Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, Book 10
Harold Edgeworth Butler, Ed.

Book X

1. But these rules of style, while part of the student's theoretical knowledge, are not in themselves sufficient to give him oratorical power. In addition he will require that assured facility which the Greeks call ἕξις I know that many have raised the question as to whether this is best acquired by writing, reading or speaking, and it would indeed be a question calling for serious consideration, if we could rest content with any one of the three. [2] But they are so intimately and inseparably connected, that if one of them be neglected, we shall but waste the labour which we have devoted to the others. For eloquence will never attain to its full development or robust health, unless it acquires strength by frequent practice in writing, while such practice without the models supplied by reading will be like a ship drifting aimlessly without a steersman. Again, he who knows what he ought to say and how he should say it, will be like a miser brooding over his hoarded treasure, unless he has the weapons of his eloquence ready for battle and prepared to deal with every emergency. [3] But the degree in [p. 5] which a thing is essential does not necessarily make it of immediate and supreme importance for the formation of the ideal orator. For obviously the power of speech is the first essential, since therein lies the primary task of the orator, and it is obvious that it was with this that the art of oratory began, and that the power of imitation comes next, and third and last diligent practice in writing. [4] But as perfection cannot be attained without starting at the very beginning, the points which come first in time will, as our training proceeds, become of quite trivial importance. Now we have reached a stage in our enquiry where we are no longer considering the preliminary training of our orator; for I think the instructions already given should suffice for that; they are in any case as good as I could make them. Our present task is to consider how our athlete who has learnt all the technique of his art from his trainer, is to be prepared by actual practice for the contests in which he will have to engage. Consequently, we must assume that our student has learned how to conceive and dispose his subject matter and understands how to choose and arrange his words, and must proceed to instruct him how to make the best and readiest use of the knowledge which he has acquired.

[5] There can then be no doubt that he must accumulate a certain store of resources, to be employed whenever they may be required. The resources of which I speak consist in a copious supply of words and matter. [6] But while the matter is necessarily either peculiar to the individual case, or at best common to only a few, words must be acquired to suit all and every case. Now, if there were special [p. 7] words adapted to each individual thing, they would require less care, since they would automatically be suggested by the matter in hand. But since some words are more literal, more ornate, more significant or euphonious than others, our orator must not merely be acquainted with all of them, but must have them at his fingers' ends and before his very eyes, so that when they present themselves for his critical selection, he will find it easy to make the appropriate choice. [7] I know that some speakers make a practice of learning lists of synonyms by heart, in order that one word out of the several available may at once present itself to them, and that if, after using one word, they find that it is wanted again after a brief interval, they may be able to select another word with the same meaning and so avoid the necessity of repetition. But this practice is childish and involves thankless labour, while it is really of very little use, as it merely results in the assembly of a disorderly crowd of words, for the speaker to snatch the first that comes to hand.

[8] On the contrary, discrimination is necessary in the acquisition of our stock of words; for we are aiming at true oratory, not at the fluency of a cheapjack. And we shall attain our aim by reading and listening to the best writers and orators, since we shall thus learn not merely the words by which things are to be called, but when each particular word is most appropriate. [9] For there is a place in oratory for almost every word, with the exception only of a very few, which are not sufficiently seemly. Such words are indeed often praised when they occur in writers of iambics¹ or of the old comedy, [p. 9] but we need do no more than consider our own special task. All words, with these exceptions, may be admirably employed in some place or other. For sometimes we shall even require low and common words, while those which would seem coarse if introduced in the more elegant portions of our speech may, under certain circumstances, be appropriate enough. [10] Now to acquire a knowledge of these words and to be acquainted not merely with their meaning, but with their forms and rhythmical values, so that they may seem appropriate wherever employed, we shall need to read and listen diligently, since all language is received first through the ear. It was owing to this fact that the children who, by order of a king, were brought up by a dumb nurse in a desert place, although they are said to have uttered certain words, lacked the power of speech.² [11] There are, however, some words of such a nature that they express the same sense by different sounds, so that it makes no difference to the meaning which we use, as, for instance, gladius and ensis, which may be used indifferently when we have to speak of a sword. Others, again, although properly applied to specific objects, are used by means of a trope to express the same sense, as, for example, ferrum (steel) and muro (point), which are both used in the sense of sword. [12] Thus, by the figure known as abuse,³ we call all those who commit a murder with any weapon whatsoever sicarii (poniarders). In other cases we express our meaning periphrastically, as, for instance, when Virgil⁴ describes cheese as

“Abundance of pressed milk.”

[p. 11] On the other hand, in a number of instances we employ figures⁵ and substitute one expression for another. Instead of “I know,” we say “I am not ignorant,” or “the fact does not escape me,” or “I have not forgotten,” or “who does not know?” or “it can be doubted by none.” [13] But we may also borrow from a word of cognate meaning. For “I understand,” or “I feel” or “I see” are often equivalent to “I know.” Reading will provide us with a rich store of expressions such as these, and will enable us not merely to use them when they occur to us, but also in the appropriate manner. For they are not always interchangeable: [14] for example, though I may be perfectly correct in saying, “I see” for “I understand,” it does not follow that I can say “I understand” for “my eyes have seen,” and though mucro may be employed to describe a sword, a sword does not necessarily mean the same as mucro (point). [15] But, although a store of words may be acquired by these means, we must not read or listen to orators merely for the sake of acquiring words. For in everything which we teach examples are more effective even than the rules which are taught in the schools, so long as the student has reached a stage when he can appreciate such examples without the assistance of a teacher, and can rely on his own powers to imitate them. And the reason is this, that the professor of rhetoric lays down rules, while the orator gives a practical demonstration.

[16] But the advantages conferred by reading and listening are not identical. The speaker stimulates us by the animation of his delivery, and kindles the imagination, not by presenting us with an elaborate [p. 13] picture, but by bringing us into actual touch with the things themselves. Then all is life and movement, and we receive the new-born offspring of his imagination with enthusiastic approval. We are moved not merely by the actual issue of the trial, but by all that the orator himself has at stake. [17] Moreover his voice, the grace of his gestures, the adaptation of his delivery (which is of supreme importance in oratory), and, in a word, all his excellences in combination, have their educative effect. In reading, on the other hand, the critical faculty is a surer guide, inasmuch as the listener's judgment is often swept away by his preference for a particular speaker, or by the applause of an enthusiastic audience. [18] For we are ashamed to disagree with them, and an unconscious modesty prevents us from ranking our own opinion above theirs, though all the time the taste of the majority is vicious, and the claque may praise even what does not really deserve approval. [19] On the other hand, it will sometimes also happen that an audience whose taste is bad will fail to award the praise which is due to the most admirable utterances. Reading, however, is free, and does not hurry past us with the speed of oral delivery; we can reread a passage again and again if we are in doubt about it or wish to fix it in the memory. We must return to what we have read and reconsider it with care, while, just as we do not swallow our food till we have chewed it and reduced it almost to a state of liquefaction to assist the process of digestion, so what we read must not be committed to the memory for subsequent imitation while it is still in a crude state, but must be softened and, if I may use the phrase, reduced to a pulp by frequent re-perusal.

[p. 15] [20] For a long time also we should read none save the best authors and such as are least likely to betray our trust in then, while our reading must be almost as thorough as if we were actually transcribing what we read. Nor must we study it merely in parts, but must read through the whole work from cover to cover and then read it afresh, a precept which applies more especially to speeches, whose merits are often deliberately disguised. [21] For the orator frequently prepares his audience for what is to come, dissembles and sets a trap for them and makes remarks at the opening of his speech which will not have their full force till the conclusion. Consequently what he says will often seem comparatively ineffective where it actually occurs, since we do not realise his motive and it will be necessary to re-read the speech after we have acquainted ourselves with all that it contains. [22] Above all, it is most desirable that we should familiarise ourselves with the facts of the case with which the speech deals, and it will be well also, wherever possible, to read the speeches delivered on both sides, such as those of Aeschines and Demosthenes in the case of Ctesiphon, of Servius Sulpicius and Messala for and against Aufidia,⁶ of Pollio⁷ and Cassius⁸ in the case of Asprenas,⁹ and many others. [23] And even if such speeches seem unequal in point of merit, we shall still do well to study them carefully with a view to understanding the problems raised by the cases with which they deal: for example, we should compare the speeches delivered by Tubero against Ligarius and by Hortensius in defence of Verres with those of Cicero for the opposite side, while it will also be useful to know how different orators pleaded the same case. For example, [p. 17] Calidius¹⁰ spoke on the subject of Cicero's house, Brutus wrote a declamation in defence of Milo, which Cornelius Celsus wrongly believes to have been actually delivered in court,¹¹ and Pollio and Messalla defended the same clients,¹² while in my boyhood remarkable speeches delivered by Domitius Afer,¹³ Crispus Passienus¹⁴ and Decimis Laelius¹⁵ in defence of Volusenus were in circulation.

[24] The reader must not, however, jump to the conclusion that all that was uttered by the best authors is necessarily perfect. At times they lapse and stagger beneath the weight of their task, indulge their bent or relax their efforts. Sometimes, again, they give the impression of weariness: for example, Cicero¹⁶ thinks that Demosthenes sometimes nods, and Horace¹⁷ says the same of Homer himself. [25] For despite their greatness they are still but mortal men, and it will sometimes happen that their reader assumes that anything which he finds in them may be taken as a canon of style, with the result that he imitates their defects (and it is always easier to do this than to imitate their excellences) and thinks himself a perfect replica if he succeeds in copying the blemishes of great men. [26] But modesty and circumspection are required in pronouncing judgment on such great men, since there is always the risk of falling into the common fault of condemning what one does not understand. And, if it is necessary to err on one side or the other, I should prefer that the reader should approve of everything than that he should disapprove of much.

[27] Theophrastus¹⁸ says that the reading of poets is of great service to the orator, and has rightly been followed in this view by many. For the poets will [p. 19] give us inspiration as regards the matter, sublimity of language, the power to excite every kind of emotion, and the appropriate treatment of character, while minds that have become jaded owing to the daily wear and tear of the courts will find refreshment in such agreeable study. Consequently Cicero¹⁹ recommends the relaxation provided by the reading of poetry. [28] We should, however, remember that the orator must not follow the poets in everything, more especially in their freedom of language and their license in the use of figures. Poetry has been compared to the oratory of display, and further aims solely at giving pleasure, which it seeks to secure by inventing what is not merely untrue, but sometimes even incredible. [29] Further, we must bear in mind that it can be defended on the ground that it is tied by certain metrical necessities and consequently cannot always use straightforward and literal language, but is driven from the direct road to take refuge in certain by-ways of expression; and compelled not merely to change certain words, but to lengthen, contract, transpose or divide them, whereas the orator stands armed in the forefront of the battle, fights for a high stake and devotes all his effort to winning the victory. [30] And yet I would not have his weapons defaced by mould and rust, but would have them shine with a splendour that shall strike terror to the heart of the foe, like the flashing steel that dazzles heart and eye at once, not like the gleam of gold or silver, which has no warlike efficacy and is even a positive peril to its wearer.

[31] History, also, may provide the orator with a nutriment which we may compare to some rich and pleasant juice. But when we read it, we must [p. 21] remember that many of the excellences of the historian require to be shunned by the orator. For history has a certain affinity to poetry and may be regarded as a kind of prose poem, while it is written for the purpose of narrative, not of proof, and designed from beginning to end not for immediate effect or the instant necessities of forensic strife, but to record events for the benefit of posterity and to win glory for its author. Consequently, to avoid monotony of narrative, it employs unusual words and indulges in a freer use of figures. [32] Therefore, as I have already said,²⁰ the famous brevity of Sallust, than which nothing can be more pleasing to the leisured ear of the scholar, is a style to be avoided by the orator in view of the fact that his words are addressed to a judge who has his mind occupied by a number of thoughts and is also frequently uneducated, while, on the other hand, the milky fullness of Livy is hardly of a kind to instruct a listener who looks not for beauty of exposition, but for truth and credibility. [33] We must also remember that Cicero²¹ thinks that not even 'Thucydidcs or Xenophon will be of much service to an orator, although he regards the style of the former as a veritable call to arms and considers that the latter was the mouthpiece of the Muses. It is, however, occasionally permissible to borrow the graces of history to embellish our digressions, provided always that we remember that in those portions of our speech which deal with the actual question at issue we require not the swelling thews of the athlete, but the wiry sinews of the soldier, and that the cloak of many colours which Demetrius of Phalerum²² was said to wear is but little suited to the dust and heat of the forum. [34] There is, it is true, [p. 23] another advantage which we may derive from the historians, which, however, despite its great importance, has no bearing on our present topic; I refer to the advantage derived from the knowledge of historical facts and precedents, with which it is most desirable that our orator should be acquainted; for such knowledge will save him from having to acquire all his evidence from his client and will enable him to draw much that is germane to his case from the careful study of antiquity. And such arguments will be all the more effective, since they alone will be above suspicion of prejudice or partiality.

[35] The fact that there is so much for which we must have recourse to the study of the philosophers is the fault of orators who have abandoned²³ to them the fullest portion of their own task. The Stoics more especially discourse and argue with great keenness on what is just, honourable, expedient and the reverse, as well as on the problems of theology, while the Socratics give the future orator a first-rate preparation for forensic debates and the examination of witnesses. [36] But we must use the same critical caution in studying the philosophers that we require in reading history or poetry; that is to say, we must bear in mind that, even when we are dealing with the same subjects, there is a wide difference between forensic disputes and philosophical discussions, between the law-courts and the lecture-room, between the precepts of theory and the perils of the bar.

[37] Most of my readers will, I think, demand that, since I attach so much importance to reading, I should include in this work some instructions as to what authors should be read and what their special [p. 25] excellences may be. To do this in detail would be an endless task. [38] Remember that Cicero in his Brutus, after writing pages and pages on the subject of Roman orators alone, says nothing of his own contemporaries with the exception of Caesar and Marcellus. What limit, then, would there be to my labours if I were to attempt to deal with them and with their successors and all the orators of Greece as well? [39] No, it was a safer course that Livy adopted in his letter to his son, where he writes that he should read Cicero and Demosthenes and then such orators as most resembled them. Still, [40] I must not conceal my own personal convictions on this subject. I believe that there are few, indeed scarcely a single one of those authors who have stood the test of time who will not be of some use or other to judicious students, since even Cicero himself admits that he owes a great debt even to the earliest writers, who for all their talent were totally devoid of art. [41] And my opinion about the moderns is much the same. For how few of them are so utterly crazy as not to have the least shadow of hope that some portion or other of their work may have claims upon the memory of posterity? If there is such an one, he will be detected before we have perused many lines of his writings, and we shall escape from him before the experiment of reading him has cost us any serious loss of time. [42] On the other hand, not everything that has some bearing on some department of knowledge will necessarily be of service for the formation of style, with which we are for the moment concerned.

Before, however, I begin to speak of individual authors, I must make a few general remarks about the variety of judgments which have been passed [p. 27] upon them. [43] For there are some who think that only the ancients should be read and hold that they are the sole possessors of natural eloquence and manly vigour; while others revel in the voluptuous and affected style of to-day, in which everything is designed to charm the ears of the uneducated majority. [44] And even if we turn to those who desire to follow the correct methods of style, we shall find that some think that the only healthy and genuinely Attic style is to be found in language which is restrained and simple and as little removed as possible from the speech of every day, while others are attracted by a style which is more elevated and full of energy and animation. There are, too, not a few who are devoted to a gentle, elegant and harmonious style. Of these different ideals I shall speak in greater detail, when I come to discuss the question of the particular styles best suited to oratory.²⁴ For the moment I shall restrict myself to touching briefly on what the student who desires to consolidate his powers of speaking should seek in his reading and to what kind of reading he should devote his attention. My design is merely to select a few of the most eminent authors for consideration. [45] It will be easy for the student to decide for himself what authors most nearly resemble these: consequently, no one will have any right to complain if I pass over some of his favourites. For I will readily admit that there are more authors worth reading than those whom I propose to mention. But I will now proceed to deal with the various classes of reading which I consider most suitable for those who are ambitious of becoming orators.

[46] I shall, I think, be right in following the principle [p. 29] laid down by Aratus²⁵ in the line, “With Jove let us begin,” and in beginning with Homer. He is like his own conception of Ocean,²⁶ which he describes as the source of every stream and river; for he has given us a model and an inspiration for every department of eloquence. It will be generally admitted that no one has ever surpassed him in the sublimity with which he invests great themes or the propriety with which he handles small. He is at once luxuriant and concise, sprightly and serious, remarkable at once for his fullness and his brevity, and supreme not merely for poetic, but for oratorical power as well. [47] For, to say nothing of his eloquence, which he shows in praise, exhortation and consolation, do not the ninth book containing the embassy to Achilles, the first describing the quarrel between the chiefs, or the speeches delivered by the counsellors in the second, display all the rules of art to be followed in forensic or deliberative oratory? [48] As regards the emotions, there can be no one so illeducated as to deny that the poet was the master of all, tender and vehement alike. Again, in the few lines with which he introduces both of his epics, has he not, I will not say observed, but actually established the law which should govern the composition of the exordium? For, by his invocation of the goddesses believed to preside over poetry he wins the goodwill of his audience, by his statement of the greatness of his themes he excites their attention and renders them receptive by the briefness of his summary. [49] Who can narrate more briefly than the hero²⁷ who brings the news of Patroclus' death, or more vividly than he²⁸ who describes the battle between the Curetes and the Aetolians? Then consider his [p. 31] similes, his amplifications, his illustrations, digressions, indications of fact, inferences, and all the other methods of proof and refutation which he employs. They are so numerous that the majority of writers on the principles of rhetoric have gone to his works for examples of all these things. [50] And as for perorations, what can ever be equal to the prayers which Priam addresses to Achilles²⁹ when he comes to beg for the body of his son? Again, does he not transcend the limits of human genius in his choice of words, his reflexions, figures, and the arrangement of his whole work, with the result that it requires a powerful mind, I will not say to imitate, for that is impossible, but even to appreciate his excellences? [51] But he has in truth outdistanced all that have come after him in every department of eloquence, above all, he has outstripped all other writers of epic, the contrast in their case being especially striking owing to the similarity of the material with which they deal. [52] Hesiod rarely rises to any height, while a great part of his works is filled almost entirely with names³⁰: none the less, his maxims of moral wisdom provide a useful model, the smooth flow of his words and structure merit our approval, and he is assigned the first place among writers of the intermediate style. [53] On the other hand, Antimachus³¹ deserves praise for the vigour, dignity and elevation of his language. But although practically all teachers of literature rank him second among epic poets, he is deficient in emotional power, charm, and arrangement of matter, and totally devoid of real art. No better example can be found to show what a vast difference there is to being near another writer and being second to him. [54] Panyasis³² is [p. 33] regarded as combining the qualities of the last two poets, being their inferior in point of style, but surpassing Hesiod in the choice of his subject and Antimachus in its arrangement. Apollonius³³ is not admitted to the lists drawn up by the professors of literature, because the critics, Aristarchus and Aristophanes,³⁴ included no contemporary poets. None the less, his work is by no means to be despised, being distinguished by the consistency with which he maintains his level as a representative of the intermediate type. [55] The subject chosen by Aratus is lifeless and monotonous, affording no scope for pathos, description of character, or eloquent speeches. However, he is adequate for the task to which he felt himself equal. Theocritus is admirable in his own way, but the rustic and pastoral muse shrinks not merely from the forum, but from town-life of every kind. [56] I think I hear my readers on all sides suggesting the names of hosts of other poets. What? Did not Pisandros³⁵ tell the story of Hercules in admirable style? Were there not good reasons for Virgil and Macer taking Nicander³⁶ as a model? Are we to ignore Euphorion?³⁷ Unless Virgil had admired him, he would never have mentioned

“verses written in Chalcidic strain”

in the Eclogues. Again, had Horace no justification for coupling the name of Tyrtacus³⁸ with that of Homer? [57] To which I reply, that there is no one so ignorant of poetic literature that he could not, if he chose, copy a catalogue of such poets from some [p. 35] library for insertion in his own treatises. I can therefore assure my readers that I am well aware of the existence of the poets whom I pass over in silence, and am far from condemning them, since I have already said that some profit may be derived from every author.³⁹ [58] But we must wait till our powers have been developed and established to the full before we turn to these poets, just as at banquets we take our fill of the best fare and then turn to other food which, in spite of its comparative inferiority, is still attractive owing to its variety. Not until our taste is formed shall we have leisure to study the elegiac poets as well. Of these, Callimachus is regarded as the best, the second place being, according to the verdict of most critics, occupied by Philetas.⁴⁰ [59] But until we have acquired that assured facility of which I spoke,⁴¹ we must familiarise ourselves with the best writers only and must form our minds and develop an appropriate tone by reading that is deep rather than wide. Consequently, of the three writers of iambics⁴² approved by the judgment of Aristarchus, Archilochus will be far the most useful for the formation of the facility in question. [60] For he has a most forcible style, is full of vigorous, terse and pungent reflexions, and overflowing with life and energy: indeed, some critics think that it is due solely to the nature of his subjects, and not to his genius, that any poets are to be ranked above him. [61] Of the nine lyric poets⁴³ Pindar is by far the greatest, in virtue of his inspired magnificence, the beauty of his thoughts and figures, the rich exuberance of his language and matter, and his rolling flood of eloquence, characteristics which, as Horace⁴⁴ rightly held, make him [p. 37] inimitable. [62] The greatness of the genius of Stesichorus⁴⁵ is shown by his choice of subject: for he sings of the greatest wars and the most glorious of chieftains, and the music of his lyre is equal to the weighty themes of epic poetry. For both in speech and action he invests his characters with the dignity which is their due, and if he had only been capable of exercising a little more restraint, he might, perhaps, have proved a serious rival to Homer. But he is redundant and diffuse, a fault which, while deserving of censure, is nevertheless a defect springing from the very fullness of his genius. [63] Alcaeus has deserved the compliment of being said to make music with quill of gold⁴⁶ in that portion of his works in which he attacks the tyrants of his day and shows himself a real moral force. He is, moreover, terse and magnificent in style, while the vigour of his diction resembles that of oratory. But he also wrote poetry of a more sportive nature and stooped to erotic poetry, despite his aptitude for loftier themes. [64] Simonides⁴⁷ wrote in a simple style, but may be recommended for the propriety and charm of his language. His chief merit, however, lies in his power to excite pity, so much so, in fact, that some rank him in this respect above all writers of this class of poetry.

[65] The old comedy is almost the only form of poetry which preserves intact the true grace of Attic diction, while it is characterized by the most eloquent freedom of speech, and shows especial power in the denunciation of vice; but it reveals great force in other departments as well. For its style is at once lofty, elegant and graceful, and if we except Homer, who, like Achilles among warriors, [p. 39] is beyond all comparison, I am not sure that there is any style which bears a closer resemblance to oratory or is better adapted for forming the orator. [66] There are a number of writers of the old comedy, but the best are Aristophanes, Eupolis and Cratinus.⁴⁸ Aeschylus was the first to bring tragedy into prominence: he is lofty, dignified, grandiloquent often to a fault, but frequently uncouth and inharmonious. Consequently, the Athenians allowed later poets to revise his tragedies and to produce them in the dramatic contests, and many succeeded in winning the prize by such means. [67] Sophocles and Euripides, however, brought tragedy to far greater perfection: they differ in style, but it is much disputed as to which should be awarded the supremacy, a question which, as it has no bearing on my present theme, I shall make no attempt to decide. But this much is certain and incontrovertible, that Euripides will be found of far greater service to those who are training themselves for pleading in court. [68] For his language, although actually censured by those who regard the dignity, the stately stride and sonorous utterance of Sophocles as being more sublime, has a closer affinity to that of oratory, while he is full of striking reflexions, in which, indeed, in their special sphere, he rivals the philosophers themselves, and for defence and attack may be compared with any orator that has won renown in the courts. Finally, although admirable in every kind of emotional appeal, he is easily supreme in the power to excite pity. [69] Menander, as he often testifies in his works, had a profound admiration for Euripides, and imitated him, although in a different type of work. Now, [p. 41] the careful study of Menander alone would, in my opinion, be sufficient to develop all those qualities with the production of which my present work is concerned; so perfect is his representation of actual life, so rich is his power of invention and his gift of style, so perfectly does he adapt himself to every kind of circumstance, character and emotion. [70] Indeed, those critics are no fools who think the speeches attributed to Charisius⁴⁹ were in reality written by Menander. But I consider that he shows his power as an orator far more clearly in his comedies; since assuredly we can find no more perfect models of every oratorical quality than the judicial pleadings of his Epitrepontes,⁵⁰ Epicleros and Locri, or the declamatory speeches in the Psophodes, Nomothetes. and Hypobolimaeus. [71] Still, for my own part, I think that he will be found even more useful by declaimers, in view of the fact that they have, according to the nature of the various controversial themes, to undertake a number of different roles and to impersonate fathers, sons, soldiers, peasants, rich men and poor, the angry man and the suppliant, the gentle and the harsh. And all these characters are treated by this poet with consummate appropriateness. [72] Indeed, such is his supremacy that he has scarce left a name to other writers of the new comedy, and has cast them into darkness by the splendour of his own renown. Still, you will find something of value in the other comic poets as well, if you read them in not too critical a spirit; above all, profit may be derived from the study of Philemon,⁵¹ who, although it was [p. 43] a depraved taste which caused his contemporaries often to prefer him to Menander, has none the less deserved the second place which posterity has been unanimous in awarding him.

[73] If we turn to history, we shall find a number of distinguished writers; but there are two who must undoubtedly be set far above all their rivals: their excellences are different in kind, but have won almost equal praise. Thucydides is compact in texture, terse and ever eager to press forward: Herodotus is pleasant, lucid and diffuse: the former excels in vigour, speeches and the expression of the stronger passions; the latter in charm, conversations and the delineation of the gentler emotions. [74] Theopompus⁵² comes next, and though as a historian he is inferior to the authors just mentioned, his style has a greater resemblance to oratory, which is not surprising, as he was an orator before he was urged to turn to history. Philistus⁵³ also deserves special distinction among the crowd of later historians, good though they may have been: he was an imitator of Thucydides, and though far his inferior, was somewhat more lucid. Ephorus,⁵⁴ according to Isocrates, needed the spur. [75] Clitarchus⁵⁵ has won approval by his talent, but his accuracy has been impugned. Timagenes⁵⁶ was born long after these authors, but deserves our praise for the very fact that he revived the credit of history, the writing of which had fallen into neglect. I have not forgotten Xenophon, but he will find his place among the philosophers.

[p. 45] [76] There follows a vast army of orators, Athens alone having produced ten remarkable orators⁵⁷ in the same generation. Of these Dermosthenes is far the greatest: indeed he came to be regarded almost as the sole pattern of oratory. Such is the force and compactness of his language, so muscular his style, so free from tameness and so self-controlled, that you will find nothing in him that is either too much or too little. [77] The style of Aesehines is fuller and more diffuse, while his lack of restraint gives an appearance of grandeur. But he has more flesh and less muscle. Hyperides has extraordinary charm and point, but is better qualified, not to say more useful, for cases of minor importance. [78] Lysias belongs to an earlier generation than those whom I have just mentioned. He has subtlety and elegance and, if the orator's sole duty were merely to instruct, it would be impossible to conceive greater perfection. For there is nothing irrelevant or far-fetched in his speeches. None the less I would compare him to a clear spring rather than to a mighty river. [79] Isocrates was an exponent of a different style of oratory: he is neat and polished and better suited to the fencingschool than to the battlefield. He elaborated all the graces of style, nor was he without justification. For lie had trained himself for the lecture-room and not the law-courts. He is ready in invention, his moral ideals are high and the care which he bestows upon his rhythm is such as to be a positive fault. [80] I do not regard these as the sole merits of the orators of whom I have spoken, but have selected what seemed to me their chief excellences, while those whom I have passed over in silence were far from being indifferent. In fact, I will readily admit that the [p. 47] famous Demetrius of Phalerum,⁵⁸ who is said to have been the first to set oratory on the downward path, was a man of great talent and eloquence and deserves to be remembered, if only for the fact that he is almost the last of the Attic school who can be called an orator: indeed Cicero⁵⁹ prefers him to all other orators of the intermediate school.

[81] Proceeding to the philosophers, from whom Cicero acknowledges that he derived such a large portion of his eloquence, we shall all admit that Plato is supreme whether in acuteness or perception or in virtue of his divine gift of style, which is worthy of Homer. For he soars high above the levels of ordinary prose or, as the Greeks call it, pedestrian language, and seems to me to be inspired not by mere human genius, but, as it were, by the oracles of the god of Delphi. [82] Why should I speak of the unaffected charm of Xenophon, so far beyond the power of affectation to attain? The Graces themselves seem to have moulded his style, and we may with the utmost justice say of him, what the writer of the old comedy⁶⁰ said of Pericles, that the goddess of persuasion sat enthroned upon his lips. [83] Why should I dwell on the elegance of the rest of the Socratics? or on Aristotle,⁶¹ with regard to whom I hesitate whether to praise him more for his knowledge, for the multitude of his writings, the sweetness of his style, the penetration revealed by his discoveries or the variety of the tasks which he [p. 49] essayed? In Theophrastus⁶² we find such a superhuman brilliance of style that his name is said to be derived therefrom. [84] The ancient Stoics indulged their eloquence comparatively little. Still, they pleaded the cause of virtue, and the rules which they laid down for argument and proof have been of the utmost value. But they showed themselves shrewd thinkers rather than striking orators, which indeed they never aimed at being.

[85] I now come to Roman authors, and shall follow the same order in dealing with them. As among Greek authors Homer provided us with the most auspicious opening, so will Virgil among our own. For of all epic poets, Greek or Roman, he, without doubt, most nearly approaches to Homer. [86] I will repeat the words which I heard Domitius Afer use in my young days. I asked what poet in his opinion came nearest to Homer, and he replied, “Virgil comes second, but is nearer first than third.” And in truth, although we must needs bow before the immortal and superhuman genius of Homer, there is greater diligence and exactness in the work of Virgil just because his task was harder. And perhaps the superior uniformity of the Roman's excellence balances Homer's pre-eminence in his outstanding passages. [87] All our other poets follow a long way in the rear. Macer and Lucretius are, it is true, worth reading, but not for the purpose of forming style, that is to say, the body of eloquence: both deal elegantly with their themes, but the former is tame and the latter difficult. The poems by which Varro of Atax⁶³ gained his reputation were translations, but he is by no means to be despised, although his diction is not sufficiently rich to be of much [p. 51] service in developing the resources of eloquence. [88] Ennius deserves our reverence, but only as those groves whose age has made them sacred, but whose huge and ancient trunks inspire us with religious awe rather than with admiration for their beauty. There are other poets who are nearer in point of time and more useful for our present purpose. Ovid has a lack of seriousness even when he writes epic and is unduly enamoured of his own gifts, but portions of his work merit our praise. [89] On the other hand, although Cornelius Severus⁶⁴ is a better versifier than poet, yet if, as has been said, he had written his poem on the Sicilian war in the same style throughout as his first book, he would have had a just claim to the second place. A premature death prevented the powers of Serranus⁶⁵ from ripening to perfection, but his youthful works reveal the highest talent and a devotion to the true ideal of poetry, which is remarkable in one so young. [90] We have suffered serious loss in the recent death of Valerius Flaccus. Saleius Bassus⁶⁶ showed an ardent and genuinely poetic genius, but, like that of Serranus, it was not mellowed by years. Rabirius⁶⁷ and Pedo⁶⁸ deserve to be studied by those who have the time. Lucan is fiery and passionate and remarkable for the grandeur of his general reflexions, but, to be frank, I consider that he is more suitable for imitation by the orator than by the poet. [91] I have restricted my list of poets to these names, because Germanicus [p. 53] Augustus⁶⁹ has been distracted from the study of poetry on which he had embarked by his care for the governance of the world, and the gods have thought it scarce worthy of his powers that he should be the greatest of poets. But what can be more sublime, more learned, more perfect in every detail than those works to which he devoted himself in the seclusion to which he retired after conferring the supreme power upon his father and his brother? Who could sing of war better than he who wages it with such skill? To whom would the goddesses that preside over literature sooner lend an ear? To whom would Minerva, his familiar deity,⁷⁰ more readily reveal her secrets? [92] Future ages shall tell of these things more fully; to-day his glory as a poet is dimmed by the splendour of his other virtues. But you will forgive us, Caesar, who worship at the shrine of literature, if we refuse to pass by your achievements in silence and insist on testifying at least that, as Virgil sings,

The ivy creeps amid your victor bays

Ecl. viii. 13.

[93] We also challenge the supremacy of the Greeks in elegy. Of our elegiac poets Tibullus seems to me to be the most terse and elegant. There are, however, some who prefer Propertius. Ovid is more sportive than either, while Gallus⁷¹ is more severe. Satire, on the other hand, is all our own. The first of our poets to win renown in this connexion was Lucilius, some of whose devotees are so enthusiastic that they do not hesitate to prefer him not merely to all other satirists, but even to all other poets. I disagree with them as much as I do with Horace,⁷² [94] who holds that Lucilius' verse has a “muddy flow, [p. 55] and that there is always something in him that might well be dispensed with.” For his learning is as remarkable as his freedom of speech, and it is this latter quality that gives so sharp an edge and such abundance of wit to his satire. Horace is far terser and purer in style, and must be awarded the first place, unless my judgment is led astray by my affection for his work. Persius also, although he wrote but one book, has acquired a high and well-deserved reputation, while there are other distinguished satirists still living whose praises will be sung by posterity. [95] There is, however, another and even older type of satire which derives its variety not merely from verse, but from an admixture of prose as well. Such were the satires composed by Terentius Varro,⁷³ the most learned of all Romans. He composed a vast number of erudite works, and possessed an extraordinary knowledge of the Latin language, of all antiquity and of the history of Greece and Rome. But he is an author likely to contribute more to the knowledge of the student than to his eloquence. [96] The iambic has not been popular with Roman poets as a separate form of composition, but is found mixed up with other forms of verse.⁷⁴ It may be found in all its bitterness in Catullus, Bibaculus⁷⁵ and Horace, although in the last-named the iambic is interrupted by the epode.⁷⁶ Of our lyric writers Horace is almost the sole poet worth reading: for he rises at times to a lofty grandeur and is full of sprightliness and charm, while there is great variety in his figures, and his boldness in the choice of words is only equalled by his felicity. If any other lyric poet is to be mentioned, it will be Caesius Bassus, who has but [p. 57] lately passed from us. But he is far surpassed in talent by poets still living.

[97] Among writers of tragedy Accius and Pacuvius⁷⁷ are most remarkable for the force of their general reflexions, the weight of their words and the dignity of their characters. But they lack polish, and filed to put the finishing touches on their works, although the fault was perhaps rather that of the times in which they lived than of themselves. Accius is generally regarded as the most vigorous, while those who lay claim to learning regard Pacuvius as the more learned of the two. [98] The Thyestes of Varius⁷⁸ is a match for any Greek tragedy, and the Medea of Ovid shows, in my opinion, to what heights that poet might have risen if he had been ready to curb his talents instead of indulging them. Of the tragic writers whom I myself have seen, Pomponius Secundus⁷⁹ is by far the best: his older critics thought him insufficiently tragic, but admitted his eminence as far as learning and polish were concerned. [99] Comedy is our weakest point. Although Varro quotes Aelius Stilo⁸⁰ as saying that if the Muses wished to speak Latin, they would use the language of Plautus, although the ancients extol Caecilius,⁸¹ and although Scipio Africanus is credited with the works of Terence (which are the most elegant of their kind, and would be still more graceful if the poet had confined himself to the iambic trimeter), [100] we still scarcely succeed in reproducing even a faint shadow of the charm of Greek comedy. Indeed, it seems to me as though the language of Rome were incapable of reproducing that graceful wit which was [p. 59] granted to Athens alone, and was beyond the reach of other Greek dialects to achieve. Afranius⁸² excels in the purely Roman comedy, but it is to be regretted that he revealed his own character by defiling his plots with the introduction of indecent paederastic intrigues.

[101] In history, however, we hold our own with the Greeks. I should not hesitate to match Saillst against Thucydides, nor would Herodotus resent Titus Livius being placed on the same level as himself. For the latter has a wonderful charm and transparency in narrative, while his speeches are eloquent beyond description; so admirably adapted is all that is said both to the circumstances and the speaker; and as regards the emotions, especially the more pleasing of them, I may sum him up by saying that no historian has ever depicted them to greater perfection. [102] Thus it is that, although by different means, he has acquired no less fame than has been awarded to the immortal rapidity of Sallust. For I strongly approve of the saying of Servilius Nonianus,⁸³ that these historians were equal rather than alike. Servilius, whom I myself have heard, is himself remarkable for the force of his intellect, and is full of general reflexions, but he is less restrained than the dignity of history demands. [103] But that dignity is admirably maintained, thanks to his style, by Aufidius Bassus,⁸⁴ a slightly earlier writer, especially in his work on the German war: he is always praiseworthy, though at times he fails to do his powers full justice. [104] But there still survives to add lustre to this glorious age a man⁸⁵ worthy to be remembered through all time: he is appreciated today, but after generations shall declare his name [p. 61] aloud. The bold utterances of Crenutius⁸⁶ also have their admirers, and deserve their fame, though the passages which brought him to his ruin have been expurgated; still that which is left reveals a rich store of lofty animation and fearless reflexions upon life. There are other good writers as well, but I am merely selecting from the different departments of literature, not reviewing complete libraries.

[105] But it is our orators, above all, who enable us to match our Roman eloquence against that of Greece. For I would set Cicero against any one of their orators without fear of refutation. I know well enough what a storm I shall raise by this assertion, more especially since I do not propose for the moment⁸⁷ to compare him with Demosthenes; for there would be no point in such a comparison, as I consider that Demosthenes should be the object of special study, and not merely studied, but even committed to memory. [106] I regard the excellences of these two orators as being for the most part similar, that is to say, their judgment, their gift of arrangement, their methods of division, preparation and proof, as well as everything concerned with invention. In their actual style there is some difference. Demosthenes is more concentrated, Cicero more diffuse; Demosthenes makes his periods shorter than Cicero, and his weapon is the rapier, whereas Cicero's periods are longer, and at times he employs the bludgeon as well: nothing can be taken from the former, nor added to the latter; the Greek reveals a more studied, the Roman a more natural art. [107] As regards wit and the power of exciting pity, the two most powerful instruments where the feelings are concerned, we have the advantage. Again, it is possible [p. 63] that Demosthenes was deprived by national custom⁸⁸ of the opportunity of producing powerful perorations, but against this may be set the fact that the different character of the Latin language debars us from the attainment of those qualities which are so much admired by the adherents of the Attic school. As regards their letters, which have in both cases survived, and dialogues, which Demosthenes never attempted, there can be no comparison between the two. [108] But, on the other hand, there is one point in which the Greek has the undoubted superiority: he comes first in point of time, and it was largely due to him that Cicero was able to attain greatness. For it seems to me that Cicero, who devoted himself heart and soul to the imitation of the Greeks, succeeded in reproducing the force of Demosthenes, the copious flow of Plato, and the charm of Isocrates. [109] But he did something more than reproduce the best elements in each of these authors by dint of careful study; it was to himself that he owed most of, or rather all his excellences, which spring from the extraordinary fertility of his immortal genius. For he does not, as Pindar⁸⁹ says, “collect the rain from heaven, but wells forth with living water,” since Providence at his birth conferred this special privilege upon him, that eloquence should make trial of all her powers in him. [110] For who can instruct with greater thoroughness, or more deeply stir the emotions? Who has ever possessed such a gift of charm? He seems to obtain as a boon what in reality he extorts by force, and when he wrests the judge from the path of his own judgment, the latter seems not to be swept away, but merely to follow. [111] Further, there is such weight in all that he [p. 65] says that his audience feel ashamed to disagree with him, and the zeal of the advocate is so transfigured that it has the effect of the sworn evidence of a witness, or the verdict of a judge. And at the same time all these excellences, of which scarce one could be attained by the ordinary man even by the most concentrated effort, flow from him with every appearance of spontaneity, and his style, although no fairer has ever fallen on the ears of men, none the less displays the utmost felicity and ease. [112] It was not, therefore, without good reason that his own contemporaries spoke of his “sovereignty” at the bar, and that for posterity the name of Cicero has come to be regarded not as the name of a man, but as the name of eloquence itself. Let us, therefore, fix our eyes on him, take him as our pattern, and let the student realise that he has made real progress if he is a passionate admirer of Cicero. [113] Asinius Pollio⁹⁰ had great gifts of invention and great precision of language (indeed, some think him too precise), while his judgment and spirit were fully adequate. But he is so far from equalling the polish and charm of Cicero that he might have been born a generation before him. Messala,⁹¹ on the other hand, is polished and transparent and displays his nobility in his utterance, but he fails to do his powers full justice. [114] As for Gaius Caesar, if he had had leisure to devote himself to the courts, he would have been the one orator who could have been considered a serious rival to Cicero. Such are his force, his penetration and his energy that we realise that he was as vigorous in speech as in his conduct of war. And yet all these qualities are enhanced by a marvellous elegance of language, of which he was an exceptionally zealous [p. 67] student. [115] Caelius⁹² has much natural talent and much wit, more especially when speaking for the prosecution, and deserved a wiser mind and a longer life. I have come across some critics who preferred Calvus⁹³ to all other orators, and others again who agreed with Cicero that too severe self-criticism had robbed him of his natural vigour. But he was the possessor of a solemn, weighty and chastened style, which was also capable at times of genuine vehemence. He was an adherent of the Attic school and an untimely death deprived him of his full meed of honour, at least if we regard him as likely to have acquired fresh qualities. [116] Servius Sulpicius⁹⁴ acquired a great and well-deserved reputation by his three speeches. Cassius Severus,⁹⁵ if read with discrimination, will provide much that is worthy of imitation: if to his other merits he had added appropriateness of tone and dignity of style, [117] he would deserve a place among the greatest. For his natural talents are great, his gift of bitterness, wit and passion remarkable, but he allowed the sharpness of his temper to prevail over his judgment. Moreover, though his jests are pungent enough, this very pungency often turned the laugh against himself. [118] There are many other clever speakers, but it would be a long task to deal with them all. Domitius Afer⁹⁶ and Julius Africanus⁹⁷ are by far the most distinguished. The former is superior in art and in every department of oratory, indeed he may he ranked with the old orators without fear of [p. 69] contradiction. The latter shows greater energy, but is too great a precisian in the choice of words, prone to tediously long periods and somewhat extravagant in his metaphors. There have been distinguished talents even of more recent date. [119] For example, Trachalus⁹⁸ was, as a rule, elevated and sufficiently clear in his language: one realised that his aims were high, but he was better to listen to than to read. For his voice was, in my experience, unique in its beauty of tone, while his delivery would have done credit to an actor, his action was full of grace and he possessed every external advantage in profusion. Vibius Crispus,⁹⁹ again, was well-balanced, agreeable and born to charm, though he was better in private than in public cases. [120] Julius Secundus,¹⁰⁰ had he lived longer, would undoubtedly have attained a great and enduring reputation. For he would have acquired, as he was actually acquiring, all that was lacking to his qualities, namely, a far greater pugnacity and a closer attention to substance as well as form. [121] But, in spite of the untimeliness of his end, he occupies a high place, thanks to his fluency, the grace with which he set forth whatever he desired, the lucidity, smoothness and beauty of his speech, the propriety revealed in the use of words, even when employed figuratively, and the point which characterises even his most hazardous expressions. [122] Subsequent writers on the history of oratory will find abundant material for praise among the orators who flourish to-day: for the law courts can boast a glorious wealth of talent. Indeed, the consummate advocates of the present day are serious rivals of the ancients, while enthusiastic effort and lofty ideals lead many a young student [p. 71] to tread in their footsteps and imitate their excellence.

[123] I have still to deal with writers on philosophy, of whom Rome has so far produced but few who are distinguished for their style. But Cicero, who is great in every department of literature, stands out as the rival of Plato in this department as well. Brutus¹⁰¹ was an admirable writer on such themes, in which he distinguished himself far more than in his speeches: he is equal to the serious nature of his subject, and the reader realises that he feels what he says. [124] Cornelius Celsus,¹⁰² a follower of the Sextii,¹⁰³ wrote a number of philosophical works, which have considerable grace and polish. Among the Stoics Plautus¹⁰⁴ is useful as giving a knowledge of the subject. [125] Among the Epicureans Catius¹⁰⁵ is agreeable to read, though lacking in weight. I have deliberately postponed the discussion of Seneca in connexion with the various departments of literature owing to the fact that there is a general, though false, impression that I condemn and even detest him. It is true that I had occasion to pass censure upon him when I was endeavouring to recall students from a depraved style, weakened by every kind of error, to a severer standard of taste. [126] But at that time Seneca's works were in the hands of every young man, and my aim was not to ban his reading altogether, but to prevent his being preferred to authors superior to himself, but whom he was never tired of disparaging; for, being conscious of the fact that his own style was very different [p. 73] from theirs, he was afraid that he would fail to please those who admired them. But the young men loved him rather than imitated him, and fell as far below him as he fell below the ancients. [127] For I only wish they had equalled or at least approached his level. But he pleased them for his faults alone, and each individual sought to imitate such of those faults as lay within his capacity to reproduce: and then brought reproach on his master by boasting that he spoke in the genuine Senecan manner. [128] Seneca had many excellent qualities, a quick and fertile intelligence with great industry and wide knowledge, though as regards the last quality he was often led into error by those whom he had entrusted with the task of investigating certain subjects on his behalf. [129] He dealt with almost every department of knowledge; for speeches, poems, letters and dialogues all circulate under his name. In philosophy he showed a lack of critical power, but was none the less quite admirable in his denunciations of vice. His works contain a number of striking general reflexions and much that is worth reading for edification; but his style is for the most part corrupt and exceedingly dangerous, for the very reason that its vices are so many and attractive. [130] One could wish that, while he relied on his own intelligence, he had allowed himself to be guided by the taste of others. For if he had only despised all unnatural expressions and had not been so passionately fond of all that was incorrect, if he had not felt such affection for all that was his own, and had not impaired the solidity of his matter by striving after epigrammatic brevity, he would have won the approval of the learned instead of the [p. 75] enthusiasm of boys. [131] But even as it is, he deserves to be read by those whose powers have been formed and firmly moulded on the standards of a severer taste, if only because he will exercise their critical faculties in distinguishing between his merits and his defects. For, as I have said, there is much in him which we may approve, much even that we may admire. Only we must be careful in our selection: would he had been as careful himself. For his genius deserved to be devoted to better aims, since what it does actually aim at, it succeeds in achieving.

II. It is from these and other authors worthy of our study that we must draw our stock of words, the variety of our figures and our methods of composition, while we must form our minds on the model of every excellence. For there can be no doubt that in art no small portion of our task lies in imitation, since, although invention came first and is all-important, it is expedient to imitate whatever has been invented with success. [2] And it is a universal rule of life that we should wish to copy what we approve in others. It is for this reason that boys copy the shapes of letters that they may learn to write, and that musicians take the voices of their teachers, painters the works of their predecessors, and peasants the principles of agriculture which have been proved in practice, as models for their imitation. In fact, we may note that the elementary study of every branch of learning is directed by reference to some definite standard that is placed before the learner. [3] We must, in fact, either be like or unlike those who have proved their excellence. It is rare for nature to produce such resemblance, which is more often the result of imitation. But the very fact that in [p. 77] every subject the procedure to be followed is so much more easy for us than it was for those who had no model to guide them, is a positive drawback, unless we use this dubious advantage with caution and judgment.

[4] The first point, then, that we must realise is that imitation alone is not sufficient, if only for the reason that a sluggish nature is only too ready to rest content with the inventions of others. For what would have happened in the days when models were not, if men had decided to do and think of nothing that they did not know already? The answer is obvious: nothing would ever have been discovered. [5] Why, then, is it a crime for us to discover something new? Were primitive men led to make so many discoveries simply by the natural force of their imagination, and shall we not then be spurred on to search for novelty by the very knowledge that those who sought of old were rewarded by success? [6] And seeing that they, who had none to teach them anything, have handed down such store of knowledge to posterity, shall we refuse to employ the experience which we possess of some things, to discover yet other things, and possess nought that is not owed to the beneficent activity of others? Shall we follow the example of those painters whose sole aim is to be able to copy pictures by using the ruler and the measuring rod?¹⁰⁶ [7] It is a positive disgrace to be content to owe all our achievement to imitation. For what, I ask again, would have been the result if no one had done more than his predecessors? Livius Andronicus¹⁰⁷ would mark our supreme achievement in poetry and the annals of the Pontifices¹⁰⁸ would be our ne plus ultra in history. We [p. 79] should still be sailing on rafts, and the art of painting would be restricted to tracing a line round a shadow thrown in the sunlight. [8] Cast your eyes over the whole of history; you will find that no art has remained just as it was when it was discovered, nor come to a standstill at its very birth, unless indeed we are ready to pass special condensation on our own generation on the ground that it is so barren of invention that no further development is possible; and it is undoubtedly true that no development is possible for those who restrict themselves to imitation. [9] But if we are forbidden to add anything to the existing stock of knowledge, how can we ever hope for the birth of our ideal orator? For of all the greatest orators with whom we are as yet acquainted, there is not one who has not some deficiency or blemish. And even those who do not aim at supreme excellence, ought to press toward the mark rather than be content to follow in the tracks of others. [10] For the man whose aim is to prove himself better than another, even if he does not surpass him, may hope to equal him. But he can never hope to equal him, if he thinks it his duty merely to tread in his footsteps: for the mere follower must always lag behind. Further, it is generally easier to make some advance than to repeat what has been done by others, since there is nothing harder than to produce an exact likeness, and nature herself has so far failed in this endeavour that there is always some difference which enables us to distinguish even the things which seem most like and most equal to one another. [11] Again, whatever is like another object, must necessarily be inferior to the object of its imitation, just as the [p. 81] shadow is inferior to the substance, the portrait to the features which it portrays, and the acting of the player to the feelings which he endeavours to reproduce. The same is true of oratory. For the models which we select for imitation have a genuine and natural force, whereas all imitation is artificial and moulded to a purpose which was not that of the original orator. [12] This is the reason why declamations have less life and vigour than actual speeches, since the subject is fictitious in the one and real in the other. Again, the greatest qualities of the orator are beyond all imitation, by which I mean, talent, invention, force, facility and all the qualities which are independent of art. [13] Consequently, there are many who, after excerpting certain words from published speeches or borrowing certain particular rhythms, think that they have produced a perfect copy of the works which they have read, despite the fact that words become obsolete or current with the lapse of years, the one sure standard being contemporary usage; and they are not good or bad in virtue of their inherent nature (for in themselves they are no more than mere sounds), but solely in virtue of the aptitude and propriety (or the reverse) with which they are arranged, while rhythmical composition must be adapted to the theme in hand and will derive its main charm from its variety.

[14] Consequently the nicest judgment is required in the examination of everything connected with this department of study. First we must consider whom to imitate. For there are many who have shown a passionate desire to imitate the worst and most decadent authors. Secondly, we must consider what [p. 83] it is that we should set ourselves to imitate in the authors thus chosen. [15] For even great authors have their blemishes, for which they have been censured by competent critics and have even reproached each other. I only wish that imitators were more likely to improve on the good things than to exaggerate the blemishes of the authors whom they seek to copy. And even those who have sufficient critical acumen to avoid the faults of their models will not find it sufficient to produce a copy of their merits, amounting to no more than a superficial resemblance, or rather recalling those sloughs which, according to Epicurus, are continually given off by material things.¹⁰⁹ [16] But this is just what happens to those who mould themselves on the first impressions derived from the style of their model, without devoting themselves to a thorough investigation of its good qualities, and, despite the brilliance of their imitation and the close resemblance of their language and rhythm, not only fail absolutely to attain the force of style and invention possessed by the original, but as a rule degenerate into something worse, and achieve merely those faults which are hardest to distinguish from virtues: they are turgid instead of grand, bald instead of concise, and rash instead of courageous, while extravagance takes the place of wealth, over-emphasis the place of harmony and negligence of simplicity. [17] As a result, those who flaunt tasteless and insipid thoughts, couched in an uncouth and inharmonious form, think that they are the equals of the ancients; those who lack ornament and epigram, pose as Attic; those who darken their meaning by the abruptness with which they close their periods, count themselves the superiors of Sallust and Thucydides; those who are [p. 85] dreary and jejune, think that they are serious rivals to Pollio, while those who are tame and listless, if only they can produce long enough periods, swear that this is just the manner in which Cicero would have spoken. [18] I have known some who thought that they had produced a brilliant imitation of the style of that divine orator, by ending their periods with the phrase esse videatur.¹¹⁰ Consequently it is of the first importance that every student should realise what it is that he is to imitate, and should know why it is good.

[19] The next step is for each student to consult his own powers when he shoulders his burden. For there are some things which, though capable of imitation, may be beyond the capacity of any given individual, either because his natural gifts are insufficient or of a different character. The man whose talent is for the plain style should not seek only what is bold and rugged, nor yet should he who has vigour without control suffer himself through love of subtlety at once to waste his natural energy and fail to attain the elegance at which he aims: for there is nothing so unbecoming as delicacy wedded to ruggedness. [20] True, I did express the opinion that the instructor whose portrait I painted in my second book,¹¹¹ should not confine himself to teaching those things for which he perceived his individual pupils to have most aptitude. For it is his further duty to foster whatever good qualities he may perceive in his pupils, to make good their deficiencies as far as may be, to correct their faults and turn them to better things. For he is the guide and director of the minds of others. It is a harder task to mould one's own nature. [21] But not even our [p. 87] ideal teacher, however much he may desire that everything that is correct should prevail in his school to the fullest extent, will waste his labour in attempting to develop qualities to the attainment of which he perceives nature's gifts to be opposed.

It is also necessary to avoid the fault to which the majority of students are so prone, namely, the idea that in composing speeches we should imitate the poets and historians, and in writing history or poetry should copy orators and declaimers. [22] Each branch of literature has its own laws and its own appropriate character. Comedy does not seek to increase its height by the buskin and tragedy does not wear the slipper of comedy. But all forms of eloquence have something in common, and it is to the imitation of this common element that our efforts should be confined.

[23] There is a further fault to which those persons are liable who devote themselves entirely to the imitation of one particular style: if the rude vigour of some particular author takes their fancy, they cling to it even when the case on which they are engaged calls for an easy and flowing style; if, on the other hand, it is a simple or agreeable style that claims their devotion, they fail to meet the heavy demands of severe and weighty cases. For not only do cases differ in their general aspect, but one part of a case may differ from another, and some things require a gentle and others a violent style, some require an impetuous and others a calm diction, while in some cases it is necessary to instruct and in others to move the audience, in all these instances dissimilar and different methods being necessary. [24] Consequently I should be reluctant even to advise a [p. 89] student to select one particular author to follow through thick and thin. Demosthenes is by far the most perfect of Greek orators, yet there are some things which others have said better in some contexts as against the many things which he has said better than others. But it does not follow that because we should select one author for special imitation, he should be our only model. What then? [25] Is it not sufficient to model our every utterance on Cicero? For my own part, I should consider it sufficient, if I could always imitate him successfully. But what harm is there in occasionally borrowing the vigour of Caesar, the vehemence of Caelius, the precision of Pollio or the sound judgment of Calvus? [26] For quite apart from the fact that a wise man should always, if possible, make whatever is best in each individual author his own, we shall find that, in view of the extreme difficulty of our subject, those who fix their eyes on one model only will always find some one quality which it is almost impossible to acquire therefrom. Consequently, since it is practically impossible for mortal powers to produce a perfect and complete copy of any one chosen author, we shall do well to keep a number of different excellences before our eyes, so that different qualities from different authors may impress themselves on our minds, to be adopted for use in the place that becomes them best.

[27] But imitation (for I must repeat this point again and again) should not be confined merely to words. We must consider the appropriateness with which those orators handle the circumstances and persons involved in the various cases in which they were engaged, and observe the judgment and powers of arrangement which they reveal, and the manner [p. 91] in which everything they say, not excepting those portions of their speeches which seem designed merely to delight their audience, is concentrated on securing the victory over their opponents. We must note their procedure in the exordium, the method and variety of their statement of facts, the power displayed in proof and refutation, the skill revealed in their appeal to every kind of emotion, and the manner in which they make use of popular applause to serve their case, applause which is most honourable when it is spontaneous and not deliberately courted. If we have thoroughly appreciated all these points, we shall be able to imitate our models with accuracy. [28] But the man who to these good qualities adds his own, that is to say, who makes good deficiencies and cuts down whatever is redundant, will be the perfect orator of our search; and it is now above all times that such perfection should be attained when there are before us so many more models of oratorical excellence than were available for those who have thus far achieved the highest success. For this glory also shall be theirs, that men shall say of them that while they surpassed their predecessors, they also taught those who came after.

3. Such are the aids which we may derive from external sources; as regards those which we must supply for ourselves, it is the pen which brings at once the most labour and the most profit. Cicero is fully justified in describing it as the best producer and teacher of eloquence, and it may be noted that in the de Oratore¹¹² he supports his own judgment by the authority of Lucius Crassus, in whose mouth he places this remark. [2] We must [p. 93] therefore write as much as possible and with the utmost care. For as deep ploughing makes the soil more fertile for the production and support of crops, so, if we improve our minds by something more than mere superficial study, we shall produce a richer growth of knowledge and shall retain it with greater accuracy. For without the consciousness of such preliminary study our powers of speaking extempore will give us nothing but an empty flow of words, springing from the lips and not from the brain. [3] It is in writing that eloquence has its roots and foundations, it is writing that provides that holy of holies where the wealth of oratory is stored, and whence it is produced to meet the demands of sudden emergencies. It is of the first importance that we should develop such strength as will not faint under the toil of forensic strife nor be exhausted by continual use. [4] For it is an ordinance of nature that nothing great can be achieved in a moment, and that all the fairest tasks are attended with difficulty, while on births as well she has imposed this law, that the larger the animal, the longer should be the period of gestation.

There are, however, two questions which present themselves in this connexion, namely, what should be our method and what the subjects on which we write, and I propose to treat them in this order. [5] At first, our pen must be slow yet sure: we must search for what is best and refuse to give a joyful welcome to every thought the moment that it presents itself; we must first criticise the fruits of our imagination, and then, once approved, arrange them with care. For we must select both thoughts and words and weigh them one by one. This done, [p. 95] we must consider the order in which they should be placed, and must examine all the possible varieties of rhythm, refusing necessarily to place each word in the order in which it occurs to us. [6] In order to do this with the utmost care, we must frequently revise what we have just written. For beside the fact that thus we secure a better connexion between what follows and what precedes, the warmth of thought which has cooled down while we were writing is revived anew, and gathers fresh impetus from going over the ground again. We may compare this protess with what occurs in jumping matches. The competitors take a longer run and go at full speed to clear the distance which they aim at covering; similarly, in throwing the javelin, we draw back our arms, and in archery pull back the bow-string to propel the shaft. [7] At times, however, we may spread our sails before the favouring breeze, but we must beware that this indulgence does not lead us into error. For we love all the offspring of our thought at the moment of their birth; were that not so, we should never commit them to writing. But we must give them a critical revision, and go carefully over any passage where we have reason to regard our fluency with suspicion. [8] It is thus, we are told, that Sallust wrote, and certainly his works give clear evidence of the labour which he expended on them. Again, we learn from Varius that Virgil composed but a very small number of verses every day. [9] It is true that with orators the case is somewhat different, and it is for this reason that I enjoin such slowness of speed and such anxious care at the outset. For the first aim which we must fix in our minds and insist on carrying into execution [p. 97] is to write as well as possible; speed will come with practice. Gradually thoughts will suggest themselves with increasing readiness, the words will answer to our call and rhythmical arrangement will follow, till everything will be found fulfilling its proper function as in a well-ordered household. The sum of the whole matter is this: [10] write quickly and you will never write well, write well and you will soon write quickly. But it is just when we have acquired this facility that we must pause awhile to look ahead and, if I may use the metaphor, curb the horses that would run away with us. This will not delay our progress so much as lend us fresh vigour. For I do not think that those who have acquired a certain power in writing should be condemned to the barren pains of false self-criticism. [11] How can anyone fulfil his duties as an advocate if he wastes his time in putting unnecessary finish on each portion of his pleadings? There are some who are never satisfied. They wish to change everything they have written and to put it in other words. They are a diffident folk, and deserve but ill of their own talents, who think it a mark of precision to cast obstacles in the way of their own writing. [12] Nor is it easy to say which are the most serious offenders, those who are satisfied with everything or those who are satisfied with nothing that they write. For it is of common occurrence with young men, however talented they may be, to waste their gifts by superfluous elaboration, and to sink into silence through an excessive desire to speak well. I remember in this connexion a story that Julius Secundus, my contemporary, and, as is well known, my very dear friend, a man with remarkable powers of eloquence, but [p. 99] with an infinite passion for precision, told me of the words once used to him by his uncle, [13] Julius Florus, the leading orator of Gaul, for it was there that he practised, a man eloquent as but few have ever been, and worthy of his nephew. He once noticed that Secundus, who was still a student, was looking depressed, and asked him the meaning of his frowns. The youth made no concealment of the reason: [14] he had been working for three days, and had been unable, in spite of all his efforts, to devise an exordium for the theme which he had been given to write, with the result that he was not only vexed over his immediate difficulty, but had lost all hope of future success. Florus smiled and said, “Do you really want to speak better than you can?” [15] There lies the truth of the whole matter. We must aim at speaking as well as we can, but must not try to speak better than our nature will permit. For to make any real advance we need study, not selfaccusation. And it is not merely practice that will enable us to write at greater length and with increased fluency, although doubtless practice is most important. We need judgement as well. So long as we do not he back with eyes turned up to the ceiling, trying to fire our imagination by muttering to ourselves, in the hope that something will present itself, but turn our thoughts to consider what the circumstances of the case demand, what suits the characters involved, what is the nature of the occasion and the temper of the judge, we shall acquire the power of writing by rational means. It is thus that nature herself bids us begin and pursue our studies once well begun. [16] For most points are of a definite character and, if we keep our eyes open, [p. 101] will spontaneously present themselves. That is the reason why peasants and uneducated persons do not beat about the bush to discover with what they should begin, and our hesitation is all the more shameful if it is simply the result of education. We must not, therefore, persist in thinking that what is hard to find is necessarily best; for, if it seems to us that there is nothing to be said except that which we are unable to find, we must say nothing at all. [17] On the other hand, there is a fault which is precisely the opposite of this, into which those fall who insist on first making a rapid draft of their subject with the utmost speed of which their pen is capable, and write in the heat and impulse of the moment. They call this their rough copy. They then revise what they have written, and arrange their hasty outpourings. But while the words and the rhythm may be corrected, the matter is still marked by the superficiality resulting from the speed with which it was thrown together. [18] The more correct method is, therefore, to exercise care from the very beginning, and to form the work from the outset in such a manner that it merely requires to be chiselled into shape, not fashioned anew. Sometimes, however, we must follow the stream of our emotions, since their warmth will give us more than any diligence can secure.

[19] The condemnation which I have passed on such carelessness in writing will make it pretty clear what my views are on the luxury of dictation which is now so fashionable. For, when we write, however great our speed, the fact that the hand cannot follow the rapidity of our thoughts gives us time to think, [p. 103] whereas the presence of our amanuensis hurries us on, and at times we feel ashamed to hesitate or pause, or make some alteration, as though we were afraid to display such weakness before a witness. [20] As a result our language tends not merely to be haphazard and formless, but in our desire to produce a continuous flow we let slip positive improprieties of diction, which show neither the precision of the writer nor the impetuosity of the speaker. Again, if the amanuensis is a slow writer, or lacking in intelligence, he becomes a stumbling-block, our speed is checked, and the thread of our ideas is interrupted by the delay or even perhaps by the loss of temper to which it gives rise. [21] Moreover, the gestures which accompany strong feeling, and sometimes even serve to stimulate the mind, the waving of the hand, the contraction of the brow, the occasional striking of forehead or side, and those which Persius¹¹³ notes when he describes a trivial style as one that

“Thumps not the desk nor smacks of bitten nails,”

all these become ridiculous, unless we are alone, Finally, [22] we come to the most important consideration of all, that the advantages of privacy are lost when we dictate. Everyone, however, will agree that the absence of company and deep silence are most conducive to writing, though I would not go so far as to concur in the opinion of those who think woods and groves the most suitable localities for the purpose, on the ground that the freedom of the sky and the charm of the surroundings produce sublimity of thought and wealth of inspiration. [23] Personally I regard such an environment as a [p. 105] pleasant luxury rather than a stimulus to study. For whatever causes us delight, must necessarily distract us from the concentration due to our work. The mind cannot devote its undivided and sincere attention to a number of things at the same time, and wherever it turns its gaze it must cease to contemplate its appointed task. [24] Therefore, the charm of the woods, the gliding of the stream, the breeze that murmurs in the branches, the song of birds, and the very freedom with which our eyes may range, are mere distractions, and in my opinion the pleasure which they excite is more likely to relax than to concentrate our attention. [25] Demosthenes took a wiser view; for he would retire to a place¹¹⁴ where no voice was to be heard, and no prospect greeted the sight, for fear that his eyes might force his mind to neglect its duty. Therefore, let the burner of the midnight oil seclude himself in the silence of night, within closed doors, with but a solitary lamp to light his labours. [26] But for every kind of study, and more especially for night work, good health and its chief source, simple living, are essential; for we have fallen into the habit of devoting to relentless labour the hour which nature has appointed for rest and relaxation. From those hours we must take only such time as is superfluous for sleep, and will not be missed. [27] For fatigue will make us careless in writing, and the hours of daylight are amply sufficient for one who has no other distractions. It is only the busy man who is driven to encroach on the hours of darkness. Nevertheless, night work, so long as we come to it fiesh and untired, provides by far the best form of privacy.

[p. 107] [28] But although silence and seclusion and absolute freedom of mind are devoutly to be desired, they are not always within our power to attain. Consequently we must not fling aside our book at once, if disturbed by some noise, and lament that we have lost a day: on the contrary, we must make a firm stand against such inconveniences, and train ourselves so to concentrate our thoughts as to rise superior to all impediments to study. If only you direct all your attention to the work which you have in hand, no sight or sound will ever penetrate to your mind. [29] If even casual thoughts often occupy us to such an extent that we do not see passers-by, or even stray from our path, surely we can obtain the same result by the exercise of our will. We must not give way to pretexts for sloth. For unless we make up our mind that we must be fresh, cheerful and free from all other care when we approach our studies, we shall always find some excuse for idleness. [30] Therefore, whether we be in a crowd, on a journey, or even at some festive gathering, our thoughts should always have some inner sanctuary of their own to which they may retire. Otherwise what shall we do when we are suddenly called upon to deliver a set speech in the midst of the forum, with lawsuits in progress on every side, and with the sound of quarrels and even casual outcries in our ears, if we need absolute privacy to discover the thoughts which we jot down upon our tablets? It was for this reason that Demosthenes, the passionate lover of seclusion, used to study on the seashore amid the roar of the breakers that they might teach him not to be unnerved by the uproar of the public assembly.

[31] There are also certain minor details which deserve [p. 109] our attention, for there is nothing too minute for the student. It is best to write on wax owing to the facility which it offers for erasure, though weak sight may make it desirable to employ parchment by preference. The latter, however, although of assistance to the eye, delays the hand and interrupts the stream of thought owing to the frequency with which the pen has to be supplied with ink. [32] But whichever we employ, we must leave blank pages that we may be free to make additions when we will. For lack of space at times gives rise to a reluctance to make corrections, or, at any rate, is liable to cause confusion when new matter is inserted. The wax tablets should not be unduly wide; for I have known a young and over-zealous student write his compositions at undue length, because he measured them by the number of lines, a fault which persisted, in spite of frequent admonition, until his tablets were changed, when it disappeared. [33] Space must also be left for jotting down the thoughts which occur to the writer out of due order, that is to say, which refer to subjects other than those in hand. For sometimes the most admirable thoughts break in upon us which cannot be inserted in what we are writing, but which, on the other hand, it is unsafe to put by, since they are at times forgotten, and at times cling to the memory so persistently as to divert us from some other line of thought. They are, therefore, best kept in store.

4. The next point which we have to consider is the correction of our work, which is by far the most useful portion of our study: for there is good reason for the view that erasure is quite as important a [p. 111] function of the pen as actual writing. Correction takes the form of addition, excision and alteration. But it is a comparatively simple and easy task to decide what is to be added or excised. On the other hand, to prune what is turgid, to elevate what is mean, to repress exuberance, arrange what is disorderly, introduce rhythm where it is lacking, and modify it where it is too emphatic, involves a twofold labour. For we have to condemn what had previously satisfied us and discover what had escaped our notice. [2] There can be no doubt that the best method of correction is to put aside what we have written for a certain time, so that when we return to it after an interval it will have the air of novelty and of being another's handiwork; for thus we may prevent ourselves from regarding our writings with all the affection that we lavish on a newborn child. [3] But this is not always possible, especially in the case of an orator who most frequently has to write for immediate use, while some limit, after all, must be set to correction. For there are some who return to everything they write with the presumption that it is full of faults and, assuming that a first draft must necessarily be incorrect, think every change an improvement and make some alteration as often as they have the manuscript in their hands: they are, in fact, like doctors who use the knife even where the flesh is perfectly healthy. The result of their critical activities is that the finished work is full of scars, bloodless, and all the worse for their anxious care. [4] No! let there be something in all our writing which, if it does not actually please us, at least passes muster, so that the file may only polish our work, not wear it away. There must [p. 113] also be a limit to the time which we spend on its revision. For the fact that Cinna¹¹⁵ took nine years to write his Smyrna, and that Isocrates required ten years, at the lowest estimate, to complete his Panegyric does not concern the orator, whose assistance will be of no use, if it is so long delayed.

5. My next task is to indicate what those should write whose aim is to acquire facility.¹¹⁶ At this part of my work there is no necessity for me to set forth the subjects which should be selected for writing, or the order in which they should be approached, since I have already done this in the first book,¹¹⁷ where I prescribed the sequence of studies for boys, and in the second book, where I did the same for young men. The point which concerns me now is to show from what sources copiousness and facility may most easily be derived.

Our earlier orators thought highly of translation from Greek into Latin. [2] In the de Oratore¹¹⁸ of Cicero, Lucius Crassus says that he practised this continually, while Cicero himself advocates it again and again, nay, he actually published translations of Xenophon and Plato,¹¹⁹ which were the result of this form of exercise. Messala likewise gave it his approval, and we have a number of translations of speeches from his hand; he even succeeded in coping with the delicacy of Hyperides' speech in defence of Phryne, a task of exceeding difficulty for a Roman. [3] The purpose of this form of exercise is obvious. For Greek authors are conspicuous for the variety of their matter, and there is much art in all their eloquence, while, when we translate them, we are at liberty to use the best words available, [p. 115] since all that we use are our very own.¹²⁰ As regards figures, too, which are the chief ornament of oratory, it is necessary to think out a great number and variety for ourselves, since in this respect the Roman idiom differs largely from the Greek.

[4] But paraphrase from the Latin will also be of much assistance, while I think we shall all agree that this is specially valuable with regard to poetry; indeed, it is said that the paraphrase of poetry was the sole form of exercise employed by Sulpicius. For the lofty inspiration of verse serves to elevate the orator's style and the bold license of poetic language does not preclude¹²¹ our attempting to render the same words in the language natural to prose. Nay, we may add the vigour of oratory to the thoughts expressed by the poet, make good his omissions, and prune his diffuseness. [5] But I would not have paraphrase restrict itself to the bare interpretation of the original: its duty is rather to rival and vie with the original in the expression of the same thoughts. Consequently, I disagree with those who forbid the student to parahrase speeches of our own orators, on the ground that, since all the best expressions have already been appropriated, whatever we express differently must necessarily be a change for the worse. For it is always possible that we may discover expressions which are an improvement on those which have already been used, and nature did not make eloquence such a poor and starveling thing, that there should be only one adequate expression for any one theme. [6] It can hardly be argued that, while the gestures of the actor are capable of imparting a wealth of varied meaning [p. 117] to the same words, the power of oratory is restricted to a narrower scope, so that when a thing has once been said, it is impossible to say anything else on the same theme. Why, even if it be granted that no new expression we discover can be better than or even equal to the old, it may, at any rate, be a good second. [7] Do we not often speak twice, or even more frequently, on the same subject, sometimes even to the extent of a number of sentences in succession? It will scarce be asserted that we must not match ourselves against others when we are permitted to match ourselves against ourselves. For if there were only one way in which anything could be satisfactorily expressed, we should be justified in thinking that the path to success had been sealed to us by our predecessors. But, as a matter of fact, the methods of expression still left us are innumerable, and many roads lead us to the same goal. [8] Brevity and copiousness each have their own peculiar grace, the merits of metaphor are one thing and of literalness another, and, while direct expression is most effective in one case, in another the best result is gained by a use of figures. Further, the exercise is valuable in virtue of its difficulty; and again, there is no better way of acquiring a thorough understanding of the greatest authors. For, instead of hurriedly running a careless eye over their writings, we handle each separate phrase and are forced to give it close examination, and we come to realise the greatness of their excellence from the very fact that we cannot imitate them.

[9] Nor is it only the paraphrase of the works of others that we shall find of advantage: much may [p. 119] be gained from paraphrasing our own words in a number of different ways: for instance, we may specially select certain thoughts and recast them in the greatest variety of forms, just as a sculptor will fashion a number of different images from the same piece of wax. [10] But it is the simplest subjects which, in my opinion, will serve us best in our attempt to acquire facility. For our lack of talent may easily shelter itself behind the complicated mass of detail presented by persons, cases, circumstances of time and place, words and deeds, since the subjects which present themselves on all sides are so many that it will always be possible to lay hold of some one or other. [11] True merit is revealed by the power to expand what is naturally compressed, to amplify what is small, to lend variety to sameness, charm to the commonplace, and to say a quantity of good things about a very limited number of subjects.

For this purpose indefinite questions,¹²² of the kind we call theses, will be found of the utmost service: in fact, Cicero¹²³ still exercised himself upon such themes after he had become the leading man in the state. [12] Akin to these are the proof or refutation of general statements. For such statements are a kind of decree or rule, and whatever problem may arise from the thing, may equally arise from the decision passed upon the thing. Then there are commonplaces,¹²⁴ which, as we know, have often been written by orators as a form of exercise. The man who has practised himself in giving full treatment to such simple and uncomplicated themes, will assuredly find his fluency increased in those subjects which admit of varied digression, and will be [p. 121] prepared to deal with any case that may confront him, since all cases ultimately turn upon general questions. [13] For what difference is there between the special case where Cornelius,¹²⁵ the tribune of the people, is charged with reading the text of a proposed law, and the general question whether it is lése-majestè for a magistrate himself to read the law which he proposes to the people; what does it matter whether we have to decide whether Milo was justified in killing Clodius, or whether it is justifiable to kill a man who has set an ambush for his slayer, or a citizen whose existence is a danger to the state, even though he has set no such ambush? What difference is there between the question whether it was an honourable act on the part of Cato to make over Marcia to Hortensius, or whether such an action is becoming to a virtuous man? It is on the guilt or innocence of specific persons that judgement is given, but it is on general principles that the case ultimately rests. [14] As for declamations of the kind delivered in the schools of the rhetoricians, so long as they are in keeping with actual life and resemble speeches, they are most profitable to the student, not merely while he¹²⁶ is still immature, for the reason that they simultaneously exercise the powers both of invention and arrangement, but even when he has finished his education and acquired a reputation in the courts. For they provide a richer diet from which eloquence derives nourishment and brilliance of complexion, and at the same time afford a refreshing variety after the continuous fatigues of forensic disputes. [15] For the same reason, the wealth of language that marks the historian should be from time to time imported into portions of our written [p. 123] exercises, and we should indulge in the easy freedom of dialogue. Nay, it may even be advantageous to amuse ourselves with the writing of verse, just as athletes occasionally drop the severe regime of diet and exercise to which they are subjected and refresh themselves by taking a rest and indulging in more dainty and agreeable viands. [16] Indeed, in my opinion, one of the reasons why Cicero was enabled to shed such glory upon the art of speaking is to be found in his excursions to such bypaths of study. For if all our material was drawn solely from actions at law, our eloquence must needs lose its gloss, our limbs grow stiff, and the keen edge of the intellect be blunted by its daily combats.

[17] But although those who find their practice in the contests of forensic warfare derive fresh strength and repair their forces by means of this rich fare of eloquence, the young should not be kept too long at these false semblances of reality, nor should they be allowed to become so familiar with these empty shadows that it is difficult for them to leave them: otherwise there is always the danger that, owing to the seclusion in which they have almost grown old, they will shrink in terror from the real perils of public life, like men dazzled by the unfamiliar sunlight. [18] Indeed it is recorded that this fate actually befell Marcus Porcius Latro, the first professor of rhetoric to make a name for himself; for when, at the height of his fame in the schools, he was called upon to plead a case in the forum, he put forward the most earnest request that the court should be transferred to some public hall. He was so unaccustomed to speak in the open air that all his eloquence seemed to reside within the compass of a [p. 125] roof and four walls. [19] For this reason a young man who has acquired a thorough knowledge from his instructors of the methods of invention and style (which is not by any means an endless task, if those instructors have the knowledge and the will to teach), and who has also managed to obtain a reasonable amount of practice in the art, should follow the custom in vogue with our ancestors, and select some one orator to follow and imitate. He should attend as many trials as possible and be a frequent spectator of the conflicts in which he is destined to take part. [20] Next he should write out speeches of his own dealing either with the cases which he has actually heard pleaded or with others, provided always they be actual cases, and should argue them from both sides, training himself with the real weapons of his warfare, just as gladiators do or as Brutus did in that speech in defence of Milo which I have already mentioned.¹²⁷ This is better than writing replies to old speeches, as Cestius did to Cicero's defence of Milo in spite of the fact that, his knowledge being confined to what was said for the defence, he could not have possessed sufficient acquaintance with the other side of the case.

[21] The young man, however, whom his instructor has compelled to be as realistic as possible in declamation, and to deal with every class of subject, instead of merely selecting the easiest and most attractive cases, as is done at present, will thus qualify himself much more rapidly for actual forensic practice. Under existing circumstances the practice of the principle¹²⁸ which I mentioned second is, as a rule, hampered by the large size of the classes and the practice of allotting certain days for recitation, to which must be added [p. 127] the contributory circumstance that the boys' parents are more interested in the number of their sons' recitations than their quality. [22] But, as I think I said in the first book,¹²⁹ the really good teacher will not burden himself with a larger number of pupils than he can manage, and will prune any tendency to excessive loquacity, limiting their remarks to the actual points involved by the subject of the declamation and forbidding them to range, as some would have them do, over every subject in heaven and earth: further, he will either extend the period within which he insists on their speaking, or will permit them to divide their themes into several portions. [23] The thorough treatment of one theme will be more profitable than the sketchy and superficial treatment of a number of subjects. For the latter practice has the result that nothing is put in its proper place and that the opening of the declamation exceeds all reasonable bounds, since the young orator crams all the flowers of eloquence which belong to all the different portions of the theme into that portion which he has to deliver, and fearing to lose what should naturally come later, introduces wild confusion into the earlier portions of his speech.

6. Having dealt with writing, the next point which claims our attention is premeditation, which itself derives force from the practice of writing and forms an intermediate stage between the labours of the pen and the more precarious fortunes of improvisation; indeed I am not sure that it is not more frequently of use than either. For there are places and occasions where writing is impossible, while both are available in abundance for premeditation. For [p. 129] but a few hours' thought will suffice to cover all the points even of cases of importance; if we wake at night, the very darkness will assist us, while even in the midst of legal proceedings our mind will find some vacant space for meditation, and will refuse to remain inactive. [2] Again, this practice will not merely secure the proper arrangement of our matter without any recourse to writing, which in itself is no small achievement, but will also set the words which we are going to use in their proper order, and bring the general texture of our speech to such a stage of completion that nothing further is required beyond the finishing touches. And as a rule the memory is more retentive of thoughts when the attention has not been relaxed by the fancied security which results from committing them to writing.

But the concentration which this requires cannot be attained in a moment or even quickly. [3] For, in the first place, we must write much before we can form that ideal of style which must always be present to our minds even when engaged in premeditation. Secondly, we must gradually acquire the habit of thought: to begin with, we shall content ourselves with covering but a few details, which our minds are capable of reproducing with accuracy; then by advances so gradual that our labour is not sensibly increased we must develop our powers and confirm them by frequent practice, a task in which the most important part is played by the memory. [4] For this reason I must postpone some of my remarks to the portion of this work reserved for the treatment of that topic.¹³⁰ At length, however, our powers will have developed so far that the man who is not hampered by lack of natural ability will by dint of [p. 131] persistent study be enabled, when it comes to speaking, to rely no less on what he has thought out than what he has written out and learnt by heart. At any rate, Cicero records that Metrodorus of Scepsis,¹³¹ Empylus of Rhodes,¹³² and our own Hortensius¹³³ were able to reproduce what they had thought out word for word when it came to actual pleading.

[5] If, however, some brilliant improvisation should occur to us while speaking, we must not cling superstitiously to our premeditated scheme. For premeditation is not so accurate as to leave no room for happy inspiration: even when writing we often insert thoughts which occur to us on the spur of the moment. Consequently this form of preparation must be conceived on such lines that we shall find no difficulty either in departing from it or returning to it at will. [6] For, although it is essential to bring with us into court a supply of eloquence which has been prepared in advance in the study and on which we can confidently rely, there is no greater folly than the rejection of the gifts of the moment. Therefore our premeditation should be such that fortune may never be able to fool us, but may, on the contrary, be able to assist us. This end will be obtained by developing the power of memory so that our conceptions may flow from us without fear of disaster, and that we may be enabled to look ahead without anxious backward glances or the feeling that we are absolutely dependent on what we can call to mind. Otherwise I prefer the rashness of improvisation to the coherence given by premeditation. [7] For such backward glances place us at a disadvantage, because our search for our premeditated ideas makes us miss others, and we draw [p. 133] our matter from our memory rather than from the subject on which we are speaking. And even if we are to rely on our memory and our subject alike, there are more things that may be discovered than ever yet have been.

7. But the crown of all our study and the highest reward of our long labours is the power of improvisation. The man who fails to acquire this had better, in my opinion, abandon the task of advocacy and devote his powers of writing to other branches of literature. For it is scarcely decent for an honourable man to promise assistance to the public at large which he may be unable to provide in the most serious emergencies, or to attempt to enter a harbour which his ship cannot hope to make save when sailing before a gentle breeze. [2] For there are countless occasions when the sudden necessity may be imposed upon him of speaking without preparation before the magistrates or in a trial which comes on unexpectedly. And if any such sudden emergency befalls, I will not say any innocent citizen, but some one of the orator's friends or connexions, is he to stand tongue-tied and, in answer to those who seek salvation in his eloquence and are doomed, unless they secure assistance, to ask for delay of proceedings and time for silent and secluded study, till such moment as he can piece together the words that fail him, commit them to memory and prepare his voice and lungs for the effort? [3] What theory of the duties of an orator is there which permits him to ignore such sudden issues? What will happen when he has to reply to his opponent? For often the expected arguments to which we have written a reply fail us and the whole aspect of the case undergoes [p. 135] a sudden change; consequently the variation to which cases are liable makes it as necessary for us to change our methods as it is for a pilot to change his course before the oncoming storm. [4] Again, what use is much writing, assiduous reading and long years of study, if the difficulty is to remain as great as it was in the beginning? The man who is always faced with the same labour can only confess that his past labour has been spent in vain. I do not ask him to prefer to speak extempore, but merely that lie should be able to do so. And this capacity is best acquired by the following method.

[5] In the first place, we must note the direction which the argument is likely to take, since we cannot run our race unless we know the goal and the course. It is not enough to know what are the parts¹³⁴ into which forensic pleadings are divided or the principles determining the order of the various questions, important though these points are. We must realise what should come first, second, and so on, in the several parts; for these points are so closely linked together by the very nature of things that they cannot be separated, nor their order changed, without giving rise to confusion. [6] The orator, who speaks methodically, will above all take the actual sequence of the various points as his guide, and it is for this reason that even but moderately trained speakers find it easiest to keep the natural order in the statement of facts. Secondly, the orator must know what to look for in each portion of his case: he must not beat about the bush or allow himself to be thrown off the track by thoughts which suggest themselves from irrelevant quarters, or produce a speech which is a confused mass of incongruities, [p. 137] owing to his habit of leaping this way and that, and never sticking to any one point. [7] Finally, he must confine himself to certain definite bounds, and for this division is absolutely necessary. When to the best of his ability he has dealt fully with all the points which he has advanced, he will know that he has reached his goal.

The precepts just given are dependent on theory. Those to which I now come depend on individual study. We must acquire a store of the best words and phrases on lines that I have already laid down, while our style must be formed by continuous and conscientious practice in writing, so that even our improvisations may reproduce the tone of our writing, and after writing much, we must give ourselves frequent practice in speaking. [8] For facility is mainly the result of habit and exercise and, if it be lost only for a brief time, the result will be not merely that we fall short of the requisite rapidity, but that our lips will become clogged and slow to open. For although we need to possess a certain natural nimbleness of mind to enable us, while we are saying what the instant demands, to build up what is to follow and to secure that there will always be some thought formed and conceived in advance ready to serve our voice, none the less, [9] it is scarcely possible either for natural gifts or for methodic art to enable the mind to grapple simultaneously with such manifold duties, and to be equal at one and the same time to the tasks of invention, arrangement, and style, together with what we are uttering at the moment, what we have got to say next and what we have to look to still further on, not to mention the fact that it [p. 139] is necessary all the time to give close attention to voice, delivery and gesture. [10] For our mental activities must range far ahead and pursue the ideas which are still in front, and in proportion as the speaker pays out what he has in hand, he must make advances to himself from his reserve funds, in order that, until we reach our conclusion, our mind's eye may urge its gaze forward, keeping time with our advance: otherwise we shall halt and stumble, and pour forth short and broken phrases, like persons who can only gasp out what they have to say.

[11] There is, therefore, a certain mechanical knack, which the Greeks call ἄλογος τριβή, which enables the hand to go on scribbling, while the eye takes in whole lines at once as it reads, observes the intonations and the stops, and sees what is coming before the reader has articulated to himself what precedes. It is a similar knack which makes possible those miraculous tricks which we see jugglers and masters of sleight of hand perform upon the stage, in such a manner that the spectator can scarcely help believing that the objects which they throw into the air come to hand of their own accord, and run where they are bidden. [12] But this knack will only be of real service if it be preceded by the art of which we have spoken,¹³⁵ so that what is irrational in itself will nevertheless be founded on reason. For unless a man speaks in an orderly, ornate and fluent manner, I refuse to dignify his utterance with the name of speech, but consider it the merest rant. [13] Nor again shall I ever be induced to admire a continuous flow of random talk, such as I note streams in torrents even from the lips of women when they quarrel, although, if a speaker is swept away by [p. 141] warmth of feeling and genuine inspiration, it frequently happens that he attains a success from improvisation which would have been beyond the reach of the most careful preparation. [14] When this occurred, the old orators, such as Cicero,¹³⁶ used to say that some god had inspired the speaker. But the reason is obvious. For profound emotion and vivid imagination sweep on with unbroken force, whereas, if retarded by the slowness of the pen, they are liable to grow cold and, it put off for the moment, may never return. Above all, if we add to these obstacles an unhealthy tendency to quibble over the choice of words, and check our advance at each step, the vehemence of our onset loses its impetus; while even though our choice of individual words may be of the happiest, the style will be a mere patchwork with no regular pattern.

[15] Consequently those vivid conceptions of which I spoke¹³⁷ and which, as I remarked, are called φαντασίαι, together with everything that we intend to say, the persons and questions involved, and the hopes and fears to which they give rise, must be kept clearly before our eyes and admitted to our hearts: for it is feeling and force of imagination that make us eloquent. It is for this reason that even the uneducated have no difficulty in finding words to express their meaning, if only they are stirred by some strong emotion. [16] Further the attention of the mind must be directed not to some one thing, but simultaneously to a number of things in continuous sequence. The result will be the same as when we cast our eyes along some straight road and see at once all that is on and near it, obtaining a view not merely of its end, but of the whole way there. Dread of the shame of failure is also a powerful stimulant to oratory, [p. 143] and it may be regarded as a matter for wonder that, whereas when writing we delight in privacy and shrink from the presence of witnesses, in extempore pleading a large audience has an encouraging effect, like that which the sight of the massed standards has on the soldier. [17] For the sheer necessity of speaking thrusts forward and forces out our labouring thought, and the desire to win approbation kindles and fosters our efforts. So true is it that there is nothing which does not look for some reward, that eloquence, despite the fact that its activity is in itself productive of a strong feeling of pleasure, is influenced by nothing so much as the immediate acquisition of praise and renown. [18] Nor should any man put such trust in his native ability as to hope that this power will present itself to him at the outset of his career as an orator; for the precepts which I laid down for premeditation¹³⁸ apply to improvisation also; we must develop it by gradual stages from small beginnings, until we have reached that perfection which can only be produced and maintained by practice.

[19] Moreover, the orator should reach such a pitch of excellence that, while premeditation may still be the safer method, it will not necessarily be the better, since many have acquired the gift of improvisation not merely in prose, but in verse as well, as, for example, Antipater of Sidon and Licinius Archias (for whose powers we have the unquestionable authority of Cicero¹³⁹), not to mention the fact that there are many, even in our own day, who have done this and are still doing it. I do not, however, regard this accomplishment as being particularly valuable in itself, for it is both unpractical and unnecessary, but mention it as a useful example to encourage students [p. 145] training for the bar, in the hope that they may be able to acquire this accomplishment. [20] Still our confidence in our power of speaking extempore should never be so great that we should neglect to devote a few minutes to the consideration of what we are going to say. There will but rarely be occasions when this is impossible, while in the lawsuits of the courts there is always some time allowed for the purpose. For no one can plead a cause with the facts of which be is unacquainted. [21] Some declaimers, it is true, are led by a perverse ambition to attempt to speak the moment their theme has been given them, and even ask for a word with which to start, an affectation which is in the worst and most theatrical taste. But eloquence has, in her turn, nothing but derision for those that insult her thus, and speakers who wish to seem learned to fools are merely regarded as fools by the learned. [22] If, however, chance should impose the necessity upon us of pleading a case at such short notice, we shall require to develop special mental agility, to give all our attention to the subject, and to make a temporary sacrifice of our care for the niceties of language, if we find it impossible to secure both. On such occasions a slower delivery and a style of speaking suggestive of a certain indecision and doubt will secure us time to think, but we must be careful to do this in such a way as to give the impression of thought, not of hesitation. [23] This precaution may be employed while we are clearing harbour, if the wind drive us forward before all our tackle is ready. Afterwards, as we proceed upon our course, we shall trim our sails, arrange our ropes, and pray that the breeze may fill our sails. Such a procedure is [p. 147] preferable to yielding ourselves to an empty torrent of words, that the storm may sweep us where it will.

[24] But it requires no less careful study to maintain than to acquire this facility. Theory once mastered is not forgotten, and the pen loses but little of its speed by disuse: but this promptitude and readiness for action can be maintained by practice only. The best form of exercise is to speak daily before an audience of several persons, who should, as far as possible, be selected from those whose judgement and good opinion we value, since it is rare for anyone to be sufficiently critical of himself. It is even better to speak alone than not at all. [25] There is yet another method of exercising this faculty: it consists in going over our subjects in their entirety in silent thought, although we must all the time formulate the words to ourselves: such practice is possible at any moment or place that finds us unoccupied, and is, in some respects, more useful than that which I have just mentioned; [26] for we are more careful about our composition than when we are actually speaking and in momentary fear of interrupting the continuous flow of our language. On the other hand, the first method is more valuable for certain purposes, as it gives strength to our voice, fluency to our tongue and vigour to our gesture; and the latter, as I have already remarked,¹⁴⁰ in itself excites the orator and spurs him on, as he waves his hand or stamps his foot: he is, in fact, like the lion, that is said to lash himself to fury with his tail. But we must study always and everywhere. [27] For there is scarce a single day in our lives that is so full of occupations that we may not, at some moment or other, snatch a few precious minutes, as Cicero¹⁴¹ records that Brutus was [p. 149] wont to do, either for writing or reading or speaking; Gaius Carbo,¹⁴² for example, was in the habit of indulging in such exercises even in his tent. [28] I must also mention the precept (which again has the approval of Cicero¹⁴³) that we should never be careless about our language. Whatever we say, under whatever circumstances, should be perfect in its way. As regards writing, this is certainly never more necessary than when we have frequently to speak extempore. For it maintains the solidity of our speech and gives depth to superficial facility. We may compare the practice of husbandmen who cut away the uppermost roots of their vines, which run close to the surface of the soil, that the taproots may strike deeper and gain in strength. [29] Indeed I am not sure that, if we practise both with care and assiduity, mutual profit will not result, and writing will give us greater precision of speech, while speaking will make us write with greater facility. We must write, therefore, whenever possible; if we cannot write, we must meditate: if both are out of the question, we must still speak in such a manner that we shall not seem to be taken unawares nor our client to be left in the lurch.

[30] It is, however, a common practice with those who have many cases to plead to write out the most necessary portions, more especially the beginnings of their speeches, to cover the remainder of that which they are able to prepare by careful premeditation and to trust to improvisation in emergency, a practice regularly adopted by Cicero, as is clear from his note-books. But the notes of other orators are also in circulation; some have been discovered by chance, just as they were jotted down previous to a speech, while others have been edited in book form, [p. 151] as in the case of the speeches delivered in the courts by Servius Sulpicius, of whose works only three speeches survive. These memoranda, however, of which I am speaking are so carefully drawn up that they seem to me to have been composed by himself for the benefit of posterity. [31] But Cicero's notes were originally intended merely to meet the requirements of the moment, and were afterwards collected¹⁴⁴ by Tiro. In making this apology I do not mean to imply that I disapprove of them, but merely wish to make them more worthy of admiration. And in this connexion I must state that I admit the use of brief memoranda and note-books, which may even be held in the hand and referred to from time to time. [32] But I disapprove of the advice given by Laenas, that we should set down in our note-books, duly tabulated under the appropriate headings, summaries of what we propose to say, even in cases where we have already written it out in full. For reliance on such notes as these makes us careless in learning what we have written and mutilates and deforms our style. For my own part I think that we should never write out anything which we do not intend to commit to memory. For if we do, our thoughts will run back to what we have elaborated in writing and will not permit us to try the fortune of the moment. [33] Consequently, the mind will waver in doubt between the two alternatives, having forgotten what was committed to writing and being unable to think of anything fresh to say. However, as the topic of memory will be discussed in the next book, I will not introduce it here, as there are other points which require to be dealt with first.