Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, Book 8
Harold Edgeworth Butler, Ed.

3. I now come to the subject of ornament, in which, more than in any other department, the orator undoubtedly allows himself the greatest indulgence. For a speaker wins but trifling praise if he does no more than speak with correctness and lucidity; in fact his speech seems rather to be free from blemish than to have any positive merit. [2] Even the untrained often possess the gift of invention, and no great learning need be assumed for the satisfactory arrangement of our matter, while if any more recondite art is required, it is generally concealed, since unconcealed it would cease to be an art, while all these qualities are employed solely to serve the interests of the actual case. On the other hand, by the employment of skilful ornament the orator [p. 213] commends himself at the same time, and whereas his other accomplishments appeal to the considered judgment of the learned, this gift appeals to the enthusiastic approval of the world at large, and the speaker who possesses it fights not merely with effective, but with flashing weapons. [3] If in his defence of Cornelius Cicero had confined himself merely to instructing the judge and speaking in clear and idiomatic Latin without a thought beyond the interests of his case, would he ever have compelled the Roman people to proclaim their admiration not merely by acclamation, but by thunders of applause? No, it was the sublimity and splendour, the brilliance and the weight of his eloquence that evoked such clamorous enthusiasm. [4] Nor, again, would his words have been greeted with such extraordinary approbation if his speech had been like the ordinary speeches of every day. In my opinion the audience did not know what they were doing, their applause sprang neither from their judgment nor their will; they were seized with a kind of frenzy and, unconscious of the place in which they stood, burst forth spontaneously into a perfect ecstasy of delight.

[5] But rhetorical ornament contributes not a little to the furtherance of our case as well. For when our audience find it a pleasure to listen, their attention and their readiness to believe what they hear are both alike increased, while they are generally filled with delight, and sometimes even transported by admiration. The flash of the sword in itself strikes something of terror to the eye, and we should be less alarmed by the thunderbolt if we feared its violence alone, and not its flash as well. [6] Cicero was right when, in one of his letters to Brutus, he [p. 215] wrote, “Eloquence which evokes no admiration is, in my opinion, unworthy of the name.” Aristotle¹ likewise thinks that the excitement of admiration should be one of our first aims.

But such ornament must, as I have already said,² be bold, manly and chaste, free from all effeminate smoothness and the false hues derived from artificial dyes, and must glow with health and vigour. [7] So true is this, that although, where ornament is concerned, vice and virtue are never far apart, those who employ a vicious style of embellishment disguise their vices with the name of virtue. Therefore let none of our decadents accuse me of being an enemy to those who speak with grace and finish. I do not deny the existence of such a virtue, I merely deny that they possess it. [8] Shall I regard a farm as a model of good cultivation because its owner shows me lilies and violets and anemones and fountains of living water in place of rich crops and vines bowed beneath their clusters? Shall I prefer the barren plane and myrtles trimly clipped, to the fruitful olive and the elm that weds the vine? No, let such luxuries delight the rich: but where would their wealth be if they had nought save these? [9] Again, is beauty an object of no consideration in the planting of fruit trees? Certainly not! For my trees must be planted in due order and at fixed intervals. What fairer sight is there than rows of trees planted in échelon³ which present straight lines to the eye from whatever angle they be viewed? But it has an additional advantage, since this form of plantation enables every tree to derive an equal share of moisture from the soil. [10] When the tops of my olive trees rise too high, I lop them away, with the result that their growth expands laterally [p. 217] in a manner that is at once more pleasing to the eye and enables them to bear more fruit owing to the increase in the number of branches. A horse whose flanks are compact is not only better to look upon, but swifter in speed. The athlete whose muscles have been formed by exercise is a joy to the eye, but he is also better fitted for the contests in which he must engage. [11] In fact true beauty and usefulness always go hand in hand.

It does not, however, require any special ability to discern the truth of this. It is more important to note that such seemly ornament must be varied to suit the nature of the material to which it is applied. To begin with the primary classification of oratory, the same form of ornament will not suit demonstrative, deliberative and forensic speeches. For the oratory of display aims solely at delighting the audience, and therefore develops all the resources of eloquence and deploys all its ornament, since it seeks not to steal its way into the mind nor to wrest the victory from its opponent, but aims solely at honour and glory. [12] Consequently the orator, like the hawker who displays his wares, will set forth before his audience for their inspection, nay, almost for their handling, all his most attractive reflexions, all the brilliance that language and the charm that figures can supply, together with all the magnificence of metaphor and the elaborate art of composition that is at his disposal. For his success concerns himself, and not his cause. [13] But when it is a question of facts, and he is confronted by the hard realities of battle, his last thought will be for his personal glory. Nay, it is even unseemly to trouble overmuch about words when the greatest interests are at stake. I would [p. 219] not assert that such themes afford no scope for ornament, but such ornament as is employed must be of a more severe, restrained and less obvious character; above all, it must be adapted to the matter in hand. [14] For whereas in deliberative oratory the senate demand a certain loftiness and the people a certain impetuosity of eloquence, the public cases of the courts and those involving capital punishment demand a more exact style. On the other hand, in private deliberations and lawsuits about trifling sums of money (and there are not a few of these) it is more appropriate to employ simple and apparently unstudied language. For we should be ashamed to demand the repayment of a loan in rolling periods, or to display poignant emotion in a case concerned with water-droppings, or to work ourselves into a perspiration over the return of a slave to the vendor. But I am wandering from the point.

[15] Since rhetorical ornament, like clearness, may reside either in individual words or groups of words, we must consider the requirements of both cases. For although tile canon, that clearness mainly requires propriety of language and ornament the skilful use of metaphor, is perfectly sound, it is desirable that we should realise that without propriety ornament is impossible. [16] But as several words may often have the same meaning (they are called synonyms), some will be more distinguished, sublime, brilliant, attractive or euphonious than others. For as those syllables are the most pleasing to the ear which are composed of the more euphonious letters, thus words composed of such syllables will sound better than others, and the more vowel sounds they contain the more attractive they will be to hear. [p. 221] The same principle governs the linking of word with word; some arrangements will sound better than others. [17] But words require to be used in different ways. For example, horrible things are best described by words that are actually harsh to the ear. But as a general rule it may be laid down that the best words, considered individually, are those which are fullest or most agreeable in sound. Again, elegant words are always to be preferred to those which are coarse, and there is no room for low words in the speech of a cultivated man. [18] The choice of striking or sublime words will be determined by the matter in hand; for a word that in one context is magnificent may be turgid in another, and words which are all too mean to describe great things may be suitable enough when applied to subjects of less importance. And just as a mean word embedded in a brilliant passage attracts special attention, like a spot on a bright surface, so if our style be of a plain character, sublime and brilliant words will seem incongruous and tasteless excrescences on a flat surface. [19] In some cases instinct, and not reason, must supply the touchstone, as, for example, in the line:⁴

“A sow was slain to ratify their pacts.
”

Here the poet, by inventing the word porca, succeeded in producing an elegant impression, whereas if lie had used the masculine porcuis, the very reverse would have been the case. In some cases, however, the incongruity is obvious enough. It was only the other day that we laughed with good reason at the poet who wrote:

“The youngling mice had gnawed
Within its chest the purple-bordered gown.
⁵”

[p. 223] [20] On the other hand, we admire Virgil⁶ when he says:

“Oft hath the tiny mouse,” etc.

For here the epithet is appropriate and prevents our expecting too much, while the use of the singular instead of the plural, and the unusual monosyllabic conclusion of the line, both add to the pleasing effect. Horace⁷ accordingly imitated Virgil in both these points, when he wrote,

“The fruit shall be a paltry mouse.
”

[21] Again, our style need not always dwell on the heights: at times it is desirable that it should sink. For there are occasions when the very meanness of the words employed adds force to what we say. When Cicero, in his denunciation of Piso,⁸ says, “When your whole family rolls up in a dray,” do you think that his use of the word dray was accidental, and was not designedly used to increase his audience's contempt for the man he wished to bring to ruin? The same is true when he says elsewhere, “You put down your head and butt him.” [22] This device may also serve to carry off a jest, as in the passage of Cicero where he talks of the “little sprat of a boy who slept with his elder sister,”⁹ or where he speaks of “Flavius, who put out the eyes of crows,”¹⁰ or, again, in the pro Milone,¹¹ cries, “Hi, there! Rufio!” and talks of “Erucius Antoniaster.”¹² On the other hand, this practice becomes more obtrusive when employed in the schools, like the phrase that was so much praised in my boyhood, “Give your father bread,” or in the same declamation, “You feed even your dog.”¹³ But such tricks do not always come off, [23] especially in [p. 225] the schools, and often turn the laugh against the speaker, particularly in the present day, when declamation has become so far removed from reality and labours under such an extravagant fastidiousness in the choice of words that it has excluded a good half of the language from its vocabulary.

[24] Words are proper, newly-coined or metaphorical. In the case of proper words there is a special dignity conferred by antiquity, since old words, which not everyone would think of using, give our style a venerable and majestic air: this is a form of ornament of which Virgil, with his perfect taste, has made unique use. [25] For his employment of words such as olli,¹⁴ quianam,¹⁵ moerus,¹⁶ pone¹⁷ and pellacia¹⁸ gives his work that impressive air of antiquity which is so attractive in pictures, but which no art of man can counterfeit. But we must not overdo it, and such words must not be dragged out from the deepest darkness of the past. Quaeso is old enough: what need for us to say quaiso?¹⁹ Oppido was still used by my older contemporaries, but I fear that no one would tolerate it now. At any rate, antegerio,²⁰ which means the same, would certainly never be used by anyone who was not possessed with a passion for notoriety. [26] What need have we of acrumnosum?²¹ It is surely enough to call a thing horridum. Reor may be tolerated, autumo²² smacks of tragedy, proles²³ has become a rarity, while prosapia²⁴ stamps the man who uses it as lacking taste. Need I say more Almost the whole language has changed. [27] But there are still some old words that are endeared to us by [p. 227] their antique sheen, while there are others that we cannot avoid using occasionally, such, for example, as nuncupare and fari:²⁵ there are yet others which it requires some daring to use, but which may still be employed so long as we avoid all appearance of that affectation which Virgil²⁶ has derided so cleverly:

“Britain's Thucydides, [28] whose mad Attic brain
Loved word-amalgams like Corinthian bronze,
First made a horrid blend of words from Gaul,
Tau, al, min, sil and God knows how much else,
Then mixed them in a potion for his brother!
”

This was a certain Cimber who killed his brother, [29] a fact which Cicero recorded in the words, “Cimber has killed his brother German.”²⁷

The epigram against Sallust is scarcely less well known:

“Crispus, you, too, Jugurtha's fall who told,
And filched such store of words from Cato old.
”

[30] It is a tiresome kind of affectation; any one can practise it, and it is made all the worse by the fact that the man who catches the infection will not choose his words to suit his facts, but will drag in irrelevant facts to provide an opportunity for the use of such words.

The coining of new words is, as I stated in the first book,²⁸ more permissible in Greek, for the Greeks did not hesitate to coin nouns to represent certain sounds and emotions, and in truth they were taking no greater liberty than was taken by the first men when they gave names to things. [31] Our own writers have ventured on a few attempts at composition and derivation, but have not met with [p. 229] much success. I remember in my young days there was a dispute between Pomponius and Seneca which even found its way into the prefaces of their works, as to whether gradus eliminate²⁹ was a phrase which ought to have been allowed in tragedy. But the ancients had no hesitation about using even expectorate³⁰ and, after all, it presents exactly the same formation as exanimat. [32] Of the coining of words by expansion and inflexion we have examples, such as the Ciceronian³¹ beatitas and beatitudo, forms which he feels to be somewhat harsh, though he thinks they may be softened by use. Derivatives may even be fashioned from proper names, quite apart from ordinary words, witness Sullaturit³² in Cicero and Fimbriatus and Figulatus³³ in Asinius. [33] Many new words have been coined in imitation of the Greeks,³⁴ more especially by Verginius Flavus, some of which, such as queens and essentia, are regarded as unduly harsh. But I see no reason why we should treat them with such contempt, except, perhaps, that we are highly self-critical and suffer in consequence from the poverty of our language. Some new formations do, however, succeed in establishing themselves. [34] For words which now are old, once were new, and there are some words in use which are of quite recent origin, such as reatus,³⁵ invented by Messala, and munerarius,³⁶ invented by Augustus. So, too, my own teachers still persisted in banning the use of words, such as piratica, musica and fabrica, while Cicero regards favor and urbanus as but newly introduced into the language. For in a letter to Brutus he says, eum amorer et eum, ut hoc [p. 231] verbo utar, favored in consilium advocabo,³⁷ [35] while to Appius Pulcher he writes, le hominem non solum sapientem, verum etiam, ut nunc loquimur, urbanum.³⁸ He also thinks that Terence was the first to use the word obsequium, while Caecilius asserts that Sisenna was the first to use the phrase albente caelo.³⁹ Hortensius seems to have been the first to use cervix in the singular, since the ancients confined themselves to the plural. We must not then be cowards, for I cannot agree with Celsus when he forbids orators to coin new words. [36] For some words, as Cicero⁴⁰ says, are native, that is to say, are used in their original meaning, while others are derivative, that is to say, formed from the native. Granted then that we are not justified in coining entirely new words having no resemblance to the words invented by primitive man, I must still ask at what date we were first forbidden to form derivatives and to modify and compound words, processes which were undoubtedly permitted to later generations of mankind. If, however, [37] one of our inventions seems a little risky, we must take certain measures in advance to save it from censure, prefacing it by phrases such as “so to speak,” “if I may say so,” “in a certain sense,” or “if you will allow me to make use of such a word.” The same practice may be followed in the case of bold metaphors, and it is not too much to say that almost anything can be said with safety provided we show by the very fact of our anxiety that the word or phrase in question is not due to an error of judgment. The Greeks have a neat saying on this subject, advising us to be the first to blame our own hyperbole.⁴¹

[38] The metaphorical use of words cannot be [p. 233] recommended except in connected discourse. Enough has now been said on the subject of single words, which, as I have pointed out elsewhere,⁴² have no intrinsic value of their own. On the other hand, there is no word which is intrinsically ugly unless it be beneath the dignity of the subject on which we have to speak, excepting always such words as are nakedly obscene. [39] I would commend this remark to those who do not think it necessary to avoid obscenity on the ground that no word is indecent in itself and that, if a thing is revolting, its unpleasantness will be realised clearly enough by whatever name it is called. Accordingly, I shall content myself with following the good old rules of Roman modesty and, as I have already replied to such persons, shall vindicate the cause of decency by saying no more on this unpleasant subject.

[40] Let us now pass to consider connected discourse. Its adornment may be effected, primarily, in two ways; that is to say, we must consider first our ideal of style, and secondly how we shall express this ideal in actual words. The first essential is to realise clearly what we wish to enhance or attenuate, to express with vigour or calm, in luxuriant or austere language, at length or with conciseness, with gentleness or asperity, magnificence or subtlety, gravity or wit. [41] The next essential is to decide by what kind of metaphor, figures, reflexions, methods and arrangement we may best produce the effect which we desire.

But, before I discuss ornament, I must first touch upon its opposite, since the first of all virtues is the avoidance of faults. [42] Therefore we must not expect any speech to be ornate that is not, in the first place, [p. 235] acceptable. An acceptable style is defined by Cicero⁴³ as one which is not over-elegant: not that our style does not require elegance and polish, which are essential parts of ornament, but that excess is always a vice. [43] He desires, therefore, that our words should have a certain weight about them, and that our thoughts should be of a serious cast or, at any rate, adapted to the opinions and character of mankind. These points once secured, we may proceed to employ those expressions which he regards as conferring distinction on style, that is to say, specially selected words and phrases, metaphor, hyperbole, appropriate epithets, repetitions, synonyms and all such language as may suit our case and provide an adequate representation of the facts.

[44] But since my first task is to point out the faults to be avoided, I will begin by calling attention to the fault known as κακέμφατον, a term applied to the employment of language to which perverted usage has given an obscene meaning: take, for example, phrases such as ductare exercitus and patrare bellum,⁴⁴ which were employed by Sallust in their old and irreproachable sense, but, I regret to say, cause amusement in certain quarters to-day. This, however, is not, in my opinion, the fault of the writer, but of his readers; [45] still it is one to be avoided, for we have perverted the purity of language by our own corruption, and there is no course left to us but to give ground before the victorious advance of vice. The same term is also applied in the cases where an unfortunate collocation of words produces an obscene suggestion. For example, in the phrase cum hominibus notis loqui, unless hominibus is placed between cum and notis, we shall commit ourselves to a phrase [p. 237] which will require some apology, since the final letter of the first syllable, which cannot be pronounced without closing the lips, will force us either to pause in a most unbecoming manner, or by assimilation to the n which follows⁴⁵ will produce a most objectionable suggestion. [46] I might quote other collocations of words which are liable to the same objection, but to discuss them in detail would be to fall into that very fault which I have just said should be avoided. A similar offence against modesty may be caused by the division of words, as, for example, by the use of the nominative of intercapedinis.⁴⁶ [47] And it is not merely in writing that this may occur, but you will find, unless you exercise the greatest care, that there are a number of persons who take pleasure in putting an indecent interpretation on words, thinking, as Ovid⁴⁷ says:

“that whatsoe'er is hid is best of all.
”

Nay, an obscene meaning may be extracted even from words which are as far removed from indecency as possible. Celsus, for example, detects an instance of κακέμφατον in the Virgilian⁴⁸ phrase:

incipiunt agitata tumescere;

but if this point of view be accepted, it will be risky to say anything at all.

[48] Next to indecency of expression comes meanness, styled ταπείνωσις, when the grandeur or dignity of anything is diminished by the words used, as in the line:

“There is a rocky wart upon the mountain's brow.”⁴⁹

The opposite fault, which is no less serious, consists [p. 239] in calling small things by extravagant names, though such a practice is permissible when deliberately designed to raise a laugh. Consequently we must not call a parricide a scamp, nor a man who keeps a harlot a villain, since the first epithet is too weak and the second too strong. [49] This fault will result in making our language dull, or coarse, jejune, heavy, unpleasing or slovenly, all of which faults are best realised by reference to the virtues which are their opposites, that is, point, polish, richness, liveliness, charm, and finish.

[50] We must also avoid μείωσις a term applied to meagreness and inadequacy of expression, although it is a fault which characterises an obscure style rather than one which lacks ornament. But meiosis may be deliberately employed, and is then called a figure, as also is tautology, which means the repetition of a word or phrase. [51] The latter, though not avoided with special care even by the best authors, may sometimes be regarded as a fault: it is, in fact, a blemish into which Cicero not infrequently falls through indifference to such minor details: take, for example, the following passage,⁵⁰ “Judges, this judgment was not merely unlike a judgment.” It is sometimes given another name, ἐπανάληψις, under which appellation it is ranked among figures, of which I shall give examples when I come to the discussion of stylistic virtues.⁵¹

[52] A worse fault is ὁμοείδεια, or sameness, a term applied to a style which has no variety to relieve its tedium, and which presents a uniform monotony of hue. This is one of the surest signs of lack of art, and produces a uniquely unpleasing effect, not merely on the mind, but on the ear, on account of its [p. 241] sameness of thought, the uniformity of its figures, and the monotony of its structure. [53] We must also avoid macrology, that is, the employment of more words than are necessary, as, for instance, in the sentence of Livy, “The ambassadors, having failed to obtain peace, went back home, whence they had come.”⁵² On the other hand, periphrasis, which is akin to this blemish, is regarded as a virtue. Another fault is pleonasm, when we overload our style with a superfluity of words, as in the phrase, “I saw it with my eyes,” where “I saw it” would have been sufficient. [54] Cicero passed a witty comment on a fault of this kind in a declamation of Hirtius when he said that a child had been carried for ten months in his mother's womb. “Oh,” he said, “I suppose other women carry them in their bags.”⁵³ Sometimes, however, the form of pleonasm, of which I have just given an example, may have a pleasing effect when employed for the sake of emphasis, as in the Virgilian phrase⁵⁴:

“With mine own ears his voice I heard.
”

But whenever the addition is not deliberate, [55] but merely tame and redundant, it must be regarded as a fault. There is also a fault entitled περιεργία, which I may perhaps translate by superfluous elaboration, which differs from its corresponding virtue much as fussiness differs from industry, and superstition from religion. Finally, every word which neither helps the sense nor the style may be regarded as faulty.

[56] Cacozelia, or perverse affectation, is a fault in every kind of style: for it includes all that is turgid, trivial, luscious, redundant, far-fetched or extravagant, while the same name is also applied to virtues [p. 243] carried to excess, when the mind loses its critical sense and is misled by the false appearance of beauty, the worst of all offences against style, since other faults are due to carelessness, but this is deliberate. [57] This form of affectation, however, affects style alone. For the employment of arguments which might equally well be advanced by the other side, or are foolish, inconsistent or superfluous, are all faults of matter, whereas corruption of style is revealed in the employment of improper or redundant words, in obscurity of meaning, effeminacy of rhythm, or in the childish search for similar or ambiguous expressions. [58] Further, it always involves insincerity, even though all insincerity does not imply affectation. For it consists in saying something in an unnatural or unbecoming or superfluous manner. Style may, however, be corrupted in precisely the same number of ways that it may be adorned. But I have discussed this subject at greater length in another work,⁵⁵ and have frequently called attention to it in this, while I shall have occasion to mention it continually in the remaining books. For in dealing with ornament, I shall occasionally speak of faults which have to be avoided, but which are hard to distinguish from virtues.

[59] To these blemishes may be added faulty arrangement or ἀνοικονόμητον, the faulty use of figures or ἀσχημάτιστον, and the faulty collocation of words or κακοσύνθετον. But, as I have already discussed arrangement, I will confine myself to the consideration of figures and structure. There is also a fault known as Σαρδισμὸς, which consists in the indiscriminate use of several different dialects, as, for instance, would result from mixing Doric, Ionic, and [p. 245] even Aeolic words with Attic. [60] A similar fault is found amongst ourselves, consisting in the indiscriminate mixture of grand words with mean, old with new, and poetic with colloquial, the result being a monstrous medley like that described by Horace in the opening portion of his Ars poetica,⁵⁶

“If a painter choose
To place a man's head on a horse's neck,
”

and, be proceeds to say, should add other limbs from different animals.

[61] The ornate is something that goes beyond what is merely lucid and acceptable. It consists firstly in forming a clear conception of what we wish to say, secondly in giving this adequate expression, and thirdly in lending it additional brilliance, a process which may correctly be termed embellishment. Consequently we must place among ornaments that ἐνάργεια which I mentioned in the rules which I laid down for the statement of facts,⁵⁷