But there are these five lights, as it were, which are common to both

single words and combined expressions,--they must be clear, concise,

probable, intelligible, agreeable. Clearness is produced by common

words, appropriate, well arranged, in a well-rounded period: on the

other hand, obscurity is caused by either too great length, or a too

great contraction of the sentence; or by ambiguity; or by any misuse

or alteration of the ordinary sense of the words. But brevity is

produced by simple words, by speaking only once of each point, by

aiming at no one object except speaking clearly. But an oration is

probable, if it is not too highly decorated and polished; if there is

authority and thought in its expressions; if its sentiments are either

dignified, or else consistent with the opinions and customs of men.

But an oration is brilliant, if expressions are used which are chosen

with gravity, and used in metaphorical and hyperbolical senses; and if

it is also full of words suited to the circumstances, and reiterated,

and having the same sense, and not inconsistent with the subject under

discussion, and with the imitation of things: for this is one part of

an oration which almost brings the actual circumstances before our

eyes, for then the sense is most easily arrived at but still the other

senses also, and especially the mind itself, can be influenced by it.

But the things which have been said about a clear speech, all have

reference also to the brilliant one which we are now speaking of, for

this is only a kind somewhat more brilliant than that which I have

called clear. By one kind we are made to understand, but by the other

one we actually appear to see. But the kind of speaking which is

agreeable, consists first of all of an elegance and pleasantness of

sounding and sweet words, secondly, of a combination which has no

harsh unions of words, nor any disjoined and open vowels, and it must

also be bounded with limited periods, and in paragraphs easily to be

pronounced, and full of likeness and equality in the sentences. Then

again, arguments derived from contrary expressions must be added,

so that repetitions must answer to repetitions, like to like and

expressions must be added, repeated, redoubled, and even very

frequently reiterated, the construction of the sentences must at one

time be compacted by means of conjunctions, and at another relaxed by

separation of the clauses. For an oration becomes agreeable when you

say anything unexpected, or unheard of, or novel, for whatever excites

wonder gives pleasure. And that oration especially influences the

hearer which unites several affections of the mind, and which indicate

the amiable manners of the orator himself, which are represented

either by signifying his own opinion, and showing it to proceed from a

humane and liberal disposition, or by a turn in the language, when for

the sake either of extolling another or of disparaging himself, the

orator seems to say one thing and mean another, and that too seems to

be done out of courtesy rather than out of levity. But there are many

rules for sweetness in speaking, which may make a speech either more

obscure or less probable, therefore, while on this topic, we must

decide for ourselves what the cause requires.

VII _C. F._ It remains, then, now for you to speak of the alterations

and changes in a speech.

_C. P._ The whole of that, then, consists in the alteration of words,

and that alteration is managed in such a way in the case of single

words, that the style may either be dilated by words, or contracted.

It may be dilated, when a word which is either peculiar, or which

has the same signification, or which has been coined on purpose, is

extended by paraphrase. Or again, in another way, when a definition

is held down to a single word, or when expressions borrowed from

something else are banished, or made use of in a roundabout sense, or

when one word is made up out of two. But in compound words a threefold

change can be made, not of words, but only of order, so that when a

thing has once been said plainly, as nature itself prompts, the order

may be inverted, and the expression may be repeated, turned upside

down, as it were, or backwards and forwards. Then again the same

expression may be reiterated in a mutilated, or re arranged, form. But

the practice of speaking is very much occupied in all these kinds of

conversion.

_C. F._ The next point is action, if I do not mistake.

_C. P._ It is so, and that must be constantly varied by the orator,

in correspondence with the importance of his subjects and of his

expressions. For the orator makes an oration clear, and brilliant,

and probable, and agreeable, not only by his words, but also by the

variety of his tones, by the gestures of his body, by the changes of

his countenance, which will be of great weight if they harmonize with

the character of his address, and follow its energy and variety.

_C. F._ Is there nothing remaining to be said about the orator

himself?

_C. P._ Nothing at all, except as to memory, which is in a certain

manner the sister of writing, and though in a different class greatly

resembles it. For as it consists of the characters of letters, and of

that substance on which those characters are impressed, so a perfect

memory uses topics, as writing does wax, and on them arranges its

images as if they were letters.

VIII _C. F._ Since, then, you have thus explained all the power of an

orator, what have you to tell me about the rules for an oration?

_C. P._ That there are four divisions in an oration, of which the

first and last are of avail to excite such and such feelings in the

mind, for they are to be excited by the openings and perorations of

speeches: the second is narration: and the third, being confirmation,

adds credibility to a speech. But although amplification has its own

proper place, being often in the opening of a speech, and almost

always at the end still it may be employed also in other parts of the

speech especially when any point has been established, or when the

orator has been finding fault with something. Therefore, it is of the

very greatest influence in producing belief. For amplification is a

sort of vehement argumentation; the one being used for the sake of

teaching, the other with the object of acting on the feelings.

_C. F._ Proceed, then, to explain to me these four divisions in

regular order.

_C. P._ I will do so; and I will begin with the opening of a speech,

which is usually derived either from the persons concerned, or from

the circumstances of the case. And openings are employed with three

combined objects, that we may be listened to with friendly feelings,

intelligently and attentively. And the first topic employed in

openings has reference to ourselves, to our judges, and to our

adversaries; from which we aim at laying the foundations of good-will

towards us, either by our own merits, or by our dignity, or by some

kind of virtue, and especially by the qualities of liberality, duty,

justice, and good faith; and also by imputing opposite qualities to

our adversaries, and by intimating that the judges themselves have

some interest on our side, either in existence, or in prospect. And if

any hatred has been excited against, or any offence been given by us,

we then apply ourselves to remove or diminish that, by denying or

extenuating the cause, or by atoning for it, or by deprecating

hostility.

But in order that we may be listened to in an intelligent and

attentive manner, we must begin with the circumstances of the case

themselves. But the hearer learns and understands what the real point

in dispute is most easily if you, from the first beginning of your

speech, embrace the whole genus and nature of the cause,--if you

define it, and divide it, and neither perplex his discernment by the

confusion, nor his memory by the multitude, of the several parts of

your discourse; and all the things which will presently be said about

lucid narration may also with propriety be considered as bearing on

this division too. But that we may be listened to with attention, we

must do one of these things. For we must advance some propositions

which are either important, or necessary, or connected with the

interests of those before whom the discussion is proceeding. This also

may be laid down as a rule, that, if ever the time itself, or the

facts of the case, or the place, or the intervention of any one,

or any interruption, or anything which may have been said by the

adversary, and especially in his peroration, has given us any

opportunity of saying anything well suited to the occasion, we must

on no account omit it. And many of the rules, which we give in their

proper place, about amplification, may be transferred here to the

consideration of the opening of a speech.

IX. _C. F._ What next? What rules, then, are to be attended to in

narration?

_C. P._ Since narration is an explanation of facts, and a sort of base

and foundation for the establishment of belief, those rules are most

especially to be observed in it, which apply also, for the most part,

to the other divisions of speaking; part of which are necessary, and

part are assumed for the sake of embellishment. For it is necessary

for us to narrate events in a clear and probable manner; but we must

also attend to an agreeable style. Therefore, in order to narrating

with clearness, we must go back to those previous rules for explaining

and illustrating facts, in which brevity is enjoined and taught. And

brevity is one of the points most frequently praised in narration, and

we have already dwelt enough upon it. Again, our narrative will be

probable, if the things which are related are consistent with the

character of the persons concerned, with the times and places

mentioned,--if the cause of every fact and event is stated,--if they

appear to be proved by witnesses,--if they are in accordance with

the opinions and authority of men, with law, with custom, and with

religion,--if the honesty of the narrator is established, his candour,

his memory, the uniform truth of his conversation, and the integrity

of his life. Again, a narration is agreeable which contains subjects

calculated to excite admiration, expectation, unlooked-for results,

sudden feelings of the mind, conversations between people, grief,

anger, fear, joy, desires. However, let us proceed to what follows.

_C. F._ What follows is, I suppose, what relates to producing belief.

_C. P._ Just so; and those topics are divided into confirmation

and reprehension. For in confirmation we seek to establish our own

assertion; in reprehension, to invalidate those of our adversaries.

Since, then, everything which is ever the subject of a dispute, is so

because the question is raised whether it exists or not, or what it

is, or of what character it is, in the first question conjecture has

weight, in the second, definition, and in the third, reasoning.

X. _C. F._ I understand this division. At present, I ask, what are the

topics of conjecture?

_C. P._ They arise from probabilities, and turn wholly on the peculiar

characteristics of things. But for the sake of instructing you, I will

call that probable which is generally done in such and such a way as

it is probable that youth should be rather inclined to lust. But the

indication of an appropriate characteristic is something which never

happens in any other way, and which declares something which is

certain as smoke is a proof of fire. Probabilities are discovered

from the parts and, as it were, members of a narration. They exist in

persons, in places, in times, in facts, in events, in the nature of

the facts and circumstances which may be under discussion.

But in persons, the first things considered are the natural qualities

of health, figure, strength, age, and whether they are male or female.

And all these concern the body alone. But the qualities of the mind,

or how they are affected, depends on virtues, vices, arts, and want of

art, or in another sense, on desire, fear, pleasure, or annoyance. And

these are the natural circumstances which are principally considered.

In fortune, we look at a man's race, his friends, his children, his

relations, his kinsmen, his wealth, his honours, his power, his

estates, his freedom, and also at all the contraries to these

circumstances. But in respect of place, some things arise from nature

as, whether a place is on the coast or at a distance from the sea,

whether it is level or mountainous, whether it is smooth or rough,

wholesome or pestilential, shady or sunny, these again are fortuitous

circumstances,--whether a place is cultivated or uncultivated

frequented or deserted, full of houses or naked, obscure or ennobled

by the traces of mighty exploits, consecrated or profane.

XI. But in respect of time, one distinguishes between the present, and

the past, and the future. And in these divisions there are the further

subdivisions of ancient, recent, immediate, likely to happen soon,

or likely to be very remote. In time there are also these other

divisions, which mark, as it were natural sections of time as winter,

spring, summer and autumn. Or again, the periods of the year: as

a month, a day, a night, an hour, a season, all these are natural

divisions. There are other accidental divisions such as days of

sacrifice, days of festival, weddings. Again, facts and events are

either designed or unintentional, and these last arise either from

pure accident, or from some agitation of mind, by accident when a

thing has happened in a different way from what was expected,--from

some agitation, when either forgetfulness, or mistake, or fear, or

some impulse of desire has been the acting cause. Necessity, too, must

be classed among the causes of unintentional actions or results.

Again, of good and bad things there are three classes. For they can

exist either in men's minds or bodies, or they may be external to both

of these materials, then, as far as they are subordinate to argument,

all the parts must be carefully turned over in the mind, and

conjectures bearing on the subject before us must be derived from each

part.

There is also another class of arguments which is derived from traces

of a fact, as a weapon, blood, an outcry which has been raised,

trepidation, changes of complexion, inconsistency of explanation,

trembling, or any of these circumstances which can be perceived by our

senses, or if anything appears to have been prepared, or communicated

to any one, or if anything has been seen or heard, or if any

information has been given.

But of probabilities some influence us separately by their own weight,

some, although they appear trifling by themselves, still, when all

collected together, have great influence. And in such probabilities as

these there are sometimes some unerring and peculiar distinguishing

characteristics of things. But what produces the surest belief in a

probability is, first of all, a similar instance, then the similarity

of the present case to that instance sometimes even a fable, though it

is an incredible one, has its influence, nevertheless, on men's minds.

XII. _C. F._ What next? What is the principle of definition, and what

is the system of it?

_C. P._ There is no doubt but that definition belongs to the genus,

and is distinguishable by a certain peculiarity of the characteristics

which it mentions, or else by a number of common circumstances, from

which we may extract something which looks like a peculiar property.

But since there is often very great disagreement about what are

peculiar properties, we must often derive our definitions from

contraries, often from things dissimilar, often from things parallel.

Wherefore descriptions also are often suitable in this kind of

address, and an enumeration of consequences, and above all things, an

explanation of the names and terms employed, is most effectual.

_C. F._ You have now then explained nearly all the questions which

arise about a fact, or about the name given to such fact. The next

thing is, when the fact itself and its proper title are agreed upon,

that a doubt arises as to what its character is.

_C. P._ You are quite right.

_C. F._ What divisions, then, are there in this part of the argument?

_C. P._ One urges either that what has been done has been lawfully

done, for the sake either of warding off or of avenging an injury, or

under pretext of piety, or chastity, or religion, or one's country, or

else that it has been done through necessity, out of ignorance, or by

chance. For those things which have been done in consequence of some

motion or agitation of the mind, without any positive intention, have,

in legal proceedings, no defence if they are impeached, though they

may have an excuse if discussed on principles unfettered by strict

rules of law. In this class of discussion, in which the question is,

what the character of the act is, one inquires, in the terms of the

controversy, whether the act has been rightly and lawfully done or

not; and the discussion on these points turns on a definition of the

before-mentioned topics.

_C. F._ Since, then, you have divided the topics to give credit to an

oration into confirmation and reprehension, and since you have fully

discussed the one, explain to me now the subject of reprehension.

_C. P._ You must either deny the whole of what the adversary has

assumed in argumentation, if you can show it to be fictitious or

false, or you must refute what he has assumed as probable. First of

all, you must urge that he has taken what is doubtful as if it were

certain; in the next place, that the very same things might be said in

cases which were evidently false; and lastly, that these things which

he has assumed do not produce the consequences which he wishes to be

inferred from them. And you must attack his details, and by that means

break down his whole argument. Instances also must be brought forward

which were overruled in a similar discussion; and you must wind up

with the complaints of the condition of the general danger, if the

life of innocent men is exposed to the ingenuity of men devoted to

calumny.

XIII. _C. F._ Since I know now whence arguments can be derived which

have a tendency to create belief, I am waiting to hear how they are

severally to be handled in speaking.

_C. P._ You seem to be inquiring about argumentation, and as to how to

develop arguments.

_C. F._ That is the very thing that I want to know.

_C. P._ The development, then, of an argument is argumentation; and

that is when you assume things which are either certain or at least

probable, from which to derive a conclusion, which taken by itself is

doubtful, or at all events not very probable. But there are two kinds

of arguing, one of which aims directly at creating belief, the other

principally looks to exciting such and such feelings. It goes straight

on when it has proposed to itself something to prove, and assumed

grounds on which it may depend; and when these have been established,

it comes back to its original proposition, and concludes. But the

other kind of argumentation, proceeding as it were backwards and in an

inverse way, first of all assumes what it chooses, and confirms it;

and then, having excited the minds of the hearers, it throws on to the

end that which was its original object. But there is this variety, and

a distinction which is not disagreeable in arguing, as when we ask

something ourselves, or put questions, or express some command, or

some wish, as all these figures are a kind of embellishment to an

oration. But we shall be able to avoid too much sameness, if we do not

always begin with the proposition which we desire to establish, and if

we do not confirm each separate point by dwelling on it separately,

and if we are at times very brief in our explanation of what is

sufficiently clear, and if we do not consider it at all times

necessary to sum up and enumerate what results from these premises

when it is sufficiently clear.

XIV. _C. F._ What comes next? Is there any way or any respect in which

those things which are said to be devoid of art, and which you said

just now were accessories to the main argument, require art?

_C. P._ Indeed they do. Nor are they called devoid of art because

they really are so, but because it is not the art of the orator which

produces them, but they are brought to him from abroad, as it were,

and then he deals with them artistically; and this is especially the

case as to witnesses. For it is often necessary to speak of the whole

class of witnesses, and to show how weak it is; and to urge that

arguments refer to facts, testimony to inclination; and one must have

recourse to precedents of cases where witnesses were not believed;

and with respect to individual witnesses, if they are by nature vain,

trifling, discreditable, or if they have been influenced by hope, by

fear, by anger, by pity, by bribery, by interest; and they must be

compared with the authority of the witnesses in the case cited,

where the witnesses were not believed. Often, also, one must resist

examinations under torture, because many men, out of a desire to avoid

pain, have often told lies under torture; and have preferred dying

while confessing a falsehood to suffering pain while persisting

in their denial. Many men, also, have been indifferent to the

preservation of their own life, as long as they could save those who

were dearer to them than they were to themselves; others, owing to

the nature of their bodies, or to their being accustomed to pain,

or because they feared punishment and execution, have endured the

violence of torture; others, also, have told lies against those whom

they hated. And all these arguments are to be fortified by instances.

Nor is it at all uncertain that (since there are instances on both

sides of a question, and topics also for forming conjectures on both

sides) contrary arguments must be used in contrary cases. There is,

also, another method of disparaging witnesses, and examinations under

torture; for often those answers which have been given may be attacked

very cleverly, if they have been expressed rather ambiguously or

inconsistently, or with any incredible circumstances; or in different

ways by different witnesses.

XV. _C. F._ The end of the oration remains to be spoken of by you; and

that is included in the peroration, which I wish to hear you explain?

_C. P._ The explanation of the peroration is easy; for it is divided

into two parts, amplification and enumeration. And the proper place

for amplification is in the peroration, and also in the course of

the oration there are opportunities of digressing for the purpose of

amplification, by corroborating or refuting something which has been

previously said. Amplification, then, is a kind of graver affirmation,

which by exciting feelings in the mind conciliates belief to one's

assertion. It is produced by the kind of words used, and by the

facts dwelt upon. Expressions are to be used which have a power of

illustrating the oration; yet such as are not unusual, but weighty,

full-sounding, sonorous, compound, well-invented, and well-applied,

not vulgar; borrowed from other subjects, and often metaphorical, not

consisting of single words, but dissolved into several clauses, which

are uttered without any conjunction between them, so as to appear more

numerous. Amplification is also obtained by repetition, by iteration,

by redoubling words, and by gradually rising from lower to loftier

language; and it must be altogether a natural and lively sort of

speech, made up of dignified language, well suited to give a high

idea of the subject spoken of. This then is amplification as far as

language goes. To the language there must be adapted expression

of tone, of countenance, and gesture, all in harmony together and

calculated to rouse the feelings of the hearers. But the cause must be

maintained both by language and action, and carried on according to

circumstances. For, because these appear very absurd when they are

more vehement than the subject will bear, we must diligently consider

what is becoming to each separate speaker, and in each separate case.

XVI. The amplification of facts is derived from all the same topics

as those arguments which are adduced to create belief. And above all

things, a number of accumulated definitions carries weight with it,

and a repeated assertion of consequents, and a comparison of contrary

and dissimilar facts, and of inconsistent circumstances. Causes too,

and those things which arise from causes, and especially similarities

and instances, are efficacious; so also are imaginary characters.

Lastly, mute things may be introduced as speaking, and altogether all

things are to be employed (if the cause will allow of them) which are

considered important; and important things are divisible into two

classes. For there are some things which seem important by nature,

and some by use. By nature, as heavenly and divine things, and those

things the causes of which are obscure, as those things which are

wonderful on the earth and in the world, from which and from things

resembling which, if you only take care, you will be able to draw

many arguments for amplifying the dignity of the cause which you

are advocating. By use; which appear to be of exceeding benefit or

exceeding injury to men; and of these there are three kinds suitable

for amplification.

For men are either moved by affection, for instance, by affections for

the gods, for their country, or for their parents; or by love, as for

their wives, their brothers, their children, or their friends; or by

honourableness, as by that of the virtues, and especially of those

virtues which tend to promote sociability among men, and liberality.

From them exhortations are derived to maintain them; and hatred is

excited against, and commiseration awakened for those by whom they are

violated.

XVII. It is a very proper occasion for having recourse to

amplification, when these advantages are either lost, or when there

is danger of losing them. For nothing is so pitiable as a man who has

become miserable after having been happy. And this is enough to move

us greatly, if any one falls from good fortune; and if he loses all

his friends; and if we have it briefly explained to us what great

happiness he is losing or has lost, and by what evils he is

overwhelmed, or is about to be overwhelmed. For tears soon dry,

especially at another's misfortunes. Nor is there anything which it is

less wise to exhaust than amplification. For all diligence attends to

minutiae; but this topic requires only what is on a large scale. Here

again is a matter for a man's judgment, what kind of amplification we

should employ in each cause. For in those causes which are embellished

for the sake of pleasing the hearers, those topics must be dealt

with, which can excite expectation, admiration, or pleasure. But in

exhortations the enumerations of instances of good and bad fortune,

and instances and precedents, are arguments of great weight. In trials

those topics are the most suitable for an accuser which tend to excite

anger; those are usually the most desirable for a person on his trial

which relate to raising pity. But some times the accuser ought to seek

to excite pity, and the advocate for the defence may aim at rousing

indignation.

Enumeration remains; a topic sometimes necessary to a panegyrist, not

often to one who is endeavouring to persuade; and more frequently to

a prosecutor than to a defendant. It has two turns, if you either

distrust the recollection of those men before whom you are pleading,

either on account of the length of time that has elapsed since the

circumstances of which you are speaking, or because of the length of

your speech; in this case your cause will have the more strength if

you bring up numberless corroborative arguments to strengthen your

speech, and explain them with brevity. And the defendant will have

less frequent occasion to use them, because he has to lay down

propositions which are contrary to them: and his defence will come out

best if it is brief, and full of pungent stings. But in enumeration,

it will be necessary to avoid letting it have the air of a childish

display of memory; and he will best avoid that fault who does not

recapitulate every trifle, but who touches on each particular briefly,

and dwells only on the more weighty and important points.

XVIII. _C. F._ Since you have now discussed the orator himself and his

oration, explain to me now the topic of questions, which you reserved

for the last of the three.

_C. P._ There are, as I said at the beginning, two kinds of questions:

one of which, that which is limited to times and persons, I call the

cause; the other, which is infinite, and bounded neither by times nor

by persons, I call the proposition. But consultation is, as it were, a

part of the cause and controversy. For in the definite there is what

is infinite, and nevertheless everything is referred to it. Wherefore,

let us first speak of the proposition; of which there are two kinds:

one of investigation; the end of this science, as for instance,

whether the senses are to be depended upon; the other of action, which

has reference to doing something: as if any one were to inquire by

what services one ought to cultivate friendship. Again, of the former,

namely, of investigation, there are three kinds: whether a thing is,

or is not; what it is; of what sort it is. Whether it is or not, as

whether right is a thing existing by nature or by custom. But what

a thing is, as whether that is right which is advantageous to the

greater number. And again, what sort of a thing anything is, as

whether to live justly is useful or not.

But of action there are two kinds. One having reference to pursuing

or avoiding anything; as for instance, by what means you can acquire

glory, or how envy may be avoided. The other, which is referred to

some advantage or expediency; as how the republic ought to be managed,

or how a man ought to live in poverty.

But again in investigation, when the question is whether a thing is,

or is not, or has been, or is likely to be. One kind of question is,

whether anything can be effected; as when the question is whether any

one can be perfectly wise. Another question is, how each thing can

be effected; as for instance, by what means virtue is engendered, by

nature, or reason, or use. And of this kind are all those questions

in which, as in obscure subjects or those which turn on natural

philosophy, the causes and principles of things are explained.

XIX. But of that kind in which the question is what that is which is

the subject of discussion, there are two sorts; in the one of which

one must discuss whether one thing is the same as another, or

different from it; as whether pertinacity is the same as perseverance.

But in the other one must give a description and representation as it

were of some genus; as for instance, what sort of a man a miser is, or

what pride is.

But in the third kind, in which the question is what sort of thing

something is, we must speak either of its honesty, or of its utility,

or of its equity. Of its honesty thus. Whether it is honourable to

encounter danger or unpopularity for a friend. But of its expediency

thus. Whether it is expedient to occupy oneself in the conduct of

state affairs. But of its equity thus. Whether it is just to prefer

one's friend to one's relations. And in the same kind of discussion,

in which the question is what sort of thing something is, there arises

another kind of way of arguing. For the question is not simply what

is honourable, what is expedient, what is equitable; but also by

comparison, which is more honourable, which is more expedient, which

is more equitable; and even which is most honourable, which is

most expedient, which is most equitable. Of which kind are those

speculations, which is the most excellent dignity in life. And all

these questions, as I have said before, are parts of investigation.

There remains the question of action. One kind of which is conversant

with the giving of rules which relate to principles of duty; as, for

instance, how one's parents are to be reverenced. And the other to

tranquillising the minds of men and healing them by one's oration; as

in consoling affliction, in repressing ill-temper, in removing fear,

or in allaying covetousness. And this kind is exactly opposed to that

by means of which the speaker proposes to engender those same feelings

of the mind, or to excite them, which it is often requisite to do

in amplifying an oration. And these are nearly all the divisions of

consultation. XX. _C. F._ I understand you. But I should like to hear

from you what in these divisions is the proper system for discovering

and arranging the heads of one's discourse.

_C. P._ What? Do you think it is a different one, and not the same

which has been explained, so that everything may be deduced from the

same topics, both to create belief, and to discover arguments? But the

system of arrangement which has been explained as appropriate to other

kinds of speeches may be transferred to this also.

Since therefore we have now investigated the entire arrangement of the

consultations which we proposed to discuss, the kinds of causes are

now the principal things which remain. And their species is twofold;

one of which aims at affording gratification to the ears, while the

whole object of the other is to obtain, and prove, and effect

the purpose which it has in view. Therefore the former is called

embellishment, and as that may be a kind of extensive operation, and

sufficiently various, we have selected one instance of it which we

adopt for the purpose of praising illustrious men, and of vituperating

the wicked ones. For there is no kind of oration which can be either

more fertile in its topics, or more profitable to states, or in which

the orator is bound to have a more extensive acquaintance with virtues

and vices. But the other class of causes is conversant either with the

foresight of the future, or with discussions on the past. One of which

topics belongs to deliberation and the other to judgment. From which

division three kinds of causes have arisen; one, which, from the

best portion of it, is called that of panegyric; another that of

deliberation; the third that of judicial decisions. Wherefore let us

first, if you please, discuss the first.

_C. F._ Certainly, I do please.

XXI. _C. P._ And the systems of blaming and praising, which have

influence not only on speaking well but also on living honourably, I

will explain briefly; and I will begin from the first principles of

praise and blame. For everything is to be praised which is united with

virtue; and everything which is connected with vice is to be blamed.

Wherefore the end of the one is honour, of the other baseness. But

this kind of discourse is composed of the narration and explanation of

facts, without any argumentations, in a way calculated to handle the

feelings of the mind gently rather than to create belief or to confirm

it in a suitable manner. For they are not doubtful points which are

established in this way; but those which being certain, or at least

admitted as certain, are enlarged upon. Wherefore the rules for

narrating them and enlarging upon them must be sought for from among

those which have been already laid down.

And since in these causes the whole system has reference generally to

the pleasure and entertainment of the hearer, the speakers must employ

in them all the beauties of those separate expressions which have in

them the greatest amount of sweetness. That is, he must often use

newly-coined words, and old-fashioned words, and metaphorical

language; and in the very construction of his periods he must often

compare like with like, and parallel cases with parallel. He must

have recourse to contrasts, to repetitions, to harmoniously-turned

sentences, formed not like verses, but to gratify the sensations of

the ears by as it were a suitable moderation of expression. And those

ornaments are frequently to be employed, which are of a marvellous and

unexpected character, and also those which are full of monsters, and

prodigies, and oracles. And also those things must be mentioned which

appeared to have befallen the man of whom the orator is speaking in

consequence of some divine interposition, or decree of destiny. For

all the expectation and admiration of the hearer, and all unexpected

terminations, contribute to the pleasure which is felt in listening to

the orator.

XXII. But since advantages or evils are of three classes, external,

affecting the mind, or affecting the body, the first are external

which are derived from the genus; and this being praised in brief and

moderate terms, or, if it is discreditable, being passed over; if it

is of a lowly nature, being either passed over, or handled in such a

way as to increase the glory of him whom you are praising. In the next

place, if the case allows it, we must speak of his fortune and his

abilities, and after that of his personal qualifications; among which

it is very natural to praise his beauty, which is one of the greatest

indications of virtue. After that we must come to his actions. The

arrangement is threefold. For we must have regard either to the order

of time, or the most recent actions must be spoken of first, or else

many and various actions of his must be classified according to the

different kinds of virtue which they display. But this topic of

virtues and vices, which is a very extensive one, will now be brought

into a very brief and narrow compass, instead of the many and various

volumes in which philosophers have discussed it.

The power of virtue then is twofold, for virtue is distinguished

either by theory or by practice. For that which is called prudence,

or shrewdness, or (if we must have the most dignified title for it)

wisdom, is all theoretical. But that which is praised as regulating

the passions, and restraining the feelings of the mind, finds its

exercise in practice. And its name is temperance. And prudence when

exerted in a man's own business is called domestic, when displayed in

the affairs of the state is called civil prudence. But temperance in

like manner is divided according to its sphere of action, whether

displayed in a man's own affairs, or in those of the state. And it is

discerned in two ways with respect to advantages, both by not desiring

what it has not got, and by abstaining from what it is in its power to

get. Again, in the case of disadvantages it is also twofold; for that

quality which resists impending evils is called fortitude; that which

bears and endures the evil that is present is termed patience. And

that which embraces these two qualities is called magnanimity. And one

of the forms of this virtue is shown in the use of money. And at

the same time loftiness of spirit in supporting disadvantages, and

especially injuries, and everything of the sort, being grave, sedate,

and never turbulent. But that division of virtue which is exercised

between one being and another is called justice. And that when

exercised towards the gods is called religion; towards one's

relations, affection; towards all the world, goodness; when displayed

in things entrusted to one, good faith; as exhibited in moderation of

punishment, lenity; when it develops itself in goodwill towards an

individual its name is friendship.

XXIII. And all these virtues are visible in practice. But there are

others, which are as it were the handmaidens and companions of wisdom;

one of which distinguishes between and decides what arguments in a

discussion are true or false, and what follows from what premises. And

this virtue is wholly placed in the system and theory of arguing; but

the other virtue belongs to the orator. For eloquence is nothing but

wisdom speaking with great copiousness; and while derived from the

same source as that which is displayed in disputing, is more rich, and

of wider application, better suited to excite the minds of men and to

work on the feelings of the common people. But the guardian of all

the virtues, which avoids all conspicuousness, and yet attains the

greatest eminence of praise, is modesty. And these are for the most

part certain habits of mind, so affected and disposed as to be each of

them distinguished from one another by some peculiar kind of virtue;

and according as everything is done by one of them, in the same

proportion must it be honourable and in the highest degree

praiseworthy. But there are other habits also of a well-instructed

mind which has been cultivated beforehand as it were, and prepared for

virtue by virtuous pursuits and accomplishments: as in a man's private

affairs, the studies of literature, as of tunes and sounds, of

measurement, of the stars, of horses, of hunting, of arms. In the

affairs of the commonwealth his eager pursuit of some particular kind

of virtue, which he selects as his especial object of devotion, in

discharging his duty to the gods, or in showing careful and remarkable

affection to his relations, his friends, or those connected with

family ties of hospitality. And these then are the different kinds of

virtue. But those of vice are their exact contraries.

But these also must be examined carefully, so that those vices may not

deceive us which appear to imitate virtue. For cunning tries to assume

the character of prudence, and moroseness, in despising pleasures,

wishes to be taken for temperance; and pride, which puffs a man up,

and which affects to despise legitimate honours, seeks to vaunt itself

as magnanimity; prodigality calls itself liberality, audacity imitates

courage, hardhearted sternness imitates patience, bitterness justice,

superstition religion, weakness of mind lenity, timidity modesty,

captiousness and carping at words wishes to pass for acuteness in

arguing, and an empty fluency of language for this oratorical vigour

at which we are aiming. And those, too, appear akin to virtuous

pursuits, which run to excess in the same class.

Wherefore all the force of praise or blame must be derived from these

divisions of virtues and vices. But in the whole context, as it were,

of the oration, these points must above all others be made clear,--how

each person spoken of has been born, how he has been educated, how

he has been trained, and what are his habits; and if any great or

surprising thing has happened to any one, especially if anything which

has happened should appear to have befallen him by the interposition

of the gods; and also whatever the person in question has thought, or

said, or done, must be adapted to the different kinds of virtue which

have been enumerated, and from the same topics we must inquire into

the causes of things, and the events, and the consequences. Nor ought

the death of those men, whose life is praised, to be passed over in

silence; provided only, there be anything noticeable either in the

manner of their death, or in the consequences which have resulted from

their death.

XXIV. _C. F._ I have attended to what you say, and I have learnt

briefly, not only how to praise another, but also how to endeavour to

deserve to be praised myself. Let us, then, consider in the next

place what system and what rules we are to observe in delivering our

sentiments.

_C. P._ In deliberation, then, the end aimed at is utility, to which

everything is referred in giving counsel, and in delivering our

sentiments, so that the first thing which requires to be noticed by

any one who is advising or dissuading from such and such a course of

action is what is possible to be done, or what is impossible; or what

is necessary to be done, or what is unnecessary. For if a thing be

impossible there is no use in deliberating about it, however desirable

it may be; and if a thing be necessary, (when I say necessary, I mean

such that without it we cannot be safe or free), then that must

be preferred to everything else which is either honourable or

advantageous in public affairs. But when the question is, What can be

done? we must also consider how easily it can be done: for the things

which are very difficult are often to be considered in the same

light as if they were totally impossible. And when we are discussing

necessity, although there may be something which is not absolutely

necessary, still we must consider of how much importance it is. For

that which is of very great importance indeed, is often considered

necessary. Therefore, as this kind of cause consists of persuasion and

dissuasion, the speaker who is trying to persuade, has a simple course

before him; if a thing is both advantageous and possible, let it be

done. The speaker who is trying to dissuade his hearers from some

course of action, has a twofold division of his labour. One, if it is

not useful it must not be done; the other, if it is impossible it must

not be undertaken. And so, the speaker who is trying to persuade must

establish both these points; the one whose object it is to dissuade,

may be content with invalidating either.

Since, then, all deliberation turns on these two points, let us first

speak of utility, which is conversant about the distinction between

advantages and disadvantages. But of advantages, some are necessarily

such; as life, chastity, liberty, or as children, wives, relations,

parents; and some are not necessarily such; and of these last, some

are to be sought for their own sakes, as those which are classed among

the duties or virtues, and others are to be desired because they

produce some advantage, as riches and influence. But of those

advantages which are sought for their own sake, some are sought for

their honourableness, some for their convenience, which is inherent

in them: those are sought for their honourableness which proceed from

those virtues which have been mentioned a little while ago, which are

intrinsically praiseworthy on their own account; but those are sought

on account of some inherent advantage which are desirable as to goods

of fortune or of the body: some of which are to a certain extent

combined with honourableness, as honour, and glory; some have no

connexion with that, as strength, beauty, health, nobleness, riches,

troops of dependents. There is also a certain sort of matter, as

it were, which is subordinate to what is honourable, which is most

particularly visible in friendship. But friendships are seen in

affection and in love. For regard for the gods, and for our parents,

and for our country, and for those men who are eminent for wisdom or

power, is usually referred to affection; but wives, and children,

and brothers, and others whom habit and intimacy has united with us,

although they are bound to us by affection, yet the principal tie

is love. As, then, you know now what is good in these things, it is

easily to be understood what are the contrary qualities.

XXV. But if we were able always to preserve what is best, we should

not have much need of deliberation, since that is usually very

evident. But because it often happens on account of some peculiarity

in the times, which has great weight, that expediency is at variance

with what is honourable, and since the comparison of the two

principles gives rise to deliberation, lest we should either pass over

what is seasonable, on account of some considerations of dignity, or

what is honourable on account of some idea of expediency, we may give

examples to guide us in explaining this difficulty. And since an

oration must be adapted not only to truth, but also to the opinions of

the hearers, let us first consider this, that there are two kinds of

men: one of them unlettered and rustic, always preferring what is

expedient to what is honourable; the other, accomplished and polite,

preferring dignity to everything. Therefore, the one class sets its

heart upon, praise, honour, glory, good faith, justice, and every

virtue; but the other regards only gain, emolument, and profit. And

even pleasure, which is above all things hostile to virtue, and which

adulterates the nature of what is good by a treacherous imitation of

it, which all men of grosser ideas eagerly follow, and which prefers

that spurious copy, not only to what is honourable, but even to what

is necessary, must often be praised in a speech aiming at persuasion,

when you are giving counsel to men of that sort.

XXVI. This also must be considered, how much greater eagerness men

display in fleeing from what is disadvantageous, than in seeking what

is advantageous; for they are in the same manner not so zealous in

seeking what is honourable, as in avoiding what is base. For who

ever seeks for honour, or glory, or praise, or any kind of credit as

earnestly as he flees from ignominy, infamy, contumely, and disgrace?

For these things are attended with great pain. There is a class of

men born for honour, not corrupted by evil training and perverted

opinions--on which account, when exhorting or persuading, we must keep

in view the object of teaching them by what means we may be able to

arrive at what is good, and to avoid what is evil. But before men who

have been properly brought up we shall dwell chiefly on praise and

honourableness, and speak chiefly of those kinds of virtues which are

concerned in maintaining and increasing the general advantage of men.

But if we are speaking before uneducated and ignorant men, then we

shall set before them profits, emoluments, pleasures, and the means

of escaping pain; we shall also introduce the mention of insult and

ignominy; for no one is such a clown, as not (even though honour

itself may have no influence on him) to be greatly moved by insult and

disgrace.

Wherefore we must find out from what has been already said, what has

reference to utility; but as to what is possible to be done or not,

with reference to which people usually inquire also how easily a thing

can be done, and how far it is desirable that it should be done, we

must consider chiefly with reference to those causes which produce

each separate result. For there are some causes which of themselves

produce results, and some which only contribute to the production of a

result. Therefore, the first are called efficient causes; and the

last are classed as such, that without them a thing cannot be brought

about. Again, of efficient causes, some are complete and perfect in

themselves; some are accessory to, and, as it were, partners in the

production of the result in question. And of this kind the effect is

very much diversified, being sometimes greater or less; so that which

is the most efficacious is often called the only cause, though it is

in reality but the main one. There are also other causes which, either

on account of their origin or on account of their result, are called

efficient causes. But when the question is, what is best to be done,

then it is either utility or the hope of doing it which urges men's

minds to agree with the speaker. And since we have now said enough

about utility, let us speak of the means of effecting it.

XXVII. And on this point of the subject we must consider with whom,

and against whom, and at what time, and in what place we are to do

such and such a thing, also what means of arms, money, allies, or

those other things which relate to the doing of any particular thing

we have it in our power to employ. Nor must we consider only

those means which we have, but those circumstances also which

are unfavourable to us. And if in the comparison the advantages

preponderate, then we must persuade our hearers, not only that what we

are advising can be effected, but we must also take care that it shall

appear easy, manageable, and agreeable. But if we are dissuading from

any particular course, then we must either disparage the utility of

it, or we must make the most of the difficulties of doing it, not

having recourse to other rules, but to the same topics as are

used when trying to persuade our hearers to anything. And whether

persuading or dissuading, the speaker must have a store of precedents,

either modern, which will be the best known, or ancient, which will

perhaps have the most weight. And in this kind of discourse he must

consider how he may be able often to make what is useful or necessary

appear superior to what is honourable, or _vice versâ_. But sentiments

of this kind will have great weight in influencing men's minds, (if it

is desirable to make an impression on them,) which relate either to

the gratification of people's desires, or to the glutting of hatred,

or to the avenging of injury. But if the object is to repress the

feelings of the hearers, then they must be reminded of the uncertainty

of fortune, of the doubtfulness of future events, and of the risk

there may be of retaining their existing fortune, if it is good; and

on the other hand, of the danger of its lasting if it is bad. And

these are topics for a peroration. But in expressing one's opinions,

the opening ought to be short, for the orator does not come forth as a

suppliant, as if he were speaking before a judge, but as an exhorter

and adviser. Wherefore, he ought to settle beforehand with what

intention he is going to speak, what his object is, what the subject

of his discourse is to be, and he ought to exhort his hearers to

listen to him while he detains them but a short time. And the whole of

his oration ought to be simple, and dignified, and embellished rather

by its sentiments than by its expressions.

XXVIII. _C.F._ I understand the topics of panegyric and persuasion.

Now I am waiting to hear what is suited to judicial oratory, and I

think that that is the only subject remaining.

_C.P._ You are quite right. And of that kind of oratory the object is

equity, which is regarded, not in a single point of view only, but

very often by a sort of comparison: as when there is a dispute as to

who is the most appropriate prosecutor; or when the possession of an

inheritance is sought for without any express law, or without any

will. In which causes the question is, which alternative is the more

equitable or which is most equitable. And for these causes a supply of

arguments is sought for out of those topics of equity which will be

mentioned presently. And even before the decision is given, there is

often a dispute about the constitution of the bench of judges, when

the question is either whether the person who brings the action has a

right of action, or whether he has it at the present time, or whether

he has ceased to have it, or whether the action ought to be brought

under the provisions of this law, or according to that formula. And

if these points are not discussed, or settled, or decided, before the

case is brought into court, still they often have very great weight

even at the trial itself, when the case is stated in this way:--"You

demanded too much; you demanded it too late; it was not your business

to make such a demand at all; you ought not to have demanded it of me;

or you ought not to have done so under this law, or in accordance with

this formula, or in this court." And this class of cases belongs

to civil law, which depends on laws respecting public and private

affairs, or on precedent; and the knowledge of it seems to have been

neglected by most orators, but to us it appears very necessary for

speaking. Wherefore, as to arranging the right of action, as to

accepting or standing a trial, as to demurring to the illegality of

a proceeding, as to comparisons of justice, all which topics usually

belong to this class of oration, so that although they often get mixed

up with the judicial proceedings, still they appear to deserve to be

discussed separately; and therefore I separate them a little from the

judicial proceedings, more, however, as to the time at which they are

to be introduced into the discussion, than from any real diversity of

character. For all discussions which are introduced about civil law,

or about what is just and good, belong to that sort of discussion in

which we doubt what sort of thing such and such a thing which we are

going to mention is. And this question turns chiefly on equity and

right.

XXIX. In all causes, then, there are three degrees, of which one at

least is to be taken for the purposes of defence, if you are limited

to one. For you must either take your stand in denying that the act

imputed to you has been done at all, or in denying that that which you

admit to have been done has the effect which, and is of the character

which, the adversary asserts. Or if there can be no doubt as to the

action, or the proper name of the action, then you must deny that what

you are accused of is such as he states it to be; and you must urge

in your defence that what you have done must be admitted to be right.

Accordingly, the first objection,--the first point of conflict with

the adversary, as I may call it, depends on a kind of conjecture; the

second, on a kind of definition, or description, or notion of the

word; but the third plea is to be maintained by a discussion on

equity, and truth, and right, and on the becomingness to man of a

disposition inclined to pardon. And since he who defends ought

not always to resist the accuser by some objection, or denial, or

definition, or opposite principles of equity, but should also at times

advance general principles on which he founds his defence, the first

kind of objection has in it the principle of asserting the charge to

be unjust, an absolute denial of the fact; the second urges that the

definition given by the adversary does not apply to the action in

question the third consists in the advocate defending the action as

having been rightly done, without raising any dispute as to the name

of it.

In the next place, the accuser must oppose to every argument that,

which if it were not in the accusation, would prevent, there being any

cause at all. Therefore, those arguments which are brought forward in

that way, are said to be the foundations of causes, although those

which are brought forward in opposition to the plan of the defence,

are no more so in reality than the principles of the defence

themselves; but for the sake of distinction, we call that a reason

which is urged by the party on his trial in the way of demurrer for

the sake of repelling an accusation; and unless he had such a refuge

he would have nothing to allege by way of defence: but the foundation

of his defence is that which is alleged by way of undermining the

arguments of the adversary, without which the accusation can have no

ground to stand upon.

XXX. But from the meeting and conflict, as it were, of the reasons

and of the corroborative proofs, a question arises, which I call a

dispute, in which the question is, what is the question before the

court, and what the dispute is about. For the first point which

the adversaries contend for implies an inquiry of large extent in

conjecture: as "Whether Decius has received the money;" in definition,

as "Whether Norbanus has committed treason against the people;" in

justice, as "Whether Opimius slew Gracchus lawfully." These questions

which come into conflict first by arguing and resisting, are, as I

have said, of wide extent and doubtful meaning. The comparison of the

arguments and corroborative proofs narrows the question in dispute. In

conjecture there is no dispute at all. For no one either can, or ought

to, or is accustomed to, give a reason for an act which he asserts

never took place. Therefore, in these causes the original question and

the ultimate dispute are one and the same thing. But in them, when the

assertion is advanced, "He did not commit treason in proceeding to

violent measures in respect to Caepio; for it was the first indignation

of the Roman people that prompted that violent conduct, and not the

conduct of the tribune: and the majesty, since it is identical

with the greatness of the Roman people, was rather increased than

diminished by retaining that man in power and office." And when the

reply is, "Majesty consists of the dignity of the empire and name of

the Roman people, which that man impairs, who excites sedition by

appealing to the violent passions of the multitude;" then comes the

dispute, Whether his conduct was calculated to impair that majesty,

who acted upon the inclinations of the roman people, so as to do a

thing which was both just and acceptable to them by means of violence.

But in such causes as these, when it is alleged in defence of the

accused party that something has been rightly done, or when it must be

admitted that it has been done, while the principle of the act is open

to discussion: as in the case of Opimius, "I did it lawfully, for the

sake of preserving the general safety and the republic;" and when

Decius replies, "You had no power or right to slay even the wickedest

of the citizens without a trial." Then arises the dispute, "Had

Opimius lawfully the power, for the sake of the safety of the

republic, to put to death a citizen who was overturning the republic,

without his being condemned?" And so those disputes which arise in

these controversies which are marked out by certain persons and times

become gradually infinite, and after the times and persons are put out

of the question, are again reduced to the form and rules under which

their merits can be discussed.

XXXI. But in corroborative arguments of the most important character,

those points must also be established which can be opposed to the

defence, being derived either from the letter of the law, or of

a will, or from the language of a judicial decision, or of a

stipulation, or of a covenant. And even this kind has no connexion

with those causes which depend upon conjecture. For when an action is

denied altogether, it cannot be impeached by reference to the letter

of the law. It does not even come under definition, as to the

character of the letter of the law itself. For although some

expression or other is to be defined by reference to the letter of the

law, so as to be sure what meaning it has: as when the question arises

out of a will, what is meant by provisions, or out of the covenant of

a lease, what are moveables or fixtures; then it is not the fact of

there being written documents, but the interpretation of what is

written, that gives rise to controversy. But when many things may be

implied by one expression, on account of the ambiguity of some word or

words, so that he who is speaking on the other side may be allowed to

draw the meaning of what is written as is advantageous to him, or in

fact, as he pleases; or, if the document be not drawn up in ambiguous

language, he may either deduce the wish and intention of the writer

from the words, or else say that he can defend what has been done by a

document which is perfectly different relating to the same facts; then

a dispute arises from a comparison of the two written documents; so

that the writings being ambiguous, it is a question which is most

strongly implied; and in a comparison between the letter and the

spirit of the documents an argument is adduced to show which the

judge is the most bound to be guided by; or in documents of a wholly

contradictory nature, which is the most to be approved.

But when the point in dispute is once established, then the orator

ought to keep in view, what is to be proved by all the arguments

derived from the different topics for discovering arguments. And

although it is quite sufficient for him who sees what is concealed in

each topic, and who has all those topics, as a kind of treasury of

arguments, at his fingers' ends; still we will touch upon those which

are peculiar to certain causes.

XXXII. In conjecture, then, when the person on his trial takes refuge

in denial of the fact, these are the two first things for the accuser

to consider, (I say accuser, meaning every kind of plaintiff or

commencer of an action; for even without any accuser, in the strict

sense of the word, these same kinds of controversies may frequently

arise;) however, these are his first points for consideration, the

cause and the event. When I say the cause, I mean the reason for doing

a thing. When I say the event, I mean that which was done. And this

same division of cases was made just now, when speaking of the topics

of persuasion. For the rules which were given in deliberating upon the

future, and how they ought to have a bearing upon utility, or a power

of producing effects, a man who is arguing upon a fact is bound to

collect, so as to show that they must have been useful to the man whom

he is accusing, and that the act might possibly have been done by him.

The question of utility, as far as it depends upon conjecture, is

opened, if the accused person is said to have done the act of which he

is accused, either out of the hope of advantage or the fear of injury.

And this argument has the greater weight, the greater the advantages

or disadvantages anticipated are said to be. With reference to the

motive for an action we take into consideration also the feelings of

minds, if any recent anger, or long-standing grudge, or desire for

revenge, or indignation at an injury; if any eagerness for honour, or

glory, or command, or riches; if any fear of danger, any debt, any

difficulties in pecuniary matters, have had influence; if the man is

bold, or fickle, or cruel, or intemperate, or incautious, or foolish,

or loving, or excitable, or given to wine; if he had any hope of

gaining his point, or any expectation of concealing his conduct; or,

if that were detected, any hope of repelling the charge, or breaking

through the danger, or even postponing it to a subsequent time; or if

the penalty to be inflicted by a court of justice is more trifling

than the prize to be gained by the act; or if the pleasure of the

crime is greater than the pain of the conviction.

It is generally by such circumstances as these that the suspicion of

an act is confirmed, when the causes why he should have desired it are

found to exist in the party accused, together with the means of

doing it. But in his will we look for the benefit which he may have

calculated on from the attainment of some advantage, or the avoidance

of some disadvantage, so that either hope or fear may seem to have

instigated him, or else some sudden impulse of the mind, which impels

men more swiftly to evil courses than even considerations of utility.

So this is enough to have said about the causes.

_C.F._ I understand; and I ask you now what the events are which you

have said are produced by such causes?

XXXIII. _C.P._ They are certain consequential signs of what is past,

certain traces of what has been done, deeply imprinted, which have a

great tendency to engender suspicion, and are, as it were, a silent

evidence of crimes, and so much the more weighty because all causes

appear as a general rule to be able to give ground for accusations,

and to show for whose advantage anything was; and these arguments have

an especial propriety of reference to those who are accused, such as a

weapon, a footstep, blood, the detection of anything which appears to

have been carried off or taken away; or any reply inconsistent with

the truth, or any hesitation, or trepidation, or the fact of the

accused person having been seen with any one whose character is such

as to give rise to suspicion; or of his having been seen himself in

that very place in which the action was done; or paleness, or tremor,

or any writing, or anything having been sealed up or deposited

anywhere. For these are circumstances of such a nature as to make the

charge full of suspicion, either in connexion with the act itself, or

with the time previous or subsequent to it. And if they are not so,

still it will be proper to rely on the causes themselves, and on the

means which the accused person had of doing the action, with the

addition of that general argument, that he was not so insane as to be

unable to avoid or conceal any indications of the action, so as to be

discovered and to give ground for an accusation. On the other hand,

there is that common topic, that audacity is joined to rashness, not

to prudence. Besides, there comes the topic suited to amplification,

that we are not to wait for his confessing; that offences are proved

by arguments; and here, too, precedents will be adduced. And thus much

about arguments.

XXXIV. But if there is also a sufficiency of witnesses, the first

thing will be to praise the party accused, and to say that he himself

has taken care not to be convicted by argument; that he could not

escape from witnesses: then each of the witnesses must be praised,

(and we have stated already what are the things for which people

can be praised;) and in the next place, it must be urged that it is

possible for it to be quite justifiable not to yield to a specious

argument, (inasmuch as such an one is often false,) but quite

impossible to refuse belief to a good and trusty man, unless there is

some fault in the judge. And then, too, if the witnesses are obscure

or insignificant, we must say that a man's credit is not to be

estimated by his fortune, but that those are the most trustworthy

witnesses on every point who have the easiest means of knowing the

truth of the matter under discussion. If the fact of an examination of

slaves under torture having taken place, or a demand that such should

take place, will assist the cause, then in the first place the general

character of such examinations must be extolled: we must speak of

the power of bodily pain; of the opinion of our ancestors, who would

certainly have abolished the whole system if they had not approved of

it; of the customs of the Athenians and Rhodians, very wise men, among

whom (and that is a most terrible thing) even freemen and citizens

are tortured; of the principles also of the most prudent of our own

countrymen, who though they are unwilling to allow slaves to be

examined against their masters, still did allow of such examination in

the case of incest and conspiracy,--and in fact such an examination

took place in my consulship. That declamation which men are in the

habit of using to throw discredit on such examinations must be laughed

out of court, and called studied and childish. Then a belief must be

inculcated that the examination has been conducted with care, and

without any partiality; and the answers given in the examination must

be weighed by arguments and by conjecture. And these are for the most

part the divisions of an accusation.

XXXV. But the first division of a defence is the invalidating of the

motives alleged for the action,--either as having no real existence,

or as not having been so important, or as not having been likely to

influence any one but the person accused; or we may urge that he could

have attained the same object more easily; or that he is not a man

of such habits, or of such a character; or that he was not so much a

slave to sudden impulses, or at all events not to such trifling ones.

And the advocate for the defence will disparage the means alleged

to be in the power of the accused person, if he shows that either

strength, or courage, or power, or resources were wanting to him; or

that the time was unfavourable, or the place unsuitable; or that there

were many witnesses, not one of whom he would have chosen to trust; or

that he was not such a fool as to undertake a deed which he could not

conceal; nor so senseless as to despise the penalties of the law and

the courts of justice. And he will do away with the effect of the

consequences alleged, by explaining that those things are not certain

proofs of an act which might have happened even if the act had never

been done; and he will dwell on the details, and urge that they belong

as much to what he himself alleges was the fact, as to that which is

at present the ground of accusation: or if he agrees with the accuser

on those points, still he will say that ought to be of avail rather as

a defence to himself against danger, than as an engine for injuring

his safety; and he will run down the whole body of witnesses and

examinations under torture, generally, and also in detail as far as

he can, by the use of the topics of reprehension which have been

explained already. The openings of these causes which are intended to

excite suspicion by their bitterness will be thus laid down by the

accuser; and the general danger of all intrigues will be denounced;

and men's minds will be excited so as to listen attentively. But the

person who is being accused will bring forward complaints of charges

having been trumped up against him, and suspicions ferreted out from

all quarters; and he will speak of the intrigues of the accuser, and

also of the common danger of all citizens from such proceedings: and

so he will try to move the minds of the judges to pity, and to excite

their good-will in some degree. But the narration of the accuser will

be a separate count, as it were, which will contain an explanation

of every sort of transaction liable to suspicion, with every kind

of argument scattered over it, and all the topics for the defence

discredited. But the speaker for the defence must pass over or

discredit all the arguments employed to raise suspicion, and will

limit himself to a narration of the actual facts and events which have

taken place. But in the corroboration of our own arguments, and in the

invalidation of those of our adversaries, it will be often the object

of the accuser to rouse the feelings of the minds of his hearers, and

of the advocate for the defence to pacify them. And this will be the

course of both of them especially in the peroration. The one must

have recourse to a reiteration of his arguments, and to a general

accumulation of them together; the other, when he has once clearly

explained his own cause, refuting the statements of his adversary,

must have recourse to enumeration; and, when he has effaced every

unfavourable impression, then at the end he will endeavour to move the

pity of his judges.

XXXVI. _C.F._ I think I know now how conjecture ought to be dealt

with. Let me hear you now on the subject of definition.

_C.P._ With respect to that the rules which are given are common to

the accuser and the defender. For whichever of them by his definition

and description of a word makes the greatest impression on the

feelings and opinions of the judges, and whichever keeps nearest to

the general meaning of the word, and to that preconceived opinion

which those who are the hearers have adopted in their minds, must

inevitably get the better in the discussion. For this kind of topic

is not handled by a regular argumentation, but by shaking out, as it

were, and unfolding the word; so that, if, for instance, in the case

of a criminal acquitted through bribery and then impeached a second

time, the accuser were to define prevarication to be the utter

corruption of a tribunal by an accused person; and the defender were

to urge a counter definition, that it is not every sort of corruption

which is prevarication, but only the bribing of a prosecutor by a

defendant: then, in the first place, there would be a contest between

the different alleged meanings of the word; in which case, though

the definition, if given by the speaker for the defence, approaches

nearest to general usage and to the sense of common conversation,

still the accuser relies on the spirit of the law, for he says that it

ought not to be admitted that those men who framed the laws considered

a judicial decision as ratified when wholly corrupt, but that if even

one judge be corrupted, the decision should be annulled. He relies on

equity; he urges that the law ought to have been framed differently,

if that was what was meant; but that the truth is, that whatever kinds

of corruption could possibly exist were all meant to be included under

the one term prevarication. But the speaker for the defence will bring

forward on his side the usage of common conversation; and he will seek

the meaning of the word from its contrary; from a genuine accuser,

to whom a prevarication is the exact opposite; or from consequents,

because the tablets are given to the judge by the accuser; and from

the name itself, which signifies a man who in contrary causes appears

to be placed, as it were, in various positions. But still he himself

will be forced to have recourse to topics of equity, to the authority

of precedents, and to some dangerous result. And this may be a general

rule, that when each has stated his definition, keeping as accurately

as he can to the common sense and meaning of the word, he should then

confirm his own meaning and definition by similar definitions, and by

the examples of those men who have spoken in the same way.

And in this kind of cause that will be a common topic for the

accuser,--that it must never be permitted that the man who confesses a

fact, should defend himself by a new interpretation of the name of it.

But the defender must rely on those general principles of equity which

I have mentioned, and he must complain that, while that is on his

side, he is weighed down not by facts, but by the perverted use of a

word; and while speaking thus he will be able to introduce many topics

suited to aid him in discovering arguments. For he will avail himself

of resemblances, and contrarieties, and consequences; and although

both parties will do this, still the defendant, unless his cause is

evidently ridiculous, will do so more frequently. But the things which

are in the habit of being said, for the sake of amplification, or in

the way of digression, or when men are summing up, are introduced

either to excite hatred, or pity, or to work on the feelings of the

judges by means of those arguments which have been already given;

provided that the importance of the facts, or the envy of men, or the

dignity of the parties, will allow of it.

XXXVII. _C.F._ I understand that. Now I wish to hear you speak of that

part which, when the question is what is the character of such and

such a transaction, will be suitable both for the accusation and also

for the defence.

_C.P._ In a cause of that kind those who are accused confess that they

did the very thing for which they are blamed; but since they allege

that they did it lawfully, it is necessary for us to explain the

whole principles of law. And that is divided into two principal

divisions,--natural law and statute law. And the power of each of

these is again distributed into human law and divine law; one of which

refers to equity and the other to religion. But the power of equity

is two-fold: one part of which is upheld by considerations of what is

straightforward, and true, and just, and, as it is said, equitable and

virtuous; the other refers chiefly to requiting things done to one

suitably,--which in the case of that which is to be requited being a

kindness, is called gratitude, but when it is an injury, it is called

revenge. And these principles are common both to natural and statute

law. But there are also other divisions of law; for there is both the

written and the unwritten law,--each of which is maintained by the

rights of nations and the customs of our ancestors. Again, written

law is divided into public law and private law. Public law is laws,

resolutions of the senate, treaties; private law is accounts,

covenants, agreements, stipulations.

But those laws which are unwritten, owe their influence either to

custom or to some agreement between, and as it were to the common

consent of men. And indeed it is in some degree prescribed to us by

the laws of nature, that we are to uphold our customs and laws. And

since the foundations of equity have been briefly explained in this

manner, we ought to meditate carefully, with reference to causes of

this kind, on what is to be said in our speeches about nature, and

laws, and the customs of our ancestors, and the repelling of injuries,

and revenge, and every portion of human rights. If a man has done

anything unintentionally, or through necessity, or by accident, which

men would not be excused for doing if they did it of their own accord

and intentionally, by way of deprecating punishment for the action he

should implore pardon and indulgence, founding his petition on many

topics of equity. I have now explained as well as I could every kind

of controversy, unless there is anything besides which you wish to

know.

XXXVIII. _C.F._ I wish to know that which appears to me to be the

only point left,--what is to be done when the discussion turns upon

expressions in written documents.

_C.P._ You are right to ask: for when that is explained I shall have

discharged the whole of the task which I have undertaken. The rules

then which relate to ambiguity are common to both parties. For each of

them will urge that the signification which he himself adopts is the

one suited to the wisdom of the framer of the document; each of them

will urge that that sense which his adversary says is to be gathered

from the ambiguous expression in the writing, is either absurd,

or inexpedient, or unjust, or discreditable, or again that it is

inconsistent with other written expressions, either of other men,

or, if possible, of the same man. And he will urge further that the

meaning which he himself contends for is the one which would have been

intended by every sensible and respectable man; and that such an one

would express himself more plainly if the case were to come over

again, and that the meaning which he asserts to be the proper one has

nothing in it to which objection can be made, or with which any fault

can be found; but that if the contrary meaning is admitted, many

vices, many foolish, unjust, and inconsistent consequences must

follow. But when it appears that the writer meant one thing and wrote

another, then he who relies on the letter of the law must first

explain the circumstances of the case, and then recite the law; then

he must press his opponent, repeat the law, reiterate it, and ask

him whether he denies that that is the expression contained in the

writing, or whether he denies the facts of the case. After that he

must invoke the judge to maintain the letter of the law. When he has

dwelt on this sort of corroborative argument he must amplify his case

by praising the law, and attack the audacity of the man who, when he

has openly violated it, and confesses that he has done so, still comes

forward and defends his conduct. Then he must invalidate the defence

when his opponent says that the writer meant one thing and wrote

another, and say that it is intolerable that the meaning of the framer

of the law should be explained by any one else in preference to the

law itself. Why did he write down such words if he did not mean them?

Why does the opponent, while he neglects what is plainly written,

bring forward what is not written anywhere? Why should he think that

men who were most careful in what they wrote are to be convicted of

extreme folly? What could have hindered the framer of this law from

making this exception which the opponent contends that he intended to

make, if he really had intended it? He will then bring forward those

instances where the same writer has made a similar exception, or if

he cannot do that, at least he will cite cases where others have made

similar exceptions. For a reason must be sought for, if it is possible

to find one, why this exception was not made in this case. The law

must be stated to be likely to be unjust, or useless, or else that

there is a reason for obeying part of it, and for abrogating part; it

must be that the argument of the opponent and the law are at variance.

And then, by way of amplification, it will be proper, both in other

parts of the speech, and above all in the peroration, to speak with

great dignity and energy about the desirableness of maintaining the

laws, and of the danger with which all public and private affairs are

threatened.

XXXIX. But he who defends himself by appeals to the spirit and

intention of the law, will urge that the force of the law depends on

the mind and design of the framer, not on words and letters. And he

will praise him for having mentioned no exceptions in his law, so

as to leave no refuge for offences, and so as to bind the judge to

interpret the intention of the law according to the actions of each

individual. Then he must cite instances in which all equity will be

disturbed if the words of the law are attended to and not the meaning.

Then all cunning and false accusation must be endeavoured to be put

before the judge in an odious light, and complaints uttered in a

tone of indignation. If the action in question has been done

unintentionally, or by accident, or by compulsion, rather than in

consequence of any premeditation,--and actions of those kinds we have

already discussed,--then it will be well to use the same topics of

equity to counteract the effect of the harshness of the language.

But if the written laws contradict one another, then the connexion of

art is such, and most of its principles are so connected and linked

together, that the rules which we a little while ago laid down for

cases of ambiguity, and which have just been given with reference to

the letter and spirit of the law, may be all transferred to this third

division also. For the topics by which, in the case of an ambiguous

expression, we defended that meaning which is favourable to our

argument must also be used to defend the law which is favourable to us

when there are inconsistent laws. In the next place, we must contrive

to defend the spirit of one law, and the letter of the other. And so

the rules which were just now given relating to the spirit and letter

of the law may all be transferred to this subject.

XL. I have now explained to you all the divisions of oratory which

have prevailed, as laid down by the academy to which we are devoted,

and if it had not been for that academy they could not have been

discovered, or understood, or discussed. For the mere act of division,

and of definition, and the distribution of the partitions of a

doubtful question, and the understanding the topics of arguments, and

the arranging the argumentation itself properly, and the discerning

what ought to be assumed in arguing, and what follows from what has

been assumed, and the distinguishing what is true from what is false,

and what is probable from what is incredible, and refuting assumptions

which are not legitimate, or which are inappropriate, and discussing

all these different points either concisely as those do who are called

dialecticians, or copiously as an orator should do, are all fruits of

the practice in disputing with acuteness and speaking with fluency,

which is instilled into the disciples of that academy. And without a

knowledge of these most important arts how can an orator have either

energy or variety in his discourse, so as to speak properly of things

good or bad, just or unjust, useful or useless, honourable or base?

Let these rules then, my Cicero, which I have now explained to you, be

to you a sort of guide to those fountains of eloquence, and if under

my instruction or that of others you arrive at them, you will then

acquire a clearer understanding of these things and of others which

are much more important.

_C.F._ I will strive to arrive at them with great eagerness, my

father; and I do not think that there is any greater advantage which I

can derive even from your many excellent kindnesses to me.

THE TREATISE OF M. T. CICERO ON THE BEST STYLE OF ORATORS.

This little piece was composed by Cicero as a sort of preface to his

translation of the Orations of Demosthenes and Aeschines de Corona; the

translations themselves have not come down to us.

I. There are said to be classes of orators as there are of poets. But

it is not so; for of poets there are a great many divisions; for of

tragic, comic, epic, lyric, and also of dithyrambic poetry, which has

been more cultivated by the Latins, each kind is very different from

the rest. Therefore in tragedy anything comic is a defect, and in

comedy anything tragic is out of place. And in the other kinds of

poetry each has its own appropriate note, and a tone well known to

those who understand the subject. But if any one were to enumerate

many classes of orators, describing some as grand, and dignified,

and copious, others as thin, or subtle, or concise, and others as

something between the two and in the middle as it were, he would be

saying something of the men, but very little of the matter. For as to

the matter, we seek to know what is the best; but as to the man, we

state what is the real case. Therefore if any one likes, he has a

right to call Ennius a consummate epic poet, and Pacuvius an excellent

tragic poet, and Caecilius perhaps a perfect comic poet. But I do not

divide the orator as to class in this way. For I am seeking a perfect

one. And of perfection there is only one kind; and those who fall

short of it do not differ in kind, as Attius does from Terentius; but

they are of the same kind, only of unequal merit. For he is the best

orator who by speaking both teaches, and delights, and moves the

minds of his hearers. To teach them is his duty, to delight them is

creditable to him, to move them is indispensable. It must be granted

that one person succeeds better in this than another; but that is not

a difference of kind but of degree. Perfection is one thing; that

is next to it which is most like it; from which consideration it is

evident that that which is most unlike perfection is the worst.

II. For, since eloquence consists of words and sentences, we must

endeavour, by speaking in a pure and correct manner, that is to say in

good Latin, to attain an elegance of expression with words appropriate

and metaphorical. As to the appropriate words, selecting those which

are most suitable; and when indulging in metaphor, studying to

preserve a proper resemblance, and to be modest in our use of foreign

terms. But of sentences, there are as many different kinds as I

have said there are of panegyrics. For if teaching, we want shrewd

sentences; if aiming at giving pleasure, we want musical ones; if

at exciting the feelings, dignified ones. But there is a certain

arrangement of words which produces both harmony and smoothness; and

different sentiments have different arrangements suitable to them, and

an order naturally calculated to prove their point; but of all

those things memory is the foundation, (just as a building has a

foundation,) and action is the light. The man, then, in whom all

these qualities are found in the highest perfection, will be the most

skilful orator; he in whom they exist in a moderate degree will be a

mediocre orator: he in whom they are found to the slightest extent

will be the most inferior sort of orator. All these, indeed, will be

called orators, just as bad painters are still called painters; not

differing from one another in kind, but in ability. So there is no

orator who would not like to resemble Demosthenes; but Menander did

not want to be like Homer, for his style was different.

This difference does not exist in orators; or if there be any such

difference, that one avoiding gravity aims rather at subtlety; and on

the other hand, that another desires to show himself acute rather

than polished: such men, although they may be tolerable orators, are

certainly not perfect ones; since that is perfection which combines

every kind of excellence.

III. I have stated these things with greater brevity than the subject

deserves; but still, with reference to my present object, it was

not worth while being more prolix. For as there is but one kind of

eloquence, what we are seeking to ascertain is what kind it is. And it

is such as flourished at Athens; and in which the genius of the Attic

orators is hardly comprehended by us, though their glory is known to

us. For many have perceived this fact, that there is nothing faulty

in them: few have discerned the other point; namely, how much in them

there is that is praiseworthy. For it is a fault in a sentence if

anything is absurd, or foreign to the subject, or stupid, or trivial;

and it is a fault of language if any thing is gross, or abject, or

unsuitable, or harsh, or far-fetched. Nearly all those men who are

either considered Attic orators or who speak in the Attic manner have

avoided these faults. But if that is all their merit, then they may

deserve to be regarded as sound and healthy, as if we were regarding

athletes, to such an extent as to be allowed to exercise in the

palaestra, but not to be entitled to the crown at the Olympic games.

For the athletes, who are free from defects, are not content as it

were with good health, but seek to produce strength and muscles and

blood, and a certain agreeableness of complexion; let us imitate them,

if we can; and if we cannot do so wholly, at least let us select as

our models those who enjoy unimpaired health, (which is peculiar to

the Attic orators,) rather than those whose abundance is vicious, of

whom Asia has produced numbers. And in doing this (if at least we can

manage even this, for it is a mighty undertaking) let us imitate, if

we can, Lysias, and especially his simplicity of style: for in many

places he rises to grandeur. But because he wrote speeches for many

private causes, and those too for others, and on very trifling

subjects, he appears to be somewhat simple, because he has designedly

filed himself down to the standard of the inconsiderable causes which

he was pleading.

IV. And a man who acts in this way, even if he be not able to turn out

a vigorous speaker as he wishes, may still deserve to be accounted an

orator, though an inferior one; but even a great orator must often

also speak in the same manner in causes of that kind. And in this way

it happens that Demosthenes is at times able to speak with simplicity,

though perhaps Lysias may not be able to arrive at grandeur. But if

men think that, when an army was marshalled in the forum and in all

the temples round the forum, it was possible to speak in defence of

Milo, as if we had been speaking in a private cause before a single

judge, they measure the power of eloquence by their own estimate of

their own ability, and not by the nature of the case. Wherefore, since

some people have got into a way of repeating that they themselves do

speak in an Attic manner, and others that none of us do so; the one

class we may neglect, for the facts themselves are a sufficient answer

to these men, since they are either not employed in causes, or when

they are employed they are laughed at; for if the laughter which

they excite were in approbation of them, that very fact would be a

characteristic of Attic speakers. But those who will not admit that we

speak in the Attic manner, but yet profess that they themselves are

not orators; if they have good ears and an intelligent judgment, may

still be consulted by us, as one respecting the character of a picture

would take the opinion of men who were incapable of making a picture,

though not devoid of acuteness in judging of one. But if they place

all their intelligence in a certain fastidiousness of ear, and if

nothing lofty or magnificent ever pleases them, then let them say that

they want something subtle and highly polished, and that they despise

what is dignified and ornamented; but let them cease to assert that

those men alone speak in the Attic manner, that is to say, in a

sound and correct one. But to speak with dignity and elegance and

copiousness is a characteristic of Attic orators. Need I say more? Is

there any doubt whether we wish our oration to be tolerable only, or

also admirable? For we are not asking now what sort of speaking is

Attic: but what sort is best. And from this it is understood, since

those who were Athenians were the best of the Greek orators, and since

Demosthenes was beyond all comparison the best of them, that if any

one imitates them he will speak in the Attic manner, and in the

best manner, so that since the Attic orators are proposed to us for

imitation, to speak well is to speak Attically.

V. But as there was a great error as to the question, what kind of

eloquence that was, I have thought that it became me to undertake a

labour which should be useful to studious men, though superfluous

as far as I myself was concerned. For I have translated the most

illustrious orations of the two most eloquent of the Attic orators,

spoken in opposition to one another: Aeschines and Demosthenes. And I

have not translated them as a literal interpreter, but as an orator

giving the same ideas in the same form and mould as it were, in words

conformable to our manners; in doing which I did not consider it

necessary to give word for word, but I have preserved the character

and energy of the language throughout. For I did not consider that

my duty was to render to the reader the precise number of words, but

rather to give him all their weight. And this labour of mine will have

this result, that by it our countrymen may understand what to require

of those who wish to be accounted Attic speakers, and that they may

recal them to, as it were, an acknowledged standard of eloquence.

But then Thucydides will rise up; for some people admire his

eloquence. And they are quite right. But he has no connexion with the

orator, which is the person of whom we are in search. For it is

one thing to unfold the actions of men in a narration, and quite a

different one to accuse and get rid of an accusation by arguing. It is

one thing to fix a hearer's attention by a narration, and another to

excite his feelings. "But he uses beautiful language." Is his language

finer than Plato's? Nevertheless it is necessary for the orator whom

we are inquiring about, to explain forensic disputes by a style of

speaking calculated at once to teach, to delight, and to excite.

VI. Wherefore, if there is any one who professes that he intends to

plead causes in the forum, following the style of Thucydides, no one

will ever suspect him of being endowed with that kind of eloquence

which is suited to affairs of state or to the bar. But if he is

content with praising Thucydides, then he may add my vote to his own.

Moreover, even Isocrates himself, whom that divine author, Plato, who

was nearly his contemporary, has represented in the Phaedrus as being

highly extolled by Socrates, and whom all learned men have called a

consummate orator, I do not class among the number of those who are to

be taken for models. For he is not engaged in actual conflict; he is

not armed for the fray; his speeches are made for display, like foils.

I will rather, (to compare small things with great,) bring on the

stage a most noble pair of gladiators. Aeschines shall come on like

aeserninus, as Lucilius says--

"No ordinary man, but fearless all,

And skill'd his arms to wield--his equal match

Pacideianus stands, than whom the world

Since the first birth of man hath seen no greater."

For I do not think that anything can be imagined more divine than that

orator. Now this labour of mine is found fault with by two kinds of

critics. One set says, "But the Greek is better." And I ask them

whether the authors themselves could have clothed their speeches

in better Latin? The others say, "Why should I rather read the

translation than the original?" Yet those same men read the Andria and

the Synephebi; and are not less fond of Terence and Caecilius than of

Menander. They must then discard the Andromache, and the Antiope, and

the Epigoni in Latin. But yet, in fact, they read Ennius and Pacuvius

and Attius more than Euripides and Sophocles. What then is the meaning

of this contempt of theirs for orations translated from the Greek,

when they have no objection to translated verses?

VII. However, let us now come to the task which we have undertaken,

when we have just explained what the cause is which is before the

court.

As there was a law at Athens, that no one should be the cause of

carrying a decree of the people that any one should be presented with

a crown while invested with office till he had given in an account of

the way in which he had discharged its duties; and another law, that

those who had crowns given them by the people ought to receive them in

the assembly of the people, and that they who had them given to them

by the senate should receive them in the senate; Demosthenes was

appointed a superintendent of repairs of the walls; and he did it at

his own expense. Therefore, with reference to him Ctesiphon proposed

a decree, without his having given in any accounts, that he should be

presented with a golden crown, and that that presentation should take

place in the theatre, the people being summoned for the purpose, (that

is not the legitimate place for an assembly of the people;) and that

proclamation should be made, "that he received this present on account

of his virtue and devotion to the state, and to the Athenian people."

Aeschines then prosecuted this man Ctesiphon because he had proposed

a decree contrary to the laws, to the effect that a crown should be

given when no accounts had been delivered, and that it should be

presented in the theatre, and that he had made false statements in the

words of his motion concerning Demosthenes's virtue and loyalty; since

Demosthenes was not a good man, and was not one who had deserved well

of the state.

That kind of cause is indeed inconsistent with the precedents

established by our habits; but still it has an imposing look. For it

has on each side of the question a sufficiently clever interpretation

of the laws, and a very grave contest as to the respective services

done by the two rival orators to the republic. Therefore the object of

Aeschines was, since he himself had been prosecuted on a capital charge

by Demosthenes, for having given a false account of his embassy, that

now a trial should take place affecting the conduct and character of

Demosthenes, that so, under pretence of prosecuting Ctesiphon, he

might avenge himself on his enemy. For he did not say so much about

the accounts not having been delivered, as to the point that a very

bad citizen had been praised as an excellent.

Aeschines instituted this prosecution against Ctesiphon four years

before the death of Philip of Macedon. But the decision took place a

few years afterwards; when Alexander had become master of Asia. And it

is said that all Greece thronged to hear the issue of the trial. For

what was ever better worth going to see, or better worth hearing,

than the contest of two consummate orators in a most important cause,

inflamed and sharpened by private enmity?

If then, as I trust, I have given such a copy of their speeches, using

all their excellencies, that is to say, their sentiments, and their

figures, and the order of their facts; adhering to their words only so

far as they are not inconsistent with our customs, (and though they

may not be all translated from the Greek, still I have taken pains

that they should be of the same class,) then there will be a standard

to which the orations of those men must be directed who wish to speak

Attically. But I have said enough of myself--let us now hear Aeschines

speaking in Latin. (_These Orations are not extant_.)

END OF THE TREATISE.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Dolabella had been married to Cicero's daughter Tullia,

but was divorced from her.]

[Footnote 2: The name was given them early. Juvenal, who wrote within

a hundred years of Cicero's time, calls them "divina Philippica."]

[Footnote 3: This meeting took place on the third day after Caesar's

death.]

[Footnote 4: [Greek: Mae mnaesikakin].]

[Footnote 5: The hook was to drag his carcass along the streets to

throw it into the Tiber. So Juvenal says--

"Sejanus ducitur unco

Spectandus."--x. 66.]

[Footnote 6: This refers to a pillar that was raised in the forum

in honour of Caesar, with the inscription, "To the Father of his

Country."]

[Footnote 7: _See_ Philippic 2.]

[Footnote 8: This was the name of a legion raised by Caesar in Gaul,

and called so, probably, from the ornament worn on their helmet.]

[Footnote 9: He meant to insinuate that Antonius had been forging

Caesar's handwriting and signature]

[Footnote 10: Fulvia, who had been the wife of Clodius, and afterwards

of Curio, was now the wife of Antonius.]

[Footnote 11: These were the names of slaves.]

[Footnote 12: Ityra was a town at the foot of Mount Taurus.]

[Footnote 13: Brutus was the Praetor urbanus this year, and that

officer's duty confined him to the city; and he was forbidden by law

to be absent more than ten days at a time during his year of office.]

[Footnote 14: I have translated _jugerum_ "an acre," because it

is usually so translated, but in point of fact it was not quite

two-thirds of an English acre. At the same time it was nearly three

times as large as the Greek [Greek: plethros] such by the fault of

fortune and not by his own. You assumed the manly gown, which you soon

made a womanly one: at first a public prostitute, with a regular price

for your wickedness, and that not a low one. But very soon Curio

stepped in, who carried you off from your public trade, and, as if he

had bestowed a matron's robe upon you, settled you in a steady and

durable wedlock. No boy bought for the gratification of passion was

ever so wholly in the power of his master as you were in Curio's. How

often has his father turned you out of his house? How often has he

placed guards to prevent you from entering? while you, with night

for your accomplice, lust for your encourager, and wages for your

compeller, were let down through the roof. That house could no longer

endure your wickedness. Do you not know that I am speaking of matters

with which I am thoroughly acquainted? Remember that time when Curio,

the father, lay weeping in his bed; his son throwing himself at my

feet with tears recommended to me you; he entreated me to defend you

against his own father, if he demanded six millions of sesterces of

you; for that he had been bail for you to that amount. And he himself,

burning with love, declared positively that because he was unable

to bear the misery of being separated from you, he should go into

banishment. And at that time what misery of that most nourishing

family did I allay, or rather did I remove! I persuaded the father to

pay the son's debts; to release the young man, endowed as he was with

great promise of courage and ability, by the sacrifice of part of his

family estate; and to use his privileges and authority as a father

to prohibit him not only from all intimacy with, but from every

opportunity of meeting you. When you recollected that all this was

done by me, would you have dared to provoke me by abuse if you had not

been trusting to those swords which we behold?]

[Footnote 15: Sisapo was a town in Spain, celebrated for some mines of

vermilion, which were farmed by a company.]

[Footnote 16: She was a courtesan who had been enfranchised by her

master Volumnius. The name of Volumnia was dear to the Romans as that

of the wife of Coriolanus, to whose entreaties he had yielded when he

drew off his army from the neighbourhood of Rome.]

[Footnote 17: This is a play on the name Hippia, as derived from

[Greek: hippos], a horse.]

[Footnote 18: The custom of erecting a spear wherever an auction

was held is well known, it is said to have arisen from the ancient

practice of selling under a spear the booty acquired in war.]

[Footnote 19: There seems some corruption here. Orellius apparently

thinks the case hopeless.]

[Footnote 20: The Latin is, "non solum de die, sed etiam in diem,

vivere;" which the commentators explain, "_De die_ is to feast every

day and all day. Banquets _de die_ are those which begin before the

regular hour." (Like Horace's _Partem solido demere de die_.) "To

live _in diem_ is to live so as to have no thought for the

future."--Graevius.]

[Footnote 21: This accidental resemblance to the incident in the

"Forty Thieves" in the "Arabian Nights" is curious.]

[Footnote 22: The _septemviri,_ at full length _septemviri epulones_

or _epulonum_, were originally triumviri. They were first created BC.

198, to attend to the _epulum Jovis_, and the banquets given in

honour of the other gods, which duty had originally belonged to the

_pontifices_. Julius Caesar added three more, but that alteration did

not last. They formed a _collegium_, and were one of the four

great religious corporations at Rome with the _pontifices_, the

_augures_, and the _quindecemviri_. Smith, Diet, Ant. v. _Epulones_.]

[Footnote 23: It had been explained before that Fulvia had been the

widow of Clodius and of Curio, before she married Antonius.]

[Footnote 24: Riddle (Dict. Lat. in voce) says, that this was

the regular punishment for deserters, and was inflicted by their

comrades.]

[Footnote 25: Cnaeus Octavius, the real father of Octavius Caesar, had

been praetor and governor of Macedonia, and was intending to stand for

the consulship when he died.]

[Footnote 26: Bambalio is derived from the Greek word [Greek: bambala]

to lisp.]

[Footnote 27: Julia, the mother of Antonius and sister of Lucius

Caesar, was also a native of Aricia.]

[Footnote 28: He had intended to propose to the senate to declare

Octavius a public enemy. We must recollect that in these orations

Cicero, even when he speaks of Caius Caesar, means Octavius.]

[Footnote 29: It is quite impossible to give a proper idea of

Cicero's meaning here. He is arguing on the word _dignus_, from which

_dignitas_ is derived. But we have no means of keeping up the play on

the words in English.]

[Footnote 30: The general proceeding on such occasions being to ask

each senator's opinion separately, which gave those who chose an

opportunity for pronouncing some encomium on the person honoured.]

[Footnote 31: Spartacus was the general of the gladiators and slaves

in the Servile war.]

[Footnote 32: Lepidus had not in reality done any particular service

to the republic (he was afterwards one of the triumviri), but he was

at the head of the best army in the empire, and so was able to be of

the most important service to either party, and, therefore, Cicero

hoped to attach him to his side by this compliment.]

[Footnote 33: It has been already explained that this was the name of

one legion.]

[Footnote 34: The mirmillo was the gladiator who fought with the

retiarius; he wore a Gallic helmet with a fish for a crest.]

[Footnote 35: The English reader must recollect that what is called

Gaul in these orations, is Cisalpine Gaul containing what we now call

the North of Italy, coming down as far south as Modena and Ravenna.]

[Footnote 36: After the year B.C. 403 there were two classes of Roman

knights, one of which received a horse from the state, and were

included in the eighteen centuries of service, the other class, first

mentioned by Livy (v. 7) in the account of the siege of Veii, served

with their own horses, and instead of having a horse found them,

received a certain pay, (three times that of the infantry) and were

not included in the eighteen centuries of service. The original

knights, to distinguish them from these latter, are often called

_equites equo publico_, sometimes also ficus vanes or _trossuli_

_Vide_ Smith, Dict. Ant. P. 394-396, v. _Equites_]

[Footnote 37: He had been one of the septemvirs appointed to preside

over the distribution of the lands.]

[Footnote 38: Janus was the name of a street near the temple of Janus,

especially frequented by bankers and usurers. It was divided into

_summus, nedus_ and _imus_ Horace says--

Hase Janus summus ab imo

Edocet [lacuna]

Postquam omms res mea Janum

Ad medium fracta cat.

]

[Footnote 39: _I.e. tumultus_, as if it were _tumor multus_]

[Footnote 40: These were the names of officers devoted to Antonius.]

[Footnote 41: The province between the Alps and the Rubicon was called

Gallia _Citerior_, or _Oisalpina_, from its situation, also _Togata_,

from the inhabitants wearing the Roman toga. The other was called

_Ulterior_, and by Cicero often _Ultima_, or _Transalpina_, and also

_Comata_, from the fashion of the inhabitants wearing long hair]

[Footnote 42: Sulpicius was of about the same age as Cicero, and an

early friend of his, and he enjoyed the reputation of being the first

lawyer of his time, or of all who ever had studied law as a profession

in Rome.]

[Footnote 43: There is some corruption of the text here.]

[Footnote 44: Brutus had been adopted by his maternal uncle Quintus

Servilius Caepio, so that his legal designation was what is given in

the text now, as Cicero is proposing a formal vote--though at all

other times we see that he calls him Marcus Brutus]

[Footnote 45: The Latin is _Samiarius_, or as some read it _Samarius_.

Orellius says, "perhaps it means some sort of trade, for I doubt

its having been a Roman proper name." Nizollius says, "Samarius

exul--_proverbium_." Facciolatti calls him a man whose business it was

to clean the arms of the guards, &c. with Samian chalk.]

[Footnote 46: Vopiscus is another name of Bestia.]

[Footnote 47: It is impossible to give the force of the original here,

which plays on the word _tabula_. The Latin is, "vindicem enim novarum

tabularum novam tabulam vidimus," _novae tabulae_ meaning as is well

known a law for the abolition of debts, _nova tabula_ in the singular

an advertisement of (Trebellius's) property being to be sold.]

[Footnote 48: Here too is a succession of puns. Lysidicus is derived

from the Greek [Greek: lyo] to loosen and [Greek: dikae], justice.

_Cimber_ is a proper name, and also means one of the nation of the

Cimbri, _Germanus_ is a German, and _germanus_ a brother, and he means

here to impute to Caius Cimber that he had murdered his brother.]

[Footnote 49: Compare St Paul,--"For if the trumpet give an uncertain

sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle?" 1 Cor. xiv 8.]

[Footnote 50: That is, without being crucified like a slave.]

[Footnote 51: The Latin here is "Itaque Caesaris munera

rosit,"--playing on the name mus, mouse; but Orellius thinks the whole

passage corrupt, and indeed there is evident corruption in the text

here in many places.]

[Footnote 52: He means Lucius Aemilius Paullus, and Caius Claudius

Marcellus, who were consuls the year after Servius Sulpicius and

Marcus Claudius Marcellus, A.U.C. 704.]

[Footnote 53: These two were tribunes of the people, who had been

dispossessed of their offices by Julius Caesar.]

[Footnote 54: There is some difficulty here. Many editors propose to

read "offen lerint" which Orellius thinks would hardly be Latin. He

says, "Antonius is here speaking of those veterans who had deserted

him indeed but who, at the time of his writing this letter, had not

acted against him". Therefore, he says it is open to them to become

reconciled to him again (wishing to conciliate them, and to alarm his

enemies). On the other hand, Cicero replies, Nothing is so open to

them now as to do what their duty to the republic requires. That is to

say, openly to attack you, whose party they have already abandoned.]

[Footnote 55: There were two wine feasts, Vinalia, at Rome: the

vinalia urbano, celebrated on the twenty-third of April; and the

vinalia rustica, on the nineteenth of October. This was the urbana

vinalia; on which occasion the wine casks which had been filled in the

autumn were tasted for the first time.]

[Footnote 56: There is much dispute as to who is meant here. Some say

Cicero refers to Amphion, some to Orpheus, and some to Mercury; the

Romans certainly did attribute the civilization of men to Mercury, as

Horace says--

Qui feros cultus hominum recenti

Voce formâsti catus I. 9, 2.]

[Footnote 57: This is very frequently quoted by Cicero; the Latin

lines being the opening of the Medea of Ennius, translated from the

first lines of the Medea of Euripides.]

[Footnote 58: The Talysus was a hunter at Rhodes, of whom Protogenes

had made an admirable picture, which was afterwards brought to Rome,

and placed in the temple of Peace.]

[Footnote 59: Brutus was at present propraetor in Gaul.]

[Footnote 60: Theophrastus's real name was Tyrtamus, but Aristotle,

whose pupil he was, surnamed him Theophrastus, from the Greek words

[Greek: Theos], God and [Greek: phrazo], to speak.]

[Footnote 61: He refers to the Menexenus.]

[Footnote 62: Cape si vis.]

[Footnote 63: "Assiduus. Prop, sitting down, seated, and so, well to

do in the world, rich. The derivation _ab assis duendis_ is therefore

to be rejected. Servius Tullius divided the Roman people into two

classes, _assidui, i. e._ the rich, who could sit down and take their

ease, and _proletarii_, or _capite censi_, the poor."--Riddle, in voc.

_Assiduus_, quoting this passage. One does not see, however, why aelius

and Cicero should not understand the meaning and derivation of a

Latin word. Smith's Dict. Ant. takes no notice of the word at all.]

[Footnote 64: See chap. x.]