Dedication
To Trypho, eminent book seller in Rome.

Preface
The object and intention of the work, § 1-To whom dedicated, Unauthorized publications under the name of Quintilian, The professions of the rhetorician and philosopher were formerly united, 9-The perfect orator, 1Partition of the work, 22Further observations on teaching and speaking, 23-27.

LET a father, then, as soon as his son is born, conceive first of all the best possible hopes of him, for he will thus grow the more solicitous about his improvement from the very beginning. It is a complaint without foundation that "to very few people is granted the faculty of comprehending what is imparted to them, and that most, through dullness of understanding, lose their labor and their time." On the contrary, you will find the greater number of men both ready in conceiving and quick in learning, since such quickness is natural to man. As birds are born to fly, horses to run, and wild beasts to show fierceness, so to us peculiarly belong activity and sagacity of understanding; hence the origin of the mind is thought to be from heaven. But dull and unteachable persons are no more produced in the course of nature than are persons marked by monstrosity and deformities, such are certainly but few. It will be a proof of this assertion that among boys, good promise is shown in the far greater number; and if it passes off in the progress of time, it is manifest that it was not natural ability, but care, that was wanting. But one surpasses another, you will say, in ability. I grant that this is true, but only so far as to accomplish more or less; there is no one who has not gained something by study. Let him who is convinced of this truth, bestow, as soon as he becomes a parent, the most vigilant possible care on cherishing the hopes of a future orator.

Before all things, let the talk of the child's nurses not be ungrammatical. Chrysippus wished them, if possible, to be women of some knowledge; at any rate he would have the best chosen, as far as circumstances would allow. To their morals, doubtless, attention is first to be paid, but let them also speak with propriety. It is they that the child will hear first; it is their words that he will try to form by imitation. We are by nature most tenacious of what we have imbibed in our infant years, as the flavor with which you scent vessels when new remains in them, nor can the colors of wool, for which its plain whiteness has been exchanged, be effaced. Those very habits, which are of a more objectionable nature, adhere with the greater tenacity, for good ones are easily changed for the worse, but when will you change bad ones into good? Let the child not be accustomed, therefore, even while he is yet an infant, to phraseology which must be unlearned.

In parents I should wish that there should be as much learning as possible. Nor do I speak, indeed, merely of fathers, for we have heard that Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi (whose very learned writing in her letters has come down to posterity), contributed greatly to their eloquence; the daughter of Laelius is said to have exhibited her father's elegance in her conversation; and the oration of the daughter of Quintus Hortensius, delivered before the Triumviri, is read not merely as an honor to her sex. Nor let those parents, who have not had the fortune to get learning themselves, bestow the less care on the instruction of their children, but let them, on this very account, be more solicitous as to other particulars.

Of the boys, among whom he who is destined to this prospect is to be educated, the same may be said as concerning nurses.

Of paedagogi this further may be said, that they should either be men of acknowledged learning, which I should wish to be the first object, or that they should be conscious of their want of learning; for none are more pernicious than those who, having gone some little beyond the first elements, clothe themselves in a mistaken persuasion of their own knowledge. Since they disdain to yield to those who are skilled in teaching and, growing imperious, and sometimes fierce, in a certain right, as it were, of exercising their authority (with which that sort of men are generally puffed up), they teach only their own folly. Nor is their misconduct less prejudicial to the manners of their pupils; for Leonides, the tutor of Alexander, as is related by Diogenes of Babylon, tinctured him with certain bad habits, which adhered to him, from his childish education, even when he was grown up and become the greatest of kings.

If I seem to my reader to require a great deal, let him consider that it is an orator that is to be educated, an arduous task even when nothing is deficient for the formation of his character; and that more and more difficult labours yet remain. There is need of constant study, the most excellent teachers, and a variety of mental exercises. 1The best of rules, therefore, are to be laid down, and if any one shall refuse to observe them, the fault will lie not in the method, but in the man.

If, however, it should not be the good fortune of children to have such nurses as I should wish, let them at least have one attentive paedagogus, not unskilled in language, who, if anything is spoken incorrectly by the nurse in the presence of his pupil, may at once correct it and not let it settle in his mind. But let it be understood that what I prescribed at first is the right course, and this only a remedy.

1I prefer that a boy should begin with the Greek language, because he will acquire the Latin in general use, even though we tried to prevent him, and because, at the same time, he ought first to be instructed in Greek learning, from which ours is derived. 1Yet I should not wish this rule to be so superstitiously observed that he should for a long time speak or learn only Greek, as is the custom with most people; for hence arise many faults of pronunciation, which is viciously adapted to foreign sounds, and also of language, in which when Greek idioms have become inherent by constant usage, they keep their place most pertinaciously even when we speak a different tongue. 1The study of Latin ought, therefore, to follow at no long interval, and soon after to keep pace with the Greek; thus it will happen that when we have begun to attend to both tongues with equal care, neither will impede the other.

1Some have thought that boys, as long as they are under seven years of age, should not be set to learn, because that is the earliest age that can understand what is taught, and endure the labor of learning. Of which opinion a great many writers say that Hesiod was, at least such writers as lived before Aristophanes the grammarian, for he was the first to deny that the Hypothecae, in which this opinion is found, was the work of that poet. 1But other writers likewise, among whom is Erastothenes, have given the same advice. Those, however, advise better, who, like Chrysippus, think that no part of a child's life should be exempt from tuition; for Chrysippus, though he has allowed three years to the nurses, is of opinion that the minds of children may be imbued with excellent instruction even by them. 1And why should not that age, which is now confessedly subject to moral influence, be under the influence of learning? I am not indeed ignorant that during the whole time of which I am speaking, scarcely as much can be done as one year may afterwards accomplish. Yet those who are of the opinion which I have mentioned appear, with regard to this part of life, to have spared not so much the learners as the teachers. 1What else, after they are able to speak, will children do better, for they must do something? Or why should we despise the gain, how little so ever it be, previous to the age of seven years? For certainly, small as may be the proficiency which an earlier age exhibits, the child will yet learn something greater during the very year in which he would have been learning something less. 1This advancement, extended through each year, is a profit on the whole, and whatever is gained in infancy is an acquisition to youth. The same rule should be prescribed as to the following years, so that what every boy has to learn, he may not be too late in beginning to learn. Let us not then lose even the earliest period of life, and so much the less, as the elements of learning depend on the memory alone, which not only exists in children, but is at that time of life even most tenacious.

20. Yet I am not so unacquainted with differences of age as to think that we should urge those of tender years severely or exact a full complement of work from them. For it will be necessary, above all things, to take care lest the child should conceive a dislike to the application which he cannot yet love, and continue to dread the bitterness which he has once tasted, even beyond the years of infancy. Let his instruction be an amusement to him; let him be questioned and praised; let him never feel pleased that he does not know a thing; and sometimes, if he is unwilling to learn, let another be taught before him, of whom he may be envious. Let him strive for victory now and then, and generally suppose that he gains it; and let his powers be called forth by rewards such as that age prizes.

2We are giving small instructions, while professing to educate an orator. But even studies have their infancy, and as the rearing of the very strongest bodies commenced with milk and the cradle, so he, who was to be the most eloquent of men, once uttered cries, tried to speak at first with a stuttering voice, and hesitated at the shapes of the letters. Nor, if it is impossible to learn a thing completely, is it therefore unnecessary to learn it at all. 2If no one blames a father who thinks that these matters are not to be neglected in regard to his son, why should he be blamed who communicates to the public what he would practice to advantage in his own house? And this is so much more the case, as younger minds more easily take in small things. And as bodies cannot be formed to certain flexures of the limbs unless while they are tender, so even strength itself makes our minds likewise more unyielding to most things. 2Would Philip, king of Macedonia, have wished the first principles of learning to be communicated to his son Alexander by Aristotle, the greatest philosopher of that age, or would Aristotle have undertaken that office if they had not both thought that the first rudiments of instruction are best treated by the most accomplished teacher and have an influence on the whole course? 2Let us suppose, then, that Alexander were committed to me, and laid in my lap, an infant worthy of so much solicitude (though every man thinks his own son worthy of similar solicitude), should I be ashamed, even in teaching him his very letters, to point out some compendious methods of instruction?

For that which I see practiced in regard to most children by no means pleases me, namely, that they learn the names and order of the letters before they learn their shapes. 2This method hinders their recognition of them, as, while they follow their memory that takes the lead, they do not fix their attention on the forms of the letters. This is the reason why teachers, even when they appear to have fixed them sufficiently in the minds of children, in the straight order in which they are usually first written, make them go over them again the contrary way, and confuse them by variously changing the arrangement, until their pupils know them by their shape, not by their place. It will be best for children therefore, to be taught the appearances and names of the letters at once, as they are taught those of men. 2But that which is hurtful with regard to letters, will be no impediment with regard to syllables. I do not disapprove, however, the practice, which is well known, of giving children, for the sake of stimulating them to learn, ivory figures of letters to play with, or whatever else can be invented, in which that infantine age may take delight, and which may be pleasing to handle, look at, or name.

2But as soon as the child shall have begun to trace the forms of the letters, it will not be improper that they should be cut for him, as exactly as possible, on a board, that his stylus may be guided along them as along grooves, for he will then make no mistakes, as on wax (since he will be kept in by the edge on each side, and will be unable to stray beyond the boundary). By following these sure traces rapidly and frequently, he will form his hand and not require the assistance of a person to guide his hand with his own hand placed over it. 2The accomplishment of writing well and expeditiously, which is commonly disregarded by people of quality, is by no means an indifferent matter. Writing itself is the principal thing in our studies, and by it alone sure proficiency, resting on the deepest roots, is secured. A too slow way of writing retards thought, and a rude and confused hand cannot be read; and hence follows another task, that of reading off what is to be copied from the writing. 2At all times, therefore, and in all places, and especially in writing private and familiar letters, it will be a source of pleusure to us not to have neglected even this acquirement.

30. For learning syllables there is no short way. They must all be learned throughout, nor are the most difficult of them, as is the general practice, to be postponed, that children may be at a loss, forsooth, in writing words. 3Moreover, we must not even trust to the first learning by heart; it will be better to have syllables repeated and to impress them long upon the memory; and in reading too, not to hurry on, in order to make it continuous or quick, until the clear and certain connection of the letters become familiar, without at least any necessity to stop for recollection. Let the pupil then begin to form words from syllables and to join phrases together from words. 3It is incredible how much retardation is caused to reading by haste; for hence arise hesitation, interruption, and repetition, as children attempt more than they can manage; and then, after making mistakes, they become distrustful even of what they know. 3Let reading, therefore, be at first sure, then continuous, and for a long time slow, until, by exercise, a correct quickness is gained. 3For to look to the right, as everybody teaches, and to look forward, depends not merely on rule, but on habit, since, while the child is looking to what follows, he has to pronounce what goes before, and, what is very difficult, the direction of his thoughts must be divided, so that one duty may be discharged with his voice, and another with his eyes.

When the child shall have begun, as is the practice, to write words, it will cause no regret if we take care that he may not waste his efforts on common words, and such as perpetually occur. 3For he may readily learn the explanations of obscure terms, which the Greeks call γλώσσαι (glosses), while some other occupation is before him, and acquire, amidst his first rudiments, a knowledge of that which would afterwards demand a special time for it. Since, too, we are still attending to small matters, I would express a wish that even the lines that are set him for his imitation in writing should not contain useless sentences, but such as convey some moral instruction. 3The remembrance of such admonitions will attend him to old age and will be of use even for the formation of his character. It is possible for him, also, to learn the sayings of eminent men, and select passages, chiefly from the poets (for the reading of poets is more pleasing to the young), in his play-time. Memory (as I shall show in its proper place) is most necessary to an orator and is eminently strengthened and nourished by exercise; and, at the age of which we are now speaking, and which cannot, as yet, produce anything of itself, it is almost the only faculty that can be improved by the aid of teachers. 3It will not be improper, however, to require of boys of this age (in order that their pronunciation may be fuller and their speech more distinct) to roll forth, as rapidly as possible, certain words and lines of studied difficulty, composed of several syllables, and those roughly clashing together, and, as it were, rugged-sounding; the Greeks call them χαλινοί (chalinoi). This may seem a trifling matter to mention, but when it is neglected, many faults of pronunciation, unless they are removed in the years of youth, are fixed by incorrigible ill habit for the rest of life.

BUT let us suppose that the child now gradually increases in size, leaves the lap, and applies himself to learning in earnest. In this place, accordingly, must be considered the question whether it is more advantageous to confine the learner at home and within the walls of a private house, or to commit him to the large numbers of a school and, as it were, to public teachers. The latter mode, I observe, has had the sanction of those by whom the polity of the most eminent states was settled, as well as that of the most illustrious authors.

Yet it is not to be concealed that there are some, who from certain notions of their own, disapprove of this almost public mode of instruction. These persons appear to be swayed chiefly by two reasons: one, that they take better precautions for the morals of the young by avoiding a concourse of human beings of that age which is most prone to vice (from which cause I wish it were falsely asserted that provocations to immoral conduct arise); the other, that whoever may be the teacher, he is likely to bestow his time more liberally on one pupil than if he has to divide it among several. The first reason indeed deserves great consideration, for if it were certain that schools, though advantageous to studies, are pernicious to morals, a virtuous course of life would seem to me preferable to one even of the most distinguished eloquence. But in my opinion, the two are combined and inseparable; I am convinced that no one can be an orator who is not a good man, and even if anyone could, I should be unwilling that he should be. On this point, therefore, I shall speak first.

People think that morals are corrupted in schools; indeed they are at times corrupted, but such may be the case even at home. Many proofs of this fact may be adduced; proofs of character having been vitiated, as well as preserved, with the utmost purity under both modes of education. It is the disposition of the individual pupil, and the care taken of him, that make the whole difference. Suppose that his mind be prone to vice, suppose that there be neglect in forming and guarding his morals in early youth. Seclusion would afford no less opportunity for immorality than publicity, for the private tutor may be himself of bad character, nor is intercourse with vicious slaves at all safer than that with immodest free-born youths. But if his disposition is good, and if there is not a blind and indolent negligence on the part of his parents, it will be possible for them to select a tutor of irreproachable character (a matter to which the utmost attention is paid by sensible parents) and to fix on a course of instruction of the very strictest kind. They may at the same time place at the elbow of their son some influential friend or faithful freedman whose constant attendance may improve even those of whom apprehensions may be entertained.

The remedy for this object of fear is easy. Would that we ourselves did not corrupt the morals of our children! We enervate their very infancy with luxuries. That delicacy of education which we call fondness weakens all the powers, both of body and mind. What luxury will he not covet in his manhood who crawls about on purple! He cannot yet articulate his first words, but he already distinguishes scarlet and wants his purple. We form the palate of children before we form their pronunciation. They grow up in sedan chairs; if they touch the ground, they hang by the hands of attendants supporting them on each side. We are delighted if they utter anything immodest. We hear from them with a smile and a kiss expressions which would not be tolerated even from the effeminate youths of Alexandria. Nor is this wonderful. We have taught them; they have heard such language from ourselves. They see our mistresses, our male objects of affection; every dining room rings with impure songs; things shameful to be told are objects of sight. From such practices springs habit, and afterwards nature. The unfortunate children learn these vices before they know that they are vices. Hence, rendered effeminate and luxurious, they do not imbibe immorality from schools, but carry it themselves into schools.

But, it is said, one tutor will have more time for one pupil. First of all, however, nothing prevents that one pupil, whoever he may be, from being the same with him who is taught in the school. But if the two objects cannot be united, I should still prefer the daylight of an honorable seminary to darkness and solitude, for every eminent teacher delights in a large concourse of pupils and thinks himself worthy of a still more numerous auditory. But inferior teachers, from a consciousness of their inability, do not disdain to fasten on single pupils and to discharge the duty, as it were, of paedagogi. 1But supposing that either interest, or friendship, or money, should secure to any parent a domestic tutor of the highest learning, and in every respect unrivalled, will he, however, spend the whole day on one pupil? Or can the application of any pupil be so constant as not to be sometimes wearied, like the sight of the eyes, by continued direction to one object, especially as study requires the far greater portion of time to be solitary. 1For the tutor does not stand by the pupil while he is writing, or learning by heart, or thinking; and when he is engaged in any of those exercises, the company of any person whatsoever is a hindrance to him. Nor does every kind of reading require at all times a praelector or interpreter, for if such were the case, when would the knowledge of so many authors be gained? Therefore, the time during which the work, as it were, may be laid out for the whole day is but short. 1Thus the instructions which are to be given to each may reach to many. Most of them, indeed, are of such a nature that they may be communicated to all at once with the same exertion of the voice. I say nothing of the topics and declamations of rhetoricians, at which, certainly, whatever be the number of the audience, each will still carry off the whole. 1For the voice of the teacher is not like a meal, which will not suffice for more than a certain number, but like the sun, which diffuses the same portion of light and heat to all. If a grammarian, too, discourses on the art of speaking, solves questions, explains matters of history, or illustrates poems, as many as shall hear him will profit by his instructions. 1But, it may be said, number is an obstacle to correction and explanation. Suppose that this is a disadvantage in a number (for what in general satisfies us in every respect?); we will soon compare that disadvantage with other advantages.

Yet I would not wish a boy to be sent to a place where he will be neglected. Nor should a good master encumber himself with a greater number of scholars than he can manage. It is to be a chief object with us, also, that the master may be in every way our kind friend and may have regard in his teaching, not so much to duty, as to affection. Thus we shall never be confounded with the multitude. 1Nor will any master, who is in the slightest degree tinctured with literature, fail particularly to cherish that pupil in whom he shall observe application and genius, even for his own honor. But even if great schools ought to be avoided (a position to which I cannot assent, if numbers flock to a master on account of his merit), the rule is not to be carried so far that schools should be avoided altogether. It is one thing to shun schools, and another to choose from them.

1If I have now refuted the objections which are made to schools, let me next state what opinions I myself entertain. 1First of all, let him who is to be an orator and who must live amidst the greatest publicity and in the full daylight of public affairs, accustom himself, from his boyhood, not to be abashed at the sight of men, nor pine in a solitary and, as it were, recluse way of life. The mind requires to be constantly excited and roused, while in such retirement it either languishes and contracts rust, as it were, in the shade, or, on the other hand, becomes swollen with empty conceit, since he who compares himself to no one else will necessarily attribute too much to his own powers. 1Besides, when his acquirements are to be displayed in public, he is blinded at the light of the sun and stumbles at every new object, as having learned in solitude that which is to be done in public. 20. I say nothing of friendships formed at school, which remain in full force even to old age, as if cemented with a certain religious obligation, for to have been initiated in the same studies is a not less sacred bond than to have been initiated in the same sacred rites. That sense, too, which is called common sense, where shall a young man learn when he has separated himself from society, which is natural not to men only, but even to dumb animals? 2Add to this, that at home, he can learn only what is taught himself; at school, even what is taught others. 2He will daily hear many things commended, many things corrected. The idleness of a fellow student, when reproved, will be a warning to him; the industry of anyone, when commended, will be a stimulus. Emulation will be excited by praise, and he will think it a disgrace to yield to his equals in age and an honor to surpass his seniors. All these matters excite the mind, and though ambition itself is a vice, it is often the parent of virtues.

2I remember a practice that was observed by my masters, not without advantage. Having divided the boys into classes, they assigned them their order in speaking in conformity to the abilities of each, and thus each stood in the higher place to declaim according as he appeared to excel in proficiency. 2Judgments were pronounced on the performances, and great was the strife among us for distinction, but to take the lead of the class was by far the greatest honor. Nor was sentence given on our merits only once; the 30th day brought the vanquished an opportunity of contending again. Thus, he who was most successful did not relax his efforts, while uneasiness incited the unsuccessful to retrieve his honor. 2I should be inclined to maintain, as far as I can form a judgment from what I conceive in my own mind, that this method furnished stronger incitements to the study of eloquence than the exhortations of preceptors, the watchfulness of paedagogi, or the wishes of parents. 2But as emulation is of use to those who have made some advancement in learning, so, to those who are but beginning and are still of tender age, to imitate their schoolfellows is more pleasant than to imitate their master, for the very reason that it is easier. They who are learning the first rudiments will scarcely dare to exalt themselves to the hope of attaining that eloquence which they regard as the highest; they will rather fix on what is nearest to them, as vines attached to trees gain the top by taking hold of the lower branches first. 2This is an observation of such truth that it is the care even of the master himself, when he has to instruct minds that are still unformed, not (if he prefer at least the useful to the showy) to overburden the weakness of his scholars, but to moderate his strength and to let himself down to the capacity of the learner. 2For as narrow-necked vessels reject a great quantity of the liquid that is poured upon them, but are filled by that which flows or is poured into them by degrees, so it is for us to ascertain how much the minds of boys can receive, since what is too much for their grasp of intellect will not enter their minds, as not being sufficiently expanded to admit it. 2It is of advantage, therefore, for a boy to have schoolfellows whom he may first imitate and afterwards try to surpass. Thus will he gradually conceive hope of higher excellence.

To these observations I shall add that masters themselves, when they have but one pupil at a time with them, cannot feel the same degree of energy and spirit in addressing him as when they are excited by a large number of hearers. 30. Eloquence depends in a great degree on the state of the mind, which must conceive images of objects and transform itself, so to speak, to the nature of the things of which we discourse. Besides, the more noble and lofty a mind is, by the more powerful springs, as it were, is it moved. Accordingly, it is both strengthened by praise and enlarged by effort, and filled with joy at achieving something great. 3But a certain secret disdain is felt at lowering the power of eloquence, acquired by so much labor, to one auditor, and the teacher is ashamed to raise his style above the level of ordinary conversation. Let anyone imagine, indeed, the air of a man haranguing, or the voice of one entreating, the gesture, the pronunciation, the agitation of mind and body, the exertion, and, to mention nothing else, the fatigue, while he has but one auditor. Would not he seem to be affected with something like madness? There would be no eloquence in the world if we were to speak only with one person at a time.

LET him that is skilled in teaching ascertain first of all, when a boy is entrusted to him, his ability and disposition. The chief symptom of ability in children is memory, the excellence of which is twofold: to receive with ease and retain with fidelity. The next symptom is imitation, for that is an indication of a teachable disposition, but with this provision: that it express merely what it is taught, and not a person's manner or walk, for instance, or whatever may be remarkable for deformity. The boy who shall make it his aim to raise a laugh by his love of mimicry, will afford me no hope of good capacity. For he who is possessed of great talent will be well disposed, else I should think it not at all worse to be of a dull, than of a bad, disposition. But he who is honorably inclined will be very different from the stupid or idle. Such a pupil as I would have will easily learn what is taught him and will ask questions about some things, but will still rather follow than run on before. That precocious sort of talent scarcely ever comes to good fruit. Such are those who do little things easily and, impelled by impudence, show at once all that they can accomplish in such matters. But they succeed only in what is ready to their hand; they string words together, uttering them with an intrepid countenance, not in the least discouraged by bashfulness, and do little, but do it readily. There is no real power behind, or any that rests on deeply fixed roots, but they are like seeds which have been scattered on the surface of the ground and shoot up prematurely, like grass that resembles corn and grows yellow, with empty ears, before the time of harvest. Their efforts give pleasure, as compared with their years, but their progress comes to a stand, and our wonder diminishes.

When a tutor has observed these indications, let him next consider how the mind of his pupil is to be managed. Some boys are indolent unless you stimulate them; some are indignant at being commanded; fear restrains some and unnerves others; continued labor forms some; with others, hasty efforts succeed better. Let the boy be given to me whom praise stimulates, whom honor delights, who weeps when he is unsuccessful. His powers must be cultivated under the influence of ambition; reproach will sting him to the quick; honor will incite him; and in such a boy I shall never be apprehensive of indifference.

Yet some relaxation is to be allowed to all; not only because there is nothing that can bear perpetual labor (and even those things that are without sense and life are unbent by alternate rest, as it were, in order that they may preserve their vigor), but because application to learning depends on the will, which cannot be forced. Boys, accordingly, when reinvigorated and refreshed, bring more sprightliness to their learning and a more determined spirit, which for the most part spurns compulsion. Nor will play in boys displease me; it is also a sign of vivacity, and I cannot expect that he who is always dull and spiritless will be of an eager disposition in his studies, when he is indifferent even to that excitement which is natural to his age. 1There must, however, be bounds set to relaxation, lest the refusal of it beget an aversion to study, or too much indulgence in it a habit of idleness. There are some kinds of amusement, too, not unserviceable for sharpening the wits of boys, as when they contend with each other by proposing all sorts of questions in turn. 1In their plays, also, their moral dispositions show themselves more plainly, supposing that there is no age so tender that it may not readily learn what is right and wrong. The tender age may best be formed at a time when it is ignorant of dissimulation and most willingly submits to instructors, for you may break, sooner than mend, that which has hardened into deformity. 1Therefore, a child is to be admonished, as early as possible, that he must do nothing too eagerly, nothing dishonestly, nothing without self-control, and we must always keep in mind the maxim of Virgil, Adeo in teneris consuescere multum est, "of so much importance is the acquirement of habit in the young."

1But that boys should suffer corporal punishment, though it be a received custom, and Chrysippus makes no objection to it, I by no means approve; first, because it is a disgrace and a punishment for slaves, and in reality (as will be evident if you imagine the age changed) an affront; secondly, because, if a boy's disposition be so abject as not to be amended by reproof, he will be hardened, like the worst of slaves, even to stripes; and lastly, because, if one who regularly exacts his tasks be with him, there will not be the least need of any such chastisement. 1At present, the negligence of paedagogi seems to be made amends for in such a way that boys are not obliged to do what is right, but are punished whenever they have not done it. Besides, after you have coerced a boy with stripes, how will you treat him when he becomes a young man, to whom such terror cannot be held out, and by whom more difficult studies must be pursued? 1Add to these considerations that many things unpleasant to be mentioned, and likely afterwards to cause shame, often happen to boys while being whipped, under the influence of pain or fear. Such shame enervates and depresses the mind, and makes them shun people's sight and feel a constant uneasiness. 1If, moreover, there has been too little care in choosing governors and tutors of reputable character, I am ashamed to say how scandalously unworthy men may abuse their privilege of punishing, and what opportunity also the terror of the unhappy children may sometimes accord to others. I will not dwell upon this point; what is already understood is more than enough. It will be sufficient, therefore, to intimate that no man should be allowed too much authority over an age so weak and so unable to resist ill treatment.

1I will now proceed to show in what studies he who is to be so trained that he may become an orator must be instructed, and which of them must be commenced at each particular period of youth.

IN regard to the boy who has attained facility in reading and writing, the next object is instruction from the grammarians. Nor is it of importance whether I speak of the Greek or Latin grammarian, though I am inclined to think that the Greek should take the precedence. Both have the same method. This profession, then, distinguished as it is, most compendiously, into two parts, the art of speaking correctly, and the illustration of the poets, carries more beneath the surface than it shows on its front. For not only is the art of writing combined with that of speaking, but correct reading also precedes illustration, and with all these is joined the exercise of judgment, which the old grammarians, indeed, used with such severity that they not only allowed themselves to distinguish certain verses with a particular mark of censure and to remove, as spurious, certain books which had been inscribed with false titles, from their sets, but even brought some authors within their canon and excluded others altogether from classification. Nor is it sufficient to have read the poets only; every class of writers must be studied, not simply for matter, but for words, which often receive their authority from writers. Nor can grammar be complete without a knowledge of music, since the grammarian has to speak of meter and rhythm; nor, if he is ignorant of astronomy, can he understand the poets, who, to say nothing of other matters, so often allude to the rising and setting of the stars in marking the seasons; nor must he be unacquainted with philosophy, both on account of numbers of passages, in almost all poems, drawn from the most abstruse subtleties of physical investigation, and also on account of Empedocles among the Greeks, and Varro and Lucretius among the Latins, who have committed the precepts of philosophy to verse. The grammarian has also need of no small portion of eloquence that he may speak aptly and fluently on each of those subjects which are here mentioned. Those, therefore, are by no means to be regarded who deride this science as trifling and empty, for unless it lays a sure foundation for the future orator, whatever superstructure you raise will fall; it is a science which is necessary to the young, pleasing to the old, and an agreeable companion in retirement. Of all departments of learning, it alone has more service than show.

Let no man, therefore, look down on the elements of grammar as small matters, not because it requires great labor to distinguish consonants from vowels and to divide them into the proper number of semivowels and mutes, but because, to those entering the recesses, as it were, of this temple there will appear much subtlety on points, which may not only sharpen the wits of boys, but may exercise even the deepest erudition and knowledge. Is it in the power of every ear to distinguish accurately the sounds of letters? No more, assuredly, than to distinguish the sounds of musical strings. But all grammarians will at least descend to the discussion of such curious points as these: whether any necessary letters be wanting to us, not indeed when we write Greek, for then we borrow two letters from the Greeks, but, properly, in Latin: as in these words, servus and vulgus, the Aeolic digamma is required; and there is a certain sound of a letter between u and i, for we do not pronounce optimum like opimum; in here, too, neither e nor i is distinctly heard: whether, again, other letters are redundant (besides the mark of aspiration, which, if it be necessary, requires also a contrary mark), as k, which is itself the mark of certain names, and q (similar to which in sound and shape, except that q is slightly warped by our writers, koppa now remains among the Greeks, though only in the list of numbers), as well as x, the last of our letters, which indeed we might have done without, if we had not sought it. With regard to vowels, too, it is the business of the grammarian to see whether custom has taken any for consonants, since iam is written as tam, and uos as cos. But vowels which are joined, as vowels, make either one long vowel, as the ancients wrote, who used the doubling of them instead of the circumflex accent, or two; though perhaps some one may suppose that a syllable may be formed even of three vowels; but this cannot be the case, unless some of them do the duty of consonants. 1The grammarian will also inquire how two vowels only have the power of uniting with each other, when none of the consonants can break any letter but another consonant. But the letter i unites with itself; for coniicit is from iacit, and so does u, as vulgus and servus are now written. Let the grammarian also know that Cicero was inclined to write aiio and Maiia with a double i, and, if this be done, the one i will be joined to the other as a consonant. 1Let the boy, therefore, learn what is peculiar in letters, what is common, and what relationship each has to each, and let him not wonder why scabellum is formed from scamnum, or why bipennis, an axe with an edge each way, is formed from pinna, which means something sharp, that he may not follow the error of those, who, because they think that this word is from two wings, would have the wings of birds called pinnae.

1Nor let him know those changes only which declension and prepositions introduce, as secat secuit, cadit excidit, caedit excīdit, calcat exculcat; (so lotus from lavare, whence also inlotus, and there are a thousand other similar derivations); but also what alterations have taken place, even in nominative cases, through lapse of time, for as Valesii and Fusii have passed into Valerii and Furii, so arbos, labos, vapos, as well as clamos and lases have had their day. 1This very letter s, too, which has been excluded from these words, has itself, in some other words, succeeded to the place of another letter, for instead of mersare and pulsare, they once said mertare and pultare. They also said fordeum and faedus, using, instead of the aspiration, a letter similar to vau; for the Greeks, on the other hand, are accustomed to aspirate, whence Cicero, in his oration for Fundanius, laughs at a witness who could not sound the first letter of that name. 1But we have also, at times, admitted b into the place of other letters, whence Burrus and Bruges, and Belena. The same letter moreover has made bellum out of duellum, whence some have ventured to call the Duellii, Bellii. Why need I speak of stlocus and stlites? 16.Why need I mention that there is a certain relationship of the letter t to d? Hence it is far from surprising if, on the old buildings of our city and well-known temples, is read Alexanter and Cassantra. Why should I specify that o and u are interchanged? Hecoba and notrix, Culchides and Pulyxena, were used, and, that this may not be noticed in Greek words only, dederont and probaveront. So Ὀδυσσεύς (Odusseús), whom the Aeolians made Ὀλισσέα (Olisseus), was turned into Ulysses. 1Was not e, too, put in the place of i, as Menerva, leber, magester, and Diiove and Veiove for Diiovi and Veiovi? But it is enough for me to point to the subject; for I do not teach, but admonish those who are to teach. The attention of the learner will then be transferred to syllables, on which I shall make a few remarks under the head of orthography.

He, whom this matter shall concern, will then understand how many parts of speech there are and what they are, though as to their number, writers are by no means agreed. 1For the more ancient, among whom were Aristotle and Theodectes, said that there were only verbs, nouns, and convinctions, because, that is to say, they judged that the force of language was in verbs, and the matter of it in nouns (since the one is what we speak, and the other that of which we speak), and that the union of words lay in convinctions, which, I know, are by most writers called conjunctions, but the other term seems to be a more exact translation of συνδεσμός (syndesmos). 1By the philosophers, and chiefly the Stoics, the number was gradually increased; to the convinctions were first added articles, then prepositions; to nouns was added the appellation, next the pronoun, and afterwards the participle, partaking of the nature of the verb; to verbs themselves were joined adverbs. Our language does not require articles, and they are therefore divided among other parts of speech. To the parts of speech already mentioned was added the interjection. 20. Other writers, however, certainly of competent judgment, have made eight parts of speech, as Aristarchus and Palaemon in our own day, who have included the vocable, or appellation, under the name or noun, as if a species of it. But those who make the noun one, and the vocable another, reckon nine. But there were some, nevertheless, who even distinguished the vocable from the appellation, so that the vocable should signify any substance manifest to the sight and touch, as a house, a bed; the appellation, that to which one or both of these properties should be wanting, as the wind, heaven, God, virtue. They added also the asseveration, as heu, "alas!" and the attrectation, as fasceatim, "in bundles," distinctions which are not approved by me. 2Whether προσηγορία (prosēgoria) should be translated by vocable or appellation, and whether it should be comprehended under the noun or not, are questions on which, as being of little importance, I leave it free to others to form an opinion.

2Let boys in the first place learn to decline nouns and conjugate verbs, for otherwise they will never arrive at the understanding of what is to follow. This admonition would be superfluous to give were it not that most teachers, through ostentatious haste, begin where they ought to end, and, while they wish to show off their pupils in matters of greater display, retard their progress by attempting to shorten the road. 2But if a teacher has sufficient learning and (what is often found not less wanting) be willing to teach what he has learned, he will not be content with stating that there are three genders in nouns, and specifying what nouns have two or all the three genders. 2Nor shall I hastily deem that tutor diligent who shall have shown that there are irregular nouns, called epicene, in which both genders are implied under one, or nouns, which under a feminine termination, signify males or, with a neuter termination, denote females; as Muroena and Glycerium. 2A penetrating and acute teacher will search into a thousand origins of names; derivations which have produced the names Rufus, "red," and Longus, "long," from personal peculiarities; (among which will be some of rather obscure etymology, as Sulla, Burrhus, Galba, Plancus, Pansa, Scaurus, and others of the same kind); some also from accidents of birth, as Agrippa, Opiter, Cordus, Posthumus; some from occurrences after birth, as Vopiscus; while others as Cotta, Scipio, Laenas, Seranus, spring from various causes. 2We may also find people, places, and many other things among the origins of names. That sort of names among slaves, which was taken from their masters, whence Marcipores and Publipores, has fallen into disuse. Let the tutor consider also whether there is not among the Greeks ground for a sixth case, and among us even for a seventh; for when I say hasta percussi, "I have struck with a spear," I do not express the sense of an ablative case, nor, if I say the same thing in Greek, that of a dative.

2As to verbs, who is so ignorant as not to know their kinds, qualities, persons, and numbers? Those things belong to the reading school and to the lower departments of instruction. But such points as are not determined by inflection will puzzle some people, for it may be doubted, as to certain words, whether they are participles or nouns formed from the verb, as lectus, sapiens. 2Some verbs look like nouns, as fraudator, nutritor. Is not the verb in Itur in antiquam silvam of a peculiar nature, for what beginning of it can you find? Fletur is similar to it. We understand the passive sometimes in one way, as,

Panditur interea domus omnipotentis Olympi;
sometimes in another, as,

Totis
Usque adeò turbatur agris.

There is also a third way, as urbs habitatur, whence likewise campus curritur, mare navigatur. 2Pransus also and potus have a different signification from that which their form indicates. I need hardly add that many verbs do not go through the whole course of conjugation. Some, too, undergo a change, as fero in the preterperfect; some are expressed only in the form of the third person, as licet, piget; and some bear resemblance to nouns passing into adverbs, for, as we say noctu and diu, so we say dictu and factu, since these words are indeed participial, though not like dicto and facto.

SINCE all language has three kinds of excellence, to be correct, perspicuous, and elegant (for to speak with propriety, which is its highest quality, most writers include under elegance), and the same number of faults, which are the opposites of the excellences just mentioned, let the grammarian consider well the rules for correctness which constitute the first part of grammar. These rules are required to be observed, verbis aut singulis aut pluribus, in regard to one or more words. The word verbum I wish to be here understood in a general sense, for it has two significations: the one, which includes all words of which language is composed, as in the verse of Horace,

Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur,
"And words, not unwilling, will follow provided matter"; the other, under which is comprehended only one part of speech, as lego, scribo. To avoid this ambiguity, some have preferred the terms voces, dictiones, locutiones. Words, considered singly, are either our own, or foreign, simple or compound, proper or metaphorical, in common use or newly invented.

A word taken singly is more often objectionable than faultless, for however we may express anything with propriety, elegance, and sublimity, none of these qualities arise from anything but the connection and order of the discourse, since we commend single words merely as being well suited to the matter. The only good quality which can be remarked in them is their vocalitas, so to speak, called εὐφωνία (euphony). This depends upon selection, when, of two words which have the same signification and are of equal force, we make choice of the one that has the better sound.

First of all, let the offensiveness of barbarisms and solecisms be put away. But as these faults are sometimes excused, either from custom, or authority, or perhaps from their nearness to beauties (for it is often difficult to distinguish faults from figures of speech), let the grammarian, that so uncertain a subject of observation may deceive no one, give his earnest attention to that nice discrimination of which we shall speak more fully in the part where we shall have to treat of figures of speech. Meanwhile, let an offense committed in regard to a single word be called a barbarism.

But some one may stop me with the remark, what is there here worthy of the promise of so great a work? Or who does not know that barbarisms are committed, some in writing, others in speaking? (because what is written incorrectly must also be spoken incorrectly, though he who speaks incorrectly may not necessarily make mistakes in writing). The first sort is caused by addition, curtailment, substitution, or transposition; the second by separation or confusion of syllables, aspiration, or other faults of sound. But though these may be small matters, boys are still to be taught, and we put grammarians in mind of their duty. If any one of them, however, shall not be sufficiently accomplished, but shall have just entered the vestibule of the art, he will have to confine himself within those rules which are published in the little manuals of professors. The more learned will add many other instructions, the very first of which will be this, that we understand barbarisms as being of several kinds. One, with reference to country, such as is committed when a person inserts an African or Spanish term in Latin composition, as when the iron ring with which wheels are bound is called canthus, though Persius uses this as a received word; as when Catullus got the word ploxenum, "a box," on the banks of the Po; and in the speech of Labienus (if it be not rather the speech of Cornelius Gallus), the word casnar, "a parasite," is brought from Gaul against Pollio; as to mastruca, "a shaggy garment," which is a Sardinian word, Cicero has used it purposely in jest. Another kind of barbarism is that which we regard as proceeding from the natural disposition, when he, by whom anything has been uttered insolently or threateningly or cruelly, is said to have spoken like a barbarian. The third kind of barbarism is that of which examples are everywhere abundant and which every one can form for himself, by adding a letter or syllable to any word he pleases, or taking one away, or substituting one for another, or putting one in a place where it is not right for it to be. 1But some grammarians, to make a show of learning, are accustomed, for the most part, to take examples of these from the poets and find fault with the authors whom they interpret. A boy ought to know, however, that such forms of speech, in writers of poetry, are considered as deserving of excuse or even of praise, and learners must be taught less common instances. 1Thus Tinca of Placentia (if we believe Hortensius, who finds fault with him) was guilty of two barbarisms in one word, saying precula instead of pergula; first, by the change of a letter, putting c for g, and secondly, by transposition, placing r before the preceding e. But Ennius, when committing a like double fault, by saying Metoeo Fufetioeo, is defended on the ground of poetic licence. 1In prose, too, there are certain received changes, for Cicero speaks of an army of Canopitae, though the people of the city call it Canobus; and many writers have authorized Trasumennus for Tarsumennus, although there is a transposition in it. Other words suffer similar treatment; for if assentior, "I assent," be thought the proper way of spelling that word, Sisenna has said assentio, and many have followed him on analogy; or, if assentio be deemed the right method, the other form, assentior, is supported by common practice. 1Yet the prim and dull teacher will suppose that there is either curtailment in the one case or addition in the other. I need hardly add that some forms, which taken singly, are doubtless faulty, are used in composition without blame. 1For dua, tre, and pondo, are barbarisms of discordant gender; yet the compounds duapondo, "two pounds," and trepondo, "three pounds," have been used by everybody down to our own times, and Messala maintains that they are used with propriety. 1It may perhaps seem absurd to say that a barbarism, which is incorrectness in a single word, may be committed in number and gender, like a solecism; yet scala, "stairs," and scopa, "a broom," in the singular, and hordea, "barley," and mulsa, "mead," in the plural, as they are attended with no change, withdrawal, or addition of letters, are objectionable only because plurals are expressed in the singular, and singulars in the plural; and those who have used gladia, "swords," have committed a fault in gender. 1But this point, too, I am satisfied with merely noticing, that I myself may not appear to have added another question to a branch of study already perplexed through the fault of certain obstinate grammarians.

Faults which are committed in speaking require more sagacity in criticizing them, because examples of them cannot be given from writing except when they have occurred in verses, as the division of the diphthong in Europaï, and the irregularity of the opposite kind, which the Greeks call συναίρεσιν (synaeresis) and ἐπισυναλοιφήν (episynaloiphē), and we conflexio, "combination," as in the verse in Publius Varro,

Quum te flagranti dejectum fulmine Phaeton;
18.For if it were prose, it would be possible to enunciate those letters by their proper syllables. Those peculiarities, also, which occur in quantity, whether when a short syllable is made long, as in Ītaliam fato profugus, or when a long one is made short, as in Unĭus ob noxam et furias, you would not remark except in verse; and even in verse they are not to be regarded as faults. 1Those which are committed in sound are judged only by the ear; as to the aspirate, whether it be added or retrenched in variation from common practice, it may be a question with us whether it be a fault in writing, if h indeed be a letter and not merely a mark, as to which point opinion has often changed with time. 20. The ancients used it very sparingly even before vowels, as they said aedos and ircos, and it was long afterwards withheld from conjunction with consonants, as in Graccas and triumpus. But suddenly an excessive use of it became prevalent, so that choronae, chenturiones, praechones, are still to be seen in certain inscriptions, on which practice there is a well-known epigram of Catullus. 2Hence there remain, even to our times, vehementer, conprehendere, and mihi. Among the ancient writers, also, especially those of tragedy, we find in old copies mehe for me.

2Still more difficult is the marking of faults in respect to the tenores, "tones" (which I find called by the old writers tonores, as if, forsooth, the word were derived from the Greeks who call them τόνους (tonos)), or accents, which the Greeks call προσῳδίας (prosodiai) when the acute is put for the grave, or the grave for the acute; as if, in the word Camillus, the first syllable should receive the acute accent; 2or if the grave is put for the circumflex, as when the first syllable of Cethegus has the acute, for thus the quantity of the middle syllable is altered; or if the circumflex is put for the grave, as when the second syllable is circumflexed in Appi, by contracting which from two syllables into one, and then circumflexing it, people commit two errors. 2But this happens far more frequently in Greek words, as Atreus, which, when I was young, the most learned old men used to pronounce with an acute on the first syllable, so that the second was necessarily grave, as was also that of Tereus and Nereus. Such have been the rules respecting accents. 2But I am quite aware that certain learned men, and some grammarians also, teach and speak in such a manner as to terminate a word at times with an acute sound, for the sake of preserving certain distinctions in words, as in circum in these lines,

Quae circum litora, circum
Piscosos scopulos,
lest, if they make the second syllable in circum grave, a circus might seem to be meant, not a circuit. 2Quantum and quale, also, when asking a question, they conclude with a grave accent; when making a comparison, with an acute; this is a practice, however, which they observe almost only in adverbs and pronouns, in other words they follow the old custom. 2To me it appears to make a difference that in these phrases we join the words, for when I say circum litora, I enunciate the words as one, without making any distinction between them; thus one syllable only, as in a single word, is acute. The same is the case in this hemistich,

Trojae qui primus ab oris.
2It sometimes happens, too, that the law of the meter alters the accent: as,

Pecudes, pictaeque volucres;
For I shall pronounce volucres with an acute on the middle syllable, because, though it be short by nature, it is long by position, that it may not form an iambus, which a heroic verse does not admit. 2But these words, taken separately, will not vary from the rule, or if custom shall triumph, the old law of the language will be abolished. The observation of which law is more difficult among the Greeks (because they have several modes of speaking, which they call dialects, and because what is wrong in one is sometimes right in another). But among us, the principle of accentuation is very simple. 30. For in every word the acuted syllable is confined within the number of three syllables, whether those three be the only syllables in the word or the three last; and of these, the acuted syllable is either the next, or next but one, to the last. Of the three syllables of which I am speaking, moreover, the middle one will be long, acute, or circumflex; a short syllable in that position will, of course, have a grave sound and will accordingly acute the one that stands before it, that is, the third from the end. 3But in every word there is an acute syllable, though never more than one; nor is that one ever the last, and consequently in dissyllables it is the first. Besides, there is never in the same word one syllable circumflexed and another acuted, for the same syllable that is circumflexed is also acuted; neither of the two, therefore, will terminate a Latin word. Those words, however, which consist but of one syllable will be either acuted or circumflexed that there may be no word without an acute.

3In sounds also occur those faults of utterance and pronunciation, of which specimens cannot be given in writing; the Greeks, who are more happy in inventing names, call them iotacisms, lambdacisms, ἰσχνότητες (ischnotētes), and πλατείασμοι (plateiasmoi); as also κοιλοστομία (koilostomia), when the voice is heard, as it were, in the depths of the throat. 3There are also certain peculiar and inexpressible sounds, for which we sometimes find fault with whole nations. All the incorrectnesses, then, which we have mentioned above, being removed, there will result that which is called ὀρθοέπαι (orthoepia), that is, a correct and clear utterance of words with an agreeableness of sound; for so may a right pronunciation be termed.

3All other faults arise out of more words than one; among these faults is the solecism, though about this also there has been controversy. For even those who admit that it lies in the composition of words, yet contend that, because it may be corrected by the amendment of a single word, it is the incorrectness of a word and not a fault in composition; 3since, whether amarae corticis or medio cortice constitutes a fault in gender (to neither of which do I object, Virgil being the author of both; but let us suppose that one of the two is incorrect), the alteration of one word, in which the fault lay, produces correctness of phraseology, so that we have amari corticis or mediâ cortice. This is a manifest misrepresentation, for neither of the words is wrong, taken separately, but the fault lies in them when put together, and it is a fault therefore of phrase. 3It is, however, a question of greater sagacity whether a solecism can be committed in a single word, as if a man, calling one person to him, should say venite, or, sending several away from him, should say abi, or discede; or, moreover, when an answer does not agree with the question, as if to a person saying quem vides? you should reply ego. Some also think that the same fault is committed in gesture when one thing is signified by the voice and another by a nod or by the hand. 3With this opinion I do not altogether agree, nor do I altogether dissent from it, for I allow that a solecism may occur in one word, but not unless there be something having the force of another word to which the incorrect word may be referred. A solecism arises from the union of things by which something is signified or some intention manifested, and, that I may avoid all cavilling, it sometimes occurs in one word, but never in a word by itself.

3But under how many, and what forms, the solecism occurs, is not sufficiently agreed. Those who speak of it most fully make the nature of it fourfold, like that of the barbarism, so that it may be committed by addition (as nam enim, de susum, in Alexandriam); by retrenchment (as Ambulo viam, Aegypto venio, ne hoc fecit); 3by transposition, by which the order of words is confused (as, Quoque ego, Enim hoc voluit, Autem non habuit). Whether igitur, placed at the beginning of a phrase, ought to be included may be a matter of dispute, because I see that eminent authors have been of opposite opinions as to the practice, it being common among some, while it is never found in others. 40. These three sorts of irregularity some distinguish from the solecism, and call a fault of addition "a pleonasm," of retrenchment "an ellipsis," of inversion "an anastrophe," and allege that if these fall under the head of solecism, the hyperbaton may be included under the same title. 4Substitution is without dispute when one thing is put for another; it is an irregularity which we find affecting all the parts of speech, but most frequently the verb, because it has most modifications. Accordingly, under the head of substitution, occur solecisms in gender, tense, persons, moods, (or states or qualities, if any one wish that they should be so called), being six, or, as some will have it, eight in number (since into however many forms you distinguish each of the parts of speech of which mention has just been made, there will be so many sorts of errors liable to be committed), as well as in numbers, of which we have the singular and plural, the Greeks also the dual. 4There have, indeed, been some who assigned us also a dual, scripsere, legere, a termination which was merely a softening for the sake of avoiding roughness of sound, as, among the old writers, male merere for male mereris. What they call the dual consists in that one sort of termination only, whereas among the Greeks it is found not only through almost the whole system of the verb, but also in nouns, though even so the use of it is very rare. 4But in no one of our authors is this distinction of ending to be discovered; on the contrary, the phrases, Devenere locos and Conticuere omnes and Consedere duces show us plainly that no one of them refers to two persons only; dixere, too, though Antonius Rufus gives it as an example of the contrary, the crier pronounces concerning more advocates than two. 4Does not Livy, also, near the beginning of his first book, say, Tenuere arcem Sabini, and a little afterwards, In adversum Romani subiere? But whom shall I follow in preference to Cicero, who, in his Orator, says, "I do not object to scripsere, though I consider scripserunt to be preferable"?

4In appellative and other nouns, likewise, the solecism shows itself in regard to gender and to number, but especially to case. Whichsoever of those three shall be put in the place of another, the error may be placed under this head, as also incorrectnesses in the use of comparatives and superlatives, as well as cases in which the patronymic is put for the possessive or the contrary. 4As to a fault committed in regard to quantity, such as magnum peculiolum, there will be some who will think it a solecism, because a diminution is used instead of the integral word, but for my own part, I doubt whether I should not rather call it a misapplication of a word, for it is a departure from the signification. The impropriety of a solecism is not an error as to the sense of a word, but in the junction of words. 4In respect to the participle, errors are committed in gender and case, as in the noun; in tense, as in the verb; and in number, as in both. The pronoun, also, has gender, number, and case, all of which admit mistakes of this kind. 4Solecisms are committed, too, and in great numbers, as to parts of speech, but it is not enough merely to remark this generally, lest the pupil should think a solecism committed only where one part of speech is put for another, as a verb where there ought to have been a noun, or an adverb where there ought to have been a pronoun, and the like. 4For there are some nouns cognate, as they say, that is, of the same kind, in regard to which he who shall use another species than that which he ought to use, will be guilty of no less an error than if he were to use a word of another genus. 50. Thus an and aut are both conjunctions, yet you would be incorrect in asking, hic, aut ille, sit? Ne and non are both adverbs, yet he who should say non feceris for ne feceris would fall into a similar error, since the one is an adverb of denying, the other of forbidding. I will add another example: intro and intus are both adverbs of place, yet eo intus and intro sum are solecisms. 5The same faults may be committed in regard to the different sorts of pronouns, interjections, and prepositions. The discordant collocation of preceding and following words, also, in a sentence of one clause, is a solecism.

5There are expressions, however, which have the appearance of solecisms and yet cannot be called faulty, as tragoedia Thyestes, ludi Floralia, and Megalesia, for though these modes of expression have fallen into disuse in later times, there was never any variation from them among the ancients. They shall therefore be called figures, which are more common among the poets, but allowable also to writers and speakers in prose. 5But a figure will generally have something right for its basis, as I shall show in that part of my work which I just before promised. Yet what is now called a figure will not be free from the fault of solecism, if it be used by any one unknowingly. 5Of the same sort, though, as I have already said, they have nothing of figure, are names with a feminine termination which males have, and those with a masculine termination which females have. But of the solecism I shall say no more, for I have not undertaken to write a treatise on grammar, though, as grammar met me in my road, I was unwilling to pass it without paying my respects to it.

5In continuation, that I may follow the course which I prescribed to myself, let me repeat that words are either Latin or foreign. Foreign words, like men, and like many of our institutions, have come to us, I might almost say, from all nations. 5I say nothing of the Tuscans, Sabines, and Praenestines, for though Lucilius attacks Vectius for using their dialect, as Pollio discovers Patavinity in Livy, I would consider every part of Italy as Roman. 5Many Gallic words have prevailed among us, as rheda, "a chariot," and petorritum, "a four-wheeled carriage," of which, however, Cicero uses one, and Horace the other. Mappa, "a napkin," too, a term much used in the circus, the Carthaginians claim as theirs; and gurdus, a word which the common people use for foolish, had, I have heard, its origin in Spain. 5But this division of mine is intended to refer chiefly to the Greek language, for it is from thence that the Roman language is, in a very great degree, derived, and we use even pure Greek words where our own fail, as they also sometimes borrow from us. Hence arises the question, whether it is proper that foreign words should be declined with cases in the same way as our own. 5If you meet with a grammarian who is a lover of the ancients, he will say that there should be no departure from the Latin method, because, as there is in our language an ablative case, which the Greeks have not, it is by no means becoming for us to use one case of our own and five Greek cases. 60. And he would also praise the merit of those who studied to increase the resources of the Latin language, and asserted that they need not introduce foreign practices; under the influence of which notion they said Castorem, with the middle syllable long, because such was the case with all our nouns whose nominative case ends in the same letters as Castor; and they retained the practice, moreover, of saying Palaemo, Telamo, and Plato (for so Cicero also called him), because they found no Latin word that terminated with the letters -o and -n. 6Nor did they willingly allow masculine Greek nouns to end in as in the nominative case, and accordingly, we read in Caelius, Pelia Cincinnatus; in Messala, Bene fecit Euthia; in Cicero, Hermagora; so that we need not wonder that the forms Aenea and Anchisa were used by most of the old writers: for, said they, if those words were written as Maecenas, Suffenas, Asprenas, they would end in the genitive case, not with the letter -e, but with the syllable -tis. 6Hence, to Olympus and tyrannus they gave an acuted middle syllable because our language does not permit the first syllable of a word, if short, to have an acute accent when two long syllables follow. 6Thus the genitive had the forms Achilli and Ulixi, and many others similar. The modern grammarians have now made it a practice rather to give Greek declensions to Greek nouns, a practice which cannot, however, always be observed. For myself, I prefer following the Latin method, as far as propriety allows, for I would not now say Calypsonem, like Junonem, though Caius Caesar, following the older writers, uses this mode of declining. 6But custom has prevailed over authority. In other words, which may be declined without impropriety in either way, he who shall prefer to use the Greek form will speak, not indeed like a Roman, but without incurring blame.

6Simple words are what they are in their first position, that is, in their own nature. Compound words are either formed by subjoining words to prepositions, as innocens (care being taken that there be not two prepositions inconsistent with each other, as imperterritus, otherwise two may be at times joined together, as incompositus, reconditus, and, a word which Cicero uses, subabsurdum); or they coalesce, as it were, from two bodies into one, as maleficus. 6For to form words out of three constituent parts, I should certainly not grant to our language; though Cicero says that capsis is compounded of cape si vis, and some are found to maintain that Lupercalia also consists of three parts of speech, luere per caprum. 6As to solitaurilia, it is now believed that it is for suovetaurilia, and such indeed is the sacrifice, as it is described also in Homer. But these words are constructed, not so much of three words, as of parts of three words. Pacuvius, however, appears to have formed compounds, most inelegantly of a preposition and two other words:

Nerei
Repandirostrum, incurvicervicum pecus,
"The broad-nosed, crook-necked flock of Nereus." 68.Compounds, however, are formed either of two entire Latin words, as superfui, subterfugi (though it is a question whether these are indeed formed of entire words), of an entire and incomplete word, as malevolus; of an incomplete and entire word, as noctivagus; of two incomplete words, as pedissequus; of a Latin and a foreign word, as biclinium; of a foreign and a Latin word, as epitogium and Anticato; or of two foreign words, as epirhedium, for though the preposition epi- is Greek, and rheda Gallic, and though neither the Greek nor the Gaul uses the compound, yet the Romans have formed their word of the two foreign words. 6Frequently, too, the union causes a change in the prepositions, as abstulit, aufugit, amisit, though the preposition is merely ab-, and coit, the preposition being con-; and so ignavi, erepti, and similar compounds. 70. But the composition of words in general is better suited to the Greeks; with us it is less successful, though I do not think that this results from the nature of the lauguage; but we look with more favor on foreign compounds, and, accordingly, while we admire the Greek κυρταύχενα (kurtauchena), we hardly defend incurvicervicum from derision.

7Words are proper when they signify that to which they were first applied; metaphorical, when they have one signification by nature, and another in the place in which they are used. Common words we use with greater safety; new ones we do not form without some danger; for if they are well received, they add but little merit to our style, and, if rejected, they turn to jokes against us. 7Yet we must make attempts; for, as Cicero says, even words which have seemed harsh at first, become softened by use.

As to the onomatopoeia, it is by no means granted to our language; for, if we should venture to produce anything like those justly admired Greek expressions λίγξε βιός (linxe bios), "the bow twanged," and σίζε ὀψθαλμός siz ophthalmos, "the eye hissed," who would endure it? We should not even dare to say balare, "to bleat" or hinnire, "to neigh," unless those words were supported by the sanction of antiquity.

BY speakers, as well as writers, there are certain rules to be observed. Language is based on reason, antiquity, authority, custom. It is analogy, and sometimes etymology, that affords the chief support to reason. A certain majesty, and, if I may so express myself, religion, graces the antique. 2.Authority is commonly sought in orators or historians. As to the poets, the obligation of the meter excuses their phraseology, unless, when the measure of the feet offers no impediment to the choice of either of two expressions, they fancifully prefer one to the other, as in the following phrases: Imo de stirpe recisum, Aeriae quo congessere palumbes, Silice in nuda, and the like. Since the judgment of men eminent in eloquence is in place of reason, then even error is without dishonor in following illustrious guides. 3.Custom, however, is the surest preceptor in speaking, and we must use phraseology, like money, which has the public stamp.

But all these particulars require great judgment, especially analogy, which, translating it closely from Greek into Latin, people have called proportion. What it requires is that a writer or speaker should compare whatever is at all doubtful with something similar concerning which there is no doubt, so as to prove the uncertain by the certain. This is done in two ways: by a comparison of similar words, in respect chiefly to their last syllables (for which reason the words that have but one syllable are said not to be accountable to analogy), and by looking to diminutives. Comparison in nouns shows either their gender or their declension; their gender, as when it is inquired whether funis be masculine or feminine, panis may be an object of comparison with it; their declension as, if it should be a subject of doubt whether we should say hac domu or hac domo, and domuum or domorum, domus, anus, manus may be compared with each other. The formation of diminutives shows only the gender of words, as (that I may take the same word for an example) funiculus proves that funis is masculine. There is also similar reason for comparison in verbs; as if any one, following the old writers, should pronounce fervere with the middle syllable short, he would be convicted of speaking incorrectly, since all verbs which end with the letters -eo in the indicative mood, when they have assumed the letter -e in the middle syllables in the infinitive, have it necessarily long, as prandeo, pendeo, spondeo, prandēre, pendēre, spondēre. But those which have -o only in the indicative, when they end with the same letter -e in the infinitive, shorten it, as lego, dico, curro, legĕre, dicĕre, currĕre; although there occurs in Lucilius,

Fervit aqua et fervet; fervit nunc, fervet ad annum.

The water boils and will boil; it boils now, and will boil for a year.
9.But with all respect to a man of such eminent learning, if he thinks fervit similar to currit and legit, fervo will be a word like curro and lego, a word which has never been heard by me. But this is not a just comparison, for servit is like fervit, and he that follows this analogy must say fervire as well as servire. The present indicative also is sometimes discovered from the other moods and tenses. For I remember that some people who had blamed me for using the word pepigi were convinced by me of their error; they had allowed, indeed, that the best authors had used pepigi, but denied that analogy permitted its use, since the present indicative paciscor, as it had the form of a passive verb, made in the perfect tense pactus sum. 1But I, besides adducing the authority of orators and historians, maintained that pepigi was also supported by analogy; for, as we read in the Twelve Fables, ni ita pagunt, I found cadunt similar to pagunt, whence the present indicative, though it had fallen into disuse through time, was evidently pago, like cado, and it was therefore certain that we say pepigi like cecidi. 1But we must remember that the course of analogy cannot be traced through all the parts of speech, as it is in many cases at variance with itself. Learned men, indeed, endeavor to justify some departures from it, as when it is remarked how much lepus and lupus, though of similar terminations in the nominative, differ in their cases and numbers, they reply that they are not of the same sort, since lepus is epicene, and lupus masculine; yet Varro, in the book in which he relates the origin of the city of Rome, uses lupus as feminine, following Ennius and Fabius Pictor. 1But those same grammarians, when they are asked why aper makes apri, and pater patris, assert that the first is declined absolutely, and the second with reference to something; and, besides, as both are derived from the Greek, they recur to the rule that πατρός (patros) gives patris, and κάπρου (kaprou) apri. 1But how will they escape from the fact that nouns, which end with the letters -u and -s in the nominative singular, never, even though feminine, end with the syllable -ris in the genitive, yet that Venus makes Veneris; and that, though nouns ending in -es have various endings in the genitive, yet their genitive never ends in that same syllable -ris, when, nevertheless, Ceres obliges us to say Cereris? 1And what shall I say of those parts of speech, which, though all of similar commencement, proceed with different inflections, as Alba makes Albani and Albenses, and Volo has volui and volavi? For analogy itself admits that verbs which end with the letter -o in the first person singular are variously formed in the perfect, as cado makes cecidi; spondeo makes spopondi; pingo makes pinxi; lego legi; pono posui; frango fregi; and laudo laudavi. 1Since analogy was not sent down from heaven, when men were first made, to give them rules for speaking, but was discovered after men had begun to speak and after it was observed how each word in speaking terminated, it is not therefore founded on reason, but on example. Nor is it a law for speaking, but the mere result of observation, so that nothing but custom has been the origin of analogy. 1Yet some people adhere to it with a most unpleasantly perverse attachment to exactness, so that they will say audaciter in preference to audacter, though all orators adopt the latter, and emicavit instead of emicuit, and conire instead of coire. Such persons we may allow to say audivisse, and scivisse, tribunale, and faciliter; let them also have their frugalis, instead of frugi, for how else can frugalitas be formed? 1Let them also prove that centum millia nummum and fidem Deum are two solecisms, since they err in both case and number; for we were ignorant of this and were not merely complying with custom and convenience, as in most cases, of which Cicero treats nobly, as of everything else, in his De Oratore. 1Augustus, too, in his letters written to Caius Caesar, corrects him for preferring to say calidum rather than caldum, not because calidum is not Latin, but because it is unpleasing, and, as he has himself expressed it by a Greek word, περίεργον (periergon). 20. All this indeed they consider as mere ὀρθοέπειαν (orthopeia), which I by no means set aside, for what is so necessary as correctness of speech? I think that we ought to adhere to it as far as possible and to make persevering resistance against innovators; but to retain words that are obsolete and disused is a species of impertinence and puerile ostentation in little things. 2Let the extremely learned man, who has saluted you without an aspirate and with the second syllable lengthened (for the verb, he will say, is avēte) say also calefacere and conservavisse rather than what we say, and with these let him join face, dice, and the like. 2His way is the right way; who will deny it? But a smoother and more beaten road is close by the side of it. There is nothing, however, with which I am more offended than that these men, led away by oblique cases, permit themselves, I do not say not to find, but even to alter nominative cases, as when ebur and robur, so spoken and written by the greatest authors, are made to change the vowel of the second syllable into -o, because their genitives are roboris and eboris, and because sulpur and guttur preserve the vowel -u in the genitive. For which reason also jecur and femur have raised disputes. 2This change of theirs is no less audacious than if they were to substitute the letter -o for -u in the genitive case of sulpur and guttur, because eboris and roboris are formed with -o. Consider the example of Antonius Gnipho, who acknowledges that robur and ebur are proper words, and even marmur, but would have the plurals of them to be robura, ebura, marmura. 2But if they had paid attention to the affinity of letters, they would have understood that roboris is as fairly formed from robur as militis, limitis, from miles, limes, or judicis, vindicis, from judex, vindex, and would have observed some other forms to which I have adverted above. 2Do not similar nominative cases, as I remarked, diverge into very dissimilar forms in the oblique cases, as Virgo, Juno; fusus, lusus; cuspis, puppis; and a thousand others? It happens, too, that some nouns are not used in the plural, others not in the singular; some are indeclinable; some depart altogether from the form of their nominatives, as Jupiter. 2The same peculiarity happens in verbs, as fero, tuli, of which the preterperfect is found and nothing more. Nor is it of much importance whether those unused parts are actually not in existence or whether they are too harsh to be used, for what, for example, will progenies make in the genitive singular, or what will spes make in the genitive plural? Or how will quire and ruere form themselves in the perfect passive or in the passive participles? 2It is needless to advert to other words, when it is even uncertain whether senatus makes senatus senatui, or senati senato. It appears to me, therefore, to have been not unhappily remarked that it is one thing to speak Latin and another to speak grammar. Of analogy I have now said enough, and more than enough.

28.Etymology, which inquires into the origin of words, is called by Cicero notatio, because its designation in Aristotle is σύμβολον (symbolon), that is, nota; for to a literal rendering of etymology, which would be veriloquium ("word for word"), Cicero himself, who formed that word, is averse. There are some, who looking rather to the meaning of the word, call it "origination." 2This part of grammar is sometimes of the utmost use; as often, indeed, as the matter, concerning which there is any dispute, stands in need of interpretation; as when Marcus Caelius would prove that he was a homo frugi, "a frugal man," not because he was temperate (for on that point he could not speak falsely), but because he was profitable to many, that is fructuosus, from whence, he said, was derived frugality. A place is accordingly assigned to etymology in definitions. 30. Sometimes, also, it endeavors to distinguish barbarous from polite words, as when a question arises whether Sicily should be called Triquetra or Triquedra, and whether we should say meridies or medidies, and similar questions concerning other words which yield to custom. 3But it carries with it much learning, whether we employ it in treating of words sprung from the Greek, which are very numerous, especially those inflected according to the Aeolic dialect to which our language has most similitude, or in inquiring, from our knowledge of ancient history, into the names of men, places, nations, and cities. Whence come the names of the Bruti, Publicolae, Pici; why we say Latium, Italia, Beneventum; and what is our reason for using the terms Capitol, Quirinal hill, and Argiletum.

would now allude also to those minuter points on which the greatest lovers of etymology weary themselves: men who bring back to their true derivation, by various and manifold arts, words that have become a little distorted, shortening or lengthening, adding, taking away, or interchanging letters or syllables. In this pursuit, through weakness or judgment, they run into the most contemptible absurdities. Let consul be (I make no objection) from "consulting" or from "judging," for the ancients called consulere "judicare," whence still remains the phrase rogat boni consulas, that is, bonum judices. 3Let it be old age that has given a name to the senate, for the senators are fathers; let rex, rector, and abundance of other words be indisputably from rego; nor would I dispute the ordinary derivation of tegula, regula, and other words similar to them; let classis, also, be from calare, "to call together," and let lepus be for levipes, and vulpes for volipes. 3But shall we also allow words to be derived from contraries, as lucus, "a grove," from luceo, "to shine," because, being thick with shade, parum lucet, it does not shine? As ludus, "a school," from ludo, "to play," because it is as far as possible from play? As Ditis, "Pluto," from dives, "rich," because he is by no means rich? Or shall we allow homo, "man," to be from humus, "the ground," because he was sprung from the ground, as if all animals had not the same origin, or as if the first men had given a name to the ground before they gave one to themselves? Shall we allow verba, "words," to be from aer verberatus, "beaten air?" 3Let us go on and we shall get so far that stella, "a star," will be believed to be luminis stilla, "a drop of light," the author of which derivation, an eminent man in literature, it would be ungenerous for me to name in regard to a point on which he is censured by me. 3But those who have recorded such etymologies in books have themselves set their names to them; and Caius Granius thought himself extremely clever for saying that caelibes, "bachelors," was the same as caelites, "inhabitants of heaven," because they are alike free from a most heavy burden, resting his derivation, too, on an argument from the Greek, for he affirmed that ἠιθέους (ēitheoi) was used in the same sense. Nor does Modestus yield to him in imagination, for he says that because Saturn cut off the genitalia of Caelus, men who have no wives are therefore called caelibes. 3Lucius Aelius declares that pituita, "phlegm," is so called quia petat vitam, because "it aims at life." But who may not be pardoned after Varro, who wished to persuade Cicero (for it was to him that he wrote this), that ager, "a field," is so called because in eo agatur aliquid, "something is done in it," and that graculos, "jackdaws," are so named because they fly gregatim, "in flocks," though it is evident that the one is derived from the Greek and the other from the cries of the birds themselves? 38.But of such importance was it to Varro to derive that merula, "a blackbird," he declared, was so named because it flies alone, as if mera volans. Some have not hesitated to apply to etymology for the origin of every name or word; deducing Longus and Rufus, as I remarked, from personal peculiarities; strepere and murmurare from particular sounds; with which they join, also, certain derivatives, as velox, "swift," deduced from velocitas, "swiftness," and the greater number of compounds (as being similar to them), which, doubtless, have their origin from something, but demand no exercise of ingenuity for which, indeed, except on doubtful points, there is no opportunity in these investigations.

3Words derived from antiquity have not only illustrious patrons, but also confer on style a certain majesty not unattended with pleasure, for they have the authority of age and, as they have been disused for a time, bring with them a charm similar to that of novelty. 40. But there is need of moderation in the use of them, in order that they may not occur too frequently nor show themselves too manifestly since nothing is more detestable than affectation; nor should they be taken from a remote and already forgotten age, as are topper, "quickly," antigerio, "very much," exanclare, "to draw out," prosapia, "a race," and the verses of the Salii, which are scarcely understood by the priests themselves. 4Those verses, however, religion forbids to be changed, and we must use what has been consecrated; but how faulty is speeeh, of which the greatest virtue is perspicuity, if it needs an interpreter! Consequently, as the oldest of new words will be the best, so the newest of old words will be the best.

4The case is similar with regard to authority, for though he may seem to commit no fault who uses those words which the greatest writers have handed down to him, yet it is of much importance for him to consider, not only what words they used, but how far they gave a sanction to them. No one would now tolerate from us tuburchinabundus, "devouring," or lurchinabundus, "voracious," though Cato was the father of them; nor would people endure lodices, "blankets," in the masculine gender, though that gender pleases Pollio; nor gladiola for "little swords," though Messala has used it; nor parricidatus, "parricide," which was thought scarcely endurable in Caelius; nor would Calvus induce me to use collos, "necks"; all which words, indeed, those authors themselves would not now use.

4There remains, therefore, custom, for it would be almost ridiculous to prefer the language which men have spoken rather than that which they now speak. What else, indeed, is old language, but the old manner of speaking? But even for following custom judgment is necessary, and we must settle, in the first place, what that is which we call custom. 4If custom be merely termed that which the greater number do, it will furnish a most dangerous rule, not only for language, but, what is of greater importance, for life. For where is there so much virtue that what is right can please the majority? As, therefore, to pluck out hairs, to cut the hair of the head in a succession of rings, and to drink to excess in the bath, whatever country those practices may have invaded, will not become the custom, because no one of them is undeserving of censure. Though we bathe and clip our hair, and take our meals together according to custom, so, in speaking, it is not whatever has become a vicious practice with many that is to be received as a rule of language. 4For, not to mention how the ignorant commonly speak, we know that whole theaters and all the crowd of the circus have frequently uttered barbarous exclamations. Custom in speaking, therefore, I shall call the agreement of the educated, as I call custom in living the agreement of the good.

SINCE we have mentioned what rules are to be followed in speaking, we must now specify what are to be observed by writers. What the Greeks call ὀρθογραφία (orthographia), we may call the art of writing correctly, an art which does not consist in knowing of what letters every syllable is composed (for this study is beneath the profession even of the grammarian), but exercises its whole subtilty, in my opinion, on dubious points. As it is the greatest of folly to place a mark on all long syllables, since most of them are apparent from the very nature of the word that is written, yet it is at times necessary to mark them, as when the same letter gives sometimes one sense and sometimes another, according as it is short or long; thus malus is distinguished by a mark to show whether it means "a tree" or "a bad man;" palus, too, signifies one thing when its first syllable is long, and another when its second is so; and when the same letter is short in the nominative and long in the ablative, we have generally to be informed by this mark which quantity we are to adopt.

Grammarians have in like manner thought that the following distinction should be observed: namely, that we should write the preposition ex, if the word specto was compounded with it, with the addition of -s in the second syllable, exspecto; if pecto, without the -s. It has been a distinction, also, observed by many, that ad, when it was a preposition, should take the letter -d, but when a conjunction, the letter -t; and that cum, if it signified time, should be written with a -q and two -u's following, but if it meant accompaniment, with a -c. Some other things were even more trifling than these, as that quicquid should have a -c for the fourth letter, lest we should seem to ask a double question, and that we should write quotidie, not cotidie, to show that it was for quot diebus. But these notions have already passed away among other puerilities.

It is, however, a question in writing prepositions whether it is proper to observe the sound which they make when joined to another word, or that which they make when separate, as for instance when I pronounce the word obtinuit, for our method of writing requires that the second letter should be -b, while the ear catches rather the sound of -p; or when I say immunis, for the letter -n, which the composition of the word requires, is influenced by the sound of the following syllable and changed into another -m. It is also to be observed, in dividing compound words, whether you ought to attach the middle consonant to the first or to the second syllable; for aruspex, as its latter part is from spectare, will assign the letter -s to the third syllable; abstemius, as it is formed of abstinentia temeti, "abstinence from wine," will leave the -s to the first syllable. As to -k, I think it should not be used in any words, except those which it denotes of itself, so that it may be put alone. This remark I have not omitted to make because there are some who think -k necessary when -a follows; though there is the letter -c, which suits itself to all vowels.

1But orthography submits to custom and has therefore frequently been altered. I say nothing of those ancient times when there were fewer letters and when their shapes were different from these of ours, and their natures also different, as that of -o among the Greeks, which was sometimes long and sometimes short, and -as among us was sometimes put for the syllable which it expresses by its mere name. 1I say nothing also of -d, among the ancient Latins, being added as the last letter to a great number of words, as is apparent from the rostral pillar erected to Calus Duellius in the forum; nor do I speak of -g being used in the same manner, as on the pulvinar of the Sun, which is worshipped near the temple of Romulus, is read vesperug, which we take for vesperugo. 1Nor is it necessary to say anything here of the interchange of letters, of which I have spoken above, for perhaps as they wrote they also spoke.

1It was for a long time a very common custom not to double the semivowels, while, on the other hand, even down to the time of Accius and later, they wrote, as I have remarked, long syllables with two vowels. 1Still longer continued the practice of using -e and -i together, joining them in the same manner as the Greeks in the diphthong -ei. This practice was adopted for a distinction in cases and numbers, as Lucilius admonishes us:

Jam pueri venere: E postremum facito, atque I,
Ut puerei plures fiant;
and afterwards,

Mendaci furique addes E, quum dare furei
Jusseris.
16.However this addition of -e is both superfluous, since -i has the nature of a long as well as of a short letter, and also sometimes inconvenient; for in those words which have -e immediately before the last syllable, and end with -i long, we should use, if we adopted that method, a double -e, as aureei, argenteei, and the like; and this would be extremely embarrassing to those who are being taught to read. 1This happens also among the Greeks by the addition of the letter -i, which they not only write at the end of dative cases, but sometimes even in the middle of a word, as ΛΗΙΣΤΗΙ (LĒISTĒI), because etymology, in making a division of the word into three syllables, requires that letter. 1The diphthong -ae, for the second letter of which we now substitute -e, our ancestors expressed with a varied pronunciation, by -a and -i, some using it in all cases like the Greeks, others only in the singular when they had to form a genitive or dative case. Whence Virgil, a great lover of antiquity, has inserted in his verses pictai vestis and aquai, but in the plural number of such nouns they use -e, as Syllae, Galbae. 1There is on this point also a precept of Lucilius, which, as it is expressed in a great number of verses, whoever is incredulous about it may seek in his ninth book. 20. I may mention, too, that in the time of Cicero and some what later, the letter -s, as often as it occurred between two long vowels or followed a long vowel, was doubled, as caussae, cassus, divissiones, for that both he and Virgil wrote in this way, their own hands show. 2But those of a somewhat earlier period wrote the word jussi, which we express with two -s's, with only one. That optimus, maximus, should take -i as their middle letter which among the ancients was -u, is said to have been brought about by an inscription to Caius Caesar. 2The word here we now end with the letter -e; but I still find in the books of the old comic writers Heri ad me venit, which same mode of spelling is found in the letters of Augustus, which he wrote or corrected with his own hand. 2Did not Cato the Censor, also, for dicam and faciam, write dicem and faciem? And did he not observe the same method in other verbs which terminate in a similar way? This is indeed manifest from his old writings and is remarked by Messala in his book on the letter -s. 24.Sibe and quase occur in the writings of many authors, but whether the authors themselves intended them to be written thus, I do not know. That Livy spelled them in that way, I learn from Pedianus, who himself imitated Livy; we end those words with the letter -i.

2Why need I allude to vortices and vorsus and other similar words, in which Scipio Africanus is said to have first changed the second letter into -e? 2Our tutors wrote ceruum and seruum with the letters -u and -o, ceruom, seruom, in order that the same two vowels, following each other, might not coalesce and be confounded in the same sound; they are now written with two -u's on the principle which I have stated, though in neither way is the word which we conceive exactly expressed. Nor was it without advantage that Claudius introduced the Aeolic letter for such cases. 2It is an improvement of the present day that we spell cui with the three letters which I have just written; for in this word, when we were boys, they used, making a very offensive sound, qu and oi, only that it might be distinguished from qui.

2What shall I say, too, of words that are written otherwise than they are pronounced? Gaius is spelled with the letter -c, which, inverted, means a woman; for that women were called Caiae, as well as men Caii, appears even from our nuptial ceremonies. 2Nor does Gneius assume that letter, in designating a praenomen, with which it is sounded. We read, too, columna and consules with the letter -n omitted, and Sabura, when it is designated by three letters, takes -c as the third. There are many other peculiarities of this kind, but I fear that those which I have noticed have exceeded the limits of so unimportant a subject.

30. On all such points let the grammarian use his own judgment, for in this department it ought to be of the greatest authority. For myself, I think that all words (unless custom has ordered otherwise) should be written in conformity with their sound. 3For this is the use of letters, to preserve words, and to restore them, like a deposit, to readers; and they ought, therefore, to express exactly what we are to say.

3These are the most important points as to speaking and writing correctly. The other two departments, those of speaking with significancy and elegance, I do not indeed take away from the grammarians, but as the duties of the rhetorician remain for me to explain, I reserve them for a more important part of my work.

3Yet the reflection recurs to me that some will regard those matters of which I have just treated as extremely trifling and even as impediments to the accomplishment of anything greater. Nor do I myself think that we ought to descend to extreme solicitude and puerile disputations about them; I even consider that the mind may be weakened and contracted by being fixed upon them. 3But no part of grammar will be hurtful, except what is superfluous. Was Cicero the less of an orator because he was most attentive to the study of grammar and because, as appears from his letters, he was a rigid exactor, on all occasions, of correct language from his son? Did the writings of Julius Caesar On Analogy diminish the vigor of his intellect? Or was Messala less elegant as a writer because he devoted whole books, not merely to single words, but even to single letters? These studies are injurious not to those who pass through them, but to those who dwell immoderately upon them.

READING remains to be considered. Only practice can teach a boy to know when to take breath, where to divide a verse, where the sense is concluded, where it begins, when the voice is to be raised or lowered, what is to be uttered with any particular inflection of sound, or what is to be pronounced with greater slowness or rapidity, with greater animation or gentleness than other passages. There is but one direction, therefore, which I have to give in this part of my work, namely, that he may be able to do all this successfully, let him understand what he reads.

Let his mode of reading, however, be, above all, manly, uniting gravity with a certain degree of sweetness. Let not his reading of the poets be like that of prose, for it is verse, and the poets say that they sing. Yet let it not degenerate into sing-song or be rendered effeminate with unnatural softness, as is now the practice among most readers; on which sort of reading we hear that Caius Caesar, while he was still under age, observed happily to some one that was practicing it, "If you are singing, you sing badly; if you pretend to read, you nevertheless sing." Nor would I have prosopopeiae pronounced, as some would wish them, after the manner of actors, though I think there should be a certain alteration of the voice by which they may be distinguished from those passages in which the poet speaks in his own person.

Other points demand much admonition to be given on them, and care is to be taken, above all things, that tender minds, which will imbibe deeply whatever has entered them while rude and ignorant of everything, may learn not only what is eloquent, but, still more, what is morally good. It has accordingly been an excellent custom that reading should commence with Homer and Virgil, although to understand their merits, there is need of maturer judgment. But for the acquisition of judgment there is abundance of time, for they will not be read once only. In the meantime, let the mind of the pupil be exalted with the sublimity of the heroic verse, conceive ardor from the magnitude of the subjects, and be imbued with the noblest sentiments. The reading of tragedies is beneficial; the lyric poets nourish the mind, provided that you select from them not merely authors, but portions of their works; for the Greeks are licentious in many of their writings, and I should be loath to interpret Horace in certain passages. As to elegy, at least that which treats of love, and hendecasyllables, and poems in which there are portions of Sotadic verses (for concerning Sotadic verses themselves no precept need even be mentioned) let them be altogether kept away, if it be possible; if not, let them at least be reserved for the greater strength of mature age. Of comedy, which may contribute very much to eloquence, as it extends to all sorts of characters and passions, I will state a little further on, in the proper place, the good which I think it may do to boys; when their morals are out of danger, it will be among the subjects to be chiefly read. It is of Menander that I speak, though I would not set aside other comic writers, for the Latin authors, too, will confer some benefit. But those writings should be the subjects of lectures for boys, which may best nourish the mind and enlarge the thinking powers; for reading other books, which relate merely to erudition, advanced life will afford sufficient time.

The old Latin authors, however, will be of great use, though most of them, indeed, were stronger in genius than in art. Above all they will supply a copia verborum, while in their tragedies may be found a weightiness of thought, and in their comedies elegance, and something as it were of Atticism. There will be seen in them, too, a more careful regard to regularity of structure than in most of the moderns, who have considered that the merit of every kind of composition lies solely in the thoughts. Purity, certainly, and that I may so express myself, manliness, is to be gained from them, since we ourselves have fallen into all the vices of refinement, even in our manner of speaking. Let us, moreover, trust to the practice of the greatest orators, who have recourse to the poems of the ancients, as well for the support of their arguments, as for the adornment of their eloquence. 1For in Cicero, most of all, and frequently, also, in Asinius and others nearest to his times, we see verses of Ennius, Accius, Pacuvius, Lucilius, Terence, Caecilius, and other poets, introduced with the best effect, not only for showing the learning of the speakers, but for giving pleasure to the hearers, whose ears find in the charms of poetry a relief from the want of elegance in forensic pleading. 1To this is to be added no mean advantage, as the speakers confirm what they have stated by the sentiments of the poets, as by so many testimonies. But those first observations of mine have reference rather to boys, the latter to more advanced students, for the love of letters and the benefit of reading are bounded not by the time spent at school, but by the extent of life.

1In lecturing on the poets, the grammarian must attend also to minor points, so that after taking a verse to pieces, he may require the parts of speech to be specified, and the peculiarities of the feet, which are necessary to be known, not merely for writing poetry, but even for prose composition. He may also distinguish what words are barbarous, or misapplied, or used contrary to the rules of the language. 1Not that the poets may thus be disparaged (to whom, as they are commonly forced to obey the meter, so much indulgence is granted, that even solecisms are designated by other names in poetry, for we call them, as I have remarked, metaplasms, schematisms, and schemata, and give to necessity the praise of merit), but that the tutor may instruct the pupil in figurative terms and exercise his memory. 1It is likewise useful, among the first rudiments of instruction, to show in how many senses each word may be understood. About glossemata, too, that is, words not in general use, no small attention is requisite in the grammatical profession. 1With still greater care, however, let him teach all kinds of tropes from which not only poetry, but even prose, receives the greatest ornament, as well as the two sorts of schemata or figures, called figures of speech and figures of thought. My observations on these figures, as well as those on tropes, I put off to that portion of my work in which I shall have to speak of the embellishments of composition. 1But let the tutor, above all things, impress upon the minds of his pupils what merit there is in a just disposition of parts, and a becoming treatment of subjects; what is well suited to each character; what is to be commended in the thoughts, and what in the words; where diffuseness is appropriate, and where contraction.

1To these duties will be added explanations of historical points, which must be sufficiently minute, but not carried into superfluous disquisitions; for it will suffice to lecture on facts which are generally admitted, or which are at least related by eminent authors. To examine, indeed, what all writers, even the most contemptible, have ever related is a proof either of extravagant laboriousness or of useless ostentation, and chains and overloads the mind, which might give its attention to other things with more advantage. 1For he who makes researches into all sorts of writings, even such as are unworthy to be read, is capable of giving his time even to old women's tales. Yet the writings of grammarians are full of noxious matters of this kind, scarcely known even to the very men who wrote them. 20. Since it is known to have happened to Didymus, than whom no man wrote more books, that, when he denied a certain story as unworthy of belief, his own book containing it was laid before him. 2This occurs chiefly in fabulous stories, descending even to what is ridiculous, and sometimes licentious; whence every unprincipled grammarian has the liberty of inventing many of his comments, so that he may lie with safety concerning whole books and authors, as it may occur to him, for writers that never existed cannot be produced against him. In the better known class of authors they are often exposed by the curious. Hence it shall be accounted by me among the merits of a grammarian to be ignorant of some things.

1. THESE remarks I have made, as briefly as I could, upon grammar, not so as to examine and speak of everything, which would be an infinite task, but merely of the most essential points. I shall now add some concise observations on the other departments of study, in which I think that boys should he initiated before they are committed to the teacher of rhetoric, in order that that circle of instruction which the Greeks call ἐγκύκλιος παιδεία (enkyklios paideia) may be completed.

2. For about the same age, the study of other accomplishments must be commenced; concerning which, as they are themselves arts and cannot be complete without the art of oratory, but are nevertheless insufficient of themselves to form an orator, it is made a question whether they are necessary to this art. 3. Of what service is it, say some people, for pleading a cause or pronouncing a legal opinion to know how equilateral triangles may be erected upon a given line? Or how will he who has marked the sounds of the lyre by their names and intervals defend an accused person or direct consultations the better on that account? 4. They may perhaps reckon, also, the many speakers, effective in every way in the forum, who have never attended a geometrician and who know nothing of musicians except by the common pleasure of listening to them. To these observers I answer in the first place (what Cicero also frequently remarks in his book De oratore, addressed to Brutus) that it is not such an orator as is or has been that is to be formed by us, but that we have conceived in our mind an idea of the perfect orator, an orator deficient in no point whatever. 5. For when the philosophers would form their wise man, who is to be perfect in every respect, and, as they say, a kind of mortal god, they not only believe that he should be instructed in a general knowledge of divine and human things, but conduct him through a course of questions which are certainly little, if you consider them merely in themselves (as, sometimes, through studied subtleties of argument) not because questions about horns or crocodiles can form a wise man, but because a wise man ought never to be in error even in the least matters. 6. In like manner, it is not the geometrician or the musician or the other studies which I shall add to theirs, that will make the perfect orator (who ought to be a wise man), yet these accomplishments will contribute to his perfection. We see an antidote, for example, and other medicines to heal diseases and wounds, compounded of many and sometimes opposite ingredients, from the various qualities of which results that single compound, which resembles none of them, yet takes its peculiar virtues from them all. 7. Mute insects, too, compose the exquisite flavor of honey, inimitable by human reason, of various sorts of flowers and juices. Shall we wonder that eloquence, nothing more excellent than which the providence of the gods has given to men, requires the aid of many arts, which, even though they may not appear or put themselves forward in the course of a speech, yet contribute to it a secret power and are silently felt? 8."People have been eloquent," some one may say, "without these arts"; but I want a perfect orator. "They contribute little assistance," another may observe, but that to which even little shall be wanting will not be a whole, and it will be agreed that perfection is a whole, of which though the hope may be on a distant height, as it were, yet it is for us to suggest every means of attaining it, that something more, at least, may thus be done. But why should our courage fail us? Nature does not forbid the formation of a perfect orator, and it is disgraceful to despair of what is possible.

9. For myself, I could be quite satisfied with the judgment of the ancients; for who is ignorant that music (to speak of that science first) enjoyed, in the days of antiquity, so much not only of cultivation, but of reverence, that those who were musicians were deemed also prophets and sages. Not to mention others, such as Orpheus and Linus, both of whom are transmitted to the memory of posterity as having been descended from the gods, and the one, because he soothed the rude and barbarous minds of men by the wonderful effect of his strains, as having drawn after him not only wild beasts, but even rocks and woods. 10. Timagenes declares that music was the most ancient of sciences connected with literature, an opinion to which the most celebrated poets give their support, according to whom the praises of gods and heroes used to be sung to the lyre at royal banquets. Does not Virgil's Iopas, too, sing errantem lunam solisque labores, "the wandering moon, and labors of the sun"; the illustrious poet thus plainly asserting that music is united with the knowledge of divine things? 11.If this position be granted, music will be necessary also for the orator, for as I observed, this part of learning, which, after being neglected by orators, has been taken up by the philosophers, was a portion of our business, and without the knowledge of such subjects, there can be no perfect eloquence.

12. Nor can any one doubt that men eminently renowned for wisdom have been cultivators of music, when Pythagoras and those who followed him spread abroad the notion, which they doubtless received from antiquity, that the world itself was constructed in conformity with the laws of music, which the lyre afterwards imitated. 13. Nor were they content, moreover, with that concord of discordant elements, which they call ἁρμονία (harmonia), but attributed even sound to the celestial motions; for Plato, not only in certain other passages, but especially in his Timaeus, cannot even be understood except by those who have thoroughly imbibed the principles of this part of learning. What shall I say, too, of the philosophers in general, whose founder, Socrates himself, was not ashamed, even in his old age, to learn to play on the lyre? 14. It is related that the greatest generals used to play on the harp and flute, and that the troops of the Lacedaemonians were excited with musical notes. What other effect, indeed, do horns and trumpets produce in our legions, since the louder is the concert of their sounds, so much greater is the glory of the Romans than that of other nations in war? 15. It was not without reason, therefore, that Plato thought music necessary for a man who would be qualified for engaging in government, and whom the Greeks call πολιτικός (politikos). Even the chiefs of that sect which appears to some extremely austere, and to others extremely harsh, were inclined to think that some of the wise might bestow a portion of their attention on this study. Lycurgus, also, the maker of most severe laws for the Lacedaemonians, approved of the study of music. 16. Nature herself, indeed, seems to have given music to us as a benefit, to enable us to endure labors with greater facility, for musical sounds cheer even the rower; and it is not only in those works in which the efforts of many, while some pleasing voice leads them, conspire together that music is of avail, but the toil even of people at work by themselves finds itself soothed by song, however rude. 17. I appear, however, to be making a eulogy on this finest of arts rather than connecting it with the orator. Let us pass lightly over the fact, then, that grammar and music were once united; since Archytas and Aristoxenus, indeed, thought grammar comprehended under music. That they themselves were teachers of both arts, not only Sophron shows (a writer, it is true, only of mimes, but one whom Plato so highly valued, that he is said to have had his books under his head when he was dying), but also Eupolis, whose Prodamus teaches both music and grammar, and Maricas, that is to say, Hyperbolus, confesses that he knows nothing of music but letters. 18. Aristophanes, also, in more than one of his comedies, shows that boys were accustomed to be thus instructed in times of old. In the Hypobolimaeus of Menander, an old man, laying before a father, who is claiming a son from him, an account as it were of the expenses that he had bestowed upon his education, says that he has paid a great deal to musicians and geometers. 19. Hence too it was customary at banquets that the lyre should be handed round after the meal, and Themistocles, on confessing that he knew not how to play, "was accounted," to use the words of Cicero, "but imperfectly educated." 20. Among the Romans, likewise, it was usual to introduce lyres and flutes at feasts. The verses of the Salii also have their tune, and these customs, as they were all established by Numa, prove that not even by those who seem to have been rude and given to war was the cultivation of music neglected, as far as that age admitted it. 21. It passed at length, indeed, into a proverb among the Gauls, that the uneducated had no commerce either with the Muses or the Graces.

22. But let us consider what peculiar advantage he who is to be an orator may expect from music. Music has two kinds of measures, the one in the sounds of the voice, the other in the motions of the body, for in both a certain due regulation is required. Aristoxenus the musician divides all that belongs to the voice into ῥυθμόν (rhythmos), "rhythm," and μέλος (melos) "melody in measure," of which the one consists in modulation, the other in singing and tunes. Are not all these qualifications, then, necessary to the orator, the one of which relates to gesture, the second to the collocation of words, and the third to the inflections of the voice, which in speaking are extremely numerous? 23. Such is undoubtedly the case unless we suppose, perchance, that a regular structure and smooth combination of words is requisite only in poems and songs, and is superfluous in making a speech; or that composition and modulation are not to be varied in speaking, as in music, according to the nature of the subject. 24. Music, however, by means of the tone and modulation of the voice, expresses sublime thoughts with grandeur, pleasant ones with sweetness, and ordinary ones with calmness, and sympathizes in its whole art with the feelings attendant on what is espressed. 25. In oratory, accordingly, the raising, lowering, or other inflection of the voice tends to move the feelings of the bearers. We try to excite the indignation of the judges in one modulation of phrase and voice (that I may again use the same term), and their pity in another, for we see that minds are affected in different ways even by musical instruments, though no words cannot be uttered by them.

26. A graceful and becoming motion of the body, also, which the Greeks call εὐρυθμία (eurhythmia), is necessary and cannot be sought from any other art than music; a qualification on which no small part of oratory depends, and for treating on which a peculiar portion of our work is set apart. 27.If an orator shall pay extreme attention to his voice, what is so properly the business of music? But neither is this department of my work to be anticipated, so that we must confine ourselves, in the mean time, to the single example of Caius Gracchus, the most eminent orator of his time, behind whom, when he spoke in public, a musician used to stand and give, with a pitch-pipe, which the Greeks call a tonarion, the tones in which his voice was to be exerted. 28. To this he attended even in his most turbulent harangues, both when he frightened the patricians and after he began to fear them.

For the sake of the less learned, and those, as they say, "of a duller muse," I would wish to remove all doubt of the utility of music. 29. They will allow, assuredly, that the poets should be read by him who would be an orator, but are they, then, to be read without a knowledge of music? If any one is so blind of intellect, however, as to hesitate about the reading of other poets, he will doubtless admit that those should be read who have written poems for the lyre. 30. On these matters I should have to enlarge more fully, if I recommended this as a new study, but since it has been perpetuated from the most ancient times, even from those of Chiron and Achilles to our own (among all, at least, who have not been averse to a regular course of mental discipline), I must not proceed to make the point doubtful by anxiety to defend it. 31. I consider it sufficiently apparent, however, from the very examples which I have now given, what music pleases me and to what extent. Yet I think that I ought to declare more expressly that that sort of music is not recommended by me, which, prevailing at present in the theatres and being of an effeminate character, languishing with lascivious notes, has in a great degree destroyed whatever manliness was left among us, but instead those strains in which the praises of heroes were sung, and which heroes themselves sung. I also do not recommend the sounds of psalteries and languishing lutes, which ought to be shunned even by modest females, but rather the knowledge of the principles of the art, which is of the highest efficacy in exciting and allaying the passions. 32. For Pythagoras, as we have heard, calmed a party of young men, when urged by their passions to offer violence to a respectable family, by requesting the female musician who was playing to them to change her strain to a spondaic measure. Chrysippus also assigns a peculiar tune for the lullaby of nurses, which is used with children. 33. There is also a subject for declamation in the schools, not unartfully invented, in which it is supposed that a flute-player, who had played a Phrygian tune to a priest while he was sacrificing, is accused, after the priest has been driven to madness, and has thrown himself over a precipice, of having been the cause of his death. If such causes have to be pleaded by an orator and cannot be pleaded without a knowledge of music, how can even the most prejudiced forbear to admit that this art is necessary to our profession?

34. As to geometry, people admit that some attention to it is of advantage in tender years, for they allow that the thinking powers are excited, and the intellect sharpened by it, and that a quickness of perception is thence produced. But they fancy that it is not, like other sciences, profitable after it has been acquired, but only whilst it is being studied. 35. Such is the common opinion respecting it. But it is not without reason that the greatest men have bestowed extreme attention on this science, for as geometry is divided between numbers and figures, the knowledge of numbers, assuredly, is necessary not only to an orator, but to every one who has been initiated even in the rudiments of learning. In pleading causes, it is very often in request; when the speaker, if he hesitates, I do not say about the amount of a calculation, but if he even betray, by any uncertain or awkward movement of his fingers, a want of confidence in his calculations, is thought to be but imperfectly accomplished in his art. 36. The knowledge of linear figures, too, is frequently required in causes; for lawsuits occur concerning boundaries and measures. But geometry has a still greater connection with the art of oratory.

37. Order, in the first place, is necessary in geometry, and is it not also necessary in eloquence? Geometry proves what follows from what precedes, what is unknown from what is known, and do we not draw similar conclusions in speaking? Does not the well-known mode of deduction from a number of proposed questions consist almost wholly in syllogisms? Accordingly you may find more persons to say that geometry is allied to logic than that it is allied to rhetoric. 38. But even an orator, though rarely, will yet at times prove logically, for he will use syllogisms if his subject shall require them and will of necessity use the enthymeme, which is a rhetorical syllogism. Besides, of all proofs, the strongest are what are called geometrical demonstrations, and what does oratory make its object more indisputably than proof?

39.Geometry often, moreover, by demonstration, proves what is apparently true to be false. This is also done with respect to numbers, by means of certain figures which they call pseudographs, and at which we were accustomed to play when we were boys. But there are other questions of a higher nature. For who would not believe the asserter of the following proposition: "Of whatever places the boundary lines measure the same length, of those places the areas also, which are contained by those lines, must necessarily be equal?" 40. But this proposition is fallacious, for it makes a vast difference what figure the boundary lines may form, and historians, who have thought that the dimensions of islands are sufficiently indicated by the space traversed in sailing round them, have been justly censured by geometricians. 41. For the nearer to perfection any figure is, the greater is its capacity, and if the boundary line, accordingly, shall form a circle, which of all plane figures is the most perfect, it will embrace a larger area than if it shall form a square of equal circumference. Squares, again, contain more than triangles of equal circuit, and triangles themselves contain more when their sides are equal than when they are unequal. 42. Some other examples may perhaps be too obscure, but let us take an instance most easy of comprehension even to the ignorant. There is scarcely any man who does not know that the dimensions of an acre extend two hundred and forty feet in length, and the half of that number in breadth; and it is easy to calculate what its circumference is and how much ground it contains. 43. A figure of a hundred and eighty feet on each side, however, has the same periphery, but a much larger area contained within its four sides. If any one thinks it too much trouble to make the calculation, he may learn the same truth by means of smaller numbers. Ten feet, on each side of a square, will give forth for the circumference, and a hundred for the area; but if there were fifteen feet on each side, and five at each end, they would, with the same circuit, deduct a fourth part from the area inclosed. 44. If, again, nineteen feet be extended in parallel lines, only one foot apart, they will contain no more squares than those along which the parallels shall be drawn, and yet the periphery will be of the same extent as that which encloses a hundred. Thus the further you depart from the form of a square, the greater will be the loss to the area. 45. It may therefore happen even that a smaller area may be inclosed by a greater periphery than a larger one. Such is the case in plane figures, for on hills and in valleys, it is evident even to the untaught that there is more ground than sky.

46. Need I add that geometry raises itself still higher, so as even to ascertain the system of the world? When it demonstrates, by calculations, the regular and appointed movements of the celestial bodies, we learn that in that system, there is nothing unordained or fortuitous, a branch of knowledge which may be sometimes of use to the orator. 47. When Pericles freed the Athenians from fear, at the time that they were alarmed by an eclipse of the sun, by explaining to them the causes of the phenomenon; or when Sulpicius Gallus, in the army of Paulus Aemilius, made a speech on an eclipse of the moon, that the minds of the soldiers might not be terrified as by a supernatural prodigy, do they not, respectively, appear to have discharged the duty of an orator? 48. Had Nicias been possessed of such knowledge in Sicily, he would not have been confounded with similar terror and have given over to destruction the finest of the Athenian armies. Dion, we know, when he went to overthrow the tyranny of Dionysius, was not deterred by a similar phenomenon. 49. Though the utility of geometry in war, however, be put out of the question, though we do not dwell upon the fact that Archimedes alone protracted the siege of Syracuse to a great extent, it is sufficient, assuredly, to establish what I assert: that numbers of questions, which it is difficult to solve by any other method, such as those about the mode of dividing, about division to infinity, and about the rate of progressions, are accustomed to be solved by those geometrical demonstrations. If an orator has to speak (as the next book will show) on all subjects, no man, assuredly, can become a perfect orator without a knowledge of geometry.

SOME TIME is also to be devoted to the actor, but only so far as the future orator requires the art of delivery, for I do not wish the boy whom I educate for this pursuit either to be broken to the shrillness of a woman's voice or to repeat the tremulous tones of an old man's. Neither let him imitate the vices of the drunkard nor adapt himself to the baseness of the slave; nor let him learn to display the feelings of love, or avarice, or fear: acquirements which are not at all necessary to the orator and which corrupt the mind, especially while it is yet tender and uninformed in early youth, for frequent imitation settles into habit. 3.It is not even every gesture or motion that is to be adopted from the actor, for though the orator ought to regulate both to a certain degree, yet he will be far from appearing in a theatrical character and will exhibit nothing extravagant either in his looks, or the movements of his hands, or his walk. If there is any art used by speakers in these points, the first object of it should be that it may not appear to be art.

What is then the duty of the teacher as to these particulars? Let him in the first place correct faults of pronunciation, if there be any, so that the words of the learner may be fully expressed and that every letter may be uttered with its proper sound. For we find inconvenience from the too great weakness or too great fullness of the sound of some letters. Some, as if too harsh for us, we utter but imperfectly or change them for others not altogether dissimilar, but, as it were, smoother. Thus lambda takes the place of rho, in which even Demosthenes found difficulty (the nature of both which letters is the same also with us), and when -c, and similarly -g, are wanting in full force, they are softened down into -t and -d. Those niceties about the letter -s, such a master will not even tolerate; nor will he allow his pupil's words to sound in his throat or to rumble as from emptiness of the mouth; 7.nor will he (what is utterly at variance with purity of speaking) permit him to overlay the simple sound of a word with a fuller sort of pronunciation, which the Greeks call καταπεπλασμένον (katapeplasmenon): a term by which the sound of flutes is also designated, when, after the holes are stopped through which they sound the shrill notes, they give forth a bass sound through the direct outlet only.

The teacher will he cautious, likewise, that concluding syllables be not lost; that his pupil's speech be all of a similar character; that whenever he has to raise his voice, the effort may be that of his lungs, and not of his head; and that his gesture may be suited to his voice, and his looks to his gesture. He will have to take care, also, that the face of his pupil, while speaking, look straight forward; that his lips be not distorted; that no opening of the mouth immoderately distend his jaws; and that his face be not turned up, or his eyes cast down too much or his head inclined to either side. The face offends in various ways: I have seen many speakers whose eye-brows were raised at every effort of the voice; those of others I have seen contracted; and those of some even disagreeing, as they turned up one towards the top of the head, while with the other the eye itself was almost concealed. 11.To all these matters, as we shall hereafter show, a vast deal of importance is to be attached, for nothing can please which is unbecoming.

1The actor will also be required to teach how a narrative should be delivered, with what authority persuasion should be enforced, with what force anger may show itself, and what tone of voice is adapted to excite pity. This instruction he will give with the best effect, if he select particular passages from plays, such as are most adapted for this object, that is, such as most resemble pleadings. 1The repetition of these passages will not only be most beneficial to pronunciation, but also highly efficient in fostering eloquence. 1Such may be the pupil's studies while immaturity of age will not admit of anything higher. But as soon as it shall be proper for him to read orations and when he shall be able to perceive their beauties, then, I would say, let some attentive and skillful tutor attend him who may not only form his style by reading, but oblige him to learn select portions of speeches by heart and to deliver them standing, with a loud voice, and exactly as he will have to plead so that he may consequently exercise by pronunciation both his voice and memory.

1Nor do I think that those orators are to be blamed who have devoted some time even to the masters in the palaestra. I do not speak of those by whom part of life is spent among oil and the rest over wine, and who have oppressed the powers of the mind by excessive attention to the body (such characters I should wish to be as far off as possible from the pupil that I am training). 1But the same name is given to those by whom gesture and motion are formed, so that the arms may be properly extended, that the action of the hands may not be ungraceful or unseemly, that the attitude may not be unbecoming, that there may be no awkwardness in advancing the feet, and that the head and eyes may not be at variance with the turn of the rest of the body. 1For no one will deny that all such particulars form a part of delivery or will separate delivery itself from oratory; and, assuredly, the orator must not disdain to learn what he must practise, especially when this chironomia, which is, as is expressed by the word itself, the law of gesture, had its origin even in the heroic ages and was approved by the most eminent men of Greece, even by Socrates himself. It was also regarded by Plato as a part of the qualifications of a public man and was not omitted by Chrysippus in the directions which he wrote concerning the education of children. 1The Lacedaemonians, we have heard, had among their exercises a certain kind of dance as contributing to qualify men for war. Nor was dancing thought a disgrace to the ancient Romans, as the dance which continues to the present day, under the sanction and in the religious rites of the priests, is a proof, as is also the remark of Crassus in the third book of Cicero's De Oratore, where he recommends that an orator should adopt a bold and manly action of body, not learned from the theater and the player, but from the camp or even from the palaestra. Observation of this discipline has descended without censure even to our time. 1By me, however, it will not be continued beyond the years of boyhood, nor in them long, for I do not wish the gesture of an orator to be formed to resemble that of a dancer, but I would have some influence from such juvenile exercises left, so that the gracefuless communicated to us while we were learning may secretly attend us when we are not thinking of our movements.

IT is a common question whether, supposing all these things are to be learned, they can all be taught and acquired at the same time, for some deny that this is possible, as the mind must be confused and wearied by so many studies of different tendency for which neither the understanding, nor the body, nor time itself, can suffice. Even though mature age may endure such labor, it is said, that of childhood ought not to be thus burdened.

But these reasoners do not understand how great the power of the human mind is, that mind which is so busy and active and which directs its attention, so to speak, to every quarter so that it cannot even confine itself to do only one thing, but bestows its force upon several, not merely in the same day, but at the same moment. Do not players on the harp, for example, exert their memory and attend to the sound of their voice and the various inflections of it, while at the same time they strike part of the strings with their right hand and pull, stop, or let loose others with their left, while not even their foot is idle, but beats time to their playing, all these acts being done simultaneously? Do not we advocates, when surprised by a sudden necessity to plead, say one thing while we are thinking of what is to follow, and while at the very same moment, the invention of arguments, the choice of words, the arrangement of matter, gesture, delivery, look, and attitude are necessarily objects of our attention? If all these considerations of so varied a nature are forced, as by a single effort, before our mental vision, why may we not divide the hours of the day among different kinds of study, especially as variety itself refreshes and recruits the mind, while on the contrary, nothing is more annoying than to continue at one uniform labor? Accordingly writing is relieved by reading, and the tedium of reading itself is relieved by changes of subject. However many things we may have done, we are yet to a certain degree fresh for that which we are going to begin. Who, on the contrary, would not be stupified if he were to listen to the same teacher of any art, whatever it might be, through the whole day? But by change a person will be recruited, as is the case with respect to food, by varieties of which the stomach is re-invigorated and is fed with several sorts less unsatisfactorily than with one. 6.Or let those objectors tell me what other mode there is of learning. Ought we to attend to the teacher of grammar only, and then to the teacher of geometry only, and cease to think, during the second course, of what we learned in the first? Should we then transfer ourselves to the musician, our previous studies being still allowed to escape us? Or while we are studying Latin, ought we to pay no attention to Greek? Or to make an end of my questions at once, ought we to do nothing but what comes last before us? Why, then, do we not give similar counsel to husbandmen, that they should not cultivate at the same time their fields and their vineyards, their olives and other trees, and that they should not bestow attention at once on their meadows, their cattle, their gardens, and their bee-hives? Why do we ourselves devote some portion of our time to our public business, some to the wants of our friends, some to our domestic accounts, some to the care of our persons, and some to our pleasures, any one of which occupations would weary us, if we pursued it without intermission? So much more easy is it to do many things one after the other, than to do one thing for a long time.

That boys will be unable to bear the fatigue of many studies is by no means to be apprehended, for no age suffers less from fatigue. This may perhaps appear strange, but we may prove it by experience. For minds, before they are hardened are more ready to learn, as is proved by the fact that children, within two years after they can fairly pronounce words, speak almost the whole language, though no one incites them to learn; but for how many years does the Latin tongue resist the efforts of our purchased slaves! You may well understand, if you attempt to teach a grown up person to read, that those who do everything in their own art with excellence are not without reason called παιδομαθεῖς (paidomatheis), that is, "instructed from boyhood." The temper of boys is better able to bear labor than that of men, for as neither the falls of children, with which they are so often thrown on the ground, nor their crawling on hands and knees, nor, soon after, constant play and running all day hither and thither, inconvenience their bodies so much as those of adults, because they are of little weight and no burden to themselves, so their minds likewise, I conceive, suffer less from fatigue, because they exert themselves with less effort and do not apply to study by putting any force upon themselves, but merely yield themselves to others to be formed. 1Moreover, in addition to the other pliancy of that age, they follow their teachers, as it were, with greater confidence and do not set themselves to measure what they have already done. Consideration about labor is as yet unknown to them, and as we ourselves have frequently experienced, toil has less effect upon the powers than thought.

1Nor will they ever, indeed, have more disposable time, because all improvement at this age is from hearing. When the pupil shall retire by himself to write, when he shall produce and compose from his own mind, he will then either not have leisure, or will want inclination, to commence such exercises as I have specified. 1Since the teacher of grammar, therefore, cannot occupy the whole day, and indeed ought not to do so, lest he should disgust the mind of his pupil, to what studies can we better devote his fragmentary intervals, so to term them, of time? 1For I would not wish the pupil to be worn out in these exercises, nor do I desire that he should sing or accompany songs with musical notes or descend to the minutest investigations of geometry. Nor would I make him like an actor in delivery or like a dancing master in gesture, though if I did require all such qualifications, there would still be abundance of time, for the immature part of life, which is devoted to learning, is long, and I am not speaking of slow intellects. 1Why did Plato, let me ask, excel in all these branches of knowledge which I think necessary to be acquired by him who would be an orator? He did so, because, not being satisfied with the instruction which Athens could afford, or with the science of the Pythagoreans, to whom he had sailed in Italy, he went also to the priests of Egypt and learned their mysteries.

1We shroud our own indolence under the pretext of difficulty, for we have no real love of our work; nor is eloquence ever sought by us, because it is the most honorable and noble of attainments or for its own sake; but we apply ourselves to labor only with mean views and for sordid gain. 1Plenty of orators may speak in the forum, with my permission, and acquire riches also, without such accomplishments as I recommend; only may every trader in contemptible merchandise be richer than they, and may the public crier make greater profit by his voice! I would not wish to have even for a reader of this work a man who would compute what returns his studies will bring him. 1But he who shall have conceived, as with a divine power of imagination, the very idea itself of genuine oratory, and who shall keep before his eyes true eloquence, the queen, as an eminent poet calls her, of the world, and shall seek his gain, not from the pay that he receives for his pleadings, but from his own mind, and from contemplation and knowledge, a gain which is enduring and independent of fortune, will easily prevail upon himself to devote the time which others spend at shows, in the Campus Martius, at dice, or in idle talk, to say nothing of sleep and the prolongation of banquets, to the studies of geometry and music. How much more pleasure will he secure from such pursuits than from unintellectual gratifications! 1For divine providence has granted this favor to mankind, that the more honorable occupations are also the more pleasing. But the very pleasure of these reflections has carried me too far. Let what I have said, therefore, suffice concerning the studies in which a boy is to be instructed before he enters on more important occupations. The next book will commence, as it were, a new subject and enter on the duties of the teacher of rhetoric.

IT has been a prevalent custom (which daily gains ground more and more) for pupils to be sent to the teachers of eloquence, to the Latin teachers always, and to the Greeks sometimes at a more advanced age than reason requires. Of this practice there are two causes: that the rhetoricians, especially our own, have relinquished a part of their duties, and that the grammarians have appropriated what does not belong to them. The rhetoricians think it their business merely to declaim and to teach the art and practice of declaiming, confining themselves, too, to deliberative and judicial subjects (for others they despise as beneath their profession), while the grammarians, on their part, do not deem it sufficient to have taken what has been left them (on which account also gratitude should be accorded them), but encroach even upon prosopopeiae and suasory speeches, in which even the very greatest efforts of eloquence are displayed. Hence, accordingly, it has happened that what was the first business of the one art has become the last of the other and that boys of an age to be employed in higher departments of study remain sunk in the lower school and practise rhetoric under the grammarian. Thus, what is eminently ridiculous, a youth seems unfit to be sent to a teacher of declamation until he already knows how to declaim.

Let us assign each of these professions its due limits. Let grammar (which, turning it into a Latin word, they have called literatura, "literature") know its own boundaries, especially as it is so far advanced beyond the humility indicated by its name, to which humility the early grammarians restricted themselves. Though weak at its source, yet having gained strength from the poets and historians, grammar now flows on in a full channel; since, besides the art of speaking correctly, which would otherwise be far from a comprehensive art, it has engrossed the study of almost all the highest departments of learning. And let not rhetoric, to which the power of eloquence has given its name, decline its own duties or rejoice that the task belonging to itself is appropriated by another, for while it neglects its duties, it is almost expelled from its domain. I would not deny, indeed, that some of those who profess grammar may make such progress in knowledge as to be able to teach the principles of oratory; but when they do so, they will be discharging the duties of a rhetorician, and not their own.

We make it also a subject of inquiry when a boy may be considered ripe for learning what rhetoric teaches. In which inquiry it is not to be considered of what age a boy is, but what progress he has already made in his studies. That I may not make a long discussion, I think that the question when a boy ought to be sent to the teacher of rhetoric is best decided by the answer, when he shall be qualified. But this very point depends upon the preceding subject of consideration, for if the office of the grammarian is extended even to suasory speeches, the necessity for the rhetorician will come later. If the rhetorician, however, does not shrink from the earliest duties of his profession, his attention is required even from the time when the pupil begins narrations and produces his little exercises in praising and blaming. Do we not know that it was a kind of exercise among the ancients, suitable for improvement in eloquence, for pupils to speak on theses, commonplaces, and other questions (without embracing particular circumstances or persons), on which causes, as well real as imaginary, depend? Hence it is evident how dishonorably the profession of rhetoric has abandoned that department which it held originally and for a long time solely. But what is there among those exercises of which I have just now spoken that does not relate both to other matters peculiar to rhetoricians and, indisputably, to the sort of causes pleaded in courts of justice? Have we not to make statements of facts in the forum? I know not whether that department of rhetoric is not most of all in request there. 1Are not eulogy and invective often introduced in those disputations? Do not commonplaces, as well those which are levelled against vice (such as were composed, we read, by Cicero), as those in which questions are discussed generally (such as were published by Quintus Hortensius, as "Ought we to trust to light proofs?" "for witnesses" and "against witnesses?") mix themselves with the inmost substance of causes? 1These weapons are in some degree to be prepared that we may use them whenever circumstances require. He who shall suppose that these matters do not concern the orator will think that a statue is not begun when its limbs are cast. Nor let any one blame this haste of mine (as some will consider it) on the supposition that I think the pupil who is to be committed to the professor of rhetoric is to be altogether withdrawn from the teachers of grammar. 1To these also their proper time shall be allowed, nor need there be any fear that the boy will he overburdened with the lessons of two masters. His labor will not be increased, but that which was confounded under one master will be divided, and each tutor will thus be more efficient in his own province. This method, to which the Greeks still adhere, has been disregarded by the Latin rhetoricians and, indeed, with some appearance of excuse, as there have been others to take their duty.

AS SOON therefore as a boy shall have attained such proficiency in his studies as to be able to comprehend what we have called the first precepts of the teachers of rhetoric, he must be put under the professors of that art.

Of these professors the morals must first be ascertained, a point of which I proceed to treat in this part of my work, not because I do not think that the same examination is to be made, and with the utmost care, in regard also to other teachers (as indeed I have shown in the preceding book), but because the very age of the pupils makes attention to the matter still more necessary. For boys are consigned to these professors when almost grown up and continue their studies under them even after they are become men. Greater care must in consequence be adopted with regard to them in order that the purity of the master may secure their more tender years from corruption and that his authority deter their bolder age from licentiousness. Nor is it enough that he give, in himself, an example of the strictest morality, unless he regulate also, by severity of discipline, the conduct of those who come to receive his instructions.

Let him adopt, then, above all things, the feelings of a parent towards his pupils and consider that he succeeds to the place of those by whom the children were entrusted to him. Let him neither have vices in himself, nor tolerate them in others. Let his austerity not be stern, nor his affability too easy, lest dislike arise from the one or contempt from the other. Let him discourse frequently on what is honorable and good, for the oftener he admonishes, the more seldom will he have to chastise. Let him not be of an angry temper and yet not a conniver at what ought to be corrected. Let him be plain in his mode of teaching and patient of labor, but rather diligent in exacting tasks than fond of giving them of excessive length. Let him reply readily to those who put questions to him and question of his own accord those who do not. In commending the exercises of his pupils, let him be neither niggardly nor lavish, for the one quality begets dislike of labor and the other self-complacency. In amending what requires correction, let him not be harsh and, least of all, not reproachful, for that very circumstance that some tutors blame as if they hated deters many young men from their proposed course of study. Let him every day say something, and even much, which, when the pupils hear, they may carry away with them, for though he may point out to them in their course of reading plenty of examples for their imitation, yet the living voice, as it is called, feeds the mind more nutritiously, and especially the voice of the teacher, whom his pupils, if they are but rightly instructed, both love and reverence. How much more readily we imitate those whom we like can scarcely be expressed.

The liberty of standing up and showing exultation in giving applause, as is done under most teachers, is by no means to be allowed to boys, for the approbation even of young men, when they listen to others, ought to be but temperate. Hence it will result that the pupil will depend on the judgment of the master and will think that he has expressed properly whatever shall have been approved by him. But that most mischievous politeness, as it is now termed, which is shown by students in their praise of each other's compositions, whatever be their merits, is not only unbecoming and theatrical and foreign to strictly regulated schools, but even a most destructive enemy to study, for care and toil may well appear superfluous when praise is ready for whatever the pupils have produced. 1Those therefore who listen, as well as he who speaks, ought to watch the countenance of the master, for they will thus discern what is to be approved and what to be condemned; and thus power will be gained from composition, and judgment from being heard. 1But now, eager and ready, they not only start up at every period, but dart forward and cry out with indecorous transports. The compliment is repaid in kind, and upon such applause depends the fortune of a declamation, and hence result vanity and self-conceit, insomuch that being elated with the tumultuous approbation of their class-fellows, they are inclined, if they receive but little praise from the master, to form an ill opinion of him. 1But let masters, also, desire to be heard themselves with attention and modesty, for the master ought not to speak to suit the taste of his pupils, but the pupils to suit that of the master. If possible, moreover, his attention should be directed to observe what each pupil commends in his speeches, and for what reason; and he may then rejoice that what he says will give pleasure, not more on his own account than on that of his pupils who judge with correctness.

1That mere boys should sit mixed with young men, I do not approve; for though such a man as ought to preside over their studies and conduct may keep even the eldest of his pupils under control, yet the more tender ought to be separate from the more mature, and they should all be kept free, not merely from the guilt of licentiousness, but even from the suspicion of it. 1This point I thought proper briefly to notice; that the master and his school should be clear of gross vice, I do not suppose it necessary to intimate. And if there is any father who would not shrink from flagrant vice in choosing a tutor for his son, let him be assured that all other rules which I am endeavoring to lay down for the benefit of youth are, when this consideration is disregarded, useless to him.

NOR is the opinion of those to be passed in silence who, even when they think boys fit for the professor of rhetoric, imagine that he is not at once to be consigned to the most eminent, but detain him for some time under inferior teachers with the notion that moderate ability in a master is not only better adapted for beginning instruction in art, but easier for comprehension and imitation, as well as less disdainful of undertaking the trouble of the elements. On this head I think no long labor necessary to show how much better it is to be imbued with the best instructions and how much difficulty is attendant on eradicating faults which have once gained ground, as double duty falls on succeeding masters, and the task indeed of unteaching is heavier and more important than that of teaching at first. Accordingly, they say that Timotheus, a famous instructor in playing the flute, was accustomed to ask as much more pay from those whom another had taught as from those who presented themselves to him in a state of ignorance. The mistakes committed in the matter, however, are two: one, that people think inferior teachers sufficient for a time, and, from having an easily satisfied appetite, are content with their instructions (such supineness, though deserving of reprehension, would yet be in some degree endurable if teachers of that class taught only worse, and not less), the other, which is even more common, that people imagine that those who have attained eminent qualifications for speaking will not descend to inferior matters and that this is sometimes the case because they disdain to bestow attention on minuter points, and sometimes because they cannot give instruction in them. For my part, I do not consider him, who is unwilling to teach little things, in the number of preceptors; but I argue that the ablest teachers can teach little things best, if they will; first, because it is likely that he who excels others in eloquence has gained the most accurate knowledge of the means by which men attain eloquence; secondly, because method, which, with the best qualified instructors, is always plainest is of great efficacy in teaching; and lastly, because no man rises to such a height in greater things that lesser fade entirely from his view. Unless indeed we believe that though Phidias made a Jupiter statue at Olympia well, another might have wrought, in better style than he, the accessories to the decoration of the work; or that an orator may not know how to speak; or that an eminent physician may be unable to cure trifling ailments.

Is there not then, it may be asked, a certain height of eloquence too elevated for the immaturity of boyhood to comprehend it? I readily confess that there is, but the eloquent professor must also be a man of sense, not ignorant of teaching and lowering himself to the capacity of the learner, as any fast walker, if he should happen to walk with a child, would give him his hand, relax his pace, and not go on quicker than his companion could follow. What shall be said, too, if it generally happens that instructions given by the most learned are far more easy to be understood and more perspicuous than those of others? For perspicuity is the chief virtue of eloquence, and the less ability a man has, the more he tries to raise and swell himself out, as those of short stature exalt themselves on tip-toe, and the weak use most threats. As to those whose style is inflated, displaying a vitiated taste, and who are fond of sounding words, or faulty from any other mode of vicious affectation, I am convinced that they labor under the fault not of strength, but of weakness, as bodies are swollen not with health, but with disease, and as men who have erred from the straight road generally make stoppages. Accordingly, the less able a teacher is, the more obscure will he be.

It has not escaped my memory that I said in the preceding book (when I observed that education in schools was preferable to that at home) that pupils commencing their studies, or but little advanced in them, devote themselves more readily to imitate their school-fellows than their master, such imitation being more easy to them. This remark may be understood by some in such a sense that the opinion which I now advocate may appear inconsistently with that which I advanced before. 1But such inconsistency will be far from me, for what I then said is the very best of reasons why a boy should be consigned to the best possible instructor, because even the pupils under him, being better taught than those under inferior masters, will either speak in such a manner as it may not be objectionable to imitate or, if they commit any faults, will be immediately corrected, whereas the less learned teacher will perhaps praise even what is wrong and cause it by his judgment to recommend itself to those who listen to it. 1Let a master therefore be excellent as well in eloquence as in morals, one who, like Homer's Phoenix, may teach his pupil at once to speak and to act.

I SHALL now proceed to state what I conceive to be the first duties of rhetoricians in giving instruction to their pupils, putting off for a while the consideration of what is alone called, in common language, the art of rhetoric; for to me it appears most eligible to commence with that to which the pupil has learned something similar under the grammarians.

Since of narrations (besides that which we use in pleadings) we understand that there are three kinds: the fable, which is the subject of tragedies and poems, and which is remote, not merely from truth, but from the appearance of truth; the argumentum, which comedies represent and which, though false, has a resemblance to truth; and the history, in which is contained a relation of facts. Since we have consigned poetic narratives to the grammarians, let the commencement of study under the rhetorician be the historical form, a kind of narrative which, as it has more of truth, has also more of substance. What appears to me the best method of narrating, I will show when I treat of the judicial part of pleading. In the meantime it will suffice to intimate that it ought not to be dry and jejune (for what necessity would there be to bestow so much pains upon study if it were thought sufficient to state facts without dress or decoration?), nor ought it to be erratic and wantonly adorned with far-fetched descriptions, in which many speakers indulge with an emulation of poetic licence. Both these kinds of narrative are faulty, yet that which springs from poverty is worse than that which comes from exuberance.

From boys, perfection of style can neither be required nor expected, but the fertile genius, fond of noble efforts and conceiving at times a more than reasonable degree of ardor, is greatly to be preferred. Nor, if there be something of exuberance in a pupil of that age, would it at all displease me. I would even have it an object with teachers themselves to nourish minds that are still tender with more indulgence and to allow them to be satiated, as it were, with the milk of more liberal studies. The body, which mature age may afterwards nerve, may for a time be somewhat plumper than seems desirable. Hence there is hope of strength, while a child that has the outline of all his limbs exact commonly portends weakness in subsequent years. Let that age be daring, invent much, and delight in what it invents, though it be often not sufficiently severe and correct. The remedy for exuberance is easy; barrenness is incurable by any labor. That temper in boys will afford me little hope in which mental effort is prematurely restrained by judgment. I like what is produced to be extremely copious, profuse even beyond the limits of propriety. Years will greatly reduce superfluity; judgment will smooth away much of it; something will be worn off, as it were, by use, if there be but metal from which something may be hewn and polished off, and such metal there will be, if we do not make the plate too thin at first, so that deep cutting may break it. That I hold such opinions concerning this age, he will be less likely to wonder who shall have read what Cicero says: "I wish fecundity in a young man to give itself full scope."

Above all, therefore, and especially for boys, a dry master is to be avoided no less than a dry soil, void of all moisture, for plants that are still tender. Under the influence of such a tutor, they at once become dwarfish, looking as it were towards the ground, and daring to aspire to nothing above everyday talk. To them, leanness is in place of health and weakness instead of judgment; and while they think it sufficient to be free from fault, they fall into the fault of being free from all merit. Let not even maturity itself, therefore, come too fast; let not the must, while yet in the vat, become mellow, for so it will bear years and be improved by age.

Nor is it improper for me, moreover, to offer this admonition: that the powers of boys sometimes sink under too great severity in correction; for they despond and grieve and at last hate their work, and, what is most prejudicial, while they fear every thing, they cease to attempt any thing. 1There is a similar conviction in the minds of the cultivators of trees in the country, who think that the knife must not be applied to tender shoots, as they appear to shrink from the steel and to be unable as yet to bear an incision. 1A teacher ought therefore to be as agreeable as possible, that remedies which are rough in their own nature, may be rendered soothing by gentleness of hand; he ought to praise some parts of his pupils' performances, to tolerate some, and to alter others, giving his reasons why the alterations are made, and also to make some passages clearer by adding something of his own. It will also be of service too, at times, for the master to dictate whole subjects himself which the pupil may imitate and admire for the present as his own. 1But if a boy's composition were so faulty as not to admit of correction, I have found him benefited whenever I told him to write on the same subject again, after it had received fresh treatment from me, observing that "he could do still better," since study is cheered by nothing more than hope. 1Different ages, however, are to be corrected in different ways, and work is to be required and amended according to the degree of the pupil's abilities. I used to say to boys when they attempted anything extravagant or verbose, that "I was satisfied with it for the present, but that a time would come when I should not allow them to produce compositions of such a character." Thus they were satisfied with their abilities, and yet not led to form a wrong judgment.

1But that I may return to the point from which I digressed, I should wish narrations to be composed with the utmost possible care, for as it is of service to boys at an early age, when their speech is but just commenced, to repeat what they have heard in order to improve their faculty of speaking (let them accordingly be made, and with very good reason, to go over their story again, and to pursue it from the middle, either backwards or forwards; but let this be done only while they are still at the knees of their teacher, and, as they can do nothing else, are beginning to connect words and things that they may thus strengthen their memory), so when they shall have attained the command of pure and correct language, extemporary garrulity, without waiting for thought or scarcely taking time to rise, is the offspring of mere ostentatious boastfulness. 1Hence arises empty exultation in ignorant parents, and in their children contempt of application, want of all modesty, a habit of speaking in the worst style, the practice of all kinds of faults, and what has often been fatal even to great proficiency, an arrogant conceit of their own abilities. 1There will be a proper time for acquiring facility of speech, nor will that part of my subject be lightly passed over by me, but in the mean time it will be sufficient if a boy with all his care and with the utmost application of which that age is capable can write something tolerable. To this practice, let him accustom himself and make it natural to him. He only will succeed in attaining the eminence at which we aim, or the point next below it, who shall learn to speak correctly before he learns to speak rapidly.

1To narrations is added, not without advantage, the task of refuting and confirming them, which is called anaskeuē and kataskeuē. This may be done not only with regard to fabulous subjects and such as are related in poetry, but with regard even to records in our own annals; as if it be inquired whether it is credible that a crow settled upon the head of Valerius when he was fighting, to annoy the face and eyes of his Gallic enemy with his beak and wings, there will be ample matter for discussion on both sides of the question; 1as there will also be concerning the serpent, of which Scipio is said to have been born, as well as about the wolf of Romulus, and the Egeria of Numa. As to the histories of the Greeks, there is generally licence in them similar to that of the poets. Questions are often wont to arise, too, concerning the time or place at which a thing is said to have been done, sometimes even about a person, as Livy, for instance, is frequently in doubt, and other historians differ one from another.

20. The pupil will then proceed by degrees to higher efforts to praise illustrious characters and censure the immoral, an exercise of manifold advantage, for the mind is thus employed about a multiplicity and variety of matters; the understanding is formed by the contemplation of good and evil. Hence is acquired, too, an extensive knowledge of things in general, and the pupil is soon furnished with examples which are of great weight in every kind of causes and which he will use as occasion requires. 2Next succeeds exercise in comparison, which of two characters is the better or the worse, which, though it is managed in a similar way, yet both doubles the topics and treats not only of the nature but of the degrees of virtues and of vices. But on the management of praise and the contrary, as it is the third part of rhetoric, I shall give directions in the proper place.

2Commonplaces (I speak of those in which, without specifying persons, it is usual to declaim against vices themselves, as against those of the adulterer, the gamester, the licentious person) are of the very nature of speeches on trials and, if you add the name of an accused party, are real accusations. These, however, are usually altered from their treatment as general subjects to something specific, as when the subject of a declamation is a blind adulterer, a poor gamester, or a licentious old man. 2Sometimes, also, they have their use in a defense, for we occasionally speak in favor of luxury or licentiousness, and a procurer or parasite is sometimes defended in such a way that we advocate, not the person, but the vice.

2Theses, which are drawn from the comparison of things, as whether a country or city life is more desirable, and whether the merit of a lawyer or a soldier is the greater, are eminently proper and copious subjects for exercise in speaking and contribute greatly to improvement, both in the province of persuasion and in discussions on trials. The latter of the two subjects just mentioned is handled with great copiousness by Cicero in his pleading for Muraena. 2Such theses as the following, whether a man ought to marry, and whether political offices should be sought, belong almost wholly to the deliberative species, for if persons be but added, they will be suasory.

2My teachers were accustomed to prepare us for conjectural causes by a kind of exercise far from useless, and very pleasant to us, in which they desired us to investigate and show why Venus among the Lacedaemonians was represented armed; why Cupid was thought to be a boy, winged and armed with arrows and a torch, and questions of a similar nature, in which we endeavored to ascertain the intention, about which there is so often a question in controversies. This may be regarded as a sort of chria.

2That such questions as those about witnesses, whether we ought always to believe them, and concerning arguments, whether we ought to put any trust in trifling ones, belong to forensic pleading is so manifest that some speakers, not undistinguished in civil offices, have kept them ready in writing and have carefully committed them to memory, so that whenever opportunity should offer, their extemporary speeches might be decorated with them, as with ornaments fitted into them. 2By which practice (for I cannot delay to express my judgment on the point) they appeared to me to confess great weakness in themselves. For what can such men produce appropriate to particular causes of which the aspect is perpetually varied and new? How can they reply to questions propounded by the opposite party? How can they at once meet objections or interrogate a witness, when, even on topics of the commonest kind, such as are handled in most causes, they are unable to pursue the most ordinary thoughts in any words but those which they have long before prepared? 2When they say the same things in various pleadings, their cold meat, as it were, served up over and over again, must either create loathing in the speakers themselves, or their unhappy household furniture, which, as among the ambitious poor, is worn out by being used for several different purposes, must, when detected so often by the memory of their hearers, cause a feeling of shame in them, 30. especially as there is scarcely any commonplace so common which can incorporate well with any pleading unless it be bound by some link to the peculiar question under consideration, and which will not show that it is not so much inserted as attached, 3either because it is unlike the rest, or because it is very frequently borrowed without reason, not because it is wanted, but because it is ready, as some speakers, for the sake of sentiment, introduce the most verbose commonplaces, whereas it is from the subject itself that sentiments ought to arise. 3Such remarks are ornamental and useful if they spring from the question, but every remark, however beautiful, unless it tends to gain the cause, is certainly superfluous and sometimes even noxious. But this digression has been sufficiently prolonged.

3The praise or censure of laws requires more mature powers, such as may almost suffice for the very highest efforts. Whether this exercise partakes more of the nature of deliberative or controversial oratory is a point that varies according to the custom and right of particular nations. Among the Greeks the proposer of laws was called to plead before the judge; among the Romans it was customary to recommend or disparage a law before the public assembly. In either case, however, few arguments, and those almost certain, are advanced, for there are but three kinds of laws relating to sacred, public, or private rights. 3This division has regard chiefly to the commendation of a law, as when the speaker extols it by a kind of gradation, because it is a law, because it is public, because it is made to promote the worship of the gods. 3Points about which questions usually arise are common to all laws, for a doubt may be started, either concerning the right of him who proposes the law (as concerning that of Publius Clodius who was accused of not having been properly created tribune) or concerning the validity of the proposal itself, a doubt which may refer to a variety of matters, as for instance, whether the proposal has been published on three market days or whether the law may be said to have been proposed, or to be proposed, on an improper day, or contrary to protests, or to the auspices, or in any other way at variance with legitimate proceedings, or whether it be opposed to any law still in force. 3But such considerations do not enter into these early exercises, which are without any allusion to persons, times, or particular causes. Other points, whether treated in real or fictitious discussions, are much the same, for the fault of any law must be either in words or in matter. 3As to words, it is questioned whether they be sufficiently expressive, whether there is any ambiguity in them, as to matter, whether the law is consistent with itself, or whether it ought to have reference to past time or to individuals. But the most common inquiry is whether it be proper or expedient. 3Nor am I ignorant that of this inquiry many divisions are made by most professors; but I, under the term proper, include consistency with justice, piety, religion, and other similar virtues. The consideration of justice, however, is usually discussed with reference to more than one point; for a question may either be raised about the subject of the law, as whether it be deserving of punishment or reward or about the measure of reward or punishment, to which an objection may be taken as well for being too great as too little. 3Expediency, also, is sometimes determined by the nature of the measure, sometimes by the circumstances of the time. As to some laws, it becomes a question whether they can be enforced. Nor ought students to be ignorant that laws are sometimes censured wholly, sometimes partly, as examples of both are afforded us in highly celebrated orations. 40. Nor does it escape my recollection that there are laws which are not proposed for perpetuity, but with regard to temporary honors or commands, such as the Manilian law, about which there is an oration of Cicero. But concerning these no directions can be given in this place, for they depend upon the peculiar nature of the subjects on which the discussion is raised and not on any general consideration.

4On such subjects did the ancients, for the most part, exercise the faculty of eloquence, borrowing their mode of argument, however, from the logicians. To speak on fictitious cases, in imitation of pleadings in the forum or in public councils, is generally allowed to have become a practice among the Greeks, about the time of Demetrius Phalereus. 4Whether that sort of exercise was invented by him, I have not succeeded in discovering (as I have acknowledged also in another book); nor do those who affirm most positively that he did invent it rest their opinion on any writer of good authority, but that the Latin teachers of eloquence commenced this practice towards the end of the life of Lucius Crassus, Cicero tells us; the most eminent of these teachers was Plotius.

BUT of the proper mode of declaiming I shall speak a little further on; meanwhile, as we are treating of the first rudiments of rhetoric, I should not omit, I think, to observe how much the professor would contribute to the advancement of his pupils, if, as the explanation of the poets is required from teachers of grammar, so he, in like manner, would exercise the pupils under his care in the reading of history and even still more in that of speeches, a practice which I myself have adopted in the case of a few pupils, whose age required it, and whose parents thought it would be serviceable to them. But though I then deemed it an excellent method, two circumstances were obstructions to the practice of it: that long custom had established a different mode of teaching and that they were mostly full-grown youths, who did not require that exercise, that were forming themselves on my model. But though I should make a new discovery ever so late, I should not be ashamed to recommend it for the future. I know, however, that this is now done among the Greeks, but chiefly by assistant-masters, since the time would seem hardly sufficient, if the professors were always to lecture to each pupil as he read. Such lecturing, indeed, as is given that boys may follow the writing of an author easily and distinctly with their eyes and such even as explains the meaning of every word, at all uncommon, that occurs, is to be regarded as far below the profession of a teacher of rhetoric.

But to point out the beauties of authors, and, if occasion ever present itself, their faults, is eminently consistent with that profession and engagement by which he offers himself to the public as a master of eloquence, especially as I do not require such toil from teachers, that they should call their pupils to their lap, and labor at the reading of whatever book each of them may fancy. For to me it seems easier as well as far more advantageous that the master, after calling for silence, should appoint some one pupil to read (and it will be best that this duty should be imposed on them by turns) that they may thus accustom themselves to clear pronunciation; and then, after explaining the cause for which the oration was composed (for so that which is said will be better understood), that he should leave nothing unnoticed which is important to be remarked, either in the thought or the language; that he should observe what method is adopted in the exordium for conciliating the judge; what clearness, brevity, and apparent sincerity is displayed in the statement of facts; what design there is in certain passages and what well concealed artifice (for that is the only true art in pleading which cannot be perceived except by a skilful pleader); what judgment appears in the division of the matter; how subtle and urgent is the argumentation; with what force the speaker excites, with what amenity he soothes; what severity is shown in his invectives, what urbanity in his jests; how he commands the feelings, forces a way into the understanding, and makes the opinions of the judges coincide with what he asserts. In regard to the style, too, he should notice any expression that is peculiarly appropriate, elegant, or sublime; when the amplification deserves praise; what quality is opposed to it, what phrases are happily metaphorical, what figures of speech are used, what part of the composition is smooth and polished, and yet manly and vigorous.

Nor is it without advantage, indeed, that inelegant and faulty speeches, yet such as many, from depravity of taste, would admire, should be read before boys and that it should be shown how many expressions in them are inappropriate, obscure, tumid, low, mean, affected, or effeminate; expressions which, however, are not only extolled by many readers, but what is worse, are extolled for the very reason that they are vicious, 1for straight-forward language, naturally expressed, seems to some of us to have nothing of genius; but whatever departs, in any way, from the common course, we admire as something exquisite, as with some persons, more regard is shown for figures that are distorted and in any respect monstrous than for such as have lost none of the advantages of ordinary conformation. 1Some, too, who are attracted by appearance think that there is more beauty in men who are depilated and smooth, who dress their locks, hot from the curling-irons, with pins, and who are radiant with a complexion not their own, than unsophisticated nature can give, as if beauty of person could be thought to spring from corruption of manners.

1Nor will the preceptor be under the obligation merely to teach these things, but frequently to ask questions upon them and try the judgment of his pupils. Thus, carelessness will not come upon them while they listen, nor will the instructions that shall be given fail to enter their ears; and they will at the same time be conducted to the end which is sought in this exercise, namely that they themselves may conceive and understand. For what object have we in teaching them, but that they may not always require to be taught?

1I will venture to say that this sort of diligent exercise will contribute more to the improvement of students than all the treatises of all the rhetoricians that ever wrote, which doubtless, however, are of considerable use, but their scope is more general; and how indeed can they go into all kinds of questions that arise almost every day? 1So, though certain general precepts are given in the military art, it will yet be of far more advantage to know what plan any leader has adopted wisely or imprudently and in what place or at what time, for in almost every art precepts are of much less avail than practical experiments. 1Shall a teacher declaim that he may be a model to his hearers, and will not Cicero and Demosthenes, if read, profit them more? Shall a pupil, if he commits faults in declaiming, be corrected before the rest, and will it not be more serviceable to him to correct the speech of another? Indisputably, and even more agreeable, for every one prefers that others' faults should be blamed rather than his own. 1Nor are there wanting more arguments for me to offer; but the advantage of this plan can escape the observation of no one; and I wish that there may not be so much unwillingness to adopt it as there will be pleasure in having adopted it.

1If this method be followed, there will remain a question not very difficult to answer, which is, what authors ought to be read by beginners? Some have recommended inferior writers, as they thought them easier of comprehension; others have advocated the more florid kind of writers as being better adapted to nourish the minds of the young. For my part, I would have the best authors commenced at once and read always; but I would choose the clearest in style and most intelligible, recommending Livy, for instance, to be read by boys rather than Sallust, who, however, is the greater historian, but to understand him there is need of some proficiency. 20. Cicero, as it seems to me, is agreeable even to beginners, and sufficiently intelligible, may not only profit, but even be loved; and next to Cicero (as Livy advises), such authors as most resemble Cicero.

2There are two points in style on which I think that the greatest caution should be used in respect to boys: one is that no master, from being too much an admirer of antiquity, should allow them to harden, as it were, in the reading of the Gracchi, Cato, and other like authors, for they would thus become uncouth and dry since they cannot, as yet, understand their force of thought; and content with adopting their style, which at the time it was written was doubtless excellent, but is quite unsuitable to our day, they will appear to themselves to resemble those eminent men. 2The other point, which is the opposite of the former, is, lest, being captivated with the flowers of modern affectation, they should be so seduced by a corrupt kind of pleasure as to love that luscious manner of writing which is the more agreeable to the minds of youth in proportion as it has more affinity with them. 2When their taste is formed, however, and out of danger of being corrupted, I should recommend them to read not only the ancients (from whom if a solid and manly force of thought be adopted, while the rust of a rude age is cleared off, our present style will receive additional grace), but also the writers of the present day, in whom there is much merit. 2For nature has not condemned us to stupidity, but we ourselves have changed our mode of speaking and have indulged our fancies more than we ought; and thus the ancients did not excel us so much in genius as in severity of manner. It will be possible, therefore, to select from the moderns many qualities for imitation, but care must be taken that they be not contaminated with other qualities with which they are mixed. Yet that there have been recently, and are now, many writers whom we may imitate entirely, I would not only allow (for why should I not?) but even affirm. 2But who they are it is not for everybody to decide. We may even err with greater safety in regard to the ancients, and I would therefore defer the reading of the moderns, that imitation may not go before judgment.

THERE has been also a diversity of practice among teachers in the following respect. Some of them, not confining themselves to giving directions as to the division of any subject which they assigned their pupils for declamation, developed it more fully by speaking on it themselves and amplified it not only with proofs but with appeals to the feelings. Others, giving merely the first outlines, expatiated, after the declamations were composed, on whatever points each pupil had omitted and polished some passages with no less care than they would have used if they themselves had been rising to speak in public.

Both methods are beneficial, and, therefore, for my own part, I give no distinction to either of them above the other, but, if it should be necessary to follow only one of the two, it will be of greater service to point out the right way at first than to recall those who have gone astray from their errors; first, because to the subsequent emendation they merely listen, but the preliminary division they carry to their meditation and their composition; and, secondly, because they more willingly attend to one who gives directions than to one who finds faults. Whatever pupils, too, are of a high spirit are apt, especially in the present state of manners, to be angry at admonition and offer silent resistance to it. Not that faults are therefore to be less openly corrected, for regard is to be had to the other pupils, who will think that whatever the master has not amended is right. But both methods should be united and used as occasion may require. To beginners should be given matter designed, as it were, beforehand in proportion to the abilities of each. But when they shall appear to have formed themselves sufficiently on their model, a few brief directions may be given them, following which, they may advance by their own strength without any support. It is proper that they should sometimes be left to themselves, lest, from the bad habit of being always led by the efforts of others, they should lose all capacity of attempting and producing anything for themselves. But when they seem to judge pretty accurately of what ought to be said, the labor of the teacher is almost at an end, though should they still commit errors, they must be again put under a guide. Something of this kind we see birds practice, which divide food collected in their beaks among their tender and helpless young ones, but when they seem sufficiently grown, teach them, by degrees, to venture out of the nest and flutter round their place of abode, themselves leading the way, and at last leave their strength, when properly tried, to the open sky and their own self-confidence.

ONE change, I think, should certainly be made in what is customary with regard to the age of which we are speaking. Pupils should not be obliged to learn by heart what they have composed and to repeat it, as is usual, on a certain day, a task which it is fathers that principally exact, thinking that their children then only study when they repeat frequent declamations, whereas proficiency depends chiefly on the diligent cultivation of style. For though I would wish boys to compose and to spend much time in that employment, yet, as to learning by heart, I would rather recommend for that purpose select passages from orations or histories, or any other sort of writings deserving of such attention. The memory will thus be more efficiently exercised in mastering what is another's than what is their own; and those who shall have been practiced in this more difficult kind of labor will fix in their minds, without trouble, what they themselves have composed, as being more familiar to them; they will also accustom themselves to the best compositions, and they will always have in their memory something which they may imitate and will, even without being aware, reproduce that fashion of style which they have deeply impressed upon their minds. They will have at command, moreover, an abundance of the best words, phrases, and figures, not sought for the occasion, but offering themselves spontaneously, as it were, from a store treasured within them. To this is added the power of quoting the happy expressions of any author,which is agreeable in common conversation and useful in pleading, for phrases which are not coined for the sake of the cause in hand have the greater weight and often gain us more applause than if they were our own.

Yet pupils should sometimes be permitted to recite what they themselves have written that they may reap the full reward of their labor from that kind of applause which is most desired. This permission will most properly be granted when they have produced something more polished than ordinary, that they may thus be presented with some return for their study and rejoice that they have deserved to recite their composition.

IT is generally, and not without reason, regarded as an excellent quality in a master to observe accurately the differences of ability in those whom he has undertaken to instruct and to ascertain in what direction the nature of each particularly inclines him, for there is in talent an incredible variety, nor are the forms of the mind fewer than those of the body. This may be understood even from orators themselves, who differ so much from each other in their style of speaking that no one is like another, though most of them have set themselves to imitate those whom they admired. It has also been thought advantageous by most teachers to instruct each pupil in such a manner as to cherish by learning the good qualities inherited from nature, so that the powers may be assisted in their progress towards the object to which they chiefly direct themselves. As a master of palaestric exercises, when he enters a gymnasium full of boys, is able, after trying their strength and comprehension in every possible way, to decide for what kind of exercise each ought to be trained, so a teacher of eloquence, they say, when he has clearly observed which boy's genius delights most in a concise and polished manner of speaking and which in a spirited, or grave, or smooth, or rough, or brilliant, or elegant one, will so accommodate his instructions to each that he will be advanced in that department in which he shows most ability, because nature attains far greater power when seconded by culture, and he that is led contrary to nature cannot make due progress in the studies for which he is unfit and makes those talents for the exercise of which he seemed born weaker by neglecting to cultivate them.

This opinion seems to me (for to him that follows reason there is free exercise of judgment even in opposition to received persuasions) just only in part. To distinguish peculiarities of talent is absolutely necessary, and to make choice of particular studies to suit them is what no man would discountenance. For one youth will be fitter for the study of history than another, one will be qualified for writing poetry, another for the study of law, and some perhaps fit only to be sent into the fields. The teacher of rhetoric will decide in accordance with these peculiarities, just as the master of the palaestra will make one of his pupils a runner, another a boxer, another a wrestler, or fit him for any other of the exercises that are practiced at the sacred games.

But he who is destined for public speaking must strive to excel not merely in one accomplishment, but in all the accomplishments that are requisite for that art, even though some of them may seem too difficult for him when he is learning them, for instruction would be altogether superfluous if the natural state of the mind were sufficient. If a pupil that is vitiated in taste and turgid in his style, as many are, is put under our care, shall we allow him to go on in his own way? Him that is dry and jejune in his manner shall we not nourish and, as it were, clothe? For if it be necessary to prune something away from certain pupils, why should it not be allowable to add something to others? Yet I would not fight against nature, for I do not think that any good quality which is innate should be detracted, but that whatever is inactive or deficient should be invigorated or supplied. Was that famous teacher Isocrates, whose writings are not stronger proofs that he spoke well than his scholars that he taught well, inclined, when he formed such an opinion of Ephorus and Theopompus as to say that "the one wanted the rein and the other the spur," to think that the slowness in the duller, and the ardor in the more impetuous were to be fostered by education? On the contrary, he thought that the qualities of each ought to be mixed with those of the other. 1We must so far accommodate ourselves, however, to feeble intellects that they may be trained only to that to which nature invites them, for thus they will do with more success the only thing which they can do. But if richer material fall into our hands from which we justly conceive hopes of a true orator, no rhetorical excellence must be left unstudied. 1For though such a genius be more inclined, as indeed it must be, to the exercise of certain powers, yet it will not be inverse to that of others and will render them, by study, equal to those in which it naturally excelled; just as the skillful trainer in bodily exercise (that I may adhere to my former illustration) will not, if he undertakes to form a pancratiast, teach him to strike with his fist or his heel only, or instruct him merely in wrestling, or only in certain artifices of wrestling, but will practice him in everything pertaining to the pancratiastic art.

There may perhaps be some pupil unequal to some of these exercises. He must then apply chiefly to that in which he can succeed. 1For two things are especially to be avoided: one, to attempt what cannot be accomplished, and the other, to divert a pupil from what he does well to something else for which he is less qualified. But if he be capable of instruction, the tutor, like Nicostratus whom we, when young, knew at an advanced age, will bring to bear upon him every art of instruction alike and render him invincible, as Nicostratus was in wrestling and boxing, for success in both of which contests he was crowned on the same day. 1How much more must such training, indeed, be pursued by the teacher of the future orator! For it is not enough that he should speak concisely, or artfully, or vehemently, any more than for a singing master to excel in acute, or middle, or grave tones only, or even in particular subdivisions of them since eloquence is, like a harp, not perfect unless, with all its strings stretched, it be in unison from the highest to the lowest note.

WHEN the pupil has been well instructed and sufficiently exercised in these preliminary studies, which are not in themselves inconsiderable but members and portions, as it were, of higher branches of learning, the time will have nearly arrived for entering on deliberative and judicial subjects. But before I proceed to speak of those matters, I must say a few words on the art of declamation, which, though the most recently invented of all exercises, is indeed by far the most useful. For it comprehends within itself all those exercises of which I have been treating and presents us with a very close resemblance to reality; and it has been so much adopted, accordingly, that it is thought by many sufficient of itself to form oratory since no excellence in continued speaking can be specified which is not found in this prelude to speaking. The practice, however, has so degenerated through the fault of the teachers that the license and ignorance of declaimers have been among the chief causes that have corrupted eloquence. But of that which is good by nature we may surely make a good use. Let therefore the subjects themselves, which shall be imagined, be as like as possible to truth; and let declamations to the utmost extent that is practicable imitate those pleadings for which they were introduced as a preparation. For as to magicians, and the pestilence, and oracles, and step-mothers more cruel than those of tragedy, and other subjects more imaginary than these, we shall in vain seek them among sponsions and interdicts. What, then, it may be said, shall we never suffer students to handle such topics as are above belief and (to say the truth) poetical, so that they may expatiate and exult in their subject and swell forth as it were into full body? It would indeed be best not to suffer them; but at least let not the subjects, if grand and turgid, appear also to him who regards them with severe judgment, foolish and ridiculous, so that if we must grant the use of such topics. Let the declaimer swell himself occasionally to the full, provided he understands that as four-footed animals, when they have been blown with green fodder, are cured by losing blood and thus return to food suited to maintain their strength, so must his turgidity be diminished and whatever corrupt humors he has contracted be discharged if he wishes to be healthy and strong; for otherwise, his empty swelling will be hampered at the first attempt at any real pleading.

Those, assuredly, who think that the whole exercise of declaiming is altogether different from forensic pleading, do not see even the reason for which that exercise was instituted. For if it is no preparation for the forum, it is merely like theatrical ostentation or insane raving. To what purpose is it to instruct a judge who has no existence? To state a case that all know to be fictitious? To bring proofs of a point on which no man will pronounce sentence? This indeed is nothing more than trifling; but how ridiculous is it to excite our feelings and to work upon an audience with anger and sorrow unless we are preparing ourselves by imitations of battle for serious contests and a regular field? Will there then be no difference, it may be asked, between the mode of speaking at the bar and mere exercise in declamation? I answer that if we speak for the sake of improvement, there will be no difference. I wish, too, that it were made a part of the exercise to use names; that causes more complicated, and requiring longer pleadings, were invented; that we were less afraid of words in daily use; and that we were in the habit of mingling jests with our declamation; all which points, however we may have been practiced in the schools in other respects, find us novices at the bar.

But even if a declamation be composed merely for display, we ought surely to exert our voice in some degree to please the audience. For even in those oratorical compositions, which are doubtless based in some degree upon truth, but are adapted to please the multitude (such as are the panegyrics which we read and all that epideictic kind of eloquence), it is allowable to use great elegance, and not only to acknowledge the efforts of art (which ought generally to be concealed in forensic pleadings), but to display it to those who are called together for the purpose of witnessing it. 1Declamation, therefore, as it is an imitation of real pleadings and deliberations, ought closely to resemble reality, but, as it carries with it something of ostentation, to clothe itself in a certain elegance. 1Such is the practice of actors who do not pronounce exactly as we speak in common conversation, for such pronunciation would be devoid of art; nor do they depart far from nature, as by such a fault imitation would be destroyed; but they exalt the simplicity of familiar discourse with a certain scenic grace.

1However, some inconveniences will attend us from the nature of the subjects which we have imagined, especially as many particulars in them are left uncertain, which we settle as suits our purpose, as age, fortune, children, parents, strength, laws, and manners of cities; and other things of a similar kind. 1Sometimes, too, we draw arguments from the very faults of the imaginary causes. But on each of these points we shall speak in its proper place. For though the whole object of the work intended by us has regard to the formation of an orator, yet, lest students may think anything wanting we shall not omit, in passing, whatever may occur that fairly relates to the teaching of the schools.

FROM this point, then, I am to enter upon that portion of the art with which those who have omitted the preceding portions usually commence. I see, however, that some will oppose me at the very threshold, men who think that eloquence has no need of rules of this kind, and who, satisfied with their own natural ability, and the common methods of teaching and exercise in the schools, even ridicule my diligence, following the example of certain professors of great reputation. It was one of those characters, I believe, who being asked what a figure and what a thought was, answered that "he did not know, but that, if it had any relation to his subject, it would be found in his declamation." Another of them replied to a person who asked him "whether he was a follower of Theodorus or Apollodorus," "I am a prizefighter." Nor could he indeed have escaped an avowal of his ignorance with greater wit. But such men, as they have attained eminent repute through the goodness of their natural powers and have uttered many things even worthy of remembrance, have had very many imitators that resemble them in negligence, but very few that approach them in ability. They make it their boast that they speak from impulse and merely exert their natural powers, and say that there is no need of proofs or arrangement in fictitious subjects, but only of grand thoughts, to hear which the auditory will be crowded, and of which the best are the offspring of venturesomeness. In meditation, also, as they use no method they either wait, often for some days, looking at the ceiling for some great thought that may spontaneously present itself, or exciting themselves with inarticulate sounds, as with a trumpet, they adapt the wildest gestures of body, not to the utterance, but to the excogitation of words.

Some, before they have conceived any thoughts, fix upon certain heads, under which something eloquent is to be introduced; but, after modulating their words to themselves, aloud and for a long time, they desert their proposed arrangement from despairing of the possibility of forming any connection, and then turn to one train of ideas, and again to another, all equally common and hackneyed. Those, however, who seem to have most method do not bestow their efforts on fictitious causes, but on common topics, in which they do not direct their view to any certain object, but throw out detached thoughts as they occur to them. Hence it happens that their speech, being unconnected and made up of different pieces, cannot hang together, but is like the notebooks of boys, in which they enter promiscuously whatever has been commended in the declamations of others. Yet they sometimes strike out fine sentiments and good thoughts (for so indeed they are accustomed to boast), but barbarians and slaves do the same, and if this be sufficient, there is no art at all in eloquence.

I MUST not forbear to acknowledge, however, that people in general adopt the notion that the unlearned appear to speak with more force than the learned. But this opinion has its origin chiefly in the mistake of those who judge erroneously and who think that what has no art has the more energy, just as if they should conceive it a greater proof of strength to break through a door than to open it, to rupture a knot than to untie it, to drag an animal than to lead it. By such persons a gladiator, who rushes to battle without any knowledge of arms, and a wrestler, who struggles with the whole force of his body to effect that which he has once attempted, is called so much the braver, though the latter is often laid prostrate by his own strength, and the other, however violent his assault, is withstood by a gentle turn of his adversary's wrist.

But there are some things concerning this point that very naturally deceive the unskilful; for division, though it is of great consequence in pleadings, diminishes the appearance of strength; what is rough is imagined more bulky than what is polished; and objects when scattered are thought more numerous than when they are ranged in order.

There is also a certain affinity between particular excellences and faults, in consequence of which a railer passes for a free speaker, a rash for a bold one, a prolix for a copious one. But an ignorant pleader rails too openly and too frequently, to the peril of the party whose cause he has undertaken and often to his own. Yet this practice attracts the notice of people to him, because they readily listen to what they would not themselves utter.

Such a speaker, too, is far from avoiding that venturesomeness which lies in mere expression and makes desperate efforts, whence it may happen that he who is always seeking something extravagant may sometimes find something great; but it happens only seldom, and does not compensate for undoubted faults.

It is on this account that unlearned speakers seem sometimes to have greater copiousness of language, because they pour forth every thing, while the learned use selection and moderation. Besides, unlearned pleaders seldom adhere to the object of proving what they have asserted; by this means they avoid what appears to judges of bad taste the dryness of questions and arguments, and seek nothing else but matter in which they may please the ears of the court with senseless gratifications.

Their fine sentiments themselves, too, at which alone they aim, are more striking when all around them is poor and mean, as lights are most brilliant, not amidst shades as Cicero says, but amidst utter darkness. Let such speakers therefore be called as ingenious as the world pleases, provided it be granted that a man of real eloquence would receive the praise given to them as an insult.

Still it must be allowed that learning does take away something, as the file takes something from rough metal, the whetstone from blunt instruments, and age from wine; but it takes away what is faulty, and that which learning has polished is less only because it is better.

But such pleaders try by their delivery to gain the reputation of speaking with energy, for they bawl on every occasion and bellow out everything with uplifted hand, as they call it, raging like madmen with incessant action, panting and swaggering, and with every kind of gesture and movement of the head. To clap the hands together, to stamp the foot on the ground, to strike the thigh, the breast, and the forehead with the hand, makes a wonderful impression on an audience of the lower order, while the polished speaker, as he knows how to temper, to vary, and to arrange the several parts of his speech, so in delivery he knows how to adapt his action to every variety of complexion in what he utters; and, if any rule appears to him deserving of constant attention, it would be that he should prefer always to be and to seem modest. But the other sort of speakers call that force which ought rather to be called violence.

1But we may at times see not only pleaders, but what is far more disgraceful, teachers, who, after having had some short practice in speaking, abandon all method and indulge in every kind of irregularity as inclination prompts them, and call those who have paid more regard to learning than themselves foolish, lifeless, timid, weak, and whatever other epithet of reproach occurs to them. 1Let me then congratulate them as having become eloquent without labor, without method, without study; but let me, as I have long withdrawn from the duties of teaching and of speaking in the forum, because I thought it most honorable to terminate my career while my services were still desired, console my leisure in meditating and composing precepts which I trust will be of use to young men of ability and which, I am sure, are a pleasure to myself.

BUT let no man require from me such a system of precepts as is laid down by most authors of books of rules, a system in which I should have to make certain laws, fixed by immutable necessity, for all students of eloquence, commencing with the prooemium and what must be the character of it, saying that the statement of facts must come next, and what rule must be observed in stating them; that after this must come the proposition, or as some have preferred to call it, the excursion, and then that there must be a certain order of questions; adding also other precepts, which some speakers observe as if it were unlawful to do otherwise, and as if they were acting under orders; for rhetoric would be a very easy and small matter if it could be included in one short body of rules, but rules must generally be altered to suit the nature of each individual case, the time, the occasion, and necessity itself; consequently, one great quality in an orator is discretion, because he must turn his thoughts in various directions according to the different bearings of his subject. What if you should direct a general that whenever he draws up his troops for battle, he must range his front in line, extend his wings to the right and left, and station his cavalry to defend his flanks? Such a method will perhaps be the best, as often as it is practicable, but it will be subject to alteration from the nature of the ground, if a hill come in the way, if a river interpose, if obstruction be caused by declivities, woods or any other obstacles; the character of the enemy, too, may make a change necessary, or the nature of the contest in which he has to engage; and he will have to fight, sometimes with his troops in extended line, sometimes in the form of wedges, and to employ, sometimes his auxiliaries, and sometimes his own legions, and sometimes it will be of advantage to turn his back in pretended flight. In like manner, whether an exordium be necessary or superfluous, whether it should be short or long, whether it should be wholly addressed to the judge, or, by the aid of some figure of speech, directed occasionally to others, whether the statement of facts should be concise or copious, continuous or broken, in the order of events or in any other, the nature of the causes themselves must show. The case is the same with regard to the order of examination, since in the same cause, one question may often be of advantage to one side and another question to the other, to be asked first; for the precepts of oratory are not established by laws or public decrees, but whatever is contained in them was discovered by expediency. Yet I shall not deny that it is in general of service to attend to rules, or I should not write any; but if expediency shall suggest any thing at variance with them, we shall have to follow it, deserting the authority of teachers.

For my part I shall, above all things,

Direct, enjoin, and o'er and o'er repeat,
that an orator, in all his pleadings, should keep two things in view: what is becoming and what is expedient; but it is frequently expedient and sometimes becoming to make some deviations from the regular and settled order, as, in statues and pictures, we see the dress, look, and attitude varied. In a statue, exactly upright, there is but very little gracefulness, for the face will look straight forward, the arms hang down, the feet will be joined, and the whole figure, from top to toe, will be rigidity itself; but a gentle bend, or to use the expression, motion of the body, gives a certain animation to figures. Accordingly, the hands are not always placed in the same position, and a thousand varieties are given to the countenance. Some figures are in a running or rushing posture, some are seated or reclining, some are uncovered, and others veiled, some partake of both conditions. What is more distorted and elaborate than the Discobolus of Myron? Yet if any one should find fault with that figure for not being upright, would he not prove himself void of all understanding of the art in which the very novelty and difficulty of the execution is what is most deserving of praise? 1Such graces and charms rhetorical figures afford, both such as are in the thoughts and such as lie in words, for they depart in some degree from the right line and exhibit the merit of deviation from common practice. 1The whole face is generally represented in a painting, yet Apelles painted the figure of Antigonus with only one side of his face towards the spectator, that its disfigurement from the loss of an eye might be concealed. Are not some things, in like manner, to be concealed in speaking, whether it may be because they ought not to be told or because they cannot be expressed as they deserve? 1It was in this way that Timanthes, a painter, I believe, of Cythnus, acted in the picture by which he carried off the prize from Colotes of Teium; for when, at the sacrifice of Iphigenia, he had represented Calchas looking sorrowful, Ulysses more sorrowful, and had given to Menelaus the utmost grief that his art could depict, not knowing, as his power of representing feeling was exhausted, how he could fitly paint the countenance of the father, he threw a veil over his head and left his grief to be estimated by the spectator from his own heart. 1To this device is not the remark of Sallust somewhat similar, "For I think it better to say nothing concerning Carthage, than to say but little"? For these reasons it has always been customary with me to bind myself as little as possible to rules which the Greeks call katholika, and which we, translating the word as well as we can, term universalia or perpetualia, "general" or "constant," for rules are rarely found of such a nature that they may not be shaken in some part or wholly overthrown.

But of rules I shall speak more fully and of each in its own place. 1In the meantime, I would not have young men think themselves sufficiently accomplished if they have learned by art some one of those little books on rhetoric, which are commonly handed about, and fancy that they are thus safe under the decrees of theory. The art of speaking depends on great labor, constant study, varied exercise, repeated trials, the deepest sagacity, and the readiest judgment. 1But it is assisted by rules, provided that they point out a fair road and not one single wheel-rut, from which he who thinks it unlawful to decline must be contented with the slow progress of those who walk on ropes. Accordingly, we often quit the main road (which has been formed perhaps by the labor of an army), being attracted by a shorter path, or if bridges, broken down by torrents, have intersected the direct way, we are compelled to go round about. And if the gate is stopped up by flames, we shall have to force a way through the wall. 1The work of eloquence is extensive and of infinite variety presenting something new almost daily; nor will all that is possible ever have been said of it. But I will endeavor to set forth the precepts that have been transmitted to us, considering, at the same time, which of them are the most valuable, whether anything in them seems likely to be changed for the better, and whether any additions may be made to them, or anything taken from them.

SOME who have translated ῥητορικὴ (rhētorikē) from Greek into Latin have called it ars oratoria and oratrix. I would not deprive those writers of their due praise for endeavoring to add to the copiousness of the Latin language, but all Greek words do not obey our will in attempting to render them from the Greek, as all our words, in like manner, do not obey that of the Greeks when they try to express something of ours in their own tongue. This translation is no less harsh than the essentia and entia of Flavius, for the Greek οὐσία (onsia): nor is it indeed exact, for oratoria will be taken in the same sense as elocutoria, oratrix as elocutrix, but the word rhētorikē, of which we are speaking, is the same sort of word as eloquentia, and it is doubtless used in two senses by the Greeks. In one acceptation, it is an adjective, ars rhetorica, as navis piratica: in the other a substantive, like philosophia or amicitia. We wish it now to have the signification of a substantive, just as γραμματικὴ (grammatikē) is rendered by the substantive literatura, not by literatrix, which would be similar to oratrix, nor by literatoria, which would be similar to oratoria; but for the word rhētorikē, no equivalent Latin word has heen found. Let us not, however, dispute about the use of it, especially as we must adopt many other Greek words, for if I may use the terms physicus, musicus, geometres, I shall offer no unseemly violence to them by attempting to turn them into Latin. Since Cicero himself uses a Greek title for the books which he first wrote upon the art, we certainly need be under no apprehension of appearing to have rashly trusted the greatest of orators as to the name of his own art.

Rhetoric, then, (for we shall henceforth use this term without dread of sarcastic objections) will be best divided, in my opinion, in such a manner that we may speak first of the art, next of the artist, and then of the work. The art will be that which ought to be attained by study and is the knowledge how to speak well. The artificer is he who has thoroughly acquired the art, that is, the orator, whose business is to speak well. The work is what is achieved by the artificer, that is, good speaking. All these are to be considered under special heads, but of the particulars that are to follow, I shall speak in their several places; at present I shall proceed to consider what is to be said on the first general head.

FIRST of all, then, we have to consider what rhetoric is. It is, indeed, defined in various ways, but its definition gives rise chiefly to two considerations, for the dispute is, in general, either concerning the quality of the thing itself or concerning the comprehension of the terms in which it is defined. The first and chief difference of opinion on the subject is that some think it possible even for bad men to have the name of orators, while others (to whose opinion I attach myself) maintain that the name and the art of which we are speaking can be conceded only to good men.

Of those who separate the talent of speaking from the greater and more desirable praise of a good life, some have called rhetoric merely a power; some a science but not a virtue; some a habit, some an art, but having nothing in common with science and virtue; some even an abuse of art, that is, a κακοτεχνία (kakotechnia). All these have generally supposed that the business of oratory lies either in persuading or in speaking in a manner adapted to persuade, for such art may be attained by one who is far from being a good man. The most common definition therefore is that oratory is the power of persuading. What I call a power, some call a faculty and others a talent, but that this discrepancy may be attended with no ambiguity, I mean by "power" δύναμις (dynamis). This opinion had its origin from Isocrates, if the treatise on the art which is in circulation under his name is really his. That rhetorician, though he had none of the feelings of those who defame the business of the orator, gives too rash a definition of the art when he says, "That rhetoric is the "worker of persuasion," πειθοῦς δημιουργός (peithous dēmiourgos), for I shall not allow myself to use the peculiar term that Ennius applies to Marcus Cethegus, suadae medulla, "marrow of persuasion." In Plato too, Gorgias, in the dialogue inscribed with his name, says almost the same thing, but Plato wishes it to be received as the opinion of Gorgias, not as his own. Cicero, in several passages of his writings, has said that the duty of an orator is to speak in a way adapted to persuade. In his books on rhetoric also, but with which, doubtless, he was not satisfied, he makes the end of eloquence to be persuasion.

But money, likewise, has the power of persuasion, as do interest, and the authority and dignity of a speaker, and even his very look, unaccompanied by language, when either the remembrance of the services of any individual, or a pitiable appearance, or beauty of person, draws forth an opinion. Thus when Antonius, in his defense of Manius Aquilius, exhibited on his breast, by tearing his client's robe, the scars of the wounds he had received for his country, he did not trust to the power of his eloquence, but applied force, as it were, to the eyes of the Roman people, who, it was thought, were chiefly induced by the sight to acquit the accused. That Servius Galba escaped merely through the pity which he excited, when he not only produced his own little children before the assembly, but carried round in his hands the son of Sulpicius Gallus, is testified, not only by the records of others, but by the speech of Cato. Phryne too, people think, was freed from peril, not by the pleading of Hyperides, though it was admirable, but by the exposure of her figure, which, otherwise most striking, he had uncovered by opening her robe. If, then, all such things persuade, the definition of which we have spoken is not satisfactory.

Those, accordingly, have appeared to themselves more exact, who, though they have the same general opinion as to rhetoric, have pronounced it to be the power of persuading by speaking. This definition Gorgias gives, in the dialogue which we have just mentioned, being forced to do so, as it were, by Socrates. Theodectes, if the treatise on rhetoric which is inscribed with his name is his (or it may rather, perhaps, as has been supposed, be the work of Aristotle), does not dissent from Gorgias, for it is asserted in that book that the object of oratory is to lead men by speaking to that which the speaker wishes. 1But not even this definition is sufficiently comprehensive, for not only the orator, but others, such as harlots, flatterers, and seducers, persuade or lead to that which they wish, by speaking. But the orator, on the contrary, does not always persuade, so that sometimes this is not his peculiar object; sometimes it is an object common to him with others who are very different from orators. 1Yet Apollodorus varies but little from this definition, as he says that the first and supreme object of judicial pleading is to persuade the judge and to lead him to whatever opinion the speaker may wish, for he thus subjects the orater to the power of fortune, so that if he does not succeed in persuading, he cannot retain the name of an orator. 1Some, on the other hand, detach themselves from all considerations as to the event, as Aristotle, who says that oratory is the power of finding out whatever can persuade in speaking. But this definition has not only the fault of which we have just spoken, but the additional one of comprehending nothing but invention, which without elocution cannot constitute oratory. 1To Hermagoras, who says that the object of oratory is to speak persuasively, and to others who express themselves to the same purpose, though not in the same words, but tell us that the object of oratory is to say all that ought to be said in order to persuade, a sufficient answer was given when we showed that to persuade is not the business of the orator only.

1Various other opinions have been added to these, for some have thought that oratory may be employed about all subjects, others only about political affairs, but which of these notions is nearer to truth, I shall inquire in that part of my work which will be devoted to the question. 1Aristotle seems to have put everything in the power of oratory when he says that it is the power of saying on every subject whatever can be found to persuade; and such is the case with Patrocles, who indeed does not add on every subject, but as he makes no exception, shows that his idea is the same, for he calls oratory the power of finding whatever is persuasive in speaking, both which definitions embrace invention alone. Theodorus, in order to avoid this defect, decides oratory to be the power of discovering and expressing, with elegance, whatever is credible on any subject whatever. 1But while one who is not an orator may find out what is credible as well as what is persuasive, he, by adding on any subject whatever, grants more than the preceding makers of definitions and allows the title of a most honorable art to those who may persuade even to crime. 1Gorgias, in Plato, calls himself a master of persuasion in courts of justice and other assemblies, and says that he treats both of what is just and what is unjust; and Socrates allows him the art of persuading, but not of teaching.

1Those who have not granted all subjects to the orator have made distinctions in their definitions, as they were necessitated, with more anxiety and verbosity. One of these is Ariston, a disciple of Critolaus the Peripatetic, whose definition of oratory is that it is the science of discovering and expressing what ought to be said on political affairs, in language adapted to persuade the people. 20. Because he is a Peripatetic, he considers oratory a science, not a virtue, like the Stoics, but in adding "adapted to persuade the people," he throws dishonor on the art of oratory, as if he thought it unsuited to persuade the learned. But of all who think that the orator is to discourse only on political questions, it may be said, once for all, that many duties of the orator are set aside by them, for instance, all laudatory speaking, which is the third part of oratory. 2Theodorus of Gadara (to proceed with those who have thought oratory an art, not a virtue) defines more cautiously, for he says (let me borrow the words of those who have translated his phraseology from the Greek) that oratory is an art that discovers, judges, and enunciates with suitable eloquence, according to the measure of that which may be found adapted to persuading, in any subject connected with political affairs. 2Cornelius Celsus, in like manner, says that the object of oratory is to speak persuasively on doubtful and political matters. To these definitions there are some, not very dissimilar, given by others, such as this: "Oratory is the power of judging and discoursing on such civil questions as are submitted to it, with a certain persuasiveness, a certain action of the body, and a certain mode of delivering what it expresses." 2There are a thousand other definitions, but either similar or composed of similar elements, which we shall notice when we come to treat upon the subjects of oratory.

Some have thought it neither a power, nor a science, nor an art; Critolaus calls it the practice of speaking (for such is the meaning of the word τριβή (tribē)), Athenaeus, the art of deceiving. 2But most writers, satisfied with reading a few passages from Plato's Gorgias, unskilfully extracted by their predecessors (for they neither consult the whole of that dialogue, nor any of the other writings of Plato), have fallen into a very grave error, supposing that that philosopher entertained such an opinion as to think that oratory was not an art, but a certain skilfulness in flattering and pleasing. 2As he says in another place, the simulation of one part of polity, and the fourth sort of flattery, for he assigns two parts of polity to the body, medicine, and, as they interpret it, exercise, and two to the mind, law and justice, and then calls the art of cooks the flattery or simulation of medicine, and the art of dealers in slaves the simulation of the effects of exercise, as they produce a false complection by paint and the appearance of strength by unsolid fat; the simulation of legal science he calls sophistry and that of justice rhetoric. 2All this is indeed expressed in that dialogue and uttered by Socrates, under whose person Plato seems to intimate what he thinks, but some of his dialogues were composed merely to refute those who argued on the other side and are called ἐλεγκτικοί "elenctic"; others were written to teach and are called δογματικοί "dogmatic". 2But Socrates, or Plato, thought that sort of oratory which was then practised to be of a dogmatic character, for he speaks of it as being "according to the manner in which you manage public affairs," and understands oratory of a sincere and honorable nature.

The dispute with Gorgias is accordingly thus terminated: "It is therefore necessary that the orator be a just man and that the just man should wish to do just things." 2When this has been said, Gorgias is silent, but Polus resumes the subject, who, from the ardor of youth, is somewhat inconsiderate, and in reply to whom the remarks on simulation and flattery are made. Callicles, who is even more vehement, speaks next, but is reduced to the conclusion that "he who would be a true orator must be a just man and must know what is just." It is therefore evident that oratory was not considered by Plato an evil, but that he thought true oratory could not be attained by any but a just and good man. 2In the Phaedrus he sets forth still more clearly that the art cannot be fully acquired without a knowledge of justice, an opinion to which I also assent. Would Plato, if he had held any other sentiments, have written the Defense of Socrates, and the eulogy of those who fell in defense of their country, compositions which are certainly work for the orator? 30. But he has even inveighed against that class of men who used their abilities in speaking for bad ends. Socrates also thought the speech which Lysias had written for him when accused improper for him to use, though it was a general practice at that time to compose for parties, appearing before the judges, speeches which they themselves might deliver; and thus an elusion of the law by which one man was not allowed to speak for another was effected. 3By Plato, also, those who separated oratory from justice and preferred what is probable to what is true, were thought no proper teachers of the art, for so he signifies, too, in his Phaedrus. 3Cornelius Celsus, moreover, may be thought to have been of the same opinion with those to whom I have just referred, for his words are the orator aims only at the semblance of truth; and he adds, a little after, not purity of conscience, but the victory of his client, is the reward of the pleader. Were such assertions true, it would become only the worst of men to give such pernicious weapons to the most mischievous of characters and to aid dishonesty with precepts, but let those who hold this opinion consider what ground they have for it.

3Let me, for my part, as I have undertaken to form a perfect orator whom I would have, above all, to be a good man, return to those who have better thoughts of the art. Some have pronounced oratory to be indentical with civil polity. Cicero calls it a part of civil polity, and a knowledge of civil polity, he thinks, is nothing less than wisdom itself. Some have made it a part of philosophy, among whom is Isocrates. 3With this character of it, the definition that oratory is the science of speaking well agrees excellently, for it embraces all the virtues of oratory at once and includes also the character of the true orator, as he cannot speak well unless he be a good man. 3To the same purpose is the definition of Chrysippus derived from Cleanthes, the science of speaking properly. There are more definitions in the same philosopher, but they relate rather to other questions. A definition framed in these terms, to persuade to what is necessary, would convey the same notion except that it makes the art depend on the result. 3Areus defines oratory well, saying that it is to speak according to the excellence of speech. Those also exclude bad men from oratory who consider it as the knowledge of civil duties, since they deem such knowledge virtue, but they confine it within too narrow bounds and to political questions. Albutius, no obscure professor or author, allows that it is the art of speaking well, but errs in giving it limitations, adding on political questions and with probability, of both which restrictions I have already disposed; those, too, are men of good intention who consider it the business of oratory to think and speak rightly.

3These are almost all the most celebrated definitions and those about which there is the most controversy. To discuss all would neither be much to the purpose nor would be in my power, since a foolish desire, as I think, has prevailed among the writers of treatises on rhetoric to define nothing in the same terms that another had already used, a vain-glorious practice which shall be far from me. 3For I shall say not what I shall invent, but what I shall approve, as, for instance, that oratory is the art of speaking well, since when the best definition is found, he who seeks for another must seek for a worse.

This being admitted, it is evident at the same time what object, what highest and ultimate end, oratory has, that object or end which is called τέλος (telos) and to which every art tends, for if oratory be the art of speaking well, its object and ultimate end must be to speak well.

NEXT comes the question whether oratory is useful, for some are accustomed to declaim violently against it and, what is most ungenerous, to make use of the power of oratory to lay accusations against oratory. They say that eloquence is that which saves the wicked from punishment, by the dishonesty of which the innocent are at times condemned, by which deliberations are influenced to the worse, by which not only popular seditions and tumults, but even inexpiable wars are excited, and of which the efficacy is the greatest when it exerts itself for falsehood against truth. Even to Socrates, the comic writers make it a reproach that he taught how to make the worse reason appear the better, and Plato on his part says that Tisias and Gorgias professed the same art. To these they add examples from Greek and Roman history and give a list of persons who, by exerting such eloquence as was mischievous, not only to individuals but to communities, have disturbed or overthrown the constitutions of whole states, asserting that eloquence on that account was banished from the state of Lacedaemon, and that even at Athens, where the orator was forbidden to move the passions, the powers of eloquence were in a manner curtailed.

Under such a mode of reasoning, neither will generals, nor magistrates, nor medicine, nor even wisdom itself, be of any utility, for Flaminius was a general, and the Gracchi, Saturnini, and Glauciae were magistrates; in the hands of physicians poisons have been found, and among those who abuse the name of philosophers have been occasionally detected the most horrible crimes. We must reject food, for it has often given rise to ill health; we must never go under roofs, for they sometimes fall upon those who dwell beneath them; a sword must not be forged for a soldier, for a robber may use the same weapon. Who does not know that fire and water, without which life cannot exist, and (that I may not confine myself to things of earth) that the sun and moon, the chief of the celestial luminaries, sometimes produce hurtful effects?

Will it be denied, however, that the blind Appius, by the force of his eloquence, broke off a dishonorable treaty of peace about to be concluded with Pyrrhus? Was not the divine eloquence of Cicero, in opposition to the agrarian laws, even popular? Did it not quell the daring of Catiline and gain, in the toga, the honor of thanksgivings, the highest that is given to generals victorious in the field? Does not oratory often free the alarmed minds of soldiers from fear and persuade them, when they are going to face so many perils in battle, that glory is better than life? Nor indeed would the Lacedaemonians and Athenians influence me more than the people of Rome, among whom the highest respect has always been paid to orators. Nor do I think that founders of cities would have induced their unsettled multitudes to form themselves into communities by any other means than by the influence of the art of speaking; nor would legislators, without the utmost power of oratory have prevailed on men to bind themselves to submit to the dominion of law. Even the very rules for the conduct of life, beautiful as they are by nature, have yet greater power in forming the mind when the radiance of eloquence illumines the beauty of the precepts. Though the weapons of eloquence, therefore, have effect in both directions, it is not just that that should be accounted an evil which we may use to a good purpose.

1But these points may perhaps be left to the consideration of those who think that the substance of eloquence lies in the power to persuade. But if eloquence be the art of speaking well (the definition which I adopt), so that a true orator must be, above all, a good man, it must assuredly be acknowledged that it is a useful art. 1In truth, the sovereign deity, the parent of all things, the architect of the world, has distinguished man from other beings, such at least as were to be mortal, by nothing more than by the faculty of speech 1Bodily frames superior in size, in strength, in firmness, in endurance, in activity, we see among dumb creatures and observe, too, that they have less need than we have of external assistance. To walk, to feed themselves, to swim over water, they learn in less time than we can, from nature herself, without the aid of any other teacher. 1Most of them, also, are equipped against cold by the produce of their own bodies, weapons for their defense are born with them, and their food lies before their faces; to supply all which wants mankind have the greatest difficulty. The divinity has therefore given us reason, superior to all other qualities, and appointed us to be sharers of it with the immortal gods. 1But reason could neither profit us so much, nor manifest itself so plainly within us, if we could not express by speech what we have conceived in our minds, a faculty which we see wanting in other animals far more than, to a certain degree, understanding and reflection. 1For to contrive habitations, to construct nests, to bring up their young, to hatch them, to lay up provision for the winter, to produce works inimitable by us (as those of wax and honey) is perhaps a proof of some portion of reason; but as they who do such things are without the faculty of speech, they are called dumb and irrational. 1Even to men to whom speech has been denied, of how little avail is divine reason! If, therefore we have received from the gods nothing more valuable than speech, what can we consider more deserving of cultivation and exercise? Or in what can we more strongly desire to be superior to other men than in that by which man himself is superior to other animals, especially as in no kind of exertion does labor more plentifully bring its reward? 1This will be so much the more evident if we reflect from what origin, and to what extent, the art of eloquence has advanced and how far it may still be improved. 1For not to mention how beneficial it is and how becoming in a man of virtue, to defend his friends, to direct a senate or people by his counsels, or to lead an army to whatever enterprise he may desire, is it not extremely honorable to attain, by the common understanding and words which all men use, so high a degree of esteem and glory as to appear not to speak or plead, but as was the case with Pericles, to hurl forth lightning and thunder?

THERE would be no end if I should allow myself to expatiate and indulge my inclination on this head. Let us proceed, therefore, to the question that follows, whether oratory be an art. That it is an art, every one of those who have given rules about eloquence has been so far from doubting, that it is shown by the very titles of their books that they are written on the oratorical art. Cicero also says that what is called oratory is artificial eloquence. Not only orators have claimed this distinction for themselves (since they may be thought, perhaps, to have given their profession something more than its due), but the philosophers, the Stoics, and most of the Peripatetics agree with them. For myself, I confess that I was in some doubt whether I should look upon this part of the inquiry as necessary to be considered, for who is so destitute, I will not say of learning, but of the common understanding of mankind, as to imagine that the work of building, or weaving, or molding vessels out of clay, is an art, but that oratory, the greatest and noblest of works, has attained such a height of excellence without being an art? Those, indeed, who have maintained the contrary opinion I suppose not so much to have believed what they advanced as to have been desirous of exercising their powers on a subject of difficulty, like Polycrates, when he eulogized Busiris and Clytaemnestra. He is said also to have written the speech that was delivered against Socrates, nor would that indeed have been inconsistent with his other compositions.

Some will have oratory to be a natural talent, though they do not deny that it may be assisted by art. Thus Antonius, in Cicero's De Oratore, says that oratory is an effect of observation, not an art; but this is not advanced that we may receive it as true, but that the character of Antonius, an orator who tried to conceal the art that he used, may be supported. But Lysias seems to have really entertained this opinion, for which the argument is that the ignorant, barbarians, and slaves, when they speak for themselves, say something that resembles an exordium; they state facts, prove, refute, and (adopting the form of a peroration) deprecate. The supporters of this notion also avail themselves of certain quibbles upon words, that nothing that proceeds from art was before art, but that mankind have always been able to speak for themselves and against others; that teachers of the art appeared only in later times, and first of all about the age of Tisias and Corax; that oratory was therefore before art and is consequently not an art. As to the period, indeed, in which the teaching of oratory commenced, I am not anxious to inquire. We find Phoenix, however, in Homer as an instructor, not only in acting but in speaking, as well as several other orators; we see all the varieties of eloquence in the three generals and contests in eloquence proposed among the young men, and among the figures on the shield of Achilles are represented both lawsuits and pleaders. It would even be sufficient for me to observe that everything which art has brought to perfection had its origin in nature, else, from the number of the arts must be excluded medicine, which resulted from the observation of what was beneficial or detrimental to health and which, as some think, consists wholly in experiments, for somebody had, doubtless, bound up a wound before the dressing of wounds became an art and had allayed fever by repose and abstinence, not because he saw the reason of such regimen, but because the malady itself drove him to it. Else, too, architecture must not be considered an art, for the first generation of men built cottages without art; nor music, since singing and dancing, to some sort of tune, are practiced among all nations. 1So, if any kind of speaking whatever is to be called oratory, I will admit that oratory existed before it was an art; but if every one that speaks is not an orator, and if men in early times did not speak as orators, our reasoners must confess that an orator is formed by art and did not exist before art. This being admitted, another argument which they use is set aside, namely, that that has no concern with art which a man who has not learned it can do, but that men who have not learned oratory can make speeches. 1To support this argument, they observe that Demades, a waterman, and Aeschines, an actor, were orators, but they are mistaken, for he who has not learned to be an orator cannot properly be called one, and it may be more justly said that those men learned late in life than that they never learned at all, though Aeschines, indeed, had some introduction to learning in his youth, as his father was a teacher; nor is it certain that Demades did not learn, and he might, by constant practice in speaking, which is the most efficient mode of learning, have made himself master of all the power of language that he ever possessed. 1But we may safely say that he would have been a better speaker if he had learned, for he never ventured to write out his speeches for publication, though we know that he produced considerable effect in delivering them.

1Aristotle, for the sake of investigation, as is usual with him, has conceived, with his peculiar subtlety, certain arguments at variance with my opinion in his Gryllus; but he has also written three books on the art of rhetoric, in the first of which he not only admits that it is an art, but allows it a connection with civil polity, as well as with logic. 1Critolaus and Athenodorus of Rhodes have advanced many arguments on the opposite side. Agnon, by the very title of his book in which he avows that he brings an accusation against rhetoric, has deprived himself of all claim to be trusted. As to Epicurus, who shrunk from all learning, I am not at all surprised at him.

1These reasoners say a great deal, but it is based upon few arguments; I shall therefore reply to the strongest of them in a very few words that the discussion may not be protracted to an infinite length. 1Their first argument is with regard to the subject or matter, "for all arts," they say, "have some subject," as is true, "but that oratory has no peculiar subject," an assertion which I shall subsequently prove to be false. 1The next argument is a more false charge, for "no art," they say, "acquiesces in false conclusions, since art cannot be founded but on perception, which is always true; but that oratory adopts false conclusions, and is, consequently, not an art." 1That oratory sometimes advances what is false instead of what is true, I will admit, but I shall not for that reason acknowledge that the speaker acquiesces in false conclusions, for it is one thing for a matter to appear in a certain light to a person himself and another for the person to make it appear in that light to others. A general often employs false representations, as did Hannibal, when, being hemmed in by Fabius, he tied faggots to the horns of oxen, and set them on fire, and driving the herd up the opposite hills in the night, presented to the enemy the appearance of a retiring army. But Hannibal merely deceived Fabius; he himself knew very well what the reality was. 20. Theopompus, the Lacedaemonian, when, on changing clothes with his wife, he escaped from prison in the disguise of a woman, came to no false conclusion concerning himself, though he conveyed a false notion to his guards. So the orator, whenever he puts what is false for what is true, knows that it is false and that he is stating it instead of truth; he adopts, therefore, no false conclusion himself, but merely misleads another. 2Cicero, when he threw a mist, as he boasts, over the eyes of the judges in the cause of Cluentius, was not himself deprived of sight; nor is a painter, when, by the power of his art, he makes us fancy that some objects stand out in a picture and others recede, unaware that the objects are all on a flat surface.

2But they allege also that "all arts have a certain definite end to which they are directed, but that in oratory there is sometimes no end at all, and at other times, the end which is professed is not attained." They speak falsely, however, in this respect likewise, for we have already shown that oratory has an end and have stated what that end is, an end which the true orator will always attain, for he will always speak well. 2The objection might, perhaps, hold good against those who think that the end of oratory is to persuade, but my orator and his art, as defined by me, do not depend upon the result; he indeed who speaks directs his efforts towards victory, but when he has spoken well, though he may not be victorious, he has attained the full end of his art. 2So a pilot is desirous to gain the port with his vessel in safety, but if he is carried away from it by a tempest, he will not be the less a pilot and will repeat the well-known saying, "May I but keep the helm right!" 2The physician makes the health of the patient his object, but if, through the violence of the disease, the intemperance of the sick person or any other circumstance, he does not effect his purpose, yet if he has done everything according to rule, he has not lost sight of the object of medicine. So it is the object of an orator to speak well, for his art, as we shall soon show still more clearly, consists in the act and not in the result. 2That other allegation, which is frequently made, must accordingly be false also, that an art knows when it has attained its end, but that oratory does not know, for every speaker is aware when he has spoken well.

They also charge oratory with having recourse to vicious means, which no true arts adopt, because it advances what is false and endeavors to excite the passions. 2But neither of those means is dishonorable when it is used from a good motive and, consequently, cannot be vicious. To tell a falsehood is sometimes allowed, even to a wise man; and the orator will be compelled to appeal to the feelings of the judges, if they cannot otherwise be induced to favor the right side. 2Unenlightened men sit as judges who must, at times, be deceived, that they may not err in their decisions. If indeed judges were wise men; if assemblies of the people, and every sort of public council, consisted of wise men; if envy, favor, prejudice, and false witnesses had no influence, there would be very little room for eloquence, which would be employed almost wholly to give pleasure. 2But as the minds of the hearers waver, and truth is exposed to so many obstructions, the orator must use artifice in his efforts and adopt such means as may promote his purpose, since he who has turned from the right way cannot be brought back to it but by another turning.

30. Some common sarcasms against oratory are drawn from the charge that orators speak on both sides of a question, hence the remarks that "no art contradicts itself, but that oratory contradicts itself"; that "no art destroys what it has itself done, but that this is the ease with what oratory does"; that "it teaches either what we ought to say or what we ought not to say, and that in the one ease, it cannot be an art because it teaches what is not to be said, and in the other, it cannot be an art because when it has taught what is to be said, it teaches also what is directly opposed to it." 3All these charges, it is evident, are applicable only to that species of oratory which is repudiated by a good man and by virtue herself, since, where the cause is unjust, there true oratory has no place, so that it can hardly happen, even in the most extraordinary case, that a real orator, that is, a good man, will speak on both sides. 3Yet, since it may happen, in the course of things, that just causes may, at times, lead two wise men to take different sides (for the Stoics think that wise men may even contend with one another, if reason leads them to do so), I will make some reply to the objections and in such a way that they shall be proved to be advanced groundlessly and directed only against such as allow the name of orator to speakers of bad character. 3For oratory does not contradict itself; one cause is matched against another cause, but not oratory against itself. If two men who have been taught the same accomplishment contend with one another, the accomplishment which they have been taught will not, on that account, be proved not to be an art, for if such were the case, there could be no art in arms, because gladiators, bred under the same master, are often matched together, nor would there be any art in piloting a ship, because in naval engagements, pilot is often opposed to pilot, nor in generalship, because general contends with general. 3Nor does oratory destroy what it has done, for the orator does not overthrow the argument advanced by himself, nor does oratory overthrow it, because by those who think that the end of oratory is to persuade, as well as by the two wise men whom, as I said before, some chance may have opposed to one another, it is probability that is sought; and if, of two things, one at length appears more probable than the other, the more probable is not opposed to that which previously appeared probable, for as that which is more white is not adverse to that which is less white, nor that which is more sweet contrary to that which is less sweet, so neither is that which is more probable contrary to that which is less probable. 3Nor does oratory ever teach what we ought not to say or that which is contrary to what we ought to say, but that which we ought to say in whatever cause we may take in hand. 3And truth, though generally, is not always to be defended, the public good sometimes requires that a falsehood should be supported.

In Cicero's second book, De Oratore, are also advanced the following objections: that art has place in things which are known, but that the pleading of an orator depends on opinion, not on knowledge, since he both addresses himself to those who do not know and sometimes says what he himself does not know. 3One of these points, whether the judges have a knowledge of what is addressed to them, has nothing to do with the art of the orator; to the other point, that art has place in things to which are known, I must give some answer. Oratory is the art of speaking well, and the orator knows how to speak well. 3But it is said he does not know whether what he says is true; neither do the philosophers, who say that fire, or water, or the four elements, or indivisible atoms are the principles from which all things had their origin, know that what they say is true; nor do those who calculate the distances of the stars, and the magnitudes of the sun and the earth, yet every one of them calls his system an art; but if their reasoning has such effect that they seem not to imagine, but from the force of their demonstrations, to know what they assert, similar reasoning may have a similar effect in the case of the orator. 3But, it is further urged, he does not know whether the cause which he advocates has truth on its side; nor, I answer, does the physician know whether the patient, who says that he has the headache, really has it, yet he will treat him on the assumption that his assertion is true, and medicine will surely be allowed to be an art. Need I add that oratory does not always purpose to say what is true, but does always purpose to say what is like truth? But the orator must know whether what he says is like truth or not. 40. Those who are unfavorable to oratory add that pleaders often defend, in certain causes, that which they have assailed in others, but this is the fault, not of the art, but of the person.

These are the principal charges that are brought against oratory. There are others of less moment, but drawn from the same sources.

4But that it is an art may be proved in a very few words, for whether, as Cleanthes maintained, an art is a power working its effects by a course, that is by method, no man will doubt that there is a certain course and method in oratory; or whether that definition, approved by almost everybody, that an art consists of perception consenting and cooperating to some end useful to life, be adopted also by us, we have already shown that everything to which this definition applies is to be found in oratory. 4Need I show that it depends on understanding and practice, like other arts? If logic be an art, as is generally admitted, oratory must certainly be an art, as it differs from logic rather in species than in genus. Nor must we omit to observe that in whatever pursuit one man may act according to a method, and another without regard to that method, that pursuit is an art; and that in whatever pursuit he who has learned succeeds better than he who has not learned, that pursuit is an art.

4But, in the pursuit of oratory, not only will the learned excel the unlearned, but the more learned will excel the less learned, otherwise there would not be so many rules in it or so many great men to teach it. This ought to be acknowledged by every one, and especially by me, who allow the attainment of oratory only to the man of virtue.

BUT some arts consist merely in an insight into things, that is, knowledge of them and judgment concerning them, such as astronomy, which requires no act, but is confined to a mere understanding of the matters that form the subject of it, a sort of art which is called θεωρητική (theoretikē). Others consist of action, the object of which lies in the act and is fulfilled in it, leaving nothing produced from it, a sort of art which is called πρακτική (praktikē), as dancing. Others consist in production, which attain their end in the execution of the work which is submitted to the eye, a sort which we call ποητική (poetikē), as painting. We may pretty safely determine that oratory consists in act, for it accomplishes in the act all that it has to do. Such indeed has been the judgment pronounced upon it by everyone.

To me, however, it appears to partake greatly of the other sort of arts, for the subject of it may sometimes be restricted to contemplation, since there will be oratory in an orator even though he be silent, and if, either designedly or from being disabled by any accident, he has ceased to plead, he will not cease to be an orator more than a physician who has left off practice ceases to a physician. There is some enjoyment, and perhaps the greatest of all enjoyments, in retired meditation, and the pleasure derived from knowledge is pure when it is withdrawn from action, that is, from toil and enjoys the calm contemplation of itself. But oratory will also effect something similar to a productive art in written speeches and historical compositions, a kind of writing which we justly consider as allied to oratory. Yet if it must be classed as one of the three sorts of arts which I have mentioned, let it, as its performance consists chiefly in the mere act and as it is most frequently exhibited in act, be called an active or a practical art, for the one term is of the same signification as the other.

IT is a question of a higher nature whether oratory is to be regarded as one of those indifferent arts, which deserve neither praise nor blame in themselves, but become useful or otherwise according to the characters of those who practise them, or whether it is, as many of the philosophers are of opinion, a positive virtue.

The way, indeed, in which many have proceeded and still proceed in the practice of speaking, I consider either as no art, ἀτεχνία (atechnia), as it is called (for I see numbers rushing to speak without rule or learning, just as impudence or hunger has prompted them), or as it were a bad art, which we term κακοτεχνία (kakotechnia), for I imagine that there have been many who have exerted, and that there are some who still exert, their talent in speaking to the injury of mankind. There is also a kind of ματαιοτεχνία (mataiotechnia), a vain imitation of art, which indeed has in itself neither good nor evil, but a mere frivolous exercise of skill, such as that of the man who sent grains of vetches, shot from a distance in succession, and without missing, through a needle, and whom Alexander, after witnessing his dexterity, is said to have presented with a bushel of vetches, which was indeed a most suitable reward for his performance.

To him I compare those who spend their time with great study and labor in the composition of declamations, which they strive to make as unlike as possible to anything that happens in real life.

But that oratory which I endeavor to teach, of which I conceive the idea in my mind, which is attainable only by a good I man and which alone is true oratory, must be regarded as a virtue. This is an opinion which the philosophers support by many subtle arguments, but which appears to me to be more clearly established by the simpler mode of proof which follows and which is peculiarly my own. What is said by the philosophers is this: If it is a quality of virtue to be consistent with itself as to what ought to be done and what ought not to be done (that quality, namely, which is called prudence), the same quality will have its office as to what ought to be said or not to be said. And if there are virtues, for the generation of which, even before we receive any instruction, certain principles and seeds are given us by nature (as for that of justice, of which some notion is manifested even in the most ignorant and the most barbarous), it is evident that we are so formed originally as to be able to speak for ourselves, though not indeed perfectly, yet in such a manner as to show that certain seeds of the faculty of eloquence are in us. But in those arts which have no connection with virtue there is not the same nature. As there are two kinds of speech, therefore, the continuous, which is called oratory, and the concise, which is termed logic (which Zeno thought so nearly connected that he compared the one to an open hand and the other to a clenched fist), if the art of disputation be a virtue, there will be no doubt of the virtue of that which is of so much more noble and expansive a nature.

But I wish the reader to understand this more fully and plainly from what is done by oratory, for how will an orator succeed in eulogy unless he has a clear knowledge of what is honorable and what is disgraceful? Or in persuasion, unless he understands what is advantageous? Or in judicial pleadings, unless he has a knowledge of justice? Does not oratory also demand fortitude, as the orator has often to speak in opposition to the turbulent threats of the populace, often with perilous defiance of powerful individuals and sometimes, as on the trial of Milo, amidst surrounding weapons of soldiers? So that if oratory be not a virtue, it cannot be perfect.

If, moreover, there is a sort of virtue in every species of animals in which it excels the rest, or the greater number, of other animals, as force in the lion and swiftness in the horse, and it is certain that man excels other animals in reason and speech, why should we not consider that the distinctive virtue of man lies as much in eloquence as in reason? Crassus in Cicero justly makes an assertion to this effect: "For eloquence," says he, "is one of the most eminent virtues," and Cicero himself, in his own character, both in his epistles to Brutus and in many other passages of his writings, calls eloquence a virtue. But it may be alleged, a vicious man will sometimes produce an exordium, a statement of facts, and a series of arguments in such a way that nothing shall be desired in them. So we may answer, a robber will fight with great bravery, yet fortitude will still be a virtue, and a dishonest slave will bear torments without a groan, yet endurance of pain will still merit its praise. Many other things of the same nature occur, but from different principles of action. Let what I have said, therefore, as to eloquence being a virtue, be sufficient, for of its usefulness I have treated above.

AS to the material of oratory, some have said that it is speech, an opinion which Gorgias in Plato is represented as holding. If this be understood in such a way that a discourse, composed on any subject, is to be termed a speech, it is not the material, but the work, as the statue is the work of a statuary, for speeches, like statues, are produced by art. But if by this term we understand mere words, words are of no effect without matter. Some have said that the material of oratory is persuasive arguments, which indeed are part of its business and are the produce of art, but require material for their composition. Others say that its material is questions of civil administration, an opinion which is wrong, not as to the quality of the matter, but in the restriction attached, for such questions are the subject of oratory, but not the only subject. Some, as oratory is a virtue, say that the subject of it is the whole of human life. Others, as no part of human life is affected by every virtue, but most virtues are concerned only with particular portions of life (as justice, fortitude, and temperance are regarded as confined to their proper duties and their own limits), say that oratory is to be restricted to one special part, and assign to it the pragmatic department of ethics or that which relates to the transactions of civil life.

For my part, I consider, and not without authorities to support me, that the material of oratory is everything that may come before an orator for discussion. For Socrates in Plato seems to say to Gorgias that the matter of oratory is not in words but in things. In the Phaedrus, he plainly shows that oratory has place not only in judicial proceedings and political deliberations, but also in private and domestic matters. Hence it is manifest that this was the opinion of Plato himself. Cicero, too, in one passage, calls the material of oratory the topics which are submitted to it for discussion, but supposes that particular topics only are submitted to it. But in another passage, he gives his opinion that an orator has to speak upon all subjects, expressing himself in the following words: "The art of the orator, however, and his very profession of speaking well, seems to undertake and promise that he will speak elegantly and copiously on whatever subject may be proposed to him." In a third passage, also, he says: "But by an orator, whatever occurs in human life (since it is on human life that an orator's attention is to be fixed, as the matter that comes under his consideration) ought to have been examined, heard of, read, discussed, handled, and managed."

But this material of oratory, as we define it, that is, the subjects that come before it, some have at one time stigmatized as indefinite, at another as not belonging to oratory, and have called it, as thus characterized, an ars circumcurrens, an infinitely discursive art, as discoursing on any kind of subject. With those who make these observations I have no great quarrel, for they allow that oratory speaks on all matters, though they deny that it has any pecular material because its material is manifold. But though the material be manifold, it is not infinite, and other arts, of less consideration, deal with manifold material, as architecture, for instance, for it has to do with everything that is of use for building, and the art of engraving, which works with gold, silver, brass, and iron. As to sculpture, it extends itself, besides the metals which I have just named, to wood, ivory, marble, glass, and jewels. Nor will a topic cease to belong to the orator because the professor of another art may treat of it, for if I should ask what is the material of the statuary, the answer will be "brass," or if I should ask what is the material of the founder of vases, that is, the worker in the art which the Greeks call χαλκευτική (chalkeutikē), the reply would also be "brass," though vases differ very much from statues. 1Nor ought medicine to lose the name of an art because anointing and exercise are common to it with the palaestra or because a knowledge of the quality of meats is common to it with cookery.

1As to the objection which some make, that it is the business of philosophy to discourse of what is good, useful, and just, it makes nothing against me, for when they say a philosopher, they mean a good man; and why then should I be surprised that an orator, whom I consider to be also a good man, should discourse upon the same subjects? 1This is especially true when I have shown, in the preceding book, that philosophers have taken possession of this province because it was abandoned by the orators, a province which had always belonged to oratory, so that the philosophers are rather trespassing upon our ground. Since it is the business of logic, too, to discuss whatever comes before it, and logic is uncontinuous oratory, why may not the business of continuous oratory be thought the same?

14.It is a remark constantly made by some that an orator must be skilled in all arts if he is to speak upon all subjects. I might reply to this in the words of Cicero, in whom I find this passage: "In my opinion, no man can become a thoroughly accomplished orator unless he shall have attained a knowledge of every subject of importance and of all the liberal arts," but for my argument, it is sufficient that an orator be acquainted with the subject on which he has to speak. 1He has not a knowledge of all causes, and yet he ought to be able to speak upon all. On what causes, then, will he speak? On such as he has learned. The same will be the case also with regard to the arts and sciences; those on which he shall have to speak he will study for the occasion, and on those which he has studied he will speak.

1What then, it may be said, will not a builder speak of building, or a musician of music, better than an orator? Assuredly he will speak better, if the orator does not know what the subject of inquiry in the case before him, with regard to matters connected with those sciences. An ignorant and illiterate person, appearing before a court, will plead his own cause better than an orator who does not know what the subject of dispute is; but an orator will express what he has learned from the builder, or the musician, or from his client better than the person who has instructed him. 1But the builder will speak well on building, or the musician on music, if any point in those arts shall require to be established by his opinion. He will not be an orator, but he will perform his part like an orator, as when an unprofessional person binds up a wound, he will not be a surgeon, yet he will act as a surgeon.

1Do subjects of this kind never come to be mentioned in panegyrical, or deliberative, or judicial oratory? When it was under deliberation, whether a harbor should be constructed at Ostia, were not orators called to deliver opinions on the subject? Yet what was wanted was the professional knowledge of the architect. 1Does not the orator enter on the question whether discolorations and tumors of the body are symptoms of ill health or of poison? Yet such inquiries belong to the profession of medicine? Will an orator never have to speak of dimensions and numbers? Yet we may say that such matters belong to mathematics; for my part, I believe that any subject whatever may, by some chance, come under the cognizance of the orator. If a matter does not come under his cognizance, he will have no concern with it.

20. Thus I have justly said that the material of oratory is everything that is brought under its notice for discussion, an assertion which even our daily conversation supports, for whenever we have any subject on which to speak, we often signify by some prefatory remark that the matter is laid before us. 2So much was Gorgias of opinion that an orator must speak of everything that he allowed himself to be questioned, by the people in his lecture room, upon any subject on which any one of them chose to interrogate him. Hermagoras, also, by saying that "the matter of oratory lies in the cause and the questions connected with it," comprehends under it every subject that can possibly come before it for discussion. 2If indeed he supposed that the questions do not belong to oratory, he is of a different opinion from me, but if they do belong to oratory, I am supported by his authority, for there is no subject that may not form part of a cause or the questions connected with it. 2Aristotle, too, by making three kinds of oratory, the judicial, the deliberative, and the demonstrative, has put almost everything into the hands of the orator, for there is no subject that may not enter into one of the three kinds.

2An inquiry has been also started, though by a very few writers, concerning the instrument of oratory. The instrument I call that without which material cannot be fashioned and adapted to the object which we wish to effect. But I consider that it is not the art that requires the instrument, but the artificer. Professional knowledge needs no tool, as it may be complete though it produces nothing, but the artist must have his tool, as the engraver his graving-instrument, and the painter his pencils. I shall therefore reserve the consideration of this point for that part of my work in which I intend to speak of the orator.

Since I have examined in the second book what oratory is and what is its object; since I have shown, as well as my abilities allowed, that it is an art, that it is useful, and that it is a virtue; and since I have put under its power every subject on which it may be necessary to speak, I shall now proceed to show whence it had its origin, of what parts it consists, and how every department of it is to be contemplated and treated. For most of the writers of books on the art have stopped even short of these limits, so that Apollodorus confined himself to judicial pleadings only.

Nor am I ignorant that those who are studious of oratory have desired to receive from me that part of my work, of which this book proceeds to treat, more anxiously than any other. It is a part which, though it will be the most difficult to myself, from the necessity of examining a vast diversity of opinions, will yet perhaps afford the least pleasure to my readers, since it admits merely of a dry exposition of rules. In other parts, I have endeavored to introduce some little embellishment, not with the view of displaying my own ability (since for that purpose, a subject of more fertility might have been chosen), but in order that by that means, I might more successfully attract youth to the study of those matters which I thought necessary for their improvement; for if being stimulated by some pleasure in the reading, they might more willingly learn the precepts of which I found that a bare and dry enumeration might be repulsive to their minds and offend their ears, especially as they are grown so delicate. It was with such a view that Lucretius said he put the precepts of philosophy into verse, for he uses, as is well known, the following simile

Ac veluti pueris absinthia tetra medentes
Quum dare conantur, prius oras pocula circum
Aspirant mellis dulci, flavoque liquore

And as physicians, when they attempt to give
bitter wormwood to children, first tinge the rim round the cup
with the sweet and yellow liquid of honey, etc.
But I fear that this book may be thought to contain very little honey and a great deal of wormwood, and may be more serviceable for instruction than agreeable. I am afraid, too, that it may find the less favor, as it will contain precepts not newly invented, for the most part, by me, but previously given by others. It may also meet with some who are of contrary opinions and who will be ready to assail it, because most authors, though they have directed their steps to the same point, have made different roads towards it, and each drawn his followers into his own. Their adherents, moreover, approve whatever path they have pursued, and you will not easily alter prepossessions that have been inculcated in youth, for every one would rather have learned than learn.

But there is, as will appear in the progress of the book, an infinite diversity of opinions among authors; some have added their own discoveries to what was previously rude and imperfect, and then others, that they might seem to produce something themselves, have even altered what was right. The first writer who, after those that the poets have mentioned, touched at all upon oratory, is said to have been Empedocles, and the most ancient composers of rules on the art were Corax and Tisias, natives of Sicily, to whom succeeded a native of the same island, Gorgias the Leontine, who, as is said, was a pupil of Empedocles. Gorgias, through the advantage of a very long life (for he lived a hundred and nine years), flourished as a contemporary with many rhetoricians and was thus a rival of those whom I have just named, surviving even the age of Socrates. At the same period with him lived Thrasymachus of Chalcedon, Prodicus of Ceos, Protagoras of Abdera (from whom Euathlus is said to have learned the art of oratory, on which he published a treatise, for ten thousand denarii), Hippias of Elis, and Alcidamus of Elaae, whom Plato calls Palamedes. 1There was also Antiphon (who was the first that wrote speeches and who, besides, composed a book of rules on rhetoric, and was thought to have pleaded his own cause on a trial with great ability), Polycrates, by whom I have said that a speech was written against Socrates, and Theodorus of Byzantium, one of those whom Plato calls λογοδαίδαλοι (logodaidaloi), "artificers in words." 1Of these, the first that treated general subjects were Protagoras, Gorgias, Prodicus, and Thrasymachus. Cicero, in his Brutus, says that no composition having any rhetorical embellishment was written before the time of Pericles, but that some pieces of his were in circulation. For my part, I find nothing answerable to the fame of such eloquence as his and am therefore the less surprised that some should think that nothing was written by Pericles, but that the writings which were circulated under his name were written by others.

1To these succeeded many other rhetoricians, but the most famous of the pupils of Gorgias was Isocrates; though authors, indeed, are not agreed as to who was his master, I, however, trust to Aristotle on that point. 1From this time different roads, as it were, began to be formed; for the disciples of Isocrates were eminent in every department of learning and, when he was grown old (he lived to complete his ninety-eighth year), Aristotle began to teach the art of oratory in his afternoon lessons, frequently parodying, as is said, the well-known verse from the tragedy of Philoctetes, thus:

Α᾽σχρὸν σιωπᾶν, καὶ ᾽Ισοκράτην ἐᾶν λέγειν

(Aischron siôpan, kai Isokratên legein)

"It is disgraceful to be silent, and to allow Isocrates to speak."
A treatise on the art of oratory was published by each of them, but Aristotle made his to consist of several books. At the same time lived Theodectes, of whose work I have already spoken. 1Theophrastus, also, a disciple of Aristotle, wrote very carefully on rhetoric, and since that time, the philosophers, especially the leaders of the Stoics and Peripatetics, have paid even greater attention to the subject than the rhetoricians. 1Hermagoras then made, as it were, a way for himself, which most orators have followed, but Athenaeus appears to have been most nearly his equal and rival. Afterwards Apollonius Molon, Areus, Caecilius, and Dionysius of Halicarnassus, wrote much upon the art. 1But the two that attracted most attention to themselves were Apollodorus of Pergamus, who was the teacher of Caesar Augustus at Apollonia, and Theodorus of Gadara, who preferred to be called a native of Rhodes and whose lectures Tiberius Caesar, when he retired into that island, is said to have constantly attended. 1These two rhetoricians taught different systems, and their followers were thence called Apollodoreans and Theodoreans, after the manner of those who devote themselves to certain sects in philosophy. But the doctrines of Apollodorus you may learn best from his disciples, of whom the most exact in delivering them in Latin was Caius Valgius, in Greek Atticus. Of Apollodorus himself, the only work on the art seems to have been that addressed to Matius, for the epistle written to Domitius does not acknowledge the other books attributed to him. The writings of Theodorus were more numerous, and there are some now living who have seen his disciple Hermagoras.

1The first among the Romans, as far as I know, that composed anything on this subject, was Marcus Cato the Censor, after whom Marcus Antonius made some attempt in it—it is the only writing that is extant of his and is in quite an unfinished state. Less celebrated writers followed, whose names, if occasion shall anywhere require, I will not forbear to mention. 20. But Marcus Tullius Cicero threw the greatest light, not only on eloquence itself, but also on its precepts, giving the only model of excellence among us in speaking and in teaching the art of speaking. After him, it would be most becoming to be silent, if he himself had not said that his books on rhetoric escaped from his hands when he was very young, and if he had not intentionally omitted, in his dialogues on oratory, those minor points on which most learners require instruction. 2Cornificius wrote much on the same subject, Stertinius something considerable, and Gallio the father a little. But Celsus and Laenas, who preceded Callio, and Vilginius, Pliny, and Tutilius in our own age, have written on the art with greater accuracy. There are also at this very time eminent writers on the same subject, who, if they had embraced every part of it, would have relieved me from my present task. But I forbear to mention the names of living authors; the due time for honoring them will arrive, for their merits will live in the memory of posterity, to whom the influence of envy will not reach.

2Yet, after so many great writers, I shall not hesitate to advance, on certain points, my own opinions, for I have not attached myself to any particular sect, as if I were affected with any spirit of superstition. As I bring together the observations of many authors, liberty must be allowed my readers to choose from them what they please, being myself content, wherever there is no room for showing ability, to deserve the praise due to carefulness.

THE question, what is the origin of oratory, need not detain us long, for who can doubt that men, as soon as they were produced, received language from nature herself, the parent of all things (which was at least the commencement of oratory), and that utility brought improvement to it, and method and exercise perfection? Nor do I see why some should think that accuracy in speaking had its rise from the circumstance that those, who were brought into any danger by accusation, set themselves to speak with more than ordinary care for the purpose of defending themselves. This, even if a more honorable cause, is not necessarily the first, especially as accusation goes before defense, unless any person would say that a sword was forged by one who prepared steel for his own defense earlier than by one who designed it for the destruction of another.

It was therefore nature that gave origin to speech and observation that gave origin to art, for as, in regard to medicine, when people saw that some things were wholesome and others unwholesome, they established an art by observing their different properties, so, with respect to speaking, when they found some things useful and others useless, they marked them for imitation or avoidance. Other people added other things to the list according to their nature; these observations were confirmed by experience, and every one then taught what he knew. Cicero, indeed, has attributed the origin of eloquence to founders of cities and to legislators, in whom there certainly must have been some power of speaking, but why he should regard this as the very origin of oratory, I do not see. There are nations at this day without any fixed settlements, without cities, and without laws, and yet men who are born among them discharge the duties of ambassadors, make accusations and defenses, and think that one person speaks better than another.

The whole art of oratory, as the most and greatest writers have taught, consists of five parts: invention, arrangement, expression, memory, and delivery or action (the last is designated by either of these terms). But every speech, by which any purpose is expressed, must of necessity consist of both matter and words; and, if it is short and included in one sentence, it may perhaps call for no further consideration. But a speech of greater length requires attention to a greater number of particulars, for it is not only of consequence what we say and how we say it, but also where we say it; there is need therefore also for arrangement. But we cannot say everything that our subject demands, nor everything in its proper place, without the assistance of memory, which will accordingly constitute a fourth part. And a delivery which is unbecoming either as to voice or gesture, vitiates and almost renders ineffectual all those other requisites of eloquence. To delivery therefore must necessarily be assigned the fifth place.

Nor are some writers, among whom is Albutius to be regarded, who admit only the first three parts, because memory, they say, and delivery (on which we shall give directions in the proper place), come from nature, not from art. Thracymachus, however, was of the same opinion as far as concerns delivery. To these some have added a sixth part, by subjoining judgment to invention, as it is our first business to invent, and then to judge. For my part, I do not consider that he who has not judged has invented, for a person is not said to have invented contradictory or foolish arguments, or such as are of equal value to himself and his adversary, but not to have avoided them. Cicero, indeed, in his Rhetorica, has included judgment under invention, but to me, judgment appears to be so mingled with the first three parts (for there can neither be arrangement nor expression without it), that I think even delivery greatly indebted to it. This I would the more boldly affirm, as Cicero, in his Partitiones Oratoriae, arrives at the same five divisions of which I have just spoken, for after first dividing oratory into two parts, invention and expression, he has put matter and arrangement under invention, and words and delivery under expression, and has then made memory a fifth part, having a common influence on all the rest, and being, as it were, the guardian of them. He also says, in his books De Oratore, that eloquence consists of five divisions, and the opinions expressed in these books, as they were written at a later period, may be regarded as more settled.

Those authors appear to me to have been not less desirous to introduce something new, who have added order after having previously specified arrangement, as if arrangement were anything else than the disposition of things in the best possible order. Dion has specified only invention and arrangement, but has made each of them of two kinds, relating to matter and to words, so that expression may be included under invention, and delivery under arrangement, to which parts a fifth, memory, must be added. The followers of Theodorus, for the most part, distinguish invention into two sorts, referring to matter and expression, and then add the three other parts. Hermagoras puts judgment, division, order, and whatever relates to expression, under economy, which, being a Greek term, taken from the care of domestic affairs and used in reference to this subject metaphorically, has no Latin equivalent.

There is also a question about the following point, namely, that, in settling the order of the parts, some have put memory after invention, some after arrangement. To me the fourth place seems most suitable for it, for we must not only retain in mind what we have imagined, in order to arrange it, and what we have arranged in order to express it, but we must also commit to memory what we have comprised in words, since it is in the memory that everything that enters into the composition of a speech is deposited.

1There have been also many writers inclined to think that these divisions should not be called parts of the art of oratory but duties of the orator, as it is the business of the orator to invent, arrange, express, etc. 1But if we coincide in this opinion, we shall leave nothing to art, for to speak well is the duty of the orator, yet skill in speaking well constitutes the art of oratory, or as others express their notions, it is the duty of the orator to persuade, yet the power of persuading lies in his art. Thus to invent arguments and arrange them are the duties of the orator, yet invention and arrangement may be thought peculiar parts of the art of oratory.

1It is a point, too, about which many have disputed, whether these are parts of the art of oratory or works of it, or (as Athenaeus thinks) elements of it, which the Greeks call στοιχεῖα (stoicheia). But no one can properly call them elements, for in that case, they will be merely first principles, as water, or fire, or matter, or indivisible atoms, are called the elements of the world; nor can they justly be named works, as they are not performed by others, but perform something themselves. 1They are therefore parts, for as oratory consists of them and as a whole consists of parts, it is impossible that those things of which the whole is composed can be anything else but parts of that whole. Those who have called them works appear to me to have been moved by this consideration, that they did not like, in making the other division of oratory, to adopt the same term, for the parts of oratory, they said, were the panegyrical, the deliberative, and the judicial. 1But if these are parts, they are parts of the matter rather than the art, for in each of them is included the whole of oratory, since no one of them can dispense with invention, arrangement, expression, memory, and delivery. Some, therefore, have thought it better to say that there are three kinds of oratory, but those whom Cicero has followed have given the most reasonable opinion, namely, that there are three kinds of subjects for oratory.

BUT it is a question whether there are three or more. Certainly almost all writers, at least those of the highest authority among the ancients, have acquiesced in this tripartite distinction, following the opinion of Aristotle, who merely calls the deliberative by another name, concionalis, "suitable for addresses to public assemblies." But a feeble attempt was made at that time by some of the Greek writers, an attempt which has since been noticed by Cicero in his books De Oratore, and is now almost forced upon us by the greatest author of our own day, to make it appear that there are not only more kinds, but kinds almost innumerable. Indeed, if we distinguish praising and blaming in the third part of oratory, in what kind of oratory shall we be said to employ ourselves when we complain, console, appease, excite, alarm, encourage, direct, explain obscure expressions, narrate, entreat, offer thanks, congratulate, reproach, attack, describe, command, retract, express wishes or opinions, and speak in a thousand other ways? So that if I adhere to the opinion of the ancients, I must, as it were, ask pardon for doing so and must inquire by what considerations they were induced to confine a subject of such extent and variety within such narrow limits? Those who say that the ancients were in error suppose that they were led into it by the circumstance that they saw in their time orators exerting themselves for the most part in these three kinds only. For laudatory and vituperative speeches were then written; it was customary to pronounce funeral orations; and a vast deal of labor was bestowed on deliberative and judicial eloquence, so that the writers of books on the art included in them the kinds of eloquence most in use as the only kinds. But those who defend the ancients make three sorts of hearers: one, who assemble only to be gratified; a second, to listen to counsel; and a third, to form a judgment on the points in debate. For myself, while I am searching for all sorts of arguments in support of these various opinions, it occurs to me that we might make only two kinds of oratory, on this consideration, that all the business of an orator lies in causes either judicial or extrajudicial. Of matters in which decision is sought from the opinion of a judge, the nature is self-evident; those which are not referred to a judge have respect either to the past or to the future; the past we either praise or blame; and about the future we deliberate. We may also add, that all subjects on which an orator has to speak are either certain or doubtful. The certain he praises or blames, according to the opinion which he forms of them; of the doubtful, some are left free for ourselves to choose how to decide on them, and concerning these there must be deliberation. Some are left to the judgment of others, and concerning these there must be litigation.

Anaximenes admitted only the general divisions of judicial and deliberative, but said that there were seven species: those, namely, of exhorting and dissuading, of praising and blaming, of accusing and defending, and of examining, which he calls the exetastic sort. But it is easy to see that the first two of these species belong to the deliberative kind of oratory, the two following to the epideictic, and the last three to the judicial. I pass over Protagoras, who thinks that the only parts of oratory are those of interrogating, replying, commanding, and intreating, which he calls εὐχωιή (euchōlē). Plato, in his Sophistes, has added to the judicial and deliberative a third kind which he calls προσομιλητικόν (prosomiletikon), and which we may allow ourselves to call the sermocinatory sort, which is distinct from the oratory of the forum and suited to private discussions, and of which the nature is the same as that of dialectics or logic. 1Isocrates thought that praise and blame have a place in every kind of oratory.

To me it has appeared safest to follow the majority of writers, and so reason seems to direct. 1There is, then, as I said, one kind of oratory in which praise and blame are included, but which is called, from the better part of its office, the panegyrical; others, however, term it the demonstrative or epideictic (Both names are thought to be derived from the Greeks, who apply to those kinds the epithets ἐγκωμιαστικόν (enkōmiastikon) and ἐπιδεκτικό (epideiktikon). 1But the word epideiktikon seems to me to have the signification not so much of demonstration as of ostentation, and to differ very much from the term enkōmiastikon, for though it includes in it the laudatory kind of oratory, it does not consist in that kind alone. 1Would any one deny that panegyrical speeches are of the epideictic kind? Yet they take the suasory form and generally speak of the interests of Greece. So that there are, indeed, three kinds of oratory, but in each of them part is devoted to the subject-matter and part to display. But perhaps our countrymen, when they call a particular kind demonstrative, do not borrow the name from the Greeks, but are simply led by the consideration that praise and blame demonstrate what the exact nature of anything is. 1The second kind is the deliberative, and the third the judicial. Other species will fall under these genera, nor will there be found any one species in which we shall not have either to praise or to blame, to persuade or to dissuade, to enforce a charge or to repel one, while to conciliate, to state facts, to inform, to exaggerate, to extenuate, and to influence the judgment of the audience by exciting or allaying the passions are common to every sort of oratory.

1I could not agree even with those who, adopting, as I think, a division rather easy and specious than true, consider that the matter of panegyrical eloquence concerns what is honorable, that of deliberative what is expedient, and that of judicial what is just; all are supported, to a certain extent, by aid one from another, since in panegyric, justice and expediency are considered, and in deliberations, honor; and you will rarely find a judicial pleading into some part of which something of what I have just mentioned does not enter.

BUT every speech consists at once of that which is expressed and of that which expresses, that is, of matter and words. Ability in speaking is produced by nature, art, and practice, to which some add a fourth requisite, namely imitation, which I include under art. There are also three objects which an orator must accomplish: to inform, to move, to please. This is a clearer partition than that of those who divide the whole of oratory into what concerns things and passions, since both these will not always find a place in the subjects of which we shall have to treat. Some subjects are altogether unconnected with the pathetic, which, though it cannot make room for itself everywhere, yet, wherever it forces an entrance, produces a most powerful effect.

The most eminent authors are of opinion that there are some things in pleading that require proof and others that do not require it, and I agree with them. Some, however, as Celsus, think that an orator will not speak on any subject unless there be some question about it. But the majority of authors, as well as the general division of oratory into three kinds, are opposed to him, unless we say that to praise what is acknowledged to be honorable, and to blame what is admitted to be dishonorable is no part of an orator's business.

All writers admit, however, that questions depend on what is written or what is not written. Questions about something written concern legality, those about something not written concern fact. Hermagoras and those who follow him call the former kind legal questions, the latter rational questions, using the terms νομικόν (nomikon) and λογικόν (logikon). Those who make all questions relate to things and words are of the same opinion.

It is also agreed that questions are either indefinite or definite. The indefinite are those which, without regard to persons, time, place, and other such circumstances, are argued for or against. This sort of questions the Greeks call θέσεις (theseis); Cicero propositions; others "general questions relating to civil affairs"; others "questions suitable for philosophical discussion"; while Athenaeus makes them "parts of the cause to be decided." Cicero distinguishes them into questions relating to knowledge and to action, so that "Is the world governed by divine providence?" will be a question of knowledge, "Ought we to take part in the management of public affairs?" a question of action. The former kind he subdivides into three species: "whether a thing is," "what it is," and "of what nature it is," for all these points may be unknown. The latter kind he divides into two: "how we should obtain the thing in question" and "how we should use it."

Definite questions embrace particular circumstances, persons, times, and other things; they are called by the Greeks ὑποθέσεις (hypotheseis); by our countrymen, "causes." In these the whole inquiry seems to be about things and persons. The indefinite is always the more comprehensive, for from it comes the definite. To make this plainer by an example, the question "whether a man should marry" is indefinite, the question "whether Cato should marry" is definite, and may accordingly become the subject of a suasory speech. But even those which have no allusion to particular persons are generally referred to something, for "ought we to take a share in the government of our country?" is an abstract question, but "ought we to take a share in the government of it under a tyranny?" has reference to something definite. Yet here also there lies concealed, as it were, a person, for the word "tyranny" doubles the question, and there is a tacit consideration of time and quality; yet you cannot properly call the question a cause.

Those questions which I call indefinite are also called general, and if this be a proper term, definite questions will also be special. But in every special question is included the general, as being antecedent. In judicial causes, too, I know not whether whatever comes under the question of quality is not general: Milo killed Clodius: "He was in the right to kill a lier-in-wait": does not this question arise, "Whether it be right to kill a lier-in-wait?" In conjectural matters, also, are not these questions general, "was hatred, or covetousness, the cause of the crime? Ought we to trust to evidence extracted by torture? Ought greater credit to be given to witnesses or to arguments?" As to definitions, it is certain that everything comprehended in them is expressed generally.

1Some think that those questions which are limited to particular persons and causes may sometimes be called theses, if only put in a different way, so that, when "Orestes is accused," it is a cause, but when it is inquired "Was Orestes justly acquitted?" it is a thesis. Of this sort is also the question "Was Cato right in giving Marcia to Hortensius?" These writers distinguish a thesis from a cause by saying that a thesis has respect to what is theoretical, a cause to what is actually done, since in regard to a thesis, we dispute only with a view to abstract truth, but in a cause, we consider some particular act.

1Some, however, think that the consideration of general questions is useless to an orator, as it is of no profit for it to be proved, they say, that we ought to marry or that we should take part in the government of the state, if we are hindered from doing so by age or ill health. But we cannot make the same objection to all questions of the kind, as, for example, to these: whether virtue is the chief good, and whether the world is governed by divine providence. 1Moreover, in inquiries that relate to an individual, though it is not enough to consider the general question, yet we cannot arrive at the decision of the particular point without discussing the general question first. For how will Cato consider whether he himself ought to marry, unless it be first settled whether men ought to marry at all? Or how will it be inquired whether Cato ought to marry Marcia, if it be not previously decided whether Cato ought to take a wife? 1Yet there are books in circulation under the name of Hermagoras which support the opinion that I am opposing, but either the title is fictitious or it was another Hermagoras that wrote them. For how can they be the productions of the same Hermagoras who wrote so much and so admirably on this art, when, as is evident, even from Cicero's first book on rhetoric, he divided the subject matter of oratory into theses and causes? There, Cicero condemns this division, contending that the thesis is no concern of the orator's, and referring this kind of question wholly to the philosophers. 1But Cicero has relieved me from all shame at differing with him, as he not only censures those books himself, but also, in his Orator, in the books which he wrote De Oratore, and in his Topica, directs us to abstract the discussion from particular persons and occasions, because we can speak more fully on what is general than what is special, and because whatever is proved universally must also be proved particularly. 1As to the state of the question, it is the same with regard to every kind of thesis as with regard to causes. To this is added that there are some questions that concern matters absolutely, and others that refer to something particular; of the former kind is whether a man ought to marry; of the latter, whether an old man ought to marry; of the former kind, is whether a man be brave; of the latter, whether he be braver than another man.

1Apollodorus, to adopt the translation of his disciple Valgius, defines a cause thus: The cause is the matter having regard in all its parts to the question, or, the cause is the matter of which the question is the object. He then gives this definition of the matter: The matter is the combination of persons, places, times, motives, means, incidents, acts, instruments, sayings, things written and not written. 1For my part, I here understand by the "cause" what the Greeks call ὑποθέσις (hypothesis), by the "matter" what they term περίστασις (peristasis). But some writers have defined the cause itself in the same way as Apollodorus defines the matter. Isocrates says that a cause is a definite question relating to civil affairs, or a disputed point between a definite number of persons. Cicero speaks of it in these words: A cause is determined by reference to certain persons, places, times, actions, and events, depending for decision either on all or the majority of them.

SINCE every cause, therefore, is comprehended in some status or position, I think that before I proceed to specify how the several kinds of causes are to be managed, I must consider that question which has reference to all of them alike, what is a position as well as whence it is drawn, and how many and what kinds of positions there are? Some have been of opinion, however, that all these questions concern only judicial matters; but, when I have treated of all the three kinds of oratory, the result will make their ignorance apparent. What I call the position, some term the "settlement"; others the "question"; others "that which appears from the question"; and Theodorus styles it the "general head", κεφάλαιον γενικώτατον (kephalaion genikotaton), to which everything else is referred. But though the names are different, the meaning is the same; nor is it of any consequence to learners by what term anything is distinguished, so that the thing itself be clear. The Greeks call the position στάσιν (stasis), a name which they think was not first given it by Hermagoras, but, as some suppose, by Naucratis, a disciple of Isocrates, or, as others imagine, by Zopyrus of Clazomenae; though even Aeschines appears to use the term in his oration against Ctesiphon when he intreats the judges not to allow Demosthenes to wander from the subject, but to oblige him to speak directly to the position of the case. The name is said to be derived either from the fact that in it lies the commencement of controversy in the cause, or that the cause rests on it.

Such is the origin of its name; let us now consider what it is. Some have defined the position to be the first conflict of questions, who, I think, have conceived rightly, but have not expressed themselves with sufficient judgment. For the position is not the first conflict: "You have done, I have not done," but that which results from the first conflict, that is, the nature of the question, "you have done; I have not done; has he done? You have done this; I have not done this; what has he done?" But as it appears from these examples, that the first sort of question depends on conjecture, the other on definition, and as it is on these points that each side will insist, the question will be one either of a conjectural or of definitive position. Supposing a person should say, "Sound is the concussion of two bodies"; he would be in the wrong, I think, for the sound is not the concussion, but the result of the concussion. This is a mistake, however, of but trifling consequence, for the meaning is understood in whatever way it be expressed. But in regard to oratory, an error of vast importance has arisen among students who have imperfectly understood their authors and who, as they read the words "first conflict," thought that the position was always to be taken from the first question, a supposition which is altogether unfounded. For there is no question that has not its position, since there is none that is not founded on assertion and denial. But some questions form an integral part of causes, and on these a decision must be pronounced, while others are introduced from without, contributing something, however, like auxiliaries, to the general strength of the cause, and it then happens that there are said to be several questions in the same suit. Of these the least important often occupies the first place, for it is a common artifice among us to abandon those points in which we have least trust, after they have been dwelt upon, sometimes conceding them as it were, of our own accord, to the opposite side, and sometimes contenting ourselves with making an ascent from them to stronger grounds of argument.

A simple cause, though it may be defended in various ways, cannot contain more than one point on which a decision is to be pronounced. Hence the position of the cause will be that which the pleader regards as the chief object to be gained, and the judge as the chief object of attention, for it is on this that the cause will take its stand. But of questions there may be different positions, since, to make this plain by a very short example, when the accused says, "Even if I did it, I was right in doing it," he makes the position that of quality, but when he adds, "but I did not do it," he makes it that of conjecture. But the defense, "I have not done it," is always the stronger, and therefore I shall consider the position as lying in that argument which I should use if I were not allowed to use more than one. 1We therefore rightly say the first conflict of causes, not of questions. Cicero, in pleading for Rabirius Postumus, makes it his object, in the first part of his speech, to show that the charge could not be brought against a Roman knight, but in the latter part, he asserts that no money came into his client's hands. But I should say that the state lies in that which is the stronger point. 1Nor, in his speech for Milo, should I consider that the struggle in the cause commences with those early questions which are introduced immediately after the exordium, but where he proceeds to prove, with his whole strength, that Clodius was a lier-in-wait, and was therefore justly put to death. And that which an orator ought to settle in his mind before everything else, even though he purpose to offer many arguments in support of his cause, is what he would wish to be most apparent to the judge. But though this is the first thing to be considered, it does not follow that it will be the first to be stated.

1Others have thought that the position is the first point of opposition offered by the party against whom you are pleading, an opinion which Cicero expressed in the following words: "On which the defense first takes its stand, as if ready to grapple with the opponent to overthrow him." Hence, again, rises another question, whether he who replies always determines the position. To this notion Cornelius Celsus is eminently opposed, saying the position does not arise from him who denies, but from him who supports his own assertion. For instance, if an accused person denies that a man has been killed, the position would come from the accuser, because he would proceed to prove what he had affirmed; if the accused should say that the man was lawfully killed, the position would come from him, and the affirmation be on his side, the burden of proof being transferred from one party to the other. 1With that writer I do not agree, for what is said in contradiction to him is nearer the truth, that there is no point of dispute if the party with whom you are going to law makes no reply, and that accordingly the state proceeds from the respondent. 1In my own opinion, however, the case happens sometimes one way and sometimes another, varying according to the nature of the cause, because the affirmation may be thought sometimes to determine the position, as in conjectural causes. For it is rather the plaintiff that uses conjecture (some, moved by this consideration, have said that the position proceeding from the defendant is a negative position), and in a syllogism the whole of the reasoning proceeds from him who affirms. 1But because he who denies appears in those cases also to lay upon the opposite party the necessity of determining the position (for if he says, "I have not done the deed," he will oblige his opponent to use conjecture, and if he says, "My opponent has not the law on his side," he will compel him to have recourse to the syllogism), let us grant that the position proceeds from the defendant. Nevertheless, however, the matter will come to the same thing, that sometimes the plaintiff will determine the position, and sometimes the defendant.

1For let this be the assertion of the accuser, "You have killed a man." If the accused deny the charge, it is the accused that will determine the position, but if he admits the truth of it, but says that the man was an adulterer and was lawfully killed (and it is certain that there is a law which gives permission to kill an adulterer), then unless the accuser makes some reply, there will be no case. But if the accuser rejoins, "He was not an adulterer," refutation then commences on the part of the accuser, and it is he that will determine the position, which will thus indeed have its origin in the first denial. But that denial will be made by the accuser, not by the accused. 1It may happen, too, that the same question may make the same person either accuser or accused; for instance, the law says, "Let not him who has exercised the profession of an actor sit in the first fourteen rows of seats"; but a man who had appeared as an actor before the praetor in his garden, but had not exhibited himself on the public stage, seated himself on one of those fourteen rows. 1The charge then brought against him is, "You have exercised the profession of an actor," the denial is, "I have not exercised it," and the question, "What is it to exercise the profession of an actor?" If he be accused under the law respecting the theater, the denial will proceed from the accused. But if he be expelled from the theater and demand reparation for unjust expulsion, the denial will be on the part of the accuser. 20. But that which is laid down by the majority of writers will certainly be of more frequent occurrence.

Those have escaped these difficulties who have said that the position is that which results from the affirmation and the denial, such as, "You have done the deed," "I have not done it," or "I was right in doing it." 2Let us consider, however, whether that is the isuee, or whether it is in that that the position lies. Hermagoras calls that the position from which the matter in question is understood, and to which also the proofs of each party are directed as their object. My own opinion has always been, as there are frequently different positions of questions in a cause, to regard that as the position of the cause which is the strongest point in it and on which the whole matter chiefly turns. If any one profess to call this the general question, or the general head, I shall not dispute with him on that point (any more than if he should invent yet another name by which the same thing might be signified, although I know that many rhetoricians have devoted whole volumes to this discussion). But I am satisfied to let it be called the position. 2As there is the greatest dissension among writers, however, on all other matters, so in regard to this there appears to me to have been extraordinary eagerness to advance different opinions, insomuch that it is neither agreed what number of positions there are, nor what are their names, nor which of them are general and which special.

2Aristotle, first of all, specifies ten elements, to which every possible question appears to have some reference:

Οὐσια (ousia) which Flavius calls essentia (nor indeed is there any other Latin word for it) and to which belongs the question "whether a thing is";
Quality, of which the signification is plain enough;
Quantity, of which a twofold distinction has been made by later writers, in reference to the questions "how great?" and "how many?"
Relation to something, whence are drawn considerations concerning "exception" and "comparison";
Where;
When;
Doing,
Suffering;
Condition, which has regard to a person's "being armed" or "clothed";
κεῖσθαι (keisthai), "position," which is a comprehensive sort of category, having reference to "sitting," "standing," or "lying."
But of all these, the first four only appear to concern the positions of causes; the rest seem to concern only topics for argument. 2Others have specified nine elements:

Person, in respect to which inquiry is made concerning the mind, the body, and external circumstances; an element which, I see, refers to the means of establishing conjecture and quality;
Time, which the Greeks call χρόνος (chronos), in regard to which arises, for example, the question "whether he whom his mother brought forth when she was given up to her creditors was born a slave?"
Place, in connection with which arises such a question as "whether it was lawful to kill a tyrant in a temple," or "whether he who lay hid in his own house underwent his term of exile;"
Time in another sense, which the Greeks call καιρός (kairos), and which they would have to mean a portion of time in a more general sense, as summer, or winter; under this falls the question about "the reveller during a pestilence;"
πρᾶξις (praxis), "act," or to which they refer the question "whether a man did a thing knowingly or unknowingly; from compulsion or by chance";
Number, which may be regarded as a species of quantity, as "whether thirty rewards were due to Thrasybulus for having cut off thirty tyrants";
Cause, from which proceed many trials, as whenever a deed is not denied, but defended, as having been done with justice;
τρόπος (tropos), or "manner," when what the law allowed to be done in one way is said to have been done in another; hence arises the question about "the adulterer scourged or starved to death;"
Opportunity for action, which is too well understood to need any explanation or example; the Greek term however is ἀφορμαὶ ἔργων (aphormai ergōn).
2These writers, like Aristotle, think that no case can occur that does not connect itself with some of these elements. Some take away two of them, "number" and "opportunity," and for what I called "act" substitute "things," that is, πραγματα (pragmata). These doctrines I have thought it sufficient just to notice, that I might not be supposed to have purposely omitted them. But I neither consider that positions of causes are properly determined by these categories, nor that all topics for argument are included in them. This will be apparent to those who read with attention what I am going to say on each of these heads, for there will be found to be many particulars that are not comprehended under these elements.

2I have read in many authors that some rhetoricians are of opinion that there is in reality but one position, namely, the conjectural; but who the rhetoricians that held this opinion were, those authors have not told us, nor have I been able anywhere to discover. They are said, however, to have formed their notions on this ground: that our knowledge of everything is the result of indications. But from similar reasoning they might say that the only position is that of quality, as a question may always arise about the quality or nature of anything about which we speak. 30. From either mode the greatest confusion will result; nor will it make any difference, indeed, whether we admit one kind of position only, or none at all, if all causes are of the same nature. "Conjecture" is derived from conjicere, "to throw together," that is, from making all our reasonings converge towards truth; whence also interpreters of dreams and omens are called conjectores, "conjecturers." But this sort of position has received various names, as will appear from what follows.

3Some have made two kinds of positions. Archidemus, for instance, admitted the conjectural and the definitive, excluding that of quality, because he thought that we imagine about quality thus—"What is unjust? What is iniquitous? What is it to be disobedient?"—questions which he terms de eodem et alio, "about identity and difference." 3With this opinion theirs is at variance who would make indeed two kinds of position—one negative and one juridical. The negative is the same as that which we call the conjectural, to which some have given the term "negative" absolutely, others partially, because they considered that the accuser employs conjecture, and the accused, denial. The juridical is that which in Greek is called δικαιολογικός (dikaiologikos), "treating of right." 3But as "quality" is set aside by Archidemus, so by these writers is rejected "definition," which they make dependent on the juridical position and think that we must imagine "whether it is right that what is charged against a person should be called sacrilege," for example, "or theft, or madness." 3Of this opinion was Pamphilus, but he distinguished quality into several kinds.

Many succeeding writers, altering only the names, have divided positions of causes into two kinds by saying that they are either about something that is doubtful, or about something that is certain. For such indeed is the case, nor can it be otherwise, than either certain that a thing has been done, or uncertain. If it is uncertain, the position is conjectural; if it is certain, there is room for other kinds of positions. 3Indeed, Apollodorus says the same thing when he observes that the question lies either in things external, by which conjecture is settled, or in our own opinions, calling the former sort of questions πραγματικόν (pragmatikon), "practical," the latter περὶ ἐννοίας (peri ennoias), "dependent on judgment." Those also say the same who make the two kinds of position, ἀπροληπτον (aprolēpton) and προληπτικόν (prolēptikon), "dubious" and "presumptive," the latter meaning what is evident. 3Theodorus, too, expresses himself similarly, as he thinks that the question is either as to whether a thing has happened, or as to particulars relating to what is admitted to have happened, that is, περὶ οὐσίας καί συμβεβηκότων (peri ousias kai symbebēkotōn).

For in all these distinctions the first kind of position belongs to conjecture, the second to other matters. But these other matters Apollodorus makes to be two: quality and de nomine, that is definition; Theodorus four: existence, quality, quantity, and relation. 3There are some also who make the question de eodem et alio, "about identity and difference," belong sometimes to quality and sometimes to definition.

Posidonius, too, ranges positions of causes under two heads, words and things. With respect to a word, he thinks that the questions are, "Whether it has any meaning?" "What?" "How many meanings?" and "How it has such meaning?" With respect to things, he notices conjecture, which he calls κατ᾽ αἲσθησιν (kat' aisthēsin), "assumption from perception," quality, definition, κατ᾽ ἒννοιαν (kat' ennoian), "rational induction," and relation. Hence also comes the distinction into things written and unwritten. 3Cornelius Celsus, himself, also makes two general positions: "Whether a thing is" and "of what nature it is." Under the first he includes definition, because it is equally a question whether a man who denies that he has stolen anything from a temple, or who owns that he stole from it the money of a private individual, is guilty of sacrilege. Quality he divides into fact and what is written; to what is written he assigns four legal questions, setting aside exception; quantity and intention he puts under conjecture.

3There is also another method of division into two positions, which tells us that a question must relate either to substance or to quality, and that quality is considered either in its most general sense or with regard to particulars. 40. To substance belongs conjecture, for inquiry may be made concerning anything, "whether it has been, is, or will be," and sometimes concerning the intention of it. This is better than the method of those who have named the conjectural position a position of fact, as if inquiry could be made only concerning the past and concerning what has been done. 4As to the consideration of quality in its most general sense, as "Whether that is honorable which is everywhere commended," it rarely occurs in judicial proceedings. But with reference to particulars, questions arise either about some common term, as "Whether he has committed sacrilege who has stolen a private person's money from a temple," or about a name given to some particular act, when it is certain that an act has been done, and there is no doubt about the act that has been done. Under this head are included all questions about what is honorable, just, expedient. 4In these positions, too, are said to be comprehended others, because quantity is sometimes referred to conjecture, as in the question, "Is the sun greater than the earth?" and sometimes to quality, as when it is asked, "What degree of punishment or reward is it just for some particular individual to receive," because, also, exception has relation to quality, and definition is concerned with exception. 4Moreover, contradictory laws, and the ratiocinatory position, that is, the syllogism, and questions in general regarding writings and the intention of the writer, depend on considerations of equity (except that this last case sometimes admits of conjecture, as when we inquire what the legislator meant). But ambiguity must necessarily be explained by conjecture, because, as it is plain that the words may be understood in two ways, the question is solely about the intention.

4By a great number of writers there are recognized three general positions, a division which Cicero also adopts in his Orator, expressing his opinion that everything that can become a subject of controversy or dispute is comprehended in the questions "Whether it is," "what it is," and "of what particular nature it is"; the names are too well known to make it necessary to mention them. Patrocles is of the same opinion. 4Marcus Antonius also made three positions, as in the following words: "The questions from which all pleadings arise are but few: whether a thing has been done or has not been done; if whether it is right or wrong; whether it is good or bad." But since that which we are said to have done rightly is understood in such a sense that we appear to have acted, not merely in conformity with the law, but in accordance with equity, those who have followed Antonius have been inclined to distinguish those positions more exactly. Consequently, they have called them the conjectural, the legal, and the juridical, a distinction which is approved by Virginius. 4Of these they then made several species, so as to put definition under the legal position, as well as other positions which have their name from what is written. These include contradictory laws, which is called ἀντινομία (antinomia); that of writing and meaning or intention, that is, κατὰ ῥητὸν καὶ διάνοιαν (kata rhēton kai dianoian); that of μετάληψις (metalepsis), which we distinguish by different terms, as translative, transsumptive, transpositive; the syllogism, which we call the ratiocinatory or collective position; and that of ambiguity, which is called in Greek ἀμϕιβολία (amphibolia): all which I have enumerated, because they are called positions by most writers, though some would prefer that they should be called legal questions.

4Athenaeus has made four positions, the προτρεπτικὴ (protreptikē) or παρορμητικὴ στάσις (parormētikē stasis), that is, the exhortative, which belongs properly to the suasory; the συντελικὴ (suntelikē), by which it appears from what follows, rather than from the name itself, that the conjectural is signified; the ὑπαλλακτικὴ (hypallaktikē), which is the definitive, for it consists in a change of terms; and the juridical, which he distinguishes by the same Greek name as other writers. For there is, as I said, great variation as to names. 4There are some who think the ὑπαλλακτικὴ στάσις (hypallaktikē stasis) is the exceptional, looking to the notion of change contained in the name. Others, as Caecilius and Theon, have made the same number of positions, but of a different kind: "Whether a thing is?" "What it is?" "Of what species it is?" and "How great it is?" 4Aristotle in his Rhetoric divides the whole matter into three parts: What is true, what is to be sought or avoided (which belongs to the deliberative department of oratory), and the consideration de eadem atque alio, "about identity and difference;" but, by division, he arrives at such a conclusion that he thinks we must examine, as to any thing, whether it is, of what nature it is, how great it is, and of what parts it consists. In one place, however, he notices the force of definition, where he says that some charges are thus met: "I have taken, but I have not stolen; I struck, but I did nothing wrong." 50. Cicero also in his books of rhetoric had enumerated four positions regarding fact, name, kind, and action, so that conjecture should refer to fact, definition to name, quality to kind, and right to action. Under right he had included exception. But in another place he treats legal questions as species of actions.

5Some writers on rhetoric have made five positions, those of conjecture, definition, quality, quantity, and relation. Theodorus also, as I remarked, adopts the same number of general heads, whether a thing is, what it is, of what species it is, how great it is, and to what it has reference. The last he regards as having most concern with comparison, since better and worse, greater and less, are terms that have no meaning unless they refer to something. 5But relation, as I observed before, affects questions of legal right, such as, "Has this man a right to go to law?" or "Is it fit that such a person should do such a thing?" or "May he proceed against a particular person," or "at a particular time," or "in a particular manner?" for all such inquiries must have reference to something.

5Others think that there are six positions: conjecture, which they call γένεσις (genesis); quality, peculiarity, that is, ἰδιότης (idiōtēs), a term in which definition is implied; quantity, which they call ἀξια (axia); comparison; exception, for which, also, a new name, μετάστάσις (metastasis), has been found (new, I mean, as applied to positions, for it had been previously used by Hermagoras in a different way, to denote one of the various sorts of juridical questions).

5Others have been of opinion that there are seven, by whom neither exception, nor quantity, nor comparison were admitted, but in place of those three were substituted four sorts of legal questions, which were added to the three positions determined by reasoning.

5Others have gone so far as to make eight, adding exception to the other seven.

By some writers another distinction has been introduced, that of giving the name of "positions" only to the status rationales, and calling the status legales, as I said before, "questions." In the former, the question is about fact, while in the latter, about the written letter. Others, on the contrary, have preferred that the status legales should be called "positions," and the status rationales "questions." 5But others have thought that there are only three status rationales—whether a thing is, what it is, and of what kind it is; Hermagoras is the only one who has made four—conjecture, peculiarity, exception, and quality, the latter of which he calls, κατὰ συμβεβηκότα (kata symbebēkota), "according to accidents," adding as an explanation, "whether it happen to a person to be good or bad." 5Quality he then distinguishes into four species: to things to be sought or avoided, which fall under the deliberative department of oratory; to persons, to whom the panegyrical kind applies; to things in general, a department which he calls πραγματική (pragmatikē), and in which the question is about things themselves, without any reference to persons, as "whether he is free who is under trial about his liberty; whether riches beget pride; whether a thing is just or good;" and to judicial questions, in which similar inquiries are made, but with regard to certain definite persons; as, "whether a certain person acted justly or well in a particular transaction?" 5Nor am I ignorant that in the first book of Cicero on Rhetoric there is another explanation of the part relating to things in general, as it is there said that "it is the department in which it is considered what is right according to civil usage and according to equity; a department with which lawyers are thought by us to be specially concerned." 5But what the judgment of Cicero himself was respecting these books, I have already mentioned; for into their pages were thrown the various portions of knowledge which he had brought from the school when a young man, and if there is any fault in them, it is that of his instructor; whether he was moved by the circumstance that Hermagoras places first under this head examples from questions of right, or by the consideration that the Greeks call interpreters of the law πραγματικοί (pragmatikoi). 60. Cicero, however, substituted for these books his excellent dialogues de Oratore, and, therefore, is not to be blamed as if he had delivered erroneous precepts.

I return to Hermagoras. He was the first of all rhetoricians that made exception a distinct position, though some advances towards it, but not under that name, are found in Aristotle. 6As to legal questions, he has specified these four: that which relates to what is written and what is intended (which he designates by the phrase κατὰ ῥητὸν καὶ ὑπεξαὶρεσιν (kata rhēton kai hypexairesin), that is, "the expression and the exception," the former of which terms is common to him with all other writers, the latter has been less used), that which is ratiocinatory or dependent on reasoning, that of ambiguity, and that which concerns contradictory laws. 6Albutius, adopting the same division, withdraws "exception," putting it under the juridical department. In legal questions also he thinks that there is no position which is properly called ratiocinatory.

I am aware that those who shall read the ancient writers with attention will find still more positions, but I am afraid that what I have said on this subject has exceeded due bounds.

6For myself, I confess that I am now inclined towards an opinion somewhat different from that which I formerly held, and perhaps it would be safest for me, if I regarded only my own reputation, to make no change in that which for many years I have not only thought but have sanctioned with my approbation. 6But I cannot endure to be guilty of dissimulation in any point on which I give judgment, especially in a work which I am composing with a view to being of some profit to well-disposed young men. For Hippocrates, so celebrated in the art of medicine, is thought to have acted most honorably in acknowledging some mistakes that he had made, in order to prevent posterity from erring with him. Cicero, too, did not hesitate to condemn some of his published works and others which he wrote afterwards, as his Catullus and Lucullus, and those books on rhetoric to which I just now alluded. 6For longer perseverance in study would be superfluous, if we were not at liberty to find out something better than what was advanced before. Nothing, however, of what I then taught was useless, for what I shall now teach will recur to the same principles, so that no one will repent of having learned from me. All I intend to do is to reproduce the same materials and to arrange them with somewhat better effect. But I wish every one to be satisfied that I communicate new light to others as soon as I have gained it myself.

6According to the system of most authors, then, I adhered to three ratiocinatory positions, those of conjecture, quality, and definition, and one legal. These were my general positions. The legal I divided into five species, those relating to writing and intention, contradictory law, induction, ambiguity, and exception. 6I now see that the fourth of the general positions may be withdrawn from them, for the primary division is sufficient by which I pronounced some positions to be ratiocinatory, others legal. Thus the fourth will not be an position, but a species of question, otherwise it would be a ratiocinatory position. 6From those also, which I called species, I withdrew exception, having frequently indeed observed (as all who listened to my instructions can remember) and having asserted even in those lectures which were published without my consent (but in which I, however, included this remark) that the position of exception can scarcely be found in any cause so evidently that some other may not seem to be rightly named in that cause instead of it, and that in consequence, that position had by some writers been wholly set aside. 6Yet I am not ignorant that many cases are treated under this position of exception, as in almost all causes in which a person is said to have failed from irregularity in for, such questions as these arise: "Whether it was lawful for such a person to bring an action at all, or against some other particular person, or before some particular judge, or at some particular time," and whatever other similar questions may be asked. 70. But persons, times, suits, and other matters are considered under the position of exception for some pre-existent cause, so that the question lies not in the position of exception itself, but in the cause for which recourse is had of the position of exception. "You ought not to seek restitution of this deposit before the praetor, but before the consuls, for the sum is too great to come under the cognizance of the praetor"; the question then is, "whether the sum is too great for the praetor's cognizance;" and this is a question as to fact. 7"It is not lawful for you to proceed against me, for you could not become agent for the opposite party"; here the question for judgment is, "whether he could become agent." "You ought not to have proceeded by interdict, but to have made a demand"; the matter in doubt is, "whether the proceeding by interdict was right." 7All these points come under the head of legal questions. Do not prescriptions, also, (even those in which exception appears most manifest) lead to the same sorts of questions as those laws under which the action is brought, so that the inquiry will be either about the name of an act, about what is written and the intent of the writer, or about something to be settled by argument. The position then springs from the question; the position of exception does not embrace the point for which the pleader contends, but the question because of which he contends. 7This will be made plainer by an example: "You have killed a man, I have not killed him"; the question is "whether the accused did kill the man," and the position is the conjectural. The following case is different: "I have a right to proceed against you; you have not"; when the question will be, "whether he has a right," and hence the position. For whether he be allowed to have a right or not belongs to the event, not to the cause, and to that which the judge may decide, not to that because of which he may give such decision. 7This is similar to it: "You deserve to be punished; I do not deserve to be punished"; the judge will see whether he does deserve to be punished, but here there will not be either question or position; where then? "You deserve to be punished, for you have killed a man; I have not killed a man"; here then is a question "whether he did kill a man?" "I ought to be honored; you ought not"; is there here any position? I think not. "I ought to be honored, for I have killed a tyrant; you have not killed a tyrant"; here there is both question and position. 7In like manner, "You have no right to proceed against me; I have a right," has no position; where is it then? "You have no right to proceed against me, because you are infamous"; here the question is "whether he is infamous" or "whether an infamous man has a right to proceed against another"; and here are both questions and position. The kind of cause is therefore exceptional, like the comparative and that of recrimination.

7But, you will say, "I have a right; you have not," is similar to "you have killed; I did right in killing"; I do not deny that it is so, but this does not make an position, for these are not propositions (if they were, the cause would receive no explanation from them). as propositions must be accompanied with reasons. "Horatius committed a crime, for he killed his sister; he committed no crime, for he had a right to kill her who mourned at the death of an enemy"; the question here will be, "whether this was a sufficient reason for killing her," and thus the position will be that of quality. 7In like manner with regard to exception: "You have no right to disinherit your son, for an infamous person is not allowed to engage in any legal process; I have a right, for disinheriting is not a legal process"; the question is, "what is a legal process?" here we shall use definition; "you are not allowed to disinherit;" here will be the syllogism. The case will be similar with regard to all matters concerning the ratiocinatory and legal positions. 7I am not unaware, however, that some have included exception under the ratiocinatory kind of positions, in this way: "I have killed a man, but by order of the emperor"; "I gave up the offerings in the temple to a tyrant, but he compelled me to do so"; "I quitted my post, but through being harassed by bad weather, floods, ill-health"; that is, it was not my fault, but the fault of those circumstances. 7From these authors I differ still more widely, for it is not the act that is brought under the exceptional position, but the cause of the act, as happens indeed in almost every defense. Besides, he who adopts such a mode of defense does not depart from the position of quality, for he says that he himself is free from blame. As a result, two kinds of quality are rather to be distinguished: one by which the act and the accused party are defended, the other by which the accused only is defended.

80. We must therefore adhere to those writers whose authority Cicero has followed and who say that there are three points about which there is a question in every cause—whether a thing is, what it is, and of what species it is—for this is a distinction which even nature herself teaches us. First of all, there must be something which is the object of the question; what it is and of what species it is certainly cannot be determined until it be settled that it really exists, and this, therefore, is the first question. 8But as to that which is proved to exist, it does not immediately appear what it is. When this point is also decided, there remains, last of all, the quality, and when all these particulars are settled, nothing further is left.

8Under these heads are contained indefinite and definite questions; some of these heads are considered in whatever kind of matter we discuss, whether demonstrative, deliberative, or judicial. They comprise also suits at law, whether regarded with reference to ratiocinatory or to legal questions, for there is no legal dispute which is not to be resolved by the aid of definition, consideration of quality, or conjecture. 8But to those who are instructing the ignorant, a plan more extended at first, and a road, if not marked out by the straightest possible line, yet more easy and open, will not be without advantage. Let students learn, therefore, before all, that there are four modes of proceeding in every cause and that he ought to make it his first business to consider which four modes he who is going to plead. Beginning first of all with the defendant, by far the strongest mode of defense is if the charge which is made can be denied; the next, if an act of the kind charged against the accused can be said not to have been done; the third, and most honorable, if what is done is proved to have been justly done. If we cannot command these methods, the last and only mode of defense is that of eluding an accusation, which can neither be denied nor combated, by the aid of some point of law, so as make it appear that the action has not been brought in due legal form. 8Hence arise questions referring either to the general action or to exception, for there are some things objectionable in their own nature, yet allowed by law, (as it was permitted, for instance, by the twelve tables, that the body of a debtor might be divided among his creditors; public feeling has set aside that law). Some things may be equitable in themselves, but prohibited by law, as liberty in making wills.

8By the accuser nothing more is to be kept in view than that he must prove that something was done; that a particular thing was done; that it was done wrongfully; and that he brings his action according to law. Thus, every cause will depend upon the same sorts of questions, only the allegations of the different parties will sometimes be interchanged. In those causes in which the question is about a reward, it is for the plaintiff to prove that what was done was right.

8These plans, as it were, and forms of proceeding, which I then called general positions, resolve themselves, as I showed, into two general kinds, the one dependent on reasoning, the other on legality. The one dependent on reasoning is the more simple, as it consists merely in the contemplation of the nature of things, and it is sufficient, therefore, in respect to it, to mention conjecture, definition, quality. 8Of legal questions, there must necessarily be more species, as laws are numerous and have various forms. We rest on the words of one law and on the spirit of another; when we find no law ready to support us, we press some one into our service; we compare some, one with another; and we interpret some in a manner different from that in which they are usually understood. 8Thus from those three positions spring the following resemblances as it were of positions, sometimes simple, sometimes mixed, yet always wearing their own peculiar appearance, as that which refers to what is written and what is intended, which, without doubt, is included under quality or conjecture; that which is treated by syllogism, which has regard especially to quality; that which respects contradictory laws, which belongs to the same positions as what is written and what is intended; and that referring to ambiguity, which is always settled by conjecture. 8Definition also is common to both kinds of questions, those which depend on the consideration of matters of fact, and those which are to be decided by adherence to the written letter.

All these questions, though they fall under those three positions, yet since they have severally, as I said, something peculiar, appear necessary to be explained to learners. They may be allowed to call them either legal positions or questions, or secondary heads, if they but understand that nothing is sought in them but what is contained under the three general heads which I have before mentioned. 90. But with questions referring to quantity, to a whole as consisting of parts, to relation, and, as some have thought, to comparison, the case is not the same. They are to be regarded, not as concerning differences in the laws, but as dependent on reasoning alone, and are, therefore, always to be placed under conjecture or quality, as when we ask with what intention a person did anything, or at what time, or in what place. 9But I shall speak of particular questions when I proceed to treat of the rules for division.

This is agreed among all writers: that in every simple cause, there is but one single position. But that many questions, which, as secondary points, are referred to that in which the main point for judgment is contained, may be comprised in one and the same cause. also think that it is sometimes doubtful what position we ought to adopt, as many means of defense are employed against one accusation. As it is said with regard to the color of a statement of facts, that that is the best which a speaker can best maintain, so it may be said in this case also, that that position should be chosen in support of which the orator can put forth most strength. 9Accordingly, in settling a mode of defense for Milo, one course found favor with Cicero, when he pleaded the cause, and another with Brutus, when he composed a speech for Milo by way of exercise, as Cicero maintained that Clodius had been killed deservedly, as a lier-in-wait, yet without intention on the part of Milo, but Brutus even gloried on behalf of Milo that he had killed a bad citizen. 9But in complex causes, two or three positions may be found, either of different kinds, as when a person denies that he did one thing and maintains that he was in the right in doing another, or of the same kind, as when a person denies two charges, or all the charges brought against him. 9This happens, also, when there is a question about some one thing which several persons are trying to obtain, either all relying on the same kind of claim, as that of relationship; or some on one kind and some on another, as some on a will and some on relationship. But whenever there are several claimants, and one kind of defense is made against one and another against another, there must necessarily be several kinds of positions. Consider the following subject of controversy, the law standing thus: 9Let wills made according to the laws be valid. Let the children of intestate parents be heirs. Let a disinherited son possess none of his father's property. Let an illegitimate son, if born before one that is legitimate, be to his father as legitimate; if born after, only as a citizen. Let it be lawful for every father to give his son in adoption. Let it be lawful for every son given in adoption to return into his own family if his natural father dies without children. father, who, having two sons, had allowed one to be adopted by another man and had disinherited the other, had afterwards an illegitimate son, and then, after appointing the disinherited son his heir, died. All the three laid claim to the estate (Let me observe that the Greeks call an illegitimate son νόθος (nothos); we have no Latin term exactly corresponding it, as Cato remarks in one of his speeches, and, therefore, adopt the Greek word. But let us attend to our subject).

9The law, "Let a disinherited son possess none of his father's property," was opposed to him who was named as heir in the will, and hence arose the position referring to what is written and what is intended, it being inquired "whether he could inherit in any way? Whether according to the intention of the father? Whether as being named as heir in the will?" As to the illegitimate son, there arise two considerations: that he was born after the legitimate sons and that he was not born before a legitimate one. 9The first consideration goes into the syllogism or inference, "whether sons alienated from the family are in the same condition as if they had never been born?" The other is that regarding what is written and what is intended, for it is admitted that he was not born before a legitimate son. But he will rest his cause on the intention of the law, which he will say was that an illegitimate son, born when there was no longer a legitimate son in the family, should be considered as legitimate. 100. He will also set aside the written letter of the law by saying that "it is certainly no detriment to an illegitimate son if a legitimate one was not born after him," and will insist on this argument: Suppose that only an illegitimate son is born; in what relation will he stand to his father? Only as a citizen? Yet he will not be born after a legitimate son. Will he be as a son in every respect? Yet he will not be born before a legitimate one. If, therefore, we can conclude nothing from the words of the law, we must take our stand on the intention of it. 10Nor let it perplex any one that two positions arise from one law; the law is two-fold and has accordingly the form of two laws. To the son wishing to return into the family, it will be said, in the first place, by him who is named as heir in the will, "Though it be lawful for you to return, I am still heir." The position will be the same as in regard to the claim of the disinherited son, for the question is "whether a disinherited son can be heir?" 10In the next place, it will be said by both (as well by the one who is named heir as by the illegitimate one), "It is not lawful for you to return into the family, for our father did not lie without children." But in saying this, each of the two will rest his case on his own peculiar ground, for the disinherited son will assert, "that a disinherited son is also one of the children" and will draw a proof of his assertion, from the very law by which it is pretended that he is set aside. It would be superfluous, he would say, for a disinherited son to be forbidden to inherit the property of his father, if he were to be accounted as a stranger, but, as he would have been, by his right as a son, the heir of his father if he had died without a will, the law is now brought against him, which, however, does not prevent him from being a son, but from being an heir. The position, then, will be that of definition: the question, "what is a son?" 10The illegitimate son, on his part, will allege that his father did not die without children, resting on the same arguments which he used in making his claim at first, to show that he was a son, unless he also have recourse to the position of definition and ask, "whether illegitimate children are not children?" There will thus be in this one cause either two special legal positions: those of the letter and intention and the syllogism, besides one of definition; or those three which are the only real and natural positions: that of conjecture, with regard to the writing and intention of the writer, that of quality in the syllogism, and that of definition, which sufficiently explains itself.

In every kind of legal controversy, too, must be comprehended a cause, a matter for judgment, and the containing point, for there is nothing brought into question in which there is not some reason, something to which judgment is directed and something which chiefly contains the substance of the matter in question. But as these things vary according to the nature of causes and as they are taught by most of the writers on judicial pleadings, let them be reserved for the part in which I shall treat of such affairs. For the present, as I have divided causes into three kinds, I shall follow the order which I have prescribed to myself.

I SHALL commence with that species of oratory which is devoted to praise and censure. This species Aristotle, and Theophrastus who follows him, seem to have excluded altogether from the practical department of speaking and to have considered that its only object is to please the audience, an object which is indeed intimated by its name epideictic from ἐπιδείκνυμι, "to display." But the usage of the Romans has given it a place in civil transactions. Funeral orations are often a duty attached to some public office and are frequently assigned to the magistrates by a decree of the senate; and to commend or censure a witness is not without effect on the result of trials. It is lawful, also, to produce panegyrists on behalf of accused persons; and the written compositions published against Cicero's competitors, against Lucius Piso, Clodius, and Curio, are full of invective, and yet were received as opinions in the senate. But I do not deny that some discourses of this kind have been composed merely for ostentation, as those in praise of the gods and of the heroes of former times. This is a fact by which a question noticed above is solved and by which it is shown that those were mistaken who thought that an orator would never speak on any but doubtful subjects. Are the praises of Jupiter Capitolinus, a perpetual subject at the sacred contests, doubtful? Or are they not treated in oratorical style?

But as panegyric employed for practical purposes requires proof, so that which is composed for display calls sometimes for some semblance of proof. The orator who says that Romulus was the son of Mars and was nursed by a she-wolf would offer in proof of his celestial origin the arguments that, being thrown into a running stream, he could not be drowned; that he had such success in all his undertakings; that it is not incredible that he was sprung from the god who presides over war; and that the people of those times had no doubt that he was even received into heaven. But some particulars in such subjects will be treated as if they required defense; for example, in a panegyric on Hercules, the orator would perhaps apologize for his change of dress with the queen of Lydia, and the tasks, as we are told, imposed upon him. But the peculiar business of panegyric is to amplify and embellish its subjects.

This kind of eloquence is devoted chiefly to gods or men, though it is sometimes employed about animals and things inanimate. In praising the gods, we shall, in the first place, express a general veneration for the majesty of their nature and shall then eulogize the peculiar power of each and such of their inventions as have conferred benefit on mankind. In regard to Jupiter, for instance, his power in ruling all things is to be extolled; in regard to Mars, his supremacy in war; in regard to Neptune, his command of the sea. In respect to inventions, we extol, in praising Minerva, that of the arts; in praising Mercury, that of letters; in praising Apollo, that of medicine; in praising Ceres, that of corn; in praising Bacchus, that of wine. Whatever exploits, also, antiquity has recorded as performed by them, are to receive their encomium. Parentage, too, is a subject of panegyric in regard to the gods, as when any one is a son of Jupiter; antiquity, as to those who were sprung from Chaos; and offspring, as Apollo and Diana are an honor to Latona. We may make it a subject of praise to some that they were born immortal, and to others, that they attained immortality by their merits, a kind of glory which the piety of our own emperor has made an honor to the present age.

The praise of men is more varied. First of all, it is distinguished with respect to time, that which was before them, that in which they themselves lived, and in regard to those who are dead, that also which followed their death. Antecedent to the birth of a man will be his country, parents, and ancestors, to whom we may refer in two ways, for it will be honorable to them either to have equalled the nobility of their forefathers or to have ennobled a humble origin by their achievements. 1Other subjects for eulogy may also sometimes be found in the time that preceded a man's birth, such as occurrences that denoted his future eminence by prophetic indications or auguries; for example, the oracles are said to have foretold that the son of Thetis would be greater than his father. 1The praises of a man personally should be derived from the qualities of his mind, body, or external circumstances. The merits of corporeal and accidental advantages are of less weight than those of the mind and may be treated in many ways. Sometimes we celebrate beauty and strength with honor of words, as Homer extols them in his Agamemnon and Achilles. Sometimes comparative weakness may contribute much to our admiration, as when Homer says that Tydeus was small of stature, yet a warrior. 1Fortune, too, gives dignity, as in kings and princes, for in their condition, there is the ampler field for displaying merit, and among people of other conditions, the less resources a person has, the greater honor he acquires by making a praiseworthy use of them. All advantages, indeed, which are external to us and which have fallen to us accidentally, are not subjects of praise to a man merely because he possessed them, but only in case he employed them to good purpose. 1For wealth, power, and influence, as they offer most opportunities for good or evil, afford the surest test of our morals, since we are sure to be either better for them or worse.

1Praise of the good qualities of the mind is always just, but more than one way may be pursued in the treatment of it. Sometimes it is more honorable to follow the progress of a person's life and the order of his actions, so that his natural genius, shown in his early years, may be first commended, then his advancement in learning, and then his course of conduct including not only what he did, but what he said. Sometimes it will be better to divide our praises among the several kinds of virtues—fortitude, justice, temperance, and others—and to assign to each the honor of that which has been done under its influence. 1Which of these two methods will be the more eligible for us, we shall have to consider according to our subject, keeping in mind, however, that the celebration of those deeds is most pleasing to the audience which the object of our praise is said to have been the first to do, or to have done alone, or with the aid of but few supporters, whatever else he may have effected beyond hope or expectation, and especially what he has done for the good of others rather than for his own.

1Of the time which follows the death of persons, it is not always in our power to treat, not only because we sometimes praise them while they are still living, but because few occasions offer on which divine honors, public decrees, or statues erected at the expense of the state can be celebrated. 1Among such subjects for eulogy, I would reckon monuments of genius, which may be admired through all ages, for some, like Menander, have obtained more justice from the judgment of posterity than from that of their contemporaries. Children reflect glory upon their parents, cities on their founders, laws on those who have made them, arts on their inventors; institutions also on their authors, as it was appointed by Numa, for instance, that we should worship the gods, and by Publicola that the consuls should lower the fasces before the people.

1The same method will be observed in censure, but so as to set things in a different light, for meanness of origin has been a dishonor to many, and nobility itself has rendered others more conspicuous and more odious for their vices. To some, as is said to have been the case with Paris, mischief which it was foretold they should cause has produced dislike; on others, as Thersites and Irus, deformity of person or misfortune has thrown contempt. In regard to others, good qualities corrupted by vices have rendered them hateful; thus we find Nireus represented by the poets as cowardly, and Pleisthenes as debauched. 20. Of the mind, too, there are as many vices as virtues, and both, as in panegyric, may be treated in two ways. On some men ignominy has been thrown after death, as on Maelius, whose house was levelled with the ground, and Marcus Manlius, whose praenomen was not allowed to be borne by his posterity. 2Of the vicious, also, we hate even the parents. To founders of cities, it is an opprobrium to have drawn together a people noxious to those around them, as was the case with the original author of the Jewish superstition, so the laws of the Gracchi brought odium on their name. Any example of vice given to posterity disgraces its author, as that of the obscenity which a Persian is said to have first ventured to practice with a woman of Samos. 2With respect to the living, also, the judgments formed of them by others are proofs of their character, and the honor or dishonor shown to them proves the orator's eulogy or censure to be just.

2But Aristotle thinks it of importance to the orator to consider the place in which anything is to be commended or censured, for it makes a great difference what the manners of the audience are and what opinions are publicly entertained among them, as they will be most willing to believe that the virtues which they approve are in him who is eulogized, or that the vices which they hate are in him whom we censure. Thus the judgment formed by the orator as to the effect of his speech, even before the delivery of it, will be pretty certain. 2Some praise of his audience, too, should always be mingled with his remarks (for it makes them favorably disposed towards him) and, whenever possible, should be so introduced as to strengthen his cause. A panegyric on literary studies will be received with less honor at Sparta than at Athens; a panegyric on patience and fortitude with greater. Among some people it is honorable to live by plunder; among others to respect the laws. Frugality would perhaps have been an object of hatred with the Sybarites; luxury would have been the greatest of crimes among the ancient Romans. 2Similar diversity is found in individuals. A judge is most favorable to a pleader when he thinks that his sentiments coincide with his own. Aristotle also directs (a precept which Cornelius Celsus has since carried almost to excess) that, as there is a certain proximity of virtues and vices, we should sometimes avail ourselves of words that approach each other in sense, so as, for instance, to call a person brave instead of rash, liberal instead of prodigal, frugal instead of avaricious; or, on the contrary, the vice may be put for the virtue. This is an artifice, however, which a true orator, that is, a good man, will never adopt, unless he happen to be led to it by a notion promoting the public good.

2Cities are eulogized in the same way as persons, for their founder is to be considered as their parent, and antiquity confers much dignity on their inhabitants, as we see in regard to people who are said to be sprung from the soil of their country. In their transactions, there are the same virtues and vices as in the conduct of individuals. Some have peculiar advantages to be noticed, as in their situation or defenses. Citizens may be an honor to them, as children to parents.

2Encomiums may also be bestowed on public works, in respect to which magnificence, utility, beauty, and the architect of them are commonly considered—magnificence, as in temples; utility, as in walls; beauty and the architect, in both. Panegyrics on places are also found, as that on Sicily in Cicero, in which we regard, in like manner, beauty and utility—beauty in maritime regions, plains, and pleasant spots; utility, in respect to healthfulness or fertility of soil. There is a kind of general praise, too, for honorable sayings or actions. 2There is praise, indeed, for things of every kind, for eulogies have been written on sleep and death, and by physicians on certain sorts of food.

While I do not admit, therefore, that this laudatory department of oratory relates only to questions concerning what is honorable, I think, at the same time, that it is chiefly comprised under quality. Certainly all three positions may enter into this kind of composition, and Cicero has observed that Caius Caesar has availed himself of them in his invective on Cato. But the whole of panegyrical oratory bears some resemblance to deliberative because, for the most part, that which is recommended in the one is praised in the other.

I AM surprised, also, that deliberative oratory is confined by some authors wholly to matters of utility. If we ought to follow one sole object in it, the opinion of Cicero would have greater weight with me, who thinks that this department of speaking is chiefly occupied about what is honorable. Nor do I doubt, indeed, that those who adopt the former opinion consider, according to a very noble principle, that nothing is advantageous but what is honorable. This notion would certainly be very just, if the resolutions of the good and wise were always ready to support us. But in addressing the unlearned, to whom our opinions must often be delivered, and especially in haranguing the people, the majority of whom are ignorant, the two must be kept distinct, and we must speak more in conformity with ordinary apprehension. For there are many who, though they may consider an action to be honorable, do not immediately allow it to be sufficiently advantageous and, led by the prospect of advantage, approve what they cannot doubt to be highly dishonorable, as the treaty with the Numantines and the passing under the yoke at the defile of Caudium.

Nor is it sufficient to include deliberative oratory in the position of quality, in which is comprised the question of what is honorable and what is useful, for in respect to these, there is often room for conjecture. At times, some definition is to be considered, and occasionally, too, legal inquiries may occur, especially in reference to private proceedings, if ever a doubt arises whether a thing be lawful. Of conjecture I shall speak more fully a little below. As to definition, meanwhile, there is this question in Demosthenes, "Whether Philip should give or restore Halonnesus to the Athenians?" and in Cicero, in his Philippics, "What is a tumult?" Is there not, too, the question, similar to those in judicial causes, about the statue of Servius Sulpicius, "whether statues are to be erected to those only who perish on an embassy by the sword?" The deliberative department of oratory, therefore (which is also called the "suasory"), while it consults concerning the future, inquires also into the past. It has two objects: to persuade and to dissuade.

An exordium, such as is usual in judicial pleadings, it does not require, because whoever consults an orator is already well-disposed to hear him. Yet the commencement, whatever it be, ought to have some resemblance to an exordium, for we must not begin abruptly or with whatever we may fancy, because in every subject there is something naturally first. In speaking before the Senate, and, indeed, before the people, the same object is to be kept in view as in addressing judges, namely, that of securing the goodwill of the majority of those to whom we speak. Nor is this to be thought surprising, when the favor of the audience is sought even in panegyrics, where the purpose is not to attain any advantage, but merely to bestow praise. Aristotle, indeed, and not without reason, thinks that we may often commence, in deliberative speeches, with an allusion to ourselves or to the character of him who differs in opinion from us, borrowing this method, as it were, from judicial pleadings. In such a manner, sometimes our subject may be made to appear of less or greater importance than our audience imagine it. In panegyrics, he thinks that the exordium may be allowed the utmost latitude, since it is sometimes taken from something foreign to the subject, as Isocrates has taken his in his oration in praise of Helen, or from something bordering on the subject, as the same orator, in his Panegyric, complains that "more honor is paid to the good qualities of the body than to those of the mind," and as Gorgias, in his oration at the Olympic games, extols those who first instituted such meetings. Sallust, doubtless following the example of these orators, has commenced his histories of the Jugurthine War and the Conspiracy of Catiline with introductions having no relation to his narratives. But I am now to speak of deliberative oratory, in which, even when we adopt an exordium, we ought to content ourselves with one that is short, resembling as it were an initial chapter or statement.

As to a regular statement of facts, a private subject of discussion will never require it, at least a statement of the matter on which an opinion is to be given, for no man is ignorant of the particulars on which he consults others. 1Statements, however, of many external circumstances relative to the subject of deliberation may be introduced. In deliberative addresses to the people, a statement setting forth the order of circumstances is indispensable. 1Deliberative oratory requires appeals to the feelings more than any other kind of eloquence, for indignation is often to be kindled and allayed, and the minds of the audience are to be moved to fear, eagerness, hatred, or benevolence. Sometimes, too, pity is to be excited, whether we have, for example, to recommend that aid be given to a besieged town, or whether we be called upon to lament the overthrow of a people in alliance with us.

1But what is of most weight in deliberative speeches is authority in the speaker, for he who desires everybody to trust to his opinion about what is expedient and honorable ought to be, and to be esteemed, a man of the greatest judgment and probity. In judicial pleadings, it is commonly thought allowable for a man to indulge, in some degree, his own feelings, but everyone supposes that counsel is given by a speaker in accordance with his moral principles.

1Most of the Greek rhetoricians have been of opinion that the business of all this kind of oratory is with addresses to the multitude and have confined it wholly to affairs of government. Even Cicero considers it chiefly with reference to that department and accordingly says that for those who are to give advice concerning peace, war, levies of troops, public works, or revenues, the two things chiefly to be known are the resources and the manners of the people whom they address, so that his arguments may be derived at once from the particular circumstances and from the character of his hearers 1To me, it appears that there is greater variety in this field of eloquence, for the classes of persons who consult and the kinds of advice that may be given are extremely numerous.

In persuading and dissuading, then, three particulars are chiefly to be regarded: what is the subject of deliberation, who are those that deliberate, and what is the character of him that would influence their deliberations.

1As to that which is the subject of deliberation, it is either certain that it may be carried into effect, or uncertain. If it be uncertain, its uncertainty will be the sole point for consideration, or, I should say, the chief point, for it will often happen that we shall assert, first of all, that a thing, even if it could he done, ought not to be done, and, next, that it cannot be done. But when the question is respecting something uncertain, the point is conjectural: can the Isthmus be cut through, or the Pontine marshes drained, or a harbor made at Ostia, or was Alexander likely to find lands beyond the ocean? 1But even in regard to things which are acknowledged to be practicable, there will sometimes be room for conjecture: as if it were inquired, for instance, whether it would ever happen that the Romans would subdue Carthage, whether Hannibal would return if Scipio transported his army into Africa, or whether the Samnites would keep faith if the Romans were to lay down their arms. As to some things, too, it is credible both that they can be done and that they will be done, but at some other time, or in some other place, or in some other manner.

1Where there is no place for conjecture, other points are to be regarded. In the first place, the deliberation will be held either on account of the matter itself, on which opinions are asked, or on account of some extrinsic reasons that affect it. The Senate deliberates, for example, with regard to the matter itself when they consider whether they shall vote pay for the army. 1This is a simple question. Reasons are adduced for doing a thing, as when the Senate deliberates whether they shall deliver up the Fabii to the Gauls threatening war, or for not doing it, as when Julius Caesar deliberates whether he shall persist in marching into Germany when his soldiers were everywhere making their wills. 20. These two questions offer more than one point for consideration, for as to the former, the reason for deliberating is that the Gauls are threatening war, but a question may also be raised whether even, without such threatening, those ought not to have been given up who, being sent as ambassadors, had engaged in battle contrary to law and had killed the king to whom they had received communications. 2As to the other subject, Caesar would doubtless not have deliberated at all if it had not been for the consternation of his troops; yet there is room for inquiring whether, independently of that circumstance, it would have been proper for him to proceed into Germany. But we must always speak first on that point which might be a subject for deliberation even if other circumstances were detached from it.

2Some have thought that the topics for persuasion are the three considerations of what is honorable, what is useful, and what is necessary. For the introduction of the third, I find no motive, for when any force oppresses us, it may be necessary for us to suffer something, but certainly not to do anything; it is about doing that deliberation is concerned. 2If they call "necessity" that to which men are driven by the fear of some greater evil, the question respecting it will be one of expediency. If the inhabitants of a besieged city, inferior in numbers to the besiegers and in want of water and provisions, deliberate about surrendering to the enemy, and it be said, that "it is necessary" for them to surrender, it must be added, "for otherwise they must be destroyed"; however, if they prefer to submit to destruction, it appears that it is "not necessary" for them to surrender for the very reason that they may be destroyed. In fact, the Saguntines did not surrender nor those who were surrounded in the vessel of Opitergium. 2In such circumstances, therefore, the question will be either concerning expediency alone, or there will be hesitation between what is expedient and what is honorable. But, it may be said, if a man wishes to have children, he is under the necessity of taking a wife. Doubtless, but he who wishes to have children must first be convinced that he ought to take a wife. 2Consequently there appears to me to be no place for deliberation when there is necessity, any more than when it is settled that a thing cannot be done, for all deliberation is about something doubtful. Those, therefore, have made a better distinction who have called the third head δυνατόν (dynaton), which our countrymen term possibile, "possibility"; though our Latin term may seem uncouth, it is the only one to be found.

2That these three considerations do not enter into every subject of deliberation is too evident to make it necessary for me to demonstrate. Yet by most writers the number is increased, for things are reckoned by them as general considerations which are but special objects for notice, since what is lawful, just, pious, equitable, and merciful (mansuetum, for so they interpret τὸ ἥμερον, (to hēmeron)) and whatever else may be added of a similar character, may be included under what is honorable. 2Whether, again, a thing be easy, important, pleasant, or free from danger belongs to the consideration of expediency. These particular points for consideration arise from what is said in reply to us by our opponents: It is indeed expedient, but it is difficult, of little importance, unpleasant, and dangerous. 2Yet some think that deliberation at times occurs merely concerning agreeableness, as when a consultation is held about the erection of a theater or the institution of games; but I do not suppose that any man is so totally given up to pleasure as to look for nothing but gratification in deliberation of a subject. 2For there must always be something that should be thought of higher consideration: in regard to games, the honor of the gods; and in regard to the erection of a theatre, useful relaxation from labor, and the unbecoming and inconvenient contention for places among the crowd, if there should be no theater. Religion, at the same time, will have its place in the consideration, as we may call the theater a temple, as it were, for the festival solemnized there to the gods.

30. Often, too, we say that advantage is to be disregarded in order that we may do what is honorable (as when we counsel the people of Opitergium not to surrender themselves to the enemy, though they will perish unless they do so), and sometimes we may have occasion to set what is honorable below what is advantageous (as when we advise, as in the second Punic war, that the slaves should be armed). 3But even in the latter case, we must not altogether admit that the proceeding is dishonorable (for we may say that all men are free by nature and are formed of the same matter, and that even some of the slaves may be descended from noble ancestors), and in the former case, when the danger is evident, other considerations may be alleged, as we may assert that if they surrender, they may perish even more cruelly, should the enemy, for instance, not keep their word, or should Caesar, as is more probable, obtain the superiority. 3But considerations which are so much opposed to one another are frequently softened by some alteration in the words, for expediency itself is altogether set at nought by that sect who say not only that what is honorable is always preferable to what is expedient, but that nothing can even be expedient which is not honorable; on the other hand, what we call honorable, another sect calls vain, ostentatious, foolish, and more commendable in words than in reality.

3Nor is what is advantageous compared only with what is disadvantageous, but things that are advantageous or disadvantageous are compared with one another, as when we try to determine, of two advantageous measures, which is the more advantageous, or of two that are disadvantageous, which is the less so. The difficulty may be still increased, for sometimes three subjects for deliberation may present themselves, as when Pompey deliberated whether he should betake himself to Parthia, or Africa, or Egypt. Thus it is not only inquired which of two courses is preferable, but which is the most eligible of three. 3In questions of this kind, there will never occur any doubt as to a matter which is every way in our favor, for when there is no room for speaking against a measure, what motive can there be for hesitating about it? Thus every subject for deliberation is generally nothing else but a subject for comparison, and we must consider both what we would attain and by what means, so that we may form an estimate whether there is greater advantage in that which we pursue or greater disadvantage in the means by which we pursue it. 3A question of advantage may also have reference to time: it is expedient, but not now; or to place: not here; or to persons: not for us, or against those; or to a particular mode of proceeding: not thus; or to measure: not to so great a degree.

But still more frequently, we have to take persons into consideration with a view to what may be becoming, a point which is to be regarded in respect not only to ourselves but to those also who consult us. 3Though examples are of the utmost effect in deliberative oratory, because men are most easily led to consent to any measure by instances of similar proceedings, it makes a great difference whose authority is adduced and to whom it is recommended, for the feelings of those who listen to deliberative speeches are various. 3Our audience may be also of two kinds, for those who consult us are either many or single individuals, and as to each, distinctions are to be made, since, with regard to a number of persons, it makes a great difference whether they are a Senate, or a people, whether Romans, or Fidenates, whether Greeks, or Barbarians, and, in respect to individuals, whether we recommend that public offices should be sought by Cato or by Caius Marius, and whether Scipio the elder, or Fabius consult with us on the mode of conducting a war. 3We must in like manner look to sex, dignity, and age. But it is the character of our hearers that should lead us to make the chief difference in our addresses to them. To recommend honorable measures to those who are honorable is extremely easy, but if we ever have occasion to enforce a right course of conduct on the unprincipled, we must be careful not to reproach them with the opposite nature of their life. 3The minds of such an audience are to be influenced not by dissertations on the nature of virtue, for which they have no regard, but by allusions to honor and to the opinion of others, and if such arguments to their vanity do not move them, by showing the advantage likely to follow from what you advise, or rather perhaps, and with more effect, by showing them how much is to be dreaded if they act otherwise. 40. For besides the fact that minds of the lightest principles are most easily alarmed, I know not whether the fear of evil has not naturally more influence with the majority of mankind than the hope of good, to whom also the knowledge of what is vicious comes with greater facility than the knowledge of that which is virtuous. 4Sometimes, also, actions which are scarcely honorable are recommended to the good, and to those of a rather opposite character are proposed measures in which nothing but the advantage of those who seek the advice is regarded.

I am well aware what sort of reflection may at once occur to the reader of this passage. "Is this, then," he may ask, "the practice that you recommend, and do you think it right?" 4Cicero might absolve me, when he writes in the following manner to Brutus (after mentioning many courses of conduct which might be fairly recommended to Caesar): "Should I act as an honest man, if I should recommend these measures? Certainly not, for the proper object of an adviser is the advantage of him whom he advises. But the measures are right. Who says otherwise? But in giving advice, there is not always room for what is right." As this question, however, is of a deeper nature and does not concern deliberative speeches only, the subject is reserved by me for my twelfth book, which will be my last. should not wish anything to be done dishonorably, and in the meantime, let these questions be considered to belong at least to the exercises of the schools, for the nature of what is bad should be known, that we may the better support what is good.

4If any one, however, recommend to a good man anything not quite honorable, let him remember not to recommend it as dishonorable, in the manner in which some declaimers urge Sextus Pompey to engage in piracy, for the very reason that it is nefarious and cruel; but some palliation must be thrown over what is disgraceful, even in addressing the immoral. 4It is in this way that Catiline speaks in Sallust, so that he seems to rush daringly into a heinous enterprise, not through want of regard for honesty, but through indignation. It is thus also that Atreus speaks in Varius:

I now endure gross wickedness, and now
I'm forc'd to act it.
How much more then is this pretension to honor to be maintained before those who have a real regard to their character! 4Accordingly, if we advise Cicero to implore the mercy of Antony or even to burn his Philippics (supposing such to be the condition on which Antony offers him life), we shall not insist upon his love of life, (for if this has any influence on his mind, it will maintain that influence even though we remain silent), but we shall exhort him to preserve himself for the service of his country. 4He will have occasion for such a pretext, that he may not be ashamed of his supplications to Antony. Or if we advise Caius Caesar to assume kingly power, we shall assert that the state cannot subsist but under the rule of one master, for he who deliberates about a criminal proceeding seeks only how he may appear to do as little wrong as possible.

4It is of much importance, also, what the character of the adviser is, because if his previous life has been illustrious, or if the nobility of his birth, or his age or fortune, excites expectation, care must be taken that what he says may not be at variance with the dignity of him who says it. But a character of a contrary nature requires a humbler tone, for what is liberty in some is in others called presumption; to some their authority is sufficient support, while the force of reason itself scarcely upholds others.

4In consequence prosopopeiae appear to me the most difficult of all speeches of this kind, for in them the task of sustaining a character is added to the other arduous points of suasory eloquence. Caesar, Cicero, and Cato, speaking on the same subject, must each express himself differently. But exercise in this department is extremely beneficial, both because it requires double effort and because it greatly improves the powers of those who would be poets or historians. 50. To orators, it is even indispensable, for there are many speeches composed by Greek and Latin orators for others to use, and what was expressed in these had to be adapted to the speaker's condition and character. Did Cicero think uniformly in the same manner or assume the same character when he wrote for Cneius Pompey, for Titus Ampius, and for others? Did he not rather, looking to the fortune, dignity, and actions of each of them, express the very character of all to whom he gave words, so that, though they spoke in a better style than their own, they yet appeared to speak in their own persons? speech is not less faulty which is unsuited to the person than that which is unsuited to the subject to which it ought to be adapted. Lysias, accordingly, is thought to deserve great praise for preserving so exact an air of truth in the speeches which he wrote for the illiterate.

It ought, indeed, to be a chief object with declaimers to consider what is suitable to different characters, for they speak on but few subjects of controversy as advocates, but generally harangue in the character of sons, fathers, rich men, old men, morose or good-natured persons, misers or superstitious people, cowards or jesters, so that actors in comedy have scarcely more parts to master on the stage than they have in the schools. 5All these representations of characters may be regarded as prosopopeiae, which I include under deliberative orations because they differ from them in nothing but the personation of a character, though this is sometimes introduced into those deliberative subjects, which, taken from history, are conducted under the real names of the speakers. 5Nor am I ignorant that poetical and historical prosopopeiae are sometimes given in the schools by way of exercise, as the pleading of Priam before Achilles, or the address of Sylla to the people on laying down the dictatorship. But these will fall under some of the three heads into which I have divided causes, for we have to intreat, to make declarations, to give reasons, and to do other things of which I have spoken above, in various forms and as the subject may require, in the judicial, deliberative, and demonstrative kind of oratory. 5But in all these we very often utter fictitious speeches attributed to characters which we ourselves introduce; as in Cicero's speech Pro Caelio, Appius Caecus and Clodius, the brother of Clodia, are both represented as addressing Clodia, the former being made to reproach her with her intrigues, and the other to admonish her about them.

5Matters for debate, too, are often introduced in the schools, which approach nearer to the judicial than the deliberative kind of oratory, and which are indeed compounded of the two, as when a discussion is held before Caesar about the punishment of Theodotus, for it consists of an accusation and a defense, which are the proper parts of judicial pleadings. 5But the question of expediency also enters into it: it is inquired "whether it was to the advantage of Caesar that Pompey was killed; whether war is to be apprehended from the king if Theodotus be put to death; and whether such war would not be embarrassing and dangerous at the present time and likely to be of long duration." 5Considerations also arise about the honorableness of the proceeding: "as whether it would be becoming in Caesar to avenge Pompey, and whether it was to be apprehended that he would injure the cause of his party, if he should confess that Pompey was undeserving of death." 5Deliberations on such questions may occur even in real causes.

There has, however, prevailed among most declaimers in regard to deliberative speeches, an error that has not been without its consequences, for they have imagined that the deliberative style of speaking is different from the judicial, and indeed altogether opposed to it. Accordingly, they have affected abrupt commencements, a kind of oratory always vehement, and a liberal embellishment, as they call it, in their expressions, and have studied to make shorter notes, forsooth, for deliberative than for judicial subjects. 5For my part, though I do not see that there is any need for a regular exordium in deliberative speeches for the reasons which I have previously stated, I still do not understand why we should commence with furious exclamation, for he who is asked his opinion on a question proposed does not, if he is a man of sense, begin immediately to cry out, but endeavors to gain the confidence of those who consult him by a modest and rational entrance on the subject. 60. Or why should the style of the speaker be like a torrent and uniformly vehement, when counsel requires in the most eminent degree moderation and calm reasoning? I admit that in judicial pleadings, the tone of the speaker is often lowered in the exordium, the statement of facts, and the argumentative portions, and that, if you take away these three parts, there will remain something like the substance of which deliberative orations consist, but that substance ought to be more calm, not more violent and furious.

6As to grandeur of diction, it is not to be affected by those who declaim deliberative speeches more than by others, but it comes more naturally to them, for to those who imagine their own subjects, great personages—such as kings, princes, people, and Senate—are generally most attractive with important topics for discussion, and consequently, when the style is suited to the matter, it assumes a degree of magnificence from it. 6With regard to real causes, the case is different, and therefore Theophrastus has pronounced that the language in all deliberative oratory should be free from every kind of affectation, following in this respect the authority of his master, though he does not hesitate frequently to differ from him. 6For Aristotle was of opinion that the panegyrical department of oratory was the best adapted for improvement in composition, and next to it the judicial, since the first is devoted wholly to display, and the latter requires art so as even to deceive the hearers if expediency demands; but counsel needs nothing but truth and prudence. 6With respect to panegyric, I agree with these critics, for all other writers have expressed themselves of a similar opinion, but in judicial and deliberative subjects, I think that the manner of speaking is to be adapted to the matter, according to the nature of the question that may be under consideration. see that the Philippics of Demosthenes are distinguished by the same merits as the speeches which he pronounced in judicial causes, and the opinions of Cicero delivered in the Senate and his speeches to the people exhibit a splendor of eloquence no less luminous than that which appears in his accusations and defenses. Yet he speaks of the deliberative kind of oratory in this way: the language ought to be uniformly simple and grave, and more distinguished for studied thoughts than for studied phraseology. 6That there is no kind of oratory to which the application of examples is more suitable, all writers are justly agreed, as the future seems for the most part to correspond to the past, and experience is regarded as some attestation to reason.

6As to shortness or length in such speeches, it depends not on the nature of the subject, but on the compass of it, for as in deliberations, the question is generally more simple, so in judicial affairs it is often of less extent.

All these remarks will prove true to anyone who shall prefer, instead of growing grey over the treatises of the rhetoricians, to read not only speeches, but also histories, for in history the orations pronounced to the people, and the opinions delivered in councils of state, generally afford examples of persuasion and dissuasion. 6He will find, too, that in deliberative speeches the commencements are not abrupt; that the diction in judicial pleadings is often more animated; that style is suited to the matter in one class as well as in the other; and that the speeches in courts of justice are sometimes shorter than those in public councils. 6Nor will he find in them the faults into which some of our declaimers fall, who indulge in coarse invectives against those that dissent in opinion from them, and speak, on the whole, as if they were the natural adversaries of those who ask their advice, and thus exhibit themselves in the character rather of railers than of counsellors. 70. Let young men know that these remarks are written for their admonition, that they may not allow themselves to be taught otherwise than they will have to speak, and spend their time upon learning that which they will have to unlearn. But whenever they shall be called to give counsel to their friends, to pronounce an opinion in the senate, or to offer advice if the emperor consult them, they will be taught by practice what they cannot perhaps receive on the credit of precepts.

I AM now to speak of the judicial kind of oratory, which is extremely varied, but lies in the two duties of attack and defense. The divisions of it, as most authors are of opinion, are five: the exordium, the statement of facts, the proof of what we advance, the refutation of our adversary, and the peroration. To these some have added partition, proposition and digression, the first two of which evidently fall under proof, for you must necessarily propose what you are going to prove, as well as conclude after you have proved, and, if proposition is a division of a cause, why is not also conclusion? As for partition, it is only one of the duties of arrangement, which is a portion of oratory in general, equally pervading all its parts and the whole body of each, like invention and delivery. We are, therefore, not to consider partition as one division of a speech taken as a whole, but as belonging to every single question in it, for what question is there in which the orator may not state what he is going to say in the first place, what in the second, and what in the third, and this is the business of partition. How ridiculous is it, then, that each question should be a species of proof and that partition, which is but a species of question, should be called a part of the speech as a whole? But as for digression, or what has become a more common term, excessus, "excursion," if it be without the cause, it cannot be a part of the cause, and if it be within the cause, it is an aid or ornament to the parts from which it proceeds, for if whatever is in the cause is to be called a part of the cause, why is not every argument, comparison, commonplace, address to the feelings, and example, called a part of the cause?

I do not, however, agree with those who, like Aristotle, omit refutation as comprehended under proof, for proof establishes, while refutation overthrows. Aristotle also makes an innovation, to a certain degree, by placing next to the exordium, not the statement of facts, but the proposition, but this he does because he thinks the proposition the genus, and the statement of facts the species, and supposes that there is not always a necessity for the first, but for the second always and in all cases. But with regard to the divisions which I have made, it is not to be understood that that which is to be delivered first is necessarily to be contemplated first, for we ought to consider, before everything else, of what nature the cause is; what is the question in it; what may profit or injure it; next, what is to be maintained or refuted; and then, how the statement of facts should be made. For the statement is preparatory to proof and cannot be made to advantage, unless it be first settled what it ought to promise as to proof. Last of all, it is to be considered how the judge is to be conciliated, for until all the bearings of the cause be ascertained, we cannot know what sort of feeling it is proper to excite in the judge, whether inclined to severity or gentleness, to violence or laxity, to inflexibility or mercy.

Yet, I do not, on these accounts, agree with those who think that the exordium is to be written last, for though it is proper that our materials should be collected and that we should settle what effect is to be produced by each particular, before we begin to speak or write, yet we ought certainly to begin with that which is naturally first. No man begins to paint a portrait or mold a statue with the feet, nor does any art find its completion where the commencement ought to be. Else, what will be the case if we have no time to write our speech? Will not so preposterous a practice disappoint us? The orator's materials are, therefore, to be first contemplated in the order in which we direct, and then to be written in the order in which he is to deliver them.

EVERY cause, in which there is one method for a plaintiff and another for a defendant, consists either in a controversy about one charge or about several. The one is called simple, the other complex. A question about a theft by itself, or an act of adultery by itself, is single and independent. When there are several questions, they may be either of the same kind, as in a charge of extortion, or of different kinds, as in a charge of sacrilege and homicide at the same time. This union of charges does not now occur in public trials, because the praetor takes cognizance of each according to a fixed law, but is frequent in the causes tried before the emperors and the Senate, and used to be common in those that came before the people. Also, disputes between private individuals often require one judge to determine as to many different points of law. Nor will there be more than two kinds of causes, even in cases where one party prosecutes the same suit, and on the same ground, against several; or two against one; or several against several, as we sometimes see occur in actions about inheritances. Though there be several parties, the cause is still but one, unless indeed the condition of the parties give rise to distinct questions.

There is, however, said to be a third kind, different from these, called comparative, and some consideration with regard to comparison frequently happens in some part of a cause, as when, in a case before the centumviri, there arises, after other questions, one of this kind, which of two persons is better entitled to an inheritance? But it seldom happens that trials are appointed in the forum merely for that object, and only in cases of divination, which take place for the purpose of appointing an accuser, or sometimes between informers to decide which of two has a better claim to a reward.

To this number, some have indeed added a fourth, called ἀντικατηγορία (antikatēgoria), "recrimination," or "mutual accusation," but others think that this is comprehended under the comparative kind. The case of reciprocal suits will be similar to it, a case which happens very frequently, and if this ought also to be called ἀντικατηγορία (antikatēgoria), for it has no proper appellation with us, there will be two kinds of it, one in which the parties bring the same charge against each other, the other in which they bring different charges. The case is similar with regard to demands.

When the nature of the cause has been determined, we shall then have to consider whether the fact, which is made a charge by the accuser against the defendant, is to be denied, to be justified, to be called by another name, or to be excluded from that particular sort of process. By this means, the states of causes are determined.

WHEN these matters are settled, Hermagoras thinks that we must next consider what is the question, the mode of defense, the point for judgment, the συνέχον (synechon), or point "containing" the accusation, or, as some call it, the firmamentum, or "foundation" of the cause.

"Question," in its more general sense, is understood to mean everything on which two or more plausible opinions may be advanced. But in regard to judicial matters, it is to be taken in two senses: one, when we say that a cause involves several questions, among which we include even those of least importance; the other, when we mean the great question on which a cause turns. It is of the second that I now speak, and it is from this that the state has its origin: status conjecturalis, "Has a thing been done?"; status definitivus, "What has been done?"; and status qualitatis, "Has it been justifiably done?" These interrogatories Hermagoras, Apollodorus, and many other writers properly call "questions"; Theodorus, as I observed, terms them "general heads," and the minor questions, or those dependent on them, "special heads," as it admitted that one question may arise from another question and that a species may be divided into species. This principal question of all, then, they call the ζήτημα (zētēma).

The mode of defense is that process by which what is admitted to have been done is justified. To exemplify it, why should I not use that instance which almost all writers have adopted? "Orestes killed his mother": this is admitted, but he says that he killed her justly. The state will then be that of quality, the question, "Whether he killed her justly?" The ground of defense will be that Clytemnestra killed her husband, the father of Orestes. this is called the αἴτιον (aition).

The point for judgment, the κρινόμενον (krinomenon), will be, in this case, whether even a mother guilty of such a crime ought to be killed by her son.

Some have made a distinction between αἴτιον (aition) and αἰτία (aitia), making the first signify the cause for which a trial becomes necessary, as the killing of Clytemnestra, the second, the ground on which the deed is justified, as the killing of Agamemnon. But such has been the disagreement as to the sense of these words, that some call aitia the cause of the trial and aition the cause of the deed, while others use them in senses exactly contrary. Among the Latins, some have adopted the terms initium, "commencement," and ratio, "reason," while some include both under the same term. Cause also appears to arise from cause, αἴτιον ἐξ αἰτίον, as, "Clytemnestra killed Agamemnon because he had sacrificed their common daughter, and brought home a captive as his concubine." The same authors are of opinion that in one question, there may be several grounds of defense, as, for example, "if Orestes adds another cause for having killed his mother, namely, that he was forced to obey an oracle," and that whatever number of causes for the deed may be alleged, there are the same number of points for judgment, as it will also be a point for judgment whether he ought to have obeyed the oracle. But even one alleged cause for a deed may, as I conceive, give rise to several questions and points for judgment, as in the case of the man, who, after he had killed his wife on catching her in adultery, subsequently killed the adulterer, who at first escaped, in the forum. The alleged cause for the deed is but one, "He was an adulterer," but several questions and points for judgment may arise, as whether it was lawful to kill him at that time or in that place. But as when there are several questions, and all have their states, there is yet but one state in the cause to which everything is referred, so there is but one proper point for judgment on which the decision is pronounced.

As to the συνέχον (synechon), which, as I said, some call continens, others firmamentum, and Cicero "the strongest argument of the defender, and the fittest point for adjudication," some regard it as that after which nothing remains to be ascertained, some as that which is the strongest point for adjudication. The reason of the deed is not a point for consideration in all causes, for what reason for the deed need be sought when the deed is altogether denied? But when the reason of the deed is an object of consideration, they deny that the ultimate point for decision rests on the same ground as the first question, an observation which Cicero makes both in his Rhetorica and his Partitiones. 1For when it is said, "It was done; it was not done; was it done?" the question rests on conjecture, and the judication rests on the same ground as the question, because the first question and the ultimate decision are about the same point. But when it is said, "Orestes killed his mother; he killed her justly; no, but unjustly; did he kill her justly?" the question rests on the consideration of quality, but this is not yet the point for decision. When then will it be? After the statement, "She had killed my father; but you ought not, therefore, to have killed your mother; ought Orestes to have killed her?" Here is the point for decision. 1The fundamental point of the defense I will give in the words of Cicero himself: "if Orestes were inclined to say that the disposition of his mother towards his father, towards himself and his sisters, towards his kingdom, and towards the reputation of his race and family, had been of such a nature that her children felt of all people most obliged to inflict punishment on her." 1Others also use such examples as these: "the law says, let him who has exhausted his patrimony not be allowed to address the people; but the defendant exhausted his upon public works," and the question then is, "whether whoever has exhausted his patrimony is not to be allowed," and the point for judgment, "whether he who has exhausted his patrimony in such a way is not to be allowed." 1Or consider the case of the Auruncan soldier, who killed the tribune Caius Lusius when he made dishonorable advances to him, in which the question is, "whether he killed him justly," the ground of defense, "that he made dishonorable advances," the point for judgment, "whether it were lawful for a person to be killed uncondemned; whether it were lawful for a tribune to be killed by a soldier."

1Some also regard the question, as in one state, and the point for decision in another; for example, the question "whether Milo did right in killing Clodius" is in the state of quality, but the point for decision, "whether Clodius lay in wait for Milo," is in the state of conjecture. 1They say also that a cause often strays into some matter which does not properly belong to the question, and on which the decision is pronounced. I am not at all of their opinion, for the question, for instance, "whether every man who has exhausted his patrimony is forbidden to address the people," must have its decision. Therefore, the question and the point for decision will not be different, but there will be more than one question and more than one point for decision. 1In the case of Milo, too, is not the question of fact considered with reference to the question of quality? For if Clodius lay in wait, it follows that he was justly killed. But when the cause goes into some other matter and recedes from the question which was first proposed, the question will be in the state in which the point for decision is.

1Respecting these matters, even Cicero is in some degree at variance with himself, for in his Rhetorica, as I said above, he has followed Hermagoras, and in his Topica, he expresses himself of opinion that κρινόμενον (krinomenon), the "point of judgment," is the consideration arising from the state, and in addressing Trebatius, a lawyer of his time, he calls it "the point about which the discussion is" and terms the particulars in which that point is contained continentia, the "containing particulars" and the firmamenta, "supports," as it were, of the defense, without which there would be no defense at all. 1But in his Partitiones Oratoriae he calls the firmamentum that which is opposed to the defense, because the continens, the "containing point," as it is the first thing, is advanced by the accuser, while the ratio, "mode of defense," proceeds from the defendant. From the opposition of the ratio and firmamentum arises the question for decision.

Therefore, those authors who have made the state, the containing point, and the question for decision to be all the same and who have pronounced the containing point to be that without which there would be no discussion, have settled the matter more judiciously and concisely. 20. In this "containing point," they seem to me to have included both allegations, "that Orestes killed his mother, and that Clytemnestra killed Agamemnon." The same writers think that the state and the point for judgment always concur, and indeed any other opinion would have been at variance with their views.

2But this studied subtlety about names of things is but ostentatious labor and has only been noticed by me that I might not appear to have given too little consideration to the work which I have taken in hand. A master who teaches without affectation need not split his mode of teaching into such minute distinctions. 2Excessive subdivision is a fault into which many rhetoricians have fallen, and especially Hermagoras, a man otherwise of great sagacity, deserving of admiration on many accounts, and censurable only for too anxious diligence, so that even what we blame in him is not unworthy of some degree of commendation. 2But the way which I follow is far shorter and for that reason plainer, and will neither fatigue the learner with long windings, nor enervate the body of his language by portioning it out into minute particulars. For he who sees what point it is that comes into controversy; what the opposite side wishes to do with regard to it, and by what means; what his own side has to do (a particular especially to be regarded), cannot be without a full understanding of all the matters on which I have just spoken. 2Nor can there, we may say, be any person not utterly devoid of sense and a stranger to all practice in pleading that does not know what it is that gives rise to a discussion (which is called by the rhetoricians the cause and the containing point); what is the question between two parties; on what point judgment must be given; and which three things are indeed all the same. For the subject of the question is that which comes into controversy, and judgment is given respecting that which is the subject of the question.

2But we do not perpetually keep our attention fixed on these matters, but moved with the desire of obtaining praise by whatever means or carried away with the pleasure of speaking, we allow ourselves to wander from our subject. Matter without the cause is always more abundant than within it, for in the controversy itself there is indeed comparatively little, and everything else is beyond its limits; in the one case, we speak only of matters in which we have been instructed, in the other, on whatever we please. 2Nor is it so much to be charged upon ourselves that we should discover the question, the containing point, and the point for judgment (for to discover them is easy), as that we should always look steadily to our object, or at least, if we digress from it, should recover sight of it, lest, while we are striving for applause, our arms should drop from our grasp.

2The school of Theodorus, as I said, distinguishes everything into heads, under which term several particulars are comprehended. Under the first, only the main question, the same as the state; under the next, other questions, which refer to the main question; under the third, the proposition with its proofs. The word is used in the same sense in which we say caput rei est, "it is the head of the business"; in Menander, κεφάλαιόν ἐστι (kephalaion esti). But, in general, whatever is to be proved will be a head, whether of greater or lesser importance.

2Since I have now set forth, even more circumstantially than was requisite, what is taught on these points by the writers of books on rhetoric, and since I have already specified the several parts of judicial causes, my next book shall treat of proems or exordia.

AFTER finishing, my dear Marcellus Victor, the third book of the work dedicated to you and completing about the fourth part of my task, there have occurred to me a motive for fresh diligence and a deeper solicitude as to the judgment that I may deserve from the public. Hitherto, we were but comparing studies, as it were, between ourselves, and if my method of instruction was but little approved by others, I thought myself likely to be quite contented with our domestic advantage, deeming it sufficient to regulate the education of your son and my own. But since Domitian Augustus has vouchsafed me the charge of his sister's grandsons, I should not sufficiently feel the honor of his divine judgment if I were not to estimate the greatness of my undertaking as proportioned to this distinction. For what pains can I spare in the cultivation of the morals of youth in order that the most upright of censors may have reason to approve them? Or in promoting their studies, that I may not be found to have disappointed, in this respect, the expectations of a prince most eminent, not only in other accomplishments, but also in eloquence? And if no one is surprised that the greatest poets have often invoked the Muses, not only at the beginning of their works, but, on advancing in their course, and arriving at some point of great importance, have renewed their addresses and used ,as it were, fresh solicitations. I myself shall surely be pardoned also if I now do that which I omitted to do when I entered on my subject and call all the deities to my aid, especially that God than whom there is no deity more auspicious or more peculiarly favorable to learning, in order that he may inspire me with ability proportioned to the expectation which he has raised of me, may propitiously and kindly support me, and render me in reality such as he has supposed me to be.

For such devotional feeling, this, though my greatest, is not my only reason, for as my work advances, the parts on which I am entering are more important and more difficult than those which have preceded them. It is now to be shown, in the next place, what is the process of judicial causes, which are extremely numerous and diversified; what is the purpose of the exordium; what is the proper form of a statement of acts; what constitutes the force of proofs, either when we confirm our own assertions or overthrow those of our adversary; and what is the power of a peroration, either when the memory of the judge is to be refreshed by a short recapitulation, or when, what is far the most effective, his feelings are to be excited. On these particulars, some authors, as if they dreaded the weight of the whole in a body, have preferred to write separately, and even thus have published several books on each of them. Having ventured to embrace them all, I see before me a labor almost boundless and am oppressed with the very thought of the task which I have undertaken. But as I have begun, I must persevere, and if I fail in strength, must nevertheless proceed with courage.

THAT which is called the beginning or exordium in Latin, the Greeks seem with greater reason to have termed the προοίμιον (prooimion), for by our writers is signified only a commencement, but the Greek rhetoricians plainly show that this is the part preliminary to the entrance on the subject on which the orator is to speak. For whether it be because οἴμη (oimē) signifies a tune, and players on the lyre have called the short prelude that they execute, for the purpose of conciliating favor, before they enter upon the regular contest for the prize, a prooimium, orators, in consequence, have used the same appellation to distinguish the address which they make to gain the good will of the judges before they commence their pleading; or whether, because the Greeks call a road οἴμος (oimos), it became a practice to call that a prooimium which precedes the entrance on a subject. It is certainly the proem or exordium that produces a good effect on the judge before he understands what the cause is, and we act erroneously in the schools in using exordia of such a nature as if the judge were thoroughly acquainted with the cause. The liberty taken in this respect arises from the circumstance that the usual idea of the cause is given previous to the commencement of the declamation. Such kind of exordia may be adopted indeed in the forum in second processes, but in a first process, seldom or ever, unless we chance to plead before a judge to whom the matter has become known from some other quarter.

In giving an exordium at all, there is no other object but to prepare the hearer to listen to us more readily in the subsequent parts of our pleading. This object, as is agreed among most authors, is principally effected by three means: by securing his good will and his attention, and by rendering him desirous of further information. These ends are not to be kept in view throughout the whole pleading, but they are pre-eminently necessary at the commencement, when we gain admission, as it were, to the mind of the judge in order to penetrate still farther into it.

As to good will, we either gain it from persons connected with the cause, or have it from the cause itself. But in respect to persons, regard is not to be had to three only (as most rhetoricians have supposed)—the prosecutor, the defendant, and the judge—for the exordium sometimes takes its complexion from the character of the pleader, and though he speaks sparingly and modestly concerning himself, yet, if he be deemed a good man, much influence, in reference to the whole cause, may depend on that consideration. He will then be thought to bring to the support of his party not merely the zeal of an advocate but almost the testimony of a witness. Let him be regarded as coming to plead, therefore, from being induced by obligations of kindred or friendship, or above all, if it be possible, by respect for his country, or for some strong considerations of precedent. This, without doubt, is still more to be observed by the parties themselves, so that they may seem to go to law from some important and honorable motive, or even from necessity.

But while the authority of the speaker becomes thus of the highest efficacy if, in his undertaking the business, all suspicion of meanness, hatred, or ambition be far removed from him, it is a sort of tacit commendation to him if he represents himself as weak and inferior in ability to those acting against him, a practice which is adopted in most of the exordia of Messala. For there is a natural feeling in behalf of those oppressed, and a conscientious judge most willingly listens to an advocate whom he does not suspect of any design to draw him from justice. Hence arose that dissembling of the speakers of antiquity to conceal their eloquence, so extremely different from the ostentation of our times.

We must also take care not to appear insolent, malignant, overbearing, or reproachful towards any man or body of men, especially such as cannot be wounded without exciting an unfavorable feeling in the judge. 1It would be foolish of me to advise that nothing should be said against the judge himself, not only openly, but nothing even that could be understood as adverse to him, if such things did not sometimes take place.

The character of the advocate for the opposite party may sometimes afford us matter for an exordium. We speak of him sometimes with honor, making it appear that we fear his eloquence and influence, so as to render them objects of suspicion to the judge, or sometimes, though very rarely, with contempt, as Asinius Pollio, in pleading for the heirs of Urbinia, enumerates the choice of Labienus as advocate for the opposite party among the proofs of the badness of their cause. 1Cornelius Celsus denies that such remarks constitute exordia, as having no relation to the cause; I, however, am led to form a contrary opinion, not only by the authority of the greatest authors, but because I consider, for my own part, that whatever relates to the pleader of the cause relates to the cause itself, since it is but natural that judges should be more inclined to believe those whom they are more inclined to hear.

1As to the character of the prosecutor, it may be treated in various ways; sometimes his worth may be asserted, sometimes his weakness commended to notice. Sometimes a statement of his merits may be proper, when a pleader may speak with less reserve in praise of another's worth than he would in that of his own. Sex, age, and condition are of great influence, as in the case of women, old men, or wards, when they plead in the character of wives, parents, or children. 1Commiseration alone, indeed, has effect even upon a right-minded judge. But such matters are to be lightly touched, and not exhausted, in an exordium.

The character of the adversary is commonly attacked with references to topics of a similar nature, but directed against him. Envy must be shown to attend on the powerful, contempt on the mean and abject, and hatred on the base and criminal—three qualities that have great power in alienating the favor of the judges. 1Nor is it enough merely to state such particulars (for this is in the power even of the ignorant), but most of them must be magnified or extenuated, as may be expedient. To give effect to them is the business of the orator; the mere expression of them may be inherent in the cause itself.

1The favor of the judge we shall conciliate, not merely by offering him praise (which ought indeed to be given with moderation, though it is to be remembered at the same time, that the privilege of offering it is common to both parties), but by turning his praises to the advantage of our cause. In behalf of the noble, we should appeal to the judge's dignified station; in behalf of the humble, to his justice; in behalf of the unfortunate, to his pity; and in behalf of the injured, to his severity, using similar appeals in other cases. 1I should wish also, if possible, to know the character of the judge, for according as it may be violent, gentle, obliging, grave, austere, or easy, it will be proper to make his feelings subservient to our cause where they fall in with it, and to soften them where they are repugnant to it.

1But it sometimes happens, also, that he who sits as judge is either our enemy or the friend of our opponent, a circumstance which ought to claim the attention of both sides but more particularly, perhaps, of that to which the judge seems to incline. For there is sometimes, in unprincipled judges, a foolish propensity to give sentence against their friends, or in favor of parties with whom they are at enmity, and to act unjustly that they may not seem to be unjust.

1Some have been judges, too, in their own causes. I find, for instance, in the books of observations published by Septimius, that Cicero was engaged in a cause of that nature, and I myself pleaded the cause of Queen Berenice before that queen herself. In this case, the mode of procedure is similar to that in those which I have just mentioned, for he who pleads in opposition to the judge exaggerates the confidence of his client, and he who pleads in his favor expresses apprehension of feelings of delicacy on his part. 20. Opinions, moreover, such as the judge may appear to have brought with him in favor of either party, are to be overthrown or established. Fear is sometimes to be removed from the mind of the judge, as Cicero, in his speech for Milo, strove to convince the judges that they were not to think the arms of Pompey arrayed against them; fear should sometimes be held out to them, as Cicero acted in his pleadings against Verres. 2But of the two modes of producing fear in judges, the one is common and well received, when we express concern, for example, that the Roman people may not think unfavorably of them, or that their privilege of sitting as judges may not be transferred from them to another body. But the other is unusual and violent, as when the speaker threatens the judges with a charge of bribery, a threat which it is certainly safer to address to a larger body of judges than to a small one, for the bad are alarmed and the good pleased. But to a single judge I should never recommend it to be used, unless every other resource has failed. 2But should necessity drive us to it, it is no part of oratorical art, any more than to appeal from the judgment of the tribunal (though an appeal is often advantageous) or to impeach a judge before he gives sentence, for one who is not an orator may threaten and denounce.

2If the nature of the cause itself afford us topics for conciliating the judge, it will be proper, above all, that such of them be selected for introduction into the exordium as may appear most favorable to our object. On this head, Virginius is in error, for he says Theodorus is of opinion that from every question in the cause some thought may be selected for the exordium. 2Theodorus does not say this, but merely that the judge is to be prepared for the most important points, a precept in which there would be nothing objectionable if it did not enjoin that as a general rule, which every pleading does not admit and which every cause does not require. For when we rise to open the case on behalf of the prosecutor, while it is still unknown to the judge, how shall we bring forward thoughts from every question in it? Surely the subject must previously be stated. Let us admit that some questions may then be brought forward (for so the form of our pleading sometimes requires), but must we, therefore, bring forward all the most important ones, that is, the whole cause? If so, the statement of facts will be dispatched in the exordium. 2Or if, as frequently happens, the cause is somewhat difficult, should we not try to gain the goodwill of the judge in other parts of the pleadings and not present the bare roughness of every point to his mind before we have attempted to incline it in our favor? If such matters were always rightly managed at the opening of a speech, there would be no need of any formal exordium. 2At times, accordingly, some particulars which may be of great effect in conciliating the favor of the judge may be previously introduced, and not without advantage, in the commencement.

Again, it is not necessary for me to enumerate what points are likely to gain us favor in causes, for they will be manifest to the pleader when he understands the nature of a cause, and all particulars, in so great a variety of suits, cannot possibly be specified. 2But as it is for the service of a cause to discover and amplify its favorable points, so it is expedient to refute, or at least to extenuate, whatever is prejudicial to it. Compassion may also spring from the nature of our cause, if we have suffered, or are likely to suffer, any severe misfortune.

2Nor am I inclined, as some are, to think that an exordium differs from a peroration only in this respect— that in a peroration is narrated what has gone before, and in an exordium is set forth what is to come. The difference rather lies in this: that in the introduction the kind feelings of the judge should be touched, but cautiously and modestly. In the peroration, however, we may give full scope to the pathetic, we may attribute fictitious speeches to our characters, and evoke the dead and produce their children, attempts which are not made in exordia.

2But as to those feelings of pity which I mentioned above, it is necessary not only to excite them in our favor in the exordium, but to turn away the effect of them from our opponent, and as it is for our advantage that our lot should be thought likely to be deplorable if we should be defeated, so is it that the pride of our adversary should be apprehended as likely to be overbearing if he should conquer.

30. But exordia are often taken from matters which are not properly concerns of our clients or their causes, but which yet in some way relate to both of them. With the persons of our clients are connected not only their wives and children, to whom I have previously alluded, but their relatives and friends, and sometimes countries and cities, and whatever else may be injured by the failure of those whom we are defending. 3To the cause, among external circumstances, may be referred the "occasion," from which is derived the exordium in behalf of Caelius; the "place," from which is taken that in behalf of Deiotarus; the "appearance of things," whence that in behalf of Milo; "public opinion," whence that against Verres; and in short, that I may not specify everything, "the report respecting the trial, the expectation of the people," for though none of these things form part of the cause, they yet have a connection with the cause. 3Theophrastus adds that an exordium may be derived from the form of the pleading, as that of Demosthenes for Ctesiphon appears to be, when he entreats to be allowed to speak as he himself may think most proper rather than according to the mode which the prosecutor has laid down in his charge.

3Confidence often suffers from being thought to partake of presumption. But artifices which procure us favor, and which, though common to almost all pleaders, are not to be neglected, even if for no other reason than that they may not be first employed against us, are to wish, to express detestation, to enterat, to show anxiety. If a cause appears to be brought forward which is new, important, atrocious, and of consequence in regard to precedent, it generally renders the judge extremely attentive, especially if he is moved by concern for himself or his country, and his feelings must then be excited by hope, fear, admonition, supplication, and even by false representations, if we think that they will be of service to us.

3It also has effect in securing the attention of the audience, if they think that we shall not detain them long, or enter upon matters foreign to the subject. Such attention in itself makes the judge desirous of information, and especially if we can state, briefly and clearly, the substance of the matter of which he has to take cognizance, a method which Homer and Virgil have adopted at the commencement of their poems. 3As to the length of it, it should be such as to resemble a proposition rather than an exposition, and show not how every particular in the cause occurred, but on what particulars the pleader intends to speak. Nor do I know that a better example of such a summary can be found than that of Cicero in his speech for Aulus Cluentius: 3"I have remarked, judges, that the whole speech of the accuser is divided into two parts, of which one appeared to me to rest, and principally to depend, on the odium, now long prevalent, arising from the judgment of Junius, the other to touch, for form's sake, timidly and diffidently, on the question of the charge of poisoning, though it is on this point that the present inquiry has according to law been instituted." All this, however, is more easy for the defender than the prosecutor, because by the one the judge is merely to be warned, by the other he must be informed.

3Nor shall any authors, however eminent, induce me to entertain the opinion that I may sometimes dispense with rendering the judge attentive and willing to listen (Not that I am ignorant of the reason which is alleged by them, namely, that it is for the advantage of a bad cause that its nature should not be understood; but the truth is that the judge's ignorance of a cause does not arise from inattention on his part, but from error into which he is led). 3Suppose that our adversary has spoken and has perhaps produced conviction in the judge; we require that his opinion should be changed, and it cannot be altered unless we render him attentive and willing to listen to what we are going to say. How are we to act then? I consider that some of our adversary's arguments must be weakened, or depreciated, and noticed with a sort of contempt, in order to lessen the strong feeling of favor which the judge has for the opposite party, a method which Cicero adopted in pleading for Ligarius. 3For what else was the object of that irony, but that Caesar might be induced to give less attention to the cause, as presenting no extraordinary features? What is the purpose of the speech for Caelius, but that the charge might seem less important than it was thought to be?

But of the rules which I have proposed, it is evident that some are applicable to one sort of causes and some to another. 40. The kinds of causes, too, most rhetoricians pronounce to be five: ἔνδοξον (endoxon), the "honorable"; ἄδοξον (adoxon), the "mean"; ἀμϕίδοξον (amphidoxon), the "doubtful" or "ambiguous"; παράδοξον (paradoxon), the "paradoxical"; and δυσπαρακολούθητον (dysparakolouthēton), the "obscure." Some think that to these it is proper to add the base, which some comprehend under the mean, others under the paradoxical. 4What they call paradoxical is something that is brought to pass contrary to human expectation. In an ambiguous cause, we should make it our chief object to render the judge well affected; in an obscure one, desirous of information; in a mean one, attentive. As for an honorable cause, it has sufficient attraction in itself to conciliate; in one that is paradoxical or base, there is need of palliation.

4Hence some divide the exordium into two parts, the introduction and the insinuation, in order that in general, in the introduction, there may be a straightforward request for the judge's goodwill and attention. But as this cannot be made in a dishonorable cause, some insinuation may then be directed cautiously into his mind, especially if the aspect of the cause is not even plausible, either because the ground of it is dishonorable in itself, or because it is disapproved by the public. This may also be true if the cause suffers from the appearance of a patron or a father against a client or a son, which renders it unpopular, or from that of an old or blind man, or an infant, which excites feelings of compassion. 4Rhetoricians teach us at great length what arts we must adopt to counteract these difficulties, imagining cases for themselves and treating them according to the forms of judicial processes. But such peculiarities, as they spring from varieties of causes of which we cannot give rules as to every species, unless they be comprehended under general heads, might be enumerated to infinity. 4For every difficulty a remedy must therefore be sought from the peculiar nature of the case. Let it, however, be laid down as a general rule that we should turn from that which is prejudicial to us to that which is favorable. If we are perplexed about our cause, the character of our client may aid us; if about our client, the nature of our cause. If nothing that can be a support to us presents itself, we may seek for something to damage our adversary, for as it is our greatest wish to gain more favor than our adversary, so it will be our next object to incur less dislike. 4In regard to offenses which cannot be denied, we must endeavor to make them appear less heavy than has been represented, or to have been committed with another intent, or to have no reference to the present question, or to be capable of being expiated by repentance, or to have been already sufficiently punished. Such allegations it is easier for the advocate to make, therefore, than for his client, for he can praise without incurring the charge of conceit and may sometimes even blame to advantage. 4He will sometimes, accordingly, pretend that he is moved with concern (like Cicero in his speech for Rabirius Posthumus), in order to gain the ear of the judge and will assume the sincerity of a person who feels the truth of what he says with a view to gain greater belief when he proceeds to justify or disprove the charges against his client. We are, therefore, to consider first of all whether we should adopt the character of a party in the suit or of an advocate, whenever either is in our power. In the schools, indeed, there is free choice, but in the forum, it is rare that a person is competent to plead his own cause. 4A youth learning to declaim, however, ought to plead causes, such at least as chiefly depend on the pathetic, in the character of the parties themselves, for the feelings cannot be transferred, and the emotion received from another person's mind is not communicated with the same force as that which proceeds from our own. 4For these reasons, there is thought to be need of insinuation, if the pleading of our opponent has taken effect on the mind of the judges, or if we have to address them when their attention is fatigued. From one of these difficulties we shall extricate ourselves by promising to bring our own proofs and by eluding the arguments of the adversary, and from the other by giving hopes that we shall be brief and by recurring to those other means by which I have shown that the judge may be rendered attentive. 4A little pleasantry, too, seasonably introduced, refreshes the minds of the judges, and gratification, from whatever quarter produced, relieves the tedium of listening. Nor is the art of anticipating what is likely to be said against us without its use, as Cicero says that he knew some had expressed surprise that he, who had for so many years defended many but prosecuted none, should now appear as the accuser of Verres, and then shows that the accusation of Verres is a defense of the allies. This rhetorical artifice is called prolēpsis or "anticipation." 50. As it is useful at times, it is now almost constantly adopted by some declaimers, who think that they must never begin but with something contrary to their real object.

Those who follow Apollodorus deny that there are only the three ways which I have specified of propitiating the judge, and enumerate various other sorts of them, almost infinite in number, derived from the character of the judge, from notions formed of circumstances relating to the cause, from opinions entertained of the cause itself, and from the elements of which every cause is composed, as persons, deeds, words, motives seasons, places, occasions, and the like. 5That advantage may really be taken of these particulars, I readily admit, but consider that they all come under the three heads specified. For if I make the judge propitious, attentive, and ready to be informed, I find nothing more that I need desire, as the very fear, which appears to have the greatest influence independent of these particulars, both secures the attention of the judge and deters him from showing partiality to the opposite side.

5Since it is not sufficient, however, to indicate to learners what enters into the nature of an exordium, without instructing them also how an exordium may be best composed, I add that he who is going to speak should reflect what he has to say, before whom, for or against whom, at what time or place, amidst what concurrence of circumstances, under what prepossessions of the public; what opinion it is likely that the judge has informed previous to the commencement of the pleadings; and what the speaker has to desire or deprecate. Nature herself will lead him to understand what he ought to say first. 5But now they think anything with which they happen to start, an introduction, and whatever occurs to them, especially if it be some thought that pleases them, serves them, forsooth, for an exordium. Many points, doubtless, may be introduced into the exordium which are derived from other parts of the cause, or which are common to the exordium with other parts, but nothing will be said preferably in any particular part but that which cannot be said equally well in any other part.

5There is much attraction in an exordium which derives its substance from the pleading of our opponent, for this reason, that it does not appear to have been composed at home, but to be produced on the spot and from the suggestion of the subject. It increases the reputation of the speaker for ability, from the facility which he exhibits, and, from wearing the appearance of a plain address, prompted by what has just been said, gains him the confidence of his audience, insomuch that, though the rest of his speech may be written and carefully studied, the whole of it nevertheless seems almost entirely extemporaneous, as it is evident that its commencement received no preparation at all. 5Very frequently, too, an exordium will be pleasing from a certain modesty in thoughts, style, tone, and look of the speaker. So far that even in a cause which hardly admits of controversy, the confidence of the orator ought not to display itself too plainly, for the judge generally detests assurance in a pleader and, as he knows his own authority, tacitly looks for a due portion of respect. 5We must take no less care, also, that we may not excite suspicion in the exordium; therefore, no appearance of study ought to be shown in it because all art on the part of the orator seems to be directed against the judge. 5But to avoid the suspicion of using art is the achievement of the highest art, a precept which is given by all writers on rhetoric, and with the utmost propriety; yet the present practice, from the state of things in our times, is somewhat at variance with it, because on certain trials, especially capital ones, and those before the centumviri, the judges themselves require to be addressed in careful and formal speeches and think themselves slighted if study is not apparent in every pleading before them, desiring not only to be instructed but to be pleased. 5Moderation in such a practice is difficult, but it may be so far observed that we may give our oratory the appearance of carefulness and not of cunning.

Of the old precepts, this still remains in force that no unusual expression, no highly audacious metaphor, nothing borrowed from what is obsolete and antiquated, or from poetic license, should appear in the exordium. 5For we are not as yet admitted to full freedom of speech, and the attention of the audience, being still fresh, keeps us under restraint, but when their minds are propitiated and warmed, greater liberty will be tolerated, and especially when we have entered on those moral topics of declamation whose natural fertility prevents the boldness of an expression from being observed amid the splendor of beauty that surrounds it.

60. Our style in the exordium ought not to resemble that of the argumentative, sentimental, or narrative parts of our speech. Nor should our manner be too prolix or circumlocutory, but should wear the appearance of simplicity and unaffectedness, not promising too much either in words or look. A mode of delivery in which all art is concealed, and which, as the Greeks say, is, ἀνεπίϕαντος (anepiphantos), or "unostentatious," steals often most successfully on the mind of the hearer. But such points are to be managed according to the way in which it is expedient that the minds of the judges should be impressed.

6To be confused in memory, or to lose our fluency of speech, has nowhere a worse effect than at the commencement, as a faulty exordium may be compared to a countenance disfigured with scars, and that pilot is surely one of the worst who runs his vessel aground as it is leaving the harbor. As to the length of an exordium, it must be regulated by the nature of the cause. 6Simple causes require but a short introduction, such as are perplexed, suspicious, or unpopular, demand a longer one. But those who have prescribed laws for all exordia, saying that they must be limited to four sentences, make themselves ridiculous. Yet immoderate length in the introduction is no less to be avoided, lest the speech should seem to have a head of disproportionate size, and lest that which ought to prepare the hearer should weary him.

6The figure by which the orator's address is turned from the judge, and which is called apostrophe, some rhetoricians wholly exclude from the exordium, being doubtless led by some show of reason to form such an opinion on this point, for it must be admitted that it is most natural for us to address ourselves chiefly to those whose good will we desire to secure. 6At times, however, some striking thought may be necessary to our exordium, and this may be rendered more lively and spirited if directed to another person. Should this be the case, by what law or by what superstitious regard for rules should we be prevented from giving force to our conceptions by this figure? 6Writers of books on the art, indeed, do not proscribe the figure as being illicit, but because they do not think it advantageous, and thus, should the advantage of using it be proved, we shall be forced to adopt it for the same reason for which we are now prevented. 6Demosthenes directs his remarks to Aeschines in his exordium; Cicero, in commencing his speech for Ligarius, addresses himself to Tubero, and, in the beginning of those for several other persons, speaks to whomsoever he pleases. 6His exordium to the speech for Ligarius, indeed, would have been much more languid if it had been in any other form, as the reader will better understand, if he directs to the judge all that most spirited part which is in this form: "You have, therefore, Tubero, that which is most to be desired by an accuser," etc., for then the address would seem really turned away, and the whole force of it would be lost if we were to say, "Tubero therefore has that which is most to be desired by an accuser." 6In the first method, the orator urges and presses on his opponent; in the second, he would merely make a statement. The case would be similar with the passage in Demosthenes, if you alter the turn of it. Has not Sallust, too, adopted an exordium directly addressed to Cicero, against whom he was pleading, starting with the words, "I should bear your reproaches, Marcus Tullius, with concern and indignation," etc.? The same form has been chosen by Cicero in his attack on Catiline, "How long then will you abuse our patience," etc.? 6And that we may not wonder at the use of the apostrophe, Cicero, in his defense of Scaurus, who was accused of bribery (a pleading which is found in his commentaries, for he defended Scaurus twice), employs the prosopopeia, making another person speak for his client, and in his oration for Rabirius Posthumus, and in that also for Scaurus when accused of extortion, he introduces examples in the exordium, while in his speech for Cluentius he commences, as I have previously observed, with partition.

70. But these figures are not, because they may sometimes be used effectively, to be used perpetually, but only whenever reason prevails over rule, as we may sometimes employ the simile, provided it be short, the metaphor, and other figures (which the timid and careful teachers of rhetoric prohibit) unless that noble specimen of irony in the speech for Ligarius, which I noticed a little above, gives offense to any reader. 7Other faults in exordia they have exposed with greater justice. That sort of exordium which may be adapted to several causes is called vulgar (a species which, though regarded with little favor, we may occasionally adopt with advantage, and which is not always avoided by the greatest orators); that which our opponent may use as well as ourselves, is termed common; that which our opponent may turn to his own purpose, is designated as commutable; that which has no just connection with the cause, is styled detached; that which is derived from some other subject, transplanted; some, again, are blamed as long or contrary to rule. Most of these faults, however, are not peculiar to the exordium but may be found in any or every part of a speech.

7Such are the points to be noticed with respect to the exordium, as often as there may be occasion for one. This is not always the case, for it is sometimes superfluous, as when the judge, for instance, is sufficiently prepared without it, or when the subject itself requires no introduction. Aristotle, indeed, denies that it is ever necessary in addressing able judges. Sometimes, too, we cannot employ an exordium, even if we wish, as when the judge is much occupied, when time is short, or when a superior authority obliges us to enter at once upon our subject. 7Sometimes, on the other hand, the nature of an exordium is found in other parts of the speech, for in the statement of facts, or in the course of our arguments, we occasionally ask the judges to attend or to be favorable to us, a practice by which Prodicus thought that they might be roused when disposed to sleep. 7The following passage is an example: "Then Caius Varenus, he who was killed by the slaves of Ancharius (to this point, judges, pay, I beseech you, the most careful attention)," etc. If the cause, moreover, consists of many heads, a proper introduction must be prefixed to each head, as, "Listen now to what follows" or "I now proceed to the next particular." 7But even among the proofs themselves, many observations occur that serve the purpose of an introduction, such as Cicero makes in his speech for Cluentius, when about to speak against the censors, and in that for Muraena, when he makes an apology to Servius. But this practice is so common as to make it unnecessary to establish it by examples.

7Whether, when we have used an exordium, we afterwards commence a statement of facts, or proceed at once to produce our proofs, that point ought to be stated last in our introduction, with which the commencement of the sequel will most naturally unite itself. 7But the affectation in the schools, of disguising the transition in some striking thought, and trying to gain applause, forsooth, for what is little more than a trick, is frigid and puerile, though Ovid constantly indulges in it in his Metamorphoses; but for him, necessity may be some excuse, as he had to unite things the most discordant into the semblance of a whole. 7But what need is there for the orator to conceal his transitions, and impose upon the judges, when they require to be admonished to give their attention to the order of particulars? The commencement of the statement of facts will even be lost upon them, if they are not aware that such statement is begun. 7Accordingly, as it is best not to rush abruptly into our statement, so it is preferable not to pass to it without notice. But if a long and perplexed exposition is to follow, the judges must be specially prepared for it, as Cicero gave one in many places, and more remarkably in this: "I shall make a rather longer introduction than ordinary to demonstrate this point, and I entreat you, judges, not to receive it unfavorably, for when the commencement is understood, you will with far more ease comprehend the sequel."

Such are the principal notions which I have conceived respecting the exordium.

IT is most natural, and ought to be most usual, that when the judge has been prepared by the methods which have been noticed above, the matter on which he is to give judgment should be stated to him. This is the narrative, or statement of the case, but in touching upon it, I shall purposely pass over the too subtle distinctions of those who make several kinds of statements. For they will have an exposition, not only of the business on which the question is brought before the judges, but of the person whom it concerns, as "Marcus Palicanus, a man of humble birth, a native of Picenum, loquacious rather than eloquent"; or of the place at which it occurred, as, "Lampsacus, judges, is a town on the Hellespont"; or of the time, as,

In early spring, when from the hoary hills
The cold snow melting flows;
or of the causes of the occurrence, which historians very often give when they show whence arose a war, a sedition, or a pestilence. In addition to these distinctions, they call some statements perfect, others imperfect; but who is not aware of such a difference? They add that there is a kind of statement regarding past time, which is the most common kind; another respecting the present, such as that of Cicero about the stir of Chrysogonus's friends when his name was mentioned; and a third relating to the future, which can be allowed only to prophets, for hypotyposis is not to be regarded as a statement of facts. But let us turn our attention to matters of more importance.

Some have thought that there must always be a statement of facts, but that this notion is unfounded may be proved by many arguments. In the first place, there are some causes so brief that they require only a mere proposition rather than a statement. This may happen at times on either side, when there is either no exposition of matters, or when the parties are agreed about the fact, and there is no dispute but concerning the law, as in such questions as these before the centumviri, "Whether a son or a brother ought to be the heir of a woman that dies intestate"; or "whether puberty is to be decided by years or by a certain habit of body." Or when there is indeed room for a statement of facts in the cause, but every particular of it is previously known to the judge, or has been fully set forth in the preceding part. At times, again, it may happen only on one side and more frequently on that of the prosecutor, either because it is sufficient for him to make a simple proposition or because it is more advantageous for him to do so. It may be sufficient, for instance, to say, "I claim a certain sum of money lent on certain conditions"; or, "I claim a legacy according to a certain will"; and it will be for the opposite party to show why such claims are not due. It is sufficient for the prosecutor, and more advantageous, to open his cause in this way, "I say that the sister of Horatius has been killed by him," for the judge comprehends the whole charge from this one proposition, and then the way in which the act took place and the motive for it are left rather to be stated by the defendant. As for the accused person, he will withhold a statement of facts, when the charge against him can neither be denied nor palliated, but will rest solely on a question of law. Thus, in the case of the man who, having stolen the money of a private person out of a temple, is accused of sacrilege, a confession will show more modesty than a statement. "We do not deny," the defendant and his advocate may say, "that the money was taken from the temple, but the accuser makes the charge that we are amenable to the law against sacrilege, though the money was private and not consecrated, and it is for you to decide the question whether sacrilege has been committed."

But though I allow that there are at times such reasons for giving no statement of facts, I dissent from those who think that there is no statement when an accused person merely denies the charge which is brought against him, an opinion which is held by Cornelius Celsus, who considers that most trials for murder, and all those for bribery and extortion, are of this class. For he thinks that there are no statements of facts but such as give a general exposition of the charge on which judgment is to be pronounced. Yet he admits himself that Cicero gives a statement of facts in his oration for Rabirius Posthumus, though Cicero denies that any money came into the hands of Rabirius, which was the very point on which the question rested, and in his statement of facts, he gives no exposition of the charge.

1For my part, besides resting on the authority of eminent rhetoricians, I am myself of opinion that there are two kinds of statements in judicial causes: the one sort being an exposition of the cause itself, and the other of the circumstances connected with it. 1"I have not killed a man"—here there is no statement of facts; it is admitted that there is none. But there will be one, and sometimes a long one, in reply to the support of the accusation, and in regard to the past life of the accused, the causes by which an innocent man has been brought into peril, and other circumstances by which the charge is rendered incredible 1For the accuser does not say merely, "You have killed," but states by what proofs he can establish his assertion, as in tragedies, when Teucer accuses Ulysses of having killed Ajax, saying that he was found in a solitary place, near the dead body of his enemy, and with a blood-stained sword in his hand. Ulysses does not merely reply that the deed was not committed by him, but affirms that there was no enmity between Ajax and himself, and that they had been rivals only for glory; he then adds how he came into that lonely spot, saw the dead body lying on the ground, and drew the sword out of the wound. To this statement are subjoined various arguments. 1But there is a statement of fact even when the accuser says, "You were in the place in which your enemy was killed," and the defendant says, "I was not," for he must show where he was. For the same reason, causes of bribery and extortion may have several statements of this kind, as there may be several heads of accusation. In such statements, indeed, the charges will be denied, but resistance must at the same time be made to the accusers' arguments—sometimes singly, sometimes in a body—by an exposition of matters totally different from his. 1Will a person accused of bribery act wrong in stating what sort of parents he had, how he himself has lived, or on what pretensions he relied when he proceeded to stand for office? Or if a man is accused of extortion, may he not advantageously give an account of his past life, and of the means by which he brought upon him the resentment of his whole province, or of his accuser, or some particular witness? 1If such an account is not a statement of facts, neither is that first speech of Cicero in behalf of Cluentius, commencing with the words "Aulus Cluentius Habitus," for there is nothing in that speech about the poisoning, but merely about the causes by which his mother became his enemy. 1Statements also relate to the cause, but are not part of the cause itself, which are given for the sake of example, as that in Cicero's speech against Verres concerning Lucius Domitius, who crucified a shepherd because he confessed that he had used a hunting-spear in killing a boar which he offered as a present to Domitius; 1or for the purpose of exposing some charge foreign to the case, as in Cicero's oration for Rabirius Posthumus: "For as soon as he came to Alexandria, judges, the only method of preserving his money proposed by the king to Posthumus was this, that he should take the charge, and as it were stewardship, of the palace," or with the intention of exaggerating, as in the description of the journey of Verres.

1Sometimes a fictitious statement of particulars is introduced, either to rouse the feelings of the judges, as that in the speech for Roscius respecting Chrysogonus, which I mentioned a little above, or to amuse them with a little pleasantry, as that in the speech for Cluentius regarding the brothers Cepasii, or, occasionally, to make a digression for the purpose of embellishment, as that in the speech against Verres concerning Proserpine: "It was in these parts that a mother is said formerly to have sought her daughter." All these observations assist to show that he who denies may not only make a statement, but a statement concerning the very point which he denies.

20. Nor is the observation which I made above—that a statement is superfluous respecting a matter with which the judge is acquainted—to be taken absolutely, for I wish it to be understood in this sense, that it is superfluous if the judge not only knows the fact, but takes such a view of it as is favorable to our side. 2For a statement of facts is not made merely that the judge may comprehend the case, but rather that he may look upon it in the same light with ourselves. Though, therefore, he may not require to be informed, but only to be impressed in a certain way, we may make a statement with some preliminary remarks, as that we are aware that he has a general knowledge of the case, but entreat him not to be unwilling to listen to an account of particulars. 2Sometimes we may pretend to repeat our statement for the information of some new member taking his seat among the judges; sometimes in order that even the by-standers may be convinced of the iniquity of what is asserted on the opposite side. In this case, the statement must be diversified with varieties of phraseology, to spare the judge the weariness of hearing what he already knows. Thus, we may say, "You remember," and, "Perhaps it may be unnecessary to dwell on this point," or, "But why should I say more on this subject, when you are already acquainted with it?" or, "Of the nature of this affair, you are not ignorant," or we may introduce various other phrases similar to these. 2Besides, if a statement of facts seems always unnecessary before a judge to whom the cause is known, the pleading of the cause before him may seem also to be sometimes unnecessary.

2There is another point about which there is still more frequently a question: whether the statement of facts is always to be immediately subjoined to the exordium. Those who hold the affirmative cannot be thought destitute of arguments to support them, for as the exordium is made with the intent that the judge may be rendered more favorable by it, and more willing and attentive to understand the case, and as proof cannot be adduced unless the case be previously understood, it appears right that the judge should at once be made master of the facts. 2But the nature of a cause sometimes justly changes this order, unless, perchance, Cicero be thought, in that excellent oration which he wrote on behalf of Milo and which he has left to us, to have injudiciously delayed his statement of facts by introducing three questions before it, or unless it would have been of any profit to relate how Clodius lay in wait for Milo, if it had been supposed impossible for an accused person, who confessed that he had killed a man, to be defended, or if Milo had been already prejudged and condemned by the senate, or if Pompey, who, to favor some party, had surrounded the place of trial with a troop of armed men, had been dreaded by Milo as ill-disposed towards him. 2These questions, therefore, were of the nature of an exordium, as they all served to prepare the judge. But in his speech for Varenus, also, he did not introduce his statement of facts until he had refuted certain allegations. This mode of proceeding will be of advantage, too, whenever the charge is not only to be resisted, but to be retorted on the opposite party, so that our own case being first established, our statement of facts may be the commencement as it were of a charge against our adversary, as, in a passage of arms, care to ward off a blow takes the precedence of anxiety to inflict one.

2There are some causes, and indeed not a few, which are easy to be defended so far as to refute the charge on which the trial bears, but which labor under many grievous enormities of the defendant's former life, and these must first be set aside, in order that the judge may listen favourably to the defense of the point about which the question really is. Thus, when Marcus Caelius is to be defended, does not his advocate judiciously repel the imputations against him of luxury, licentiousness, and immorality, before he proceeds to consider that of poisoning? It is about these points that the whole of Cicero's pleading is employed. And does he not then make a statement about the property of Palla, and explain the whole question respecting the violence, which is defended by the pleading of Caelius himself? 2But the custom of the schools is our guide, in which certain points are proposed for us to speak upon, which we call themata, and beyond which there is nothing to be refuted, and thus it is that our statement of facts is always subjoined to our exordium. 2Hence, too, is the liberty which the declaimers take to make a statement of facts even when they appear to speak in the second place in a cause, for when they speak for the prosecutor, they make a statement of facts just as if they were speaking first, and a defense as if they were replying to the opposite party. Such practice is very proper, for as declamation is an exercise preparatory to pleading in the forum, why should not learners qualify themselves to take either the first or second place? But ignorant of the proceedings in the courts, they think that when they come into the forum no departure is to be made from the manner to which they have been accustomed in the schools. 30. Yet even in scholastic declamations, it occasionally happens that a mere proposition is in place of a statement of the case, for what statement has he to make who accuses a jealous man of ill-treating his wife, or he who accuses a cynic of indecency before the censors, when the whole charge is sufficiently expressed by a single word, in whatever part of the speech it be introduced? But on this head I have said enough.

shall now add some remarks on the method of stating a case. A statement of a case is an account of a thing done or supposed to have been done, which account is adapted to persuade, or as Apollodorus defines it, a narrative to inform the auditor what the matter in question is. Most writers, and especially those who are of the school of Isocrates, direct that it should be lucid, brief, and probable. It is of no consequence if, instead of lucid, we say perspicuous, or, instead of probable, credible or apparently deserving of belief. 3Of this specification I approve, though Aristotle differs from Isocrates in one particular, as he ridicules the direction about brevity, as if it were absolutely necessary that a statement should be long or short, and as if there were no possibility of fixing on a just medium. As to the followers of Theodorus, they recognize only the last quality, saying that it is not always proper to state briefly or lucidly. 3On this account I must the more carefully distinguish the various peculiarities of statements in order to show on what occasions each quality is most desirable.

A statement, then, is either wholly in our own favor, wholly in that of our opponent, or a mixture of both. If it be wholly in our own favor, we may be content with the three qualities of which the effect is that the judge more readily understands, remembers, and believes. 3Nor let any one think me to blame for remarking that the statement which is wholly in our favor ought be made probable, though it be true, for there are many narratives true which are not probable, and many probable which are not true. We must therefore take no less pains that the judge may believe what we say truly than what we invent. 3The qualities, indeed, which I have just enumerated are meritorious in other parts of our speech, for through our whole pleading we should avoid obscurity; a certain succinctness in what we say should be everywhere observed; and all that is advanced ought to be credible. But these qualities are most of all to be studied in that part which gives the first information to the judge, for if, in that part, he happens not to understand, not to remember, or not to believe, we shall exert ourselves to no purpose in the sequel.

3The statement, however, will be clear and perspicuous if it is expressed, first of all, in proper and significant words, not mean, nor far-sought, nor at variance with common use, and if it gives a lucid account, also, as to circumstances, persons occasions, places, and motives, and is delivered, at the same time, in such a way that the judge may without difficulty comprehend what is said. 3This excellence is wholly disregarded by most speakers, who, prepared for the shouts of a multitude, whether suborned for the purpose or collected by chance, cannot endure the silence of an attentive auditory and do not think themselves eloquent unless they shake the whole court with noise and vociferation. They consider that to state a matter calmly belongs only to every-day conversation and is in the power of even the most illiterate, while in truth, it is uncertain whether they will not or cannot perform that of which they express such easy contempt. 3For if they try every department of eloquence, they will find nothing more difficult than to say what everyone, when he has heard it, thinks that he himself would have said. For this reason, he does not contemplate it as said with ability, but with truth; it is when an orator is thought to speak truth that he speaks best. 3But now, as if they had found a wide field for themselves in their statement, they assume an extravagant tone of voice in this part of their speech, throw back their heads, strike their elbow against their sides, and revel in every sort of combination of thoughts and words. What is monstrous is that while their delivery pleases, their cause is not understood. But let me put an end to these animadversions, lest I should gain less favor by prescribing what is right than ill-will by censuring what is wrong.

40. Our statement will be sufficiently concise if, in the first place, we commence the exposition of the case at the point where it begins to concern the judge; next, if we say nothing foreign to the cause; and, lastly, if we retrench everything of which the absence will deduct nothing from the knowledge of the judge or the advantage of our client. 4For there is often a brevity in parts, which nevertheless leaves the whole very long, as "I came to the harbor; I beheld a vessel; I asked for how much it would take me; I agreed about the price; I went on board; the anchor was weighed; we loosed our cable, and set sail." Here none of the phrases can be expressed with greater brevity, yet it would be sufficient to say, "I set sail from the harbor," and whenever the event sufficiently indicates what has preceded it, we ought to be content with expressing that from which the rest is understood. 4As I can easily say, therefore, "I have a grown-up son," it is quite superflous for me to indulge in circumlocution and say, "Being desirous of having children, I married a wife, I had a son born to me, I reared him, and have brought him up to full age." Some of the Greek writers, accordingly, have distinguished a concise exposition, σύντομον (syntomos), from a brief one, the first being free from everything superfluous, while the other may possibly want something that is necessary. 4For myself, I make brevity consist not in saying less, but in not saying more than is necessary. As to repetitions, and ταυτολογίαι (tautologia), and περισσολογίαι (perissologia), which some writers on rhetoric desire to be avoided in a statement of facts, I say nothing about them, since such faults are to be shunned for other reasons than that of observing brevity.

4We must no less be on our guard, however, against that obscurity which attends on those who abbreviate every part too much, and it is better that there should be something superabundant in a statement than that anything should be wanting, for what is unnecessary is attended with weariness, but what is necessary is not withheld without danger. 4We must consequently avoid the conciseness of Sallust (though in him it is accounted a merit) and all abruptness in our language. That which does not escape a reader who has leisure to re-examine is perhaps lost altogether upon a mere auditor, who has no opportunity of hearing it repeated. A reader, besides, is generally a person of learning, while a judge is often one whom the country sends to the courts to give a decision on what he can manage to understand; perhaps everywhere, but especially in the statement of facts, we ought to adhere to a judicious medium in our language and say just what is necessary and what is enough. 4But by what is necessary I would not wish to be understood what is barely necessary to state a fact, for brevity ought not to be wholly unadorned or it becomes mere rudeness. What attracts us, beguiles our attention; the more agreeable a story is, the less long it appears, and a pleasant and easy road, though it be of greater extent, fatigues us less than a shorter one that is rugged and unattractive. 4Nor would I ever have so much regard to brevity as not to wish that everything should be inserted that can make the statement of facts credible, for one that is every way plain and curtailed may be called not so much a statement as a confession. There are also many statements that are necessarily long from the nature of the case, and for attending to them, as I recommended above, the judge must be prepared by the conclusion of the exordium. We must then study, by every art in our power, to take something from the length and something from the tediousness of our narrative. 4We shall make it somewhat less long, if we defer such particulars as we can to another part of our speech, not without specifying, however, what we defer: "What motives he had for killing him, whom he took as accomplices, how he disposed his ambush, I shall relate when I offer my proofs." 4Some particulars, too, may be set aside, as it were, out of the course of the narrative, an expedient of which we have an example in Cicero: "Fulcinius died; for many circumstances that attended the event, I shall omit, as being unconnected with the cause." Division also lessens the tediousness of a statement: "I shall relate what took place before the commencement of the affair; I shall relate what occurred during the course of it; I shall relate what happened afterwards." 50. Thus there will appear rather to be three short narratives than a single long one. Sometimes it will be proper to break our statements by a short interlocution: "You have heard what occurred before; hear now what followed." Thus the judge will be relieved at the conclusion of the first part and will prepare himself for entering, as it were, upon a new subject. 5But if, when all these artifices have been tried, the detail of particulars will still extend to a great length, a kind of recapitulation at the end of each part will not be without its advantage, such as Cicero gives even in a short statement: "Hitherto, Caesar, Quintus Ligarius is free from all blame; he left his home not only for no war, but without there being even the least suspicion of war," etc.

5As to credibility in our statement, it will not be wanting if we first consult our own judgment, so as to advance nothing contrary to nature, and if, in addition, we assign causes and motives for the facts which we detail (I do not mean for all, but for those about which there is any question). If we represent our persons, at the same time, as of a character in accordance with the facts which we wish to be believed of them—a person accused of theft, for instance, as covetous; of adultery, as libidinous; of homicide, as rash—or the contrary, if we are on the defense, and we must do the same with regard to places, occasions, and similar particulars. 5There is also a certain management of the narrative which gives it credibility, as in plays and pantomimes, for some things naturally follow and attach themselves to others, so that, if you make the first part of your statement judiciously, the judge himself will understand what you are going to say afterwards. 5Nor will it be without advantage if we scatter here and there some seeds of proof, but so as not to forget that we are stating a series of facts and not of arguments. Occasionally, however, we may even confirm what we advance with some degree of proof, but simple and short. For example, in a case of poisoning, we may say, "He was well when he drank, he fell down suddenly, and a blackness and swelling of the body immediately followed." 5Preparatory remarks produce the same effect, as when it is said that the accused was "strong, armed, and on his guard, in opposition to those who were weak, unarmed, and unsuspecting." On everything, indeed, of which we have to treat under the head of proof, as character, cause, place, time, instrument, occasion, we may touch in our statement of facts. 5Sometimes, if these considerations fail us, we may even confess that "the charge, though true, is scarcely credible," but observe that "it must be regarded on this account as a greater atrocity"; that "we know not how it was committed or why"; or that "we wonder at the occurrence, but will nevertheless prove the truth of it." 5But the best of all preparations of this kind are those of which the intention is not apparent; as in Cicero, every circumstance is most happily premised by which "Clodius may be proved to have lain in wait for Milo, and not Milo for Clodius." But what has the greatest effect is that most artful assumption of an air of simplicity: "Milo having been in the senate-house that day, returned home as soon as the senate broke up, changed his shoes and his dress, and waited a short time, while his wife, as is usual, was getting ready." 5How well is Milo represented as having done nothing with premeditation, nothing with haste! This effect that master of eloquence produces not only by the circumstances which he narrates, and by which he signifies Milo's delay and composed manner of departure, but by the familiar and ordinary words which he uses and his well concealed art in adopting them. For if the particulars had been stated in other terms, they would have warned the judge, by their very sound, to be on his guard against the pleader. 5To most people, this passage appears lifeless, but it is hence manifest how wholly the art escaped the judge, when it is hardly observed even by a reader.

Such are the qualities that render a statement of facts credible. 60. As to directions that we should avoid contradictions or inconsistencies, if any one needs them, he will receive further instruction in vain, though some writers on rhetoric introduce such matters into their works, imagining that they were hidden from the world till they were sagaciously discovered by themselves.

61.. To these three properties of a statement of facts some add magnificence, which they call μεγαλοπρεπεία (megaloprepeia), but which is neither appropriate to all pleadings (for what place can language, raised above the ordinary level, have in most causes about private property, about loans of money, letting and hiring, and interdicts?) nor is always beneficial, as is evident from the last example from the speech for Milo.

6Let us bear in mind, too, that there are many causes in which we have to confess, to excuse, to extenuate what we state, in all which cases magnificence of language is utterly inadmissible. It is therefore no more our business, in making a statement, to speak magnificently than to speak dolefully, or invidiously, or gravely, or agreeably, or politely, qualities which, though each is commendable in its proper place, are not to be assigned and, as it were, devoted to this part peculiarly.

63.. That quality, also, which Theodectes assigns peculiarly to the narrative of facts, desiring that it should be not only magnificent but pleasing, is, though very suitable to that part of a speech, merely common to it with other parts. There are some, too, who add clearness, or what the Greeks call ἐνάργεια (enargeia). 6Nor will I deceive my reader so far as to conceal from him that Cicero desires several qualities in a statement of facts, for besides requiring it to be plain, concise, and credible, he would have it self-evident, characteristic, and suitable to the occasion. But everything in a speech ought to be in some degree characteristic and suitable to the occasion, as far as is possible. Self-evidence in a narrative, as far as I understand the meaning of the term, is doubtless a great merit (as what is true is not only to be told, but ought to a certain extent to make itself seen), but it may surely be included under perspicuity, which some, however, have even thought hurtful at times, because in some cases, they say, truth must be disguised. 6But this is an absurd observation, for he who wishes to disguise truth wishes to relate what is false as if it were true, and in what he relates, he must still study that his statement may seem self-evident.

6But since we have come, by some chance as it were, to a more difficult kind of statement, let me say something on those causes in which the truth is against us, in which case some have thought that the statement of facts should be wholly omitted. Nothing, certainly, is easier than such omission, except it be to forbear from pleading the cause altogether. But if, for some good reason, you undertake a cause of this sort, what art will there be in confessing by your silence that your cause is bad, unless you think that the judge will be so senseless as to decide in favor of that which he knows that you are unwilling to tell him. 6I do not dispute that as some things in a statement may be denied, others added, and others altered, so likewise some may be suppressed, but such only are to be suppressed as we ought or are at liberty to suppress. This is done sometimes for the sake of brevity, as when we say, for example, "He answered what he thought proper."

6Let us distinguish, therefore, the different kinds of causes, for in causes in which there is no question about the charge, but only about a legal point, we may, though the matter be against us, admit the truth: "He took money from a temple, but it was that of a private individual, and he has therefore not committed sacrilege"; "He carried off a maiden, yet option is not to be granted to her father"; 6"He dishonored a well-born youth, and the youth, on being dishonored, hung himself, yet the author of his dishonor is not to be capitally punished as being the cause of his death, but is to pay ten thousand sesterces, the fine imposed on him who is guilty of such a crime." But in such confessions something of the bad impression may be removed which the statement of our opponent may have produced, since even our slaves speak apologetically concerning their own faults. 70. Some things, also, we may palliate without assuming the tone of narrative: "He did not, as our opponent alleges, enter the temple for the purpose of stealing, or watch for a favorable moment for accomplishing such object, but tempted by the opportunity, the absence of the guards, and the sight of money, which has too strong an influence over human resolution, he yielded. But what has this to do with the question? He transgressed, and became a thief? It is of no use to palliate an act of which we do not shrink from the penalty." 7Sometimes, too, we may seem even to condemn our own client, addressing him, for example, thus: "Would you have me say that you were excited with wine? That you fell into an error? That you were led astray in the darkness? All this may perhaps be true, but you have nevertheless dishonored a free-born person; you must pay ten thousand sesterces." Sometimes, again, our cause may be guarded by a careful opening, and then fully stated. 7Every thing was adverse to the three sons who conspired to kill their father; they had drawn lots and had entered their father's chamber, at night, one after another, while he was sleeping. But as none of them had the heart to kill him, they confessed the whole matter to him when he awoke. 7Yet if the father (who indeed divided his estate among them and defended them when accused of parricide) should plead thus, "As to defense against the law, a charge of parricide is brought against young men whose father is still alive and appears on their behalf; to give a regular statement of the case, therefore, would be superfluous, since the law has no bearing on it. But if you require a confession of my own misconduct, I was an austere father and a tenacious guardian of that property which would have been better managed by them." 7The father should then observe that they were prompted to the act by youths whose fathers were more indulgent, but had nevertheless such feelings as was proven by the fact that they could not kill their father. For it would have been needless for them to take an oath to kill him, if they had had the resolution to do so without it, nor would there have been any need of a lot, had not each of them been desirous to be exempted from the act. All arguments of this nature, such as they are, would find the minds of the audience more favorably disposed to receive them, when softened by the brief defense offered in the first proposition. 7But when it is inquired whether a thing occurred, or what sort of thing occurred, how, though everything be against us, can we avoid making a statement, if we adhere to what is due to our cause? The accuser has made his statement, and, not confining himself to intimate how matters took place, has added much to our prejudice and exaggerated it by his language. His proofs have been brought, and his peroration has excited the judges and left them full of indignation; they naturally wait to hear what will be advanced on our side. 7If we advance nothing, the judges must necessarily believe that what our opponent has said really happened, and that it happened just as he represented it. What then, it may be asked, shall we tell the same story as our opponent? If the question is about quality (which is the next consideration after that of fact is settled), we must tell the same story certainly, but not in the same way; we must assign other causes for actions and give another view of them. 7We may extenuate some things by the terms in which we speak of them; luxury may be mentioned under the softer term of gaiety, avarice under that of frugality, and carelessness under that of good nature. A certain degree of favor, or at least of commiseration, we may gain by our look, tone, or attitude. A confession of itself will sometimes draw tears.

As to those who are of a contrary opinion about a statement, I would willingly ask them whether they mean to justify or not to justify that which they do not mean to narrate. 7For if they neither justify facts nor make a statement of them, their whole cause will be betrayed. But if they mean to offer a justification, it is surely necessary for them, for the most part, to state what they intend to justify. Why, then, should we not make a statement of that which may be refuted, and make it indeed, with that very object? 7Or what difference is there between proof and a statement of facts, except that a statement is a connected exposition of that which is to be proved, and proof is a verification of that which has been stated? Let us consider, then, whether such a statement, in opposition to that of our opponent, ought not to be somewhat longer and more verbose than ordinary, by reason that we have to prepare the mind of the judge, and by reason of particular arguments that we may introduce (I say particular arguments, and not a continued course of argumentation). It will give great effect to our statement if we affirm, from time to time, that we shall establish what we say; that the strength of our cause could not be shown in the first exposition of it; and that we intreat the judges to wait, suspend their opinions, and trust that we shall make good our point. 80. Finally, we must relate whatever can be related otherwise than our adversary has related it; or, for the same reason, exordia in such causes may be thought superfluous, since what further purpose have they, than to render the judge more disposed to understand the cause? But it is admitted that there is nowhere greater use for them, than where the mind of the judge is to be freed from some prepossession conceived against us.

8As to conjectural causes, in which the question is about fact, they do not so often require an explanation of the point on which a decision is to be given, as of the circumstances from which a knowledge of it is to be collected. As the prosecutor will represent those circumstances in an unfavorable light, the defendant must try to remove the unfavorable impression produced by him; the circumstances must be laid before the judge by the one in a different way from that in which they are presented to him by the other. 8But, it may be said, some arguments are strong when advanced in a body, but of less force when separated. This remark, I answer, does not apply to the question of whether we ought to make a statement, but how we ought to make one. For what hinders us from accumulating a variety of evidence in our statement, promising to produce more, and dividing our statement into portions, to give proofs under each portion as it is brought forward and so proceed to what follows? 8For I do not agree with those who think that we must always relate matters in the order in which they occurred; I consider rather that we should relate them in the order which is best for our cause. This may be effected by various artifices, for sometimes we may pretend that something has escaped our memory, with a view to introduce it into a place better suited to our purpose; sometimes we may quit the proper order, and assure the judge that we shall afterwards return to it, as the case will thus be rendered clearer; sometimes, after relating a fact, we may subjoin the motives that preceded it. 8For there is no fixed law for a defense or any invariable rule; we must consider what is best adapted to the nature of the case and to the occasion, and must act as in regard to a wound, which, according to its state, must either be dressed at once, or, if the dressing can be delayed, must be bound up in the meanwhile. 8Nor would I consider it unlawful to repeat a thing several times, as Cicero has done in his speech for Cluentius, a liberty which is not only allowed to be taken, but is sometimes even necessary, as in cases of extortion and all such as are not at all complicated. It is the part of a fool, indeed, to be led by a superstitious regard for rules to act against the interest of his cause. 8It is the practice to put the statement of facts before the proofs, that the judge may not be ignorant of the point about which the question is. Why, then, if every circumstance is to be established or refuted, is not every circumstance to be stated in our narrative? For myself, as far as any account is to be made of my practice, I know that I used to adopt that method whenever the interest of any cause required it, and with the approbation, too, of men of experience and of those who sat in judgment; in general, the duty of stating the case was assigned to me (a remark which I do not make from vanity, for there are many with whom I was associated in pleading who can contradict me if I speak falsely). 8Yet I would not on that account say that we should not more frequently follow the order of facts. In some facts, the order cannot be changed without impropriety, as if we should say, for example, that a woman had a child and should afterwards say that she conceived, or that a will was opened and then that it was sealed. If, in speaking of such matters, you chance to mention first that which happened last, it is best to make no allusion to that which happened first.

8There are also at times false statements, of which two kinds are introduced in the forum: one which depends on extrinsic support, as Publius Clodius rested his cause on the testimony of witnesses when he affirmed that he was at Interamna the night on which he committed a heinous crime at Rome, the other, which must be supported by the ability of the pleader; this relies sometimes on a mere assumption of modesty in him, whence it appears to me to be called complexion, and sometimes on a peculiar representation of the case. 8But whichsoever of the two modes we adopt, our first care must be that what we invent is possible; next that it be in accordance with person, place, and time, and have a character and order that are probable; and, if it be practicable, our representation should be connected with something that is acknowledged to be true or be supported by some argument relative to the question, for what is altogether sought from without the cause is apt to betray the license which we take in inventing. 90. We must be extremely watchful, too, that no two particulars (as often happens with tellers of fiction) contradict one another (for some things may suit very well with certain parts of our case, and yet not agree with each other on the whole), and also that they be not at variance with what is acknowledged to be true. It is a maxim even in the schools that the complexion is not to be sought from without the argument. 9But both in the schools and in the forum, the speaker ought to keep in mind throughout the whole case what he has invented, since what is not true is apt to be forgotten, and the common saying is just: that a liar ought to have a good memory. 9Let us consider, also, that if the question be concerning an act of our own, we must adhere to one particular statement, but if concerning the act of another, we may bring it under a variety of suspicious aspects. In some scholastic causes, however, in which it is supposed that a person under accusation does not answer to the questions put to him, liberty is granted to enumerate all the answers that might have been given. 9But let us remember that we are to feign only such things as are not liable to be disproved by evidence. These are such as proceed only from our own thoughts, of which we alone are conscious; such as are supposed to have been said by the dead, of whom none will appear to refute them; or by one who has the same interest with ourselves, for he will not contradict us; or even by our adversary, as in denying them he will gain no credit. 9As to imputed motives from dreams and superstitious feelings, they have lost all credibility from the ease with which they are invented.

Nor is it sufficient to adopt a certain "color" in our statement of facts, unless it preserve a consistency through the whole case, especially as the only mode of establishing certain points lies in asseveration and persistence. 9The parasite who claims as his son a youth that had been three times disinherited by a rich man, and allowed to return to him, will have some "color" by asserting that poverty was his reason for exposing the boy, that the character of parasite was assumed by him merely because he had a son in that house, and that the innocent youth was disinherited three times only because he was not the son of the person who disinherited him. 9But he will not escape the suspicion of being a suborned claimant unless he exhibit throughout all his speech the affection of a father, and that in the most ardent manner, together with the hatred of the rich man towards the youth, and his own fear for him, as knowing that he will stay with the greatest danger in a house in which he is so detested.

9It happens at times in the declamations of the schools (I know not whether it can possibly happen in the forum) that both parties make the same allegations, and each supports them on its own behalf, as in this cause: 9"A wife informed her husband that her step-son had endeavored to seduce her, and had appointed a time and place for their meeting; the son, on his part, brought a similar charge against his step-mother, only naming a different time and place; the father finds his son in the place which the wife had named, and his wife in that which the son had named; he divorced his wife, and, as she said nothing, disinherited his son." Nothing can be said on behalf of the young man which may not also be said on behalf of his step-mother. 9What is common, however, to both parties will be stated, and then arguments will be drawn from the comparison of persons, from the order in which the informations were given, and from the silence of the wife when divorced. 100. Nor ought we to be ignorant that there are some cases which do not admit of any coloring but are simply to be defended, as was that of the rich man who lashed with a scourge the statue of a poorer man that was his enemy, and was in consequence accused of committing an insult. A pleader cannot say in palliation of such an act that it was that of a sensible man, but he may perhaps succeed in defending it from penalty.

10But if part of a statement be in our favor and part against us, we must deliberate, according to the nature of the case, whether we ought to blend those parts together or keep them distinct. If the facts which make against us be the more numerous, those which are in our favor will be overwhelmed by them. In such a case, then, it will be best to divide them, and, after stating and confirming the circumstances that are favorable to us, to adopt against the rest such remedies as we have already specified. 10If the facts in our favor be the more numerous, we may very well unite them, that those which are adverse to us, being placed as it were in the midst of our auxiliaries, may have less force. Neither the one nor the other, however, are to be exposed undefended, but we must take care to support such as favor us with proof, and add reasons why such as are against us are not to be credited, because unless we make a distinction, it is to be feared that the good may be polluted by the contamination of the evil.

10The following directions, too, are commonly given respecting the statement of facts: that no digression is to be made from it; that we are to address ourselves constantly to the judge; that we are to speak in no character but our own; and that we are to introduce no argumentation; and some even add that we are not to attempt to excite the feelings. These precepts, doubtless, are to be in general observed, or, I may say, never to be departed from unless the nature of our cause obliges us to disregard them. 10In order that our statement may be clear and concise, nothing can be so seldom justifiable in it as digression, nor ought there ever to be any except such as is short and of such a nature that we may seem to be hurried into it, out of our right course, by the strength of our feelings. 10Such is that of Cicero respecting the marriage of Sassia: "Oh, incredible wickedness in a woman, such as has not been heard of in the whole course of human life, except in this one female! Oh, unbridled and immoderate lasciviousness! Oh, unparalleled audacity! Not to have feared, if not the power of the gods or the opinion of men, at least that very night and those nuptial torches! Not to have respected the threshold of the chamber, or the couch of her daughter, or the very walls themselves, the witnesses of her former marriage!" 10As to constantly addressing the judge, a brief diversion of our speech from him sometimes intimates a thing more concisely and gives it more effect. On this point, accordingly, I hold the same opinion as I expressed respecting the exordium, and I think the same with regard to the prosopopeia, which, however, not only Servius Sulpicius has used in his defense of Aufidia, "That you were languid with sleep, should I suppose, or oppressed with a heavy lethargy?" etc., but Cicero himself, in speaking of the ship-masters (for that passage is a statement of facts) exclaims, "For liberty to enter, you will give so much," etc. 10In his pleading for Cluentius, too, does not the conversation between Stalenus and Bulbus contribute greatly to the rapidity of the narrative and to its credibility? And that he may not be supposed to have fallen into this manner undesignedly (a supposition which is indeed wholly incredible with regard to such an orator) he recommends, in his Oratorical Partitions, that the statement of facts should display agreeableness, something to excite surprise and expectation, unexpected results, conversations between different people, and all the feelings of the mind. 10Continued argumentation, as I observed, we must never use in our statement of facts, though we may introduce a single argument occasionally, as Cicero does in his speech for Ligarius when he says that he had governed his province in such a way as made it expedient for him that there should be peace. We may also introduce in our statement, if the subject requires, a short defense of our client's conduct or a reason for it, for we are not to state things as a witness, but as an advocate. 10The simple account of a fact may be such as this: "Quintus Ligarius went into Africa as lieutenant-general with Caius Considius." But how does Cicero give it? "Quintus Ligarius, when there was not even a suspicion of war, went into Africa as lieutenant-general with Caius Considius." 1In another place, again, "He set out, not only to no war, but not even upon the least suspicion of war." When it was sufficient for him, too, in proceeding to state a fact, to say, "Quintus Ligarius allowed himself to be involved in no transaction," he adds, "looking back to his home and being desirous to return to his friends." Thus what he stated he made credible by giving a reason for it, and made a strong impression, at the same time, on the feelings of his audience. am the more surprised at those, therefore, who think that we are not to touch the feelings in a statement of facts. If they mean, indeed, that we are not to work on them long, or as in the peroration, they agree with me, for tediousness is to be avoided, otherwise, why should I not move the judge while I am instructing him? 11Why should I not secure, if possible, at the very opening of my case, the object which I am desirous to attain at the conclusion of it, especially as I shall find his mind more manageable, when I come to proofs, if it has previously been swayed by indignation or pity? 11Does not Cicero, in a very few words, touch all the feelings by describing the scourging of a Roman citizen, not only showing the condition of the sufferer, the place of the outrage, the nature of the infliction, but extolling the spirit with which he bore it? For he exhibits him as a man of great magnanimity, who, when he was lashed with rods, uttered no groan and made no supplication, but only exclaimed that he was a Roman citizen, to the disgrace of his oppressor, and with confidence in the laws. 11Has he not also, through the whole of his statement, excited the greatest detestation of the treatment of Philodamus, and caused the tears of his audience to overflow at his punishment, not so much relating that they wept, as exhibiting them weeping, the father, that his son was to die, and the son that his father was to die? What more touching could any peroration present? 11It is late, too, to bring the feelings, at the end of a speech, to bear on particulars which we have previously narrated with coolness; the judge has become familiarized to them and hears, without any excitement, that with which he was not moved when it was new to him; and it is difficult for us to change the temper of his mind when once it is settled. 11For my own part (for I will not conceal my opinion, though that which I am going to say rests rather upon experience than upon precepts), I think that the statement of facts requires, as much as any part of a speech, to be adorned with all the attractions and grace of which it is susceptible. But it makes a great difference what the nature of the case which we state is. 11In the smaller sort of cases, therefore, such as private ones in general are, the garb of the statement ought to be neat, and, as it were close-fitting; there should be the greatest care with regard to words which, when we enlarge upon the common topics of morality, are poured forth with rapidity. Particular expressions are often lost in the profusion of language in which they are enveloped, but here every word ought to be expressive and, as Zeno says, tinctured with peculiar signification. The style should be apparently artless, but as agreeable as possible; 11there should be no figures borrowed from poetry and received on the authority of the ancients contrary to the simplicity of language (for the diction should be as pure as possible), but such only as lessen tedium by variety and relieve attention by change, so that we may not fall into similar terminations, similar phrases, and similar constructions. For a statement has no other attractions and, if it be not recommended by such graces, must fail to please. 11Nor is the judge in any part more attentive, and consequently nothing that is expressed with effect is lost upon him. Besides, he is more inclined, I know not how, to believe what gratifies his ear and is led by being pleased to being persuaded.

120. But when the cause is of greater moment, it will be proper to speak of heinous crimes in a tone of invective and of mournful occurrences in one of pity, not that the topics for exciting the feelings may be exhausted, but that an outline of them, as it were, may be presented, and that it may at once appear what the full picture of the case will be. 12Nor would I dissuade a speaker from reviving the strong feeling of the judge, when exhausted with attention, by some remark, especially if thrown in with brevity, such, for instance, as this: "The servants of Milo did what everyone would have wished his servants to do in such circumstances," or occasionally perhaps, a little more boldly, as this: "The mother-in-law marries her son-in-law, without auspices, without any to sanction the union and with the most fatal omens." 12As this practice was adopted even in days when every speech was composed rather for use than for show and the judges were still more austere, how much more aptly may it be done now, when pleasure has made its way even into trials for life and fortune? How far we ought to conform to this taste of our age, I will give my opinion in another place. Meantime, I allow that some concession is to be made to it.

probable representation of circumstances which appears to conduct the audience, as it were, to a view of the case has, when subjoined to what is really true, a powerful effect such, for example, as the description given by Marcus Caelius of Antonius: "They find him sunk in the sleep of drunkenness, snoring with the whole force of his lungs and repeating eructation on eructation, while the most distinguished of his female companions was stretched across towards him from their several couches, and the rest lying round in every direction; 12who, however, becoming aware of the approach of the enemy, attempted, half dead with terror, to awaken Antonius; they called him aloud by name to no purpose; they raised his head; one whispered gentle sounds into his ear; another struck him forcibly with her hand; but when at length he became conscious of the voice and touch of each, he only threw his arms round the neck of her that was next to him; he could neither sleep after being roused, nor keep awake from the effects of drunkenness, but was tossed about, half asleep and half awake, in the hands of centurions and harlots." Nothing could be imagined more probable than this description; nothing offered as a greater subject of reproach; nothing exhibited more vividly.

12Nor can I omit to remark how much credit the authority of the speaker gives to his statement, an authority which we ought to secure chiefly by our general conduct, but also by our style of oratory, since the more grave and serious it is, the more weight it must give to our assertions. 12We must especially avoid, therefore, in this part of our speech, all suspicion of artifice (for nowhere is the judge more on his guard) so that nothing may appear fictitious or studied, but that all may be thought to emanate rather from the cause than from the advocate. 12But this manner our modern pleaders cannot tolerate; we think that our art is lost if it is not seen, whereas art, if it is seen, ceases to be art. We dote upon praise and think it the great object of our labor, and thus betray to the judges what we wish to display to the bystanders.

12There is also a sort of repetition of the statement, which is called by the Greeks ἐπιδιήγησις (epidiēgēsis), a thing more common in school declamations than in the forum. It was introduced with this object: that as the statement of facts ought to be brief, the case might afterwards be set forth more fully and with more embellishment in order to move indignation or pity. I think we seldom should have recourse to this practice and never so as to repeat the whole order of circumstances, for we may effect the same object by recurring to particulars here and there. Let him, however, that shall determine on such repetition, touch but lightly on facts in his statement, and, contenting himself with relating what has been done, promise to explain more fully how it was done in the proper place.

12As to the commencement of a statement of facts, some think that it ought to be made with reference to some character, whom, if he is on our side, we are to extol, and, if adverse to us, to attack. This certainly is a very common mode of proceeding, because on each side there are persons between whom the dispute lies. 130. But they may sometimes be introduced with descriptive circumstances, when such a course is likely to be advantageous, as "Judges, Aulus Cluentius Habitus was the father of my client, a man who held the highest position, not only in the municipal town of Larinum, in which he was born, but in all that country and neighborhood, for his merit, reputation, and respectability of birth"; sometimes without them: as, "when Quintus Ligarius had set out, etc." 13Sometimes, however, we may commence with a fact, as Cicero in his speech for Tullius: "Marcus Tullius possesses an estate inherited from his father in the territory of Thurium"; or as Demosthenes in behalf of Ctesiphon: "For the Phocian war having broken out, etc." 13As to the end of the statement, it is a matter of dispute with those who think that the statement itself should be brought down to the point where the question arises: as, "These things having thus happened, Publius Dollabella the praetor published an edict, as is customary with regard to violence and men appearing in arms, without any exception, only that Aebutius should reinstate Caecina in the place from which he had expelled him. He said that he had reinstated him. A sum of money was deposited, and it is concerning this deposit that you must decide." This can always be done on the side of the prosecutor, but not always on that of the defendant.

IN the order of things, the confirmation follows the statement, for we must prove what we stated only that it might be proved. But before I proceed to treat of this part, I must make a few observations on the opinions of certain rhetoricians.

It is the custom of most speakers, when the order of facts is set forth, to make a digression to some pleasing and attractive moral topic, so as to secure us much favorable attention as possible from the audience. This practice had its rise in the declamatory ostentation of the schools and passed from thence into the forum, after causes began to be pleaded not to benefit the parties going to law, but to enable the advocates to make a display. The apprehension is, I suppose, that if the stubbornness of argument should immediately follow the dry conciseness of narrative (such as is often necessary), and the gratification of eloquent diction should be too long withheld, their whole oration would appear cold and repulsive. To this custom there is this objection: that the speakers indulge in it without making due distinction of causes and what particular causes require, but as if such displays of eloquence were always expedient or even necessary. In consequence, they force into their digression matters taken from other parts to which they properly belong, so that many things must either be said over again, or, as they have been said in a place to which they had no right, cannot be said in their own. I admit, however, that this sort of excursion may be advantageously introduced, not only after the statement of the case, but after the different questions in it, altogether or sometimes severally, when the subject requires or at least permits it. I think that a speech is by such means greatly set off and embellished, provided that the dissertation aptly follows and adheres to what precedes and is not forced in like a wedge, separating what was naturally united. For no part of a speech ought to be more closely attached to any other part than the proof is to the statement, unless indeed the digression be intended either as the end of the statement or as the beginning of the proof. There will therefore sometimes be room for it; for instance, if our statement, towards the conclusion, contains something very heinous, we may enlarge upon it, as if our indignation, like our breath, must necessarily have vent. This, however, ought to be done only when the matter does not admit of doubt; else it is of more importance to make your charge true than atrocious, because the enormity of an accusation is in favor of the accused as long as it remains unproved, for belief in the commission of a heinous crime is extremely difficult. A digression may also be made with advantage, if, for example, when you have spoken of services rendered to the opposite party, you proceed to inveigh against ingratitude, or if, when you have set forth a variety of charges in your statement, you show how much danger in consequence threatens yourself. But all these must be signified briefly, for the judge, when he has learned the order of the facts, is impatient for the proof of them and desires as soon as possible to settle his opinion. You must be cautious, also, that your exposition of the case be not forgotten, through the attention of the judge being turned to something else or fatigued with useless delay.

But though such digression is not always a necessary sequel to a statement of facts, it is yet frequently a useful preparation for the consideration of the question, for instance, if the case appears, at first sight, unfavorable to us, if we have to uphold a severe law, or if we enforce penal inflictions. There will then be room, as it were, for a second exordium to prepare the judge for our proofs, or to soothe or excite him, and this may be done the more freely and forcibly in this place, as the case is already known to him. With these lenitives, so to speak, we may soften whatever is offensively hard in our statement, that the ears of the judge may the more readily admit what we may have to say afterwards, and that he may not be averse to concede us justice, for judges are not easily convinced of anything against their will. 1On these occasions, however, the disposition of the judge must also be ascertained, that we may know whether he is more inclined to law or to equity, for according to his inclination, our representations will be more or less necessary.

The same subject may also serve as a kind of peroration after the question. 1This part the Greeks call the παρἀκβασις (parekbasis), the Latins the egressus or egressio. But such sallies, as I remarked, are of several kinds and may be directed to different subjects from any part of the cause, as eulogies of men and places, descriptions of countries, or recitals of occurrences true or fictitious 1Of which sort, in the pleadings of Cicero against Verres, are the praises of Sicily, and the rape of Proserpine; in his speech for Caius Cornelius, the well-known celebration of the merits of Cneius Pompey, which the divine orator, as if the course of his pleading had been suspended at the very name of the heroic leader, suddenly turns aside to pronounce, breaking away from the matter on which he had entered.

1As to the definition of the παρἀκβασις, it is, in my opinion, a dissertation on any subject relating to the interest of the cause, digressing from the order of facts. I do not see, therefore, why they assign it to that part of a speech, above all others, which immediately follows the statement of the case any more than why they think that name belongs to a digression only when something is to be stated in it, as a speech may swerve from the right path in so many ways. 1For whatever goes beyond those five parts of a speech which we have specified is a digression, whether it be an expression of indignation, pity, detestation, reproach, apology, conciliation, or reply to invective. Similarly digressive is everything that does not lie within the question, and all amplification, extenuation, and excitement of the passions, as well as those moral observations concerning luxury, avarice, religion, duty, which contribute so much to the agreeableness and ornament of a speech, but which, however, as they are attached to cognate subjects and naturally cohere with them, do not appear to be digressions. 1But there are numbers of remarks introduced into matters that have no connection with them, remarks by which the judge is excited, admonished, appeased, intreated; or commended, Instances of them are innumerable; some we carry with us ready prepared; some we utter on the spur of the moment, or from necessity; if, for instance, anything extraordinary occurs while we are speaking, as an interruption, the sudden arrival of any person, or a disturbance. 1From such a cause Cicero was obliged to make a digression in his exordium, when he was speaking for Milo, as appears from the short speech which he pronounced on the occasion. But he that prepares something to precede the question, and he that adds something to his proofs as in support of them, may make a somewhat longer digression. He, however, who makes a sally from the middle of his speech ought soon to return to the point from which he started.

THERE are some writers who place the proposition after the statement of facts, as a division of a speech on any matter for judgment. To this notion I have already replied. In my opinion the commencement of any proof is a proposition, which may be advanced not only in stating the principal question, but sometimes even to introduce particular arguments, especially those which are called ἐπιχειρήματα (epicheirēmata). But I shall now speak of the former kind. It is not always necessary to use it, for sometimes the point in question is sufficiently manifest without any proposition whatever, for instance, if the statements of facts ends where the question begins. That which in arguments is commonly the recapitulation is sometimes immediately subjoined to the statement of the case: "These things occurred, judges, just as I have related them; the ambusher was cut off; violence was overcome by violence; or rather audacity was subdued by valor." But at times it is extremely useful, especially when the fact cannot be denied and the question is about the definition, as, in pleading for him who took the money of a private person from a temple, you would say, "The consideration is about sacrilege; it is concerning sacrilege that you have to decide," so that the judge may understand that his only duty is to ascertain whether that which is charged against the accused is sacrilege. It is also of use in causes that are obscure or complex, not only that they may be rendered more lucid, but also, occasionally, that they may be more striking. A proposition will produce this effect, if there be immediately subjoined to it something that may support our pleading: as, "A law has been made expressly that whatever foreigner mounts the wall is to be punished with death. That you are a foreigner is certain; that you mounted the wall there is no doubt. What remains, then, but that you undergo the penalty?" For such a proposition enforces a confession from the opposite party and prevents, in a great measure, delay in giving judgment, not only explaining the question, but supporting it.

Propositions are single, double, or complex, a distinction which results from more than one cause, for several charges may be combined, as when Socrates was accused of corrupting the youth and introducing new superstitions. A single charge may also be established by several proofs, as when it was alleged against Aeschines that he had acted dishonestly in his embassy because he had spoken falsely, because he had done nothing in conformity with the directions given him, because he had tarried, and because he had accepted presents. The defense may also contain several propositions, as in an action to recover a debt it may be said, "You have no right to demand it, for it was not in your power to become an agent; nor had he, in whose name you act, a right to have an agent; nor are you the heir of him from whom I am said to have borrowed; nor was I indebted to him." Such examples may be multiplied at pleasure, but it is sufficient to have pointed out that such is the case. If these allegations are stated singly, with proofs subjoined, they are so many distinct propositions; if they are combined, they come under the head of partition.

A proposition is sometimes, also, entirely bare, as is generally the case in conjectural causes: "I accuse of murder; I charge with theft"; sometimes it is accompanied with a reason, as "Caius Cornelius has been guilty of treason against the dignity of the tribunate, for he himself, when tribune of the people, read his own law before the public assembly." The proposition which we bring forward, too, is sometimes our own, as "I accuse this man of adultery"; sometimes that of our adversary, as "The charge against me is that of adultery"; sometimes affecting both parties, as "The question between my opponent and me is, which of the two is the nearer of kin to a person who has died intestate." Sometimes, moreover, we may couple opposite propositions, as "I say thus, my adversary thus."

There is a way of speaking which has, at times, the force of a proposition, though it is in reality not one, when, after having made our statement of facts, we add, "It is upon these points that you are to decide," this being a kind of admonition to the judge to direct his attention more earnestly to the case, and, being roused as by a touch, to observe that the statement is ended and the proof commenced, so that as we enter upon the establishment of our allegations, he may commence, as it were, a new stage of listening.

PARTITION is the enumeration, according to their order, of our own propositions or those of our adversary, or both. Some think that we should always make an enumeration because, by its aid, the cause is rendered clearer and the judge more observant and attentive, if he knows exactly on what point we are speaking and on what points we intend to speak afterwards. Some, on the other hand, think it dangerous to a speaker, for two reasons: that some things, on which we promise to speak, may escape our memory, and others, which we may have omitted in our specification, may occur to us. But nothing of this kind can happen except to one who is utterly deficient in ability or one who brings to his pleading nothing settled or premeditated. Otherwise, what method is so plain and clear as that of a proper division of our matter? For it follows nature as a guide, so as to be the greatest aid to the memory, to prevent us from straying from our proposed course in speaking. I cannot, therefore, agree with those who think that our partition should not exceed three propositions. Doubtless, if it be too multifarious, it will escape the recollection of the judge and perplex his attention, but it is not to be confined, as by a law, to this or that number, when a cause may possibly require more.

There are other reasons why we should not always adopt a partition, first, because most observations please better when they appear to be conceived on the moment, and not to be brought from home, but to spring from the subject itself as we are discussing it. Hence the common expressions, "I had almost forgotten," "It had escaped me," "You aptly remind me," are by no means ill received. If you lay down your course of proof beforehand, all pleasure of novelty is cut off from the sequel of your speech. Sometimes, too, the judge must be misled and wrought upon by various artifices, that he may suppose something else to be intended than what is really our object. A proposition is sometimes startling, and a judge, if he sees it prematurely, dreads it as a patient dreads the surgeon's instrument before an operation is performed. But if, without any proposition being advanced beforehand, our observations come upon him when off his guard and penetrate his mind, without any warning, when wrapt up, as it were, in itself, they will make him believe that which he would have distrusted if we had advanced it at first. Occasionally, too, we should avoid not only the distinction of questions, but the mention of them altogether. The judge should have his feelings strongly moved and his attention diverted, for to instruct is not the only duty of an orator; the power of eloquence is best shown in producing excitement. But what is directly opposed to such an effect is a minute carefulness in division, scrupulously separated into parts, at a time when we should endeavor to deprive the judge of the power of deciding against us. Are not arguments, also, that are light and weak when detached, often of great force in a body? Such arguments, accordingly, should rather be collected in a mass, and we should make a sally with them, as it were, upon the judge, an expedient which should rarely, however, be adopted and only in case of necessity, when reasoning forces us to that which seems contrary to reasoning. In addition, it is to be considered that there is, in every division of a case, some one point of more importance than the rest, and when the judge has become acquainted with it, he is apt to disdain other points as requiring no notice. Consequently, if more charges than one are to be established or overthrown, a partition is both advantageous and agreeable, in order that what we have to say on each head may distinctly be shown; but if we have to combat one charge by various arguments, it is needless Thus, if you should make such a division as this, "I shall show that the accused, for whom I plead, is not of such a character that he can be thought to have committed murder; I shall show that he had no motive for committing murder; I shall show that at the time the murder was committed he was beyond the sea," all that you might prove before that which you place last must necessarily appear useless, for the judge is anxious to come to the strongest point of all. If he is of a patient temper, he will silently hold the advocate bound to adhere to his stated division, or, if he be pressed with business, or be a man of some dignity, or of rude manners, will call upon him, with some reproachful remark, to adhere to it. 1Some have been found, accordingly, to disapprove of Cicero's partition in his speech for Cluentius, where he promises, first of all, that he will show that "no man was ever brought to judgment for, greater crimes, or on stronger evidence, than Oppianicus; next, that the preliminary inquiries were conducted by those very judges by whom he was condemned; lastly, that the judgment was influenced by money, not on the side of Cluentius, but by the opposite party," such a division being needless because, if the third point could be proved, there was no necessity for introducing the first or second. 1On the other hand, no one will be so unjust or foolish as not to admit that Cicero adopted an excellent division in his pleading for Muraena: "I perceive, judges, that of the whole accusation there are three heads, one concerned with censure of my client's morals, another with his competition for honors, and a third with charges against him for bribery," for he thus exhibits the cause with the utmost clearness and does not render one head useless by another.

1Most writers also hesitate respecting the following mode of defense: "If I killed the man, I killed him justly; but I did not kill him," for "to what purpose," it is asked "is the first proposition, if the second can be proved? They are at variance with one another, and while we advance both, credit is given to neither." This is indeed partly true, as we ought to rest on the second only, provided it be incontrovertible. 1But if we have any apprehension as to the stronger, we may very well use the support of both, for different judges are moved by different arguments, and he who believes that the deed was done, may think it just, while he who will not allow it to be just will perhaps feel convinced that it was not done. An unerring hand may be content with one javelin, but by an uncertain hand, several should be thrown, in order that chance may have its influence. 1Cicero, in defending Milo, shows admirably, in the first place, that Clodius set the ambush, and then adds, superabundantly as it were, that even if he had not done so, a citizen of such a character might have been slain with great merit and honor on the part of the slayer. 1Yet I would not altogether condemn that order which I just now mentioned, because some arguments, though hard in themselves, may yet be of use to soften others that are to follow. The common saying, that "we must ask more than what is just in order to get what is just" is not without foundation in reason. 1No one, however, is to take it in such a sense as to suppose that everything may be attempted, for the Greeks very wisely instruct us that what cannot be accomplished ought not to be tried. But whenever we adopt that double mode of defense of which I am speaking, we ought to make it our object to draw from the first head confirmation for the second, for he who might even have confessed without danger may appear to have no motive for speaking falsely when he denies.

1We must also take good care, whenever we suspect that the judge desires some other proof than that which we are advancing, to promise that we will fully and speedily afford him satisfaction on the point, especially if it affects our client's honor. 1But it frequently happens that a cause, in itself far from honorable, is supported by the letter of the law. In this case, so that the judges may not listen with unwillingness or disapprobation, they must be often reminded that the vindication of the integrity and honor of our client will follow, that they have but to wait a little and allow us to proceed in order. 20. We may pretend also, occasionally, to say some things against the wish of our client, as Cicero does in his speech for Cluentius, in regard to the law respecting the duties of judges. Sometimes we may stop, as if we were interrupted by our client, and sometimes we may address ourselves to him and entreat him to allow us to take our own course. 2Thus we shall gradually make an impression on the mind of the judge, who, while he trusts that the honor of our client is going to be vindicated, will listen with less reluctance to our more startling arguments; when he has received some impression from these, the maintenance of our client's honor will be the easier for us. Thus the two points will support each other, and the judge, trusting to our vindication of character, will be more attentive to the point of law and, the point of law being established, will be more disposed to listen to our vindication of character.

2But though partition is not always necessary or even advantageous, yet, when it is seasonably adopted, it contributes great lucidity and agreeableness to a speech, for it not only causes what is stated to become clearer, by drawing certain particulars out of the crowd, as it were, and placing them full in the sight of the judges, but relieves the attention by fixing a definite termination to certain parts, as distances on a road, marked by inscribed stones, appear greatly to diminish the fatigue of travelers. 2For it is a gratification to learn the measure of the labor which we have acomplished, and to know how much remains encourages us to proceed with greater spirit to the conclusion; nothing, indeed, need seem long when it is understood where the end is. 2It was not without justice that Quintus Hortensius gained great praise for his exactness in division, though Cicero sometimes gently laughs at his partitions as being counted upon his fingers, for, as there is moderation requisite in gesture, so we should, even with greater reason, avoid a too precise and, as it were, jointed division of our matter. 2Minute sections, which, instead of being members, are bits, detract greatly from the weight of a speech, and those who are eager for the praise of such distinction are apt, that they may be thought to have made nice and numerous divisions, to introduce what is wholly superfluous and to cut asunder what is naturally united. They make their parts, not so much more in number, as less in bulk and, after a thousand partitions, fall into that very obscurity against which partition was invented.

2The proposition of a cause, whether divided or single, ought, whenever it can be introduced with advantage, to be, above all, plain and clear (for what can be more disgraceful than to make that obscure which is adopted for no other purpose than that other parts may not be obscure?). It should also be brief and not loaded even with a single useless word, for we must remember that we have not to show what we are saying, but what we are going to say. 2We must be cautious, too, that nothing may be deficient in it and nothing redundant. The most frequent cause of redundancy is, when we divide into species what it would be sufficient to divide into genera, or when, after mentioning the genus, we add species to it, as if we should speak of virtue, justice, and temperance, when justice and temperance are but species of virtue.

2The first step in partition is to distinguish what is admitted and what is disputed. Next, in regard to what is admitted, to distinguish what our adversary admits and what we admit, and in respect to what is disputed, to specify our propositions and those of our opponent. But what is most culpable is not to treat of your several points in the order in which you have arranged them.

THERE have been authors, and some, indeed, of high reputation, who have thought that the sole duty of an orator is to inform. Excitement of the feelings, they considered, was to be prohibited for two reasons: first, because all perturbation of the mind is an evil, and secondly, because it is inexcusable for a judge to be diverted from the truth by pity, anger, or any similar passion. To aim at pleasing the audience, when the object of speaking is to gain victory, they regarded not only as needless in a pleader, but scarcely worthy even of a man. Many, too, who doubtless did not exclude those arts from the department of the orator, considered, nevertheless, that his proper and peculiar office was to establish his own propositions and to refute those of his adversary. Whichsoever of these opinions is right (for I do not here offer my own judgment), this book must appear, in the estimation of both parties, extremely necessary, as the entire subject of it is proof and refutation, to which all that has hitherto been said on judicial causes is subservient. For there is no other object either in an introduction or a narrative than to prepare the judge. To know the states of causes and to contemplate all the other matters of which I have treated above would be useless unless we proceed to proof. In fine, of the five parts into which we have distinguished judicial pleading, whatever other may occasionally be unnecessary in a cause, there certainly never occurs a suit in which proof is not required.

As to directions regarding it, I think that I shall make the best division of them by first showing what are applicable to all kinds of questions, and next, by enlarging on what are peculiar to the several sorts of causes.

AS to an oath, parties going to law either offer their own or refuse to receive that of their adversary when offered, or they require one from him, or refuse to take one when required from themselves. For a person to offer to take an oath himself, without allowing his opponent to take his, is commonly a sign of bad faith. He, however, who shall do so must either shelter himself under such purity of moral conduct as to make it incredible that he will commit perjury, or under the influence of religion (in regard to which he will gain more credit if he act in such a manner as not to appear to come forward with eagerness to take his oath, and yet not to shrink from taking it); or on the small importance of the cause, should such be its nature, for the sake of which he would hardly incur the divine displeasure; or if, in addition to other means of gaining his cause, he offers his oath, superabundantly, as it were, as the testimony of a pure conscience.

He who shall be unwilling to receive the oath of his adversary will allege the inequality of the terms and remark that the fear of taking an oath is lightly regarded by many, as even philosophers have been found to deny that the gods pay any attention to human affairs. He who is ready to swear without any one putting him to his oath is disposed to give sentence himself in his own cause and to show how light and easy a thing he considers the obligation by which he offers to bind himself. But he who offers to accept his adversary's oath, besides appearing to act with moderation, as he makes his opponent the arbiter of the cause, relieves the judge also, to whom the decision belongs, from a heavy responsibility, since he would certainly rest rather on another man's oath than on his own. Hence the refusal to take oath becomes the more difficult, unless the affair in question happens to be such that it cannot be supposed to be known to the party. If this excuse be wanting, there will be but one course left for him, which is to say that odium is sought to be excited against him by his opponent, whose object is to make it appear that he has ground for complaint in a cause in which he cannot obtain victory. Accordingly, though a dishonest man would have eagerly availed himself of such a proposal, he himself would rather prove what he asserts than leave it doubtful in the mind of any one whether he were guilty of perjury.

But in my younger days, men who had grown old in pleading used to lay it down as a rule that we should never give our opponent the option of taking his oath, as also that he should never be allowed the choice of a judge, and that a judge should not be taken from the counsellors of the opposite party, since if it was thought dishonorable in an advocate to speak against his client, it should assuredly be considered more dishonorable to do anything that would injure him.

THE greatest efforts of pleaders, however, are employed about evidence. Evidence is given either in writing or by witnesses present in court. The opposition to writings is the more simple, for shame may seem to have had less preventive power in the presence of only a few witnesses, and absence may be unfavorably represented as intimating self-distrust. If the character of the writer is open to no reflection, we may perhaps throw some discredit on that of the witnesses to it. Besides, a secret feeling is entertained unfavorable to all who offer evidence in writing, as no man gives it in that way unless of his own free-will, and thus shows that he is no friend to the party against whom he deposes. Yet a pleader on the opposite side should not be ready to admit that a friend may not speak truth on behalf of a friend, or an enemy against an enemy, if the credit of either be unimpeached. But the subject, in both its bearings, furnishes much matter for consideration.

With witnesses who are present there may be great contention, and we accordingly engage, whether against them or for them, with the double force of regular speeches and interrogatories. In regular speeches, we commonly offer observations, first of all, for and against witnesses in general. This is a common topic for argument, one side maintaining that there is no evidence stronger than that which rests on human knowledge, and the other, to detract from the credit of such knowledge, enumerating every cause by which testimony is rendered false. The next step is when pleaders make special attacks, though on bodies of men, for we know that the testimonies of whole nations have been invalidated by orators, as well as whole classes of evidence, as in the case of hear-say witnesses, for pleaders maintain that they are not in reality witnesses, but mere reporters of the words of unsworn individuals. In cases of extortion, those who swear that they have paid money to the accused are to be regarded as parties in the prosecution, not as witnesses. Sometimes a pleader's remarks are directed against individual witnesses, a kind of attack which we find in many pleadings, sometimes combined with a defense, and sometimes given separately, as that of Cicero on the witness Vatinius.

Let me therefore consider the whole subject, as I have taken upon myself to attempt the entire education of an orator; otherwise, the two books composed on this head by Domitius Afer would have been sufficient, a rhetorician whom I attended with great respect when he was old and I was young, so that the contents of his books were not only read by me, but learned from his own mouth. He very justly makes it a rule that it is the great business of an orator, in regard to this part of his cause, to gain a thorough knowledge of the whole of it, but it is a rule to be observed in regard to every part. How this knowledge may be attained, I shall show when I arrive at the part of my work destined for that subject. Such knowledge will suggest matter for questions, and supply, as it were, weapons to the hand. It will also show us for what the mind of the judge should be prepared by our speech, as it is by a regular address that the credit of witnesses should be either established or overthrown, since every judge is affected by testimony just as he has been previously influenced to believe or disbelieve it.

Since, then, there are two sorts of witnesses, those who appear voluntarily and those whom the judge commonly summons on public trial according to law (of the first of which kinds either party may avail themselves, while the latter is conceded only to accusers), let us distinguish the duty of the pleader who produces witnesses from that of him who refutes their testimony.

He that produces a voluntary witness may know what he has to say and consequently appears to have the easier task in examining him. But even this undertaking requires penetration and watchfulness, and we must be cautious that the witness may not appear timid, inconsistent, or foolish, 1for witnesses are confused, or caught in snares, by the advocates on the opposite side, and when they are once caught, they do more harm than they would have done service if they had been firm and resolute. They should therefore be well exercised before they are brought into court, and tried with various interrogatories, such as are likely to be put by an advocate on the other side. By this mean they will either be consistent in their statements or, if they stumble at all, will be set upon their feet again, as it were, by some opportune question from him by whom they were brought forward. 1But even in regard to those who are consistent in their evidence, we must be on our guard against treachery, for they are often thrown in our way by the opposite party and, after promising everything favorable, give answers of a contrary character and have the more weight against us when they do not refute what is to our prejudice, but confess the truth of it. 1We must inquire, therefore, what motives they appear to have for declaring against our adversary. Nor is it sufficient to know that they were his enemies. We must ascertain whether they have ceased to be so; whether they may not seek reconciliation with him at our expense; whether they have been bribed; or whether they may not have changed their purpose from penitential feeling. These precautions are not only necessary in regard to witnesses who know that which they intend to say is true, but far more necessary in respect to those who promise to say what is false. 1For they are more likely to repent, and their promises are more to be suspected. Even if they keep to their word, it is much more easy to refute them.

1Of witnesses who are summoned to give evidence, some are willing to hurt the accused party and some unwilling, and the accuser sometimes knows their inclination and is sometimes ignorant of it. Let us suppose for the moment that he knows it, yet in either case, there is need of the greatest circumspection on the part of him who examines them. 1If he finds the witness disposed to prejudice the accused, he ought to take the utmost care that his disposition may not show itself, and he should not question him at once on the point for decision, but proceed to it circuitously, so that what the examiner chiefly wants him to say may appear to be wrung from him. Nor should he press him with too many interrogatories, lest the witness, by replying freely to everything, should invalidate his own credit, but he should draw from him only so much as it may seem reasonable to elicit from one witness. 1But in the case of one who will not speak the truth unless against his will, the great happiness in an examiner is to extort from him what he does not wish to say. This cannot be done otherwise than by questions that seem wide of the matter in hand, for to these he will give such answers as he thinks will not hurt his party, and then, from various particulars which he may confess, he will be reduced to the inability of denying what he does not wish to acknowledge. 1For as in a set speech, we commonly collect detached arguments, which, taken singly, seem to bear but lightly on the accused, but by the combination of which we succeed in proving the charge, so a witness of this kind must be questioned on many points regarding antecedent and subsequent circumstances, and concerning places, times, persons, and other subjects, so that he may be brought to give some answer. After this he must either acknowledge what we wish or contradict what he himself has said. 1If we do not succeed in that object, it will then be manifest that he is unwilling to speak, and he must be led on to other matters that he may be caught tripping, if possible, on some point, though it be unconnected with the cause. He may also be detained an extraordinary time, that by saying everything and more than the case requires, in favor of the accused, he may make himself suspected by the judge, and he will thus do no less damage to the accused than if he had stated the truth against him. 20. But if (as we supposed in the second place) the accuser be ignorant of the witness's disposition, he must sound his inclination cautiously, interrogating him, as we say, step by step and leading him gradually to the answer which is necessary to be elicited from him. 2But as there is sometimes such art in witnesses, that they answer at first according to an examiner's wish, in order to gain greater credit when they afterwards speak in a different way, it is wise in an orator to dismiss a suspected witness before he does any harm.

2For advocates that appear on behalf of defendants, the examination of witnesses is in one respect easier, and in another more difficult, than for those who are on the side of the prosecutor. It is more difficult on this account, that they can seldom or ever know, before the trial, what the witness is going to say; and it is easier, in as much as they know, when he comes to be questioned, what he has said. 2Under the uncertainty, therefore, which there is in the matter, great caution and inquisition is necessary, to ascertain what sort of character he is that prosecutes the defendant; what feeling he entertains against him; and from what motives. All such matters are to be exposed and set aside in our pleading, whether we would have the witnesses appear to have been instigated by hatred, by envy, by desire of favor, or by money. If the opposite party, too, produces but few witnesses, we may reflect on their small number. If they are extraordinarily numerous, we may insinuate that they are in conspiracy; if they are of humble rank, we may speak with contempt of their meanness; if persons of consequence, we may deprecate their influence. 2It will be of most effect, however, to expose the motives on which the witnesses speak against the defendant, which may be various, according to the nature of causes and the parties engaged in them. For to such representations as I have just mentioned, the opposite party can answer with commonplace arguments, as when the witnesses are few and humble, the prosecutor can boast of his simple honesty in having sought for none but such as were acquainted with the case in hand, while to commend a large number or persons of consideration is a somewhat easier task. 2But occasionally, as we have to commend witnesses, so we have to decry them, whether their testimony is read in our pleading or they are summoned to give it personally. Such attempts were easier and more frequent in the times when the witnesses were not examined after the pleading was ended. As to what we should say against the witnesses respectively, it can only be drawn from their individual characters.

2The manner of questioning witnesses remains to be considered. In this part of our duty, the principal point is to know the witness well, for if he is timid, he may be frightened; if foolish, misled; if irascible, provoked; if vain, flattered; if prolix, drawn from the point. If, on the contrary, a witness is sensible and self-possessed, he may be hastily dismissed as malicious and obstinate; or he may be confuted, not with formal questioning, but with a short address from the defendant's advocate; or he may be put out of countenance, if opportunity offer, by a jest; or, if anything can be said against his moral character, his credit may be overthrown by infamous charges. 2It has been advantageous, on certain occasions, not to press too severely on men of probity and modesty, for those who would have fought against a determined assailant are softened by gentle treatment.

Every question is either about some point within the cause or on some point without it. On matters within the cause, the advocate of the accused, as we also directed the accuser, may frequently, by putting questions a little widely and on subjects from which no suspicion will arise, and by comparing previous with subsequent answers, reduce witnesses to such a dilemma as to extort from them against their will what may be of service to his own cause. 2On this point, there is certainly no instruction or exercise given in the schools, and excellence in it depends rather on natural acuteness or experience than anything else. If any model, however, ought to be pointed out for imitation, the only one that I can recommend is that which may be drawn from the dialogues of the Socratic philosophers, and especially Plato, in which the questions are so artful that though the respondent answers correctly to most of them, the matter is nevertheless brought to the conclusion which the questioner wishes to establish. 2Fortune sometimes favors us by causing something to be said by a witness that is inconsistent with the rest of his evidence, and sometimes (as more frequently happens) she makes one witness say what is at variance with the evidence of another, but an ingenious mode of interrogation will often lead methodically to that which is so frequently the effect of chance.

30. On matters without the cause, also, many serviceable questions are often put to a witness, as concerning the character of other witnesses; concerning his own; whether anything dishonorable or mean can be laid to the charge of any of them; whether they have any friendship with the prosecutor, or enmity against the defendant. In replying to such questions, they are likely to say something of which we may take advantage, or may be convicted of falsehood or malevolence. 3But all questioning ought to be extremely circumspect, because a witness often utters smart repartees in answer to the advocates and is thus regarded with a highly favorable feeling by the audience in general. Questions should be put, too, as far as possible, in familiar language, that the person under examination, who is very frequently illiterate, may clearly understand or at least may not pretend that he does not understand, an artifice which throws no small damp on the spirit of the examiner.

3It is a disgraceful practice to send a suborned witness to sit on the benches of the opposite party, that in being called from thence he may do him the more damage, either by speaking directly against the person on whose side he had placed himself, or by assuming, after having appeared to benefit him by his evidence, airs of impudence and folly, by which he not only discredits his own testimony, but detracts from the weight of that of others who may have been of service. I mention them, not that they may be adopted, but that they may be shunned.

There is frequently a collision between written attestations on the one side and the witnesses who appear in person on the other, and this furnishes matter of debate for both parties, the one resting their arguments on the oaths of the witnesses, and the other on the unanimity of those who signed the depositions. 3There is often a question, too, between the witnesses and the arguments. On the one side, it is argued that there is in the witnesses knowledge of facts and regard for their oaths, and in the arguments nothing but mere subtlety. On the other side, it is argued that witnesses are procured favor, fear, money, malice, hatred, friendship, or solicitation, while arguments are drawn from the nature of the subject, that in hearing witnesses, the judge trusts to himself, in listening to arguments, to another. 3Such questions are common to numbers of causes; they have always been, and always will be, subjects for violent discussion.

Sometimes there are witnesses on both sides, and the question arises, with regard to themselves, "Which of them are the most respectable?" with regard to the cause, "Which of them have given the most credible evidence?" and, with regard to the litigating parties, "Which may have had most influence over the witnesses?"

3To these kinds of evidence, if any one wishes to add what are called supernatural testimonies, from responses, oracles, and omens, let him be reminded that there are two modes of treating them, the one general, in respect to which there is an eternal dispute between the Stoics and Epicureans, whether the world is governed by a divine providence, the other special, in reference to certain parts of supernatural evidence, as they happen severally to affect the question. 3For the credit of oracles may be established or overthrown in one way, and that of soothsayers, augurs, diviners, and astrologers in another, as the nature of the things themselves is entirely different.

In supporting or demolishing such circumstances in a cause the voice of the pleader has much to do, as if, for instance, expressions have been uttered under the effects of wine, or in sleep, or in madness, or if information has been caught from the mouths of children, for in regard to all such individuals, one party will say that they do not feign, and the other that they mean nothing.

3The mode of proof by witnesses may not only be offered with great effect, but may also be greatly missed where it is not produced: "You gave me the money; who counted it? where? whence did he come? You accuse me of poisoning; where did I buy the poison? from whom? for how much? by whose agency did I administer it? who had any knowledge of the deed?" Almost all these points Cicero discusses in his speech for Cluentius under a charge of poisoning. Such are the remarks which I have ventured to offer, as briefly as I could, concerning inartificial proofs.

THE other sort of proofs, which come wholly under the head of art and consist in matters adapted to produce belief, is, for the most part, either altogether neglected or very lightly touched upon by those rhetoricians who, avoiding arguments as repulsive and rugged, repose themselves in more agreeable spots. Like those who are said by the poets to have preferred pleasure to security, being charmed with the taste of a certain herb among the Lotuphagi or with the song of the Sirens, these people pursued an empty semblance of glory and failed to obtain that success for which eloquence is exerted.

But other efforts of oratory, which run through the continued course of a speech, are designed as aids or embellishments to the arguments of a cause, and add to those sinews, by which it is strengthened, the appearance of a body, as it were, superinduced upon them. If anything is said to have been done, perchance, through anger, or fear, or covetousness, we can expatiate somewhat fully on the nature of those passions, and, in similar accessory parts, we praise, blame, exaggerate, extenuate, describe, deter, complain, console, or exhort. Such oratorical efforts may be of great service in treating matters which are certain, or of which we speak as being certain, and I would not deny that there is some advantage in pleasing, and very much in exciting the feelings. But pleasure and excitement have the most effect when the judge thinks that he has acquired a full knowledge of the cause, knowledge which we cannot convey to him but by arguments and by every other means in support of facts.

But before I distinguish the different sorts of artificial proofs, I think it necessary to intimate that there are certain qualities common to all kinds of proof. For there is no question which does not relate either to a thing or to a person. Nor can there be any grounds for argument, except respecting matters that affect things or persons, and these matters are either to be considered by themselves or referred to something else. Nor can there be any proof except from things consequent or opposite which we must seek either in the time that preceded the alleged fact, in the time at which it took place, or in the time that followed it, nor can anything be proved but from some other thing, which must either be greater or less than it, or equal to it. As for arguments, they arise either from general questions, which may be considered in themselves, apart from any connection with things or persons, or from the cause itself, when anything is found in it not derived from common reasoning, but peculiar to that point on which the decision is to be pronounced. Of all conclusions, moreover, some are necessary, some probable, some not impossible.

Of all proofs, too, there are four forms: because one thing is, another is not, as, "It is day, therefore it is not night"; because there is one thing, there is also another, as, "The sun is above the earth, therefore it is day"; because one thing is not, another is, as, "It is not night, therefore it is day"; and because one thing is not, another is not, as, "He is not a rational being, therefore he is not a man." Having promised these general remarks, I shall proceed to particulars.

ALL artificial proof, then, depends on indications, arguments, or examples. I am aware that indications are thought by many a species of arguments, and I had, in consequence, two motives for distinguishing them. The first is that indications generally, almost always, belong to inartificial proofs, for a blood-stained garment, a shriek, a livid spot, and similar particulars, are circumstances of the same nature as writings, reports, and depositions; they are not invented by the orator, but communicated to him with the cause itself. The second is that neither can indications, if they are certain, be arguments, because where there are certain indications, there is no question, and there can be no room for argument except upon a controverted point. Nor, if they are uncertain, can they be arguments, but have themselves need of arguments.

All artificial proofs, then, as I say, are distinguished, first of all, into two kinds, one in which the conclusion is necessary, the other in which it is not necessary. The former are those which cannot be otherwise, and which the Greeks call τεκμήρια (tekmēria) or ἄλυτα σημεῖα (aluta sēmeia), "irrefutable signs." These scarcely seem to me to come under the rules of art, for when there is an irrefutable indication, there can be no ground for dispute. This happens whenever a thing must be, or must have been; or cannot be, or cannot have been; and this being stated in a cause, there can be no contention about the point. This kind of proof is considered with reference at all times, past, present, and future, for "that she who has had a child must have lain with a man" regards the past; "that there must be waves when a strong wind has fallen on the sea" concerns the present, and "that he whose heart is wounded must die" relates to the future. In like manner, it is impossible "that there can be harvest where there has been no sowing"; "that a person can be at Rome when he is at Athens"; or "that he who is without a scar can have been wounded with a sword." Some have the same force when reversed, as, "A man who breathes must be alive," and "a man who is alive must breathe"; but others are not reversible, for it does not follow that "because he who walks must move," therefore "he who moves must walk." It is consequently possible that "she who has not had a child may have had connection with a man"; that "where there are waves, there may yet be no wind on the sea"; that "the heart of him who dies may not have been wounded"; and, in like manner, that "there may hare been sowing, when there was no harvest"; that "he who was not at Athens, may not have been at Rome"; and that "he who is marked with a scar may not have been wounded with a sword."

The other sort of indications are those from which there is no absolutely necessary conclusion, and which the Greeks call εἰκότα (eikota). Though these are not sufficient of themselves to remove all doubt, when they are combined with others, they are of great weight.

That from which something else is inferred, as from blood is suspected murder, the Greeks term, as I said, σημεῖον (sēmeion), we call, signum, "a sign," though some of our writers have used the word indicium, "an indication" and others vestigium, "a trace." But as the blood that stained a garment may have proceeded from a sacrifice or may have flowed from the nose, it does not necessarily follow that he who has a blood-stained garment has committed a murder. Though it is not a sufficient proof of itself, still it cannot but be regarded as evidence when combined with other circumstances, such as if the man with the blood-stained garment was the enemy of him who was killed; if he had previously threatened his life; if he was in the same place with him. When some presumptive proof is added to these circumstances, it makes what was suspected appear certain. 1Among such indications, however, there are some which either side may interpret in its own way, as livid spots and swelling of the body, for they may seem to be the effects either of poison or intemperance, and a wound in the breast, from which people may argue that he in whom it is found has perished either by his own hand or by that of another. The strength of such indications is proportioned to the support which they receive from other circumstances.

1Of indications, which are presumptions indeed, but from which no necessary conclusion follows, Hermagoras thinks the following an example: "Atalanta is not a virgin, because she strolls through the woods with young men." If we admit such a circumstance as a presumption, I fear that we shall make everything that has any reference to a fact a presumption. Such circumstances are, however, treated by rhetoricians as presumptive proofs. 1Nor do the Areopagites, when they condemned a boy to death for picking out the eyes of quails, appear to have had any other thought than that such an act was the indication of a cruel disposition, likely to do mischief to many if he should be allowed to reach maturity. Hence also the popularity of Spurius Maelius and Marcus Manlius was regarded as an indication that they were aspiring to sovereignty. 1But I am afraid that this mode of reasoning would carry us too far, for if a woman's bathing with men is a sign that she is an adulteress, it will be a sign of the same nature if she takes her meals with young men, or if she enjoys the intimate friendship of any man, as a person might perhaps call depilated skin, a sauntering walk, and a delicate dress signs of effeminacy and unmanliness, if he thinks that they proceed from corrupt morals as blood flows from a wound. A sign is properly that which, proceeding from a matter about which there is a question, fills under our own observation. 1Those appearances, also, which, as they are constantly noticed, are vulgarly called signs, such as prognostics of the weather, "The golden moon is red from the approach of wind," and "The mischievous crow calls for rain with a loud voice," may, if they have their causes from the state of the atmosphere, receive that appellation, 1for if the moon is red from the influence of wind, its redness is a sign of wind, and if, as the same poet infers, a condensed or rarefied atmosphere gives rise to a chattering of birds, we shall consider such chattering also a sign. We may likewise observe that small things are sometimes signs of great, as this very chattering of the crow; that greater things are signs of less, nobody wonders.

I NOW proceed to speak of arguments, for under this term we include all that the Greeks call ἐνθυμήματα (enthymēmata), ἐπιχειρήματα (epicheirēmata), and ἀποδείξεις (apodeixeis), for which, though there is some difference in the names, the meaning is nearly the same. The word enthymema (which we translate, indeed, as we cannot render it otherwise, by commentum, or commentatio, but we had better use the Greek word itself) has three meanings: one, which signifies everything that is conceived in the mind (but with this meaning we have now no concern); another, which signifies a proposition with a reason; a third, which signifies a conclusion of an argument, deduced from consequents or opposites. With regard to this latter sense authors differ, for some call a conclusion from consequents an epicheirema, but more will be found of opinion that a conclusion from opposites only should be called an enthymeme, and hence Cornificius gives it the appellation contrarium. Some have called it a rhetorical syllogism, others an imperfect syllogism, because it is not comprised in distinct parts, or in the same number of parts, as the regular syllogism, such exactness, indeed, not being required in the orator.

Valgius calls the epicheirema instead aggressio, "attempt." Celsus thinks that it is not our management of the subject, but the subject itself which we attempt (that is, the argument by which we propose to prove anything, and which, though not yet set forth in words, is fully conceived in the mind) that is called an epicheirema. Others are of opinion that it is not an intended or imperfect proof, but a complete one, proceeding even to the last species, that ought to receive this appellation. Hence its proper acceptation, and that which is most in use, is that in which it is understood to be a certain comprehension of a thought which consists at least of three parts. Some have called an epicheirema a reason, Cicero, more happily, a reasoning, although he seems to have taken that name rather from the syllogism than from anything else, for he calls the status syllogisticus a "ratiocinatory state" and gives examples from the philosophers. As there is some affinity between the syllogism and the epicheirema, he may be thought to have adopted that term judiciously.

As to the ἀποδείξεις (apodeixeis), it is an evident proof; and hence the term γραμμικαι ἀποδείξεις (grammikai apodeixeis), "linear demonstrations," among geometers. Caecilius thinks that it differs from the epicheirema only in the manner of its conclusion, and that an apodeixeis is an imperfect epicheirema, for the same reason for which we said an enthymeme differs from a syllogism, for an enthymeme is a part of a syllogism. Some think that the apodeixeis is included in the epicheirema and is the part of it which contains the proof. But authors, however different in other respects, concur in defining both of them so far similarly as to say that the reasoning in them is from that which is certain to give confirmation to that which is doubtful, a quality which is common to all arguments, for what is certain is never deduced from what is uncertain. To all these forms of argument the Greeks give the general name of πίστεις (pisteis), which we might by a literal interpretation render fides, "faith," but we shall make the sense of it clearer if we call it proof.

But the word argument has itself also several significations, for the subjects of plays, composed for acting on the stage, are called arguments. Asconius Pedianus, in explaining the topics of the orations of Cicero, says "The argument is this," and Cicero himself, in writing to Brutus, says, "Fearing lest I should bring from thence any evil upon my Cato, though the argument was far from similar, etc." Whence it appears that every subject for writing is so called. Nor is this wonderful, when the word is common even among artisans; Virgil also has argumentum ingens, "a great argument," and a work of any considerable number of heads is vulgarly called argumentosum, "argumentative." But we have now to speak of that sense of the word argument, which includes proof, indication, credibility, and aggression, which are all used as names for the same thing, but, in my opinion, with too little distinction. 1For proof and credibility are established not only by arguments dependent on reasoning, but by such as are called inartificial. As to signs, which Celsus calls "indications," I have already distinguished them from arguments.

Since, then, an argument is a process of reasoning affording a proof, by which one thing is gathered from another, and which establishes what is doubtful by reference to what is certain, there must assuredly be something in a cause that does not require proof. For unless there be something which is true, or which appears true, and from which support may be gained for what is doubtful, there will be no ground on which we can prove anything. 1As certainties, accordingly, we have, in the first place, what is perceived by the senses, as what we see, what we hear, as signs or indications. Next, we have what is admitted by the general consent of mankind, as, that there are gods, and that respect is to be paid to parents. 1Also, we have what is established by the laws, or what is passed into general usage, with the concurrence, if not of the whole world, at least of that community or people among whom we have to plead, as indeed, in what is called legal right, most points are settled, not by positive laws, but by common custom. Lastly, there is whatever is agreed between the two parties, whatever is proved, or whatever our adversary does not dispute. 1For thus will arise an argument, "As the world is governed by a providence, the state ought to be governed by some ruling power," showing that if it is acknowledged that the world is governed by a providence, the state ought likewise to be governed. 1But to him who would handle arguments properly, the nature and quality of all things whatever ought to be known, as well as their general effects, for it is by such knowledge that arguments called εἰκότα (eikota), "probable," are established. 1Now of probability there are three degrees: one, which rests on very strong grounds, because that to which it is applied generally happens, as that children are loved by their parents; a second, somewhat more inclined to uncertainty, as that he who is in good health today will live till tomorrow; and a third, which is only not repugnant to credibility, as that a theft committed in a house was committed by one of the household. 1Hence it is that Aristotle, in his second book on the Art of Rhetoric, has so carefully considered what generally attends on various things and persons, and what things or what persons nature has rendered friendly or unfriendly to other things or other persons: such as what accompanies riches, or ambition, or superstition; what the good approve; what the bad pursue; what soldiers or husbandmen desire; and by what means things are severally shunned or sought. 1But this subject I do not intend to pursue, for it is not only long, but even impracticable, or rather infinite, and it is plain, moreover, to the common understanding of all. If any one shall desire, however, to be enlightened upon it, I have shown him from whom he may seek instruction. 1But all probability, on which the far greater part of reasoning depends, flows from sources of this nature, whether it be credible that a father was killed by his son; that a father committed incest with his daughter; and, again, whether poisoning be credible in a step-mother, or adultery in a man of licentious life, also, whether it be credible that a crime was committed in the sight of the whole world, or that false testimony was given for a small bribe. Each of these crimes proceeds from a peculiar cast, as it were, of character—I mean generally, not always, else all reasoning about them would be absolute certainty and not mere probable argument.

20. Let us now examine the places of arguments, although, indeed, the topics of which I have previously spoken are regarded as places of argument by some rhetoricians. By places, I do not mean commonplaces, in the sense in which the word is generally understood, in reference to luxury, adultery, or such subjects, but the seats of arguments in which they lie concealed and from which they must be drawn forth. 2For as all kinds of fruits are not produced in all countries, and as you will be unable to find a bird or a beast if you are ignorant where it is usually produced or makes its abode, and as among the several kinds of fishes, some delight in a smooth and others in a rocky bottom of the water, while particular sorts are confined to particular regions or coasts, and you could not attract the ellops or the scarus to our shores, so every kind of argument is not to be got from every place and is consequently not everywhere to be sought. 2Otherwise, there would be much wandering about, and after enduring the utmost labor, we should not be able to find, unless by chance, that for which we should seek without method. But if we ascertain where particular arguments offer themselves, we shall, when we come to the place where they lie, easily discern what is in it.

2First of all, then, arguments are to be drawn from persons, there being, as I said, a general division of all arguments into two kinds, those which concern things and those which concern persons, the accidents of things being cause, time, place, opportunity, instruments, manner, and the like. As to persons, I do not undertake to treat of every particular concerning them, as most rhetoricians have done, but only of those topics from which arguments may be drawn. 2These, then, are:

Birth, for people are mostly thought similar in character to their fathers and forefathers, and sometimes derive from their origin motives for living an honorable or dishonorable life;
Nation, for every nation has its peculiar manners, and the same thing will not be alike probable in regard to a Barbarian, a Roman, and a Greek; 25.
Country, for in like manner, the laws, institutions, and opinions of states have their peculiarities;
Sex, for you would more readily believe a charge of robbery with regard to a man, and poisoning with regard to a woman;
Age, for different modes of action belong to different periods of life;
Education and discipline, for it makes a difference by whom, and in what manner a person has been brought up; 26.
Bodily constitution, for beauty is often drawn into an argument for libertinism, and strength for insolence, and the contrary qualities for contrary conduct;
Fortune, for the same charge is not equally credible in reference to a rich and a poor man, in reference to one who is surrounded with relations, friends and clients, and one who is destitute of all such support;
Condition, for it makes a great difference whether a man is illustrious or obscure, a magistrate or a private person, a father or a son, a citizen or a foreigner, free or a slave, married or a bachelor, the father of children or childless; 27.
Natural disposition, for avarice, passionateness, sensibility, cruelty, austerity, and other similar affections of the mind, frequently either cause credit to be given to an accusation or to be withheld from it;
Manner of living, for it is often a matter of inquiry whether a person is luxurious, or parsimonious, or mean;
Occupations, for a countryman, a lawyer, a trader, a soldier, a mariner, a physician, act in very different ways. 28.
We must consider also what a person affects, whether he would wish to appear rich or eloquent, just or powerful.
Previous doings and sayings, too, are to be taken into account, for the present is commonly estimated from the past.
To these some add commotion of the mind, which they wish to be understood in the sense of a temporary excitement of the feelings, as anger, or fear; 29.
Designs, which respect the present, past, and future, but these, though they are accidents of persons, should yet be referred, I think, as considered in themselves, to that species of argument which we derive from motives;
Also certain dispositions of mind, in regard to which it is considered whether a particular person is a friend or an enemy of another person.
30. They specify also the name among the topics of argument in regard to a person, and the name must certainly be termed an accident of a person, but it is rarely the foundation of any reasoning, unless when it has been given for some cause, as Sapiens, Maqnus, or Plenus, or has suggested some thought to the bearer of it, as Lentulus's name led him to think of joining the conspiracy of Catiline, because dominion was said to be promised by the Sibylline books and the predictions of the soothsayers "to three Cornelii," and he believed himself, as he was a Cornelius, to be the third after Sylla and Cinna. 3As to the conceit of Euripides, where the brother of Polynices reflects on his name, as an argument of his disposition, it is extremely poor. For jesting, however, occasion is frequently furnished by a name, and Cicero has more than once indulged in it in his pleadings against Verres. Such, and of such a nature, are the common subjects of argument with regard to persons. All I cannot enumerate, either under this head or under others, but content myself with showing the way to those who may inquire farther.

now come to things, among which actions are most closely connected with persons and must therefore be first considered. In regard, then, to everything that is done, the question is either "why," or "where," or "when," or "in what manner," or "by what means," it was done. 3Arguments are consequently derived from the motives for actions done or to be done. The matter of such motives, which some of the Greek writers call ὕλη (hylē) and others δύναμις (dynamis), they divide into two kinds, subdividing each kind into four species, for the motive for any action is generally connected with the acquisition, the augmentation, the preservation, or the enjoyment, of some good, or the avoidance, diminution, endurance, of some evil, or delivery from it. These are considerations which have great weight in all our deliberations. 3But right actions have such motives; wrong ones, on the contrary, proceed from false notions, for the origin of them is from the objects which men fancy to be good or evil. Hence arise errors of conduct and corrupt passions, among which may be reckoned anger, envy, hatred, avarice, presumption, ambition, audacity, timidity, and other feelings of a similar nature. Sometimes fortuitous circumstances are added, as drunkenness, or mistake, which sometimes serve to excuse and sometimes to give weight to a charge, as when a man is said to have killed one person while he was lying in wait for another. 3Motives, moreover, are constantly investigated not only to establish, but to repel accusations, as when an accused person maintains that he acted rightly, that is, from a laudable motive, on which point I have spoken more fully in the third book. 3Questions of definition, too, sometimes depend upon motives, as whether he is a tyrannicide who killed a tyrant by whom he had been caught in adultery, and whether he is guilty of sacrilege who took down arms suspended in a temple to drive enemies out of his city. 3Arguments are also drawn from places, for it often concerns the proof of a fact, whether the scene of it was mountainous or level, maritime or inland, planted or uncultivated, frequented or lonely, near or distant, suitable or unsuitable for the alleged purpose, considerations which Cicero treats with very great effect in his defense of Milo. 3These and similar points most commonly relate to questions of fact, but sometimes also to questions of law, as whether a place be private or public, sacred or profane, our own or belonging to another, as we consider in regard to a person whether he be a magistrate, or a father, or a foreigner. 3For hence questions arise, as, "You have taken the money of a private individual, but, as you took it from a temple, your crime is not mere theft, but sacrilege"; "You have killed an adulterer, an act which the law allows, but as you committed it in a brothel, it is murder"; and "You have done violence, but as you did it to a magistrate, an action for treason may be brought against you." 40. Or, on the other hand, a person may argue, "I had a right to act in such a way, for I was a father, or I was a magistrate." But it is to be observed that arguments derived from place afford matter for dispute as to questions of fact as well as regarding points of law. Place, too, frequently affects the quality of an action, for the same act is not allowable or becoming in all places alike. It is likewise of consequence before what people a question is tried, for every people has its peculiar customs and laws. 4Place has also influence in commendation or disparagement, as Ajax says in Ovid, Agimus ante rates causam, et mecum confertur Ulysses? "Do we plead our cause before the ships, and is Ulysses compared with me?" To Milo, too, it was made a subject of reproach, among other things, that Clodius had been killed by him amidst the monuments of his ancestors. 4Place has influence, moreover, in deliberative oratory, as well as time, some remarks on which I shall subjoin.

Of time, as I have already observed in another place, there are two acceptations, since it is viewed either generally or specially. Generally, as when we say, "now, formerly, in the time of Alexander, during the struggle at the siege of Troy," or whatever relates to the present, past, or future. Specially, when we speak of received divisions of time, as "in the summer, in the winter, by day, or by night," or of accidental occurrences at any particular period, as "during a pestilence, in a war, or at a banquet." 4Some of our Latin authors have thought that sufficient distinction was made if they called time in general merely time, and special portions of it times. To say nothing more on that point, regard to time in both senses is to be had both in deliberative and epideictic, but most frequently in judicial, pleading. 4For it gives rise to questions of law, determines the quality of actions, and has great influence in questions of fact, since it sometimes offers irrefragable proofs, as if a person should be said (as I supposed above) to have signed a deed when he died before the date of it, or to have done something wrong when he was quite an infant or even not born. 4Besides, it is to be observed that arguments of all kinds are readily drawn either from circumstances that preceded the fact in question, occurred at the same time with it, or happened after it: Previous circumstances include examples such as "You threatened the deceased with death, you went out at night, you went before him on the road," and motives for deeds, too, relate to time past. 4Contemporaneous circumstances, which some have distinguished more nicely than was necessary, dividing them into that which is combined with an act, include examples such as "A noise was heard" and those attached to an act, such as "A cry was raised." Subsequent circumstances include examples such as, "You concealed yourself; you fled; and discolorations and swellings appeared on the body." The defendant also will direct his thoughts to the same divisions of time in order to discredit the charge that is brought against him.

4In these considerations is included all that concern deeds and words, but under two aspects, for some things are done because something else will follow, and others because something else was done before. For example, it is alleged against a man accused of trafficking in women that he bought a beautiful woman who had been found guilty of adultery, or against a rake accused of patricide that he had said to his father, "You shall not reproach me any more." The former is not a trafficker in women because he bought the woman, but he bought her because he was a trafficker in women, and the latter did not kill his father because he uttered those words, but uttered the words because he meditated killing his father.

4As to fortuitous occurrences, which also afford ground for arguments, they doubtless belong to subsequent time, but are generally distinguished by some peculiarity in the persons whom they concern. For example, I might say, "Scipio was a better general than Hannibal; he defeated Hannibal," or "He was a good pilot; he never suffered shipwreck," or "He was a good husband-man; he raised large crops," or in reference to bad qualities, "He was extravagant; he exhausted his patrimony," or "He lived disgracefully; he was disliked by all."

4We must also, especially in questions of fact, regard the means of which a party was possessed, for probability inclines us to suppose that a smaller number was killed by a larger, a weaker by a stronger, people asleep by people awake, the unsuspecting by the well prepared. Opposite states of things lead to opposite conclusions. 50. Such points we regard in deliberative speeches, and in judicial pleadings we keep them in view with reference to two considerations: whether a person had the inclination and whether he had the power, for hope depending on power often gives rise to inclination. Hence that conjecture in Cicero: "Clodius lay in wait for Milo, not Milo for Clodius; Clodius was attended with a body of stout slaves, Milo with a party of women; Clodius was travelling on horseback, Milo in a carriage; Clodius was unencumbered, Milo enveloped in a cloak." 5Under means, also, we may include instruments, for they form part of appliances and resources, and presumptive proofs, too, sometimes arise from instruments, as when a sharp weapon is found sticking in a dead body. 5To all this is to be added "manner," which the Greeks call τρόπος (tropos), in reference to which the question is, "How a thing was done?" And it has relation both to the quality of an act and to the interpretation of writings, as if we should deny that it is lawful to kill an adulterer with poison and say that he ought to have been killed with a sword. It may concern questions of fact also, as if I should say that a thing was done with a good intention and therefore openly, or with a bad intention and therefore insidiously, in the night and in a lonely place.

5But in regard to every matter, about the quality or nature of which there is any question, and which we contemplate independently of persons and all else that constitutes a cause, three points are doubtless to be considered: whether it is, what it is, and of what nature it is. But as certain topics of argument are common to all these, the three cannot be divided and must accordingly be introduced under the heads which they respectively happen to fall.

5Arguments, then, are drawn from definition (ex finitione or fine, for both terms are in use) of which there are two modes, for we either inquire simply whether such a thing is a virtue or, with a definition previously given, what virtue is. Such definition we either express in a general way, as "Rhetoric is the art of speaking well," or with an enumeration of particulars, as "Rhetoric is the art of rightly conceiving, arranging, and expressing our thoughts, with an unfailing memory and with propriety of action." 5We also define a thing either by its nature, as in the preceding example, or by reference to etymology, as when we derive the sense of assiduus from aes and do, that of locuples from copia locorum, or that of pecuniosus from copia pecorum.

To definitions seem especially to belong genus, species, difference, and property. 5From all these, arguments are deduced. Genus can do little to establish species, but very much to set it aside; what is a tree, therefore, is not necessarily a plane tree, but what is not a tree, is certainly not a plane tree. Nor can that which is not a virtue be justice, and therefore we must proceed from the genus to the ultimate species, as to say, "Man is an animal," is not enough, for "animal" is the genus, and to say that he is "mortal," though it expresses a species, is but a definition common to other animals. But if we say that he is "rational," nothing will be wanting to signify what we wish. 5On the contrary, species affords a strong proof of genus, but has little power to disprove it, for that which is justice is certainly a virtue, while that which is not justice may be a virtue if it is fortitude, prudence, or temperance. A genus, therefore, will never be disproved by proving a species, unless all the species included under that genus are set aside, as "That which is neither mortal nor immortal is not an animal."

5To genus and species writers add properties and differences. By properties, a definition is established; by differences, it is overthrown. A property is that which either belongs only to one object, as speech and laughter to man, or belongs to it, but not to it alone, as heat is a property of fire. There may be also many properties of the same thing, as fire, for instance, shines as well as heats. Consequently, whatever property is omitted in a definition will weaken it, but it is not every property introduced in it that will establish it. 5It is very often a question, too, what is a property of something under consideration. For instance, if it is asserted, on the etymology of the word, "To kill a tyrant constitutes a man a tyrannicide," we may deny it, for if an executioner should kill a tyrant delivered to him to be put to death, he would not be called a tyrannicide, nor would a man be called so that had killed a tyrant unawares or unwillingly. 60. But that which is not a peculiar property will be a difference, as it is one thing to be a slave and another to serve. Hence, there is this distinction with regard to addicti, or insolvent debtors sentenced to serve their creditors: "He who is a slave, if he is set free, becomes a freedman," but this is not the case with an addictus, and there are other points of difference between them of which I shall speak in another place. 6They call that also a difference, by which, when the genus is distinguished into species, a species itself is particularized, as "Animal" is the genus, "mortal," a species, and "terrestrial" or "two-footed," a difference. We have not yet come to property, though the animal is distinguished from the aquatic or the four-footed, but such distinction belongs not so much to argument as to exact expression of definition. 6Cicero separates genus and species, which later he calls form, from definition and puts them under relation, as, for example, "if a person to whom all the silver of another person has been bequeathed should claim also the coined silver," he would found his claim upon genus; but "if a person, when a legacy has been left to a woman who should have been a materfamilias to her husband, denies that it ought to be paid to her who never came into her husband's power," he reasons from species, because there are two sorts of marriages.

6Cicero also shows that definition is assisted by division, which he makes distinct from partition, partition being the distribution of a whole into its parts, division that of a genus into its forms or species. The number of parts, he says, is uncertain, for instance, the parts of which a state consists, but that of forms, certain, as the number of forms of government. We understand these to be three, that with power in the hands of the people, that in the hands of a few, and that in the hands of one. 6He, indeed, does not use these examples, because, writing to Trebatius, he preferred taking his instances from law. I have given such, as I think, plainer ones.

Properties have reference also to questions dependent on conjecture, for as it is the property of a good man to act rightly and of a passionate man to be violent in his languange, it is supposed that he who acts rightly is a good man and that he who is violent in his language is a passionate one, and such as act or speak otherwise are supposed to be of opposite characters. For when certain qualities are not in certain persons, the inference, though from opposite premises, is of a similar nature.

6Division, in a similar way, serves to prove and to refute. For proof, it is sometimes sufficient to establish one half, as in this example: "A man, to be a citizen, must either have been born a citizen or have been made one," but in refuting you must overthrow both particulars and show that he was neither born nor made a citizen. 6This mode of reasoning is manifold, and there is a form of argument by successive removals, by which a whole allegation is sometimes proved to be false, and sometimes a portion of it, which is left after successive removals, is shown to be true. A whole allegation is proved to be false in this manner: "You say that you lent this money. Either then you had it of your own, or you received it from some one else, or you found it, or you stole it. If you neither had it of your own, nor received it from any one, nor etc., you did not lend it." 6What is left is established as true in this way: "This slave, whom you claim as your own, was either born in your house, or bought by you, or given to you, or left to you by will, or captured by you from the enemy—or he belongs to another person"; when it is shown that the suppositions are all unfounded, except the last, it will be clear that the slave belongs to another. This kind of argumentation is dangerous and must be conducted with great wariness, for if we omit one particular in the enumeration, our whole edifice will fall to the ground, to the amusement of our audience. 6That mode is safer which Cicero uses in his speech for Caecina, when he asks, "If this is not the point in question, what is it?" for thus all other points are set aside at once. That also is safer, in which two contrary propositions are advanced, of which it is sufficient for our purpose to establish either, as in this example from Cicero: "There is certainly no one so unfavorable to Clueutius as not to grant me one thing. If it is certain that those judges were bribed, they must have been bribed either by Habitus or by Oppianicus; if I show that they were not bribed by Habitus, I prove that they were bribed by Oppianicus; if I make it appear that they were bribed by Oppianicus, I clear Habitus from suspicion." 6Or liberty may be granted to our adversary to choose one of two propositions, of which one must necessarily be true, and, whichsoever he chooses, it may be proved to be adverse to his cause. This is a mode which Cicero adopts in pleading for Oppius: "Whether was it when he was aiming at Cotta, or when he was attempting to kill himself, that the weapon was snatched from his hand?" And in that for Varenus: "The option is granted you, whether you would prefer to say that Varenus took that road by chance or at the instigation and persuasion of the other," and he then shows that either supposition is equally adverse to the accuser. 70. Sometimes two propositions are stated of such a nature that from either, if adopted, the same consequence follows, as in the common adage, "We must philosophize, though we must not philosophize," or in the still more common question, "To what purpose is a figure if the subject is intelligible? To what purpose if it is not intelligible?" And in this saying, "He who can endure pain will tell lies under torture; he who cannot endure pain will tell lies."

7As there are three parts of time, so the order of things is comprised in three stages of progress, for everything has a beginning, an increase, and a completion. For instance, first there is a quarrel, then one man's blood is shed, then that of several. Here then is an origin for arguments supporting one another, for the end may be inferred from the beginning, as in the common saying, "I cannot expect a toga praetexta when I see the commencement of the web black," or the beginning may be argued from the end, as "the resignation of the dictatorship may be made an argument that Sylla did not take arms with the object of making himself a tyrant." 7From the increase of a thing, in like manner, arguments may be drawn with regard both to its beginning and its end, and that not only in conjectures as to matters of fact, but in the consideration of points of law, as "Is the end referable to the beginning?" That is, "Ought the blood shed to be imputed to him with whom the quarrel began?"

7Arguments are also drawn from similarities: "If continence be a virtue, abstinence is also a virtue" and "If a guardian ought to give security, so likewise should an agent." This argument is of the nature of that which the Greeks call ἐπαγωγή (epagōgē), Cicero induction. 7From dissimilarities: "If joy is a good, pleasure is not therefore necessarily a good" and "What is lawful in regard to a woman is not also lawful in regard to a minor." From contraries: "Frugality is a good, for extravagance is an evil"; "If war is the cause of sufferings, peace will be the remedy of them"; "If he deserves pardon who has done an injury unawares, he does not merit reward who has done a service unawares." 7From contradictions: "He who is wise is not a fool." From consequences or adjuncts: "If justice is a good, we ought to judge with justice"; If deceit is an evil, we must not deceive," and such propositions may be reversed. Nor are the arguments that follow dissimilar to these, so that they may properly be ranged under the same head, to which, indeed, they naturally belong: "What a man never had he has not lost"; "A person whom we love we shall not knowingly injure"; "For a person whom a man has resolved to make his heir, he has had, has, and will have affection." But as such arguments are incontrovertible, they partake of the nature of necessary indications. 7The latter sort, however, I call arguments from what is consequent, or what the Greeks call a ἀκόλουθον (akolouthon), as goodness is consequent upon wisdom (what merely follows, that is, happens afterwards, or will be, I would distinguish by the Greek term παρεπόμονον (parepomena).) But about names I am not anxious; every one may use what terms he pleases, provided that the character of the things themselves be understood and that the one be regarded as dependent on time and the other on the nature of things. 1Accordingly, I do not hesitate to call the following forms of argument consequential (though from what precedes in order of time, they give an indication of what is to follow in order of time) of which some have sought to make two kinds: the first regarding action, as exemplified in Cicero's speech for Oppius: "Those whom he could not lead forth into the province against their will, how could he detain against their will?" The other regards time, as shown in this passage against Verres: "If the Kalends of January put an end to the authority of the praetor's edict, why does not the commencement of its authority bear date from the Kalends of January?" 7Both of these examples are of such a nature that if you reverse the propositions, they lead to an opposite conclusion, for it is also a necessary consequence that they who could not have been retained against their will could not have been led forth against their will.

7Those arguments, too, which are drawn from particulars that mutually support each other and which some rhetoricians wish to be deemed of a peculiar kind (they call them ἐκ τῶν πρὸς ἄλληλα (ek ton pros allēla) "out of and toward each other"—correlative ideas; Cicero terms them ex rebus sub eandem rationem venientibus) I would rank with those of necessary consequence, as, "If it is honorable for the Rhodians to let their customs, it is also honorable in Hermocreon to farm them," and, "What it is proper to learn, it is also proper to teach." 7Of which nature is the happy saying of Domitius Afer, not expressed in this manner, but having a similar effect: "I accused, you condemmed." There is also a kind of argument from two propositions relatively consequent and which proves the same thing from opposite statements, as, "He who says that the world was produced says also that it will come to an end, for everything which is produced comes to an end." 80. Similar to this is the kind of argument by which that which is done is inferred from that which does, or the contrary, which rhetoricians call an argument from causes. Sometimes the consequence necessarily happens, sometimes generally, though not necessarily. Thus a body, for example, casts a shadow in the light, and wherever there is a shadow, it necessarily proves that there is a body. 8Sometimes, as I said, the consequence is not necessary, whether with reference to the cause and the effect together, or to the cause or effect severally. Thus, "The sun darkens the skin, but it does not necessarily follow that he whose skin is dark has been darkened by the sun." "A road makes a man dusty, but it is not every road that throws up dust, nor does it follow that every man who is dusty has been on a road." 8Arguments of necessary consequence both from cause and effect are such as these: "If it is wisdom that makes a man good, a good man is necessarily wise," and so, "It is the part of a good man to act uprightly, of a bad man to act dishonorably, and accordingly those who act uprightly are considered good, and those who act dishonorably, bad," and this is a just conclusion. But if we say that "exercise generally makes the body strong," it will not follow that "whoever is strong has taken exercise" or that "whoever has taken exercise is strong," nor "because fortitude secures us from fearing death" will it follow that "whoever does not fear death is to be thought a man of fortitude," nor "if the sun gives men a headache" does it follow that "the sun is not useful to men." 8The following kind of argument belongs chiefly to the suasory department of oratory: "Virtue confers glory, therefore it is to be followed; pleasure brings infamy, therefore it is to be avoided."

8But we are judiciously admonished by writers on oratory that causes are not to be sought too far back, as Medea, for example, says in the play "Would that never in the grove of Pelion," as if "the felling of a fir tree to the earth" there had had the effect of producing her misery or guilt, or as Philoctetes says to Paris, "If you had controlled your passion, I should not now be miserable," for retracing causes in this way, we may arrive at any point whatever.

8To these I should think it ridiculous to add what they call the conjugate argument, had not Ciecro introduced it. An example of it is, "That they who do a just thing do justly," which certainly needs no proof, any more than Quod compascuum est, compascere licere, "On a common pasture it is common to every man to send his cattle to feed."

8Some call those arguments which I have specified as drawn from causes or efficients by another name, ἐκβάσις (ekbasis), that is, "issues," for nothing is indeed considered in them but how one thing results from another.

Arguments called apposite or comparative are such as prove the greater from the less, the less from the greater, or equals from equals. conjecture about a fact is supported by arguing from something greater, as, "If a man commits sacrilege, he will also commit an ordinary theft"; from something less, as, "He who readily and boldly tells a lie, will commit perjury"; from something equal, as, "He who has taken a bribe to pronounce unjust judgment will also take a bribe to bear false witness." 8A question about a point of law is supported in a similar way, from something greater, as, "If it is lawful to kill an adulterer, it is also lawful to scourge him"; from something less, as, "If it is lawful to kill a thief in the night, how much more is it lawful to kill an armed robber?"; from something equal, as, "The punishment which is justly pronounced on him who has killed his father is also justly pronounced on him who has killed his mother." All these arguments find a place in causes in which we proceed by syllogism.

8The following forms are more suitable for questions dependent on definition or quality: "If strength is good for bodies, health is not less so"; "If theft is a crime, much more is sacrilege"; "If abstinence is a virtue, so is continence"; "If the world is ruled by a providence, a state must be directed by a government"; "If a house cannot be built without a plan, what are we to think of the conduct of a fleet or an army?" 90. To me it would be sufficient to notice this form merely as a genus, but it is divided by others into species, for arguments are deduced by them from several things to one, and from one to several (as in the common remark, "What happens once, may happen often"), from a part to the whole, from genus to species, from that which contains to that which is contained, from the more difficult to the easier, from the more remote to the nearer, and from the opposites of all these to their opposites. 9But such arguments are all of the same nature, for they are drawn from greater things and less, or from things of equal force, and if we pursue such distinctions, there will be no end of particularization, for the comparison of things is infinite, and if we enumerate every kind, we must specify things that are more pleasant, more agreeable, more necessary, more honorable, more useful. But let me abstain from speaking of more, lest I fall into that prolixity which I wish to avoid. 9As to the examples of this kind of arguments, their number is incalculable, but I will notice only a very few. From the greater, in Cicero's speech for Caecina: "Shall that which alarms armed troops be thought to have caused no alarm in a company of lawyers?" From the easier, in his speech against Clodius and Curio: "Consider whether you could so easily have been made praetor, when he to whom you had given way was not made praetor?" 9From the more difficult, in his speech for Ligarius: "Observe, I pray you, Tubero, that I, who do not hesitate to speak of my own act, speak boldly of that of Ligarius," and in the same speech, "Has not Ligarius ground for hope, when liberty is granted me to intercede with you even for another?" From the less, in his speech for Caecina: "Is the knowledge that there were armed men a sufficient ground for you to prove that violence was committed, and is the fact of having fallen into their hands insufficient?" 9To sum up the whole in a few words, then, arguments are drawn from persons, causes, places, time (of which we distinguished three parts: the preceding, the coincident, and the subsequent), manner (that is, how a thing has been done), means (under which we included instruments), definition, genus, species, differences, peculiarities, removal, division, beginning, increase, completion, similaritity, dissimilarity, contraries, consequences, causes, effects, issues, connection, and comparison, each of which is divided into several species.

9It seems necessary to be added that arguments are deduced not only from acknowledged facts, but from fictions or suppositions, or, as the Greeks say, καθ᾽ ὑπόθεσιν (kat’ hypothesin), "hypothetical," and this kind of arguments is found in all the same forms as the other kinds, because there may be as many species of fictitious as of true arguments. 9By using fiction, I here mean advancing something which, if it were true, would either solve a question or assist to solve it, and then showing the resemblance of the point supposed to the point under consideration. So that young men who have not yet left school may understand this process better, I will illustrate it by some examples more suitable to that age. 9The law is that he who does not maintain his parents is to be imprisoned; a man does not maintain his parents, and yet pleads that he ought not to go to prison. He would perhaps have recourse to supposition, "if he were a soldier, if he were an infant, or if he were absent from home on public service." And to oppose the option of a man distinguished for bravery, we might use the supposition, "if he asked for supreme power or for the overthrow of temples." 9This is a form of argument of great force against the letter of a law. Cicero adopts it in his defense of Caecina: "whence you, or your slaves, or your steward—if your steward alone had driven me out—but if you have not even a single slave but him who drove me out," and there are several other examples in that speech. 9But the same sort of fiction is of great use in considering the quality of an act: "If Catiline, with the troop of villains that he took with him, could judge of this affair, he would condemn Lucius Muraena." It serves also for amplification: "If this had happened to you at supper over those monstrous cups of yours," and, "If the republic had a voice."

100. These are the common topics of proofs which we find specified and which it is hardly satisfactory to mention under general heads, as a numberless multitude of arguments springs from each of them; nor, on the other hand, does the nature of things allow us to pursue them through all their species, a task for which those who have attempted have incurred the double disadvantage of saying too much and yet not all. 10Hence most students of rhetoric, when they have fallen into these inexplicable labyrinths, have, as being fettered by the inflexible restrictions of rules, lost all power of action, even that which they ought to have from their own mind and, keeping their eyes fixed on a master, have ceased to follow the guidance of nature. 10But as it is not sufficient to know that all proofs are to be drawn from persons or from things, because each of these general heads branches out into an infinity of others, so he who shall have learned that arguments are to be deduced from preceding or coincident or subsequent circumstances will not necessarily be qualified to judge what arguments proper for any particular cause are to be deduced from such circumstances. 10This is especially true because most proofs are taken from what is inherent in the nature of a cause,and have nothing in common with any other cause, and these proofs, while they are the strongest, are also the least obvious because, though we learn from rules what is common to all causes, what is peculiar to any particular cause we have to discover for ourselves. 10This kind of arguments we may well call arguments from circumstances (as we cannot otherwise express the Greek word περίστασις (peristatis)), or from those things which are proper to any individual cause. Thus in the case of the priest guilty of adultery, who, by virtue of the law by which he had the power of saving a life, wished to save his own life, the argument proper to the cause, in opposing him, would be, "You would not save one criminal only, for if you are released, it will not be lawful to kill the adulteress," for this argument is supplied by the law, which prohibits killing the adulteress without the adulterer. 10Thus, too, in that controversy in which the law states that bankers might pay half of what they owe, but demand payment of the whole of what was due to them, and that one banker requires the whole of his debt from another banker. The proper argument for the creditor, from the nature of the cause, is, "that it was expressly inserted in the law that a banker might demand the whole of a debt, for with regard to other people, there was no need of a law, as every one had the right of exacting a debt in full except from a banker." 10But many new considerations present themselves in every kind of subject, and especially in those cases which depend upon writing, because there is often ambiguity, not only in single words, but, still more, in words taken together. 10These points for consideration must necessarily vary, from the complication of laws and other written documents produced to support or overthrow them, as one fact brings to light another, and one point of law leads to the consideration of another: as, "I owed you no money. Why? You never summoned me for a debt; you took no interest from me; you even borrowed money from me yourself." A law says, "A son who does not defend his father when accused of treason is to be disinherited"; a son denies that he is amenable to this law unless his father be acquitted, and what is his proof? Another law says that "he who is found guilty of treason is to be sent into exile with his defender." 10Cicero, in his speech for Cluentius, says that Publius Popilius and Tiberius Gutta were found guilty, not of having bribed the judges, but of having tried to bribe them. What is the proof? That their accusers, who were themselves found guilty of trying to bribe, were reinstated, according to law, after having proved Popilius and Gutta guilty of the same offense.

10But no less care ought to be taken as to what you advance than as to the manner in which what you advance is to be proved. Here the power of invention, if not the greatest, is certainly the first requisite, for as arrows are useless to him who knows not at what he should aim, so arguments are useless to him who has not ascertained to what point they are to be applied. 1This is what cannot be attained by art, and though several orators, after having studied the same rules, will doubtless use arguments of a similar kind, some will devise more arguments for their purpose than others. Let the following cause, which involves questions by no means common with other causes, be given as an example. 11"When Alexander had demolished Thebes, he found a document in which it was stated that the Thebans had lent the Thessalians a hundred talents. Of this document Alexander made a present to the Thessalians, as he had had their assistance in the siege. But subsequently, when the Thebans were reestablished by Cassander, they demanded payment of the money from the Thessalians." The cause was pleaded before the Amphictyons. It was admitted that the Thebans had lent a hundred talents and had not been repaid. 11The whole controversy depends on this point: that Alexander is said to have made the present to the Thessalians. But it is admitted also that no money was given by Alexander to the Thessalians, and it is therefore a question whether that which was given was the same as if he had given them money. 11Of what profit, then, will grounds of argument be, unless I first settle that the gift of Alexander was of no avail, that he could not give and that he did not give. The commencement of the pleading on the part of the Thebans is at once easy and such as to conciliate favor, as they seek to recover as their right that which was taken from them by force; but then a sharp and vehement dispute arises about the rights of war, the Thessalians alleging that upon those rights depend kingdoms and people, and the boundaries of nations and cities. 11We have therefore to discover, on the other side, how this cause differs from causes concerning other things that fall into the hands of a conqueror, and the difficulty in this respect lies not so much in the proof as in the proposition to be advanced. We may state in the first place that "in regard to whatever can be brought before a court of justice, the right of war can have no power; that things taken away by arms cannot be retained except by arms; that, consequently, where arms prevail, the judge has no power, and that when the judge has power, arms have none." 11Such a statement is first to be made that an argument, such as the following, may be brought to support it: "That prisoners of war, if they effect a return into their country, are at once free, because what is taken by force of arms cannot be held except by force of arms." It is peculiar to the cause, also, that the Amphictyons are the judges in it (for, concerning the same question, there is one mode of proceeding before the centumviri and another before a private judge).

11On the second head, we may allege that the right to the money could not have been given by Alexander to the Thessalians, as right can belong only to him who holds it and, being incorporeal, cannot be grasped by the hand. This is a proposition more difficult to conceive than it is, when you have conceived it, to support it with arguments, such, for example, as the following: "that the condition of an inheritor is different from that of a conqueror, because right passes to the one, and mere property to the other. "11It is also an argument peculiar to the cause itself that "the right over what was owing to a whole people could not have passed into the hands of the conqueror, because what a whole people had lent, was due to them all, and as long as a single one of them survived, he was a creditor for the whole sum; and that all the Thebans had not fallen into the power of Alexander." 11This argument, such is its force, is not upheld by external support, but sustains itself by itself.

On the third head, the commencement of the argumentation will rest on the more obvious assertion that the right did not lie in the writing, a proposition which may be supported by many confirmations. The intention of Alexander may also be brought into question, and it may be inquired whether he meant to oblige or to deceive the Thessalians. It is likewise an argument peculiar to the cause and the commencement, as it were, of a new discussion, "that the Thebans, even though it be admitted that they lost their right, must be thought to have recovered it by their re-establishment." Under this head may be inquired, too, what were the views of Cassander. But all pleading on behalf of equity had the highest influence with the Amphictyons.

make these observations, not because I think that the knowledge of the general topics from which arguments are drawn is useless (for if I had thought so, I should have given no precepts respecting them), but that those who have studied them may not think themselves, while they neglect other points, complete and consummate masters of their art and may understand that unless they acquire other accomplishments, on which I shall soon give instructions, they will have attained but dumb knowledge. 120. For the power of finding arguments was not a result of the publication of books on rhetoric; all kinds of arguments were conceived before any instruction was given respecting them, and writers afterwards published the forms of them when they were observed and collected. It is a proof of this fact that writers on rhetoric use old examples of argumentation, extracting them from the orators and producing nothing new of their own or anything that has not been said before. 12The real authors of the art, therefore, are the orators, though certainly some thanks are due to those by whom our labor has been diminished, for the arguments which preceding orators have discovered one after another, by the aid of their natural genius, it is not necessary for us to seek, and yet they are all accurately known to us. But this is not sufficient to make an orator, any more than to have studied in the palaestra is sufficient to make an athlete, unless the body be also strengthened by exercise, continence, food, and, above all, by constitutional vigor; on the other hand, all these advantages are of no avail without the assistance of art.

12Let students of eloquence consider also that every point to which I have called their attention is not to be found in every cause and that when a subject for discussion is brought before them, they need not search for every topic of argument and knock, as it were, at its door to know whether it will answer and serve to prove what they desire; they need not do this, I say, unless they are still learners and destitute of experience. 12Such examination, indeed, would render the process of speaking infinitely slow, if it were always necessary to examine the several kinds of arguments and ascertain, by trial, which of them is fit and proper for our purpose. I know not whether all rules for argument would not be a hindrance to us unless a certain penetration of mind, engendered in us by nature and exercised by study, conducted us straight to all the considerations suited to any particular cause. 12For the accompaniment of a stringed instrument, when joined to the notes of the voice, is a great assistance to it, and yet, if the hand of the player be slow and hesitates to which string each note of the voice corresponds until every string has been sounded and examined, it would be better for the singer to be content with what his unassisted power of voice enables him to accomplish. Thus, too, our system of study ought to be fitted and applied, as it were, after the manner of a stringed instrument, to rules of this nature. 12But such an effect is not to be produced without great practice in order that, as the hand of the musician, though he be attending to something else, is yet led by habit to produce grave, acute, or intermediate notes, so the variety and number of arguments in a case may not embarrass the judgment of the orator, but may present and offer themselves to his aid, and that as letters and syllables require no meditation on the part of the writer, so reasons may follow the orator as of their own accord.

THE third sort of proofs, which are introduced into causes from without, the Greeks call παραδείγματα (paradeigmata), a term which they apply to all kinds of comparison of like with like, and especially to examples that rest on the authority of history. Our rhetoricians, for the most part, have preferred to give the name of "comparison" to that which the Greek calls παραβολή (parabolē), and to render παράδείγμα (paradeigma) by "example." Example, however, partakes of comparison, and comparison of example. For myself, that I may the better explain my object, let me include both under the word παράδείγμα (paradeigma), and translate it by "example." Nor do I fear that in this respect I may be thought at variance with Cicero, though he distinguishes comparison from example, for he divides all argumentation into two parts, induction and reasoning, as most of the Greeks divide it into παραδείγματα (paradeigmata) and έπιχειρήματα (epicheirēmata), and call the παράδείγμα (paradeigma) "rhetorical induction." Indeed the mode of argument which Socrates chiefly used was of this nature, for when he had asked a number of questions to which his adversary was obliged to reply in the affirmative, he at last inferred the point about which the question was raised and to which his antagonist had already admitted something similar; this method was induction. This cannot be done in a regular speech, but what is asked in conversation is assumed in a speech. Suppose that a question of this kind be put: "What is the most noble fruit? Is it not that which is the best?" This will at once be granted. "And which is the most noble horse? Is it not that which is the best?" This, and perhaps more questions to the same effect, will readily be admitted. Last of all will be asked the question with a view to which the others were put. "And among men who is the most noble? Is it not he who is the best?" and this may also be allowed. This mode of interrogation is of great effect in questioning witnesses, but in a continuous speech there is a difference, for there the orator replies to himself: "What fruit is the most noble? The best, I should suppose. What horse? That surely which is the swiftest. And thus he is the best of men, who excels most, not in nobleness of birth but in merit."

Therefore, all arguments of this kind must either be from things similar, dissimilar, or contrary. Similitudes are sometimes sought, merely for the embellishment of speech, but I will speak on that subject when the progress of my work requires me to do so; at present I am to pursue what relates to proof. Of all descriptions of proof, the most efficacious is that which we properly term example, that is, the adducing of some historical or supposed fact intended to convince the hearer of that which we desire to impress upon him. We must consider, therefore, whether such fact is completely similar to what we wish to illustrate, or only partly so, that we may either adopt the whole of it or only such portion as may serve our purpose. It is a similitude when we say, "Saturninus was justly killed, as were the Gracchi"; a dissimilitude, when we say, "Brutus put his children to death for forming traitorous designs on their country; Manlius punished the valor of his son with death"; a contrariety, when we say, "Marcellus restored the ornaments of their city to the Syracusans, who were our enemies; Verres took away like ornaments from our allies." Proof in eulogy and censure has the same three varieties. In regard also to matters of which we may speak as likely to happen, exhortation drawn from similar occurrences is of great effect. For example, on remarking that "Dionysius requested guards for his person in order that he, with the aid of their arms, might make himself tyrant," a person should support his remark with the example that "Pisistratus secured absolute power in the same manner."

But as some examples are wholly similar, such as the last which I gave, so there are others by which an argument for the less is drawn from the greater, or an argument for the greater from the less. "For the violation of the marriage-bed, cities have been destroyed; what punishment is proper to be inflicted on an adulterer?" or "Flute-players, when they have retired from the city, have been publicly recalled; and how much more ought eminent men of the city, who have deserved well of their country and who have withdrawn from popular odium, to be brought back from exile?" But unequal comparisons are of most effect in exhortation. Courage is more deserving of admiration in a woman than in a man, and, therefore, if a person is to be excited to a deed of valor, the examples of Horatius and Torquatus will not have so much influence over him as that of the woman by whose hand Pyrrhus was killed, and to nerve a man to die, the deaths of Cato and Scipio will not be so efficient as that of Lueretia, though these are arguments from the greater to the less.

1Let me then set before my reader examples of each of these kinds, extracted from Cicero, for from whom can I adduce better? An example of the similar is the following from the speech for Muraena: "For it happened to myself, that I stood candidate with two patricians, the one the most abandoned, and the other the most virtuous and excellent of mankind; yet in dignity I was superior to Catiline, and in infuence to Galba." 1An argument from the greater to the less is found in the speech for Milo: "They deny that it is lawful for him, who confesses that he has killed a human being, to behold the light of day; but in what city is it, I ask, that these most foolish of men thus argue? In that city, assuredly, which saw the first trial in it for a capital offense in the case of the brave Horatius, who, though the state was not then made free, was nevertheless acquitted in a public assembly of the Roman people, even though he confessed that he had killed his sister with his own hand." Another from the less to the greater is found in the same speech: "I killed not Spurius Maelius, who, because, by lowering the price of corn and by lavishing his patrimony, he appeared to court the populace too much, incurred the suspicion of aspiring to royalty, etc., but him (for Milo would dare to avow the act when he had freed his country from peril), whose shameless licentiousness was carried even to the couches of the gods, etc.," with the whole of the invective against Clodius.

1Arguments from dissimilar things have many sources, for they depend on kind, manner, time, place, and other circumstances, by the aid of which Cicero overthrows nearly all the previous judgments that appeared to have been formed against Cluentius, while, by an example of contrast, he attacks at the same time the animadversion of the censors, extolling the conduct of Scipio Africanus who, when censor, had allowed a knight whom he had publicly pronounced to have formally committed perjury, to retain his horse, because no one appeared to accuse him, though he himself offered to bear witness to his guilt if any one thought proper to deny it. These examples I do not cite in the words of Cicero only because they are too long. 1But there is a short example of contrast in Virgil.

At non ille, satum quo te mentiris, Achilles,
Talis in hoste fruit Priamo.
Not he, whose son thou falsely call'st thyself
Achilles, thus to Priam e'er behav'd,
Priam his foe.
1Instances taken from history we may sometimes relate in full, as Cicero in his speech for Milo. When a military tribune in the army of Caius Marius, a relative of that general, offered dishonorable treatment to a soldier, he was killed by the soldier whom he had thus insulted, for being a youth of proper feeling, he chose rather to risk his life than to suffer dishonor, and that eminent commander accounted him blameless and inflicted no punishment on him. 1To other instances it will be sufficient to allude, as Cicero in the same speech: "For neither could Servilius Ahala, or Publius Nasica, or Lucius Opimius, or the senate during my consulship, have been considered otherwise than criminal, if it be unlawful for wicked men to be put to death." Such examples will be introduced at greater or lesser length, according as they are more or less known, or as the interest or embellishment of the subject may require.

1The same is the case with regard to examples taken from fictions of the poets, except that less weight will be attributed to them. How we ought to treat them, the same excellent author and master of eloquence instructs us; 1for an example of this kind also will be found in the speech already cited: "Learned men, therefore, judges, have not without reason preserved the tradition, in fictitious narratives, that he who had killed his mother for the sake of avenging his father, was acquitted, when the opinions of men were divided, by the voice not only of a divinity, but of the divinity of Wisdom herself." 1Those moral fables, too, which, though they were not the invention of Aesop (for Hesiod appears to have been the original inventor of them), are most frequently mentioned under the name of Aesop, are adapted to attract the minds, especially of rustic and illiterate people, who listen less suspiciously than others to fictions and, charmed by the pleasure which they find in them, put faith in that which delights them. 20. Thus, Menenius Agrippa is said to have reconciled the people to the senators by that well-known fable about the members of the human body revolting against the belly; and Horace, even in a regular poem, has not thought the use of this kind of fable to be disdained, as in the verses,

Quod dixit vulpes aegroto cauta leoni, etc.
To the sick lion what the wily fox observed, etc.
The Greeks called this kind of composition αἰνος (ainos), "tales"; αἰσωπείος λόγος (Aesopeios ainos), "Aesop's fables," as I remarked; and λιβυκός (libukos), "Libyan fables." Some of our writers have given it the turn apologatio, or "apologue," which has not been received into general use. 2Similar to this is that sort of παροιμία (paroimia), "proverb," which is, as it were, a shorter fable and is understood allegorically, as a person may say, Non nostrum onus; bos clitellas: "The burden is not mine; the ox, as they say, is carrying the panniers."

2Next to example, comparison is of the greatest effect, especially that which is made between things nearly equal, without any mixture of metaphor: "As those who have been accustomed to receive money in the Campus Martius are generally most adverse to those candidates whose money they suppose to be withheld, so judges of a similar disposition came to the tribunal with a hostile feeling towards the defendant." 2Παραβολή (Parabolē), which Cicero calls "comparison," frequently brings things less obvious into assimilation. Nor is it only like proceedings of men that are compared by this figure (as in the comparison which Cicero makes in his speech for Muraena, "If those who have already come off the sea into harbor are accustomed to warn, with the greatest solicitude, those who are setting sail from the harbor, in regard to storms, pirates, and coasts, because nature inspires us with kindly feelings towards those who are entering on the same dangers through which we have passed, how, let me ask you, must I, who just see land after long tossing on the waves, feel affected towards him by whom I see that the greatest tempests must be encountered?"), but similitudes of this kind are also taken from dumb animals and even from inanimate objects.

2Since, too, the appearance of like objects is different in different aspects, I ought to admonish the learner that that species of comparison which the Greeks call εἲκων (eikōn) and by which the very image of things or persons is represented (as Cassius says, for instance, "Who is that making such grimaces, like those of an old man with his feet wrapped in wool?") is more rare in oratory than that by which we enforce is rendered more credible. For example, if you should say that the mind ought to be cultivated, you would compare it with land, which, if neglected, produces briars and thorns, but when tilled, supplies us with fruit. Or, if you would exhort men to engage in the service of the state, you should show that even bees and ants, animals not only mute but extremely diminutive, labor nevertheless in common. 2Of this kind is the following comparison of Cicero: "As our bodies can make no use of their several parts—the nerves, or the blood, or the limbs—without the aid of a mind, so is a state powerless without laws." But as he borrows this comparison from the human body in his speech for Cluentius, so, in that for Cornelius, he adopts one from horses, and in that for Archias, one from stones. 2As I said, the following are more ready to present themselves: "As rowers are inefficient without a steersman, so are soldiers without a general."

But the appearance of similitude is apt to mislead us, and judgment is accordingly to be employed in the use of it, for we must not say that "as a new ship is more serviceable than an old one, so it is with friendship," nor that "as the woman is to be commended who is liberal of her money to many, so she is to be commended who is liberal of her beauty to many." The allusions to age and liberality have a similarity in these examples, but it is one thing to be liberal of money, and another to be reckless of chastity. 2We must therefore consider, above all things, in this kind of illustration, whether what we apply is a proper comparison, just as in the Socratic mode of questioning, of which I spoke a little above, we must take care that we do not answer rashly. Xenophon's wife, in the Dialogues of Aeschines Socraticus, makes inconsiderate replies to Aspasia, 2a passage which Cicero translates thus:

"Tell me, I pray you, wife of Xenophon, if your female neighbor had better gold than you have, would you prefer hers or your own?"

"Hers," replied she.

"And if she had dress and other ornaments suited to women, of more value than those which you have, would you prefer your own or hers?

"Hers, assuredly," said she.

"Tell me then," added Aspasia, "if she had a better husband than you have, whether would you prefer your husband or hers?"

2At this question the woman blushed, and not without reason, for she had answered incautiously, at first, in saying that she would rather have her neighbor's gold than her own, as covetousness is unjustifiable. But if she had answered that she would prefer her own gold to be like the better gold of her neighbor, she might then have answered, consistently with modesty, that she would prefer her husband to be like the better husband of her neighbor.

30. I know that some writers have, with useless diligence, distinguished comparison into several almost imperceptibly different kinds and have said that there is a minor similitude, as that of an ape to a man, or that of imperfectly formed statues to their originals, and a greater similitude, as an egg, we say, is not so like an ege, as etc., and that there is also similitude in things unlike, as in an ant and an elephant in genus, both being animals, and dissimilitude in things that are like, as whelps are unlike to dogs and kids to goats, for they differ in age. 3They say, too, that there are different kinds of contraries, such as an opposite, as night to day; such as are hurtful, as cold water to fever; such as are repugnant, as truth to falsehood; and such as are negatively opposed, as hard things to those which are not hard. But I do not see that such distinctions have any great concern with my present subject.

3It is more to our purpose to observe that arguments are drawn from similar, opposite, and dissimilar points of law. From similar, as Cicero shows, in his Topics, that "the heir to whom the possession of a house for his life has been bequeathed will not rebuild it if it falls down, because he would not replace a slave if he should die." From opposite points, as, "There is no reason why there should not be a valid marriage between parties who unite with mutual consent, even if no contract has been signed, for it would be to no purpose that a contract had been signed, if it should be proved that there was no consent to the marriage." 3From dissimilar points, as in the speech of Cicero for Caecina, "Since, if any one had compelled me to quit my house by force, I should have ground for an action against him, shall I have no ground for action if a man prevents me by force from entering it?" Dissimilar points may be thus stated: "If a man who has bequeathed another all his silver may be considered to have left him all his coined silver, it is not on that account to be supposed that he intended all that was on his books to be given to him."

3Some have separated analogy from similitude; I consider it comprehended in similitude. For when we say, "As one is to ten, so are ten to a hundred," there is a similitude, as much as there is when we say, "As is an enemy, so is a bad citizen." But arguments from similitude are carried still further, as, "If a connection with a male slave is disgraceful to a mistress, a connection with a female slave is disgraceful to a master. If pleasure is the chief object of brutes, it may also be that of men." 3But an argument from what is dissimilar in the cases very easily meets such propositions: "It is not the same thing for a master to form a connection with a female slave as for a mistress to form one with a male slave," or from what is contrary: "Because it is the chief object of brutes, it should, for that very reason, not be the chief object of rational beings."

3Among external supports for a cause are also to be numbered authorities. Those who follow the Greeks, by whom they are termed κρίσεις (kriseis), call them judicia or judicationes, "judgments" or "adjudications," not on matters on which a judicial sentence has been pronounced (for such matters must be considered as precedents), but on whatever can be adduced as expressing the opinions of nations or people, or of wise men, eminent political characters, or illustrious poets. 3Nor will even common sayings, established by popular belief, be without their use in this way, for they are a kind of testimony and are so much the stronger, as they are not invented to serve particular cases, but have been said and confirmed by minds free from hatred or partiality, merely because they appeared most agreeable to virtue and truth. 3If I speak of the calamities of life, will I not be supported by the opinion of those nations who witness births with tears, and deaths with joy? Or if I recommend mercy to a judge, will it not support my application to observe that the eminently wise nation of the Athenians regarded mercy not as a mere affection of the mind, but as a deity? 3As for the precepts of the seven wise men, do we not consider them as so many rules of life? If an adulteress is accused of poisoning, does she not seem already condemned by the sentence of Cato, who said that every adulteress was also ready to become a poisoner? With maxims from the poets, not only the compositions of orators are filled but the books also of philosophers who, though they think everything else inferior to their own teaching and writings, have yet not disdained to seek authority from great numbers of verses. 40. Nor is it a mean example of the influence of poetry that when the Megareans and Athenians contended for the possession of the isle of Salamis, the Megareans were overcome by the Athenians on the authority of a verse of Homer (which, however, is not found in every edition), signifying that Ajax united his ships with those of the Athenians. 4Sayings, too, which have been generally received, become as it were common property for the very reason that they have no certain author, such as "Where there are friends, there is wealth"; "Conscience is instead of a thousand witnesses"; and, as Cicero has it, "Like people, as it is in the old proverb, generally join themselves with like." Such sayings, indeed, should not have endured from time immemorial had they not been thought true by everybody.

4By some writers, the authority of the gods, as given in oracles, is specified under this head and placed, indeed, in the first rank, for instance, the oracle that "Socrates was the wisest of men." To this, an allusion is rarely made, though Cicero appeals to it in his speech De Aruspicum responsis, and in his oration against Catiline, when he points the attention of the people to the statue of Jupiter placed upon the column, and in pleading for Ligarius when he allows that the cause of Caesar is the better, as the gods have given judgment to that effect. Such attestations, when they are peculiarly inherent in the cause, are called "divine testimonies," when they are adduced from without, "arguments." 4Sometimes, too, we may have an opportunity of availing ourselves of a saying or act of the judge, or of our adversary, or of the advocate that pleads against us, to support the credit of what we assert.

Hence, there have been some that have placed examples and authorities in the number of inartificial proofs, as the orator does not invent them, but merely adopts them. 4But there is a great difference, for witnesses, examinations, and like matters decide on the subject that is before the judges, while arguments from without, unless they are made of avail by the ingenuity of the pleader to support his allegations, have no force.

SUCH are the notions, for the most part, which I have hitherto held concerning proof, either as conveyed to me by others or as gathered from my own experience. I have not the presumption to intimate that what I have said on the subject is all that can be said; on the contrary, I exhort the student to search after me and allow the possibility of more being discovered, but whatever is added will be pretty much the same with what I have stated. I will now subjoin a few remarks on the mode in which we must make use of proofs.

It is generally laid down as a principle that a proof must be something certain, for how can what is doubtful be proved by what is doubtful? Yet some things, which we allege in proof of something else, require proof themselves. "You killed your husband, for you were an adulteress." Here we must bring proof as to the adultery, that when that point appears to be established, it may become a proof of the other which is doubtful. "Your weapon was found in the body of the murdered man; the accused denies that the weapon is his and we must establish this circumstance in order to prove the charge." But it is one of the admonitions necessary to be given here that no proofs are stronger than those which have been shown to be certain after having appeared to be doubtful. "You committed the murder, for you had your apparel stained with blood." Here the allegation that his apparel was stained with blood is not so strong an argument against the accused if he admits it, as if he denies it and it is proved, for if he admits it, his apparel may have been stained with blood from many causes, but if he denies it, he hinges his cause on that very point. If he is convicted on that point, he can make no stand on anything that follows, since it will be thought that he would not have had recourse to falsehood to deny the fact, if he had not despaired of justifying himself if he admitted it.

We must insist on the strongest of our arguments singly; the weaker must be advanced in a body, for the former kind, which are strong in themselves, we must not obscure by surrounding matter, but take care that they may appear exactly as they are. The other sort, which are naturally weak, will support themselves by mutual aid, and, therefore, if they cannot prevail from being strong, they will prevail from being numerous as the object of all is to establish the same point. Thus, if any person should accuse another of having killed a man for the sake of his property and should say, "You expected to succeed to the inheritance, and a large inheritance it was; you were poor and were greatly harassed by your creditors; and you had offended him to whom you were heir and knew that he intended to alter his will." The allegations, considered separately, have little weight and nothing peculiar, but brought forward in a body, they produce a damaging effect, if not with the force of a thunderbolt, at least with that of a shower of hail.

For some arguments, it is not sufficient merely to advance them; they must be supported, as if you say that "covetousness was the cause of a crime," you must show how great the influence of covetousness is," or if you say "anger," you must observe how much power that passion has over the minds of men. Thus the arguments will be both stronger in themselves and will appear with more grace from not presenting, as it were, their limbs unapparelled or denuded of flesh. If, again, we rest a charge upon a motive of hatred, it will be of importance to show whether it arose from envy, from injury, or from ambition; whether it was old or recent; and whether it was entertained towards an inferior, an equal, or a superior, a stranger or a relative. All such circumstances require peculiar consideration and must be turned to the advantage of the side which we defend. Yet we must not load a judge with all the arguments that we can invent, for such an accumulation would both tire his patience and excite his mistrust, since he can hardly suppose those proofs sufficiently valid which we ourselves, who offer them, seem to regard as unsatisfactory. On the other hand, to argue in support of a matter that is clear is as foolish as to bring a common taper into the brightest sunshine.

To these kinds of proof some add those which the Greeks call παθητικάς (pathētikas), "pathetic," drawn from the feelings, and Aristotle indeed, thinks that the most powerful argument on the part of him who speaks is that he be a good man, and as this will have the best effect, so to seem good ranks next to it, though far below it Hence that noble defense of Scaurus: "Quintus Varius of Sacro says that Aemilius Scaurus has betrayed the interests of the people of Rome; Aemilius Scaurus denies it." Iphicrates, too, is said to have justified himself in a similar manner by asking Aristophon, who, as accuser, was charging him with a like offense, "whether he would betray his country on receiving a sum of money." Aristophon replied that he would not, to which Iphicrates rejoined, "Have I, then, done what you would not do?" 1But we must consider what is the character of the judge before whom we plead and ascertain what is likely to appear most probable to him, a point on which I have spoken both in my directions regarding the exordium and on those regarding deliberative oratory.

1There is another mode of proof in asseveration: "I did this"; "You told me this"; "O horrible deed!" and the like. Such affirmations ought not to be wanting in any pleading, and if they are wanting, their absence has a very ill effect. They are not to be accounted, however, as great supports, because they may be made on either side, in the same cause, with equal positiveness. 1Those proofs are stronger which are drawn from the character of a person and have some credible reason to support them, as, "It is not likely that a wounded man, or one whose son has been murdered, would mean to accuse any other than the guilty person, since if he makes a charge against an innocent person, he would let the guilty escape punishment." It is from such reasoning that fathers seek support when they accuse their sons, or others, whoever they may be, that accuse their own relatives.

1It is also inquired whether the strongest arguments should be placed in front, that they may take forcible possession of the judge's mind, or in the rear, that they may leave an impression upon it, or partly in front and partly the rear, so that, according to Homer's arrangement, the weakest may be in the middle, or whether they should be in a progressive order, commencing with the weakest. But the disposition of the arguments must be such as the nature of the cause requires, a rule, as I think, with only one exception: that our series must not descend from the strongest to the weakest.

1Contenting myself with giving these brief intimations respecting arguments, I have offered them in such a way as to show, with as much clearness as I could, the topics and heads from which they are derived. Some writers have descanted on them more diffusely, having thought proper to speak of the whole subject of commonplaces and to show in what manner every particular topic may be treated. 1But to me, such detail appeared superfluous, for it occurs almost to every person what is to be said against envy, or avarice, or a malicious witness, or powerful friends. To speak on all such subjects would be an endless task, as much as if I should undertake to enumerate all the questions, arguments, and opinions in all cases now depending or that will ever arise. 1I have not the confidence to suppose that I have pointed out all the sources of argument, but I consider that I have specified the greater number.

Such specification required the greater care, as the declamations in which we used to exercise ourselves, as military men with foils for the battles of the forum, have for some time past departed from the true resemblance of pleading, and being composed merely to please, are destitute of vigor, there being the same evil practice among declaimers, assuredly, as that which slave dealers adopt, when they try to add to the beauty of young fellows by depriving them of their virility. 1For as slave dealers regard strength and muscles, and more especially the beard and other distinctions which nature has appropriated to males, as at variance with grace and soften down, as being harsh, whatever would be strong if it were allowed its full growth, so do we cover the manly form of eloquence, and the ability of speaking closely and forcibly, with a certain delicate texture of language, and if our words be but smooth and elegant, we think it of little consequence what vigor they have. 1But to me, who looks to nature, any man with the full appearance of virility will be more pleasing than a eunuch, nor will divine providence ever be so unfavorable to its own work as to ordain that weakness be numbered among its excellences, nor shall I think that an animal is made beautiful by the knife, which would have been a monster if it had been born in the state to which the knife has reduced it. Let a deceitful resemblance to the female sex serve the purposes of licentiousness, if it will, but licentiousness will never attain such power as to render also honorable that which it has rendered valuable for its own purposes. 20. Regardless of how much audiences, overcome with pleasure, may applaud it, such effeminate eloquence (for I shall speak what I think) will never be worthy of the name of eloquence, for it is language which bears in it not the least indication of manliness or purity, to say nothing of gravity or sanctity, in the speaker. 2When the most eminent sculptors and painters, if they sought to represent the highest personal beauty in stone or on canvas, never fell into the error of taking a Bagoas or Megabyzus for their model, but choose a young Doryphoru, fitted alike for war or the palaestra, and consider the persons of other warlike youths and athletes truly graceful, shall I who study to form a perfect orator give him, not the arms, but the tinkling cymbals, of eloquence? 2Let the youth whom I am instructing, therefore, devote himself, as much as he can, to the imitation of truth, and as he is to engage in frequent contests in the forum, let him aspire to victory in the schools and learn to strike at the vital parts of his adversary and to protect his own. Let the preceptor exact such manly exercise above all things and bestow the highest commendation on it when it is displayed, for though youth are enticed by praise to what is faulty, they nevertheless rejoice at being commended for what is right. 2At present, there is this evil among teachers that they pass over necessary points in silence, and the useful is not numbered among the requisites of eloquence. But these matters have been considered by me in another work and must frequently be noticed in this. I now return to my prescribed course.

Refutation may be understood in two senses, for the part of the defender consists wholly in refutation, and whatever is said by either party in opposition to the other requires to be refuted. It is properly in the latter sence that the fourth place is assigned to it in judicial pleadings. But the manner of conducting both is similar, for the principles of argument in refutation can be drawn from no other sources than those used in affirmation, nor is the nature of the commonplaces, or thoughts, or words, or figures, at all different. It has, in general, little to do with moving the passions.

It is not without reason, however, that it is thought more difficult (as Cicero often testifies) to defend than to accuse. In the first place, accusation is more simple, for a charge may be brought in one way, but may be overthrown in many, and it is sufficient for the accuser, in general, that what he advances appear true, while the defendant has to deny, to justify, to take exceptions, to excuse, to deprecate, to soften, to extenuate, to avert, to affect contempt, to ridicule, and accordingly, on the accuser's side, the pleading is for the most part straightforward and, so to speak, open-mouthed, while on that of the defendant, a thousand turns and artifices are required. The accuser, too, generally sets forth what he has previously meditated at leisure; the defendant has frequently to oppose what is entirely unexpected. The accuser produces his witnesses; the defendant has to refute him by arguments drawn from the cause itself. The accuser finds matter for his speech in the odiousness of the charges, even though they are false as parricide, for instance, or sacrilege, or treachery to the state, which the defendant can only deny. Hence, even moderate speakers have succeeded in accusations, while none but the most eloquent have proved able defenders. To dispatch what I mean in a word, it is as much easier to accuse than to defend as it is to make wounds than to cure them.

It is a point of great importance to consider what the opposite party has said, and in what manner. We must first of all examine, therefore, whether that which we have to answer belongs properly to the cause or has been introduced into it extrinsically, for if it be inherent in the cause, we must either deny it, justify it, or prove that the action is illegally brought; besides these, there is scarcely any means of defense in any kind of trial. Deprecation, at least such as is without appearance of defense, is extremely rare and is made only before judges who are confined to no certain form of decision. Even those pleadings before Caius Caesar and the Triumviri on behalf of men of the opposite party, though they depend chiefly on intreaty, also mingle with it some defensive arguments, for it is surely the expression of a bold defender to exclaim, "What object have we had in view, Tubero, but that we might have the power which Caesar now has?" But if on any occasion, in pleading for another before a sovereign prince or any other personage who may condemn or acquit at his pleasure, we have to say that he whose cause we undertake is worthy indeed of death, but of such a character that his life may be spared by a merciful judge, we must consider, first of all, that we shall not have to do with an adversary, but with an arbitrator, and in the next that we shall have to adopt the style of deliberate rather than of judicial oratory, for we shall have to counsel him to prefer the praise of humanity to the pleasure of vengeance As for pleadings before judges who must give sentence according to law, it would be ridiculous to offer precepts in regard to those who confess their guilt. Charges, therefore, which cannot be denied or set aside by taking exceptions on a point of law, must be justified, whatever be their nature, or we must abandon our cause.

Of negation I have specified two forms: that the matter in question did not happen, or that what did happen is not the matter in question. What cannot be justified, or set aside on a point of law, must necessarily be denied, not only if a definition of it may prove in our favor, but even if nothing but simple denial is left to us. If witnesses be produced, we may say much against them; if writings, we may descant on the resemblance of hands. Certainly nothing can be worse than confession. When there is no ground either for justification or denial, the last resource for maintaining our cause is legal exception. But, it may be said, there are some charges which can neither be denied nor justified, and to which no legal exception can be taken. A woman is accused, for instance, of adultery, who, after being a widow a year, had a child; here there can be no case for the judge. It is, therefore, most foolishly directed that what cannot be justified should be pretended to be forgotten and passed in silence, for that is the point on which the judge has to pronounce. But if what the accuser alleges be foreign to the cause, or merely accessory to it, I should prefer to say in the defense that it has nothing to do with the question, that it is needless to dwell upon it, and that it is of less importance than our adversary represents it. Or I might, indeed, in such a case, pardon the pretense of forgetfulness to which I just now alluded, for a good advocate ought not to fear a slight censure for negligence if he can thus save his client.

1We must consider also whether we ought to attack the charges of an accuser in a body, or overthrow them one by one. We may assail a number at once, if they are either so weak that they may be borne down in a mass, or so annoying that it is not expedient to engage them in detail, for we must then struggle with our whole force, and, if I may be allowed the expression, must fight with the enemy front to front. 1Sometimes, if it be difficult to refute the allegations on the other side, we may compare our arguments with those of our opponents, provided there be a probability of making ours appear the stronger. Such arguments against us as are strong from their number must be separated, as, in the example which I gave a little above, "You were the heir of the deceased; you were poor; you were harassed for a large sum of money by your creditors; you had offended the deceased, and you know that he purposed to alter his will." 1These arguments, taken together, have much weight, but if you divide them and consider them separately, they will be like a great flame, which had its strength from a large mass of fuel, but which will dwindle away when that which nourished it is withdrawn, or like large rivers, which, if they are divided into rivulets, become fordable in any part. The form of our refutation, therefore, must be adapted to the interest of our cause; we may sometimes state the arguments of our adversary separately and sometimes collect them into a body. 1For in certain cases, what our opponent has deduced from several particulars, it will be sufficient for us to include in a single proposition. For example, if the accuser shall say that the defendant had many motives for committing the crime with which he charges him, we may, without recapitulating all the alleged motives, deny simply that the argument from the motives ought to be regarded, because it is not to be supposed that every man who had a motive for committing a crime has committed it. 1Yet it is best for the prosecutor, in general, to group arguments and for the defendant to disperse them.

But the defendant must consider in what manner that which has been stated by the prosecutor must be refuted. If it be evidently false, it will be sufficient to deny it, as Cicero, in pleading for Cluentius, denies that he, whom the accuser had affirmed to have fallen down dead on drinking from a cup, died the same day. 1To refute allegations that are inconsistent, idle, or foolish requires no art, and it is therefore unnecessary to give either precepts or examples concerning them. That also which is said to have been done in secret (they call it the obscure kind of charge) and without witness or proof is sufficiently weak in itself (for it is enough that the adversary cannot attest it), and it is the same with whatever has no reference to the question. 1It is the business of a pleader, however, at times, to represent the statements of the adversary in such a way that they may either appear contradictory, or foreign to the question, or incredible, or superfluous, or favorable to our side rather than his own. It is a charge against Oppius that he embezzled the provisions intended for the soldiers, a grave accusation; but Cicero shows that it was inconsistent with other charges brought by the same prosecutors, who accused Oppius, at the same time, of attempting to corrupt the soldiers with largesses. 1The accuser of Cornelius engages to produce witnesses to testify he read the law when tribune; this charge Cicero renders ineffectual by admitting it. Quintus Caecilius solicits the office of prosecuting Verres, because he had been Verres' quaestor, but Cicero made that very circumstance appear in his own favor.

1As to other charges, the mode of refuting them all is much the same, for they are either to be examined by conjecture, whether they are true; by definition, whether they properly concern the cause; or with regard to their quality, whether they are dishonorable, unjust, scandalous, inhuman, cruel, or deserve any other designation that falls under the head of quality. 20. It is to be considered, indeed, not only with regard to the first charges in an action, but throughout the whole of it, whether it be excessively rigorous, as that of Labienus against Rabirius, under the lex perduellionis; or unfeeling, as that of Tubero against Ligarius, whom he accused when an exile, and exerted himself to the utmost to prevent Caesar from pardoning him; or presumptuous, as that against Oppius when he was accused on a letter of Cotta. 2In like manner, other actions may be contemplated and shown to be rash, insidious, or vindictive. But the strongest allegation that you can bring against an action is either that it is fraught with danger to the public, as Cicero says in his defense of Tullius, "who has ever laid down such a maxim, or to whom could it be permitted without danger to the whole community, to kill a man because he says that he is apprehensive of being killed by him?" or to the judges themselves, as Cicero, speaking for Oppius, exhorts the judges at some length that "they should not sanction that kind of action against the equestrian order." 2For some arguments, again, contempt may be at times expressed, as being frivolous or having nothing to do with the question, a course which Cicero frequently adopts, and this affectation of contempt is sometimes carried so far that we trample with disdain, as it were, upon that which we should be unable to refute by regular argument.

2But since the greater part of such charges is founded upon resemblances, we must, in refuting them, use our utmost efforts to discover some discrepancy in what is stated. This is most easily found in legal questions, for the law to which we refer was assuredly made with reference to other matters than that under consideration, and so much more easily may variation in the different cases be made to appear. As to comparisons drawn from brute animals or inanimate objects, it is easy to elude them. 2As to examples from historical facts, if they bear hard upon us, they may be met in various ways: if they are ancient, we may treat them as fabulous, and if they cannot be doubted, we may endeavor to show that they are inapplicable to the case, for it is impossible that two cases should be alike in all respects. For instance, if Scipio Nasica, after killing Gracchus, should be defended on the resemblance of his act to that of Ahala, by whom Maelius was killed, it may be said that "Maelius aspired to sovereignty, but that Gracchus only brought forward some popular laws, that Ahala was master of the horse, but Nasica a private individual." If all other means fail us, we must then see whether it can be shown that even the fact adduced as a precedent was not justifiable. What is to be understood with regard to examples is also to be observed with regard to previous judgments.

2From the remark which I made above, that it is important to notice in what manner the accuser stated his charges, I wish it to be understood, that if he has expressed himself but feebly, his very words may be repeated by ourselves, or if he has used fierce and violent language, we may reproduce his matter in milder terms. 2As Cicero says in his defense of Cornelius, "He took hold of the tablet of the law," and this we may do with a certain degree of deference to our client, so that if we have to speak on behalf of a man of pleasure, we may observe that a rather free course of life has been imputed to him, and so we call a person "frugal" instead of "niggardly," or "free of speech" instead of "slanderous." 2We must at any rate take care not to repeat our adversary's charges with their proofs or to amplify any point in them, unless such as we mean to ridicule, as is done in the following passage from Cicero: "You have been with the army," says he, "for so many years you have not set foot in the forum and, when you return after so long an interval of time, do you contend for honors with those who have made the forum as it were their dwelling-place?" 2In replies, too, the whole accusation may be sometimes repeated, a mode which Cicero adopts in his defense of Scaurus with reference to Bostar, speaking in the character of his antagonist, or if we do not repeat the whole, we may take parts of it, and put them together, as in Cicero's defense of Varenus: "When he was travelling through fields and solitary places with Pompulenus, they met, as they said, the slaves of Ancharius, when Pompulenus was killed, and Varenus immediately after bound and kept in custody till his father should signify what he wished to be done with him." Such a mode may always be adopted when the order of facts stated by the accuser appears improbable and may be deprived of credit by a comment. Sometimes points which prejudice us collectively may be separated, and this is generally the safest method. Sometimes the parts of a reply are naturally independent of each other, of which no example need be given.

2Common arguments are easily apprehended, not only because they may be used by either party, but because they are of more service to the defendant than to the prosecutor, for I think it no trouble to repeat what I have often intimated: that he who is the first to employ a common argument renders it adverse to him, for that is adverse to him which his opponent can use equally well. "You say it is not probable that Marcus Cotta contemplated so great a crime, and is it credible, then, that Oppius attempted to commit so great a crime?" 30. But it is the part of a skilful pleader to discover in the case of his adversary particulars that are at variance with one another or that may be made to appear at variance, and such contradictions are sometimes evident on the very face of a statement, as those noticed by Cicero on the trial of Caelius: "Clodia says that she lent Caelius money, which is a sign of great friendship on her part, yet alleges that poison was prepared for her by Caelius, which is a sign of the most violent hatred on his." 3So, in his speech for Ligarius, "Tubero," says he, "makes it a crime in Ligarius that he was in Africa, and yet complains that he himself was not admitted into Africa by Ligarius." Sometimes an inadvertent remark of our opponent affords us an opportunity of exposing his statements, an opportunity given chiefly by those who are fond of fine thoughts, and who, enticed by some opening for their eloquence, do not sufficiently regard what they assert, fixing their attention on the passage before them, and not on the whole scope of the cause. 3What could appear more prejudicial to Cluentius than the mark of infamy set on him by the censors? What could have seemed more to his disadvantage than that the son of Egnatius had been disinherited by his father for the very crime of corrupt judgment by which Cluentius had procured the condemnation of Oppianicus? 3But Cicero shows that these two facts contradict one another:

But I think that you, Accius, should consider carefully whether you would have the judgment of the censors, or that of Egnatius, to carry the greater weight. If that of Egnatius, you think that judgment light which the censors have pronounced against others, for they expelled this very Egnatius, whom you represent as a man of authority, from the senate. If that of the censors, they retained Egnatius the son, whom his father had disinherited by exercising censorial functions, in the senate, when they ejected his father from it.

3As to some faults, there is far more folly in committing them than acuteness in noting them. I mean such as advancing a disputable for an indisputable argument, a controverted for an acknowledged fact, a point common to many causes, for one peculiar to the cause in hand, or introducing anything vulgar, superfluous, too late for the purpose, or incredible. For it is incident to incautious speakers to aggravate a charge when it is still to be proved; to dispute about an act when the question is about the agent; to attempt what is impossible; to break off a discussion as finished when it is scarcely commenced; to prefer speaking of the party instead of the cause; to attribute to things the faults of persons, as, for example, accusing the decemviral power instead of Appius; to contradict what is evident; to say what may be taken in another sense from that which they intend; to lose sight of the main point of the cause; and to reply to something that is not asserted. 3This mode of reply, indeed, may be adopted as an artifice in some cases, as when a bad cause requires to be supported by foreign aid; thus, when Verres was accused of extortion, he was defended for having bravely and actively defended Sicily against pirates.

3The same rules may be given with regard to objections that we may have to encounter, but they require the more attention in this case, as many speakers fall into two opposite errors as to objections. Some, even in the forum, neglect them as matters troublesome and disagreeable, and being content, for the most part, with what they have premeditated, they speak as if they had no opponent, an error which is still more common in the schools, in which not only are objections disregarded, but the declamations themselves are in general so framed that nothing can be said on the opposite side. 3Others, erring from too great caution, think that they must reply, if not to every word, at least to every thought or even the lightest insinuation of their adversary, a task which is endless and superfluous, for then it is the cause that is refuted and not the pleader. For my own part, I shall consider a speaker eloquent only when he speaks in such a way that whatever he says to benefit his party, the credit of it may seem to be due to his talent and not to his cause, and, if he says anything to injure his party, the blame of it may seem attributable to his cause and not to his talent.

3Invectives—such as that against Rullus for the obscurity of his language, against Piso for his foolishness of speech, or against Antony for his ignorance of things and words, as well for his stolidity—are allowed to passion or just resentment, and are effective in exciting dislike towards those whom the speaker may wish to render hateful. 3The mode of reply adopted towards advocates should be different, though at times not only their mode of speech, but even their character, their look, their walk, or their air are excusably attacked. For example, Cicero, in speaking against Quintius, assails not only such personal peculiarities, but even his purple-bordered toga descending to his heels, for Quintius had pressed hard upon Cluentius by his turbulent harangues.

40. Sometimes, for the purpose of effacing an unpleasant impression, what is said severely by one party is eluded with a jest by the other. In this way Triarius was mocked by Cicero, for when he had observed that the pillars of the house of Scaurus were conveyed through the city on wagons, Cicero retorted, "And I, who have pillars from the Alban mount, had them brought in panniers." Such ridicule is more freely allowed against an accuser, whom a defender sometimes assails with severity out of concern for his client. 4But what is allowed against all pleaders, without any violation of good manners, is complaint, if they can be said to have craftily passed in silence, or abbreviated, or obscured, or put off any point. change in the direction of the defense, too, is often a subject of blame, a point on which Accius objects in pleading against Cluentius; Aeschines in his speech against Ctesiphon; Accius complaining that Cicero would adhere only to the letter of the law; and Aeschines that Demosthenes would say nothing on the subject of the law. But our declaimers should be especially admonished not to offer such objections as may be easily answered, or imagine that their opponent is an absolute fool. But as fertile commonplaces, and thoughts that may please the multitude, occur to us, we make for ourselves matter for our speeches, molding it to our fancy, so that this verse may be not disadvantageously borne in mind:

Non male respondit; male enim prior ille rogârat.

The answer's nonsense, that we all admit;
But nonsense only could the objection fit.
4Such a practice will be fatal to us in the forum, where we shall have to reply to our adversary and not to ourselves. It is said that Accius, being asked why he did not plead causes when he displayed in his tragedies such power in making able replies, gave this reason, "that on the stage he made his characters say what he wished, but that in the forum his adversaries would say what he did not wish." 4It is therefore ridiculous in exercises which are preparation for the forum to consider what reply may be made before we consider what objections may be offered, and a good teacher ought to commend a pupil when he ably imagines anything favorable to the opposite side as much as when he conceives anything serviceable to his own.

4There is another practice with regard to objections that seems to be always permissible in the schools, but ought rarely to be allowed in the forum. For when we have to speak first on the side of the prosecutor, in a real cause, how can we make replies to objections when our opponent has not yet spoken? 4Many speakers, however, fall into this absurdity, whether from a habit contracted in the schools, or from fondness for speaking, and they afford amusement and sport to those who answer them, who sometimes jestingly remark that they said nothing and could have said nothing so foolish, or sometimes, that they have been well reminded by their opponent and thank him for his assistance. But most frequently, it is, indeed, a very strong argument in their favor, that their opponent would never have replied to objections that had not been made, unless he knew that such objections were well founded and had been impelled to acknowledge their justice by the voice of conscience. 4Thus Cicero, in his speech for Cluentius says,

You have repeatedly observed, that you are informed that I intend to defend this cause by the aid of the letter of the law. Is it so? Am I then to suppose that I am secretly betrayed by my friends? Is there someone among those whom I fancy to be my friends that reports my designs to the enemy? Who is it that told you of my intention? Who has been so perfidious? To whom have I communicated it? No one, I conceive, is to blame; it was, doubtless, the law itself that informed you.

4But some, not content with answering imaginary objections, amplify whole portions of them, saying that they knew the opposite party would say so and so and support their assertions with such and such arguments. This practice Vibins Crisptus, a man of pleasing and refined humor, very happily ridiculed when I was at the bar: "I," said he, in reply to an opponent of that sort, "do not make those objections, for to what purpose is it that they should be twice made?" 4Sometimes, however, something like an answer to an objection may be made, if anything be comprised in the depositions on the part of the adversary be discussed in a private consultation of advocates, for we shall then reply to something said by the opposite party and not to anything imagined by ourselves, or if the cause be of such a nature that we can state certain objections besides which no others can be offered. For example, when stolen goods are found in a house, he who is accused of having stolen them must, if he deny the charge, necessarily say either that they were brought there without his knowledge, or deposited with him, or given to him, to all of which allegations we may reply, even though they have not been advanced. 50. In the schools, too, we may very properly obviate objections, so as to exercise ourselves for speaking in both places, the first and the second, on the side of the prosecutor. Unless we do so, we shall never acquire practice in combating objections, as we have no adversary to whom we are called upon to reply.

5It is also a fault in a pleader to be too anxious and to labor at removing everything that stands in his way; for such solicitude excites distrust in the judge, and very frequently arguments, which, if stated off hand, would have removed all doubt, but which are tardily advanced through excessive precaution, lose credit because the advocate himself seems to think something additional is necessary to support what he alleges. An orator, therefore, should carry confidence in his manner and speak as if he had the highest assurance of the success of his cause, 5This quality, like all others, is eminently apparent in Cicero, for his extraordinary affectation of security is like security itself, and there is such authority in his language as supplies the place of proof, so that we do not venture to doubt his statements. But he who can perceive what is the strongest point in his adversary's case and his own will easily judge what arguments he will have to oppose or to urge.

5As to order, there is no part of a cause in which it will give us less trouble; for, if we are the prosecutors, we have first to support our own allegations, and then to refute what is brought against them; if we are defendants, we have to commence with refutation. 5But from what we advance against any objection there arise other objections, and sometimes to a great extent; as the hands of gladiators, which are called the second, become the third, if the first was intended to provoke the assault of the adversary, and the fourth, if the challenge be repeated, so as to make it necessary to stand on guard twice and to attack twice; and this process may lead still further.

5Refutation includes also that simple kind of proof of which I have given an example above, proceeding from the feelings and consisting in mere affirmation, such as that of Scaurus, of which I have already spoken; and I know not whether such sort of proof may not even be used more frequently when a denial is made. But the chief object of each party must be to see where the main point lies, for it too frequently happens in a cause that many points are disputed, while judgment is to be passed on few.

5In these particulars consists the art of proving and refuting, but it requires to be supported and embellished by the powers of the speaker, for however well adapted our arguments may be to establish our case, they will nevertheless be weak unless they are urged with extraordinary vigor by him who uses them. 5Those commonplace observations, accordingly, concerning witnesses, written evidence, arguments, and other matters of the kind, produce great impression on the minds of the judges, as well as those peculiarly arising from the cause, in which we praise or blame any action, show that it is just or unjust, or make it appear greater or less, worse or better, than it really is. Of these, some are useful in the comparison of one argument with another, others in the comparison of several, others in influencing the decision of a whole cause. 5Some, too, serve to prepare the mind of the judge, others to confirm it in the opinions which he has already formed; and such preparation or confirmation has reference sometimes to particular heads and may be offered as may be suitable for each. 5I wonder, therefore, that it should have been disputed, and with no small acrimony, between two leaders of opposite sects as it were, whether arguments from moral considerations should accompany each particular head, as Theodorus would have it, or whether the judge should be informed before his feelings are excited, as Apollodorus directs, as if no middle course could be pursued and as if nothing could be ordered to suit the interests of the cause. But it is men who do not speak in the forum themselves that give these directions, and the systems of rules which they have composed at leisure and at ease are disturbed by the necessary confusion of battle. 60. For almost all authors who have set forth methods of speaking, as a kind of mysteries, have bound us not only to certain subjects for our arguments, but by fixed laws as to the form of expressing them. But having offered these few remarks on this head, I shall not shrink from communicating what I myself think about it, that is, what I observe to have been the practice of the most eminent orators.

THE term enthymeme rhetoricians apply not only to the argument itself, that is the matter which is used for the proof of anything else, but to the enunciation of the argument, which they make, as I said, twofold. The first kind is formed from consequents, which consists of a proposition and a proof immediately following it, as in this passage of Cicero's speech for Lijarius: "The cause was then doubtful, because there was something that might be sustained on each side, but now that side must be deemed the stronger to which even the gods have given support." This is an enthymeme, for it contains a proposition and a reason, but no logical conclusion. and is therefore an imperfect syllogism. The other kind is formed from opposites, which some call the only form of enthymeme and in which the proof is much stronger. Such is that in the speech of Cicero for Milo: "You sit, therefore, as avengers of the death of a man to whom you would be unwilling to restore life even if you thought it could be restored by your means." This form is sometimes made to consist of several clauses, of which we have an example by the same orator on behalf of the same client:

Him, therefore, whom he would not kill to the satisfaction of all, was he willing to kill to the dissatisfaction of some? Him, whom he did not dare to kill with the sanction of the law, in a favorable place, at a favorable time, and with impunity, did he boldly resolve to kill unjustly, in an unfavorable place, at an unfavorable time, and at the hazard of his own life?

But the best kind of enthymeme appears to be that in which a reason is subjoined to a proposition dissimilar or opposite, as in this passage of Demosthenes:

For if acts have at times been committed against the laws, and you have imitated them, it does not follow that you should therefore escape punishment, but much rather that you should be condemned, for if any of the violators of laws had been condemned, you would not have written this, and if you are condemned, no other will write anything similar.

Of the epicheireman four, five, and even six parts are made by some rhetoricians; Cicero makes at most five: the proposition, or major, with its reason; the assumption, or minor, with its proof; and as the fifth, the conclusion. But as the major has sometimes no need of a reason, and the minor no need of proof, and as there is sometimes, too, no need of a conclusion, he thinks that the epicheirema may at times consist of only four, or three, or even two parts. To me, as well as to the greater number of authors, there appears to be not more than three, for such is the nature of reasoning, that there must be something about which there is a question, and something by which it is to be proved, and a third may be added as resulting from the agreement of the two former. Thus, there will be first the proposition, or major; secondly, the assumption, or minor; and thirdly, the conclusion, for the reason of the first part and the proof of the second may be included in those parts to which they are attached. Let us take, accordingly, an example of the five parts from Cicero: "Those things are better managed which are regulated by some plan than those which are conducted without any fixed design; this," says Cicero, "they call the first part, and think that it ought to be established with various reasons and the most copious eloquence possible." For myself, I consider the whole proposition with its reasons as but one part; else, if the reasoning be called a part, and that reasoning be various, there must necessarily be various parts. He then gives the assumption, or minor: "But of all things nothing is managed better than the whole world; and," he adds, "of this assumption they introduce its proof as a fourth part." But I say the same concerning the assumption as concerning the proposition. He continues:

In the fifth place, they place the conclusion, which either infers that only which necessarily results from all the preceding parts, as, Therefore the world is regulated by some plan, or, after briefly bringing together the proposition and assumption, adds what is collected from them, as, But if those things are better managed which are regulated by a plan than those which are conducted without a plan, and if of all things nothing is managed better than the whole world, it follows therefore that the world is regulated by a plan.

A third part I accordingly admit.

In the three parts, however, which I have made, there is not always the same form. There is one form in which the same is expressed in the conclusion as in the major proposition: "The soul is immortal, for whatever has its motion from itself, is immortal. But the soul has its motion from itself. Therefore the soul is immortal." This form prevails not only in detached arguments, but throughout all causes, such at least as are simple and in the various questions in causes. 1For all causes and all questions have a first proposition, as, "You have committed sacrilege," and, "It is not every one that has killed a man that is guilty of murder," and attached to this proposition is a reason (which, however, is more expanded in causes and portions of causes than in detached arguments), and lastly, a conclusion, in which they commonly show, either by a full enumeration of particulars or a short recapitulation, what they have established. In this kind of epicheirema the proposition is doubtful, for the question is about the proposition. 1In another form, the conclusion is not indeed the same as the major proposition, but has the same force: "Death is nothing to us, for what is dissolved into its elements is without consciousness, and that which is without consciousness is nothing to us." In a third form, the proposition is not the same as the conclusion: "All animated things are better than things inanimate. But nothing is better than the world. The world, therefore, is animated." What is here the conclusion might be made the major proposition, for the reasoning might be stated thus: "The world is animated, for all animated things are better than things inanimate." 1But this major proposition is either an acknowledged truth as in the last example, or requires proof, as, "He who wishes to lead a happy life ought to become a philosopher," this is not universally admitted. and the conclusion cannot be drawn unless the premises be established. The minor proposition, too, is sometimes universally acknowledged, as, "But all wish to live a happy life," and sometimes requires to be proved, as, "What is dissolved into its elements is void of consciousness," for it is uncertain whether the soul, when detached from the body, may not be immortal or exist at least for a certain time. I may observe that what some call the assumption, or minor proposition, others call the reason.

1But the epicheirema differs in no respect from the syllogism, except that the syllogism has a greater number of forms and infers truth from truth, while the epicheirema is generally employed about probabilities, for if it were always possible to prove what is disputed by what is acknowledged, there would scarcely be any work for the orator in the matter, since what need would there be of superior ability to reason thus: 1"The property belongs to me, for I am the only son of the deceased," or, "I am the sole heir, since by the laws respecting property, the property of a testator is given to the heir according to the purport of the will, and to me therefore the property belongs." 1But when the reason given becomes itself a matter of dispute, we must render that certain by which we seek to prove what is uncertain. For instance, if it be said by the adversary, "You are not his son," or, "You are not legitimate," or, "You are not the only son," or, again, "You are not the heir," or, "The will is not valid," or, "You are not capable of inheriting," or, "You have co-heirs," we must establish a just ground on which the property ought to be adjudged to us. 1But when a long chain of reasoning intervenes, a recapitulatory conclusion is requisite. In other cases, a proposition and reason may often be sufficient: "The laws are silent amidst arms and do not require their sanction to be waited for, when he who would wait for it must suffer an unjust death before a just penalty could be exacted." Hence it has been observed that the form of enthymeme which rests upon consequents is similar to a reason. Sometimes, again, a single proposition is judiciously given alone, without any reason, as that which we just now cited, "The laws are silent amidst arms." 1We may also commence with the reason and then draw a conclusion, as, in the same speech, "But if the twelve tables allow a thief to be killed with impunity under any circumstances, and a thief in the day if he defend himself with a weapon, who can suppose that in whatever case a man has been killed, he who killed him must suffer punishment?" Cicero has also made some variation in this form and put the reason in the third place: "When he sees that the sword is sometimes put into our hands by the laws themselves." 1The following sentence, again, takes the form of that which precedes: "But how can death be unjustly inflicted on an ambusher and a robber?" This is the proposition. "What is the object of our escorts, of our weapon?" This is the reason. "Which certainly we should not be allowed to have, if we were under no circumstances to make use of them." This is a conclusion from the proposition and the reason.

20. This mode of argument is refuted in three ways, that is, it is attacked in each of its parts, for the proposition may be combated, or the assumption, or the conclusion, or sometimes all the three. For example, the proposition that "He is justly killed who ambushes to kill" may be combated, for the first question in the defense of Milo is, "Whether he should be allowed to live who confesses that a man has been killed by his hand?" 2The assumption, or minor proposition, may be assailed by all the arts which I have mentioned in the chapter on refutation. As to the reason, we may observe that it is sometimes true when the proposition to which it is attached is false and that a false reason is sometimes attached to a true proposition. "Virtue is a good," is a true proposition, but if any one add as a reason, "because it makes men rich," a false reason is given for a true proposition. 2As to the conclusion, it is either denied to be just when it expresses something different from what can be fairly deduced from the premises or is alleged to have nothing to do with the question: "An ambusher is justly put to death, for he who prepared himself to offer violence as an enemy ought also to be repelled as an enemy; Clodius, therefore, as an enemy, was justly put to death." Here, the conclusion is false, for it has not yet been proved that Clodius was an ambusher. 2On the other hand, it would be a just conclusion to say, "An ambusher, therefore, as an enemy, was justly put to death," but it would be nothing to the purpose, for it had not previously been proved that Clodius was an ambusher. But though the proposition and reason may be true and the conclusion false, if the proposition and reason are false, the conclusion cannot be true.

2The enthymeme is called by some an oratorical syllogism, by others a part of a syllogism, because the syllogism has always its regular proposition and conclusion and establishes by means of all its parts that which it has proposed, while the enthymeme is satisfied if merely what is stated in it be understood. 2A syllogism is of this form: "Virtue is the only good, for that only is good of which none can make an ill use. But none can make an ill use of virtue. Therefore virtue is the only good." The enthymeme will consist only of the consequents, "Virtue is a good, because none can make an ill use of it." A negative syllogism will be of this nature: "Money is not a good, for that is not a good of which any one can make a bad use. But any one can make a bad use of money. Therefore money is not a good." Here the enthymeme will consist of the opposites: "Is money a good, when any one can make a bad use of it?" 2The following sentence has the syllogistic form: "If money, which consists of coined silver, comes under the general term silver, he that bequeathed all his silver bequeathed also his money consisting in coined silver. But he did bequeath all his silver. Therefore he bequeathed also his money consisting of silver." But for an orator it is sufficient to say, "When he bequeathed all his silver, he bequeathed also his money which consists of silver."

2I think that I have now gone through the mysteries of those who deliver precepts on rhetoric. But judgment must be exercised in applying such directions as I have given. For though I do not think it unlawful to use syllogisms occasionally in a speech, yet I should by no means like it to consist wholly of syllogisms, or to be crowded with a mass of epicheiremata and enthymemes, for it would then resemble the dialogues and disputations of logicians, rather than oratorical pleading, and the two differ widely from one another. 2Your men of learning, who are seeking for truth among men of learning, examine every point with the utmost minuteness and scrupulosity, with the view of bringing it to clearness and certainty, claiming to themselves the offices of discovering and judging what is right, of which they call the one τοπική (topikē), "the art of finding arguments," and the other κριτική (kritikē), "the power of judging of their soundness." 2But we orators must compose our speeches to suit the judgment of others and must frequently speak before people altogether uneducated, or at least ignorant of any other literature than what we teach them, and unless we allure them by gratification, attract them by force, and occasionally excite their feelings, we shall never impress upon them what is just and true. 30. Oratory should be rich and brilliant, but it will have neither of those qualities if it be pieced out of regular and frequent syllogisms, expressed almost always in the same form, for it will then incur contempt from appearing mean and aversion from looking servile. If it is copious, it will excite satiety; if it attempts to be swelling, it will meet disdain. 3Let it hold its course, therefore, not along foot paths, but through open fields; let it not be like subterranean springs confined in narrow channels, but flow like broad rivers through whole valleys, forcing a way wherever it does not find one. For what is a greater misery to speakers than to be slaves to certain rules, like children imitating copies set them, and, as the Greeks proverbially express it, "taking constant care of the coat which their mother has given them?" 3Must there always be proposition and conclusion from consequents and opposites? Is the speaker not to animate his reasoning, to amplify it, to vary and diversify it with a thousand figures, making his language appear to grow and spring forth naturally, and not to be manufactured, looking suspicious from its art, and showing everywhere the fashioning of the master? What true orator has ever spoke in such a way? In Demosthenes himself, are there not very few traces to be found of such regularity and art? Yet the Greeks of our own day (the only respect in which they act less judiciously than ourselves) bind their thoughts as if they were in chains, connecting them in an inexplicable series, proving what is undisputed, confirming what is admitted, and calling themselves, in these points, imitators of the ancients. But if they are asked whom they imitate, they will never give an answer.

3Of figures I shall speak in another place. At present, it seems necessary only to add that I do not agree with those who think that arguments are always to be expressed in a pure, lucid, and precise style, but neither copious nor ornate. That they should be precise and perspicuous indeed, I admit, and on matters of little consequence, set forth in plain language and in terms as appropriate and familiar as possible; but if the subject be of a higher nature, I think that no ornament should be withheld from them, provided that it causes no obscurity. 3For a metaphor often throws a flood of light on a subject, so much so that even lawyers, whose solicitude about the propriety of words is extreme, venture to call litus, '"the sea-shore," the place where the wave eludit, "sports." 3The more rugged a subject is, too, by nature, the more we must recommend it by charms of expression; argument is less suspected when it is disguised, and to please the hearer contributes greatly to convince him. Otherwise we must pronounce Cicero deserving of censure, for using, in the heat of his argumentation, the metaphorical expressions, "The laws are silent amid arms," and, "The sword is sometimes presented to us by the laws themselves." But moderation must be observed in the use of such figures, that, while they are an embellishment to a subject, they may never be an incumbrance to it.

HAVING entered upon this undertaking, Marcellus Victor, principally at your request, but with a desire, at the same time, that some profit to well-disposed youth might arise from my labors, I have applied to it recently with great diligence, from the necessity, almost, of the office conferred upon me, yet with a regard also to my own gratification, thinking that I should leave this work to my son, whose remarkable ability deserved even the most anxious attention of a father, as the best portion of his inheritance, so that if the fates should cut me off before him, as would have been but just and desirable, he might still have his father's precepts to guide him. But while I was pursuing my design day and night, and hastening the completion of it, through fear of being prevented by death, fortune sent so sudden an affliction upon me that the result of my industry interests no one less than myself, for I have lost by a second severe bereavement that son, of whom I had conceived the highest expectations, and in whom I reposed my only hopes for the solace of my age. What shall I now do? Or what further use can I suppose that there is for me upon the earth, when the gods thus animadvert upon me? When I had just begun to write the book which I have published, On the Causes of the Corruption of Eloquence, it happened that I was struck with a similar blow. It would have been best for me, therefore, to have thrown that inauspicious work, and whatever ill-omened learning there is in me, into the flames of that premature funeral pyre which was to consume what I loved, and not to have wearied my unnatural prolongation of life with new and additional anxieties. What parent, of right feelings at least, would pardon me if I could pursue my studies with my accustomed diligence and would not hate my insensibility if I had any other use for my voice than to accuse the gods for causing me to survive all my children and to testify that divine providence pays no regard to terrestrial affairs? If such neglect of the gods is not visible in my own person, to whom nothing can be objected but that I am still alive, it is certainly manifest in the fate of those whom cruel death has condemned to perish so undeservedly, their mother having been previously snatched from me, who, after giving birth to a second son, before she had completed her nineteenth year, died, though cut off prematurely, a happy death. By that one calamity I was so deeply afflicted that no good fortune could ever afterwards render me completely happy, for, exhibiting every virtue that can grace a woman, she not only caused incurable grief to her husband, but, being of so girlish an age, especially when compared with my own, her loss might be counted even as that of a daughter. I consoled myself, however, with my surviving children, and she, knowing that I should be left alive (what was contrary to the order of nature, though she herself desired it), escaped the greatest of pangs in her untimely death. My younger son, who died, first of the two, when he had just passed his fifth year, took from me, as it were, the sight of one of my eyes. I am not ostentatious of my misfortunes nor desirous to exaggerate the causes which I have for tears; on the contrary, I wish that I had some mode of lessening them. But how can I forbear to contemplate what beauty he showed in his countenance, what sweetness in his expressions, what nascent fire in his understanding, and what substantial tokens he gave (such as I know are scarcely credible in one so young), not only of calm but of deep thought? Such a child, even if he had been the son of a stranger, would have won my love. It was the will, too, of insidious fortune, with a view to torture me the more severely, that he should show more affection for me than for anyone else, that he should prefer me to his nurses, to his grandmother who was educating him, and to all such as gain the love of children of that age. I, therefore, feel indebted to that grief which I experienced a few months before for the loss of his excellent mother, whose character is beyond all praise, for I have less reason to mourn on my own than to rejoice on her account.

I then rested for my only hope and pleasure on my remaining son, my little Quintilian, and he might have sufficed to console me, for he did not put forth merely flowers, like the other, but, having entered his tenth year, certain and well-formed fruits. I swear by my own sufferings, by the sorrowful testimony of my feelings, by his own shade, the deity that my grief worships that I discerned in him such excellences of mind (not in receiving instruction only, for which, in a long course of experience, I have seen no child more remarkable, or in steady application, requiring, even at that age, as his teachers know, no compulsion, but in indications of honorable, pious, humane, and generous feelings), that the dread of such a thunder-stroke might have been felt even from that cause, as it has been generally observed that precocious maturity is most liable to early death, and that there reigns some malignant influence to destroy our fairest hopes, in order that our enjoyments may not be exalted beyond what is appointed to man. 1He had also every fortuitous advantage: agreeableness and clearness of voice, sweetness of tone, and a peculiar facility in sounding every letter in either language, as if he had been born to speak that only. But these were still only promising appearances; he had greater qualities, fortitude, resolution, and strength to resist pain and fear, for with what courage, with what admiration on the part of his physicians, did he endure an illness of eight months! How did he console me at the last! How, when he was losing his senses and unable to recognize me, did he fix his thoughts in delirium only on learning! 1O disappointment of my hopes! Did I endure, my son, to contemplate your eyes sinking in death and your breath taking its flight? Could I, after embracing your cold and lifeless body, and receiving your last breath, breathe again the common air? Justly do I deserve the affliction which I endure and the thoughts which affect me! 1Have I, your parent, lost you, when just raised, by being adopted by a man of consular dignity, to the hopes of enjoying all the honors of your father, you, who were destined to be son-in-law to the praetor, your maternal uncle; you who, in the opinion of all, were a candidate for the highest distinctions of Attic eloquence, surviving myself only to grieve? May my sufferings at least, if not my obstinate clinging to life, make atonement to you during the rest of my existence! We in vain impute all our ills to the injustice of fortune, for no man grieves long but through his own fault. 1But I still live, and some occupation for life must be sought, and I must put faith in the learned who have pronounced letters the only consolation in adversity.

If the present violence of my grief, however, should in time subside, so that some other thought may be admitted among so many sorrowful reflections, I shall not unreasonably crave pardon for the delay in my work, for who can wonder that my studies were interrupted, when it must rather appear wonderful that they were not relinquished entirely? 1Should anything, then, in this part of my work, appear less finished than that which I commenced when less oppressed with affliction, let it be excused on account of the rigorousness of fortune, who, if she has not extinguished the moderate power of mind which I previously possessed, has at least succeeded in weakening it. But let me, on this very account, rouse myself to action with the greater spirit, since, though it is difficult for me to bear her oppression, it is easy for me to despise it, for she has left nothing further to inflict upon me and has brought to me, out of my calamities, a security which, though unhappy, is certainly stable. 1It is right to look favorably on my efforts, too, for this reason, that I persevere for no interest of my own, but that all my pains are devoted to the service of others, if what I write, indeed, be of any service. My work, like the acquisitions of my fortune, I, unhappy that I am, shall not leave to those for whom I designed it.

WHAT was to follow was the peroration, which some have termed the completion, and others the conclusion. There are two species of it, the one comprising the substance of the speech, and the other adapted to excite the feelings.

The repetition and summing-up of heads, which is called by the Greeks ᾽ανακεϕαλαίωσις (anakephalaiōsis), "going over the headings," and by some of the Latins "enumeration," is intended both to refresh the memory of the judge, to set the whole cause at once before his view, and to enforce such arguments in a body as had produced an insufficient effect in detail. In this part of our speech, what we repeat ought to be repeated as briefly as possible, and we must, as is intimated by the Greek term, run over only the principal heads, for if we dwell upon them, the result will be not a recapitulation, but a sort of second speech. What we may think necessary to recapitulate must be put forward with some emphasis, enlivened by suitable remarks and varied with different figures, for nothing is more offensive than mere straightforward repetition, as if the speaker distrusted the judge's memory. The figures which we may employ are innumerable, and Cicero affords us an excellent example in his pleading against Verres: "If your father himself were your judge, what would he say when these things were proved against you?" where he subjoins an enumeration of particulars, and there is another instance, in which the same orator, in the same speech, enumerates, on invoking the gods, all the temples spoiled by Verres in his praetorship. We may also sometimes affect to doubt whether something has not escaped us and to wonder what our opponents will reply to such or such a point, or what hope the accuser can have when our case is so fully established. But what affords us the greatest gratification is the opportunity of drawing some argument from the speech of our adversary, as when we say, "He has omitted this point in the cause," or, "He made it his object to oppress us with odium," or, "He had recourse to entreaty, and not without reason, when he knew so and so." But I must not go through such figures of speech, severally, lest those which I may now notice should be thought the only ones that can be used, since opportunities for varying our forms of speech spring from the nature of particular causes, from the remarks of the adversary, and even from fortuitous circumstances. Nor must we recapitulate only the points of our own case, but call also upon our opponent to reply to certain questions. But this can only be done when there is time for further speaking, and when we have advanced what cannot be refuted, for to challenge the adversary on facts which make strongly for him is to be not his opponent, but his prompter.

Most of the Attic orators, and almost all the philosophers who have left anything written on the art of oratory, thought this the only legitimate kind of peroration, a tenet which the Attic orators adopted, I suppose, for this reason: at Athens, an orator was prohibited even by an officer of the court from attempting to excite the feelings. At the philosophers I am less surprised, since with them all excitement of the feelings is accounted vicious, nor is it consistent with morality, in their opinion, that a judge should be thus diverted from truth, nor appropriate for a good man to use vicious means. Yet they will allow that to move the feelings is justifiable, if what is true, and just, and subservient to the public good, cannot be established by any other method. It is admitted, however, among all orators that a recapitulation may he made with advantage even in other parts of a pleading, if the cause be complex and requires support by numerous arguments. Nobody doubts, on the other hand, that there are many short and simple causes in which recapitulation is by no means necessary. This part of the peroration is common alike both to the prosecutor and the defendant.

Both of them also have recourse to the excitement of the feelings, but the defendant more rarely, the prosecutor more frequently and with greater earnestness, for the prosecutor has to rouse the judge, while the defendant's business is to soothe him. But the prosecutor at times produces tears from the pity which he expresses for the matter for which he seeks redress, and the defendant sometimes inveighs with great vehemence at the injustice of the calumny or conspiracy of which he is the object. It is therefore most convenient to divide these duties, which are for the most part similarly introduced, as I said, in the exordium, but are in the peroration more free and full. A feeling of the judge in our favor is sought but modestly at the commencement, when it is sufficient that it be just admitted, and when the whole speech is before us. But in the peroration, we have to mark with what sort of feeling the judge will proceed to consider his sentence, as we have then nothing more to say, and no place is left us for which we can reserve further arguments. 1It is therefore common to each party to endeavor to attract the favor of the judge towards himself, to withdraw it from his adversary, and to excite the feelings and to compose them. This very brief admonition may be given to both parties, that a pleader should bring the whole force of his cause before his view and, when he has noticed among its various points what is likely, or may be made likely, to excite disapprobation or favor, dislike or pity, should dwell on those particulars by which he himself, if he were judge, would be most impressed. 1But it is safer for me to consider the parts of each separately.

What recommends the prosecutor to the judge, I have already noticed in the precepts which I have given for the exordium. Some particulars, however, which it is sufficient to intimate in the commencement, must be stated more fully in the conclusion, especially if the cause be undertaken against a violent, odious, or dangerous character, or if the condemnation of the accused will be an honor to the judges, and his acquittal a disgrace to them. 1Thus Calvus makes an admirable remark in his speech against Vatinius: "You know, judges, that bribery has been committed, and all men know that you know it." Cicero, too, in pleading against Verres, observes that "the disrepute which had fallen on the courts might be effaced by the condemnation of Verres," and this is one of the conciliatory modes of address to which I have before alluded. If intimidation, too, is to be used, in order to produce a similar effect, it has a more forcible position here than in the exordium. What my opinion is on this point, I have already stated in another book. 1It is possible also to excite jealousy, hatred, or indignation more freely in the peroration than elsewhere; in regard to these feelings, the influence of the accused contributes to excite jealousy in the judge. Likewise, the accused's ill-reputation can cause hatred in the judge, and disrespect for the judge (if the accused be contumacious, arrogant, or full of assurance) can cause indignation, as the judge is often influenced, not only by an act or word, but by a look, air, or manner. The accuser of Cossutianus Capito was thought, when I was young, to have made a very happy remark, in Greek, indeed, but to this effect, "You are ashamed to fear even Caesar." 1But the most effective way for the accuser to excite the feelings of the judge is to make that which he lays to the charge of the accused appear the most atrocious act possible, or, if the subject allow, the most deplorable. Atrocity is made to appear from such considerations as these, "What has been done, by whom, against whom, with what feeling, at what time, in what place, in what manner," all which have infinite ramifications. 1We complain that somebody has been beaten; we must first speak of the act, and then state whether the sufferer was an old man, or a youth, or a magistrate, or a man of high character, or one who has deserved well of his country. We also state whether he was struck by some vile contemptible fellow, or, on the other hand, by some tyrannical person, or by some one from whom he ought least of all to have received such treatment; also whether he was struck as it might be, on a solemn festival, or when prosecutions for similar offenses were being rigorously conducted, or at a time when the government was unsettled, or, as to place, in a theater, in a temple, in a public assembly, for under such circumstances the offense is aggravated. 1We might also consider whether it can be proved that he was not struck by mistake, or in a sudden fit of passion, or, if in a passion, with great injustice, when, perhaps, he was taking the part of his father, or had made some reply to the aggressor, or was standing for office in opposition to him, and whether the aggressor would have proceeded to greater violence than he actually committed. But the manner contributes most to the heinousness of the act, if he struck the person violently or insultingly, as Demosthenes excites odium against Meidias by alluding to the part of his body which was struck, and the look and mien of the striker. 1A man has been killed; we must consider whether it was with a sword, or fire, or poison; with one wound or with several; whether suddenly; or whether he was made to languish in tortures, all which have great effect in this way.

The accuser, also, often attempts to excite pity, as when he bewails the sad fate of him whose cause he is pleading or the destitution of his children or parents. 1He may also move the judges by a representation of the future, showing what will be the consequences to those who complain of violence and injustice, unless their cause be avenged, that they must flee from their country, sacrifice their property, or endure everything that their enemies may be disposed to inflict on them. 20. But it is more frequently the part of the accuser to guard the feelings of the judge against that pity which the accused would seek to excite and to urge him to give judgment with boldness. In doing so, he may also anticipate what he thinks his opponent is likely to say or do, for this course makes the judges more cautious in adhering to the sacredness of their oath and diminishes the influence of those who have to reply, since what has been once stated by the accuser will, if urged in favor of the accused, be no longer new. Thus, Messala, in pleading for Aufidia, admonishes Servius Sulpioius about arguments regarding the danger to both the defendant herself and those who had signed the instrument. It is also previously intimated by Aeschines what sort of defense Demosthenes was likely to use. Judges may sometimes be instructed, too, as to answers which they should make to those who may solicit them in favor of the defendant, an instruction which is a species of recapitulation.

2As to a party on trial, his dignity, or manly pursuits, or wounds received in war, or nobility of birth, or the services of his ancestors, may be subjects of recommendation to him. This kind of consideration Cicero and Asinius Pollio have urged even emulously, Cicero for Scaurus the father, and Pollio for Scaurus the son. 2The cause, also, which has brought him into danger, may be pleaded in his favor, if he appear, for example, to have incurred enmity for some honorable act, and his goodness, humanity, pity, may especially be eulogized, for a person seems justly to solicit from the judge that which he himself has shown to others. In this part of a speech, too, allusions may be made to the public good, to the honor of the judges, to precedent, and to regard for posterity. 2But that which produces the most powerful impression is pity, which not only forces the judge to change his opinions, but to manifest the feelings in his breast even by tears. Pity will be excited by dwelling either on that which the accused has suffered, or on that which he is actually suffering, or on that which awaits him if he be condemned. Such representations have double force when we show from what condition he has fallen and into what condition he is in danger of falling. 2To these considerations, age and sex may add weight as well as objects of affection, by which I mean children, parents, and other relatives, and all these matters may be treated in various ways. Sometimes, also, the advocate numbers himself among his client's connections, as Cicero in his speech for Milo: "O unhappy that I am! O unfortunate that thou art! Could you, Milo, by means of those who are this day your judges, recall me into my country, and cannot I, by means of the same judges, retain you in yours?" 2This is a very good resource, if, as was then the case, entreaty is unsuited to the party who is accused, for who would endure to hear Milo supplicating for his life, when he acknowledged that he had killed a nobleman because he deserved to be killed? Cicero, therefore, sought to gain Milo the favor of the judges for his magnanimity and took upon himself the part of suppliant for him.

In this part of a speech, prosopopoeiae are extremely effective, that is, fictitious addresses delivered in another person's character, such as are suitable either to a prosecutor or defendant. Even mute objects may touch the feelings, either when we speak to them ourselves or represent them as speaking. 2But the feelings are very strongly moved by the personification of characters, for the judge seems not to be listening to an orator lamenting the sufferings of others, but to hear with his own ears the expressions and tones of the unfortunate suppliants themselves, whose presence, even without speech, would be sufficient to call forth tears. As their pleadings would excite greater pity if they themselves uttered them, so they are in some degree more effective when they are spoken apparently by their own mouth in a personification; as with actors on the stage, the same voice and the same pronunciation have greater power to excite the feelings when accompanied with a mask representing the character. 2Cicero, accordingly, though he puts no entreaties into the mouth of Milo, but rather commends him to favor for his firmness of mind, has yet attributed to him words and lamentations not unworthy of a man of spirit: "O labors, undertaken by me in vain! O deceitful hopes! O thoughts, cherished by me to no purpose!"

Yet our supplications for pity should not be long, as it is observed, not without reason, that nothing dries sooner than tears. 2Since time lessens even natural sorrows, the representation of sorrow which we produce in a speech, must lose its effect still sooner, and if we linger in it, the hearer, wearied with tears, will recover his tranquillity and return from the emotion which had surprised him to the exercise of his reason. 2Let us not allow the impressions that we make, therefore, to cool, but when we have raised the feelings of our audience to the utmost, let us quit the subject and not expect that any person will long bewail the misfortunes of another. Not only in other parts of our speech, accordingly, but most of all in this part, our eloquence ought gradually to rise, for whatever does not add to that which has been said seems even to take away from it, and the feeling which begins to subside soon passes away.

30. We may excite tears, however, not only by words, but by acts, and hence it becomes a practice to exhibit persons on their trial in a squalid and pitiful garb, accompanied with their children and parents. Hence, too, we see blood-stained swords produced by accusers, with fractured bones extracted from wounds and garments spotted with blood; we behold wounds unbound and scourged backs exposed to view. 3The effect of such exhibitions is generally very strong, so that they fix the attention of the spectators on the act as if it were committed before their eyes. The blood-stained toga of Julius Caesar, when exhibited in the forum, excited the populace of Rome almost to madness. It was known that he was killed, his body was even stretched on the bier, yet his robe, drenched in blood, excited such a vivid idea of the crime that Caesar seemed not to have been assassinated, but to be subjected to assassination at that very moment. 3But I would not, for that reason, approve of a device of which I have read and which I have myself seen adopted, a representation, displayed in a painting or on a curtain, of the act at the atrocity of which the judge was to be shocked. For how conscious must a pleader be of his inefficiency who thinks that a dumb picture will speak better for him than his own words? 3But a humble garb and wretched appearance, on the part of the accused as well as of his relatives, has, I know, been of much effect, and I am aware that entreaties have contributed greatly to save accused persons from death. To implore mercy of the judges, therefore, by the defendant's dearest objects of affection (that is to say, if he has children, wife, or parents) will be of great advantage, as well as to invoke the gods, since such invocation seems to proceed from a clear conscience. 3To fall prostrate, also, and embrace the knees of the judge may be allowable at times, unless the character of the accused, and his past life and station, dissuade him from such humiliation, for there are some deeds that ought to be defended with the same boldness with which they were committed. But regard is to be had to the defendant's dignity, with such caution that an offensive confidence may not appear in him.

3Among all arguments for a client, the most potent, in former times, was that by means of which Cicero seems chiefly to have saved Lucius Muraena from the eminent men who were his accusers, when he persuaded them that nothing was more advantageous for the state of things at that period than that Muraena should enter on his consulship the day before the Kalends of January. But this kind of argument is wholly set aside in our days, as everything depends on the care and protection of our sovereign and cannot be endangered by the issue of any single cause.

3I have spoken of prosecutors and defendants, because it is on their trials that the pathetic is chiefly employed. But private causes also admit both kinds of perorations, that which consists in a recapitulation of proofs and that which depends on the excitement of the feelings, the latter having place whenever the accused party is in danger either as to station or as to character. For to attempt such tragic pleadings in trifling causes would be like trying to adjust the mask and buskins of Hercules on an infant.

3Nor is it improper for me to intimate that much of the success of a peroration depends, in my opinion, on the manner in which the defendant, who is presented before the judge, accommodates his demeanor to that of him who pleads in his favor, for ignorance, rusticity, stiffness, and vulgarity in a client sometimes damp a pleader's efforts, and against such untowardness he should take diligent precaution. 3I have seen the behavior of clients quite at variance with the language of their advocate, showing no concern in their countenance, laughing without reason, and, by some act or look, making even others laugh, especially when anything was delivered at all theatrically. 3On one occasion, an advocate led a girl, who was said to be the sister of the adverse party (for it was about that point that the controversy was) over to the opposite benches, as if intending to leave her in the arms of her brother. But the brother, previously instructed by me, had gone off, and the advocate, although an eloquent man at other times, was struck dumb by his unexpected disappearance and, with his ardor cooled, took his little girl back again. 40. Another advocate, pleading for a woman who was on her trial, thought it would have a great effect to exhibit the likeness of her deceased husband, but the image excited little else but laughter, for the persons whose business it was to produce it, being ignorant what a peroration meant, displayed it to view whenever the advocate looked towards them and, when it was brought still more into sight at the conclusion, it destroyed the effect of all his previous eloquence by its ugliness, being a mere cast from an old man's dead body. 4It is well known, too, what happened to Glycon, surnamed Spiridion: A little boy, whom he brought into court, and asked "Why he was weeping," replied, "That he had had his ears pulled by his tutor." But nothing is better adapted to show the dangers attendant on perorations than the story of Cicero about the Cepasii. 4Yet all such mishaps are easily remedied by those who can alter the fashion of their speech; but those who cannot vary from what they have composed are either struck dumb at such occurrences or, as is frequently the case, say what is not true, for hence are such impertinences as these: "He is raising his supplicating hands towards your knees," or, "He is locked, unhappy man, in the embraces of his children," or, "See, he recalls my attention, etc.," though the client does no single thing of all that his advocate attributes to him. 4These absurdities come from the schools, in which we give play to our imagination freely and with impunity, because whatever we wish is supposed to be done. But reality does not allow of such suppositions, and Cassius Severus made a most happy retort to a young orator who said, "Why look you so sternly on me, Severus?" "I did not, I assure you," replied Cassius, "but you had written those words, I suppose, in your notes, and so here is a look for you," when he threw on him as terrible a glance as he could possibly assume.

4The student ought, above all things, to be admonished, also, that an orator should not attempt to excite tears unless he be endowed with extraordinary genius, for as the effect on the feelings, if he succeeds, is extremely powerful, so, if he is unsuccessful, the result is vapidity. A middling pleader had better leave the pathos to the quiet meditations of the judges, 4for the look, tone, and even the very face of a defendant called to stand before the judges are a laughing-stock to such persons as they do not move. Let a pleader, therefore, in such a case, carefully measure and contemplate his strength and consider how difficult a task he will have to undertake. In the result there will be no medium, he will either provoke tears or laughter.

4But the business of a peroration is not only to excite feelings of pity, but also to deaden them, either by a set speech, which may recall the judges, when shaken by compassion, to considerations of justice, or by some jocose remark, as, "Give the child a cake, that he may leave off crying," or as a pleader said to his corpulent client, whose opponent, a mere child, had been carried round among the judges by his advocate, "What shall I do? I cannot carry you." 4But such pleasantries must have nothing of buffoonery, and I cannot praise the orator, though he was among the most eminent of his time, who, when some children were brought in at the peroration by the opposite party, threw some playthings among them, towards which they began to scramble, for the children's insensibility to any ill that threatened them might of itself excite compassion. 4Nor can I commend him, who, when a blood stained sword was produced by his adversary, which he offered as a proof that a man had been killed, suddenly took flight, as if terrified, from his seat, and looking out from the crowd, with his head half covered with his robe, asked whether the man with the sword was yet gone, for he raised a laugh, indeed, but made himself at the same time ridiculous. 4The effect of such acting is to be dispelled by the calm power of eloquence, and Cicero gives us excellent examples, such as in his oration for Rabirius, when he attacks with great force the production of the likeness of Saturninus, and, in his speech for Varenus, when he rallies with much wit the young man whose wound was unbound from time to time during the trial.

50. There are also perorations of a milder sort, in which we seek to pacify an adversary, if his character, for instance, be such that respect is due to him, or in which we give him some friendly admonition and exhort him to concord. This kind of peroration was admirably managed by Passienus when he pleaded the cause of his wife Domitia, to recover a sum of money, against her brother Aenobarbus, for after he had enlarged on their relationship, he added some remarks on their fortune, of which both had abundance, saying, "There is nothing of which you have less need than that about which you are contending."

5But all these addresses to the feelings, though they are thought by some to have a place only in the exordium and the peroration, in which indeed they are most frequently introduced, are admissible also in other parts, but more sparingly, as it is from them that the decision of the cause must be chiefly evolved. But in the peroration, if anywhere, we may call forth all the resources of eloquence, 5for if we have treated the other parts successfully, we are secure of the attention of the judges at the conclusion, where, having passed the rocks and shallows on our voyage, we may expand our sails in safety, and as amplification forms the greatest part of a peroration, we may use language and thoughts of the greatest magnificence and elegance. It is then that we may shake the theater, when we come to that with which the old tragedies and comedies were concluded, Plaudite, "Give us your applause."

5But in other parts we must work upon the feelings, as occasion for working on any of them may present itself, for matters of a horrible or lamentable nature should never be related without exciting in the mind of the judges a feeling in conformity with them, and when we discuss the quality of any act, a remark addressed to the feelings may be aptly subjoined to the proof of each particular point. 5And when we plead a complicated cause, consisting, it may be said, of several causes, we shall be under the necessity of using, as it were, several perorations, as Cicero has done in his pleading against Verres, for he has lamented over Philodamus, over the captains of the vessels, over the tortures of the Roman citizens, and over several other of that praetor's victims. 5Some call these μερικοὶ ἐπίλογοι (merikoi epilogoi), by which they mean "parts of a divided peroration," but to me they seem not so much parts as species of perorations, for the very terms (epilogos) and peroratio show, clearly enough, that the conclusion of a speech is implied.

BUT though the peroration is a principal part of judicial causes and is chiefly concerned with the feelings, and though I have of necessity, therefore, said something of the feelings in treating of it, I could not bring the whole of that subject under one head, nor indeed should I have been justified in doing so. A duty of the orator, accordingly, still remains to be considered, which is of the greatest efficacy in securing his success and is of far more difficulty than any of those already noticed. By this, I mean influencing the minds of the judges and of molding and transforming them, as it were, to that disposition which we wish them to assume. With regard to this point, I have touched on a few particulars, such as the subject called forth, but so as rather to show what ought to be done than how we may be able to effect it. The nature of the whole subject must now be considered more deeply.

Throughout the whole of any cause, as I remarked, there is room for addresses to the feelings. The nature of the feelings is varied and not to be treated cursorily, nor does the whole art of oratory present any subject that requires greater study. As to other matters, moderate and limited powers of mind, if they be but aided by learning and practice, may invigorate them and bring them to some fruit. Certainly there are, and always have been, no small number of pleaders who could find out, with sufficient skill, whatever would be of service to establish proofs. Such men I do not despise, though I consider that their ability extends no farther than to the communication of instruction to the judge, and, to say what I think, I look upon them as fit only to explain causes to eloquent pleaders, but such as can seize the attention of the judge and lead him to whatever frame of mind he desires, forcing him to weep or feel angry as their words influence him, are but rarely to be found. But it is this power that is supreme in causes; it is this that makes eloquence effective. As to arguments, they generally arise out of the cause and are more numerous on the side that has the greater justice, so that he who gains his cause by force of arguments will only have the satisfaction of knowing that his advocate did not fail him. But when violence is to be offered to the minds of the judges and their thoughts are to be drawn away from the contemplation of truth, then is this peculiar duty of the orator required. This the contending parties cannot teach; this cannot be put into written instructions. Proofs in our favor, it is true, may make the judge think our cause the better, but impressions on his feelings make him wish it to be the better, and what he wishes he also believes. For when judges begin to feel indignant, to favor, to hate, or to pity, they fancy that their own cause is concerned, and as lovers are not competent judges of beauty, because passion overpowers the sense of sight, so a judge, when led away by his feelings, loses the faculty of discerning truth; he is hurried along as it were by a flood and yields to the force of a torrent What effect arguments and witnesses have produced, it is only the final decision that proves, but the judge, when his feelings are touched by the orator, shows, while he is still sitting and hearing, what his inclination is. When the tear, which is the great object in most perorations, swells forth, is not the sentence plainly pronounced? To this end, then, let the orator direct his efforts; this is his work, this his labor. Without this, everything else is bare and meagre, weak and unattractive; so true is it that the life and soul of eloquence is shown in the effect produced on the feelings.

Of feelings, as we are taught by the old writers, there are two kinds, the first of which the Greeks included under the term πάθος (pathos) , which we translate rightly and literally by the word "passion." The other, to which they give the appellation ἦθος (ēthos), for which, as I consider, the Roman language has no equivalent term, is rendered, however, by mores, "manners;" whence that part of philosophy, which the Greeks call ἠθική (ēthikē), is called moralis, "moral." But when I consider the nature of the thing, it appears to me that it is not so much mores in general that is meant, as a certain proprietas morum, or "propriety of manners," for under the word mores is comprehended every habitude of the mind. The more cautious writers, therefore, have chosen rather to express the sense than to interpret the words and have designated the one class of feelings as the more violent, the other as the more gentle and calm, under pathos they have included the stronger passions, under ēthos the gentler, saying that the former are adapted to command, the latter to persuade, the former to disturb, the latter to conciliate. Some of the very learned add that the effect of pathos is but transitory; but while I admit that this is more generally the case, I consider that there are some subjects which require a permanent strain of pathos to run through the whole of them. Addresses, however, to the milder feelings require not less art and practice, though they do not call for so much energy and vehemence, and they enter into the majority of causes, or rather, in some sense, into all. 1For as nothing is treated by the orator that may not be referred either to pathos or ēthos, whatever is said concerning honor or advantage, concerning things that may be done or may not be done, is very properly included under the term "ethic." Some think that commendation and palliation are the peculiar duties of ēthos, and I do not deny that they fall under that head, but I do not allow that they are its only object. 1I would also add that pathos and ēthos are sometimes of the same nature, the one in a greater and the other in a less degree, as love, for instance, will be pathos, and friendship ēthos, and sometimes of a different nature, as pathos in a peroration will excite the judges, and ēthos soothe them.

But I must develope more precisely the force of the term ēthos, as it seems not to be sufficiently intimated by the word itself. 1Ēthos, of which we form a conception and which we desire to find in speakers, is recommended, above all, by goodness, being not only mild and placid, but for the most part pleasing and polite, and amiable and attractive to the hearers. The greatest merit in the expression of it is that it should seem to flow from the nature of the things and persons with which we are concerned, so that the moral character of the speaker may clearly appear and be recognized, as it were, in his discourse. 1This kind of ēthos ought especially to prevail between persons closely connected, as often as they endure anything from each other, or grant pardon, or satisfaction, or offer admonition, all which should be free from anger or dislike. But the ēthos of a father towards his son, of a guardian towards his ward, of a husband towards his wife (all of whom manifest affection for those with whom they are offended and throw blame upon them by no other means than showing that they love them) is very different from that which is shown by an old man towards a young one from whom he has received an insult, or from that of a man of rank towards an inferior who has been disrespectful to him (for the man of rank may only be provoked, while the old man must also be concerned). 1Of the same character, though less affecting to the feelings, are solicitations for forgiveness or apologies for the amors of youth. Sometimes, too, a little gentle raillery of another person's ardour may have its source in ēthos, though it does not proceed from such a source only. But what more peculiarly belongs to it is simulation of some virtue, of making satisfaction to some one, and εἰρωνεία (eirōneia), "irony" in asking questions, which means something different from that which it expresses. 1Hence also springs that stronger appeal to the feelings, adapted to draw the dislike of the judge on an overbearing adversary, when, by feigning submission to him, we imply a quiet censure on his presumption. For the very fact that we yield to him proves him to be arrogant and insupportable, and orators who are fond of invective or affect liberty of speech are not aware how much more effective it is thus to throw odium on an opponent than to reproach him, since that kind of treatment renders him disliked, while reproach would bring dislike on ourselves. 1The feeling arising from our love and regard for our friends and relatives is, we may say, of an intermediate character, being stronger than ēthos and weaker than pathos.

It is not without significance, too, that we call those exercises of the schools ēthos in which we are accustomed to represent the characters of the rustic, the superstitious, the avaricious, the timid, agreeably to the thesis proposed for discussion. For as ēthos are mores or manners, we, in imitating manners, adapt our speech to them.

1All this species of eloquence, however, requires the speaker to be a man of good character and of pleasing manners. The virtues which he ought to praise, if possible, in his client, he should possess or be thought to possess himself. Thus he will be a great support to the causes that he undertakes, to which he will bring credit by his own excellent qualities. But he who, while he speaks, is thought a bad man, must certainly speak ineffectively, for he will not be thought to speak sincerely; if he did, his ēthos or character would appear. 1With a view to credibility, accordingly, the style of speaking in this kind of oratory should be calm and mild; it requires, at least, nothing of vehemence, elevation, or sublimity. To speak with propriety, in a pleasing manner, and with an air of probability is sufficient for it, and the middling sort of eloquence is therefore most suitable.

20. Pathos, or what we very properly call affectus or "emotion," is quite different from that which is referred to as ēthos, and that I may mark, as exactly as I can, the diversity between them, I would say that the one is similar to comedy, the other to tragedy. This kind of eloquence is almost wholly engaged in exciting anger, hatred, fear, envy, or pity, and from what sources its topics are to be drawn is manifest to all and has been mentioned by me in speaking of the exordium and peroration. 2Fear, however, I wish to be understood in two senses, that which we feel ourselves and that which we cause to others, and I would observe that there are two sorts of invidia, "dislike," one that makes invidum, "envious," and another that makes invidiosum, "disliked." The first is applied to persons, the second to things, and it is with this that eloquence has the greater difficulty, for though some things are detestable in themselves, such as parricide, murder, or poisoning, others require to be made to appear so. 2Such representation is made, either by showing that what we have suffered is more grievous than evils ordinarily considered great, as in these lines of Virgil,

O felix una ante alias Priameia virgo,
Hostilem ad tumulum Trojae sub moenibus altis
Jussa mori!
O happy thou above all other maids,
Daughter of Priam, doom'd to die before
Thy enemy's tomb, beneath the lofty walls
Of Troy!
(for how wretched was the lot of Andromache, if that of Polyxena, compared with hers, was happy!), 2or by magnifying some injury that we have received, so as to make even injuries that are far less appear intolerable, such as, "If you had struck me, you would have been inexcusable; but you wounded me." But these points I shall consider with more attention when I come to speak of amplification. In the meantime, I shall content myself with observing that the object of the pathetic is not only that those things may appear grievous and lamentable, which in reality are so, but also that those which are generally regarded as inconsiderable may seem intolerable, as when we say that there is more injury in a verbal insult than in a blow or that there is more punishment in dishonor than in death. 2For such is the power of eloquence, that it not only impels the judge to that to which he is led by the nature of the matter before him, but excites feelings which are not suggested by it or strengthens such as are suggested. This is what the Greeks call δείνωσις (deinōsis), language adding force to things unbecoming, cruel, or detestable, in which excellence, more than in any other, Demosthenes showed his extraordinary power.

2If I thought it sufficient merely to adhere to the precepts that have been delivered, I should do enough for this part of my work by omitting nothing, at all reasonable, that I have read or learned on the subject, but it is my intention to open the deepest recesses of the topic on which we have entered and to set forth what I have acquired, not from any teacher, but from my own experience and under the guidance of nature herself. 2The chief requisite, then, for moving the feelings of others is, as far as I can judge, that we ourselves be moved, for the assumption of grief, anger, and indignation will be often ridiculous if we adapt merely our words and looks, and not our minds, to those passions. For what else is the reason that mourners, when their grief is fresh at least, are heard to utter exclamations of the greatest expressiveness and that anger sometimes produces eloquence even in the ignorant, but that there are strong sensations in them,and sincerity of feeling? 2In delivering, therefore, whatever we wish to appear like truth, let us assimilate ourselves to the feelings of those who are truly affected and let our language proceed from such a temper of mind as we would wish to excite in the judge. Will he grieve, let me ask, who shall hear me, that speak for the purpose of moving him, expressing myself without concern? Will he be angry, if the orator who seeks to excite him to anger and to force him to it, shows no like feeling? Will he shed tears at the words of one who pleads with dry eyes? 2Such results are impossible. We are not burned without fire or wet without moisture, nor does one thing give to another the color which it has not itself. Our first object must be, therefore, that what we wish to impress upon the judge we may impress upon ourselves, and that we may be touched ourselves before we begin to touch others.

2But by what means, it may be asked, shall we be affected since our feelings are not in our own power? I will attempt to say something also on this point. What the Greeks call φαντασίαι (phantasiai) we call visiones, images by which the representations of absent objects are so distinctly represented to the mind that we seem to see them with our eyes and to have them before us. 30. Whoever shall best conceive such images will have the greatest power in moving the feelings. A man of such lively imagination some call εὐφαντασίωτος (euphantasiōtos), being one who can vividly represent to himself things, voices, or actions with the exactness of reality, and this faculty may readily be acquired by ourselves if we desire it. When, for example, while the mind is unoccupied and we are indulging in chimerical hopes and dreams, as of men awake, the images of which I am speaking beset us so closely that we seem to be on a journey, on a voyage, in a battle, to be haranguing assemblies of people, to dispose of wealth which we do not possess, and not to be thinking but acting, shall we not turn this lawless power of our minds to our advantage? make a complaint that a man has been murdered; shall I not bring before my eyes everything that is likely to have happened when the murder occurred? Shall not the assassin suddenly sally forth? Shall not the other tremble, cry out, supplicate or flee? Shall I not behold the one striking, the other falling? Shall not the blood, and paleness, and last gasp of the expiring victim present itself fully to my mental view? 3Hence will result that ἐνάργεια (enargeia), which is called by Cicero "illustration" and "evidentness," which seems not so much to narrate as to exhibit, and our feelings will be moved not less strongly than if we were actually present at the affairs of which we are speaking. Are not the following descriptions to be numbered among representations of this nature?

Excussi manibus radii, revolutaque pensa:

The shuttle from her hands was shaken forth,
And all the web unravelled.
3Levique patens in pectore valnus;

The gaping wound
In his smooth breast.
And that of the horse at the funeral of Pallas,

--positis insignibus--

His trappings laid aside--.
Has not the same poet also conceived with the deepest feeling the idea of a man's dying moments, when he says

--Et dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos,

And on his dearest Argos thinks in death!
3Where there is occasion for moving compassion too, we must endeavor to believe and to feel convinced that the evils of which we complain have actually happened to ourselves. We must imagine ourselves to be those very persons for whom we lament as having suffered grievous, undeserved, and pitiable treatment. We must not plead their cause as that of another, but must endeavor to feel for a time their sufferings, and thus we shall say for them what we should in similar circumstances say for ourselves. 3I have often seen actors, both in tragedy and comedy, when they laid aside their mask after going through some distressing scene, quit the theater weeping, and if the mere delivery of what is written by another can add such force to fictitious feelings, what effect ought we to produce when we should feel what we express and may be moved at the condition of those who are on their trial?

3In the schools, also, it would be proper for learners to feel moved with the subjects on which they speak and imagine that they are real, especially as we discuss matters there more frequently as parties concerned than as advocates. We assume the character of an orphan, of a person that has been shipwrecked, or one that is in danger of losing his life, but to what purpose is it to assume their characters if we do not adopt their feelings? This art I thought should not be concealed from the reader, the art by which I myself (whatever is or was my real power) conceive that I have attained at least some reputation for ability, and I have often been so affected that not only tears, but paleness and sorrow, similar to real sorrow, have betrayed my emotions.

VERY different from this is the talent which, by exciting laughter in the judge, dispels melancholy affections, diverting his mind from too intense application to the subject before it, recruiting at times its powers and reviving it after disgust and fatigue.

How difficult it is to succeed in that way even the two greatest of all orators, the one the prince of Greek and the other of Latin eloquence, afford us sufficient proof. Most think that the faculty was altogether wanting to Demosthenes and moderation in the management of it to Cicero. Demosthenes, certainly, cannot be thought to have been unwilling to cultivate it, as his jests, though very few, and by no means correspondent to his other excellences, plainly show that jocularity was not disliked by him, but that it had not been liberally bestowed on him by nature. But as for our own countryman, he was regarded, not only when not engaged in pleading, but even in his public speeches, as too much an affecter of pleasantry. To myself, whether I judge rightly in that respect, or whether I err through immoderate admiration for our great master of eloquence, there appears to have been an extraordinary vein of delicate wit in him. For in his common conversation, in disputes, and in examining witnesses, he uttered more jokes than any other orator. The dull jests in his orations against Verres he attributed to others, repeating them as a part of his evidence, and the more vulgar they are, the more probable is it that they were not of his invention, but had been circulated among the people. I could wish, too, that his freedman Tiro, or whoever it was that published the three books of his jests, had been more sparing as to their number and had used greater judgment in selecting than industry in gathering, for he would then have been less exposed to calumniators, who, however, as in regard to all the productions of his genius, can more easily discover what may be taken away than what may be added.

But what causes the chief difficulty in respect to jesting is that a saying adapted to excite laughter is generally based on false reasoning and has always something low in it. It is often purposely sunk into buffoonery; it is never honorable to him who is the subject of it, while the judgments of the hearers with regard to it will be various, as a thing which is estimated, not by any certain reasoning, but by some impulse, I know not whether inexplicable, of the mind. Certainly I think that it has not been sufficiently explained by any one, though many have attempted explanations, whence laughter proceeds, which is excited, not only by actions or words, but sometimes even by a touch of the body. Besides, it is not by one kind of jests only that it is produced, for not merely witty and agreeable acts or sayings, but what is said or done foolishly, angrily, or fearfully are equally the objects of laughter. Thus, the origin of it is doubtful, as laughter is not far from derision. Cicero has said that it has its seat in some deformity or offensiveness, and if this is made to appear in others, the result is called raillery, but if what we say recoils on ourselves, it is but folly.

Though laughter may appear, however, a light thing, as it is often excited by buffoons, mimics, and even fools, it has power perhaps more despotic than anything else, such as can by no means be resisted. It bursts forth in people even against their will and extorts a confession of its influence not only from the face and the voice, but shakes the whole frame with its vehemence. It often changes, too, as I said, the tendency of the greatest affairs, as it very frequently dissipates both hatred and anger. Of this the young Tarentines afford an instance, who, having spoken at a banquet with great freedom about king Pyrrhus and being called before him to account for their conduct, when the fact could neither be denied nor justified, saved themselves by a fortunate laugh and jest, for one of them said, "Ah! if our flagon had not failed us, we should have murdered you," and by this pleasantry, the whole odium of the charge was dispelled.

1But though I should not venture to say that this talent, whatever it is, is certainly independent of art (for it may be cultivated by observation, and rules relating to it have been composed both by Greek and Latin writers), yet I may fairly assert that it chiefly depends on nature and opportunity. 1Nature, moreover, has influence in it, not only so far that one man is more acute and ready than another in inventing jokes (for such facility may certainly be increased by study), but that there is in certain persons a peculiar grace in their manner and look, so that the same things that they say would, if another were to say them, appear less happy. 1As to opportunity and circumstances, they have such effect that not only unlearned persons, but even peasants, when favored by them, make witty repartees to such as are first to address them, for all facetiousness appears to greater advantage in reply than in attack. 1It adds to the difficulty that there is no exercise in this department nor any instructors in it. It is true that at convivial meetings and in the familiar intercourse of life, many jesters are to be met, but their number arises from the circumstance that men improve in jesting by daily practice. The wit that suits the orator is rare and is not cultivated on its own account, but sent for practice to the school of the world. 1Yet there would be no objection to subjects being invented for this exercise, so that fictitious causes might be pleaded with a mixture of jesting, or particular theses might be proposed to youth exclusively for such practice. 1Even those very pleasantries which are called jokes, and in which we are accustomed to indulge on certain days of festal license, might, if they were produced with some degree of method or if some serious matter were mingled with them, prove of considerable advantage to the orator; but now they are merely the diversion of youth or of people amusing themselves.

1In reference to the subject of which we are treating, we commonly use several words to express the same thing, but if we consider them separately, each will be found to have its own peculiar signification. The term "urbanity" is applied to it, by which is meant, I observe, a style of speaking which exhibits in the choice of words, in tone, and in manner, a certain taste of the city and a tincture of erudition derived from conversation with the learned, something, in a word, of which rusticity is the reverse. 1It is evident that that which is expressed with grace and agreeableness is "graceful." In common conversation, we understand "salty" only as something to make us laugh, but this notion is not founded in nature, though certainly whatever is to make us laugh must be "salty." Cicero says that "everything salty is in the taste of the Attics," but not because the Attics were most of all people inclined to laughter. And when Catullus says of a woman, "There is not a grain of salt in her whole body," he does not mean that there is nothing in her body to excite laughter. 1That therefore will be "salty" which is not insipid, and "salt" will be a natural seasoning of language, which is perceived by a secret taste, as food is tasted by the palate, and which enlivens discourse and keeps it from becoming wearisome. As salt, too, mixed with food rather liberally, but not so as to be in excess, gives it a certain peculiar relish, so salt in language has a certain charm, which creates in us a thirst, as it were, for hearing more. 20. Nor do I conceive that the facetum is confined solely to that which excites laughter, for if such were the case, Horace would not have said that "the facetum in poetry had been granted by nature to Virgil." I think it rather a term for grace and a certain polished elegance, and it is in this sense that Cicero in his letters quotes these words of Brutus: Nae illi pedes faceti ac deliciis ingredienti molles, "Graceful indeed are her feet, and more gently and with delicacy as she walks," an expression similar to that of Horace, Molle atque facetum Virgilio. 2Jest we understand as something contrary to that which is serious, for to feign, to intimidate, and to promise are sometimes modes of jesting. Dicacitas is doubtless derived from dico and is common to every species of jesting, but it properly signifies language that attacks a person in order to raise a laugh against him. Thus they say that Demosthenes was urbanus, "witty," but deny that he was dicax, "gifted with the faculty of humorous raillery."

2But what belongs properly to the subject of which we are treating is that which excites laughter, and thus all discussion on the topic is entitled by the Greeks περὶ γελοίου (peri geloiou). Its primary division is the same as that of every other kind of speech, as it must lie either in things or in words. 2The application of it is very simple, for we try either to make others the subject of laughter, or ourselves, or something that is foreign to both. What proceeds from others we either blame, or refute, or make light of, or rebut, or elude. As to what concerns ourselves, we speak of it with something of ridicule, and, to adopt a word of Cicero's, utter subabsurda, "apparent absurdities," for the same things, that if they fell from us unawares would be silly, are thought, if we express them with dissimulation, extremely humorous. 2The third kind, as Cicero also remarks, consists in deceiving expectation, in taking words in a sense different from that in which the speaker uses them, and in allusions to other things, which affect neither ourselves nor others, and which I therefore call intermediate or neutral.

2In the second place, we either do or say things intended to excite a laugh. Laughter may be raised by some act of humor, with a mixture, sometimes, of gravity, as Marcus Caelius the praetor, when the consul Isauricus broke his curule chair, had another fixed with straps (the consul was said to have been once flogged by his father), or sometimes without due regard to decency, as in the story of Caelius's box, which is becoming neither to an orator nor to any man of proper character. 2The same may be said of looks and gestures to provoke laughter, from which there may certainly be some amusement, and so much the more when they do not seem to aim at raising a laugh, for nothing is more silly than what is offered as witty. Gravity, however, adds much to the force of jests, and the very circumstance that he who utters a joke does not laugh, makes others laugh; yet sometimes a humorous look, a cast of countenance, or a gesture may be assumed, provided that certain bounds be observed.

2What is said in jest, moreover, is either gay and cheerful, as most of the jokes of Aulus Galba, or malicious, as those of the late Junius Bassus, or bitter, as those of Cassius Severus, or inoffensive, as those of Domitius Afer. But it makes a great difference where we indulge in jests. At entertainments and in common conversation, a more free kind of speech is allowed to the humbler class of mankind, amusing discourse to all. 2We should always be unwilling to offend, and the inclination to lose a friend rather than a joke should be far from us. In the very battles of the forum I should wish it to be in my power to use mild words, though it is allowed to speak against our opponents with contumely and bitterness, as it is permitted us to accuse openly, and to seek the life of another according to law. But in the forum, as in other places, to insult another's misfortune is thought inhuman, either because the insulted party may be free from blame or because similar misfortune may fall on him who offers the insult. Therefore, a speaker must first of all consider what his own character is, in what sort of cause he is to speak, before whom, against whom, and what he should say. 2Distortion of features and gesture, such as is the object of laughter in buffoons, is by no means suited to an orator. Scurrilous jests, too, and such as are used in low comedy, are utterly unbecoming his character. As for indecency, it should be so entirely banished from his language, that there should not be the slightest possible allusion to it, and if it should be imputable, on any occasion, to his adversary, it is not in jest that he should reproach him with it. 30. Though I should wish an orator, moreover, to speak with wit, I should certainly not wish him to seem to affect wit, and therefore he must not speak facetiously as often as he can, but must rather avoid a joke occasionally rather than lower his dignity. 3No one will endure a prosecutor jesting in a cause of a horrible nature, or a defendant doing so in one of a pitiable nature. There are some judges, also, of too grave a disposition to yield willingly to laughter. It will sometimes occur, too, that reflections which we make on our adversary may apply to the judge or even to our own client. 3Some orators have been found, indeed, who would not avoid a jest that might recoil even on themselves, as was the case with Sulpicius Longus, who, though he was himself an ugly man, remarked that a person, against whom he appeared on a trial for his right to freedom, had not even the face of a free man. In reply to him, Domitius Afer said, "On your conscience, Longus, do you think that he who has an ugly face cannot be a free man?"

3We must take care, also, that what we say of this sort may not appear petulant, insulting, unsuitable to the place and time, or premeditated and brought from our study. As to jests on the unfortunate, they are, as I said above, unfeeling. Some persons, too, are of such established authority and such known respectability that insolence in addressing them could not but hurt ourselves. 3Regarding our friends, a remark has already been made, and it concerns the good sense, not merely of an orator, but of every reasonable being, not to assail in this way one whom it is dangerous to offend, lest bitter enmity or humiliating satisfaction be the consequence. Raillery is also indulged injudiciously that applies to many, if, for example, whole nations, or orders, or conditions, or professions be attacked by it. Whatever a good man says, he will say with dignity and decency, for the price of a laugh is too high if it is raised at the expense of propriety.

3The ways in which laughter may be fairly excited and from what topics it is generally drawn is very difficult to say, for if we would go through all the species of subjects for it, we should find no end and should labor in vain. 3For the topics from which jests may be elicited are no less numerous than those from which we call sententiae may be derived, nor are they of a different nature, since in jocularity also there is invention and expression, as well as a display of the force of eloquence consisting partly in a choice of words and partly in the use of figures of speech. 3But I may say in general that laughter is educed either from corporeal peculiarities in him against whom we speak, or from his state of mind as collected from his actions and words, or from exterior circumstances relating to him. Under these three heads fall all kinds of animadversion, which, if applied severely, is of a serious character, but if lightly, of a ludicrous one. Such subjects for jests are either pointed out to the eye, or related in words, or indicated by some happy remark. 3But an opportunity rarely offers of bringing them before the eye, as Lucius Julius did when he said to Helvius Mancia, who was repeatedly clamoring against him, "I will now show what you are like." When Mancia persisted and asked Julius to show him what he was like, Julius pointed to the figure of a Gaul painted on a Cimbrian shield, which Mancia was acknowledged exactly to resemble. There were shops round the forum, and the shield was hung over one of them as a sign.

3To relate a jocular story is eminently ingenious and suitable to an orator, as Cicero in his speech for Cluentius tells a story about Cepasius and Fabricius, and Marcus Caelius that of the contention of Decimus Laelius and his colleague when they were hastening into their province. But in all such recitals, elegance and grace of statement are necessary, and what the orator adds of his own should be the most humorous part of it. 40. So the retirement of Fabricius from the court is thus set off by Cicero: "When Cepasius, therefore, thought that he was speaking with the utmost skill and had drawn forth those solemn words from the innermost stores of his art, 'Look on the old age of Caius Fabricius,' when, I say, he had to embellish his speech, repeated the word 'look' several times, he himself looked, but Fabricius had gone off from his seat with his head hanging down," and what he adds besides (for the passage is well known), when there is nothing in reality told but that Fabricius left the court. 4Caelius also has invented every circumstance of his narrative most happily, and especially the last: "How he, in following, crossed over, whether in a ship or a fisherman's boat, nobody knew; but the Sicilians, a lively and jocular sort of people, said that he took his seat on a dolphin and sailed across like another Arion."

4Cicero thinks that humor is shown in recital, and jocularity in smart attacks or defenses. Domitius Afer showed extraordinary wit in narration, and many stories of this kind are to be found in his speeches, but books of his shorter witticisms have also been published. 4Raillery may also be displayed not in the mere shooting of words, as it were, and short efforts of wit, but in longer portions of a pleading, as that which Cicero relates of Crassus against Brutus in his second book of De Oratore, and in some other passages. 4When Brutus, in accusing Gnaeus Plancus, had shown, by the mouths of two readers, that Lucius Crassus, the advocate of Plancus, had recommended, in his speech on the colony of Narbonne, measures contrary to those which he had proposed in speaking on the Servilian law, Crassus on his part called up three readers to whom he gave the Dialogues of Brutus' father to read. Because one of those dialogues contained a discourse held on his estate at Privernum, another on that at Alba, and another on that at Tibur, he asked Brutus where all those lands were. But Brutus had sold them all and, for having made away with his father's estates, was considered to have dishonored himself. Similar gratification from narrative attends on the repetition of apologues and sometimes on historical anecdotes.

4But the brevity observed in jocular sayings has something more of point and liveliness. It may be employed in two ways, in attack or in reply, and the nature of the two is in a great degree the same, for nothing can be said in aggression that may not also be said in retort. 4Yet there are some points that seem to belong more peculiarly to reply. What is said in attack, those who are heated with anger often utter, but what is said in rejoinder is generally produced in a dispute or in examining witnesses. But as there are innumerable topics from which jokes may be drawn, I must repeat that they are not all suitable for the orator. 4In the first place, obscure jokes are unbecoming that depend on double meanings and are captious as the jests of an Atellan farce, as well as those that are uttered by the lowest class of people and which out of ambiguity produce obloquy, or even those that sometimes fell from Cicero (though not in his pleadings), as when he said, for instance, on occasion of a candidate for office who was reported to be the son of a cook (coquus), soliciting a vote from another person in his presence, Ego quoque tibi favebo, "I also will support you."4Not that all words which have two meanings are to be excluded from our speech, but because they rarely have a good effect unless when they are well supported by the matter. Of which sort there is not only a joke of Cicero, almost scurrilous, on Isauricus, the same that I mentioned above, "I wonder what is the reason that your father, the most steady of men, left us a son of so varied a character as yourself," 4but another excellent jest of his, of the same nature, uttered when the accuser of Milo advanced in proof of an ambush having, been laid for Clodius, that Milo had turned aside to Bovillae before the ninth hour, to wait till Clodius should leave his villa. When Milo's accuser asked several times when Clodius was killed, Cicero replied, "Late!" This repartee is alone sufficient to prevent these sort of jests from being wholly rejected. 50. Nor do ambiguous words only signify more things than one, but even things of the most opposite nature, as Nero said of a dishonest slave, that no one was more trusted in his house, for nothing was shut or sealed up from him.

5Such ambiguity may be carried so far as to be even enigmatical, as in the jest of Cicero on Pletorius, the accuser of Fonteius, whose mother, he said, had had a school while she was alive, and masters after she was dead. The truth was that women of bad character were said to have frequented her house while she was alive, and that her goods were sold after her death, so that "school" is here used metaphorically, and "masters" ambiguously.

5This kind of jest often falls into metalēpsis, as Fabius Maximus, remarking on the smallness of the presents which were given by Augustus to his friends, said that his congiaria were heminaria, the word congiarium signifying both a gratuity and a measure, and the word heminarium being employed to show the littleness of the gratuities. 5This sort of jest is as poor as is the play upon names, by adding, taking away, or altering letters: I have seen, for instance, a man named Acisculus called "Pacisculus," because of some bargain he had made; another named Placidus called "Acidus" for the sourness of his temper; and Tullius, because he was a thief, called "Tollius." 5But pleasantries of this nature succeed better in allusions to things than to names. Thus Domitius Afer very happily said of Manlius Sura, who, while he was pleading, darted to and fro, leaped up, tossed about his hands, and let fall and re-adjusted his toga: Non agere sed satagere, that "he was not merely doing business in the pleading, but over-doing it." The employment of the word satagere (over-doing) is a very good joke in itself, though there was no play on another word. 5Such jests—in general equally poor, but sometimes passable—are made by adding or taking away an aspirate, or by joining two words together. Similar also is the nature of all jokes made upon names, many of which are repeated, as the words of others, by Cicero against Verres. In one place he was destined verrere omnia, "to sweep away everything"; in another, "a boar-pig" who had been more troublesome to Hercules, whose temple he had pillaged, than the boar of Erymanthus. In another instance, he was a bad "priest" who had left behind so vicious "a boar," because Verres succeded Sacerdos. 5Fortune, however, sometimes affords an opportunity of indulging happily in a jest of this kind, as Cicero, in his speech for Caecina, remarked upon a witness named Sextus Clodius Phormio, that "he was not less black, or less bold, than the Phormio of Terence."

5But jests which are derived from peculiarities in things are more spirited and elegant. Resemblances are most conducive to the production of them, especially if the allusion be to something meaner and of less consideration. This was a sort of pleasantry to which the ancients were attached, as when they called Lentulus "Spinther" (after an inferior actor of that name) and Scipio "Serapion" (because he resembled a dealer in sacrificial animals of that name). 5But such jests are taken not only from human beings, but from other animals. For example, when I was young, Junius Bassus, a man of extraordinary jocularity, was called a "white ass," and Sarmentus, or Publius Blessus, known as Junius, a black man, lean and crook-backed, was called "an iron clasp." This mode of exciting laughter is now very common. 5Such comparisons are sometimes made undisguisedly and sometimes insinuated in the way of inference. Of the former sort is the remark of Augustus, who, when a soldier was timidly holding out a memorial to him, said, "Do not shrink back as if you were offering a piece of money to an elephant." 60. Jokes sometimes rest on some fanciful comparison. When Vatinius was on his trial, with Calvus pleading against him, he wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief, and Calvus made this circumstance a subject of reflection on him; Vatinuius responded, "Although I lie under an accusation, I eat white bread." 6An application of one thing to another, from some similarity between them, is still more ingenious, as when we adapt, as it were, to one purpose that which is intended for another. This may very well be called an "imagination." For instance, when ivory models of his captured towns were carried at one of Caesar's triumphs, and a few days later, wooden models of those Fabius Maximus had taken were exhibited at triumph, Chrysippus observed that Fabius's wooden models were the cases of Caesar's ivory ones. This was similar to what Pedo said of a mirmillo or "swordsman" who was pursuing a retiarius or "netman" but did not strike him: "He wishes to take him alive." 6Similitude is united with ambiguity, as when Aulus Galba said to a player at ball who was standing to catch the ball very much at his ease, "You stand as if you were one of Caesar's candidates." In the word "stand" there is ambiguity, while the ease is similar in both cases. This it is sufficient to have noticed. 6But there is very frequently a mixture of different kinds of pleasantry, and the most varied is indeed the best.

A like use may be made of things that are dissimilar. A Roman knight who was drinking at the public games was sent, via attendant, the following message from Augustus: "If I wish to dine, I retire to my house." The knight replied, "You, Augustus, are not afraid of losing your place." 6From contraries there are many kinds of jokes. As Augustus dismissed an officer with dishonor, the officer tried several times to move him with entreaties, saying, "What shall I tell my father?" "Tell him," said the emperor, "that I have displeased you." This is different from when Galba replied to a person who asked to borrow his cloak, "I cannot lend it you, for I am going to stay at home," the fact being that the rain was pouring through the roof into his garret. I will add a third, though respect for its author prevents me from giving his name: "You are more libidinous than any eunuch," where doubtless expectation is deceived by something contrary to that was looked for. Of similar origin, though different from any of the preceding, is the observation of Marcus Vestinius when he was told that some nasty fellow was dead: "He will then at length," said he, "cease to stink." 6But I should overload my book with examples and make it similar to those composed to excite laughter, if I should go through all the sorts of jests uttered by the ancients.

From all modes of argument, there is the same facility for extracting jokes. Thus Augustus employed definition in speaking of two actors in pantomime who vied with each other in gesticulation, calling one a "dancer" and the other "an interrupter of dancing." 6Galba used distinction when he replied to one who asked him for his cloak, "You cannot have it, for if it does not rain, you will not want it, and if it does rain, I shall wear it myself." Similar matter for jesting is extracted from genus, species, peculiarities, differences, connections, adjuncts, consequents, antecedents, contrarieties, causes, effects, and comparisons of things equal, greater, and less.

6It is found, too, in all the figures of speech. Are not many jokes made ϰαθ ύπερβολήν by the aid of hyperbole? Cicero gives us one example, in reference to a very tall man, that "he had struck his head against the arch of Fabius." Another is afforded in what Oppius said of the family of the Lentuli, of which the children were invariably shorter than their parents, that "it would by propagation come to nothing." 6As for irony, is it not in itself, when employed very gravely, a species of joking? Domitus Afer used it very happily when he said to Didiua Gallus, who had made great solicitations for a province and after obtaining it, complained as if he were forced to accept it: "Well, do something for the sake of the commonwealth." Cicero, too, employed it very sportively on a report of the death of Vatinius, for which the authority was said to be far from certain: "In the meantime," he said, "I will enjoy the interest." 6Cicero used also to say, allegorically, of Marcus Caelius, who was better at accusing than defending, that he had a good right-hand, but a bad left. Julius used antonomasia when he said Ferrum Accium Noevium incidisse.

70. Jocularity also admits all figures of thought, called by the Greeks σχήματα διανοίας (schēmata dianoias), under which some have ranked the various species of jests, for we ask questions, and express doubt, and affirm, and threaten, and wish; and we make some remarks as if in compassion, and others with anger. But everything is jocular that is evidently pretended.

7To laugh at foolish remarks is very easy, for they are ridiculous in themselves, but some addition of our own increases the wit. When Titus Maximus foolishly asked Carpathius as he leaving the theater whether he had seen the play, Carpathius made the question appear more ridiculous by replying, "No, for I was playing ball in the orchestra."

7Refutation admits of jesting either in the form of denial, retort, defense, or extenuation. Manius Curius made a good repartee by way of denial: when his accuser had had him painted on a curtain, shown as either stripped and in prison, or being redeemed by his friends from a gambling debt, he replied "Was I, then, never successful?" 7Retort we use sometimes undisguisedly, as Cicero said in reply to Vibius Curius, who was telling falsehood concerning his age, "Then, when we declaimed in the schools together, you were not born," or sometimes with feigned assent, as the same orator said to Fabia, Dolabella's wife, who observed that she was thirty years old, "No doubt, for I have heard you say so these twenty years." 7Sometimes in place of what you deny, something more cutting is happily substituted. When Domitia, the wife of Passienus, complained that Junius Bassus had charged in meanness against her that she used to sell old shoes, Bassus replied "No, indeed, I never said any such thing; I said that you used to buy them." When Augustus reproached a Roman knight for having eaten up his patrimony, the knight replied in defense, "I thought it was my own."

7Of extenuation there are two modes. In the first, a person may make light of another's claims to indulgence or of some boast that he utters. Thus Caius Caesar said to Pomponius, who was showing a wound which he had received in his mouth during the sedition of Sulpicius, but which he boasted he had received in fighting for Caesar, "When you are fleeing, never look back." In the second mode, it may extenuate some fault imputed to us, as Cicero said to those who reproached him at age sixty for marrying the virgin Publilia, "Tomorrow she will be a woman." 7Some call this kind of jest a consequent and similar to that of Cicero when he said that Curio, who always began his pleadings with an excuse for his age, "would find his exordium easier every day," because the reply seems naturally to follow and attach itself to the remark. 7But one kind of extenuation is a suggestion of a reason, such as Cicero gave to Vatinius, who, having the gout but wishing to appear improved in health, said that he could walk two miles a day. "The days," rejoined Cicero, "are very long." Augustus made a similar answer to the people of Tarraco, who told him that a palm tree had grown on his altar in their city: "It shows," he said, "how often you make a fire on it." 7Cassius Severus transferred a charge from himself to others; when he was reproached by the praetor because his advocates had insulted Lucius Varus , an Epicurean friend of Caesar, he replied, "I do not know what sort of characters committed the insult, but I suppose they must have been Stoics."

There are many ways of rebutting a jest, but the happiest is that which is aided by some resemblance in the words, as when Suellius said to Trachalus, "If this is so, you go into exile," and Trachalus replied, "And if it is not so, you return into exile." 7When someone made a charge against Cassius Severus that Proculeius had forbidden him in his house, he eluded the charge by replying, "Do I ever then go to Proculeius's house?" One jest is thus eluded by another: when the Emperor Augustus was given a hundred-pound collar as a gift by the Gauls, Dolabella had said in jest, though with some solicitude as to the event of the jest, "Distinguish me, General, with the honor of the collar," to which Augustus replied, "I would rather distinguish you with the honor of a civic crown." 80. Likewise, one falsehood may also be eluded by another, as when someone said at Galba's hearing that he had paid one victoriatus for a five-foot-long lamprey in Sicily, Galba rejoined that it was not at all surprising, as they grew so long there that the fishermen used them for ropes. 8Opposed to the negative is the pretense of confession, which also has much wit. When Domitius Afer was pleading against a freedman of Claudius Caesar, and another of the same status called out from the opposite side of the court, "Do you then always speak against the freedmen of Caesar?" Afer replied, "Always, and yet, by Hercules, I produce no effect." Similar to confession is not to deny what is alleged, though it be evidently false and opportunity for an excellent answer be suggested by it, as Catulus, when Philippus asked him, "Why do you bark?" replied, "Because I see a thief." 8To joke upon oneself is the part only of a buffoon and is by no means allowable in an orator. It may be done in as many ways as we joke upon others; therefore, though it be too common, I pass it over. 8Moreover, that which is expressed scurrilously or passionately, though it may raise a laugh, is unworthy of a respectable man. I know a man who said to an inferior person who had addressed him with too little respect, "I will inflict a blow on your head and bring an action against you for hurting my hand by the hardness of your head." At such a saying, it is doubtful whether the hearers ought to laugh or feel indignation.

8There remains to be noticed the kind of joke that consists in deceiving expectation, or taking the words of another in a sense different from that in which he uses them. Of all sorts of jests, these may be said to be the happiest. But an unexpected turn may be adopted even by one who attacks, such as that of which Cicero gives an example: "What is wanting to this man except fortune and virtue?" Or as that of Domitius Afer: "For a man pleading causes, he is excellently dressed." Or it may be used in anticipating the answer of another person. Thus Cicero, on hearing a false report of the death of Vatinius, asked his freedman Ovinius, "Is all well?" When Ovinius said that it was, Cicero rejoined, "He is then dead?" 8Great laughter attends on simulation and dissimulation, which may be thought similar and almost the same. But simulation is the act of one who pretends to feel a certain persuasion in his mind, while dissimulation is that of one who feigns not to understand another's meaning. Domitius Afer used simulation when during a trial someone reiterated that Celsina, a woman of some influence, knew the facts, and he asked, "Who is he?" wishing to make it appear that he thought Celsina a man. 8Cicero used dissimulation when a witness named Sextus Annalis had given testimony against a person whom he was defending, and the prosecutor several times pressed him, crying, "Tell us, Marcus Cicero, whether you can say anything of Sextus Annalis." Cicero immediately began to recite from the sixth book of the Annals of Ennius,

Quis potis ingentis causas evolvere belli?
Who can the cause of this great war disclose?
8For this kind of jest, ambiguity doubtless affords the most frequent opportunity, as it did to Cascellius, who, when a person consulting him said, "I wish to divide my ship," rejoined, "You will lose it then." But the thoughts are often sent in another direction by a remark being turned away from something of greater to something of less consequence, as when the person who was asked what he thought of a man caught in adultery, replied "He was slow." 8Of a similar nature is that which is said in such a manner as to convey a suspicion of the meaning, as in this example from Cicero: when a man was lamenting that his wife had hung herself on a fig tree, another said to him, "I beg you to give me a slip of that tree that I may plant it. "The meaning, though not expressed, is very well understood. 8Indeed all facetiousness lies in expressing things with some deviation from the natural and genuine sense of the words employed, and this is wholly done by misrepresenting our own or other people's thoughts, or by stating something that cannot be. 90. Juba misrepresented the thought of another when he said to a man that complained of having been bespattered by his horse, "What! do you think me a Hippocentaur?" Caius Cassius misrepresented his own when he said to a soldier hurrying to the field without his sword, "Ah! comrade, you will use your fist well." And Galba did the same when some fish, which had been partly eaten the day before, were put upon the table with their other side uppermost: "Let us make haste to eat," he said, "for there are people under the table supping upon the same dish." Of the same sort is the jest of Cicero on Curius, which I have just mentioned, for it was impossible that he should not have been born when he was declaiming. 9There is a certain misrepresentation, too, that has its origin in irony of which Caius Caesar gives us an example: a witness said that his groin had been wounded by the accused person, and it was easy to show why he had wished to wound that part of his body rather than any other; Caesar preferred to say, "What else could he do, when you had a helmet and a coat of mail?" 9But the best of all simulation is that which is directed against one who simulates, such as this example: Domitius After had made a will some time ago, and a man whom he had taken into his friendship since the date of it, hoping to gain something should he alter it, told Afer a story of his own invention, asking whether he should advise an old chief centurion who had already made his will to make another. "By no means do so," Afer said, "for you will offend him."

9But the most agreeable of all such pleasantries are those good-natured and, so to speak, easy of digestion. Afer again offers examples: He once had an ungrateful client who avoided recognition from him one day in the forum, so he sent this message to him by an attendant: "Are you not obliged to me for not having seen you?" Or again, when Afer addressed his steward, who was unable to give an account of the money in his hands and remarked several times, "I have eaten no bread, and I drink water": "Sparrow," Afer said, "return what you ought to return." These kinds of jokes they call jokes applicable to character. 9It is a pleasing sort of jest, too, that lays less to the charge of another than might be laid. When a candidate for office asked Afer for his vote, saying, "I have always respected your family," Afer, when he might have boldly denied the assertion, said, "I believe you as if it were true." It is sometimes amusing to speak of one's self. Also, that which would be ill-natured if said about a person in his absence is mere subject for laughter when uttered as an attack upon him to his face. 9Such was the remark of Augustus when a soldier requested something unreasonable of him, and Marcianus, whom Augustus suspected of intending to ask of him something unjust, came up at the time: "I will no more do what you ask, comrade," Augustus said to the soldier, "than I will do what Marcianus is going to ask." 9Verses, aptly quoted, also have given great effect to witticisms, whether introduced entire and just as they are (a thing so easy, that Ovid has composed a book against bad poets in verses taken from the Tetrastichs of Macer). This mode of citation is more agreeable if it be seasoned with something of ambiguity, as in Cicero's remark about Marcius, a man of much cunning and artifice, when he was suspected of unfair dealing in a cause:

Nisi quâ Ulixes rate evasit Laertius,
Unless Ulysses, old Laertes' son,
Had in his ship escaped.
9Or with some little change in the words, as when Cicero jested on a senator, who, having been always thought extremely foolish, was after inheriting an estate called upon first to give his vote in the senate, saying,

Cujus hereditas est quam vocant sapientiam,
The estate of whom is that which they call wisdom,
putting hereditas, "estate" for facilitas, "faculty." Or by inventing verses similar to some well-known verses, which is called a parody. 9Or proverbs may be aptly applied, as a person said to a man of bad character who had fallen down and asked to be helped up, "Let some one take you up who does not know you."

To take a jest from history shows learning, as Cicero did during the trial of Verres. When he was examining a witness, Hortensius observed, "I do not understand these enigmas," to which Cicero replied, "But you ought, as you have a Sphinx at home," for Hortensius had received from Verres a bronze Sphinx of great value.

9As to apparent absurdities, they consist in an imitation of foolish sayings and would, if they were not affected, be foolish, such as that of the man who, when the people expressed their wonder that he had bought a low candlestick, said to them, "It will serve me for breakfast." But some that are very like absurdities and that seem to be said without any reason at all are extremely pointed, as when Dolabella's slave was asked whether his master had advertised a sale of his property, to which he replied, "He has sold his house." 100. Persons taken by surprise sometimes get rid of their embarrassment by a jest. During trial, an advocate asked a witness, who said that he had been wounded by the accused, whether he had a scar to show. When the witness showed a large one on his groin, the advocate observed, "He ought to have aimed at your side." It is also possible to use insulting expressions happily, as Hispo, when his accuser twice imputed heinous crimes to him, replied, "You lie." And when Legatus asked Fulvius whether a will which he produced had a signature, Fulvius replied, "And a true one, master."

10These are the most usual sources that I have either found, indicated by others or discovered for myself, from which jests may be derived. But I must repeat that there are as many subjects for facetiousness as for gravity, which are all suggested to us by an almost infinite number of persons, places, occasions, and chances. have therefore touched upon these points that I might not seem to neglect them. Though unsatisfactory, what I have said on the practice and manner of jesting was nevertheless necessary.

To these Domitius Marsus, who wrote a very carefully studied treatise on urbanitas ("urbanity") adds some examples of sayings that are not laughable, but admissible even into the gravest speeches. They are elegantly expressed and rendered agreeable by a certain peculiar kind of wit. They are indeed urbana ("urbane" or "polished,") but have nothing to do with the ridiculous. 10Nor was his work intended to treat laughter, but instead urbanitas, which, he says, is peculiar to our city and was not at all understood till a late period, after which it became common for the term urbs (though the proper name was not added) to be taken as signifying Rome. 10He thus defines it:

Urbanitas is a certain power of thought, comprised in a concise form of expression, and adapted to please and excite mankind, with reference to every variety of feeling, being especially fitted either to repel or to attack, as circumstances or persons may render necessary.

But this definition, if we take from it the particular of conciseness, may be considered as embracing all the excellences of language, for if it concerns things and persons, to say what property applies to each of them is the part of consummate eloquence. Why he made conciseness a necessary condition, I do not know.

10But in the same book, a little farther on, he defines another kind of urbanitas, peculiar to narrative (which has been displayed, he says, in many speakers) in the following manner, adhering, as he states, to the opinion of Cato:

A man of urbanitas will be one from whom many good sayings and repartees shall have proceeded, and who, in common conversation, at meetings, at entertainments, in assemblies of the people, and, in short, everywhere, speaks with humour and propriety. Whatever orator shall deliver himself in this way, laughter will follow.

10But if we accept these definitions, whatever is said well will also have the character of urbanitas. For a writer who proposed such specifications, it was natural to make such a division of urbane sayings as to call some serious, some jocose, and others intermediate, for this division applies to all properly expressed thoughts. 10But to me, even some sayings that are jocose appear not to be expressed with sufficient urbanitas, which in my judgment is a character of oratory in which there is nothing incongruous, nothing coarse, nothing unpolished, nothing barbarous to be discovered, either in the thoughts, or the words, or the pronunciation, or the gestures. It is not to be sought in singular words, but in the whole complexion of speech, like Atticism among the Greeks, which was a delicacy of taste peculiar to the city of Athens.

10Yet that I may not do injustice to the judgment of Marsus, who was a very learned man, I will add that he divides urbanitas, as applied to serious sayings, into the three types—the commendatory, the reproachful, and the intermediate. Of the commendatory, he gives an example from Cicero, in his speech for Ligarius, when he says to Caesar, "Thou who art wont to forget nothing but injuries." 10Of the reproachful, he gives as an instance what Cicero wrote to Atticus concerning Pompey and Caesar: "I have one whom I can avoid; one whom I can follow, I have not." Of the intermediate, which he calls apopthegmatic, he cites as a specimen these other words of Cicero: "that death could never be either grievous to a brave man, or premature to a man who has attained the consulship, or calamitous to a wise man." All these passages are very happily expressed, but I do not see why they should be peculiarly distinguished by the character of urbanitas. 1If it is not the whole complexion of a composition (as it appears to me) that entitles it to this distinction, and if the term is to be applied to single expressions, I should rather give the character of urbanitas to those sayings which are of the kind called droll, but which yet are not droll, such as the following. 11It was said of Asinius Pollio, who could adapt himself either to business or to pleasure, that he was a man for all hours, and of a pleader who spoke with ease extemporaneously, that he had all his wit in ready cash. Such, too, was the saying of Pompey, which Marsus notices, addressed to Cicero, who expressed distrust of his party: "go over to Caesar, then, and you will fear me." However, if this had been uttered on a less important occasion, or in another spirit, or by any other person than Pompey, it might have been numbered among droll sayings. 11To these may be added what Cicero wrote to Cerellia, assigning a reason why he so patiently endured the proceedings of Caesar: "These things must be borne, either with the mind of a Cato or with the stomach of a Cicero," for the word stomach carries with it something like a jest.

These reflections, which struck me with regard to the definitions of Marsus, I could not withhold from my readers. Though I may have erred in these reflections, I have not deceived my readers, having pointed out at the same time a different opinion, which it is free for those who approve it to follow.

IT might appear that I should not enter upon precepts concerning altercation until I have treated of every particular regarding continuous speaking, for recourse is had to altercation last of all. But because it depends on invention alone, and can have no concern with arrangement, nor requires any great ornament from style, or much assistance from memory or delivery, I think that before I proceed to the second of the five parts, I shall treat of this, which is connected wholly with the first, in a proper place if I speak of it here. It is a matter which other writers have neglected, perhaps because sufficient regard seemed to have been paid to it in the other rules of the art. For altercation consists either in attack or defense, concerning which a considerable number of directions have been given, since whatever is proper with regard to proofs in a continued speech must also necessarily be applicable to the brevity and conciseness of altercation, in which no other topics are introduced than are in the rest of the pleading. They are only treated in another manner, that is, by way of question and answer. Almost all that is necessary to be observed with respect to this head has been noticed by me in the part relating to witnesses. Yet, as I am pursuing this work on an extensive plan, and as an orator cannot be called accomplished without ability in altercation, let me devote a little particular attention to this point also, which, indeed, in some causes, contributes greatly to ensure success. For as, with regard to the general quality of an action, when it is considered whether it was justly done or otherwise, continuous speaking is most required, which also sufficiently sets forth, for the most part, questions of definition or exception, as well as all those in which a fact is admitted or inferred by conjecture from artificial proof. So in those causes (a very numerous class) which either depend solely on proofs called inartificial, or such as are of a mixed kind, the heat of altercation is frequently most fierce. Nor should we say that advocates point their swords at each other in any part of a cause more closely than in this. For the strongest arguments must here be inculcated on the mind of the judge. Whatever we promised in the course of our pleading must be made good, and the false allegations of the opposite party must be refuted. There is no part of a cause, indeed, in which the judge is more attentive, and some pleaders, though but of moderate power in speaking, have, by their excellence in disputation, gained a just title to the name of advocates. But satisfied with having bestowed on their clients the showy labor of declamation, some, on the other hand, quit the benches at the close of it, attending with a crowd of flatterers and leaving to ignorant and mean practitioners the conduct of the battle which ought to decide the cause. Accordingly, in private causes, we may see some advocates chosen for pleading and others for the establishment of proofs. But if these duties are to be divided, the latter is surely of more importance than the former. It is dishonorable to oratory to say that inferior pleaders profit their clients more than those of greater ability. At public trials, however, the voice of the crier cites him who has pleaded as well as the other advocates.

For such disputation, then, there is need, in the first place, of a quick and active intellect, and of a ready and keen judgment. For we have no time to reflect, but must speak at once, and aim a blow at our adversary at the same time that we parry his attempt on ourselves. As it is of the greatest importance, therefore, to every part of an orator's duty, to know his whole cause not only accurately, but familiarly, so it is of the utmost necessity, in altercation with our adversary, to have a thorough knowledge of all the characters, instruments, times, and places connected with it. Otherwise, we shall often be put to silence, or, if others suggest replies to us, we must, from necessary haste to speak, unreasoningly acquiesce in what they say. Therefore, it will sometimes happen that in trusting to others, we shall have to blush for their folly. Nor is the matter made clear by these monitors. Some advocates, too, try undisguisedly to bring us to a quarrel, for we may see many of them, transported apparently with wrath, calling upon the judge to attend and saying that what is suggested is contrary to fact. He who is to decide the cause should understand the evil to which is kept out of sight. He who would be a good disputant, therefore, must be free from the vice of passionateness, for no affection of the mind is a greater enemy to reason. It carries us out of the cause, leads us frequently to offer and incur gross insults, and sometimes draws upon us the indignation of the judges themselves. Moderation is better, and sometimes even sufferance, for allegations made by the opposite party must not only be refuted, but must be held up to contempt, must be undervalued and ridiculed. Nor can wit find any better place for exercise than this. Such is the case as long as matters are conducted with order and due respect to us, but against turbulent adversaries we must show a bold face and oppose impudence with firmness. 1For there are some speakers of such a hardened front that they assail us with loud bluster, interrupt us in the middle of a speech, and confuse and disturb the whole proceedings. These we must be so far from imitating that we must vigorously repel them. Their insolence must be put down, and we must at times appeal to the judges or presiding magistrates that the times for speaking may be fairly observed. It is no task for an indolent mind, or an excessively modest character. That which is called honesty often bears a false name and should rather be called imbecility.

1What is of the greatest value in disputation is acuteness, which doubtless does not come from art (since what is natural is not taught), but may be improved by art. 1The chief requisite is to keep the point in dispute and that which we wish to establish constantly before our eyes, because if we keep to one object, we shall not be led into useless altercation or waste the time due to the cause in railing. If our adversary commits such errors, we shall have the pleasure of taking advantage of them.

1All occasions may be turned to advantage for those who have meditated carefully what may be objected on the opposite side or what replies may be made on their own. It is a kind of artifice employed at times, however, to contrive that certain points, which have been concealed in the course of the pleading, may be suddenly brought forth in the subsequent altercation, starting out as it were in an unexpected sally or a spring from an ambush. This is a plan which may be adopted when there is some particular in the cause on which we cannot speak satisfactorily at once, but which we can make clear when time is given us for consideration. 1It is best to bring forward that which is secure and solid at the commencement of our proceedings, so we may insist upon it the oftener and the longer. It seems scarcely necessary to direct that a disputant should not be turbulent and clamorous merely like people who are utterly strangers to learning, for audacity, though it may be troublesome to the adversary, is at the same time hateful to the judge. 1It is inexpedient, too, to contend long for a point which you cannot carry, for it is better to yield where you must be conquered. If there are several points in dispute, the good faith which we show with regard to one will cause us to be more trusted with respect to others; if there be but one point, a lighter penalty may be inflicted on us in consequence of a candid acknowledgment. To persist in vindicating a fault, especially when it is exposed, is to commit another fault.

1While the contest is undecided, there is great skill and artifice in drawing on our adversary when wandering from the point and forcing him to go as far from it as possible in such a way that he may exult at times in false hopes of success. Some points in our evidence may accordingly be kept back with advantage, for our opponents will perhaps press for them with importunity and risk the whole of their cause on what they think that we cannot produce, adding authority to our proofs by the earnestness with which they demand them. 1It may be of use, too, at times to abandon some point to our adversary which he may think in his favor, in order that while he is grasping it, he may let slip something of greater importance; or to offer him his choice of two things, either of which he will choose to his disadvantage. This course may be adopted with more effect in altercation than in regular pleading, because in the one we reply to ourselves, and in the other we convict our adversary, as it were, on his own confession.

1It is the part of an acute pleader to observe, above all, by what remarks the judge is most impressed, and to what he listens with disapprobation, a circumstance which may often be discovered from his looks and sometimes from some word or gesture. He ought then to insist upon whatever promotes his object, and to withdraw adroitly from whatever is prejudicial to him. It is in such a way that physicians act. They continue or cease to give medicines just as they see that they are relished or loathed by the patient. 20. Sometimes if it is difficult to make a point we have stated clear, we may raise another question and fix the attention of the judge, if possible, upon it, for when you yourself cannot answer to a thing, what is to be done but to find something else to which your opponent may be unable to answer? 2In regard to most parts of a disputation, as I observed, the same is to be said as in regard to the examination of witnesses, the difference being only with respect to persons, as in the one case the contest is between advocates, and in the other between the witness and the advocate. But to exercise one's self in disputation is much easier, for it is possible and may be of the greatest advantage to choose, in conjunction with someone engaged in the same studies, a subject, either true or fictitious, for discussion, and to take different sides upon it after the manner of altercations in the courts, a practice which may also be adopted in respect to the simple sort of questions. 2I would also have an advocate understand in what order his various proofs should be brought before the judge in such disputations, and the same plan may be adopted with regard to them as with regard to the arguments in his speech, namely, that the strongest be placed first and last, for the former dispose the judge to believe him and the latter to decide in his favor.

1. HAVING treated of this head to the best of my ability, I should not hesitate to pass at once to disposition, which follows next in order, were I not apprehensive that, as there are writers who place judgment under invention, I might be thought by some to have purposely omitted that subject, though it is a quality, in my opinion, so blended and mixed with every part of oratory that its influence is inseparable from even a single thought or word; and it is not communicable by art any more than taste or smell. 2. All that I can do, accordingly, is to teach and persevere in teaching what is to be imitated or avoided in each department of the art in order that judgment may be exercised in reference to it. I shall continue to teach, therefore, that we must not attempt what cannot be accomplished, that we must avoid all arguments that are contradictory or common to both sides, and that nothing in our speech must be barbarous or obscure. The observance of all such rules must be under the guidance of common sense, which cannot be taught.

3. From judgment I do not consider that sagacity greatly differs, except that judgment is employed about things which are evident in themselves, and sagacity about things that are obscure, having either not been noticed at all or being of a doubtful nature. Judgment is very often sure; sagacity is a certain reasoning, as it were, from the depths of things, generally weighing and comparing different arguments and exercising the faculties both of invention and arbitration. 4. But such observations are not to be taken as universally true, for sagacity is often exercised on some circumstance that precedes the pleading of a cause. As example, in pleading against Verres, Cicero appears with great sagacity to have preferred occupying shorter time with his speech to prolonging it to the year in which Quintus Hortensius was to be consul. 5. In the conduct of a pleading, sagacity holds the first and most influential place, for it is required to determine what we ought to say, what to suppress, and what to defer; whether it be better to deny a fact, or to justify it; when we should use an exordium and of what kind; whether we should give a statement of facts and in what form; whether we should rest our case on law or on equity; what order is the most eligible; and what style we should adopt and whether it be expedient to speak boldy, gently, or humbly. 6. But upon these points I have already, as occasion has allowed, given some directions, and I shall continue to do so in the rest of my work. I will make a few remarks here, however, by way of example, that it may be more clearly understood what it is that I think cannot be taught by rules of art. 7.The sagacity of Demosthenes is commended in this respect, that when he was recommending war to the Athenians, who had previously tried it with little success, he showed that nothing had been done in it with prudent management, so their neglect might be made amends for, whereas if no error had been committed, there would have been no ground for better hopes for the future. 8. The same orator, too, when he feared to give offense if he reproached the people for their indolence in maintaining the liberty of their country, preferred to dwell on the praise of their ancestors, who had governed it with such effect. For he thus found them willing to listen, and it naturally followed that while they approved of the better, they repented of the worse. 9. As to Cicero, his speech for Cluentius alone is worth an infinity of examples. For what proof of sagacity in it shall I admire most? The opening of the case, in which he deprives the mother, whose influence bore hard upon her son of all credit? Or his determination to transfer the guilt of having bribed the judges on the adverse party, rather than deny it, on account, as he says, of the notorious infamy of their judgment? Or last of all, his recourse in so odious an affair to the support of the law, a mode of defense by which he would have alienated the feelings of the judges, if they had not been previously softened? Or his protestation that he adopted that course contrary to the inclination of Cluentius? 10. Or what shall I commend in his speech for Milo? That he made no statement of the case until he had removed the prejudices entertained against the accused? That he threw the odium of having lain in wait upon Clodius, though the encounter was in reality fortuitous? That he commended the deed, and yet exculpates Milo from having intentionally committed it? That he put no supplications into the mouth of his client, but took the character of suppliant on himself? It would be endless to enumerate all the proofs of sagacity that he exhibits: how he divests Cotta of all credit; how he opposes himself in the place of Ligarius; how he rescues Cornelius by alleging the openness of his confession. 11. I think it sufficient to observe that there is nothing, not only in oratory, but in the whole conduct of life, more valuable than sagacity. Without it all, instruction is given in vain, and judgment can do more without learning than learning without judgment, for it is the part of that virtue to adapt our speech to places, circumstances, and characters. But as this part of my subject is somewhat comprehensive and is intimately connected with oratorical effect, it shall be noticed when I proceed to give directions on speaking with propriety.

OF Invention, I think, enough has been said, for I have not only treated of the mode of informing judges, but have touched on the art of exciting their feelings. But as it is not enough for those who are erecting edifices to collect stones, materials, and other things useful for the architect unless the hand of the workman be also applied to the disposition and collocation of them, so in speaking, however abundant be the quantity of matter, it will form but a confused mass and heap unless similar arrangement bind it together, disposed in regular order, and with its several parts connected one with another. It is therefore not without reason that arrangement is considered the second of the five parts of oratory, for though all the limbs of a statue be cast, it is not a statue until they are united, and if, in our own bodies or those of any other animals, we were to displace or alter the position of any part, they would be but monsters, though they had the same number of parts. Even our joints, if but in the least degree dislocated, lose their whole use and power of action, and disorder in an army is an impediment to its efficiency. Nor do those appear to be in the wrong who think that the system of the world is maintained by order, and that if its order were broken, it would cease to exist as a whole.

So speech, if deficient in that quality, must necessarily be confused and float like a ship without a helm. It can have no coherence; it must exhibit many repetitions and many omissions; and like a traveller wandering by night in unknown regions, must, as having no stated course or object, be guided by chance rather than design.

The whole of this book, therefore, shall be devoted to arrangement, a quality, which if it could be taught by rules adapted to every kind of subject, would not have fallen to the lot of so small a number of speakers. But as the forms of causes have been and ever will be infinite in variety, and as no one cause during so many ages has been found in all respects similar to another, the pleader must exercise his sagacity, his discernment, his invention, and his judgment, and must ask counsel from himself. Yet I do not deny that there are some things that may be taught by precept, and of these I shall not fail to treat.

LET division, then, as I signified above, be the distribution of a number of things into its component parts; partition the regular distribution of parts into their members, and a just disposition connecting those that follow with those that precede; and arrangement a due distribution of things and their parts in their proper places. But let us remember that arrangement is often altered to suit the interest of a cause and that the same question is not always discussed first by both parties. Omitting other examples, Demosthenes and Aeschines may afford us an instance, because in the trial of Ctesiphon, each of them adopted a very different order, as the accuser commenced with the question of law, on which he thought himself the stronger, while the defendant introduced all other particulars, or almost all, before touching on the question of law in order to prepare the judges for considering the point of legality at the conclusion. For it may be to the interest of one side to state one point first, and of the other to state another. Otherwise, the pleading would always be conducted at the pleasure of the prosecutor. In a case of mutual accusation, when each party defends himself before he accuses his adversary, the order of everything on either side must be different. I shall therefore set forth the method which I myself have followed, and which I have adopted partly from the rules of others and partly from my own reasoning. I have never made any mystery of it.

In forensic pleadings, it was my great care to ascertain, in the first place, all the points that were concerned in any cause. In the schools there are certain particulars, but few that are laid down previous to the declamation that the Greeks call θέματα (themata) and Cicero proposita. When I had placed these, as it were, full in my view, I contemplated the cause with reference no less to the opposite side than to my own.

First, then, (what is not difficult to be ascertained, but is above all to be regarded) I settled what each party wished to establish, and then by what means, in the following way. I considered what the prosecutor would state first: either an admitted or contested point. If it were admitted, the question could not lie in it. I passed therefore to the answer of the defendant and considered it in the same way. Sometimes, too, what was elicited there was admitted. But as soon as there began to be any disagreement, the question arose. The process was of this nature: "You killed a man"—"I did kill him." The fact is admitted, so I pass on. The defendant ought to give a reason why he killed him. "It is lawful", he may say, "to kill an adulterer with an adulteress." It is admitted that there is such a law. We may then proceed to a third point, about which there may be a dispute. "They were not guilty of adultery"—"they were." Hence arises the question. It is a controversy about fact, a matter of conjecture. Sometimes, however, a third point is admitted, that they were guilty of adultery. "But," the accuser may say, "it was not lawful for you to kill them, for you were an exile or infamous." There is, then, a question about law. But if the prosecutor says at first, "You have killed," and the defendant replies, "I have not killed," then the dispute commences at once. It is thus that we must ascertain when the controversy begins, and we must consider what forms the first question.

The accusation may be simple: "Rabirius killed Saturninus," or complex: "Lucius Varenus has incurred the penalty of the law respecting assassins, for he is guilty of killing Caius Varenus, of wounding Cneius, and also of killing Salarius," since there will thus be three distinct propositions. The same may be said of civil suits. But out of a complex accusation may arise several questions and positions, if the accused denies one point, justifies another, and endeavors to set aside another by taking exceptions at the form of process. In this case, the accuser must consider carefully what he ought to refute and in what parts of his speech.

As to what concerns the accuser, I do not altogether dissent from Celsus, who, doubtless following Cicero, persists in maintaining somewhat too positively, on this head, that strong arguments should be advanced in the first place, the strongest of all in the last, and the weakest in the middle, because the judge requires to be moved at the beginning and pressed forcibly at the end. 1But on the side of the accused, the strongest argument against him must first be attacked, lest the judge, looking to that point, regard with too little favor our establishment of other points. Yet this order may occasionally be changed, if the lighter points be evidently false and the refutation of the heaviest charge extremely difficult, so that we may proceed to the last point after thus detracting from the credit of the accusers, when the judge is ready to suppose that all the charges may be false. It will be necessary, however, to make some preliminary remarks, in which a reason may be given for putting off the consideration of the principal charge, and a refutation of it may be promised so we do not appear afraid of what we do not overthrow at once. 1Attacks on the past life of the accused must generally be refuted first, so the judge may be inclined to hear with favor the question on which he is to give a decision. But Cicero, in his speech for Varenus, delayed the consideration of such charges to the conclusion, regarding not what is generally expedient, but what was expedient on that occasion.

1When the accusation is simple, we must consider whether we will give our answer in one proposition or in several. If in one, whether we build our case on fact or on written law. If on fact, whether what is charged against us is to be denied or justified. If on written law, on what point of law the question stands and whether it regards the letter or the intention. 1This we shall discover, if we ascertain what law it is that gives rise to the suit, that is, on what the point for decision rests. In the school exercises, some laws are laid down merely to connect a series of circumstances in a case, such as, "Let a father who recognizes a son he has exposed take him back on paying for his subsistence. Let it be lawful for a father to disinherit a son who is disobedient to his admonitions. A father who has taken back a son that he had exposed requires him to marry a rich relation. The son wishes to marry the daughter of the poor person that brought him up." 1The law regarding children exposed is a subject for moving the feelings, but the decision depends on the law concerning disinheritance. Nor does the question always rest on one law only, but sometimes on more than one, as in a case of ἀντινομία (antinomia) or contradictory laws. Once this matter is considered, the points of the question will be apparent.

An example of a complex defense is Cicero's speech for Rabirius: "If he had killed Saturninus, he would have acted rightly, but he did not kill him." 1But when we advance many arguments against one proposition, we must consider first all the points that can be advanced and then decide where in our speech each should be stated. 1In this regard, do not hold the same opinion which I expressed a little above concerning propositions and to which I assented in respect to arguments (in the place in which I treated of proofs), that we may sometimes begin with the stronger. For in refutation, the force of our questions ought always to increase and to proceed from the weakest to the strongest, whether they be of the same or a different kind. 1But questions of law may sometimes arise from one ground of dispute after another. Those of fact look always to one point; in both, however, the order is the same. But let us speak first of points of different kinds, the weakest of which ought to be discussed first.

After considering some questions, we generally concede or grant the weakest points to the opposite party, for we cannot pass to others unless by dismissing those that come first. 1This ought to be done in such a manner that we may not appear to have despaired of them, but to have set them aside, because we can establish our cause without them. For example, an agent demands money from a person for interest on an inheritance. A question may arise whether the person who is acting as agent has a right to be an agent. 20. Suppose that after we have discussed this question, we give it up or are defeated upon it. The next question may be whether the person in whose name the action was brought has a right to have an agent. Suppose that we give way on this point also. The cause may admit of the question whether the person in whose name the suit is brought is heir to the person to whom the interest is due and sole heir of the estate. 2If these points also be granted, it may be asked whether the money is really due. On the other hand, nobody would be so foolish as to yield what he considered his strongest point and pass on to others of minor importance. Similar to the preceding case is one that is given in the schools: "You must not disinherit an adopted son. Though you may disinherit this adopted son, you must not disinherit one who has deserved well of his country. Though you may disinherit one who has deserved well of his country, you may not disinherit whatever deserving son has not obeyed your will. Though he may have been bound to obey your will in all other things, you may not disinherit him for not having obeyed it in regard to an option, or, if you may disinherit him for an option, not for such an option as this." Such is the dissimilarity in questions of law. 2But in matters of fact, there may be several questions all tending to the same object. For instance, if a person who is on trial for theft should say to the accuser, "Prove that you had the property; prove that you lost it; prove that you lost it by theft; prove that you lost it by my theft." The first three points may be conceded, but the last cannot.

2I used also very frequently to adopt this method. I went back from the last species (for it is that which commonly contains the point for decision) to the first general question, or descended from the genus to the last species, and that even in deliberative causes. 2Suppose, for example, that Numa deliberates whether he shall accept kingly power when the Romans offer it. First arises the general question whether he ought to reign at all. Then follow the particular questions: whether he ought to reign in a country not his own; whether at Rome; whether the Romans will tolerate such a king as himself. The case is similar in matters of controversy. Suppose a man who has deserved well of his country makes choice of another man's wife. The last special question is whether a man can make choice of another's wife. The general question is whether he who has deserved well of his country ought to receive whatever he makes the object of his choice. Then follow the inquiries: whether he can choose from the property of a private person; whether he can demand a woman in marriage; whether he can demand one who has a husband. 2But these questions are not set forth in our speech in the same order in which they occur to us, for that in general occurs first which is to be expressed last: "You ought not to make choice of another man's wife." Hence haste spoils division. We should not, therefore, content ourselves with what offers itself, but should inquire something further, as whether he may even make choice of a widow, or further still, whether he may choose anything belonging to a private person, or last of all, going back to what is next to the general question, whether he may make choice of anything unlawful. 2Therefore, examining the proposition of our adversary (which is very easy), let us decide, if possible, what naturally should be answered first. This will readily occur to us if we but contemplate the cause as being actually pleaded and the necessity laid upon us of replying at once.

2But if it should not occur, let us set aside that which occurs to us first and reason with ourselves by asking "What if it were otherwise?" and questioning ourselves a second and a third time, until nothing remains for consideration. Thus we shall examine even the minutest points, which, if well treated, will make the judge more inclined to listen to us on the main point. 2With this process, the rule that "we should descend from what is common to what is particular" is not much at variance, for what is common is mostly general. "Some person has killed a tyrant" is a common or general proposition, but "a certain person has killed a tyrant; a woman has killed him; his wife has killed him" are particular propositions.

2Provided they were to my purpose, I used also to select those points in which I agreed with my opponent, not only to press such matters as he admitted, but to multiply them by division. Such is the following case: "A general, who, in a competition for public honors, had come off superior to his father, was taken prisoner by the enemy. Certain deputies, going to ransom him, met the father on the road as he was returning from the enemy's camp, and he said to them, 'You are going too late.' 30. The deputies searched the father and found a sum of money in gold concealed in the breast of his robe. They then proceeded to their place of destination and found the general fixed to a cross, uttering the words, 'Beware of the traitor.' The father was accused." What is admitted on both sides? That treason was signified, and signified by the general. We try to find the traitor. You admit that you went to the enemy, and went secretly; that you returned in safety, brought away gold, and had the gold concealed.

3What the accused has done is sometimes set forth very forcibly in the statement of the case, and if it takes possession of the mind of the judge, his ears are almost closed against the defense. In general, it is to the advantage of the accuser to amass facts and of the defendant to separate them. I used also to do, with regard to the whole subject of a cause, that which I noticed as being done in regard to arguments: stating all the particulars that could possibly be urged against me and overthrowing them one after another, I left nothing remaining but that which I wished to be believed. 3Thus, in charges of prevarication, it may be argued, "The accused could have been acquitted only by the establishment of his innocence, or by the intervention of some authority, or by force or bribes having been offered to the judges, or through the difficulty of proof, or through prevarication: That he was guilty you admit; no authority interposed; there was no force offered; you do not complain that the judges were bribed; there was no difficulty in the way of proof; and what remains, then, but that there must have been prevarication?" 3If I could not set aside all the points against me, I at least set aside the greater number. For instance, it is acknowledged that a man was killed. Not in a solitary place, to lead me to suspect that he was killed by robbers. Not for the sake of booty, for he was not rifled. Not in the hope of inheriting anything, for he was poor. Malice must then have been the cause. But who was his enemy? 3This method of examining everything that can be said and of rejecting, as it were, one particular after another in order to arrive at the strongest point, not only facilitates the art of division, but also that of invention. Consider this example: "Milo is accused of killing Clodius. He either killed him or did not kill him." It would be safest to deny that he killed him, but if that cannot be done, it must be allowed that he killed him either justly or unjustly; and we must doubtless say justly. He killed him then either intentionally or through necessity, for ignorance cannot be pretended: 3Whether there was intention is doubtful, but because people think there was, we must attempt some defense of it and say that the intention was to serve his country. Or shall we say that he killed him through necessity? The encounter with him was then accidental and not premeditated. One of them therefore was lying in wait: Which of the two? Assuredly Clodius. Do you see how the necessary chain of circumstances leads us to the ground of defense? 3Let us consider further: "He certainly either wished to kill the lier-in-wait Clodius, or he did not." It is safer if we can say that he did not. "Then the attendants of Milo must have done the deed, without orders from Milo, and without his knowledge." But this timid mode of defense detracts from the credit of our assertion that Clodius was justly killed. 3We must therefore add, "The attendants acted in such a way as each of us would wish his own attendants to act." This kind of practice is the more useful, as it often happens that nothing that prevents itself pleases us, and yet something must be said. We should accordingly contemplate the cause under every aspect, and therefore either that which is best will be discovered or that which is least bad. I have observed in the proper place that occasionally we may turn the statement of our adversary to advantage, sometimes equally to the purpose of both parties.

I know that some authors have discussed in many thousands of lines how we may discover which party ought to speak first, but this is decided in the forum either by the rigor of formulae, or by the nature of the process, or finally by lot. 3In the schools, such inquiries are of no importance, since it is allowable to make a charge and to refute it, in the same declamation, as well on the side of the prosecutor as on that of the defendant. But in most suits, it cannot even be determined which party has a right to precedence. For example, "A father who had three sons—one an orator, another a philosopher, and a third a physician—divided his property by his will into four parts and gave one part to each of the three, directing that the fourth part should go to him who should be of most service to his country." 3They go to court. Who ought to speak first is uncertain, though the statement of the base is clear, for we must begin with him whose part we take. Such are the directions that may be given about division in general.

40. But how shall we find out questions that are more obscure? Just as we discover thoughts, words, figures, style, namely, by the exercise of our ability and by care and practice. Scarcely anything, however, will escape a speaker, unless he is inattentive, if he will, as I remarked, but take nature for his guide. 4But many orators, affecting a character for eloquence, are content with arguments that are merely showy or that contribute nothing to the establishment of their case. Others think that they let nothing escape them, while they merely contemplate what presents itself to their own eyes. That what I say may be the better understood, I will give as an example a case from the schools, one not very difficult or new: 4"Let the son be disinherited who neglects to plead for his father on a trial for treason. Let the man who is found guilty of treason be banished with the advocate who pleads for him. A father was accused of treason. One of his sons, who was a man of eloquence, appeared as advocate for his father. The other, an illiterate man, did not appear at all. The father was found guilty and went into exile with the son who pleaded for him. The illiterate son, after distinguishing himself by his bravery, obtained from his country as a reward the recall of his father and his brother. The father returned and died intestate. The illiterate son sues for a portion of his property. The eloquent son claims the whole of it." 4In this case those men of eloquence—to whom we appear ridiculous for being anxious about causes that rarely occur—will seize upon the favorable characters. Their pleading will be for the illiterate against the eloquent son; for the brave against the unwarlike; for the benefactor against the ungrateful; for him who desires only a part of his father's property, against him who would allow no portion of it to his brother. 4All these are points in the cause and a great support to it, but they do not secure victory. In such a cause, the thoughts sought by such orators will be, if possible, daring or obscure (for obscurity is now a virtue), and they will think that they come off well in the matter if they distinguish themselves with sufficient clamor and noise. Those, again, whose object is better, but whose regard is confined to that which readily presents itself, will see the following points, as it were, swimming on the surface: 4"That the illiterate son was excusable for not appearing at the trial, as he could have been of no assistance to his father; that the eloquent son has little ground for blaming the other for his absence, as the father was found guilty; that he who procured his father's recall deserves to inherit his father's property; and that the other son is of a covetous, unnatural, and ungrateful disposition, as he refuses to share the inheritance with a brother to whom he owes so much."

They will see also that a question may be raised as to the letter and intent of the law, and that, unless this question be settled, there can be no room for anything else to follow. 4But he who shall follow nature will doubtless reflect that the illiterate son will first say, "My father, dying intestate, left two sons, my brother and myself, and I claim part of his property by the common law of nations." Who indeed is so thoroughly foolish and ignorant that he would not commence thus, even though he knows not what a proposition is? 4The pleader will moderately commend this common law of nations as being extremely just. It then follows that we consider what can be replied to so equitable a claim. A reply presents itself at once: "The law directs that a son who does not defend his father when accused of treason is to be disinherited, and you did not defend your father." On this proposition will naturally follow some praise of the law and some censure of the son for not defending his parent. 4Up to this point, we have had to do only with what is admitted. Let us again turn our attention to the claimant—unless he is utterly senseless, will he not plead thus? "If the law stands in the way, there is no ground for an action; the trial is a mere form." But there is no doubt that there is a law in the way and that it punishes that of which the illiterate son was guilty." What then shall we say on his behalf? "I was illiterate." 4But the law was in force, and it comprehends all men, so it will be of no use to allege want of education. Let us inquire, then, whether the law can be invalidated in any point. What does nature suggest (for to nature I must frequently appeal) but that when the letter of a law is against us, we must look to the intention of it? The general question then arises whether we ought to rest on the letter, or on the intention, of any law? But concerning law in general, we may dispute forever, nor has this point ever been fully decided. We must inquire, therefore, whether in this particular law about which we are concerned, anything can be found that is at variance with the letter of it. 50. The law says, then, "Whatever son has not defended his father shall be disinherited." What? Whatever son, without exception? Considerations such as the following will then present themselves of their own accord: "Suppose that a son who was but an infant, or one who was sick, or one who was out of the country, or in the army, or on an embassy, did not defend his father. Would he be disinherited?" Something considerable has now been gained. A son may not have defended his father, and yet not be disinherited.

5Let him, however, who has so far meditated on the case, "pass over," as Cicero says, "after the manner of a Latin flute-player" to the side of the eloquent son. He will say, "Though I allow the reasonableness of such exceptions, you were not an infant, or out of the country, or serving in the army." Will anything else occur to the other son, but to say, "I am illiterate"? 5But the eloquent son will make the obvious reply, "Though you could not plead for your father, you might have appeared at his side." And the remark is just. The illiterate son must consequently recur to the intention of the lawgiver: "He intended," he will say, "to punish unnatural conduct, but I have not behaved unnaturally." 5In reply, the eloquent son will say, "You did act unnaturally, as you incurred the penalty of being disinherited, though penitence or desire of distinction has since gained you the privilege of this kind of option. Besides, it was through you that your father was found guilty, for you seemed to have already decided on his case." To this the illiterate son will reply, "You rather were the cause that he was found guilty, for you had offended many people and excited enmity against our family." These allegations are conjectural, as is the statement of the illiterate son as an excuse for his absence—that it was the object of his father not to expose his whole family to danger. Such are the considerations that come under the first question as to the letter and intent of the law.

5Let us further direct our attention and examine whether anything more can be found and, if so, how it may be discovered. I purposely imitate the manner of one inquiring, that I may teach the student how to inquire, and laying aside all regard to ornaments of style, lower myself to promote the advantage of my pupils. To this point, we have drawn all our questions from the person of the claimant. Why should we not ask some questions regarding the father? The words of the law are, "Whatever son has not defended his father shall be disinherited." 5Why may we not ask this question, "What is the character of the father whom he has not defended?" We ask such a question frequently in those cases in which sons who are prosecuted for not supporting their parents are liable for the penalty of imprisonment. Take for example the son who did not support his mother who gave evidence against him when he was accused of not being a Roman citizen; and the son who did not maintain the father who sold him to a slave dealer. But with regard to the father of whom we are speaking, of what argument can we lay hold? He was found guilty. 5Does the law then relate only to fathers who are acquitted? A hard question at first sight. But let us not despair. It is probable that the intention of the legislator was that the aid of children should not be wanting to innocent fathers. But the illiterate son would be ashamed to allege this intention, because he acknowledges that his father was innocent. 5The law, however, furnishes another argument in the cause: "Let him who is found guilty go into exile with his advocate." It seems scarcely possible that a penalty should have been directed against a son, in reference to the same father, whether the son appeared in his defense or did not appear. Besides, no law has any relation to exiles. It is not, therefore, probable that this law was intended to refer to the advocate of the person condemned, for can any property be possessed by an exile? The illiterate son, whether he looks to the letter or the intention of the law, makes it doubtful whether he was called upon to defend his father. 5The eloquent son will both cling to the words of the law, in which no exception is expressed, and will say that it was from this very consideration that the penalty of being disinherited was denounced against sons who should not defend their fathers, lest they should be deterred from defending them by fear of banishment. He will also say that his illiterate brother did not appear on behalf of an innocent father. It is well deserving of remark that from one position may spring two general questions— whether every son is obliged to defend his father, and whether every father has a right to expect defense from his son. 5All our questions hitherto have arisen from two persons. As for the third, the adversary, no question can arise about him because there is no controversy about his share of the property. Let our investigations, however, be still pursued, for all that has been said might have been said even though the father had not been recalled from exile. Nor let us fix immediately on the reflection which readily presents itself: that his recall was procured by the illiterate son. He that sagaciously considers that point will find his view directed to something further, for as species follow genus, so genus precedes species. 60. Let us suppose, therefore, that his recall had been procured by another. A question of ratiocination and syllogism will arise: is the recall equivalent to a repeal of the sentence and does it place the father in the same position as if judgment had not been pronounced against him? Here the illiterate son would say he could not have obtained the restitution of his property, being entitled to one reward only, by any other means than by procuring the recall of his father on the same understanding as if he had never been accused, which would also annull the penalty of the advocate as completely as if he had not appeared on behalf of his father. 6We then come to that which presented itself to us at first, that the father's recall was procured by the illiterate son. Here we again proceed to reason whether he who procured the recall ought not to be regarded in the light of an advocate, as he effected that which the advocate sought to effect; and that it is not unfair that that should be received as equivalent which is more than equivalent. 6What remains is a question of equity: which of the two makes the more rightful claim? This question, too, admits of division: ( even if each claimed the whole property and ( when the one claims but half, and the other the whole, to the exclusion of his brother. But even when these points are discussed, the memory of the father will have great influence with the judges, especially when the question is about the disposal of his property. It will, therefore, be a subject for conjection what intention the father had in leaving no will at his death. But this relates to quality, which is a matter for another position. 6It is, however, at the conclusion of causes that questions of equity are generally considered, because there is nothing to which judges listen with greater readiness. Yet expediency will occasionally cause a change in the order. For instance, if we have but little confidence that the law will be in our favor, we may work on the minds of the judges at the commencement by considerations of equity.

On this head I have no further directions to give in general. 6But let us now proceed to consider the several parts of judicial causes. Though I cannot pursue them to the last species, that is, to every particular form of question and process, I may yet treat of them in a general way so as to show under which state each kind of cause commonly falls. And as the first question in a case is naturally whether what is alleged actually occurred, it is with this that I shall begin.

1. All conjecture has reference either to fact or intent. To each belong three parts of time: the past, the present, and the future. Concerning fact, there are both general and particular questions, that is, such as are not limited to the consideration of certain circumstances and such as are so limited. 2. About intent there can be no question, unless where there is a person concerned and a fact is admitted. When the question, then, is about a fact, it is to be considered either what has been done, what is being done, or what is going to be done. Thus, in general questions, we inquire whether the world was formed by a fortuitous concourse of atoms, whether it is ruled by a providence, and whether it will one day fall to pieces. In particular questions, we inquire whether Roscius has committed parricide, whether Manlius is aspiring to sovereignty, and whether Caecilius will justly prosecute Verres. 3. In judicial pleadings, we are most concerned with past time, for no man accuses another but for something that has been done, because what is actually taking place or is likely to take place is inferred from the past. We may also inquire whence a thing has proceeded, as, concerning a pestilence, whether it arose from the anger of the gods, from the bad state of the atmosphere, or from the corruption of the waters, or from noxious exhalations from the ground. Concerning a fact, too, what was the cause of it, such as why did fifty princes sail to Troy, whether from being bound by an oath, or from being led by example, or from a desire to oblige the sons of Atreus? These two kinds of questions are not very different. 

4. As to matters that concern the present time, if they are not to be discovered by proofs, from circumstances which must have preceded, but by the senses, they have nothing to do with conjecture, such as if it should be asked at Lacedaemon whether walls are in the course of erection at Athens. But the position of conjecture, which may seem foreign to this head, also has a place under it, as in inquiries about the identity of an individual. For example, in the action against the heirs of Urbinia, it was a question whether he who laid claim to the property as a son was Figulus or Sosipater. 5. The person of the man was under the eye of the court, so that it could not be inquired whether he was (as we inquire whether anything is beyond the ocean), nor what he was, nor of what nature, but who he was. This kind of question, however, depends for decision on the past, as whether this Clusinius Figulus was born of Urbinia. Such causes have been tried in my time, and some of them have come under my advocacy. 6.Conjecture with regard to intent has reference doubtless to all the parts of time, as with what intent was Ligarius in Africa? With what intent does Pyrrhus solicit peace? How will Caesar feel if Ptolemy kills Pompey?

Questions of conjecture and quality are made with regard to magnitude, species, and number, such as whether the sun is greater than the earth; whether the moon is spherical, plane, or conical; and whether there is only one world or several. 7. Nor are such questions confined to physical subjects, for we inquire whether the Trojan or Peloponnesian war was the greater, what sort of shield was that of Achilles, and whether there was but one Hercules.

But in judicial causes, which consist of accusation and defense, there is a first kind of conjectural question in which the inquiry is about an act and the author of it. This sometimes embraces the two questions in one, and both are alike denied. Sometimes, it considers them separately, as when it is first inquired whether or not the act was committed and, if so, by whom. 8. The consideration of the act itself, also, sometimes embraces a single question, as whether a man died, or sometimes two questions, as whether he died of poison or disease of the stomach. There is a second kind of conjectural question which regards the act only, when, if the act be admitted, there can be no doubt as to the author of it. There is also a third, which has reference only to the author when the act is acknowledged, but it is disputed by whom it was committed. 9. But that which I have specified in the third place is not always confined to one question, for the accused person may either simply deny that he himself committed the act or may assert that another committed it. Nor is there only one mode of throwing the charge upon another person, for sometimes there arises mutual accusation, which the Greeks call ἀντιχατηγονρία (anticatēgoria), and some of our writers accusatio concertativa. 

Sometimes the guilt is thrown upon some person not implicated in the cause. This person is sometimes known and sometimes unknown, and when it is thrown upon one that is known, it may be imputed to one out of the question, or to the deceased as having killed himself intentionally. 10. In these cases, there is a comparison of persons, motives, and other things similar to that which there is in ἀντιχατηγονρία. For example, in pleading for Varenus, Cicero throws a suspicion of guilt on the slaves of Ancharius, and in speaking for Scaurus, turns the imputation of Bostar's death on his mother. 11. There is also a contrary kind of comparison in which each party claims the credit of some act, and another in which not persons, but only facts are opposed—that is, when it is inquired not which of two persons did a thing, but which of two things was done. When the question is settled about the act and the agent, we may then inquire about the intention.

I now proceed to speak of particulars. When a charge is denied, both as to the act and the agent, it is denied in this way: "I have not committed adultery" or "I have not aspired to regal power." On trials for murder and poisoning, such a distinction as the following is very common: "The deed has not been committed, or if it has been, I am not guilty of it." 12. But when the defense says, "Prove that the man was murdered," the weight of the argument falls wholly on the accuser, for the defense can say nothing else against him except perhaps some suspicions which ought to be thrown out as vaguely as possible, because if we assert a point fairly, we must make it good or be in danger of being found guilty. For when the question lies between what is advanced by our opponent and what is advanced by ourselves, the statement of either party may be presumed to be true. So also, when the point on which we take our stand is overthrown, we may be hard pressed on all remaining points. 13. But when a cause turns on the ambiguous symptoms of disease of the stomach or poisoning, there is no third point, and therefore each side must hold to what it has alleged. Sometimes when arguments are drawn from circumstances, independently of any consideration of the person, the question is about the nature of the thing itself, whether it was poisoning or disease of the stomach. 14. For it is important to inquire whether the banquet was preceded by joy or gloom, toil or ease, wakefulness or sleep. The age of the deceased, too, may have some influence on the decision, and it is of consequence to know whether he died suddenly or was wasted with long illness. If only sudden death calls for consideration, there will be a still wider field of discussion for both parties. 15. Sometimes proof respecting an act is sought from the character of the accused party, as "it is credible that poisoning was the cause of death because it is credible that poisoning was committed by the accused," or "it is incredible that the accused was guilty of poisoning; therefore it is incredible that poisoning was the cause of death."

But when there is a question at the same time regarding the person accused and the deed of which he is accused, the natural order of things is for the accuser to prove first of all that the deed was committed and then that it was committed by the accused. If, however, he find more proofs bearing on the person, he may change that order. 16. The accused, on the other hand, will make it his first object to deny that the deed was committed, because if he succeeds in establishing that point, he has no need to say anything further. But if he is defeated on it, there may remain some other means for him to establish his innocence. Also, in cases where there is a dispute about fact only and where if the fact is proved, there can be no doubt as to the agent, arguments are in like manner drawn from persons and from circumstances, though with regard to the question of fact simply. 17. This is the case in the following subject of controversy (for I must adduce such examples as are most familiar to students): "A son, who had been disinherited by his father, devoted himself to the study of medicine. His father fell sick, and every other physician despaired of saving his life. The son was consulted and said he could cure him if the father would take a draught he would give him. The father, after drinking part of the draught, said he had been poisoned, and the son drank what was left. The father died, and the son was accused of parricide." 18. Here it is known who gave the draught, and if it was poison, there can be no doubt as to the author of the poisoning. But whether it was poison must be decided by arguments arising from the character of the accused.

There remains a third kind of conjectural cause, in which it is admitted that a deed has been done, but there is a question about the author of it. Of such cases, it is superfluous to give an example, since abundance of trials on such points occur, as when it is acknowledged that a man has been killed, or that sacrilege has been committed, but the person who is accused of the deed denies that he is guilty of it.

Hence arises ἀντιχατηγονρία or recrimination, it being admitted that a deed has been done, while each party charges the other with the commission of it. 19. As to this kind of cause, Celsus tells us that it cannot occur in the forum, a fact of which I suppose no one is ignorant. The judges are assembled to decide the case of one accused person, and if the accused and the accuser bring charges against each other, the judges must choose which of the two cases they will try. 20. Apollodorus also says that ἀντιχατηγονρία includes two causes, and according to the practice of the forum, there are doubtless two distinct cases. Yet this kind of conjectural cause may come under the cognizance of the senate or the emperor. But even on ordinary trials, it requires no difference in the pleadings, for the decision that is given affects both parties, though sentence is pronounced only on one. 21. In this kind of cause, the defense must always have the precedence because, first, protecting ourselves is more important than injuring our adversary; secondly, we shall have greater weight in accusing if our own innocence is first established; and, lastly, it is only by this order of things that the cause can become double, for he who says, "I did not kill," leaves it free for himself to add "you killed." But he who first says, "you killed," renders it superfluous to say afterwards, "I did not kill."

22. Such causes, moreover, depend on comparison, which is managed in more than one way, for we either set the whole of our cause against the whole cause of our adversary, or particular arguments on our side against particular arguments on his. Which of these two modes ought to be adopted in any case can only be decided by considering which is the more likely to be of service to it. In regard to the first head of accusation, Cicero, in his pleading for Varenus, compares argument with argument, for he has the advantage since a stranger is but rashly compared with a mother. It is best, therefore, that particular arguments should, if possible, be overthrown by particular arguments, but if we find a difficulty as to certain parts, we must fight with the whole force of our cause in a body. 23. But whether the parties accuse one another, whether the accused turns the guilt on the accuser without any formal accusation (as Roscius throws it on his accusers, though he does not bring them before the judges), or whether a deed be attributed to persons whom we assert to have perished by their own hand, the arguments of the two parties are matched in the same way as in causes which involve recrimination. 24. That species, however, of which I spoke last is often handled not only in the schools, but also in the forum, for in the case of Naevius of Arpinum, the question was merely whether his wife had been thrown down by him or had thrown herself down of her own accord. My pleading in that cause is the only one that I have hitherto published, and I acknowledge that I was induced to publish it by a youthful desire for fame. As for the other pleadings which are circulated under my name, they are so corrupted by the carelessness of the shorthand writers who took them down for profit that they contain very little genuine matter of mine.

25. There is also another kind of conjectural cause that involves two questions, differs from ἀντιχατηγονρία, and relates to rewards, as in the following case: "A tyrant, suspecting that poison had been given him by his physician, put him to the torture. As he persisted in denying that he had given poison, the tyrant sent for another physician, who said that poison had been given him, but that he would administer an antidote. He then gave the tyrant a draught, and immediately after drinking it, the tyrant died." The two physicians dispute about the reward for tyrannicide, and as in a case of ἀντιχατηγονρία, where each party endeavors to throw the blame on the opposite, so in this case, where each party makes a claim, persons, motives, means, opportunities, instruments, and evidence are brought into comparison. 26. Though there is no recrimination in it, another kind of case also is treated in the same manner as one of recrimination—that in which it is inquired, without accusing anyone, which of two things has taken place. For each side makes its own statement and supports it. For example, in the suit concerning the property of Urbinia, the claimant says that Clusinius Figulus, the son of Urbinia, fled after finding the army in which he was serving defeated. He was thrown into various adventures, and even kept prisoner by a king, before making his way at length into Italy to his native place, Margini, where he was recognized. Pollio, on the other hand, asserts that he was a slave to two masters at Pisaurum, that he practiced medicine, and that being set free, he joined himself to another person's company of slaves and was purchased after requesting permission to serve with them. 27. Does not the whole action consist of a comparison of two allegations and two distinct questions for conjecture? But the mode of proceeding, for those who either claim property or resist claims to it, is the same as that for persons prosecuting and defending in civil suits.

Grounds for conjecture are drawn in the first place from the past, in which are comprehended persons, motives, intentions. The order in which we have to consider evidence as to any act is whether the accused had the will to do it, had the power to do it, and whether he actually did it.

28. Therefore we must consider first the character of the accused. It is the business of the accuser to make whatever he imputes to the accused appear not only disgraceful, but as consistent as possible with the crime for which he is brought to trial. For instance, if he reproaches a man accused of murder with being incontinent or adulterous, such dishonorable imputations will indeed hurt him, but will be of less avail to support the charge than if he prove him to be daring, headstrong, cruel, or rash. 29. The advocate for the accused, on the other hand, must make it his object, if possible, to refute, justify, or extenuate such allegations, or if he find it impracticable to do so, the next thing is to separate them from the question before the court. Many imputations of that nature are not only irreconcilable with the charge, but tend to overthrow it, for example, if a man accused of theft is represented as prodigal or careless of his property, for disregard of money and covetousness do not seem likely to meet in the same character. 30. If such means of defense fail, he must have recourse to the remark that the question has no reference to the imputation; that he who has committed one offense has surely not been guilty of all kinds of offenses; or that the accusers had the audacity to make such false charges only because they hoped that the accused, injured and wounded by them, would be overwhelmed by the weight of slander.

31. Other allegations may be made by the accusers, against which common-place arguments rise in opposition. In such a case, the advocate of the accused may commence with arguments drawn from his character, sometimes generally, as, "It is incredible that a father should have been killed by his son, or that a general should have betrayed his country to the enemy." Such arguments may be easily answered, by saying that every sort of crime may be committed by the bad and is, indeed, daily detected among them, or that it is monstrous that charges should be denied on the ground of their atrocity. 32.Sometimes arguments from character are particular, a mode which may have various results. For example, dignity sometimes supports an accused person, and at other times, it is turned into a proof of his guilt, on the representation that the hope of impunity was conceived from it. In a like manner, poverty, humility, and wealth are set in different lights according to the ability of each party. 33. Good morals, however, and integrity in the past time of life, must always be of great influence in favor of an accused party. If no attack is made on his character, his advocate will dwell strongly on that circumstance, while the accuser will try to confine the attention of the court to the question before it, on which alone judgment is to be pronounced, and will observe that every offender must have committed a first offense and that the commencement of guilt is not to be celebrated by a feast of glorification. 34.Such will be the observations which the accuser will make in reply, but in the early part of his pleading, he will impress the mind of the judge in such a way as to be thought unwilling to throw out imputations rather than unable. Therefore, it is better for the accuser to abstain from casting any reflection on the past life of the accused than to attack him with light or frivolous charges, or those that are manifestly false, because the credit of his other statements would thus be diminished. He who throws out no imputations may be thought to have abstained from them as being superfluous, while he who throws out groundless imputations shows that his only chance of success lay in attacking the past life of the accused, a point on which he chose rather to be defeated than to be silent. 35. Other considerations, derived from the character of individuals, I have fully noticed where I have treated of the sources of arguments.

The next sort of proof is derived from motives, chiefly anger, hatred, fear, avarice, and hope, for all others fall under some variety of these. If any of them are attributable to the accused, it is the accuser's duty to make it appear that motives may stimulate a person to any act whatever, and to exaggerate the force of those motives on which he lays hold for the support of his arguments. 36. If none are attributable to the accused, the accuser may shape his speech to insinuate there may have been latent motives or may observe there is no purpose in considering the accused's motive, if it is apparent he commited the crime, or he may say the crime is even more detestable because there is no motive. The advocate of the accused, on the other hand, will insist, as often as possible, that it is incredible that any crime can have been committed without a motive. Cicero dwells on this consideration with great force in many of his speeches, especially in that for Varenus, who had everything else against him and was in consequence condemned. 37. But if a motive is alleged by the accuser for the crime, the advocate of the accused may say that the motive is false or frivolous or unknown to the accused. Motives may sometimes be imputed to the accused which unknown to him. For instance, it could not be known, he may say, whether the deceased intended to make his accused killer his heir or designed to prosecute him. If other grounds of defense fail, we may say that motives are not necessarily to be regarded, for what person can be found that does not fear, hate, and hope? Yet, most entertain those feelings without violating the moral duties. 38. Nor must the advocate omit to observe that all kinds of motives do not prevail with all kinds of persons, for though poverty may incite some persons to steal, it could have no influence with a Curius or a Fabricius.

39. It is often asked whether we should speak of the motive or the person first, and different courses have been adopted by different orators, with Cicero generally giving precendence to motives. But unless the nature of a cause gives a preponderance to either, to me it seems more natural to commence with the person, since it is a more general proposition, and a more justly division, for the accuser to say, for example, that either the charge is credible of no one or is credible of the accused. 40. Yet regard to convenience may change that order, as it changes many other things. Nor are motives for the willful commission of an act only to be sought, but motives that may have misled to the commission of it, as drunkenness or ignorance, for as these lessen the culpability when the quality of an act is considered, so they tend greatly to establish a question regarding fact. 41. However, I know not whether a person can ever be the subject of a charge (I mean in a real cause) without one or other party speaking of him. But it is often superfluous to inquire about motives, as in cases of adultery and theft, because the crimes themselves carry their motives on the face of them.

42. In the next place, it seems necessary to look to intentions, which opens a wide field for consideration: whether it be probable that the accused hoped that such a crime could be executed by him; that when he had committed it, it would not be known; or that, if it were known, it would be forgiven or visited with light or tardy punishment, or one from which he would feel a less portion of inconvenience than he would experience of gratification from the commission of the deed; or whether he thought it worth so much to undergo the penalty. 43. Afterwards, it may be considered whether he might have done the deed at another time or in another way, with greater facility or security. Such a method was adopted by Cicero in defense of Milo, when he specifies the number of occasions on which Clodius might have been killed by Milo with impunity. Besides, we may ask why the accused should have preferred to make an attack in that place, or at that time, or in that manner (arguments which are also most ably enforced in the same pleading). 44. Again, if he was led by no design, was he hurried away by impulse and without reason (for it is a common saying that crimes have no reasons) or was he led away by a habit of vice?

Having discussed the first point, whether he had the will, we next consider whether he had the power. Under this head are contemplated place and time, as with respect to a theft, whether it was committed in a solitary or frequented place; in the daytime, when there might have been many witnesses; or in the night, when the difficulty of proof is greater. 45. Indeed, we should be taken into consideration all obstacles and opportunities, which are numerous and well known, requiring no examples. This second head is of such a nature that if the crime could not have been committed, the trial comes to nothing. If it could, the question follows, "Did the accused commit it?" But these considerations respect also conjecture as to intention, for it is inferred from these whether he hoped to effect his purpose. In consequence, means ought also to be regarded, as in the suites of Clodius and Milo.

46. The question of whether the accused committed the crime commences with the second division of time: the present and that which is closely connected with it, to which belong noise, cries, groans, or anything similar, and subsequent time, to which belong concealment, terror, and such circumstances. To these are added all kinds of signs or indications, of which I have already treated, as well as words and acts, both such as preceded and such as followed. 47. These words and acts are either our own or those of others. But some words hurt us less than others. Our own words hurt us more and profit us less than those of others, while those of others profit us more and hurt us less than our own. As for acts, sometimes our own profit us more, and sometimes those of others, as when our adversary has done anything that appears in our favor. But our own words always hurt us more than those of others. 48.There is also this difference to be observed in words—they are either plain or equivocal, but whether they are our own or those of others, those which are equivocal must necessarily be less effective either to benefit or to injure. Our own, however, are often injurious to us, as in the well known case, "A son being asked where his father was replied, 'wherever he is, he is drinking,' and he was found dead in a well." 49.The words of another which are equivocal can never hurt us unless when their author is uncertain or dead, as in the cases, "A voice was heard in the night, 'Beware of tyrannical power,'" and, "A dying man being asked from whom he received the poison of which he was dying, replied, 'It is not expedient for you to know,'" for if there be any one that can be questioned as to the meaning, he will put an end to the ambiguity. 50. But while our own words and acts can be justified only by reference to the intention, those of others may be refuted in various ways.

In what I have said, I have spoken, I think, chiefly with reference to one kind of conjectural cause; but something of this is applicable to all kinds of causes. In questions respecting theft, deposits, and loans of money, arguments are derived both from possibilities, as whether there was any money that could have been deposited, and from persons, as whether it was credible that such a person deposited money with such another person, or whether it was credible that he lent money to such a person, or whether it is probable that the prosecutor is a slanderer, or that the defendant is an impostor or a thief. 51. But even in the case of a person accused of theft, as in cases of murder, there is an inquiry about the deed and the author of it. In regard to cases of loan and deposit, there are two but always separate questions: whether the money was given, and whether it was returned. Cases of adultery have this peculiarity, that two parties are generally imperiled in them and that something must be said of the past life of both. However, in some cases a question may arise as to whether both should be defended together. The decision of this point must depend on the nature of the case, for if the defense of one party will support the other, I should take them together. But if one is likely to be injurious to the other, I would separate them. 52. But lest anyone may think me inconsiderate in saying that adultery is generally, but not always a charge against two persons, I would add that a woman alone may be accused of adultery with an unknown person: "presents," it may be said, "have been found in her house, and money, of which the giver has not been discovered; and love letters, of which it is doubtful to whom they were written." 53. In regard to forged writing, the case is similar, for either several persons may be charged with the crime or one only. The writer of an instrument, however, will always find it necessary to guarantee the signature of the person who has signed it, but the person who has signed it cannot always guarantee the handwriting of him who is said to have written it, for he may be deceived. But he who is said to have engaged their services, and for whom the instrument is alleged to have been written, will have to support both the writer and all who signed the writing. The sources of proof are similar in cases of treason and of aspiring to sovereignty.

54. The school custom of considering everything in our favor that is not in the argument laid down for us may be prejudicial to young men proceeding to the forum. You accuse me of adultery: "Who is witness? Who testifies to the fact?" Of treason: "What reward have I received? Who was privy to the transaction?" Of administering poison: "Where did I buy it? From whom? When? For how much? Through whose hands did I convey it?" Or we plead in defense of one accused of aspiring to tyranny: "Where were his arms? What guards had he assembled?" 55. I do not deny that such questions may be asked or that we may urge them on behalf of the party whom we defen,; for I myself would call for such proofs in the forum if I should find my adversary not in a condition to give them. But in the forum, we miss the facility for asking such questions that there is in the schools, where scarcely a single cause is pleaded in which some argument of this kind, or perhaps several, are not advanced. 56. Similar is the ease with which some declaimers, in their perorations, assign parents, children, or nurses to whomsoever they please. Yet we may more reasonably allow a speaker to call for proofs not offered than to discuss them as if they were.

How we must examine as to intention was sufficiently signified when we distinguished the three points of inquiry: whether a person had the will, whether he had the power, and whether he did the deed. In the same manner as it is inquired whether a person had the will, so it is inquired with what intent he acted, that is to say whether he intended to do an evil act. 57. Also, the order in which circumstances are stated either adds to the credit of the statement or detracts from it, and so much the more if the circumstances are more or less consistent or inconsistent with each other. But these qualities are not discovered except by reference to the connection of a cause throughout. Yet we must always observe what particular agrees with or suits any other particular.

NEXT to conjecture regarding a fact comes the definition of it, for he who is unable to prove that he has done nothing will try, in the next place, to make it appear that he has not done that which is laid to his charge. Definition is accordingly managed, for the most part, by the same methods as conjecture, the kind of defense only being changed, as we may see in cases of theft, deposits, or adultery; for as we say, I have not been guilty of theft, I did not receive a deposit, I have not committed adultery, so we say, what I did is not theft, what I received was not a deposit, what I committed is not adultery. Sometimes we proceed from quality to definition as in actions regarding madness, bad treatment of a wife, and offences against the state, in which, if it cannot be said that what is laid to the charge of the accused was rightly done, it remains to say, that to act thus is not to be mad, to treat a wife ill, to injure the state.

Definition, then, is an explication of something in question, proper, clear, and concisely expressed. It consists chiefly, as has been said, in the notification of genus, species, differences, and peculiarities; as, to define a horse (for I shall adopt a well known example), the genus is animal, the species mortal, the difference irrational (for man is also a mortal animal,) and the peculiarity neighing. Definition is frequently used in pleading causes, for many reasons; for sometimes parties are agreed upon the term, but differ as to what is to be included under it; and sometimes the thing is clear, but there is a doubt as to the term to be applied to it. When there is an agreement about the name, and a doubt about the thing the decision sometimes depends upon conjecture; as when it is asked, what is God? For he who denies that God is a spirit, diffused through every part of the universe, does not say that the term divine is improperly applied to his nature, like Epicurus, who has given him a human form, and a place in the spaces between the worlds. Both use one term, but are in doubt which of the two natures is consistent with the reality. Sometimes it is quality that is to be considered, as, What is oratory? is it the power of persuading, or the art of speaking well? This kind of question is very common in civil causes; thus it is inquired, whether a man found with another man's wife in a brothel is an adulterer? because the question is not about the name, but the quality of the act, and whether the man has been guilty of any offense at all; for if he has committed any, offense, he can be nothing else but an adulterer. It is a definition of a quite different kind when the question is wholly about a term, the application of which depends on the letter of the law, and which would not be discussed in a court of justice, but for the words which give rise to the dispute. Thus it is inquired, whether he who kills himself is a murderer; whether he who forced a tyrant to kill himself is a tyrannicide; and whether the incantations of magicians are poisons; for about the thing, itself there is no controversy, as it is known to all men that it is not the same to kill one's self as to kill another, to kill a tyrant as to drive him to suicide, to recite incantations as to administer a draught of poison, but it is a question whether they do not, respectively, come under the same denomination.

Though I hardly dare to dissent from Cicero, who, following many authorities, says that definition is always concerned about a thing itself and something else, (as he that denies that a certain term is applicable to a certain thing, is obliged to show what term would be more applicable,) yet I consider that there are, as it were, three species of it. For sometimes it is convenient to put a question thus: Is that adultery which is committed in a brothel? When we deny that it is adultery, it is not necessary to show by what term it ought to be called, for we deny the whole charge. Sometimes the inquiry is made thus: Is this act theft or sacrilege? Not but that it is sufficient for the defense that it is not sacrilege; still it is necessary to show what else it is: and consequently both theft and sacrilege must be defined. Sometimes, again, it is a question with regard to things of different species, whether one can come under the same denomination as the other, when each has its own proper appellation as a philtre, and a dose of poison, But in all disputes of this kind the question is whether this also comes under the same term, because the term, about which the dispute is, is acknowledged to be applicable to something else. It is sacrilege to steal what is sacred from a temple; is it also sacrilege to steal from it private property? It is adultery to lie with another man's wife in her own house; is it also adultery to lie with her in a brothel? It is tyrannicide to kill a tyrant; is it also tyrannicide to drive a tyrant to kill himself? . Accordingly syllogism, of which I shall speak hereafter, is, as it were, a weaker kind of definition; because in the one, it is inquired whether the same term is applicable to the thing, in question as is applicable to something else; and, in the other, whether one thing is not to be reasoned about in the same manner as another. 1There is also so much difference in definitions, that it is doubtful, as some think, whether the same thing can be defined in more than one form of words: as, whether rhetoric can be defined not only as the art of speaking well, but also as that of conceiving and expressing thoughts well, and of speaking with the full force of language, and of saying what is to the purpose. Yet we must take care that different definitions, though not at variance in sense, be expressed in a different form of words. But this is a subject for discussion among philosophers, not in courts of justice. 1Sometimes words that are obscure, and but little known, require definition, as clarigatio, proletarius. Sometimes also words that are well known in common speech, as what is the exact meaning of penus, "provisions," and litus, "a shore."

This variety is the reason that some authors include definition in the state of conjecture, others in that of quality; others even rank it among legal questions. 1Some have not been at all pleased with that subtilty of definition which is adapted to the manner of logicians, thinking it rather fitted for cavilling about the niceties of words in the discussions of philosophers than likely to be of any service in the pleadings of orators. For though, they say, definition is of avail, in discussion, to hold in its fetters him who has to reply, and to force him to be silent, or to admit, even against his will, that which is to his prejudice, yet it is not of the same use in legal arguments; for in them we have to persuade the judge, who, though he may be fettered by our words, will yet, unless he is satisfied with our matter, mentally dissent from us altogether. 1What great necessity, indeed, has a pleader of such preciseness of definition? If I do not say Man is an animal mortal and rational, can I not, by setting forth his numerous qualities of body and mind, in words of a wider scope, distinguish him from the gods or from brutes? 1Is it not generally allowed, too, that one thing may be defined in more ways than one, (as Cicero shows, in saying, quid enim vulgo? universos, "for what are we to understand by publicly? All men,") and with a freedom and variety of manner, such as all orators have ordinarily adopted? Since, assuredly, the slavery of binding ourselves to certain words, (for slavery it indisputably is,) which has its origin in the practice of the philosophers, is very seldom to be seen in them; and Marcus Antonius, in the books of Cicero de Oratore, expressly cautions us against attempting such exactness; 1for it is even dangerous, since, if we err but in one word, we are likely to lose our cause entirely; and the best course is that middle one which Cicero adopts in his oration for Caecina, and in which things are set forth, but exactness of terms is not hazarded. For, says he, judges, that is not the only kind of violence which is offered to our persons and our lives, but there is a far more atrocious kind of violence, which, threatening us with the peril of death, often unsettles the mind, alarmed with terror, from its proper state and condition. 1Or we may be secure, I may add, by letting proof precede definition; as when Cicero, in his Philippics, first establishes that Servius Sulpicius was killed by Antony, and then, in conclusion, defines thus: for he certainly killed who was the cause of death. I would not deny, however, that such rules are to be observed in pleading only as far as they are serviceable for our cause; and that if a definition can be made, at once strong, and expressed in a concise form of words, it is not only an ornament to our speech, but has very great effect, provided that it be impregnable.

1The invariable order in definition is what a thing is, and whether it is this; and in general there is more difficulty in establishing the definition than in applying it to the matter in hand.

As to the first point, what a thing is, there are two objects to he regarded; for our own definition is to be established, and that of the opposite party is to be overthrown, 20. Hence in the schools, where we imagine contradiction offered to us, we have to lay down two definitions as exact as is possible for each party. But what we have to observe in the forum is, that our definition be not, possibly, superabundant, or nothing to the purpose, or ambiguous, or inconsistent, or equally favourable to both sides; faults that cannot happen except through the unskilfulness of the pleader. 2But, if we would define accurately, we shall be likely best to effect our object, if we first settle in our mind what we wish to establish; for our words will thus be exactly suited to our purpose. That this point may be the clearer, let us still adhere to our familiar example: A man who has stolen private property from a temple, is accused of sacrilege. 2The fact is not disputed; the question is, whether the term sacrilege, which is in the law, is applicable to the offense. It is accordingly disputed whether the act is sacrilege. The prosecutor adopts the term, because the money was stolen from a temple; the defendant denies that it is sacrilege, because he stole private property, but admits that it was theft. The advocate of the prosecutor, therefore, will define thus, It is sacrilege to steal anything from a sacred place; while the advocate of the defendant will define in this way, It is sacrilege to steal anything sacred. 2Each, too will try to overthrow the definition of the other; and a definition is overthrown in two ways, by being proved to be false or incomplete. It may indeed have a third fault, that of having no relation to the matter under consideration, but it will hardly be made faulty in this respect, except by fools. 2We make a false definition, if we say, A horse is a rational animal; for a horse is indeed an animal, but irrational. That, again, which is common to anything else, will not be peculiar to the thing defined. Thus, then, the accused will say that the definition of the accuser is false; while the accuser cannot say that that of the accused is false; for it is sacrilege to steal anything sacred; but he will say that it is incomplete, since he ought to have added, or from a sacred place. 2But for establishing and overthrowing definitions, one of the most effective modes is to have recourse to the consideration of peculiarities and differences, and sometimes also to etymology. All these particulars equity, as in other matters, will assist to support, and sometimes, also, conjecture. Etymology is but rarely introduced. We have one example of it in Cicero: For what is a tumult, but such a perturbation that greater fear (timor) arises (whence also the term tumult is derived)?. 2But about peculiarities and differences great subtility is displayed; as when it is inquired whether an addictus, whom the law condemns to serve until he pays his debts, is a slave. The one party will define thus: He is a slave who is legally in slavery; the other: He is a slave who is in slavery under the same legal conditions as a slave; or, as the ancients said, qui servitutem servit, "who serves as a slave." Yet this last definition, though it differs somewhat from the other, is feeble, unless it be supported by the aid of peculiarities and differences; for the opponent will say that the addictus does serve as a slave, or under the same legal condition as a slave. 2Let us look, then, to the peculiarities and differences on which I touched lightly, in passing, in the fifth book: A slave, when he is set free, becomes a freedman; an addictus, when he recovers his liberty, is ingenuus; a slave cannot obtain his liberty without the consent of his master; a slave has no benefit of law; an addictus has what is peculiar to a freeman, is that which no one has who is not free, as a pronomen, nomen, cognomen, and tribe; and these an addictus has.

2When it is decided what a thing is, the question, whether it is this, is almost settled. However, we have to take care that our definition be favourable to our own cause. But what is most influential in a definition is the question of quality, as whether love be madness? To this question belong such proofs as Cicero says are proper to definition; proofs from antecedents, consequents, adjuncts, contraries, causes, effects, similitudes; of the nature of which arguments I have already spoken. 2Cicero, in his speech for Caecina, gives a concise example of arguments from beginnings, causes, effects, antecedents, consequents: Why then did they flee? For fear. What did they fear? Violence, doubtless. Can you then deny the beginning, when you have admitted the end? He has also recourse to similitude: Shall not that which is called violence in war, be called by the same name in peace? 30. But arguments are also drawn from contraries; for instance, if it be inquired whether a philtre be poison or not, because poison is not a philtre.

That the other kind of definition may be better known to my young men, (for I shall always think them my young men,) I shall here give an example of a fictitious case. 3Some youths, who were in the habit of associating together, agreed to dine on the sea-shore. One of them being absent from the dinner, the others erected a sort of tomb to him, and inscribed his name upon it. His father returning from a voyage across the sea, landed at that part of the coast, and, on reading his son's name, hanged himself. 3These youths are said to have been the cause of the father's death. The definition of the accuser will be, He that commits any act that leads to the death of another, is the cause of the other's death. That of the accused will be, He who knowingly commits any act by which the death of another must necessarily be caused, etc. But setting aside definition, it is enough for the accuser to say, You were the cause of the man's death; for it was through your act that he died, since, if you had not acted as you did, he would now be alive. 3To this the advocate of the accused will reply, He by whose act the death of a person has been caused, is not necessarily to be condemned for it; else what would become of accusers, witnesses, and judges, in cases of life and death? Nor is there always guilt in the person from whom the cause proceeded; for instance, if a person recommends a voyage to another, or invites a friend from over the sea, and he perishes by shipwreck, or if he invites a person to supper, and he dies of a surfeit committed at it, would he be guilty of the death of any of those persons? 3Nor was the act of the young men the sole cause of death, but also the credulity of the old man, and his weakness in enduring affliction; for if he had had more fortitude or wisdom, he would be still living. Nor did the young men act with any bad intentions; and he might have judged, either from the place of the supposed tomb, or from the marks of haste in its construction, that it was no real sepulchre. How then ought they to be punished, who, though they may seem to be homicides in every other respect, are evidently not so in intention?

3Sometimes there is a settled definition, in which both parties agree. Thus Cicero says, Majesty resides in the government and in the whole dignity of the Roman people. But it may sometimes be a question whether this majesty has been injured, as was the case in the cause of Cornelius. 3But even if such a cause be thought similar to one dependent on definition, yet, as there is no dispute in it about definition, the point for decision must be one of quality, and must be included in that state which we happen to have had occasion to mention. It was however the subject next in order.

AS to quality, it is sometimes considered in the most comprehensive sense, and in reference to more points than one; for it is sometimes a question what is the nature of a thing, and what is its form, as whether the soul is immortal, and whether God is of human shape; sometimes the inquiry is about magnitude and number, as what is the size of the sun? Are there more worlds than one? All such questions are indeed to be solved by conjecture, but they involve the question of quality. They are also often treated in deliberative questions, as, if Caesar should deliberate whether he should make war on Britain, he would have to inquire what is the nature of the ocean there; whether Britain is an island (for the point was then unknown); what extent of land there is in it; and with what number of forces it would be proper to attack it. Under the head of quality, too, falls the consideration of what ought to be done or not done; to be sought or to be avoided; matters which enter most into deliberative questions, but also present themselves frequently in judicial pleadings, the only difference being that in one case the question regards the future, in the other the past. All that relates, too, to the demonstrative kind of oratory falls under the consideration of quality; it is admitted that something has been done; it is to be shown what sort of a thing has been done. All judicial causes relate either to reward, or to punishment, or to the measure of one or the other. The first kind of cause is accordingly either simple or comparative, in the former we inquire what is just; in the latter, what is more just; or what is most just.

When the point for decision has respect to punishment, there is offered on the part of him who is accused, either justification of the charge, or extenuation of it, or excuse, or, as some think, deprecation.

Of these the most efficient is justification, by which we make it appear that the act, which is laid to the charge of the accused, was unobjectionable. A son is disinherited because he has served in the army, or been a candidate for office, or taken a wife, without the consent of his father; the father justifies what he has done. The followers of Hermagoras call this kind of defense κατ᾽ ἀντίληψιν (kat' antilēpsin) , "contrasumption," using that term with reference to the mind of the pleader. I find no literal translation of the word in Latin; but it is called defensio absoluta, "absolute defense." The sole question, however, is respecting the act, whether it is just or not. Whatever is just, is founded either on nature or on human institutions. On nature is based whatever is consonant to dignity of anything, in which designation are comprehended the virtues piety, integrity, continence, etc. Some also add to render like for like; but that is not to be lightly admitted; for though violence opposed to violence, or retaliation, may offer no injustice towards him who has been the aggressor, yet it does not follow that. because the act of each party is similar, tile first act was just. Where there is strict justice on both sides, there is the same law, and the same condition; and perhaps no acts can be regarded as equal that are in any respect dissimilar. Human institutions consist of laws customs, decisions, arguments.

There is another mode of defense, in which we justify an act in itself indefensible by aids drawn from without; the Greeks call this defense κατ᾽ ἀντίθεσιν (antithesin), "by opposition." The Latins also do not render this literally, for among them it is called causa assumptiva, "defense by assumption." In this kind of defense the strongest plea is when we justify the act by the motive of it; such is the plea of Orestes, Horatius, and Milo. It is also called ἀντέγκλημα (antenklēma), "recrimination," because all our defense depends on accusing the person who is indicated by the other party: He was killed, but he was a robber; he was emasculated, but he was a ravisher. There is also another kind of defense derived from the motives of an act, which differs from that just mentioned, and in which a deed is neither justified on its own ground, as in the absolute defense, nor by opposing another deed to it, but on the representation of its having been of some service to our country, or to some body of men, or even to our adversary, or sometimes to ourselves, provided it be such a deed as we might lawfully do for our own benefit; an argument which can be of no profit with regard to an accuser who is a stranger to us, and who; prosecutes us according to the letter of the law, but which may be of use in reference to family disputes. For a father may without presumption say to his children, on a trial for renouncing them, or a husband to his wife, if he is accused of treating her ill, or a son to his father, whom he seeks to prove insane, that what he has done was for his own interest; but, in such cases, the plea of escaping loss is much better than that of aiming at advantage. 1Cases similar to those of the schools have to be conducted in trials about real occurrences; for the case of the renounced children in the schools is in the forum a case of children actually disinherited by their parents, and seeking to recover their property before the centumviri; the case of ill-treatment in the schools is in the forum a case of restoring a wife's dowry, in which the question is, through whose fault the divorce was caused; and that which in the schools is a case of insanity is in the forum a suit for appointing a guardian. 1Under the head of advantage comes also the plea that something worse would have happened if the defendant had not acted as he did; for in a comparison of evils the less is to be regarded as a good; for example, if Mancinus should justify the treaty with Numantia on the ground that, if it had not been made, the whole Roman army would have been destroyed. This species of defense is called in Greek ἀντίστασις (antistatis), "balancing." Some rhetoricians call it comparison.

1Such are the modes of proceeding in defense of an act; but if a defense can neither be sustained on the motive of the act itself, nor by extrinsic aid, our next course is to transfer the charge, if we find it possible, on another party. Hence translation, or "exception," has been regarded as forming one of those states which have been previously mentioned. Sometimes, then, the blame is thrown on a person, as if Gracchus, being accused of concluding the Numantine treaty, (through fear of which accusation he seems to have passed his popular laws in his tribuneship,) should say that he was sent to conclude it by his general. 1Sometimes it is cast on some circumstance, as if a person who had been directed to do something in the will of another, and had not done it, should say that it was rendered impossible by the laws. This the Greeks call μετάστασις (metastasis), "transference."

Should these modes of defense fail us, there remains excuse, founded either on ignorance or on necessity. On ignorance: as if a person should brand another as a fugitive slave, and, after he is decided by law to be a freeman, should excuse himself by saying that he did not know that he was free. On necessity: as when a soldier does not present himself at the end of his furlough, and alleges that he was hindered by floods or by sickness. 1Chance, also, is sometimes represented as the cause of a fault. Sometimes, too, we state that we have certainly erred, but that we acted with a good intention. Of both these kinds of excuses examples are so numerous and obvious that to offer any here is unnecessary.

If, again, none of those means which have been mentioned can avail us, we must see whether the charge can be extenuated. This is what is by some said to be the state of quantity. 1But quantity, when it relates either to penalty or reward, is decided by the quality of the deed, and accordingly appears to me to fall under the state of quality, as well as quantity used with reference to number. The Greeks have the terms πηλικότης (pēlikotēs), "magnitude," and ποσότης (posotēs), "multitude;" we include both under the same term.

1The last method of all is deprecation; a mode of address which most rhetoricians do not allow to be admissible into judicial pleadings; and Cicero himself, in his speech for Quintus Ligarius, seems to declare himself of the same opinion, when he says, I have pleaded many causes, Caesar, and even in conjunction with yourself, while regard to your public duties retained you in the forem, but I certainly never stooped so far as to say. "Forgive him, judges, he has erred, he has offended, he did not think of what he was doing; if he ever do so again," etc. 1But in the senate, before the people or the emperor, and wherever there is power to relax the law, deprecation finds its place. It sometimes derives its greatest efficacy from the character of the accused himself, if it appear, from his previous life, that there are these three kinds of merit in him: that he has lived innocently, that he has been serviceable to others, and that he affords expectation that he will conduct himself blamelessly for the future, and make himself of some use to the world; and if, in addition, he seems to have already suffered sufficient, either from other inconveniences, from his present imminent peril, or from penitential feelings. Sometimes, too, external circumstances give weight to deprecation, as nobility, dignity and the support of relatives and friends. 1Most dependence however is to be placed on the judge, if we can make it appear that, should he spare the accused, commendation for clemency, rather than blame for weakness, will attend him. But even in common causes, deprecation is often introduced, though not through the whole course of a cause, yet in a great portion of it; for there is frequently such a distinction as this made: Even if he had been guilty of the charge, he ought to be pardoned; a method which has often had great effect in doubtful questions; and all perorations contain some portion of entreaty. 20. Sometimes, too, the accused rests the whole of his cause on this ground; for instance, if a father has disinherited his son, and testified by an express declaration that he did so because he had formed a connection with a courtezan; for the whole question, in this case, is whether the father ought not to have pardoned such a fault, and whether the centumviri ought not to be indulgent to it. But even under strict forms of law, and in penal prosecutions, we make the distinction in pleading whether the penalty has been incurred, and whether it ought to be inflicted. However, what the rhetoricians thought, is true, that a criminal cannot be rescued from the law solely by this mode of defense.

2With respect to rewards, two questions are to be considered; whether a party claiming a reward is deserving of any; and whether he is deserving of so great a reward as he claims. If there be two claimants, which of them is the more worthy; if several, which is the most worthy. 2The decisions of such questions depend on the species of merit in the claimants. We have accordingly to regard not only the act of any claimant, whether as represented to the judges, or as compared with the acts of others, but also his character; for it makes a great difference whether the person who has killed a tyrant is a young or an old man; whether a man or a woman; whether a stranger or a relative; and we must consider the place, too, on several accounts; whether it were in a state accustomed to tyranny, or one that had been always free; in the citadel, or at his own house; as also the manner, whether by sword or by poison; and at what time, whether during war or in peace; when he was about to resign his power, or when he was going to attempt some new wickedness. Among the recommendations of such an act, also, are to be reckoned the loss of popularity, the risk incurred, and the difficulty surmounted. 2In regard to liberality, likewise, it is important to consider from what sort of character it has proceeded; for it is more pleasing in a poor than a rich man; in one who confers, than in one who requites, an obligation; in a person who has children than in one who is childless. We ought to inquire, too, what degree of benefaction he has bestowed, at what time, and with what object, that is, whether with any expectations of advantage to himself. Similar points are to be considered in a similar manner. The question of quality, accordingly, calls for the greatest resources of the orator; for there is a vast field for ability, whichever side the speaker takes, and the feelings have nowhere greater influence. 2Conjecture also frequently admits proofs adduced from extrinsic circumstances; and employs arguments derived from the nature of the subject; but to show the quality of an act is the business of eloquence; and it is here that she reigns, predominates, and triumphs.

Under this head Virginius puts cases of disinheritance, insanity, ill-treatment of a wife, and those of female orphans suing for marriage with relatives. For the most part, indeed, such cases actually come under the consideration of qualities, and some writers have been found to call them questions of moral obligation. 2But the laws respecting these matters sometimes admit also other states;for conjecture enters occasionally into many such questions, as when the accused parties; for instance, maintain that they have not done what is laid to their charge, or that they did it with a good intention. Examples of such cases are abundant; and those of insanity and ill-treatment depend on definition. For laws often give rise to considerations of equity, when it has to be shown for what reasons equity would not be observed by a strict adherence to the law. 2What is not justifiable as a legal act, may be defended on the ground of equity. We have to consider, too, in how many and what cases it is unlawful for a father to disinherit his son; under what charges a suit for ill-treatment is inadmissible; and in what circumstances a son is not allowed to accuse his father of insanity.

2Of disinheriting there are two forms the one for a crime completed, as when a son is disinherited for having committed rape or adultery; the other for a crime as it were incomplete, and still dependent on a condition, as when a son is disinherited because he continues disobedient to his father. The one is attended with rigorous proceedings on the part of the father; (for what is done is irrevocable;) the other is in some degree mild, and of an admonitory nature; for the father shows that he is more inclined to correct his son than to renounce him; but in either case the pleading on the part of the son ought to be in a submissive tone, and adapted to make due satisfaction to the father. 2I know that those pleaders, who are ready to make attacks on fathers under cover of a figure of speech, will not allow the justice of this remark; attacks which I would not say should never be made, (for cases may occur that demand them,) but they should certainly be avoided when it is possible to proceed in any other manner. But of figures I shall treat in another book.

2The suits of wives on account of ill-treatment are similar to those of sons in regard to disinheritance; for they require the same moderation in stating charges. As to actions on account of insanity, they are brought either on the ground of something that has taken place, or something that may or may not hereafter take place. 30. In regard to what has taken place, the pleader for the son has an open field for attack, but he should make his attack in such a way as exposes only the conduct of the father, while he should manifest pity for the father himself, as being disordered in mind from weakness of body. But in regard to that which has not taken place, and which admits of a change of purpose, he should use much solicitation and persuasion, and at last express his regret that infirmity, not immorality, obscures his reason; and the more he praises his previous goodness of character, the more easily will he prove that it has been changed by disease. 3The accused party himself, as often as the case allows, should observe calmness in making his defense; for anger and excitement are indications of insanity. What is common to all such causes, is, that the accused parties do not always attempt a justification of their conduct, but frequently have recourse to apology and entreaties for pardon. For in family disputes it is often sufficient to secure acquittal, if it can be shown that a person has offended but once, or through mistake, or less gravely than is laid to his charge.

3But many other kinds of suits come under the consideration of quality; as those for assault; for though the accused sometimes denies that he committed any assault, yet the decision generally depends on the nature of the act and the apparent intent. 3Another kind of questions are those about appointing an accuser, which are called divinations; as to which Cicero, who accused Verres at the solicitation of the allies, adopts the following division: that we must consider by whom those, for whom redress is sought, would most desire the cause to be conducted, and by whom the party, who is accused, would least wish it to be conducted. 3Such questions as the following, however, are most frequent: which of two pleaders has the stronger reasons for desiring to be the accuser; which of the two will bring the greater energy or ability to support the impeachment; which will carry it forward with greater integrity. 3To these are to be added also questions respecting guardianship, in which it is usual to inquire whether regard ought to be had to anything else besides accounts; whether honesty only is required to be observed, and not also care as to speculations and consequences. Similar to these are cases of mismanagement of agency, or, in the forum, cases of misconduct of business; for an action may be brought for the mismanagement of anything intrusted to another.

3Besides these, there are imagined in the schools cases of crimes not mentioned in the laws; cases in which it is either inquired whether the act in question is really not mentioned in the laws, or whether it be really a crime. Both these inquiries rarely occur in the same case. Among the Greeks there were often prosecutions, and not in imaginary cases, for misconduct on embassies; where it was a common question, on the ground of equity, whether it is at all allowable for an ambassador to act otherwise that he has been instructed; and for how long a period the accused was an ambassador; since some ambassadors terminate their office with the delivery of their message; as in the case of Heius, who, after his message was delivered, gave his testimony against Verres. But much depends on the quality of the act with which the ambassador is charged. 3Another sort of accusation is that of having acted contrary to the interests of the state. From such accusations arise a thousand legal cavillings: as, what it is to act contrary to the interests of the state; whether the accused has injured the state; or merely neglected to serve it; and whether it was injured by him or only on his account. But in these cases, again, much depends on the nature of the supposed act. Another charge is that of ingratitude; and in cases of that kind it is inquired whether the party against whom the charge is brought really received any kindness; an inquiry which is rarely to be answered in the negative; for he who denies the receipt of a kindness which he has received, fixes the charge of ingratitude on himself. 3Additional inquiries are, what was the extent of the kindness that he received; whether he made any return at all; whether he who has made no return ought necessarily to be convicted of ingratitude; whether he could have made any return; whether he ought to have made that return which was demanded of him; and what is his general disposition.

Such as follow are of a more simple kind, as that of unjust divorce; cases of which, as regards the law, have this peculiarity, that the defense is on the side of the accuser, and the accusation on that of the defendant. 3That, too, in which a person makes a statement to the senate of the reasons that prompt him to kill himself; where the only point of law is, whether he who desires to die, that he may withdraw himself from legal proceedings against him, ought not to be prevented from killing himself; all other considerations depend on quality. Cases are also imagined regarding wills, in which the question has reference to quality alone, as in the case which I have detailed above, where a philosopher, a physician, and an orator, contend for the fourth part of their father's property, which he had bequeathed to the most worthy of his children. It is a similar case when suitors, equal in rank, claim marriage with a female orphan relative, and when the only question is about the most deserving among the competitors. 40. But it is not my intention to go through all such sorts of cases; (for more might still be imagined;) nor are the questions that arise from them common to all alike, but are varied by circumstances. I only wonder that Flavus, whose authority is deservedly great with me, restricted the subject of quality, when he was composing a work merely for schools, within such narrow limits.

4Quantity also, whether with respect to measure or number, falls generally, as I said, if not always, under the head of quality; but measure is sometimes determined by the equitable estimation of an action, as when it is inquired, how great an offense has been committed, or how great an obligation received, and sometimes by strict legality, as when it is disputed, under what law, a person is to be punished or rewarded. 4Thus, if he who has insulted a youth ought to pay ten thousand sesterces (which is the penalty appointed for such an offense.) ought he, if the youth whom he has dishonored hangs himself, to be punished capitally, as being the cause of his death? In such a case, those are deceived who plead as if there were a question between two laws; for, in regard to the ten thousand sesterces there is no controversy, since they are not claimed. 4The point to be decided is, whether the accused was the cause of the young man's death. The same sort of question, regarding measure also, resolves itself, at times, into a question of fact, as when it is disputed, whether a person, who has killed another, should be condemned to perpetual banishment, or to banishment for five years; the point for decision is, whether he committed the murder intentionally or not. 4Such a question as the following, too, which arises from number, depends for decision on law: whether thirty rewards be due to Thrasybulus for removing thirty tyrants: and when two thieves have carried off a sum of money, whether each of them ought to restore fourfold or only double. But in such cases the act is taken into estimation, and yet the question of law: depends on quality.

AN accused person who can neither deny that he has committed an act, nor prove that the act which he has committed is of a nature different from that which is attributed to it, nor justify the act, must necessarily take his stand on some point of law that is in his favor; whence generally arises a question about the legality of the process against him, a question which does not, as some have thought, always present itself in the same manner. For it sometimes precedes the trial, as in the case of the nice examinations of the praetor, when there is a doubt about the right of a person to be an accuser, and sometimes it occurs in the progress of the trial itself. The nature of such a question is twofold, as it is either intention or prescription that gives rise to it. There were some who made a state of prescription, as if prescription were not concerned in all questions in which other laws are concerned. When a cause depends on prescription, it is not necessary that there should be any inquiry about the fact itself. A son, who has been disinherited by his father, raises the question of prescription against him, as being infamous; and the dispute is then merely on the point whether the father has the right to disinherit. As often as we can, however, we must take care that the judge may conceive a favourable opinion of the main question, for he will thus be more inclined to listen to our arguments on the point of law; as in cases respecting sponsions, which arise from interdicts of the praetor, though the question may not be about right to possession, but merely about possession itself, yet it will be proper to show not only that we were in possession, but that that of which we were in possession was our own. But the question occurs still more frequently with regard to intention. Let him who has saved his country by his valour choose whatever he pleases as a recompence. I deny that whatever he chooses ought to be given to him; I have no formal prescription; but I try to set the intention of the lawgiver in the manner of prescription, against the written letter. In either case the state is the same.

Moreover every law either gives, or takes away, or punishes, or commands, or forbids, or permits. It gives rise to dispute either on its own account, or on account of another law; and to inquiries either with regard to its wording, or to its intention. As to its wording, it is either clear, obscure, or equivocal. What I say of laws, I wish to be understood of wills, agreements, contracts, and every sort of written instruments; and even of verbal bargains. And as I have made four positions or questions on this head, I will touch upon each of them.

THE question of most frequent occurrence among lawyers is concerning the written letter of a law, and the intention of it; and it is about such questions that a great part of legal discussion is employed. It is, therefore, not at all wonderful that they prevail in the schools, where cases involving them are purposely invented. One species of this kind of question, is that in which there is a dispute about the letter of a law as well as the intention of it. This occurs where there is any obscurity in a law, of which each party supports his own interpretation, and tries to overthrow that of his adversary; as in this case: Let a thief pay fourfold what he has stolen: Two thieves stole in company ten thousand sesterces; forty thousand are demanded from each; they represent that they ought to pay only twenty thousand each: here the prosecutor will say that what he demands is fourfold; and the thieves will say that what they offer is fourfold; and the intention of the law is alleged by each side in its own favor. Or a dispute of this kind may occur when the wording of the law is clear in one sense, and doubtful in another; as, Let not the son of a harlot be allowed to make a speech to the people; A woman who had had a son by her husband, began to play the harlot: Her son prohibited from addressing the people. Here the letter of the law evidently refers to the son of a woman who was a harlot before he was born, and it is doubtful whether the case of the son in question does not come under the law, because he is the son of the woman named, and she is a harlot. It is a common question, too, how the following law, Let there be no second pleading about the same matter, is to be understood; that is, whether the term second pleading refers to the pleader, or to the suit. Such are the questions that arise from the obscurity of laws.

But there are others that arise, and this is the second class, where the words of the law are clear; and those who have particularly attended to this point, have called it, the state of what is expressed and what is intended. In this case, the one party makes a stand on the letter, and the other on the meaning. But the literal interpretation may be combatted in three ways. One is, when it is shown from the law itself that it cannot be observed invariably, as is the case with regard to the law, Let children maintain their parents, or be put in prison; for an infant will surely not be put in prison. From this exception there will be a possibility of proceeding to others, and of making a distinct inquiry whether every one who does not maintain his parents is to be put in prison, and whether the particular person in question. For this reason some masters in the schools propose a sort of cases in which no argument can be drawn from the law itself, and in which the only question is concerning the matter that is the subject of controversy. For example, Let a foreigner, if he mounts the wall, be punished with death: The enemy having scaled the walls, a foreigner repulsed them: It is demanded that he be put to death. Here there will not be distinct questions whether every stranger, or whether this stranger, should be put to death, because no stronger objection can be brought against the literal interpretation of the law than the act which is the subject of dispute. It is sufficient merely to ask whether a foreigner may not mount the walls even for the purpose of saving the city. The defense of the foreigner, therefore, must rest on equity and the intention of the law. It may happen, however, that we may be able to adduce examples from other laws, by which it may be shown that we cannot always adhere to the letter; a method which Cicero has adopted in his pleading for Caecina. There is a third mode, when we find something in the very words of a law to prove that the legislator intended something different from what is expressed, as in this case: Let him who is caught with steel in his hand at night, be sent to prison: A magistrate sent to prison a man who was found with a steel ring. Here as the word in the law is "caught," it appears sufficiently clear that nothing is meant in it but steel intended for mischief.

But though he who rests on the meaning of the law, will endeavor, as often as he can, to explain away the letter of it; yet he, who adheres to the letter, will try at the same time to gain support from the intention of it. In wills it sometimes happens that the intention of the testator on a point is manifest, even though there be nothing written upon it, as in the case of Curius, when the well-known contest between Crassus and Scaevola occurred. A second heir was appointed, if a posthumous son should die before be was past the years of tutelage: No posthumous son was born. The near relatives laid claim to the property. Who could doubt but that it was the will of the testator that the same person should be heir if a son was not born who was to be heir if a son died? But he had written nothing on the point. . A case exactly the reverse of this lately occcurred, when something was written in a will which it was evident that the testator had not intended. A person who had bequeathed five thousand sesterces, having, in making a correction, erased the word "sesterces," inserted "pounds weight of silver," leaving the words "five thousand" standing. Yet it was apparent that he meant to leave five pounds weight of silver, for such a sum of silver as five thousand pounds weight for a legacy was unheard of and incredible. 1Under this head fall the general questions, whether we ought to adhere to letter or intent and what was the intention of the writer under consideration. The methods of treating them are to be sought from quality or conjecture, of which I think that enough has been said.

THE next head to be considered is that of contradictory laws, because it is agreed among all writers on rhetoric that in antinomia, there are two states regarding letter and intent; and not without reason; because, when one law is opposed to another, there arise, on both sides, objections against the letter, and questions regarding the intention; and it becomes a matter of dispute, with respect to each law, whether we ought to be guided by that law. But it is obvious to everybody that one law is not opposed to another in strict equity; for, if there were two kinds of equity, the one must be abrogated by the other; but that the laws clash with each other only casually and accidentally.

The laws that interfere with one another may be of a like nature, as, if the option of a tyrannicide, and that of a man who has saved his country, occur at the same time, liberty being granted to each of choosing what he pleases, there would hence arise a comparison of their respective services, of the conjunctures in which they acted, and of the nature of the recompences on which they fix their thoughts. Or the same law may be opposed to itself; as in the case of two deliverers of their country, two tyrannicides, two women who have been violated; in regard to whom there can be no other question but that of time, whose claim had the priority, or of quality, whose claim is the more just. Dissimilar or similar laws, also, are sometimes in conflict. Dissimilar laws are such as may be attacked by arguments of a different kind even though no law be opposed to them; as in this case, Let not the commandant quit the citadel; Let the man who has saved his country choose what he pleases. Suppose that the commandant and the deliverer of his country are the same person; then, with respect to him in his character of deliverer, though no law stand in the way, it may be inquired whether he ought to receive whatever he chooses; and, in regard to him in his character of commandant, many arguments may be urged by which the letter of the law is overthrown; for instance, if there be a fire in the citadel, or if it be necessary to sally forth against the enemy. Similar laws are those to which no opposition can be made but that of another similar law. Suppose that one law says, Let the statue of a tyrannicide be placed in the gymnasium; that another law says, Let not the statue of a woman be placed in the gymnasium; and that a woman kills a tyrant; it is plain that neither under any other circumstances can the statue of a woman be placed there, nor the statue of a tyrannicide be prevented from being placed there. Two laws are of unlike nature, when many arguments may be used against the one, and nothing can be said against the other but what is the subject of the controversy; as in the case where the deliverer of his country demands impunity for a deserter; for against the law regarding the deliverer of his country many arguments may be brought, as I have just remarked but the law concerning deserters can be set aside only by the option allowed to the deliverer of his country.

In addition, the point of right involved in conflicting laws, is either admitted by both parties, or doubtful. If it is admitted, there commonly follow such questions as these: Which of the two laws is the more binding; whether it relates to gods or men; to the state, or to private individuals; to reward or to punishment; to great or small matters; whether it permits, forbids, or commands. It is a common subject of inquiry, too, which of the two laws is the more ancient; but the most important consideration is, which of the two laws will suffer less; as in the case of the deserter and the deliverer of his country; for if the deserter be not put to death, the whole law regarding deserters is set aside; but if he is put to death, another choice may be allowed to the deliverer of his country. It is, however, of great consequence which course is the better and more equitable; a point on which no direction can be given but when the case is proposed for consideration. If the point of right be doubtful, then arises a question on one side, or on both sides reciprocally, respecting it; as in such a case as this: Let a father have the power of seizing the body of his son, and a patron that of seizing his freedman: Let freedmen belong to the heir: A certain person made the son of his freedman his heir, after his death the right of seizure is claimed both by the son of the freedman and the freedman himself, each over the other; and the son, now become patron, denies that his father was possessed of the rights of a father, because he was subject to a patron.

Two provisions in a law may interfere with one another, as well as two laws. Thus, Let an illegitimate son, born before a legitimate one, be to his father as legitimate; if born after an illegitimate, only as a citizen.

What I say of laws, is also to be said of decrees of the senate, If they contradict each other, or are at variance with the laws, there is still no other name for the state of the question.

THE state called syllogism has some resemblance to that of letter and intention, inasmuch as one party, under it, always takes its stand on the letter; but there is this difference, that in the state of letter and intention, arguments are brought against the letter, in that of syllogism the meaning is carried beyond the letter; in the former, he who adheres to the letter, makes it his object that at least what is written may be carried into effect; in the latter, that nothing may be done besides what is written. Syllogism has also some affinity to definition; for if syllogism be weak, it often has recourse to definition. For suppose that there be this law: Let a woman who administers poison be put to death. And this case: A woman several times gave a philtre to her husband who had neglected her; afterwards she procured a divorce from him; being solicited by her relatives to return to him, she did not return; the husband hanged himself; the woman is accused of poisoning. The strongest argument of the accuser will be to say that a philtre is poison; this will be a definition; but if it fail to produce sufficient effect, the syllogism will be attempted, (to which he may proceed, giving up, as it were, the definition,) to decide whether she does not deserve to be punished as much as if she had actually poisoned her husband.

The state of syllogism, therefore, deduces from that which is written that which is uncertain; and, as this is collected by reasoning, it is called the ratiocinatory state. The following are the points which it mostly embraces: Whether what is lawful to be done once, is lawful to be done more than once: A woman found guilty of incest, and precipitated from the Tarpeian rock, is found alive; she is required to undergo the punishment a second time. Whether what the law grants with regard to one person or thing, it grants with regard to several: A man who has killed two tyrants at once, claims two rewards. Whether what was lawful before a certain time, was also lawful after it: A woman is forcibly violated; the ravisher flees; the woman is married, and, on his return, demands her option. Whether what is forbidden with regard to the whole, is forbidden with regard to part: It is not lawful to receive a plough in pledge; a man received a ploughshare. Whether what is forbidden with regard to part, is forbidden with regard to the whole: It is not lawful to export wool from Tarentum; a person exported sheep. In these cases of syllogism the one party rests on the letter; the other alleges that no provision is made in the law against the act in question. "I demand," says the accuser, "that the woman guilty of incest be thrown headlong from the rock; for such is the law." On the same ground the woman who has been forcibly violated claims her option; and "in exporting sheep," it is said, "wool is exported;" and it is the same with other cases. But it may be replied, "It is not written in the law that a woman condemned should be twice thrown headlong; that a woman forcibly violated should have her option whenever she pleases; that a tyannicide should receive two rewards; that there is no provision in the law about a ploughshare, or about sheep;" and what is doubtful is then to be collected from what is certain. To deduce from what is written that which is not written, is a matter of greater difficulty: Let him who has killed his father be sewn in a sack; a man kills his mother. Let it be unlawful to drag a man from his house to the judgment-seat; A man drags another from his tent. In such cases, the questions are, whether, when there is not a particular law for a case, we must have recourse to a similar law; and whether the matter in question is similar to that to which the letter of the law refers.

But what is similar may be either greater, or equal, or less. In the first case, we inquire whether sufficient provision has been made with regard to the matter in question in the law to which we refer it, and whether, if sufficient provision has not been made, we ought to apply that law to it. In the two other cases, we inquire concerning the intention of the legislator. But arguments founded on equity are the strongest.

OF ambiguity the species are innumerable; insomuch that some philosophers think there is not a single word that has not more significations than one. But the genera of it are very few; for it arises either from words taken singly or in connection.

A single word gives rise to ambiguity, when it is a denomination for more things or persons than one, (the Greeks apply to such ambiguity the term homonymy) as Gallus; for as to this word, taken by itself, it is uncertain whether it means a bird, a native of a certain country, a proper name, or a person in a certain condition of body; and it is uncertain whether Ajax means the son of Oileus. Some verbs also have different meanings, as cerno. Such ambiguity presents itself in many was; whence often arise disputes, especially with regard to wills, when persons who have the same name contend about their liberty, or succession to an inheritance; or when, from ambiguity in the expression, it becomes a matter of doubt what is bequeathed to any person.

Another source of ambiguity is, when a word has one signification if taken entire, and another if divided, as ingenua, armamentum, Corvinum. Such words can only give rise to silly cavillings, but the Greeks make them the origin of controversies in the schools: hence comes the well-known dispute about the ἀνλητρίς (aulētris), whether a hall (aulē) that had fallen three times (tris), or a female flute-player(aulētris), if she fell, was to be sold.

A third kind of ambiguity arises from compound words; for example, if a person should direct by his will, that his body should be buried in occulto loco, "in a sequestered spot," and should bequeath a portion of land round his tomb, to be taken from his heirs, as is usual, for the protection of his ashes, the expression in occulto, if taken as a compound word, inocculto, "unsequestered," might be the origin of a law-suit. So, among the Greek rhetoricians, Λέων (Leon) and Πανταλέων (Pantaleon) have a contention, as it is doubtful whether the letter of a will signifies that all (panta) the possessions are left to Leon, πάντα Λέοντι (panta Leonti), or that the possessions are left Πανταλέοντι (Pantaleonti), to Pantaleon.

But ambiguity is more frequent is words put together; it sometimes arises from uncertainty with respect to cases, as in the verse,

A io te, Aeacida, Romanos vincere posse,
I say that you, offspring of Aeacus,
The Romans can defeat.
Sometimes from collocation, when it is doubtful to what word or words ought to be referred; and this very frequently happens when that which is in the middle may be connected either with what precedes or with what follows, as in the words of Virgil respecting Troilus,

Lora tenens tamen,
Holding still the reins,
Where it may be asked, whether Troilus is dragged because he still holds the reins, or whether, though he still holds the reins, he is nevertheless dragged. Hence is that case in the schools, that a man in his will ordered to be erected statuam auream hastam tenentem, where it is a question, whether it was to be a golden statue holding a spear, or a golden spear, with a statue of some other material. Ambiguity is caused still more frequently by an improper inflection of the voice, as in the verse,

Quinquaginta ubi erant centum inde occidit Achilles.
Sometimes it is doubtful to which of two antecedents a word is to be referred, hence the scholastic case. "Let my heir be bound to give my wife a hundred pounds of the plate," quod elegerit, where it is doubtful to which of the two elegerit should be referred. But of the three last examples of ambiguity, the first may be corrected by a change of cases, the second by a separation or transposition of the words, and the third by some addition. Ambiguity caused by the doubling of an accusative may be removed by the introduction of an ablative, as in the words,

Lachetem audivi percussisse Demeam,
may be altered to à Lachete percussion Demeam. However, as I remarked in the first book, there is a natural ambiguity in the ablative. For example, in the phrase Caelo decurrit aperto, it is doubtful whether per apertum Caelum, "through the open heaven," is meant, or quum Caelum apertum esset, "when the heaven was opened." 1We may divide words from one another in pronunciation by taking breath or pausing. Thus we may pause after statuam, and then say auream hastam, or we may pause after statuam auream and then add hastum. In the third example, an addition may be made by inserting ipse after elegerit, "quod elegerit ipse," that the heir may be understood, or ipsa, that the wife may be understood. An ambiguity caused by the insertion of a superfluous word may be removed by withdrawing it, as in the phrase nos flentes illos deprehendimus. 1Where it is doubtful what a word or phrase refers to and where the word or phrase itself is perhaps ambiguous, we may have to alter several words to make a correction, as in Hares mues dare illi damnas esto omnia sua. Cicero runs into this kind of fault, in speaking of Caius Fannius: "He, by the direction of his father-in-law, of whom, as he had not been elected into the college of augurs, he was not extremely fond, especially as he had preferred Quintus Scaevola, his younger son-in-law, sibi, to him, etc." For this sibi may refer either to the father-in-law or to Fannius. 1Also, the lengthening or shortening of a syllable left dubious in any writing may be a cause of ambiguity, as in the word Cato, for it means one thing in the nominative, when its second syllable is short, and another in the dative or ablative, when that syllable is made long. There are many other species of ambiguity besides, which it is unnecessary to specify.

1Nor is it of importance from whence ambiguity arises or how it is removed. It is sufficient that it presents two senses to the mind, and the mode of understanding the writing or the pronunciation is a matter of equal consideration for both parties in a suit. Therefore, in this position, it is useless to endeavor to turn the word or phrase in our own favor, for if that is possible, there is no ambiguity.

1Every question of ambiguity, however, has respect to the following points: sometimes which of two interpretations is the more natural; and always, which of the two is the more equitable; and which was the meaning attached to the words by him who wrote or spoke them. But the manner of treating these questions, for or against, has been sufficiently shown in what I have said on conjecture and quality.

THERE is a certain affinity between the positions, for in definition the question is what is the meaning of a term. In the syllogism, which is most nearly related to definition, the object is to ascertain what the writer meant, and from antinomia, or the contradiction of laws, it appears that there are two positions of writing and intention of the writer. Definition, again, is itself a kind of ambiguity, as the meaning of a word may be regarded in two lights. The position of what is written and the intention of the writer has regard also to the signification of terms, and the same object is kept in view in antinomia. Hence some rhetoricians have said that all these positions merely constitute that of letter and intention; others think that in that of letter and intention lies the ambiguity which gives rise to dispute.

But all these positions are in reality distinct, for an obscure law is one thing, and an ambiguous law another. Definition is concerned with a general question (which can be unconnected with the scope of a cause) regarding the nature of a term. The position of letter and intention discusses the meaning of the very word which is in the law, while syllogism tries to settle what is not in the law. Ambiguity considers a word under two senses, whereas antinomia is a comparison between two contradictory laws. This distinction, accordingly, has been justly admitted by the most learned rhetoricians and continues to be observed among the generality of the wisest.

Though it is not possible to give directions on all points of discussions of this kind, it has been practicable to give some. There are other particulars which allow facility for instruction only when the subject on which we have to speak is propounded, for not only must a whole cause be divided into its general questions and heads, but these divisions themselves must also have their own distribution and arrangement of matter. In the exordium there is something first, something second, and so on, and every question and head must have its own disposition of particulars, like single theses. For example, supposed that a speaker divides his case into these points: "whether every kind of reward ought to be granted to the deliverer of his country; whether he should be permitted to take private property; whether a marriage with whom he pleases should be allowed him; whether a married lady should be given him; and whether to the lady whose case is before the court." Is it possible that he can be thought sufficiently skilled in arrangement if, when speaks before the court on the first point, he mixes up his observations indiscriminately, just as each happens to come into his head, not knowing that he should consider first whether we should hold to the letter of a law or to the intent of it? Or if he should make a commencement on this question, and then, connecting with it what follows, should arrange the whole of his speech with the same regularity as the parts of the human body, of which, for example, the hand is a portion, the fingers a portion of the hand, and the joints portions of the finger? It is this nicety of arrangement that a writer on rhetoric cannot teach unless he has a certain and definite subject before him. But what would one or two examples avail, or even a hundred or a thousand, in a field that is boundless? It is the part of a teacher to demonstrate day after day, sometimes in one kind of cause and sometimes in another, what is the proper order and connection of particulars so that skill and the power of application to similar cases may gradually be acquired by his pupils. All cannot be taught that art is able to accomplish. What painter has learned to copy every object on the face of the earth? But when he has once acquired skill in copying, he will produce a representation of whatever he takes in hand. What artist in fashioning vases has not produced one such as he had never seen?

Some things, however, depend not on the teachers, but on the learners. A physician will teach his pupil what is to be done in every sort of disease, and what is to be conjectured from certain symptoms, but it is the pupil's own genius that must acquire for him the nice faculty of feeling the pulse, of observing the different degrees of heat, and the alterations in respiration and complexion, and of noting what tokens are significant of any particular malady. In like manner, let us seek most aid from ourselves and meditate our own causes, reflecting that men discovered the art of orator before they taught it. 1For that is the most effective arrangement of a pleading, an arrangement justly called economie, which cannot be made but when the whole cause is spread as it were before us, and which tells us when we ought to adopt an exordium and when to omit it; when we should make a continuous statement of a case and when a statement subdivided into heads; when we should begin at the beginning and when, after the manner of Homert in the middle or towards the end; 1when we should make no statement at all; when we should commence with our own allegations and when with those of our adversary; when with the strongest proofs, when with the weaker; in what sort of cause questions should be propounded in the introduction; in what causes the way should be prepared for them by prefatory hints; what the mind of the judge will be likely to admit if expressed at once, and to what he must be conducted gradually; whether our refutation should oppose the arguments of the adversary one by one, or in a body; whether our appeals to the feelings should be reserved for the peroration, or diffused through our whole speech; whether we should speak first of law or of equity; whether we should first charge our opponent with past opulences or repel them if advanced against ourselves or confine our remarks to the points for decision; 1and, if a cause be complex, what order should be observed in our conduct of it, and what oral or written evidence, of any kind, should be set forth in our regular pleading, or reserved. This is the virtue, as it were, of a general dividing his forces to meet the various events of war, retaining part to garrison fortresses or to defend cities, and distributing other parts to collect provisions, to secure passes, and to act by land or by sea, as occasion may require. 1But in oratory, such merits will only be displayed to he whom all the resources of nature, learning, and industry shall be at hand. Let no man expect, therefore, to be eloquent only by the labor of others. Let him who would be an orator be assured that he must study early and late; that he must reiterate his efforts; that he must grow pale with toil; he must exert his own powers and acquire his own method. He must not merely look to principles, but must have them in readiness to act upon them, not as if they had been taught him, but as if they had been born in him. 1For art can easily show a way, if there be one, but art has done its duty when it sets the resources of eloquence before us. It is for us to know how to use them.

1There remains then only the arrangement of parts, and in the parts themselves there must be some one thought first, another second, another third, and so on. We must take care that these thoughts are not merely placed in a certain order, but that they are also connected one with another, cohering so closely that no joining may appear between them, so that they may form a body and not a mere collection of members. 1This object will be attained if we take care to observe what is suitable for each place and study to bring together words that will not combat but embrace each other. Thus different things will not seem hurried together from distant parts, all strangers one to another, but will unite themselve in a sure bond and alliance with those that precede and those that follow; and our speech will appear not merely a combination of phrases, but all of a piece. But I am perhaps proceeding too far, as the transition from one part to another beguiles me, and I am gliding imperceptibly from the rules for arrangement into those for elocution, on which the next book shall formally enter.

IN the observations which are thrown together in the last five books is comprehended the method of inventing and of arranging what we invent, and though to understand this method thoroughly and in all its parts is necessary to the attainment of the height of oratorical skill, to beginners it is better communicated rather in a shorter and simpler way. For otherwise, learners are apt to be deterred by the difficulties of a study so various and complicated; or their faculties, at an age when they require to be strengthened, and to be fostered with some degree of indulgence, are debilitated by being devoted to a task too burdensome for them; or they think that, if they acquire skill in these matters only, they are sufficiently qualified to become truly eloquent; or, again, as if they were bound to certain fixed laws of speaking, they shrink from every attempt to do anything for themselves. Hence it has happened, as some think, that those who have been the most diligent writers of rules on the art, have been farthest from attaining true eloquence. Yet it is necessary to point out a way to those who are entering on the study; but that way should be plain to be pursued, and easy to be shown. Let the able teacher, therefore, such as I conceive in my mind, choose the best precepts out of all that have been given, and communicate at first only such as he approves, without occupying his time in refuting those of an opposite mind. Pupils will follow where the master leads, and, as their minds are strengthened by learning, their judgment will also increase. Let them suppose at first that there is no other road than that by which they are conducted, and discover afterwards that it is the best. The principles, however, which writers, by a pertinacious adherence to their respective opinions, have rendered embarrassing, are in themselves by no means obscure or hard to be understood. In the whole treatment of this art, accordingly, it is more difficult to decide what to teach, than to teach it when a decision is made upon it; and in these two departments, especially, invention and arrangement of matter, there are but very few general rules, and if he, who is under instruction, shows no repugnance or inability to attend to them, he will find the way open to the acquirement of everything else.

I have already spent much labor on this work, with a view to show that oratory is skill in speaking well; that it is useful; that it is an art, and a virtue; that its subjects are everything on which an orator may be required to speak; that those subjects lie mostly in three species of oratory, the demonstrative, the deliberative, and the judicial; that all speech consists of matter and words; that, as to matter, we must study invention, as to words, elocution, and as to both arrangement; all which particulars memory must guard and delivery recommend. I showed that the duty of an orator was comprised in the three arts of persuading, exciting, and pleasing; that, for persuading, statement and argument are most efficient, and for exciting, appeals to the feelings, which may be dispersed through the whole of a speech, but should be used chiefly at the beginning and the end; while to please, though it depends on both matter and words, belongs chiefly to elocution. I observed that some questions are indefinite, others definite, or limited to the consideration of persons, places, and occasions; that in regard to every thing there are three points to be considered, whether it is, what it is, and of what nature it is. To these remarks I added that demonstrative oratory consists in praising and blaming; that, in speaking of a person's character, we must notice what was done by the person himself of whom we speak, and what took place after his death, and that this kind of oratory was employed about the honorable and the useful. To deliberative oratory I observed that a third part is added, dependent on conjecture, as when we inquire whether that, which is the subject of our deliberation, is possible, and whether it is likely to happen. In this department of oratory too, I said that it ought above all to be considered what is the character of the speaker, before whom, and on what subject, he speaks. As to judicial causes, I remarked that some depend on one point, some on several; that in some a mere attack or defense is sufficient; and that all defense consists either in denial, (which is of two kinds, as we may dispute whether the fact in question really happened or whether that which happened was of the nature attributed to it,) or in justification, or in exception. I added that questions in a cause relate either to something done, or something written; that in regard to anything done, we consider its probability, its nature, and its quality, and in respect to anything written, the meaning or intention of the words; in contemplating which, the nature of whole causes, criminal and civil, has to be regarded; all of which are included under the heads of letter and intention, syllogism, ambiguity, or contradictory laws. 1I stated, moreover, that in every judicial cause there are five parts; that the judge is to be conciliated in the exordium; that the cause is set forth in the statement of facts, supported by evidence, and overthrown by refutation; and that the memory is to be refreshed, or the feelings excited, in the peroration. 1To this I added the topics for argument and addresses to the passions, and showed the means by which judges must be roused, appeased, or amused. Last of all was subjoined the method of division. But let him who shall read this work for improvement feel assured that the course of proceeding laid down in it is one in which nature ought to do much of herself even without learning; so that the various heads which I have spoken should seem not so much to have been invented by teachers, as to have been noticed by them according as they presented themselves.

1What is to follow requires more labor and care, since I have now to treat of the art of elocution, which is, as all orators are agreed, the most difficult part of my work; for Marcus Antonius, of whom I have spoken above, when he said that he had seen many good speakers, but none of them truly eloquent, understood that it is sufficient for a good speaker to say just what is proper, but to speak in an ornate style belongs only to the most eloquent. 1If such excellence, accordingly, was found in no speaker down to his time, and not even in himself or in Lucius Crassus, it is certain that it was wanting in them and in preceding speakers, only because it was extremely difficult of acquirement. Cicero himself, indeed, is of opinion, that invention and arrangement are in the power of any sensible man, but eloquence only in that of the complete orator; and it was on this account that he gave his chief attention to the rules for that accomplishment. 1That he acted rightly in doing so, is shown by the very name of the art of which we are speaking; for elogui, "to speak forth," is to express whatever has been conceived in the mind, and to communicate it fully to the hearers; an art, without which all preceding attainments are useless, like a sword sheathed and clinging to its scabbard. 1Eloquence, therefore, requires the utmost teaching; no man can attain it without the aid of art; study must be applied to the acquirement of it; exercise and imitation must make it their object; our whole life must be spent in the pursuit of it; it is in this that one orator chiefly excels another; it is from this that some styles of speaking are so much better than others. 1For we are not to suppose that the Asiatics, or other speakers in any way faulty, were unable to invent matter or to arrange it; or that those whom we call dry were void of understanding or perspicacity in their pleadings; but the truth is that the first wanted judgment and moderation in expressing themselves, and the second energy; and hence it is evident, that in expression lie the faults and excellences of oratory.

1Yet it is not to be understood that regard is to be paid only to words, for I must meet and stop those in the very vestibule as it were, who would take advantage of what I have just admitted, and who, neglecting to attend to the study of things, which are the nerves of all causes, consume their lives in an empty application to words, making it their object to attain elegance, which is, indeed, in my judgment, an excellent quality in speaking, but only when it comes naturally, not when it is affected. 1Bodies that are in health, with the blood in a sound state, and strengthened by exercise, have their beauty from the same causes from which they have their vigor, for they are well-complexioned, of a proper tension, and with muscles fully developed; but if a person should render them artificially smooth, and paint and deck them in an effeminate fashion, they would be made eminently repulsive by the very labor bestowed in beautifying them. 20. A becoming and magnificent dress, as it is expressed in the Greek verse, adds dignity to men; but effeminate and luxurious apparel, while it fails to adorn the person, discovers the depravity of the mind. In like manner the transparent and variegated style of some speakers deprives their matter, when clothed in such a garb of words, of all force and spirit.

I would, therefore, recommend care about words, and the utmost care about matter. 2The best words generally attach themselves to our subject, and show themselves by their own light; but we set ourselves to seek for words, as if they were always hidden, and trying to keep themselves from being discovered. We never consider that they are to be found close to the subject on which we have to speak, but look for them, in strange places, and do violence to them when we have found them. 2It is with a more manly spirit that Eloquence is to be pursued, who, if she is in vigor throughout her frame, will think it no part of her study to polish her nails and smooth her hair.

2It generally happens that the more attention is paid to such niceties, the more oratory is deteriorated; for the best expressions are such as are least far-fetched, and have an air of simplicity, appearing to spring from truth itself. Those which betray care, refuse to appear otherwise than artificial and studied; they fail to exhibit grace, and do not produce conviction; besides that they obscure the sense, and choke the crop as it were, with a superabundance of herbage. 2What may be said simply, we express paraphrastically, from fondness for words; what has been told sufficiently, we repeat; what may be clearly signified in one word, we envelope in a multitude; and we often prefer to intimate our thoughts rather than express them. Indeed no natural expression now satisfies us, since none appears elegant that another speaker has used. 2We borrow tropes or metaphors from the poets most corrupt in taste, and think that we are witty only when there is need of wit to understand us. Yet Cicero had plainly enough told us, that to depart from the ordinary style of language, and from the practice sanctioned by universal reason, is, in speaking, even the greatest of faults. 2But Cicero, forsooth, was a harsh and unpolished orator; and we, to whom all that nature dictates is contemptible, and who seek, not ornament, but meretricious finery, know how to speak better than he; as if there were any excellence in words except as far as they agree with things; and if we are to make it the object of our whole life, that our words may be nice, and splendid, and ornate, and properly arranged, the whole fruit of our studies comes to nothing. 2Yet we see most of our speakers hesitating about every word, seeking for expressions, and weighing and measuring them when they are found. Even if the sole object of their solicitude were that they might always use the best words, yet their unhappy care would deserve to be execrated, as it retards the course of their speech, and, from hesitation and diffidence, extinguishes the ardor of imagination. 2He is but a wretched, and, I may say, a poor orator who can not endure to lose a single word. Yet not a single word, assuredly, will he lose, who shall first of all have learned the true principles of eloquence, and shall, by a long and judicious course of reading, have acquired a copious supply of words, and attained the art of arranging them; and who, besides, shall have made himself master of his stores by constant exercise, so that they may always be at hand and before his eyes. 2To him who shall have done this, things and their names will present themselves at once; but for such excellence there is need of previous study and of an ability acquired and, as it were, laid up. For anxiety in seeking, judging, and comparing words should be used while we are learning, not after we have become speakers. Otherwise, as men who have not secured a fortune have recourse to occasional expedients, so such speakers, from not having previously studied sufficiently, will be at a loss for expressions. 30. But if resources for speaking have been acquired beforehand, they will be ready for our use, not seeming merely to answer exigencies, but to attend on our thoughts, and to follow them as a shadow follows the substance.

3Yet in this kind of care we should set bounds to ourselves; for when our words are good Latin, significant, elegant, and properly arranged, why should we labor for anything more? But some speakers make no end of dissatisfaction with themselves, and of hesitating at almost every syllable; speakers who, when they have found the best terms, are anxious for something still more antique, far-fetched, and surprising; and who do not understand that in a speech of which the language is much extolled, the sense is too little regarded.

3Let the greatest possible care, then, be bestowed on expression, provided we bear in mind that nothing is to be done for the sake of words, as words themselves were invented for the sake of things, and as those words are the most to be commended which express our thoughts best, and produce the impression which we desire on the minds of the judges. 3Such words undoubtedly must make a speech both worthy of admiration and productive of pleasure; but not of that kind of admiration with which we wonder at monsters; or of that kind of pleasure which is attended with unnatural gratification, but such as is compatible with true merit and worth.

Perspicuity in words arises from a certain propriety; but the word propriety itself is taken in more than one sense; for its first acceptation signifies the exact term for a thing, which term we shall not always use; for we shall avoid such as are obscene, or offensive, or mean. Mean terms as such are beneath the dignity of a subject or of the persons to whom we address ourselves. But in avoiding meanness some speakers are in the habit of running into a very great error, as they shrink from all terms that are in common use, even though the necessity of their subject calls for them; as he, for example, who, in pleading a cause, spoke of an Iberian shrub, of which he himself would alone have known the meaning, had not Cassius Severus, in derision of his folly, observed that he meant to say Spanish broom. Nor do I see why an eminent orator should have thought that duratos muriâ pisces, "fishes preserved in pickle," was more elegant than the very word which he avoided. But in that sort of propriety, which uses the exact word for everything, there is no merit; though that which is contrary to it is a fault, and is called with us improprium, and in Greek ἄκυον (akyron), "impropriety," as in Virgil, tatum sperare dolorem, "to hope so great pain." Or the expression in the speech of Dolabella, which I have found corrected by Cicero, mortem ferre; or such as are now extolled by some people, decernere, verba ceciderunt. Yet a word which is not proper will not necessarily be chargeable with the fault of impropriety; because, above all, there are many things, both in Greek and Latin, that have no proper term. He who hurls jaculum, "a javelin," is said jaculari, but he who hurls pilum, "a lance," or sudes, "a stake," finds no word peculiarly assigned to the act; and though it is manifest that lapidare means "to throw stones," the throwing of clods or tiles has no peculiar term. Hence what is called catachresis, the abuse of words, becomes necessary. Metaphor, too, in which much of the ornament of speech consists, applies words to things to which they do not properly belong. Hence the propriety of which we are speaking, relates, not to a word absolutely, but to the sense in which it is used, and is to be estimated, not by the ear, but by the mind.

In the second place; when several things come under the same term, that is called the proper sense of the term from which all the other senses are derived: as the word vertex signifies water whirling round, or whatever is whirled round in a similar manner; hence from the twisting round of the hair, it means the top of the head; and, from its application to the head, it came to signify the highest peak of a hill. We very rightly call all these things vertices, but properly that to which it was first applied. So it is with soleae and turdi, names of fishes.

There is also a third sort of propriety, the reverse of the second, when a thing, common to many purposes, has a peculiar sense as applied to one of them; as a funeral song is called naenia, and a general's tent augurale. Also, a term which is common to many things, may be applied in a preeminent sense to some one of them; as we say urbs for Rome, venales for newly-purchased slaves, and Corinthia for Corinthian brass; though there are many other cities, many other things to which venales may be applied, and there are Corinthian gold and silver as well as brass. But in such a use of terms there is no peculiar exhibition of the ability of the orator. There is a kind of propriety, however, which is greatly to be admired, and for which anything is extolled that is said with peculiar effect, that is, with the utmost possible significancy; as Cato said that Julius Caesar applied himself soberly to overthrow the republic; or as Virgil says deductum carmen, "a humble strain;" and Horace acrem tibiam, "a shrill pipe," and Hannibalem dirum, "dire Hannibal." Under this kind of propriety is mentioned by some the appositeness of characteristic words, which are called epithets, as dulce mustum, "sweet new wine," and Cum dentibus albis, "with white teeth." Of this species of propriety I shall speak in another place. Terms that are happily applied in metaphor are also frequently called proper. 1Sometimes, too, a term that is eminently characteristic of a person is called proper to him; thus Fabius, among his many military virtues, was called Cunctator, "the Delayer."

Words that signify more than they actually express, might seem to be fitly mentioned under the head of perspicuity, as they assist the understanding; but I would rather place emphasis among the ornaments of speech, because it does not merely tend to make what is said understood, but causes more to be understood than what is said.

1On the other hand, obscurity arises from the adoption of words remote from common use; as, for example, if a person should search into the commentaries of the pontiffs, the most ancient treaties, and the writings of obsolete authors, and make it his object that what he extracted from thence should not be understood. By such means some affect a character for erudition, endeavoring to prove themselves the only persons who comprehend certain subjects. 1Words, too, that are more familiar to certain districts than to others, or peculiar to certain arts, produce obscurity, as the wind Atabulus, the ship Saccaria; and In malaco sanum; such expressions must either be avoided before a judge who is ignorant of their meaning, or must be explained, as is the case with terms that are called homonyma; as with regard to the word Taurus, for example, it cannot be understood, unless it be specified whether it signifies a mountain, a constellation in the heavens, the name of a man, or the root of a tree.

1Yet still greater obscurity arises in the construction and concatenation of words, and there are still more sources of it. Let our periods, therefore, never be so long that attention cannot sustain itself throughout them; nor so clogged by transpositions of phrases, that the end of the sense is not to be discovered till we reach the end of a hyperbaton. A still worse fault than these is a confused mixture of words, as in the verse,

Saxa vocant Itali mediis quae in fluctibus aras,
Rocks which th' Italians altars call, amid The waves.
1By parenthesis, also, (which both orators and historians frequently use, to interpose some remark in the middle of a period,) the sense is generally embarrassed, unless what is inserted be very brief. Thus Virgil, in the passage where he describes a young horse, after having said,

Nec vanos horret strepitus,
Nor dreads he empty noises,
and after having interposed some remarks in another form, returns, at the fifth verse following, to his first thought,

Tum si qua sonum procul arma dedêre,
Stare loco nescit,
Then, if but distant arms give forth a clang,
How to stand still he knows not.
1But above all we must avoid ambiguity, not only that species of it of which I have spoken above, and which renders the meaning doubtful, as Chremetem audivi percussisse Demeam, but also that sort which, though it cannot perplex the sense, yet, as far as words are concerned, runs into the same fault with the other; for instance, if a person should say, visum â se hominem librum scribentem; for though it is certain that the book was being written by the man, yet the speaker would have put his words badly together, and rendered them ambiguous as far as was in his power.

1In some writers, also, there are clouds of empty words; for while they shrink from common forms of expression, and are attracted by a fancied appearance of beauty, they involve all their thoughts, which they are unwilling to express straightforwardly, in verbose circumlocutions, and joining one of these tissues of words to another of a similar character, and mixing up others with them, they extend their periods to a length to which no breath can hold out. 1Some labor even to attain this fault, a fault by no means of recent date; as I find in Livy that there was a teacher in his day who exhorted his scholars to obscure what they said, using the Greek word σκότισν (skotison), "Darken it": and from whom, I should suppose, proceeded that extraordinary eulogium, "So much the better; even I myself cannot understand it."

1Some, again, too studious of brevity, exclude from their periods words necessary, even to the sense; and, as if it were enough for themselves to know what they wish to say, are regardless how far it concern others to understand them; for my own part, I call that composition abortive, which the reader has to understand by the exertion of his own ability; others, interchanging words perversely, secure the same fault through the aid of figures. 20. But the worst kind of obscurity is that which the Greeks call ἀδιανόητον (adianoēton), that is, when words that are plain in one sense, have another sense concealed in them; as Conductus est caecus secus viam stare; and as he who tore his body with his teeth is represented in the schools, supra se cubâsse, as having lain upon himself. 2Such ingenious and daring phraseology is thought eloquent because of its ambiguity; and there is an opinion now prevalent with many, that they ought to think that only elegantly and exquisitely expressed which requires to be interpreted. But it is pleasing also to certain hearers, who, when they find out the meaning of it, are delighted with their own penetration, and applaud themselves as if they had not heard but invented it.

2With me, however, let the first virtue of composition be perspicuity; let there be proper words, and a clear order; let not the conclusion of the sense be too long protracted; and let there be nothing either deficient or superfluous. Thus will our language both deserve the commendation of the learned, and be intelligible to the unlearned.

These observations refer to perspicuity in our words; for how perspicuity in our matter is to be secured, I have shown in my rules concerning the statement of cases. 2But the case is similar with regard to both; for if we say neither less nor more than we ought, nor anything ill-arranged or indistinct, what we state will be clear, and intelligible even to the moderately attentive hearer. We must bear in mind, indeed, that the attention of the judge is not always so much on the alert as to dispel of itself the obscurity of our language, and to throw the light of his intellect on our darkness, but that he is often distracted by a multiplicity of other thoughts, which will prevent him from understanding us, unless what we say be so clear that its sense will strike his mind as the rays of the sun strike the eyes, even though his attention be not immediately fixed upon it. 2We must, therefore, take care, not merely that he may understand us, but that he may not be able not to understand us. It is for this reason that we often repeat what we fancy that those who are trying the cause may not have sufficiently comprehended; using such phrases as, That part of our cause, which, through my fault, has been stated but obscurely, etc., on which account I shall have recourse to plainer and more common language; since, when we pretend, occasionally, that we have not fully succeeded, the admission is sure to be well received from us.

I come now to the subject of embellishment, in which doubtless, more than in any other department of oratory, the speaker is apt to give play to his fancy. For the praise of such as speak merely with correctness and perspicuity is but small; since they are thought rather to have avoided faults than to have attained any great excellence. Invention of matter is often common to the orator and to the illiterate alike; arrangement may be considered to require but moderate learning; and whatever higher arts are used, are generally concealed, or they would cease to deserve the name of art; and all these qualities are directed to the support of causes alone. But by polish and embellishment of style the orator recommends himself to his auditors in his proper character; in his other efforts he courts the approbation of the learned, in this the applause of the multitude. Cicero, in pleading the cause of Cornelius, fought with arms that were not only stout, but dazzling; nor would he, merely by instructing the judge, or by speaking to the purpose and in pure Latin and with perspicuity, have caused the Roman people to testify their admiration of him not only by acclamations, but even tumults of applause. It was the sublimity, magnificence, splendour, and dignity of his eloquence, that drew forth that thunder of approbation. No such extraordinary commendation would have attended on the speaker, if his speech had been of an every-day character, and similar to ordinary speeches. I even believe that his audience were insensible of what they were doing, and that they gave their applause neither voluntarily nor with any exercise of judgment, but that, being carried away by enthusiasm, and unconscious of the place in which they stood, they burst forth instinctively into such transports of delight.

But this grace of style may contribute in no small degree to the success of a cause; for those who listen with pleasure are both more attentive and more ready, to believe; they are very frequently captivated with pleasure, and sometimes hurried away in admiration. Thus the glitter of a sword strikes something of terror into the eyes, and thunderstorms themselves would not alarm us so much as they do if it were their force only, and not also their flame, that was dreaded. Cicero, accordingly, in one of his letters to Brutus, makes with good reason the following remark: "That eloquence which excites no admiration, I account as nothing." Aristotle, also, thinks that to excite admiration should be one of our greatest objects.

But let the embellishment of our style (for I will repeat what I said) be manly, noble, and chaste; let it not affect effeminate delicacy, or a complexion counterfeited by paint but let it glow with genuine health and vigor. Such is the justice of this rule, that though, in ornament, vices closely border on virtues, yet those who adopt what is vicious, disguise it with the name of some virtue. Let no one of those, therefore, who indulge in a vicious style, say that I am an enemy to those who speak with good taste. I do not deny that judicious embellishment is an excellence, but I do not allow that excellence to them. Should I think a piece of land better cultivated, in which the owner should show me lilies, and violets, and anemones, and fountains playing, than one in which there is a plentiful harvest, or vines laden with grapes? Should I prefer barren plane-trees, or clipped myrtles, to elms embraced with vines, and fruitful olive-trees? The rich may have such unproductive gratifications; but what would they be, if they had nothing else?

Shall not beauty, then, it may be asked, be regarded in the planting of fruit-trees? Undoubtedly; I should arrange my trees in a certain order, and observe regular intervals between them. What is more beautiful than the well-known quin-cunx, which, in whatever direction you view it, presents straight lines? But a regular arrangment of trees is of advantage to their growth, as each of them then attracts an equal portion of the juices of the soil. The tops of my olive, that rise too high, I shall lop off with my knife; it will spread itself more gracefully in a round form, and will at the same time produce fruit from more branches. The horse that has thin flanks is thought handsomer than one of a different shape, and is also more swift. The athlete, whose muscles have been developed by exercise, is pleasing to the sight, and is so much the better prepared for the combat. 1True beauty is never separate from utility. But to perceive this requires but a moderate portion of sagacity.

What is of more importance to be observed, is, that the graceful dress of our thoughts is still more becoming when varied with the nature of the subject. Recurring to our first division, we may remark that the same kind of embellishment will not be alike suitable for demonstrative, deliberative, and judicial topics. The first of these three kinds, adapted only for display, has no object but the pleasure of the audience; and it accordingly discloses all the resources of art, and all the pomp of language; it is not intended to steal into the mind, or to secure a victory, but strives only to gain applause and honor. 1Whatever, therefore, may be attractive in conception, elegant in expression, pleasing in figures, rich in metaphor, or polished in composition, the orator, like a dealer, as it were, in eloquence, will lay before his audience for them to inspect, and almost to handle; for his success entirely concerns his reputation, and not his cause. 1But when a serious affair is in question, and there is a contest in real earnest, anxiety for mere applause should be an orator's last concern. Indeed no speaker, where important interests are involved, should be very solicitous about his words. I do not mean to say that no ornaments of dress should be bestowed on such subjects, but that they should be as it were more closefitting and severe, and thus display themselves less; and they should be, above all, well adapted to the subject. 1In deliberations the senate expects something more elevated, the people something more spirited; and, in judicial pleadings, public and capital causes require a more exact style than ordinary; but as for private causes, and disputes about small sums, which are of frequent occurrence, simple language, the very reverse of that which is studied, will be far more suitable for them. Would not a speaker be ashamed to seek the recovery of a petty loan in elaborate periods? Or to display violent feeling in speaking of a gutter? Or to perspire over a suit about taking back a slave?

1But let us pursue our subject; and, as the embellishment, as well as the perspicuity of language, depends either on the choice of single words, or on the combination of several together, let us consider what care they require separately, and what in conjunction. Though it has been justly said that perspicuity is better promoted by proper words, and embellishment by such as are metaphorical, we should feel certain, at the same time, that whatever is improper cannot embellish. 1But as several words often signify the same thing, (and are called synonymous,) some of those words will be more becoming, or sublime, or elegant, or pleasing, or of better sound, than others; for as syllables formed of the better sounding letters are clearer, so words formed of such syllables are more melodious; and the fuller the sound of a word, the more agreeable it is to the ear; and what the junction of syllables effects, the junction of words effects also, proving that some words sound better in combination than others.

1But words are to be variously used. To subjects of a repulsive character words that are harsh in sound are the more suitable. In general, however, the best words, considered singly, are such as have the fullest or most agreeable sound. Elegant, too, are always to be preferred to coarse words; and for mean ones there is no place in polished style. 1Such as are of a striking or elevated character are to be estimated according to their suitableness to our subject. That which appears sublime on one occasion, may seem tumid on another; and what appears mean when applied to a lofty subject, may adapt itself excellently to one of an inferior nature. In an elevated style a low word is remarkable, and, as it were, a blemish; and in like manner a grand or splendid word is unsuited to a plain style, and is in bad taste, as being like a tumor on a smooth surface.

1Some words are to be estimated, not so much by reason, as by taste; as in the phrase,

Caesa jungebant foedera porca,
They killed a sow to seal the treaty
which the invention of a word has rendered elegant; for if porco had been used, it would have been mean. In others the reason for their use is plain. We lately laughed, and with justice, at a poet who said

Praetextam in cista mures rosere camilli,
Within the chest the dwarfish mice had gnawed the gown;
20. but we admire the expression of Virgil,

Saepe exiguus mus,
Oft has the tiny mouse, etc.;
for the epithet exiguus, happily applied, causes us not to expect too much; the singular number, also, is preferable to the plural; and the monosyllabic termination, which is uncommon, gives additional beauty. Horace has accordingly imitated Virgil in both these points:

Nascetur ridiculus mus,
A paltry mouse will be produced.
2Our language indeed is not always to be elevated, but sometimes to be depressed. Humility in our words sometimes gives of itself greater force to what we say. When Cicero, in speaking against Piso, exclaims "When your whole family is drawn in a tumbril," does he not seem to have purposely adopted a mean word, and to have thrown, by the use of it, increased contempt on the man whom he wished to humble? And in another place he says, "You present your head to your adversary, butting with him." 2From such sources come jokes that please the illiterate; as these in Cicero, "The little boy, that slept with his elder sister;" "Cneius Flavius, who put out the eyes of the crows;" and, in the speech for Milo, "Ho! you, Ruscio," and in that for Varenus, Erutius Antoniaster, "Erutius a puny Antony," Such humiliation of style is however still more remarkable in our school declamations, and, when I was a boy, such expressions as "Give your father bread," and, in reference to the same person, "You keep even a dog," used to be extolled. 2But the practice, though frequently the cause of laughter is dangerous, especially in the schools, and more than ever at the present time, when the exercise of declamation, being greatly at variance with reality, suffers from a ridiculous fastidiousness about words, and has excluded from its language a great portion of the Latin tongue.

2Words are proper, newly coined, or metaphorical. To proper words antiquity adds dignity; for old words, such as every writer would not think of using, render language more majestic and venerable; and of this kind of ornament Virgil, an author of extremely fine taste, has pre-eminently availed himself. 2The words olli, and quianam, and mis, and pone, strike the reader of his poetry, and throw over it that authority of antiquity, which is so highly pleasing in pictures, and is unattainable by art. But we must use such words with moderation, and not extract them from the remotest darkness of past ages. Satis is old enough; what necessity is there, I would ask, for substituting oppido, of which preceding writers, even in our own day, made use occasionally? I suspect that nobody would now allow us to use it; antigerio assuredly, of which the signification is the same, no writer would use, unless he wished to make himself remarkable. 2What need is there for aerumnae, as if to say labor was not sufficient? Reor is repulsive; autumo just endurable; prolem ducendam fit only for tragedy; universam ejus prosapiam tasteless. In short, almost all our language has undergone change. 2Some old words, however, still appear more pleasing from their antiquity; some are at times adopted from necessity, as nuncupare and fari; and many others may be introduced with a little venturesomeness, provided that no affectation be apparent in the use of them; a fault which Virgil ridicules with wonderful effect in the following epigram:

2Corinthiorum amator iste verborum,
Thucydides Britannus, Atticae febres,
Tau Gallicum, min, al spinae male illisit.
Ita omnia ista verba miscuit fratri.
That lover of Corinthian words,
British Thucydides—the Attic fevers,
min, sphin, the Gallic tau—and ill betide him!
he so mixed all the words to does this brother.

2The person on whom it was made was Cimber, by whom it was signified in the words of Cicero, Germanum Cimber occidit, that his brother was killed. Sallust is also attacked in an epigram, equally well known:

Et verba antiqui multum furate Catonis,
Crispe, Jugurthinae conditor historiae;
And thou, O Crispus,who hast plentifully stolen words from old Cato
and the author of the history of Jugurtha;"

30. It is an offensive kind of affectation; it is easy to any one; and it is so much the worse, as he who indulges in it will not suit his words to his matter, but will seek extraneous matter to which his obsolete words may be applied.

To invent words, as I observed in the first book, has been more largely allowed to the Greeks, who have not hesitated to form words significant of certain sounds and impressions on the senses, using a liberty like that with which the earliest inhabitants of the earth gave appellations to things. 3But our countrymen, though they have made some few attempts in composition and derivation, have scarcely attained full success in their efforts. I remember that when I was very young, it was a subject of discussion between Pomponius and Seneca even in their prefaces, whether gradus eliminat, "advances his steps over the threshold," was a proper expression. But our forefathers did not hesitate to say expectorat; and exanimat is certainly of the same stamp. 3Of derivation and formation there are such examples as beatitas and beatitudo in Cicero, which he himself indeed considers harsh, but thinks that they may grow less repulsive by use. Certain derivatives have been formed, too, not only from common words, but from proper names, as Sullaturit by Cicero, and Fimbriatum and Figulatum by Asinius Pollio. 3Many new words have also been formed from the Greek, and a great portion of them by Sergius Flavius, of which some seem rather harsh, as ens and essentia; yet why we should so much dislike them, I do not see, except that we are disposed to be unjust judges in our own case, and suffer in consequence from poverty of language. 3Some words of this kind, however, keep their ground; for those which are now old were once new; and some have but recently come into use, since Messala first used reatus, "the condition of a person under accusation," and Augustus Caesar munerarius, "belonging to presents or shows of gladiators." My teachers were still in doubt whether piratica, "piracy," musica, "music," and fabrica, "the art of construction," could properly be used. 3Favor, "favor," and urbanus, "in the sense of "witty," Cicero thought new; for, in a letter to Brutus, he says, Eum amorem, et eum (ut hoc verbo utar) fuvorem; in consilium advocabo, and in a letter to Appius Pulcher, Te hominem, non solum sapientem, verum etiam (ut nunc loquimur) urbanum. Cicero also thinks that obsequium, "compliance," was first used by Terence; and Caecilius says that the expression albenti caelo, "the heaven growing clear," originated with Sisenna. Hortensius appears to have first used cervix in the singular; for the ancients have it in the plural. We may, therefore, make attempts; for I do not agree with Celsus, who does not admit that words may be invented by the orator. 3Since—when some words, as Cicero says, are primitive, that is, used in their original sense, and others derived, or formed from the primitive—though it may not be allowable for us to coin new words, different from those which the first men, however barbarous, invented, yet at what time did it cease to be allowable to derive, vary, and compound words, a privilege which was surely granted to the immediate successors of the first men? 3If we ever think, moreover, that we are coining a word too venturously, we may defend it with some apologetical phrase, as "that I may so express myself; if I may be allowed so to speak; in some way; permit me to use the word;" a mode of excuse that may be serviceable when we use expressions which are too daringly metaphorical, and which can hardly be hazarded with safety; for it will thus be evident, from our very caution, that our judgment is not at fault. In regard to this point there is a very elegant Greek saying, in which we are directed προεπιπλήσσειν τῇ ὑπερβολῇ (proepiplēssein te hyperbolē), "to be the first to blame our own hyperbole."

3A metaphorical use of words cannot be commended except in the contexture of discourse. Enough, then, has been said of words considered singly, which, as I showed in another place, have no beauty in themselves; yet they are not inelegant unless when they are below the dignity of the subject on which we have to speak; always excepting the expression of obscenities by their exact terms. 3Let those attend to this remark, who think that obscene expressions need not be avoided, because there is no word indecent in itself, and because, as they say, whatever indecency there is in any act, the idea of it is still conveyed to the intellect under whatever other phraseology it may be veiled. For my own part, satisfied with the observance of Roman modesty, I shall, as I have already replied to such reasoners, vindicate decorum by silence.

40. Let us then proceed to consider the nature of connected discourse, the embellishment of which requires, above all, attention to two points; what language we conceive in our minds, and how we express it. In the first place, we must settle what we would wish to amplify or extenuate; what we would express vehemently or calmly, floridly or austerely, verbosely or concisely, roughly or mildly, grandly or simply, impressively or attractively. 4We must also consider with what kind of metaphors or other figures, with what thoughts, in what style, and with what arrangement of matter, we may be likely to effect the object which we wish to accomplish.

But in attempting to show by what means a style may be rendered elegant, I shall first touch on the faults which are opposed to elegance; for the beginning of excellence is to be free from error. 4We must first of all, then, not expect that a style will be elegant which is not appropriate. What Cicero calls appropriate is that kind of style which is neither more nor less in any respect than is becoming; not that it should not be neat and polished, (for that is a part of elegance,) but because wherever there is excess there is faultiness. 4He would accordingly have authority in the words, and thoughts that are either impressive in themselves, or suited to the opinions and manners of the audience. For if these particulars be observed, we may adopt those forms of expression by which he considers that style is rendered ornate, select terms, metaphorical and hyperbolical phrases, epithets, repetitions, synonymes, and all such phraseology as is not unsuitable to the subject of our speech, or to the representation of things.

4But since I have undertaken first to point out fault, let me observe that one sort of fault is that which is called κακέμφατον (cacemphaton): whether the words which we use have by bad custom been distorted to an obscene meaning, as ductare exercitus and patrare bellum have been, by those who laugh, please the gods, at phrases which Sallust used in their pure and antique sense; (and I consider that the blame lies, therefore, not with writers but with readers; 4yet such expressions are to be avoided, inasmuch as we have perverted pure words through corruption of morals, and we must yield even to prevailing vices; or whether the junction of two words suggests by its sound something obscene, as, for instance, it we say cum hominibus notis loqui, unless the word hominibus be placed between cum and notis, we appear to fall into that which requires some prefatory excuse; for the last letter of the preceding syllable cum, which cannot be pronounced without the lips meeting together either obliges us to pause most unbecomingly, or, if it be united with the following letter n, partakes of the objectionable sound of it. 4There are other junctions of words that produce a similar effect, but it would be tedious to specify them, and, in doing so, I should dwell upon the fault which I say should be avoided. Let me observe however, that the division of a word sometimes gives the same offense to modesty; as in the use of the nominative case of intercapedinis. 4Nor is such misrepresentation made of what is written only, for many readers will try, unless we are very cautious, to intimate that something of an obscene nature is suggested, (like him in Ovid,

Quaeque latent, meliora putat,
Whatever is hid, he more attractive deems,)
and to extract from words which are as free from indecency as possible, some reason for a charge of indecency. Thus Celsus finds the cacemphaton in the words of Virgil,

Incipiunt agitata tumescere,
They are stirred and start to swell,
but if we allow this to be the case, it is not safe to say anything.

4The next fault to unseemliness of expression is that of meanness, which the Greeks call ταπείνωσις (tapeinōsis), and by which the greatness or dignity of a thing is depreciated, as Saxea est verruca in summo montis vertice, "It is a stone wart on the top of the mountain's head." To this fault the opposite in nature but equal in departure from judgment, is to apply to little things terms of extravagant meaning, unless to excite laughter be our object in doing so. We should not therefore, call a parricide a vicious man, nor a man attached to a harlot, a villain; for the former appellation expresses too little, and the latter too much. 4From such errors in judgment composition is rendered dull or mean, or dry, or flat, or disagreeable, or slovenly; faults which are easily understood by reflecting on the opposite excellences; for the first is opposed to the spirited, the second to the elegant, the third to the rich, and the others to the cheerful, attractive, and correct.

50. We must also avoid the fault called μείωσις (meiōsis), "diminution," when something is wanting to an expression, so that it is not sufficiently full; though this indeed is rather a fault of obscurity than of neglect of ornament in style. But when diminution is adopted by writers designedly, it is called a figure, as is the case with ταυτολογία (tautologia), "tautology," that is, the repetition of the same word or phrase. 5The latter, though not wholly avoided even by the best authors, may yet be considered a fault; but it is one into which Cicero himself often falls, through inattention to such petty carefulness; as in the words, Non solum illud judicium judicii simile, judices, non fuit, "Not only that judgment, judges, was not like a judgment." Sometimes it is called by another name, ἐπανάληψις (epanalēpsis) and is also numbered among the figures, of which I shall give examples in that part of my work where the beauties of style are to be noticed.

worse fault than this is ὁμοιολογια (homoiologia), "sameness of style," which relieves the weariness of the reader with no gratification from variety, but is all of one complexion, by which it is fully proved to be deficient in oratorical art; and, from the tameness of its thoughts and figures of speech, as well as from the monotony of its phraseology, it is most disagreeable not only to the mind but also to the ear. 5We must beware too of μακρολογια (macrologia), that is, the use of more words than is necessary, as in Livy, Legati, non impetratâ pace, retro domum, unde venerant, abierunt. "The ambassadors, not having obtained peace, returned back home, from whence they had come." But periphrasis, which is akin to macrology, is thought a beauty.

Another fault is πλεονασμός (pleonasmos), "pleonasm," when a sentence is burdened with superfluous words, as "I saw with my eyes," for "I saw" is sufficient. 5Cicero humorously corrected a fault of this kind in Hirtius, who having said, in a declamation against Pansa, that a son had been borne ten months by his mother in her womb, "What," exclaimed Cicero, "do other women bear their children in their cloaks?" Sometimes, however, that kind of pleonasm, of which I gave an example just before, is used for the purpose of affirming more strongly, as,

Vocumque his auribus hausi,
And with these very ears his voice I heard.
5But such addition will be a fault whenever it is useless and redundant, not when it is intended. There is also a fault called περιεργία (periergia), superfluous operoseness, if I may so express myself, differing from judicious care, just as a fidgetty man differs from an industrious one, or as superstition from religion; and, to make an end of my remarks on this point, every word that contributes neither to the sense nor to the embellishment of what we write, may be called vicious.

5Κακόζηλον (Cacozēlon), injudicious affectation, is a fault in every kind of style; for whatever is tumid, or jejune, or luscious, or redundant, or far-fetched, or unequal, may come under this term; all, indeed, that goes beyond excellence, all that is produced when imagination is not guided by judgment, and is misled by the appearance of some fancied beauty, may be characterized as affected; a fault which is the worst of all faults in oratory; for other faults are merely not avoided, but this is pursued. But it lies wholly in language. 5Faults in matter are, that it is void of sense, or common, or contradictory, or redundant; corruption of style arises chiefly from the use or words that are improper, superfluous, or obscure in meaning, or from feebleness in composition, or puerile seeking for similar or equivocal expressions. 5But all affectation is something false, though everything false is not affectation. To be affected in style is to speak otherwise than nature directs, or than is proper, or to use more words than are sufficient. Language is corrupted in as many ways as it is improved. But on this head I have spoken more fully in another work; it is noticed also frequently in this, and will be noticed occasionally hereafter; for, in speaking of ornament, I shall speak from time to time of such faults as border on excellences, and are to be avoided.

5The following blemishes also spoil the beauty of composition: Want of proper arrangement, which the Greeks call άνοικονόμητον (anoikonomēton); unskilful use of figures, which they call άσχήματον (aschēmaton); inelegant junction of words or phrases, which they term κακοσύνθετον (kakosyntheton). Of arrangement, however, I have already treated; of figures and composition I shall treat hereafter. Another kind of fault which the Greeks notice is κοινισμός (koinismos), the compounding of a style from different dialects; as, for example, if a writer should mix Doric, Ionic, and aeolic words with Attic. 60. A fault similar to this in our writers, is to mix grand words with mean, old with new, such as are poetical with such as are common. This produces such a monstrosity as Horace imagines at the commencement of his book on the Art of Poetry,

Humano capiti cervicem pictor equinam
Jungere si velit,

If to a human head a horse's neck
A painter chose to join,
and to add other parts from different animals.

6Ornament is something superadded to perspicuity and propriety. The first two steps towards it consist in a vigorous conception and expression of what we wish to say; the third requisite is, to render what we have conceived and expressed more attractive, and this is what we properly call embellishment. Let us, therefore, number ἐνάργεια (enargeia), which I noticed in my directions respecting narration, among the ornaments of style, because distinctness, or, as some call it, representation, is something more than mere perspicuity; for while perspicuity merely lets itself be seen, enargeia forces itself on the reader's notice. 6It is a great merit to set forth the objects of which we speak in lively colours, and so that they may as it were be seen; for our language is not sufficiently effective, and has not that absolute power which it ought to have, if it impresses only the ears, and if the judge feels that the particulars, on which he has to give a decision, are merely stated to him, and not described graphically, or displayed to the eyes of his mind. 6But as this art of depiction is contemplated by writers under several heads, I shall divide it, not indeed into all the parts which they specify, and of which the number is ambitiously augmented by some of them, but into the principal, on each of which I shall say something.

There is, then, one kind, by which the whole figure of an object is painted as it were in words:

Constitit in digitos extemplo arrectus uterque,
Forthwith erect upon their toes both stood,

with the other particulars described, which set before us the appearance of the contending champions with such exactness, that it could not have been plainer even to the spectators themselves. 6In this quality of style, as in all others, Cicero displays the highest excellence. Is any one so incapable of conceiving images of objects, that, when he reads the description in the oration against Verres, "The praetor of the Roman people, with sandals, with a purple cloak after the Greek fashion, and a tunic reaching to his feet, stood upon the shore leaning on a courtezan," he does not seem to behold the very aspect and dress of the man, and even to imagine for himself many particulars that are not expressed? 6I, for my part, seen to myself to see his countenance, the look of his eyes, the repulsive dalliance of him and his mistress, and the tacit disgust, and shrinking modesty, of those who witnessed the scene.

6Sometimes the picture, which we endeavor to exhibit, is made to consist of several particulars, as is seen in the same orator (for he alone affords examples of every excellence in embellishment) in the description of a luxurious banquet: "I seemed to myself to see some entering, others going out, some tottering from the effects of wine, some yawning from yesterday's carousal. The ground was polluted, muddy with spilt wine, and covered with faded garlands and fish-bones." What more could a person who had entered the place have seen? 6It is thus that commiseration for captured cities is excited; for though he who says that a city is captured, doubtless comprehends under that expression all the circumstances with which such a calamity is attended, yet this short kind of announcement makes no impression on the feelings. 6If you expand, however, what was intimated in the single word, there will be seen flames spreading over houses and temples; there will be heard the crash of falling edifices, and a confused noise of various outcries; there will be seen some fleeing, and others clinging in the last embrace of their relatives; there will be the lamentations of women and children, and old men preserved by an unhappy fate to see that day; 6there will be the pillaging of profane and sacred treasures; the hurrying of soldiers carrying off their booty and seeking for more; prisoners driven in chains before their captors; mothers struggling to retain their infants; and battles among the conquerors wherever the plunder is most inviting. For though, as I said, the idea of the city being taken includes all these circumstances, yet it is less impressive to tell the whole at once than to specify the different particulars; and the particulars we shall succeed in making vivid if we but give them a resemblance to truth. 70. We may also invent some circumstances, such as are likely to occur on such occasions.

A similar vividness will be given to description by the mention of adjuncts or consequences; as,

Mihi frigidus horror
Membra quatit, gelidusque coit formidine sanguis,

A shiv'ring horror shakes
My limbs, and my cold blood congeals with fear;

Trepid? matres presere ad pectora natos,

Trembling mothers clasp'd their infants to their breasts.
7To the attainment of this excellence, (an excellence, in my opinion, of the highest order,) the way is very easy. We must look to nature, and follow her. All eloquence relates to the transactions of human life; every man refers what he hears to himself; and the mind easily admits what it recognizes as true to nature.

7To throw light upon descriptions similes have been very happily invented; some of which, as they strengthen proof, are numbered among arguments; others are adapted to give a lively representation of things; and it is this sort that is applicable to the present head of our subject:

Inde lupi ceu
Raptores atrâ in nebul

Thence like rav'ning wolves,
In a dark mist,
and

Avi similis, quae circum litora, circum
Piscosos scopulos, humilis volat aequora juxta,

Like the bird that flies
Around the shores, around the fishy rocks,
Low, near the sea.
7In the use of this kind of illustration we must take the greatest care that what we introduce by way of similitude may not be obscure or unknown; for that which is offered as an illustration of something else, ought to be plainer than that which it is meant to illustrate. Similes of the following kind we may accordingly leave to the poets:

Qualis ubi hybernam Lyciam, Xanthique fluenta
Deserit, aut Delon maternam invisit Apollo;

As when Apollo wintry Lycia quits
And Xanthus' stream, or visits Delos' isle,
His birthplace.
7It would not become an orator to demonstrate something plain by a reference to something obscure. But that kind of simile also, of which I spoke in treating of arguments contributes to the ornament of style, and helps to render it sublime, or florid, or attractive, or striking. The more distant, indeed, is the subject from which any illustration is drawn, the more novelty it has, and the more surprise it causes. 7Such as the following may seem common, adapted only to aid in enforcing conviction: "As ground is made better and more fertile by culture, so is the mind by learning: and, As surgeons amputate limbs rendered useless by disease, so base and mischievous persons, though intimately allied to us by blood, must be cut off from our society." This from the speech for Archias is more sublime: "Stones and deserts reply to the voice; fierce wild beasts are often moved, and stand still, at the song of the poet," etc. 7This kind of simile is often greatly abused by the licentiousness of declaimers; for they adopt such as are false; and they do not apply them fairly to the things to which they wish them to seem applicable. An example of both faults is afforded in some that were everywhere repeated when I was a young man: Of great rivers the sources are navigable; and, The generous tree bears fruit as soon as it springs up.

7In every comparison, either the simile precedes and the subject of it follows, or the subject precedes and the simile follows. But sometimes the simile stands by itself and is unconnected; sometimes, as is preferable, it is joined with the object of which it is the representation, resemblances in the one answering to resemblances in the other; an effect which what we call redditio contraria, and the Greeks ἀνταπόδοσις (antapodosis), produces. 7The simile which I mentioned just above, precedes the subject:

Inde lupi ceu
Raptores atra in nebula;
that in the first book of the Georgics, after the long complaint concerning civil and foreign wars, follows its subject:

Ut quum carceribus sese effedere quadrigae,
Addunt in spatia; et frustra retinacula tendens
Fertur equis auriga, nec audit currus habenas.

As when the chariots from the barriers start,
And speed athwart the plain; the charioteer,
Tight'ning in vain the curb, is borne away
By his own steeds, nor heeds the car the rein.
But this simile is without any antapodosis. 7Such mutual correspondence, however, brings under the eye as it were both objects of comparison, and displays them together. I find many noble examples of it in Virgil; but I must take them from the orators in preference. Cicero, in his speech for Muraena, says, "As they say that those, among the Greek musicians, who cannot become players on the lyre, may become players on the flute, so we see that those who cannot become orators betake themselves to the study of the law." 80. There is another example in the same speech, animated with a spirit almost of poetry, and with an antapodosis, which renders it more effective as an embellishment: "For as tempests are oftentimes excited by the influence of some particular sign in the heavens, and oftentimes arise suddenly, without any assignable cause, and from some undiscoverable origin, so in regard to such a tempest of the people at the comitia, though we may often understand by what influence it has been raised, yet its origin is, often so obscure, that it seems to have arisen without any cause at all." 8There are also short similes of this kind, as, "Wandering through the woods after the manner of wild beasts"; and that of Cicero in reference to Clodius, "From which trial he escaped naked, as from a house on fire." But similes like these will occur to the recollection of every one, from everyday conversation.

With this kind of simile is connected the power of setting a thing before the eve, not only with plainness, but concisely and quickly. 8Brevity, indeed, to which nothing is wanting, is justly extolled, but that kind of brevity which says nothing more than is necessary, (the Greeks call it βραχυλογία (brachylogia) , and it shall be noticed among the figures of speech,) is less deserving of commendation. Yet it is very happy when it comprises much in few words, as in the phrase of Sallust, Mithridates corpore ingenti, perinde armatus, "Mithridates, of vast stature, and suitably armed." But obscurity attends on those who attempt such conciseness injudiciously.

beauty akin to the preceding, but of higher merit, is emphasis, which intimates a deeper meaning than the words used actually express. There are, however, two kinds of it; one which signifies more than is said; the other which signifies something that is not said. 8Of the former kind there is a specimen in Homer, where Menelaus says, that the Greeks descended into the horse; for by that one word he shows the vastness of the horse; and there is a similar specimen in Virgil,

Demissum lapsi per funem,
Descending by a rope let down,
for thus also the height-of the horse is signified. Virgil, too, when he says that the Cyclops lay stretched through the cave, measures the prodigious bulk of his body by the space of ground that it occupied. 8The latter kind consists either in the entire suppression of a word in what we say, or in the omission of it at the close. As to the suppression of a word or thought, Cicero has given an instance of it in his speech for Ligarius. But if, Caesar, in your present height of power you had not so much clemency in your own disposition as you have; in your own disposition, I say; I know how I am expressing myself; for he suppresses that which we nevertheless understand that there were not wanting men to incite him to cruelty. An omission at the close is by ἀποσιώπησις (aposiopesis), which, as it is a figure, will be noticed in its proper place. There is emphasis also in many common expressions; as, "You must be a man," and, "He is but a mortal," and, "We must live." So like is nature in general to art.

It is not enough, however, for eloquence to set forth the subjects of discussion clearly and vividly; but there are many and various modes of embellishing language. 8The ἀφέλεια (apheleia) of the Greeks, "simplicity" pure and unaffected, carries with it a certain chaste ornament, such as is so much liked in women; and there is a certain pleasing delicacy of style that arises from a nicety of care about the propriety and significancy of words. Of copiousness there is one kind that is rich in thought, and another that abounds with flowers. 8Of force; there is more than one species; for whatever is complete in its kind, has its proper force. Its chief manifestation, however, is δεινωσις (deinōsis) "vehemence" in exaggerating an indignity; in regard to other subjects depth; in conceiving images of things, φαντασία (phantasia); in fulfilling as it were a proposed work, ἐξεργασία (exergasia): to which is added ἐπεξεργασία (epexergasia), a repetition of thesame proof, or superabundant accumulation of argument. 8Allied to these qualities is ἐνέργεια (energeia), which has its name from action, and of which the chief virtue is to prevent what is said from being ineffective. There is also a kind of bitter force, which is commonly employed in invective, as in the question of Cassius, "What will you say when I shall invade your domain, that is, when I shall teach you that you do not know how to revile?" A sort of sharp force, also, as in the saying of Crassus, "Should I consider you a consul, when you do not consider me a senator?" But the chief power of an orator lies in exaggeration and extenuation. Each has the same number of expedients, on a few of which I shall touch; those which I omit will be of a similar character. 90. But they all have their sources in matter or in words. Of the invention and arrangement of matter, however, I have already treated; my present business is to show how expression may contribute to elevate or depress a subject.

THE first mode of amplifying or extenuating, then, lies in the nature of the term which we apply to anything, as when we say, that a man who was beaten, was murdered; that one who is disingenuous, is a thief; or, on the other hand, that one who beat another, touched him, or that one who wounded another, hurt him. Of both there is an example in one passage of the speech for Caelius; If a woman, being a widow, lives freely; being bold, lives without restraint; being rich, lives luxuriously; being wanton, lives like a courtezan; should I, if a man salutes her somewhat familiarly, consider him as an adulterer? For he calls a woman who was rather immodest, a courtezan; and says, that he who had been long connected with her, saluted her somewhat familiarly. This sort of amplification becomes stronger and more remarkable, when the terms of larger meaning are compared with those for which we substitute them; thus Cicero says in his speech against Verres, "We have brought before your tribunal, not a thief, but an open robber; not a simple fornicator, but a violator of all chastity; not a person guilty only of sacrilege, but an open enemy to everything sacred and religious; not a mere assassin, but a most cruel executioner of our countrymen and allies." By the first term, much is signified; by the second, still more.

I see that amplification, however, is effected chiefly in four ways; by augmentation, by comparison, by reasoning, and by accumulation.

Augmentation is most effective, when even things of which we speak as inferior to others, are made to seem of importance. This may be done either by one step or by several. By augmentation we reach, not only the highest point, but some times, as it were, beyond that point. To exemplify all these remarks a single instance from Cicero will suffice: It is an offense to bind a Roman citizen, a crime to scourge him, almost treason to put him to death; and what shall I say that it is to crucify him? For had the Roman citizen only been scourged, Cicero would have exaggerated the guilt of Verres one degree, by saying, that even a less kind of punishment than scourging was an offense; and had he only been put to death, the guilt would have been aggravated by another degree; but after having said, that to put him to death was almost treason, a crime than which there is no greater; Cicero adds, what shall I say that it is to crucify him? When he had come to that crime, which is the greatest of all, words were necessarily wanting to express anything beyond it. An advance, beyond what seems highest, may also be made in another way; as in what Virgil says concerning Lausus:

Quo pulchrior alter
Non fuit, excepto Laurentis corpore Turni,

Than whom
Was none more beautiful, except the form
Of the Laurentian Turnus.
To say, than whom, was none more beautiful, was to go apparently as high as possible, but something was afterwards added. There is also a third way, in which we do not advance by steps, there being no more and most, but proceed at once to something than which nothing greater can be named: You killed your mother; what shall I say more; you killed your mother. For this is a kind of augmentation, to represent anything as so great that it cannot be augmented. Language is amplified less evidently, but perhaps for that very reason more effectively, when, without any breaks, but in one continuous series and course, something always follows greater than what goes before; thus Cicero reproaches Antony with his vomiting, In an assembly of the people of Rome, when holding a public office, when master of the horse. Every particular is an advance on that which precedes: To vomit from excessive drinking would have been of itself disgusting, even if not before a public assembly; it would have been disgusting before a public assembly, even if not of a whole people; before a whole people, even if not the people of Rome; even if he had held no office, or not a public office, or not that of master of the horse. Another speaker might have distinguished these steps, and dwelt upon each of them; Cicero hastens to the summit at once, and gains it, not by climbing, but at the utmost speed.

But as this kind of amplification looks always to something higher, so that which is made by comparison seeks to raise itself on something lower. For by elevating that which is beneath, it must of necessity exalt that which is placed above. Thus Cicero, in the passage just quoted, says, If this had happened to you at a banquet, and over those immense cups of yours, who would not have thought it disgraceful? But when it occurred before an assembly of the Roman people, etc. And in one of his speeches against Catiline. If, assuredly, my slaves feared me, as all your fellow-citizens fear you, I should think that I must quit my house. 1Sometimes, by mentioning an instance of something similar, we may make that which we wish to exaggerate appear greater: thus Cicero, in his speech for Cluentius, having related that a woman of Miletus had received a bribe from the heirs in reversion to cause abortion in her own person, exclaims, Of how much greater punishment is Oppianicus deserving for a crime of a similar nature? The woman of Miletus, in doing violence to her own body, tortured only herself; Oppianicus effected a like object by violence and torture to the body of another. 1Nor let any one think that this sort of amplification, though of a like character, is the same with the mode of proceeding in regard to arguments, where the greater is inferred from the less; for in the one case to prove is the object, in the other to magnify; as, in regard to Oppianicus, the purpose of the comparison is not to show that he committed a crime, but that he committed a greater crime than another person. 1In the two cases, however, though different, there is a certain affinity; and I shall therefore have recourse to the same example of which I made use in the other place, though not for the same purpose; for what I have here to show is, that, for the sake of amplification, not only a whole is compared with a whole, but parts with parts; as in this passage: Did that illustrious man, and chief pontiff, Publius Scipio, kill, in his private character, Gracchus, when he was making only moderate changes in the commonwealth, and shall we consuls bear with Catiline, who is seeking to devastate the whole earth with fire and sword? 1Here Catiline is compared to Gracchus; the commonwealth to the whole world; the moderate change to slaughter, fire, and devastation; a man in his private character with the consuls; and if a speaker should wish to dilate on these points severally, each would furnish ample matter for the purpose.

1As to the amplifications which I said were made by reasoning, let us consider whether I designated them by a sufficiently appropriate term; though I am not indeed very anxious as to that point, provided that the thing itself be clear to those who wish to understand it. I have, however, adopted that term, because this sort of amplification is introduced in one place and produces its effect in another; so that one thing is magnified in order that another may be corroborated; and thence we arrive by reasoning at that which is the object of our amplification. 1For instance, Cicero, designing to reproach Antony with his wine-bibbing and vomiting, says, You, with such a throat, with such sides, with such strength in your whole body, fit for a gladiator, etc. What has the mention of the throat and sides to do with the intoxication? It is by no means without effect; for, looking to their capacity, we may estimate how much wine he has swallowed at the marriage of Hippia, which he could not bear and carry off even with that strength of body fit for a gladiator. If, therefore, one thing is concluded from another, the term reasoning is neither improper nor extraordinary; and it is a term which I have introduced for the same reason among the positions. 1So likewise amplification arises from ensuing circumstances, as, in the case of Antony, such was the force of the wine bursting from him, that it produced no trifling effect, or inclination to vomit, but an absolute necessity of doing so, where it least of all became him; and the food which he cast up was not fresh, as sometimes happens, but such as remained in his stomach from the feast of the preceding day. 1Circumstances that have preceded an act, too, lead to a similar conclusion; for when Aeolus, at the request of Juno,

--cavum conversâ cuspide montem
Impulit in latus; ac venti, velut agmine facto
Qua data porta ruunt,

--turn'd his spear, and struck
The hollow mountain's side, and forth the winds
Rush, as in banded throng, where'er a way
Was giv'n,
it is signified how great a tempest would follow. 1Is it not amplification by reasoning, also, when we purposely extenuate the most atrocious crimes, (which we ourselves have previously represented as meriting the utmost detestation,) in order that the charges which are to follow may appear more enormous? This is done by Cicero, when he said, These are but trifling charges against such a criminal. The captain of a vessel, from a most honorable city, purchased exemption from the terror of scourging with a sum of money; to allow him to do so was humanity in Verres. Another, that he might not be beheaded, sacrificed also a sum of money; this was but an ordinary occurrence. 20. Has not Cicero used amplification from reasoning, in order that the audience might estimate how enormous what was to be inferred must be, when such transactions, compared with it, were humane and ordinary? In this manner one thing is frequently enhanced by a reference to another; as when the merit of Scipio is magnified by dwelling on the military excellences of Hannibal; and when we extol the bravery of the Gauls and Germans, in order that the glory of Julius Caesar may appear the greater.

2It is also a kind of amplification, when something is said of one thing with reference to another, with a view to which, however, it does not appear to be said. The chiefs of Troy thought it nothing discreditable that the Greeks and Trojans should endure so many calamities for so long a period for the sake of the beauty of Helen; how great, then, must that beauty be supposed to have been! It is not Paris, who carried her off, that says this; nor any young man; nor one of the multitude; but old men, the wisest of the people, the counsellors of Priam. 2And even the king himself, exhausted by a ten years' siege, deprived of so many children, with utter destruction hanging over him, he, to whom it might have been thought that that face, which had been the cause of so many tears, would have been odious and detestable, not only listens patiently to this remark, but calling, her "daughter," places her at his side, and even exculpates her, and denies that she is the cause of his misfortunes. 2Nor does Plato, in his Symposium, when he represents Alcibiades as confessing, on his part, how he wished to have been treated by Socrates, appear to have given this account in order to blame Alcibiades, but in order to show the incorruptible morality of Socrates, which could not be shaken even by the obvious advances of the most attractive of mankind. 2It is thus, too, that the extraordinary stature of the ancient heroes is left to be inferred by us from the weapons which they used; as instances, may be mentioned the shield of Ajax, and the spear of Achilles. Of this kind of artifice Virgil has admirably availed himself in his description of the Cyclops; for how huge must we conceive the body to be, the hand of which trunca pinus regit, "a pine-tree lopped of its branches supports?" How great also must have been the size of Demoleos, when two men, with their united efforts, could scarcely support his coat of mail on their shoulders, and yet he, clad in it,

cursu palantes Troas agebat,
The scatter'd Trojans at full speed pursued!
2Cicero himself, again, could hardly have imagined anything so descriptive of the luxury of Mark Antony as he intimates when he says, You might have seen the couches of slaves in their bed-rooms, decked with Pompey's purple quilts. Slaves in their bed-rooms use purple quilts, and those the quilts of Pompey; nothing stronger can be said; and yet we must consider that there was infinitely greater extravagance in the master than in his slaves. 2This species of amplification is of a similar nature with what is called ἔμφασις (emphasis). But the one suggests an inference from a word, the other from a thing; and the latter is as much more effective than the former as things are more impressive than words.

There remains to be noticed under amplification the accumulation of a number of words or thoughts having the same signification; for though they do not ascend by steps, yet they are heaped up, as it were, by coacervation. 2What did your sword do, Tubero, that was drawn in the field of Pharsalia? At whose body was the point of it aimed? What was the object of your appearance in arms? To what were your thoughts, your eyes, your hands, directed? What ardor inspired your breast? What did you wish or desire? This is similar to what the Greeks call συναθροισμός (synathroismos). But in the Greek there is an amassing of many things; in the other figure there is an aggregation of particulars relating to one. This kind of amplification is often produced by a series of words rising higher and higher in meaning; as, There was present the doorkeeper of the prison, the praetor's executioner, the death and terror of the allies and citizens of Rome, the lictor Sextius.

2The art of extenuation is nearly similar; for there are as many steps when we go up as when we go down. I shall content myself, therefore, with one example of it, taken from that passage where Cicero speaks thus of a speech of Rullus: Some few, however, who stood nearest to him, suspected that he wished to say something about the Agrarian law. If this is considered to signify that the speech was not understood, it is extenuation; if that it was obscure, it is exaggeration.

2I know that hyperbole may also be thought by some a species of amplification, for it either magnifies or diminishes. But because the meaning of hyperbole is larger than that of amplification, it must be reserved for consideration under the head of tropes. Of these I should proceed to treat at once, if they were not a form of speech distinct from other forms, consisting in words used, not in their proper, but in a metaphorical sense. Let me grant a little indulgence, therefore, to a desire which is almost universal and not omit to speak of that ornament of style which most regard as the principal and almost only one.

THE ancient Latins called whatever they conceived in the mind, sententia, "a thought." This acceptation of the word is not only very common among orators, but retains some hold of a place in the intercourse of ordinary life. For when we are going to take an oath, we speak ex animi nostri sententia, "from the thought of our mind," and when we congratulate our friends, we express ourselves ex sententia, "from our thought." Not unfrequently, however, they spoke of uttering their sensa; as to the word sensus, it seems to have applied by them only to the bodily senses. But a custom has now become prevalent of calling the conceptions of the mind sensus, and those striking thoughts, which are introduced chiefly at the close of periods, sententiae. Such thoughts were far from being common among the ancients, but in our day are used to excess. I think it necessary for me, therefore, to say a few words concerning the different kinds of them, and the methods in which they may be used.

Though they all come under the same appellation, those that are properly called sententiae are the most ancient of their kind; the Greeks call them γνώμαι (gnōmai), and they received their name, both in Greek and Latin, from their similarity to counsels or decrees. The word is one of general meaning and reference; and a sententia may be deserving of praise in itself, without being applied to any particular subject. Sometimes it relates merely to a thing, as in "Nothing contributes so much to popularity as goodness"; sometimes to a person, as that saying of Domitius Afer, "A prince who would look into all things must of necessity overlook many things." Some have called it a part of an enthymeme, and some the beginning or end of an epichireme; and it sometimes is so, but not always. It is remarked with more truth, that it is sometime simple, as in the two examples which I have just given sometimes accompanied with a reason, such as, "For in all disputes he that is the stronger, even though he receive the injury, appears, because his power is greater, to have inflicted it"; and sometimes double, as

Obsequium amicos, veritas odium parit,

Obsequiousness makes friends, plain truth breeds hate.
Some have even made ten kinds, but in a way in which many more might be made, distinguishing them into sententia of interrogation, of comparison, of negation, of similitude, of admiration, etc.; for a thought might thus have a name from every form of language. One of the most remarkable kinds is that which consists in an opposition of particulars:

Mors misera non est; aditus ad mortem est miser,

Death is not grievous, but th' approach to death.
Sometimes thoughts are enunciated in a direct manner:

Tam deest avaro quod habet, quàm quod non habet,

The miser wants as much that which he has,
As that which he has not;
but they receive additional force from a change in the form of expression; as,

Usque adeòne mori miserum est?

Is it then such a grievous thing to die?
For this is more spirited than the direct expression, "Death is not grievous." The same effect may be produced by the adaptation of a general sentiment to a particular case; thus Medea in Ovid, instead of saying in a direct manner, Nocere facile est, prodesse difficile, "It is easy to do harm, difficult to do good," expresses herself with more animation thus:

Servare potui: perdere ac possim rogas?

I have had power to save, and do you ask
Whether I can destroy?
Thus Cicero makes a personal application of a common thought: "Your height of fortune, Caesar, carries with it nothing greater than the power, and nothing better than the will, to save as many persons as possible," attributing that to Caesar which belonged properly to the circumstances in which Caesar was placed. But in the use of such sentiments, we must take care, as we must indeed with regard to all thoughts, that they be not too frequently introduced, or be evidently inapplicable, (as is the case with many that are used by some speakers who call them καθολικά (catholica), and utter all that make for their cause as incontrovertible,) and that they be not employed everywhere, or put into the mouth of all characters indiscriminately. For they are more suitable to persons of authority, whose character may give weight to what they say. Who indeed would listen patiently to a boy, or a young man, or a person of no estimation, if he spoke decisively, or uttered precepts with the air of a master?

Whatever we conceive in the mind, also, is an enthymeme, but that which is properly called so, consists of two thoughts in opposition, because it seems to be as pre-eminent among other thoughts as Homer among poets and Rome among cities. Of this enough has been said in the part where I spoke of arguments. It is not, however, always used for the purpose of argument, but sometimes merely for embellishment, as, "Shall the language of those, Caesar, whose impunity is an honor to your clemency, incite you to cruelty?" Cicero adds this question, not because it contains a new reason, but because it had been already shown, by other arguments, how unjust such conduct would be; 1and it is subjoined at the close of the period by way of epiphonema, not as a proof, but as a triumphant blow to the adverse party; an epiphonema being, as it were, the concluding attestation to something already related or proved; as in Virgil,

Tantae molis erat Romanam condere gentem,

Such was the task to found the Roman state!
Or as in the words of Cicero, "The young man, being of honorable disposition, chose rather to incur danger, than to endure what was disgraceful."

1There is also to be noticed what is called by the moderns νόημα (noēma, a term which may be taken as implying any thought whatever; but our rhetoricians have distinguished by it that which they do not express, but wish to be understood; as in what was said to the young man, whom his sister had several times redeemed when he had enlisted among the gladiators, and who brought an action against her under the lex talionis, because she had cut off his thumb while he was asleep, "You deserved," exclaimed she, "to have your hand whole," intimating that he deserved to be all his life a gladiator. 1What is called a clausula, too, requires to be mentioned; and if it be in the sense of what we term a conclusion, it is proper, and, in some places, necessary; as, "You must, therefore, make confession concerning your own conduct, before you blame anything in that of Ligarius." But our modern speakers use it in another sense, and intimate that every thought at the conclusion of a period should fall pointedly on the ear. 1They think it unbecoming, and almost a crime, to take breath at any passage which is not intended to call forth acclamations. Hence those small witticisms, uttered in bad taste, and forced into the service of the subject; for there cannot be as many happy thoughts as there must be conclusions to periods.

1The following kinds of sententiae among the moderns may also be noticed. That which consists in something unexpected; as the retort of Vibius Crispus to a man who, when he was walking about the forum in a coat of mail, pretended that he did so from fear: "Who," exclaimed Crispus, "has given you permission to be so much in fear?" Or as the remarkable address of Africanus to Nero on the death of his mother, "Your Gallic provinces, Caesar, entreat you to bear your good fortune with firmness." 1Others consist in some indirect allusion; as, when Domitius Afer was pleading for Cloantilla, whom Claudius had pardoned when she was accused of having buried her husband, who had been killed among the rebels, he remarked in his peroration, addressing himself to her sons, "Nevertheless, young men, do not fail to bury your mother." 1Some are aliunde petita, that is, transferred from one thing to another; as Crispus, in pleading for Spatale, whose lover, after making her his heiress, had died at the age of twenty-two, exclaimed, "O youth of extraordinary forethought, who thus gratified himself!" 1Mere repetition makes some of these sententiae, as that of Seneca in the letter which Nero sent to the senate after killing his mother, wishing to make it appear that he had been in great danger, "That I am safe, neither, as yet, do I believe, nor do I rejoice." But this is better when it is strengthened by an opposition of clauses, as, "I know where to flee, but whom to follow I do not know. Why need I add that the miserable man, though he could not speak, could not hold his peace?" 1It is most striking, however, when it is vivified by some comparison, as in the remark of Trachalus against Spatale, "Do you desire, therefore, O ye laws, most faithful guardians of chastity that tenth parts of estates should be awarded to wives, and fourth parts to mistresses?"

Of such kinds of sententiae, however, some may deserve to be called good, and some bad. 20. Those are always bad that are mere plays on words, as, "Conscript Fathers, for I must commence thus, to remind you of what is due to fathers." A still worse kind, as it is more false and far-fetched, is such as that which was attributed to the gladiator, (whom I mentioned just above,) as a retort to his sister, "I have fought to my finger." 2But perhaps the most execrable of all is when ambiguity in the words is joined with something that conveys a false notion as to the matter. I remember, when I was a young man, hearing a famous pleader, who had given a mother some splinters of bone, picked out of a wound in her son's head, merely for the sake of a sententia, exclaim, "Unhappy woman, you have not yet conveyed your son to his funeral pile, and yet you have collected his bones." 2Thus many delight even in the pettiest attempts at wit, which, if examined, are merely ridiculous, but which, when first produced, please the hearer with a show of ingenuity. For example, there is an imaginary case in the schools of a man who, having been shipwrecked, after being previously ruined by the barrenness of his grounds, hanged himself; and it is said of him, "Let him whom neither earth nor sea sustains, hang in the air." 2A similar witticism was made on the young man that I mentioned above, to whom, when he was tearing his flesh, his father gave poison: "He who eats that, ought to drink this." To a luxurious man, also, who is said to have pretended a resolution to die by hunger, the admonition was offered, "Make a rope for yourself; you have reason to be angry with your throat; or take poison; a toper ought to die drinking." 2Some are mere inanity, as that of the declaimer extorting the generals of Alexander to bury him in the ashes of Babylon, and exclaiming, "I celebrate the obsequies of Alexander, and will any one behold them from the window of his house?" as if the absence of spectators from windows were more to be deplored than anything else relating to the ceremony. Some are extravagant; as what I heard a speaker say of the Germans, "I know not where their head is placed," and of a brave man, "He repelled wars with his shield." 2But there would be no end, if I were to attempt to enumerate all the species of tasteless witticisms.

Let us rather attend to a point which is of more importance. There are two different opinions respecting sententiae; that of those who set the highest value on them; and that of those who entirely reject them. With neither of these opinions do I exactly concur. 2If brilliant thoughts are too crowded, they interfere one with another; as in crops of corn, and fruits on trees, nothing can grow to its just size that wants space in which to expand itself. Nor does a figure in a picture, which has no shade surrounding it, stand out in relief; and accordingly painters, when they combine several objects in the same piece, keep them distinct by intervening spaces, that shadows may not fall on the objects. 2This pursuit of fine thoughts, also, makes style too curt; for every thought makes as it were a stand, as being complete in itself; and after it there must necessarily be the commencement of another sentence. Hence language is rendered too unconnected, and being composed, not of members, but of bits, has no proper construction; for these round and polished portions refuse to unite with each other. 2The complexion, too, of the style, is variegated with spots, which, however brilliant, are of many and diverse hues; and, although a band and decorations of purple, put on a dress in their proper place, give a radiance to it, yet certainly a garment bedecked with various patches would be becoming to nobody. 2However, therefore, such ornaments may seem to glitter and stand out, as it were, in composition, yet we may well compare them, not to the light of flame, but to sparks appearing among smoke; for they would not be noticed if the whole composition were luminous, any more than the stars are seen in the light of the sun; and the eloquence that tries to raise itself, as it were, with frequent little bounds, presents an unequal and broken surface to the view, neither gaining the admiration paid to lofty objects, nor exhibiting the attractions of level ground. 30. To this is to be added another evil, that the speaker who is always hunting for striking thoughts, must necessarily produce many that are trifling, vapid, and impertinent; for he can make no proper distinction where he is overwhelmed with numbers. Hence you may witness, among such orators, even the division of their subject set off with the air of a fine thought, as well as their arguments, if they be delivered at the close and fall of a period. 3"You, yourself an adulterer, have killed your wife; I could not have tolerated your conduct, even if you had but divorced her," is with them a mode of division, and, "Would you be convinced that the philtre was poison? The man would be now alive, if he had not drunk it," is a form of argument. Most of them, indeed, may be said not to utter fine thoughts, but to utter everything as if it were a fine thought.

3Some, again, make the contrary practice their study, shunning and shrinking from all such charms of composition, and approving nothing but what is plain, and humble, and without effort. Thus, while they are afraid that they may sometimes fall, they are always creeping on the ground. But what crime do they suppose that there is in producing a fine thought? Does it not strike the judge? Does it not recommend the speaker? 3It is a fashion of speaking, they reply, which the orators of antiquity did not follow. How far back in antiquity, let me ask them, do they refer us? If to a remote period, Demosthenes produced many fine thoughts, such as no one had produced before him. If to a more recent period, how, let me ask, can they approve even Cicero, when they think that there ought to be no deviation from the manner of Cato and the Gracchi? Before the Cato and the Gracchi, too, there was a still plainer way of speaking. 3For my own part, I consider such ornaments of style to be the very eyes, as it were, of eloquence; but I should not wish eyes to be spread over the whole body, lest other members should be obstructed in their functions; and, if I were compelled to make a choice, I should prefer the rudeness of the ancients to the affectation of the moderns. But a middle course is open between them; as, in our mode of living and dress, a certain elegance may be observed which is free from blame. Let us add, therefore, as far as we can, to the merits of our style; but let it be our first care to avoid faults, lest, while we wish to be better than the ancients, we make ourselves merely unlike them.

3I shall now proceed to the consideration of tropes, which I mentioned as the next head of my subject. The illustrious orators of our times call them motus, "movements" or "changes." Rules concerning them the grammarians generally deliver, but when I was speaking of their duties, I delayed entering on this head, because, as it refers to the embellishment of style, it seemed to me that it would demand more attention and should be reserved for a more important place in my work.

A trope is the conversion of a word or phrase, from its proper signification to another, in order to increase its force. Concerning tropes grammarians have carried on interminable disputes among themselves and with the philosophers; disputes as to what genera there are of them, what species, what number, and which are subordinate to others. For myself omitting all such subtilties as useless to form an orator, I shall speak only of those tropes which are most important and most in use; and in regard to these, too, I shall content myself with observing, that some are adopted for the purpose of adding to significance, others for the sake of ornament; that some take place in words used properly, and others in words used metaphorically; and that tropes occur, not only in single words, but also in thoughts, and in the structure of composition. Those, therefore, appear to me to have been in error, who thought that there were no tropes but when one word is put for another; nor am I insensible, that in the tropes which are used with a view to significance, there is also embellishment; but the reverse is not the case, as, there are some that are intended for embellishment only.

Let us commence, however, with that species of trope, which is both the most common and by far the most beautiful, I mean that which consists in what we call translatio, and the Greeks μεταφορά (metaphora).

Metaphor is not only so natural to us, that the illiterate and others often use it unconsciously, but is so pleasing and ornamental, that, in any composition, however brilliant, it will always make itself apparent by its own luster. If it be but rightly managed, it can never be either vulgar, mean, or disagreeable. It increases the copiousness of a language by allowing it to borrow what it does not naturally possess; and, what is its greatest achievement, it prevents an appellation from being wanting for anything whatever. A noun or a verb is accordingly transferred, as it were, from that place in the language to which it properly belongs, to one in which there is either no proper word, or in which the metaphorical word is preferable to the proper. This change we make, either because it is necessary, or because it adds to significance, or, as I said, because it is more ornamental. Where the transference produces no one of these effects, it will be vicious.

From necessity the rustics speak of the gemma, "bud," of the vines (for how else could they express themselves?) and say that the corn thirsts and that the crops suffer. From necessity we say that a man is hard or rough because there is no proper term for us to give to these dispositions of the mind. But we say that a man is inflamed with anger, burning with desire, and has fallen into error, with a view to significance or force of expression, for none of these phrases would be more significant in its own words than in those adopted metaphorically. The expressions, luminousness of language, illustrious birth, storms of public assemblies, thunderbolts of eloquence, are used merely for ornament; and it is thus that Cicero calls Clodius in one place a source, and in another a harvest and foundation, of glory to Milo. Some things also, which are unfit to be expressed plainly, are intimated metaphorically, as,

Hoc faciunt, nimio ne luxu obtusior usus
Sit genitalis arvo, et sulcos oblimet inertes;

This they do, lest by too much indulgence
the action of the genital field should grow
too unenergetic and obstruct the inert furrows.
On the whole, the metaphor is a short comparison, differing from the comparison in this respect, that, in the one, an object is compared with the thing which we wish to illustrate. In the other, the object is put instead of the thing itself. It is a comparison, when I say that a man has done something like a lion; it is a metaphor, when I say of a man that he is a lion.

Of metaphors in general there seem to be four kinds: the first, when one sort of living thing is put for another, as, in speaking of a driver of horses,

Gubernator magnâ contorsit equum vi,

The steersman turn'd his horse with mighty force;
or as Livy says that Scipio used to be barked at by Cato. The second, when one inanimate thing is put for another, as,

Classique inmittit habenas,

He gives his fleet the reins.
The third, when inanimate things are put for things having life, as,

Ferro, non fato, maerus Argivum occidit,

By steel, not fate, the wall of Greece fell down;
and the fourth, when things having life are put for things inanimate,

Sedet insicius alto
Accipiens sonitum saxi de vertice pastor,

The shepherd sits amazed,
Listening the sound from the high mountain's head.
1From the last kind of metaphor, when inanimate things are exalted by a bold and daring figure, and when we give energy and feeling as it were to objects that are without them, extraordinary sublimity is produced, as in Virgil,

Pontem indignatus Araxes,

Araxes that disdained a bridge;
1in Cicero, "What was your drawn sword, Tubero, doing in the field of Pharsalia? At whose body did its point direct itself? What was the meaning of your arms?" Sometimes this beauty is doubled, as in Virgil,

Ferrumque armare veneno,

To arm the steel with poison,
for to arm with poison and to arm steel are both metaphors. 1These four might be distinguished into more species, as a word may be taken from one sort of rational animal and applied metaphorically to another, and the same may be done with regard to irrational animals. In like manner, we may apply a metaphor from the rational to the irrational, or from the irrational to the rational, and from the whole of a thing to a part, or from the part to the whole. But I am not now giving directions to boys, or supposing that my readers, when they understand the genus, cannot master the species.

1But as a moderate and judicious use of metaphors adorns language, so a too frequent introduction of them obscures it and renders the perusal of it fatiguing, while a continuous series of them runs into allegory and enigma. Some metaphors, too, are mean, as that which I recently mentioned, "There is a wart of stone, etc." 1Some are repulsive, for though Cicero uses the expression sentina rei publicae, "sink of the commonwealth," with great happiness, to signify a herd of bad characters, yet I cannot for that reason approve of the saying of an old orator, Persecuists rei publicae vomicas, "You have lanced the ulcers of the commonwealth." Cicero himself excellently shows that we must take care that a metaphor be not offensive, as in his own examples that "the republic was castrated by the death of Africanus," or that "Glaucia was the excrement of the senate"; 1that it be not too great, or, as more frequently happens, too little for the subject; and that it be not inapplicable. He who knows that they are faults will find numerous such examples. But an excess of even good metaphors is vicious, especially if they are of the same kind. 1Some are harsh, that is, based on a resemblance not sufficiently close, as "The snows of the head," and,

Jupiter hibernas canâ nive conspuit Alpes,

Jove over the Alps spits forth the wintry snows.
But the greatest source of error in regard to this subject is that some speakers think whatever is allowed to poets (who make it their sole object to please and are obliged by the necessity of the meter to adopt many metaphorical expressions) is permissible also to those who express their thoughts in prose. 1But I, in pleading, would never say the "shepherd of the people" on the authority of Homer, nor speak of "birds rowing with their wings," though Virgil, in writing of bees and of Daedalus, has used that phrase with great happiness. For a metaphor ought either to occupy a place that is vacant, or, if it takes possession of the place of something else, to appear to more advantage in it than that which it excludes.

1What I say of metaphor may be applied, perhaps with more force, to synecdoche, for metaphor has been invented for the purpose of exciting the mind, giving a character to things, and setting them before the eye. Synecdoche is adapted to give variety to language by letting us understand the plural from the singular, the whole from a part, a genus from the species, something following from something preceding, and vice versa, but it is more freely allowed to poets than to orators. 20. For prose, though it may admit mucro, "a point" for a sword, and tectum, "a roof" for a house, will not let us say puppis, "a stern" for a ship, or quadrupes, "a quadruped" for a horse. But it is liberty with regard to number that is most admissible in prose. Thus Livy often says, Romanus praelio victor, "The Roman was victorious in the battle," when he means the Romans. Cicero, on the other hand, writes to Brutus, Populo imposuimus et oratores visi sumus, "We have imposed on the people and made ourselves be thought orators," when he speaks only of himself. 2This mode of expression not only adorns oratorical speeches, but finds its place even in common conservation. Some say that synecdoche is also used when we understand something that is not actually expressed in the words employed, as one word is then discovered from another. But this is sometimes numbered among defects in style under the name of ellipsis, as,

Arcades ad portas ruere;

The Arcadians to the gates began to rush;
2I consider it rather a figure, and among figures it shall be noticed. But from a thing actually expressed another may be understood, as,

Aspice aratra jugo referunt suspensa juvenci,

Behold the oxen homeward, bring their ploughs
Suspended from the yoke,
whence it appears that night is approaching. I do not know whether this mode of expression is allowable to an orator, unless in argumentation, when one thing is shown to indicate another. But this has nothing to do with elocution.

2From synecdoche, metonymy is not very different. It is the substitution of one word for another, and the Greek rhetoricians, as Cicero observes, call it ὑπαλλαγή (hypallage). It indicates an invention, by the inventor, or a thing possessed, by the possessor. Thus Virgil says,

Cererem, corruptam undis,

Ceres by water damaged,
and Horace,

receptus
Terra Neptunus classes Aquilonibus arcet,

Neptune, received
Within the land, from north winds shields the fleets.
The reverse would be offensive.

2It is of great importance, however, to consider how far the use of the trope is permitted to the orator, for though we daily hear "Vulcan" used for fire, though it is elegant to say vario Marte pugnatum for "the fortune of the battle was various," and though it is more becoming to say "Venus" than coitus, yet to use "Bacchus" and "Ceres" for wine and bread would be more venturesome than the severity of the forum would allow. Thus, too, custom permits us to signify that which is contained from that which contains it, as "well-mannered cities," "a cup was drunk," "a happy age." But the opposite mode of expression scarcely any one would use but a poet, as Proximus ardet Ucalegon, "Ucalegon burns next." 2It may perhaps be more allowable, however, to signify from the possessor that which is possessed, such as "a man is eaten up" when his estate is squandered. But there are numberless forms of metonymy of this sort. 2We adopt it when we say that "sixty thousand were killed by Hannibal at Cannae"; when we say "Virgil" for Virgil's poetry; when we say that "provisions," which have been brought, "have come"; that a "sacrilege has been found out" instead of the person who committed it; and that "a soldier has a knowledge of arms" instead of a knowledge of the military art. 2That kind of metonymy, too, by which we signify the cause from the effect is very common both among poets and orators. Thus the poets have,

Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas,

Pale death, with equal foot, knocks at the gate
Of poor man's cottage, etc.
and,

Pallentesque habitant morbi, tristisque senectus,

And pale diseases dwell, and sad old age;
and an orator will speak of "rash anger," "cheerful youth," and "slothful inactivity."

2The following kind of trope has also some affinity with the synecdoche. When I say vultus hominis, "the looks of a man," I express in the plural that which is singular. Yet I do not make it my object that one may be understood out of many (for my meaning is evident), but make an alteration only in the term. When I call, also, gilded ceilings "golden ceilings," I deviate a little from the truth, as the gilding is but a part. To notice all such expressions, however, would be too trifling an employment, even for those who are not forming an orator.

2Antonomasia, which for a proper name substitutes something equivalent, is very common among the poets and is sometimes effected by an epithet, which, when the name to which it is applied is set aside, is a sufficient substitute for it, as "Tydides, Pelides," for Diomede and Achilles; sometimes by specifying some remarkable characteristic of a person, as,

Divûm pater atque hominum rex,

The father of the gods and king of men;
sometimes by mentioning some act by which a person is distinguished, as,

Thalamo quae fixa reliquit Impius,

The arms which in the chamber fixed
He, impious, left.
30. Though there is not much use of this phraseology among prose writers, there is some, for though they would not say "Tydides" and "Pelides," they would say impius, by itself, for an impious man, and they do not hesitate to say "the destroyer of Carthage and Numantia" for Scipio, and "the prince of Roman eloquence" for Cicero. He himself has certainly taken such liberty: "You do not commit many faults, said the old master to the hero," where the name of neither is expressed, but both are understood.

3Onomatopaeia, that is, the "making of words," which was counted by the Greeks among the greatest merits, is scarcely permitted to us. Many words, indeed, were thus made by those who formed the language at first, with a view to adapt the sound to the impressions produced by the things signified; hence mugitus, "lowing," sibilus, "hissing," murmur, "murmur," had their origin. 3But now, as if everything that was possible in that way had been accomplished, we do not dare to produce a new word, though many that were formed by the ancients are daily falling out of use. We scarcely allow ourselves to venture on what are called παραγόμενα (paragomena), words that are derived, in whatever way, from others in common use are regarded as of the same nature, such as Sullaturio, "to desire to act like Sulla," proscripturio, "to desire to proscribe," and laureati postes, for "posts decked with laurel." 3The word evaluit was successfully introduced, but vio for eo, "to go," was an unfortunate experiment. In regard to the Greek words obelisco coludumo, and others, we are forbidden to make harsh junctions, but we appear to look with satisfaction on septentriones.

3The more necessary, therefore, is κατάχρησις (catachresis), which we properly call abusio, and which adapts, to whatever has no proper term, the term which is nearest, as,

Equum divinâ Palladis arte
Aedificant,

A horse they build by Pallas' art divine;
and, among the tragic poets, "Now a lion will bring forth," but a lion will be a father. 3There are a thousand examples of the kind. Cruses are called acetabula, whatever they contain; boxes, pyxides, of whatever material they are made; and he who kills his mother or brother is called parricida. All these catachreses are to be considered distinct from the metaphor, for catachresis is used where a term is wanting, metaphor where another term is in use. The poets are accustomed, even in speaking of things that have their own proper names, to use, catachrestically, proximate terms in preference, a practice which is rarely adopted in prose. 3Some also will say that there is a catachresis when we use virtus for "rash valor," or liberalitas for "luxury." But such misapplications are distinct from the catachresis, for in them it is not one word, but one thing that is put for another, since no one thinks that luxury and liberality mean the same thing. One calls the thing, whatever it is, "luxury" and another "liberality," though neither has any doubt about the distinctness of their signification.

3Of tropes which modify signification, there remains to be noticed the μετάληψις (metalepsis), or transsumptio, which makes a way, as it were, for passing from one thing to another. It is very rarely used, and is extremely liable to objection, but is not uncommon among the Greeks, who call Chiron the Centaur and νήσοι ὀξεῖαι (nesoi oxeiai), "sharp-pointed islands," θοαί (thoai), "swift." Who would bear with us, if we should call Verres Sus "Hog" or Laelius Doctus "Learned"? 3For the nature of metalepsis is that it is an intermediate step, as it were, to that which is metaphorically expressed, signifying nothing in itself, but affording a passage to something. It is a trope that we give the impression of being acquainted with rather than one that we actually ever need. The most common example of it is cano "to sing" is equivalent to canto "to reiterate," and canto equivalent to dico "to say"; therefore, cano is equivalent to dico (explicated from Watson's footnote --LH). 3I shall dwell no longer upon it, for I see but little use in it except, as I said, where one thing is to lead to another.

40. Other tropes are used, not for the sake of adding to significance, but for ornament, such as the ἐπίθετον (epitheton), which we rightly call appositum, but some call sequens. The poets use it with more frequency and freedom than writers of prose, for it is sufficient for them that it suits the word to which it is applied. Accordingly, we do not find fault with their albi dentes, "white teeth," and humida vina, "liquid wine." But in a writer of prose, if nothing is added to the meaning by an epithet, it is a redundancy. Something is added to the meaning, if that which said is less without it, as, "O abominable wickedness! O disgraceful licentiousness!" 4But ornamental epithets are most effective when they are metaphorical, such as "unbridled desire" and "mad piles of building." The epithet is usually made a trope by the addition of something else to it, as in Virgil, Turpis egestas, "base poverty,'" and Tristis senectus, "sad old age." But such is the nature of this ornament that style appears bare and graceless, as it were, without epithets, but is overburdened if there are too many. 4For a passage then becomes heavy and embarrassed, so if used in pleadings, you would pronounce it like an army with as many sutlers as soldiers, doubling its size but not its strength. However not merely single epithets, but several together are often used, as,

Conugio Anchisa Veneris dignate superbo,
Cura deûm, bis Pergameis erepte ruinis,

Anchises, with the stately honor graced
Of Venus' nuptial couch, of gods the care,
Twice from Troy's ruins rescued!
4But, in this way, two words applied to one would not have much grace even in verse. There are some, however, who think that the epithet is not a trope because it produces no change. Their reason is that an epithet, if it is separated from the word to which it belongs, must (if it is a trope) have some signification by itself and form an antonomasia. Thus if we say, by itself, "He who overthrew Numantia and Carthage," it is an antonomasia; if we add "Scipio," it is an epithet. Consequently, an epithet must always stand in conjunction with something else.

4Αλληγορία, "allegory,'" a word which our writers interpret by inversio, presents one thing in words and another in sense, or sometimes a sense quite contrary to the words. Of the first sort, the following is an example:

O navis, referent in mare te novi
Fluctus? O quid agis? Fortiter occupa
Portum,

O ship, shall new waves bear thee back into the sea?
O what art thou doing? Make resolutely for the harbor,"
and all that ode of Horace, in which he puts the ship for the commonwealth, the tempests of the waves for civil wars, and the harbor for peace and concord. 4Similar is the exclamation of Lucretius:

Avia Pieridum peragro loca,

I wander o'er Th' untrodden regions of the Muses;
and the lines of Virgil,
Sed nos immensum spatio confecimus aequor,
Et jam tempus equûm spumantia solvere colla,

But we have gone over a plain vast in extent,
and it is now time to unyoke the reeking necks of the horses.
40. But in the Bucolics he says without any metaphor,

Certè equidem audieram, quà se subducere colles
Incipiunt, mollique jugum demittere clivo,
Usque ad aquam, et veteris jam fracta cacumina fagi,
Omnia carminibus vestrum servâsse Menalcam;

I had indeed heard that your Menalcas had preserved
by his verses all those parts where the hills begin to recede,
and to bend down their summit with a gentle slope, as far as the water,
and the top of the old beech, now broken.
4For in these verses all is expressed in unallegorical words except the name, by which is meant not the shepherd Menalcas, but Virgil. Prose frequently admits the use of such allegory, but rarely pure; it is generally mixed with plain phraseology. It is pure in the following passage of Cicero: "For I wonder, and am concerned, that any man should be so eager to destroy another by his words, as even to make a leak in the ship in which he himself is sailing." 4Of the mixed, which is most frequent, this is an example: "I indeed always thought that other tempests and storms were to be borne by Milo only amid the waves of popular assemblies." If he had not added "only amid the waves of popular assemblies," it would have been pure allegory, but he has thus rendered it mixed. In this sort of language, the beauty proceeds from the metaphorical words, and the intimation of the sense from the natural ones.

4But by far the most ornamental kind of language is that in which the graces of the three figures— comparison, allegory, and metaphor—are united, as in
What sea, what Euripus, do you suppose to be affected with so many motions, such great and such various agitations, changes, fluctuations, as the disturbances and tumults which the proceedings of the comitia present? The intermission of one day, or the interval of one night, often throws everything into confusion, and sometimes the lightest breath of rumour changes the opinion of the whole assembly.

50. Above all things, care is to be taken, as in this passage, that whatever kind of metaphor we begin with, we conclude with the same. But many speakers, after commencing with a tempest, end with a fire or the fall of a building, an incongruity which is most offensive.

5Allegory is frequently used by the most common of minds and in daily conversation. Those expressions used in pleading causes—"to set foot to foot," "to aim at the throat," and "to draw blood"—are allegorical and, though now so trite, are not displeasing. Novelty and variety in style are indeed pleasing, and what is unexpected is, on that account, the more agreeable. But in our pursuit of novelty, we have lost all sight of moderation and have disfigured the beauties of style by excessive affectation.

5There is allegory in examples, if they are not given with an explanation accompanying them. For example, "Dionysius is at Corinth" is a saying which all the Greeks use, and many similar might be mentioned. An allegory that is very obscure is called an enigma, which is, in my opinion, a fault in style, if to speak with perspicuity is a virtue. The poets however use it:

Dic quibus in terris, et eris mihi magnus
Apollo, Tres pateat c?li spatium non amplius ulnas.

Say in what lands, and thou shalt to me be a great
Apollo, the breadth of the sky extends not more than three ells."
5Sometimes also orators, as when Caelius says, Quadrantariam Clytaemnestram, et in triclinio Coam, et in cubiculo Nolam, "A farthing Clytaemnestra, a Coan in the dining-room, and a Nolan in the chamber." Some such enigmas are now solved and were, when they were uttered, easier to be interpreted. But they are enigmas nevertheless and cannot be understood unless they are interpreted.

5In the other kind of allegory, where what is expressed is quite contrary to what is meant, there is irony, which our rhetoricians call illusio, and which is understood either from the mode of delivery, the character of the speaker, or the nature of the subject. If any of these are at variance with the words, it is apparent that the intention is different from the expression. 5Indeed, as with most tropes, it is requisite to consider what is said and of whom, because it is doubtless allowable, as is observed elsewhere, to censure with pretended praise, and to praise under the appearance of censure. An example of the first is, "Caius Verres, the city praetor, that upright and careful man, had no entry in his register of this second choosing of judges." Of the second, "We pretended to be orators, and imposed upon the people." 5Sometimes it is with derision that the contrary to what we wish to be understood is uttered, as Cicero, in speaking against Clodius, says, "Your integrity, believe me, has cleared you; your modesty has rescued you; your past life has saved you."

5Another use of allegory allows us to speak of melancholy things in words of a more cheering nature or to signify our meaning, for some good purpose, in language at variance with it. In a footnote, Watson says the lacuna here had "in the original the words aliud textu, which are without meaning." —LH . . . these we have already specified. If anyone does not know by what names the Greeks call them, let him be informed that they are termed σαρκασμός (sarkasmos), ἀστεϊσμός (asteismos), ἀντίϕρασις (antiphrasis), and παροιμία (paroimia). 5There are, however, some rhetoricians who say these are not species of allegory but tropes, and they support their opinion by a very forcible reason, namely, that allegory is obscure, but that in all these modes of speaking what we mean is clearly apparent. To this is added the consideration that a genus, when distinguished into species, has nothing peculiar to itself, as tree is distinguished into pine, olive, cypress, etc., without retaining any peculiarity to itself. But allegory has something peculiar, and how could this be the case if it were not itself a species? But whether it be a species or a genus is unimportant to the use of it.

5To the four forms just enumerated is to be added μυκτηρισμός (myktērismos) , a kind of derision which is dissembled, but not altogether concealed.

When that is said in many words which might be said in one, or certainly in fewer, the Greeks call the figure περίϕρασις (periphrasis) "a circuitous mode of speaking," which is sometimes necessary, especially when it veils what cannot be plainly expressed without offense to decency, as in the phrase of Sallust, ad requisita naturae, "for the necessities of nature." 60. Sometimes its object is merely ornament, as is very common among the poets:

Tempus erat, quo prima quies mortalibus aegris
Incipit, et dono divûm gratissima serpit,

It was the time at which the first sleep commences to weary mortals,
and by the kindness of the gods spreads itself most gratefully."
6It is also not uncommon among orators, but always of a more restricted nature. For whatever might be stated more briefly, but is for the sake of ornament expressed more fully, is περίϕρασις, to which the Latin name circumlocutio has been given, a term indeed not very proper for designating a beauty of style. But as this figure, when it gives embellishment to language, is called periphrasis, so when it has a contrary effect, it is termed περισσολογία (perissologia), "redundancy of words," for whatever is not of service, is hurtful.

6Hyperbaton, also, that is, verbi transgressio, "transposition of words," as the harmony and beauty of composition often require it, we rank, not improperly, among the excellences of language. For speech would often become rough and harsh, lax and nerveless, if words should be ranged exactly in their original order, and if, as each presents itself, it should be placed side by side of the preceding, though it cannot be fairly attached to it. 6Some words and phrases must, therefore, be kept back, others brought forward, and, as in structures of unhewn stones, each must be put in the place which it will fit. For we cannot hew or polish them, in order that they may close and unite better, but we must use them as they are and find suitable places for them. 6Nor can anything render style harmonious, but judicious changes in the order of words. It was for no other reason that those four words in which Plato states, in the most noble of his works, that "he had gone down to the Piraeeus," were found written several ways on his tablets because he was trying to make order contribute as much as possible to harmony. 6When hyperbaton takes place only in two words, it is called ἀναστροφή (anastrophē), or reversio, as mecum, secum, or as, among orators and historians, Quibus de rebus. But what properly takes the name of hyperbaton is the removal of a word to a distance from its natural place with a view to elegance, as, Animadverti, judices, omnem accusatoris orationem in duas divisam esse partes, for in duas partes divisam esse was the natural order, but would be harsh and inelegant. 6The poets, indeed, besides transposing words, also divide them, as,

Hyperboreo septem subjecta trioni;
a liberty which prose does not tolerate. But the reason for which such a division of a word is called a trope is that the sense cannot be ascertained but by uniting the two separate parts. 6Otherwise, when no alteration is made in the sense, and the structure only is varied, it may rather be called a verbal figure, and many writers diversify their language by long hyperbata of this kind. What inconveniences arise from confusion of figures, I have noticed in the proper place.

Because hyperbole is a bolder sort of ornamen, I have assigned it the last place. It is an elegant surpassing of the truth and is used equally for exaggerating and extenuating. 6It may be employed in various ways, for we may either say what is more than the truth, as, "Vomiting, he filled his lap and the whole tribunal with fragments of undigested food" and,

Geminique minantur
In caelum scopuli;

Two rocks rise threateningly towards the sky;
or we exaggerate one thing by reference to another, as,

Credas innare revulsas
Cycladas,

You would have thought the Cyclades uptorn
Were floating on the deep;
6or by comparison, as,

Fulminis ocior alis,

Swifter than the wings
Of lightning;
or by something of a characteristic nature:

Illa vel intactae segetis per summa volaret
Gramina, nec cursu teneras laesisset aristas,

She o'er the rising tops of untouch'd corn
Would fly, nor in her course the tender ears
Would hurt;
or by a metaphor, as in the word volaret, "would fly." 70. Sometimes, too, one hyperbole is increased by the addition of another, as Cicero, in speaking against Antony, says, "What Charybdis was ever so voracious? what Charybdis, do I say? If such a monster ever existed, it was but one animal, but the whole ocean, by Hercules, would scarcely have been able, as it seems to me, to have swallowed up so many things, so widely dispersed, and lying in places so distant, in so short a space of time!" 7But I have noticed, as I think, an exquisite figure of this kind in Pindar, the prince of lyric poets, in the book which he has called Υμνοι, Hymns for he says, that the impetuosity of Hercules in attacking the Meropes, who are said to have dwelt in the island of Cos, was comparable neither to fire, nor wind, nor the sea, but to lightning, as if other objects were insufficient, and lightning only suitable to give a notion of his rapidity. 7This Cicero may be thought to have imitated, when he said of Verres, "There arose in Sicily, after a long interval of time, not a Dionysius, nor a Phalaris (for that island, in days of old, produced many cruel tyrants), but a monster of a new kind, though endued with that ferocity which is said to have prevailed in those parts, since I believe that no Charybdis or Scylla was ever so destructive to ships in those seas as he was." 7There are also as many modes of extenuating as of magnifying: Virgil says of a flock of lean sheep,

-- Vix ossibus haerent,

They scarcely hang together by their bones.
Or, as Cicero says, in a book of jests,

Fundum Varro Vocat, quem possim mittere fundâ,
Ni tamen exciderit quà cava funda patet.
But even in the use of the hyperbole, some moderation must be observed, for though every hyperbole is beyond belief, it ought not to be extravagant, since in no other way do writers more readily fall into κακοζηλία (kakozelia), "exorbitant affectation." should be sorry to produce the vast number of absurdities that have sprung from this source, especially as they are by no means unknown or concealed. It is sufficient to remark that the hyperbole lies, but not so as to intend to deceive by lying, and we thereforre ought to consider more carefully how far it becomes us to exaggerate that which is not believed. It very often raises a laugh, and if the laugh be on the side of the speaker, the hyperbole gains the praise of wit, but if otherwise, the stigma of folly. 7It is in common use, as much among the unlearned as among the learned, because there is in all men a natural propensity to magnify or extenuate what comes before them, and no one is contented with the exact truth. But such departure from the truth is pardoned because we do not affirm what is false. 7In a word, the hyperbole is a beauty when the thing of which we speak is extraordinary in nature. For we are then allowed to say a little more than the truth, because the exact truth cannot be said, and language is more efficient when it goes beyond reality than when it stops short of it. But on this head, I have here said enough, because I have spoken on it more fully in the book in which I have set forth the Causes of the Corruption of Eloquence.

AS I have treated in the preceding book concerning tropes, there now follows that part of my work which relates to figures—they are in Greek called σχήματα (schēmata)—and which is by the nature of the subject connected with what goes before. For many have considered that figures are tropes, because whether tropes take their name from being formed in a particular way or from making changes in language (whence they are also called motus), it must be acknowledged that both those peculiarities are found equally in figures. The use of them is also the same, for they add force to our thoughts and confer a grace upon them. Some authors, including Caius Artorius Proculus, have wanted to give tropes the name of figures. The resemblance between them is indeed so striking that it is not easy for everyone to tell the difference. Some species of both are evidently distinct, even while there still remains a general similarity in their nature, inasmuch as they both deviate from simple and direct language for the purpose of adding to the beauties of style. Yet others are divided by a very narrow boundary, such as irony, for example, which is numbered as well among figures of thought as among tropes, while periphrasis, hyperbaton, and onomatopaeia have been called figures of speech rather than tropes by even eminent authors.

The difference between them, therefore, requires the more carefully to be specified. A trope, then, is an expression turned from its natural and principal signification to another, for the purpose of adorning style, or, as most of the grammarians define it, "an expression altered from the sense in which it is proper to one in which it is not proper." A figure (as is indicated by its very name) is a form of speech differing from the common and ordinary mode of expression. In tropes, accordingly, some words are substituted for others, as in metaphor, metonymy, antonomasia, metalepsis, synecdoche, catachresis, allergory, and, generally, in hyperbole, which has place, however, both in matter and in words. Onomatopaeia is the coining of a word, which is then substituted for some other word or words which we should have used if we had not coined it. Periphrasis, though it commonly fills up the place of the term which it replaces, employs several words for one. The ἐπίθετον (epitheton), inasmuch as it generally partakes of the antonomasia, becomes, by union with it, a trope. In the hyperbaton, there is a change of order, and many, therefore, exclude that kind of figure from among tropes. However, it does transfer a word or a part of a word from its own place to another. Nothing of this sort is necessary with figures, which may consist of natural words arranged in their common order. As to how irony comes to be sometimes a trope and sometimes a figure, I shall explain in the proper place, for I allow that the two appellations are applied to it indifferently, and I am aware what complicated and subtle disputations the question about the name has originated. But they have no relation to my present object, and it is of no importance how a trope or a figure is termed, provided it be understood of what use it is in style. The nature of things is not changed by a change in their appellations. Just as men, if they take a name different from that which they had, are still the same persons, so the forms of expression of which we are speaking, whether they be called tropes or figures, are still of the same efficacy, for their use does not consist in their name but in their influence. Likewise, it is of no consequence whether we call the position of a cause conjectural, or the negative, or one about fact, or the existence of a thing, provided we understand that the question is the same. Therefore, in respect to forms of speech, it is best to adopt the terms generally received and to endeavor to comprehend the thing by whatever name it be called. It is to be observed, however, that the trope and the figure often meet in the same sentences, for style is diversified as well by metaphorical words, as by words in their natural sense.

10.. But there is no small disagreement among authors as to what is the exact sense of the word figure, and how many genera of figures there are, and how many and what species. We must, therefore, first of all consider what we are to understand by the word figure, for it is used in two senses. The first signifies the form of words, of whatever it may be, just as our bodies, of whatever they be composed, have a certain shape. The other, which is properly termed a figure, is any deviation, either in thought or expression, from the ordinary and simple method of speaking, just as our bodies assume different postures when we sit, lie, or look back. 1Therefore, when a speaker or writer constantly or too frequently uses the same cases, or tenses, or numbers, or even feet, we generally admonish him to vary his figures in order to avoid uniformity. 1In using this expression, we speak as if all language had its figure, just as when we say that cursitare is of the same figure as lectitare, that is, they are formed in the same way. If we adopt the first and general sense, then, there will be no part of language that is not figured, and if we confine ourselves to that sense, we must consider that Apollodorus (if we trust the report of Caecilius) justly thought that precepts on this head would be numberless. 1But if particular habits and, as it were, gestures of language are to receive this designation, then a figure must be regarded here as only that which deviates, by poetical or oratorical phraseology, from the simple and ordinary modes of speaking. Thus we shall be right in saying that one sort of style is ἀσχημάτιστον (aschēmatiston), or destitute of figures (and this is no small fault), and another ἐσχηματισμένον (eschēmatismenon), or diversified with figures. 1This sense of the word, however, Zoilus limited too narrowly, for he thought a figure only that where something is pretended to be said different than what is really said. I know that the word figure is vulgarly taken in this sense, whence certain subjects for exercise in oratory, of which I shall speak a little farther on, are called figurative. Let the definition of a figure, then, be a form of speech artfully varied from common usage.

1Some rhetoricians have thought that there was but one kind of figures, though they were led to adopt that opinion by different considerations. Some said that all figures lay in words, because a change in the words produced a change also in the thought, while others said that they all lay in the thought, because it is to thoughts that words are adapted. 1But with both these parties there is evident sophistry, for the same things are constantly expressed in different ways, and the thought remains the same while the language is altered. A figure of thought may be expressed in various figures of words, for the one figure lies in a conception of the mind, and the other in the expression of that conception. But they are frequently found in union, as in the sentence, Jamjam, Dolabella, neque que tui, neque tuorum liberum, etc., "Now, Dolabella, I have no pity for you, or for your children," etc. For the conversion of the address from the judge to Dolalbella lies in the thought; jamjam and liberum are figures of words.

1It is admitted, then, as far as I know, among most authors, that there are two kinds of figures, those of διανοία (dianoia), that is, of thought, mens, sensus, or sententiae, for they are designated by all those terms, and those of λέξις (lexis), that is, of words, or diction, or expression, or language, or speech. Though they have various names, it is of no consequence by which name we call them. 1Cornelius Celsus, however, adds to figures of speech and thought figures of complexion, allowing himself to be swayed, assuredly, by too great fondness for novelty, for who can suppose that such a man, learned in other respects, did not see that figures of complexion must be figures of thought? Figures, therefore, like every part of language, must necessarily lie either in thought or in words.

1But as it is the order of nature that we should conceive thoughts in the mind before we enunciate them, I must accordingly speak first of those figures that relate to thought. The influence of such figures is so extensive and so various that it makes itself apparent, with the utmost conspicuousness, in every part of oratory. Though figures may seem of little importance in establishing a proof by which our arguments are advanced, they make what we say probable and penetrate imperceptibly into the mind of the judge. 20. Indeed, just as in a passage of arms, it is easy to see, parry, and ward off direct and undisguised strokes, while side-blows and feints are less observable, and just as it is a proof of art to aim at one part when you intend to hit another—so that kind of oratory which is free from artifice can fight only with its own mere weight and force, whereas that which disguises and varies its attacks can assail the flank or rear of an enemy, can turn aside his weapons, and deceive him as it were with a nod. 2Nothing has greater power over the feelings, for if the look, the eyes, the gesture of a speaker has a powerful effect on the mind, how much more influence must the air, as it were, of his speech have, when adapted to make the impression which he desires? But the greatest power of figures is shown in rendering oratory attractive, either by giving plausibility to the character of the speaker, by securing favor to his cause, by relieving weariness with variety, or by presenting certain points in a more becoming or safe light.

2Before I proceed, however, to show what kinds of figures are applicable to particular subjects, I must observe that they are far from being so numerous as many writers represent them, for all those names of figures, which it is so easy for the Greeks to invent, have no influence with me. 2First of all, those are to be utterly disregarded who think there are as many figures as there are affections of the mind, not because an affection of the mind is not a certain condition of it, but because a figure (not in its general, but in its restricted sense) is not a mere expression of any condition of the mind whatever. Therefore, to demonstrate anger, grief, pity, fear, confidence, or contempt in speaking is not to use a figure, any more than to advise, threaten, entreat, or excuse. 2But what deceives those who do not consider the question sufficiently is that they find figurative expressions in all such modes of thought and produce examples of them from speeches, a task by no means difficult, since there is no part of oratory which is not open to figures. But it is one thing to admit a figure and another to be a figure, for I shall not shun the frequent repetition of the same word for the purpose of thoroughly explaining the thing. 2My opponents, I know, will point to figures in orators expressing anger, or pity, or entreaty; but to be angry, or to pity, or to entreat will not for that reason be a figure. Cicero, indeed, includes all the embellishments of oratory under this head, adopting, as I consider, a kind of middle course, not intimating, on the one hand, that all sorts of phrases are to be regarded as figures, nor, on the other, those only which assume a form at variance with common usage, but making all such expressions figurative as are most brilliant and most effective in impressing an audience. This judgment of his, which he has delivered in two of his works, I subjoin word for word that I may not withhold from the reader the opinion of that eminent author.

2In the third book of De Oratore, is the following passage: "But with regard to the composition of words, when we have acquired that smoothness of junction and harmony of numbers, which I have explained, our whole style of oratory is to be distinguished and frequently interspersed with brilliant lights, as it were, of thoughts and of language. 2For the dwelling on a single circumstance has often a considerable effect, and a clear illustration and exhibition of matters to the eye of the audience, almost as if they were transacted before them. This has wonderful influence in giving a representation of any affair, both to illustrate what is represented and to amplify it, so that the point which we magnify may appear to the audience to be really as great as the powers of our language can represent it. Opposed to this is rapid transition over a thing, which may often be practiced. There is also signification that more is to be understood than you have expressed, distinct and concise brevity, and extenuation, 2and what borders upon this, ridicule, not very different from that which was the object of Caesar's instructions, and digression from the subject. When gratification has thus been afforded, the return to the subject ought to be happy and elegant; proposition of what you are about to say, transition from what has been said, and return to the subject; repetition; apt conclusion of reasoning; 2exaggeration or surpassing of the truth for the sake of amplification or diminution; interrogation, and, akin to this, as it were, consideration or seeming inquiry, followed by the delivery of your own opinion; and dissimulation, the humor of saying one thing and signifying another, which steals into the minds of men in a peculiar manner, and which is extremely pleasing when it is well managed, not in a vehement strain of language, but in a conversational style; 30. also doubt, and distribution; and correction of yourself, either before or after you have said a thing, or when you repel anything from yourself; there is also premunition, with regard to what you are going to prove; there is the transference of blame to another person; there is communication or consultation, as it were with the audience before whom you are speaking; imitation of manners and character, either with names of persons or without, which is a great ornament to a speech, and adapted to conciliate the feelings even in the utmost degree, and often also to rouse them; 3the introduction of fictitious characters, the most heightened figure of exaggeration; there is description; falling into a wilful mistake; excitement of the audience to cheerfulness; anticipation; comparison and example, two figures which have a very great effect; division; interruption; contrast; suppression; commendation; certain freedom and even uncontrolledness of language for the purpose of exaggeration; anger; reproach; promise; deprecation; beseeching; slight deviation from your intended course, but not like digression, which I mentioned before: expurgation; conciliation; attack; wishing; execration. 3Such are the figures in which thoughts give lustre to speech.

"Of words themselves, as of arms, there is a sort of threatening and attack for use, and also a management for grace. For the reiteration of words has sometimes a peculiar force and sometimes elegance; as well as the variation or deflection of a word from its common signification; and the frequent repetition of the same word in the beginning, and recurrence to it at the end, of a period; forcible emphasis on the same words; conjunction; adjunction; progression; a sort of distinction as to some word often used; the recall of a word; the use of words also which end similarly, or have similar cadences, or which balance one another, or which correspond to one another. 3There is also a certain gradation, a conversion, an elegant transposition of words; there is antithesis, asyndeton, declination, reprehension, exclamation, diminution; and the use of the same word in different cases; the referring of what is derived from many particulars to each particular singly; reasoning subservient to your proposition, and reasoning suited to the order of distribution; concession; 3and again another kind of doubt; the introduction of something unexpected; enumeration; another correction; division; continuation; interruption; image; answering your own questions; immutation; disjunction; order; relation; digression; and circumscription. These are the figures, and others like these, or there may even be more, which adorn language by peculiarities in thought and in structure of style."

Most of these forms of language, though not all, are mentioned in the Orator, and with somewhat greater distinctness, for after having spoken of figures of speech and thought, he adds a third division, relating, as he says, to other virtues, as they may be called, of style:

3"Those other illuminations, so to speak, which are derived from the arrangement of words, add great splendor to language, for they are like what are called, in the full decoration of a theater or forum, the insignia, or "most striking objects," not as being the only ornaments, but as being more remarkable than any of the others. 3Such is the effect of what are called illuminations, and, as it were, insignia, of language, for the mind of the hearer is necessarily struck when words are repeated and reiterated, or reproduced with a slight change; or when several sentences are begun or ended, or both, with the same word; or when the same word or phrase is doubled, either in the body or at the close of a sentence; or when one word constantly recurs, but not in the same sense; or when words are used in the same cases and with the same terminations; 3or when words of a contrary sense are in various ways opposed; or when the force of the language advances upwards step by step; or when conjunctions are omitted, and several words or phrases are uttered without connection; or when we pass over some points and explain why we do so; or when we correct ourselves, with an air of censure; or when any exclamation, of surprise or complaint, is used; or when the cases of the same word are frequently changed.

40. "But the figures of thought are of a much higher character; and, as Demosthenes uses them very frequently, there are some who think it is from them that his eloquence receives its greatest excellence, for scarcely any subject, indeed, is treated by him without the introduction of some figure of thought, and to say the truth, to speak like an orator is nothing else than to illumine all our thoughts, or at least the greater part of them, with some appearance of brilliancy. 4But as you, Brutus, have a thorough knowledge of the varieties of thoughts, why should I give names or examples? Only let the subject be noted in your memory.

"The orator, therefore, whom we desire to see, will speak in such a way as to present one and the same thing under different aspects, and to rest and dwell upon the same thought. 4Often, too, he will speak so as to extenuate some point; often so as to throw ridicule on something; or so as to decline and turn aside his course of thought from his object; to state what he designs to say; to pronounce a conclusive decision when he has dispatched any point; to retrace his steps occasionally and repeat what he has said; to wind up a course of argumentation with fresh proofs; to press his adversary with questions; to reply to questions put as it were by himself; to intimate that he is to be understood and regarded as meaning something different from what he says; 4to express doubt what he should say in preference to something else, and how he should say it; to divide his matter into heads; to omit or disregard some points that he has specified; to fortify some by anticipation; to throw blame upon his adversary for the very things for which he himself is censured; to seem to consult, at times, with his audience, and occasionally even with his opponent; 4to describe the characters and conversations of men; to introduce dumb objects as speaking; to divert the attention from the subject which is under discussion; to excite the audience, frequently, to mirth and laughter; to obviate objections that he sees likely to arise; to compare similar cases; to adduce examples; to make distinctions of persons, attributing one thing to one, and another to another; to check the interruptions of his adversary; to observe that he is silent on certain particulars; to show on what points the judge must be on his guard; to hazard at times the boldest assertions; to manifest even anger; to utter reproaches now and then; to use deprecation and entreaty; to remove unfavorable impressions; to digress a little from his subject; to utter wishes or execrations; and to assume a familiar tone towards those to whom he is speaking. 4Let him aim also at other virtues, if I may so call them, of oratory. He will adopt brevity, for instance, if his subject require it; he will often set a thing, by his eloquence, before the eyes of his hearers; he will amplify it beyond what can possibly have taken place; what he intimates will often be more than what he says; he will often assume cheerfulness, and indulge in an imitation of life and nature. By such means (for you see as it were a forest before you) the full power of eloquence must make itself manifest."

HE, therefore, who shall think proper to consider the figures of words and thought in a more extensive sense than I myself contemplate them, will have something to follow. Nor would I venture to say that anything can be offered on the subject better than what Cicero has stated, but I would wish him to read Cicero's remarks with a reference to my views, for I purpose to treat only of those figures of thought which deviate from common modes of expression, a method which has been adopted, I observe, by many extremely learned men. All those embellishments of language, however, even those of a different kind, are such necessary qualities of oratory that one could scarcely imagine a speech produced without them, for how can a judge be instructed if there is a lack of lucid explanation, statement, offer of proofs, definition of the point in question, distinction, exposition of the speaker's own opinion, just conclusion from arguments, anticipation of objections, comparisons, examples, digestion and distribution of matter, occasional interruption of our opponent, or restraint on him when he interrupts ourselves, assertion, justification, destructive attacks? What could eloquence do at all if the privileges of amplification and extenuation were withheld from it?—amplification, which gives an intimation of more than has been expressed, that is, ἔμϕασις (emphasis), and which allows us to go beyond and exceed reality; and extenuation, which includes diminution and palliation. What strong impressions on the feelings would be made without boldness of speech, without giving the rein to passion, without invectives, wishes, and imprecations? Or what gentler impressions, unless they be promoted by recommendation of ourselves to our hearers, by conciliating their goodwill and exciting them to cheerfulness? What pleasure could be afforded, or what indication even of moderate learning, by a speaker if he knew not how to enforce some points by repetition, and others by dwelling upon them; how to make a digression, and return to his subject; how to remove a charge from himself and transfer it to another; and how to judge what particulars should be omitted or represented as important? In such arts consists the life and energy of oratory; and, if they be taken from it, it is spiritless and wants, as it were, a soul to animate its body. But these qualities ought not be found only in eloquence, but also to be variously dispersed throughout it, that they may charm the auditor with every kind of melody, such as we perceive produced from musical instruments. These excellences, however, generally present themselves obviously; they do not disguise, but manifest themselves. Yet they admit, as I said, of figures, as may be sufficiently proved from the figure of which I shall immediately proceed to speak.

What is more common than interrogare, "to ask," or percontari, "to question?" for we use both terms indifferently, though one seems to apply properly to mere desire of information and the other to that of establishing proof. But the thing itself, by whatever name it be distinguished, is susceptible of many varieties of figure. Let us begin with those by which proof, to which I have given the first place, is rendered more strong and efficacious. It is a simple interrogation to say,

Sed vos qui tandem? quibus aut venistis ab oris?

But who are you, or from what coasts arriv'd?
But it is an interrogation with a figure, when it is adopted, not for the sake of seeking information, but in order to attack the person interrogated. Consider these examples, "What was your drawn sword doing, Tubero, in the field of Pharsalia?" and, "How long, I pray, Catiline, will you abuse our patience? Do you not see that your machinations are discovered?" and so on, through the whole of the passage. How much more animated is such a mode of expression than to say, "You abuse our patience a long time; your machinations are discovered." We also sometimes ask about that which cannot be denied, as, "Has Caius Fidiculanius Falcula, I pray, been brought to judgment?" Or when to find an answer is difficult, as we say in common conversation, "How? How is it possible?" Or to throw odium on the person to whom we address ourselves, as Medea says in Seneca, Quas peti terras jubes? "What land do you command me to seek?" Or to excite pity, as Sinon in Virgil,

Heu quae me tellus, inquit, quae me aequora possunt
Accipere?

Alas! what land, he cries, what seas, can now
Receive me?
Or to press our opponent and deprive him of all ground for pretending not to understand us, as Asinius Pollio said, "Do you hear? We are attacking the will of a madman, I say, not of a person who merely failed in his duty." Interrogation is indeed subservient to various purposes. It assists in expressing indignation:

Et quisquam numen Junonis adoret?

And will any one adore
The deity of Juno?
And wonder:

Quid non mortalia pectora cogis,
Auri sacra fames?

To what dost thou not mortal breasts impel,
O direful thirst of gold?
1Sometimes it is a more spirited form of command, as,

Non arma expedient, totâque ex urbe sequentur?

Will they not arms prepare, and forth pursue
From all the city?
Sometimes we ask ourselves, as in Terence,

Quid igitur faciam?

What shall I do, then?
1A figure is also sometimes adopted in a reply, as when a person asks a question about one thing, and a reply is made to him about another more to the respondent's purpose. This may be done, for example, with the view of aggravating a charge, as when a witness against an accused person, being asked whether he had been beaten with a stick by the accused, replied, "Although I was innocent," or with the view of eluding a charge, which is a more frequent case, as when the question is, "I ask whether you have killed a man," and the reply given is, "A robber." Or, "Have you seized upon an estate?" "My own." 1Or an answer may be given in such a way that defense may precede confession, as in Virgil's Bucolics, where one shepherd says to another,

Non ego te vidi Damonis, pessime, caprum
Excipere insidiis?

Did I not see you, rascal, catch a goat
Of Damon's in a snare?
the reply is,

An mihi cantando victus non redderet ille?

Did he not, overcome in song, refuse
To give it me?
1Similar to this kind of answer is dissimulation, which is used only to excite laughter and has consequently been noticed in its proper place, for if it be used seriously, it has the effect of a confession.

The practice also of questioning and replying to one's self is generally not unpleasing, as Cicero does in his speech for Ligarius, "Before whom, then, do I say this? Before him, assuredly, who, at a time when he had a full knowledge of what I have just said, nevertheless brought me back, even before he had seen me, to my country?" 1In his speech for Caelius, he adopts another mode, that of supposing a question: "Someone will say, 'Is this your moral discipline? Do you thus instruct youth?'" etc, and he then replies, "I, judges, if any man was ever of such strength of mind, and so naturally disposed to virtue and chastity," etc. Another method is when you have asked a person a question, not to wait for an answer, but immediately to add one yourself; as, "Was a house wanting to you? But you had one" and "Was ready money superabundant with you? But you were in want." This figure some call per suggestionem, "by way of hypobole, or intimation."

1Interrogation is also made by comparison, as, "which of the two, then, will more easily give a reason for his opinion?" And in other ways, sometimes concisely, sometimes at greater length, sometimes on one point, sometimes on several.

But what has a wonderful effect in pleadings is anticipation, which is called by the Greeks πσόληψις (prolēpsis), and by which we prevent objections that may be brought against us. It is used, not sparingly, in other parts of a speech, but is of the greatest effect in the exordium. 1Though there is in reality but one kind of it, it includes several species, for there is praemunitio, "precaution," as in the speech of Cicero against Quintus Caecilius, when he premises that "having always before defended, he is now proceeding to accuse"; there is a sort of confession, as that of Cicero, in his pleading for Rabirius Posthumus, whom he acknowledges to be blamable in his opinion, "for having entrusted money to king Ptolemy"; there is a sort of prefatory statement, as, "I will say, not for the purpose of aggravating the charge," etc. There is a kind of self-correction, as, "I entreat you to pardon me if I have gone too far"; and there is also, what is very frequent, a species of preparation, when we state at some length either why we are going to do something or why we have done it. 1The force or propriety of a word, too, is sometimes established by prolepsis, as, "Though that was not the punishment, but the prohibition, of crime," or by correction, as, "Citizens, citizens, I say, if I may call them by that name."

1Doubt also may give an air of truth to our statements, as when we feign, for example, to be at a loss where to begin, or where to end, or what to say in preference to something else, or whether we ought to speak at all. All speeches are full of examples of such hesitation, but one will suffice: "Indeed, as far as concerns myself, I know not whither to turn. Can I deny that there was an ill report of the judges having been bribed?" 20. This figure may likewise refer to the past, for we may pretend that we have been in doubt.

There is no great difference between doubt and that sort of figure called communication, which we use either when we consult, as it were, our opponents, as Domitius Afer in pleading for Cloantilla, "In her agitation, she knows not what is permitted to her as a woman, nor what becomes her as a wife. Perhaps chance has thrown you in the way of the unhappy woman in her anxiety; what advice do you, her brother, and you, the friends of her father, offer?" 2Or when we pretend to deliberate with the judges, which is a very common artifice, saying, "what do you advise?" or, "I ask you yourselves what ought to have been done." Thus Cato exclaims, "I pray you, if you had been in that situation, what else would you have done?" and in another place, "Suppose that it were a matter of concern to you all, and that you had been appointed to manage the affair." 2But sometimes, in such communications, we subjoin something unexpected, which is in itself a figure, as Cicero, in speaking against Verres, said, "What then? What do you think that he has committed? Some theft, perhaps, or some robbery?" and then, when he had the minds of the judges, for a long time in suspense, added something far more atrocious. This figure Celsus calls sustentatio, "suspension." 2It is, however, of two kinds, for frequently, on the other hand, when we have raised an expectation of something enormous, we stoop to something that is either of little moment or not at all criminal. But as this is not always done by communication, others have given the figure the name of παράδοξον (paradoxon) or surprise. 2Let me add that I do not agree with those who think that even when we speak of something surprising having happened to ourselves, our language is figurative, as in what Pollio says, "I never imagined it would come to pass, judges, that when Scaurus was accused, I should have to entreat that interest may have no influence on his trial."

2The source of what we call permission is almost the same as that of communication. We are said to use this figure, when we leave something to be settled by the judges themselves, or sometimes even by the opposite party, as Calvus said to Vatinius, "Assume a bold face, and say that you are more worthy to be made praetor than Cato."

2As to the figures which are adapted for exciting the feelings, they consist chiefly in simulation, for we feign that we are angry, and that we rejoice, or fear, or wonder, or grieve, or feel indignant, or wish, or are moved by other similar affections. Hence the expressions, Liberatus sum; respiravi, "I am freed, I have recovered my spirits;" Bene habet, "It is well;" Quae amentia est haec? "What madness is this?" O tempora, O mores! "O times, O manners!" Miserum me! consumptis enim lacrymis infixus tamen pectori haeret dolor; "Wretched that I am! for, though my tears are exhausted, grief yet remains fixed in my heart," And,

Magnae nunc hiscite terrae!

Gape now, O earth profound!
2This some call exclamation and number among verbal figures. When such exclamations, however, arise from sincere feeling, they are not figurative in the sense of which I am speaking, but when they are fictitious and the offspring of art, they must indisputably be regarded as figures. The same may be said of that freedom of speech which Cornificius calls licentia, and the Greeks παῤῥησία (parrhesia). For what can be less figurative than plain and sincere speech? Out under the appearance of it there frequently lurks flattery. 2Thus when Cicero says in his speech for Ligarius, "After the war had been commenced, Caesar, and even almost brought to a conclusion, I, without being driven by any compulsion, but of my own purpose and will, set out to join that party which had taken up arms against you," he not only looks to the interest of Ligarius, but bestows the highest possible praise on the clemency of the conqueror. 2But in the question, "What other object had we in view, Tubero, but that we might possess the same power which Caesar now possesses?" he represents, with admirable art, the cause of both parties as good, while he thus conciliates him whose cause was in reality bad.

A figure which is still bolder, and requires, as Cicero thinks, greater force is the personation of characters, or prosopopoeia. 30. This figure gives both variety and animation to eloquence, in a wonderful degree. By means of it, we display the thoughts of our opponents, as they themselves would do in a soliloquy, but our inventions of that sort will meet with credit only so far as we represent people saying what it is not unreasonable to suppose that they may have meditated; and so far as we introduce our own conversations with others, or those of others among themselves, with an air of plausibility; and when we invent persuasions, or reproaches, or complaints, or eulogies, or lamentations, and put them into the mouths of characters likely to utter them. 3In this kind of figure, it is allowable even to bring down the gods from heaven, evoke the dead, and give voices to cities and states. There are some, indeed, who give the name of prosopopoeia only to those figures of speech in which we represent both fictitious beings and speeches. They prefer calling the feigned discourses of men διάλογοι (dialogoi), to which some of the Latins have applied the term sermocinatio. 3For my own part, I have included both, according to the received practice, under the same designation, for assuredly a speech cannot be conceived without being conceived as the speech of some person. But when we give a voice to things to which nature has not given a voice, our figure may be softened in such a way as this: "For if my country, which is far dearer to me than my life, if all Italy, if the whole republic, should thus address me, Marcus Cicero, what are you doing?" etc. Another prosopopoeia, in the same speech, is of a bolder nature: "Your country, Catiline, thus pleads, and as it were tacitly addresses you: 'No great wickedness has arisen, for several years past, but by your means.'" We also pretend at times, and with good effect, that the images of things and persons are before our eyes, and that their voices sound in our ears, and affect to wonder that the same appearances are not perceptible to our opponents or to the judges, as when we say, "It seems to me," or "Does it not seem to you?" But great power of eloquence is necessary for such efforts, for what is naturally fictitious and incredible must either make a stronger impression from being beyond the real or be regarded as nugatory from being unreal.

3But just as speeches are often imagined, so also are writings. Thus Asinius Pollio suggests an imaginary will in pleading for Liburnia: "Let my mother, who was most dear to me and my greatest delight, who lived for me and gave me life twice in the same day, etc., inherit none of my property." This is itself a figure and is doubly so when, as in this case, it is framed in imitation of another document. 3For a will had been read on the other side in this form, "Let Publius Novanius Gallio, to whom, as my greatest benefactor, I desire and owe everything good, and in consideration of his eminent affection towards me (several other particulars being also added) inherit all my property." This partakes of the nature of parody, a term derived from the modulation of tunes in imitation of other tunes, but applied, catachrestically, to imitation in verse or prose. 3We also frequently conceive imaginary beings, as Virgil personifies Fame, Prodicus (as is said by Xenophon) Pleasure and Virtue, and Ennius Death and Life, whom he represents in one of his Satires as engaging in combat. An imaginary speech is sometimes given, too, to a person not specified, as, "Here somebody says," or "Somebody may say." 3A speech may also be given without mention of any person, as,

Hic Dolopum manus, hic saevus tendebat Achilles,

Here lay the force of the Dolopians, here
The fierce Achilles.
This is effected by a union of figures, since to prosopopoeia is added the figure of speech which is called per detractionem, or ellipsis, for all allusion as to who made the speech is omitted. The prosopopoeia sometimes assumes the appearance of narration, whence oblique speeches are found among the historians, as in the beginning of the first book of Livy, "That cities also, as well as other things, spring from humble origins, and that those which the gods and their own valor support, acquire at length great power and a great name."

3The diversion of our speech from the judge, which is a figure called ἀποστροϕή (apostrophē), also has an extraordinary effect, whether in attacking our adversary, as, "What was that sword of yours doing, Tubero, in the field of Pharsalia?" or in digressing to make some invocation, as, "For I call upon you, O Alban hills and groves!" or in imploring aid in order to throw odium on the opposite party, as, "O Porcain laws! O Sempronian laws!" 3But whatever draws away the hearer from the subject in question is called apostrophe, as,

Non ego cum Danais Trojanam exscindere gentem Aulide juravi,

I did not swear at Aulis with the Greeks
To uproot the Trojan race.
This is done by means of many and various figures, for example, when we feign that we expected something else, or that we feared something more considerable, or that the judges, being ignorant on some point, may believe it of greater importance than it really is. Such is the object of the exordium of the speech for Caelius.

40. But as to the figure which, as Cicero says, "sets things before the eyes," it is used not when a thing is simply mentioned as having been done, but with a representation how it was done, and not merely in a general way, but in all its attendant circumstances. This figure I have noticed in the preceding book under evidentia or "illustration." Celsus has given it that name, but others called it hypotyposis, which means a representation of things so fully expressed in words that it seems to be seen rather than heard: "He himself, inflamed with wickedness and fury, came into the forum; his eyes glared; cruelty showed itself over his whole countenance." 4Nor do we imagine only what has been done or is done, but also what is likely to be or might have been. Cicero gives an admirable example of this in his speech for Milo, where he depicts what Clodius would have done if he had secured the praetorship. But this transmutation of time, which is properly called μετάστασις (metastasis), was very cautiously used in hypotyposis by the old orators, for they introduced it with some such observations as these: "Imagine that you behold," as Cicero says, "These things, which you have not seen with your eyes, you may represent to yourselves in your minds." 4But our modern speakers, and especially our declaimers, indulge their imaginations more boldly, and not without some animation. A good example is Seneca in that case in which a father, led by one of his sons, surprises his other son and the step-mother in adultery and kills them both: "Lead me," the father is made to say, "I follow; take my aged hand and direct it wherever you please." 4And a little afterwards the son is represented as exclaiming, "See what you have long refused to believe. As for me, I cannot see; night and the thickest darkness comes over my eyes." Such a figure is of too bold a character, for the case does not seem to be stated, but to be acted. 4Under hypotyposis is also included, by some writers, the luminous and vivid description of places, but others call it topographia.

As to εἰρωνεία (eironeia), I have found some authors who call it "dissimulation," but as the whole force of this figure does not appear to be sufficiently indicated by that name, I shall content myself, as in regard to most other figures, with the Greek term. The figure of Eironeia, then, differs very little in kind from that which is called a trope, for in both the contrary of what is said is to be understood. But for him who considers the various species of them, it will be easy to see that they are distinct. 4In the first place, the trope is less disguised, and though it expresses something different from what it means, it can hardly be said to pretend anything different, for all that accompanies it is generally plain, as in what Cicero says of Catiline, "Being repulsed by him, you took yourself to your accomplice, that excellent man Marcus Marcellus." Here the irony lies only in two words, and, therefore, it is a very short trope. 4But in irony considered as a figure, there is a disguise of the speaker's whole meaning, a disguise perceptible rather than ostentatious, for in the trope, some words are put for others, but in the figure, the sense of a passage in a speech, and sometimes the whole configuration of a cause, is at variance with the air of our address. Nay, even the whole life of a man may wear the appearance of a continued irony, as did that of Socrates, for he was called εἴρων (eiron) because he assumed the character of an ignorant man and affected to be the admirer of other men's wisdom. Thus, as a continued metaphor constitutes an allegory, so a continuation of ironical tropes forms the figure irony.

4However, some kinds of this figure have no affinity with tropes, as, in the first place, that which has its name from negation and which some call ἀντίφρασις (antiphrasis): as, "I will not proceed with you according to the rigor of the law; I will not insist upon a point which I should perhaps carry," and, "Why should I mention his decrees, his plunderings, the rights of inheritance to property resigned to him, or of which he forcibly possessed himself?" and, "I say nothing of that injury committed through lust," and, "I do not even produce the evidence which has been given concerning the seven hundred thousand sesterces," and, "I could say, etc." 4Such kinds of irony we carry sometimes through entire divisions of a speech, as when Cicero says, "If I were to treat this matter as if I had a charge to overthrow, I should express myself at greater length." Irony is also used when we assume the air of persons commanding or permitting something, in such a way as this:

I, sequere Italiam ventis,

Go with the winds, and seek your Italy.
4Or when we allow to our adversaries qualities which we should be unwilling to see recognized in them. This kind of irony is more cutting when those qualities are in ourselves and are not in our adversaries:

Meque timoris
Argue tu, Drance, quando tot caedis acervos
Teucrorum tua dextra dedit.

Me of cowardice,
Drances, do thou accuse, when thy right hand
Such heaps of slaughter'd Trojans shall have rais'd.
A similar effect is produced, though in a contrary way, when we confess, as it were, to faults from which we are free, and which even touch our opponent:

Me duce Dardanius Spartam expugnavit adulter,

'Twas by my guidance Troy's adulterer
Fell foul of Sparta.
50. Nor is this artifice, of saying something contrary to what you wish to be understood, used only with regard to persons, but may be extended also to things, as in the whole of the exordium of the speech for Ligarius, and in those extenuations, Videlicet, O dii boni, "Forsooth, O good gods!" So likewise in Virgil,

Scilicet is superis labor est!

That, doubtless, is a trouble to the gods!
5Another example is the well-known passage in the speech for Oppius, "O wonderful love! O singular benevolence!" etc. Not very different from irony are these three modes of speaking, very similar to one another:

Confession, such as will not hurt the party who makes it, as, "You have, therefore,Tubero, what is most to be desired by an accuser, a confession from the accused"; the second,
Concession, when we make a show of admitting something unfavorable to us through confidence in our cause, as "The captain of a ship, from a most honorable city, redeemed himself from the terror of a scourging by paying a sum of money; it was kind in Verres to allow it"; and, as it is said, in the speech for Cluentius, concerning popular feeling: "Let it prevail in assemblies of the people, but let it have no influence in courts of justice";
Acknowledgment, as Cicero, in the same speech, acknowledges that "the judges had been bribed."
5The last of these figures is more observable when we assent to something that is likely to prove in our favor, but which nevertheless will not be so without some error on the part of our adversary. Faults, too, that have been committed by a person whom we accuse, we sometimes affect to praise, as Cicero, in pleading against Verres, says of the charge brought against him about Apollonius of Drepanum, "If you took anything from him, I am even delighted at it and think that nothing better was ever done by you." 5Sometimes also we exaggerate charges against ourselves, when we might either refute or deny them, a practice which is too frequent to render an example of it necessary. Sometimes, again, by such exaggeration, we render charges against us incredible, as Cicero, in his oration for Roscius, speaking of the enormity of parricide, which is sufficiently manifest of itself, nevertheless exaggerates it by the power of his eloquence.

5The figure άποσιώπησις (aposiopesis), which Cicero calls reticentia, Celsus obticentia, and some authors interruptio, is used in testifying something of passion or anger, as,

Quos ego—sed motos praestat componere fluctus,

Whom I—but better 'tis to tranquilize
The troubled waves;
or anxiety and conscientious hesitation, as, "Would he have dared to make mention of the law of which Clodius boasts that he was the author, while Milo lived, I will not say while he was consul? for, with regard to all of us,—I cannot venture to say everything," etc., a passage that is similar to the exordium of the speech of Demosthenes for Ctesiphon. 5It may also be adopted for the purpose of making a transition, as, "Cominius however—but pardon me, judges," etc., where the figure digression also follows (if indeed digression ought to be reckoned among figures, for by some it is considered as one of the divisions of a cause), and the speech goes off into the praises of Pompey, who might, however, have been praised without recourse being had to aposiopesis. 5As to the shorter kind of digression, it may be made, as Cicero says, in various ways, but the two following instances will suffice as examples: "When Caius Varenus, he who was killed by the slaves of Ancharius (to this point, judges, pay, I beseech you, the most careful attention)" etc., and in the speech for Milo, "He regarded me with that sort of look which he was accustomed to assume when he threatened every kind of violence," etc. 5There is also a kind of self-interruption, which is not indeed an aposiopesis, so as to leave a speech unfinished, but a suspension of what we are saying before we come to the natural termination of it, as, "I am too urgent, the young man seems to be moved," and, "Why should I say more? You have heard the young man himself speak."

5The imitation of other persons' manners, which is called ἠθοποιΐα (ethopoeia), or as others prefer, μίμησις (mimesis), may be numbered among the lighter artifices for touching the feelings, for it consists mostly in mimicry, but it may be exhibited either in acts or in words. That which consists in acts is similar to ὑποτύπωσις (hypotyposis); of that which consists in words we may take the following example from Terence:

At ego nescibam quorsum tu ires. Parvula
Hinc est abrepta: eduxit mater pro suâ:
Soror dicta est. Cupio abducere ut reddam suis.

I did not know, forsooth, what was your drift.
A little girl was stolen from hence; my mother
Brought her up as her own; and she was call'd
My sister; I would fain lay hands on her,
To give her to her friends.
5But an imitation of our own sayings and doings is sometimes adopted in narration, and is of a similar character, except that it is more frequently intended for asseveration than mere mimicry, as, "I said that they had for accuser Quintus Caecilius."

There are other artifices, too, which are not only pleasing, but are of great service in securing favorable attention to our arguments, as well by the variety which they give, as by their own nature. For by making our speech appear plain and unstudied, they render us objects of less suspicion to the judge. 60. One of these is a repenting, as it were, of what we have said, as in the speech for Caelius, "But why did I introduce so grave a character?" Of a similar nature, also, are the expressions which we daily use, such as, Imprudens incidi, "I have hit upon the matter unawares," or as we say when we pretend to be at a loss, "What comes next?" or, "Have not I omitted something?" or when we pretend to find something suggested to us by the matter of which we are speaking. Thus Cicero says, "One charge of this sort remains for me to notice," and "One thing is suggested to me by another." 6By such means, likewise, graceful transitions are effected (though transition itself, be it observed, is not a figure) as when Cicero—after relating the story of Piso, who, while sitting on his judgment seat, had given orders for a ring to be made for him by a goldsmith—adds, as if reminded by the circumstance, "This ring of Piso has just put me in mind of something that had entirely escaped me. From how many honest men's fingers do you think that he has taken away gold rings?" etc. Sometimes we affect ignorance of some particular, "But the artificer of those statues, whom they say that he was? whom? You prompt me correctly—they said that it was Polycletus." 6This kind of artifice may serve more purposes than one, for by such means, we may, while we seem to be intent on one object, accomplish another, as Cicero, in the present instance, while he reproaches Verres with his inordinate rage for statues and pictures, secures himself from being thought to have a passion for them likewise. Demosthenes, also, in swearing by those who were killed at Marathon and Salamis, makes it his object that he may suffer less odium for the disaster incurred at Chaeronea. 6It gives agreeableness to a speech, moreover, to defer the discussion of some points, laying them up as it were in the memory of the judge, and afterwards to reclaim what we have deposited, to separate certain particulars by some figure (for separation is not itself a figure), to bring others prominently forward, and to exhibit the subjects of our speech under various aspects. For eloquence delights in variety, and as the eyes are more attracted by the contemplation of diversified objects, so that is always more gratifying to the mind to which it directs itself with the expectation of novelty.

6Among figures is also to be numbered emphasis, which is used when some latent sense is to be elicited from some word or phrase, as in this passage of Virgil,
Non licuit thalami expertem sine crimine vitam
Degere, more ferae

Might not I have lived
Free from the nuptial couch, without a crime,
Free, like the savage herd?
for though Dido complains of marriage, her passion forces us to understand that she thinks life without marriage to be a life not for human beings, but for beasts. There is another example of it, but of a different character, in Ovid, where Zmyrna confesses to her nurse her passion for her father, in these words:

—O, dixit, felicem conjuge matrem!

O mother, happy in her spouse! she cried.
6Similar or identical to this figure is one we use greatly in the present day. For I must now proceed to treat an extremely common figure, on which I believe most readers earnestly expect I should make some observations. It is figure in which we intimate, by some suspicion that we excite, that something is to be understood which we do not express, though not something contrary to what we express, as in the εἰρωνεία (eironeia), but something latent and to be discovered by the hearer's penetration. This, as I mentioned above, is almost the only mode of expression that our rhetoricians call a figure, and from its frequent use, certain pleadings have acquired the name of figurative. 6It may be adopted for one of three reasons: ( if it is unsafe to speak plainly, ( if it is unbecoming to do so, and ( if recourse is had to the figure merely for the purpose of ornament, and of giving more pleasure, through novelty and variety, than would be felt if a straightforward narration were offered.

6Of these three cases, the first is of common occurrence in the schools, where are imagined conditions made by tyrants laying down their power, and decrees of senates after a civil war. It is a capital crime to reproach a person with what is past, and what is not allowable in the forum is considered not to be admissible in the schools. But, in reality, the declaimer does not have the same need for figures as the orator, for he may speak as plainly as he pleases against those tyrants, provided that what he says is susceptible to another interpretation, because he has to avoid danger only to himself, and not offense to them. If he can escape all hazard through ambiguity of language, everyone will applaud his address. 6But real pleadings have never been attended with such necessity for silence, though they sometimes require caution almost equal to it. Indeed, they are much more embarrassing to the orator, especially when powerful persons oppose him, and his cause cannot be gained without offending them. 6Hence, he must proceed with greater care and circumspection, for if he offends , it makes no difference how the offense is given, whether in a figure or otherwise. If a figure betrays itself, it ceases to be a figure. Accordingly all this sort of artifice is rejected by some rhetoricians, whether it is understood or not. But it is possible to be moderate in the use of such figures.

In the first place, we may take care that they are not too palpable, and they will not be so if they are not formed of words of doubtful or double meaning, like the equivocation in regard to the daughter-in-law suspected of a criminal connection with her father-in-law, "I married a wife," said her husband, "that pleased my father." 70. Or what is much more foolish, of ambiguous arrangements of words, of which there is an example in the case in which a father, accused of having dishonored his virgin daughter, asks her at whose hands she had suffered violence: "Who," he asks, "ill-treated you?" to which she replies, "My father, do not you know?" 7Let the matter itself lead the judge to a suspicion of the truth, and let us set aside other points that it may appear the more evident, to which end displays of feeling will greatly contribute, and words interrupted by silence and hesitation. Thus it will happen that the judge himself will seek for the latent something, which he perhaps would not believe if he heard it stated plainly, but to which he will give credit when he thinks that he has himself divined it.

7However, even if they are of the highest possible excellence, figures should not be numerous, for they betray themselves by multiplicity, and while they are not less objectionable, they are less effective. Our forbearance to speak plainly appears then to proceed, not from modesty, but from distrust of our cause. In a word, the judge puts most trust in our figures when he thinks we are unwilling to express ourselves undisguisedly. have, indeed, met with persons who could not be gained but by such artifice, and I was once concerned in a cause (a thing of less frequent occurrence) in which it was absolutely required. I defended a woman who was accused of forging her husband's will, and the heirs named in it were said to have given a bond to her husband just before his death. This latter allegation was true. Because the wife could not be made his heir by law, this expedient had been devised so the property might pass into her hands by a secret conveyance in trust. 7To defend the woman against the main charge was easy, even if we had stated the matter boldly, but she would have lost the inheritance. I had to manage the matter, therefore, in such a way that the judges might understand what had been done, and yet that the informers might be unable to take advantage of anything that was said. I was successful in both objects. I would not have mentioned this affair, through fear of the imputation of vanity, had I not wished to show there is a use for such figures, even in the forum. 7Some things too, which we cannot prove, may be insinuated advantageously here and there by a figure, for a hidden dart sometimes sticks fast and cannot be extracted for the very reason that it is hidden. If you state the same things plainly, they will be contradicted, and you will have to prove them.

7But when respect for a person stands in our way (which I mentioned previously as the second case), we must speak with still more caution, as respect is a stronger restraint on the ingenuous than fear. In such a case, the judge should think that we hide what we know and that we check our words which are bursting from us under the force of truth. For how much less will those against whom we speak, or the judges, or the audience, dislike our figurative mode of attack if they think we wish to say what we are saying? 7Or what difference does it make how we speak as long as our expressions and feelings are understood? Or what do we gain by speaking thus, but to make it evident that we are doing what we feel should not be done? Those times when I first began teaching rhetoric suffered excessively from this fault, for the declaimers spoke, at least willingly, only on such causes as were attractive from their apparent difficulty, though they were, in reality, much easier than many others. 7A straightforward kind of eloquence cannot recommend itself but with the aid of the strongest power of mind, while doublings and turnings are the resources of weakness, just as those who are poor runners endeavor to elude their pursuers by winding about. That figurative sort of oratory, which is so much affected, is not very different from jesting and provides further benefit because the auditor delights to understand what is insinuated, applauds his own penetration, and plumes himself on another's eloquence. 7Hence declaimers had recourse to figures, not only when respect for some person was a hindrance to plainness of speech (in which case there is oftener need of caution than of figures), but made a place for them even when they were useless or pernicious. For example, suppose a father, who secretly killed his son for suspicion of incest with his mother and who was accused by the wife of having ill-treated her, then threw out oblique insinuations, in figures, against her. 80. What could have been more scandalous in a man than to have retained such a wife? What could be more absurd than a man, who was brought under accusation because he had suspected his wife of the most detestable guilt, confirming in his defense the very guilt he should be trying to disprove? Had those declaimers conceived themselves in the judges' place, they would have perceived how little they would have endured such a pleading, and much less when abominable charges were thrown out against parents.

8Since we have fallen upon this subject, let us bestow a little more consideration on the schools. This is where the orator is brought up, and the manner in which he declaims depends upon the manner in which he will plead. I must speak, therefore, about those declamations in which most teachers have introduced figures that are not necessarily harsh, but are contrary to the spirit of the cause. One case, for example, is this: "Let it be the law that a person who is found guilty of aspiring to tyranny be put to the torture, to compel him to name his accomplices, and that his accuser be allowed to choose whatever recompense he pleases. A son who had established such an accusation against his father desires that his father may not be put to the torture; the father opposes his desire." 8When pleading on behalf of the father, no declaimer would restrain himself from throwing out insinuations, in figurative expressions, against the son, intimating that the father, if put to the torture, will name him among his accomplices. But what is more preposterous than such a course? For when the judges understand the insinuations, the father will either not be put to the torture (if such be his reason for wishing to be put to it), or if he is put to it, he will not be believed. 8"But," it may be said, "it is probable that his object was to implicate his son." Perhaps so, but he should then have disguised it in order to succeed in it. "But what will it profit us" (I speak in the person of the declaimers) "to have discovered that object unless we make it known?" If, then, a real cause of the kind were pleaded, should we, in such a manner, bring to light that concealed object? Or what if such is not the real object? The guilty father may have other reasons for opposing the desire of his son. He may think that the law should be observed, or he may be unwilling to owe a favor to his accuser, or (what I should think most probable) he may be resolved to assert his own innocence under the torture. 8Therefore, not even the common excuse, "He who invented the case intended that mode of defense," will be any support to those who plead in such a way, for perhaps the inventor intended no such thing. But suppose that he did intend it. Are we, if he judged foolishly, to plead foolishly for that reason? For my own part, I think that in pleading even real causes, we should frequently pay no attention to what the party going to law wishes.

8Another common mistake in disclaimers in this kind of case is to suppose that certain characters say one thing and mean another. A remarkable example of this occurs in the case of the man who petitions for leave to put himself to death: "A man who had given proofs of bravery on previous occasions demanded in a subsequent war that he be exempted from service because, as the law allows, he is fifty years of age. However, being opposed by his son, he was compelled to take the field, but later deserted. His son, who distinguished himself by his valor in that war, demanded, in his right of opinion, that his father be pardoned. The father opposed the demand." Here, the declaimers would say the father does not really wish to die, but merely to throw odium on his son. 8For myself, I laugh at the fear which they manifest on his account, speaking as if they themselves were in danger of death and carrying their terrors into their counsels. They forget the multiple instances of voluntary deaths and the reason why a man who was once brave and has become a deserter might want to end his life. 8But it would be useless to particularize all that would be against a cause in any one instance. In general, I think it is no business of a pleader to prevaricate, and I can form no conception of a cause in which both parties have the same object in view. Nor can I imagine a man so foolish that when he wishes to save his life, he would rather ask for death absurdly than forbear to ask for it at all. 8I do not, however, deny that there are causes in which figures of this kind may have a place, such as the following, "A young man accused of murder for killing his brother seemed likely to be found guilty, but his father testified that the son had committed the murder by his order. Yet when the son was acquitted, the father disinherited him." In this case, the father does not pardon his son entirely, yet he cannot openly retract what he asserted in his evidence at first. Although he does not extend his severity beyond the punishment of disinheritance, he does not hesitate to disinherit him. Besides, figurative insinuation unfairly has more effect on the side of the father and less on that of the son.

8Though a person may not speak contrary to what he wishes, he may wish something of more importance than what he says, as "the disinherited son who petitions his father to pay the maintenance and take back another son who had been brought up by himself." The disinherited son would perhaps prefer that he himself should be reinstated in his rights, yet he may be thought sincere in desiring what he asks.

90. There is another sort of tacit insinuation that we adopt when we demand from the judge rigid justice on our adversary, but intimate some hope of mercy, not indeed openly, lest we should appear to make a promise, but so as to afford some plausible suspicion of our intent. Examples of this may be seen in many cases in the schools, and especially in the following: "Let there be a law that he who has dishonored a virgin is to be put to death, unless he obtains pardon from the father of the virgin, as well as from his own father, within thirty days after the commission of the crime. A man who has dishonored a virgin, after obtaining the forgiveness of her father, cannot obtain that of his own, and charges his father with being insane." 9In this case, the process is at an end if the father promises forgiveness. If he gives no hope of it, he would be thought, not mad, but certainly cruel and would alienate the feelings of the judge. Porcius Latro, accordingly, with great judgment, made the son say, "Will you kill me then, my father?" and the father reply, "Yes, if I shall be able." The elder Gallio made the father express himself more relentingly and more in accordance with his own disposition. "Be resolute, my soul, be resolute; yesterday you were more determined." 9Similar to this sort of figures are those much celebrated among the Greeks, by which they soften that which would otherwise appear harsh. Thus Themistocles is thought to have persuaded the Athenians to "commit their city to the care of the gods" because it would have been offensive to them to say abandon it. And the man who recommended the golden statues of Victory be melted down for the expenses of a war, brought forward his proposal in this form: "We should make proper use of our victories." All that belongs to allegory is of a similar nature and consists in saying one thing and intimating another.

9It is also a matter of consideration how we ought to reply to figures. Some rhetoricians believe they should always be laid open by the opposite party, as morbid matter is cut out of the human body. This, indeed, should be the course most frequently adopted, for otherwise the objections contained in them cannot be overthrown, especially when the matter in question lies in the very point at which the figures aim. But when they are mere vehicles of invective, it is sometimes a mark of good judgment to pretend not to understand them. 9If such figures, however, are too numerous to allow us to avoid noticing them, we must call upon our opponents to state plainly, if they have confidence enough in their cause, whatever charge they are endeavoring to intimate in ambiguous expressions, or to forbear at least from expecting that the judge will not only comprehend, but even believe that which they themselves will not express intelligibly. 9It is sometimes of great effect, too, to pretend not to understand that a figure is a figure, as in the well-known story of the man who, when he was addressed by the advocate of his opponent in the words, "Swear by the ashes of your patron," replied that he was quite ready to do so. The judge gravely accepted his proposal, though the advocate made great opposition and said the use of figures would thus be utterly abolished. It is, consequently, a necessary precept that we must not use figures of that kind rashly.

9There is a third kind of figure in which the object is to add grace to style, and which Cicero, therefore, considers as not falling on the point in question between the parties. Such is the remark which Cicero himself directs against Clodius: "By which means he, who was well acquainted with all our sacrifices, thought that the gods might easily be propitiated in his favor." 9Irony is very common in observations of this nature. But the far greatest proof of art is given when one thing is intimated through another. Thus a person engaged in a suit against a tyrant who had laid down his power on condition of an amnesty said to him, "It is not lawful for me to speak against you, but do you speak against me? You can, for I very lately had conceived the intention of killing you." 9It is also a common practice, though not much deserving of imitation, to employ an oath by way of figure. Thus an advocate, speaking on behalf of a son who had been disinherited, exclaimed, "So may it be my fate to die, having a son for my heir!" To swear at all, except when it is absolutely necessary, is by no means becoming in a man of sense, and it was happily said by Seneca that "to swear is the business not of pleaders, but of witnesses." Nor does he, indeed, who swears for the sake of a little oratorical flourish, deserve attention. To swear as well as Demosthenes, to whom I alluded a little above, is a very different matter.

9By far the most trivial sort of figure is that which consists in a play upon a single word, though an example of it can be found in a remark of Cicero on Clodia: Praesertim quum omnes amicam omnium potius quam cujusquam inimicam putaverunt; "Especially when everybody thought her rather the friend of all men than the enemy of any man."

100. As to comparison, I conceive, for my own part, that it is not to be numbered among figures, as it is sometimes a sort of proof and sometimes the foundation of a cause; the form of it is such as it appears in Cicero's speech for Muraena: "You watch by night to give answers to your clients; he, to arrive early at the place to which he is marching. You are awakened by the crowing cocks; he, by the sound of trumpets," etc. am unsure whether it is a verbal figure rather than a figure of thought, the only difference being that generals are not opposed to generals, but particulars to particulars. Celsus, however, and Visellius, no negligent author, have placed it among figures of thought, while Rutilius Lupus puts it under both kinds of figures and calls it antithesis.

10But in addition to the figures which Cicero calls illuminations of thought, the same Rutilius, following Gorgias (not the Leontine, but another who was his contemporary and whose four books he has condensed into one of his own) and Celsus, following Rutilius, enumerate many others; 10as:

consummatio, "comprehension," which Gorgias calls διαλλαγή (diallage), when several arguments are brought to establish one point
consequens, "consequence," which he calls ἐπακολούθησις (epakolouthesis), and of which we have spoken under the head of arguments
collectio, "collection," which with him is συλλογισμός (syllogismos)
threatening, which he calls κατάπληξις (kataplexis), and
exhortation, παραινετικόν (parainetikon).
But every one of these is delivered in plain and simple language, unless when it attaches to itself one of the figures of which we have been speaking. 10Yet, besides these, Celsus thinks that "to except," "to assert," "to refuse," "to excite the judge," "to use proverbs, verses, or jests, or invectives, or invocations, to aggravate a charge (which is the same as δείνωσις (deinosis)), to flatter, to pardon, to express disdain, to admonish, to apologize, to entreat, to reprove, are all figures. 10He has the same opinion, too, regarding partition, and proposition, and distinction, and affinity between two things, that is, the demonstration that things which appear to be different may establish the same fact. For example, he who has destroyed a man's life by giving him a potion is not the only poisoner, but he also who has destroyed his understanding, a point which depends on definition. 10To these Rutilius, or Gorgias, adds:

ἀναγκαῖον (anankaion), "the representation of the necessity of a thing,"
ἀνάμνησις (anamnēsis), "reminding," or "recapitulation,"
ἀνθυποϕορά (anthypophora), "replying to anticipated objections,"
ἀντιῤῥησις (antirrhēsis), "refutation of the objections of our adversary,"
παραύξησις (parauxēsis), "amplification,"
προέκθεσις (proekthesis), which is "to state what ought to have been done, and then what has been done,"
ἐναντιότης (enantiotēs), "proof from the admissions of the opposite party," from whence come enythymenes κατ᾽ ἀντίασιν (kat antiasin), and
μετάληψις (metalēpsis), which Hermagoras considers as a position.
10Though he makes very few figures, Visellius reckons among them the ἐνθύμημα (enthymema), which he calls commentum, "conception," and the ἐπιχείρημα (epicheirema), which he calls ratio, "reason." This Celsus in some degree admits, for he doubts whether consequence is not the same as the epicheirema. Visellius adds also sententia. I find some, too, who add to these what the Greeks call διασκευή (diaskeuē), "circumstantiality," ἀπαγόρευσις (apagoreusis), "prohibition," and παραδιήγησις (paradiēgēsis), "extraneous confirmation." Though these are not regarded as figures, there may perhaps be others that have escaped me, or even fresh ones might still be made, though they would be of the same nature as those of which I have spoken.

Verbal figures have been perpetually subject to change and continue to be changed as custom exerts its influence. Accordingly, when we compare the language of our forefathers with our own, we are led to regard almost every phrase that we use as figurative. For instance, we say, hac re invidere, "to grudge this thing," not as the ancients said, and Cicero in particular, hanc rem; incumbere illi, "to lean upon him," not in illum; plenum vino, "full of wine," not vini; huic adulari, "to flatter a person," not hunc; and a thousand other examples might be given. I wish that the worse may not have prevailed over the better.

However this may be, verbal figures are of two kinds: one, as they say, lies in the formation of phrases, while the other is to be sought chiefly in the collocation of them, and though both kinds equally concern the art of oratory, we may yet call the one rather grammatical and the other rhetorical.

The first sort arises from the same source as solecisms, for a figure of speech would be a solecism if it were not intentional, but accidental. But figures are commonly supported by authority, antiquity, custom, and sometimes by some special reason. Hence a variation from plain and direct phraseology is a beauty, if it has something plausible on which it models itself. In one respect, figures are of great service by relieving the wearisomeness arising from ordinary and uniform language and by raising us above mere commonplace forms of expression. If a speaker uses them moderately and as his subject requires, his style will be more agreeable, as with a certain seasoning sprinkled over it. But he who affects them too much will miss the very charm of variety at which he aims. There are, however, some figures so common that they have almost lost their name, and regardless of how often they are used, they consequently have little effect upon ears accustomed to them. Those figures that are uncommon and remote from everyday language, and for that reason more elevated, can produce excitement by their novelty, but cause satiety if they are lavished in profusion and show that they did not present themselves to the speaker, but were sought by him and dragged forth and collected from every place where they were concealed.

Figures, then, may occur in the gender of nouns; for example, the phrases oculis capti talpae, "blind moles," and timidi damae, "timid deer," are used by Virgil, but not without reason, as both genders are signified under one, and it is certain that there are male talpae and damae as well as female. Figures may also affect verbs, as fabricatus est gladium, "he fabricated a sword," and punitus est inimicum, "he punished his enemy." This is less surprising because it is not uncommon with us, when using verbs, to express what we do by a passive form, as arbitror, "I think," suspicor, "I suspect," and, on the other hand, to signify what we suffer by an active form, as vapulo, "I am beaten." Hence, there are frequent interchanges of the two, and many things are expressed in either form: as luxuriatur, luxuriat, "luxuriates," fluctuatur, fluctuat, "fluctuates," assentior, assentio, "I assent." There may be also a figure in number, either when the plural is joined with the singular, as, Gladio pugnacissimi gens Romani, "The Romans are a nation that fight vigorously with the sword" (gens being a noun of multitude) or when a singular is attached to a plural, as,

Qui non risere parentes,
Nec deus hunc mensa, dea nec dignata cubili est,

Those who have not smiled on their parents,
neither has a god honored him with his table, nor a goddess with her couch,
that is, among those who have not smiled is he whom a god has not honored, etc. In a satire of Persius we have,

Et nostrum istud vivere triste Aspexi,

And I saw that sad to live of ours,
where he has used an infinitive mood for a substantive, for he intends nostram vitam to be understood. We also sometimes use a verb for a participle, as,

Magnum dat ferre talentum,

He gives a great talent to carry,
using ferre for ferendum, and a participle for a verb, as Volo datum, "I wish given," for Volo dari, "I wish to be given." Sometimes it may even be doubted on what solecism a figure borders, as in this expression,

Virtus est vitium fugere,

To flee vice is virtue,
for the author either interchanges parts of speech, for Virtus est fuga vitiorum, "Virtue is the avoidance of vices," or alters a case, for Virtutis est vitium fugere, "It is the part of virtue to avoid vice," but the form which he himself adopts is much more spirited than either of the others. Sometimes two or more figures are used together, as Sthenelus sciens pugnae, "Sthenelus skilful in fight," for Scitus Sthenelus pugnandi. 1One tense, too, is sometimes put for another, as Timarchides negat esse ei periculum a securi, "Timarchides says that he is in no danger of being beheaded," the present being put for the preterperfect. And one mood for another, as,

Hoc Ithacus velit,

This Ithacus would wish,
velit being for vult. Not to dwell upon the matter, a figure may appear in as many forms as a solecism. 1One which I may particularly notice is that which the Greeks call ἑτέροίωσις (heteroiosis), which is not much different from what they term ἐξαλλαγή (exallage). There is an example in Sallust, Neque ea res falsum me habuit, "Nor have my anticipations deceived me," and another Duci probare. In such figures brevity, as well as novelty, is generally an object. Hence the same author has proceeded so far as to say non paeniturum, "not about to repent," for non acturum paenitentiam; and visuros, "about to see," for ad videndum missos. 1These expressions he must have considered as figures. Whether they can now be called by that name may be a question, for once they are received into common use, and we are content with what is received, though it rest only on the authority of the vulgar. Thus rebus agentibus, which Asinius Pollio condemns in Labienus, has struggled into use, as well as contumeliam fecit, which is well known to have been censured by Cicero, for in his days they said affici contumelia. 1Another recommendation of figures is that of antiquity, of which Virgil was an eminent lover:

Vel quum se pavidum contra mea jurgia jactat,

Or when he shows himself afraid to meet
My charge;
and,

Progeniem sed enim Trojano à sanguine duci
Audierat,

But she had heard a race would be derived
From Trojan blood.
Similar phraseology is found in abundance in the old tragic and comic poets. One word of the kind has remained in use, enimvero, "for truly." 1There is more of the same sort in the same author, as,

Nam quis te, juvenum confidentissime,

For who bade thee, thou boldest of you men,
for quis is usually set at the commencement of a phrase. And, speaking of the Chimaera on the crest of Turnus,

Tam magis illa tremens, et tristibus effera flammis,
Quàm magis effuso crudescunt sanguine pugnae,

The more the fields of strife with bloodshed rage,
The more it trembles, and the fiercer glows
With issuing fires.
which is an inversion of the usual order, Quam magis aerumna urget, tam margis ad malefaciendum viget, "The more affliction presses, the more influence it has in prompting evil deeds." 1The ancients are full of such expressions, as Terence at the beginning of the Eunuch, says Quid igitur faciam? "What then shall I do?" Allusit tandem leno. And Catullus, in his Epithalamiun, has,

Dum innupta manet, dum cara suis est,

As long as she remains unwed, so long
She to her friends is dear,
the first dum signifying quoad, the second usque eo. 1In Sallust are many phrases translated from the Greek, as Vulgus amat fieri, "Things which the crowd likes to be done"; also in Horace, who was a great lover of Hellenisms,

Nec ciceris, nec longae incidit avenae,

Nor grudged him vetches, nor the long-shaped oat;
and in Virgil

Tyrrhenum navigat aequor,

Sails the Tyrrhenian deep.
1It is now a common expression, too, in the public acts, saucius pectus, "wounded in the breast." Under the same head of figures fall the addition and abstraction of words. To add a word more than is necessary may seem useless, but it is often not without grace, as,

Nam neque Parnassi vobis juga, nam neque Pindi,

For neither have Parnassus' heights, nor those
Of Pindus, ever detained you;
the second nam being superfluous. In Horace we have,

Fabriciumque,
Hunc, et intonsis Curium capillis,

Fabricius, him, and Curius with his locks
Unshorn.
As to suppressions of words, in the body of a sentence, they are either faulty or figurative, as,

Accede ad ignem, jam calesces plus satis,

Approach the fire, and you will soon be warmed
More than enough,
Plus satis being for plus quam satis, one word only being omitted. In other cases of suppression, a supply of many swords may be necessary. 1We very often use comparatives for positives; thus a person will say that he is infirmior, "weaker," that is, weaker than ordinary. And we are also in the habit of opposing two comparatives to each other, instead of a positive and comparative; as,

Si te, Catilina, comprehendi, si interfici jussero, credo, erit verendum mihi, ne non hoc potius omnes boni serius a me, quam quisquam crudelius factum esse dicat.

If I should order you, Catiline, to be seized, if I should order you to be put to death, I should have to fear lest all good members of society should think that such a course was adopted too late by me, rather than that any one should consider it adopted with too much severity.
20. There are also such expressions as the following, which, though not indeed of the nature of solecisms, put one number for another, and are consequently to be in general reckoned among tropes. Thus we speak of a single person in the plural:

Sed nos immensum spatiis confecimus aequor,

But we have passed over plains immense in space;
Or of several persons in the singular:

Haud secus ac patriis acer Romanus in armis,

Like the fierce Roman in his country's arms.
2Of a different species, though the same in kind, are the following instances:

Neve tibi ad solem vergant vineta cadentem,

Nor let your vineyards towards the setting sun
Be spread;

Ne mihi tum molles sub divo carpere somnos,
Neu dorso nemoris libeat jacuisse per herbas,

Let me not then incline to court soft sleep
Beneath the open sky, or on the grass
To stretch, beside the grove;
for Virgil does not admonish one person in the first passage or himself alone in the second, but intends his precepts for all. 2We speak also of ourselves as if we were speaking of others— Dicit Servius, "Servius asserts" and Negat Tullius, "Cicero denies"—and we speak in our person instead of speaking in that of another and put one third person in place of another. There is an example of both figures in the speech for Caecina: Cicero, addressing Piso, the advocate of the opposite party, says, Restituisse te dixti? nego me ex edicto praetoris restitutum esse, "Do you say that you reinstated me? I deny that I was reinstated by an edict of the praetor," but it was aebutius that said restituisse, and Caecina that replied, nego me ex edicto praetoris restitutum esse, and there is a figure used in the word dixti from which a syllable is struck out.

2Some other figures may be regarded as of the same nature. One is that which we call interpositio or interclusio, and the Greeks parenthesis, when some interposed remark breaks the course of a sentence, as, Ego quum te (mecum enim saepissime loquitur) patriae dedidissem, "when I had brought you back (for he very often talks with me) to your country," etc. With this some join the hyperbaton, which they do not choose to number among tropes. 2Another is one which is similar to the figure of thought called apostrophe. It does not affect the sense, but only the form of expression, as,

Decios, Marios, magnosque Camillos,
Scipiadas duros bello, et te, maxime Caesar,

The Decii she Marii, and great Camilli bore, the sons
Of Scipio, stern in war, and thee of all
The greatest, Caesar.
2Of this there is a still more spirited example where the poet is speaking of Polydore:

Fas omne abrumpit, Polydorum obtruncat, et auro
Vi potitur. Quid non mortalia pectora cogis
Auri sacra fames.

He breaks all laws, kills Polydore, and grasps
The gold by force. To what dost thou not drive
The hearts of mortals, direful thirst of gold?
Those who have distinguished small differences with particular names, add the term μετάβασις (metabasis), which they consider as a different kind of apostrophe, as,

Quid loquor? aut ubi sum?

What am I saying? Or where am I?
2Virgil unites the parenthesis and apostrophe in this passage:

Haud procul inde citae Metium in diversa quadrigae
Distulerant, (at tu dictis, Albane, maneres)
Raptabatque viri mendacis viscera Tullus.

Not far from thence swift steeds had Metius rent
In diverse parts, (thou, Alban, should have kept
Thy plighted faith.) and Tullus dragged abroad
The traitor's severed corpse.
2Whether they arise from change, addition, abstraction, or transposition,these figures and others like them attract the attention of the auditor and do not suffer him to grow languid, as he is roused from time to time by some striking expression. They derive something of the pleasure which they give from their resemblance to faults, as a little acidity is sometimes grateful in cookery. This result will be produced, if they are not extravagantly numerous or if those of the same kind are not thrown together or introduced too frequently, for rarity and diversity in their use will prevent satiety.

2Those sorts of figures that not only concern the form of expression, but communicate grace and energy to the thoughts have a more striking effect. Of these we may first notice that which consists in addition. There are several kinds, for words are sometimes repeated either for the sake of amplification as, "I have killed, I have killed, not Spurius Maelius," etc., where the first "I have killed" merely asserts the act, the second confirms the assertion. Or of expressing pity, as,

Ah Corydon, Corydon, etc.
2This figure is sometimes also employed for the sake of extenuation and by way of irony. Something similar to this reiteration of a word is the repetition of one after a parenthesis, which adds, however, force at the same time: "I have seen the property, unhappy that I am! (for though my tears are spent, grief still dwells fixed in my heart), the property, I say, of Cneius Pompey, subjected to the cruel voice of the public crier. You live, and live not to lay aside, but to increase your audacity." 30. Sentences, again, are sometimes commenced with the same word to give them spirit and energy, as,

Nihilne te nocturnum praesidium palatii, nihil urbis vigiliae, nihil timor populi, nihil consensus bonorum omnium, nihil hic munitissimus habendi senatus locus, nihil horum ora vultusque moverunt?

Has not the nightly guard of the palatium, has not the watch kept in the city, has not the fear of the people, has not the unanimity of all men of honor, has not this fortified place for assembling the senate, have not the countenances and looks of those here present, produced any effect upon you?

3Sometimes they are ended with the same word; as, "Who called for them? Appius. Who produced them? Appius." This last example, however, may be referred to another kind of figure in which the beginning and end of each phrase are alike: "who" and "who," "Appius" and "Appius." Of this figure the following is an apt example:

Who are they that have frequently broken treaties? The Carthaginians. Who are they that have waged war with the utmost cruelty? The Carthaginians. Who are they that have devastated Italy? The Carthaginians. Who are they that importune to be forgiven? The Carthaginians.

3Also, in antitheses or comparisons, there is commonly an alternating repetition of the first words of each corresponding phrase, which, as I just said above, it is referable to this head more than any other:

You wake in the night, that you may give answers to your clients; he, that he may arrive early with his army at the place whither he is marching. You are aroused by the crowing of cocks, he, by the sound of trumpets. You conduct lawsuits, he draws up troops. You are on the watch lest your clients should be disappointed, he, lest his towns or his camp should be taken.

3But discontented with having produced this beauty, the orator presents the same figure in a reverse order: "He knows and understands how the forces of the enemy are to be kept at a distance; you, how the rain may be prevented from annoying us. He exercises himself in extending boundaries, you, in settling them." 3The middle may also be made to correspond with the beginning, as,

Te nemus Anguitiae, vitrea te Funcinus unda,

Thee Anguitia's grove deplored,
Thee, Funcinus, with crystal stream;
or with the end, as, Haec navis onusta praeda Sicilsensi, quum ipsa quoque esset ex praeda, "This ship laden with Sicilian spoil, being itself also a portion of the spoil." Nor will it be doubted that by the same figure, the middle of the phrase may be put both at the beginning and the end. The end may also be made to correspond with the beginning, as, "Many severe afflictions were found for parents, and for relatives many." 3There is likewise another kind of repetition that refers to things or persons mentioned before and distinguishes them from one another:

Iphitus et Pelias mecum, quorum Iphitus aevo
Jam gravior, Pelias et vulnere tardus Ulixi,

Iphitus came, and Pelias came, with me;
Iphitus slow with age, and Pelias lame
As wounded by Ulysses.
This is what in Greek is called ἐπάνοδος (epanodos); our writers term it regressio. 3Nor are the same words repeated only in the same sense, but often in a different one, and in opposition, as, "The dignity of the leaders was almost equal, but not equal, perhaps, was that of those who followed them." Sometimes this kind of repetition is varied as to cases and genders, as, Magnus est labor dicendi, magna res est, "Great is the labor of eloquence; great is its importance." In Rutilius there is an example of this in a longer period, but the commencements of the sentences are, Pater hic tuus? Patrem nunc appellas? Patri tu filius es? "Is this your father? Do you now call him father? Are you to him as a son to a father?" 3By a change of cases, too, is sometimes formed the figure which they call πολύπτωτον (polyptoton). It is also formed in other ways, as in Cicero's speech for Cluentius:

Quod autem tempus veneni dandi? Illo die? In illa frequentia? Per quem porro datum? Unde sumptum? Quae porro interceptio poculi? cur non de integro autem datum?

But what was the time at which the poison was given? Was it on that day? Among such a number of people? By whose instrumentality, moreover, was it given? Whence was it taken? What was the means of intercepting the cup? Why was it not given a second time?

3Such a combination of different particulars Caecilius calls μεταβολή (metabole), of which another passage from the speech for Cluentius may be given as an example; it is in reference to Oppianicus:

Illum tabulas publicas Larini censorias corrupisse, decuriones universi judicaverunt; cum illo nemo rationem, nemo rem ullam contrahebat; nemo illum ex tam multis cognatis et affinibus tutorem unquam liberis suis scripsit,

that he falsified the public registers at Larinum, the decuriones were unanimously of opinion; no man kept any account, no man made any bargain with him; no man, of all his numerous kinsmen and connexions, ever appointed him guardian to his children,

and much more to the same purpose.

3As particulars are here thrown together, so, on the other hand, they may be distributed, or, as Cicero, I think, calls it, "dissipated," as,

Hic segetes, illic veniunt feliciùs uvae,
Arborei faetus alibi, etc.

Here corn, there grapes, more gladly spring; elsewhere
The stems of trees, etc.
40. In Cicero is seen an example of a remarkable mixture of figures, in a passage in which the last word, after a long interval, is repeated in correspondence to the first; the middle also is in accordance with the commencement, and the conclusion with the middle:

Vestrum jam hic factum deprehenditur, Patres Conscripti, non meum; ac pulcherrimum quidem factum; verum, ut dixi, non meum, sed vestrum;

Your work now appears here, Conscript Fathers, not mine; and a very honorable work, indeed, it is; but, as I said, it is not mine, but yours.

4This frequent repetition the Greeks call πλοκή (plokē), which consists, as I said, of a mixture of figures; a letter to Brutus affords an example of it: "When I had returned into favor with Appius Claudius, and it was through Cneius Pompey that I did return, and, accordingly, when I had returned," etc. 4It may be formed also by a repetition of the same words, in various forms, in the same sentence, as in Persius,

Usque adeone Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter?

Is, then, to know in thee Nothing, unless another know thou know'st?
and in Cicero, Neque enim poterat, indicio et his damnatis, qui indicabantur; "For neither could he, when those were found guilty on information against whom information was given." 4But whole sentences, too, are sometimes ended with the phrases with which they are commenced: "He came from Asia. Of how much advantage was even this? But it was in the character of a tribune of the people that he came from Asia." When, however, the last word in a period is made to correspond with the first, another repetition of it may be given, as to the sentence just quoted is added, "However, he came from Asia." Sometimes a series of words may be repeated and in precisely the same order: "What could Cleomenes do? For I cannot accuse anyone falsely. What, to much purpose, could Cleomenes do?" 4The last word of the former of two sentences, and the first of the latter, are often the same, a figure which poets, indeed, use more frequently than prose writers:

Pierides, vox haec facietis maxima Gallo,
Gallo, cuius amor tantum mihi crescit in horas, etc.

You, Muses, will
For Gallus give these verses dignity,
Gallus, for whom my love still grows each hour,
As much, etc.
But orators afford not in frequent examples of it: "Yet he lives. Lives? Nay, he even comes into the senate." 4Sometimes (as I said in regard to the repetition of words), the beginnings and conclusions of phrases are made to correspond with each other by means of words which, though different, are yet of a similar signification. The beginnings for example, thus: Dediderim periculis omnibus, obtulerim insidiis, objecerim invidiae: "I would have thrown him into every kind of danger, I would have exposed him to treachery, I would have consigned him to public odium." The conclusions thus: Vos enim statuistis, vos sententiam dixistis, vos judicastis: "You determined, you gave your opinion, you pronounced judgment." This some call συνωνυμία (synonomia), others "disjunction," and both terms, though of different meaning, are used with propriety, for it is a separation of words having the same signification. Sometimes, again, words that have the same signification are congregated: "Such, being the case, Catiline, go whither you had intended to go; depart at length from the city; the gates are open; commence your journey." 4And in another speech against Catiline, "He is gone, he has departed, he has sallied forth, he has escaped." In the opinion of Caecilius, this is pleonasm, that is, language copious beyond what is necessary, as in the words,

Vidi oculos ante ipse meos,

I saw, myself, before my eyes,
for in vidi "I saw," is included ipse, "myself." But such phraseology, as I have remarked in another place, is faulty when burdened with any useless addition, but a beauty when it adds strength to plain thought, as in this case, for the several words vidi, ipse, and ante oculos each produce an impression on the mind. 4Why Caecilius, then, should have characterized it by such a term, I cannot tell, for every sort of reduplication, repetition, and addition might be called pleonasm with just as much propriety. Not only words of similar import, however, but also thoughts, are sometimes accumulated, as, Perturbatio istrum mentis, et quaedam, scelerum offusa caligo, et ardentes Furiarum faces excitarunt. "Perturbation of mind, darkness shed over him through his crimes, and the burning torches of the Furies excited him." 4Words and phrases of different import are also thrown together, as, Mulier, tyranni saeva crudelitas, patris amor, ira praeceps, temeritas, dementia, etc. "The woman, the savage cruelty of the tyrant, his love for his father, violent anger, rashness, madness," etc. Another example is to be found in Ovid,

Sed grave Nereidum numen, sed corniger Ammon,
Sed quas visceribus veniebat bellua ponti,
Exsaturanda meis, etc.

But the dread Nereids' power, but Ammon horned,
But the dire monster from the deep that came,
To feed upon my vitals, etc.
4I have found some authors call the following form of sentence (plokē): Quaero ab inimicis, sintne haec investigata, comperta, patefacta, sublata, deleta, extincta per me? "I ask of my enemies whether it was not by my means that these plots were investigated, discovered, exposed, overthrown, destroyed, annihilated?" But I do not agree with these authors, as the words form but one figure, though they are of a mixed nature, partly of similar and partly of different signification, a union which they call διαλλαγή (diallage): for investigata, comperta, and patefacta state one thing, and sublata, deleta, and extincta state another, the latter being similar one to another, but dissimilar to the former. 50. We may observe, too, that the last quotation and the one before afford an example of another figure that, because it consists in the omission of conjunctions, is called dialysis. It is aptly used when we have to express anything with vehemence, as by its use particulars are severally impressed on the mind, and appear to be rendered, as it were, more numerous. Hence we use this figure not only in single words, but also in phrases, as Cicero says in his reply to the speech of Metellus, "Those about whom information was given, I ordered to be summoned, to be kept in custody, to be brought before the senate; it was in the senate that they were arraigned," and so on through the whole of that passage. This mode of expression the Greeks call βραχυλογία (brachylogia), which may be regarded as a conjunctive disjunction. 5Opposed to this is the figure which consists in superfluity of conjunctions. One is called asyndeton, the other polysyndeton, which arises either from repetitions of the same conjunction, as,

Tectumque, laremque,
Armaque, Amyclaeumque canem, Cressamque pharetram,

Both house, and household gods, and arms,
And Amyclaean dog, and quiver formed
Of Cretan make;
5or of different conjunctions, as

Arma virumque—,
Multum ille et terris—,
Multa quoque—.
5In like manner adverbs and pronouns are also varied:

Hic illum vidi juvenem,—
Bis senos cui nostra dies—
Hic mihi responsum primus dedit ille petenti.
But both the asyndeton and the polysyndeton are accumulation of words, the only difference being in the presence or absence of conjunctions. 5Writers have given them their own names, which are various, as it suited the fancy of those who invented them. But the source of them is the same, as they render what we say more vivacious and energetic, exhibiting an appearance of vehemence and of passion bursting forth, as it were, time after time.

Gradation, which is called by the Greeks κλῖμαξ (climax), is produced by art less disguised, or more affected, and for that reason ought to be less frequently used. 5It lies too, in repetition, for it recurs to what has been said and takes a rest, as it were, on something that precedes before it passes on to anything else. An example of it may be translated from a well-known Greek passage: "I not only did not say this, but did not even write it; I not only did not write it, but took no part in the embassy; I not only took no part in the embassy, but used no persuasion to the Thebans." 5A Latin example or two, however, may also be added: "To Africanus, exertion gained merit, merit glory, and glory rivals," and from Calvus, "Trials for extortion have not, therefore, ceased more than those for treason; nor those for treason, more than those under the Plautian law; nor those under the Plautian law more than those for bribery; nor those for bribery more than those under any other law." 5Examples are also to be found in the poets, as in Homer about the sceptre, which he brings down from Jupiter to Agamemnon, and in a tragic poet of our own,

Jove propagatus est, ut perhibent, Tantalus,
Ex Tantalo, ortus Pelops, ex Pelope autem satus
Atreus, qui nostrum porro propagat genus;

From Jove, as they relate, sprung Tantalus;
From Tantalus sprung Pelops, and from Pelops
Came Atreus, who is father of our race.
5As to figures which consist in the omission of a word or words, they aim chiefly at the merit of brevity or novelty. One of them is that which I delayed to consider till I should enter upon figures, when I was speaking in the preceding book about synecdoche, a figure in which any word that is omitted is easily understood from the rest, as when Caelius says, in speaking against Antonius, Stupere gaudio Graecus, "the Greek began to be astonished with joy," for caepit, "began," is readily understood. So Cicero writes to Brutus,

Sermo nullus scilicet, nisi de te; quid enim potius? Tum Flavius, Cras inquit, tabellarii, et ego ibidem has inter caenam exaravi,

There is no talk, indeed, but of you; for what better can there be? Then Flavius says, Tomorrow the couriers will set out, and this letter I wrote there during supper.

5Of a similar character, in my opinion, are passages in which a word or words are properly suppressed from regard to decency:

Novinus et qui te, transversa tuentibus hircis,
Et quo, sed faciles Nymphae riscre, sacello.
60. Some regard this as an aposiopesis, but erroneously, for what the aposiopesis suppresses is uncertain or requires some addition to that which has been expressed. But here only one word, which is well known, is wanting, and if this is aposiopesis, every omission of any word or phrase whatever may be called by that name. 6For my part, I do not constantly call an aposiopesis that in which anything whatever is left to be understood, as in the following words which Cicero has in one of his letters—Data Lupercalibus, quo die Antonius Caesari—for he used no real suppression nor intended any jest, since nothing else could be understood but diadema imposuit: "Given on the Lupercalia, on the day on which Antony put the diadem on Caesar."

second figure produced by omission is that of which I have already spoken and which consists in the elimination of conjunctions.

A third, which is called by the Greeks συνεζευγμένον (synezeugmenon), is that by which several phrases or thoughts are referred in combination to the same word, each of which, if set alone, would require that word for itself. This may be done either by putting the verb first, so that other portions of the sentence may look back to it, as, Vicit pudorem libido, timorem audacia, rationem amentia, "Licentiousness overcame modesty, audacity fear, madness reason," or by putting it last, so that several particulars may be brought, as it were, to a conclusion in it, as Neque enim is es, Catilina, ut te aut pudor unquam a turpitudine, aut metus à periculo, aut ratio a furore revocaverit, "For neither are you of such a character, Catiline, that either shame can restrain you from dishonor, or fear from danger, or reason from rage." 6The verb may also be placed last, so that it may suffice both for what precedes and what follows. The same figure joins different sexes, too, as when we call a male and female child, filii, and put the singular for the plural, and the plural for the singular. 6But expressions of this kind are so common that they can hardly claim for themselves the merit of figures. A figure is certainly used, however, when two different forms of phrase are united, as,

Sociis tunc arma capessant,
Edico, et dira bellum cum gente gerendum;

I order that my comrades seize their arms,
And war be waged with that dire progeny;
for though the part of the sentence that follows bellum ends with a participle, the verb edico has an equal effect on both parts. This sort of conjunction, which is not made for the purpose of suppressing any word, but which unites two different things, the Greeks call πυνοικείωσις (synoikeiosis). Another example of it is,

Tam deest avaro quod habet, quàm quod non habet,

To the miser is wanting as well what he has, as what he has not.
6To this figure they oppose distinctio, which they call παραδιαστολή (paradiastolē) and by which things that have some similitude are distinguished, as, "When you call yourself wise instead of cunning, brave instead of presumptuous, frugal instead of miserly." Such designations, however, depend wholly on definition, and therefore, I doubt whether a sentence of that kind can properly be called figurative. Of an opposite sort is the figure which makes a short transition from one thing to another of a different nature, as though they were similar:

Brevis esse laboro, Obscurus fio.

I labor to be brief, I grow obscure.
6There remains to be noticed a third kind of figures, which attracts and excites the attention of the hearer by some resemblance, equality, or opposition of words. Of these is the παρονομασία (paronomasia), which is called by the Latins annominatio. It is produced in more ways than one, but always on some resemblance in a word that follows to a word that has gone before. These words may be in different cases, as in what Domitius Afer says in his speech for Cloantilla: Mulier omnium rerun imperita, in omnibus rebus infelix, "A woman unskilled in everything, unhappy in everything." 6Or the same word may be rendered more significant by being joined to another, Quando homo, hostis homo, "Since he is a man, he is an enemy." These examples I have used for another purpose. Such reduplication of a word, however, is easy. But to this species of paronomasia is opposed that by which a word is proved to be false, as it were, by a repetition of the same word; as Quae lex privatis hominibus esse lex non videbatur, "Which law did not seem to be a law to private persons." 6Similar to this is the antanaclasis, the use of the same word in a contrary sense. When Proculeius complained of his son that he was waiting for his death, and the son said that he was not waiting for it, "Nay," rejoined Proculeius, "I desire that you may wait for it." Sometimes resemblance is sought, not in different senses of the same word, but in two different words, as when we say that a person whom we deem dignus supplicatione, "worthy of supplication on his behalf," should be treated as dignus supplicio, "worthy of punishment." 6Sometimes, again, the same word is used in a different signification or varied only by the lengthening or shortening of a syllable, a practice which is contemptible, however, even in jests, and I am surprised that it should be noticed among rules. 70. I give the following examples of it so they may be avoided rather than imitated: Amari jucundum est, si curetur ne quid insit amari: "It is pleasant to be loved, if we take care that there be no bitter in the love." Avium dulcedo ad avium ducit: "The sweet song of birds attracts us to sequestered spots," and we find in Ovid, in a humorous passage,

Our ego non dicam, Furia, te furiam?

Why should not I thee, Furia, fury call?
7Cornificius calls this traduction, that is, the transition from one signification to another, but it has greatest elegance when it is employed in making exact distinctions, such as, "This pest of the commonwealth might be repressed for a time, but not suppressed forever," and in the use of verbs which are altered in sense by a change in the prepositions with which they are compounded, such as non emissus ex urbe, sed immissus in urbem esse videatur: "He may seem not to have been sent out of the city, but to have been sent into the city?" The effect is better and more spirited when what is said is both figurative in expression and strong in sense, as, emit morte immortalitatem, "He purchased immortality by death." 7Such as the following are frivolous: Non Pisonum, sed pistorum, "Not of the Pisos, but of the bakers," and Ex oratore arator, "From an orator become a ploughman." But the most contemptible plays on words are such as these: Ne patres conscripti videantur circumscripti; Raro evenit, sed vehementer venit. It is possible, however, that a bold and spirited thought may receive some not unsuitable grace from the contrast of two words not quite the same. 7Why should modesty prevent me from using an example from my own family? My father, in reply to a man that had said se immoriturum legationi, that he would die on his embassy rather than not effect the object of it, but then returned after only a few days without having succeeded, said, non exigo ut immoriaris legationi, immorare, "I do not ask that you should die on an embassy, but at least dwell on it." For the sense is good, and the sounds of the two words, so different in meaning, have a pleasing correspondence, especially as they were not sought, but, as it were, presented themselves, the speaker using but one of his own and receiving the other from the person whom he addressed. 7To add grace to style by balanced antitheses was a great object with the ancients; Gorgias studied it immoderately, and Isocrates was extremely devoted to it, at least in the early part of his life. Cicero had great delight in the practice, but he set bounds to his indulgence in it (though it is not indeed unpleasing unless it offend by excess) and gave weight to what would otherwise have been trifling by the importance of his matter. Indeed, affectation, which would in itself be dry and empty, seems to be not forced, but natural when it is united with vigorous thoughts.

7Of producing correspondences in words there are about four modes. The first is when a word is chosen by the speaker that is similar in sound, or not very dissimilar, to another word, as,

Puppesque tuae, pubesque tuorum;
and, Sic in hac calamitosa fama, guasi in aliqua perniciossissima flamma, and non enim tam spes laudanda, quam res est. Or they have at least a resemblance in termination, as non verbis, sed armis. 7This artifice also, whenever it is combined with vigorous thought, is pleasing, as, Quantum possis, in eo semper experire, ut prosis. This is what is called πάρισον (parison), as most authors have it, but Cleosteleus thinks that the parison consists in similarity in the members of sentences. 7The second is when two or more clauses terminate alike, the same syllables corresponding at the end of each, constituting the ὁμοιοτέλευτον (homoeoteleuton), that is, the similar ending of two or more phrases, as, Non modo ad salutem ejus extinguendam, sed etiam gloriam per tales viros infringendam. Of this kind are what they call τρίκωλα (tricola), though these do not always exactly correspond in termination, as, Vicit pudorem libido, timorem audacia, rationem amentia. But such resemblance may be extended to four members or even more. Each member may also consist of a single word; as,

Hecuba, hoc dolet, pudet, piget;
and

Abiit, excessit, erupit, evasit.

7The third is that which consists in a repetition of the same case and is called ὁμοιόπτωτον (homoeoptoton), but it has not that name because it presents similar endings, for that which lies in similar endings is termed homoeoteleuton. The homoeoptoton is only a resemblance in cases, while the declensions of the words may be different, and it is not seen only at the ends of phrases, but may exhibit a correspondence either in beginnings with beginnings, middles with middles, or terminations with terminations. Or there may even be an interchange, so that the middle of one phrase may answer to the beginning of another, or the conclusion of one to the middle of another, and indeed the resemblance may be maintained in any way whatever. 7Nor do the correspondent phrases always consist of an equal number of syllables. Thus we see in Domitius Afer, Amisso nuper infelicis aulae, si non praesidio inter pericula, tamen solatio inter adversa. The best species of this figure appears to be that in which the beginnings and ends of the phrases correspond, as here, praesidio, solatio, and in which there is a similitude in the words, so that they afford like cadences and like terminations. 80. The fourth kind is that in which there is a perfect equality in the clauses, which is called by the Greeks ἰσόκωλον (isocolon), such as:

Si, quantum in agro locisque desertis audacia potest, tantum in foro atque judiciis impudentia valeret. "If impudence had as much power in the forum and in courts of justice as boldness has in wilds and desert places" (where there is both the isocolon and the homoeoptoton), and
Non minus nunc in causa cederet Aulus Caecina Sexti aebutii impudentiae, quam tum in vi facienda cessit audaciae, "Aulus Caecina, in the present cause, would give way to the impudence of Sextus aebutius, not less than he then yielded to his audacity in his audacity in the commission of violence," where there is isocolon, homoeoptoton, and homoeoteleuton.
To this figure is attached, also, that beauty which arises from the figure in which I said that words are repeated with a change of case or tense, as, Non minus cederet, quam cessit, "He would yield no less than he has yielded." The homoeoteleuton and the paronomasia may also be united, as Neminem alteri posse dare in matrimonium, nisi penes quam sit patrimonium, "No one could give to another in matrimony, except him in whose hands is the patrimony."

8Contraposition, or, as some call it, contention—it is termed by the Greeks ἀντίθετον (antitheton)—is effected in several ways, for it occurs when single words are opposed one to another, as in the example which I used a little above, Vicit pudorem libido, timorem audacia, or when two are opposed to two, as, Non nostri ingenii, vestri auxilii est, "It depends not on our ability, but your aid," or when sentences are opposed to sentences, as, Dominetur in concionibus, jaceat in judiciis. 8This species of antithesis is very properly joined with that we have termed distinction: Odit Populus Romanus privatam luxuriam, pulicam magnificentiam diligit, "The Roman people detest private luxury, but love public magnificence," and that in which words of similar termination, but of dissimilar meaning, are placed at the end of different clauses, as, Quod in tempore mali fuit, nihil obsit, quin, quod in causa boni fuit, prosit, "So that what was unfortunate in the time may not prevent what was good in the cause from being of advantage." 8Nor is the second term always immediately subjoined to that to which it corresponds, as in this passage, Est igitur, judices, non scripta, sed nata lex, "It is a law, therefore, judges, not written for us, but inherent in us by nature." But as Cicero says, there may be a correspondence between several preceding and subsequent particulars, as in the sequel of the passage to which I have just referred, Quam non didicimus, accepimus, legimus, verum ex natura ipsa accepimus, hausimus, expressimus, "A law which we have not learned, or acquired, or read, but which we have imbibed, and derived, and received from nature herself." 8Nor is that which is opposed to what precedes always presented in the antithetic form, as in these words, cited by Rutilius Lupus, Nobis primum dii immortales fruges dederunt; nos, quod soli accepimus, in omnes terras distribuimus: "To us the immortal gods first gave corn; that which we alone received, we have distributed through every region of the earth." 8An antithesis is also produced with the aid of that figure in which words are repeated with variations in case or tense, and which is called by the Greeks ἀντιμεταβολή (antimetabole): as, Non, ut edam, vivo; sed, ut vivam, edo; "I do not live that I may eat, but eat that I may live." There is an example of this in Cicero, which is so managed that, though it exhibits a change in cases, the two members have a similar ending: Ut et sine invidia culpa plectatur, et sine culpa invidia ponatur, "That both guilt may be punished without odium, and odium may be laid aside without guilt." 8The members may also terminate with the very same word, as in what Cicero says of Roscius, Etenim, quum artifex ejusmodi sit, ut solus dignus videatur esse qui scenam introeat, tum vir ejusmodi sit, ut solus videatur dignus qui eo non accedat, "For, while he is an actor of such powers that he alone seems worthy to enter on the stage, he is a man of such a character that he alone seems worthy to be exempted from entering on it." There is also a peculiar grace in the antithetic opposition of names, as, Si consul Antonius, Brutus hostis; si conservator reipublicae Brutus, hostis Antonius, "If Antony is a consul, Brutus is an enemy; if Brutus is a preserver of his country, Antony is an enemy."

have now said more concerning figures than was perhaps necessary, yet there are some who will maintain that such a phrase as, "What I say is incredible, but true," is a figure and call it ἀνθυποϕορά (anthypophora); that, "Somebody has borne this once, I have borne it twice, I have borne it three times," is also a figure, to be termed διέξοδος (diexodos); and that, "I have digressed too far and return to my subject," is another, to be called ἄϕοδος (aphodos).

8Some figures of word differ only a little from figures of thought, as dubitatio, "doubt." When this regards the matter, it is to be numbered among figures of thought, and when it concerns only words, among the other sort of figures, as Sive me malitiam, sive stultitiam dicere oportet, "Whether I ought to call this wickedness or folly." The same is the case with respect to correction, for as doubt may refer to either language or thought, so likewise may emendation. 8Some think that this twofold nature of figures has a place also in personification and that the figure in the following words is verbal, "Avarice is the mother of cruelty," as well as in the exclamation of Sallust against Cicero, "O Romulus of Arpinum," and in the expression in Menander, "Thriasian Oedipus." All these points have been treated with great fulness by those writers who have not merely touched on them as portions of treatises, but have dedicated whole books to this particular subject, as Caecilius, Dionysius, Rutilitis, Cornificius, Visellius, and many others, but the glory of some living writers will not be inferior to theirs. 90. However, though I admit that more figures of speech may have been invented by certain of our rhetoricians, I do not allow that they are better than those which have been specified by eminent writers on the subject. Cicero, especially, has mentioned many figures in his third book De Oratore, which he appears himself to have condemned by omitting them in his subsequent work Orator. Some of them, indeed, are figures of thought rather than of words, such as diminution; the introduction of something unexpected; image; answering our own questions; digression; permission; and antithesis (for I suppose this to be the same as what is called ἐναντιότης (enantiotes), proof derived from the statements of the opposite party). 9Some, again, are not figures at all, such as order, enumeration, and circumscription (whether he means by this last term a thought concisely expressed, or definition, which Cornificius and Rutilius, however, consider a figure of speech). As to elegant transposition of words, that is hyperbaton, which Caecilius also thinks a figure, but I have placed among tropes. 9Of immutation, though it is what Rutilius calls ἀλλοίωσις (alloiosis), the object is to show the difference between men, things, and actions. If it is understood in an extended sense, it is certainly not a figure; if in a confined sense, it will be mere antithesis. But if the term is intended to signify hypallage, enough has already been said of it. 9What sort of a figure, again, is reasoning subservient to your proposition? Is it what Rutilius calls αίτιολογία (aitiologia)? It may also be doubted whether reasoning suited to the order of distribution, which is put by Rutilius in the first place, is a figure. 9Rutilius calls it προσαπόδοσις (prosapodosis), which even if the propriety of the term is fully admitted, must certainly relate to several propositions, because reasoning is either ( immediately subjoined to each, as in Caius Antonius: "But neither do I dread him as an accuser, in as much as I am innocent; nor do I fear him as a competitor, since I am innocent; nor do I expect anything from him as consul, since he is Cicero, 9or ( after two or three points are laid down, the reasoning applicable to each is given in the same order, as in these words of Brutus respecting the dictatorship of Pompey: "For it is better to command no one than to be a slave to any one, for we may live honorably without command, but in slavery there is no endurance of life." 9But many reasons are often subjoined to one observation, as in this passage of Virgil,

Sive inde occultas vires, et pabula terrae
Pinguia concipiunt, sive illis omne per ignem
Excoquitur vitium, atque exudat inutilis homor;
Seu plures calor ille vias, et caeca relaxat
Spiramenta, novas veniat quà succus in herbas;
Seu durat magis, et venas astringit hiantes.

Whether from thence the lands a secret power
And fattening nurture gain; or from their soil
Its whole corruption is by fire expelled,
And useless damp exudes; or whether pores
More numerous, and more passages unseen
The heat expands, by which the sap may pass
Up to the tender herb; or whether more
It hardens and constricts the opening veins.
9In what sense Cicero means relation to be taken, I cannot say. If he means hypallage, epanodos, or antimetabole, I have spoken of them all before. But whatever is signified, he makes no mention of it, or of the preceding figures, in the Orator. The only figure put in that book among figures of words is exclamation, which I rather consider as a figure of thought, for it is an expression of feeling, and in this respect, I agree with all other rhetoricians. 9To these, Cornelius adds periphrasis, of which I have spoken; Cornificius adds:

Interrogation
Ratiocination
Subjection
Transition
Occultation
Besides sentence
Member
Article
Interpretation, and
Conclusion.
The first five of these are figures of thought, and the other five are not figures at all. 9Rutilius, again, in addition to the figures which are given in other authors, specifies:

παρομολόγία (paromologia)
ἀναγκαῖον (anankaion)
ήθοποῖϊα (ethopoeia)
δικαιολογία (dikaiologia)
πρόληψις (prolepsis)
χαρακτηρισμός (characterismos)
βραχυλογία (brachylogia)
παρασιώπησις (parasiopesis)
παῤῥησία (parrhesia)
of which I say also that they are not figures. I shall pay them no attention to those authors who have made scarcely any end of seeking for names and who have inserted among figures that which belongs to arguments.

100. Concerning what are really figures, too, I would briefly remark, in addition, that though they are ornaments to language when they are judiciously employed, they are extremely ridiculous when introduced in immoderate profusion. Some speakers, regardless of weight of matter or force of thought, think that if they can but distort empty words into the guise of figures, they have attained the perfection of art. Therefore, they never cease to string them together, though it is as ridiculous to aim at the form of eloquence without the substance as it would be to study dress and gesture for what is not a living body. 10Even such figures as are happily applied ought not to be too much crowded. Changes of countenance and expressive glances of the eye add great effect to pleading, but if a speaker should be perpetually molding, his features into studied configurations or should keep up a perpetual agitation in his forehead and his eyes, he would only make himself a laughing-stock. Language has, as it were, a certain natural appearance, and though it ought not to appear torpid in immoveable rigidity, it should yet generally be kept in that form which nature has assigned it. 10But what we ought chiefly to understand in regard to pleading is what is required by particular places, persons, and occasions. The greater part of figures are intended to please, but when a speaker has to labor to excite emotions of indignation, hatred, or compassion, who would endure to hear him raging, lamenting, or supplicating in studied antitheses, balanced clauses, and similar cadences? In such cases, affected attention to words destroys all trust in his expression of feeling, and wherever art shows itself, truth is thought to be absent.

I should not presume to write on composition after Cicero—I know no other part of oratory he has treated more carefully—had not men of his own age, in letters addressed to him, ventured to criticize his style, and had not many writers, since his day, communicated to the world many observations on the same subject. However, I shall adhere to Cicero in general and shall touch but briefly on such points, as they are undisputed; on other things, I shall perhaps dissent from him. But even when I offer my own opinion, I shall leave my readers to form their own.

I know there are some who would repudiate all attention to composition and who contend that unpolished language, such as it happens to present itself, is both more natural and more manly. But if they call "natural" only that which originally springs from nature and precedes culture, then the whole art of oratory is at an end. For men of the earliest ages did not speak with our exactness and care, nor did they have any knowledge of preparing an audience with an exordium, enlightening them with statements of facts, convincing them with arguments, and exciting them with appeals to their feelings. They were ignorant of all these arts, not merely of composition. If we should speak no better than they, huts should never have been relinquished for houses, dresses of skins for decent apparel, or mountains and forests for cities. What art, we may also ask, came to perfection all at once? What is not improved by culture? Why do we prune our vines? Why do we dig about them? Why do we root out brambles from our fields, when the ground naturally produces them? Why do we tame animals when they are born untamed? In truth, a thing is most natural when nature has allowed it to be brought into the best condition.

Should we say that what is unconnected is stronger than what is compact and well-arranged? If short feet— such as those of Sotadic and Galliambic meter, and others that wanton with almost equal licence in prose— diminish the force of our matter, this is not to be imputed to too much care in composition. Just as the current of rivers is more forcible in a descending channel, which offers no obstruction to their course, than amidst rocks that oppose their broken and struggling waters, so language that is properly connected and flows on with a full flood is preferable to that which is rugged and fragmentary. Why, then, should they think that strength is relaxed by attention to beauty, when nothing attains its full strength without art, and beauty always accompanies art? Do we not see that the spear, which is hurled with the greatest effect, is also hurled with the most grace? The surer the archer's aim, the finer his position. In passages of arms and in all the exercises of the palaestra, what blow is successfully avoided or aimed by him whose movements have not something artificial and whose step is not assured by skill? In a like manner, thoughts appear to me to be aimed and impelled by studied composition, just as javelins and arrows are by the thong or the bowstring. Indeed, the most learned are of opinion that it is of the highest efficacy not only for giving pleasure, but for producing conviction. In the first place, nothing can fairly pass into the mind which gives offense as it enters the ear, which is, as it were, the vestibule of the mind. Secondly, we are adapted by nature to feel pleasure in harmony; otherwise, it would be impossible for the notes of musical instruments, which express nothing but meaningless sounds, to excite various emotions in the hearer. 1In the sacred games, the musicians do not excite and calm the mind with the same strains. They do not employ the same tunes when a warlike charge is to be sounded and when supplication is to be made on the bended knee; nor is there the same concert of signals when an army is going forth to battle as when notice is given to retreat. 1It was the custom of the disciples of Pythagoras, when they awoke in the morning, to excite their minds with the sound of the lyre that they might be more alert for action and to soothe themselves with it before they lay down to sleep in order to allay any tumultuous thoughts that might have disturbed them.

1If there is such a secret force in mere melody and modulation, there must surely be the utmost power in the music of eloquence. Just as it makes a difference in what words a thought is expressed, so it makes a difference in what form words are arranged, either in the body of a sentence or in its conclusion. For some thoughts, of slight import and expressed with but moderate force, are set off and recommended by the beauty of language used to convey them. 1In short, if you take apart and rearrange the words of any sentence you believe has been forcibly, agreeably, or gracefully expressed, then all the force, agreeableness, and grace will at once disappear. In the Orator, Cicero does this with some of his own sentences, as, neque me divitiae movent, quibus omnes Africanos et Laelios multi venalitii mercatoresque superurunt. He also does this with some of the following periods, in which, when you effect such disarrangement, you seem to throw, as it were, broken or ill-directed weapons. 1Cicero also corrects a sentence which he regards as having been composed inelegantly by Gracchus. This was very becoming in him, but for ourselves, we may be content with the task of rendering compact what has presented itself to us loosely while writing it. What profit would it be to seek examples of incorrectness when everyone may find them in his own compositions? I consider it quite enough to remark that the more beautiful, in thought and expression, the sentences are that we distmantle, the more their language appears disfigured, for the faultiness in arrangement is seen more clearly by the light of their brilliant phraseology.

1However, at the same time that I admit that the art of composition (I mean the perfection of the art) was the last attained by orators, I consider that it was counted among objects of study by the ancients as far as their skill had then reached, for not even Cicero himself, great as his authority is, shall persuade me that Lysias, Herodotus, and Thucydides felt but little solicitude about it. 1They perhaps did not aim at the same sort of style as Demosthenes and Plato (who, however, were quite unlike each other), for the simple and delicate diction of Lysias was not to be vitiated by the introduction of fuller periods, as it would have lost the grace of its simple and unaffected coloring, which is seen in him in its highest excellence. It would have lost also the credit which it commanded, because he wrote for others and did not speak himself, so that his orations were necessarily made to appear plain and artless, a quality which is itself the effect of art. 1History, which ought to flow on in a continuous stream, would have been ill-suited by those clauses that break the course of oratory, those breathing-places so necessary in spoken pleadings, and those artificial modes of concluding and commencing sentences. Indeed, in speeches of the historians, we may see some similarity of cadence and antithetic arrangement. In Herodotus, assuredly, his whole style, as I at least think, has a smooth flow, and the very dialect which he uses has such a sweetness that it appears to contain within it some latent rhythmical power. 1But of the diversity in styles, I shall speak hereafter. At present, I shall notice some particulars that must first be learned by those who would compose with success.

In the first place, there are two kinds of style, one compact and of a firm texture, the other of a looser nature, such as is used in common conversation and in familiar letters, except when they treat of something above their ordinary subjects, such as questions of philosophy, politics, and the like. 20. In saying this, I do not mean to intimate that the looser sort of style has not a certain measure, which is perhaps even more difficult to be observed than that of the other kind (for the style of conversation and correspondence should not present perpetual recurrences of hiatus between vowels or be destitute of rhythm). But it does not flow in an unbroken stream, or maintain an exact coherence, or attach phrase to phrase, so that it has rather a lax connection than none at all. 2Such simplicity of style is sometimes becoming in pleading causes of an inferior kind. This simplicity is not void of numerousness, but has it of a different sort from that of the higher oratory, and dissembles it, or rather observes it less ostentatiously.

2The more compact kind of style has three principal parts: "phrases," which are by the Greeks called κόμματα (commata); "members" or κῶλα (cola); and "periods," for which the Latin term is ambitus, circumductum, continuatio, or conclusio. But in all composition there are three particulars necessary to be observed: order, junction, and rhythm.

2Let us first, then, speak of order, which should be regarded in the use of words both separate and in conjunction. Words taken separately we call ἀσύνδετα (asyndeta). In respect to these, we must be cautious that they do not decrease in force and that a weaker be not subjoined to a stronger, as "thief" to "templespoiler," or "insolent fellow" to "robber." For the sense ought to increase and rise, as in the admirable words of Cicero, "You, with that throat, those sides, and that strength of your whole frame suitable for a gladiator, etc.," since the words are successively of larger meaning. But if he had commenced with the whole frame, he could not have proceeded with good effect to the sides and the throat. There is also another sort of order which we may call natural; thus we should say "men" and "women," "day" and "night," "rising" and "setting," rather than the reverse way. 2Some words, when their position is changed, become superfluous, as in fratres gemini, for if gemini is put first, it is not necessary to add fratres. The solicitude of certain writers, who desired that nouns should be prefixed to verbs, verbs to adverbs, nouns to adjectives and pronouns, is absurd, for the contrary is often done with the happiest effect. 2It is far too exacting a proof to always place first that which is ordered first in time, not that this order is not frequently preferred, but because that which precedes is often of greater importance and should consequently be placed after what is of less. 2If the composition will allow, it is by far best to close the sense with the verb, for the force of language lies in verbs. But if that order is attended with harshness of sound, it must yield to a more harmonious arrangement, as is very often the case among the most eminent orators both Greek and Latin. Doubtless, every verb that is not at the end causes a hyperbaton, but this is admitted among tropes and figures, which are considered as beauties. 2Words indeed are not arranged by feet and may therefore be transferred from one place to another, so as to be joined with those to which they are most suitable, just as in building with unhewn stones, their very irregularity suggests to what other stones they may be applied and where they may rest. The happiest kind of composition, however, is that in which judicious order, proper connection, and harmony of cadence are found combined. 2But some transpositions are carried too far, as I have observed in the preceding books, and give rise at times to faults in construction, being adopted merely in sport or wantonness. An example are these unconnected phrases of Maecenas:

Sole et aurora rubent plurima.
They are red with the rays of the sun, and much light from the east.

Inter sacra movit aqua fraxinos.
The sacred water flows amidst the ash trees.

Ne exequias quidem unus inter miserrimos viderem meas.
I would not, alone among the most miserable of men, see my own funeral rites.

What is most objectionable in this last passage is that the composition is flighty upon a grave subject.

2There is sometimes an extraordinary force in some particular word, which, if placed in an inconspicuous position in the middle part of a sentence, is likely to escape the attention of the hearer and to be obscured by the words surrounding it. However, if it is placed at the end of the sentence, it is urged upon the hearer's notice and imprinted on his mind, as in this passage of Cicero, Ut tibi necesse esset in conspectu populi Romani vomere postridie, "That you were forced to vomit in the sight of the people of Rome the following day." 30. Transfer the last word to some other place, and it will have much less effect, for standing at the conclusion, it forms a point, as it were, to the whole sentence, adding to the disgraceful necessity of vomiting (when the audience expected nothing further) the shamefulness of being unable to retain meat on his stomach the following day. 3Domitius Afer, again, used to put particular words at the end of his sentences, merely for the purpose of giving roughness to his style, especially in his exordia. Thus, in his speech for Cloantilla, he says, Gratias agam continuo, "I will thank you at once," and in that for Laelia, Eis utrisque apud te judicem periclitatur Laelia, "By both of these Laelia is brought into danger before you as judge." He was so little disposed to be studious of the nice and delicate gratifications of melody that even when harmony presented itself, he would put something in its way to interrupt it. suppose no one is ignorant that ambiguity may be produced by a faulty collocation of words. These few remarks I thought it necessary to make respecting order, for if the order of a speaker's words be ill-judged, his style, though it be on the whole compact and harmonious, will nevertheless be justly characterized as deficient in elegance.

The next particular is connection, which has reference to words, phrases, members and whole sentences, for all these have beauties and faults dependent on combination.

3To proceed methodically, in the first place, there are some faults so palpable that they incur the reprehension even of the illiterate, such as when two words come together to produce, by the union of the last syllable of the former with the first syllable of the latter, some offensive expression. In the next place, there is the clashing of vowels, for when this occurs, the phrases gape, open, dispart, and seem to labor. Long vowels, especially when they are the same, have the very worst of sound in conjunction, but the hiatus is most remarkable in such vowels as are pronounced with a round or wide opening of the mouth. 3"E" has a flatter and "I" a closer sound, and consequently any fault in the management of them is less perceptible. The speaker who puts short vowels after long ones will give less offense, and still less if he puts short ones before long ones; but the least offense of all is given by the concurrence of two short. In fact, whenever vowels follow vowels, the collision of them will be more or less harsh in proportion to whether the mode in which they are pronounced is more or less similar. 3A hiatus of vowels, however, is not to be dreaded as any great crime, and indeed I do not know which is worse—too little or too much care in regard to it. The fear of it must necessarily be a restraint on an orator's efforts and divert his attention from points of more consequence. Just as it is a mark of carelessness to be constantly running into this fault, so it is a sign of littleness to be perpetually in dread of it. Not without reason, critics have considered all the followers of Isocrates, and especially Theopompus, to have felt too much solicitude as to this particular. 3As for Demosthenes and Cicero, they paid it but moderate attention. Indeed, the amalgamation of two vowels, which is called synaloepha, may render a period smoother than it would be if every word retained its own vowel at the end. Sometimes, too, a hiatus is becoming and throws an air of grandeur over what is said, as, Pulchra oratione acta omnino jactare. Besides, syllables that are long in themselves and require a fuller pronunciation gain something from the time that intervenes between the two vowels, as if taking a rest. 3On this point I shall quote, with the utmost respect, the words of Cicero: "The hiatus and concourse," he says, "of open vowels has something soft in it, indicating a not unpleasing negligence, as if the speaker were more anxious about his matter than about his words."

But consonants, especially those of a harsher nature, also are liable to jar with one another in the connection of words, such as "S" at the end of a word with "X" at the commencement of the following, and the hissing is still more unpleasant if two of these consonants clash together, as Ars studiorum. 3As I have observed, this was Servius' reason for cutting off the letter "S" whenever it terminated a word and was followed by another consonant, a practice which Lauranius blames, but Messala defends, for they do not think that Lucilius retained the final "S" when he said, Serenus fuit and Dignus locoque; and Cicero in his Orator states that many of the ancients spoke in the same way. 3Hence belligerare and pomeridiem, and the Diee hanc of Cato the Censor, the letter "M" being softened into "E." Persons of little learning are disposed to alter such modes of writing when they find them in old books, exposing their own ignorance while thinking they censure that of transcribers. 40. But the same letter "M," when it terminates a word and is in contact with a vowel at the commencement of the following word, so that it may coalesce with it, is hardly expressed, though it is written, such as, Multum ille, Quantum erat. It gives almost the same sound as a new letter, for it is not extinguished, but merely obscured, and is, as it were, a mark of distinction between the two vowels to prevent them from combining. 4We must also take care that the final syllables of a preceding word, and the initial syllables of that which follows it, are not the same. That no one may wonder at such an admonition, I may remark that there has escaped even from Cicero, in a letter, Res mihi invisae visae sunt, Brute, and in his verses,

O fortunatam natam me consule Romam.
number of monosyllables, too, have a bad effect in succession, because the language, from the many stops that it will occasion, will seem to proceed by fits and starts. For the same reason also, a succession of short verbs and nouns should be avoided, and on the other hand, of long ones, which make sentences heavy and slow. It is a fault, moreover, of the same class when words of similar cadence, and of similar terminations and inflections, are joined together. 4Nor is it proper that verbs should be joined to verbs, or nouns to nouns, and the like, in a long succession, as even beauties themselves will tire unless they are aided by the charms of variety.

4The connection of members and phrases does not require the same management as that of single words (though the beginnings and endings of them should harmonize), but it makes a great difference, in terms of composition, what is put first or last. Thus in the words Vomens frustis esculentis gremium suum et totum tribunal implevit, the proper gradation is observed. But on the other hand (for I shall often use the same examples for different purposes, that they may be the more familiar), in the phrases Saxa atque solitudines voci respondent, bestiae saepe immanes cantu flectuntur atque consistunt, there would be a better rise in the sense, if their order were inverted, for it is a greater thing that rocks should be moved than beasts; yet gracefulness of structure has ordered it the other way.

4But let us pass on to numbers, for all structure, measure, and connection of words is concerned either with numbers (by which I mean rhythm) or with meters (that is, certain dimensions of syllables). 4But though both rhythm and meter are composed of feet, they have nevertheless several points of difference, for rhythm consists of lengths of times, while meter, besides length, requires the times to be in a certain order; thus the one seems to refer to quantity, the other to quality. 4Rhythm lies either in:

feet having two parts equally balanced, as the dactyl, which has one long syllable equal to two short (there is, indeed, the same property in other feet, but the name of dactyl is the most common; even children know that a long syllable consists of two times and a short syllable of one), or
feet that have one part consisting of two times and another of three, as the first paean, which is formed of a long syllable and three short, or its opposite, which is formed of three short syllables and one long (or in whatever other way three syllables opposed to two make this sesquialteral proportion), or
feet in which the one part is double of the other, as the iambus, which is formed of a short and a long syllable, or the trochee which is the reverse.
4The same feet are used in meter, but there is this difference: that it is of no moment to the rhythm whether the dactyl has the first or last syllables short, for rhythm measures merely the time, its object being that the space from the raising to the lowering of the voice be the same. The measure of verses is altogether different, for there an anapaest or spondee cannot be put for a dactyl, nor can a paean begin or end with short syllables indifferently. 4Indeed, not only does the regularity of meter refuse to admit one foot for another, but it will not possibly admit even one dactyl or one spondee for another. Thus if, in the verse,

Panditur interea domus omnipotentis Olymipi,
we change the order of the five dactyls, we destroy the meter altogether. 50. There are also the following differences: Rhythm has indefinite space, meter definite; meter runs in a certain circle, rhythm flows on as it has commenced, as far as the μεταβολή (metabole), or point of transition to another kind of rhythm; and meter is concerned only with words, while rhythm is applied even to the motions of the body. 5Rhythm also more easily admits blank times, though these are found also in meter. There is, however, still greater licence in music, where people measure time in their mind and where they distinguish intervals by certain marks, with a stroke of the foot or the hand, and observe how many short notes such intervals contain. Hence come the percussive terms τετράσημοι (tetrasemoi), "of four times," πεντάσημοι (pentasemoi), "of five times," and others still longer, for the Greek word σημεῖον (semeion) denotes one time. 5In the structure of prose, the measure is more determined and ought to be kept more apparent to every hearer.

Accordingly, measure consists in metrical feet. These so readily present themselves in oratory that in composing, verses of all kinds frequently escape us without our knowledge, and certainly there is nothing written in prose that may not be reduced into some sorts of verses or parts of verses. 5But I have met with grammarians so fastidious that they would force the syllables of prose composition into various measures similar to the verses of lyric poets. 5Cicero, it is true, observes in several places that the whole beauty of composition consists in numbers. In consequence, he is censured by some writers as if he wanted to bind prose down to rhythmical rules, for numbers are rhythm, as he himself asserts, and Virgil who followed him,

Numero memini, si verba tenerem,

I have the numbers, if I knew the words,
and Horace,

Numerisque fertur Lege solutus,

And rushes on in numbers freed from law.
5They attack, accordingly, that passage of Cicero, among others, in which he says that the thunderbolts of Demosthenes would not have vibrated with so much force if they had not been hurled and impelled in numbers. If, by this expression, he means impelled by rhythm, I am not of his opinion, for rhythm, as I said, has no certain limit nor any variety in its course, but runs on to the end with the same elevations and depressions with which it commenced. But prose will not stoop to be measured by taps of the fingers. 5This Cicero himself understood very well, for he frequently remarks that he desires prose to be numerous only so far that it should be rather not ἄῤῥυθμος (arrhythmos) (which would be a mark of ignorance and barbarity), than ἔνρυθμος (enrhythmos), or poetical, just as we do not wish men to be palaestritae, and yet do not wish them to be such as are called ἀπάλαιστοι (apalaistoi).

5But the regular flow of a period, which results from the combination of feet, requires some name. What name can be better, then, than number, that is, oratorical number, as an enthymeme is called an oratorical syllogism? For my own part, that I may not fall under the censure which not even Cicero has escaped, I request that wherever I use the term number to signify regular composition, and wherever I have already used it in that sense, I may be considered to mean oratorical number.

5As to collocation, its business is to connect words already chosen and approved, and as it were consigned to it, for words rudely united are better than words that are useless. Yet I would allow a speaker to select some words, for the sake of euphony, in preference to others, provided he select from such as are of the same signification and force, and to add words, on condition that he does not add such as are superfluous, and to take away, so that he does not withdraw any that are necessary. I would permit him also to vary cases and numbers by means of figures, since variety, which is frequently adopted for embellishing composition, pleases even independently of anything else. 5When reason, too, pleads for one word, and custom for another, let composition choose which of the two it thinks proper, vitavisse or vitasse, deprendere or deprehendere. Nor am I unwilling to admit coalescence of syllables or anything that is not prejudicial to the thought or the expression. 60. However, the triumph of art in this department is to understand what word is most suitable for any particular place, and he will construct his sentences best who shall best observe this, though not merely with a view to structure.

But it should be observed that the management of feet in prose is much more difficult than in verse, first, because a verse is included in a comparatively small number of words, while prose often runs in long periods, and secondly, because verse is always in some degree uniform and flows in one strain, while the language of prose, unless it is varied, offends by monotony and convicts itself of affectation. 6Numbers, indeed, are dispersed throughout the whole body and course, so to speak, of prose, for we cannot even speak but in short and long syllables, of which feet are composed. It is at the close of periods, however, that regard to numbers is more requisite, as well as more observable, than anywhere else, first, because every body of thought has its limit and requires a natural interval to separate it from the commencement of that which follows, and secondly, because the ear, having listened to a continuous flow of words and having been led on, as it were, by the current of the speech, is better able to form a judgment when the stream comes to a stop and gives time for consideration. 6There should be nothing, therefore, harsh or abrupt in that part where the mind takes breath, as it were, and is recruited. The close of the period is the natural resting-place of the speech; it is this that the auditor expects, and it is here that approbation bursts forth into applause.

The beginnings of periods demand a degree of care next to that which is required for the close of them, for the hearer pays strict attention to them also. 6But the management of them is less difficult, for they have no close connection with what precedes, but merely refer to it so far as to take a starting-point from it, with whatever descent towards the close, though this descent must be graceful, for the close will lose all its charms if we proceed to it by a rough path. Hence it happens that though the language of Demosthenes is thought to be unobjectionably euphonious in the words, Πρῶτον μὲν, ὦ ἄνδρες Αθηναῖοι, τοῖς θεοῖς εὔχομαι πᾶσι καὶ πάσαις, (Proton men, o andres Athenaioi, tois theois euchomai pāsi kai pāsais), "In the first place, Athenians, I pray to all the gods and goddesses," and in the phrase (which, as far as I know, has been disliked by nobody but Brutus and has satisfied everyone else), κἃν μήπω βάλλῃ μηδὲ τοξεύῃ (kān mēpō ballēī mēde toxeuēī), "even though he does not yet throw or shoot," 6the critics find fault with Cicero in regard to Familiaris caeperat esse balneatori, "he had begun to be familiar with the bath keeper," and Non nimium dura archipiratae, "not too severe to the private captain," for though balneatori and archipiratae are terminations similar to πᾶσι καὶ πάσαις, and μηδὲ τοξεύῃ, the words of Demosthenes are more studied. 6There is also something in the circumstance that, in Cicero, two feet are included in one word, a peculiarity which, even in verse, has much of nervelessness, not only when a word of five syllables ends a verse, as fortissima Tyndaridarum, but even when the concluding word consists of but four, as Apennino, armamentis, Orione. 6We must, accordingly, take care not to use words of several syllables at the close of a period.

As to the middle parts of periods, we must not only take care that they cohere, but that they are not drawling or prolix, and also (what is a great vice of the present day) that they do not, from being composed of a number of short syllables, proceed by starts, as it were, and make a sound like that of children's rattles. 6For though the beginnings and endings of periods are of the most importance, inasmuch as it is there that the sense commences and concludes, there is also, here and there, a stress in the middle parts, which causes a slight pause, as the foot of a runner leaves an impression, though it does not stop. Hence, not only members and phrases ought to be well begun and ended, but even in the parts which are closely connected, and allow no respiration, there ought still to be certain, almost imperceptible rests. 6Who can doubt, for example, that there is but one thought in the following words, and that they ought to be pronounced without respiration, Animadverti, judices, omnem accusatoris orationem in duas dirisam esse partes. Yet the first two words, the next three, the two following, and the last three, have respectively, as it were, their own numbers, which allow relief to the breath, at least so it is thought by those who are studious of rhythm. 6As these short divisions also are in proportion grave or spirited, slow or quick, languid or lively, the periods composed of them will be severe or effeminate, compact or lax.

70. The ends of phrases, we may observe, appear sometimes lame and loose, when they are considered standing by themselves, but are upheld and supported by the words that follow them; thus that which would be faulty as a close is corrected by continuation. The phrase, Non vult populus Romanus obsoletis criminibus accusari Verrem, is harsh if you stop at the end of it, but when it is joined to that which follows, nova postulat, inaudita desiderat (though disunited in sense), the course of the whole is unobjectionable. 7The words, Ut adeas, tantum dabis, would form a bad close, for they are the ending of a trimeter iambic verse, but there follows, ut cibum vestitumque inferre liceat, tantum, which, though still abrupt, is strengthened and supported by the conclusion, nemo recusabat.

7The occurrence of a whole verse in prose has an extremely bad effect, and even a part of one is unpleasing, especially if the latter half of a verse presents itself at the close, or the former half at the beginning of a period. As to the reverse, it is often not without grace, for the first part of a verse sometimes forms an elegant conclusion to a sentence, provided it is confined to a few syllables, and chiefly those of the iambic trimeter or tetrameter. 7In Africa fuisse is the beginning of a senarius, and closes the first member of the speech for Quintus Ligarius. Esse videatur, which is now too much in use, is the beginning of an octonarius. Of a like nature are the expressions of Demosthenes, πᾶσι καὶ πάσαις (pāsi kai pāsais); καὶ πᾶσιν ὑμῖν (kai pāsin hūmīn); and ὅσην εὔνοιαν (osen eunoian), and throughout almost all the exordium of the speech against Ctesiphon. 7The ends of verses, also, are very suitable for the commencements of periods, as Etsi vereor, judices, and Animadverti, judices. But the beginnings of verses are not suitable for the beginnings of periods, though Livy commences his history with the commencement of a hexameter: Facturusne operae pretium sim. For so he published it, and it is better so than as it has been corrected. 7Nor are endings of verses proper for the endings of periods, though Cicero says, Quo me vertam nescio, which is the end of an iambic trimeter. We may call such a verse a trimeter or senarius indiscriminately, for it has six feet and three percussions. The end of a hexameter forms a still worse conclusion, of which Brutus gives an example in one of his letters, Neque illi malunt habere tutores aut defensores, quanquam sciunt placuisse Catoni. 7Iambic verses are less observable because that kind of verse is nearer akin to prose. Such verses, accordingly, often escape us unawares. Brutus, through his very anxiety for elegance in composition, makes them very frequently; Asinius Pollio not seldom; and even Cicero himself at times, as in the commencement of his speech against Lucius Piso, Pro dii immortales, quis hic illuxit dies? 7But we must avoid with equal care whatever is ἔνρυθμος (enrhythmos), or metrical, as in that of Sallust, Falso queritur de natura sua, for though prose should be bound, it should nevertheless appear free. 7Yet Plato, though most careful in his composition, could not avoid such faults at the very commencement of his Timaeus, for you may find there, first of all, the commencement of a hexameter verse; then an Anacreontic, and, if you please, a trimeter iambic, and what is called by the Greeks a penthemimer, consisting of two feet and a half. All this is in a very few words. There has also escaped from Thucydides a phrase of the softest kind of meter, ὑπὲρ ἤμισυ Κᾶρες ἐϕάνησαν (huper hēmisu Kāres ephanēsan).

7But since all prose, as I said, consists of feet, I shall add some remarks on them also. As different names are given them by different authors, we must settle, in the first place, by what name each is to be called. On this subject I shall follow Cicero (for he followed the most eminent of the Greeks), except in my opinion, a foot does not exceed three syllables, though he admits the paeon and the dochmius, of which the former extends to four and the latter to five feet. At the same time, he does not omit to notice that they are regarded by some as numbers, not feet. 80. Nor is this opinion unreasonable, for whatever exceeds three syllables contains more than one foot. Since, then, there are four feet that consist of two syllables, and eight of three, I shall call that which consists of two long syllables, a spondee; that which has two short, a pyrrhic (some call it a pariambus); that which has a short and a long syllable, an iambus; and the contrary to it, formed of a long and a short, a choreus, not, as others term it, a trochee. 8Of those consisting of three syllables, that which is formed of a long and two short is universally called a dactyl, and that which contains an equal number of times, but in the reverse order, an anapaest. A short syllable between two long forms is an amphimacer, but the name more commonly given it is cretic. long syllable between two short is called an amphibrachys; two long syllables following a short, a bacchius; and two long preceding a short a palimbacchius. Three short syllables make a trochee, which those who give the name trochee to the choreus choose to call a tribrach; and three long make a molossus. 8Of these feet, there is none that does not have a place in prose composition, but those that are fuller in times and stronger in long syllables give proportionably more weight to language, while short syllables give it celerity and briskness. Each sort is useful in its proper place, for gravity and slowness, when there is need of rapidity, and quickness and precipitation, when there is need of solemnity, are justly and equally reprehensible. 8It may be important to remark, also, that some long syllables are longer than others, and some short syllables shorter than others. Though no long syllables appear to have more than two times, nor any short syllables less than one time (and hence all short syllables, and all long, when arranged in meter, are accounted equal one to another respectively), there are almost imperceptible differences in them, some seeming to contain more and some less. As to verses, they have their own peculiarities, and in them, accordingly, some syllables are common. 8Nature, indeed, allows a vowel to be either short or long, as well when it stands alone as when it precedes two or three consonants. But in the measuring of feet, a short syllable becomes long when it is followed by another short having two consonants at the commencement, as,

Agrestem tenui musam meditaris avena.
8"A" is short; and "gre" is short, yet makes the syllable preceding it long, and therefore communicates to it a portion of its own time. But how could it do so, unless it had more time than the very shortest of syllables, such as it would itself be if the consonants "st" were withdrawn? As it is, it lends one time to the syllable that goes before it, and borrows one from that which follows it. Thus the two syllables, by nature short, become possessed of four times by position.

8But I am amazed that certain of the most learned writers should have entertained the opinion that they ought to choose some feet for prose and reject others, as if there were any foot that must not at times enter into prose composition. Although Ephorus delights in the paeon, which was invented by Thrasymachus and approved by Aristotle, and in the dactyl, as being happy compounds of short and long syllables, he shuns the spondee and the trochee, objecting to the slowness of the one and the rapidity of the other. 8Aristotle thinks the heroic foot (that is, the dactyl) is more suitable for lofty subjects, and the iambus for those of common life, and dislikes the trochee as too flighty, giving it the name of a dancing measure. Similar opinions are expressed by Theodectes and Theophrastus, and subsequent to them, Dionysius of Halicarnassus. 8Yet the feet to which they object will force themselves upon them in spite of their utmost efforts, and they will be unable constantly to use their dactyl or their paeon, the latter of which they commend most, because it rarely forms a verse. It is not, however, the mere choice of words, which cannot be altered as to quantity or made long or short like syllables in music, that will render the recurrence of certain feet more or less frequent, but the arrangement and combination of them after they are chosen.

90. Most feet, indeed, arise from the connection or separation of words; hence, different feet may be formed from the same words, and I remember that a poet, of no mean repute, wrote in sport,

Astra tenet caelum, mare classes, area messem,
a verse which, read backwards, becomes a Sotadic verse. So a trimeter iambic may be formed from a Sotadic read backwards:

Caput exeruit mobile pinus repetita.
9Feet are consequently to be intermixed, and we must take care that those which are of pleasing kind form the greater number, and that the less agreeable be hidden, as it were, in a crowd of the better sort. The nature of letters and syllables cannot be changed, but much effect may be produced by studying that those may be associated which are best adapted to each other. As I remarked, long syllables have more impressiveness and weight, while short ones more lightness. Short syllables, if they are mixed with long, may be said to run; if they are continued in unbroken succession, to bound. 9Feet that rise from short syllables to long are more spirited in sound; those which descend from long to short, more gentle. It is best to commence with long syllables, but we may sometimes commence very properly with short, as, Novum crimen, or what is milder in sound, Animadverti, judices, words which are happily repeated at the commencement of the speech for Cluentius, since such a beginning has something of similarity to partition, which requires speed. 9The close of a period, too, may very well be composed of long syllables, though short ones may also form a conclusion; the length of the last syllable is regarded as indifferent. I am not ignorant that a short syllable, at the end of a sentence, is accounted as long, because the time in which it is deficient is in some degree supplied from that which follows it, but when I consult my own ears, I feel that it makes a great difference whether the concluding syllable is really long or only accepted as long. For example, the conclusion, Dicere incipientem timere, is not so full in sound as Ausus est confiteri. 9Yet if it makes no difference whether the last syllable is long or short, the same foot will close both. But to me the latter has, I know not how, the air of sitting down, while the former that of merely stopping. Hence, some have been induced to assign three times to a long final syllable so that the time a short syllable takes following a long one might be added to the long syllable. Nor is it only of importance what foot is last in the period; it is also of consequence what foot precedes the last. 9It is not necessary, however, to take account of more than three feet from the end (and three are not to be regarded unless they consist of fewer than three syllables, but poetical nicety is to be avoided), or fewer than two. If we go further back, the result will be measure, not number. But the one concluding foot may be a dichoreus, if that, indeed, is one foot which consists of two chorei. 9Or it may be that particular paeon that consists of a choreus and a pyrrhic and is thought peculiarly fit for the commencement of a sentence. Or it may be the other paeon that is of a contrary form and is deemed appropriate for the termination of periods. It is these two paeons that writers on rhetoric generally mean when they speak of paeons, though they call other feet consisting of three long syllables and one short by that name, in whatever order the short syllables and the long one occur. 9Or it may be a dochmius, which is formed of a bacchius and iambus, or an iambus and cretic, and which is a firm and grave foot for the close of a period. Or it may be a spondee, which Demosthenes has frequently used and which has great stability. A cretic may very happily precede it, as in these words, De qua ego nihil dicam, nisi depellendi criminis causa. This exemplifies what I said above, that it makes a great difference whether the two concluding feet are contained in one word or whether each consists of a single word. Thus criminis causa is forcible and archipiratae soft, the softness becoming still greater when a tribrach precedes the spondee, as facilitates, temeritates. 9For there is a certain portion of time latent between the syllables of a word when it is divided, as in the spondee which forms the middle part of a pentameter, which, unless it consists of the final syllable of one word and the initial syllable of the next, constitutes no part of a regular verse. To the spondee, too though with less effect, may be prefixed an anapaest, as Muliere non solum nobili, verum etiam nota. 9So the anapaest and the cretic—as well as the iambus which is found in both, but is shorter than either by a syllable—may very well precede the spondee, for thus one short syllable will be prefixed to three long. A spondee also may very properly go before an iambus, as Iisdem in armis fui. A spondee and bacchius, too, may be prefixed to the iambus, since the conclusion will then be a dochmius, as In armis iisdem fui. 100. From what I have just shown, it appears that a molossus is very suitable for the conclusion, provided that it is preceded by a short syllable belonging to any foot whatever, as, Illud scimus, ubicumque sunt, esse pro nobis. 10If a pyrrhic precedes the spondee, it will have less gravity, as, Judicii Juniani, but the effect will be still worse if a paeon precedes, as, Brute, dubitari (unless we regard this rather as a dactyl and a bacchius). Two spondees can scarcely ever be used in succession (such a termination being remarkable even in a verse), unless when they may be made to consist, as it were, of three members, as, Cur de perfugis nostris copias comparat is contra nos? Here, we have one syllable, then two, and then one. 10Nor can a dactyl be properly prefixed to a spondee, because we dislike the end of a verse at the end of a sentence in prose. The bacchius may conclude a period and may be doubled, as, Venenum timeres, and it likes a choreus and spondee to be before it, as, Ut venenum timeres. The palimbacchius, also, will form a very proper ending, unless we wish the last syllable to be long, and it will take a molossus before it with very good effect, as Civis Romanus sum, or a bacchius, as, Quod hic potest, nos possemus. 10But it is more proper to say that these phrases are terminated by a choreus with a spondee preceding, for the rhythm lies chiefly in the words Nos possemus and Romanus sum. The dichoreus may also form a conclusion, that is, the choreus or trochee may be doubled, a termination which the Asiatics frequently use, and of which Cicero affords us this example, Patris dictum sapiens temeritas filii comprobavit. 10The choreus will admit a pyrrhic before it, as, Omnes prope cives virtute, gloria, dignitate superabat. A dactyl, too, will form a good termination, or attention to the last syllable may make it a cretic, as, Muliercula nixus in litore, and it will take before it, with very good effect, a cretic or iambus, but not a spondee, and still less a choreus. 10An amphibrachys forms a very good ending, as Quintum Ligarium in Africa fuisse, or we may prefer, by lengthening the last syllable, to make it a bacchius. The tribrach is not a very good ending, if the last syllable be accounted short, as it certainly must sometimes be, or otherwise how could a sentence end with a double trochee, which is a favorite ending with many? 10From the tribrach, by lengthening the last syllable, is formed an anapaest, and by prefixing to it a long syllable it becomes a paeon, as, Si potero, and, Dixit hoc Cicero, and, Obstat invidia. But rhetoricians have consigned the paeon to the beginnings of sentences. A pyrrhic will form a conclusion with a choreus preceding it, for the two form a paeon. But all terminations of periods formed of short syllables will have less weight than those that consist of long. Nor are they eligible, except where rapidity of language is required, and no stress is laid upon the close of the sense. 10The cretic is excellent for the commencement of periods; as, Quod precatus a diis immortalibus sum, and for terminations also, as, In conspectu populi Romani vomere postridie. From the last of these examples, it appears how properly an anapaest, or the paeon which is thought most suitable for conclusions, may precede the cretic; a double cretic may also be used with very good effect, as, Servare quam plurimos. This is better than if a trochee were to precede the cretic, as Non turpe duceret, where I shall suppose that the final syllable is considered as long. 10Let us, however, make it Non turpe duceres. But in these words occurs the vacant interval of which I spoke, for we make a short pause between the last word but one and the last, and lengthen the last syllable of turpe by the break. Otherwise, an extremely tripping kind of sound would be produced, like that of the end of an iambic verse, Quis non turpe duceret? So the phrase, Ore excipere liceret, if it is pronounced without a pause, forms part of a free kind of verse, but if it is uttered with certain intervals and three commencements, as it were, it becomes full of gravity.

10But in specifying the preceding feet, I do not lay down a law that no others are to be used, but merely show what effect is commonly produced by those which I have mentioned, and what I thought best, for the moment, in each case. Let me add that one anapaest following another produces but an ill effect, as being the conclusion of a pentameter, or the meter which takes its name from the anapaest, as, Nam ubi libido dominatur, innocentiae leve praesidium est, for the synalaepha makes the two syllables sound as one. 1The effect will be better if a spondee or a bacchius precede, as will be the case if we transpose the concluding words of the phrase just cited, and make it, leve innocentiae praesidium est. The paeon which consists of three short and a long has not many charms for me (though in this respect I dissent from some great authors), for it is but an anapaest with a short syllable prefixed, as, facilitas, agilitas. I do not understand why it pleased those writers so much, but possibly most of those who liked it were men who fixed their attention on the language of common life rather than that of oratory. 11It likes to have before it a pyrrhic or trochee, as, mea facilitas, nostra facilitas, and even if a spondee is put before it, the conclusion will still be that of a trimeter iambic verse, as is that of the paeon itself. The paeon which has the syllables in the reverse order is deservedly esteemed for the commencement of periods, for it has one syllable pronounced slowly and three rapidly. Yet I think that there are others better than it for that purpose.

11This subject, however, has not been introduced with the intention that the orator, whose language ought to flow onward in a continued stream, should waste his energies in measuring feet and weighing syllables, for that would be the part of a mean mind that occupies itself about trifles. 11Indeed, he would devote himself wholly to that study would be unable to attend to things of more importance, but, disregarding force and beauty of thought, would employ himself, as Lucilius says, in arranging words like the parts of a tesselated pavement or mosaic work. Would not his ardor be thus cooled and his force checked, as delicate riders break the pace of horses by shortening their steps? 11Numbers, surely, present themselves naturally in composition, and it is with prose as with poetry, which, doubtless, was at first poured forth artlessly, originating in the measure of time by the ear, and the observation of portions of language flowing similarly, and it was not till after some time that feet were invented. Practice in writing, accordingly, will qualify us sufficiently for observing due numbers in prose and enable us to pour them forth in a similar way extemporaneously. 11Nor is it so much particular feet as the general flow of the composition that is to be regarded, as those who make verses contemplate not merely the five or six parts of which their lines are composed, but the whole sweep of their paragraphs. Verse had its being before the art of versification, and hence it is well said,

Fauni vatesque canebant,

The Fauns and prophets sang;
and, therefore, the place, that versification holds in poetry, composition holds in prose.

11The great judge of composition is the ear, which is sensible of what fills it, misses something in whatever is defective, is offended with what is harsh, soothed with what is gentle, startled by what is distorted, approves what is compact, marks what is lame, and dislikes whatever is redundant and superfluous. Hence, while the learned understand the art of composition, the unlearned enjoy pleasure from it. 11But some things cannot be taught by art. For instance, it is an excellent precept that a case must be changed, if, when we have commenced with it, it leads to harshness of construction. But can it be shown by rule to what other case we must have recourse? A diversity of figures is often a support to composition when it seems to flag. But of what figures, of speech, of thought, or of both? Can any certain directions be given on such points? We must look to opportunity and ask counsel of the circumstances in which we are placed. 11By what judgment can the very pauses, which have a great effect in oratory, be regulated but that of the ear? Why are some periods, conceived in few words, sufficiently full or even more than sufficiently, when others, comprised in many, seem curt and mutilated? Why, in some sentences, even when the sense is complete, does there appear to be still something of vacancy? 11Neminem vestrum, says Cicero, ignorare arbitror, judices, hunc per hosce dies sermonem vulgi, atque hanc opinionem populi Romani fuisse. "I suppose that no one of you is ignorant, judges, that it has been the talk of the common people during several days past, and that it has been the opinion of the people of Rome in general," etc. Why does he use hosce in preference to hos, for hos would not be harsh? I should perhaps be unable to assign any reason, but I feel that hosce is the better. Why would it not have been sufficient to say simply, sermonem vulgi fuisse? The structure and sense would have admitted it. I cannot say, but when I listen to the words, I feel that the period would be unsatisfactory without a clause to correspond to that which precedes. 120. It is to the judgment, therefore, that such matters must be referred. A person may be unable, perhaps, to understand exactly what is accurate and what is pleasing, yet he may act better under the guidance of nature than of art. But there is some degree of art in strict adherence to nature.

12Undoubtedly, the business of the orator is to understand on what subjects he must employ particular kinds of composition. This embraces two points for consideration: one having reference to feet, the other to periods composed of feet.

12Of the latter, I shall speak first. I observed that the parts of language are commas, members, and periods. A comma, according to my notion, is a certain portion of thought put into words, but not completely expressed; by most writers, it is called a part of a member. Cicero affords us the following examples: Domus tibi deerat? At habebas. Pecunia superabat? At egebas. "Was a house wanting to you? But you had one. Was money superabundant with you? But you were in want."A comma may consist merely of a single word, as, Diximus, Testes dare volumus, "We said, we are willing to produce witnesses," where Diximus is a comma. member is a portion of thought completely expressed, but detached from the body of the sentence, and establishing nothing by itself. Thus, O callidos homines! "O crafty men!" is a complete member, but, abstracted from the rest of the period, has no force any more than the hand, or foot, or head, separated from the human body. So, too, O rem excogitatam! "O matter well considered!" When, then, do such members begin to form a body? When the conclusion is added, as, Quem, quaeso, nostrum fefellit, id vos ita esse facturos? "To which of us, I pray, was it unknown that you would act in this manner?" a sentence which Cicero thinks extremely concise. Thus commas and members are generally mired and necessarily require a conclusion. 12To the period Cicero gives several names, ambitus, circuitus, comprehensio, continuatio, circumscriptio. There are two kinds of it: one simple, when a single thought is expressed in a rather full compass of words; the other consisting of members and commas, which may contain several thoughts, as, Aderat janitor carceris, et carnifex praetoris, etc. period must have at least two members; the average number appears to be four, but it frequently admits of more. Its proper length is limited by Cicero to that of about four iambic trimeters, or the space between the times of taking breath. It ought fairly to terminate the sense; it should be clear, that it may be easily understood; and it should be of moderate length, that it may be readily retained in the memory. A member longer than is reasonable causes slowness in a period; those that are too short give it an air of instability. 12Whenever we have to speak with spirit, urgency, and resolution, we must speak in a mixture of members and commas, for such a style is of vast force in pleadings. Our language should be so nicely adapted to our matter that rough numbers should be applied to rough subjects, and the hearer should be as strongly affected as the speaker. 12In stating facts, we may use chiefly members or distinguish our periods into longer divisions, with a looser sort of connection, except in those portions which are introduced, not to inform, but to embellish, as the abduction of Proserpine in one of the orations against Verres, for a gentle and flowing sort of composition is suitable for such recitals. 12Full periods are very proper for the exordia of important causes, where it is necessary to excite solicitude, interest, or pity. They are also adapted for moral dissertations and for any kind of amplification. A close style is proper when we accuse; a more diffuse one when we eulogize. The period is also of great effect in perorations. 12But we should be careful that this copious kind of style is used when the judge not only thoroughly understands the case, but is captivated with the eloquence of the pleader, resigns himself wholly to its influence, and is led away by the pleasure which he experiences. History requires not so much studied numbers as a certain roundness and connectedness of style, for all its members are attached, as it rolls and flows along, just as men who steady their steps by taking hold of each others' hands both support and are supported. 130. All the demonstrative kind of eloquence requires free and flowing numbers. The judicial and deliberative kinds, as they are various in their matter, admit of proportionate variety in their style.

I must now treat of the second division of the two which I just now made. Who doubts that some parts of a speech are to be uttered with slowness, others with rapidity; some in a lofty manner, others in a tone of argument; some in an ornate style, others with an air of simplicity? 13Who doubts that long syllables are most suitable for grave, sublime, and demonstrative subjects? Calm topics require lengthening of the vowels; sublime and showy ones, fulness in the pronunciation of them; and topics of an opposite kind, such as arguments, distinctions, jests, and whatever approaches nearer to common conversation, demand rather short vowels. 13As to the exordium, we may vary the style of it as the subject may require, for I cannot agree with Celsus, who has given one set form for this part and says that the best model of an exordium is to be found in Asinius: "If, Caesar, from among all men that are now alive, or that ever have lived, a judge could be chosen for the decision of this cause, no one would be more desirable for us than yourself." do not deny that this commencement is excellently composed, but I cannot admit that such a form of commencement should be observed in all exordia, for the mind of the judge is to be influenced by various means. Sometimes we would wish to excite pity, sometimes to assume an air of modesty, spirit, gravity, or plausibility, sometimes to sway the judge to certain opinions, or to exhort him to pay diligent attention to us. As these objects are of various characters, each of them requires a different sort of language. Has Cicero used the same kind of rhythm in his exordia for Milo, for Cluentius, and for Ligarius?

13Statements of facts require slower and, if I may use the expression, more modest feet, and, in general, a mixture of all kinds. The style of this part is commonly indeed grave, but sometimes assumes elevation. Its great object is to inform the judge and to fix particulars in his mind, and this is not to be done by hasty speakers. To me, it appears that the whole narrative part of a speech admits of longer members than the other portions, but should be confined within shorter periods.

13Arguments, too, that are of a spirited and rapid description, will require feet suited to their qualities, but among them they must not admit tribrachs, which will give quickness, but not force. Though they should be composed of short and long syllables, they should not admit more long than short.

13The elevated portions of a speech requite long and sonorous syllables; they like the fulness of the dactyl also, and of the paeon, which, though it consists mostly of short syllables, is yet sufficiently strong in times. Rougher parts, on the contrary, are best set forth in iambic feet, not only because they consist of only two syllables, and, consequently, allow of more frequent beats as it were (a quality opposed to calmness), but because every foot rises, springing and bounding from short to long, making it preferable to the trochee, which from a long falls to a short. 13The more subdued parts of a speech, such as portions of the peroration, call for syllables that are long indeed, but less sonorous.

Celsus represents that there is a superior kind of composition, but if I knew what it was, I would not teach it, as it must necessarily be dull and tame. Unless it arises of itself, however, from the nature of our language and thoughts, it cannot be sufficiently condemned.

13But to make an end of this subject, we must form our language to suit our delivery. In the exordium, is not our manner generally subdued, unless, indeed, when, in making an accusation, we must rouse the feelings of the judge and excite him to some degree of indignation? Are we not, in narration, full and expressive; in argumentation, lively and animated, and spirited even in our action? Do we not, in moral observations and in descriptions, adopt a diffuse and flowing style; and, in perorations, one that is submissive and sometimes, as it were, faltering? 13Even the movements of the body have their rhythm, and the musical science of numbers applies the percussions of measured feet no less to dancing than to tunes. Is not our tone of voice and our gesture adapted to the nature of the subjects on which we speak? Such adaptation, then, is by no means wonderful in the rhythm of our language, since it is natural that what is sublime should march majestically, what is calm should advance leisurely, what is spirited should run, and what is tender should flow. 140. Hence, when we think it necessary, we affect even tumor, which is best accomplished by the use of spondees and iambi:

En impero Argis: sceptra mihi liquit Pelops,

Lo, I rule Argos: Pelops to me left
His sceptre.
14But the comic senarius, which is called trochaic, runs on rapidly by assuming several chorei (which, by others, are called trochees) and pyrrhics, but what it gains in celerity, it loses in weight:

Quid igitur faciam? Non eam, ne nunc quidem?

What, therefore, shall I do? Not go? Even now?
But what is rough and contentious proceeds better, as I said, in iambic feet, even in verse:

Quis hoc potest videre? quis potest pati?
Nisi impudicus, et vorax, et alveo?

Who can endure to see, who suffer this,
Except a rake, a glutton, cormorant?
14In general, however, if I were obliged to make a choice, I should prefer language to be harsh and rough rather than excessively delicate and nerveless, such as I see in many writers, and, indeed, we grow every day more effeminate in our style, tripping, as it were, to the exact measures of a dance. 14It is a sort of versification to lay down one law for every species of composition, and it is not only a manifest proof of affectation (the very suspicion of which ought carefully to be avoided), but also produces weariness and satiety from uniformity. The sweeter it is, the sooner it ceases to please, and the speaker, who is seen to make such melody in his study, loses all power of convincing and of exciting the feelings and passions, for the judge cannot be expected to believe that orator, or to be filled with sorrow or indignation under his influence, whom he observes to turn his attention from his matter to niceties of sound. 14Accordingly, some of our composition should be purposely of a looser kind, so that, though we may have labored it most carefully, it may appear not to have been labored. But we must not cultivate such studied negligence so far as to introduce extravagantly long hyperbata (lest we should make it evident that we affect that which we wish to seem to have done without affectation), nor above all, must we set aside any apt or expressive word for the sake of smoothness. 14In reality, no word will prove so unmanageable that it may not find a suitable place in a period. But to say the truth, our object in avoiding such words is frequently not elegance, but ease in composition.

But I do not wonder that the Latins have studied niceties of composition more than the Greeks, though they have less variety and grace in their words. 14Nor do I call it a fault in Cicero that he has differed in this respect from Demosthenes. But the difference between the Latin and Greek languages shall be set forth in my last book.

Composition (for I hasten to put an end to a book that has exceeded the limits prescribed to it) ought to be elegant, pleasing, and varied. The particulars that require attention in it are three: order, connection, and rhythm. 14The art of it lies in adding, retrenching, and altering. The quality of it must be suited to the nature of the subjects on which we speak. The care required in it is great, but that devoted to thought and delivery should be greater. But all our care must be diligently concealed in order that our numbers may seem to flow from us spontaneously and not to be forced or studied.

BUT these precepts of oratory, though necessary to know, are yet insufficient to produce the full power of eloquence unless they are united with a certain efficient readiness that among the Greeks is called hexis, " habit." I know it is an ordinary subject of inquiry whether more is contributed by writing, reading, or speaking. This question we should have to examine with careful attention, if we could confine ourselves to any one of those exercises. But they are all so connected, so inseparably linked with one another that if any one of them is neglected, we labor in vain in the other two, for our speech will never become forcible and energetic unless it acquires strength from great practice in writing. The labor of writing, if left destitute of models from reading, passes away without effect, as having no director. He who knows how everything ought to be said, but does not have his eloquence ready and prepared for all emergencies, will merely brood, as it were, over locked up treasure.

Again, though some one quality may be requisite above others, it will not necessarily, for that purpose, be chief in importance for forming the orator. To speak is doubtless necessary to him before anything else, since the business of the orator lies in speaking, and it is evident that commencement of the art arose from speaking, followed by imitation, and, last of all, diligent exercise in writing. But as we cannot arrive at the highest excellence other than by initial efforts, so those things which initially are of the greatest importance begin to appear of the least as our work proceeds.

But I am not here saying how the orator is to be trained (for that has been told already, if not satisfactorily, at least as well as I could), but by what kind of discipline an athlete, who has already learned all his exercises from his master, is to be prepared for real contests. Therefore, let me instruct the student who knows how to invent and arrange his matter, and who has also acquired the art of selecting and disposing his words, regarding what means he may be able to practise, in the best and easiest possible manner, that which he has learned.

Can it then be doubted that he must secure certain resources which he may use whenever it shall be necessary? Those resources will consist in supplies of matter and of words. But every cause has its own peculiar matter, or matter common to it with but few others; words are to be prepared for all kinds of causes. If there were a single word for every single thing, words would require less care, for all would then at once present themselves with the things to be expressed. However, as some are more appropriate, or more elegant, or more significant, or more euphonious, than others, they should all not only be known, but be kept in readiness and, if I may so express myself, in sight so that when they present themselves to the judgment of the speaker, the choice of the best of them may be easily made. I know that some make a practice of learning by heart lists of synonyms so that one word out of several may more readily occur to them, and that when they have used one word, they may, if it should be wanted again within a short space of time, substitute for it, to avoid repetition, another word of the same meaning. But this is a childish practice, attended with miserable labor and productive of very little profit, for the learner merely musters a crowd of words from which the speaker may snatch, without distinction, whichsoever first presents itself.

On the contrary, our stock of words must be prepared by us with judgment, as we have a view to the proper force of oratory and not to the volubility of the charlatan. But this object we shall effect by reading and listening to the best language, for by such exercise, we shall not only learn words expressive of things, but shall learn for what place each word is best adapted. Indeed, almost all words, except a few that are of indecent character, find a place in oratorical composition, and the writers of iambics, and of the old comedy, are often commended for the use of words of that description. But at present, it is sufficient for us to look to our own work. All sorts of words, then, except those to which I have alluded, may be excellently employed in some place or other, for we sometimes have occasion for low and coarse words, and those that would seem mean in the more elegant parts of a speech, are, when the subject requires them, adopted with propriety.

To understand words thoroughly, to learn not only their signification, but their forms and measures, and to be able to judge whether they are adapted to the places to which they are assigned, are branches of knowledge that we cannot acquire but by assiduous reading and hearing, since we receive all language first of all by the ear. Hence infants brought up, at the command of princes, by dumb nurses and in solitude, were destitute of the faculty of speech, though they are said to have uttered some unconnected words.

1However, there are some words of such a nature that they express the same thing so exactly, but by different sounds that it makes no difference to the sense which we use in preference to another, such as ensis and gladius. There are others, again, which, though properly belonging to distinct objects, are yet by a trope, as it were, used for conveying the same idea, as ferrum and mucro. 1Thus, too, by a catachresis, we call all assassins sicarii, regardless of the weapon used to commit slaughter. Some things, moreover, we indicate by a circumlocution, as pressi copia lactis. By a change of words, we also express many things figuratively, as for "I know," we say "I am not ignorant" or "It does not escape me" or "It does not fail to attract my attention," or "Who is not aware?" or "No man doubts." 1We may likewise profit by the near import of words, for "I understand," "I perceive," and "I see" have often just the same meaning as "I know." Reading will furnish us with copious supplies of such synonyms so that we may use them not only as they present themselves, but as they ought to be adopted. 1For such terms do not always express exactly the same things, and though I may properly say "I see" in reference to the perception of the mind, I cannot say "I understand" in reference to the sight of the eyes, nor, though mucro indicates gladius, does gladius indicate mucro. 1But though a copious stock of words is thus acquired, we are not to read or hear merely for the sake of words, for in all that we teach, examples are more powerful even than the rules which are taught (I mean when the learner is so far advanced that he can enter into the subjects without a guide and pursue them with his own unassisted efforts), inasmuch as what the master teaches, the orator exhibits.

1Some speeches contribute more to our improvement when we hear them delivered, others when we peruse them. He who speaks to us rouses us by his animation and excites us, not by an artificial representation and account of things, but by the things themselves. Every thing seems to live and move before us, and we catch the new ideas, as it were, at their birth, with partiality and affection. We feel interested not only in the event of the cause, but in the perilous efforts of those who plead it. 1In addition to this, a becoming tone and action, a mode of delivery adapted to what particular passages require (which is perhaps the most powerful element in oratory), and, in a word, all excellent qualities in combination teach us at the same time. In reading, on the other hand, the judgment is applied with more certainty, for when a person is listening to speeches, his own partiality for any particular speaker, or the ordinary applause of approving auditors, often deprives him of the free exercise of his judgment. 1We are ashamed to express dissent from others and are prevented, by a sort of secret modesty, from trusting too much to ourselves, though what is faulty sometimes pleases the majority, and even what does not please is applauded by those who are engaged to applaud. 1On the contrary, too, it sometimes happens that the bad taste of the audience does not do justice to the finest passages. But reading is free and does not escape us with the rapidity of oral delivery, but allows us to go over the same passages more than once, whether we have any doubt of their meaning or desire to fix them in our memory. Let us review, then, and reconsider the subject of our reading, and just as we consign our food to our stomach only when it is masticated and almost dissolved, in order that it may be easier to digest, so let what we read be committed to memory and reserved for imitation, not when it is in a crude state, but after being softened and, as it were, triturated by frequent repetition.

20. For a long time, too, none but the best authors must be read, and such as are least likely to mislead him who trusts them. They must be read with attention and, indeed, with almost as much care as if we were transcribing them. Every portion must be examined, not merely partially. A whole book, when read through, must be taken up afresh, especially any excellent oration, the merits of which are often concealed by design. speaker frequently prepares his audience for what is to follow, dissembles with them, places ambuscades, and states in the first part of his pleading what is to have its full effect at the conclusion. Hence, what is advanced in its proper place often pleases us less than it ought, since we are not aware why it is advanced. Accordingly, all such passages should be perused again after we have read the whole. 2But one of the most useful exercises is to learn the history of those causes of which we have taken the pleadings in hand for perusal, and, whenever opportunity shall offer, to read speeches delivered on both sides of the same question, such as those of Demosthenes and Aeschines in opposition to each other; those of Servius Sulpicius and Messala, of whom one spoke for Aufidia and the other against her; those of Pollio and Cassius when Asprenas was accused; and many others. 2Even if the pleaders seem unequally matched, some of the speeches may be reasonably consulted in order to ascertain the question for decision, as the orations of Tubero against Ligarius and of Hortensius on behalf of Verres, in opposition to those of Cicero. It will also be of advantage to know how different orators pleaded the same causes, for Calidius delivered a speech concerning the house of Cicero, and Brutus, merely as an exercise, wrote an oration in defense of Milo (Cornelius Celsus, indeed, thinks that Brutus spoke it, but he is mistaken). 2Pollio and Messala, too, defended the same persons, and when I was a boy, there were in circulation celebrated speeches, all in defense of Volusenus Catulus, by Domitius Afer, Crispus Passienus, and Decimus Laelius.

Nor must he who reads feel immediately convinced that everything that great authors have said is necessarily perfect, for they sometimes make a false step, sink under their burden, or give way to the inclination of their genius. Nor do they always equally apply their minds, but sometimes grow weary, just as Cicero believed Demosthenes sometimes seemed to nod, and Horace felt the same about Homer himself. 2They are great men, indeed, but men nevertheless. It often happens to those who think that whatever is found in such authors is a law for eloquence, that they imitate what is inferior in them (for it is easier to copy their faults than their excellences) and fancy that they fully resemble great men when they have adopted great men's defects.

2Yet students must pronounce with diffidence and circumspection on the merits of such illustrious characters, lest, as is the case with many, they condemn what they do not understand. If they must err on one side or the other, I should prefer that every part of them should please youthful readers rather than that many parts should displease them.

2Theophrastus says that the reading of the poets is of the greatest use to the orator. Many others adopt his opinion, and not without reason, for from the poets is derived animation in relating facts, sublimity in expression, the greatest power in exciting the feelings, and gracefulness in personifying character. But of the utmost service, the faculties of the orator—worn out, as it were, by daily pleading in the forum—are best recruited by the charms of such authors. Accordingly, Cicero thinks that relaxation should be sought in that sort of reading. 2But we must remember that poets are not to be imitated by the orator in every respect, not, for instance, in freedom of language or unrestrained use of figures. The style of poets is adapted for display, and besides that, it aims merely at giving pleasure and pursues its object by inventing not only what is false, but even sometimes what is incredible; 2It also enjoys certain privileges, inasmuch as being confined to the regular requirements of feet, it cannot always use proper terms, but, being driven from the straight road, must necessarily have recourse to certain bye-paths of eloquence. Poetry is obliged not only to change words, but to lengthen, shorten, transpose, and divide them. But we orators stand in arms in a field of battle, contending for concerns of the highest moment and struggling only for victory. 30. Yet I would not wish that the arms of the orator should be squalid from foulness and rust, but that there should be a brightness on them like that of steel, which may dismay opponents, and by which the mind and the eye may at once be dazzled—not like that of gold or silver, which is unwarlike and more dangerous to the wearer than to the enemy.

3History also may nourish oratory with a kind of fertilizing and grateful aliment. But it must be read with the conviction that most of its very excellences are to be avoided by the orator, for it borders closely on poetry and may be said, indeed, to be a poem unfettered by the restraints of meter. It is written to relate, not to prove, and its whole nature is suited not to the pleading of causes or to instant debate, but to the transmission of events to posterity and to gain the reputation of ability for its author. For this reason, it relieves the tediousness of narrative by words more remote from common usage and by a more bold employment of figures. 3Accordingly, as I observed, neither is the brevity of Sallust—though nothing can be more perfectly pleasing to the unoccupied and learned ear—to be studied by us in addressing a judge who is engaged with various thoughts and often destitute of literature, nor will the milky exuberance of Livy satisfactorily instruct a hearer who looks not for beauty of statement, but for proof of fact. 3Besides, Cicero thinks that not even Thucydides and Xenophon are of any use to the orator, though he allows that the one sounds the trumpet of war, and the muses spoke by the mouth of the other. In digressions, however, we may at times adopt the polished elegance of history, provided we remember that in the parts of our speech on which the question depends, there is need not of the showy muscles of the athlete, but of the nervous arms of the soldier; and that the variegated robe which Demetrius Phalereus is said to have worn is not adapted to the dust of the forum. 3There is also, indeed, another advantage to be gained from history, and an advantage of the greatest value, though of no concern with the present part of my subject. I mean that which is to be derived from the knowledge of facts and precedents, with which the orator ought to be extremely well acquainted so he does not have to seek all his arguments from the parties going to law, but may avail himself of many drawn from an accurate knowledge of antiquity, arguments more weighty as they alone are exempt from the charges of prejudice and partiality.

3That we have much to derive from the study of the philosophers has been occasioned by another fault in orators, who have given up to them the better part of their duty, for the philosophers speak copiously of what is just, honorable, and useful, and of what is of a contrary nature, and of divine subjects, and reason upon all these topics with the utmost acuteness. The followers of Socrates excellently qualify the future orator for debates and examinations of witnesses. 3But in studying these writers also we must use similar judgment too, and though we may have to speak on the same subjects with them, we must bear in mind that the same manner is not suited for lawsuits as for philosophical disputations, for the forum as for the lecture-room, and for exercises on rules as for actual trials.

3I expect that because I consider there is so much advantage in reading, most of my friends will expect me to insert in my work some remarks on the authors that ought to be read and the peculiar excellence of each. But to go through authors one by one would be an endless task. 3For when Cicero, in his Brutus, employs so many thousands of lines in speaking of the Roman orators only, and yet observes silence concerning all of his own age among whom he lived, except Caesar and Marcellus, what limit would there be to my task if I should undertake to review not only all those, but those who succeeded them, and all the Greek philosophers and poets? 3Therefore, it would be safest for me to observe that brevity adopted by Livy in a letter addressed to his son—that Demosthenes and Cicero should first be read, and afterwards every writer according as he most resembles Demosthenes and Cicero. 40. Yet the conclusions to which my judgment has led me must not be withheld. I think that among all the authors who have stood the test of time, few, or indeed, scarcely a single one, can be found who would not contribute some profit to those who read them with judgment. For Cicero himself acknowledges that he benefited greatly from even the most ancient writers, who had plenty of ability, though they were destitute of art. 4Nor do I entertain a very different opinion with regard to the moderns, for how few can be found so utterly devoid of sense as not to hope, from some small confidence in at least some part of their work, to secure a hold on the memory of posterity? If there is any such writer, he will be detected in his very first lines and will quickly release us before the trial of his work wastes too much of our time. 4But not everything in an author that relates to any department of knowledge whatever is adapted to produce the copiousness of diction of which we are speaking.

Before I proceed to speak of authors individually, however, a few general remarks must be premised in regard to the diversity of opinions concerning them. 4Some think that only the ancients deserve to be read and that natural eloquence and manly force are to be found in no others. On the contrary, the floridness and affectation of the moderns, and all the blandishments intended to charm the ear of the ignorant multitude, delight others. 4Even among those who would adopt a right sort of style, some think that no language is sound and truly Attic unless it is concise and simple and departs as little as possible from common conversation. Others are attracted by more sublime efforts of genius, more animated, more full of lofty conceptions, and there are many lovers of a quiet, neat, and subdued style. I shall speak more at large about such differences in taste, when I come to consider the species of style most proper for the orator. 4In the meantime, I shall briefly touch on the advantages of reading for those who wish to increase their facility in speaking, and show by what kind of reading they may be most benefited. I intend to select a few of the authors who are most distinguished, and it will be easy for the studious to judge who are most similar to them. This I mention, lest any one should complain that their favorite writers have been omitted, for I admit that more ought to be read than those whom I shall here specify.

But I shall now merely go through the various sorts of reading which I consider peculiarly suitable for those who aim at becoming orators.

4As Aratus, then, thinks that we ought to begin with Jupiter, so I think that I shall very properly commence with Homer, for as he says that the might of rivers and the courses of springs take their rise from the ocean, so has he himself given a model and an origin for every species of eloquence. No man has excelled him in sublimity on great subjects, no man in propriety on small ones. He is at once copious and concise, pleasing and forcible; admirable at one time for exuberance, and at another for brevity; eminent not only for poetic, but for oratorical excellence. 4To say nothing of his laudatory, exhortatory, and consolatory speeches, does not the ninth book of the Iliad, in which the deputation sent to Achilles is comprised, or the contention between the chiefs in the first book, or the opinions delivered in the second, display all the arts of legal pleadings and of councils? 4As to the feelings, the gentle as well as the more impetuous, there is no one so ignorant as to deny that he had them wholly under his control. Has he not, at the commencement of both his works, I will not say observed, but established, the laws of oratorical exordia? He renders his reader well-affected towards him by an invocation of the goddesses who have been supposed to preside over poets, he makes him attentive by setting forth the grandeur of his subjects, and desirous of information by giving a brief and comprehensive view of them. 4Who can state facts more concisely than he who relates the death of Patroclus, or more forcibly than he who describes the combat of the Curetes and Aetolians? As to similes, amplifications, illustrations, digressions, indications and proofs of things, and all other modes of establishment and refutation, examples of them are so numerous in him that even most of those who have written on the rules of rhetoric produce from him illustrations of their precepts. 50. What peroration of a speech will ever be thought equal to the entreaties of Priam beseeching Achilles for the body of his son? Does he not, indeed, in words, thoughts, figures, and the arrangement of his whole work, exceed the ordinary bounds of human genius? So much, indeed, that it requires a great man even to follow his excellences, not with rivalry (for rivalry is impossible), but with a just conception of them. 5But he has doubtless left all authors, in every kind of eloquence, far behind him, especially the epic poets, as the comparison is most striking in similar subjects.

5As for Hesiod, he rarely rises above the general level, and a great part of his poetry is occupied with mere names, yet his sententious manner is useful in delivering precepts, and the easy flow of his words and style merits approbation. In that middle kind of writing, the palm is allowed to be his.

5In Antimachus, on the other hand, there is energy and force, and his manner of expression, which is by no means common, has great merit. But although the unanimous consent of critics assigns him the second place, he is so deficient in power over the feelings, in ability to please, in the arrangement of his matter, and in every requisite of the poetic art, that he affords us convincing proof of how different a thing it is to be near to another writer, and to be second to him.

5Panyasis they consider as compounded of both, as far as his style is concerned, but as reaching, on the whole, the excellences of neither. Yet they allow that the one is surpassed by him in the nature of his materials, and the other in the arrangement of them.

Apollonius is not included in the catalogue given by the critics, since Aristarchus and Aristophanes, those great judges of the poets, inserted no one of their own age in their list. Yet he produced a work, in a style of evenly sustained mediocrity, which is by no means to be despised.

5Aratus' subject is destitute of animation, as it has no variety, no action on the feelings, no portraiture of character, no speech from any person. But he is equal to the work to which he thought himself equal.

Theocritus is admirable in his peculiar style, but his rustic and pastoral muse shrinks not only from appearing in the forum, but even from approaching the city.

5I seem to hear my readers collecting together from all sides the names of a vast number of poets. What, they say, has not Pisander sung, with great effect, the achievements of Hercules? Have Macer and Virgil without reason imitated Nicander? Shall we pass over Euphorion, when, if Virgil had not admired him, he would certainly never have made mention, in his Bucolics, of poems composed in Chalcidian verse? Does Horace, without reason, name Tyrataeus next to Homer? 5No one, assuredly, is so void of all knowledge of those authors that he might not transfer into his book a catalogue of them taken from some library. Nor am I, for my part, ignorant of the writers whom I omit, and, certainly, I do not condemn them as worthless, having already said that there is some good in all of them. 5But we shall return to them when our strength is matured and confirmed, as it often happens to us at great banquets, that after we have satisfied ourselves with the best dishes, the variety of plainer food is still agreeable to us. Then we shall have time, too, to take in hand the elegiac poets, of whom Callimachus is considered the chief, while Philetas, in the opinion of most critics, has made good his claim to second place. 5But while we are acquiring that efficient readiness, as I termed it, we must devote ourselves to the perusal of the best authors, and the character of our mind must be formed, and a complexion given to our oratory, by much reading in good writers, rather than by reading many.

Of the three writers of Iambics sanctioned by the judgment of Aristarchus, only Archilochus will have any great influence in helping us attain facility of style. 60. There is in him the utmost vigor of language, thoughts forcible, concise, and lively, and abundance of life and energy, insomuch that some think it owing to his subjects, not to his genius, that he is inferior to any writer whatever.

6But of the nine Lyric poets, Pindar is by far the chief in nobleness of spirit, grandeur of thought, beauty of figures, and a most happy exuberance of matter and words, spreading forth, as it were, in a flood of eloquence. On account of all these qualities, Horace justly thinks him inimitable.

6As to Stesichorus, the very subjects that he has chosen show how powerful he is in genius, when he sings of the greatest wars and most illustrious leaders, and supports on his lyre all the weight of the epic song. For he assigns to his characters due dignity in acting and speaking, and if he had kept a just control over himself, he seems likely to have proved Homer's nearest rival. But he is redundant and overflowing, a fault which, though deserving of censure, is yet that of an exuberant genius.

6Alcaeus is deservedly complimented with a golden quill for that part of his works in which he inveighs against tyrants and contributes much to the improvement of morals. In his language, also, he is concise, magnificent, and careful, and in many passages resembles Homer. But he descends to sportive and amorous subjects, though better qualified for those of a higher nature.

6Simonides, though in other respects of no very high genius, may be commended for a propriety of language and a pleasing kind of sweetness. But his chief excellence is in exciting pity, so that some prefer him, in that particular, to all other writers of the kind.

6The old comedy retains, almost alone, the pure grace of Attic diction, and the charm of a most eloquent freedom of language. Though it is chiefly employed in attacking follies, it has great force in other departments, for it is sublime, elegant, and graceful. Next to Homer's (whom it is always right to except, as he himself excepts Achilles), I know of no poetry that has either a greater resemblance to oratory or is better adapted for forming orators. 6The authors of it are numerous, but Aristophanes, Eupolis, and Cratinus are the principal.

The first to bring Tragedy before the world, Aeschylus is an author of great sublimity and power, and grandiloquent even to a fault, but in many parts rough and unpolished. For this reason, the Athenians permitted the poets who succeeded him to exhibit his plays, when corrected, in competition for the prize, and by that means, many obtained the crown. 6But Sophocles and Euripides throw a brighter luster on that kind of composition. Their styles are very different, and many question which is the better poet. For my own part, I shall leave this point undecided, since it has no relation to my present subject. 6But everyone must acknowledge that for those who are preparing themselves for pleading, Euripides will be by far the more serviceable, for in his style (which those to whom the gravity, and dignified step, and lofty tone of Sophocles, appear to have an air of greater sublimity, think proper to censure), he approaches nearer to the language of oratory. He abounds with fine thoughts, and in precepts of morality such as those delivered by the philosophers, he is almost equal to the philosophers themselves. In addresses and replies, he is comparable to any of those who have been distinguished as eloquent speakers in the forum. In touching every kind of feeling, he has remarkable power, but in exciting that of pity, he holds undisputed preeminence.

6Menander, as he himself often testifies, admired Euripides greatly, and even imitated him, though in a different department of the drama. In my judgment, Menander alone would, if diligently read, suffice to generate in the student of oratory all those qualities for which I am an advocate, so exactly does he represent all the phases of human life, such is his fertility of invention and easy grace of expression, and so readily does he adapt himself to all circumstances, persons, and feelings. 70. Nor are those, assuredly, destitute of penetration who think that the orations circulated under the name of Charisius were written by Menander. But to me he seems to prove himself a far greater orator in his own province, unless it be said that those trials, which the Epitrepontes, the Epicleros, and the Locrians contain, are absurd, and that the speeches in the Psophodees, the Nomothetes, and the Hypobolimaeus, are not finished off with all the perfections of oratory. 7But to declaimers, I think he may contribute still greater service, since it is necessary for them, according to the nature of the cases which they attempt, to assume various characters, as those of fathers, sons, soldiers, countrymen, rich and poor men, of persons angry and persons beseeching, of persons of mild and persons of savage dispositions. In all such characters, propriety is wonderfully observed by Menander, who indeed has left other authors in that species of writing scarcely a name, having, by the splendor of his reputation, thrown over them a veil of darkness. 7Other comic writers, however, if they be read with indulgence, have some good passages that we may select, and especially Philemon, who, preferred as he frequently was to Menander by the bad taste of his age, deserves in the opinion of all critics to be regarded as second to him.

7History many have written with eminent reputation, but nobody doubts that two writers of it are greatly to be preferred to all others, two whose opposite excellences have gained nearly equal praise. Thucydides is pithy, concise, and ever hastening forward; Herodotus pleasing, clear, and diffuse. The one excels in the expression of animated, the other in that of milder sentiments; the one in speeches, the other in narrative; the one in force, the other in agreeableness.

7Next to these stands Theopompus, who, though inferior to them as an historian, bears more resemblance to the orator, since before he was induced to apply to historical composition, he had been for some time a public speaker. Philistus, too, deserves to be distinguished from the crowd of good authors next to these; he is an imitator of Thucydides, and though much less forcible, he is somewhat more perspicuous. Ephorus, as Isocrates thought, needed the spur. The ability of Clitarchus is admired, but his veracity is impeached. 7Timagenes, born a long time afterwards, deserves commendation at least on this account—that he revived with fresh luster the pursuit of writing history which had begun to be neglected. Xenophon I have not forgotten, but he is to be noticed among the philosophers.

numerous band of orators follows, since one age produced ten living at the same time at Athens, of whom Demosthenes was by far the most eminent and has been almost the sole model for oratory. Such is his energy, so compact is his whole language, so tense, as it were, with nerves, so free from anything superfluous, and such the general character of his eloquence, that we can neither find anything wanting in it, nor anything superfluous. 7Aeschines is more copious and diffuse in style, and, as being less confined in scope, has more appearance of magnitude, but he has only more flesh and less muscle. Hyperides is extremely agreeable and acute, but better qualified, not to say more serviceable, for causes of minor importance. 7Lysias, an orator that preceded these in time, is refined and elegant, and if it be enough for an orator to inform his hearers, we need not seek anything more excellent than he is, for there is nothing unmeaning, nothing far-fetched, in his sentences. But he is more like a clear spring than a great river. 7Isocrates, in a different style of oratory, is neat and polished, but better fitted for the fencing school than for actual combat. He assiduously courts every beauty of diction, and not without reason, for he had qualified himself for lecture rooms, and not for courts of justice. He is ready in invention, constantly aiming at embellishment, and so careful in composition that his care is even censured.

80. I do not consider that these are the only, but the chief excellences, in those authors of whom I have spoken. Nor do I think the others, whom I have omitted to name, had not a high degree of merit. I even admit that the famous Demetrius Phalereus, though he is said to have been the first to cause the decline of eloquence, had much talent and command of language. If for no other reason, he deserves to be remembered as almost the last of the Athenians that could be called an orator. Cicero, however, prefers him to all other orators in the middle kind of eloquence.

8Of the Philosophers, from whom Cicero acknowledges that he derived a large portion of his eloquence, who can doubt that Plato is the chief, as well in acuteness of reasoning, as in a certain divine and Homer-like power of language? For he rises far above ordinary prose, and what the Greeks call oratio pedestris, so that he appears to me to be animated, not with mere human genius, but with the inspiration as it were of the Delphic oracle. 8Why need I dwell on the sweetness of Xenophon, a sweetness which is unaffected, but which no affectation could attain? The Graces themselves are said to have formed his style, and the testimony of the Old Comedy concerning Pericles may justly be applied to him, that the goddess of persuasion was seated on his lips. 8Why need I expatiate on the elegance of the rest of the Socratic school? Why need I speak of the merits of Aristotle, of whom I am in doubt whether I should deem him more admirable for his knowledge of things, for the multitude of his writings, for the agreeableness of his language, the penetration shown in his discoveries, or the variety exhibited in his works? As to Theophrastus, there is such a divine beauty in his language that he may be said even to have derived his name from it. 8The old Stoics indulged little in eloquence, but they recommended what was virtuous and had great power in reasoning and in enforcing what they taught. They were, however, rather more acute in discussing their subjects than lofty in their style, an excellence at which they certainly did not aim.

also intend to observe the same order in proceeding through the Roman authors.

As Homer among the Greeks, so Virgil, among our own countrymen, presents the most auspicious commencement. Of all poets of that class, Greek or Roman, he approaches doubtless nearest to Homer. will here repeat the very words I heard as a young man from Domitius Afer, who, when I asked him what poet he thought came nearest to Homer, replied, "Virgil is second to him, but nearer the first than the third." Indeed, though we must give place to the divine and immortal genius of Homer, in Virgil there is more care and exactness, for the very reason that he was obliged to take more pains. What we lose in the higher qualities, we perhaps compensate in equability of excellence.

8All our other poets will follow at a great distance, Macer and Lucretius should be read indeed, but not in order to form such a style as constitutes the fabric of eloquence. Each is an elegant writer on his own subject, but the one is tame, and the other difficult. Varro Atacinus, in those writings in which he has gained a name, as the interpreter of another man's work, is not indeed to be despised, but is not rich enough in diction to increase the power of the orator. 8Ennius we may venerate, as we venerate groves whose antiquity has made them sacred and whose gigantic and aged oaks affect us not so much by their beauty, as by the religious awe with which they inspire us.

There are other poets nearer to our own times and better suited to promote the object of which we are speaking. Ovid allows his imagination to wanton, even in his heroic verse, and is too much a lover of his own conceits, but deserves praise in certain passages. 8Cornelius Severus, though a better versifier than poet, would justly have claimed the second place in epic poetry if he had finished his Sicilian War, as has been observed, in the manner of his first book. An immature death prevented his powers from being brought to perfection, yet his youthful compositions display very great ability and a devotion to a judicious mode of writing which was wonderful, especially at such an age. 90. In Valerius Flaccus we have lately had a great loss. The genius of Saleius Bassus was ardent, highly poetical, and had not reached maturity even in his old age. Rabirius and Pedo are not unworthy of the orator's acquaintance, if he has time to read them. Lucan is fiery and spirited, sublime in sentiment, and, to say what I think, deserving to be numbered with orators rather than poets.

9These authors we have named, since the government of the world has diverted Germanicus Augustus. from the studies which he had commenced, and it did not seem sufficient to the gods that he should be the greatest of poets. Yet what can be more sublime, more learned, more excellent in all respects, than the works on which he had entered in his youth, when he gave up his military command? Who could sing of wars more ably than he who so ably conducts them? To whom would the goddesses that preside over liberal studies listen more propitiously? To whom would Minerva, his familiar deity, more willingly communicate her accomplishments? 9Future ages will speak of these matters more fully; at present, the merit of the poet is obscured by the dazzling brightness of other great qualities. Yet you will bear with us, Caesar, if, while we are celebrating the sacred rites of literature, we do not pass over your genius in silence, but testify, at least by citing a verse from Virgil, that

Inter victrices hederam tibi serpere lauros,

The ivy spreads amidst thy conquering bays.
9In elegy, also, we challenge equality with the Greeks; and Tibullus seems to me the most terse and elegant writer of it. There are some that prefer Propertius. Ovid is more luxuriant in style than either, and Gallus more harsh.

Satire is certainly wholly our own, and Lucilius, who first obtained eminent distinction in it, has still admirers so devoted to him that they do not hesitate to prefer him, not only to all writers in the same kind of composition, but to all other poets whatever. 9For my own part, I differ from them as much as I do from Horace, who thinks that Lucilius runs muddy, and that there is always something in him which you might remove, for there is in him wonderful learning, spirit, causticity resulting from it, and an abundance of wit. Horace is far more terse and pure in his style, and eminently happy in remarking on the characters of mankind. Persius has gained much, and indeed just, reputation, though only by one book. There are also excellent writers in that department in our day, whose names will hereafter be celebrated. 9In that other and older kind of satire, but diversified not with varieties of verse only, Terentius Varro wrote, a man who of all the Romans was the most learned. He composed a vast number of works of very great erudition, having a thorough acquaintance with the Latin tongue, with all antiquity, and with the events of Grecian and Roman history. Yet he is an author who will add more to our knowledge than to our eloquence.

9Iambic verse has not been cultivated by any writer among the Romans as his peculiar province, though it has been interspersed with some other kinds of verse. Its bitterness is to be seen in Catullus, Bibaculus, and Horace, though in Horace the epode is found introduced between the iambics.

Of our Lyric poets, Horace is almost the only one that deserves to be read, for he soars occasionally, is full of agreeableness and grace, and shows a most happy daring in certain figures and expressions. If the student should wish to add any other, there is Caesius Bassus, whom we lately saw among us, but the genius of some that are living far excels his.

9Among the ancients, the writers of tragedy most celebrated for their force of thought, weight of language, and the dignity of their personages are Accius and Pacuvius. Neatness and finish in the polishing of their works seems to have been wanting in them rather through the fault of their age than through their own. To Accius, however, is attributed the greater share of energy. Those who affect to be learned themselves would have Pacuvius thought the more learned of the two. 9The Thyestes of Varius is comparable to any of the Greek tragedies. Ovid's Medea appears to me to show how much that great man could have done if he had been willing to control rather than indulge his genius. Of those whom I have myself seen, Pomponius Secundus is by far the most eminent, a writer whom the oldest men of the day thought not quite tragic enough, but acknowledged that he excelled in learning and elegance of style.

9In Comedy we are extremely deficient, though Varro says that the muses, in the opinion of Aelius Stilo, would, if they had wished to speak Latin, have spoken in the language of Plautus. Also, the ancients extol Caecilius and the writings of Terence have been ascribed to Scipio Africanus ( indeed, they are extremely elegant in their kind, though they would have had still more gracefulness if they had been strictly confined to trimeter iambic verse). 100. Nevertheless, we scarcely attain a faint image of the Greek comedy, so that the Latin language itself seems to me not susceptible of that beauty which has hitherto been granted to the Attics only, since not even the Greeks themselves have attained it in any other dialect of their language. Afranius excels in comedies purely Latin, and I wish that he had not polluted his plays with offensive amors, betraying his own character.

10In history, however, I cannot allow superiority to the Greeks. I should neither fear to match Sallust against Thucydides, nor should Herodotus feel indignant if Livy is thought equal to him. Livy is an author of wonderful agreeableness and remarkable perspicuity in his narrative, while in his speeches, he is eloquent beyond expression, so admirably is all that is said in his pages adapted to particular circumstances and characters. As to the feelings, especially those of the softer kind, no historian (to speak but with mere justice) has succeeded better in describing them. 10Hence, by his varied excellences, he has equalled in merit the immortal rapidity of Sallust, for Servilius Nonianus seems to me to have remarked with great happiness that they were rather equal than like. A writer to whom I have listened while he was reading his own histories, Servilus was a man of great ability and wrote in a sententious style, but with less conciseness than the dignity of history demands. 10That dignity Bassus Aufidius, who had rather the precedence of him in time, supported with admirable effect, at least in his books on the German war. In his own style of composition, he is everywhere deserving of praise, but falls in some parts below his own powers. 10But there still survives, and adds luster to the glory of our age, a man worthy to be remembered by the latest posterity, whose name will hereafter be celebrated with honor, and is now well understood. He has admirers, but no imitators, since the freedom of his writings, though some of his expressions have been pruned, has been injurious to him. Even in what remains, however, we may see his lofty spirit and boldness of thought. There are also other good writers, but we touch only on particular departments of composition and do not review whole libraries.

NOTE: According to Russell, Quintilian's reference above is to Cremutius Cordus, who got into political trouble "under Tiberius for praising Brutus and Cassius; his books were burned, and he starved himself to death in AD. 2Q. here shows that the books survived, but in an expurgatated form" (n. 139).
However, Watson's note to this reference gives the following: "Lipsisus, in his review of the Testimonia de Tacito, is inclined to think that Tacitus is here meant by Quintilian. Gesner, and some other critics, supposed that Pliny the Elder is the person intended. What follows seems more applicable to Tacitus."

10But our orators may, above all, set the Latin eloquence on an equality with that of Greece, for I would confidently match Cicero against any one of the Greek orators. Nor am I unaware how great an opposition I am raising against myself, especially when it is no part of my design at present to compare him with Demosthenes, for it is not at all necessary, since I think that Demosthenes ought to be read above all other orators, or rather learned by heart. 10Of their great excellences, I consider that most are similar—their method, their order of partition, their manner of preparing the minds of their audience, their mode of proof, and, in a word, everything that depends on invention. In their style of speaking, there is some difference. Demosthenes is more compact, Cicero more verbose; Demosthenes argues more closely, Cicero with a wider sweep; Demosthenes always attacks with a sharp-pointed weapon, Cicero often with a weapon both sharp and weighty; from Demosthenes nothing can be taken away, to Cicero nothing can be added; in the one there is more study, in the other more nature. 10In wit, certainly, and pathos, two stimulants of the mind which have great influence in oratory, we have the advantage. Perhaps the custom of his country did not allow Demosthenes pathetic perorations. But on the other hand, the different genius of the Latin tongue did not grant to us those beauties which the Attics so much admire. In the epistolary style, indeed, though there are letters written by both, and in that of dialogue, in which Demosthenes wrote nothing, there is no comparison. 10We must yield the superiority, however, on one point—that Demosthenes lived before Cicero and made him, in a great measure, the able orator that he was, for Cicero appears to me, after he devoted himself wholly to imitate the Greeks, to have embodied in his style the energy of Demosthenes, the copiousness of Plato, and the sweetness of Isocrates. 10Nor did he, by zealous effort, attain only what was excellent in each of these, but drew most or rather all excellences from himself, by the felicitous exuberance of his immortal genius. He does not, as Pindar says, collect rain water, but overflows from a living fountain, having been so endowed at his birth, by the special kindness of Providence, that in him eloquence might make trial of her whole strength. For who can instruct a judge with more exactness or excite him with more vehemence? What orator had ever so pleasing a manner? 1The very points which he wrests from you by force, you would think that he gained from you by entreaty, and when he carries away the judge by his impetuosity, he yet does not seem to be hurried along, but imagines that he is following of his own accord. 11In all that he says, indeed, there is so much authority that we are ashamed to dissent from him. He does not bring to a cause the mere zeal of an advocate, but the support of a witness or a judge. At the same time, all these excellences—a single one of which any other man could scarcely attain with the utmost exertion—flow from him without effort, and that stream of language, than which nothing is more pleasing to the ear, carries with it the appearance of the happiest facility. 11It was not without justice, therefore, that he was said by his contemporaries to reign supreme in the courts, and he has gained such esteem among his posterity that Cicero is now less the name of a man than that of eloquence itself. Let us look to him, let us keep him in view as our great example, and let that student to whom Cicero has become an object of admiration know that he has made some progress.
11In Asinius Pollio there is much invention and the greatest accuracy, so great, indeed, that by some it is regarded as excessive. There is also sufficient method and spirit, but he is so far from having the polish or agreeableness of Cicero that be may be thought to have preceded him by a century. Messala, again, is elegant and perspicuous, and gives proof in his style of the nobleness of his birth, but is deficient in energy. 11As for Julius Caesar, if he had devoted himself wholly to the forum, no other of our countrymen would have been named as a rival to Cicero. There is in him such force, such perspicuity, such fire, that he evidently spoke with the same spirit with which he fought. All these qualities, too, he sets off with a remarkable elegance of diction, of which he was peculiarly studious. 11In Caelius there is much ability and much pleasant wit, especially in bringing an accusation, and he was a man worthy to have had wiser thoughts and a longer life. I have found some critics that preferred Calvus to all other orators. I have found some who agreed with Cicero that Calvus, by too severe criticism on himself, had diminished his natural energy, yet his language is chaste, forcible, correct, and often also spirited. But he is an imitator of the Attics, and his untimely death was an injury to him, if he intended to add anything to what he had done, but not if he intended to take from it. 11Servius Sulpicius, also, has gained a distinguished reputation, and not undeservedly, by three speeches. Cassius Severus, if he is read with judgment, will offer us much that is worthy of imitation. If, in addition to his other excellences, he had given coloring and body to his language, he might have been ranked among the most eminent orators. 11For there is great ability in him, and extraordinary power of sarcasm, as well as abundance of wit; but he allowed more influence to his passion than to his judgment. Besides, while his jokes are bitter, their bitterness often becomes ridiculous.

11There have been also many other eloquent speakers, whom it would be tedious to particularize. Of those whom I have seen, Domitius Afer and Julius Africanus were by far the most eminent. Domitius deserved the preference for skill and for his general manner of speaking, and we need not fear to rank him with the ancient orators. Africanus had more animation, but was too fastidious in his choice of words, tedious, at times, in his phraseology, and too lavish in his use of metaphors.

There were also men of ability in recent times. 11Trachalus was generally elevated and sufficiently perspicuous, and we might have supposed that he aimed at the highest excellence. Yet he was greater when heard than when read, for he had such a fine tone of voice as I never knew in any other person, a delivery that would have sufficed for the stage, gracefulness of action, and every external advantage even to excess. Vibius Crispus was succinct and agreeable in his style and naturally qualified to please, but he was better in pleading private than public causes. 120. If longer life had been granted to Julius Secundus, his name as an orator would doubtless have been highly renowned among posterity, for he would have added, and was indeed continually adding, whatever was wanting to his other excellences. What he wanted was to be more energetic in debate and to turn his attention more frequently from his delivery to his matter. 12But even though cut off prematurely, he claims a high place for himself, such is his eloquence, such his gracefulness in expressing whatever he pleased, such is the perspicuity, smoothness, and attraction of his style, such his felicity in the use of words, even those that are pressed into his service, and such his force of expression in some that he boldly hazarded. 12But they who shall write of orators after me will have ample reason for praising those that are now at the height of reputation, for there are in the present day men of eminent ability by whom the forum is highly adorned. Our finished advocates rival the ancients, and the efforts of our youth, aiming at the highest excellence, imitate them and follow in their footsteps.

12There remain to be noticed those who have written on philosophy, in which department Roman literature has as yet produced but few eloquent writers. Yet Cicero, who distinguishes himself on all subjects, stands forth in this as a rival to Plato. But Brutus, a noble writer, and of more excellence in philosophy than in oratory, has ably supported the weight of such subjects, for his reader may feel sure that he says what he thinks. 12Cornelius Celsus, too, has written no small number of works, following in the track of the Sextii, and not without grace and elegance. Among the Stoics, Plancus may be read with profit, from the knowledge which he displays of his subject. Among the Epicureans, Catius is a light, but not unpleasing author.

12In reference to any department of eloquence, I have purposely delayed speaking of Seneca because of a false report that has been circulated about my supposedly condemning and even hating him. This happened to me while I was striving to bring back our style of speaking, spoiled and enervated by every kind of fault, to a more severe standard of taste. 12At that time, Seneca was almost the only writer in the hands of the young. For my own art, I was not desirous to set him aside altogether, but I could not allow him to be preferred to those better authors whom he never ceased to attack, since, being conscious that he had adopted a different style from theirs, he distrusted his power of pleasing those by whom they were admired. But his partisans rather admired than succeeded in imitating him, and fell as far below him as he had fallen below the older writers. 12Yet it had been desirable that his followers should have been equal to him, or at least have made near approaches to him. But he attracted them only by his faults, and each of them set himself to copy in him what he could, and then when they began to boast that they wrote like him, they brought dishonor on his name. 12Still, he had many and great merits—a ready and fertile wit, extraordinary application, and extensive knowledge on various subjects, though he was sometimes deceived by those whom he had employed to make researches for him. 12He has written on almost every department of learning, for there are in circulation orations of his, as well as poems, letters, and dialogues. In philosophy, he was not sufficiently accurate, though an admirable assailant of vices. There are many bright thoughts in him, and much that may be read for moral improvement, but most of his phraseology is in a vitiated taste and most hurtful to students for the very reason that it abounds in pleasing faults. 130. We could wish that he had written from his own mind and under the control of another person's judgment, for if he had rejected some of his thoughts, if he had not fixed his affections on small beauties, if he had not been in love with everything that he conceived, if he had not weakened the force of his matter by petty attempts at sententiousness, he would have been honored with the unanimous consent of the learned rather than the admiration of boys. 13Such as he is, he ought to be read by those whose judgment is matured and whose minds have been strengthened by a severer manner of writing, if with no other object than that the reader may exercise his judgment for and against him. For as I said, there is much in him worthy of approval and much deserving of admiration. Only it must be our care to choose judiciously, as I wish that he himself had done, since natural powers that could accomplish whatever they pleased were worthy of having better objects to accomplish.

FROM these authors and others worthy to be read, a stock of words, a variety of figures, and the art of composition must be acquired. Our minds must be directed to the imitation of all their excellences, for it cannot be doubted that a great portion of art consists in imitation, since, though to invent was first in order of time and holds the first place in merit, it is of advantage to copy what has been invented with success. Indeed the whole conduct of life is based on the desire of doing ourselves that which we approve in others. Thus boys follow the traces of letters in order to acquire skill in writing, musicians follow the voice of their teachers, painters look for models to the works of preceding painters, and farmers adopt the system of culture approved by experience. We see, in short, that the beginnings of every kind of study are formed in accordance with some prescribed rule. We must, indeed, be either like or unlike those who excel, and nature rarely forms one like, though imitation does so frequently. But the very circumstance that renders the study of all subjects so much easier for us than it was to those who had nothing to imitate will prove a disadvantage to us, unless it be turned to account with caution and judgment.

Undoubtedly, then, imitation is not sufficient of itself, if for no other reason than that it is the mark of an indolent nature to rest satisfied with what has been invented by others. For what would have been the case if, in those times which were without any models, humans had thought that they were not to execute or imagine anything but what they already knew? Assuredly nothing would have been invented. Why then is it unlawful for anything to be devised by us which did not exist before? Were our rude forefathers led by the mere natural force of intellect to the discovery of so many things, and shall we not be roused to inquiry by the certain knowledge which we possess that those who sought found? When those who had no master in any subject have transmitted so many discoveries to posterity, shall not the experience which we have in some things assist us to bring to light others, or shall we have nothing but what we derive from other men's bounty, as some painters aim at nothing more than to know how to copy a picture by means of compasses and lines?

It is dishonorable even to rest satisfied with simply equalling what we imitate. For what would have been the case, again, if no one had accomplished more than he whom he copied? We should have nothing in poetry superior to Livius Andronicus; nothing in history better than the Annals of the Pontiffs; we should still sail on rafts; there would be no painting but that of tracing the outlines of the shadow which bodies cast in the sunshine. If we take a view of all arts, no one can be found exactly as it was when it was invented, no one that has confined itself within its original limits, unless, indeed, we have to convict our own times, beyond all others, of this unhappy deficiency and to consider that now at last nothing improves, for certainly nothing does improve by imitation only. But if it is not allowable to add to what has preceded us, how can we ever hope to see a complete orator, when among those whom we have hitherto recognized as the greatest, no one has been found in whom there is not something defective or censurable? Even those who do not aim at the highest excellence should rather try to excel, than merely follow, their predecessors, for he who tries to advance beyond another will possibly, if he does not pass him, get abreast of him. But assuredly no one will come even with him in whose steps he thinks he must tread, for he who follows another must of necessity always be behind him. Besides, it is generally easier to do more than to do precisely the same, since exact likeness is attended with such difficulty that not even nature herself has succeeded in contriving that the simplest objects, thought most alike, shall not be distinguished by some perceptible difference. 1Moreover, everything that resembles something else must necessarily be inferior to that of which it is a copy, as the shadow to the substance, the portrait to the natural face, and the player's acting to the real feeling. The same is the case with regard to oratorical composition, for in the originals we take for our models there is nature and real power, while every imitation, on the contrary, is something counterfeit and seems adapted to an object not its own. 1Hence, declamations have less spirit and force than actual pleadings, because in one the subject is real, in the other fictitious. In addition to all this, whatever excellences are most remarkable in an orator are inimitable, just as natural talent, invention, energy, easiness of manner, and whatever cannot be taught by art. 1In consequence, many students, when they have selected certain words or acquired a certain rhythm of composition from any orator's speeches, think that what they have read is admirably represented in their own sentences. Words come into use or fall into disuse according to the fashion of the day, as the most certain rule for their use is found in custom. They are not in their own nature either good or bad (for in themselves they are only sounds), but just as they are suitably and properly applied or otherwise. When our composition is best adapted to our subject, it becomes most pleasing from its variety.

1Everything related to this area of study is to be considered with the finest judgment. First of all, we must be cautious as to the authors we would imitate, for many have desired to resemble the worst and most faulty originals. In the next place, we must examine what, in the authors we have chosen for models, we should set ourselves to attain, for even in great writers there occur faulty passages and blemishes that have been censured by the learned in their remarks on one another. I wish our youth would improve in their oratory by imitating what is good, as much as they are deteriorated by copying what is bad.

1Nor let those who have sufficient judgment for avoiding faults, be satisfied with forming a semblance, a mere cuticle of excellence, if I may so express myself, or rather one of those images of Epicurus, which he says are perpetually flying off from the surfaces of bodies. 1This, however, is the fate of those who, having no thorough insight into the merits of a style, adapt their manner, as it were, to the first aspect of it. Even when their imitation proves most successful and they differ but little from their original author in language and harmony, they yet never fully attain to his force or fertility of language. Instead, they commonly degenerate into something worse, lay hold on such defects as border on excellences, and become tumid instead of great, weak instead of concise, rash instead of bold, licentious instead of exuberant, tripping instead of dignified, and careless instead of simple. 1Accordingly, those who have produced something dry and inane, in a rough and inelegant dress, fancy themselves equal to the ancients; those who reject embellishment of language or thought compare themselves to the Attic writers; those who become obscure by curtailing their periods excel Sallust and Thucydides; the dry and jejune are rivals of Pollio; and the dull and languid, if they but express themselves in a long period, declare that Cicero would have spoken just like themselves. 1Indeed, I have known some who thought they had admirably represented the divine orator's manner in their speeches, when they had put at the end of a period esse videatur. Therefore, the first consideration for the student is to understand what he proposes to imitate and why it is excellent.

1Next, in entering this task, let him consult his own powers (for some things are inimitable by those whose natural weakness is not sufficient for attaining them, or whose natural inclination is repugnant to them), lest he who has but a feeble capacity should attempt only what is arduous and rough, or lest he who has great but rude talent should waste his strength in the study of refinement and fail to attain the elegance which he desires, for nothing is more ungraceful than to treat of delicate subjects with harshness. 20. Indeed, I did not suppose that the teacher, whose instruction I described in my second book, should teach only those things to which he might see his pupils severally adapted by nature. Instead, he ought to improve whatever good qualities he finds in them; supply, as far as he can, what is deficient; and correct some things and alter others. He is the director and regulator of the minds of others; to mold his own nature may be more difficult. 2But not even such a teacher, however he may wish everything that is right to be found in the highest excellence in his pupils, will labor to any purpose in that to which he shall see that nature is opposed.

There is another thing also to be avoided, a matter in which many err—we must not suppose that poets and historians are to be the objects of our imitation in oratorical composition, or orators and declaimers in poetry or history. 2Every species of writing has its own prescribed law, each its own appropriate dress. For comedy does not strut in tragic buskins, nor does tragedy step along in the slipper of comedy. Yet all eloquence has something in common, and let us look on that which is common as what we must imitate. 2Those who have devoted themselves to one particular kind of style generally suffer this inconvenience: if, for example, the roughness of some writer has taken their fancy, they cannot divest themselves of it in pleading those causes which are of a quiet and subdued nature. Or if a simple and pleasing manner has attracted them, they become unequal to the weight of their subject in complex and difficult causes. Yet it is not only when the nature of one cause is different from that of another, but the nature of one part of a cause differs from that of another part, and some portions are to be delivered gently, others roughly, some in a vehement tone, others in an easy one, some for the purpose of informing the hearer, others with a view to excite his feelings, all of which require a different and distinct style. 2I should not, therefore, advise a student to devote himself entirely to any particular author, so as to imitate him in all respects. Of all the Greek orators, Demosthenes is by far the most excellent, yet others, on some occasions, may have expressed themselves better, and he himself has expressed many things better on some occasions than on others. But he who deserves to be imitated most is not the only author to be imitated. 2"What then?" the reader may ask, "Is it not sufficient to speak on every subject as Cicero spoke?" To me, assuredly, it would be sufficient, if I could attain all his excellences. Yet what disadvantage would it be to assume, on some occasions, the energy of Caesar, the asperity of Caelius, the accuracy of Pollio, or the judgment of Calvus? 2In addition to a judicious student appropriating, if he can, whatever is excellent in each author, it is also to be considered that if, in a matter of such difficulty as imitation, we fix our attention only on one author, scarcely any one portion of his excellence will allow us to become masters of it. Accordingly, since it is almost denied to human ability to copy fully the pattern which we have chosen, let us set before our eyes the excellences of several, that different qualities from different writers may fix themselves in our minds and that we may adopt, for any subject, the style which is most suitable to it.

2But let imitation (for I must frequently repeat the same precept) not be confined merely to words. We ought to contemplate what propriety was observed by those great men, with regard to things and persons, what judgment, what arrangement, and how everything, even what seems intended only to please, was directed to the attainment of success in their cause. Let us notice what is done in their exordium; how skilful and varied is their statement of facts; how great is their ability in proving and refuting; how consummate was their skill in exciting every species of emotion; and how even the applause which they gained from the public was turned to the advantage of their cause, applause which is most honorable when it follows unsolicited, not when it is anxiously courted. If we gain a thorough conception of all these matters, we shall then be such imitators as we ought to be. 2But he who shall add to these borrowed qualities excellences of his own, so as to supply what is deficient in his models and to retrench what is redundant, will be the complete orator whom we desire to see. Such an orator ought now surely to be formed, when so many more examples of eloquence exist than fell to the lot of those who have hitherto been considered the best orators, for to them will belong the praise, not only of surpassing those who preceded them, but of instructing those who followed.

SUCH, then, are the means of improvement to be derived from external sources. But of those which we must secure for ourselves, practice in writing, which is attended with the most labor, is attended also with the greatest advantage. Nor has Cicero without reason called the pen the best modeller and teacher of eloquence, and by putting that opinion into the mouth of Lucius Crassus in his dialogues on the character of the Orator, he has united his own judgment to the authority of that eminent speaker.

We must write, therefore, as carefully and as much as we can, for as the ground, by being dug to a great depth, becomes more fitted for fructifying and nourishing seeds, so improvement of the mind, acquired from more than mere superficial cultivation, pours forth the fruits of study in richer abundance and retains them with greater fidelity. For without this precaution, the very faculty of speaking extempore will but furnish us with empty loquacity and words born on the lips. In writing are the roots, in writing are the foundations of eloquence. By writing, resources are stored up, as it were, in a sacred repository, from where they may be drawn forth for sudden emergencies or as circumstances require. Let us above all things get strength, which may suffice for the labor of our contests and may not be exhausted by use. Nature has herself appointed that nothing great is to be accomplished quickly and has ordained that difficulty should precede every work of excellence. She has even made it a law, with regard to gestation, that the larger animals are retained longer in the womb of the parent.

But as two questions arise from this subject—how and what we ought principally to write—I shall consider them both in this order. Let our pen be at first slow, provided that it be accurate. Let us search for what is best and not allow ourselves to be readily pleased with whatever presents itself. Let judgment be applied to our thoughts and skill in arrangement to such of them as the judgment sanctions, for we must make a selection from our thoughts and words, and the weight of each must be carefully estimated. Then must follow the art of collocation, and the rhythm of our phrases must be tried in every possible way, since any word must not take its position just as it offers itself. That we may acquire this accomplishment with the more precision, we must frequently repeat the last words of what we have just written. Apart from the fact that by this means what follows is better connected with what precedes, the ardor of thought, which has cooled by the delay of writing, recovers its strength anew and, by going again over the ground, acquires new force. Such is the case, we see, in a contest at leaping; men run over a certain portion of ground that they may take a longer spring and be carried with the utmost velocity to the other part on which they aim at alighting. In hurling a javelin, too, we draw back the arm, and when going to shoot an arrow, we pull back the bowstring. At times, however, if a gale bear us on, we may spread our sails to it, provided that the license which we allow ourselves does not lead us astray, for all our thoughts please us at the time of their birth, otherwise they would not be committed to writing. But let us have recourse to our judgment and revise the fruit of our facility, which is always to be regarded with suspicion. Thus we learn that Sallust wrote, and his labor, indeed, is shown in his productions. That Virgil wrote very few verses in a day, Varus bears testimony. With the speaker, indeed, the case is different. I, therefore, enjoin this delay and solicitude only at the commencement of his course, for we must make it first of all our object and must attain that object, to write as well as we can. Practice will bring celerity; thoughts, by degrees, will present themselves with greater readiness; words will correspond to them; and suitable arrangement will follow. Everything, in a word, as in a well ordered household, will be ready for service. The sum of the whole matter, indeed, is this: that by writing quickly, we are not brought to write well, but that by writing well we are brought to write quickly. But after this facility has been attained, we must then, most of all, take care to stop and look before us and restrain our high-mettled steeds with the curb, a restraint which will not so much retard us as give us new spirit to proceed.

Nor, on the other hand, do I think that those, who have acquired some power in the use of the pen should be chained down to the unhappy task of perpetually finding fault with themselves. 1For how could he perform his duty to the public who should waste his life in polishing every portion of his pleadings? But there are some whom nothing ever satisfies, who wish to alter everything and to express everything in a different form from that in which it first occurs to them. There are some again who, distrustful of themselves and paying an ill compliment to their own powers, think that accuracy in writing means to create for themselves extraordinary difficulties. 1Nor is it easy for me to say which I regard as more in the wrong, those whom everything that they produce, or those whom nothing that they produce, pleases. For it is often the case, even with young men of talent, that they wear themselves away with useless labor and sink into silence from too much anxiety to speak well. In regard to this subject, I remember that Julius Secundus—a contemporary of mine and, as is well known, dearly beloved by me, a man of extraordinary eloquence, but of endless labor— mentioned to me something that had been told him by his uncle. 1This uncle was Julius Florus, the most celebrated man for eloquence in the provinces of Gaul (for it was there that he practiced it) and, in other respects, an orator to be ranked with few and worthy of his relationship to Secundus. He, happening one day to observe that Secundus, while he was still working at school, was looking dejected, asked him what was the reason of his brow being so overcast. 1The youth used no concealment, but told him that that was the third day that he had been vainly endeavoring, with his utmost efforts, to find an exordium for a subject on which he had to write. Not only had grief affected him in respect to the present occasion, but despair in regard to the time to come. Florus immediately replied with a smile, "Do you wish to write better than you can?" 1Such is the whole truth of the matter. We must endeavor to speak with as much ability as we can, but we must speak according to our ability. For improvement, there is need of application, but not of vexation with ourselves.

But to enable us to write more, and more readily, not practice alone will assist (and in practice there is doubtless great effect), but also method. Instead of lolling at our ease, looking at the ceiling, and trying to kindle our invention by muttering to ourselves, and waiting for what may present itself, we should set ourselves to write like reasonable beings by observing what the subject requires, what becomes the character concerned, what the nature of the occasion is, and what the disposition of the judge, for thus nature herself will supply us not only with a commencement but with what ought to follow. 1Most points, indeed, are plain and set themselves before our eyes if we do not shut them. Accordingly, not even the illiterate and untaught have long to consider how to begin, and therefore we should feel the more ashamed if learning produces difficulty. Let us not, then, imagine that what lies hid is always best. If we think nothing fit to be said but what we have not discovered, we must remain dumb.

1A different fault is that of those who wish, first of all, to run through their subject with as rapid a pen as possible and, yielding to the ardor and impetuosity of their imagination, write off their thoughts extemporaneously, producing what they call a rough copy, which they then go over again and arrange what they have hastily poured forth. Though the words and rhythm of the sentences are mended, there still remains the same want of solid connection that there was originally in the parts hurriedly thrown together. 1It will be better, therefore, to use care at first, and so to form our work from the beginning that we may have merely to polish it and not to mold it anew. Sometimes, however, we may give loose to our feeling, in the display of which warmth is generally of more effect than accuracy.

1From my disapprobation of carelessness in writing, it is clearly enough seen what I think of the fine fancy of dictation, for in the use of the pen, the hand of the writer, however rapid, as it cannot keep pace with the celerity of his thoughts, allows them some respite. But he to whom we dictate urges us on, and we feel ashamed at times to hesitate, or stop, or alter, as if we were afraid to have a witness of our weakness. 20. Hence it happens that not only inelegant and casual expressions, but sometimes unsuitable ones, escape us, because our sole anxiety is to make our discourse connected. Our expressions, therefore, partake of neither the accuracy of the writer nor the animation of the speaker. If the person who takes down what is dictated proves a hindrance to us from slowness in writing or from inaccuracy in reading, the course of our thought is obstructed, and all the fire that had been conceived in our mind is dispelled by delay or sometimes by anger at the offender. 2Besides, those gestures which accompany the stronger excitements of the mind and which, in some degree, rouse the imagination, such as waving of the hand, alteration of the features, turning from side to side, and all such acts as Persius satirizes, when he alludes to a negligent species of style (the writer, he says,

Nec pluteum c?dit, nec demorsos sapit ungues,

Nor thumps his desk, nor tastes his bitten nails,)
are utterly ridiculous except when we are alone. 2In short, to mention once and for all the strongest argument against dictation, privacy is rendered impossible by it, and no one can doubt that a spot free from witnesses and the deepest possible silence are the most desirable for persons engaged in writing.

Yet we are not therefore necessarily to listen to those who think that groves and woods are the most proper places for study, because as the free and open sky, they say, and the beauty of sequestered spots, give elevation to the mind and a happy warmth to the imagination. 2To me, assuredly, such retirement seems rather conducive to pleasure than an incentive to literary exertion, for the very objects that delight us must, of necessity, divert our attention from the work which we designed to pursue. The mind cannot, in truth, attend effectually to many things at once, and in whatever direction it looks off, it must cease to contemplate what had been intended for its employment. 2The pleasantness, therefore, of the woods, the streams gliding past, the breezes sporting among the branches of the trees, the songs of birds, and the very freedom of the extended prospect, draw off our attention to them, so that all such gratifications seem to me more adapted to relax the thoughts than to brace them. 2Demosthenes acted more wisely: he secluded himself in a place where no voice could be heard and no prospect contemplated, that his eyes might not oblige his mind to attend to anything else besides his business. As for those who study by lamplight, therefore, let the silence of the night, the closed chamber, and a single light keep them, as it were, wholly in seclusion. 2But in every kind of study, and especially in such nocturnal application, good health, and that which is the principal means of securing it, regularity of life, are necessary, since we devote the time appointed us by nature for sleep and the recruiting of our strength to the most intense labor. On this labor we must not bestow more time than what is too much for sleep and what will not leave too little for it, 2for weariness hinders application to writing, and daylight, if we are free from other occupations, is abundantly sufficient for it. Necessity drives men engaged in business to read at night, yet study by the lamp, when we come to it fresh and vigorous, is the best kind of retirement.

2But silence and seclusion, and entire freedom of mind, though in the highest degree desirable, cannot always fall to our lot. Therefore, we must not, if any noise disturbs us, immediately throw aside our books and deplore the day as lost, but we must strive against inconveniences and acquire such habits that our application may set all interruptions at defiance. For if we direct our attention, with our whole mental energy, to the work actually before us, nothing at all that strikes our eyes or ears will penetrate into the mind. 2Does a casual train of thought often cause us not to see persons in our way and to wander from our road, and shall we not attain the same abstraction if we resolve to do so? We must not yield to excuses for idleness, for if we fancy that we must not study except when we are fresh, except when we are in good spirits, except when we are free from all other cares, we shall always have some reason for self-indulgence. 30. In the midst of crowds, therefore, on a journey, and even at festive meetings, let thought secure for herself privacy. Else what will be the result, when we shall have, in the midst of the forum, amid the hearing of so many causes, amid wranglings and casual outcries, to speak, perhaps on a sudden, in a continued harangue, if we cannot conceive the memoranda which we enter on our tablets, anywhere but in solitude? For this reason Demosthenes, though so great a lover of seclusion, used to accustom himself, by studying on the seashore, where the breakers dashed with the loudest noise, not to be disconcerted at the uproar of public assemblies.

3Some lesser matters also (though nothing is little that relates to study) must not be left unnoticed, one of which is that we can write best on waxen tablets from which there is the greatest facility for erasing, unless, perchance, weakness of sight requires the use of parchment. Though it assists the sight, parchment causes delay and interrupts the current of thought from the frequent movement of the hand, backwards and forwards, while dipping the pen in the ink. 3Next we may observe that in using either of these kinds of material, we should take care to leave some pages blank, on which we may have free scope for making any additions (since want of room sometimes causes a reluctance to correct, or, at least, what was written first makes a confused mixture with what is inserted). But I would not have the waxen tablets extravagantly broad, having found a youth, otherwise anxious to excel, make his compositions of too great a length because he used to measure them by the number of lines, a fault which, though it could not be corrected by repeated admonitions, was at last removed by altering the size of his tablets. 3There should also be a portion of space left vacant on which may be noted down what frequently occurs out of order to persons who are writing, that is, in reference to other subjects than those which we have in hand. For excellent thoughts sometimes start into our minds which we cannot well insert in our pages and which it is not safe to delay noting down, because they sometimes escape us and sometimes, if we are anxious to keep them in memory, divert us from thinking of other things. Hence they will be properly deposited in a place for memoranda.

NEXT follows correction, which is by far the most useful part of our studies, for it is believed, and not without reason, that the pen is not least serviceable when it is used to erase. Of correction, there are three ways: to add, to take away, and to alter. In regard, however, to what is to be added or taken away, the decision is comparatively easy and simple, but to compress what is tumid, to raise what is low, to prune what is luxuriant, to regulate what is ill-arranged, to give compactness to what is loose, to circumscribe what is extravagant, is a twofold task, for we must reject things that had pleased us and find out others that had escaped us. Undoubtedly, also, the best method for correction is to lay by for a time what we have written, so that we may return to it, after an interval, as if it were something new to us and written by another, lest our writings, like new-born infants, compel us to fix our affections on them.

But this cannot always be done, especially by the orator, who must frequently write for present purposes. Correction must therefore have its limits, for there are some who return to whatever they compose as if they presumed it to be incorrect. As if nothing could be right that has presented itself first, they think whatever is different from it is better and find something to correct as often as they take up their manuscript, like surgeons who make incisions even in sound places. Hence it happens that their writings are, so to speak, scarred and bloodless, and rendered worse by the remedies applied. Let what we write, therefore, sometimes please, or at least content us, that the file may polish our work and not wear it to nothing. To the time, too, allowed for correction, there must be a limit. As to what we hear about Cinna's Zmyrna, that it occupied nine years in writing, and about the Panegyric of Isocrates, which they who assign the shortest period to its production assert to have been ten years in being finished, it is of no import to the orator, whose aid would be useless if it were so long in coming.

THE next point is to decide on what we should employ ourselves when we write. It would be a superfluous labor, indeed, to detail what subjects there are for writing and what should be studied first, second, and so on in succession, for this has been done in my first book, in which I prescribed the order for the studies of boys, and in my second, where I specified those of the more advanced. What is now to be considered is from where copiousness and facility of expression may be derived.

Our old orators thought translating Greek into Latin to be a very excellent exercise. Lucius Crassus, in the well known books of Cicero's De Oratore, says that he often practised it, and Cicero himself, speaking in his own person, very frequently recommends it and has even published books of Plato and Xenophon translated in that kind of exercise. It was also approved by Messala, and there are several extant versions of speeches made by him so that he even rivalled the oration of Hyperides for Phryne in delicacy of style, a quality most difficult for Romans to attain. The object of such exercise is evident, for the Greek authors excel in copiousness of matter and have introduced a vast deal of art into the study of eloquence. In translating them, we may use the very best words, for all that we use may be our own. As to figures, by which language is principally ornamented, it may be necessary for us to invent a great number and variety of them because the Roman tongue differs greatly from that of the Greeks.

But the conversion of Latin writing into other words will also be of great service to us. I suppose no one has any doubt about the utility of turning poetry into prose. This is the only kind of exercise that Sulpicius is said to have used, for its sublimity may elevate our style, and the boldness of the expressions adopted by poetic license does not preclude the orator's efforts to express the same thoughts in the exactness of prose. He may even add to those thoughts oratorical vigor, supply what has been omitted, and give compactness to that which is diffuse, since I would not have our paraphrase to be a mere interpretation, but an effort to vie with and rival our original in the expression of the same thoughts. My opinion therefore differs from those who disapprove of paraphrasing Latin orations, on the pretext that, as the best words and phrases have been already used, whatever we express in another form must of necessity be expressed worse. But there is insufficient ground for this allegation, for we must not despair of the possibility of finding something better than what has been said, nor has nature made language so meager and poor that we cannot speak well on any subject except in one way. Indeed, are we to suppose that while the gestures of the actor can give a variety of turns to the same words, the power of eloquence is so much inferior that when a thing has been once said, nothing can be said after it to the same purpose? But let it be granted that what we conceive is neither better than our original nor equal to it; yet it must be allowed, at the same time, that there is a possibility of coming near to it. Do not we ourselves at times speak twice or more often, and sometimes a succession of sentences, on the same subject, and are we to suppose that though we can contend with ourselves we cannot contend with others? If a thought could be expressed well only in one way, it would be but right to suppose that the path of excellence has been shut against us by some of our predecessors. But in reality, there are still innumerable modes of saying a thing, and many roads leading to the same point. Conciseness has its charms, and so has copiousness; there is one kind of beauty in metaphorical, another in simple expressions; and direct expressions become one subject, and those varied by figures another. In addition, the difficulty of the exercise is most serviceable. Are not our greatest authors studied more carefully by these means? For in this way, we do not run over what we have written in a careless mode of reading, but consider every individual portion, look from necessity thoroughly into their matter, and learn how much merit they possess from the very fact that we cannot succeed in imitating them.

Nor will it be of advantage to us only to alter the language of others. It will be serviceable also to vary our own in a number of different forms, taking certain thoughts for the purpose and putting them, as harmoniously as possible, into several shapes, just as different figures are molded out of the same wax. But I believe that the greatest facility in composition is acquired by exercise in the simplest subjects, for in treating a multiplicity of persons, causes, occasions, places, sayings, and actions, our real weakness in style may readily escape notice amidst so many subjects which present themselves on all sides, and any one of which we may readily take up. 1But the great proof of power is to expand what is naturally contracted, to amplify what is little, to give variety to things that are similar and attraction to such as are obvious, and to say with effect much on a little.

To this end indefinite questions will much contribute, questions which we call θέσεις (theseis), and on which Cicero, even when he had become the first orator in his country, used to exercise himself. 1Next in utility to these are refutations and defenses of sentences, for as a sentence is a sort of decree and order, whatever questions may arise regarding the subject of it may also arise regarding the decision on the subject. Next stand commonplaces on which we know that accomplished orators have written. For he who shall succeed in treating fully on questions that are plain and direct, and do not involve any complicated inquiries, will be still better able to expatiate on such as admit of excursive discussion and will be prepared for any cause whatever. 1All causes, indeed, rest on general questions, for what difference does it make, for instance, whether "Cornelius, as tribune of the people, is accused of having read to the people the manuscript of a proposed law," or whether we have to consider the general question, "Is it a breach of the dignity of office, if a magistrate reads his own law to the people in his own person?" What difference does it make whether the question to be tried is, "Did Milo lawfully kill Clodius?" or "Ought a lier-in-wait to be killed, or a mischievous member of the commonwealth, even though he be not a lier-in-wait?" What is the difference whether the question is, "Did Cato act properly in giving up his wife to Hortensius?" or "Does such a proceeding become a respectable man?" Decision is pronounced concerning the persons, but the dispute concerns the general questions.

1Declamations like those usually pronounced in the schools, if but adapted to real cases and made similar to actual pleadings, are of the greatest service, not only while our education has still to reach maturity (for the exercise is alike both in conception and in arrangement), but even when our studies are said to be completed and have obtained us reputation in the forum. Eloquence is thus nurtured and made florid, as it were, on a richer sort of diet and is refreshed after being fatigued by the constant roughnesses of forensic contests. 1Hence, also, the copious style of history may be tried with advantage for exercising the pen, and we may indulge in the easy style of dialogues. Nor will it be prejudicial to our improvement to amuse ourselves with verse, as athletes, relaxing at times from their fixed rules for food and exercise, recruit themselves with ease and more inviting dainties. 1It was from this cause, as it seems to me, that Cicero threw such a glorious brilliancy over his eloquence that he used freely to ramble in such sequestered walks of study, for if our sole material for thought is derived from law cases, the gloss of our oratory must of necessity be rubbed off, its joints must grow stiff, and the points of its wit be blunted by daily encounters.

1But though this feasting of eloquence refreshes and recruits those who are employed and at war in the field of the forum, young men ought not to be detained too long in fictitious representations and empty semblances of real life to such a degree, I mean, that it would be difficult to familiarize them, when removed from such illusions, to the occupations of the forum. The danger stems from the effect of the retirement in which they have almost wasted away their life that they should shrink from the field of action as from too dazzling sunshine. 1This is said indeed to have been the case with Porcius Latro, who was the first professor of rhetoric of any eminence, so that, when he was called on to plead a cause in the forum, at the time that he bore the highest character in the schools, he used earnestly to entreat that the benches of the judges might be removed into the hall, for so strange did the open sky appear to him that all his eloquence seemed to lie within a roof and walls. 1Let the young man, then, who has carefully learned skill in conception and expression from his teachers (which will not be an endless task if they are able and willing to teach) and who has gained a fair degree of facility by practice, choose some orator, as was the custom among the ancients, whom he may follow and imitate. Let him amend as many trials as possible and be a frequent spectator of the sort of contest for which he is intended. 20. Let him set down cases also in writing, either the same that he has heard pleaded or others, provided that they be on real facts, and let him handle both sides of the question. And as we see in the schools of gladiators, let him exercise himself with arms that will decide contests, as we observed that Brutus did in composing a speech for Milo. This is a much better practice than writing replies to old speeches, as Cestius did to the speech of Cicero on behalf of Milo, though he could not have had a sufficient knowledge of the other side from reading only the defense.

2The young man will thus be sooner qualified for the forum if his master has obliged him to approach his declamations as nearly as possible to reality and to range through all sorts of cases, of which teachers now select only the easiest parts, as most favorable for exhibition. The ordinary hindrances to such variety in cases are the crowd of pupils, the custom of hearing the classes on stated days, and, in some degree, the influence of parents, who count their sons' declamations rather than judge of the merit of them. 2But a good teacher, as I said, I believe, in my first book, will not encumber himself with a greater number of pupils than he can well undertake to teach. He will put a stop to all empty loquacity, allowing everything to be said that concerns the question for decision, but not everything, as some would wish, within the range of possibility. He will relax the stated course for speaking by granting longer time or will permit his pupils to divide their cases into several parts, for one part carefully worked out will be of more service than many only half finished or just attempted. 2Such desultory behaviors causes nothing to be put in its proper place in a speech, and what is introduced at the beginning does not keep within its due bounds, as the young men crowd all the flowers of eloquence into what they are just going to deliver, and from a fear of losing opportunities in the sequel, they throw their commencement into utter confusion.

NEXT to writing is meditation, which indeed derives strength from it and is something between the labor of writing and the trial of our fortune in extemporary speaking. I do not know whether it is more frequently used than either, for we cannot write everywhere and at all times, but there is abundance of time and room for thought. Meditation may in a very few hours embrace all points of the most important causes. When our sleep is broken at night, meditation is aided by the very darkness. Between the different stages in the pleading of a cause, it finds some room to exercise itself and never allows itself to be idle. Nor does it only arrange within its circle the order of things (which would itself be a great assistance to us), but forms an array of words and connects together the whole texture of speech, with such effect that nothing is wanting but to write it down. Indeed, in general, ideas are more firmly fixed in the memory if our attention does not relax its hold on them by trusting too securely to writing.

But we cannot arrive at such power of thought suddenly or even soon. In the first place, a certain form of thinking must be acquired by great practice in writing, a form which may be continually attendant on our meditations. A habit of thinking must then be gradually gained by embracing in our minds a few particulars at first, in such a way that they may be faithfully repeated. Next, by additions so moderate that our task may scarcely feel itself increased, our power of conception must be enlarged and sustained by plenty of exercise. This power, to a great degree, depends on memory, and I shall consequently defer some remarks on it till I enter on that head of my subject. Yet it has already been made apparent that he to whom nature does not obstinately refuse her aid may attain, if assisted only by zealous application, such proficiency that what he has merely meditated, as well as what he has written and learned by heart, may be faithfully expressed in his efforts at oratory. Cicero indeed has acquainted us that among the Greeks, Metrodorus of Scepsis, and Empylus of Rhodes, and Hortensius among our own countrymen, could, when they pleaded a cause, repeat word for word what they had premeditated.

But if by chance, while we are speaking, some glowing thought, suggested on the instant, should spring up in our minds, we must certainly not adhere too superstitiously to that which we have studied, for what we meditate is not to be settled with such nicety that room is not to be allowed for a happy conception of the moment, when thoughts that suddenly arise in our minds are often inserted even in our written compositions. Hence the whole of this kind of exercise must be so ordered that we may easily depart from what we have arranged and easily return to it. Though it is of the first importance to bring with us from home a prepared and precise array of language, it would be the greatest folly to reject the offerings of the moment. Let our premeditation, therefore, be made with such care that fortune, while she is unable to disappoint, may have it in her power to assist us. But it will depend on the strength of our memory, whether what we have embraced in our minds flows forth easily and does not prevent us, while we are anxious and looking back, and relying on no hope but that of recollection, from casting a glance in advance. Otherwise, I should prefer extemporary venturesomeness to premeditation of such unhappy coherence. It has the very worst effect to be turning back in quest of our matter, because, while we are looking for what is in one direction, we are diverted from what is in another, and we derive our thoughts from mere memory rather than from our proper subject. Supposing, too, that we had to depend wholly on premeditation or wholly on the conception of the moment, we know very well that more may be imagined than has been imagined.

BUT the richest fruit of all our study, and the most ample recompense for the extent of our labor, is the faculty of speaking extempore, and he who has not succeeded in acquiring it will do well, in my opinion, to renounce the occupations of the forum and devote his solitary talent of writing to some other employment. For it is scarcely consistent with the character of a man of honor to make a public profession of service to others which may fail in the most pressing emergencies, since it is of no more use than to point out a harbor to a vessel to which it cannot approach unless it be borne along by the gentlest breezes. There arise indeed innumerable occasions where it is absolutely necessary to speak on the instant, as well before magistrates, as on trials that are brought on before the appointed time. If any of these shall occur—I do not say to any one of our innocent fellow-citizens, but to any of our own friends or relatives—is an advocate to stand dumb and, while they are begging for a voice to save them and are likely to be undone if succor is not instantly afforded them, is he to ask time for retirement and silent study till his speech is formed and committed to memory, and his voice and lungs are put in tune? What system of pleading will allow an orator to be unprepared for sudden calls? What is to be done when we have to reply to an opponent? For that which we expected him to say, and in answer to which we composed our speech, often disappoints our anticipations, and the whole aspect of the cause is suddenly changed. Just as the pilot has to alter his course according to the direction of the winds, so must our plan be varied to suit the variation in the cause. What profit does much writing, constant reading, and a long period of life spent in study bring us if there remains with us the same difficulty in speaking that we felt at first? Assuredly, he who has always to encounter the same labor must admit that his past efforts were to no purpose. Not that I make it an object that an orator should prefer to speak extempore; I only wish that he should be able to do so.

This talent we shall most effectually attain by the following means. First of all, let our method of speaking be settled, for no journey can be attempted before we know to what place and by what road we have to go. It is not enough to know what the parts of judicial causes are or how to dispose questions in proper order, though these are certainly points of the highest importance. But we must know what ought to be first, what second, and so on, in each department of a pleading, for different particulars are so connected by nature that they admit no alteration of their order, nor allow anything to be forced between them, without manifest confusion. But he who shall speak according to a certain method will be led forward, most of all, by the series of particulars, as by a sure guide, and hence even persons of but moderate practice will adhere with the greatest ease to the chain of facts in their narratives. They will also know what they want in each portion of a speech and will not look about like persons at a loss; nor will they be distracted by ideas that present themselves from other quarters, nor mix up their speech of ingredients collected from separate spots, like men leaping hither and thither, and resting nowhere. They will likewise have a certain range and limit, which cannot exist without proper division. When they have treated, to the best of their ability, of everything that they had proposed to themselves, they will be sensible that they have come to a termination.

These qualifications depend on art, others on study. Thus we must acquire, as has been already directed, an ample store of the best language. Our style must be so formed by much and diligent composition that even what is poured forth by us unpremeditatedly may present the appearance of having been previously written, so that after having written much, we shall have the power of speaking copiously For it is habit and exercise that chiefly beget facility, and if they are intermitted, even but for a short period, not only will our fluency be diminished, but our mouth may even be closed. Of course, we need such natural activity of mind that we may be arranging what is to follow while we are uttering what is immediately present to our thoughts, and that thought preconceived and put into shape may always be ready for our voice. Yet scarcely could either nature or art fix the mind on such manifold duties as that it should suffice at once for invention, arrangement, delivery, for settling the order of our matter and words, for conceiving what we are uttering, what we must say next, and what is to be contemplated still further on, while its attention is given, at the same time, to our tone, pronunciation, and gesture. Our activity of mind, indeed, must stretch far in advance and drive our subject, as it were, before it. Whatever portion of our matter is consumed in speaking, an equal portion must be brought forward from that which is to follow, so that, until we arrive at the end, our prospect may advance no less than our step, unless, indeed, we are content to stop and stumble at every phrase and throw out short and broken expressions like persons sobbing out what they have to say.

1There is accordingly a certain unreflecting and mechanical habit, which the Greeks call ἄλογος τριβή (alogos tribē), in which the hand runs on in writing and the reading eye sees several lines at once, with their turns and transitions, and perceives what follows before the voice has uttered what precedes. Hence the possibility of those wonderful tricks of performers on the stage with balls and of other jugglers, whose dexterity is such that one might suppose the things which they throw from them to return into their hands of their own accord, and to fly whithersoever they are commanded to go. 1But such habit will be of advantage to us only where the art, of which we spoke, has preceded it, so that that which is done without reflection may yet have its origin in reflection. For he only seems to me to speak who speaks connectedly, elegantly, and fluently; otherwise he appears only to utter noisy gabble. 1Nor shall I ever admire a stream of fortuitous eloquence which I hear in abundance, even among women when they are quarrelling, though it often happens that when ardor and animation carry a speaker along, no study can equal the success of his extemporary efforts. 1When such a flow of language occurred, the old orators, as Cicero observes, used to say that some god had inspired the orator. But the cause of the fluency is evident, for strongly conceived thoughts and images rising fresh in the mind bear us along with uninterrupted rapidity, when they would sometimes, if retarded by the slowness of writing, grow cool and, if put off, would never return. When to this, too, is added an unhappy scrupulousness about words, and the progress of the speaker is thus stopped at every step, the impulse of eloquence can have no free course; and even though his choice of particular words may be extremely happy, the combination of them will proceed with no natural ease, but will appear like the laborious construction of art.

1Those images, therefore, to which I have alluded, and which, I observed, are called ϕαντασίαι (phantasiai) by the Greeks, must be carefully cherished in our minds, and everything on which we intend to speak, every person and every question, and all the hopes and fears likely to be attendant on them, must be kept full before our view, and admitted as it were into our hearts, for it is strength of feeling, combined with energy of intellect, that renders us eloquent. Hence even to the illiterate, words are not wanting if they are but roused by some strong passion. 1Our attention must also be fixed, not merely on any single object, but on several in connection, just as, when we cast our eye along a straight road, we see everything that is on it and about it, commanding a view of not only the end, but the whole way to the end.

1The fear of failure, moreover, and the expectation of praise for what we shall say gives a spur to our exertions, and it may seem strange that though the pen delights in seclusion and shrinks from the presence of a witness, extemporal oratory is excited by a crowd of listeners, as the soldier by the mustering of the standards. For the necessity of speaking expels and urges forth our thoughts, however difficult to be expressed, and the desire to please increases our efforts. So much does everything look to reward that even eloquence, though it has the highest pleasure in the exercise of its own powers, is yet greatly incited by the enjoyment of praise and reputation.

1But let no one feel such confidence in his talents as to hope that this power will come to him as soon as he attempts oratory. As I directed with regard to meditation, in cultivating facility in extemporary speaking, we must advance it by slow degrees, from small beginnings to the highest excellence, but it can neither be acquired nor retained without practice. 1It ought, however, to be attained to such a degree that premeditation, though safer, may not be more effective, since many have had such command of language, not only in prose, but even in verse, as Antipater of Sidon and Licinius Archias (we must rely on Cicero's authority with regard to them both; not that in our own times some have exercised this talent and still exercise it). I mention the acquirement, however, not so much because I think it commendable in itself (for it is of no practical value, nor at all necessary), but because I consider it a useful example for those who wish to be encouraged in attaining such facility and who are preparing for the forum.

20. Nor, again, would I ever wish, for my own part, to have such confidence in my readiness to speak, as not to take at least a short time, which may almost always be had, to consider what I am going to say. Time indeed is always allowed both on trials and in the forum. No one, assuredly, can plead a cause which he has not studied. 2Yet a perverse kind of ambition moves some of our declaimers to profess themselves ready to speak as soon as a case is laid before them, and what is the most vain and theatrical of all their practices, they even ask for a word with which they may commence. But Eloquence, in her turn, derides those who thus insult her, and those who wish to appear learned to fools are decidedly pronounced fools by the learned.

2Yet if any chance shall give rise to such a sudden necessity for speaking extempore, we shall have need to exert our mind with more than its usual activity. We must fix our whole attention on our matter and relax, for the time, something of our care about words, if we find it impossible to attend to both. A slower pronunciation, too, and a mode of speaking with suspense and doubt, as it were, gives time for consideration; yet we must manage so that we may seem to deliberate and not to hesitate. 2We may adhere to this cautious method of delivery as long as we are clearing the harbor, should the wind drive us forward before our tackle is sufficiently prepared. Afterwards, as we proceed on our course, we shall fill our sails and arrange our ropes by degrees, and pray that our canvas may be filled with a prosperous gale. This will be better than to launch forth on an empty torrent of words, so as to be carried away with it as by the blasts of a tempest, whichever way it may wish to sweep us.

2But this talent requires maintenance with no less practice than it is acquired. An art, indeed, once thoroughly learned, is never wholly lost. Even the pen, by disuse, loses but very little of its readiness, while promptitude in speaking, which depends on activity of thought, can be retained only by exercise. Such exercise we may best use by speaking daily in the hearing of several persons, especially those for whose judgment and opinion we have most regard, for it rarely happens that a person is sufficiently severe with himself. Let us however rather speak alone than not speak at all. 2There is also another kind of exercise, that of meditating upon whole subjects and going through them in silent thought (yet so as to speak as it were within ourselves), an exercise which may be pursued at all times and in all places, when we are not actually engaged in any other occupation. It is in some degree more useful than the one which I mentioned before it, for it is more accurately pursued than that in which we are afraid to interrupt the continuity of our speech. Yet the other method, again, contributes more to improve other qualifications, as strength of voice, flexibility of features, and energy of gesture, which of itself, as I remarked, rouses the orator, and, as he waves his hand and stamps his foot, excites him as lions are said to excite themselves by the lashing of their tails.

2But we must study at all times and in all places, for there is scarcely a single one of our days so occupied that some profitable attention may not be hastily devoted during at least some portion of it to writing, or reading, or speaking (as Cicero says that Brutus used to do). Caius Carbo, even in his tent, was accustomed to continue his exercises in oratory. 2Nor must we omit to notice the advice, which is also approved by Cicero, that no portion of even our common conversation should ever be careless, and that whatever we say and wherever we say it should be as far as possible excellent in its kind. As to writing, we must certainly never write more than when we have to speak much extempore, for by the use of the pen, a weightiness will be preserved in our matter, and that light facility of language which swims as it were on the surface will be compressed into a body, as farmers cut off the upper roots of the vine (which elevate it to the surface of the soil) in order that the lower roots may be strengthened by striking deeper. 2And I know not whether both exercises, when we perform them with care and assiduity, are not reciprocally beneficial, as it appears that by writing we speak with greater accuracy, and by speaking we write with greater ease. We must write, therefore, as often as we have opportunity. If opportunity is not allowed us, we must meditate; if we are precluded from both, we must nevertheless endeavor that the orator may not seem to be caught at fault, nor the client left destitute of aid. 30. But it is the general practice among pleaders who have much occupation to write only the most essential parts, and especially the commencements, of their speeches; to fix the other portions that they bring from home in their memory by meditation; and to meet any unforeseen attacks with extemporaneous replies.

That Cicero adopted this method is evident from his own memoranda. But there are also in circulation memoranda of other speakers which have been found, perhaps, in the state in which each had thrown them together when he was going to speak, and they have been arranged in the form of books. Among these, for instance, are the memoranda of the causes pleaded by Servius Sulpicius, three of whose orations are extant; but these memoranda, of which I am now speaking, are so carefully arranged that they appear to me to have been composed by him to be handed down to posterity. 3Those of Cicero, which were intended only for his particular occasions, were collected by his freedman Tiro, and in saying this, I do not speak of them apologetically, as if I did not think very highly of them, but suggest to the contrary that they are more worthy of admiration for that reason.

Under this head, I express my full approbation of short notes and of small memorandum books which may be held in the hand and on which we may occasionally glance. 3But I do not like the method which Laenas recommends, of reducing what we have written into summaries or into short notes and head, for our very dependence on these summaries begets negligence in committing our matter to memory and disconnects and disfigures our speech. I even think that we should not write at all what we design to deliver from memory, for if we do so, it generally happens that our thoughts fix us to the studied portions of our speech and do not allow us to try the fortune of the moment. Thus the mind hangs in suspense and perplexity between the two, having lost sight of what was written, and yet not being at liberty to imagine anything new. For treating on the memory, however, a place is appointed in the next book; but it cannot be immediately subjoined to these remarks because I must speak of some other matters previously.

HAVING acquired, as is stated in the preceding book, the ability of writing and thinking, as well as of speaking extempore when necessity requires, our next study must be to speak with aptitude, an excellence which Cicero shows to be the fourth in elocution and which is indeed, in my opinion, the most important of all. For as the dress of oratory is various and manifold, and different forms of it are suited to different subjects, it will, unless it be thoroughly adapted to things and persons, not only not add luster to our eloquence, but will even destroy the force of it and give to our efforts an effect contrary to that which we intended. Of what avail will it be that our language is pure Latin—that it is expressive, elegant, adorned with figures, and harmoniously arranged—unless it is also adapted to establish the conclusions to which we wish the judge to be led and confirmed? Of what service will our eloquence be if we adopt a grand style in trivial causes, a poor and constrained style in such as are of high moment, a florid style on grave subjects, a calm style when forcible argument is necessary, a menacing style in deprecation, a submissive style in spirited discussions, and a fierce and violent mode of speaking on topics intended to please? The same kind of result would be produced as when men are disfigured with necklaces, pearls, and long robes, which are the ornaments of women, while a triumphal habit (than which nothing can be imagined to add greater majesty to men) is to women but an unbecoming encumbrance.

Cicero briefly touches on this subject in the third book of de Oratore, and yet he may be thought not to have omitted anything when he says that one kind of style cannot suit every cause, or every auditor, or every character, or every occasion. In his Orator he expresses the same remark in a not much greater number of words. But in the de Oratore, Lucius Crassus, as he is addressing himself to eminent orators and men of great learning, thinks it sufficient to intimate his opinion to those who acknowledged the justice of it. In the Orator, too, Cicero himself, addressing Brutus, remarks that what he says is well known to him and that consequently the subject is noticed by him but cursorily, though it is one of great amplitude and has been treated at great length by the philosophers. I, however, undertaking to form an orator, communicate these precepts not only to those who know, but to those who are learning, and therefore indulgence must be allowed me if I enter into the subject more fully.

It must be understood, then, above all things, that kinds of style are proper for conciliating, instructing, and exciting the judge, and what objects we contemplate in the several parts of our speech. We shall then neither use obsolete, nor metaphorical, nor newly-coined words in our exordium, statement of facts, or series of arguments; nor shall we indulge in flowing periods of studied elegance when our cause is to be divided and distinguished into parts; nor shall we choose a low and ordinary sort of style, and of a loose texture, for our peroration; nor, when we ought to excite pity, shall we dry up the tears of our audience with jests. For the effect of all ornament depends not so much on its own nature as on that of the object to which it is applied; nor is it of more importance what you say than where you say it. But the whole art of speaking with propriety depends not merely on our choice of language, but has much also in common with invention of matter, for if mere words have so much power, how much greater power must thoughts have? What was necessary to be remarked, however, with regard to thoughts, I have noticed, from time to time, in the proper places.

It cannot be too earnestly inculcated that no one can speak with aptitude and propriety unless he considers not only what is to the purpose, but also what is becoming. Nor am I ignorant that these two qualities of speaking are mostly united, for what is becoming is generally to the purpose. Nor are the minds of judges conciliated by anything more than by the observance of decorum, or alienated by anything more than by violations of it. The two, however, are sometimes at variance, and, when they are so, that which is becoming will be allowed the preference over that which is merely serviceable, for who does not know that nothing would have been of greater service in procuring an acquittal for Socrates than the adoption of the ordinary mode of defense on trials, the conciliation of the favor of the judges by a submissive address to them, and the careful refutation of the charges brought against him? But such a course would have been unbecoming to Socrates, and he therefore pleaded like a man who thought himself deserving, not of punishment, but of the highest honors, for wisest of men as he was, he preferred that what remained of his life should be lost rather than that portion of it which was past. Since he was not sufficiently understood by the men of his day, he committed himself to the judgment of posterity, and purchased, by the sacrifice of a short portion of extreme old age, a life that will last forever. 1Though Lysias, therefore, who was esteemed the most accomplished orator of the time, offered him a defense ready written, he declined making use of it, saying that though he thought it good, he did not consider that it would become him. From this example, without having recourse to any other, it is evident that the end to be kept in view by the orator is not persuasion, but speaking well, since to persuade would sometimes be dishonorable. The conduct of Socrates was not conducive to his acquittal, but what was of greater importance was honorable to his character as a man.

1I myself, in making this distinction and separating utility from decorum, speak rather in conformity with the common way of speaking than according to the strictness of truth. Or are we to suppose that the first Scipio Africanus, who chose rather to banish himself from his country than to maintain his integrity against the charges of a mean tribune of the people, acted disadvantageously for his honor? Or that Publius Rutilius, either when he adopted his almost Socratic kind of defense or when he preferred to remain in exile at the time that Publius Sylla recalled him, was ignorant of what was most proper for him? 1These great men thought that the trivial considerations which abject minds regard as of so much importance are to be despised in comparison with true honor, and consequently, they are distinguished by the perpetual admiration of all ages. Nor let us indulge in so abject a way of thinking as to consider that what we allow to be honorable may be unprofitable. 1But any occasion for this distinction, such as it is, very seldom occurs, since in every kind of cause, as I observed, whatever is advantageous will generally be becoming.

It is becoming to all persons, at all times, and in all places, to act and speak honorably, while on the contrary, it is becoming to no person, at any time or in any place, to act and speak dishonorably. But matters of less importance, and that hold a middle place between the two, are generally of such a kind that they are lightly regarded by some and more seriously by others, and they must appear either more or less excusable, or more or less reprehensible, according to character, time, place, or motive. 1And as in pleading, we speak either of what concerns others or what concerns ourselves, we must make a just distinction between the two, provided we bear in mind that there are many things improper to be brought forward in either case.

Above all things, every kind of self-laudation is unbecoming, and especially praise of his own eloquence from an orator, as it not only gives offense to his audience, but generally creates in them even a dislike towards him 1Our mind has in it something naturally sublime and haughty, and is impatient of a superior. Hence, we willingly raise the humble, or those who submit to us, because when we do so, we appear to ourselves greater than they. When rivalry is absent, benevolence finds a place in us, but he who unreasonably exalts himself seems to depress and despise us, yet not to make himself greater so much as to try to make others less. 1Hence his inferiors envy him (for envy is the vice of those who are unwilling to yield, though unable to oppose), his superiors deride him, and the judicious censure him. In general, too, we find, that the opinion of the arrogant concerning themselves is unfounded, while to persons of real merit, the consciousness of merit is sufficient.

In this respect, Cicero has been censured to no small degree, although in his speeches, he was much more of a boaster of what he had done than of his abilities in speaking. 1Indeed, he uttered such boasts, for the most part, not without much appearance of reason, for he had either to defend those whose aid he had received in suppressing the conspiracy of Catiline, or he had to justify himself against popular odium, which he was so far from being able to withstand that he had to go into exile as a punishment for having saved his country, so that frequent allusions to achievements in his consulship may be thought to have been made less from vanity than for self-defense. 1At the same time that he allowed a full measure of eloquence to the pleaders on the opposite side, he never claimed in his speeches any immoderate share of it to himself; he says, "If there is any ability in me, judges, and I am sensible how little there is, etc.,"and, "The more I feel my inability, the more diligently have I endeavored to make amends for it by application, etc." 20. Even in contending against Quintus Caecilius about the appointment of an accuser of Verres, though it was of great importance which of the two should appear the better qualified for pleading, he rather detracted from Caecilius's talent in speaking than assumed any superiority in it to himself, saying not that he had attained eloquence, but that he had done everything in his power to attain it. 2It is only at times in his letters, when he is writing familiarly to his friends, and occasionally in his Dialogues, under another person's character, that he does justice to his own eloquence.

Yet I know not whether open self-applause is not more tolerable, even from the very undisguisedness of the offense, than the hypocritical boastfulness of those who speak of themselves as poor when they abound with wealth, as obscure when they are of high rank, as weak when they have great influence, as ignorant and incapable of speaking when they are possessed of great eloquence. 2It is an ostentatious kind of vanity to speak thus ironically of ourselves. Let us be content, therefore, to be praised by others, for it becomes us, as Demosthenes says, to blush even when we hear other men's commendations of ourselves. I do not say that an orator may not sometimes speak of what he has done, as Demosthenes himself did in his defense of Ctesiphon, but he so qualified what he said, as to show that he was under the necessity of saying it, and to throw the odium of it on him who forced him to say it. 2So Cicero, though he often speaks of the suppression of Catiline's conspiracy, attributes it sometimes to the meritorious efforts of the senate, sometimes to the providence of the immortal gods. In speaking against his enemies and calumniators, indeed, he generally vindicates his claim to greater merit, for when charges were brought against his conduct, it was for him to justify it. 2In his verses, I wish he had been more modest, since the malicious have never ceased to remark upon his

Cedant arma togae, concedat laurea linguae,

To gowns let arms succumb, and laurel crowns
To eloquence,
and

O fortunatam natam me consule Romam,

O happy Rome, that found new life when I
Was consul!
and his Jupiter, by whom he is called to the assembly of the gods, and his Minerva, who taught him her arts. These were extravagances in which, after the example of some of the Greeks, he allowed himself to indulge.

2But though to boast of eloquence is unbecoming in an orator, yet to express confidence in himself is sometimes allowable, for who would blame such remarks as these: "What am I to think? That I am despised? But I do not see what there is, either in my life, or in the favor which I experience, or in what I have done, or in my moderate share of ability, for Antony to despise." 2Or as he expresses himself, a little afterwards, with somewhat more boldness: "Would he wish to engage with me in a contest of eloquence? He would then confer an obligation on me, for what ampler field, what more copious subject could I desire, than the opportunity of speaking on behalf of myself and against Antony?"

2Those speakers are arrogant who assert that they have convinced themselves of the goodness of their cause, or otherwise they would not have undertaken it, for judges listen with unwillingness to a pleader who anticipates their decision. That which was granted to Pythagoras by his disciples, that his Ipse duxit should settle a question, is not likely to be allowed to an advocate by his opponents. 2But confidence in speakers will be more or less blamable according to their characters, for it is sometimes justified by their age, dignity, or authority, and yet these will hardly be so great in any orator as not to require that his dependence on them should be tempered with some degree of modesty, as must be the case in all particulars in which a pleader draws arguments from his own person. It would have been somewhat too arrogant, perhaps, if Cicero had denied, when he was defending himself, that to be the son of a Roman knight ought to be made a ground of accusation against him. But he turned the charge even in his favor, by identifying his own dignity with that of his judges and saying, "But that I am the son of a Roman knight should assuredly never have been alleged as a reproach against me by the accusers in any cause, while you are trying it and while I am defending it before you."

2An impudent, noisy, and angry tone is unbecoming in all speakers, but the more remarkable a speaker is for age, dignity, or experience, the more blamable he is if he adopts it. Yet we see some wranglers held under no restraint, either by respect for the judges, or by regard to the forms and practices of pleading, and from this very character of their mind, it is evident that they have no consideration for their honor either in undertaking causes or in pleading them. 30. For men's speech is generally an indication of their disposition and lays open the secrets of their minds. It is not without reason that the Greeks have made it a proverb that "As a man lives, so also he speaks." There are faults also of a still meaner nature: grovelling adulation, studied buffoonery, disregard of modesty in respect to things or words of an offensive or indecent kind, and violations of dignity on all occasions, faults which are oftenest seen in those who are too anxious either to please or to amuse.

3All kinds of oratory, too, are not alike suitable to all speakers.

Thus a copious, lofty, bold, and florid style would not be becoming to old men as one that is close, mild, and precise, such a one as Cicero wished us to understand when he said that his style was growing grey, just as that age, also, is not adapted for wearing garments gleaming with purple and scarlet. 3In young men, on the other hand, an exuberant and somewhat daring style is well received, while a dry, circumspect, and concise manner of speaking is offensive in them from its very affectation of gravity. As in regard to manners, the austerity of old men is considered as quite premature in the young.

3A plain style suits military men. To those who make an ostentatious profession of philosophy, as some do, most of the embellishments of speech are by no means becoming, and especially those which have reference to the passions, which they regard as vices. Extraordinary elegance of diction, too, and studied harmony of periods, are altogether foreign to their pursuits. 3Not only florid expressions, such as these of Cicero, "Rocks and deserts respond to the voice of the poet," but even those of a more vigorous and forcible character, such as, "I now implore and attest you, you, I say, O Alban hills and qroves, and you, O dismantled altars of the Albans, united and coeval with the religion of the people of Rome," are utterly unsuited to the beard and solemnity of the philosopher. 3But the man who is desirous of civil distinction, the man of sound sense who devotes himself not to idle disputations, but to the management of public affairs from which those who call themselves philosophers have as far as possible withdrawn themselves, will freely use whatever ornaments of style may tend to effect the object which he has in view when he speaks, having previously resolved in his mind not to recommend anything but what is honorable.

3There is a style of oratory that becomes princes, but that others would hardly be allowed to assume. Also, the mode of speaking suited to military commanders and eminent conquerors is to a great degree distinct from that of other men. In this kind of style, Pompey was an extremely eloquent narrator of his exploits, and Cato, who killed himself in the civil war, was an able speaker in the senate. 3The same language will often be characterized as freedom in one person, folly in another, and pride in a third. The reproaches addressed by Thersites to Agamemnon are regarded with derision, but put them into the mouth of Diomede or any one of his equals, they will exhibit only greatness of spirit. "Should I regard you as a consul," said Lucius Crassus to Philippus, "when you do not regard me as a senator?" This is the language of a noble magnanimity, yet we should not think it proper for everyone to utter it. 3Some one of the poets says that he does not care much whether Caesar were a black man or a white; this is folly. However, had Caesar used the same expression with regard to the poet, it would have been pride.

There is great regard paid to character among the tragic and comic poets, for they introduce a variety of persons accurately distinguished. Similar discrimination used to be observed by those who wrote speeches for others, and it is observed by declaimers, for we do not always declaim as pleaders of a cause, but very frequently as parties concerned in it.

3But even in the causes in which we plead as advocates, the same difference should be carefully observed, for we often take upon ourselves the character of others and speak, as it were, with other persons' mouths. We must exhibit in those to whom we adapt our voice their exact peculiarities of manner. Publius Clodius is represented as speaking in one way, Appius Caecus in another; the father in the comedy of Caecilius is made to express himself in one style, the father in the comedy of Terence in another. 40. What could be more brutal than the words of the lictor of Verres, "To see him, you must pay so much"? What could be more magnanimous than the behavior of the Roman from whom the only exclamation heard, amidst all the tortures of scourging, was, "I am a Roman citizen"? How suitable is the language used in the peroration of the speech for Milo, to a man who, in defense of the commonwealth, had so often curbed a seditious citizen and who had, at last, triumphed over his plots by valor? 4Not only, indeed, are there as many various points to be observed in prosopopeiae as in the cause itself, but even more, as in them we assume the characters of children, women, nations, and even of voiceless objects. In regard to all of them, propriety must be observed. 4The same care is to be taken with respect to those for whom we plead, for in speaking for different characters, we must often adopt different styles, according to whether our client is of high or low station, popular or unpopular, noting, at the same time, the difference in their principles of action and in their past lives. As to the orator himself, the qualities that will recommend him most are courtesy, mildness, good temper, and benevolence. But qualities of an opposite kind will sometimes be very becoming in a speaker of high moral character, as he may testify hatred of the wicked, concern on behalf of the public, and zeal for the punishment of offenses and crimes. Indeed, as I said at first, every kind of honorable sentiment will become him.

4Nor is it important only what our own character is and for whom we plead, but to whom we address ourselves, for rank and power make a great difference, and the same manner of speaking is not equally proper before a prince, a magistrate, a senator, and a private person or a mere free citizen. Nor are public trails and discussions on private affairs before arbiters conducted in the same tone. 4For if an orator were pleading in a capital cause, then anxiety, care, and every engine set to work, as it were, for strengthening argument would be becoming in proportion. But in cases and trials of smaller moment, such solicitude would be but foolish, and he would be justly ridiculed who, sitting to speak before an umpire on some unimportant question, should make a declaration like that of Cicero, that he was not only disturbed in mind, but that he felt a trembling through his whole frame. 4Who, indeed, does not know that the gravity of the senate demands one sort of eloquence, and the levity of a popular assembly another, when, even before single judges, the same mode of address that suits serious characters is not adapted to those of a lighter cast? The same manner that is proper in speaking to a man of learning is improper in speaking to a military or uneducated man, and our language must sometimes be lowered and qualified, lest the judge should be unable to comprehend or see the tenor of it?.

4Time and place also require a due degree of observation. The occasion on which an orator speaks may be one of seriousness or one of rejoicing; the time allowed him may be unlimited or limited; and to all such circumstances his speech must be adapted. 4It makes a great difference, too, whether we speak in a public or private place, in one that is populous or unfrequented in a foreign city or in our own, in a camp or in the forum. Each of these places requires its own peculiar form and style of eloquence, as even in other affairs of life, the same mode of proceeding is not equally suitable in the forum, the senate, the Campus Martius, the theatre, and in our own houses. Many things which are not reprehensible in their own nature and are sometimes absolutely necessary are counted unseemly if done in any other place than where custom authorizes.

4I have already observed how much more elegance and refinement demonstrative topics, as being intended to give pleasure to an audience, admit than those of a deliberative and judicial character, which are conducted in a tone of business and argument. To this is also to be added that many eminent excellences of oratory are rendered unsuitable to certain causes by their very nature. 4Would anyone endure to hear an accused person in danger of losing his life, especially if pleading for himself before his conqueror or his sovereign, indulge in frequent metaphors, in words either of his own coining or studiously fetched from remote antiquity, in a style as far removed as possible from common usage, in flowing periods and florid common places, and fine thoughts? Would not all such elegances destroy that appearance of solicitude natural to a man in peril and deprive him of the aid of pity, which is necessary to be sought, even by the innocent? 50. Would anyone be moved at the fate of him, whom, in so perilous a situation, he should see swelling with vanity and self-conceit and making an ambitious display of oratory? Would he not rather feel alienated from a man who, under an accusation, should hunt for words, feel anxiety about his reputation for talent, and consider himself at leisure to be eloquent? 5This Marcus Caelius seems to me to have admirably shown when he defended himself on his trial for an assault, saying, "Lest to any one of you, judges, or to any of all those here to plead against me, any look of mine should seem offensive, or any expression too presumptuous, or, what is the least however of the three, any gesture at all arrogant, etc." 5Some pleadings consist wholly in pacifying, deprecating, and making confession, and ought we to weep in fine thoughts? Will epiphonemata or enthymemes prevail upon judges? Will not whatever is superadded to genuine feeling diminish its whole force and dispel compassion by an appearance of unconcern? 5If a father has to demand justice for the death of his son or for some wrong done to him worse than death, will he, instead of being content with giving a brief and direct statement of the matter, study that grace of delivery in his narrative which depends on the use of pure and perspicuous language? Will he count his arguments upon his fingers, aim at exact nicety in his propositions and divisions, and deliver himself, as is commonly the case in those parts of speeches, without the least manifestation of feeling? 5Whither, in the meantime, will his grief have fled? How have his tears been dried? Whence has so calm a regard to the precepts of art proceeded? Will not his speech be rather a prolonged groan, from the exordium to the last word, and will not the same look of sadness be invariably maintained by him if he wishes to transfuse a portion of his own sorrowful feeling into the breasts of his audience, a feeling which, if once abated, he will never revive in them? 5By those learning to declaim (for I feel no reluctance to look back to what was formerly my own employment and to think of the benefit of the youth once under my care), these proprieties ought to be observed with the utmost strictness, inasmuch as there are exhibited, in the schools, the feelings of a great variety of characters, which we take upon ourselves, not as pleaders for others, but as if we had actually experienced what we say. 5For example, cases of the following kind are frequently supposed, in which persons request of the senate leave to put themselves to death, either on account of some great misfortune or from remorse for some crime. In such cases, it is not only unbecoming to adopt a chanting tone, a fault which has become universal, or to indulge in fine language, but it is improper even to pursue a train of argument, unless feeling, indeed, be mixed with it, and mixed to such a degree that it may predominate over proof. For he who in pleading can intermit his grief may be thought capable of laying it aside altogether.

5I know not, however, whether the observance of the decorum of which we are speaking should not be maintained with even more scrupulosity towards those against whom we plead than towards others, for we should undoubtedly make it our care, in every case of accusation, to appear to have engaged in it with reluctance. Hence I am extremely offended with the remark of Cassius Severus, "Good gods, I am alive, and I see, what may well give me pleasure to be alive. Asprenas in the condition of a criminal." Severus may be thought to have accused him, not from any just or necessary cause, but for the pleasure of being his accuser. 5In addition to this observance of what is becoming, too, which is common to all cases, certain subjects require a peculiar tenderness of management. Thus the son, who shall apply for the appointment of a guardian over his father's property, ought to testify concern at his father's unsoundness of mind, and a father who brings charges, however grievous, against his son ought to show that the necessity of doing so is the greatest affliction to him. This feeling he should exhibit, not in a few words only, but through the whole texture of his speech, so that he may appear to speak not only with his lips, but from the bottom of his heart. 5A guardian, also, if his ward makes allegations against him, should never manifest towards him resentment of such a nature that traces of affection and sacred regard for the memory of his father may not be apparent through it. I have remarked, I believe, in the seventh book, how a cause ought to be pleaded by a son against a father who renounces him, and by a husband against a wife who accuses him of ill-treating her; and the fourth book, in which directions are given respecting the exordium, shows when we may properly plead our own cause and when we should employ the services of an advocate.

60. No one can doubt that there may be something becoming, or something offensive, in mere words. A remark, therefore, seems necessary to be added with reference to a point certainly of extreme difficulty: the consideration, namely, of how these things which are by no means inviting in their nature and of which, if choice were allowed us, we had rather not speak, may nevertheless be expressed by us without indecorum. 6What can wear a more disagreeable aspect, or what are the ears of men more unwilling to hear, than a case in which a son, or the advocates of a son, have to plead against a mother? Yet such pleading is sometimes necessary, as in the cause of Cluentius Habitus, though it need not always be conducted in the same way as Cicero has chosen in speaking against Sassia. I say this not because he did not proceed with the greatest judgment, but because it is important to consider, in reference to the particular case, in what respect and by what means the mother has sought to commit injury. 6As she had attempted the life of her son openly, Sassia deserved to be assailed with great severity. Yet Cicero admirably managed two points that required particular attention: the first, not to forget the reverence due to parents, and the second, to demonstrate most carefully, by going far back into causes, that what he was to say against the mother was not only proper, but absolutely necessary. 6Accordingly, his first object was to show the propriety of his mode of proceeding, though it had no immediate bearing on the question in hand, so much was he convinced, in so delicate and difficult a cause, that the first consideration should be what was due to decorum. Thus he made the name "mother" cast odium, not upon the son, but upon her against whom he spoke.

6However, a mother may sometimes be opposed to her son in a case of less seriousness or bitterness, and a more gentle and submissive tone of pleading, on behalf of the son, will then be proper, for by showing a readiness to make all due satisfaction, we shall lessen any ill feeling that may arise against ourselves and may even divert it to the opposite party. If it is manifest that the son is deeply concerned at being obliged to appear against his mother, it will be believed that the fault is not on his side, and he will at once become an object of compassion. 6It will be well, too, to throw the blame of the proceeding on other parties, that it may be thought to have had its origin in their malice, and to protest that we will endure to the utmost and make no harsh reply, so that if we have, in fact, no opportunity of showing bitterness, we may appear to have intentionally abstained from it. If any point, again, has to be urged against the mother, it is the duty of the son's advocate to make it appear that he urges it, not with his client's consent, but because the interest of his cause compels him. Thus both the son and his advocate may gain praise.

What I have said with respect to a mother may be regarded as equally applicable to either parent, for I am aware that lawsuits sometimes occur between fathers and sons after emancipation has taken place. 6In opposing other relatives, also, we must take care that we are thought to have spoken against them unwillingly, from necessity, and with forbearance, and this solicitude should be greater or less according to the respect due to each particular person. The same moderation should be observed in speaking for freedmen against their patrons. To say much in a few words, it will never be seemly to plead against such persons in a style which we should be extremely displeased to find men of that condition adopt against ourselves.

6The same consideration must at times be shown in opposing personages of great dignity, and some justification must be offered for the liberty which we assume, lest anyone should think that we, in wounding them, indulge a wanton inclination or gratify our vanity. Though Cicero had to speak with the utmost severity against Cotta, since the case of Publius Oppius could not otherwise have been pleaded, he yet apologized, in a long preface, for the necessity of doing his duty. 6Sometimes, too, it may be proper to spare or deal gently with persons of an inferior condition, especially if they are young. Cicero observes such moderation in speaking for Caelius against Atratinus, appearing not to attack him like an adversary, but almost to admonish him like a father, for he was both of noble birth and a youth, and had come forward to accuse Caelius not without just ground for complaint.

But there may be comparatively little difficulty in moderating our conduct towards those to whom proofs of our forbearance are to be made apparent to the judge or the rest of the audience. In cases where we fear to offend those in opposition to whom we plead, we may feel greater embarrassment. 6Two antagonists of that kind were opposed to Cicero, when he was pleading for Muraena, in the persons of Marcus Cato and Servius Sulpicius. Yet how delicately does he deny Sulpicius, after allowing him all other merits, the art of successfully standing for the consulship! What else could make a man of noble birth and of high reputation for legal knowledge admit defeat with less regret? How ably has he stated his reasons for undertaking the defense of Muraena, when he says that he supported the claims of Sulpicius against the election of Muraena to office, but that he should not have thought himself justified in not defending Muraena against a capital accusation! 70. With how gentle a touch, too, has he handled Cato! After testifying the highest admiration for his character, he proceeds to represent it as having become hardened in some points, not through his own fault, but through that of the sect of the Stoics, so that we might suppose there had occurred between them, not a judicial contest, but a philosophical discussion. 7It is certainly, then, the best of rules and the surest of all precepts to follow the example of the illustrious orator and, when you wish to deny a person any particular excellence without offending him, to grant him every other good quality, observing that in this respect alone is he less judicious than in others and adding, if possible, the reason why such is the case, such as that he has been a little too obstinate, credulous, or angry, or that he is incited by other persons. 7This may serve for a common mode of qualifying our language in all such cases, if there appear, through the whole course of our argument, a regard not only to what is honorable, but to what is kind. There should also seem to be the best of reasons for what we say, and we should express ourselves, not only with moderation, but as if under the compulsion of necessity.

7It is a different case from this, but not so difficult, when we are obliged to commend certain acts of persons otherwise of ill repute or objects of dislike to us, for we must praise that which deserves praise in whatever character it be found. Cicero pleaded for Gabinius and Publius Vatinius, men who had previously been his greatest enemies, and against whom he had even written orations. But the course which he adopted is justified by his declaration that he was anxious, not about his reputation for ability, but about his honor. 7His proceeding on the trial of Cluentius was attended with greater difficulty, as he was obliged to assert the guilt of Scamander, whose cause he had pleaded before. But he extricates himself from his embarrassment most gracefully, alleging in his defense the importunity of those by whom Scamander had been introduced to him, and his own extreme youth. Otherwise, he would have greatly injured his reputation if he had made himself appear to be one who would rashly undertake the defense of the guilty, especially in so suspicious a cause.

7In speaking before a judge who is adverse to the cause which we have undertaken, either from regard to another person's interest or his own, it may be very difficult to convince him, but the proper mode of addressing him is very clear: we must represent that through confidence in his justice, we have no fear for our cause. We must also stimulate him to respect his honor, observing that his integrity and conscientiousness will be the more celebrated the less he consults his resentment or private interest in forming his decision. 7We may proceed in the same manner, also, before judges from whom we have appealed, if we should be sent back to them again, alleging some plea of necessity, if it be consistent with our cause, or of error or suspicion. The safest mode, however, is to express repentance and to offer atonement for our fault, and we must render the judge, by every artifice in our power, afraid of incurring disgrace by sacrificing our cause to his resentment.

7The cause upon which a judge has already given a decision, may sometimes happen, from particular circumstances, to come before him again, and he may have to try it a second time. In such a case, it is common to observe that we should not have entered on a discussion of his sentence before any other judge, as it ought to be reversed only by himself, but that certain particulars in the affair were unknown to us (if the nature of the cause allows us to say so), that witnesses were wanting, or (what must be advanced with great caution, and only if nothing else can be urged) that the pleaders did not fully discharge their duty. 7Even if we have to plead a cause a second time, too, before other judges, as in a second suit for the liberty of an individual, or of cases that come before a second section of the centumviri after our side has been defeated, it will be most proper, whenever it is practicable, to express respect for the opinion of the former judges, a point on which I have spoken more fully in the part where I have treated of proofs.

7It may happen, also, that we may have to censure in others what we have done ourselves, just as Tubero makes it a charge against Ligarius that he was in Africa. Likewise, some who have been found guilty of bribery have brought others to trial for the same crime, for the sake of recovering their position as citizens, and in the declamations of the schools, a young man who is himself extravagant accuses his father of extravagance. For my own part, I do not see how such proceedings can be plausibly conducted, unless there is discovered something that makes a difference in the two cases, such as character, age, circumstances, motives, place, or intention. 80. Tubero pleads that he was a young man when he went to Africa with his father, who was sent there by the senate, not to take part in the war, but to buy corn. He said he withdrew from his father's party as soon as he found opportunity, but that Ligarius, on the contrary, persevered in his course and kept on the side, not of Pompey (between Ceasar and whom there was a contest for the chief power, though both of them wished well to their country), but of Juba and the Africans, who were the greatest enemies to the Roman people. 8It is indeed very easy to impute guilt to others when we own ourselves guilty; but this is the part of an informer, not of a pleader, and if no ground of excuse is available, contrition is the only thing that can recommend us to favor, for he may be thought to have sufficiently corrected himself who has been led into detestation of the errors which he has committed. Some characters, however, may offer such censure, not inexcusably, from the very nature of the matter to which it refers, as when a father disinherits a son, the offspring of a harlot, because he has married a harlot. 8This is a suppositious case in the schools, but it is a case that may really happen, and the father may offer many arguments not unbecomingly in justification of his conduct, such as that it is the wish of all parents to have children of higher character than themselves (since if he had a daughter instead of a son, her mother, though a harlot, would have desired her to be chastely brought up); that he himself was of a humbler condition (supposing that he can fairly say this); that he had no father to admonish him; 8that his son should have been the less willing to form such a union so that he might not revive the disgrace of his family and reproach his father with his marriage, and his mother with the distresses of the early part of her life, and that he might not give a precedent of such a marriage for his own children to follow. Some glaring turpitude, also, may be supposed in the character of the son's mistress, on which his father cannot now look with indulgence. I omit other arguments, for I am not now composing a declamation, only showing that a pleader may sometimes make advantageous use even of circumstances that appear to be strongly against him. 8It is a greater embarrassment to an advocate when he has to complain of things that he is ashamed to mention, such as corporeal dishonor, especially in reference to males, or other outrages. I say nothing of the possibility of the sufferer speaking for himself, for what else would become him but to groan, weep, and express detestation of life, leaving the judge rather to divine his grief than to hear it stated? But the advocate will also have to exhibit similar feelings, since this kind of injury causes more shame to those who endure it than to those who inflict it.

8Asperity of language, when a speaker feels inclined to indulge in it, must, in most cases, be tempered with a mixture of another tone, such as Cicero adopted in pleading for the children of the proscribed. What, indeed, could be more cruel than that men descended from honorable fathers and forefathers should be excluded from places of honor in the state? Accordingly, that great master of the art of swaying the minds of mankind is obliged to assert that it is a very severe law; but he remarks, at the same time, that the constitution of the state was so essentially upheld by the laws of Sylla that if they were repealed, it could no longer stand, and thus he succeeded in saying something in apology for those against whom he had to plead.

8In speaking on the subject of raillery, I observed how unseemly it is to reproach a person with his condition of life, and that we should not make wanton attacks upon whole classes of men, or entire nations or people. But sometimes the duty of our advocate absolutely obliges him to make some remarks on the general character of some particular description of people, as that of freedmen, soldiers, tax collectors, and the like. 8In all such cases, it is a common way of qualifying our observations, to represent that we advert with reluctance to points that must give pain, and we must not assail all points in their character indiscriminately, but only that which it is our business to attack, and while we censure that particular, we must make some compensation by encomiums on others. 8Thus we may say that soldiers are certainly rapacious, but we may add that such a quality in their character is by no means wonderful, as they think that greater rewards are due to them than to other men for the dangers to which they expose themselves and the blood which they lose in defense of their country. We may acknowledge, also, that they are inclined to quarrelling, but may say that this is a natural consequence of their greater familiarity with war than with peace. We may have to detract from the credit of freedmen, but we may at the same time bear testimony to their industry, by which they have released themselves from servitude. 8As to foreign nations, Cicero affords us various examples of the modes in which we may deal with them. When he has to invalidate the veracity of some Greek witnesses, he allows the Greeks eminence in knowledge and learning, and professes himself a great admirer of that nation. He affects contempt for the Sardinians, he inveighs against the Allobroges as enemies, but none of his remarks, when they were made, appeared at all impertinent or at variance with decorum.

90. If there is anything offensive in a matter of which we have to speak, it may be softened by moderation in the terms which we apply to it. We may say that cruelty in a man's character is too great a severity; that a person who has acted unjustly has been misled by the persuasion of others, and that an obstinate man is somewhat tenacious of his opinion. In many cases we may endeavor to overcome our adversaries by reasoning, which is the most gentle of all modes of contention.

9To these observations I may add that whatever is in excess is indecorous, and hence even that which in itself is well adapted to our purpose loses all its grace if it is not under the control of moderation. An estimation of what is right on this point should be formed by the exercise of our own judgment rather than commuicated by precepts. We must endeavor to conceive how much may be sufficient and to how much our audience is likely to listen with gratification, for such particulars do not admit of weight and measure because, as is the case with different kinds of food, some satiate more than others.

think it proper to add, briefly, that very different excellences in speaking have not only their admirers, but are often extolled by the same person. Cicero, in one passage of his writings, says the best style is that which the hearer thinks he can easily imitate but cannot, and in another place that his goal was not to speak so that everyone would feel confident of being able to speak as such, but that no one would. 9One of these positions may appear to contradict the other, but both are praised and with good reason: for differences in style arise from difference in the nature of subjects, since simplicity and the negligence, as it were, of an unaffected manner are extremely suitable to inferior causes, while a grander species of oratory is better adapted to those of more importance. Cicero excels in both. The inexperienced may think that they can easily acquire one of them; the experienced will despair of acquiring either.

SOME have thought memory to be a mere gift of nature, and to nature, doubtless, it is chiefly owing. But it is strengthened, like all our other faculties, by exercise, and all the study of the orator of which we have been speaking is ineffectual unless the other departments of it be held together by memory as by an animating principle. All knowledge depends on memory, and we shall be taught to no purpose if whatever we hear escapes from us. It is the power of memory that brings before us those multitudes of precedents, laws, judgments, sayings, and facts of which an orator should always have an abundance and which he should always be ready to produce. Accordingly, memory is called, not without reason, the treasury of eloquence.

But for those who are to plead, it is necessary not only to retain multitudes of particulars firmly in the memory, but also to have a quick conception of them, not only to remember what they have written after repeated perusals, but to observe the order of thoughts and words even in what they have merely meditated, and to recollect the statements of the adverse party, not necessarily with a view to refute them in the order in which they have been advanced, but to notice each of them in the most suitable place. The ability of speaking extempore seems to me to depend on no other faculty of the mind than this, for while we are uttering one thought, we have to consider what we are to say next, and thus, while the mind is constantly looking forward beyond its immediate object, whatever it finds in the meantime it deposits in the keeping, as it were, of the memory, which, receiving it from the conception, transmits it, as an instrument of intercommunication, to the delivery.

I do not think that I need to dwell on consideration of what it is that constitutes memory. Most, however, are of opinion that certain impressions are stamped on the mind, as the signets of rings are marked on wax. But I shall not be so credulous as to believe that the memory may be rendered duller or more retentive by the condition of the body. I would rather content myself with expressing my admiration of its powers as they affect the mind, so that by its influence, old ideas, revived after a long interval of forgetfulness, suddenly start up and present themselves to us, not only when we endeavor to recall them, but even of their own accord, not only when we are awake, but even when we are sunk in sleep. This peculiarity is the more wonderful, as even the inferior animals that are thought to lack understanding, remember and recognize things, and however far they may be taken from their usual abodes, they still return to them again. Is it not a surprising inconsistency that what is recent should escape the memory and what is old should retain its place in it? That we should forget what happened yesterday, and yet remember the acts of our childhood? That things should conceal themselves when sought and occur to us unexpectedly? That memory should not always remain with us, but sometimes return after having been lost? Yet its full power, its entire divine efficacy, would never have been known had it not exalted eloquence to its present luster. For it supplies the orator with the order, not only of things, but of words, not connecting together a few only, but extending a series almost to infinity so that in very long pleadings, the patience of the hearer fails sooner than the memory of the speaker. This may be an argument that art has some influence on memory and that nature is aided by method, since persons, when instructed, can do that which, when without instruction or practice, they could not do. Yet I find it said indeed by Plato that the use of letters is a detriment to memory, because, as he intimates, what we have committed to writing we cease, in some degree, to guard, and lose it through mere neglect. Doubtless, attention of the mind is of great influence in this respect, like that of the sight of the eye with regard to objects, when not diverted from anything on which it has been fixed. Hence it happens, that the memory firmly embraces the whole of what we have been writing for several days, with a view to learning it by heart.

1The first to teach an Art of Memory is said to have been Simonides, of whom a well-known story is related: That when, for a stipulated sum, he had written in honor of a pugilist who had won the crown, an ode of the kind usually composed for conquerors in the games, half of the money was refused him because, according to a practice very common with poets, he had made a digression in praise of Castor and Pollux, for which reason he was told to apply for the other half to the deities whose praises be had chosen to celebrate. 1The deities, according to the story, paid it. During a splendid entertainment in honor of that victory, Simonides, being invited to the banquet, was called away from it by a message that two young men, mounted on horses, earnestly requested to see him. 1When he went out, he found nobody, but he discovered, from what followed, that the deities were not ungrateful to him, for he had scarcely passed the threshold when the banquet room fell down upon the guests and crushed them so horribly that those who went to look for the bodies of the dead, in order to bury them, were unable to recognize, by any mark, not only their faces, but even their limbs. Simonides, by the aid of his memory, is said to have pointed out the bodies to their friends in the exact order in which they had sat. 1But it is by no means agreed among authors whether this ode was written for Glaucus of Carystus or Leocrates, or Agatharcus, or Scopas, and whether the house was at Pharsalus, as Simonides himself seems somewhere to intimate and as Apollodorus, Eratosthenes, Euphorion, and Eurypylus of Larissa have stated, or at Cranon, as asserted by Apollas Callimachus, whom Cicero has followed, giving wide circulation to his account of the story. 1It is generally believed that Scopas, a Thessalian nobleman, was killed at that banquet; his sister's son is said to have perished with him, and some think that most of the family of another and older Scopas was killed at the same time. 1However, that part of the story relating to Castor and Pollux appears to me to be utterly fabulous, as the poet himself has nowhere alluded to the occurrence, and he assuredly would not have been silent about an incident so much to his honor.

1From what Simonides did on that occasion, it appears to have been remarked that the memory is assisted by localities impressed on the mind, and everyone seems able to attest the truth of the observation from his own experience, for when we return to places, after an absence of some time, we not only recognize them, but recollect also what we did in them. Persons whom we saw there, and sometimes even thoughts that passed within our minds, recur to our memory. Hence, in this case, as in many others, art has had its origin in experiment. 1People fix in their minds places of the greatest possible extent, diversified by considerable variety, such as a large house, for example, divided into many apartments. Whatever is remarkable in it is carefully impressed on the mind, so that the thought may run over every part of it without hesitation or delay. Indeed, it is of the first importance to be at no loss in recurring to any part, for ideas which are meant to excite other ideas ought to be in the highest degree certain. 1They then distinguish what they have written, or treasured in their mind, by some symbol by which they may be reminded of it, a symbol which may either have reference to the subject in general, as navigation or warfare, or to some particular word, for if they forget, they may, by a hint from a single word, find their recollection revived. It may be a symbol, however, of navigation, as an anchor, or of war, as some particular weapon. 20. These symbols they then dispose in the following manner: they place, as it were, their first thought under its symbol, in the vestibule, and the second in the hall, and then proceed round the courts, locating thoughts in due order, not only in chambers and porticoes, but on statues and other like objects. This being done, when the memory is to be tried, they begin to pass in review all these places from the commencement, demanding from each what they have confided to it, according as they are reminded by the symbol. Thus, however numerous are the particulars which they have to remember, they can, as they are connected each to each like a company of dancers hand to hand, make no mistake in joining the following to the preceding, if they only take due trouble to fix the whole in their minds. 2What I have specified as being done with regard to a dwelling house may also be done with regard to public buildings, or a long road, or the walls of a city, or pictures, or we may even conceive imaginary places for ourselves.

However, we must have places, either fancied or selected, and images or symbols which we may invent at pleasure. These symbols are marks by which we distinguish the particulars which we have to get by heart, so that, as Cicero says, we use places as waxen tablets and symbols as letters. 2But it will be best to cite what he adds, in his exact words: "We must fancy many plain and distinct places, at moderate distances; and such symbols as are expressive, striking, and well-marked, which may present themselves to the mind and act upon it at once." I am therefore the more surprised that Metrodorus should have made 3places in the twelve signs through which the sun passes. This was doubtless vanity and boastfulness in a man priding himself on his memory as the result of art rather than as the gift of nature. 23.

For myself, I do not deny that this method may be of use in some cases, for instance, if the names of several things, after being heard in a certain order, are to be repeated without deviation from it, for those who would do so locate the things in the places which they have previously conceived—the table, for example, in the vestibule, the couch in the hall, and other things in the same way—and then going over the places again, they find the things where they deposited them. 2Perhaps this method assisted those who, at the close of an auction, could specify what had been sold to each buyer, in conformity with the books of the cashiers. They say that Hortensius often gave such a proof of memory .

But this mode will be of much less efficacy for learning by heart the parts that constitute a continuous speech, for thoughts have not their peculiar images like things, the image, in this case, being a mere fiction of the imagination. Indeed the place will suggest to us either a fictitious or a real image, but how will the connection of the words of a speech be retained in mind by the aid of such a method? 2I do not dwell on the circumstance that some things cannot be signified by any images, as for example, conjunctions. We may have, it is true, like shorthand writers, certain marks for every word and an infinite number of places, as it were, in which all the words contained in the live books of the second pleading against Verres may be arranged, so that we may remember all just as we have supposed them to be deposited. But must not the course of the orator's speech, as he pronounces the words, be impeded by the double effort necessary to the memory? 2How can his words flow on in a continuous current if he has to refer for every word to its particular image? Let Charmadas, therefore, and Metrodorus of Scepsis, whom I mentioned a little above, both of whom Cicero asserts to have used this method, keep their art to themselves, and let me propose one of a simpler nature.

2If a long speech is to be retained in the memory, it will be of advantage to learn it in parts, for the memory sinks under a vast burden laid on it at once. At the same time, the portions should not be extremely short, for they will then distract and harass the memory. I cannot, however, prescribe any certain length, since this must be suited, as much as possible, to the different divisions of the subject, unless a division, perchance, be of such magnitude that it requires to be subdivided. 2But certain limits must assuredly be fixed that frequent meditation may connect the series of words in each, which is attended with great difficulty, and that a repetition of the parts in their order may unite them into a whole. As to those which are least easily remembered, it will be of advantage to associate with them certain marks, the recollection of which may refresh and excite the memory. 2Scarcely any man has so unhappy a memory as not to remember what symbol he designed for any particular part. But if he is so unfortunately dull, that they may stimulate him will be a reason for him to adopt the remedy of marks. For in this method, it is of no small service to affix signs to those thoughts which are likely, we think, to escape us—an anchor, as I remarked above, if we have to speak of a ship; a spear, if we have to think of a battle—since signs are of great efficacy, and one idea arises from another, as when a ring shifted from one finger to another, or tied with a thread, reminds us why we shifted or tied it.

30. Those contrivances which lead the mind from some similar object to that which we have to remember have the greatest effect in fixing things in the memory. For instance, in regard to names, if Fabius is to be kept in our memory, we may think of the famous Cunctator, who will surely not escape us, or of one of our friends who is named Fabius. 3This is still easier in respect to such names as Aper, Ursus, Naso, or Crispus, since we can fix in our minds the things to which they allude. A reference to the origin of derivative names is sometimes even a still better means of remembering them, as in those of Cicero, Verrius, Aurelius.

3What will be of service, however, to everyone is to learn by heart from the same tablets on which he has written, for he will pursue the remembrance of what he has composed by certain traces and will look, as it were, with the eye of his mind, not only on the pages, but on almost every individual line, resembling, while he speaks, a person reading. If, moreover, any erasure, addition, or alteration has been made, they will be as so many marks, and while we attend to them, we shall not go astray. 3This method, though not wholly unlike the system of which I spoke at first, is yet more expeditious and efficacious, if experience has taught me anything.

To learn by heart in silence (for it is a question whether we should do so or not) would be best if other thoughts did not intrude on the mind at rest, for which reason it requires stimulation by the voice, so that memory may be excited by the double duty of speaking and hearing. But the tone of voice ought to be low and rather a kind of murmur. 3As to him who learns from another person who reads to him, he is in some degree retarded, as the sense of seeing is quicker than that of hearing, but he may, on the other hand, be in some degree benefited, as, after he has heard a passage once or twice, he may immediately begin to try his memory and attempt to rival the reader. Indeed, for other reasons, we should make it our great care to test the memory from time to time, since continuous reading passes with equal celerity over that which takes less and that which takes more hold of the mind. In testing whether we retain what we have heard, not only a greater degree of attention is applied, but no time is unoccupied or lost in repeating that which we already know, as, in this way, only the parts that have escaped us are gone over again, that they may be fixed in the memory by frequent repetition, though generally, indeed, these very parts are more securely stored in the memory than others for the very reason that they escaped it at first.

3Learning by heart and composition have in common that good health, excellent digestion, and a mind free from other subjects of care contribute to success in both.

3But division and arrangement are the most efficacious and almost the only means (except for exercise, which is the most powerful of all) for fixing in the memory what we have written and for retaining in it what we meditate. He who makes a judicious division of his subject will never err in the order of particulars, 3for if we but speak as we ought, there will be certain points, as well in the treatment as in the distribution of the different questions in our speech, that will naturally be first, second, and so on, and the whole concatenation of the parts will be so manifestly coherent that nothing can be omitted or inserted in it without being at once perceived. 3Scaevola, after losing a game of the twelve lines despite having been the first to move, went over the whole process of the game in his mind as he was travelling into the country, recalled at what move he had made a mistake, and returned to his opponent, who acknowledged that it was as he said. Shall order have less effect in a speech, where it is settled wholly at our own pleasure, than it has in a game, where it depends partly on the will of another? 3All parts that have been well put together, too, will guide the memory by their sequence, for as we learn verse by heart more easily than prose, so we learn compact prose better than such as is ill-connected. Thus it happens that passages in a speech, which seemed to have been poured forth extempore, are heard repeated word for word, and such repetition was possible even to the moderate power of my own memory, whenever, as I was declaiming, the entrance of any persons, who merited such attention, induced me to repeat a portion of my declamation. I have no opportunity of saying what is untrue, as there are people living who were present when I did so.

40. If anyone asks me, however, what is the only and great art of memory, I shall say that it is exercise and labor. To learn much by heart, to meditate much and, if possible, daily, are the most efficacious of all methods. Nothing is so much strengthened by practice or weakened by neglect as memory. 4Let children, therefore, as I directed, learn as much as possible by heart at the earliest possible age, and let everyone, at whatever age, that applies himself to strengthen his memory by cultivation, get resolutely over the tedium of going through what has often been written and read, and of masticating repeatedly, as it were, the same food. Our labor may be rendered easier if we begin with learning a few things first, and such as do not create disgust in us, and we may then add to our task a verse or two every day, the addition of which will cause no sensible increase to our labor, but will lead, at length, to almost inconceivable results. We may first learn pieces of poetry, then passages from orators, and at last composition of a less studied kind and more remote from the style of oratory as that of writers on law. 4For what is intended as an exercise ought to be of a rather difficult nature, in order that that for which it is intended as an exercise may be easier, just as athletes accustom their hands to leaden weights, though they must use them empty and unarmed in actual combats.

I must not omit to mention what is found to be true by daily experience, that in minds of a somewhat slow nature, the impression of what is recent on the memory is by no means exact. 4It is astonishing how much strength the interval of a night gives it, and a reason for the fact cannot be easily discovered, whether it is from the effort, the fatigue of which was a hindrance to itself, being suspended during the time, or whether it is that reminiscence, which is the most efficient quality of the memory, is cherished or matured. It is certain that what could not be repeated at first is readily put together on the following day, and the very time which is generally thought to cause forgetfulness is found to strengthen the memory. 4On the other hand, the extraordinarily quick memory soon allows what it has grasped to escape it, and as if, after discharging a present duty, it owed nothing further, it resigns its charge like a dismissed steward. Nor is it indeed surprising that what has been longest impressed upon the mind should adhere to it with the greatest tenacity.

From this difference in minds a question has arisen: whether those who are going to deliver a speech should learn it by heart word for word, or whether it be sufficient to master merely the substance and order of particulars. 4This is a point on which certainly no general decision can be given. For my own part, if my memory is sufficiently strong and time is not wanting, I should wish not a single syllable to escape me, else it would be to no purpose to write. Such exactness we should acquire in childhood, and the memory should he brought to such a condition by exercise that we may never learn to excuse its failures. To be prompted, therefore, and to refer to one's writing is pernicious, as it grants indulgence to carelessness, nor will a speaker feel that he retains with sufficient security that which he is in no fear of losing. 4Hence, too, proceed interruptions in the course of our speech and a mode of delivery halting and irregular, while the speaker, appearing like one who has learned a lesson, destroys the whole grace of what he had written with grace by making it evident that he did write it. 4But a good memory gains us credit even for readiness of wit, as we appear not to have brought what we utter from home, but to have conceived it on the instant, an opinion which is of great service both to the speaker and to his cause, for a judge admires more and distrusts less that which he regards as not having been preconcerted to mislead him. We should therefore consider it as one of the most excellent artifices in pleading to deliver some parts of our speech, which we have extremely well connected, as it they had not been connected at all, and to appear, at times, like persons thinking and doubting, seeking what we have in reality brought with us. 4What it is best for a speaker to do, then, in regard to memory, cannot escape the apprehension of anyone.

But even if a person's memory is naturally dull or if time is but short, it will be useless for him to tie himself down to a series of words when to forget any one of them may occasion either disagreeable hesitation or total silence. It will be far safer for him, after treasuring up his matter in his mind, to leave himself at liberty to deliver it as he pleases, for a speaker never loses a single word that he has chosen, without regret, and cannot easily put another in its place while he is trying to recollect the very one that he had written. 4But not even such power of substitution is any remedy for a weak memory, unless in those who have acquired some ability in speaking extempore. If both resources are wanting to a speaker, I would advise him to renounce entirely all attempts at pleading and to apply himself, if he has any talent for composition, to writing. But such unfortunate weakness of memory is very rarely seen.

50. What strength the memory may attain when assisted by nature and art is exemplified by Themistocles, who, as is generally believed, learned to speak the Persian language accurately in less than a year; or by Mithridates, who is said to have known languages, one for each of the nations over which he ruled; or by Crassus the rich, who, when he was praetor of Asia, was so well acquainted with the five dialects of the Greek tongue that in which ever of them a complainant sought justice from him, he pronounced in that very dialect a decision on his case; or by Cyrus, who is supposed to have known the names of every one of his soldiers. 5Theodectes, also, is said to have been able to repeat instantly any number of verses after having once heard them. There were said to be persons, in my time, who could do so, but I never had the fortune to witness such a performance. The belief in its possibility may well, however, be cherished, if for no other reason than that he who thinks it practicable may hope to effect it.

Delivery is by most writers called action, but it appears to derive the one name from the voice and the other from the gesture, for Cicero calls action sometimes a language, as it were, and sometimes the eloquence of the body. Yet he makes two constituent parts of action, which are the same as those of delivery—voice and motion. We therefore can use either term indiscriminately.

As for the thing itself, it has a wonderful power and efficacy in oratory, for it is not so important what sort of thoughts we conceive within ourselves as it is in what manner we express them, since those whom we address are moved only as they hear. Accordingly, there is no proof—that proceeds in any way from a pleader—of such strength that it may not lose its effect unless it is supported by a tone of affirmation in the speaker. All attempts at exciting the feelings must prove ineffectual unless they are enlivened by the voice of the speaker, by his look, and by the action of almost his whole body. For when we have displayed energy in all these respects, we may think ourselves happy if the judge catches a single spark of our fire, and we surely cannot hope to move him if we are languid and supine, or expect that he will not slumber if we yawn. Even actors on the stage give proof of the power of delivery, since they add so much grace even to the best of our poets that the same passages delight us infinitely more when they are heard than when they are read, and they gain a favorable hearing for the most contemptible performances, insomuch that pieces which have no place in our libraries are welcomed time after time at the theater. If delivery can excite in us anger, tears, and concern in matters we know to be fictitious and unreal, how much additional weight must it have when we also believe the subjects on which it is bestowed? For my own part, I should be inclined to say that language of but moderate merit, recommended by a forcible delivery, will make more impression than the very best if it is unattended with that advantage. Accordingly Demosthenes, when he was asked what was the chief excellence in the whole art of oratory, gave the palm to delivery and assigned to it also the second and third place, until he ceased to be questioned, so that he may be thought to have esteemed it not merely the principal, but the only excellence. It was for this reason that he himself studied it under Andronicus the actor, and with such success that Aeschines, when the Rhodians expressed admiration of the written version his speech, appears to have exclaimed with great justice, "What if you had heard him deliver it himself?" Cicero also thinks that delivery has supreme power in oratory. He says that Cneius Lentulus obtained more reputation from his delivery than from any real power of eloquence, that Caius Gracchus excited the whole Roman people to tears by his delivery in deploring his brother's death, and that Antonius and Crassus produced great impression by delivery, but Hortensius more than either of them. A proof of this remark regarding Hortensius is that his writings are so much below the character for which he was long accounted the chief of our orators, then for a time the rival of Cicero, and at last, as long as he lived, second to Cicero. Apparently, there was some charm in his delivery which we do not find in reading him. Indeed, as words have much power of themselves, and the voice adds a particular force to thought, and as gesture and motion are not without meaning, some great excellence must necessarily be the result when all these sources of power are combined.

Yet there are some who think that an unstudied mode of delivery, such as the impulse of the individual speaker's mind produces, is more forcible and is indeed the only mode of delivery worthy of men. But those who hold this opinion mostly make it their practice to decry all care, art, and polish in speaking in general, and condemn whatever is acquired by study as affected and unnatural, or pretend to imitate antiquity by an assumed rudeness of style and pronunciation, as Cicero says that Lucius Cotta used to do. 1Let those who think it enough for men to be born to become orators enjoy their own opinion, but let them be indulgent, at the same time, of the efforts of us who believe that there can be no consummate excellence except when nature is assisted by art. 1But without the least reluctance, I allow that the chief power rests with nature, for assuredly no one can exhibit proper delivery if he lacks a memory for retaining what he has written or ready facility in uttering what he has to speak extempore, or if he has any incurable defect of utterance. There may even be such extraordinary deformity of body in a person that it cannot be remedied by any effort of art. 1Nor can a weak voice attain any degree of excellence in delivery, for we may manage a sound and strong voice as we please, but a bad or weak voice prevents us from doing many things that are necessary, as giving emphasis and elevation of tone, and forces us to do many other things that we ought to avoid, as breaking our sentences, adopting an unnatural pitch, and recruiting a hoarse throat and exhausted lungs with an offensive resemblance to singing. But let me now speak of him who is so qualified by nature that rules will not fail to be of use to him.

1Since delivery in general, as I said, depends upon two things, voice and gesture, of which the one affects the eyes and the other the ears, the two senses through which all impressions find their way into the mind, it is natural to speak first of the voice, to which, also, the gesture is to be adapted.

In regard to it, then, the first thing to be considered is what sort of voice we have, and the next, how we use it. The natural power of the voice is estimated by its quantity and its quality. 1Of these, the quantity is the more simple consideration, for it may be said in general that it is either much or little. But between the extremes of these quantities there are many diversities and many gradations, from the lowest tone to the highest, and from the highest to the lowest. Quality is more varied, for the voice is either clear or husky, full or weak, smooth or rough, of smaller or larger compass, hard or flexible, sharp or flat. 1The breath may also be longer or shorter. As to the causes of each of these peculiarities, it is not necessary to the design of my work to consider whether the difference lies in those parts of the body in which the breath is generated or in those through which, as through tubes, it passes; whether it results from the nature of the voice itself or from the impulse which it receives; or whether strength of lungs, or of the chest, or even of the head, affords it most assistance; for there is need of concurrent aid from all these parts, as well as of a clear formation, not only of the mouth, but also of the nostrils, through which the remainder of the breath is expelled. The general tone of the voice, however, ought to be sweet, not grating.

17.In the management of the voice, there are many particulars to be observed, for besides the three main distinctions of acute, grave, and intermediate, there is need of many other kinds of intonation, as the forcible and the gentle, the higher and the lower, and of slower or quicker time. 1But between these varieties, there are other intermediate varieties, and as the face is infinitely diversified, though it consists of very few features, so the voice has yet a peculiar tone in each individual, though it has very few variations that can be named. The voice of a person is as easily distinguished by the ear as the face by the eye.

1But the good qualities of the voice, like those of all our other faculties, are improved by attention and deteriorated by neglect. The attention to be paid to the voice by orators, however, is not the same as that which is required from singing teachers, though there are many things equally necessary to both, such as strength of body, for instance, that the voice may not dwindle down to the weak tone of eunuchs, women, and sick persons (bodily strength can be maintained by walking, anointing with oil, continence, and easy digestion of food, which is the result of moderation in eating) 20. Secondly, it is necessary for the throat to be in good condition, that is, soft and flexible, for any defect in it may render the voice broken, husky, rough, or squeaking. Just as flutes, receiving the same breath, gave one sound when the holes are stopped, another when they are open, another when the instruments are not thoroughly clean, and another when they are cracked, so the throat, when swollen, strangles the voice, when not clear, stifles it, when dry, roughens it, and when affected with spasms, gives forth a sound like that of broken pipes. 2The breath, too, is sometimes broken by some obstruction, as a small stream of water by a pebble, the current of which, though it unites soon after the obstruction, yet leaves something of a void behind it. Too much moisture also impedes the voice and too little weakens it. As to fatigue, it affects the voice as it affects the whole body, not for the present merely, but for some time afterwards.

2Though exercise is necessary alike for singing teachers and orators, in order that all their faculties may be in full vigor, the same kind of attention to the body is not to be expected from both because regular times for walking cannot be scheduled by a man who is occupied in so many duties of civil life. Nor can he tune his voice at leisure from the lowest to the highest notes, or give it rest when he pleases from the labors of the forum, since he has often to speak on many trials in succession. 2Nor need he observe the same care in regard to diet. We need not so much a soft and sweet voice as one that is strong and durable, and though singers may soften all sounds, even the highest, by a certain modulation of the voice, we, on the contrary, must often speak with roughness and vehemence. Also, we must frequently watch whole nights, we must imbibe the smoke of the lamp by which we study, and we must remain long, during the day, in garments moistened with perspiration. 2Let us not, therefore, weaken our voice by delicate treatment of ourselves or bring it to a condition which will not be enduring. Instead, let the exercise we give our voice be similar to the exertion for which it is destined; let it not be relaxed by want of use, but strengthened by practice, by which all difficulties are smoothed.

2In order to exercise the voice, it is an excellent method to learn passages of authors by heart (for in extempore speaking, the feelings excited by the subject matter prevents the orator from giving due attention to the voice) and to learn passages of as much variety of subject as possible, such as may exercise us in exclamation, in discussion, in the familiar style, and in the softer kind of eloquence, so we may be prepared for every mode of speaking. 2This will be sufficient exercise, but the delicate voice that is nursed too much will be unequal to any extraordinary exertion, just as athletes accustomed to oil treatments and the gymnasium, though they may appear handsome and strong in their own games, would soon faint with fatigue and long to be anointed and to perspire naked, if we were to order them on a military expedition and require them to carry burdens and pass whole nights on guard. 2Who, indeed, in a work like this, would recommend that sunshine and wind, cloudy and very dry days, should be objects of dislike to an orator? If, then, we are called upon to speak in the sun or on a windy, moist, or hot day, shall we desert our clients? As to the admonitions of some that an orator should not speak when he is suffering from indigestion, or heavy after a full meal, or intoxicated, or after having just vomited, I suppose that no man who retains possession of his senses would be guilty of such folly.

2It is not without reason, however, that all writers advise that we should be moderate in the exercise of the voice at the period of transition from boyhood to manhood, because it is then naturally obstructed, not, as I think, from heat, as some have imagined (for there is more heat in the body at other periods of life), but rather from excess of moisture, with which that age abounds. 2Hence the nostrils, too, and the breast, dilate at that time, and the body germinates, as it were, all over, and consequently every part is tender and liable to injury.

But that I may return to my subject, I consider the best kind of exercise for the voice, when it is well strengthened and developed, to be that which has most resemblance to the orator's business, namely, to speak every day just as we plead in the forum, for by this means, not only the voice and lungs will be strengthened, but a graceful carriage of the body will be acquired, suited to our style of speaking.

30. As to rules for delivery, they are precisely the same as those for language. For as language ought to be correct, clear, elegant, and to the purpose, so delivery should be correct, that is, free from fault, if our pronunciation be easy, clear, agreeable, and polished, that is, of such a kind that nothing of the rustic or the foreign is heard in it. The saying Barbarum Graecumve, that a map is "Barbarian or Greek," is not without good foundation, since we judge men by their tones just as we do money by its clink. 3Hence will arise the excellence which Ennius admired, when he said "Cethegus was a man of sweetly speaking voice," a quality very different from that which Cicero censures in those who, as he said, "barked rather than pleaded." There are, indeed, many faults in pronunciation, of which I spoke in a part of my first book, when I was giving directions for forming the speech of children, judging it most to the purpose to mention them under that age at which they may be corrected. 3If the voice, too, is naturally sound, so to speak, it will have none of those defects to which I just now alluded, and moreover, it will not be dull sounding, gross, bawling, hard, stiff, inefficient, thick, or, on the contrary, thin, weak, squeaking, small, soft, or effeminate. At the same time, the breathing should be neither short, nor unsustained, nor difficult to recover.

3Our pronunciation will be clear, if, in the first place, our words are uttered entire, for by many people, part of them is often swallowed, and part never formed, as they fail to pronounce the last syllables of words while they dwell on the sound of the first. 3But though the full articulation of words is absolutely necessary, yet to count and number, as it were, every letter, is disagreeable and offensive, for vowels very frequently coalesce, and some consonants are elided when a vowel follows. I have already given an example of both, in

Multum ille et terris.
3The concurrence of consonants that would produce a harsh sound is also avoided, whence we have pellexit, collegit, and other forms which we have noticed elsewhere. Thus the delicate utterance of his letters was a subject of praise in Catulus.

The second requisite to clearness of pronunciation is that the phrases be distinct, that is, that the speaker begin and stop where he ought. He must observe where his words are to be reined in, as it were, and suspended—what the Greeks call ὑποδιαστολή (hypodiastolē), or ὑποστιγμή (hypostigmē)—and where they are to be altogether brought to a stand.

NOTE: In 36-3Quintilian refers to the opening passage of Virgil's Aeneid, which is provided here for better understanding of these three sections; the English translation is that of John Dryden:

Arma virumque cano, Trojae qui primus ab oris
Italiam, fato profugus, Lavinaque venit
Litora: multum ille et terris jactatus et alto,
Vi superum, saevae memorem Junonis ob iram;
Multa qu que et bello passus, dum conderet urbem,
Inferretque deos Latio: genus unde Latinum,
Albanique patres, atque altae maenia Romae.

Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate,
And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,
Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore.
Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore,
And in the doubtful war, before he won
The Latian realm, and built the destin'd town;
His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine,
And settled sure succession in his line,
From whence the race of Alban fathers come,
And the long glories of majestic Rome.

3After pronouncing the words Arma virumque cano, there is a suspension only because they are connected with what follows, virum Trojae qui primus ab oris, after which there is another suspension. Though there is a difference between whence he came and whither he came, we must not make a full stop, as both are signified by the same word venit. 3After Italiam we make a third suspension, because the words fato profugus are thrown in and break the connection which exists between Italiam and Lavinaque. For the same reason, there is a fourth suspension after profugus, when there follows Lavinaque litora, after which there will be a full stop, because another sentence commences there. In the more considerable distinctions, however, we must allow sometimes a longer interval of time, and sometimes a shorter, for it makes a difference whether they are at the end of a period or only at that of a phrase. 3I shall, accordingly, after pausing at Litora, allow myself just to take breath, but, when I come to the words atque altae maenia Romae, I shall break off, make a full stop, and proceed, as it were, to a new commencement. 3Pauses are also made sometimes in periods without any respiration, as in the passage, In caetu verò populi Romani, negotium publicum gerens, magister equitum, etc. "But in an assembly of the Roman people, holding a public office, being master of the horse," etc. This sentence has many members, for there are several distinct thoughts. But as one period comprehends them all, we must make but short pauses to mark the intervals between them and not interrupt the continuation of the sense. On the other hand, we must sometimes take breath without any perceptible pause in passages where we must steal a respiration, as it were, else, if a respiration is made injudiciously, it may cause as much obscurity in the sense as a wrong distinction. The merit of making proper distinctions may perhaps be little, but without it, all other merit in speaking would be vain.

40. Delivery is considered elegant if it is supported by a voice that is easy, powerful, fine, flexible, firm, sweet, well-sustained, clear, and pure, and that cuts the air and penetrates the ear, for there is a kind of voice naturally qualified to make itself heard, not by its strength, but by a peculiar excellence of tone. It is a voice obedient to the will of the speaker, capable of every variety of sound and inflection that can be required, and possessed, as they say, of all the notes of a musical instrument. To maintain it, there should be a strength of lungs and breath that can be steadily prolonged and not likely to sink under labor. 4Neither the lowest musical tone, nor the highest, is proper for oratory, for the lowest, which is far from being clear and is too full, can make no impression on the minds of an audience, and the highest, which is very sharp and excessively shrill, rising above the natural pitch of the voice, is neither capable of inflection from pronunciation, nor can it endure being kept long on the stretch. 4For the voice is like the strings of an instrument—the more relaxed it is, the graver and fuller is its tone; the more it is stretched, the more thin and sharp becomes the sound of it. Thus a voice in the lowest key wants force; in the highest, is in danger of being cracked. We must, therefore, cultivate the middle tones, which may be raised when we speak with vehemence and lowered when we deliver ourselves with gentleness.

4The first requisite for pronouncing well is maintaining an equality of tone so that our speech may not proceed by starts, with irregular intervals and tones, confounding long syllables with short, grave sounds with acute, high with low, and halting from disorder in all these particulars, as a person halts in walking from having legs of unequal length. The next requisite is variety of tone, in which alone pronunciation consists. 4Nor let anyone suppose that equality and variety are incompatible, for the fault opposed to equality is inequality, while that which is opposed to variety is what the Greeks call μονοειδές (monoeides), as presenting always one and the same aspect. The art of giving variety to pronunciation, however, not only adds grace to it and pleases the ear, but relieves the hearer by the change that pervades his labor, as alterations in position, standing, walking, sitting, lying, relieve the body, for in no one of those attitudes can we endure to continue long. 4But what is of the highest importance (and I shall treat of it very soon) is that the tone of our voice must conform to the nature of the subjects on which we speak and to the feelings of our minds, that the sound may not disagree with the sense. Therefore, let us avoid that which is in Greek termed monotony, a uniform exertion of the breath and voice, and let us not only beware of uttering anything in a bawling tone, which is madness, or in the tone of conversation, which wants animation, or in a low murmuring tone, by which all effort is deadened. 4Let us study that in delivering the same parts of speeches and in expressing the same feelings, there may yet be some distinctions, however moderate, in our tone, such as may be required by the dignity of our language, the nature of our thoughts, the conclusions or commencements of our periods, or our transitions. Painters who use but one color nevertheless make some parts of their pictures appear more prominent and others more retiring, since without this difference they could not even have given due forms to the limbs of their figures.

4Let us contemplate the commencement of the noble oration of Cicero on behalf of Milo. Do we not see, at almost every division of the phrases, that the tone of the speaker must in some degree be varied, though the same kind of tone is still preserved? Etsi vereor, judices, ne turpe sit, pro fortissimo viro dicere incipientem timere, "Though I am apprehensive that it may be dishonorable in me, judges, in beginning to speak on behalf of the bravest of men, to manifest fear." 4Notwithstanding, this exordium is, in its whole character, constrained and submissive, not only as an exordium, but as that of a person deeply concerned. Yet the tone of the orator must have been fuller and more elevated when he pronounced the words pro fortissimo viro, "on behalf of the bravest of men," than when he said Etsi vereor, "Though I fear," and ne turpe sit, "lest it be dishonorable," and timere, "to manifest fear." 4The next member, after the speaker has taken breath, must be still more elevated in tone, rising by a natural effort, because we utter what follows with less timidity and because the magnanimity of Milo is then shown: Minimèque deceat, quum T. Annius ipse magis reipublicae, de salute, quàm de suâ perturbetur, "And lest it should be far from becoming, when Milo himself is more anxious for the safety of the state than for his own." After this, there follows a species of self-reproach: me ad ejus causam parem animi magnitudinem afferre non posse, "for me to be unable to bring equal firmness of mind to his defense." 50. He then casts a reflection on the unusual nature of the praceedings: Tamen haec novi judicii nova forma terret oculos, "Yet this new form of proceedings, attendant on a new mode of trial, fills my eyes with dismay." He delivers what follows with, as they say, the full sound of the flute: Qui, quocunque inciderunt, consuetudinem fori, et pristinum morem judiciorum requirunt, "since, wherever they direct themselves, they seek in vain for the ordinary usages of the forum, and the ancient mode of legal transactions." The next phrase is to be given in a free and unrestrained manner: Non enim corona consessus vester cinctus est, ut solebat, etc. "For your assembly is not encircled with such attendants as it used to be," etc. have made these remarks to show that not only in the larger divisions of a cause, but even in the phrases of every period, some variety of pronunciation may be adopted, without which, indeed, nothing can be made to appear as either more or less important.

But the voice must not be strained beyond its natural power, for by that means, it is often choked, and it becomes less clear the greater the effort that is used. Sometimes, if urged too far, it breaks out into the sound to which the Greeks have given a name from the crowing of young cocks. 5Nor is what we say to be expressed confusedly through too great rapidity of utterance, by which all distinction of phrases and all power of touching the feelings are lost, and by which words are even sometimes curtailed of their syllables. A great fault contrary to this is excessive slowness, which arises from a difficulty of finding something to say, renders the hearer drowsy from affording no excitement to his attention, and wastes the time allowed by the hourglass, which may be of some importance. Our pronunciation must be fluent, not precipitate, well regulated, but not slow.

5The breath, also, must not be drawn too frequently so as to break our sentences to pieces, nor must it be prolonged until it is spent, for the sound of the voice, when the breath is just lost, is disagreeable. The breathing of the speaker is like that of a man held long under water, and the recovery of the breath is long and unseasonable, as being made, not when we please, but when it is compulsory. When we are about to pronounce a long period, therefore, we must collect our breath, but in such a way as not to take much time about it, or to do it with a noise, or to render it at all observable; in other parts, the breath may be freely drawn between the divisions of the matter. 5But we ought to exercise the breath that it may hold out as long as possible. Demosthenes, in order to strengthen his, used to repeat as many verses as he could in succession, climbing up a hill, and he was accustomed, when he spoke at home, to roll pebbles under his tongue that he might pronounce his words more freely when his mouth was unencumbered. 5Sometimes the breath can hold out long and is sufficiently full and clear, but is yet incapable of being firmly sustained and is consequently tremulous, resembling some bodies, which though strong in appearance, are nevertheless weak in the nerves. This imperfection in the breath the Greeks call βράγχος (bragchos).

There are some speakers who do not draw their breath in the ordinary way, but suck it in with a hissing through the interstices of their teeth. There are others who, by incessant panting that can be plainly heard within their mouth, resemble beasts laboring under burdens or in the yoke. 5Some even affect this manner, as if they were oppressed with the redundancy of matter in their minds and as if a greater force of eloquence were rising within them than could well find a passage through their throats. Others, again, have a tightness of the mouth and seem to struggle with their words to force them out. Coughing, making frequent expectorations, hoisting up phlegm from the bottom of the chest as it were with a windlass, sprinkling bystanders with moisture from the mouth, and emiting the greater part of the breath through the nostrils while speaking—though they are not properly faults of the voice, they may nevertheless be reasonably noticed here as they display themselves in the use of the voice.

5But I would endure any one of these faults sooner than one with which we are annoyed in all pleadings and in every school: that of speaking in a singing tone. I do not know whether it should be condemned more for its absurdity or for its offensiveness, for what is less becoming to an orator than such theatrical modulation that at times resembles the loose singing of persons intoxicated or engaged in revelry? 5What can be more adverse to moving the feelings than, when we should express grief, anger, indignation, or pity, we not only hold back from those affections to which the judge ought to be led, but violate the sanctity of the forum with a song and dance routine? For Cicero said that the orators from Lycia and Caria almost sang in their perorations. As for us, we have even somewhat exceeded the more severe modes of singing. 5Does anyone, let me ask, sing in defending himself (I do not say on a charge of murder, sacrilege, or parricide, but even in disputes about money transactions or the settlement of accounts, or, in a word, in any kind of lawsuit)? If singing is at all to be admitted, there is no reason why we should not assist the modulation of the voice with the lyre or the flute, or even, please heaven, with cymbals, instruments which would be more in conformity with such an offensive practice. 60. Yet we fall into the absurdity with willingness, for everyone is charmed with what he himself sings, and there is less labor in chanting than in pronouncing with propriety. There are some auditors, too, who, in accordance with their other depraved indulgences, are attracted on all occasions by the expectation of pleasure in listening to something that may soothe their ears. What, then, it may be objected, does not Cicero say that there is a sort of scarcely perceptible chanting in oratorical language? And does not this proceed from an impulse of nature? In answer to this objection, I shall show, a little further on, when and how far this inflection of the voice, or even chanting (but chanting scarcely perceptible, a term which most of our speakers do not choose to understand) is admissible.

6It is now, indeed, time for me to say to what purpose delivery is, and it is certainly adapted to the subjects on which we speak. The thoughts and feelings contribute most to produce this quality, and the voice sounds as it is struck, but as feelings are in some cases sincere and in others assumed and fictitious, those which are sincere burst forth naturally, as those of persons in grief, in anger, or in indignation; yet their expression is void of art and consequently requires to be formed by precept and method. 6Feelings, on the contrary, which are assumed by imitation, depend wholly on art and do not proceed from nature. Therefore, in representing such feelings, the first requisite is to impress ourselves as much as possible, to conceive lively ideas of things, and to allow ourselves to be moved by them as if they were real. Then the voice, as an intermediate organ, will convey to the minds of the judges that impression which it receives from our own, for the voice is the index of the mind and has as many variations as the mind itself. 6Hence, in speaking on cheerful subjects, it flows in a full and clear tone and is itself cheerful, as it were. In argument, it rouses itself with its whole force and strains, so to speak, every nerve. In anger, it is fierce, rough, thick, and interrupted with frequent respirations, for the breath cannot hold long when it is expelled in extraordinary quantities. In throwing odium on persons or things, it is slower because it is in general only those on the weaker side that have recourse to such attempts, but in flattering, confessing, apologizing, or supplicating, it is gentle and submissive. 6Grave is the tone of those who persuade, advise, promise, or console. In expressing fear and shame, the tone is staid; in exhortation, it is strong; in dispute, it is voluble; in expressing pity, it is tender and mournful, and purposely somewhat weakened. In oratorical digressions, the voice is flowing and of a tranquil clearness; in statements of facts, as well as in familiar conversation, it is of an even tone, intermediate between the acute and the grave. 6In expressing the more vehement feelings, it rises, and in uttering those of a calmer nature, it falls and pitches itself, in either case, higher or lower according to the degree of intensity.

I shall omit to consider at present what tones of voice the several parts of speech require so I may first make some remarks on gesture, which must be in concert with the voice and must, as well as the voice, obey the mind. How much power gesture has in a speaker is sufficiently evident from the consideration that it can signify most things even without the aid of words. 6Not only a movement of the hand, but even a nod, may express our meaning, and such gestures are to the dumb instead of speech. Dancing, too, unaccompanied by the voice, often conveys a meaning and touches the feelings. The state of a person's mind is seen in his looks and walk, and in the inferior animals, which are destitute of speech, anger, joy, fondness, are discoverable from the glances of their eyes and other indications from the movements of the body. 6Nor is it surprising that such signs, which must at any rate depend on motion, make such impression on the mind, when even painting, a voiceless production that always keeps the same form, penetrates into our innermost feelings with such force that it seems at times to surpass the power of words. On the contrary, if our gesture and looks are at variance with our speech, if we utter anything mournful with an air of cheerfulness or assert anything with an air of denial, not only is impressiveness wanting to our words, but even credibility.

68.Gracefulness also lies in gesture and motion, and hence Demosthenes used to study action while looking into a large mirror, and though the polished surface made the right side of the body appear the left, he could notwithstanding trust his eyes for the effect which he would be enabled to produce.

In action, as in the whole body, the head holds the chief place, as contributing to produce both the gracefulness which I have just mentioned and expressiveness. 6What contributes to gracefulness is, first of all, that the head is held in a proper and natural position, for by casting down the head, humility is signified; by throwing it back, haughtiness; by leaning it on one side, languor; and by keeping it rigid and unmoved, a certain degree of rudeness. 70. In the next place, it must receive appropriate motions from the nature of the subject on which we speak, so it may agree with the gesture and act in conformity with the hands and oscillations of the body. For the face must always be turned in the same direction as the gesture, except in speaking of things which we disapprove, or are unwilling to allow, or regard with aversion, so that we may appear at the same time to express dislike of an object with the look and to repel it with the hand, as in pronouncing such words as these:

Dî, talem avertite pestem!
Ye gods, such plague avert!

Haud equidem tali me dignor honore,
I think myself not worthy of such honor.
7But the head expresses meaning in various ways, for besides its motions of assenting, refusing, and affirming, it has those of bashfulness, hesitation, admiration, indignation, which are alike known and common to all persons. Yet gesticulating with the head alone is regarded as a fault by the masters of theatrical attitude. Even frequent nodding with it is thought ungraceful, and to toss it to and fro, and shake and whirl about the hair, are gestures of frenzied inspiration.

7But the chief part of the head is the face. With the face, we show ourselves suppliant, menacing, soothing, sad, cheerful, proud, and humble. Men hang on the face and fix their gaze and entire attention on it. Even before we begin to speak, by the face we express love and hate; from the face we understand a number of things, and its expression is often equivalent to all the words that we could use. 7Accordingly, from the pieces composed for the stage, the masters in the art of delivery borrow aid for exciting the feelings even from their masks, so that in tragedy, the mask for the character of Aerope looks mournful; that for Medea, fierce; that for Ajax, indicates disorder of mind; and that for Hercules, boldness. 7In comedy, besides other designations by which slaves, procurers, parasites, countrymen, soldiers, courtesans, maidservants, morose or good-natured old men, and careful or extravagant youths are distinguished one from another, the father, who plays the principal part and sometimes is in a passion and sometimes calm, has a mask with one of the eyebrows raised and the other lowered. It is the practice of the actors to turn that side more frequently to the audience which is more in accordance with the part of the character which they are playing.

7But what is most expressive in the face is the eye, through which the mind chiefly manifests itself, insomuch that the eyes, even while they remain motionless, can sparkle with joy or contract a gloomy look under sadness. To the eyes, also, nature has given tears, which are the interpreters of our feelings and which burst forth in grief or trickle gently down in joy. But when the eyes are in motion, they assume an appearance of eagerness, disregard, pride, sternness, mildness, or threatening, all of which feelings will be manifested in the eyes of an orator as his subject shall require. 7But they should never be rigid and distended, languid or torpid, wanton or rolling, nor should they ever seem to swim or look watery with pleasure, or glance sideways, or appear, as it were, amorous, or as if they were asking or promising something. And who would keep them shut or compressed in speaking but a person utterly ignorant or silly? 7To aid in producing all these expressions, there is a kind of ministering power situated in the upper and lower eyelids. 7Much effect is also produced by the eyebrows, for they in some degree form the look of the eyes and exercise a command over the forehead, which, by their influence, is contracted, raised, or lowered. The only thing which has more power over it is the blood, which is moved according to the state of the mind. When blood acts under a skin easily affected by shame, it mantles into a blush, and when it shrinks back through fear, wholly disappears and leaves the skin cold and pale. But when it is in a calm condition, it spreads over the face that serene hue which holds a middle place between blushing and paleness. 7It is a fault in the eyebrows when they are either motionless or too full of motion, or when they rise and fall unequally, as I observed just now with respect to those of the comic mask, or when their configuration is at variance with what we are saying, for anger is indicated by the contraction, sadness by the lowering, and cheerfulness by the expansion of them.

80. With the nose and the lips we can scarcely signify anything becomingly (though derision, contempt, and disdain are often expressed by them), for to wrinkle the nose, as Horace says, to distend it, to move it about, to rub it incessantly with the finger, to expel the air with a sudden snort, to stretch open the nostrils frequently, or to push them up with the palm of the hand, is extremely offensive, and even to blow or wipe the nose very often is not unjustly blamed. 8As to the lips, there is something unbecoming when they are thrust out, held in, strongly pressed together, widely parted to expose the teeth, drawn back towards each side and almost to each ear, screwed up with an air of disdain, made to hang down, or allowed to emit the voice only on one side. To lick and bite them is also unbecoming, and their movement, even in the formation of our words, should be moderate, for words ought to be formed rather in the mouth than with the lips.

8The neck ought to be straight, not stiff or thrown back. The throat cannot be drawn down or stretched up without equal ungracefulness, though of different kinds, but uneasiness is attendant on the tension of it, and the voice is weakened and exhausted by it. To sink the chin on the breast renders the voice less distinct and, as it were, grosser, from the throat being compressed.

8To shrug or contract the shoulders is very seldom becoming, for the neck is shortened by it, and it begets a mean, servile, and knavish sort of gesture, particularly when men put themselves into postures of adulation, admiration, or fear.

moderate extension of the arm, with the shoulders thrown back and the fingers opening as the hand advances, is a kind of gesture excellently adapted to continuous and smoothly-flowing passages. But when anything finer or fuller than ordinary is to be expressed, as, "Rocks and deserts respond to the voice of the poet," it moves towards the side, and the words and the gesture expand themselves together.

8As to the hands, without the aid of which all delivery would be deficient and weak, it can scarcely be told of what a variety of motions they are susceptible, since they almost equal in expression the powers of language itself, for other parts of the body assist the speaker, but these, I may almost say, speak themselves. 8With our hands we ask, promise, call persons to us and send them away, threaten, supplicate, intimate dislike or fear; with our hands we signify joy, grief, doubt, acknowledgment, penitence, and indicate measure, quantity, number, and time. 8Have not our hands the power of inciting, of restraining, of beseeching, of testifying approbation, admiration, and shame? Do they not, in pointing out places and persons, discharge the duty of adverbs and pronouns? Amidst the great diversity of tongues pervading all nations and people, the language of the hands appears to be a language common to all men.

8The gestures of which I have hitherto spoken naturally proceed from us with our words, but there are others that signify things by imitation, as when, for example, we intimate that a person is sick by imitating the action of a physician feeling the pulse, or that a person is a musician by putting our hands into the position of those of one playing the lyre. This is a species of imitation which ought to be carefully avoided in oratory, 8for an orator ought to be a very different character from an actor in pantomime, as his gesture should be suited rather to his sense than to his words, a principle which was observed even by the more respectable class of actors. Though I would allow a speaker, therefore, to direct his hand towards his body when he is speaking of himself, or to stretch it towards a person to point him out and to use some other gestures of this sort, I would not permit him to represent attitudes and to exemplify whatever he says by action. 90. Nor is this to be observed in reference to the hands alone, but to every kind of gesture and even to the tone of the voice, for neither in pronouncing the period Stetit soleatus praetor populi Romani, "The praetor of the Roman people, with sandals, stood," etc., must the stooping of Verres, as he leaned on the woman, be imitated, nor in delivering the words Caedebatur in medio foro Messanae, "He was scourged in the middle of the market-place of Messana," is a tortuous motion of the body, like that of a man under the lash, to be assumed or the voice to be forced out like that of a man compelled to cry with pain. 9Even players seem to me to act very injudiciously when, though representing the part of a young man, they have, in a narrative, used a tremulous or effeminate tone of voice to repeat the speech of an old man, as in the prologue to the Hydria, or that of a woman, as in the Georgus. Thus there may even be objectionable imitation in those whose whole art consists in imitation.

9But, with regard to the hand, the gesture most common is that in which the middle finger is drawn in towards the thumb, the other three fingers being open. It is suitable for exordia, if moderately exerted with a gentle movement of the hand in either direction, while the head and shoulders should bend almost imperceptibly towards that quarter to which the hand is stretched. In statements of facts, it adds confirmation, but must then be somewhat more decided; in invective and refutation, it must be spirited and impressive, for it may be exerted in such parts with more freedom and boldness. 9But the middle finger is very often improperly directed towards the side, as if aiming at the left shoulder, and some speakers, with even still worse effect, extend the arm across their chest and speak over their elbow. The two middle fingers are also sometimes brought under the thumb, and this gesture is still more earnest than the former and is accordingly unsuitable for exordium or narrative. 9But when three fingers are compressed under the thumb, the finger which Cicero says Crassus used with such excellent effect is then fully extended. This finger has great effect in invective and demonstration, whence it has its name, and it affirms when a little brought down after the hand has been raised towards the shoulder, and insists when directed towards the ground and lowered at the point; sometimes it indicates number. 9The same finger, when its lowest joint is lightly pressed on each side, with the two next fingers moderately bent and the little one the less bent of the two, forms a gesture adapted for discussion. Yet those who hold rather the middle joint, the two outside fingers being contracted in proportion as the others fall lower, appear to argue more spiritedly. 9It is a gesture also very suitable for modest language, when the hand, its first four fingers being slightly curved at the extremity, is drawn in towards the body, not far from the chin or the breast, and then descending, and gradually moved back from the body, is spread open. conceive that with this gesture, Demosthenes commenced his modest and submissive exordium in the speech for Ctesiphon, and I imagine that Cicero's hand was in this attitude when he uttered the words, "If there be any ability in me, judges, and I am sensible how little there is," etc. The hand is also sometimes drawn back towards us somewhat more quickly, with the fingers inclining downwards, and is expanded more freely as it is moved in the opposite direction, so that it seems itself, in a manner, to utter words. 9Sometimes we hold the two first fingers apart, without, however, inserting the thumb between them, but with the two lower fingers slightly curved inwards, and the two upper ones not quite straightened. 9Sometimes the two outside fingers press the palm of the hand near the root of the thumb, which it unites with the two first fingers at the middle joint. Sometimes the little finger is suffered to bend down obliquely, and sometimes, by relaxing rather than stretching the other four and inclining the thumb inwards, we put the hand into a form suited for waving expressively from side to side or marking distinctly what we say, it being moved upwards toward the left side and downwards toward the right. 100. There are also gestures of the hand taking less compass, as when, being gently curved, like that of persons protesting, it is moved backwards and forwards at short intervals, the shoulders moving slightly in concert with it, a gesture admirably adapted to those who speak with reserve and timidity. A gesture suited to express admiration is that in which the hand, moderately raised and with each of the fingers curved, is opened and slightly shut alternately. 10In asking questions, we use gestures of more kinds than one; generally, however, we turn the hand towards the person addressed, whatever the form into which it is put. When the finger next to the thumb touches with its own tip the middle of the thumbnail, a part where they readily meet, the other fingers being at the same time unbent, it is a gesture becoming to speakers alike when expressing approbation, narrating, or making distinctions. 10Not unlike this is the gesture which the Greeks frequently use, even with both hands, but with the three outside fingers compressed, whenever they round, as it were, their enthymemes with action. The hand thrown out gently promises and declares assent; moved more quickly, it is a gesture of exhortation or sometimes of praise. There is also the gesture, rather natural than artificial, used by a person enforcing his words, when he shuts and opens his hand alternately and rapidly. 10There is the gesture, too, of exhortation, as it were, when the hand is presented in a hollow form, with the fingers apart, and raised, with some spirit, above the top of the shoulder. But the tremulous movement of the hand in this position, which has been almost generally adopted in foreign schools, is too theatrical. Why some should be displeased with the turning of the fingers, with the tips of them close together, towards our body, I do not know, for it is a gesture we use when we manifest a slight degree of wonder, or sometimes in sudden indignation when we express fear or deprecation. 10We also, in repentance or anger, press the hand tightly on the breast, when a few words expressed between the teeth are not unbecoming, as "what shall I now do? What would you do?" I regard pointing to a person with the thumb turned back as a gesture more common than becoming in speakers.

10But as all motion is considered to be of six kinds, and the circular motion, which returns on itself, may be regarded as a seventh, the last alone, in respect to gesture, is objectionable. Five of the others are very fitly used in pointing out what is before us, on the right or left hand, or above or below. To what is behind us, indeed, our gesture is never properly directed, though it sometimes has, as it were, a backward movement.

10As to the motion of the hand, it commences, with very good effect, on the left, and stops on the right, but the hand ought to stop so that it may appear to be laid down, not to strike against anything, though at the end of a phrase, the hand may sometimes sink, but so as to raise itself again soon, and it sometimes even rebounds, as it were, when we enforce a denial or express wonder. In regard to this point, the old masters of delivery have very properly added a direction that the movement of the hand should begin and end with the sense; otherwise, the gesture will either precede the sense or will fall behind it, and propriety is violated in either case. 10But they fell into too much nicety when they made it a rule that there should be an interval of three words between each movement of the hand, a rule which is neither observed nor can be observed. It appears they meant there should be some sort of standard for slowness or quickness, justly desiring that the hand should neither be too long inactive, nor disturb the speech (as is the practice of many orators) by perpetual motion. 10There is, however, another fault committed more frequently and more likely to become imperceptibly habitual. There are certain slight percussions in our language, certain feet, I might almost say, in conformity with which the gesture of very many of our speakers is regulated. Thus, in the following period, Novum crimen, C. Caesar, et ante hanc diem non auditum, propinquus meus ad te Quintus Tubero detulit, they make one gesture at novum crimen, a second at C. Caesar, a third at ante hanc diem, a fourth at non auditum, a fifth at propinquus meus, another at ad te, another at Q. Tubero, and another at detulit. 10From this practice originates a bad habit among young men that when they write, they meditate all their gestures beforehand and settle in their minds how their hand shall wave when they speak. Hence arises, too, another inconvenience: that the movement of the hand, which ought to terminate on the right, will often come to a stop on the left. 1It is therefore a better method, as there are in every period short phrases, at the close of each of which we may, if we please, take breath, to regulate our gesture in conformity with them. For example, the words Novum crimen, C. Caesar, have a kind of complete sense in themselves, as a conjunction follows, and the succeeding phrase, et ante hanc diem non auditum, is sufficiently complete, and to these phrases the movement of the hand should conform, especially at the commencement, when the manner is calm. 11But when increasing warmth has given it animation, the gesture will become more spirited in proportion to the ardor of the language. But though in some passages a rapid pronunciation will be proper, in others a staid manner will be preferable. On some parts, we touch but slightly, throw together our remarks upon them, and hasten forward; in others we insist, inculcate, impress. But slowness in delivery is better suited to the pathetic, and hence it was that Roscius was inclined to quickness of manner, Aesopus to gravity, the one acting in comedy and the other in tragedy. 11The same observation is to be made with regard to the motion of the body. Accordingly, on the stage, the walk of men in the prime of life, of old men, of military characters, and of matrons, is slow, while male or female slaves, parasites, and fishermen move with greater agility.

But the masters of the art of gesture will not allow the hand to be raised above the eyes or to fall lower than the breast. Consequently, it must be thought in the highest degree objectionable to lift it to the crown of the head or to bring it down to the bottom of the belly. 11It may be advanced as far as the left shoulder, but should never go beyond it. But when, in expressing aversion, we drive as it were our hand to the left, the left shoulder should, at the same time, be advanced, that it may move in concert with the head as it inclines to the right.

11The left hand never properly performs a gesture alone, but it frequently acts in agreement with the right, either when we enumerate our arguments on our fingers, or when we express detestation by turning our palms towards the left, presenting them straight before us, or spreading them out on either side. 11But such gestures are all of different import, as we lower the hands in an attitude of apology or supplication, we raise them in adoration, and we stretch them out in any apostrophe or invocation, a gesture which we should adopt in pronouncing, "Ye Alban hills and groves," etc., or the exclamation of Gracchus, "Whither, wretched that I am, shall I flee? To the Capitol, to see my brother's blood? Or to my home," etc. 11In such cases, the hands acting in concert express most feeling, stretched out but a short distance when we speak on inconsiderable, grave, or tranquil subjects, but extended to a greater distance when we treat of matters that are important, exhilarating, or awful.

11Some remarks or faults in the management of the hands must be added, at least on such faults as are incident to experienced speakers. As for the gestures of asking for a cup, or threatening to use a scourge, or forming the number five hundred by bending the thumb, though they are noticed by some writers, I have never seen them even in uneducated speakers. 11But I know the following faults to occur frequently: the exposure of the side by the extension of the arm; the practice that one speaker has of forbearing to move his arm from his bosom; that which another has of stretching it out to its utmost length or of raising it to the roof, or of continuing the movement of it beyond his left shoulder and striking out towards his back in such a way that it is dangerous to stand behind him; or of making a large sweep with the left hand; or of throwing the hands about at random so as to strike the persons nearest; or of thumping the elbows against the sides, . 11The hand of some speakers is indolent, or moves with tremor, or appears to be sawing the air, or is pressed on the head with the fingers bent, or turned up and tossed on high. Some also affect the gesture in which the Pacificator is represented by statuaries, who, with his head inclined over his right shoulder and his arm stretched out on a level with his ear, spreads forth his hand with the thumb bent down, a gesture which is in great favor with those who boast that they speak sublata manu, "with uplifted hand." 120. We may notice also those who dart forth smart thoughts with a wave of their fingers or make denunciations with the hand raised, or who, whenever they are pleased with what they say, elevate themselves on tiptoe, a gesture which is sometimes allowable, but they make it reprehensible by pointing their finger, or two fingers, as high as they can into the air, or putting both their hands into the position of a person carrying a weight on his head.

12To these faults may be added those that arise, not from nature, but from trepidation of mind, such as feeling discontented with ourselves at a difficulty in pronunciation; making a sound, if our memory fails, or if thought refuses to assist us, as if something were sticking in the throat; rubbing the point of the nose; walking about before bringing a passage to a conclusion; and making a sudden stop to court applause by silence. But to specify all such faults would be an infinite task, for every speaker has his own.

12We must take care, especially, that the breast and stomach are not too much protruded, for such an attitude bends the back inwards, and besides, all bending backwards is offensive. The sides must conform to the gesture of the rest of the body, for the movements of the whole body are of great importance, insomuch that Cicero thinks more effect is produced by them than even by the motion of the hands, for he says in his Orator, "There will be," in a consummate speaker, "no affected motions of the fingers, no fall of the fingers to suit the cadences of the language, but he will rather produce gestures by the movements of his whole body, and a manly inclination of his side."

12To strike the thigh, a gesture which Cleon is supposed to have first practiced at Athens, is not only common, but suits the expression of indignant feeling and excites the attention of the audience. Cicero complained of its absence in Calidius; there was no striking of his forehead, he says, nor his thigh. With regard to the forehead, however, I would, if it is allowed, dissent from Cicero, since to strike even the hands together, or to beat the breast, is suitable only to the stage.

12To touch the breast with the tips of the fingers bent inwards is a gesture that becomes us, but seldom as when we express ourselves in a tone of exhortation, reproach, or commiseration, and whenever we adopt such a gesture, it will not be improper to draw back the toga from the breast.

In regard to the feet, we must observe how we place and move them. It is ungraceful to stand with the right foot advanced and to advance at the same time the hand and foot on the same side. 12It is sometimes allowable to rest on the right foot, but this must be done without any inclination of the rest of the body, and the attitude is rather that of an actor than of an orator. When speakers stand on the left foot, the right can neither be becomingly lifted up nor rested on tiptoe. To stretch the legs very widely apart is unbecoming, even if we but stand in that position, and to walk in it is highly indecent. 12To step forwards is not improper, if the movement be brief, moderate in quickness, and not too frequent. To walk a few steps will not be unsuitable at times, on account of the extraordinary time occupied in applauding, but Cicero approves only of such walking as is very rare and very short. But it is most absurd to run hither and thither, and, as Domitius Afer said of Mallius Sura, to overdo our business, and Flavius Virginius wittily asked a rival professor, who had this habit, how many miles he had declaimed.

12It is also a general rule, I know, that we should not, as we walk, turn our backs on the judges, but that the inside part of our foot should be constantly presented to the tribunal as we look towards it. This rule cannot always be observed on private trials, but there the space is more confined, and we cannot turn our backs on the judges long. We may at times, however, draw back by degrees. Some speakers even leap back, an act in the highest degree ridiculous.

12Though not improper occasionally, and especially, as Cicero says, at the beginning or end of a spirited argument, stamping with the foot is a proof of silliness in the speaker if practiced too often and ceases to attract the judge's attention. Swaying from right to left, too, in speakers who balance themselves alternately on either foot, is unbecoming. But what is most of all to be avoided is an effeminate kind of gesture, such as Cicero says was used by Titius, from whom also a kind of dance was called Titius. 12Frequent and rapid oscillation, also, from one side to the other, is objectionable, a habit at which Julius laughed in Curio the father, by asking who it was that was speaking in the boat. Sicinius made a similar jest upon him, for when Curio had been violently tossing himself about, according to his custom, while Octavius, his colleague in the cousulship, was sitting by in ill health, bandaged and covered with a vast quantity of medicated plasters, Sicinius said, "You can never, Octavius, feel sufficiently grateful to your colleague, for if he had not been near you, the flies would have devoured you today where you sat."

130. The shoulders are sometimes disagreeably shrugged up, a fault which Demosthenes is said to have corrected in himself by standing, while he spoke, in a narrow kind of pulpit, with a spear hanging down over his shoulder, so that if, in the warmth of speaking, that gesture escaped him, he might be reminded of it by a puncture from the weapon.

It is allowable to walk about while speaking, only when in public causes where there are several judges, we wish to impress what we say on each individually. 13But there is an intolerable practice in which some speakers indulge, who, having thrown back their gown over the shoulder and drawn up the lower part of it in a fold to their loins with their right hand, walk about and harangue while gesticulating with the left hand, when it is offensive even to draw the gown up on the left side and stretch out the right hand far. Hence I am reminded not to omit remarking that it is a very foolish practice when speakers, during the time occupied by applauses, whisper in a neighbor's ear, jest with their associates, or sometimes look back to their clerks, as if telling them to note down some gratuity for those who were loudest in their approbation.

13It is permissible to incline a little towards the judge when you are stating a case to him, if the matter on which you are speaking be somewhat obscure. But to bend far forward towards the advocate on the opposite benches is ill-mannered, and for a speaker to fall back among his friends and to be supported in their arms, unless from real and evident fatigue, is foppish, just as it is also to be prompted, or to read, as if he were forgetful. For by all such practices, the force of eloquence is relaxed, and the ardor cooled, while the judge will think that too little respect is paid him.

13To cross over to the opposite seats is by no means becoming, and Cassius Severus facetiously proposed that barriers should be erected to restrain a speaker who was guilty of this habit. If, indeed, an orator sometimes starts forward with a spirited effort, he is always sure to return with very poor effect.

13But many of the directions which I am giving must be modified by those who plead before tribunals, for there the countenance must be more elevated that it may be fixed on him who is addressed. The gesture directed towards him must also be more erect, and there are other particulars to be observed that will occur to all without any mention of them on my part. Modifications must also be made by those who plead sitting, as is generally the case in unimportant causes when there cannot be the same energy of manner. 13Some offenses against gracefulness must also be committed through necessity, for as the speaker sits on the left hand of the judge, he will be obliged to advance his right foot, and much of his action must be transferred, as it were, from the right side to the left, that it may be directed towards the judge. Some sitters, however, I see start up at the conclusion of every period or division of their speech, and some occasionally take even a little walk. They may consider whether such practices are becoming, but when they indulge in them, they do not plead sitting. 13Eating or drinking, as was formerly the custom with many and is now with some, must be abjured by the orator whom I am desirous to form, for if a speaker cannot support the fatigue of pleading without having recourse to such aid, it will be no great loss if he does not plead at all, and it will be much better for him than to show such contempt for his profession and his audience.

13As to dress, the orator has no peculiar habit, but what he wears is more observed than that of other men, and like that of all other persons of note, it should therefore be elegant and manly, for the fashion of the gown, the shoes, and the hair is as reprehensible for too much care as for too great negligence. Some importance, indeed, is attached to dress, and it undergoes considerable changes under the influence of time, for the ancients had no folds to the toga, and for some time after they were introduced, they were but very small. 13Accordingly, they must have used, at the commencement of their speeches, a kind of gesture different from ours, as their arm, like that of the Greeks, was confined within the garment. But I am speaking of the present mode. A speaker who has not the right of wearing the latus clavus should be apparelled in such a way that his tunic may fall, with its front skirts, a little below the knee, and with those behind, to the middle of the thigh, for to drop them lower belongs to women and to draw them up higher to soldiers. 13To see that the purple falls properly is but a minor object of care, but negligence in that respect is sometimes censured. Of those who wear the latus clavus, the fashion is to let it descend a little lower than those which are girt. The gown itself I should wish to be round and cut so as to fit well, for if not, it will be out of shape in various ways. The forepart of it falls only, in the best fashion, to the middle of the leg; the hinder part should be as much above the hem of the tunic as the front falls below it. 140. The fold is most graceful when it falls somewhat above the bottom of the toga; certainly it should never fall below it. That fold which is passed under the right shoulder across to the left, like a belt, should neither be tight round the body nor hang very loose, and that part of the toga which is put on last should fall something lower, for thus it will sit better and be kept in its place. Some portion of the tunic should also be drawn up, that it may not fall on the arm of the orator while he is speaking, and a fold should be thrown over the shoulder, the outer edge of which it will not be unbecoming to throw back. 14But the shoulder and the whole of the throat ought not to be covered, else the dress will become too narrow and lose the dignity which consists in width of chest. The left arm should be only so far raised as to form a right angle, over which the edge of the toga should fall equally low on each side. 14The hand is not to be loaded with rings, especially such as do not pass the middle joint, and the best attitude for the hand will be when the thumb is raised and the fingers slightly bent, unless it hold a memorandum book, a practice which should not be much affected, for it seems to imply a distrust of the memory and is an impediment to much of the gesture.

14Our forefathers allowed the toga to fall, as the Greeks allow their pallium, down to the feet, and Plotius and Nigidius, who wrote of gesture in those days, recommended that fashion of wearing it. I am, therefore, the more surprised at the opinion of so learned a man as Plinius Secundus, who even in a book in which he has been almost too scrupulous in his researches, states that Cicero used to let his toga fall so low in order to conceal the varicose veins in his legs, notwithstanding this fashion of wearing the toga is seen in the statues of persons who lived after Cicero's time. 14Nothing but ill health can excuse the use of the short cloak, of bandages in which the legs are wrapped, of mufflers for the throat, and of coverings for the ears.

But this strict regard to dress can be paid only at the beginning of a speech, for as we proceed and almost at the very commencement of the statement of the case, the fold of the robe very properly falls, as of itself, from the shoulder, and when we come to argument and moral considerations, it will not be amiss to throw back the toga from the left shoulder and to pull down the fold if it happens to hang. 14The left side we may also draw down from the throat and the upper part of the breast, for we are then all ardor, and as the voice grows more energetic and varied in tone, the dress may also assume an air of combativeness. 14Though to wrap the toga round the left hand or to make a girdle of it makes an orator look like a madman, and though to throw back the fold of the robe from the bottom over the right shoulder indicates effeminacy and delicacy (and even grosser faults than these are committed), why may we not draw up the looser part of the dress under the left arm, for it is an attitude that has something of spirit and vivacity not unsuited to warm and animated pleading? 14But when the greater part of our speech has been delivered and success seems to attend us, scarcely any sort of gesture is unbecoming; perspiration and weariness, and disorder of dress, with the toga loose and falling off, as it were, on every side, are regarded without censure. 14Therefore, I cannot but wonder the more that it should have entered the mind of Pliny to direct that the forehead should be wiped with the handkerchief in such a manner that the hair should not be discomposed, when, a little afterwards, he forbids earnestly and severely, as became him, that any pains should be taken in arranging the hair. To me disordered hair seems to indicate strong feeling, and the appearance of the speaker seems to be set off by his very inattention to the condition of it. 14But if the toga falls from a speaker when he is only beginning or has made but little progress in his oration, neglect to readjust it would be a proof either of extreme carelessness, or of laziness, or of ignorance how an orator ought to be dressed.

Such are the excellences and such the faults that may be shown in delivery, and the orator, after these have been set before him, has many other things to consider.

150. In the first place, he has to reflect in what character he himself appears, and to whom, and in whose presence, he is going to speak, for it is more allowable to say or do some things than others in addressing certain persons, or before certain audiences. The same peculiarities in tone, gesture, and walk are not equally becoming before a sovereign, before the senate, before the people, or before magistrates, or on a private as on a public trial, in a simple representation as in a formal pleading. Everyone who directs his attention to the subject can conceive such distinctions for himself.

15He has then to consider on what subject he is to speak and what object he desires to effect. As to the subject, four points are to be regarded:

With reference to the whole cause, for causes may be either of a mournful or an amusing nature, dangerous or safe, important or inconsiderable, so that we should never be so occupied with particular portions of a cause as to forget the general character of it. 152.
With respect to the different divisions of a cause, as the exordium, the statement of facts, the arguments, and the peroration.
With regard to the thoughts, where everything is varied in conformity with the matter and the addresses to the feelings.
With reference to the words, in which, though imitation, if we try to make the sound everywhere correspond to the sense, is reprehensible, yet unless the proper force is given to some words, the sense of the whole would be destroyed.
15In panegyrics, then, unless they are funeral orations, in giving thanks, in exhortations, and in subjects of a similar nature, our action should be animated, grand, or sublime. In funeral orations, speeches of consolation, and the greater part of criminal causes, the gesture should be grave and staid. In addressing the senate, gravity should be observed; in speaking to the people, dignity; and in pleading private causes, moderation. Of the several divisions of a cause, and of the thoughts and language, which are of varied character, I must speak at greater length.

15Delivery ought to exhibit three qualities: it should conciliate, persuade, and move, and to please will be a quality that naturally combines itself with these. Conciliation is produced either by fairness of moral character, which manifests itself, I know not how, even in the tone and in the gesture, or by agreeableness of language. Persuasion depends greatly on assertion, which sometimes has more effect than even proof itself. 15"Would those statements," says Cicero to Calidius, "have been delivered by you in such a way if they had been true?" and, "So far were you from inflaming our passion that we could scarcely abstain from sleep in that passage." Let confidence, therefore, and firmness be apparent in an orator's manner, at least if he has authority to support it. 15The art of moving lies either in the manifestation of our own feelings or imitation of those others.

When the judge, therefore, in a private cause, or the herald in a public one, calls upon us to speak, we must rise with calmness, and we may then delay a little to settle our toga or, if necessary, to throw it on afresh, in order that our dress may be more becoming, and that we may have some moments for reflection, though this can be done only on ordinary trials, for before the emperor, the magistrates, or the supreme tribunals, it will not be possible. 15Even when we have turned towards the judge, and the praetor, being consulted, has granted us leave to speak, we must not burst forth suddenly, but allow a short space for recollection, for preparation on the part of him who is going to speak is extremely pleasing to him who is going to hear, and the judge naturally composes himself for attention. 15Homer gives us this instruction in the example of Ulysses, whom he represents as standing with his eyes fixed on the ground and his scepter unmoved, before he poured forth that storm of eloquence. In such a pause, there may be, as the players observe, certain not unbecoming pretexts for delay, such as to stroke the head, to look down at the hand, to crack the joints of the fingers, to pretend to make an effort, to betray anxiety by a sigh, or whatever other gesture may suit the speaker, and we may continue such actions if the judge is still unprepared to give us his attention. 15As to the attitude, it should be erect, the feet a little apart, in similar positions, or the left a slight degree in advance; the knees straight, but not so as to seem stiff; the shoulders kept down; the countenance grave, not anxious, or stolid, or languid; the arms at a moderate distance from the side; the left hand in the position which I have before prescribed; and the right, when we are going to commence, a little extended beyond the bosom of the toga, with the most modest possible gesture, as if waiting for the moment to begin. 160. For there are many offensive gestures practiced, such as looking up at the ceiling, rubbing the face and making it bold as it were, stretching forward the face with a confident kind of air or knitting the brows to make it appear more stern, brushing the hair unnaturally back from the forehead that its roughness may look terrible, pretending, by a constant motion of the lips and fingers, as is a frequent practice with the Greeks, to be studying what we are going to say, hawking with a great noise, extending one foot far before the other, holding up a part of the toga with the left hand, standing with the legs wide apart, or with the body stiff, or thrown back, or bent forwards, or with the shoulders drawn up to the hinder part of the head, like those of men about to wrestle.

16For the exordium, a calm delivery is generally suitable, for nothing is more attractive than modesty to gain us a favorable hearing. Yet this is not always to be the case, for exordia, as I have shown, are not all to be pronounced in the same manner. In general, however, the tone at the commencement should be calm, the gesture modest, the toga well settled on the shoulder, the motion of the body to either side gentle, and the eyes looking in the same direction as the body.

16The statement of the case will commonly require the hand to be more extended, the toga thrown back, and the gesture more decided, with a tone of voice similar to that of ordinary conversation, only more spirited, yet of uniform sound, at least in such passages as these, "For Quintus Ligarius, when there was no suspicion of war in Africa," etc., and "Aulus Cluentius Habitus, the father of him who is before you," etc. But other passages in a statement may call for a different tone, as, "The mother-in-law is married to her son-in-law," etc., and, "A spectacle grievous and afflicting to the whole province of Asia is exhibited in the marketplace of Laodicea," etc.

16In advancing proofs the action may be various and diversified, for although stating, distinguishing particulars, asking questions, and anticipating objections (another kind of statement) may be confined to a tone bordering on the conversational, we may sometimes offer our demonstrations in a strain of raillery or mimicry.

16Argumentation, being generally more spirited, lively, and energetic, requires gesture suited to the subject, that is, impressive and animated. We must insist strongly in certain passages, and our words must appear as it were in close array.

Digressions should mostly be delivered in a gentle, agreeable, and calm tone, as those of the rape of Proserpine, the description of Sicily, and the eulogy of Pompey, for it is natural that what is unconnected with the main question should require less urgency of manner.

1representation of the manners of the opposite party, accompanied with censure, may sometimes be given in a gentle tone, as, "I seemed to myself to see some entering, others going out, some tottering from the effects of wine, some yawning from yesterday's carousal," when gesture, such as is not unsuitable to the tone, is admissible, for example, a gentle movement to either side, but a movement confined to the hand, without any change in the position of the body.

16Many varieties of tone may be adopted for exciting the judge. The highest and loudest tone that a speaker can possibly adopt is proper for uttering the following words, "When the war was begun, Caesar, and, even in a great degree advanced," etc., for he had previously said, "I will exert my voice as loudly as possible, that the people of Rome may hear," etc. A tone somewhat lower and having something pleasing in it is suitable for the question, "What was that sword of yours doing, Tubero, in the field of Pharsalia?" A tone still fuller and slower, and consequently more agreeable, will suit the words, "But in an assembly of the people of Rome, and when holding a public office," etc. 16Here every sound should be prolonged; the vowels should be extended, and the mouth well opened. Yet the words, "Ye Alban hills and groves," etc., should flow in a still stronger stream, and, "Rocks and deserts respond to the voice of the poet," etc., should be pronounced in a sort of chanting tone and fall gradually in a musical cadence. 16It was with such variations of tone that Demosthenes and Aeschines upbraided each other, but they are not to be condemned on that account, for as each reproached the other with them, it is evident that both used them, since it was not, assuredly, in an ordinary tone of voice that Demosthenes swore by the defenders of Marathon and Plataea and Salamis, nor was it in the tone of daily conversation that Aeschines bewailed the fate of Thebes. 16There is also a tone different from all those that have been mentioned, raised almost above any key in which we speak, a tone on which the Greeks have bestowed the term "bitter," and which is shrill beyond measure and almost beyond the natural power of the human voice. Thus are uttered the words, Quin compescitis vocem istam, indicem stultitiae, testem paucitatis, "Will you not restrain those cries, the indications of your folly, the proofs of your fewness?" But the extravagant tone of which I spoke is required only at the commencement, Quin compescitis.

170. As to the peroration, if it consists of a recapitulation of the case, it requires a continuous enumeration of particulars in a uniform tone; if it is intended to excite the judges, it must he delivered in one of the tones which I have mentioned above; if it is designed to soothe them, it calls for smoothness and gentleness; if to move them to pity, a kind of musical cadence and plaintive sweetness of the voice, by which the mind is strongly affected and which is extremely natural, for at a funeral we may hear widows and orphans lamenting in a mournful kind of melody. 17In such a case, that muffled sort of voice which Cicero says that Antonius had will be of great effect, for it has from nature the tone which we should wish to assume. There are, however, two species of pity: one mixed with indignation, such as was mentioned above in reference to the condemnation of Philodamus, the other in a lower tone accompanied with deprecation. 17Though there may be something of scarcely perceptible music in the delivery of the words, "But in the assembly of the people of Rome," etc. (for Cicero did not utter them in a tone of invective) and in that of the exclamation, "Ye Alban hills," etc. (for he did not speak as if he were invoking or calling them to witness), the following passages must have been spoken in a manner infinitely more modulated and harmonious, "Miserable, unhappy man that I am," etc., and, "What answer shall I give to my children?" etc., and, "Could you, Milo, by the means of these judges, recall me to my country, and shall I be unable, by means of the same judges, to retain you in yours?" He must have adopted a similar tone when he values the property of Caius Rabirius at one sesterce, and exclaimed, "O miserable and afflicting duty of my voice!" 1profession, too, on the part of the orator that he is sinking from distress and fatigue has an extraordinary effect in a peroration, as in the same speech for Milo, "But there must be an end, for I am no longer able to speak for tears," etc., and such passages must have the delivery conformable to the language. 17Other particulars may seem to require notice as belonging to this portion and department of a speech, as to produce accused persons, to take up children in the arms, to bring forward relatives, and to rend garments, but they have been mentioned in the proper place.

Since, then, there is such variety in the different parts of a cause, it is sufficiently apparent that the delivery, as I have endeavored to show, must correspond to the matter. But the pronunciation must also be adapted to the words, as I observed a little above, not indeed always, but at times. 17For example, must not the words "unhappy man, poor creature," be uttered in a low and subdued tone, and must not "courageous, vehement, robber," be spoken in a more elevated and energetic tone? By such conformity, a force and propriety of meaning is given to our thoughts, and without it, the tone would indicate one thing and the thought another. 17Do not, indeed, the same words, by a change in the mode of pronouncing them, express demonstration, assertion, reproach, denial, admiration, indignation, interrogation, derision, contempt? The syllable tu is uttered in a very different tone in each of the following passages of Virgil:

Tu mihi quodcunque hoc regni.
and,

Cantando tu illum?
and,

Tune ille aeneas?
and,

Meque timoris Argue tu, Drance.
Not to dwell too long on this head, let me observe only that if the reader will conceive in his own mind this, or any other word that he pleases, pronounced in conformity with every variation of feeling, he will then be assured that what I say is true.

17One remark must, however, be added, namely that as the great object to be regarded in speaking is decorum, different manners often become different speakers, and for such variety there is a secret and inexplicable cause. Though it is truly said that our great triumph is that what we do should be becoming, this, as it cannot be accomplished without art, can still not be wholly communicated by art. 17In some, excellences have no charm, while in others, even faults are pleasing. We have seen the most eminent actors in comedy, Demetrius and Stratocles, delight their audiences by qualities of a very different nature. It is not, however, surprising that the one acted gods, young men, good fathers, domestics, matrons, and staid old women, with happy effect, or that the other was more successful in representing passionate old men, cunning slaves, parasites, procurers, and other bustling characters, for their natural endowments were very different, as even the voice of Demetrius was more pleasing and that of Stratocles more powerful. 17But what was more observable was their peculiarity of action, which could not have been transferred from one to the other. To wave the hand in a particular way, to prolong exclamations in an agreeable tone to please the audience, to puff out the robe with the air on entering the stage, and sometimes to gesticulate with the right side could have been becoming in no actor but Demetrius, for in all these respects he was aided by a good stature and comely person. 180. On the contrary, hurry, perpetual motion, a laugh not altogether in unison with his mask (a laugh which he uttered to please the people, and with perfect consciousness of what he was doing), and a depression of the head between the shoulders, were extremely agreeable in Stratocles. But whatever excellence in either had been attempted by the other, the attempt would have proved an offensive failure. Let every speaker, therefore, know himself, and in order to form his delivery, he should consult not only the ordinary rules of art, but his own abilities. 18Yet it is not absolutely impossible that all styles, or at least a great number, may suit the same person.

The conclusion to this head must be similar to that which I have made to others, an admonition that moderation must have the utmost influence in regard to it, for I do not wish any pupil of mine to be an actor, but an orator. Therefore, we need not study all the niceties of gesture, nor observe, in speaking, all the troublesome varieties of stops, intervals, and inflections of tone for moving the feelings. 18Thus, if an actor on the stage had to pronounce the following verses,

Quid igitur faciam? non eam, ne nunc quidem,
Quum arcessor ultro? an potius ita me comparem,
Non perpeti meretricum contumelias?

What, therefore, shall I do? not go? not now,
When I'm invited by herself? Or rather
Shall I resolve no longer to endure
These harlots' impudence?
he would display all the pauses of doubt and adopt various inflections of the voice and gestures of the hand. But oratory is of another nature and will not allow itself to be too much seasoned, for it consists in serious pleading, not in mimicry. 18Accordingly, delivery that is accompanied with perpetual movement of the features, that fatigues the audience with gesticulation, and that fluctuates with constant changes of tone is deservedly condemned. Our old rhetoricians, therefore, wisely adopted a saying from the Greeks, which Popilius Laenas inserted in his writings as borrowed from our orators, that this is "restless pleading." 18Cicero, in consequence, who has given excellent precepts with regard to other matters, affords us similar directions with respect to this, directions which I have already quoted from his Orator, and he makes observations of a like nature, in reference to Antonius, in his Brutus. Yet a mode of speaking somewhat more vivacious than that of old has now become prevalent and is even required, and to some portions of a speech, it is very well adapted. But it must be kept so far under control that the orator, while he aims at the elegance of the player, may not lose the character of a good and judicious man.

I have now arrived at by far the most important part of the work which I had contemplated. Had I imagined, when I first conceived the idea of it, that its weight would have been so great as that with which I now feel myself pressed, I should have earlier considered whether my strength would be able to bear it. But at the commencement, the thought of the disgrace that I should incur if I did not perform what I had promised kept me to my undertaking, and afterwards, though the labor increased at almost every stage, I resolved to support myself under all difficulties that I might not render useless what had been already finished. For the same reason at present, also, though the task grows more burdensome than ever, as I look towards the end, I am determined rather to faint than to despair.

What deceived me was that I began with small matters, and though I was subsequently carried onwards like a mariner by inviting gales, as long as I treated only of what was generally known and had been the subject of consideration to most writers on rhetoric, I seemed to be still at no great distance from the shore and had many companions who had ventured to trust themselves to the same breezes. But when I entered upon regions of eloquence but recently discovered and attempted only by very few, scarcely a navigator was to be seen that had gone so far from the harbor as myself. And now, when the orator whom I have been forming, being released from the teachers of rhetoric, is either carried forward by his own efforts or desires greater aid from the inmost recesses of philosophy, I begin to feel into how vast an ocean I have sailed and see that there is

Caelum undique et undique pontus,

On all sides heaven, and on all sides sea.
I seem to behold, in the vast immensity, only one adventurer besides myself, namely Cicero, and even he himself, though he entered on the deep with so great and so well equipped a vessel, contracts his sails, lays aside his oars, and contents himself with showing merely what sort of eloquence a consummate orator ought to employ. But my temerity will attempt to define even the orator's moral character and to prescribe his duties. Thus, though I cannot overtake the great man that is before me, I must nevertheless go farther than he, as my subject shall lead me. However, the desire of what is honorable is always praiseworthy, and it belongs to what we may call cautious daring to try that for failure in which pardon will readily be granted.

LET the orator whom I propose to form, then, be such a one as is characterized by the definition of Marcus Cato, a good man skilled in speaking.

But the requisite which Cato has placed first in this definition—that an orator should be a good man—is naturally of more estimation and importance than the other. It is important that an orator should be good because, should the power of speaking be a support to evil, nothing would be more pernicious than eloquence alike to public concerns and private. I myself, who, as far as is in my power, strive to contribute something to the faculty of the orator, should deserve very ill of the world, since I should furnish arms, not for soldiers, but for robbers. May I not draw an argument from the condition of mankind? Nature herself, in bestowing on man that which she seems to have granted him preeminently and by which she appears to have distinguished us from all other animals, would have acted, not as a parent, but as a step-mother, if she had designed the faculty of speech to be the promoter of crime, the oppressor of innocence, and the enemy of truth. For it would have been better for us to have been born dumb and to have been left destitute of reasoning powers than to have received endowments from providence only to turn them to the destruction of one another.

My judgment carries me still further, for I not only say that he who would answer my idea of an orator must be a good man, but that no man, unless he be good, can ever be an orator. Discernment and prudence are necessary to an orator, but we can certainly not allow discernment to those who, when the ways of virtue and vice are set before them, prefer to follow that of vice. Nor can we allow them prudence, since they subject themselves, by the unforeseen consequences of their actions, often to the heaviest penalty of the law and always to that of an evil conscience. But if it is not only truly said by the wise, but always justly believed by the vulgar that no man is vicious who is not also foolish, a fool, assuredly, will never become an orator.

It is to be further considered that the mind cannot be in a condition for pursuing the most noble of studies unless it is entirely free from vice, not only because there can be no communion of good and evil in the same breast, and to meditate at once on the best things and the worst is no more in the power of the same mind than it is possible for the same man to be at once virtuous and vicious, but also because a mind intent on so arduous a study should be exempt from all other cares, even such as are unconnected with vice. For then, and then only, when it is free and master of itself, and when no other object harasses and distracts its attention, will it be able to keep in view the end to which it is devoted. But if an inordinate attention to an estate, a too anxious pursuit of wealth, indulgence in the pleasures of hunting, and the devotion of our days to public spectacles rob our studies of much of our time (for whatever time is given to one thing is lost to another), what effect must we suppose that ambition, avarice, and envy will produce, whose excitements are so violent as even to disturb our sleep and our dreams? Nothing indeed is so preoccupied, so unsettled, so torn and lacerated with such numerous and various passions as a bad mind, for when it intends evil, it is agitated with hope, care, and anxiety, and when it has attained the object of its wickedness, it is tormented with uneasiness, repentance, and the dread of every kind of punishment. Among such disquietudes, what place is there for study or any rational pursuit? No more certainly than there is for corn in a field overrun with thorns and brambles.

Is not temperance necessary to enable us to sustain the toil of study? What expectations are to be formed, then, from him who is abandoned to licentiousness and luxury? Is not the love of praise one of the greatest incitements to the pursuit of literature? But can we suppose that the love of praise is an object of regard with the unprincipled? Who does not know that a principal part of oratory consists in discoursing on justice and virtue? But will the unjust man and the vicious treat of such subjects with the respect that is due to them?

But though we should even concede a great part of the question and grant what can by no means be the case, that there is the same portion of ability, diligence, and attainments in the worst man as in the best, which of the two, even under that supposition, will prove the better orator? He, doubtless, who is the better man. The same person, therefore, can never be a bad man and a perfect orator, for that cannot be perfect to which something else is superior.

That I may not seem, however, like the writers of Socratic dialogues, to frame answers to suit my own purpose, let us admit that there exists a person so unmoved by the force of truth, as boldly to maintain that a bad man, possessed of the same portion of ability, application, and learning as a good man, will be an equally good orator, and let us convince even such a person of his folly.

1No man, certainly, will doubt that it is the object of all oratory that what is stated to the judge may appear to him to be true and just. Which of the two, let me ask, will produce such a conviction with the greater ease, the good man or the bad?

1A good man, doubtless, will speak of what is true and honest with greater frequency, but even if, from being influenced by some call of duty, he endeavors to support what is fallacious (a case which, as I shall show, may sometimes occur), he must still be heard with greater credit than a bad man. 1But with bad men, on the other hand, dissimulation sometimes fails, as well through their contempt for the opinion of mankind as through their ignorance of what is right. Hence, they assert without modesty and maintain their assertions without shame, and in attempting what evidently cannot be accomplished, there appears in them a repulsive obstinacy and useless perseverance, for bad men, as well in their pleadings as in their lives, entertain dishonest expectations. It often happens that even when they speak the truth, belief is not accorded them, and the employment of advocates of such a character is regarded as a proof of the badness of a cause.

1I must, however, notice those objections to my opinion which appear to clamor forth, as it were, from the general consent of the multitude. They ask, "Was not then Demosthenes a great orator? Yet we have heard that he was not a good man. Was not Cicero a great orator? Yet many have thrown censure upon his character." How shall I answer such questions? Great displeasure is likely to be shown at any reply whatever, and the ears of my audience require first to be propitiated. 1Let me say that the character of Demosthenes does not appear to me deserving of such severe reprehension that I should believe all the calumnies that are heaped upon him by his enemies, especially when I read his excellent plans for the benefit of his country and the honorable termination of his life. 1Nor do I see that the feeling of an upright citizen was, in any respect, wanting in Cicero. As proofs of his integrity, may it be mentioned his consulship in which he conducted himself with so much honor, his honorable administration of his province, his refusal to be one of the commissioners, and during the civil wars, which fell with great severity on his times, his uprightness of mind, which was never swayed, either by hope or by fear, from adhering to the better party or the supporters of the commonwealth. 1He is thought by some to have been deficient in courage, but he has given an excellent reply to this charge when he says that he was timid, not in encountering dangers, but in taking precautions against them, an assertion which he proved true at his death, to which he submitted with the noblest fortitude. 1But even should the height of virtue have been wanting in these eminent men, I shall reply to those who ask me whether they were orators, as the Stoics reply when they are asked whether Zeno, Cleanthes, and Chrysippus, were wise men; they say that they were great and deserving of veneration, but that they did not attain the highest excellence of which human nature is capable.

1Pythagoras desired to be called not wise, like those who preceded him, but a lover of wisdom. I, however, in speaking of Cicero, have often said, according to the common mode of speech, and shall continue to say, that he was a perfect orator, as we term our friends, in ordinary discourse, good and prudent men, though such epithets can be justly given only to the perfectly wise. 20. But when I have to speak precisely and in conformity with the exactness of truth, I shall express myself as longing to see such an orator as he himself also longed to see. I acknowledge that Cicero stood at the head of eloquence and that I can scarcely find a passage in his speeches to which anything can be added, however many I might find which I may imagine that he would have pruned (for the learned have in general been of opinion that he had numerous excellences and some faults, and he himself says that he had cut off most of his juvenile exuberance). But since he did not claim to himself the praise of perfection, though he had no mean opinion of his merits, and since he might certainly have spoken better if a longer life had been granted him and a more tranquil season for composition, I may not unreasonably believe that the summit of excellence was not attained by him, to which, notwithstanding, no man made nearer approaches. 2If I had thought otherwise, I might have maintained my opinion with still greater determination and freedom. Did Marcus Antonius declare that he had seen no man truly eloquent, though to be eloquent is much less than to be a perfect orator? Does Cicero himself say that he is still seeking for an orator and merely conceives and imagines one? And shall I fear to say that in that portion of eternity which is yet to come something may arise still more excellent than what has yet been seen? 2I take no advantage of the opinion of those who refuse to allow great merit to Cicero and Demosthenes even in eloquence, though Demosthenes, indeed, does not appear sufficiently near perfection even to Cicero himself, who says that he sometimes nods. Nor does Cicero appear so to Brutus and Calvus, who certainly find fault with his language even in addressing himself, or to either of the Asinii, who attack the blemishes in his style with virulence in various places.

2Let us grant, however, what nature herself by no means brings to pass—that a bad man has been found endowed with consummate eloquence. I should nevertheless refuse to concede to him the name of orator, as I should not allow the merit of fortitude to all who have been active in the field, because fortitude cannot be conceived as unaccompanied with virtue. 2Does he who is employed to defend causes not need integrity which covetousness cannot pervert, or partiality corrupt, or terror abash? Shall we honor the traitor, the renegade, and the prevaricator with the sacred name of orator? And if that quality commonly called goodness is found even in moderate pleaders, why should not that great orator, who has not yet appeared, but who may hereafter appear, be as consummate in goodness as in eloquence? 2It is not a plodder in the forum, or a mercenary pleader, or, to use no stronger term, a not unprofitable advocate (such as he whom they generally term a causidicus) that I desire to form, but a man who, being possessed of the highest natural genius, stores his mind thoroughly with the most valuable kinds of knowledge, a man sent by the gods to do honor to the world and such as no preceding age has known, a man in every way eminent and excellent, a thinker of the best thoughts and a speaker of the best language. 2How small a scope will there be for such a man's ability in the defense of innocence or the repression of guilt in the forum, or in supporting truth against falsehood in litigations about money? He will appear great, indeed, even in such inferior employments, but his powers will shine with the highest luster on greater occasions, when the counsels of the senate are to be directed and the people are to be guided from error into rectitude. 2Is it not such an orator that Virgil appears to have imagined, representing him as a calmer of the populace in a sedition, when they were hurling firebrands and stones?

Tum pietate gravem et meritis si forte virum quem
Conspexere, silent, arrectisque auribus adstant,

Then if perchance a sage they see, rever'd
For piety and worth, they hush their noise,
And stand with ears attentive.
We see that he first makes him a good man, and then adds that he is skilled in speaking:

Ille regit dictis animos, et pectora mulcet,

With words
He rules their passions and their breasts controls.
2Also, would not the orator I am trying to form, if he were on the field of battle and his soldiers needed to be encouraged to engage, draw the materials for an exhortation from the most profound precepts of philosophy? For how could all the terrors of toil, pain, and even death be banished from their breasts unless vivid feelings of piety, fortitude, and honor were substituted in their place? 2He doubtless will best implant such feelings in the breasts of others who has first implanted them in his own, for simulation, however guarded, always betrays itself, nor was there ever such power of eloquence in any man that he would not falter and hesitate whenever his words were at variance with his thoughts. 30. But a bad man must of necessity utter words at variance with his thoughts, while good men, on the contrary, will never be lacking a virtuous sincerity of language nor (for good men will also be wise) a power of producing the most excellent thoughts, which, though they may be destitute of showy charms, will be sufficiently adorned by their own natural qualities, since whatever is said with honest feeling will also be said with eloquence.

3Let youth, therefore, or rather let all of us, of every age (for no time is too late for resolving on what is right) direct our whole faculties and our whole exertions to this object, and perhaps to some it may be granted to attain it, for if nature does not interdict a man from being good or from being eloquent, why should someone among mankind not be able to attain eminence in both goodness and eloquence? And why should each not hope that he himself may be the fortunate aspirant? 3If our powers of mind are insufficient to reach the summit, yet in proportion to the advances that we make towards, it will be our improvement in both eloquence and virtue. At least let the notion be wholly banished from our thoughts that perfect eloquence, the noblest of human attainments, can be united with a vicious character of mind. Talent in speaking, if it falls to the lot of the vicious, must be regarded as being itself a vice, since it makes those more mischievous with whom it allies itself.

3But I fancy that I hear some (for there will never be wanting men who would rather be eloquent than good) saying "Why then is there so much art devoted to eloquence? Why have you given precepts on rhetorical coloring and the defense of difficult causes, and some even on the acknowledgment of guilt, unless, at times, the force and ingenuity of eloquence overpowers even truth itself? For a good man advocates only good causes, and truth itself supports them sufficiently without the aid of learning." 3These objectors I shall endeavor to satisfy by answering them, first, concerning my own work, and, secondly, concerning the duty of a good man if occasion ever calls him to the defense of the guilty.

To consider how we may speak in defense of what is false, or even what is unjust, is not without its use, if for no other reason than we may expose and refute fallacious arguments with the greater ease, as that physician will apply remedies with the greater effect to whom that which is hurtful is known, 3The Academicians, when they have disputed on both sides of a point of morality, will not live according to either side at hazard, nor was the well-known Carneades, who is said to have argued at Rome, in the hearing of Cato the Censor, with no less force against the observance of justice than he had argued the day before in favor of it, an unjust man. But vice, which is opposed to virtue, shows more clearly what virtue is; justice becomes more manifest from the contemplation of injustice, and many things are proved by their contraries. The devices of his adversaries, accordingly, should be as well known to the orator as the stratagems of an enemy in the field to a commander.

3Reason may find cause to justify even that which appears objectionable when first stated—that a good man, in defending a cause, may sometimes incline to withhold the truth from the judge. If anyone feels surprised that I advance this opinion (though this is not mine in particular, but that of those whom antiquity acknowledged as the greatest masters of wisdom), let him consider that there are many things which are rendered honorable or dishonorable, not by their own nature, but by the causes which give rise to them. 3For if to kill a man is often an act of virtue and to put to death one's children is sometimes a noble sacrifice, and if it is allowable to do things of a still more repulsive nature when the good of our country demands them, we must not consider merely what cause a good man defends, but from what motive and with what object he defends it. 3In the first place, everyone must grant me what the most rigid of the Stoics do not deny—that a good man may sometimes think it proper to tell a lie, and occasionally, even in matters of small moment, such as when children are sick, and we make them believe many things with a view to promote their health and promise them many which we do not intend to perform. 3Much less, is it forbidden to tell a falsehood when an assassin is to be prevented from killing a man or an enemy to be deceived for the benefit of our country? Also, what is at one time reprehensible in a slave is at another laudable even in the wisest of men. If this is admitted, I see that many causes may occur for which an orator may justly undertake a case of such a nature as he would not undertake in the absence of any honorable motive. 40. Nor do I say this only with reference to a father, a brother, or a friend who may be in danger (because even in such a case I would allow only what is strictly lawful), though there is then sufficient ground for hesitation, when the image of justice presents itself on one side and that of natural affection on the other. But let us set the point beyond all doubt. Let us suppose that a man has attempted the life of a tyrant and is brought to trial for the deed. Will such an orator as described by us be unwilling that his life should be saved? And, if he undertakes to defend him, will he not support his cause before the judge by the same kind of misrepresentation as he who advocates a bad cause? 4Or what if a judge would condemn a man for something that was done with justice, unless we convince him that it was not done. Would not an orator, by producing such conviction, save the life of a fellow citizen who is not only innocent but deserving of praise? Or what if we know that certain political measures are in contemplation, which, though just in themselves, are rendered detrimental to the commonwealth by the state of the times. Shall we not try to set them aside by adopting artifices of eloquence, which, though well-intended, are nevertheless similar to those of an immoral character?

4Again, no man will doubt that if guilty persons can by any means be turned to a right course of life, and it is allowed that they sometimes may, it will be more for the advantage of the state that their lives should be spared than that they should be put to death. If, then, it appears certain to an orator that a person against whom true accusations are brought will, if acquitted, become a good member of society, will he not exert himself that he may be acquitted?

4Suppose again that a man who is an excellent general and without whose aid his country would be unable to overcome her enemies, is accused of a crime of which he is evidently guilty. Will not the public good call upon an orator to plead his cause? It is certain that Fabricius voted to have Cornelius Rufinus, who was in other respects a bad citizen and his personal enemy, elected consul because he knew him to be a good general, and war threatened the state. When some expressed surprise at what he had done, he replied that he would rather be robbed by a citizen than sold for a slave by the enemy. Therefore, had Fabricius been an orator, would he not have pleaded for Rufinus even though he had been manifestly guilty of robbing his country?

4Many similar cases might be supposed, but even any one of them is sufficient, for I do not insinuate that the orator whom I would form should often undertake such causes. I only wish to show that if such a motive as I have mentioned should induce him to do so, the definition of an orator—that he is a good man skilled in speaking—would still be true.

4It is necessary, too, for the master to teach and for the pupil to learn how difficult cases are to be treated in attempting to establish them, for very often even the best causes resemble bad ones. An innocent person under accusation may be urged by many probabilities against him, and he must then be defended by the same process of pleading as if he were guilty. There are also innumerable particulars common alike to good and bad causes, such as oral and written evidence, and suspicions and prejudices to be overcome. But what is probable is established or refuted by the same methods as what is true. The speech of the orator, therefore, will be modeled as circumstances shall require, with uprightness of intention being always maintained.

SINCE an orator, then, is a good man, and a good man cannot be conceived to exist without virtuous inclinations, and virtue, though it receives certain impulses from nature, requires notwithstanding to be brought to maturity by instruction, the orator must above all things study morality and must obtain a thorough knowledge of all that is just and honorable, without which no one can either be a good man or an able speaker. Unless, indeed, we feel inclined to adopt the opinion of those who think that the moral character is formed by nature and is not at all influenced by discipline. They acknowledge that manual operations, and even the meanest of them, cannot be acquired without the aid of teachers, but say that we possess virtue—a gift that more than anything has raised man nearer to the immortal gods—unsought and without labor, simply because we are born. But will that man be temperate who does not even know what temperance is? Or will that man be possessed of fortitude who has used no means to free his mind from the terrors of pain, death, and superstition? Or will that man be just who has entered into no examination of what is equitable and good, and who has never ascertained from any dissertation of the least learning the principles either of the laws which are by nature prescribed to all men, or of those which are instituted among particular people and nations? Of how little consequence do they think all this, to whom it appears so easy! But I shall say no more on this point; no man who has tasted learning, as they say, with but the slightest touch of his lips will entertain the least doubt about it.

I pass on to my second proposition, that no man will ever be thoroughly accomplished in eloquence who has not gained a deep insight into the impulses of human nature and formed his moral character on the precepts of others and on his own reflection. It is not without reason that Lucius Crassus, in the third book of De Oratore, asserts that everything that can come under discussion respecting equity, justice, truth, goodness, and whatever is of an opposite nature, are the proper concerns of the orator, and that the philosophers, when they inculcate those virtues with the force of eloquence, use the arms of the orator and not their own. Yet he admits that the knowledge of these subjects must now be sought from philosophy, because philosophy, apparently, seems to him to be more fully in possession of them. Also, in many passages both of his books and of his letters, Cicero remarks that the power of eloquence is to be derived from the deepest sources of wisdom, and that accordingly the same persons were for a considerable time the teachers at once of eloquence and of morality.

This exhortation of mine, however, is not designed to intimate that I should wish the orator to be a philosopher, since no other mode of life has withdrawn itself further from the duties of civil society and all that concerns the orator. Which of the philosophers, indeed, ever frequented courts of justice or distinguished himself in public assemblies? Which of them ever engaged even in the management of political affairs, on which most of them have given such earnest precepts? But I should desire the orator, whom I am trying to form, to be a kind of Roman wise man who may prove himself a true statesman, not by discussions in retirement, but by personal experience and exertions in public life. But because the pursuits of philosophy have been deserted by those who have devoted their minds to eloquence, and because they no longer display themselves in their proper field of action and in the open light of the forum, but have retreated, at first into the porticoes and gymnasia, and after into the assemblies of the schools, the orator must seek that which is necessary for him, and which is not taught by the masters of eloquence, among those with whom it has remained, by perusing with the most diligent application the authors that give instruction in virtue, that his life may be in conformity with a thorough knowledge of divine and human things. How much more important and noble would these things appear if they were taught by those who could discourse on them with the highest eloquence? Perhaps a day will come when some orator, perfect as we wish him to be, may vindicate to himself the study of philosophy (which has been rendered odious by the arrogant assumptions and vices of those who have disgraced its excellent nature) and, by a reconquest, as it were, annex it again to the domain of eloquence!

As philosophy is divided into three parts, physics, ethics, and dialectics, by which of the three is it not allied with the business of the orator?

To consider them in the order contrary to that in which I have named them, no man can surely doubt whether the last, which is wholly employed about words, concerns the orator, if it is his business to know the exact significations of terms, to clear ambiguities, to disentangle perplexities, to distinguish falsehood from truth, and to establish or refute what he may desire. 1However, we shall not have to use these arts with such exactness and preciseness in pleadings in the forum, as is observed in the disputations of the schools, because the orator must not only instruct his audience, but must move and delight them. To effect that object there is need of energy, animation, and grace, and the difference between the orator and the dialectician is as great as that in the courses of rivers of an opposite character, for the force of streams that flow between high banks, and with a full flood, is far greater than that of shallow brooks with water struggling against the obstructions of pebbles. 1And as teachers of wrestling do not instruct their pupils in all the attitudes, as they call them, that they may use all that they have learned in an actual struggle with an adversary (for more may be effected by weight, and firmness, and ardor), but that they may have a large number of artifices, one or two of which can be adopted as occasion may require, 1so the art of logic, or disputation, if we had rather give it that name—though it is often of the greatest use in definitions and deductions, in marking differences and in explaining ambiguities, in distinguishing and dividing, in perplexing and entangling—will, if it assumes to itself the whole conduct of a cause in the forum, prove but a hindrance to what is better than itself and will waste, by its very subtlety, the strength that is divided to suit its niceties. 1We may accordingly see that some people, extremely acute in disputations, are, when they are drawn beyond the sphere of cavilling, no more able to support any important exertion of eloquence than certain little animals, though active enough to escape being caught in a small space, can prevent themselves from being seized in an open field.

1As to that part of philosophy which is called moral, the study of it is certainly wholly suited to the orator, for in such a variety of causes (as I have remarked in the preceding books) in which some points are ascertained by conjecture, others are settled by definition, others are set aside by the law, others fall under the state of exception, others are determined by syllogism, others depend on a comparison of different laws, and others on explanations of ambiguous terms, scarcely a single cause can occur in some part of which considerations of equity and morality are not concerned. Who does not know, also, that there are a number of cases which depend entirely on the estimation of the quality of an act, a question purely moral? 1In deliberative oratory, also, what means would there be of exhortation unconnected with questions of honesty? As to the third kind of oratory, too, which consists in the duties of praising and censuring, what shall be said of it? It is assuredly engaged about considerations of right and wrong. 1Will not an orator have to speak much of justice, fortitude, abstinence, temperance, and piety? Yet the good man, who has a knowledge of these virtues, not by sound and name only, not as heard merely by the ear to be repeated by the tongue, but who has embraced them in his heart and thinks in conformity with them, will have no difficulty in conceiving proper notions about them and will express sincerely what he thinks.

1Again, as every general question is more comprehensive than a particular one, as a part is contained in the whole, while the whole is not included in a part, no one will doubt that general questions are intimately connected with that kind of studies of which we are speaking. 1As there are many points also that require to be settled by appropriate and brief definitions (whence one state of causes is called the definitive), ought not the orator to be taught this by those who have given most attention to that department of study? Does not every question of equity depend either on an exact determination of the sense of words, or on the consideration of what is right, or on conjecture respecting the intention of the author of something written? Of all such questions, part will rest on logical and part on ethical science. 20. All oratory, therefore, naturally partakes of these two departments of philosophy. I mean all oratory that truly deserves the name, for mere loquacity, which is ignorant of all such learning, must necessarily go astray, as having either no guides or guides that are deceitful.

But the department of natural philosophy, besides affording so much wider a field for exercise in speaking than other subjects, inasmuch as we must treat of divine in a more elevated style than of human things, embraces also the whole of moral science, without which, as I have just shown, there can be no real oratory. 2For if the world is governed by a providence, the state ought surely to be ruled by the superintendence of good men. If our souls are of divine origin, we ought to devote ourselves to virtue and not to be slaves to a body of terrestrial nature. Will not the orator frequently have to treat of such subjects as these? Will he not have to speak of auguries, oracles, and of everything pertaining to religion, on which the most important deliberations in the senate often depend, at least if he is to be, as I think that he ought to be, a well qualified statesman? What sort of eloquence can be imagined, indeed, to proceed from a man who is ignorant of the noblest subjects of human contemplation?

2If what I say were not evidently supported by reason, we might nevertheless believe it on the authority of examples, for it is well known that Pericles—the power of whose eloquence (though no visible proofs of it have come down to us) is mentioned by not only historians, but the old comic writers, a class of men not at all inclined to flattery—was a student of Anaxagoras, the great natural philosopher, and that Demosthenes, the prince of all the Greek, attended the lectures of Plato. 2As to Cicero, he frequently declares that he owed less to the schools of rhetoricians than to the gardens of the Academy. Nor indeed would so wonderful a fertility of mind have displayed itself in him if he had circumscribed his genius by the limits of forum and not allowed it to range through all the domains of nature.

But from these reflections arises another question: what sort of philosophers will contribute most to the improvement of eloquence? It is a question which will concern but small number of sects. 2Epicurus, in the first place, excludes us from all communication with him, as he directs his disciples to flee from all learning with the utmost speed at which they can sail. Nor does Aristippus, who makes the chief happiness to consist in the pleasures of the body, encourage us to support the fatigues of study. As to Pyrrho, what concern can he have with our labor, he who is not certain whether there are judges to whom he speaks, or a defendant for whom he pleads, or a senate in which his opinion is to be given? 2Some think the Academy most serviceable to eloquence, as its practice of disputing on both sides of a question is closely allied to the exercises preparatory to pleading in the forum, and they add as a proof of their opinion that that sect has produced men extremely eminent in eloquence. The Peripatetics also boast that they have a strong bearing upon oratory, as the practice of speaking on general questions for the sake of exercise had its origin chiefly among them. The Stoics, though they must allow that copiousness and splendor of eloquence have been wanting in most of their eminent men, assert that no philosophers can either support proofs with greater force or draw conclusions with greater subtility. 2But this is a notion among themselves, who, as if bound by an oath or influenced by some superstitious obligation, think it criminal to depart from a persuasion which they have once embraced.

2But an orator has no need to bind himself to the laws of any particular sect, for the office to which he devotes himself and for which he is, as it were, a candidate, is of a loftier and better nature, since he is to be distinguished as well by excellence of moral conduct as by merit in eloquence. He will accordingly select the most eloquent orators for imitation in oratory, and for forming his moral character, will fix upon the most honorable precepts and the most direct road to virtue. 2He will indeed exercise himself on all subjects, but he will attach himself most to those of the highest and noblest nature, for what more fertile subjects can be found, indeed, for grave and copious eloquence than dissertations on virtue, on government, on providence, on the origin of the human mind, and on friendship? These are the topics by which the mind and the language are alike elevated: what is really good, what allays fear, restrains cupidity, frees us from the prejudices of the vulgar, and raises the mind towards the heaven from which it sprung.

2Nor will it be proper to understand only those matters comprehended in the sciences of which I have been speaking, but still more to know and to bear continually in mind the noble deeds and sayings which are recorded of the great men of antiquity and which certainly are nowhere found in greater number or excellence than in the annals of our own commonwealth. 30. Will men of any other nation give better lessons of fortitude, justice, honor, temperance, frugality, or contempt of pain and death than a Fabricius, a Curius, a Regulus, a Decius, a Mucius, and others without number? For as highly as the Greeks abound in precepts, the Romans abound quite as much in examples, which are far more important. 3If any man does not think it sufficient to regard merely the present age and the passing day, but considers any honorable remembrance among posterity a just sequel to a life of virtue and the completion of a career of merit, he will feel himself in a manner impelled by the biography of his country to a similar course of conduct. From this source let the orator whom I would form derive strong encouragements to the observance of justice, and let him show a sense of liberty drawn from hence in his pleadings in the forum and in his addresses to the senate. Nor will he indeed ever be a consummate orator who has not both knowledge and boldness to speak with sincerity.

A knowledge of the civil law and of the manners and religion of that state, whatever it be, over which he shall endeavor to exert any influence will be necessary for such an orator. What sort of an adviser, in public or private deliberations, would he be if he is ignorant of things by which a state is principally held together? How will he not falsely call himself a defender of causes if has to seek from another that which is of most importance to the pleading of his causes, almost like those who recite the writings of poets? He will resemble in a manner a person carrying messages. What he desires the judge to believe he will have to advance on the faith of another, and while he professes to aid parties going to law, he will stand in need of aid himself. This may indeed sometimes be done with little inconvenience, when he brings before the judge what he has taught himself and arranged at home and which he has learned by heart like other component parts of the cause. But how will he fare with regard to those questions which often arise suddenly in the middle of a case? Will he not look about him, covered with shame, and ask questions of the inferior advocates on the benches? Even if he receives an answer, will he be able to fully comprehend what he hears, when he has to deliver it on an instant? Will he be able to assert anything with confidence or speak with any appearance of sincerity for his clients? Perhaps he may in a set speech, but what will he do in altercations where he must reply to the opposite party at once, with no time allowed him for gaining information? Or what if a person skilled in the law is not at hand to prompt him? What if a person but imperfectly acquainted with the subject suggests to him something incorrect? For it is one of the greatest misfortunes of ignorance to fancy that whoever offers instruction is a man of knowledge.

I am not indeed forgetful of our practice or unmindful of those who sit, as it were, by the store chests to furnish weapons for forensic combatants. Nor am I unaware that the Greeks also had the same custom, from whom the name of pragmatici, bestowed upon these gentlemen, was derived. But I am speaking of a genuine orator who is to bring to the support of his cause not only his voice, but everything that can possibly be of service to it. Therefore, I would not think him useless if he stood for his hour of preliminary preparation or unskillful in establishing evidence. For who better than himself could prepare the matter he wants to appear in the cause when he pleads it? Unless, indeed, we consider a general to be able who is active and brave in the field and skilled in everything an engagement requires, but does not know how to levy troops, muster or equip forces, provide secure provisions, or select a position for a camp, though it is surely of more importance to make preparations for success in a fight than to have the command in it. But an orator would very greatly resemble such a general if he should leave much that would promote his success to the management of others, especially as this knowledge of the civil law, which is of the utmost importance to him, is not so difficult to be acquired as it may perhaps appear to those who contemplate it from a distance. For every point of law which is certain rests upon something written or upon custom; whatever is doubtful must be decided on grounds of equity. What is written or dependent on the custom of a country is attended with no difficulty, for it is a matter of knowledge, not of invention, and points which are explained by the comments of lawyers reside either in interpretations of words or in distinctions between right and wrong. To understand the sense of every word in a law is either common to all men of education or peculiar to the orator; equity is understood by every honest man. Moreover, we are supposing our orator to be a man eminently good and sensible, a man who, when he has devoted himself to the study of what is excellent in its nature, will not be greatly troubled if a lawyer differs from him in opinion, since lawyers themselves are allowed to hold various opinions on the same points.

But if he desires to know what lawyers in general have thought of any matter, he has only to apply himself to reading, which is less laborious than anything in his course of study. If many who despaired of acquiring the necessary qualifications for speaking in public have consequently taken up the study of law, how easy it is for the orator to learn that which is learned by those who, according to their own confession, cannot become orators! But Marcus Cato was both highly distinguished for eloquence and eminent for his knowledge of law, and the merit of eloquence was also allowed to Scaevola and Servius Sulpicius. In pleading, Cicero, too, was not only never at a loss for a knowledge of law, but had even begun to write on it, whence it appears that an orator may not only have time for learning law, but also for teaching it.

1But let no man suppose that the precepts I have offered respecting the necessity of attention to moral character and to the study of law need not be regarded simply because we have known many who, from dislike of the labor necessary in aspiring to eloquence, have resigned themselves to employments better suited to their indolence. Some of these have given themselves up to the white jus praetorium, or praetors' edicts and red civil law, or have preferred to become formularii, or as Cicero terms them, leguleii, on pretense of choosing what was more useful, when in reality they sought only what was easier. 1There have been others, of equal indolence but greater arrogance, who suddenly settled their countenance with affected gravity and let their beards grow. Looking as if they had contempt for the study of oratory, they sat for a time in the schools of the philosophers, in order that, by assumed solemnity in public, while they are abandoned to licentiousness at home, they may assume authority to themselves by setting others at nought.

SUCH are the acquirements of which I had promised to give an account. They are instruments, not of the art, as some have thought, but of the orator; they are the arms he ought to have at hand and with a knowledge of which he ought to be thoroughly prepared, united with a ready store of words and figurative language, as well as with power of imagination, skill in the disposition of materials, strength of memory, and grace of delivery.

But the most important of all qualities is steady presence of mind, which fear cannot shake, or clamor intimidate, nor the authority of an audience restrain beyond the just portion of respect that is due to them, for though faults of an opposite nature—presumption, temerity, audacity, and arrogance—are in the highest degree offensive, without proper firmness, confidence, and courage, neither art, nor study, nor knowledge would be of the least avail, any more than weapons put into the hands of weakness and timidity. It is not without unwillingness, indeed, that I observe (for what I say may be misunderstood) that modesty itself, which, though a fault, is an amiable one and frequently the parent of virtues, is to be numbered among qualities detrimental to the orator and has had such an effect on many that the merits of their genius and learning have never been brought into light, but have wasted away under the rust contracted in obscurity. However, should any young student not yet sufficiently experienced in distinguishing the meaning of words read this remark, let him understand that it is not a reasonable degree of diffidence which I blame, but an excess of modesty, which is a species of fear that draws off the thoughts from what we ought to do, whence proceeds confusion, repentance that we ever began, and sudden silence. Who can hesitate to number among faults an affection by the influence of which we become ashamed to do what is right? On the other hand, neither should I be unwilling that a speaker should rise with some concern, change color, and show a sense of the hazard he is encountering, feelings which, if they do not arise within us, should be assumed. But this should be the effect, not of fear, but of a consciousness of the weight of our task, and though we should be moved, we should not sink down in helplessness. The great remedy for bashfulness, however, is confidence in our cause, and any countenance, however likely to be daunted, will be kept steady by a consciousness of being in the right.

But there are, as I observed before, advantages from nature that may doubtless be improved by art, such as good organs of speech and tone of voice, strength of body, and grace of motion, advantages which are often of such effect that they gain their possessor a reputation even for genius. Our age has seen more fertile orators than Trachalus, but when he spoke, he seemed to be far above all his contemporaries, such was the loftiness of his stature, the fire of his eyes, the authority of his look, and the grace of his action. While his voice was not indeed, as Cicero desires, similar to that of actors in tragedy, it was superior to that of any tragic actor that I ever heard. I well remember that on one occasion, when he was speaking in the Basilica Julia before the first tribunal, and the four companies of judges, as is usual, were assembled while the whole place resounded with noise, he was not only heard and understood, but was applauded by all four tribunals to the great prejudice of those who were speaking at the same time. But the possession of such a voice is the very height of an orator's wishes and a rare happiness, and whoever is without it, let it suffice for him to be heard by those to whom he immediately addresses himself. Such ought an orator to be, and such are the qualifications which he ought to attain.

The age at which an orator should begin to plead in public must doubtless be fixed according to the student's capacity. I should name no particular year, for it is well known that Demosthenes pleaded his cause against his guardians when he was quite a boy; Calvus, Caesar, and Pollio undertook causes of the highest importance long before they were of age for the quaestorship; it is said that some have pleaded in the toga praetexta; and Caesar Augustus pronounced a funeral eulogium on his grandmother at the age of twelve.

But it seems to me that a medium should be observed so that a countenance too young for the public eye may not be made prematurely bold and that whatever is still crude in a young man may not suffer by exposure, for this is how disdain of study arises, the foundations of effrontery are laid, and (what is in all cases most pernicious) presumption goes before ability. Apprenticeship, on the other hand, should not be put off until an advanced age, for fear then grows upon us from day to day, what we have still to attempt appears continually more alarming, and while we are deliberating when we will begin, we find that the time for beginning is past.

Accordingly, the fruit of study ought to be produced in its greenness and first sweets, while there is hope of indulgence, while favor is ready to be shown, and while it is not unbecoming to make a first trial. Age will supply what is deficient in the attempts of youth, and whatever is expressed in too turgescent a style will be received as evidence of a vigorous genius. Such is all that passage of Cicero in his speech for Sextus Roscius, Quid enim tam commune, quam spiritus vivis, terra mortuis, mare, fluctuantibus, litus ejectis, "For what is more common than the air to the living, the earth to the dead, the sea to navigators, the shore to those cast up out of the deep," etc.. He was years old when he delivered that speech, which received the greatest applause from his audience; at a more advanced period of life, he observed that his style had fermented in the course of time and had grown clear with age. To say the truth, whatever improvement private study may produce, there is still a peculiar advantage attendant on our appearance in the forum, where the light is different and there is an appearance of real responsibility quite different from the fictitious cases of the schools. If we estimate the two separately, practice without learning will be of more avail than learning without practice. Hence, some who have grown old in the schools are astonished at the novelty of things when they come before the tribunals, and they look in vain for something similar to their scholastic exercises. But in the forum, the judge is silent, the adversary noisy, and nothing uttered rashly is unnoticed. Whatever we assert, we must prove. There may be no time to deliver a speech which has been prepared and composed with the labor of whole days and nights. In some cases, laying aside the ostentation of trumpeting forth fine words, we must speak in the tone of conversation, to which our eloquent declaimers are utter strangers, and we may accordingly find some of them who are, in their own opinion, too eloquent for pleading causes.

But I should wish my young student, whom I have brought into the forum dependent on strength still immature, to commence with as easy and favorable a cause as possible, just as the young of wild animals are fed with the most delicate food that they can catch. But I would not have him continue to plead causes uninterruptedly after his commencement and render his genius, which still requires nourishment, hard and insensible. But once he knows what a real combat is and for what he has to prepare himself, I would like him to recruit and renew his strength. Thus he will get over the fear of a first attempt while it is easier for him to make it, but will not make the facility which he experiences in his first essays a reason for despising labor. Cicero adopted this plan: when he had already gained an honorable name among the pleaders of his day, he made a voyage into Asia and doubtless attended on other masters of eloquence and wisdom. But he committed himself especially to Apollonius Molo at Rhodes, of whom he had been an auditor at Rome, to be fashioned and cast, as it were, anew. It is then, indeed, that labor properly becomes valuable, when theory and experience are duly united.

AFTER the young orator has gained sufficient strength for any kind of contest, his first care must be employed about the choice of causes he will undertake. In making such a choice, a good man will certainly prefer defending accused persons rather than prosecuting them, yet he will not have such a horror of the name of accuser, as to be incapable of being moved by any consideration, public or private, to call any man to account for his life and conduct. For even the laws themselves would be of no force if they were not supported by the judicious voice of the orator. If it were not allowable to exact punishment for crimes, crimes themselves would be almost permitted, and that license should be granted to the bad is decidedly contrary to the interest of the good. The orator, therefore, will not allow to pass unpunished the just complaints of allies, or the murder of a friend or relative, or conspiracies intended to burst forth in the overthrow of the government. This is not because he is eager for vengeance on the guilty, but because he is desirous of reforming the vicious and of correcting public morals, since those who cannot be brought to a better way of life by reason can be kept in order only by terror. Therefore, though living the life of an accuser and bringing the guilty to judgment by hope of reward is similar to subsisting by robbery, expelling intestine corruption is conduct resembling that of the noblest defenders of their country.

Accordingly, the most eminent men in our republic have not shrunk from this part of an orator's duty, and young men of the highest rank have been regarded as making the accusation of bad citizens a proof of their attachment to their country, because it was thought that they would have not expressed hatred of the wicked or have incurred the enmity of others, but from confidence in their own integrity of mind. This was the conduct, in consequence, adopted by Hortensius, the Luculli, Sulpicius, Cicero, Caesar, and many others, as well as by the elder and younger Cato, one of whom has been called the Wise, and unless the other be thought wise, I do not know to whom he has left the right of taking the name. Yet an orator will not defend all persons indiscriminately or open the salutary haven of his eloquence to pirates. He will be influenced to advocate any cause chiefly by the good opinion which he forms of the nature of it.

But as one man cannot undertake the defense of all those who go to law with some appearance of justice, the number of whom is certainly considerable, he will pay some attention to the characters of those who recommend clients to his care, as well as to that of those who are desirous to engage in suits, so that he may be led by a feeling for the most upright, whom a good man will always regard as his best friends. But he must keep himself free from two sorts of vain ostentation: the one, that of obtruding his services on the powerful against the humble; the other, which is even more boastful, that of supporting the humble against persons of dignity, for it is not rank that makes causes just or unjust. Nor will he let any feeling of shame prevent him from declining a cause which he has undertaken on the supposition that it was good, but which, in the course of discussion, he has discovered to be unjust, after telling his client his real opinion of it.

If I am a fair judge, it is indeed a great service to a client not to beguile him with vain hopes. Nor, on the other hand, is a client deserving of the assistance of an advocate if he does not listen to his advice. Assuredly it does not become him, whom I would approve a true orator, to knowingly defend injustice (if he supports what is not true in such cases as I have mentioned above, what he does will still be justifiable).

Whether an orator should always plead gratuitously is a question which admits of discussion and which would be inconsiderate and without reflection to decide at once. For who does not know that it is by far the more honorable course, and one more worthy of the liberal arts and of the feelings we expect to find in an orator, not to set a price on his efforts and thus lower the estimation of so great a blessing as eloquence, because many things seem worthless in the eyes of the world for no other reason than that they may be purchased? This, as the saying goes, is clear enough even to the blind. Nor will any pleader who has but a competency for himself (and a little will suffice for a competency) make a gain of his art without incurring the charge of meanness. But if his circumstances demand something more for his necessary requirements than he actually possesses, he may, according to the opinions of all wise men, allow a recompense to be made him, since contributions were raised for the support even of Socrates, and Zeno, Cleanthes, and Chrysippus took fees from their scholars. Nor do I see any more honorable way of gaining support than by the practice of a noble profession,and by receiving remuneration from those whom we have served and who, if they made no return, would be unworthy of defense. Such a return, indeed, is not only just, but necessary, as the very labor and time devoted to other people's business precludes all possibility of making profit by any other means. 1But in this respect, also, moderation is to be observed, and it makes a great difference from whom, how much, and for how long a time an orator receives fees. The rapacious practice of making bargains and the detestable traffic of those who ask a price proportioned to the risk of their clients will never be adopted even by such as are but moderately dishonest, especially when he who defends good men and good causes has no reason to fear that anyone he defends will be ungrateful. If such should be the case, I would prefer that the client should be in fault rather than the pleader. 1The orator, therefore, will entertain no desire of gaining more than shall be just sufficient and, even if he is poor, will receive nothing as pay, but will consider it merely a friendly acknowledgment of service, being conscious that he has conferred much more than he receives. Benefits of such a nature, because they are not to be sold, are not therefore to be thrown away, and it belongs to the obliged party to show gratitude.

THE next thing to be considered is the mode of studying a cause, which constitutes the foundation of pleading, for no speaker can be imagined of such extremely slender powers as, when he has carefully ascertained every particular in a cause, he is unable to state it at least to the judge. But very few orators take sufficient trouble in this respect. I say nothing of those who are utterly careless and give themselves no concern on what the success of a cause depends, as long as there are points, though wholly unconnected with the case, that relate to characters involved in it and lead to the usual flourishes on commonplace topics, which may afford them an opportunity for noisy declamation. There are some also whom vanity perverts. Some of these, who partly pretend that they are constantly occupied and have always something which they must first dispatch, tell their client to come to them the day or the very morning before the trial and sometimes even boast that they received their instructions while the court was sitting. Others, partly assuming a show of extraordinary ability that they may be thought to understand things in moment, pretend that they conceive and comprehend almost before they hear. After they have chanted forth, with wonderful eloquence and the loudest clamors of applause from their partisans (much that has no reference either to the judge or to their client), they are conducted back through the forum, drenched in perspiration and with a long train of attendants.

Nor can I tolerate the foppishness of those who desire that their friends should be instructed in the causes which they have to plead, though, indeed, there may be less harm done in this case if the friends learn accurately and repeat accurately. But who will learn a cause with the same care as the pleader himself? How can the depositary, the mere instrument of communication in cases, bestow his attention contentedly on other men's causes when, even to those who are going to plead, their own causes are of so little moment?

But the most pernicious practice of all is for an orator to be content with written memorials, which was drawn up either by the party who has recourse to an advocate, because he is unable to conduct his own cause, or was composed by someone of that class of advocates who confess they are incapable of pleading, yet undertake the most difficult part of a pleader's business. For why should not he, who can judge what ought to be said, what ought to be suppressed, altered, or imagined, stand forth as an orator himself, when, what is far more difficult, he is making another person an orator? Such composers of memorials, however, would be less mischievous if they wrote down everything merely as it occurred. Instead, they add motives, coloring, and inventions that do more harm than the plain truth, and most of our orators, when they receive these farragos, think it wrong to make any change in them and adhere to them as strictly as to cases proposed in the schools. The consequence is that they find themselves deceived and learn the cause, which they would not learn from their own client, from the advocates of the opposite party. Let us allow plenty of time, then, and a place of interview free from interruption to those who shall have occasion to consult us, and let us earnestly exhort them to state every particular off hand, however verbosely, or however far they may wish to go back, for it is a less inconvenience to listen to what is superfluous than to be left ignorant of what is essential. Frequently, too, the orator will find both the evil and the remedy in particulars which to the client appeared to have no weight on either side of the question. Nor should a pleader have so much confidence in his memory as to think it too great a trouble to write down what he hears.

Nor should he be content with hearing only once. The client should be required to repeat the same things again and again, not only because some things might have escaped his memory at the first recital, especially if he is, as is often the case, an illiterate person, but also that we may see whether he tells exactly the same story, for many state what is false and, as if they were not stating their case but pleading it, address themselves, not as to an advocate, but as to a judge. Therefore, we must never place too much reliance on a client. Instead, he must be sifted, cross-examined, and obliged to tell the truth, for as physicians must cure not only apparent ailments, but even latent ones to be discovered, though patients may conceal them, so an advocate must look for more than is laid before him. When he has exercised sufficient patience in listening, he must assume another character and act the part of the adversary. He must state whatever can possibly be imagined on the other side and whatever the nature of the case will allow in such a discussion of it. The client must be questioned sharply and pressed hard, for, by searching into every particular, we sometimes discover truth where we least expected to find it.

1In a word, the best advocate for learning the merits of a cause is he that is least credulous, for a client is often ready to promise everything, offering a cloud of witnesses and sealed documents quite ready, and averring that the adversary himself will not even offer opposition on certain points. 1It is therefore necessary to examine all the writings relating to a case. It is not sufficient to inspect them; they must be read through, for very frequently they are either not at all what they were asserted to be, or they contain less than was stated, or they are mixed with matters that may injure the client's cause, or they say too much and lose all credit from appearing to be exaggerated. 1We may often, too, find a thread broken, or wax disturbed, or signatures without attestation, all of which, unless we settle them at home, will embarrass us unexpectedly in the forum. Evidence which we are obliged to forfeit will damage a cause more than it would have suffered from none having been offered.

1An advocate will also bring out many points which his client regarded as having no bearing on the case, if he will go over all the grounds which I have previously specified for arguments. For the reasons I have given, it will be by no means convenient to review all these and try them one by one while we are pleading. But in studying the case, it will be necessary to examine minutely what sort of characters are concerned in it, what times, or places, or practices, or documents have any reference to it, and all other particulars from which not only artificial proof may be drawn, but also to ascertain what witnesses are to be feared and how they are to be refuted. It makes a great difference whether an accused person suffers under envy, or dislike, or contempt, of which the first is generally directed against superiors, the second against equals, and the third upon inferiors. 1After having thus thoroughly examined a cause and brought before his eyes everything that may promote or hinder its success, let him, in the third place, put himself in the place of the judge and imagine the cause to be pleaded before him. Whatever arguments would move him most if he had really to pass sentence on the matter, let him suppose that those arguments will have most effect upon any judge before whom it may be brought. Thus, the result will seldom deceive him, or if it does, it will be the fault of the judge.

THROUGH almost the whole of the work, I have been employed in showing what is to be observed in pleading a cause, yet I shall notice here a few things which properly fall under this head and which relate not so much to the art of oratory in general as to the duties of the orator personally. Above all things, let not the desire of temporary praise draw off his attention from the interest of the cause he has undertaken, as is the case with many. The troops of generals conducting a war are not always led through level and pleasant plains; rugged hills must often be ascended, and towns must be stormed, though they are situated on rocks of the greatest possible steepness and scarcely accessible through the strength of their fortifications. Likewise, eloquence will delight in an opportunity of flowing in a more free course than ordinary and, engaging on fair ground, will display all its powers to gain public praise. But if it shall be called to trace the intricacies of law or to penetrate into hiding places for the sake of discovering truth, it will not then make showy maneuvers or use brilliant and pointed thoughts as missile weapons, but will carry on its operations by mines, ambuscades, and every kind of secret artifice. These stratagems, however, are commended not so much while they are being practiced as after they have been practiced. Hence, greater profit falls to those who are less eager for applause, for when the absurd parade of eloquence has brought its thunders among its partisans to a close, the credit of genuine merit appears with greater effect. The judges will not fail to show by which speaker they have been most impressed. Respect will be paid to the truly learned, and the real merit of a speech will be sure to be acknowledged when it is ended.

Among the ancients, indeed, it was a practice to dissemble the force of their eloquence, a practice which Marcus Antonius recommends, in order that more credit may be given to speakers and that the artifices of advocates on behalf of their clients may be less suspected. But such eloquence as then existed might well be concealed, for such splendor of oratory had not then risen as to break through every intervening obstacle. However, art and design, and whatever loses its value when detected, should certainly be masked. So far, eloquence has its secrecy. As to choice of words, force of thoughts, and elegance of figures, they are either not in a speech or they must appear in it. But if they must appear, they are not to be displayed ostentatiously, and if one of the two is to be preferred, let the cause be praised rather than the pleader. Still, the true orator will make it his object that he may be thought to have pleaded an excellent cause in an excellent way. No man pleads worse than he who pleases while his cause displeases, for that which pleases in his speech must necessarily be foreign to the cause.

Nor will an honorable orator be infected by the fastidious disdain of pleading inferior causes, as if they were beneath him or if a subject of little dignity would detract from his reputation, for regard to duty will amply justify him for undertaking such causes. He ought also to desire that his friends may have as few lawsuits as possible, and whoever has successfully defended a cause, regardless of its nature, has proved himself sufficiently eloquent.

But some pleaders, if they happen to undertake such causes as require, in reality, but moderate powers of eloquence, envelope them in a variety of extrinsic matter and, if other resources fail, fill up the vacancies in their subject with invectives, just ones perhaps, if they occur, but if not, such as they can imagine, caring little, indeed, provided there is exercise for their wit and applause while they continue speaking. But this is a practice which I consider so utterly at variance with the character of a perfect orator that I think he would not even utter just invectives unless his cause absolutely required him to do so, for it is mere canine eloquence, as Appius says, that subjects itself to the charge of being slanderous. They who practice it ought previously to have acquired the power of enduring slander, since retaliation is often inflicted on those who have pleaded in such a style, or the client at least suffers for the virulence of his advocate. But what appears outwardly is small in comparison with the malice of the mind within, for an evil speaker differs from an evil-doer only in opportunity. A base and inhuman gratification, acceptable to no good man among the audience, is often required by clients, who think more of revenge than of the defense of their cause. But this, as well as many other things, is not to be done according to their pleasure, for what man indeed, possessed of the least portion of liberal spirit, could endure to utter abuse at the pleasure of another?

1Yet some take pleasure in inveighing against the advocates of the opposite party, but unless they happen to have deserved reproof, this is an ungenerous violation of the common duties of the profession. It is a practice useless, too, to those who adopt it (for similar liberty of attack is allowed to the respondents), and it is detrimental to their cause, for their adversaries are thus rendered real enemies, and whatever power they have is provoked to double efforts by insult. 1But worst of all, the modesty that gains the eloquence of an orator so much authority and credit is altogether lost if he degrades himself from a man of high feeling into a brawler and barker, adapting his language, not to the feelings of the judge, but to the resentment of his client. 1Frequently, too, the seductions of such liberty lead to rashness, dangerous not only to the cause, but to the speaker; nor was it without reason that Pericles wished no word might ever enter into his mind at which the people could be offended. Every orator should pay the same regard to every audience before whom he appears, as they can do him quite as much harm as the people could do Pericles, and what appears spirited when it is uttered is called foolish when it has given offense.

1As orators, for the most part, study each a particular manner, and as the cautiousness of one is imputed to dullness, while the readiness of another is ascribed to presumption, it appears by no means improper to state what sort of middle course I think an orator may observe between the two. 1He will, in the first place, always give to the cause which he has to plead as much preparation as he can, for not pleading as well as he can is characteristic of a negligent and unprincipled advocate, and treacherous and faithless to the matter which he undertakes. For this reason, he must not take upon himself more causes than he is certain he can fairly support. 1He will utter, as far as his subject will allow, nothing but what he has written or, as Demosthenes says, hewn into shape. This will be allowed only in the first hearing of a cause or in those granted for public trials after an interval of certain days; when a speaker has to reply at once to objections suddenly started, full preparation cannot be made, so that it is even injurious to those who are rather slow to have written their matter, if something arises from the opposite party different from what they had expected. 1For they cannot readily depart from what they had premeditated and look back through all their composition, trying to ascertain if any part can be snatched from it and united with what they are going to say extempore. Even if this were practicable, there would be no proper coherence, and the patching would be visible, not only from the opening of the seams, as in a piece of work ill-joined, but from the difference of complexion in the style. 1Thus there would be neither fluency nor elegant compactness in what they say, and the different parts would but hamper one another, for what was written would still fetter the mind instead of yielding itself to the mind's influence. 1In such pleadings, therefore, we must stand as the husbandmen say, on all our feet, for as every case consists of a statement and a refutation; what belongs clearly to our own part may be written, and a refutation may be prepared with equal solicitude to what it is certain the adversary will reply (for it is sometimes certain). But as to other points, there is but one kind of preparation that we can make, namely, to gain a thorough knowledge of the cause. We may gain something further indeed at the time of the trial by listening attentively to the advocate of the opposite party. 20. We may, however, anticipate much that may occur and prepare ourselves for emergencies, and this is indeed a safer method than writing, as first thoughts may thus more easily be abandoned and the attention directed to something else.

2But whether an orator has to speak extemporaneously in reply, or whether any other cause obliges him to do so, he will never find himself at a loss or disconcerted if discipline, study, and exercise have given him the accomplishment of facility. As he is always armed and standing prepared, as it were, for battle, the language of oratory will no more fail him in supporting a cause than the language of ordinary conversation on daily and domestic subjects. Nor will he ever shrink from his task under such an apprehension, provided that he has time for studying the cause, for everything else he will easily command.

IT remains for me to speak of the style of oratory. In the first division of my work, this was proposed as the third part of it, for I undertook to treat of the art, the artificer, and the work. But as oratory is the work of the art of rhetoric and of the orator, and there are, as I shall show, many forms of it, the influence of the art and the artificer is apparent in all those forms. Yet they differ very much one from another, not only in species, as one status differs from another, one picture from another, and one speech from another, but in genus, as Tuscan statues differ from Grecian, and Asiatic eloquence from Attic. Yet these several kinds of work of which I am speaking have not only their artificers, but also their admirers. It is for this reason, possibly, that there has not yet appeared a perfect orator, and that perhaps no art has reached its full perfection, not only because certain qualities are more prominent in some individuals than in others, but because the same form is not to all equally attractive, partly from the influence of circumstances and countries, and partly from varieties in the judgment and objects of each particular person.

The first painters of eminence whose works deserve to be regarded for any other quality than their antiquity were Polygnotus and Aglaophon, whose simple coloring even now finds such ardent admirers that they prefer imperfect rudiments of an art that was, as we may say, just beginning to the performances of the greatest masters that arose after them. But this preference, as it appears to me, is given only from an affectation of superior intelligence. Subsequently, Zeuxis and Parrhasius, who were very nearly contemporaries, as they both flourished about the time of the Peloponnesian war (for a dialogue of Socrates with Parrhasius is to be found in Xenophon), contributed much to the improvement of the art. Zeuxis is said to have discovered the management of light and shade, and Parrhasius to have studied outline with great accuracy. Zeuxis gave the human body more than its natural fulness, thinking that he thus added to its nobleness and dignity, and, as it is supposed, adopting that idea from Homer, whose imagination delighted in the amplest figures, even in women. Parrhasius was so exact in all his figures that they call him the legislator of painting, since other painters follow, as a matter of obligation, the representations of gods and heroes just as they were given by him. Painting flourished most, however, about the reign of Philip and under the successors of Alexander, but with different species of excellence, for Protogenes was distinguished for accuracy, Pamphilus and Melanthius for judgment, Antiphilus for ease, Theon of Samos for producing imaginary scenes, which the Greeks call ϕαντασίαι (phantasiai), and Apelles for genius and grace, on which he greatly prided himself. What made Euphranor remarkable was that while he was among the most eminent in other excellent attainments, he was also a great master both of painting and statuary.

There was similar variety in regard to sculpture. Callon and Hegesias made rude statues, like the Tuscan, Calamis produced some that were less inelegant, and Myron such as were of a softer character than those of any of his predecessors. Accuracy and grace were highly conspicuous in Polycletus, to whom preeminence in the art is allowed by most critics. Yet, that they may not grant him every excellence, they intimate that his figures were deficient in dignity, for though he gave supernatural grace to the human form, he is said not to have adequately expressed the majesty of the gods. Also, he is said to have declined the representation of old age and to have attempted nothing beyond a smooth cheek. But what was wanting in Polycletus is said to have been fully exhibited in Phidias and Alcamenes. Phidias, however, is thought to have been a better sculptor of gods than of men. In ivory he was certainly far beyond any rival, even if he had produced nothing more than his Minerva at Athens and his Olympian Jupiter at Elis, the majesty of which is thought to have added something to the impressiveness of the received religion, so exactly did the nobleness of that work represent the god. In adhering to nature, Lysippus and Praxiteles are said to have been most successful. As for Demetrius, he is censured for too much exactness in that respect, having been fonder of accurate likeness than of beauty.

So it is with oratory. If we contemplate the varieties of it, we find almost as much diversity in the minds as in the bodies of orators. There were some forms of eloquence of a rude nature, in agreement with the times in which they appeared, but indicating mental power in the speakers. Among these we may number the Laelii, Africani, Catos, and Gracchi, and these we may call the Polygnoti and Callones of oratory. Of the middle kind, Lucius Crassus and Quintus Hortensius may be thought the chief representatives. 1There may be contemplated a vast multitude of orators, all flourishing about the same time. Among them we find the energy of Caesar, the natural talent of Caelius, the subtlety of Calidius, the accuracy of Pollio, the dignity of Messala, the austerity of Calvus, the gravity of Brutus, the acuteness of Sulpicius, and the severity of Cassius. Among those we have seen ourselves, we recollect the copiousness of Seneca, the force of Julius Africanus, the mature judgment of Domitius Afer, the agreeableness of Crispus, the sonorous pronunciation of Trachalus, and the elegance of Secundus.

1But in Cicero we have not merely a Euphranor, distinguished by excellence in several particular departments of art, but eminent in every quality that is commended in any orator whatever. Yet the men of his own time presumed to censure him as timid, Asiatic, redundant, too fond of repetition, indulging in tasteless jests, loose in the structure of his sentences, tripping in his manner, and (what is surely very far from truth) almost too effeminate in his general style for a man. 1And after he lost his life in the proscription of triumvirs, those who had hated, envied, and rivalled him and who were anxious to pay their court to the rulers of the day attacked him from all quarters, when he was no longer able to reply to them. But this very man, who is now regarded by some as meager and dry, was censured by his personal enemies, his contemporaries, only for too flowery a style and too much exuberance of matter. Both charges are false, but for the latter there is the fairer ground.

1But his severest critics were those who desired to be thought imitators of the Attic orators. This band of calumniators, as if they had leagued themselves in a solemn confederacy, attacked Cicero as though he had been quite of another country, neither caring for their customs nor bound by their laws. Our present dry, sapless, and frigid orators are of this same school. 1These are the men who give their meagerness the name of health, which is the very opposite to it, and who, because they cannot endure the brighter luster of Cicero's eloquence any more than they can look at the sun, shelter themselves under the shade of the great name of Attic oratory. But because Cicero himself has fully answered such critics in many parts of his works, brevity in touching on this point will be the rather excusable in me.

1The distinction between Attic and Asiatic orators is indeed of great antiquity, the Attics being regarded as compressed and energetic in their style, and the Asiatics as inflated and deficient in force. In the Attics, it was thought that nothing was redundant and in the Asiatics, that judgment and restraint were in a great measure wanting. Some, including Santra, believe the difference arose when the Greek tongue spread itself among the people of Asia nearest to Greece, those who had not yet acquired a thorough mastery over the language desired to attain eloquence and began to express themselves in a periphrastic style, continuing to do so afterwards. 1To me, however, the difference in the character of the speakers and their audiences seems to have caused the difference in their styles of oratory, for the people of Attica, being polished and of refined taste, could endure nothing useless or redundant, while the Asiatics, a people in other respects vain and ostentatious, were puffed up with fondness for a showy kind of eloquence. 1Those who made distinctions in these matters soon after added a third kind of eloquence, the Rhodian, which they defined as a middle character between the other two and partaking of each. for the orators of this school are not concise like the Attics, nor exuberant like the Asiatics, but appear to derive their styles partly from the country and partly from their founder. 1For Aeschines, who fixed on Rhodes for his place of exile, carried there the accomplishments then studied at Athens, which, like certain plants that degenerate when they are removed to a foreign climate and soil, formed a union of the Attic flavor with that of the country to which they were transplanted. The orators of the Rhodian school are accordingly accounted somewhat deficient in vigor and spirit, though nevertheless not without force, resembling neither pure springs nor turbid torrents, but calm floods.

20. Let no one doubt, then, that of the three styles, that of the Attics is by far the best. But though there is something common to all that have written in this style, namely, a keen and exact judgment, there are great varieties in the characters of their genius. 2Therefore, I believe those very much mistaken who think that "Attic" orators are only those who are simple, clear, expressive, restricting themselves, as it were, to a certain frugality in the use of their eloquence, and always keeping their hand within their cloak. For who shall be named as such an "Attic" orator? Suppose it be Lysias, for the admirers of that style recognize him as a model of it. But may we not as well, then, go back as far as Coccus and Andocides? 2Yet I should like to ask whether Isocrates spoke after the Attic manner, for no one can be more unlike Lysias. They will say that he did not, yet his school sent forth the most eminent of the Greek orators. Let us look, then, for someone more like Lysias. Was Hyperides Attic? Doubtless. Yet he studied agreeableness of style more than Lysias. I say nothing of many others, as Lycurgus, Aristogeiton, and their predecessors, Isaeus and Antiphon, whom, though resembling each other in kind, we should call different in species. 2What was Aeschines, whom I just now mentioned? Was he not broader, bolder, and loftier in style than they? What, to come to a conclusion, was Demosthenes? Did he not surpass all those dry and cautious speakers in force, sublimity, animation, polish, and structure of periods? Does he not elevate his style by moral observations? Does he not delight in figures? Does he not give splendor to his language by metaphors? Does he not attribute, by figurative representations, speech to inanimate objects? 2Does not his oath by the defenders of his country, slain at Marathon and Salamis, plainly show that Plato was his master? And shall we call Plato an Asiatic, a man comparable in so many respects to the bards of old, fired with divine inspiration? What shall we say of Pericles? Shall we pronounce him similar to the unadorned Lysias, whose energy the comic writers, even while they ridicule him, compare to thunder and lightning from heaven?

2What is the reason, then, that they imagine the Attic taste to be apparent in those only who flow, as it were, like a slender stream of water making its way through pebbles? What is the reason that they say the odor of thyme arises only from among them? I suppose that if they find in the neighborhood of those orators any piece of ground more fertile or any crop more luxuriant than ordinary, they will deny the soil is Attic because it reproduced more than it has received, when Menander jestingly says that exact fidelity is the characteristic of Attic ground. 2So, if any speaker shall add to the exellences of that great orator Demosthenes that which he appears to have lacked, either naturally or by law of his country, namely the power of strongly exciting the feelings, and shall display that power in himself, shall I hear some critic say, "Demosthenes never did so"? Or if any periods shall be produced more harmonious than his (perhaps none can be, but still if any should), will it be said that they are not Attic? Let these censors judge more favorably of this distinction and be convinced that to speak in the Attic style is to speak in the best style. 2And yet I would sooner bear with Greeks than Latins persisting in this opinion.

Latin eloquence appears to me on a level with the Greek in terms of invention, arrangement, judgment, and other qualities of that kind, and seems to be, indeed, in all respects its pupil. Yet in regard to elocution, it scarcely has the power even of imitation, for first of all, it has more harshness in the sound of its words, as we are quite destitute of two of the most euphonious letters of the Greeks, one a vowel, the other a consonant, which indeed are the sweetest of their sounds and which we are in the habit of borrowing whenever we adopt any of their words. 2When this is the case, our language, I know not how, immediately assumes a more pleasing tone, as, for example, in using the words Ephyri and Zephyri, for if these words are written in our characters, they will give something of a dull and barbarous sound, as there will be substituted in place of the agreeable letters those harsh repulsive letters with which Greece is utterly unacquainted. 2For that which is the sixth of our letters requires to be uttered with a voice scarcely human, or rather not with a voice at all, between the lower teeth and the upper lips, a letter which, even when it takes a vowel next to it, has something of a harsh sound, and when it unites with any consonant, as in the word frangit, produces a sound still harsher. Of the Aeolic letter, also, which we use in saying servus and cervus, we reject the shape, though the sound adheres to us. 30. That letter, too, which is of use only for joining vowels that follow it, being otherwise quite superfluous, forms harsh syllables, as when we write equos and equum, especially as the two vowels give such a sound as is quite unknown to the Greeks, and accordingly cannot be expressed in Greek letters. 3Besides we close many of our words with the letter m, which has a sound something like the lowing of an ox, and in which no Greek word terminates, since they put in place of it the v, which has an agreeable, and, especially at the end of a word, a kind of ringing sound, a letter which is rarely put at the close of a word with us. 3Moreover, we have syllables ending in b and d, which is so disagreeable that even most of our old writers (not indeed our oldest, but still writers of antiquity) attempted to soften them, not only by saying aversus for abversus, but by adding to the b in the preposition an s, which is itself an unpleasantly sounding letter.

3But we find our accents also less agreeable than those of the Greeks, as well from a certain rigidity in our pronunciation, as from want of variety. For with us, the last syllable of a word is never raised with an acute accent or flattened with a circumflex, but a word always ends with one or two grave accents. So much more pleasing, in consequence, is the Greek tongue than the Latin that our poets, whenever they wish their verse to be particularly melodious, grace it with a number of Greek words. 3But what is a still stronger proof of the inferiority of our tongue is that many things are without proper terms, so that we are obliged to express them by metaphor or circumlocution. Even in regard to those which have names, the great poverty of our language very often forces upon us repetitions, while the Greeks have not only abundance of words, but even of dialects varying one from another.

3Therefore, he who requires from Latin the graces of the Attic tongue must give it a similar sweetness of tone and a similar abundance of words. If this is impossible, we must adapt our thoughts to the words which we have and not clothe extremely delicate matter in phraseology which is too strong, not to say too gross, for it, lest the excellences of both be diminished by the union. 3The less able our language is to assist us, the more efforts we must make in the production of thought. Sublime and varied conceptions must be brought forth. Every feeling must be excited, and our speech illumined by the splendor of metaphor. We cannot be so plain as the Greeks; let us be more forcible. We are excelled by them in refinement; let us surpass them in weight. Exactness of expression is more surely attained by them; let us go beyond them in fulness. 3The Greek geniuses, even those of inferior degree, have their proper seaports; let us be impelled, in general, with larger sails, and let stronger breezes swell our canvas, but not so that we may always steer out to the deep sea, for we must sometimes coast along the land. The Greeks can easily pass through any shallows; I shall find a part somewhat, though not much deeper, in which my boat may be in no danger of sinking. 3For if the Greeks succeed better than we in plainer and simpler subjects, so that we are beaten on such ground and accordingly, in comedy, do not even venture to compete with them, we must not altogether abandon this department of literature, but must cultivate it as far as we can. We can, at least, rival the Greeks in the temper and judgment with which we treat our subjects, while grace of style, which we have not among us by nature, must be sought from a foreign source. 3Is not Cicero, in causes of an inferior character, acute and not inelegant, clear and not unduly elevated? Is not similar merit remarkable in Marcus Calidius? Were not Scipio, Laelius, and Cato, the Attics of the Romans, as it were, in eloquence? Surely, then, those must satisfy us in that sort of style, than whom none can be imagined more excellent in it.

40. I must observe further that some think there is no natural eloquence unless it is like the language of ordinary conversation, the language in which we address our friends, wives, children, and servants, and which is intended only to express our thoughts and requires no foreign or elaborate ornament. They say that all that is superadded to such language is mere affectation and vain ostentation of style, at variance with truth and invented only for the display of words, whose only natural purpose, they assert, is to be instrumental in expressing our thoughts. They compare an eloquent and brilliant style to the bodies of athletes, which, though they are rendered stouter by exercise and regular diet, are yet not in a natural condition or in conformity with that appearance which has been assigned to man. 4Of what profit is it, they ask, to clothe our thoughts in circumlocution and metaphor, that is, in words unnecessarily numerous, and in unnatural words, when everything has its peculiar term appropriated to it? 4They contend that the most ancient speakers were most in conformity with nature, and that there subsequently arose others, with a greater resemblance to the poets, who showed (less openly, indeed, than the poets, but after the same fashion) that they regarded departures from truth and nature as merits. In this argument, there is certainly some foundation of truth, and accordingly we ought not to depart so far as some speakers do from exact and ordinary language. Yet if any orator, as I have said in the part in which I spoke of composition, should add something ornamental to that which is merely a necessary minimum, he will not be deserving of censure from those who hold this opinion.

4To me, indeed, ordinary discourse appears to be of a different nature from the language of a truly eloquent man, for if it were sufficient for an orator to express his thoughts plainly, he would have nothing to study beyond mere suitableness of words. But since he has to please, to move, and to rouse the minds of his audience to various states of feeling, he must have recourse, for those purposes, to the means which are afforded us by the same nature that supplies us with ordinary speech, just as we are led by nature to invigorate our muscles with exercise, to increase our general strength, and to acquire a healthy complexion. 4This is why, in all nations, one man is esteemed more eloquent and more agreeable in his mode of expression than another, for if such were not the case, all would be equal in this respect, and the same way of speaking would become every man alike, but as it is, men speak in different methods and preserve a distinction of character. Thus I conceive that the greater impression a man produces by his words, the more he speaks in conformity with the natural intention of eloquence. I, therefore, have not much to say against those who think that we must accommodate ourselves in some degree to circumstances and to the ears of audiences that require something more refined and studied than ordinary language. 4I am so far from thinking, therefore, that an orator should be restricted to the style of those who preceded Cato and the Gracchi that I do not consider he should be restricted to the style even of these. I see that it was the practice of Cicero, though he did nothing but with a view to the interest of his cause, to study in some measure the gratification of his audience, saying that he thus promoted his object and contributed in the best possible way to the success of his client. He in fact profited in proportion as he pleased. 4To the attractions of his style I do not know, for my own part, what can be added, unless indeed we introduce, to suit modern taste, a few more brilliant thoughts. For this may certainly be done without damage to a cause and without diminution to the impressiveness of a pleader, provided that the embellishments are not too numerous and close together, so as to destroy the effects of each other. 4But though I am thus far complaisant, let no man press for any further concession. I allow, in accordance with the fashion of the day, that the toga should not be of rough wool, but not that it should be of silk, and that the hair should not be uncut, but not that it should be dressed in stories and ringlets. Likewise, it should be considered that what is most becoming is also most elegant, provided that elegance is not carried to the extent of ostentation and extravagance. 4But as to what we call brilliant thoughts, which were not cultivated by the ancients and not, above all, by the Greeks (I find some in Cicero), who can deny they may be of service, provided they bear upon the cause, are not redundant in number, and tend to secure success? They strike the mind of the hearer, frequently produce a great effect by one impulse, impress themselves, because they are short, more effectually on the memory, and persuade while they please.

4But there are some, who, though they will allow an orator to utter such dazzling thoughts, consider that they are wholly to be excluded from speeches that are written. This is an opinion, accordingly, which I must not pass unnoticed, as indeed many men of great learning have thought that the modes of speaking and writing are essentially different. For this reason, some who were highly distinguished for speaking have left nothing to posterity, nothing in writing that would be at all lasting, as Pericles and Demades, and others again, who were excellent in writing, have been unfitted for speaking, as Isocrates. 50. Besides, they say that impetuosity, as well as thoughts merely intended to please and perhaps somewhat too boldly hazarded, have often the very greatest effect in speaking, as the minds of the ignorant part of an audience must frequently be excited and swayed; conversely, what is committed to writing and published as something good ought to be terse and polished, and in conformity with every law and rule of composition, because it is to come into hands of the learned and to have artists as judges of the art with which it is executed. 5These acute teachers (as they have persuaded themselves, and many others, that they are) tell us that παράδείγμα (paradeigma), or "rhetorical induction," is better adapted for speaking and the ἐνθύμημα (enthymema), or "rhetorical syllogism," for writing. To me it appears that to speak well and to write well are but the same thing, and that a written oration is nothing but a record of an oration delivered. Written oratory must accordingly, I think, be capable of every species of excellence. I say every species of excellence, not every species of fault, for I know that what is faulty sometimes pleases the ignorant. 5How, then, will what is written and what is spoken differ? I reply that if I were to address myself to a tribunal composed only of wise men, I would cut off much from the speeches of not only Cicero, but even Demosthenes, who is much less verbose, for in speaking to such an audience, there will be no necessity for exciting the feelings or for soothing the ear with delight (since Aristotle thinks that in such a case even exordia are superfluous), as wise men will not be moved by them, and it will be sufficient to state the subject in proper and significant words and establish proofs. 5But when the people, or some of the people, are before us as judges, and when illiterate persons, and even ploughmen, are to pass sentence, every art must be employed that we think likely to attain the object we have in view. Such arts are to be displayed not only when we speak, but when we write, that we may show how the speech should be spoken. 5Would Demosthenes have spoken badly in speaking exactly as he wrote, or would Cicero? Or do we know them to have been excellent orators from any other source than from their writings? Did they speak, we may ask, better than they wrote, or worse? If worse, they ought to have spoken as they wrote; if better, they ought to have written as they spoke.

5What, then, may be said—shall an orator always speak just as he will write? If possible, I answer, always. But if the shortness of time allowed by the judge prevents him from doing so, much that might have been said will be withheld, but if the speech is published, it will contain the whole. But what may have been introduced to suit the capacity of the judges will not be transmitted unaltered to posterity, lest it be thought to be the offspring of his judgment and not a concession to circumstances. 5For it is of the greatest importance to a pleader to know to what the judge may be disposed to listen, and the judge's look, as Cicero directs, must often be the orator's guide. We must consequently dwell upon those points which we observe to give him satisfaction and touch but lightly on those to which he seems averse. The very style that is most desirable is such as will render us most easily intelligible to the judge. Nor is this at all surprising, when many things are altered in our language merely to suit the characters of witnesses. 5Thus the orator who had asked an illiterate witness whether he knew Amphion, and he had answered that he did not, acted wisely in taking away the aspiration and shortening the second syllable of the name, when the witness replied that he knew him very well. Occurrences such as these often make us speak otherwise than we write, it being impossible to speak exactly as we write.

5There is another mode of characterizing style, which also resolves itself into three divisions, and by which different forms of eloquence seem to be very well distinguished one from another. One style, according to this method, the Greeks call ἰσχνόν (ischnon), or "plain"; another they term ἀδρόν (hadron), or "grand and energetic"; and a third which they have added, some call a mean between these two, others the ἀνθηρόν (anthēron), or "florid" style. 5The nature of these is such that the first seems adapted to the duty of stating facts, the second to that of moving the feelings, and the third, by whatever name it is designated, to that of pleasing or conciliating, as perspicuity seems necessary for instructing, gentleness of manner for conciliating, and energy for exciting the hearer.

Accordingly, it is in the plain sort of style that narrative and proofs will be stated, a style which is complete in its own kind, requiring no assistance from other qualities of diction. 60. The middle sort will abound more with metaphors and be rendered more attractive by figures of speech. It will seek to please by digressions and will be elegant in phraseology, with perfectly natural thoughts, but flowing gently like a clear stream overshadowed on either side by banks of green wood. 6But the energetic style will resemble an impetuous torrent, which carries away rocks, disdains a bridge, and makes banks for itself; it will impel the judge, even though he strives against it, wherever it pleases and oblige him to take the course into which it hurries him. An orator who employs this style will evoke the dead, as Appius Caecus. In the speeches of such an orator, his country will lament and sometimes call upon him, as she calls upon Cicero in his speech against Catiline in the senate. 6Such an orator will elevate his oratory with amplification and rise into hyperbole: "What Charybdia was ever so insatiable?" and, "The Ocean itself, assuredly," etc., for these striking passages are well known to the studious. Such an orator will bring down the gods themselves to form a portion of his audience and almost to take part in what lie says: "For you, O Alban hills and groves, you, O ruined altars of the Albans, united and coeval with the sacred rites of the Roman people," etc. Such an orator will inspire his hearers with rage or pity; he will say, "He saw you, called upon you, and wept," and the judge, excited with every variety of emotion, will follow the speaker here and there, without requiring any proof of what is stated.

6If, then, it were necessary to choose one of these three kinds, who would hesitate to prefer to the others that which, besides being in other respects the most effective, is also best suited to the most important causes? 6Homer has attributed to Menelaus a style of eloquence agreeably concise, appropriate (for such is the quality meant by not mistaking in words), and free from superfluity, and these are the merits of our first species of eloquence. He says that from the mouth of Nestor language sweeter than honey flowed, certainly sweeter than anything can be imagined, but desiring to give a notion of the highest power of eloquence in Ulysses, he has given him grandeur and ascribed to him language equal in copiousness and continuity of flow to showers of snow in winter. 6With him, therefore, as he adds, no mortal will contend; such an orator men will venerate as a god. Such is the force and impetuosity which Eupolis admires in Pericles and which Aristophanes compares to thunder and lightning. Such is the power of true eloquence.

6But neither is eloquence confined to these three kinds of style, for as a third kind has its place between the simple and the energetic, so there are degrees in each of those kinds, and between any two of those degrees there is something intermediate partaking of the nature of each. 6There is something fuller and something simpler than the simple kind; there is something gentler and something more energetic than the energetic kind; and the middle kind both rises to what is stronger and stoops to what is weaker. Thus are found almost innumerable species, which are distinguished from each other at least by some shade of difference, just as we are told, generally, that the four winds blow from the four cardinal points of the heaven, though there are often observed many winds between those points, and many peculiar to certain countries and even to certain rivers. 6The case, too, is similar with regard to the practice of musicians, who, after making five principal notes on the lyre, fill up the intervals between them with a great variety of other notes, and then, again, insert others between those which they have previously inserted, so that those main divisions admit many intermediate degrees of sound.

6There are many species of eloquence, but it would be extremely foolish to inquire which of them an orator should follow, since every species, if it is of a genuine character, has its use, and all that people commonly call ways of speaking falls under the management of the orator, for he will employ every variety of speech to suit not merely any particular cause, but particular parts of any cause. 70. Thus he will not speak in the same strain in defense of a man who is accused of a capital crime, in a suit respecting an inheritance, and in cases of interdicts, sponsions, and loans. He will observe distinctions between the delivery of opinions in the senate, in the assembly of the people, and in private deliberations. He will vary his style greatly in conformity with the difference of persons, occasions, and places, and he will adopt different arts for conciliating, even in the same speech. He will not try to excite anger and pity by dwelling on similar topics. He will employ one style to state his case to the judge and another to move the judge's feelings. 7The same color of diction will not be observable in his exordium, his statement of facts, his arguments, his digressions, and his peroration. He will be able to speak gravely, austerely, sharply, strongly, spiritedly, copiously, bitterly, affably, gently, artfully, soothingly, mildly, agreeably, succinctly, and politely. He will not be always alike, yet always consistent with himself. 7Thus he will not only attain that object for which the use of speech was chiefly intended (I mean that of speaking to the purpose and with ability sufficient to establish that which he has in view), but he will also obtain applause, not merely from the learned, but even from the common people.

7They indeed are greatly deceived who imagine that audience gratification and applause are to be gained by a vicious and corrupt style of eloquence that exults in a licentious kind of diction, wantons in puerile fancies, swells with inordinary tumor, expatiates on empty commonplaces, decks itself with flowers that will fall if they are in the slightest degree shaken, prefers extravagance to sublimity, or raves madly under the pretext of freedom. 7However, I do not deny, nor do I wonder, that such a style does please many, for eloquence of any kind whatsoever is pleasing to the ear and likely to be favorably heard. All exertion of the human voice naturally draws the mind with a pleasing kind of attraction. For no other reason are there such groups of listeners in marketplaces and causeways, and it is no surprise that for every pleader, a ring of the rabble is ready. 7But when anything more happily expressed than ordinary falls upon the ears of the illiterate, of whatever kind it be, provided that they themselves cannot hope to speak equally well, it gains their admiration, and not without reason, for even to speak just beyond the capacity of the uneducated is not easy. Such moderate excellence, however, fades and dies away when it is compared with anything better, as "wool dyed red pleases," says Ovid, "in the absence of purple, but if it is contrasted even with the purple of a common riding cloak, it will be thrown into the shade by the presence of something brighter than itself." 7If, again, we apply the light of a keen judgment to such tasteless eloquence, as that of sulphur to inferior dye, it will immediately lose the false luster with which it had deceived the eye and grow pale with an indescribable deformity. Such eloquence will accordingly shine only in the absence of the sun, as certain small animals appear to be little fires in the darkness. In short, many admire what is bad, but none condemn what is good.

7But the orator must do all that I have mentioned, not only in the best manner, but also with the greatest ease, for the utmost power of eloquence will deserve no admiration if unhappy anxiety perpetually attends it and harasses and wears out the orator, while he is laboriously altering his words and wasting his life in weighing and putting them together. 7Elegant, sublime, and rich, the true orator commands copious materials of eloquence pouring in upon him from all sides. He that has reached the summit ceases to struggle up the steep. 7Difficulty is for him who is making his way and is not far from the bottom, but the more he advances, the easier will be the ascent and the more verdant the soil. And if, with persevering efforts, he passes also these gentler slopes, fruits will spontaneously present themselves, and all kinds of flowers will spring up before him which, unless they are daily plucked, will be sure to wither. Yet even copiousness should be under the control of judgment, without which nothing will be either praiseworthy or beneficial. Elegance should have a certain manly air, and good taste should attend on invention. 80. Thus what the orator produces will be great, without extravagance; sublime, without audacity; energetic, without rashness; severe, without repulsiveness; grave, without dullness; plentiful, without exuberance; pleasing, without meretriciousness; and grand, without tumidity. Such judgment will be shown with regard to other qualities, and the path in the middle is generally the safest, because error lies on either side.

AFTER displaying these excellences of eloquence on trials, in councils, at the assemblies of the people, in the senate, and in every province of a good citizen, the orator will think of bringing his labors to an end worthy of an honorable man and a noble employment, not because it is ever time to leave off doing good or because it is improper for one endowed with such understanding and talents to spend the longest possible time in so dignified an occupation, but because it becomes him to take care that he may not speak worse than he has been in the habit of speaking. The orator does not depend merely on knowledge, which increases with years, but on strength of voice, lungs, and constitution, and if these are weakened or impaired by age or ill health, he must beware lest something of his usual excellence is missed, lest he should be obliged to stop from fatigue, lest he should perceive that what he says is imperfectly heard, and lest he should not recognize his former in his present self. I myself saw Domitius Afer, by far the most eminent orator of all whom it has been my fortune to know, losing daily, at an advanced period of life, something of the authority which he had so justly acquired. Though it may well be thought disgraceful, when this man who had doubtless once been the prince of the forum was speaking, some laughed, while others blushed for him, and his inefficiency gave occasion to the remark that "he had rather faint than leave off." Yet his pleading, such as it was, was not bad, but inferior in energy to what it had been. The orator, therefore, before he falls into the grasp of old age, will do well to sound a retreat and gain the harbor while his vessel is still undamaged.

Nor, when he has done so, will less honorable advantages from his acquirements attend on him. He will transmit the history of his own times to posterity, explain points of law to those who consult him (as Lucius Crassus expresses his intention to do in the books of Cicero), compose a treatise on eloquence, or set forth the finest precepts of morality in a style worthy of the subject. In the meantime well-disposed youth, as was customary with the ancients, will frequent his house and will consult him, as an oracle, on the best mode of attaining eloquence. As a father in the art, he will form them, and as an old pilot on the ocean of oratory, he will give them instruction respecting coasts and harbors, showing them the signs of tempests and how to manage a ship under favorable or adverse winds. He will be induced to do so by not only the common obligations of humanity, but by his love for his profession, for no man would like the art in which he himself has been great to fall into decay. What, indeed, can be more honorable to a man than to teach that of which he himself has a thorough knowledge? Cicero says Caelius was brought to him by his father for this reason, and likewise, like a master, he exercised Pansa, Hirtius, and Dolabella, daily speaking and listening to them. And I know not whether an orator ought not to be thought happiest at that period of his life when, sequestered from the world, devoted to retired study, unmolested by envy, and remote from strife, he has placed his reputation in a harbor of safety, experiencing, while yet alive, that respect which is more commonly offered after death and observing how his character will be regarded among posterity.

For my own part, I know that, as far as I could, with my moderate ability, I have imparted, candidly and ingenuously, whatever I previously knew and whatever I could discover in furtherance of my present work, for the improvement of such as might wish to learn. It is enough for an honorable man to have taught what he knows. Yet I fear that I may be thought not only to require too much in expecting a man to be at once good and eloquent, but also to specify too many qualifications, by giving, in addition to so many accomplishments necessary to be gained in youth, precepts on morals, and enjoining a knowledge of civil law, not to mention the rules which I have laid down concerning eloquence. And I am apprehensive that even those who allow that all these requirements were necessary to my design should nevertheless dread them as too oppressive and despair of fulfilling them before they proceed to a trial. But let those who think thus, reflect, in the first place, how great the power of the human mind is and how capable of accomplishing whatever it makes its object, since even arts of less importance than oratory, though more difficult of attainment, have been able to effect voyages over the ocean, to discover the courses and number of the stars, and to measure almost the whole universe. Next, let them consider how honorable is the end they desire to attain and that no labor should be spared when such a reward is in view. 1If they allow such conceptions to have due weight with them, they will the more easily be induced to believe that the way to eloquence is not impracticable or indeed extremely difficult, for that which is the first and more important point—that an orator should be a good man—depends chiefly on the will, and he who shall sincerely cherish a resolution to be good will easily attain those qualifications that support virtue. 1The duties incumbent upon us are not so complex or so numerous that they may not be learned by the application of a very few years. What makes it so long a labor is our own reluctance. The ordering of an upright and happy life is but a short task, if we but give our inclination to it. Nature formed us for attaining the highest degree of virtue, and so easy is it, for those who are well disposed, to learn what is good,that to him who looks fairly on the world, it is rather surprising that there should be so many bad men. 1As water, indeed, is suitable to fishes, as the dry land to terrestrial animals, and the air that surrounds us to birds, so it ought to be more agreeable to us to live conformably to nature than at variance with her.

As to other qualifications, although we should include in our estimate of life, not the years of old age, but merely those of youth and manhood, it is apparent that there is time enough for acquiring them, for order, method, and judgment will shorten all labor. 1But the fault lies, first, with teachers who love to retain under them those whom they have taken in hand, partly from covetousness, in order to be longer in receipt of fees, partly from vanity, to make it appear that what they profess is very difficult, and partly perhaps from ignorance or neglect of the proper mode of teaching. The second fault is in ourselves, who are fonder of dwelling on what we have learned than of learning what we do not yet know. 1To confine myself chiefly to oratorical studies, what advantage is it to declaim so many years in the schools, as is customary with many (to say nothing of those by whom a great portion of life is wasted in that exercise), and to bestow so much labor on imaginary subjects when it is possible to gain, in but a short time, a sufficient notion of real pleading and of the rules of oratory? 1In making this remark, I do not intimate that exercise in speaking should ever be discontinued, but only signify that we should not grow old in one species of exercise. We may be gaining general knowledge, learning the duties of ordinary life, and trying our strength in the forum, while we are still scholars. The course of study is such that it does not require many years, for any of those sciences to which I have just alluded may be comprised in a few treatises, so far are they from requiring infinite time and application. All else depends on practice, which will soon increase our ability. 1Our knowledge of things in general will daily increase, though it must be admitted that the perusal of many books, by means of which examples of things may be gained from historians and of eloquence from orators, is necessary for great advancement in it. It is requisite also that we should read, as well as some other things, the opinions of philosophers and eminent lawyers.

All this knowledge we may acquire, but it is we ourselves that make time short. 1For how much time do we seriously devote to study? The empty ceremony of paying visits steals some of our hours, leisure wasted in idle conversation others, public spectacles and entertainments others. Take into consideration also our great variety of private amusements and the extravagant care which we bestow on our persons. Let travelling, excursions into the country, anxious meditations on our losses and gains, a thousand incentives to the gratification of the passions, wine, and the corruption of the mind with every species of pleasure claim their several portions of our time, and not even that which remains will find us in a proper condition for study. 1But if all these hours were allotted to study, our life would seem long enough, and our time amply sufficient, for learning, even if we take into account only our days, while our nights, of which a great part is more than enough for all necessary sleep, would add to our improvement. We now compute, not how many years we have studied, but how many we have lived. 20. Nor does it follow, if geometricians, grammarians, and professors of other sciences have spent all their lives, however long, in their respective pursuits, that we should require several lives to learn several sciences, for they did not continue adding to knowledge in these sciences to the time of old age, but were content with having merely learned them and spent that great number of years rather in practicing than in acquiring.

2To say nothing of Homer, in whom either instruction or at least indisputable indications of knowledge in every kind of art are to be found. Nor to make no mention of Hippias of Elis, who not only professed a knowledge of every liberal science, but used to make his dress, ring, and shoes all with his own hand and had so qualified himself as to require no one's assistance in anything. Gorgias, even in extreme old age, was accustomed to ask his auditors in his lecture room to name the subject on which they wished him to speak. 2What knowledge, of any value for literature, was wanting in Plato? How many lives did Aristotle spend in learning, so as not only to embrace within his knowledge all that relates to philosophers and orators, but to make researches into the nature of all animals and plants? Those great men had to discover branches of knowledge which we have only to learn. Antiquity has provided us with so many teachers and so many models that no age can be imagined more eligible for us, in regard to being born in it, than our own for the instruction of which preceding ages have toiled.

2If we look to our own countrymen, we see that Marcus Cato the Censor, an orator, a writer of history, eminently skilled alike in law and agriculture, amidst so many occupations in war and so many contentions at home, and in an unpolished age, learned the Greek language in the very decline of life, as if to give an example to mankind that even old men may acquire what they desire to learn. 2How much has Varro told us or, let us rather say, has he not told us almost everything? What qualification for speaking was deficient in Cicero? But why should I multiply examples, when even Cornelius Celsus, a man of but moderate ability, has not only written on all literary studies, but has besides left treatises on the military art, on husbandry, and on medicine? Well worthy was he, if only for the extent of his design, to enjoy the credit of having known everything on which he wrote.

2But it may be said that to accomplish such a task is difficult, and no one has accomplished it. I answer that in the first place, it is sufficient for encouragement in study to know that it is not a law of nature that what has not been done cannot be done and, in the second place, that everything great and admirable had some peculiar time at which it was brought to its highest excellence. 2Whatever luster poetry received from Homer and Virgil, eloquence received equal luster from Demosthenes and Cicero. Whatever is best had at one time no existence. But though a man may despair of reaching the highest excellence (and yet why should he despair who has genius, health, aptitude, and teachers?), it is honorable, as Cicero says, to gain a place in the second or third rank. 2If a man cannot attain the glory of Achilles in war, he is not to despise the merit of Ajax or Diomede. If he cannot rival the fame of Homer, he is not to condemn that of Tyrtaeus. If men, indeed, had been inclined to think that no one would be better than he who was best at any given time, those who are now accounted best would never have distinguished themselves. Virgil would not have written after Lucretius and Macer, Cicero would not have pleaded after Crassus and Hortensius, nor would others, in other pursuits, have excelled their predecessors.

2Even though there be no hope of excelling the greatest masters of eloquence, it is yet a great honor to follow closely behind them. Did Pollio and Messala, who began to plead when Cicero held the highest place in eloquence, attain but little estimation during their lives or transmit but little reputation to posterity? The advancement of the arts to the highest possible excellence would be but an unhappy service to mankind if what was best at any particular moment was to be the last. 2It may be added that moderate attainments in eloquence are productive of great profit, and if an orator estimates his studies merely by the advantage to be derived from them, the gain from inferior oratory is almost equal to that from the best. It would be no difficult matter to show, as well from ancient as from modern instances, that from no other pursuit has greater wealth, honor, and friendship, greater present and future fame, resulted to those engaged in it, than from that of the orator. But it would be dishonorable to learning to look for such inferior recompense from one of the noblest of studies, of which the mere pursuit and acquirement confer on us an ample reward for our labor, for to be thus mercenary would be to resemble those philosophers who say that virtue is not the object of their pursuit, but the pleasure that arises from virtue.

30. Let us then pursue, with our whole powers, the true dignity of eloquence, nothing better than which has been given to mankind by the immortal gods. Without it, all nature would be mute and all our acts would be deprived alike of present honor and of commemoration among posterity. Therefore, let us aspire to the highest excellence, for by this means, we shall either attain the summit or at least see many below us.

3Such are the observations, Marcellus Victor, from which I thought the art of oratory might, as far as was in my power, derive some assistance from me. Attention to what I have said, if it does not bring great advantage to studious youth, will at least excite in them what I desire even more—a love for doing well.