Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, Book 11
Harold Edgeworth Butler, Ed.

¹ pointed out, in dealing with the subject of jests, how unseemly it is to take the position in life of individuals as the target for our gibes, and also have urged that we should refrain from insulting whole classes, races or communities. But at times our duty toward our client will force us to say something on the general character of a whole class of people, such as freedmen, soldiers, tax farmers or the like. [87] In all these cases the usual remedy is to create the impression that it is with reluctance that we introduce topics which must give pain, while further we shall avoid attacking everything, and even while using the language of reproof with regard to the essential point of attack, shall make up for our censure by praising our victims in some other connexion. [88] For example, if we charge soldiers with rapacity, we shall [p. 209] qualify our statement by saying that the fact is not surprising, as they think that they are entitled to some special reward for the perils they have faced and the wounds they have sustained. Or, if we censure them for insolence, we shall add that this quality is due to the fact that they are more accustomed to war than to peace. In the case of freedmen we should disparage their influence: but we may also give them credit for the industry which secured their emancipation. [89] With regard to foreign nations, Cicero's practice varies. When he intends to disparage the credibility of Greek witnesses he admits their distinction in learning and literature and professes his admiration for their nation.² On the other hand, he has nothing but contempt for the Sardinians³ and attacks the Allobroges as the enemies of Rome.⁴ In all these cases none of his remarks, at the time they were made, were inconsistent with or adverse to the claims of decorum. [90] If there be anything offensive in the subject on which we have to speak, it may be toned down by a studied moderation in our language; for example, we may describe a brutal character as being unduly severe, an unjust man as led astray by prejudice, an obstinate man as unreasonably tenacious of his opinion. And there are a large number of cases where we should attempt to defeat our opponents by reasoning, which forms the gentlest of all methods of attack.

[91] To these remarks I would add that all extravagance of any kind is indecorous, and consequently statements which are in sufficient harmony with the facts will none the less lose all their grace unless they are modified by a certain restraint. It is hard [p. 211] to give rules as to the exact method in which this precept should be observed, but the problem will easily be solved by following the dictates of our own judgement, which will tell us what it is sufficient to say and how much the ears of our audience will tolerate. We cannot weigh or measure our words by fixed standards: they are like foods, some of which are more satisfying than others.

[92] I think I should also add a few brief words to the effect that not only very different rhetorical virtues have their special admirers, but that they are often praised by the same persons. For instance, there is one passage⁵ in Cicero where he writes that the best style is that which we think we can easily acquire by imitation, but which we find is really beyond our powers. But in another passage⁶ he says that his aim was not to speak in such a manner that everyone should be confident that he could do the same, but rather in a style that should be the despair of all. [93] These two statements may seem to be inconsistent, but as a matter of fact both alike deserve the praise which they receive. The difference is due to the fact that cases differ in character. Those of minor importance are admirably suited by the simplicity and negligence of unaffected language, whereas cases of greater moment are best suited by the grand style. Cicero is pre-eminent in both. Now while eminence in one of these styles may seem to the inexperienced to be within their grasp, those who understand know that they are capable of eminence in neither.

II. Some regard memory as being no more than one of nature's gifts; and this view is no doubt true to a great extent; but, like everything else, memory [p. 213] may be improved by cultivation. And all the labour of which I have so far spoken will be in vain unless all the other departments be co-ordinated by the animating principle of memory. For our whole education depends upon memory, and we shall receive instruction all in vain if all we hear slips from us, while it is the power of memory alone that brings before us all the store of precedents, laws, rulings, sayings and facts which the orator must possess in abundance and which he must always hold ready for immediate use. Indeed it is not without good reason that memory has been called the treasure-house of eloquence. [2] But pleaders need not only to be able to retain a number of facts in their minds, but also to be quick to take them in; it is not enough to learn what you have written by dint of repeated reading; it is just as necessary to follow the order both of matter and words when you have merely thought out what you are going to say, while you must also remember what has been said by your opponents, and must not be content merely with refuting their arguments in the order in which they were advanced, but must be in a position to deal with each in its appropriate place. [3] Nay, even extempore eloquence, in my opinion, depends on no mental activity so much as memory. For while we are saying one thing, we must be considering something else that we are going to say: consequently, since the mind is always looking ahead, it is continually in search of something which is more remote: on the other hand, whatever it discovers, it deposits by some mysterious process in the safe-keeping of memory, which acts as a transmitting agent and hands on to the delivery [p. 215] what it has received from the imagination. [4] I do not conceive, however, that I need dwell upon the question of the precise function of memory, although many hold the view that certain impressions are made upon the mind, analogous to those which a signet-ring makes on wax. Nor, again, shall I be so credulous, in view of the fact that the retentiveness or slowness of the memory depends upon our physical condition, as to venture to allot a special art to memory. [5] My inclination is rather to marvel at its powers of reproducing and presenting a number of remote facts after so long an interval, and, what is more, of so doing not merely when we seek for such facts, but even at times of its own accord, and not only in our waking moments, but even when we are sunk in sleep. [6] And my wonder is increased by the fact that even beasts, which seem to be devoid of reason, yet remember and recognise things, and will return to their old home, however far they have been taken from it. Again, is it not an extraordinary inconsistency that we forget recent and remember distant events, that we cannot recall what happened yesterday and yet retain a vivid impression of the acts of our childhood? [7] And what, again, shall we say of the fact that the things we search for frequently refuse to present themselves and then occur to us by chance, or that memory does not always remain with us, but will even sometimes return to us after it has been lost? But we should never have realised the fullness of its power nor its supernatural capacities, but for the fact that it is memory which has brought oratory to its present position of glory. [8] For it provides the orator not merely with the order of his thoughts, but even of [p. 217] his words, nor is its power limited to stringing merely a few words together; its capacity for endurance is inexhaustible, and even in the longest pleadings the patience of the audience flags long before the memory of the speaker. [9] This fact may even be advanced as an argument that there must be some art of memory and that the natural gift can be helped by reason, since training enables us to do things which we cannot do before we have had any training or practice. On the other hand, I find that Plato⁷ asserts that the use of written characters is a hindrance to memory, on the ground, that is, that once we have committed a thing to writing, we cease to guard it in our memory and lose it out of sheer carelessness. [10] And there can be no doubt that concentration of mind is of the utmost importance in this connexion; it is, in fact, like the eyesight, which turns to, and not away from, the objects which it contemplates. Thus it results that after writing for several days with a view to acquiring by heart what we have written, we find that our mental effort has of itself imprinted it on our memory.

[11] The first person to discover an art of memory is said to have been Simonides,⁸ of whom the following well-known story is told. He had written an ode of the kind usually composed in honour of victorious athletes, to celebrate the achievement of one who had gained the crown for boxing. Part of the sum for which he had contracted was refused him on the ground that, following the common practice of poets, he had introduced a digression in praise of Castor and Pollux, and he was told that, in view of what he had done, he had best ask for the rest of the sum due from those whose deeds he had [p. 219] extolled. And according to the story they paid their debt. [12] For when a great banquet was given in honour of the boxer's success, Simonides was summoned forth from the feast, to which he had been invited, by a message to the effect that two youths who had ridden to the door urgently desired his presence. He found no trace of them, but what followed proved to him that the gods had shown their gratitude. [13] For he had scarcely crossed the threshold on his way out, when the banqueting hall fell in upon the heads of the guests and wrought such havoc among them that the relatives of the dead who came to seek the bodies for burial were unable to distinguish not merely the faces but even the limbs of the dead. Then it is said, Simonides, who remembered the order in which the guests had been sitting, succeeded in restoring to each man his own dead. [14] There is, however, great disagreement among our authorities as to whether this ode was written in honour of Glaucus of Carystus, Leocrates, Agatharcus or Scopas, and whether the house was at Pharsalus, as Simonides himself seems to indicate in a certain passage, and as is recorded by Apollodorus, Eratosthenes, Euphorion and Eurypylus of Larissa, or at Crannon, as is stated by Apollas Callimachus, who is followed by Cicero,⁹ to whom the wide circulation of this story is due. [15] It is agreed that Scopas, a Thessalian noble, perished at this banquet, and it is also said that his sister's son perished with him, while it is thought that a number of descendants of an elder Scopas met their death at the same time. [16] For my own part, however, I regard the portion of the story which concerns Castor and Pollux as being purely fictitious, since [p. 221] the poet himself has nowhere mentioned the occurrence; and he would scarcely have kept silence on an affair which was so much to his credit.

[17] This achievement of Simonides appears to have given rise to the observation that it is an assistance to the memory if localities are sharply impressed upon the mind, a view the truth of which everyone may realise by practical experiment. For when we return to a place after considerable absence, we not merely recognise the place itself, but remember things that we did there, and recall the persons whom we met and even the unuttered thoughts which passed through our minds when we were there before. [18] Thus, as in most cases, art originates in experiment. Some place is chosen of the largest possible extent and characterised by the utmost possible variety, such as a spacious house divided into a number of rooms. Everything of note therein is carefully committed to the memory, in order that the thought may be enabled to run through all the details without let or hindrance. And undoubtedly the first task is to secure that there shall be no delay in finding any single detail, since an idea which is to lead by association to some other idea requires to be fixed in the mind with more than ordinary certitude. [19] The next step is to distinguish something which has been written down or merely thought of by some particular symbol which will serve to jog the memory; this symbol may have reference to the subject as a whole, it may, for example, be drawn from navigation, warfare, etc., or it may, on the other hand, be found in some particular word. (For even in cases of forgetfulness one single word will serve to [p. 223] restore the memory.) However, let us suppose that the symbol is drawn from navigation, as, for instance, an anchor; or from warfare, as, for example, some weapon. These symbols are then arranged as follows. [20] The first though is placed, as it were, in the forecourt; the second, let us say, in the living-room; the remainder are placed in due order all round the impluvium¹⁰ and entrusted not merely to bedrooms and parlours, but even to the care of statues and the like. This done, as soon as the memory of the facts requires to be revived, all these places are visited in turn and the various deposits are demanded from their custodians, as the sight of each recalls the respective details. Consequently, however large the number of these which it is required to remember, all are linked one to the other like dancers hand in hand, and there can be no mistake since they join what precedes to what follows, no trouble being required except the preliminary labour of committing the various points to memory. [21] What I have spoken of as being done in a house, can equally well be done in connexion with public buildings, a long journey, the ramparts of a city, or even pictures. Or we may even imagine such places to ourselves. We require, therefore, places, real or imaginary, and images or symbols, which we must, of course, invent for ourselves. By images I mean the words by which we distinguish the things which we have to learn by heart: in fact, as Cicero says, we use “places like wax tablets and symbols in lieu of letters.”¹¹ [22] It will be best to give his words verbatim:¹² “We must for this purpose employ a number of remarkable places, clearly envisaged and separated by short intervals: the [p. 225] images which we use must be active, sharply-cut and distinctive, such as may occur to the mind and strike it with rapidity.” This makes me wonder all the more, how Metrodorus¹³ should have found three hundred and sixty different localities in the twelve signs of the Zodiac through which the sun passes. It was doubtless due to the vanity and boastfulness of a man who was inclined to vaunt his memory as being the result of art rather than of natural gifts.

[23] I am far from denying that those devices may be useful for certain purposes, as, for example, if we have to reproduce a number of names in the order in which we heard them. For those who use such aids place the things which have to be remembered in localities which they have previously fixed in the memory; they put a table, for instance, in the forecourt, a platform in the hall and so on with the rest, and then, when they retrace their steps, they find the objects where they had placed them. [24] Such a practice may perhaps have been of use to those who, after an auction, have succeeded in stating what object they had sold to each buyer, their statements being checked by the books of the money takers; a feat which it is alleged was performed by Hortensius. It will, however, be of less service in learning the various parts of a set speech. For thoughts do not call up the same images as material things, and a symbol requires to be specially invented for them, although even here a particular place may serve to remind us, as, for example, of some conversation that may have been held there. But how can such a method grasp a whole series of connected words? [25] I pass by the fact that there are certain things which it is impossible to represent by [p. 227] symbols, as, for example, conjunctions. We may, it is true, like shorthand writers, have definite symbols for everything, and may select an infinite number of places to recall all the words contained in the five books of the second pleading against Verres, and we may even remember them all as if they were deposits placed in safe-keeping. But will not the flow of our speech inevitably be impeded by the double task imposed upon our memory? [26] For how can our words be expected to flow in connected speech, if we have to look back at separate symbols for each individual word? Therefore the experts mentioned by Cicero¹⁴ as having trained their memory by methods of this kind, namely Charmadas, and Metrodorus of Scepsis, to whom I have just referred, may keep their systems for their own use. My precepts on the subject shall be of a simpler kind.

[27] If a speech of some length has to be committed to memory, it will be well to learn it piecemeal, since there is nothing so bad for the memory as being overburdened. But the sections into which we divide it for this purpose should not be very short: otherwise they will be too many in number, and will break up and distract the memory. I am not, however, prepared to recommend any definite length; it will depend on the natural limits of the passage concerned, unless, indeed, it be so long as itself to require subdivision. [28] But some limits must be fixed to enable us, by dint of frequent and continuous practice, to connect the words in their proper order, which is a task of no small difficulty, and subsequently to unite the various sections into a whole when we go over them in order. If certain portions prove especially difficult to [p. 229] remember, it will be found advantageous to indicate them by certain marks, the remembrance of which will refresh and stimulate the memory. [29] For there can be but few whose memory is so barren that they will fail to recognise the symbols with which they have marked different passages. But if anyone is slow to recognise his own signs, he should employ the following additional remedy, which, though drawn from the mnemonic system discussed above,¹⁵ is not without its uses: he will adapt his symbols to the nature of the thoughts which tend to slip from his memory, using an anchor, as I suggested above, if he has to speak of a ship, or a spear, if he has to speak of a battle. [30] For symbols are highly efficacious, and one idea suggests another: for example, if we change a ring from one finger to another or tie a thread round it, it will serve to remind us of our reason for so doing. Specially effective are those devices which lead the memory from one thing to another similar thing which we have got to remember; for example, in the case of names, if we desire to remember the name Fabius, we should think of the famous Cunctator, whom we are certain not to forget, or of some friend bearing the same name. [31] This is specially easy with names such as Aper, Ursus, Naso, or Crispus,¹⁶ since in these cases we can fix their origin in our memory. Origin again may assist us to a better remembrance of derivative names, such as Cicero, Verrius, or Aurelius.¹⁷ However, I will say no more on this point.

[32] There is one thing which will be of assistance to everyone, namely, to learn a passage by heart from the same tablets on which he has committed it to writing. For he will have certain tracks to guide [p. 231] him in his pursuit of memory, and the mind's eye will be fixed not merely on the pages on which the words were written, but on individual lines, and at times he will speak as though he were reading aloud. Further, if the writing should be interrupted by some erasure, addition or alteration, there are certain symbols available, the sight of which will prevent us from wandering from the track. [33] This device bears some resemblance to the mnemonic system which I mentioned above, but if my experience is worth anything, is at once more expeditious and more effective. The question has been raised as to whether we should learn by heart in silence; it would be best to do so, save for the fact that under such circumstances the mind is apt to become indolent, with the result that other thoughts break in. For this reason the mind should be kept alert by the sound of the voice, so that the memory may derive assistance from the double effort of speaking and listening. But our voice should be subdued, rising scarcely above a murmur. [34] On the other hand, if we attempt to learn by heart from another reading aloud, we shall find that there is both loss and gain; on the one hand, the process of learning will be slower, because the perception of the eye is quicker than that of the ear, while, on the other hand, when we have heard a passage once or twice, we shall be in a position to test our memory and match it against the voice of the reader. It is, indeed, important for other reasons to test ourselves thus from time to time, since continuous reading has this drawback, that it passes over the passages which we find hard to remember at the same speed as those which we find less difficulty in retaining. [35] By testing ourselves to see [p. 233] whether we remember a passage, we develop greater concentration without waste of time over the repetition of passages which we already know by heart. Thus, only those passages which tend to slip from the memory are repeated with a view to fixing them in the mind by frequent rehearsal, although as a rule the mere fact that they once slipped our memory makes us ultimately remember them with special accuracy. Both learning by heart and writing have this feature in common: namely, that good health, sound digestion, and freedom from other preoccupations of mind contribute largely to the success of both. [36] But for the purpose of getting a real grasp of what we have written under the various heads, division and artistic structure will be found of great value, while, with the exception of practice, which is the most powerful aid of all, they are practically the only means of ensuring an accurate remembrance of what we have merely thought out. For correct division will be an absolute safeguard against error in the order of our speech, [37] since there are certain points not merely in the distribution of the various questions in our speech, but also in their development (provided we speak as we ought), which naturally come first, second, and third, and so on, while the connexion will be so perfect that nothing can be omitted or inserted without the fact of the omission or insertion being obvious. [38] We are told that Scaevola, after a game of draughts in which he made the first move and was defeated, went over the whole game again in his mind on his way into the country, and on recalling the move which had cost him the game, returned to tell the man with whom he had been playing, and the latter acknowledged that he was [p. 235] right. Is order, then, I ask you, to be accounted of less importance in a speech, in which it depends entirely on ourselves, whereas in a game our opponent has an equal share in its development? [39] Again, if our structure be what it should, the artistic sequence will serve to guide the memory. For just as it is easier to learn verse than prose, so it is easier to learn prose when it is artistically constructed than when it has no such organisation. If these points receive attention, it will be possible to repeat verbatim even such psssages as gave the impression of being delivered extempore. My own memory is of a very ordinary kind, but I found that I could do this with success on occasions when the interruption of a declamation by persons who had a claim to such a courtesy forced me to repeat part of what I had said. There are persons still living, who were then present to witness if I lie.

[40] However, if anyone asks me what is the one supreme method of memory, I shall reply, practice and industry. The most important thing is to learn much by heart and to think much, and, if possible, to do this daily, since there is nothing that is more increased by practice or impaired by neglect than memory. [41] Therefore boys should, as I have already urged,¹⁸ learn as much as possible by heart at the earliest stage, while all who, whatever their age, desire to cultivate the power of memory, should endeavour to swallow the initial tedium of reading and re-reading what they have written or read, a process which we may compare to chewing the cud. This task will be rendered less tiresome if we begin by confining ourselves to learning only a little at a time, in amounts not sufficient to create disgust: we [p. 237] may then proceed to increase the amount by a line a day, an addition which will not sensibly increase the labour of learning, until at last the amount we can attack will know no limits. We should begin with poetry and then go on to oratory, while finally we may attempt passages still freer in rhythm and less akin to ordinary speech, such, for example, as passages from legal writers. [42] For passages intended as an exercise should be somewhat difficult in character if they are to make it easy to achieve the end for which the exercise is designed; just as athletes train the muscles of their hands by carrying weights of lead, although in the actual contests their hands will be empty and free. Further, I must not omit the fact, the truth of which our daily practice will teach us, that in the case of the slower type of mind the memory of recent events is far from being exact. [43] It is a curious fact, of which the reason is not obvious, that the interval of a single night will greatly increase the strength of the memory, whether this be due to the fact that it has rested from the labour, the fatigue of which constituted the obstacle to success, or whether it be that the power of recollection, which is the most important element of memory, undergoes a process of ripening and maturing during the time which intervenes. Whatever the cause, things which could not be recalled on the spot are easily co-ordinated the next day, and time itself, which is generally accounted one of the causes of forgetfulness, actually serves to strengthen the memory. [44] On the other hand, the abnormally rapid memory fails as a rule to last and takes its leave as though, its immediate task accomplished, it had no further duties to perform. And indeed there is [p. 239] nothing surprising in the fact that things which have been implanted in the memory for some time should have a greater tendency to stay there.

The difference between the powers of one mind and another, to which I have just referred, gives rise to the question whether those who are intending to speak should learn their speeches verbatim or whether it is sufficient to get a good grasp of the essence and the order of what they have got to say. To this problem no answer is possible that will be of universal application. [45] Give me a reliable memory and plenty of time, and I should prefer not to permit a single syllable to escape me: otherwise writing would be superfluous. It is specially important to train the young to such precision, and the memory should be continually practised to this end, that we may never learn to become indulgent to its failure. For this reason I regard it as a mistake to permit the student to be prompted or to consult his manuscript, since such practices merely encourage carelessness, and no one will ever realise that he has not got his theme by heart, if he has no fear of forgetting it. [46] It is this which causes interruptions in the flow of speech and makes the orator's language halting and jerky, while he seems as though he were learning what he says by heart and loses all the grace that a well-written speech can give, simply by the fact that he makes it obvious that he has written it. On the other hand, a good memory will give us credit for quickness of wit as well, by creating the impression that our words have not been prepared in the seclusion of the study, but are due to the inspiration of the moment, an impression which is of the utmost assistance both to the orator and to his cause. [47] For [p. 241] the judge admires those words more and fears them less which he does not suspect of having been specially prepared beforehand to outwit him. Further, we must make it one of our chief aims in pleading to deliver passages which have been constructed with the utmost care, in such manner as to make it appear that they are but casually strung together, and to suggest that we are thinking out and hesitating over words which we have, as a matter of fact, carefully prepared in advance.

[48] It should now be clear to all what is the best course to adopt for the cultivation of memory. If, however, our memory be naturally somewhat dull or time presses, it will be useless to tie ourselves down rigidly to every word, since if we forget any one of them, the result may be awkward hesitation or even a tongue-tied silence. It is, therefore, far safer to secure a good grasp of the facts themselves and to leave ourselves free to speak as we will. [49] For the loss of even a single word that we have chosen is always a matter for regret, and it is hard to supply a substitute when we are searching for the word that we had written. But even this is no remedy for a weak memory, except for those who have acquired the art of speaking extempore. But if both memory and this gift be lacking, I should advise the would-be orator to abandon the toil of pleading altogether and, if he has any literary capacity, to betake himself by preference to writing. But such a misfortune will be of but rare occurrence.

[50] For the rest there are many historical examples of the power to which memory may be developed by natural aptitude and application. Themistocles is said to have spoken excellently in Persian after a [p. 243] year's study; Mithridates is recorded to have known twenty-two languages, that being the number of the different nations included in his empire;¹⁹ Crassus, surnamed the Rich,²⁰ when commanding in Asia had such a complete mastery of five different Greek dialects, that he would give judgement in the dialect employed by the plaintiff in putting forward his suit; Cyrus is believed to have known the name of every soldier in his army, [51] while Theodectes²¹ is actually said to have been able to repeat any number of verses after only a single hearing. I remember that it used to be alleged that there were persons still living who could do the same, though I never had the good fortune to be present at such a performance. Still, we shall do well to have faith in such miracles, if only that he who believes may also hope to achieve the like.

III. Delivery is often styled action. But the first name is derived from the voice, the second from the gesture. For Cicero in one passage²² speaks of action as being a form of speech, and in another²³ as being a kind of physical eloquence. None the less, he divides action into two elements, which are the same as the elements of delivery, namely, voice and movement. Therefore, it matters not which term we employ. [2] But the thing itself has an extraordinarily powerful effect in oratory. For the nature of the speech that we have composed within our minds is not so important as the manner in which we produce it, since the emotion of each member of our audience will depend on the impression made upon his hearing. Consequently, no proof, at least if it be one devised by the orator himself, will ever be so secure as not to lose its force [p. 245] if the speaker fails to produce it in tones that drive it home. All emotional appeals will inevitably fall flat, unless they are given the fire that voice, look, and the whole carriage of the body can give them. [3] For when we have done all this, we may still account ourselves only too fortunate if we have succeeded in communicating the fire of our passion to the judge: consequently, we can have no hope of moving him if we speak with languor and indifference, nor of preventing him from yielding to the narcotic influence of our own yawns. [4] A proof of this is given by actors in the theatre. For they add so much to the charm even of the greatest poets, that the verse moves us far more when heard than when read, while they succeed in securing a hearing even for the most worthless authors, with the result that they repeatedly win a welcome on the stage that is denied them in the library. [5] Now if delivery can count for so much in themes which we know to be fictitious and devoid of reality, as to arouse our anger, our tears or our anxiety, how much greater must its effect be when we actually believe what we hear? For my own part I would not hesitate to assert that a mediocre speech supported by all the power of delivery will be more impressive than the best speech unaccompanied by such power. [6] It was for this reason that Demosthenes, when asked what was the most important thing in oratory, gave the palm to delivery and assigned it second and third place as well, until his questioner ceased to trouble him. We are therefore almost justified in concluding that he regarded it not merely as the first, but as the only virtue of oratory. [7] This explains why he studied [p. 247] under the instruction of the actor Andronicus with such diligence and success as thoroughly to justify the remark made by Aeschines to the Rhodians when they expressed their admiration of the speech of Demosthenes on behalf of Ctesiphon, “What would you have said if you had heard him yourselves?”²⁴ Cicero likewise regards action as the supreme element of oratory. [8] He records that Gnaeus Lentulus acquired a greater reputation by his delivery than by his actual eloquence, and that Gains Gracchus by the same means stirred the whole Roman people to tears when he bewailed his brother's death, while Antonius and Crassus produced a great impression by their command of this quality, though the greatest of all was that produced by Quintus Hortensius.²⁵ This statement is strongly supported by the fact that the latter's writings fall so far short of the reputation which for so long secured him the first place among orators, then for a while caused him to be regarded as Cicero's rival, and finally, for the remainder of his life assigned him a position second only to that of Cicero, that his speaking must clearly have possessed some charm which we fail to find when we read him. [9] And, indeed, since words in themselves count for much and the voice adds a force of its own to the matter of which it speaks, while gesture and motion are full of significance, we may be sure of finding something like perfection when all these qualities are combined.

[10] There are some, however, who consider that delivery which owes nothing to art and everything to natural impulse is more forcible, and in fact the only form of delivery which is worthy of a manly speaker. [p. 249] But these persons are as a rule identical, either with those who are in the habit of disapproving of care, art, polish and every form of premeditation in actual speaking, as being affected and unnatural, or else with those who (like Lucius Cotta, according to Cicero)²⁶ affect the imitation of ancient writers both in their choice of words and even in the rudeness of their intonation and rhythm. [11] Those, however, who think it sufficient for men to be born to enable them to become orators, are welcome to their opinion, and I must ask them to be indulgent to the efforts to which I am committed by my belief that we cannot hope to attain perfection unless nature is assisted by study. But I will not be so obstinate as to deny that to nature must be assigned the first place. [12] For a good delivery is undoubtedly impossible for one who cannot remember what he has written, or lacks the quick facility of speech required by sudden emergencies, or is hampered by incurable impediments of speech. Again, physical uncouthness may be such that no art can remedy it, [13] while a weak voice is incompatible with first-rate excellence in delivery. For we may employ a good, strong voice as we will; whereas one that is ugly or feeble not only prevents us from producing a number of effects, such as a crescendo or a sudden fortissimo, but at times forces faults upon us, making us drop the voice, alter its pitch and refresh the hoarseness of the throat and fatigue of the lungs by a hideous chanting intonation. However, let me now turn to consider the speaker on whom my precepts will not be wasted.

[14] All delivery, as I have already said, is concerned with two different things, namely, voice and gesture, [p. 251] of which the one appeals to the eye and the other to the ear, the two senses by which all emotion reaches the soul. But the voice has the first claim on our attention, since even our gesture is adapted to suit it.

The first point which calls for consideration is the nature of the voice, the second the manner in which it is used. The nature of the voice depends on its quantity and quality. [15] The question of quantity is the simpler of the two, since as a rule it is either strong or weak, although there are certain kinds of voice which fall between these extremes, and there are a number of gradations from the highest notes to the lowest and from the lowest to the highest. Quality, on the other hand, presents more variations; for the voice may be clear or husky, full or thin, smooth or harsh, of wide or narrow compass, rigid or flexible, and sharp or flat, while lung-power may be great or small. [16] It is not necessary for my purpose to enquire into the causes which give rise to these peculiarities. I need not raise the question whether the difference lies in those organs by which the breath is produced, or in those which form the channels for the voice itself; whether the voice has a character of its own or depends on the motions which produce it; whether it be the strength of the lungs, chest or the vocal organs themselves that affords it most assistance, since the co-operation of all these organs is required. For example, it is not the mouth only that produces sweetness of tone; it requires the assistance of the nostrils as well, which carry off what I may describe as the overflow of the voice. The important fact is that the tone must be agreeable and not harsh. [17] The methods of using the [p. 253] voice present great variety. For in addition to the triple division of accents into sharp, grave and circumflex, there are many other forms of intonation which are required: it may be intense or relaxed, high or low, and may move in slow or quick time. [18] But here again there are many intermediate gradations between the two extremes, and just as the face, although it consists of a limited number of features, yet possesses infinite variety of expression, so it is with the voice: for though it possesses but few varieties to which we can give a name, yet every human being possesses a distinctive voice of his own, which is as easily distinguished by the ear as are facial characteristics by the eye.

[19] The good qualities of the voice, like everything else, are improved by training and impaired by neglect. But the training required by the orator is not the same as that which is practised by the singing-master, although the two methods have many points in common. In both cases physical robustness is essential to save the voice from dwindling to the feeble shrillness that characterises the voices of eunuchs, women and invalids, and the means for creating such robustness are to be found in walking, rubbing-down with oil, abstinence from sexual intercourse, an easy digestion, and, in a word, in the simple life. [20] Further, the throat must be sound, that is to say, soft and smooth; for if the throat be unsound, the voice is broken or dulled or becomes harsh or squeaky. For just as the sound produced in the pipe by the same volume of breath varies according as the stops are closed or open, or the instrument is clogged or cracked, so the voice is strangled if the throat be swollen, and muffled if it [p. 255] is obstructed, while it becomes rasping if the throat is inflamed, and may be compared to an organ with broken pipes in cases where the throat is subject to spasms. [21] Again, the presence of some obstacle may divide the breath just as a pebble will divide shallow waters, which, although their currents unite again soon after the obstruction is past, still leave a hollow space in rear of the object struck. An excess of moisture also impedes the voice, while a deficiency weakens it. As regards fatigue, its effect is the same as upon the body: it affects the voice not merely at the moment of speaking, but for some time afterwards. [22] But while exercise, which gives strength in all cases, is equally necessary both for orators and singing-masters, it is a different kind of exercise which they require. For the orator is too much occupied by civil affairs to be able to allot fixed times for taking a walk, and he cannot tune his voice through all the notes of the scale nor spare it exertion, since it is frequently necessary for him to speak in several cases in succession. [23] Nor is the same regime suitable as regards food: for the orator needs a strong and enduring voice rather than one which is soft and sweet, while the singer mellows all sounds, even the highest, by the modulation of his voice, whereas we have often to speak in harsh and agitated tones, must pass wakeful nights, swallow the soot that is produced by the midnight oil and stick to our work though our clothes be dripping with sweat. [24] Consequently, we must not attempt to mellow our voice by coddling it nor accustom it to the conditions which it would like to enjoy, but rather give it exercise suited to the tasks on which it will be employed, never allowing it to be impaired [p. 257] by silence, but strengthening it by practice, which removes all difficulties. [25] The best method for securing such exercise is to learn passages by heart (for if we have to speak extempore, the passion inspired by our theme will distract us from all care for our voice), while the passages selected for the purpose should be as varied as possible, involving a combination of loud, argumentative, colloquial and modulated utterance, so that we may prepare ourselves for all exigencies simultaneously. This will be sufficient. [26] Otherwise your delicate, over trained voice will succumb before any unusual exertion, like bodies accustomed to the oil of the training school, which for all the imposing robustness which they display in their own contests, yet, if ordered to make a day's march with the troops, to carry burdens and mount guard at night, would faint beneath the task and long for their trainers to rub them down with oil and for the free perspiration of the naked limbs. [27] Who would tolerate me if in a work such as this I were to prescribe avoidance of exposure to sun, wind, rain or parching heat? If we are called upon to speak in the sun or on a windy, wet or warm day, is that a reason for deserting the client whom we have undertaken to defend? While as for the warning given by some that the orator should not speak when dyspeptic, replete or drunk, or immediately after vomiting, I think that no sane person would dream of declaiming under such circumstances. [28] There is, however, good reason for the rule prescribed by all authorities, that the voice should not be overstrained in the years of transition between boyhood and manhood, since at that period it is naturally weak, not, I think, on account of heat, as some allege (for there [p. 259] is more heat in the body at other periods), but rather on account of moisture, of which at that age there is a superabundance. [29] For this reason the nostrils and the breast swell at this stage, and all the organs develop new growth, with the result that they are tender and liable to injury. However, to return to the point, the best and most realistic form of exercise for the voice, once it has become firm and set, is, in my opinion, the practice of speaking daily just as we plead in the courts. For thus, not merely do the voice and lungs gain in strength, but we acquire a becoming deportment of the body and develop grace of movement suited to our style of speaking.

[30] The rules for delivery are identical with those for the language of oratory itself. For, as our language must be correct, clear, ornate and appropriate, so with our delivery; it will be correct, that is, free from fault, if our utterance be fluent, clear, pleasant and “urbane,” that is to say, free from all traces of a rustic or a foreign accent. [31] For there is good reason for the saying we so often hear, “He must be a barbarian or a Greek”: since we may discern a man's nationality from the sound of his voice as easily as we test a coin by its ring. If these qualities be present, we shall have those harmonious accents of which Ennius²⁷ expresses his approval when he describes Cethegus as one whose “words rang sweetly,” and avoid the opposite effect, of which Cicero²⁸ expresses his disapproval by saying, “They bark, not plead.” For there are many faults of which I spoke in the first book²⁹ when I discussed the method in which the speech of children should be formed, since I thought it more appropriate to mention them in connexion with a period of life when it is still possible to correct them. [32] Again, the [p. 261] delivery may be described as correct if the voice be sound, that is to say, exempt from any of the defects of which I have just spoken, and if it is not dull, coarse, exaggerated, hard, stiff, hoarse or thick, or again, thin, hollow, sharp, feeble, soft or effeminate, and if the breath is neither too short nor difficult to sustain or recover.

[33] The delivery will be clear if, in the first place, the words are uttered in their entirety, instead of being swallowed or clipped, as is so often the case, since too many people fail to complete the final syllables through over-emphasising the first. But although words must be given their full phonetic value, it is a tiresome and offensive trick to pronounce every letter as if we were entering them in an inventory. [34] For vowels frequently coalesce and some consonants disappear when followed by a vowel. I have already³⁰ given an example of both these occurrences:— mullum ille et terris.³¹ [35] Further, we avoid placing two consonants near each other when their juxtaposition would cause a harsh sound; thus, we say pellexit and collegiate and employ other like forms of which I have spoken elsewhere.³² It is with this in mind that Cicero³³ praises Catulus for the sweetness with which he pronounced the various letters. The second essential for clearness of delivery is that our language should be properly punctuated, that is to say, the speaker must begin and end at the proper place. It is also necessary to note at what point our speech should pause and be momentarily suspended (which the Greeks term ὑποδιαστολὴ and ὑποστιγμὴ³⁴ and when it should come to a full stop. [36] After the words arma virumque cano³⁵ there is a momentary suspension, because virum is connected with [p. 263] what follows, the full sense being given by virum Troiae qui primus ab oris, after which there is a similar suspension. For although the mention of the hero's destination introduces an idea different from that of the place whence he came, the difference does not call for the insertion of a stop, since both ideas are expressed by the same verb venit. [37] After Italiam comes a third pause, since fato profugus is parenthetic and breaks up the continuity of the phrase Italian, Lavinaque. For the same reason there is a fourth pause after profulgus. Then follows Lavinaque venit litora, where a stop must be placed, as at this point a new sentence begins. But stops themselves vary in length, according as they mark the conclusion of a phrase or a sentence. [38] Thus after litora I shall pause and continue after taking breath. But when I come to atque altae moenia Romae I shall make a full stop, halt and start again with the opening of a fresh sentence. [39] There are also occasionally, even in periods, pauses which do not require a fresh breath. For although the sentence in coetu vero populi Romani, negotium publicumn gerens, magister equilum,³⁶ etc., contains a number of different cola,³⁷ expressing a number of different thoughts, all these cola are embraced by a single period: consequently, although short pauses are required at the appropriate intervals, the flow of the period as a whole must not be broken. On the other hand, it is at times necessary to take breath without any perceptible pause: in such cases we must do so surreptitiously, since if we take breath unskilfully, it will cause as much obscurity as would have resulted from faulty punctuation. Correctness of punctuation may seem to be but a trivial merit, but without it all the other merits of oratory are nothing worth.

[p. 265] [40] Delivery will be ornate when it is supported by a voice that is easy, strong, rich, flexible, firm, sweet, enduring, resonant, pure, carrying far and penetrating the ear (for there is a type of voice which impresses the hearing not by its volume, but by its peculiar quality): in addition, the voice must be easily managed and must possess all the necessary inflexions and modulations, in fact it must, as the saying is, be a perfect instrument, equipped with every stop: further, it must have strong lungs to sustain it, and ample breathing power that will be equal to all demands upon it, however fatiguing. [41] The deepest bass and the highest treble notes are unsuited to oratory: for the former lack clearness and, owing to their excessive fullness, have no emotional power, while the latter are too thin and, owing to excess of clearness, give an impression of extravagance and are incompatible with the inflexions demanded by delivery and place too great a strain upon the voice. [42] For the voice is like the strings of a musical instrument; the slacker it is the deeper and fuller the note produced, whereas if it be tightened, the sound becomes thinner and shriller. Consequently, the deepest notes lack force, and the higher run the risk of cracking the voice. The orator will, therefore, employ the intermediate notes, which must be raised when we speak with energy and lowered when we adopt a more subdued tone.

[43] For the first essential of a good delivery is evenness. The voice must not run joltingly, with irregularity of rhythm and sound, mixing long and short syllables, grave accents and acute, tones loud and low, without discrimination, the result being that this universal unevenness produces the impression of [p. 267] a limping gait. The second essential is variety of tone, and it is in this alone that delivery really consists. [44] I must warn my readers not to fall into the error of supposing that evenness and variety are incompatible with one another, since the fault opposed to evenness is unevenness, while the opposite of variety is that which the Greeks term μονοείδεια, or uniformity of aspect. The art of producing variety not merely charms and refreshes the ear, but, by the very fact that it involves a change of effort, revives the speaker's flagging energies. It is like the relief caused by changes in position, such as are involved by standing, walking, sitting and lying, none of which can be endured for a long time together. [45] But the most important point (which I shall proceed to discuss a little later) is the necessity of adapting the voice to suit the nature of the various subjects on which we are speaking and the moods that they demand: otherwise our voice will be at variance with our language. We must, therefore, avoid that which the Greeks call monotony, that is to say, the unvarying exertion both of lungs and voice. By this I do not simply mean that we must avoid saying everything in a loud tone, a fault which amounts to madness, or in a colloquial tone, which creates an impression of lifelessness, or in a subdued murmur, which is utterly destructive of all vigour. [46] What I mean is this: within the limits of one passage and the compass of one emotion we may vary our tone to a certain, though not a very great extent, according as the dignity of the language, the nature of the thought, the conclusion and opening of our sentences or transitions from one point to another, may demand. Thus, those who paint in monochrome [p. 269] still represent their objects in different planes, since otherwise it would have been impossible to depict even the limbs of their figures. [47] Let us take as an example the opening of Cicero's magnificent speech in defence of Milo. Is it not clear that the orator has to change his tone almost at every stop? it is the same face, but the expression is changed. Etsi vereor, iudices, ne turpe sit, [48] pre fortissimo viro dicere incipientem timere.³⁸ Although the general tone of the passage is restrained and subdued, since it is not merely an exordium, but the exordium of a man suffering from serious anxiety, still something fuller and bolder is required in the tone, when he says pro fortissiomo viro, than when he says etsi cereor and turpe sit and timere. [49] But his second breath must be more vigorous, partly owing to the natural increase of effort, since we always speak our second sentence with less timidity, and partly because he indicates the high courage of Milo: minimeque deceat, cum T. Annius ipse magis de rei publicae salute quam de sua perturbetur. Then he proceeds to something like a reproof of himself: me ad eius causam parem animi maguitudinem adferre non posse. [50] The next clause suggests a reflexion on the conduct of others: tamen haec novi iudicii nova forma terret oculos. And then in what follows he opens every stop, as the saying is: qui, quocunque inciderunt, consuetudinem fori et pristinum morem iudiciorum requirunt: while the next clause is even fuller and freer: non enim corona cousessus vester cinctus est, ut solebat. [51] I have called attention to these points to make it clear that there is a certain variety, not merely in [p. 271] the delivery of cola, but even in that of phrases consisting of one word, a variety the lack of which would make every word seem of equal importance.

The voice, however, must not be pressed beyond its powers, for it is liable to be choked and to become less and less clear in proportion to the increase of effort, while at times it will break altogether and produce the sound to which the Greeks have given a name derived from the crowing of cocks before the voice is developed.³⁹ [52] We must also beware of confusing our utterance by excessive volubility, which results in disregard of punctuation, loss of emotional power, and sometimes in the clipping of words. The opposite fault is excessive slowness of speech, which is a sign of lack of readiness in invention, tends by its sluggishness to render our hearers inattentive, and, further, wastes the time allotted to us for speaking,⁴⁰ a consideration which is of some importance. Our speech must be ready, but not precipitate, under control, but not slow, [53] while we must not take breath so often as to break up our sentence, nor, on the other hand, sustain it until it fails us from exhaustion. For the sound produced by loss of breath is disagreeable; we gasp like a drowning man and fill our lungs with long drawn inhalations at in appropriate moments, giving the impression that our action is due not to choice, but to compulsion. Therefore, in attacking a period of abnormal length, we should collect our breath, but quickly, noiselessly and imperceptibly. On other occasions we shall be able to take breath at the natural breaks in the substance of our speech. [54] But we must exercise our breathing capacity to make it as great as possible. To produce this result Demosthenes used to recite as many successive lines as [p. 273] possible, while he was climbing a hill. He also, with a view to securing fluency free from impediment, used to roll pebbles under his tongue when speaking in the privacy of his study. [55] Sometimes the breath, although capable of sustained effort and sufficiently full and clear, lacks firmness when exerted, had for that reason is liable to become tremulous, like bodies which, although to all appearances sound, receive insufficient support from the sinews. This the Greeks call βρασμός.⁴¹ There are some too who, owing to the loss of teeth, do not draw in the breath naturally, but suck it in with a hissing sound. There are others who pant incessantly and so loudly that it is perfectly audible within them: they remind one of heavily-laden beasts of burden straining against the yoke. [56] Some indeed actually affect this mannerism, as though to suggest that they are struggling with the host of ideas that crowd themselves upon them and oppressed by a greater flood of eloquence than their throats are capable of uttering. Others, again, find a difficulty in opening their mouths, and seem to struggle with their words; and, further, although they are not actually faults of the voice, yet since they arise out of the use of the voice, I think this is the most appropriate place for referring to the habit of coughing and spitting with frequency while speaking, of hawking up phlegm from the depths of the lungs, like water from a well,⁴² sprinkling the nearest of the bystanders with saliva, and expelling the greater portion of the breath through the nostrils. [57] But any of these faults are tolerable compared with the practice of chanting instead of speaking, which is the worst feature of our modern oratory, whether in the courts or in the [p. 275] schools, and of which I can only say that I do not know whether it is more useless or more repugnant to good taste. For what can be less becoming to an orator than modulations that recall the stage and a sing-song utterance which at times resembles the maudlin utterance of drunken revellers? [58] What can be more fatal to any emotional appeal than that the speaker should, when the situation calls for grief, anger, indignation or pity, not merely avoid the expression of those emotions which require to be kindled in the judge, but outrage the dignity of the courts with noises such as are dear to the Lycians and Carians? For Cicero⁴³ has told us that the rhetoricians of Lycia and Caria come near to singing in their perorations. But, as a matter of tact, we have somewhat overstepped the limits imposed by the more restrained style of singing. [59] I ask you, does anyone sing, I will not say when his theme is murder, sacrilege or parricide, but at any rate when he deals with figures or accounts, or, to cut a long story short, when he is pleading in any kind of lawsuit whatever? And if such a form of intonation is to be permitted at all, there is really no reason why the modulations of the voice should not be accompanied by harps and flutes, or even by cymbals, which would be more appropriate to the revolting exhibitions of which I am speaking. [60] And yet we show no reluctance in indulging this vicious practice. For no one thinks his own singing hideous, and it involves less trouble than genuine pleading. There are, moreover, some persons who, in thorough conformity with their other vices, are possessed with a perpetual passion for hearing something that will soothe their ears. But, it may be urged, does not [p. 277] Cicero⁴⁴ himself say that there is a suggestion of singing in the utterance of an orator? And is not this the outcome of a natural impulse? I shall shortly proceed to show to what extent such musical modulations are permissible: but if we are to call it singing, it must be no more than a suggestion of singing, a fact which too many refuse to realise.

[61] But it is now high time for me to explain what I mean by appropriate delivery. Such appropriateness obviously lies in the adaptation of the delivery to the subjects on which we are speaking. This quality is, in the main, supplied by the emotions themselves, and the voice will ring as passion strikes its chords. But there is a difference between true emotion on the one hand, and false and fictitious emotion on the other. The former breaks out naturally, as in the case of grief, anger or indignation, but lacks art, and therefore requires to be formed by methodical training. [62] The latter, on the other hand, does imply art, but lacks the sincerity of nature: consequently in such cases the main thing is to excite the appropriate feeling in oneself, to form a mental picture of the facts, and to exhibit an emotion that cannot be distinguished from the truth. The voice, which is the intermediary between ourselves and our hearers, will then produce precisely the same emotion in the judge that we have put into it. For it is the index of the mind, and is capable of expressing all its varieties of feeling. [63] Therefore when we deal with a lively theme, the flow of the voice is characterised by fullness, simplicity and cheerfulness; but when it is roused to battle, it puts forth all its strength and strains every nerve. In anger [p. 279] it is fierce, harsh and intense, and calls for frequent filling of the lungs, since the breath cannot be sustained for long when it is poured forth without restraint. When it is desired to throw odium upon our opponents, it will be somewhat slower, since, as a rule, it is none save the weaker party takes refuge in such tactics. On the other hand, in flattery, admission, apology or question it will be gentle and subdued. [64] If we advise, warn, promise or console, it will be grave and dignified, modest if we express fear or shame, bold in exhortation, precise in argument, full of modulations, suggestive of tears and designedly muffled in appeals for pity, whereas in digression it will be full and flowing, and will have all the resonance that is characteristic of confidence; in exposition of facts or conversations it will be even and pitched half-way betwixt high and low. [65] But it will be raised to express violent emotion, and sink when our words are of a calmer nature, rising and falling according to the demands of its theme.

However, for the moment I will defer speaking of the variations in tone required by different topics, and will proceed first to the discussion of gesture which conforms to the voice, and like it, obeys the impulse of the mind. Its importance in oratory is sufficiently clear from the fact that there are many things which it can express without the assistance of words. [66] For we can indicate our will not merely by a gesture of the hands, but also with a nod from the head: signs take the place of language in the dumb, and the movements of the dance are frequently full of meaning, and appeal to the emotions without any aid from words. The temper of the mind can be inferred from the glance and gait, [p. 281] and even speechless animals show anger, joy, or the desire to please by means of the eye and other physical indications. [67] Nor is it wonderful that gesture which depends on various forms of movement should have such power, when pictures, which are silent and motionless, penetrate into our innermost feelings with such power that at times they seem more eloquent than language itself. On the other hand, if gesture and the expression of the face are out of harmony with the speech, if we look cheerful when our words are sad. or slake our heads when making a positive assertion, our words will not only lack weight, but will fail to carry conviction. [68] Gesture and movement are also productive of grace. It was for this reason that Demosthenes used to practise his delivery in front of a large mirror, since, in spite of the fact that its reflexions are reversed, he trusted his eyes to enable him to judge accurately the effect produced.

The head, being the chief member of the body, has a corresponding importance in delivery, serving not merely to produce graceful elect, but to illustrate our meaning as well. [69] To secure grace it is essential that the head should be carried naturally an erect. For a droop suggests humility, while if it be thrown back it seems to express arrogance, if inclined to one side it gives an impression of languor, while if it is held too stiffly and rigidly it appears to indicate a rude and savage temper. Further, it should derive appropriate motion from the subject of our pleading, maintaining harmony with the gesture and following the movement of the hands and side. [70] For the eyes are always turned in the same direction as the gesture, except when we are called [p. 283] upon to condemn or concede something or to express abhorrence, when we shall show our aversion by turning away the face and by thrusting out our hands as though to repel the thought, as in the lines:

Ye gods, such dread calamity avert!

Aen. iii. 620.

or

Not for me
To claim such honour!

Aen. i. 335.

[71] The methods by which the head may express our meaning are manifold. For in addition to those movements which indicate consent, refusal and affirmation, there are those expressive of modesty, hesitation, wonder or indignation, which are well known and common to all. But to confine the gesture to the movement of the head alone is regarded as a fault by those who teach acting as well as by professors of rhetoric. Even the frequent nodding of the head is not free from fault, while to toss or roll it till our hair flies free is suggestive of a fanatic.

[72] By far the greatest influence is exercised by the glance. For it is by this that we express supplication, threats, flattery, sorrow, joy, pride or submission. It is on this that our audience hang, on this that they rivet their attention and their gaze, even before we begin to speak. It is this that inspires the hearer with affection or dislike, this that conveys a world of meaning and is often more eloquent than all our words. [73] Consequently in plays destined for the stage, the masters of the art of delivery design even their masks to enhance the emotional effect. Thus, in tragedy, Aerope will be [p. 285] sad, Medea fierce, Ajax bewildered, Hercules truculent. [74] In comedy, on the other hand, over and above the methods adopted to distinguish between slaves, pimps, parasites, rustics, soldiers, harlots, maidservants, old men stern and mild, youths moral or luxurious, married women and girls, we have the important rôle of the father who, because at times he is excited and at others call, has one eyebrow raised and the other normal, the custom among actors being to turn that side of the face to the audience which best suits the role. [75] But of the various elements that go to form the expression, the eyes are the most important, since they, more than any-thing else, reveal the temper of the mind, and without actual movement will twinkle with merriment or be clouded with grief. And further, nature has given them tears to serve as interpreters of our feelings, tears that will break forth for sorrow or stream for very joy. But, when the eyes move, they become intent, indifferent, proud, fierce, mild, or angry; and they will assume all these characters according as the pleading may demand. [76] But they must never he fixed or protruding, languid or sluggish, lifeless, lascivious, restless, nor swim with a moist voluptuous glance, nor look aslant nor leer in amorous fashion, nor yet must they seem to promise or ask a boon. As for keeping them fully or partially closed while speaking, surely none save an uneducated man or a fool would dream of doing such a thing. [77] And in addition to all these forms of expression, the upper and lower eyelids can render service in support of the eyes. [78] The eyebrows also may be used with great effect. For to some extent they mould the expression of the eyes and [p. 287] determine that of the forehead. It is by means of the eyebrows that we contract, raise or smooth the latter: in fact, the only thing which has greater influence over it is the blood, which moves in conformity with the emotions that control the mind, causing a blush on a skin that is sensitive to shame, and giving place to an icy pallor under the influence of fear, whereas, when it is under control, it produces a peaceful complexion, intermediate between the two. [79] Complete immobility in the eyebrows is a fault, as also is excess of mobility or the tendency to raise one and lower the other, as in the comic mask which I mentioned just now: while it is a further blemish if they express a feeling out of keeping with the words we utter. For they show anger by contraction, grief by depression and cheerfulness by their expansion. They are also dropped or raised to express consent or refusal respectively. [80] It is not often that the lips or nostrils can be becomingly employed to express our feelings, although they are often used to indicate derision, contempt or loathing. For to “wrinkle the nostrils” (as Horace says),⁴⁵ or blow them out, or twitch them, or fret them with our finger, or snort through them with a sudden expulsion of the breath, or stretch them wide or push them up with the flat of the hand are all indecorous, since it is not without reason that censure is passed even on blowing the nose too frequently. [81] It is also an ugly habit to protrude the lips, open them with a sudden smack,⁴⁶ compress them, draw them apart and bare the teeth, or twist them awry to one side till they almost reach the ear, or to curl them in scorn, or let them droop, or allow the voice to escape only on one side. It is [p. 289] also unbecoming to lick or bite them, since their motion should be but slight even when they are employed in forming words. For we must speak with the mouth rather than the lips.

[82] The neck must be straight, not stiff or bent backward. As regards the throat, contraction and stretching are equally unbecoming, though in different ways. If it be stretched, it causes strain as well, and weakens and fatigues the voice, while if the chin be pressed down into the chest it makes the voice less distinct and coarsens it, owing to the pressure on the windpipe. [83] It is, as a rule, unbecoming to raise or contract the shoulders. For it shortens the neck and produces a mean and servile gesture, which is even suggestive of dishonesty when men assume an attitude of flattery, admiration or fear. [84] In continuous and flowing passages a most becoming gesture is slightly to extend the arm with shoulders well thrown back and the fingers opening as the hand moves forward. But when we have to speak in specially rich or impressive style, as, for example, in the passage saxa atiqu solitudines voci respondent,⁴⁷ the arm will be thrown out in a stately sidelong sweep and the words will, as it were, expand in unison with the gesture. [85] As for the hands, without which all action would be crippled and enfeebled, it is scarcely possible to describe the variety of their motions, since they are almost as expressive as words. For other portions of the body merely help the speaker, whereas the hands may almost be said to speak. [86] Do we not use them to demand, promise, summon, dismiss, threaten, supplicate, express aversion or fear, question or deny? Do we not employ them to indicate joy, [p. 291] sorrow, hesitation, confession, penitence, measure, quantity, number and time? [87] Have they not power to excite and prohibit, to express approval, wonder or shame? Do they not take the place of adverbs and pronouns when we point at places and things? In fact, though the peoples and nations of the earth speak a multitude of tongues, they share in common the universal language of the hands.

[88] The gestures of which I have thus far spoken are such as naturally proceed from us simultaneously with our words. But there are others which indicate things by means of mimicry. For example, you may suggest a sick man by mimicking the gesture of a doctor feeling the pulse, or a harpist by a movement of the hands as though they were plucking the strings. But this is a type of gesture which should be rigorously avoided in pleading. [89] For the orator should be as unlike a dancer as possible, and his gesture should be adapted rather to his thought than to his actual words, a practice which was indeed once upon a time even adopted by the more dignified performers on the stage. I should, therefore, permit him to direct his hand towards his body to indicate that he is speaking of himself, or to point it at some one else to whom he is alluding, together with other similar gestures which I need not mention. But, on the other hand, I would not allow him to use his hands to imitate attitudes or to illustrate anything he may chance to say. [90] And this rule applies not merely to the hands, but to all gesture and to the voice as well. For in delivering the period stetit soleatus praetor populi Romani,⁴⁸ it would be wrong to imitate Verres leaning on his mistress, or in uttering the phrase caedebatur in medio [p. 293] foro Messanae⁴⁹ to make the side writhe, as it does when quivering beneath the lash, or to utter shrieks, such as are extorted by pain. [91] For even comic actors seem to me to commit a gross offence against the canons of their art when, if they have in the course of some narrative to quote either the words of an old man (as, for example, in the prologue to the Hydria),⁵⁰ or of a woman (as in the (Georgus⁵¹), they litter them in a tremulous or a treble voice, notwithstanding the fact that they are playing the part of a young man. So true is it that certain forms of imitation may be a blemish even in those whose whole art consists in imitation.

[92] One of the commonest of all the gestures consists in placing the middle finger against the thumb and extending the remaining three: it is suitable to the exordum, the hand being moved forward with an easy motion a little distance both to right and left, while the head and shoulders gradually follow the direction of the gesture. It is also useful in the statement of facts, but in that case the hand must be moved with firmness and a little further forward, while, if we are reproaching or refuting our adversary, the same movement may be employed with some vehemence and energy, since such passages permit of greater freedom of extension. [93] On the other hand, this same gesture is often directed sideways towards the left shoulder: this is a mistake, although it is a still worse fault to thrust the arm across the chest and gesticulate with the elbow. The middle and third fingers are also sometimes turned under the thumb, producing a still more forcible effect than the gesture previously described, but not well adapted for use in the exordium or state- [p. 295] meant of facts. [94] But when three fingers are doubled under the thumb, the finger, which Cicero⁵² says that Crassus used to such effect, is extended. It is used in denunciation and in indication (whence its name of index finger), while if it be slightly dropped after the hand has been raised toward the shoulder, it signifies affirmation, and if pointed as it were face downwards toward the ground, it expresses insistence. It is sometimes also used to indicate number. [95] Again, if its top joint is lightly gripped on either side, with the two outer fingers slightly curved, the little finger rather less than the third, we shall have a gesture well suited for argument. But for this purpose the same gesture is rendered more emphatic by holding the middle joint of the finger and contracting the last two fingers still further to match the lower position of the middle finger and thumb. [96] The following gesture is admirably adapted to accompany modest language: the thumb and the next three fingers are gently converged to a point and the hand is carried to the neighbourhood of the month or chest, then relaxed palm downwards and slightly advanced. [97] It was with this gesture that I believe Demosthenes to have commenced the timid and subdued exordium of his speech in defence of Ctesiphon, and it was, I think, in such a position that Cicero⁵³ held his land, when he said, “If I have any talent, though I am conscious how little it is.” Slightly greater freedom may be given to the gesture by pointing the fingers down and drawing the hand in towards the body and then opening it somewhat more rapidly in the opposite direction, so that it seems as though it were delivering our words to the audience. [98] [p. 297] Sometimes we may hold the first two fingers apart without, however, inserting the thumb between them, the remaining two pointing inwards, while even the two former must not be fully extended. [99] Sometimes, again, the third and little finger may be pressed in to the palm near the base of the thumb, which in its turn is pressed against the middle joints of the first and middle fingers; at others the little finger is sometimes drooped obliquely, or the four fingers may be relaxed rather than extended and the thumb slanted inwards: this last gesture is well adapted to pointing to one side or marking the different points which we are making, the had being carried palmupwards to the left and swept back to the right face-downwards. [100] The following short gestures are also employed: the hand may be slightly hollowed as it is when persons are making a vow, and then moved slightly to and fro, the shoulders swaying gently in unison: this is adapted to passages where we speak with restraint and almost with timidity. Wonder is best expressed as follows: the hand turns slightly upwards and the fingers are brought in to the palm, one after the other, beginning with the little finger; the hand is then opened and turned round by a reversal of this motion. [101] There are various methods of expressing interrogation; but, as a rule, we do so by a turn of the hand, the arrangement of the fingers being indifferent. If the first finger touch the middle of the right-hand edge of the thumb-nail with its extremity, the other fingers being relaxed, we shall have a graceful gesture well suited to express approval or to accompany statements of facts, and to mark the distinction between our different points. [102] There is another gesture not unlike [p. 299] the preceding, in which the remaining three fingers are folded: it is much employed by the Greeks both for the left hand and the right, in rounding off their enthymemes,⁵⁴ detail by detail. A gentle movement of the hand expresses promise or assent, a more violent movement suggests exhortation or sometimes praise. There is also that familiar gesture by which we drive home our words, consisting in the rapid opening and shutting of the hand: but this is a common rather than an artistic gesture. [103] Again, there is the somewhat unusual gesture in which the hand is hollowed and raised well above the shoulder with a motion suggestive of exhortation. The tremulous motion now generally adopted by foreign schools is, however, fit only for the stage. I do not know why some persons disapprove of the movement of the fingers, with their tops converging, towards the mouth. For we do this when we are slightly surprised, and at times also employ it to express fear or entreaty when we are seized with sudden indignation. [104] Further, we sometimes clench the hand and press it to our breast when we are expressing regret or anger, an occasion when it is not unbecoming even to force the voice through the teeth in phrases such as “What shall I do now?” “What would you do?” To point at something with the thumb turned back is a gesture which is in general just, but is not, in my opinion, becoming to an orator. [105] Motion is generally divided into six kinds, but circular motion must be regarded as a seventh. The latter alone is faulty when applied to gesture. The remaining motions— that is, forward, to right or left and up or down—all have their significance, but the gesture is never directed to what lies behind us, though we do at [p. 301] times throw the hand back. [106] The best effect is produced by letting the motion of the hand start from the left and end on the right, but this must be done gently, the hand sinking to rest and avoiding all appearance of giving a blow, although at the end of a sentence it may sometimes be allowed to drop, but must quickly be raised again: or it may occasionally, when we desire to express wonder or dissent, spring back with a rapid motion.

In this connexion the earlier instructors in the art of gesture rightly added that the movement of the hand should begin: and end with the thought that is expressed. Otherwise the gesture will anticipate or lag behind the voice, both of which produce an unpleasing effect. [107] Some, through excess of subtlety, have erroneously prescribed that there should be an interval of three words between each movement; but this rule is never observed, nor can it be. These persons, however, were desirous that there should be some standard of speed or slowness (a most rational desire), with a view to avoid prolonged inactivity on the part of the hands as well as the opposite fault, into which so many fall, of breaking up the natural flow of their delivery by continual motion. [108] There is another still more common error, which is less easy of detection. Language possesses certain imperceptible stresses, indeed we might almost call them feet, to which the gesture of most speakers conforms. Thus there will he one movement at novum crimen, another at Giai Caesar, a third at et ante diem, a fourth at non auditum, a fifth at propinquus meus, a sixth at ad te and others at Quintus Tubero and detulit.⁵⁵ [109] From this springs a further error, namely, that young men, when writing out their speeches, [p. 303] devise all their gestures in advance and consider as they compose how the hand is to fall at each particular point. A further unfortunate result is that the movement of the hand, which should end on the right, frequently finishes on the left. [110] It is therefore better, in view of the fact that all speech falls into a number of brief clauses, at the end of which we can take breath, if necessary, to arrange our gesture to suit these sections. For example, the words novum crimes, Gai Caesar, in a sense form a phrase complete in itself, since they are followed by a conjunction, while the next words, et ante hanc diem non auditum, are also sufficiently self-contained. To these phrases the motions of the hand must be conformed, before the speech has passed beyond the calmness of tone on which it opens. [111] But when increasing warmth of feeling has fired the orator, the gesture will become more frequent, in keeping with the impetus of the speech. Some places are best suited by a rapid, and others by a restrained delivery. In the one case we pass rapidly on, fire a volley of arguments and hurry upon our way; in the other, we drive home our points, force them on the hearer and implant them in his mind. But the slower the delivery, the greater its emotional power: thus, Rosins was rapid and ESOPs weighty in his delivery, because the former was a comic and the latter a tragic actor. [112] The same rule applies to the movemints. Consequently on the stage young men and old, soldiers and married women all walk sedately, while slaves, maidservants, parasites and fishermen are more lively in their movements. But instructors in the art of gesture will not permit the hand to be raised above the level of the eyes or lowered beneath [p. 305] that of the breast; since it is thought a grave blemish to lift it to the top of the head⁵⁶ or lower it to the lower portions of the belly. [113] It may be moved to the left within the limits of the shoulder, but no further without loss of decorum. On the other hand, when, to express our aversion, we thrust our hand out to the left, the left shoulder must be brought forward in unison with the head, which will incline to the right. [114] It is never correct to employ the left hand alone in gesture, though it will often conform its motion to that of the right, as, for example, when we are counting our arguments on the fingers, or turn the palms of the hands to the left to express our horror of something, [115] or thrust them out in front or spread them out to right and left, or lower them in apology or supplication (though the gesture is not the same in these two cases), or raise them in adoration, or stretch them out in demonstration or invocation, as in the passage, “Ye hills and groves of Alba,⁵⁷” or in the passage from Gracchus⁵⁸: “Whither, alas! shall I turn me? To the Capitol? Nay, it is wet with my brother's blood. To my home?” etc. [116] For in such passages greater emotional effect is produced if both hands co-operate, short gestures being best adapted to matters of small importance and themes of a gentle or melancholy character, and longer gestures to subjects of importance or themes calling for joy or horror.

[117] It is desirable also that I should mention the faults in the use of the hands, into which even experienced pleaders are liable to fall. As for the gesture of demanding a cup, threatening a flogging, or indicating the number 500 by crooking the thumb,⁵⁹ all of which are recorded by writers on the subject, I have never [p. 307] seen them employed even by uneducated rustics. [118] But I know that it is of frequent occurrence for a speaker to expose his side by stretching his arm too far, to be afraid in one case of extending his hand beyond the folds of his cloak, and in another to stretch it as far as it will go, to raise it to the roof, or by swinging it repeatedly over his left shoulder to deliver such a rain of blows to the rear that it is scarcely safe to stand behind him, or to make a circular sweep to the left, or by casting out his hand at random to strike the standers-by or to flap both elbows against his sides. [119] There are others, again, whose hands are sluggish or tremulous or inclined to saw the air; sometimes, too, the fingers are crooked and brought down with a run from the top of the head, or tossed up into the air with the hand turned palm upwards. There is also a gesture, which consists in inclining the head to the right shoulder, stretching out the arm from the ear and extending the hand with the thumb turned down. This is a special favourite with those who boast that they speak “with uplifted hand.” [120] ⁶⁰ To these latter we may add those speakers who hurl quivering epigrams with their fingers or denounce with the hand upraised, or rise on tiptoe, whenever they say something of which they are specially proud. This last proceeding may at times be adopted by itself; but they convert it into a blemish by simultaneously raising one or even two fingers as high as they can reach, or heaving up both hands as if they were carrying something. [121] In addition to these faults, there are those which spring not from nature, but from nervousness, such as struggling desperately with our lips when they refuse to open, making inarticulate sounds, as [p. 309] though something were sticking in our throat, when our memory fails us, or our thoughts will not come at our call; rubbing the end of our nose, walking up and down in the midst of an unfinished sentence, stopping suddenly and courting applause by silence, with many other tricks which it would take too long to detail, since everybody has his own particular faults. [122] We must take care not to protrude the chest or stomach, since such an altitude arches the back, and all bending backwards is unsightly. The flanks must conform to the gesture; for the motion of the entire body contributes to the effect: indeed, Cicero holds that the body is more expressive than even the hands. For in the de Orator⁶¹ he says, “There must be no quick movements of the fingers, no marking time with the finger-tips, but the orator should control himself by the poise of the whole trunk and by a manly inclination of the side.” [123] Slapping the thigh, which Clean is said to have been the first to introduce at Athens, is in general use and is becoming as a mark of indignation, while it also excites the audience. Cicero⁶² regrets its absence in Calidius, “There was no striking of the forehead,” he complains, “nor of the thigh.” With regard to the forehead I must beg leave to differ from him: for it is a purely theatrical trick even to clap the hands or beat the breast. [124] it is only on rare occasions, too, that it is becoming to touch the breast with the finger-tips of the hollowed hand, when, for example, we address ourselves or speak words of exhortation, reproach or commiseration. But if ever we do employ this gesture, it will not be unbecoming to pull back the toga at the same time. As regards the feet, we need to be careful about our gait and the attitudes [p. 311] in which we stand. To stand with the right foot advanced or to thrust forward the same foot and hand are alike unsightly. [125] At times we may rest our weight on the right foot, but without any corresponding inclination of the chest, while, in any case, the gesture is better suited to the comic actor than to the orator. It is also a mistake, when resting on the left foot, to lift the right or poise it on tiptoe. To straddle the feet is ugly if we are standing still, and almost indecent if we are actually moving. To start forward may be effective, provided that we move but a short distance and do so but rarely and without violence. [126] It will also at times be found convenient to walk to and fro, owing to the extravagant pauses imposed by the plaudits of the audience; Cicero,⁶³ however, says that this should be done only on rare occasions, and that we should take not more than a few steps. On the other hand, to run up and down, which, in the ease of Manlius Sure,⁶⁴ Domitius Afer called overdoing it, is sheer folly, and there was no little wit in the question put by Virginias Flatus to a rival professor, when he asked how many miles he had declaimed. [127] I know, too, that some authorities warn us not to walk with our backs turned to the judges, but to move diagonally and keep our eyes fixed on the panel. This cannot be done in private trials, but in such cases the space available is small and the time during which our backs are turned is of the briefest.⁶⁵ On the other hand, we are permitted at times to walk backwards gradually. Some even jump backwards, which is merely ludicrous. [128] Stamping the foot is, as Cicero⁶⁶ says, effective when done on suitable occasions, that is to say, at the commence meant or close of a lively argument, but if it be [p. 313] frequently indulged in, it brands the speaker as a fool and ceases to attract the attention of the judge. There is also the unsightly habit of swaying to right and left, and shifting the weight from one foot to the other. Above all, we must avoid effeminate movements, such as Cicero⁶⁷ ascribes to Titus, a circumstance which led to a certain kind of dance being nicknamed Titus. [129] Another reprehensible practice is that of nodding frequently and rapidly to either side, a mannerism for which the elder Curio⁶⁸ was derided by Julius, who asked who it was who was speaking in a boat, while on another occasion, when Curio had been tossing himself about in his usual manner, while Octaves, his colleague, was sitting beside him bandaged and reeking with medicaments on account of ill-health, Spiciness remarked, “Octaves, you can never be sufficiently grateful to your colleague: for if he wasn't there, the flies would have devoured you this very day where you sit. [130] ” The shoulders also are apt to be jerked to and fro, a fault of which Demosthenes is said to have cured himself by speaking on a narrow platform with a spear hanging immediately above his shoulder, in order that, if in the heat of his eloquence he failed to avoid this fault, he might have his attention called to the fact by a prick from the spear. The only condition that justifies our walking about while speaking is if we are pleading in a public trial before a large number of judges and desire specially to impress our arguments upon them individually. [131] The practice adopted by some of throwing the toga back over the shoulder, while they draw up the fold to their waist with the right hand, and use the left for gesticulation as they walk up and down and discourse, is not to [p. 315] be tolerated; for even to draw back the left hand while extending the right is an objectionable habit. This reminds me of an extremely foolish trick, which I think I ought to mention, that some speakers have of employing the intervals when the audience are applauding by whispering in someone's ear or jesting with their friends or looking back at their clerks, as if telling them to make a note of some gratuity to be dispensed to their supporters. [132] On the other hand, when we are making some explanation to the judge, more especially if the point be somewhat obscure, a slight inclination in his direction will be not unbecoming. But to lean forward towards the advocate seated on the benches of our opponent is offensive, while, unless we are genuinely fatigued, it is a piece of affectation to lean back among our own friends and to be supported in their arms; the same remark also applies to the practice of being prompted aloud or reading from manuscript as though uncertain of our memory. [133] For all these mannerisms impair the force of our speaking, chill the effect of emotional appeals and make the judge think that he is not being treated with sufficient respect. To cross over to the seats of our opponents borders on impudence, and Cassius Severus showed a neat turn of wit when he demanded that a barrier might be erected between himself and an opponent who behaved in this fashion. Moreover, though to advance towards our opponent may at times produce an impression of passionate energy, the return to our former position will always prove correspondingly tame. [134] Many of the rules which I have given will require modification by those who have to plead before judges seated on a dais.⁶⁹ For in such [p. 317] cases the face must be raised somewhat higher, so that the speaker's eyes may be fixed on the president of the court: for the same reason his gestures must also be carried a little higher, while there are other details which will readily occur to my reader without any mention from me. Similar modifications will be likewise necessary for those who plead sitting.⁷⁰ For this is done, as a rule, only in cases of minor importance, where delivery will necessarily be more restrained, and certain defects are inevitable. [135] For example, when the speaker sits on the left side of the judge, he will have to advance his right foot, while if he be seated on the right, many of his gestures must be made from right to left, in order that they may be addressed to the judge. Personally, I note that many speakers start up at the conclusion of individual periods, while some proceed to walk to and fro for a little: it is for them to decide whether this is becoming or not: I will merely remark that, when they do this, they are not pleading seated. [136] It was a common custom, which has not entirely disappeared, to drink or even to eat while pleading; but I shall not permit my ideal orator to do anything of the kind. For if a man cannot endure the burdens imposed by oratory without having recourse to such remedies, he should not find it a serious hardship to give up pleading altogether, a course which is far preferable to acknowledging his contempt both for his profession and his audience.

[137] With regard to dress, there is no special garb peculiar to the orator, but his dress comes more under the public eye than that of other men. It should, therefore, be distinguished and manly, as, indeed, it ought to be with all men of position. For [p. 319] excessive care with regard to the cut of the toga,⁷¹ the style of the shoes, or the arrangement of the hair, is just as reprehensible as excessive carelessness. There are also details of dress which are altered to some extent by successive changes in fashion. The ancients, for example, wore no folds, and their successors wore them very short. [138] Consequently it follows that in view of the fact that their arms were, like those of the Greeks, covered by the garment, they must have employed a different form of gesture in the exordium from that which is now in use. However, I am speaking of our own day. The speaker who has not the right to wear the broad stripe,⁷² will wear his girdle in such a way that the front edges of the tunic fall a little below his knees, while the edges in rear reach to the middle of his hams. For only women draw them lower and only centurions higher. [139] If we wear the purple stripe, it requires but little care to see that it fills becomingly; negligence in this respect sometimes excites criticism. Among those who wear the broad stripe, it is the fashion to let it hang somewhat lower than in garments that are retained by the girdle. The toga itself should, in my opinion, be round, and cut to fit, otherwise there are a number of ways in which it may be unshapely. Its front edge should by preference reach to the middle of the shin, while tie back should be higher in proposition as the girdle is higher [p. 321] behind than in front. [140] The fold is most becoming, if it fall to a point a little above the lower edge of the tunic, and should certainly never fall below it. The other fold which passes obliquely like a belt under the right shoulder and over the left, should neither be too tight nor too loose. The portion of the toga which is last to be arranged should fall rather low, since it will sit better thus and be kept in its place. A portion of the tunic also should be drawn back in order that it may not fall over the arm when we are pleading, and the fold should be thrown over the shoulder, while it will not be unbecoming if the edge be turned back. [141] On the other hand, we should not cover the shoulder and the whole of the throat, otherwise our dress will be unduly narrowed and will lose the impressive effect produced by breadth at the chest. Tire left arm should only be raised so far as to form a right angle at the elbow, while the edge of the toga should fall in equal lengths on either side. [142] The hand should not be overloaded with rings, which should under no circumstances encroach upon the middle joint of the finger. The most becoming attitude for the hand is produced by raising the thumb and slightly curving the fingers, unless it is occupied with holding manuscript. But we should not go out of our way to carry the latter, for it suggests an acknowledgement that we do not trust our memory, and is a hindrance to a number of gestures. [143] The ancients used to let the toga fall to the heels, as the Greeks are in the habit of doing with the cloak: Plotius and Nigidius⁷³ both recommend this in the books which they wrote about gesture as practised in their own day. I am consequently all the more [p. 323] surprised at the view expressed by so learned a man as Plinius Secundus, especially since it occurs in a book which carries minute research almost to excess:⁷⁴ for he asserts that Cicero was in the habit of wearing his toga in such a fashion to conceal his varicose veins, despite the fact that this fashion is to be seen in the statues of persons who lived after Cicero's day. [144] As regards the short cloak, bandages used to protect the legs, mufflers and coverings for the ears, nothing short of ill-health can excuse their use.

But such attention to our dress is only possible at the beginning of a speech, since, as the pleading develops, in fact, almost from the beginning of the statement of facts, the fold will slip down from the shoulder quite naturally and as it were of its own accord, while when we come to arguments and commonplaces, it will be found convenient to throw back the toga from the left shoulder, and even to throw down the fold if it should stick. [145] The left hand may be employed to pluck the toga from the throat and the upper portion of the chest, for by now the whole body will be hot. And just as at this point the voice becomes more vehement and more varied in its utterance, so the clothing begins to assume something of a combative pose. [146] Consequently, although to wrap the toga round the left hand or to pull it about us as a girdle would be almost a symptom of madness, while to throw back the fold from its bottom over the right shoulder would be a foppish and effeminate gesture, and there are yet worse effects than these, there is, at any rate, no reason why we should not place the looser portions of the fold under the left arm, since [p. 325] it gives an air of vigour and freedom not ill-suited to the warmth and energy of our action. [147] When, however, our speech draws near its close, more especially if fortune shows herself kind, practically everything is becoming; we may stream with sweat, show signs of fatigue, and let our dress fall in careless disorder and the toga slip loose from us on every side. [148] This fact makes me all the more surprised that Pliny should think it worth while to enjoin the orator to dry his brow with a handkerchief in such a way as not to disorder the hair, although a little later he most properly, and with a certain gravity and sternness of language, forbids us to rearrange it. For my own part, I feel that dishevelled locks make an additional appeal to the emotions, and that neglect of such precautions creates a pleasing impression. [149] On the other hand, if the toga falls down at the beginning of our speech, or when we have only proceeded but a little way, the failure to replace it is a sign of indifference, or sloth, or sheer ignorance of the way in which clothes should be worn.

The above are the chief adornments and faults of delivery. But there are a number of further considerations which the orator must bear in mind. [150] In the first place there is the question as to the character of speaker, judges and audience. For just as the methods of speaking may justifiably be varied to suit the characteristics of different orators and different judges, so it is with delivery. The same characteristics of voice, gesture and gait are not equally becoming in the presence of the emperor, the senate, the people, and magistrates, or in private and public trials, or in making a [p. 327] request to the praetor for the appointment of a judge to hear our case, and in actual pleading. Anyone who will reflect upon the matter will realise the nature of the differences involved, as he will also be able to realise the nature of the subject on which he is speaking and the effect which he desires to produce. [151] The considerations with regard to the subject are four in number, of which the first has reference to the case as a whole. For the case may be of a gloomy or a cheerful nature, an anxious business, or one that calls for no alarm, and may involve issues of great or trivial importance. We ought, therefore, never to be so preoccupied over particular portions of a case as to forget to consider the case as a whole. [152] The second point is concerned with the different aspects of the various portions of the speech, that is, the exordium, statement of facts, arguments and peroration. The third concerns the thoughts, which will vary according to the subject matter and the emotions which we require to awaken. The fourth has reference to the words, which must be given appropriate expression, unless their force is to be entirely wasted, although it is an error to attempt to make our delivery reproduce the sense of every single word. [153] Consequently, in panegyric, funeral orations excepted, in returning thanks, exhortations and the like, the delivery must be luxuriant, magnificent, and grand. On the other hand, in funeral or consolatory speeches, together with most of those in defence of accused persons, the delivery will be melancholy and subdued. When we speak in the senate, it will be authoritative, when we address the people, dignified, and when we are pleading in private cases, restrained. [p. 329] As regards the respective portions of speeches, thoughts and words, I must speak at somewhat greater length, as the problems involved are manifold.

[154] There are three qualities which delivery should possess. It should be conciliatory, persuasive and moving, and the possession of these three qualities involves charm as a further requisite. A conciliatory effect may be secured either by charm of style or by producing an impression of excellence of character, which is in some mysterious way clearly revealed both by voice and gesture. A persuasive effect, on the other hand, is produced by the power of assertion, which is sometimes more convincing even than actual proof. [155] “Would those statements,” says Cicero⁷⁵ to Calidius, “have been delivered by you in such a manner if they had been true?” And again, “You were far from kindling our emotions. Indeed, at that point of your speech we could scarcely keep ourselves awake.” We must therefore reveal both confidence and firmness, above all, if we have the requisite authority to back them. [156] The method of arousing the emotions depends on our power to represent or imitate the passions. Therefore when the judge in private, or the usher in public cases, calls upon us to speak, we must rise with deliberation. We shall then, to make our garb the more becoming, and to secure a moment for reflexion, devote a brief space to the arrangement of our toga or even, if necessary, to throwing it on afresh; but it must be borne in mind that this injunction applies only to cases in the courts; for we must not do this if we are speaking before the emperor or a magistrate, or in cases where the judge sits in a position of superior authority. [157] Even when we turn to the judge, [p. 331] and have requested and received the praetor's permission to address the court, we must not break forth at once into speech, but should allow ourselves a few moments for reflexion. For the display of such care on the part of one who is about to speak attracts the audience and gives the judge time to settle down. [158] Homer⁷⁶ inculcates this practice by placing before us the example of Ulysses, whom he describes as having stood for a while with eyes fixed on the ground and staff held motionless, before he poured forth his whirlwind of eloquence. In this preliminary delay there are certain pauses, as the actors call them, which are not unbecoming. We may stroke our head, look at our hand, wring the fingers, pretend to summon all our energies for the effort, confess to nervousness by a deep sigh, or may adopt any other method suited to our individual character, while these proceedings may be extended over some time, if we find that the judge is not yet giving us his attention. [159] Our attitude should be upright, our feet level and a slight distance apart, or the left may be very slightly advanced. The knees should be upright, but not stiff; the shoulders relaxed, the face stern, but not sad, expressionless or languid: the arms should be held slightly away from the side, the left hand being in the position described above,⁷⁷ while the right, at the moment when our speech begins, should be slightly extended beyond the fold of the toga with the most modest of gestures, as though waiting for the commencement. [160] For it is a mistake to look at the ceiling, to rub the face and give it a flush of impudence, to crane it boldly forward, to frown in order to secure a fierce expression, or brush back the hair from the forehead against its [p. 333] natural direction in order to produce a terrifying effect by making it stand on end. Again, there are other unseemly tricks, such as that so dear to the Greeks of twitching our fingers and lips as though studying what to say, clearing the throat with a loud noise, thrusting out one foot to a considerable distance, grasping a portion of the toga in the left hand, standing with feet wide apart, holding ourselves stiffly, leaning backwards, stooping, or bunching our shoulders toward the back of the head, as wrestlers do when about to engage.

[161] A gentle delivery is most often best suited to the exordium. For there is nothing better calculated than modesty to win the good-will of the judge, although there are exceptions to the rule, since, as I have already pointed out,⁷⁸ all exordia are not delivered in the same manner. But, generally speaking, a quiet voice, a modest gesture, a toga sitting well upon the shoulder, and a gentle motion of the sides to right and left, accompanied by a corresponding movement of the eyes, will all be found to produce a becoming effect. [162] In the statement of facts the hand should on most occasions be further extended, the toga allowed to slip back, the gestures sharply distinguished and the voice colloquial, but slightly more emphatic, while there should also be uniformity of tone. Such, at any rate, should be the delivery of a passage such as the following:⁷⁹ “For Quintus Ligarius, since there was no hint of the likelihood of the war in Africa,” or⁸⁰ “Aulus Cluentius Habitus, this man's father.” But different methods may be called for in this same portion of the speech, in passionate utterances such as, “The mother-in-law weds her son-in-law,”⁸¹ or in pathetic passages such [p. 335] as, “There in the market-place of Laodicea was displayed a grievous and afflicting spectacle for all the province of Asia to behold.” [163] ⁸² The proofs, however, require the utmost variety of delivery. For to state them and distinguish between their various points, and to examine witnesses, we employ something not far removed from a colloquial tone, as is also the case in anticipating objections, which is really another form of statement. But in all these cases we sometimes deride, and sometimes mimic our opponents. [164] Argument, being as a rule of a livelier, more energetic and aggressive character, demands a type of gesture adapted to its style, that is to say, it should be bold and rapid. There are certain portions of our arguments that require to be pressed home with energy, and in these our style must be compact and concentrated. Digressions, as a rule, are characterised by gentleness, calm and placidity, as, for example, in Cicero's description of the Rape of Proserpine,⁸³ his picture of Sicily,⁸⁴ or his panegyric of Pompey.⁸⁵ For naturally passages which deal with subjects lying outside the main question in dispute demand a less combative tone. [165] There are occasions on which we may adopt a gentle manner in depreciating our opponents by giving a picture of their character, as in the following passage:⁸⁶ “I seemed to see some persons entering the room and others leaving it, while others were staggering to and fro under the influence of wine.” Under such circumstances we may even allow the gesture to match the voice, and may employ a gentle movement from side to side: but this motion should be confined to the hands, and there should be no movement of the flanks. [166] There are a number of gradations of tone which may be [p. 337] employed to kindle the feeling of the judges. The most vehement tones that an orator is ever called upon to use will be employed in passages such as the following:⁸⁷ “When the war was begun, Caesar, and was, in fact, well on its way to a conclusion.” For he has just said: “I will use my voice to its fullest power, that all the Roman people may hear me.” On the other hand, a lower tone, not devoid of a certain charm, should be employed in passages such as:⁸⁸ “What was that sword of yours doing, 'Tubero, that sword that was drawn on the field of Pharsalus?” [167] But the utterance must be fuller, slower, and consequently sweeter, when the orator says,⁸⁹ “But in an assembly of the Homan people, and when he was performing his official functions.” In this passage every sound should e drawn out, we should dwell upon the vowel-sounds and speak fill-throated. Still fuller should be the stream of our voice in the invocation,⁹⁰ “You, hills and groves of Alba”; while a tone not far removed from chanting, and dying away to a cadence, should be employed in delivering the phrase,⁹¹ “Rocks and solitudes answer to the voice.” [168] These are the modulations denounced by Demosthenes⁹² and Aeschines,⁹³ but they do not necessarily for that reason merit our disapprobation. For as each of these orators taunts the other with making use of them, it is clear that they were employed by both. We may be sure that Demosthenes did not restrict himself to his ordinary simplicity of tone when he swore by those that fought for their country at Marathon, Plataea and Salamis,⁹⁴ nor did Aeschines employ a colloquial utterance when he lamented for the fate of Thebes.⁹⁵ [169] There is also an entirely different tone, which might be described as lying almost [p. 339] outside the range of the instrument. The Greeks call it bitterness, and it consists in an extravagant acerbity almost beyond the compass of the human voice. It is employed in passages such as,⁹⁶ “Why do you not restrain those cries, the proof of your folly and the evidence of your small numbers?” But the extravagance of which I spoke will come in at the opening, where the orator cries, “Why do you not restrain?”

[170] The peroration, if it involves a recapitulation, requires an even utterance of short, clear-cut clauses. If, on the other hand, it is designed to stir the emotions of the judges, it will demand some of the qualities already mentioned. If it aims at soothing them, it should How softly; if it is to rouse them to pity, the voice must be delicately modulated to a melancholy sweetness, which is at once most natural and specially adapted to touch the heart. For it may be noted that even orphans and widows have a certain musical quality in the lamentations which they utter at funerals. [171] A muffled voice, such as Cicero⁹⁷ says was possessed by Antonius, will also be exceedingly effective under such circumstances, since it has just the natural tone which we seek to imitate. Appeals to pity are, however, of two kinds: they may be marked by an admixture of indignation, as in the passage just quoted⁹⁸ describing the condemnation of Philodamus, or they may be coupled with appeals for mercy, in which case their tone will be more subdued. [172] Therefore although there is a suggestion of the chanting tone in the delivery of such passages as “In an assembly of the Roman people” (for he did not utter these words in a contentious tone), or in [p. 341] “Ye hills and groves of Alba” (for he did not say this as though he were appealing to them or calling them to witness), the ensuing phrases⁹⁹ require infinitely greater modulation and longer-drawn harmonies: “Ah, woe is me, unhappy that I am!” and “What shall I reply to my children?” and “You, Milo, had the power to recall me to my country with the aid of these men, and shall I be powerless by their aid to keep you in that same country, your native land and mine?” or when he offers to sell the property of Gaius Rabirius at one sesterce, “Ah, what a sad and bitter task my voice is called on to perform!”¹⁰⁰ Again, [173] it is a most effective device to confess in the peroration that the strain of grief and fatigue is overpowering, and that our strength is sinking beneath them, as Cicero does in his defence of Milo:¹⁰¹ “But here I must make an end: I can no longer speak for tears.” And in such passages our delivery must conform to our words. [174] It may be thought that there are other points which should be mentioned in connexion with the duties of the orator in this portion of his speech, such as calling forward the accused, lifting up his children for the court to see, producing his kinsfolk, and rending his garments; but they have been dealt with in their proper place.¹⁰²

Such being the variety entailed by the different portions of our pleading, it is sufficiently clear that our delivery must be adapted to our matter, as I have already shown, and sometimes also, though not always conform to our actual words, as I have just remarked.¹⁰³ [175] For instance, must not the words, “This poor wretched, poverty-stricken man,” be uttered in a low, subdued tone, whereas, “A hold and violent fellow and a robber,” is a phrase [p. 343] requiring a strong and energetic utterance? For such conformity gives a force and appropriateness to our matter, and without it the expression of the voice will be out of harmony with our thought. [176] Again, what of the fact that a change of delivery may make precisely the same words either demonstrate or affirm, express reproach, denial, wonder or indignation, interrogation, mockery or depreciation? For the word “thou” is given a different expression in each of the following passages:

Thou this poor kingdom dost on me bestow.

Aen. i. 78.

and

Thou vanquish him in song?

Ecl. iii. 25.

and

Art thou, then, that Aeneas?

Aen i. 617.

and

And of fear,
Do thou accuse me, Drances!

Aen. xi. 383.

To cut a long matter short, if my reader will take this or any other word he chooses and run it through the whole gamut of emotional expression, he will realise the truth of what I say.

[177] There is one further remark which I must add, namely, that while what is becoming is the main consideration in delivery, different methods will often suit different speakers. For this is determined by a principle which, though it is obscure and can hardly be expressed in words, none the less exists: and, though it is a true saying¹⁰⁴ that “the main secret of artistic success is that whatever we do should become us well,” none the less, despite the fact that such success cannot be [p. 345] attained without art, it is impossible entirely to communicate the secret by the rules of art. [178] There are some persons in whom positive excellences have no charm, while there are others whose very faults give pleasure. We have seen the greatest of comic actors, Demetrius and Stratocles, win their success by entirely different merits. But that is the less surprising owing to the fact that the one was at his best in the rôles of gods, young men, good fathers and slaves, matrons and respectable old women, while the other excelled in the portrayal of sharptempered old men, cunning slaves, parasites, pimps and all the more lively characters of comedy. For their natural gifts differed. For Demetrius' voice, like his other qualities, had greater charm, while that of Stratocles was the more powerful. [179] But yet more noticeable were the incommunicable peculiarities of their action. Demetrius showed unique gifts in the movements of his hands, in his power to charm his audience by the longdrawn sweetness of his exclamations, the skill with which he would make his dress seem to puff out with wind as he walked, and the expressive movements of the right side which he sometimes introduced with effect, in all of which things he was helped by his stature and personal beauty. [180] On the other hand, Stratocles' forte lay in his nimbleness and rapidity of movement, in his laugh (which, though not always in keeping with the character lie represented, he deliberately employed to awaken answering laughter in his audience), and finally, even in the way in which he sank his neck into his shoulders. If either of these actors had attempted any of his rival's tricks, he would have produced a [p. 347] most unbecoming effect. Consequently, every man must get to know his own peculiarities and must consult not merely the general rules of technique, but his own nature as well with a view to forming his delivery. [181] But there is no law of heaven which prohibits the possession of all or at any rate the majority of styles by one and the same person. I must conclude this topic with a remark which applies to all my other topics as well, that the prime essential is a sense of proportion. For I am not trying to form a comic actor, but an orator. Consequently, we need not study all the details of gesture nor, as regards our speaking, be pedantic in the use we make of the rules governing punctuation, rhythm and appeals to the emotions. [182] For example, if an actor has to speak the following lines on the stage:¹⁰⁵

“What shall I do then? Not go, even now,
Now when she calls me? Or shall I steel my soul
No longer to endure a harlot's insults?
”

he will hesitate as in doubt, will vary the modulations of his voice, together with the movements of hand and head. But oratory has a different flavour and objects to elaborate condiments, since it consists in serious pleading, not in mimicry. [183] There is, therefore, good reason for the condemnation passed on a delivery which entails the continual alteration of facial expression, annoying restlessness of gesture and gusty changes of tone. And it was a wise saying that the ancient orators borrowed from the Greeks, as is recorded by Popilius Laenas, to the effect that there is too much “business” in such delivery. [184] The instructions given by Cicero on this subject, as on all others, are quite admirable; I allude to the passages [p. 349] which I have already quoted from his Orator,¹⁰⁶ while there are similar observations in the Brutus¹⁰⁷ with reference to Marcus Antonius. But to-day a rather more violent form of delivery has come into fashion and is demanded of our orators: it is well adapted to certain portions of a speech, but requires to be kept under control. Otherwise, in our attempt to ape the elegances of the stage, we shall lose the authority which should characterise the man of dignity and virtue.