceive their

dissimilarity on other points. But that is not doubtful, and if there

be any question in the matter, still this is certainly not necessary

for the object which is proposed to be kept in view.

The orator, therefore, now that he has been separated from the

eloquence of philosophers, and sophists, and historians, and poets,

requires an explanation from us to show what sort of person he is to

be

XXI. The eloquent orator, then, (for that is what, according to

Antonius, we are looking for) is a man who speaks in the forum and

in civil causes in such a manner as to prove, to delight, and to

persuade. To prove, is necessary for him; to delight, is a proof of

his sweetness, to persuade, is a token of victory. For that alone of

all results is of the greatest weight towards gaining causes. But

there are as many kinds of speaking as there are separate duties of an

orator. The orator, therefore, ought to be a man of great judgment and

of great ability, and he ought to be a regulator, as it were, of this

threefold variety of duty. For he will judge what is necessary for

every one, and he will be able to speak in whatever manner the cause

requires. But the foundation of eloquence, as of all other things, is

wisdom. For as in life, so in a speech, nothing is more difficult than

to see what is becoming. The Greeks call this [Greek: prepon], we call

it "decorum." But concerning this point many admirable rules are laid

down, and the matter is well worth being understood. And it is owing

to ignorance respecting it that men make blunders not only in life,

but very often in poems, and in speeches.

But the orator must consider what is becoming not only in his

sentences, but also in his words. For it is not every fortune, nor

every honour, nor every authority, nor every age, or place, or time,

nor every hearer who is to be dealt with by the same character of

expressions or sentiments. And at all times, in every part of a speech

or of life, we must consider what is becoming, and that depends partly

on the facts which are the subject under discussion, and also on the

characters of those who are the speakers and of those who are the

hearers. Therefore this topic, which is of very wide extent and

application, is often employed by philosophers in discussions on duty,

not when they are discussing abstract right, for that is but one thing

and the grammarians also too often employ it when criticising the

poets, to show their eloquence in every division and description of

cause. For how unseemly is it, when you are pleading before a single

judge about a gutter, to use high sounding expressions and general

topics, but to speak with a low voice and with subtle arguments in a

cause affecting the majesty of the Roman people.

XXII. This applies to the whole genus. But some persons err as to

the character either of themselves, or of the judges, or of their

adversaries and not only in actual fact, but often in word. Although

there is no force in a word without a fact, still the same fact is

often either approved of, or rejected, according as this or that

expression is employed respecting it. And in every case it is

necessary to take care how far it may be right to go, for although

everything has its proper limit, still excess offends more than

falling short. And that is the point in which Apelles said that those

painters made a blunder, who did not know what was enough.

There is here, O Brutus, an important topic, which does not escape

your notice, and which requires another large volume. But for the

present question this is enough, when we say that this is becoming,

(an expression which we always employ in all words and actions, both

great and small)--when, I say, we say that this is becoming and

that that is not becoming, and when it appears to what extent each

assertion is meant to be applicable, and when it depends on something

else, and is quite another matter whether you say that a thing is

becoming or proper, (for to say a thing is proper, declares the

perfection of duty, which we and all men are at all times to regard

to say a thing is becoming, as to say that it is fit as it were, and

suitable to the time and person: which is often very important both

in actions and words, and in a person's countenance and gestures

and gait;)--and, on the other hand, when we say that a thing is

unbecoming, (and if a poet avoids this as the greatest of faults, [and

he also errs if he puts an honest sentiment in the mouth of a wicked

man, or a wise one in the mouth of a fool,] or if that painter saw

that, when Calchas was sad at the sacrifice of Iphigenia, and Ulysses

still more so, and Menelaus in mourning, that Agamemnon's head

required to be veiled altogether, since it was quite impossible to

represent such grief as his with a paint brush; if even the actor

inquires what is becoming, what must we think that the orator ought to

do?) But as this is a matter of so much importance, the orator must

take care what he does in his causes, and in the different parts of

them; that is plain, that not only the different parts of an oration,

but that even whole causes are to be dealt with in different styles of

oratory.

XXIII. It follows that the characteristics and forms of each class

must be sought for. It is a great and difficult task, as we have often

said before; but it was necessary for us to consider at the beginning

what we would discuss; and now we must set our sails in whatever

course we are borne on. But first of all we must give a sketch of the

man whom some consider the only orator of the Attic style.

He is a gentle, moderate man, imitating the usual customs, differing

from those who are not eloquent in fact rather than in any of his

opinions. Therefore those who are his hearers, even though they

themselves have no skill in speaking, still feel confident that they

could speak in that manner. For the subtlety of his address appears

easy of imitation to a person who ventures on an opinion, but nothing

is less easy when he comes to try it; for although it is not a style

of any extraordinary vigour, still it has some juice, so that even

though it is not endowed with the most extreme power, it is still, if

I may use such an expression, in perfect health. First of all, then,

let us release it from the fetters of rhythm. For there is, as you

know, a certain rhythm to be observed by an orator, (and of that we

will speak presently,) proceeding on a regular system; but though it

must be attended to in another kind of oratory, it must be entirely

abandoned in this. This must be a sort of easy style, and yet not

utterly without rules, so that it may seem to range at freedom, not to

wander about licentiously. He should also guard against appearing to

cement his words together; for the hiatus formed by a concourse

of open vowels has something soft about it, and indicates a not

unpleasing negligence, as if the speaker were anxious more about the

matter than the manner of his speech. But as to other points, he must

take care, especially as he is allowed more licence in these two,--I

mean the rounding of his periods, and the combination of his words;

for those narrow and minute details are not to be dealt with

carelessly. But there is such a thing as a careful negligence; for as

some women are said to be unadorned to whom that very want of ornament

is becoming, so this refined sort of oratory is delightful even when

unadorned. For in each case a result is produced that the thing

appears more beautiful, though the cause is not apparent. Then every

conspicuous ornament will be removed, even pearls; even curling-irons

will be put away; and all medicaments of paint and chalk, all

artificial red and white, will be discarded; only elegance and

neatness will remain. The language will be pure and Latin; it will be

arranged plainly and clearly, and great care will be taken to see what

is becoming.

XXIV. One quality will be present, which Theophrastus calls the fourth

in his praises of oratory;--full of ornament, sweetness, and fluency.

Clever sentiments, extracted from I know not what secret store, will

be brought out, and will exert their power in the speeches of this

perfect orator. There will be a moderate use of what I may call

oratorical furniture; for there is to a certain degree what I may call

our furniture, consisting of ornaments partly of things and partly of

words. But the ornaments consisting of words are twofold: one kind

consisting of words by themselves, the other consisting of them in

combination. The simple embellishment is approved of in the case of

proper and commonly employed words, which either sound very well,

or else are very explanatory of the subject; in words which do not

naturally belong to the subject,--it is either metaphorical, or

borrowed from some other quarter; or else it is derived from the

subject, whether it is a new term, or an old one grown obsolete; but

even old and almost obsolete terms may be proper ones, only that we

seldom employ them. But words when well arranged have great ornament

if they give any neatness, which does not remain if the words are

altered while the sense remains. For the embellishments of sentiments

which remain, even if you alter the language in which they are

expressed, are many, but still there are but few of them which are

worth remarking.

Therefore a simple orator, provided he is elegant and not bold in the

matter of making words, and modest in his metaphors, and sparing in

his use of obsolete terms, and humble in the rest of his ornaments of

words and sentences, will perhaps indulge in a tolerably frequent use

of that kind of metaphor which is common in the ordinary conversation,

not only of city people, but even of rustics; since they too are in

the habit of saying, "that the vines sparkle with jewels," "that the

fields are thirsty," "that the corn-fields are rejoicing," "that the

crops are luxuriant." Now there is not one of these expressions which

is not somewhat bold; but the thing is either like that which you use

metaphorically; or else, if it has no name of its own, the expression

which you use appears to have been borrowed for the sake of teaching,

not of jesting. And this quiet sort of orator will use this ornament

with rather more freedom than the rest; and yet he will not do it with

as much licence as if he were practising the loftiest kind of oratory.

XXV. Therefore that unbecomingness (and what that is may be understood

from the definition we have given of what is becoming) is visible here

also, when some sublime expression is used metaphorically, and is used

in a lowly style of oration, though it might have been becoming in

a different one. But the neatness which I have spoken of, which

illuminates the arrangement of language by these lights which the

Greeks, as if they were some gestures of the speech, call [Greek:

schaemata], (and the same word is applied by them also to the

embellishments of sentences,) is employed by the refined orator (whom

some men call the Attic orator, and rightly too, if they did not mean

that he was the only one) but sparingly. For, as in the preparation of

a feast, a man while on his guard against magnificence, is desirous to

be thought not only economical but also elegant, he will choose what

is best for him to use. For there are many kinds of economy suited to

this very orator of whom I am speaking; for the ornaments which I have

previously been mentioning are to be avoided by this acute orator,--I

mean the comparing like with like, and the similarly sounding and

equally measured ends of sentences, and graces hunted out as it were

by the alteration of a letter; so that it may not be visible that

neatness has been especially aimed at, and so that the orator may not

be detected in having been hunting for means of pleasing the ears of

his audience.

Again, if repetitions of the same expressions require a sort of

vehemence and loudness of voice, they will then be unsuited to the

simple style of oratory. The orator may use other embellishments

promiscuously; only let him relax and separate the connexion of the

words, and use as ordinary expressions as possible, and as gentle

metaphors. Let him even avail himself of those lights of sentiments,

as long as they are not too brilliant. He will not make the republic

speak; nor will he raise the dead from the shades below; nor will he

collect together a number of particulars in one heap, and so fold them

in one embrace. Such deeds belong to more vigorous beings, nor are

they to be expected or required from this man of whom we are giving a

sketch; for he will be too moderate not only in his voice, but also

in his style. But there are many embellishments which will suit his

simple style, although he will use even them in a strict manner; for

that is his character.

He will have besides this, action, not tragic, nor suited to the

stage, but he will move his body in a moderate degree, trusting a

great deal to his countenance; not in such a way as people call making

faces but in a manner sufficient to show in a gentlemanlike manner in

what sense he means what he is saying to be understood.

XXVI. Now in this kind of speech sallies of wit are admissible, and

they carry perhaps only too much weight in an oration. Of them there

are two kinds,--facetiousness and raillery,--and the orator will

employ both; but he will use the one in relating anything neatly, and

the other in darting ridicule on his adversaries. And of this latter

kind there are more descriptions than one; however, it is a different

thing that we are discussing now. Nevertheless we may give this

warning,--that the orator ought to use ridicule in such a way as

neither to indulge in it too often, that it may not seem like

buffoonery; nor in a covertly obscure manner, that it may not seem

like the wit of a comedian; nor in a petulant manner, lest it should

seem spiteful; nor should he ridicule calamity, lest that should seem

inhuman; nor crime, lest laughter should usurp the place which hatred

ought to occupy; nor should he employ this weapon when unsuitable to

his own character, or to that of the judges, or to the time; for all

such conduct would come under the head of unbecoming.

The orator must also avoid using jests ready prepared, such as do not

arise out of the occasion, but are brought from home; for they are

usually frigid. And he must spare friendships and dignities. He will

avoid such insults as are not to be healed; he will only aim at his

adversaries, and not even always at them, nor at all of them, nor in

every manner. And with these exceptions, he will employ his sallies of

wit and his facetiousness in such a manner as I have never found any

one of those men do who consider themselves Attic speakers, though

there is nothing more Attic than that practice.

This is the sketch which I conceive to be that of a plain orator, but

still of a great one, and one of a genius very kindred to the Attic;

since whatever is witty or pleasant in a speech is peculiar to the

Attics. Not, however, that all of them are facetious: Lysias is said

to be tolerably so, and Hyperides; Demades is so above all others.

Demosthenes is considered less so, though nothing appears to me to be

more well-bred than he is; but he was not so much given to raillery as

to facetiousness. And the former is the quality of a more impetuous

disposition; the latter betokens a more refined art.

XXVII. There is another style more fertile, and somewhat more

forcible than this simple style of which we have been speaking; but

nevertheless tamer than the highest class of oratory, of which I shall

speak immediately. In this kind there is but little vigour, but there

is the greatest possible quantity of sweetness; for it is fuller

than the plain style, but more plain than that other which is highly

ornamented and copious.

Every kind of ornament in speaking is suitable to this style; and in

this kind of oratory there is a great deal of sweetness. It is a style

in which many men among the Greeks have been eminent; but Demetrius

Phalereus, in my opinion, has surpassed all the rest; and while his

oratory proceeds in calm and tranquil flow, it receives brilliancy

from numerous metaphors and borrowed expressions, like stars.

I call them metaphors, as I often do, which, on account of their

similarity to some other idea, are introduced into a speech for

the sake of sweetness, or to supply a deficiency in a language. By

borrowed expressions I mean those in which, for the proper word,

another is substituted which has the same sense, and which is derived

from some subsequent fact. And though this too is a metaphorical

usage; still Ennius employed it in one manner when he said, "You are

orphaning the citadel and the city;" and he would have used it in a

different manner if he had used the word "citadel," meaning "country."

Again, when he says that "horrid Africa trembles with a terrible

tumult," he uses "Africa" for "Africans." The rhetoricians call this

"hypallage," because one word as it were is substituted for another.

The grammarians call it "metonymia," because names are transferred.

But Aristotle classes them all under metaphor, and so he does the

misuse of terms which they call [Greek: katachraesis]. As when we call

a mind "minute" instead of "little," and misuse words which are near

to others in sense; if there is any necessity for so doing, or any

pleasure, or any particular becomingness in doing so. When many

metaphors succeed one another uninterruptedly the sort of oration

becomes entirely changed. Therefore the Greeks call it [Greek:

allaegoria], rightly as to name; but as to its class he speaks

more accurately who calls all such usages metaphors. Phalereus is

particularly fond of these usages, and they are very agreeable; and

although there is a great deal of metaphor in his speaking, yet there

is no one who makes a more frequent use of the metonymia.

The same kind of oratory, (I am speaking of the moderate and temperate

kind), admits of all sorts of figures of expressions, and of many also

of ideas. Discussions of wide application and extensive learning

are explained in it, and common topics are treated without any

impetuosity. In a word, orators of this class usually come from the

schools of philosophers, and unless the more vigorous orator, whom I

am going to speak of presently, is at hand to be compared with them,

the one whom I am now describing will be approved of. For there is

a remarkable and flowery and highly-coloured and polished style of

oratory, in which every possible elegance of expression and idea is

connected together. And it is from the fountain of the sophist that

all this has flowed into the forum; but still, being despised by the

subtle arguers, and rejected by dignified speakers, it has taken its

place in the moderate kind of oratory of which I am speaking.

XXVIII. The third kind of orator is the sublime, copious, dignified,

ornate speaker, in whom there is the greatest amount of grace. For he

it is, out of admiration for whose ornamented style and copiousness of

language nations have allowed eloquence to obtain so much influence

in states; but it was only this eloquence, which is borne along in an

impetuous course, and with a mighty noise, which all men looked up

to, and admired, and had no idea that they themselves could possibly

attain to. It belongs to this eloquence to deal with men's minds, and

to influence them in every imaginable way. This is the style which

sometimes forces its way into and sometimes steals into the senses;

which implants new opinions in men, and eradicates others which have

been long established. But there is a vast difference between this

kind of orator and the preceding ones. A man who has laboured at the

subtle and acute style, in order to be able to speak cunningly and

cleverly, and who has had no higher aim, if he has entirely attained

his object, is a great orator, if not a very great one; he is far from

standing on slippery ground, and if he once gets a firm footing, is

in no danger of falling. But the middle kind of orator, whom I have

called moderate and temperate, if he has only arranged all his own

forces to his satisfaction, will have no fear of any doubtful or

uncertain chances of oratory; and even if at any time he should not be

completely successful, which may often be the case, still he will be

in no great danger, for he cannot fall far. But this orator of ours,

whom we consider the first of orators, dignified, vehement, and

earnest, if this is the only thing for which he appears born, or if

this is the only kind of oratory to which he applies himself, and if

he does not combine his copiousness of diction with those other two

kinds of oratory, is very much to be despised. For the one who speaks

simply, inasmuch as he speaks with shrewdness and sense, is a wise

man; the one who employs the middle style is agreeable; but this

most copious speaker, if he is nothing else, appears scarcely in his

senses. For a man who can say nothing with calmness, nothing with

gentleness; who seems ignorant of all arrangement and definition and

distinctness, and regardless of wit, especially when some of his

causes require to be treated in that matter entirely, and others in a

great degree; if he does not prepare the ears of his hearers before he

begins to work up the case in an inflammatory style, he seems like a

madman among people in their senses, or like a drunken man among sober

men.

XXIX. We have then now, O Brutus, the orator whom we are looking for;

but only in our mind's eye. For if I had had hold of him in my hand,

even he himself, with all his eloquence, should never have persuaded

me to let him go. But, in truth, that eloquent man whom Antonius never

saw is now discovered. Who then is he? I will define him in a few

words, and then describe him at length. For he is an eloquent man who

can speak of low things acutely, and of great things with dignity, and

of moderate things with temper.

Such a man you will say there never was. Perhaps there never was; for

I am only discussing what I wish to see, and not what I have seen.

And I come back to that sketch and idea of Plato's which I mentioned

before; and although we do not see it, yet we can comprehend it in

our mind. For I am not looking for an eloquent man, or for any other

mortal or transitory thing; but for that particular quality which

whoever is master of is an eloquent man; and that is nothing but

abstract eloquence, which we are not able to discern with any eyes

except those of the mind. He then will be an eloquent man, (to repeat

my former definition,) who can speak of small things in a lowly

manner, of moderate things in a temperate manner, and of great things

with dignity. The whole of the cause in which I spoke for Caecina

related to the language or an interdict: we explained some very

involved matters by definitions; we praised the civil law; we

distinguished between words of doubtful meaning. In a discussion on

the Manilian law it was requisite to praise Pompey; and accordingly,

in a temperate speech, we arrived at a copiousness of ornament. The

whole question, of the rights of the people was contained in the

cause of Rabinius; and accordingly we indulged in every conceivable

amplification. But these styles require at times to be regulated and

restrained. What kind of argument is there which is not found in my

five books of impeachment of Verres? or in my speech for Avitus? or in

that for Cornelius? or in the other numerous speeches in defence of

different men? I would give instances, if I did not believe them to

be well known, and that those who wanted them could select them for

themselves; for there is no effort of an orator of any kind, of which

there is not in our speeches, if not a perfect example, at least some

attempt at and sketch of. If we cannot arrive at perfection, at all

events we see what is becoming.

Nor are we at present speaking of ourselves, but of eloquence, in

which we are so far from having a high opinion of our own proficiency,

that we are so hard to please and exacting, that even Demosthenes

himself does not satisfy us. For he, although he is eminent above all

men in every description of oratory, still he does not always satisfy

my ears; so greedy and capacious are they, and so unceasingly desiring

something vast and infinite.

XXX. But still, since you became thoroughly well acquainted with this

orator, in company with his devoted admirer Pammenes, when you were

at Athens, and as you never put him down out of your hands, though,

nevertheless, you are often reading my works, you see forsooth that he

accomplishes many things, and that we attempt many things;--that he

has the power, we the will to speak in whatever manner the cause

requires. But he was a great man, for he came after great men, and he

had consummate orators for his contemporaries. We should have done a

great deal if we had been able to arrive at the goal which we proposed

to ourselves in a city in which, as Antonius says, no eloquent man had

been ever heard before. But, if Crassus did not appear to Antonius to

be eloquent, or if he did not think he was so himself, certainly Cotta

would never have seemed so to him, nor Sulpicius, nor Hortensius.

For Cotta never said anything sublime, Sulpicius never said anything

gently, Hortensius seldom spoke with dignity. Those former men were

much more suited to every style; I mean Crassus and Antonius. We feel,

therefore, that the ears of the city were not much accustomed to this

varied kind of eloquence, and to an oratory so equally divided

among all sorts of styles. And we, such as we were, and however

insignificant were our attempts, were the first people to turn the

exceeding fondness of the people for listening to this kind of

eloquence.

What an outcry was there when, as quite a young man I uttered that

sentence about the punishment of parricides! and even a long time

afterwards we found that it had scarcely entirely worn off. "For what

is so common, as breath to living people, the earth to the dead, the

sea to people tossed about by the waves, or the shore to shipwrecked

mariners?--they live while they are let live, in such a way as to be

unable to breathe the air of heaven; they die so that their bones do

not touch the earth; they are tossed about by the waves without ever

being washed by them; and at last they are cast up by them in such a

manner, that when dead they are not allowed a resting-place even on

the rocks." And so on. For all this is the language of a young man,

extolled not on account of any real merit or maturity of judgment, as

for the hopes and expectations which he gave grounds for. From the

same turn of mind came that more polished invective,--"the wife of

her son-in-law; the mother-in-law of her son, the invader of her

daughter's bed." Not, however, that this ardour was always visible

in us, so as to make us say everything in this manner. For that very

juvenile exuberance of speech in defence of Roscius has many weak

passages in it, and some merry ones, such as also occur in the speech

for Avitus, for Cornelius, and many others. For no orator has ever,

even in the Greek language, written as many speeches as I have. And my

speeches have the variety which I so much approve of.

XXXI. Should I permit Homer, and Ennius, and the rest of the poets,

and especially the tragic poets, to forbear displaying the same

vehemence on every occasion, and constantly to change their language,

and sometimes even to come near to the ordinary language of daily

conversation; and never myself descend from that fierce style of

vehement expression? But why do I cite poets of godlike genius? We

have seen actors, than whom nothing could be more admirable of their

kind, who have not only given great satisfaction in the representation

of the most different characters, and also in their own, but we have

seen even a comedian gain great applause in tragedies, and a tragedian

in comedies;--and shall not I attempt the same thing? When I say I, O

Brutus, I mean you also; for, as for myself, all that can be done has

been done. But will you plead every cause in the same manner, or are

there some kind of causes which you will reject? or will you employ

the same uninterrupted vehemence in the same causes without any

alteration?

Demosthenes, indeed, whose bust of brass I lately saw between the

images of yourself and your ancestors, (a proof, I suppose, of your

fondness for him,) when I was with you at your Tusculan villa, does

not yield at all to Lysias in acuteness, nor in shrewdness and

cleverness to Hyperides, nor in gentleness or brilliancy of language

to Aeschines. Many of his orations are very closely argued, as

that against Leptines; many are wholly dignified, as some of the

Philippics; many are of varied style, as those against Aeschines,

the one about the false embassy, and the one also, against the same

Aeschines in the cause of Ctesiphon. As often as he pleases he adopts

the middle style, and, departing from his dignified tone, he indulges

in that lower one. But when he raises the greatest outcry on the part

of his hearers, and makes the greatest impression by his speech, is

when he employs the topics of dignity.

However, let us leave Demosthenes for awhile, since it is a class that

we are inquiring about, and not an individual. Let us rather explain

the effect and nature of the thing; that is, of Eloquence. And let

us recollect what we have just said, that we are not going to say

anything for the sake of giving rules; but that we are going to speak

so as to be thought people expressing an opinion rather than teaching.

Though we often do advance further, because we see that you are not

the only person who will read this; you who, in fact, know all this

much better than we ourselves who appear to be teaching you; but it is

quite certain that this book will be extensively known, if not from

the recommendation which its being my work will give it, at all

events, because of its appearing under the sanction of your name, by

being dedicated to you.

XXXII. I think, then, that it belongs to a perfectly eloquent man, not

only to have the ability, which is his peculiar province, of speaking

copiously and with the assertion of large principles, but also to

possess its neighbouring and contiguous science of dialectics:

although an oration appears one thing and a discussion another; nor is

talking the same thing as speaking; though each belongs to discussing.

Let then the system of discussing and talking belong to the logicians;

but let the province of the orators be to speak and to embellish their

speeches. Zeno, that great man, who founded the school of the Stoics,

was in the habit of showing with his hand what was the difference

between these arts; for when he had compressed his fingers and made a

fist, he said that dialectics were like that; but when he had opened

his fingers and expanded his hand, he said that eloquence was like

his open palm. And even before him Aristotle, in the beginning of

his Rhetoric, said, that the art of eloquence in one portion of it

corresponded to dialectics; so that they differ from one another in

this, that the system of speaking is more wide, that of talking more

contracted. I wish, then, that this consummate orator should be

acquainted with the entire system of talking, as far as it can be

applied to speaking; and that (as indeed you, who have a thorough

acquaintance with these arts, are well aware) has a twofold method of

teaching. For Aristotle himself has given many rules for arguing:

and those who followed him, and who are called dialecticians, have

delivered many very difficult rules. Therefore I think, that the man

who is tempted by the glory of eloquence, is not utterly ignorant

of those things; but that he has been brought up either in that old

school, or in the school of Chrysippus. Let him first acquaint himself

with the meaning and nature and classes of words, both single and

combined; then let him learn in how many ways each word is used; then

how it is decided, whether a thing is false or true; then what

results from each proposition; then to what argument each result is

a consequence, and to what it is contrary; and, as many things are

stated in an ambiguous manner, he must also learn how each of them

ought to be distinguished and explained. This is what must be acquired

by an orator; for those things are constantly occurring; but, because

they are in their own nature less attractive, it is desirable to

employ some brilliancy of eloquence in explaining them.

XXXIII. And since in all things which are taught in any regular method

and system, it is first of all necessary to settle what each thing is,

(unless it is agreed by those who are discussing the point, what the

thing really is which is being discussed; nor otherwise is it possible

to discuss anything properly, or ever to get to the end of the

discussion,) we must often have recourse to words to explain our

meaning about each thing; and we must facilitate the understanding of

an involved and obscure matter by definition; since definition is a

kind of speech which points out in the most concise possible manner

what that is which is the subject of discussion. Then, as you know,

when the genus of each thing has been explained, we must consider what

are the figures or divisions of that genus, so that our whole speech

may be arranged with reference to them.

This faculty, then, will exist in the eloquent man whom we are

endeavouring to describe, so that he shall be able to define a thing;

and shall do it in the same close and narrow terms which are commonly

employed in those very learned discussions; but he shall be more

explanatory and more copious, and he shall adopt his definition more

to the ordinary judgment and usual intelligence of mankind. And again,

when circumstances require it, he shall divide and arrange the whole

genus into certain species, so that none shall be omitted and none

be superfluous. But when he shall do this, or how, is nothing to

the present question; since, as I have said before, I am here only

expressing an opinion, not giving a lesson.

Nor, indeed, must he be learned only in dialectics, but he must have

all the topics of philosophy familiar to him and at his fingers' ends.

For nothing respecting religion, or death, or affection, or love for

one's country, or good fortune, or bad fortune, or virtues, or vices,

or duty, or pain, or pleasure, or the different motions of the mind,

or mistakes, all which topics frequently occur in causes, but are

treated usually in a very meagre manner, can be discussed and

explained in a dignified and lofty and copious manner without that

knowledge which I have mentioned.

XXXIV. I am speaking at present concerning the subject matter of a

speech, not about the kind of speaking requisite. For I would rather

that an orator should first have a subject to speak of worthy of

learned ears, before he considers in what words or in what manner he

is to speak of everything; and, in order to make him grander, and in

some sense loftier (as I have said above about Pericles,) I should

wish him not to be utterly ignorant of physical science; and then,

when he descends again from heavenly matters to human affairs, he will

have all his words and sentiments of a more sublime and magnificent

character: and while he is acquainted with those divine laws, I do not

wish him to be ignorant of those of men. He must be a master of civil

law, which forensic debates are in daily need of. For what is more

shameful than for a man to undertake the conduct of legal and civil

disputes, while ignorant of the statutes and of civil law? He must be

acquainted also with the history of past ages and the chronology of

old time, especially, indeed, as far as our own state is concerned;

but also he must know the history of despotic governments and of

illustrious monarchs; and that toil is made easier for us by the

labours of our friend Atticus, who has preserved and made known the

history of former times in such a way as to pass over nothing worth

knowing, and yet to comprise the annals of seven hundred years in one

book. For not to know what happened before one was born, is to be

a boy all one's life. For what is the life of a man unless by a

recollection of bygone transactions it is united to the times of

his predecessors? But the mention of antiquity and the citation of

examples give authority and credit to a speech, combined with the

greatest pleasure to the hearers.

XXXV. Let him, therefore, come to his causes prepared in this kind of

way; and he will in the first place be acquainted with the different

kinds of causes. For he will be thoroughly aware that nothing can be

doubted except when either the fact or the language gives rise

to controversy. But the fact is doubted as to its truth, or its

propriety, or its name. Words give rise to dispute if they are

ambiguous or inconsistent. For it ever appears to be the case, that

one thing is meant and another expressed; then that is one kind of

ambiguity which arises from the words which are employed; and in this

we see that two things are meant, which is a property of all ambiguous

sentences.

As there are not many different kinds of causes, so also the rules for

arguments to be used in them are few. Two kinds of topics are given

from which they may be derived; one from the circumstances themselves,

the others assumed. The handling, then, of the matters themselves

makes the speech better; for the matters themselves are usually easy

to be acquainted with. For what remains afterwards, which at least

belongs to art, except to begin the speech in such a manner that the

hearer may be conciliated, or have his attention roused, or may be

made eager to learn? then after that to explain with brevity, and

probability, and clearness, so that it may be understood what is the

question under discussion; to establish his own arguments; to overturn

those of the opposite party; and to do all that, not in an irregular

and confused manner, but with separate arguments, concluded in such

a manner, that everything may be established which is a natural

consequence of those principles which are assumed for the confirmation

of each point: and after everything else is done, then to wind up with

a peroration which shall inflame or cool the hearers, as the case may

require.

Now, how the consummate orator handles each separate division of his

subject, it is hard to explain in this place; nor, indeed, are they

handled at all times in the same manner. But since I am not seeking a

pupil to teach, but a model to approve of, I will begin by praising

the man who sees what is becoming. For this is above all others the

wisdom which the eloquent man wants, namely--to be the regulator of

times and persons. For I do not think that a man ought to speak in the

same manner at all times, or before all people, or against every one,

or in defence of every one, or to every one.

XXXVI. He, then, will be an eloquent man who can adapt his speech to

whatever is becoming. And when he has settled that point, then he

will say everything as it ought to be said; nor will he speak of rich

subjects in a meagre manner, nor of great subjects in a petty manner,

and vice versa; but his oration will be equal to, and corresponding

to, his subject; his exordium will be moderate, not inflamed with

exaggerated expressions, but acute in its sentiments, either in the

way of exciting his hearers against his adversary, or in recommending

himself to them. His relations of facts will be credible, explained

clearly, not in historical language, but nearly in the tone of every

day conversation. Then if his cause is but a slight one, so also

will the thread of his argument be slight, both in asserting and in

refuting. And it will be maintained in such a way, that there will be

just as much force added to the speech as is added to the subject.

But when a cause offers in which all the force of eloquence can be

displayed, then the orator will give himself a wider scope, then he

will influence and sway men's minds, and will move them just as he

pleases, that is to say, just as the nature of the cause and the

occasion requires.

But all that admirable embellishment of his will be of a twofold

character; on account of which it is that eloquence gains such great

honour. For as every part of a speech ought to be admirable, so that

no word should be let drop by accident which is not either grave or

dignified; so also there are two parts of it which are especially

brilliant and lively: one of which I place in the question of the

universal genus, which (as I have said before) the Greeks call [Greek

Thesis]; the other is shown in amplifying and exaggerating matters,

and is called by the same people [Greek auxaesis]. And although that

ought to be spread equally over the whole body of the oration, still

it is most efficacious in dealing with common topics; which are called

common, because they appear to belong to many causes, but still ought

to be considered as peculiar to some individual ones.

But that division of a speech which refers to the universal genus

often contains whole causes; for whatever that is on which there is,

as it were, a contest and dispute, which in Greek is called [Greek

krinomenon], that ought to be expressed in such a manner that it may

be transferred to the general inquiry and be spoken of the whole

genus; except when a doubt is raised about the truth; which is

often endeavoured to be ascertained by conjecture. But it shall be

discussed, not in the fashion of the Peripatetics (for it is a very

elegant exercise of theirs, to which they are habituated ever since

the time of Aristotle), but with rather more vigour; and common topics

will be applied to the subject in such a manner, that many things will

be said gently in behalf of accused persons, and harshly against the

adversaries.

But in amplifying matters, and, on the other hand, in discarding them,

there is nothing which oratory cannot effect. And that must be done

amid the arguments, as often as any opportunity is afforded one,

of either amplifying or diminishing: and may be done to an almost

infinite extent in summing up.

XXXVII. There are two things, which, when well handled by an orator,

make eloquence admirable. One of which is, that which the Greeks call

[Greek: haethikon], adapted to men's natures, and manners, and to

all their habits of life; the other is, that which they call [Greek:

pathaetikon], by which men's minds are agitated and excited, which

is the especial province of oratory. The former one is courteous,

agreeable, suited to conciliate good-will; the latter is violent,

energetic, impetuous, by which causes are snatched out of the fire,

and when it is hurried on rapidly it cannot by any means be withstood.

And by the use of this kind of oratory we, who are but moderate

orators, or even less than that, but who have at all times displayed

great energy, have often driven our adversaries from every part of

their case. That most consummate orator, Hortensius, was unable to

reply to me, on behalf of one of his intimate friends; that most

audacious of men, Catiline, was dumb when impeached in the senate by

me. When Curio, the father, attempted in a private cause of grave

importance to reply to me, he suddenly sat down, and said, that he was

deprived of his memory by poison. Why need I speak of the topics used

to excite pity? which I have employed to the greater extent, because,

even if there were many of us employed in one cause, still all men at

all times yielded me the task of summing up; and it was owing not so

much to my ability as to my sensibility, that I appeared to excel so

much in that part. And those qualities of mine, of whatever sort they

are, and I am ashamed that they are not of a higher class, appear in

my speeches: although my books are without that energy, on account

of which those same speeches appear more excellent when they are

delivered than when they are read.

XXXVIII. Nor is it by pity alone that it is desirable to move the

minds of the judges, (though we have been in the habit of using that

topic ourselves in so piteous a manner that we have even held an

infant child by the hand while summing up; and in another cause, when

a man of noble birth was on his trial, we lifted up his little son,

and filled the forum with wailing and lamentations;) but we must also

endeavour to cause the judge to be angry, to appease him to make him

feel ill-will, and favour, to move him to contempt or admiration, to

hatred or love, to inspire him with desire or disgust, with hope

or fear, with joy or pain; in all which variety the speeches of

prosecutors will supply instances of the sterner kinds, and my

speeches in defence will furnish examples of the softer ones. For

there is no means by which the mind of the hearer can be either

excited or softened, which has not been tried by me; I would say,

brought to perfection, if I thought it was the case; nor should I fear

the imputation of arrogance while speaking the truth. But, as I

have said before, it is not any particular force of genius, but an

exceeding energy of disposition which inflames me to such a degree

that I cannot restrain myself; nor would any one who listens to a

speech ever be inflamed, if the speech which reached his ears was not

itself a fiery one.

I would use examples from my own works if you had not read them; I

would use them from the works of others, if I could find any; or

Greek examples, if it were becoming to do so. But there are very few

speeches of Crassus extant, and those are not forensic speeches.

There is nothing extant of Antonius's, nothing of Cotta's, nothing of

Sulpicius's. Hortensius spoke better than he wrote. But we must form

our own opinions as to the value of this energy which we are looking

for, since we have no instance to produce; or if we are still on the

look out for examples, we must take them from Demosthenes, and we must

cite them from that passage in the speech on the trial of Ctesiphon,

where he ventures to speak of his own actions and counsels and

services to the republic. That oration in truth corresponds so much

to that idea which is implanted in our minds that no higher eloquence

need be looked for.

XXXIX. But now there remains to be considered the form and character

of the eloquence which we are searching for; and what it ought to be

like may be understood from what has been said above. For we have

touched upon the lights of words both single and combined, in which

the orator will abound so much that no expression which is not either

dignified or elegant will ever fall from his mouth. And there will be

frequent metaphors of every sort; because they, on account of their

resemblance to something else, move the minds of the hearers, and turn

them this way and that way; and the very agitation of thought when

operating in quick succession is a pleasure of itself.

And those other lights, if I may so call them, which are derived from

the arrangement of words, are a great ornament to a speech. For they

are like those things which are called decorations in the splendid

ornamenting of a theatre or a forum; not because they are the only

ornaments, but because they are the most excellent ones. The principle

is the same in the case of these things which are the lights, and as

one may say, the decorations of oratory: when words are repeated and

reiterated, or are put down with slight alterations; or when the

sentences are often commenced with the same word, or end with the same

word; or both begin and end alike; or when the same word occurs in the

same place in consecutive sentences; or when one word is repeated in

different senses; or when sentences end with similar sounds; or when

contrary circumstances are related in many contrary manners; or when

the speech proceeds by gradations; or when the conjunctions are taken

away and each member of the sentence is uttered unconnectedly; or when

we pass over some points and explain why we do so; or when we of our

own accord correct ourselves, as if we blamed ourselves; or if we use

any exclamation of admiration, or complaint; or when the same noun is

often repeated in different cases.

But the ornaments of sentiments are more important; and because

Demosthenes employs them very frequently, some people think that that

is the principal thing which makes his eloquence so admirable. And

indeed there is hardly any topic treated by him without a careful

arrangement of his sentences; nor indeed is speaking anything else

except illuminating all, or at least nearly all, one's sentences with

a kind of brilliancy: and as you are thoroughly aware of all this,

O Brutus, why need I quote names or instances. I only let the place

where they occur be noted.

XL. If then that consummate orator whom we are looking for, should say

that he often treats one and the same thing in many different manners;

and dwells a long time on the same idea; and that he often extenuates

some point, and often turns something into ridicule; that he

occasionally appears to change his intention and vary his sentiments;

that he proposes beforehand the points which he wishes to prove; that

when he has completed his argument on any subject he terminates it;

that he often recals himself back, and repeats what he has already

said; that he winds up his arguments with fresh reasons; that he beats

down the adversary with questions; again, that he himself answers

questions which as it were he himself has put; that he sometimes

wishes to be understood as meaning something different from what he

says; that he often doubts what he had best say, or how he had best

say it; that he arranges what he has to say under different heads;

that he leaves out or neglects some points; while there are some

which he fortifies beforehand; that he often throws the blame on his

adversary for the very thing for which he himself is found fault with;

that he often appears to enter into deliberation with his hearers, and

sometimes even with his adversary; that he describes the conversation

and actions of men; that he introduces some dumb things, as speaking;

that he diverts men's minds from the subject under discussion; that he

often turns the discussion into mirth and laughter; that he sometimes

preoccupies ground which he sees is attached; that he adduces

comparisons; that he cites precedents; that he attributes one thing

to one person and another to another; that he checks any one who

interrupts him; that he says that he is keeping back something; that

he adds threatening warnings of what his hearers must beware of; that

he often takes a bolder licence; that he is sometimes even angry; that

he sometimes utters reproaches, deprecates calamity, uses the language

of supplication, and does away with unfavourable impressions; that he

sometimes departs a very little from his subject, to express wishes or

to utter execrations, or to make himself a friend of those men before

whom he is speaking.

He ought also to aim at other virtues, if I may so call them, in

speaking; at brevity, if the subject requires it. He will often, also,

by his speech, bring the matter before people's eyes; and often extol

it beyond what appears possible; his meaning will be often more

comprehensive than his speech; he will often assume a cheerful

language, and often give an imitation of life and nature.

XLI. In this kind of speaking, for you may look upon oratory as a vast

wood, all the importance of eloquence ought to shine forth. But these

qualities, unless they are well arranged and as it were built up

together and connected by suitable language, can never attain that

praise which we wish that it should.

And as I was aware that it would be necessary for me to speak on this

point next, although I was influenced by the considerations which

I had mentioned before, still I was more disturbed by those which

follow. For it occurred to me, that it was possible that men should be

found, I do not mean envious men, with whom all places are full, but

even favourers of my glory, who did not think that it became a man

with reference to whose services the senate had passed such favourable

votes with the approbation of the whole Roman people, as they never

did in the case of any one else, to write so many books about the

method of speaking. And if I were to give them no other answer than

that I was unwilling to refuse the request of Marcus Brutus, it would

be a reasonable excuse, as T might well wish to satisfy a man who was

my greatest friend and a most excellent man, and who only asked what

was right and honourable. But if I were to profess (what I wish that I

could) that I was about to give rules, and paths, as it were, to lead

to eloquence those who are inclined to study oratory, what man who set

a proper value on things would find fault with me? For who has ever

doubted that eloquence has at all times been of the very highest

estimation in our republic, among all the accomplishments of peace,

and of our domestic life in the city; and that next to it is the

knowledge of the law? and that the one had in it the greatest amount

of influence, and credit, and protection; and the other contains rules

for prosecutions and defence; and this latter would often of its own

accord beg for assistance from eloquence; but if it were refused,

would scarcely be able to maintain its own rights and territories.

Why then has it been at all times an honourable thing to teach civil

law, and why have the houses of the most eminent professors of this

science been at all times crowded with pupils? And yet if any one

attempts to excite people to the study of oratory, or to assist the

youth of the city in that pursuit, should he be blamed? For, if it be

a vicious thing to speak in an elegant manner, then let eloquence be

expelled altogether from the state. But if it not only is an ornament

to those who possess it, but the whole republic also, then why is it

discreditable to learn what it is honourable to know; of, why should

it be anything but glorious to teach what it is most excellent to be

acquainted with?

XLII. But the one is a, common study, and the other a novel one. I

admit that; but there is a reason for both these facts. For it was

sufficient to listen to the lawyers giving their answers, so that

they who acted as instructors set aside no particular time for that

purpose, but were at one and the same time satisfying the wants both

of their pupils and their clients. But the other men, as they devoted

all their time, when at home, to acquiring a correct understanding of

the causes entrusted to them, and arranging the arguments which they

were to employ; all their time when in the forum to pleading the

cause, and all the rest of their time in recruiting their own

strength; what time had they for giving rules or lessons? and I do not

know whether most of our orators have not excelled more in genius than

in learning; therefore, they have been able to speak better than they

could teach, while our ability is perhaps just the contrary.

But there is no dignity in teaching.--Certainly not, if it is done as

if one kept a school; but if a man teaches by warning, by exhorting,

by asking questions, by giving information, sometimes by reading with

his pupils and hearing them read, then I do not know, if by teaching

anything you can sometimes make men better, why you should be

unwilling to do it. Is it honourable to teach a man what are the

proper words to alienate consecrated property with, and not honourable

to teach him those by which consecrated property may be maintained and

defended?

"But," men say, "many people profess law who know nothing about it;

but even the very men who have acquired eloquence conceal their

attainment of it, because wisdom is a thing agreeable to men, but

eloquence is suspected by them." Is it possible then for eloquence to

escape notice, or does that which a man conceals cease to exist? Or is

there any danger of any one thinking with respect to an important and

glorious art that it is a discreditable thing to teach others that

which it was very honourable to himself to learn? But perhaps others

may be better hands at concealment; I have always openly avowed that I

have learnt the art. For what could I have done, having left my home

when very young, and crossed the sea for the sake of those studies;

and having had my house full of the most learned men, and when there

were perhaps some indications of learning in my conversation; and when

my writings were a good deal read; could I then have concealed the

fact of my having learnt it? How could I justify myself except by

showing that I had made some progress in those studies?

XLIII. And as this is the case still, the things which have been

already mentioned, have had more dignity in the discussion of them

than those which have got to be discussed. For we are now to speak

about the arrangement of words, and almost about the counting and

measuring of syllables. And, although these things are, as it appears

to me, necessary, yet there is more show in the execution than in

the teaching of them. Now that is true of everything, but it has a

peculiar force with respect to this pursuit. For in the case of all

great arts, as in that of trees, it is the height which delights us,

but we take no pleasure in the roots or trunks; though the one cannot

exist without the other. But as for me, whether it is that that

well-known verse which forbids a man

"To fear to own the art he practises,"

does not allow me to conceal that I take delight in it; or whether it

is your eagerness which has extorted this volume from me; still it was

worth while to make a reply to those whom I suspected of being likely

to find fault with me.

But if the circumstances which I have mentioned had no existence,

still who would be so harsh and uncivilised as not to grant me this

indulgence, so that, when my forensic labours and my public exertions

were interrupted, I might devote my time to literature rather than to

inactivity of which I am incapable, or to melancholy which I resist?

For it was a love of letters which formerly led me into the courts of

justice and the senate-house, and which now delights me when I am at

home. Nor am I occupied only with such subjects as are contained in

this book, but with much more weighty and important, ones; and if

they are brought to perfection, then my private literary labours will

correspond to my forensic exertions. However, at present let us return

to the discussion we had commenced.

XLIV. Our words then must be arranged either so that the last may as

correctly as possible be consistent with the first, and also so that

our first expressions may be as agreeable as possible; or so that the

very form of our sentences and their neatness may be well rounded off;

or so that the whole period may end in a musical and suitable manner.

And, in the first place, let us consider what kind of thing that is

which above all things requires our diligence, so that a regular

structure as it were may be raised, and yet that this may be effected

without any labour. For the labour would be not only infinite, but

childish. As in Lucilius, Scaevola is represented as attacking Albucius

very sensibly:

"How neatly all your phrases are arranged;

Like tesselated pavement, or a box

Inlaid with deftly wrought mosaic."

The care taken in the construction must not be too visible. But still

a practised pen will easily perfect this manner of arranging its

phrases. For as the eye does in reading, so in speaking, the eye will

see beforehand what follows, so that the combination of the last words

of a sentence with the first may not leave the whole sentence either

gaping or harsh. For sentiments ever so agreeable or dignified offend

the ears if they are set down in ill-arranged sentences; for the

judgment of the ears is very fastidious. And the Latin language is so

particular on this point, that no one can be so ignorant as to leave

quantities of open vowels. Though this is a point on which men blame

Theopompus, because he was so ostentatious in his avoidance of such

letters, although his master Isocrates did the same; but Thucydides

did not; nor did that other far superior writer, Plato. And he did

this not only in those conversations which are called Dialogues, when

it ought to have been done designedly; but even in that oration[61]

addressed to the people, in which it is customary at Athens for those

men to be extolled who have been slain in fighting for their country.

And that oration was so greatly approved of that it was, as you know,

appointed to be recited every year; and in that there is a constant

succession of open vowels, which Demosthenes avoided in a great degree

as vicious.

XLV. However, the Greeks must judge of that matter for themselves. We

are not allowed to use our words in that manner, not even if we wish

to; and this is shown even by those unpolished speeches of Cato. It is

shown by all the poets except those who sometimes had recourse to a

hiatus in order to finish their verse; as Naevius--

"Vos, qui accolitis Istrum fluvium, atque Algidam."

And again--

"Quam nunquam vobis Graii atque Barbari."

But Ennius does so only once--

"Scipio invicte."

And we too have written,--

"Hinc motu radiantis Etesiae in vada ponti."

For our countrymen would not have endured the frequent use of such a

liberty, though the Greeks even praise it. But why should I talk about

vowels? even without counting vowels, they often used contractions for

the sake of brevity, so as to say--

Multi' modis for imdtis modis.

Vas' argenteis for vasis argenteis.

Palmi et crinibus for palmis et crinibus.

Tecti' fractis for tectis fractis.

And what would be a greater liberty than to contract even men's names,

so as to make them more suitable to verse? For as they contracted

_duellum_ into _bellum_, and _duis_ into _bis_, so they called

_Duellius_ (the man I mean who defeated the Carthaginians in a naval

action) _Bellius_, though his ancestors were always called _Duellii_.

Moreover, they often contract words, not in obedience to any

particular usage, but only to please the ear. For how was it that

Axilla was made Ala, except by the flight of the larger letter? and so

the elegant usage of Latin conversation takes this letter _x_ out of

_maxilla_, and _taxilla_, and _vexillum_, and _paxillum_.

They also joined words by uniting them at their pleasure; so as to

say--_sodes_ for _si audes_, _sis_ for _si vis_. And in this word

_capsis_ there are no less than three[62] words. So _ain_ for _aisne,

nequire_ for _non quire, malle_ for _magis velle, nolle_ for _son

velle_. And again, we often say _dein_ for _deinde_, and _exin_ for

_exinde_. Well, need I give any more instances? Cannot we see easily

from whence it arises that we say _cum illis_, but we do not say _cum

nobis_, but _nobiscum_? because if it were said in the other way, the

letters would clash in a discordant manner; as they would have clashed

a minute ago if I had not put _autem_ between them. This is the origin

of our saying _mecum_ and _tecum_, not _cum me_, and _cum te_, so that

they too might be like _nobiscum_ and _vobiscum_.

XLVI. And some men find fault with all this; men who are rather late

in mending antiquity; for they wish us, instead of saying _Deûm atque

hominum fidem_, to say _Deorum_. Very likely it may be right, but were

our ancestors ignorant of all this, or was it usage that gave them

this liberty? Therefore the same poet who had used these uncommon

contractions--

"Patris mei mecûm factûm pudet," for meorum factorum,

and,

"Texitur: exitiûm examen rapit," for exitiorum,

does not say "_liberûm_" as many of us do say in such an expression as

_cupidos liberûm_, or in _liberûm loco_, but, as these men approve,

"Neque tuum unquam in gremium extollas liberorum ex te genus."

And again he says,--

"Namque aesculapi liberorum...."

And another of these poets says in his Chryses, not only

"Cives, antiqui amici majorum meûm,"

which was common enough; but he says, with a much more unmusical

sound,--

"Consiliûm, auguriûm, atque extûm interpretes."

And again he goes on--

"Postquam prodigiûm horriferûm, putentfûm pavos,"

which are not at all usual contractions in a string of words which are

all neuter. Nor should I much like to say _armûm judicium_, though the

expression occurs in that same poet,--

"Nihilne ad te de judicio armûm accidit?"

instead of _armorum_. But I do venture (following the language of the

censor's returns) to say _jabrûm_ and _procûm_, instead of _fabrorum_

and _procorum_. And I actually never by any chance say _duorum virorum

judicium_, or _triumvirorum capitalium_, or _decemvirorum litibus

judicandis_.

And Attius said--

"Video sepulchra dua duorum corporam."

And at another time he has said,--

"Mulier una duûm virûm."

I know which is proper; but sometimes I speak according to the licence

of the present fashion, so far as to say _Proh Deûm_, or _Proh

Deorum_; and at other times I speak as I am forced to, when I say

_trium virûm_, not _virorum_, and _sestertiûm nummûm_, not _nummorum_;

because with respect to these words there is no variety of usage.

XLVII. What am I to say is the reason why they forbid us to say

_nôsse, judicâsse_, and enjoin us to use _novisse_ and _judicavisse_?

as if we did not know that in words of this kind it is quite correct

to use the word at full length, and quite in accordance with usage to

use it in its contracted form. And so Terence does use both forms, and

says,--

"Eho, tu cognatum tuum non nôras?"

And afterwards he has,--

"Stilphonem, inquam, noveras?"

_Siet_ is the word at full length; _sit_ is the contracted form. One

may use either; and so we find in the same passage,--

"Quam cara sint, quae post carendo intelligunt,

Quamque attinendi magni dominatus sient."

Nor should I find fault with

"Scripsere alii rem."

I am aware that _scripserunt_ is the more correct form; but I

willingly comply with a fashion which is agreeable to the ears.

"Idem campus habet,"

says Eunius; and in another place he has given us,--

"In templis îsdem;"

but _eisdem_ would be more regular; but yet it would not have been

so musical: and _iisdem_ would have sounded ill. But custom has

sanctioned our departing from strict rules for the sake of

euphony; and I should prefer saying _pomeridianas quadrigas_ to

_postmeridianas_, and _mehercule_ to _mehercules. Non scire_ already

appears a barbarism; _nescire_ is sweeter. The word _meridiem_ itself,

why is it not _medidiem_?

I suppose because it sounded worse. There is one preposition, _abs_,

which has now only an existence in account books; but in all other

conversation of every sort is changed: for we say _amovit_, and

_abegit_, and _abstulit_, so that you cannot now tell whether _ab_ is

the correct form or _abs_. What shall we say if even _abfugit_ has

seemed inadmissible, and if men have discarded _abfer_ and preferred

_aufer_? and that preposition is found in no word whatever except

these two verbs. There were the words _noti_, and _navi_, and _nari_,

and when _in_ was forced to be prefixed to them, it seemed more

musical to say _ignoti, ignavi, ignari_, than to adhere to the strict

rules. Men say _ex usu_ and _republicâ_, because in the one phrase a

vowel followed the preposition, and in the other there would have been

great harshness if you had not removed the consonant, as in _exegit,

edixit, effecit, extulit, edidit_. And sometimes the preposition has

sustained an alteration, regulated by the first letter of the verb to

which it is added, as _suffugit, summutavit, sustulit_.

XLVIII. What are we to say of compound words? How neat is it to

say _insipientem_, not _insapientem_; _iniquum_, not _incequum_;

_tricipitem_, not _tricapitem_; _concisum_, not concoesum! and,

because of this last instance, some people wish also to say

_pertisum_; but the same fashion which regulates the other changes,

has not sanctioned this one. But what can be more elegant than this,

which is not caused by nature, but by some regular usage?--we say

_inclytus_, with the first letter short; _insanus_, with the first

letter long; _inkumanus_, with a short letter; _infelix_, with a long

one: and, not to detain you with many examples, in those words in

which the first letters are those which occur in _sapiente_ and

_felice_, it is used long; in all others it is short. And so, too, we

have _composuit, consuevit, concrvpuit, confecit_. Consult the truth,

it will reprove you; refer the matter to your ears, they will sanction

the usage. Why so? Because they will say that that sound is the most

agreeable one to them; and an oration ought to consult that which

gives pleasure to the ears. Moreover, I myself, as I knew that our

ancestors spoke so as never to use an aspirate except before a vowel,

used to speak in this way: _pulcros, Cetegos, triumpos, Cartaginem_;

when at last, and after a long time, the truth was forced upon me by

the admonition of my own ears, I yielded to the people the right of

settling the rule of speaking; and was contented to reserve to myself

the knowledge of the proper rules and reasons for them. Still we say

_Orcivii_, and _Matones_ and _Otones, Coepiones, sepulchra, coronas,

lacrymas_, because that pronunciation is always sanctioned by the

judgment of our ears.

Ennius always used _Burrum_, never _Pyrrhum_: he says,--

"Vi patefecerunt Bruges;"

not _Phryges_; and so the old copies of his poems prove, for they had

no Greek letters in them. But now those words have two; and though

when they wanted to say _Phrygum_ and _Phrygibus_, it was absurd

either to use a Greek character in the barbarous cases only, or else

in the nominative case alone to speak Greek, still we say _Phrygum_

and _Phrygibus_ for the sake of harmonizing our ears. Moreover (at

present it would seem like the language of a ploughman, though

formerly it was a mark of politeness) our ancestors took away the last

letter of those words in which the two last letters were the same, as

they are in _optumus_, unless the next word began with a vowel. And

so they avoided offending the ear in their verse; as the modern poets

avoid it now in a different manner. For we used to say,--

"Qui est omnibu' princeps," not "omnibus princeps;"

and--

"Vitâ illâ, dignu' locoquc," not "dignus."

But if unlettered custom is such an artist of euphony, what must we

think is required by scientific art and systematic learning?

I have put all this more briefly than if I were discussing this matter

by itself; (for this topic is a very extensive one, concerning the use

and nature of words;) but still I have been more prolix than the plan

I originally proposed to myself required.

XLIX. But because the choice of subjects and words is in the

department of prudence, but of sounds and rhythm it is the ears that

are the judges; because the one is referable to one's understanding,

the other only to one's pleasure; therefore in the one case it is

reason and in the other sensation that has been the inventor of the

system. For it was necessary for us either to disregard the pleasure

of those men by whom we wished to be approved of; or else it was

necessary to discover a system by which to gain their good-will.

There are then two things which soothe the ears; _sound_ and _rhythm_.

Concerning rhythm we will speak presently; at this moment we are

inquiring into sound. As I said before, words must be selected which

as much as possible shall sound well; but they must not be, like the

words of a poet, sought purely for sound, but taken from ordinary

language.

"Qua ponto a Helles"

is an extravagant expression; but

"Auratua aries Colehorum"

is a verse illuminated with splendid names. But the next verse is

polluted by ending with a most inharmonious letter;

"Frugifera et ferta arva Asiae tenet."

Let us therefore use the propriety of words of our own language,

rather than the brilliancy of the Greeks; unless perchance we are

ashamed of speaking in such a way as this--

"Quâ tempestate Paris Helenam,"

and the rest of that sentence. Let us, I say, pursue that plan and

avoid harshness of sound.

"Habeo istam ego perterricrepam....

Versutiloquas malitias."

Nor is it enough to have one's words arranged in a regular system, but

the terminations of the sentences must be carefully studied, since we

have said that that is a second sort of judgment of the ears. But the

harmonious end of a sentence depends on the arrangement itself, which

is so of its own accord, if I may so express myself, or on some

particular class of words in which there is a certain neatness; and

whether such words have cases the terminations of which are similar,

or whether one word is matched with another which resembles it, or

whether contrary words are opposed to one another, they are harmonious

of their own nature, even if nothing has been done on purpose. In the

pursuit of this sort of neatness Gorgias is reported to have been the

leader; and of this style there is an example in our speech in defence

of Milo: "For this law, O judges, is not a written one, but a natural

one, one which we have not learnt, or received from others, or

gathered from books; but which we have extracted, and pressed out,

and imbibed from nature itself; it is one in which we have not been

educated, but born; we have not been brought up in it, but imbued with

it. For these sentences are such that, because they are referred to

the principles to which they ought to be referred, we see plainly that

harmony was not the thing that was sought in them, but that which

followed of its own accord. And this is also the case when contraries

are opposed to one another; as those phrases are by which not only a

harmonious sentence, but even a verse is made.

"Eam, quam nihil accusas, damnas."

A man would say _condemnas_ if he wished to avoid making a verse.

"Bene quam meritam esse autumas, dicis male mereri.

Id, quod scis, prodest nihil; id, quod nescis, obest."

The very relation of the contrary effects makes a verse that would be

harmonious in a narration.

"Quod scis, nihil prodest; quod nescis, multum obest."

These things, which the Greeks call [Greek: antitheta], as in them

contraries are opposed to contraries, of sheer necessity produce

oratorical rhythm; and that too without any intention on the part of

the orator that they should do so.

This was a kind of speaking in which the ancients used to take

delight, even before the time of Isocrates; and especially Gorgias;

in whose orations his very neatness generally produces an harmonious

rhythm. We too frequently employ this style; as in the fourth book of

our impeachment of Verres:--"Compare this peace with that war; the

arrival of this praetor with the victory of that general; the debauched

retinue of this man, with the unconquerable army of the other; the

lust of this man with the continence of that one; and you will say

that Syracuse was founded by the man who in reality took it; and was

stormed by this one, who in reality received it in an admirable and

settled condition."

This sort of rhythm then must be well understood.

L. We must now explain that third kind of an harmonious and

well-arranged speech, and say of what character it is; and what sort

of ears those people have who do not understand its character, or

indeed what there is in them that is like men at all, I do not know.

My ears delight in a well-turned and properly finished period of

words, and they like conciseness, and disapprove of redundancy. Why

do I say my ears? I have often seen a whole assembly raise a shout of

approval at hearing a musical sentence. For men's ears expect that

sentences shall be strung together of well-arranged words. This was

not the case in the time of the ancients. And indeed it was nearly the

only thing in which they were deficient: for they selected their words

carefully, and they gave utterance to dignified and sweet sounding

ideas; but they paid little attention to arranging them or filling

them up. "This is what delights me," one of them would say. What are

we to say if an old primitive picture of few colours delights some men

more than this highly finished one? Why, I suppose, the style which

succeeds must be studied again; and this latter style repudiated.

People boast of the names of the ancients. But antiquity carries

authority with it in precedents, as old age does in the lives of

individuals; and it has indeed very great weight with me myself. Nor

am I more inclined to demand from antiquity that which it has not,

than to praise that which it has; especially as I consider what it has

as of more importance than what it has not. For there is more good in

well chosen words and ideas in which they excel, than in the rounding

off of phrases in which they fail. It is after their time that the

working up of the termination of a sentence has been introduced; which

I think that those ancients would have employed, if it had been known

and employed in their day; as since it has been introduced we see that

all great orators have employed it.

LI. But it looks like envy when what we call "number," and the Greeks

[Greek: ruthmos] is said to be employed in judicial and forensic

oratory. For it appears like laying too many plots for the charming

of people's ears if rhythm is also aimed at by the orator in his

speeches. And relying on this argument those critics themselves utter

broken and abrupt sentences, and blame those men who deliver well

rounded and neatly turned discourses. If they blame them because their

words are ill adapted and their sentiments are trifling, they are

right; but if their arguments are sound, their language well chosen,

then why should they prefer a lame and halting oration to one which

keeps pace with the sentiments contained in it? For this rhythm which

they attack so has no other effect except to cause the speaker to

clothe his ideas in appropriate language; and that was done by the

ancients also, not unusually by accident, and often by nature; and

those speeches of theirs which are exceedingly praised, are so

generally because they are concisely expressed. And it is now near

four hundred years since this doctrine has been established among the

Greeks; we have only lately recognised it. Therefore was it allowable

for Ennius, despising the ancient examples, to say:--

"In verses such as once the Fauns

And ancient poets sang:"

and shall it not be allowed me to speak of the ancients in the same

manner? especially as I am not going to say, "Before this man ..." as

he did; nor to proceed as he did, "We have ventured to open ..." For I

have read and heard of some speakers whose orations were rounded off

in an almost perfect manner. And those who cannot do this are not

content with not being despised; they wish even to be praised for

their inability. But I do praise those men, and deservedly too, whose

imitators they profess to be; although I see something is wanting in

them. But these men I do not praise at all, who imitate nothing of the

others except their defects, and are as far removed as possible from

their good qualities.

But if their own ears are so uncivilised and barbarous, will not the

authority of even the most learned men influence them? I say nothing

of Isocrates, and his pupils Ephorus and Naucrates; although those men

who are themselves consummate orators ought also to be the highest

authorities on making and ornamenting a speech. But who of all men

was ever more learned, or more acute, or a more accurate judge of

the discovery of, or decision respecting all things than Aristotle?

Moreover, who ever took more pains to oppose Isocrates? Aristotle

then, while he warns us against letting verses occur in our speeches,

enjoins us to attend to rhythm. His pupil Theodectes, one of the most

polished of writers, (as Aristotle often intimates,) and a great

artist, both felt and enjoined the same thing. And Theophrastus is

more distinct still in laying down the same rule.

Who then can endure those men who do not agree with such authorities

as these? Unless indeed they are ignorant that they ever gave any such

rules. And if that is the case, (and I really believe it is,) what

then? Have they no senses of their own to be guided by? Have they no

natural idea of what is useless? None of what is harsh, cramped, lame,

or superfluous? When verses are being repeated, the whole theatre

raises an outcry if there is one syllable too few or too many.

Not that the mob knows anything about feet or metre; nor do they

understand what it is that offends them, or know why or in what it

offends them. But nevertheless nature herself has placed in our ears a

power of judging of all superfluous length and all undue shortness in

sounds, as much as of grave and acute syllables.

LII. Do you wish then, O Brutus, that we should give a more accurate

explanation of this whole topic, than those men themselves have done

who have delivered these and other rules to us? Or may we be content

with those which have been delivered by them? But why do I ask whether

you wish this? when I know from your letters, written in a most

scholar-like spirit, that you wish for it above all things. First of

all, then, the origin of a well-adapted and rhythmical oration shall

be explained, then the cause of it, then its nature, and last of all

its use.

For they who admire Isocrates above all things, place this among his

very highest panegyrics, that he was the first person who added rhythm

to prose writing. For they say that, as he perceived that orators were

listened to with seriousness, but poets with pleasure, he then aimed

at rhythm so as to use it in his orations both for the sake of giving

pleasure, and also that variety of sound might prevent weariness. And

this is said by them in some degree correctly, but not wholly so. For

we must confess that no one was ever more thoroughly skilled in that

sort of learning than Isocrates; but still the original inventor of

rhythm was Thrasymachus; all whose writings are even too carefully

rhythmical. For, as I said a little while ago, the principle of things

like one another being placed side by side, sentence after sentence

being ended in a similar manner, and contraries being compared

with contraries, so that, even if one took no pains about it, most

sentences would end musically, was first discovered by Gorgias; but he

used it without any moderation. And that is, as I have said before

one of the three divisions of arrangement. Both of these men were

predecessors of Isocrates; so that it was in his moderation, not in

his invention, that he is superior to them. For he is more moderate in

the way in which he inverts or alters the sense of words; and also in

his attention to rhythm. But Gorgias is a more insatiable follower of

this system, and (even according to his own admission) abuses these

elegances in an unprecedented way; but Isocrates (who while a young

man had heard Gorgias when he was an old man in Thessaly) put all

these things under more restraint. Moreover he himself, as he advanced

in age, (and he lived nearly a hundred years,) relaxed in his ideas of

the exceeding necessity for rhythm; as he declares in that book which

he wrote to Philip of Macedon, when he was a very old man, in which he

says that he is less attentive to rhythm than he had formerly been.

And so he had corrected not only his predecessors, but himself also.

LIII. Since, then, we have those men whom we have mentioned as the

authors and originators of a well-adapted oration, and since its

origin has been thus explained, we must now seek for the cause.

And that is so evident, that I marvel that the ancients were not

influenced by it; especially when, as is often the case, they often by

chance made use of well-rounded and well-arranged periods. And when

they had produced their impression on the minds and ears of men, so as

to make it very plain that what chance had effected had been received

with pleasure, certainly they ought to have taken note of what had

been done, and have imitated themselves; for the ears, or the mind by

the report of the ears, contains in itself a natural measurement

of all sounds. That is how it distinguishes between long and short

sounds; and always watches for well-wrought and moderate periods. It

feels that some are mutilated and curtailed, as it were, and with

those it is offended, as if it were defrauded of its due; others it

feels to be too long, and running out to an immoderate length, and

those the ears reject even more than the first; for as in most cases,

so especially in this kind of thing, it happens that what is in excess

is much more offensive than that which errs on the side of deficiency.

As, therefore, poetry and verse was invented by the nicety of the ear,

and the careful observation of clever men; so it has been noticed in

oratory, much later, indeed, but still in deference to the promptings

of the same nature, that there are some certain rules and bounds,

within which words and paragraphs ought to be confined.

Since, therefore, we have thus shown the cause, we will now, if you

please, explain the nature of it; for that was the third division; and

that involves a discussion which has no reference to the original plan

of this treatise, but which belongs rather to the arcana of the art.

For the question may be asked, what is the rhythm of a speech; and

where it is placed; and in what it originates; and whether it is one

thing, or two, or more; and on what principles it is arranged; and for

what purpose; and how and in what part it is situated, and in what way

it is employed so as to give any pleasure.

But as in most cases, so also in this one, there are two ways of

looking at the question; one of which is longer, the other shorter,

and at the same time plainer.

LIV. But in the longer way the first question is, whether there

actually is any such thing as a rhythmical oration at all; (for some

persons do not think that there is, because there is not in oratory

any positive rule, as there is in verses, and because the people who

assert that there is that rhythm cannot give any reason why there is.)

In the next place, if there is rhythm in an oration, what sort of

rhythm it is; and whether it is of more than one kind; and whether it

consists of poetical rhythm, or of some other kind; and if it consists

of poetical rhythm, of which poetical rhythm, (for some think that

there is but one sort of poetical rhythm, while others think there are

many kinds.) In the next place, the question arises, whatever sorts of

rhythm there may be, whether one or more, whether they are common to

every kind of oratory, (since there is one kind used in narrating,

another kind in persuading, and another in teaching,) or whether the

different kinds are all adapted equally to every sort of oratory. If

the different kinds are common to each kind of oratory, what are they?

If there is a difference, then what is the difference, and why is the

rhythm less visible in a speech than in a verse? Besides, there is a

question whether what is rhythmical in a speech is made so solely by

rhythm, or also by some especial arrangement of words, or by the kind

of words employed; or whether each division has its component parts,

so that rhythm consists of intervals, arrangement of words, while the

character of the words themselves is visible being a sort of shape

and light of the speech; and whether arrangement is not the principal

thing of all, and whether it is not by that that rhythm is produced,

and those things which I have called the forms and light of a speech,

and which, as I have said, the Greeks call [Greek: schaemata]. But

that which is pleasant when uttered by the voice, and that which is

made perfect by careful regulation, and brilliant by the nature of the

words employed, are not one and the same thing, although they are both

akin to rhythm, because each is perfect of itself; but an arrangement

differs from both, and is wholly dependent on the dignity or sweetness

of the language employed.

These are the main questions which arise out of an inquiry into the

nature of oratory.

LV. It is, then, not hard to know that there is a certain rhythm in a

speech: for the senses decide that. And it is absurd not to admit an

evident fact, merely because we cannot find out why it happens. And

verse itself was not invented by _à priori_ reasoning, but by nature

and the senses, and these last were taught by carefully digested

reason what was the fact; and accordingly it was the careful noticing

and observation of nature which produced art.

But in verses the matter is more evident. For although there are some

kinds of verse which, if they be not chanted, appear but little to

differ from prose; and this is especially the case in all the very

best of those poets who are called [Greek: lyriloi] by the Greeks;

for when you have stripped them of the singing, the language remains

almost naked. And some of our countrymen are like them. Like that line

in Thyestes:--

"Quemnam te esse dicam, qui tarda in senectute" ...

And so on; for except when the flute-player is at hand to accompany

them, those verses are very like prose. But the iambics of the common

poets are, on account of their likeness to ordinary conversation, very

often in such a very low style, that sometimes it is hardly possible

to discover any metre, or even rhythm in them. And it may easily be

understood that there is more difficulty in discovering the rhythm in

an oration than in verses.

Altogether there are two things which season oratory--the sweetness of

the language, and the sweetness of the rhythm. In the language is the

material, and in the rhythm the polish. But, as in other things,

the older inventions are the children of necessity rather than of

pleasure; so also has it happened in this, that oratory was for many

ages naked and unpolished, aiming only at expressing the meaning

conceived in the mind of the speaker, before any system of rhythm for

the sake of tickling the ears was invented.

LVI. Therefore Herodotus also, and his age, and the age preceding him,

had no idea of rhythm, except at times by chance, as it seems. And the

very ancient writers have left us no rules at all about rhythm, though

they have given us many precepts about oratory. For that which is the

more easy and the more necessary will always be the first thing

known. Therefore, words used in a metaphorical sense, or inverted, or

combined, were easily invented because they were derived from ordinary

use, and from daily conversation. But rhythm was not drawn from a

man's own house, nor had it any connexion of relationship to oratory.

And therefore it was later in being noticed and observed, bringing as

it did the last touch and lineaments to oratory. But if there is

one style of oratory narrow and concise, and another more vague and

diffuse, that must clearly be owing, not to the nature of letters,

but to the difference between long and short paragraphs; because an

oration made up and compounded of these two kinds is sometimes

steady, sometimes fluent, and so each character must be kept up by

corresponding rhythm. For that circuitous way of speaking, which we

have often mentioned already, goes on more impetuously, and hurries

along, until it can arrive at its end, and come to a stop. It is quite

plain, therefore, that oratory ought to be confined to rhythm, and

kept clear of metre.

But the next question is, whether this rhythm is poetical, or whether

it is of some other kind. There is, then, no rhythm whatever that

is not poetical; because the different kinds of rhythm are clearly

defined. For all rhythm is one of three kinds. For the foot which

is employed in rhythm is divided into three classes; so that it is

necessary that one part of the foot must be either equal to the other

part, or as large again, or half as large again. Accordingly, the

dactyl is of the first class, the paeon of the last, the iambic of the

second. And how is it possible to avoid such feet in an oration?

And then when they are arranged with due consideration rhythm is

unavoidably produced.

But the question arises, what rhythm is to be employed; either

absolutely, or in preference to others. But that every kind of rhythm

is at times suitable to oratory, may be seen from this,--that in

speaking we often make a verse without intending it, (which, however,

is a great fault, but we do not notice it, nor do we hear what we say

ourselves;) and as for iambics, whether regular or Hipponactean, those

we can scarcely avoid, for our common conversation often consists of

iambics. But still the hearer easily recognises those verses, for they

are the most usual ones. But at times we unintentionally let fall

others which are less usual, but which still are verses; and that is a

faulty style of oratory, and one which requires to be guarded against

with great care.

Hieronymus, a Peripatetic of the highest character, out of all the

numerous compositions of Isocrates, picked out about thirty verses,

chiefly iambics, but some also anapaests. And what can be worse?

Though in picking them out he acted in an unfair manner, for he took

away sometimes the first syllable in the first word of a sentence; and

again, he sometimes added to the last word the first syllable of the

following sentence. And in this way he made that sort of anapaest which

is called the Aristophanic anapaest. And such accidents as these

cannot be guarded against, nor do they signify. But still this critic,

in the very passage in which he finds this fault with him, (as I

noticed when I was examining his work very closely,) himself makes

an iambic without knowing it. This, then, may be considered as an

established point, that there is rhythm also in prose, and that

oratorical is the same as the poetical rhythm.

LVII. It remains, therefore, for us to consider what rhythm occurs

most naturally in a well-arranged oration. For some people think that

it is the iambic rhythm, because that is the most like a speech,

on which account it happens that it is most frequently employed in

fables, because of its resemblance to reality--because the dactylic

hexameter rhythm is better suited to a lofty and magniloquent subject

But Ephorus himself, an inconsiderable orator, though coming from an

excellent school, inclines to the paeon, or dactyl, but avoids the

spondee and trochee. For because the paeon has three short syllables

and the dactyl two, he thinks that the words come more trippingly

off on account of the shortness and rapidity of utterance of the

syllables; and that a contrary effect is produced by the spondee and

trochee, because the one consists of long syllables and the other of

short ones; so that a speech made up of the one is too much hurried,

it made up of the other is too slow; and neither is well, regulated.

But those accents are all in the wrong, and Ephorus is wholly in

fault. For those who pass over the paeon, do not perceive that a most

delicate, and at the same time most dignified rhythm is passed over by

them. But Aristotle's opinion is very different, for he considers that

the heroic rhythm is a grander one than is admissible in prose, and

that an iambic is too like ordinary conversation. Accordingly, he does

not approve of a style which is lowly and abject, or of one which is

too lofty and, as it were, on stilts: but still he wishes for one full

of dignity, in order to strike those who hear it with the greater

admiration. But he calls a trochee, which occupies the same time as a

choreus, [Greek: kordax], because its contracted and brief character

is devoid of dignity. Accordingly, he approves of the paeon; and says

that all men employ it, but that all men are not themselves aware when

they do employ it; and that there is a third or middle way between

those two, but that those feet are formed in such a way, that in every

one of them there is either a time, or a time and a half, or two

times. Therefore, those men of whom I have spoken have considered

convenience only, and disregarded dignity. For the iambic and the

dactyl are those which are most usually employed in verse; and,

therefore, as we avoid verses in making speeches, so also a recurrence

of these feet must be avoided. For oratory is a different thing from

poetry, nor are there any two things more contrary to one another than

that is to verses. But the paeon is that foot which, of all others, is

least adapted to verse, on which account oratory admits it the more

willingly. But Ephorus will not even admit that the spondee, which he

condemns, is equivalent to the dactyl, which he approves of. For he

thinks that feet ought to be measured by their syllables, not by their

quantity; and he does the same in regard to the trochee, which in its

quantity and times is equivalent to an iambic; but which is a fault in

an oration, if it be placed at the end, because a sentence ends better

with a long syllable.

And all this, which is also contained in Aristotle, is said by

Theophrastus and Theodectes about the paeon. But my opinion is, that

all feet ought to be jumbled together and confused, as it were, in an

oration; and that we could not escape blame if we were always to use

the same feet; because an oration ought to be neither metrical, like

a poem, nor inharmonious, like the conversation of the common people.

The one is so fettered by rules that it is manifest that it is

designedly arranged as we see it; the other is so loose as to appear

ordinary and vulgar; so that you are not pleased with the one, and you

hate the other.

Let oratory then be, as I have said above, mingled and regulated with

a regard to rhythm; not prosaic, nor on the other hand sacrificed

wholly to rhythm; composed chiefly of the paeon, (since that is the

opinion of the wisest author on the subject,) with many of the other

feet which he passes over intermingled with it.

LVIII. But what feet ought to be mingled with others, like purple,

must be now explained; and we must also show to what kind of speech

each sort of foot and rhythm is the best adapted. For the iambic is

most frequent in those orations which are composed in a humble and

lowly style; but the paeon is suited to a more dignified style; and the

dactyl to both. Therefore, in a varied and long-continued speech these

feet should be mingled together and combined. And in this way the fact

of the orator aiming at pleasing the senses, and the careful attempt

to round off the speech, will be the less visible, and they will at

all times be less apparent if we employ dignified expressions and

sentiments. For the hearers observe these two things, and think them

agreeable: (I mean, expressions and sentiments.) And while they listen

to them with admiring minds, the rhythm escapes their notice; and even

if it were wholly wanting they would still be delighted with those

other things.

Nor indeed is the rhythm, I mean in a speech, (for the case as to

verse is very different,) so exacting that nothing may ever be

expressed except according to rule; for then it would be a poem. But

every oration which does not halt or if I may so say, fluctuate, and

which proceeds on with an equal and consistent pace, is considered

rhythmical. And it is considered rhythmical in the delivery; not

because it consists wholly of some regular rhythm; but because it

comes as near to a musical rhythm as possible: on which account it is

more difficult to make a speech than to make verses; because these

last have certain definite rules which it is necessary to follow; but,

in speaking, there is nothing settled, except that the speech must

not be intemperate, or too compressed, or prosaic, or too fluent.

Therefore there are no regular bars in it as a flute-player has; but

the whole principle and system of an oration is regulated by general

rules of universal application; and they are judged of on the

principle of pleasing the ear.