12. I must, however, admit that the general
opinion is that the untrained speaker is usually
the more vigorous. This opinion is due primarily
to the erroneous judgment of faulty critics, who
think that true vigour is all the greater for its lack
of art, regarding it as a special proof of strength to
force what might be opened, to break what might
be untied and to drag what might be led.
[2]
Even a
gladiator who plunges into the fight with no skill at
arms to help him, and a wrestler who puts forth the
whole strength of his body the moment he has got
a hold, is acclaimed by them for his outstanding
vigour, although it is of frequent occurrence in such
cases for the latter to be overthrown by his own
strength and for the former to find the fury of his
[p. 285]
onslaught parried by his adversary with a supple
turn of the wrist.
[3]
But there are many details in this
department of our art which the unskilled critic will
never notice. For instance, careful division under
heads, although of the utmost importance in actual
cases, makes the outward show of strength seem
less than the reality; the unhewn block is larger
than the polished marble, and things when scattered
seem more numerous than when placed together.
[4]
There is moreover a sort of resemblance between
certain merits and certain defects: abuse passes for
freedom of speech, rashness for courage, prodigality
for abundance. But the untrained advocate will
abuse too openly and too often, even though by so
doing he imperils the success of the case which he
has undertaken and not seldom his own personal
safety as well.
[5]
But even such violence will win
men's good opinion, since they are only too pleased
to hear another say things which nothing would
have induced them to utter themselves. Such
speakers are also less careful to avoid that other
peril, the pitfall of style, and are so reckless in their
efforts that sometimes in their passion for extravagance they light upon some really striking expression. But such success is rare and does not
compensate for their other defects.
[6]
For the same reason the uninstructed sometimes
appear to have a richer flow of language, because
they say everything that can be said, while the
learned exercise discrimination and self-restraint.
To this must be added the fact that such persons
take no trouble to prove their contentions, and
consequently steer clear of the chilly reception
given in our decadent law-courts to arguments and
[p. 287]
questions and seek only for such themes as may
beguile the ears of the public even at the cost of
appealing to the most perverted tastes.
[7]
Again,
their epigrams, the sole objects of their quest, seem
all the more striking because of the dreariness and
squalor of their context, since flashes are more
clearly seen against a background, not of mere
“shade,” as Cicero1 says, but of pitchy darkness.
Well, let the world credit them with as much genius
as it pleases, so long as it is admitted that such
praise is an insult to any man of real eloquence.
[8]
None the less it must be confessed that learning
does take something from oratory, just as the file
takes something from rough surfaces or the whetstone from blunt edges or age from wine; it takes
away defects, and if the results produced after subjection to the polish of literary study are less, they
are less only because they are better.
[9]
But these creatures have another weapon in their
armoury: they seek to obtain the reputation of
speaking with greater vigour than the trained orator
by means of their delivery. For they shout on all
and every occasion and bellow their every utterance
“with uplifted hand,” to use their own phrase,
dashing this way and that, panting, gesticulating
wildly and wagging their heads with all the frenzy
of a lunatic.
[10]
Smite your hands together, stamp
the ground, slap your thigh, your breast, your forehead, and you will go straight to the heart of the
dingier members of your audience.2 But the educated speaker, just as he knows how to moderate
his style, and to impart variety and artistic form to
his speech, is an equal adept in the matter of delivery and will suit his action to the tone of each
[p. 289]
portion of his utterances, while, if he has any one
canon for universal observance, it is that he should
both possess the reality and present the appearance
of self-control.
[11]
But the ranters confer the title of
force on that which is really violence. You may
also occasionally find not merely pleaders, but, what
is far more shameful, teachers as well, who, after a
brief training in the art of speaking, throw method
to the winds and, yielding to the impulse of the
moment, run riot in every direction, abusing those
who hold literature in higher respect as fools without life, courage or vigour, and calling them the
first and worst name that occurs to them.
[12]
Still let
me congratulate these gentlemen on attaining eloquence without industry, method or study. As for
myself I have long since retired from the task of
teaching in the schools and of speaking in the
courts, thinking it the most honourable conclusion to
retire while my services were still in request, and all
I ask is to be allowed to console my leisure by
making such researches and composing such instructions as will, I hope, prove useful to young men of
ability, and are, at any rate, a pleasure to myself.
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