Book 1

Having at length, after twenty years devoted to the training of the young, obtained leisure for study, I was asked by certain of my friends to write something on the art of speaking. For a long time I resisted their entreaties, since I was well aware that some of the most distinguished Greek and Roman writers had bequeathed to posterity a number of works dealing with this subject, to the composition of which they had devoted the utmost care.

This seemed to me to be an admirable excuse for my refusal, but served merely to increase their enthusiasm. They urged that previous writers on the subject had expressed different and at times contradictory opinions, between which it was very difficult to choose. They thought therefore that they were justified in imposing on me the task, if not of discovering original views, at least of passing definite judgment on those expressed by my predecessors.

I was moved to comply not so much because I felt confidence that I was equal to the task, as because I had a certain compunction about refusing. The subject proved more extensive than I had first imagined; but finally I volunteered to shoulder a task which was on a far larger scale than that which I was originally asked to undertake. I wished on the one hand to oblige my very good friends beyond their requests, and on the other to avoid the beaten track and the necessity of treading where others had gone before.

For almost all others who have written on the art of oratory have started with the assumption that their readers were perfect in all other branches of education and that their own task was merely to put the finishing touches to their rhetorical training; this is due to the fact that they either despised the preliminary stages of education or thought that they were not their concern, since the duties of the different branches of education are distinct one from another, or else, and this is nearer the truth, because they had no hope of making a remunerative display of their talent in dealing with subjects, which, although necessary, are far from being showy: just as in architecture it is the superstructure and not the foundations which attracts the eye.

I on the other hand hold that the art of oratory includes all that is essential for the training of an orator, and that it is impossible to reach the summit in any subject unless we have first passed through all the elementary stages. I shall not therefore refuse to stoop to the consideration of those minor details, neglect of which may result in there being no opportunity for more important things, and propose to mould the studies of my orator from infancy, on the assumption that his whole education has been entrusted to my charge.

This work I dedicate to you, Marcellus Victorius. You have been the truest of friends to me and you have shown a passionate enthusiasm for literature. But good as these reasons are, they are not the only reasons that lead me to regard you as especially worthy of such a pledge of our mutual affection. There is also the consideration that this book should prove of service in the education of your son Geta, who, young though he is, already shows clear promise of real talent. It has been my design to lead my reader from the very cradle of speech through all the stages of education which can be of any service to our budding orator till we have reached the very summit of the art.

I have been all the more desirous of so doing because two books on the art of rhetoric are at present circulating under my name, although never published by me or composed for such a purpose. One is a two days' lecture which was taken down by the boys who were my audience. The other consists of such notes as my good pupils succeeded in taking down from a course of lectures on a somewhat more extensive scale: I appreciate their kindness, but they showed an excess of enthusiasm and a certain lack of discretion in doing my utterances the honour of publication.

Consequently in the present work although some passages remain the same, you will find many alterations and still more additions, while the whole theme will be treated with greater system and with as great perfection as lies within my power.

My aim, then, is the education of the perfect orator. The first essential for such an one is that he should be a good man, and consequently we demand of him not merely the possession of exceptional gifts of speech, but of all the excellences of character as well.

For I will not admit that the principles of upright and honourable living should, as some have held, be regarded as the peculiar concern of philosophy. The man who can really play his part as a citizen and is capable of meeting the demands both of public and private business, the man who can guide a state by his counsels, give it a firm basis by his legislation and purge its vices by his decisions as a judge, is assuredly no other than the orator of our quest.

Wherefore, although I admit I shall make use of certain of the principles laid down in philosophical textbooks, I would insist that such principles have a just claim to form part of the subject-matter of this work and do actually belong to the art of oratory.

I shall frequently be compelled to speak of such virtues as courage, justice, self-control; in fact scarcely a case comes up in which some one of these virtues is not involved; every one of them requires illustration and consequently makes a demand on the imagination and eloquence of the pleader. I ask you then, can there be any doubt that, wherever imaginative power and amplitude of diction are required, the orator has a specially important part to play?

These two branches of knowledge were, as Cicero has clearly shown, so closely united, not merely in theory but in practice, that the same men were regarded as uniting the qualifications of orator and philosopher. Subsequently this single branch of study split up into its component parts, and thanks to the indolence of its professors was regarded as consisting of several distinct subjects. As soon as speaking became a means of livelihood and the practice of making an evil use of the blessings of eloquence came into vogue, those who had a reputation for eloquence ceased to study moral philosophy, and ethics, thus abandoned by the orators, became the prey of weaker intellects. As a consequence certain persons, disdaining the toil of learning to speak well, returned to the task of forming character and establishing rules of life and kept to themselves what is, if we must make a division, the better part of philosophy, but presumptuously laid claim to the sole possession of the title of philosopher, a distinction which neither the greatest generals nor the most famous statesmen and administrators have ever dared to claim for themselves. For they preferred the performance to the promise of great deeds.

I am ready to admit that many of the old philosophers inculcated the most excellent principles and practised what they preached. But in our own day the name of philosopher has too often been the mask for the worst vices. For their attempt has not been to win the name of philosopher by virtue and the earnest search for wisdom; instead they have sought to disguise the depravity of their characters by the assumption of a stern and austere mien accompanied by the wearing of a garb differing from that of their fellow men.

Now as a matter of fact we all of us frequently handle those themes which philosophy claims for its own. Who, short of being an utter villain, does not speak of justice, equity and virtue? Who (and even common country-folk are no exception) does not make some inquiry into the causes of natural phenomena? As for the special uses and distinctions of words, they should be a subject of study common to all who give any thought to the meaning of language.

But it is surely the orator who will have the greatest mastery of all such departments of knowledge and the greatest power to express it in words. And if ever he had reached perfection, there would be no need to go to the schools of philosophy for the precepts of virtue. As things stand, it is occasionally necessary to have recourse to those authors who have, as I said above, usurped the better part of the art of oratory after its desertion by the orators and to demand back what is ours by right, not with a view to appropriating their discoveries, but to show them that they have appropriated what in truth belonged to others.

Let our ideal orator then be such as to have a genuine title to the name of philosopher: it is not sufficient that he should be blameless in point of character (for I cannot agree with those who hold this opinion): he must also be a thorough master of the science and the art of speaking, to an extent that perhaps no orator has yet attained.

Still we must none the less follow the ideal, as was done by not a few of the ancients, who, though they refused to admit that the perfect sage had yet been found, none the less handed down precepts of wisdom for the use of posterity.

Perfect eloquence is assuredly a reality, which is not beyond the reach of human intellect. Even if we fail to reach it, those whose aspirations are highest, will attain to greater heights than those who abandon themselves to premature despair of ever reaching the goal and halt at the very foot of the ascent.

I have therefore all the juster claim to indulgence, if I refuse to pass by those minor details which are none the less essential to my task. My first book will be concerned with the education preliminary to the duties of the teacher of rhetoric. My second will deal with the rudiments of the schools of rhetoric and with problems connected with the essence of rhetoric itself.

The next five will be concerned with Invention, in which I include Arrangement. The four following will be assigned to Eloquence, under which head I include Memory and Delivery. Finally there will be one book in which our complete orator will be delineated; as far as my feeble powers permit, I shall discuss his character, the rules which should guide him in undertaking, studying and pleading cases, the style of his eloquence, the time at which he should cease to plead cases and the studies to which he should devote himself after such cessation.

In the course of these discussions I shall deal in its proper place with the method of teaching by which students will acquire not merely a knowledge of those things to which the name of art is restricted by certain theorists, and will not only come to understand the laws of rhetoric, but will acquire that which will increase their powers of speech and nourish their eloquence.

For as a rule the result of the dry textbooks on the art of rhetoric is that by straining after excessive subtlety they impair and cripple all the nobler elements of style, exhaust the lifeblood of the imagination and leave but the bare bones, which, while it is right and necessary that they should exist and be bound each to each by their respective ligaments, require a covering of flesh as well.

I shall therefore avoid the precedent set by the majority and shall not restrict myself to this narrow conception of my theme, but shall include in my twelve books a brief demonstration of everything which may seem likely to contribute to the education of an orator. For if I were to attempt to say all that might be said on each subject, the book would never be finished.

There is however one point which I must emphasise before I begin, which is this. Without natural gifts technical rules are useless. Consequently the student who is devoid of talent will derive no more profit from this work than barren soil from a treatise on agriculture.

There are, it is true, other natural aids, such as the possession of a good voice and robust lungs, sound health, powers of endurance and grace, and if these are possessed only to a moderate extent, they may be improved by methodical training. In some cases, however, these gifts are lacking to such an extent that their absence is fatal to all such advantages as talent and study can confer, while, similarly, they are of no profit in themselves unless cultivated by skilful teaching, persistent study and continuous and extensive practice in writing, reading and speaking.

I would, therefore, have a father conceive the highest hopes of his son from the moment of his birth. If he does so, he will be more careful about the groundwork of his education. For there is absolutely no foundation for the complaint that but few men have the power to take in the knowledge that is imparted to them, and that the majority are so slow of understanding that education is a waste of time and labour. On the contrary you will find that most are quick to reason and ready to learn. Reasoning comes as naturally to man as flying to birds, speed to horses and ferocity to beasts of prey: our minds are endowed by nature with such activity and sagacity that the soul is believed to proceed from heaven.

Those who are dull and unteachable are as abnormal as prodigious births and monstrosities, and are but few in number. A proof of what I say is to be found in the fact that boys commonly show promise of many accomplishments, and when such promise dies away as they grow up, this is plainly due not to the failure of natural gifts, but to lack of the requisite care. But, it will be urged, there are degrees of talent.

Undoubtedly, I reply, and there will be a corresponding variation in actual accomplishment: but that there are any who gain nothing from education, I absolutely deny. The man who shares this conviction, must, as soon as he becomes a father, devote the utmost care to fostering the promise shown by the son whom he destines to become an orator.

Above all see that the child's nurse speaks correctly. The ideal, according to Chrysippus, would be that she should be a philosopher: failing that he desired that the best should be chosen, as far as possible. No doubt the most important point is that they should be of good character: but they should speak correctly as well.

It is the nurse that the child first hears, and her words that he will first attempt to imitate. And we are by nature most tenacious of childish impressions, just as the flavour first absorbed by vessels when new persists, and the colour imparted by dyes to the primitive whiteness of wool is indelible. Further it is the worst impressions that are most durable. For, while what is good readily deteriorates, you will never turn vice into virtue. Do not therefore allow the boy to become accustomed even in infancy to a style of speech which he will subsequently have to unlearn.

As regards parents, I should like to see them as highly educated as possible, and I do not restrict this remark to fathers alone. We are told that the eloquence of the Gracchi owed much to their mother Cornelia, whose letters even to-day testify to the cultivation of her style. Laelia, the daughter of Gaius Laelius, is said to have reproduced the elegance of her father's language in her own speech, while the oration delivered before the triumvirs by Hortensia, the daughter of Quintus Hortensius, is still read and not merely as a compliment to her sex.

And even those who have not had the fortune to receive a good education should not for that reason devote less care to their son's education; but should on the contrary show all the greater diligence in other matters where they can be of service to their children.

As regards the boys in whose company our budding orator is to be brought up, I would repeat what I have said about nurses. As regards his paedagogi, I would urge that they should have had a thorough education, or if they have not, that they should be aware of the fact. There are none worse than those, who as soon as they have progressed beyond a knowledge of the alphabet delude themselves into the belief that they are the possessors of real knowledge. For they disdain to stoop to the drudgery of teaching, and conceiving that they have acquired a certain title to authority—a frequent source of vanity in such persons—become imperious or even brutal in instilling a thorough dose of their own folly.

Their misconduct is no less prejudicial to morals. We are, for instance, told by Diogenes of Babylon, that Leonides, Alexander's paedagogus, infected his pupil with certain faults, which as a result of his education as a boy clung to him even in his maturer years when he had become the greatest of kings.

If any of my readers regards me as somewhat exacting in my demands, I would ask him to reflect that it is no easy task to create an orator, even though his education be carried out under the most favourable circumstances, and that further and greater difficulties are still before us. For continuous application, the very best of teachers and a variety of exercises are necessary.

Therefore the rules which we lay down for the education of our pupil must be of the best. If anyone refuses to be guided by them, the fault will lie not with the method, but with the individual. Still if it should prove impossible to secure the ideal nurse, the ideal companions, or the ideal paedagogus, I would insist that there should be one person at any rate attached to the boy who has some knowledge of speaking and who will, if any incorrect expression should be used by nurse or paedagogus in the presence of the child under their charge, at once correct the error and prevent its becoming a habit. But it must be clearly understood that this is only a remedy, and that the ideal course is that indicated above.

I prefer that a boy should begin with Greek, because Latin, being in general use, will be picked up by him whether we will or no; while the fact that Latin learning is derived from Greek is a further reason for his being first instructed in the latter.

I do not however desire that this principle should be so superstitiously observed that he should for long speak and learn only Greek, as is done in the majority of cases. Such a course gives rise to many faults of language and accent; the latter tends to acquire a foreign intonation, while the former through force of habit becomes impregnated with Greek idioms, which persist with extreme obstinacy even when we are speaking another tongue.

The study of Latin ought therefore to follow at no great distance and in a short time proceed side by side with Greek. The result will be that, as soon as we begin to give equal attention to both languages, neither will prove a hindrance to the other.

Some hold that boys should not be taught to read till they are seven years old, that being the earliest age at which they can derive profit from instruction and endure the strain of learning. Most of them attribute this view to Hesiod, at least such as lived before the time of Aristophanes the grammarian, who was the first to deny that the Hypothecae, in which this opinion is expressed, was the work of that poet.

But other authorities, among them Eratosthenes, give the same advice. Those however who hold that a child's mind should not be allowed to lie fallow for a moment are wiser. Chrysippus, for instance, though he gives the nurses a three years' reign, still holds the formation of the child's mind on the best principles to be a part of their duties.

Why, again, since children are capable of moral training, should they not be capable of literary education? I am well aware that during the whole period of which I am speaking we can expect scarcely the same amount of progress that one year will effect afterwards. Still those who disagree with me seem in taking this line to spare the teacher rather than the pupil.

What better occupation can a child have so soon as he is able to speak? And he must be kept occupied somehow or other. Or why should we despise the profit to be derived before the age of seven, small though it be? For though the knowledge absorbed in the previous years may be but little, yet the boy will be learning something more advanced during that year, in which he would otherwise have been occupied with something more elementary.

Such progress each successive year increases the total, and the time gained during childhood is clear profit to the period of youth. Further as regards the years which follow I must emphasise the importance of learning what has to be learnt in good time. Let us not therefore waste the earliest years: there is all the less excuse for this, since the elements of literary training are solely a question of memory, which not only exists even in small children, but is specially retentive at that age.

I am not however so blind to differences of age as to think that the very young should be forced on prematurely or given real work to do. Above all things we must take care that the child, who is not yet old enough to love his studies, does not come to hate them and dread the bitterness which he has once tasted, even when the years of infancy are left behind. His studies must be made an amusement: he must be questioned and praised and taught to rejoice when he has done well; sometimes too, when he refuses instruction, it should be given to some other to excite his envy, at times also he must be engaged in competition and should be allowed to believe himself successful more often than not, while he should be encouraged to do his best by such rewards as may appeal to his tender years.

These instructions may seem but trivialities in view of the fact that I am professing to describe the education of an orator. But studies, like men, have their infancy, and as the training of the body which is destined to grow to the fulness of strength begins while the child is in his cradle and at his mother's breast, so even the man who is destined to rise to the heights of eloquence was once a squalling babe, tried to speak in stammering accents and was puzzled by the shapes of letters. Nor does the fact that capacity for learning is inadequate, prove that it is not necessary to learn anything.

No one blames a father because he thinks that such details should on no account be neglected in the case of his own son. Why then should he be criticised who sets down for the benefit of the public what he would be right to put into practice in his own house? There is this further reason why he should not be blamed. Small children are better adapted for taking in small things, and just as the body can only be trained to certain flexions of the limbs while it is young and supple, so the acquisition of strength makes the mind offer greater resistance to the acquisition of most subjects of knowledge.

Would Philip of Macedon have wished that his son Alexander should be taught the rudiments of letters by Aristotle, the greatest philosopher of that age, or would the latter have undertaken the task, if he had not thought that even the earliest instruction is best given by the most perfect teacher and has real reference to the whole of education?

Let us assume therefore that Alexander has been confided to our charge and that the infant placed in our lap deserves no less attention than he—though for that matter every man's child deserves equal attention. Would you be ashamed even in teaching him the alphabet to point out some brief rules for his education? At any rate I am not satisfied with the course (which I note is usually adopted) of teaching small children the names and order of the letters before their shapes.

Such a practice makes them slow to recognise the letters, since they do not pay attention to their actual shape, preferring to be guided by what they have already learned by rote. It is for this reason that teachers, when they think they have sufficiently familiarised their young pupils with the letters written in their usual order, reverse that order or rearrange it in every kind of combination, until they learn to know the letters from their appearance and not from the order in which they occur. It will be best therefore for children to begin by learning their appearance and names just as they do with men.

The method, however, to which we have objected in teaching the alphabet, is unobjectionable when applied to syllables. I quite approve on the other hand of a practice which has been devised to stimulate children to learn by giving them ivory letters to play with, as I do of anything else that may be discovered to delight the very young, the sight, handling and naming of which is a pleasure.

As soon as the child has begun to know the shapes of the various letters, it will be no bad thing to have them cut as accurately as possible upon a board, so that the pen may be guided along the grooves. Thus mistakes such as occur with wax tablets will be rendered impossible; for the pen will be confined between the edges of the letters and will be prevented from going astray. Further by increasing the frequency and speed with which they follow these fixed outlines we shall give steadiness to the fingers, and there will be no need to guide the child's hand with our own.

The art of writing well and quickly is not unimportant for our purpose, though it is generally disregarded by persons of quality. Writing is of the utmost importance in the study which we have under consideration and by its means alone can true and deeply rooted proficiency be obtained. But a sluggish pen delays our thoughts, while an unformed and illiterate hand cannot be deciphered, a circumstance which necessitates another wearisome task, namely the dictation of what we have written to a copyist.

We shall therefore at all times and in all places, and above all when we are writing private letters to our friends, find a gratification in the thought that we have not neglected even this accomplishment.

As regards syllables, no short cut is possible: they must all be learnt, and there is no good in putting off learning the most difficult; this is the general practice, but the sole result is bad spelling.

Further we must beware of placing a blind confidence in a child's memory. It is better to repeat syllables and impress them on the memory and, when he is reading, not to press him to read continuously or with greater speed, unless indeed the clear and obvious sequence of letters can suggest itself without its being necessary for the child to stop to think. The syllables once learnt, let him begin to construct words with them and sentences with the words.

You will hardly believe how much reading is delayed by undue haste. If the child attempts more than his powers allow, the inevitable result is hesitation, interruption and repetition, and the mistakes which he makes merely lead him to lose confidence in what he already knows.

Reading must therefore first be sure, then connected, while it must be kept slow for a considerable time, until practice brings speed unaccompanied by error.

For to look to the right, which is regularly taught, and to look ahead depends not so much on precept as on practice; since it is necessary to keep the eyes on what follows while reading out what precedes, with the resulting difficulty that the attention of the mind must be divided, the eyes and voice being differently engaged. It will be found worth while, when the boy begins to write out words in accordance with the usual practice, to see that he does not waste his labour in writing out common words of everyday occurrence.

He can readily learn the explanations or glosses, as the Greeks call them, of the more obscure words by the way and, while he is still engaged on the first rudiments, acquire what would otherwise demand special time to be devoted to it. And as we are still discussing minor details, I would urge that the lines, which he is set to copy, should not express thoughts of no significance, but convey some sound moral lesson.

He will remember such aphorisms even when he is an old man, and the impression made upon his unformed mind will contribute to the formation of his character. He may also be entertained by learning the sayings of famous men and above all selections from the poets, poetry being more attractive to children. For memory is most necessary to an orator, as I shall point out in its proper place, and there is nothing like practice for strengthening and developing it. And at the tender age of which we are now speaking, when originality is impossible, memory is almost the only faculty which can be developed by the teacher.

It will be worth while, by way of improving the child's pronunciation and distinctness of utterance, to make him rattle off a selection of names and lines of studied difficulty: they should be formed of a number of syllables which go ill together and should be harsh and rugged in sound: the Greeks call them gags. This sounds a trifling matter, but its omission will result in numerous faults of pronunciation, which, unless removed in early years, will become a perverse and incurable habit and persist through life.

But the time has come for the boy to grow up little by little, to leave the nursery and tackle his studies in good earnest. This therefore is the place to discuss the question as to whether it is better to have him educated privately at home or hand him over to some large school and those whom I may call public instructors.

The latter course has, I know, won the approval of most eminent authorities and of those who have formed the national character of the most famous states. It would, however, be folly to shut our eyes to the fact that there are some who disagree with this preference for public education owing to a certain prejudice in favour of private tuition. These persons seem to be guided in the main by two principles. In the interests of morality they would avoid the society of a number of human beings at an age that is specially liable to acquire serious faults: I only wish I could deny the truth of the view that such education has often been the cause of the most discreditable actions. Secondly they hold that whoever is to be the boy's teacher, he will devote his time more generously to one pupil than if he has to divide it among several.

The first reason certainly deserves serious consideration. If it were proved that schools, while advantageous to study, are prejudicial to morality, I should give my vote for virtuous living in preference to even supreme excellence of speaking. But in my opinion the two are inseparable. I hold that no one can be a true orator unless he is also a good man and, even if he could be, I would not have it so. I will therefore deal with this point first. It is held that schools corrupt the morals.

It is true that this is sometimes the case. But morals may be corrupted at home as well. There are numerous instances of both, as there are also of the preservation of a good reputation under either circumstance. The nature of the individual boy and the care devoted to his education make all the difference. Given a natural bent toward evil or negligence in developing and watching over modest behaviour in early years, privacy will provide equal opportunity for sin. The teacher employed at home may be of bad character, and there is just as much danger in associating with bad slaves as there is with immodest companions of good birth.

On the other hand if the natural bent be towards virtue, and parents are not afflicted with a blind and torpid indifference, it is possible to choose a teacher of the highest character (and those who are wise will make this their first object), to adopt a method of education of the strictest kind and at the same time to attach some respectable man or faithful freedman to their son as his friend and guardian, that his unfailing companionship may improve the character even of those who gave rise to apprehension.

Yet how easy were the remedy for such fears. Would that we did not too often ruin our children's character ourselves! We spoil them from the cradle. That soft upbringing, which we call kindness, saps all the sinews both of mind and body. If the child crawls on purple, what will he not desire when he comes to manhood? Before he can talk he can distinguish scarlet and cries for the very best brand of purple. We train their palates before we teach their lips to speak.

They grow up in litters: if they set foot to earth, they are supported by the hands of attendants on either side. We rejoice if they say something over-free, and words which we should not tolerate from the lips even of an Alexandrian page are greeted with laughter and a kiss. We have no right to be surprised. It was we that taught them:

they hear us use such words, they see our mistresses and minions; every dinner party is loud with foul songs, and things are presented to their eyes of which we should blush to speak. Hence springs habit, and habit in time becomes second nature. The poor children learn these things before they know them to be wrong. They become luxurious and effeminate, and far from acquiring such vices at schools, introduce them themselves.

I now turn to the objection that one master can live more attention to one pupil. In the first place there is nothing to prevent the principle of one teacher, one boy being combined with school education. And even if such a combination should prove impossible, I should still prefer the broad daylight of a respectable school to the solitude and obscurity of a private education. For all the best teachers pride themselves on having a large number of pupils and think themselves worthy of a bigger audience.

On the other hand in the case of inferior teachers a consciousness of their own defects not seldom reconciles them to being attached to a single pupil and playing the part—for it amounts to little more—of a mere paedagogus.

But let us assume that influence, money or friendship succeed in securing a paragon of learning to teach the boy at home. Will he be able to devote the whole day to one pupil? Or can we demand such continuous attention on the part of the learner? The mind is as easily tired as the eye, if given no relaxation. Moreover by far the larger proportion of the learner's time ought to be devoted to private study.

The teacher does not stand over him while he is writing or thinking or learning by heart. While he is so occupied the intervention of anyone, be he who he may, is a hindrance. Further, not all reading requires to be first read aloud or interpreted by a master. If it did, how would the boy ever become acquainted with all the authors required of him? A small time only is required to give purpose and direction to the day's work, and consequently individual instruction can be given to more than one pupil.

There are moreover a large number of subjects in which it is desirable that instruction should be given to all the pupils simultaneously. I say nothing of the analyses and declamations of the professors of rhetoric: in such cases there is no limit to the number of the audience, as each individual pupil will in any case receive full value.

The voice of a lecturer is not like a dinner which will only suffice for a limited number; it is like the sun which distributes the same quantity of light and heat to all of us. So too with the teacher of literature. Whether he speak of style or expound disputed passages, explain stories or paraphrase poems, everyone who hears him will profit by his teaching.

But, it will be urged, a large class is unsuitable for the correction of faults or for explanation. It may be inconvenient: one cannot hope for absolute perfection; but I shall shortly contrast the inconvenience with the obvious advantages. Still I do not wish a boy to be sent where he will be neglected. But a good teacher will not burden himself with a larger number of pupils than he can manage, and it is further of the very first importance that he should be on friendly and intimate terms with us and make his teaching not a duty but a labour of love. Then there will never be any question of being swamped by the number of our fellow-learners.

Moreover any teacher who has the least tincture of literary culture will devote special attention to any boy who shows signs of industry and talent; for such a pupil will redound to his own credit. But even if large schools are to be avoided, a proposition from which I must dissent if the size be due to the excellence of the teacher, it does not follow that all schools are to be avoided. It is one thing to avoid them, another to select the best.

Having refuted these objections, let me now explain my own views.

It is above all things necessary that our future orator, who will have to live in the utmost publicity and in the broad daylight of public life, should become accustomed from his childhood to move in society without fear and habituated to a life far removed from that of the pale student, the solitary and recluse. His mind requires constant stimulus and excitement, whereas retirement such as has just been mentioned induces languor and the mind becomes mildewed like things that are left in the dark, or else flies to the opposite extreme and becomes puffed up with empty conceit; for he who has no standard of comparison by which to judge his own powers will necessarily rate them too high.

Again when the fruits of his study have to be displayed to the public gaze, our recluse is blinded by the sun's glare, and finds everything new and unfamiliar, for though he has learnt what is required to be done in public, his learning is but the theory of a hermit.

I say nothing of friendships which endure unbroken to old age having acquired the binding force of a sacred duty: for initiation in the same studies has all the sanctity of initiation in the same mysteries of religion. And where shall he acquire that instinct which we call common feeling, if he secludes himself from that intercourse which is natural not merely to mankind but even to dumb animals?

Further, at home he can only learn what is taught to himself, while at school he will learn what is taught others as well. He will hear many merits praised and many faults corrected every day: he will derive equal profit from hearing the indolence of a comrade rebuked or his industry commended.

Such praise will incite him to emulation, he will think it a disgrace to be outdone by his contemporaries and a distinction to surpass his seniors. All such incentives provide a valuable stimulus, and though ambition may be a fault in itself, it is often the mother of virtues.

I remember that my own masters had a practice which was not without advantages. Having distributed the boys in classes, they made the order in which they were to speak depend on their ability, so that the boy who had made most progress in his studies had the privilege of declaiming first.

The performances on these occasions were criticised. To win commendation was a tremendous honour, but the prize most eagerly coveted was to be the leader of the class. Such a position was not permanent. Once a month the defeated competitors were given a fresh opportunity of competing for the prize. Consequently success did not lead the victor to relax his efforts, while the vexation caused by defeat served as an incentive to wipe out the disgrace.

I will venture to assert that to the best of my memory this practice did more to kindle our oratorical ambitions than all the exhortations of our instructors, the watchfulness of our paedagogi and the prayers of our parents.

Further while emulation promotes progress in the more advanced pupils, beginners who are still of tender years derive greater pleasure from imitating their comrades than their masters, just because it is easier. For children still in the elementary stages of education can scarce dare hope to reach that complete eloquence which they understand to be their goal: their ambition will not soar so high, but they will imitate the vine which has to grasp the lower branches of the tree on which it is trained before it can reach the topmost boughs.

So true is this that it is the master's duty as well, if he is engaged on the task of training unformed minds and prefers practical utility to a more ambitious programme, not to burden his pupils at once with tasks to which their strength is unequal, but to curb his energies and refrain from talking over the heads of his audience.

Vessels with narrow mouths will not receive liquids if too much be poured into them at a time, but are easily filled if the liquid is admitted in a gentle stream or, it may be, drop by drop; similarly you must consider how much a child's mind is capable of receiving: the things which are beyond their grasp will not enter their minds, which have not opened out sufficiently to take them in.

It is a good thing therefore that a boy should have companions whom he will desire first to imitate and then to surpass: thus he will be led to aspire to higher achievement. I would add that the instructors themselves cannot develop the same intelligence and energy before a single listener as they can when inspired by the presence of a numerous audience.

For eloquence depends in the main on the state of the mind, which must be moved, conceive images and adapt itself to suit the nature of the subject which is the theme of speech. Further the loftier and the more elevated the mind, the more powerful will be the forces which move it: consequently praise gives it growth and effort increase, and the thought that it is doing something great fills it with joy.

The duty of stooping to expend that power of speaking which has been acquired at the cost of such effort upon an audience of one gives rise to a silent feeling of disdain, and the teacher is ashamed to raise his voice above the ordinary conversational level. Imagine the air of a declaimer, or the voice of an orator, his gait, his delivery, the movements of his body, the emotions of his mind, and, to go no further, the fatigue of his exertions, all for the sake of one listener! Would he not seem little less than a lunatic? No, there would be no such thing as eloquence, if we spoke only with one person at a time.

The skilful teacher will make it his first care, as soon as a boy is entrusted to him, to ascertain his ability and character. The surest indication in a child is his power of memory. The characteristics of a good memory are twofold: it must be quick to take in and faithful to retain impressions of what it receives. The indication of next importance is the power of imitation: for this is a sign that the child is teachable: but he must imitate merely what he is taught, and must not, for example, mimic someone's gait or bearing or defects.

For I have no hope that a child will turn out well who loves imitation merely for the purpose of raising a laugh. He who is really gifted will also above all else be good. For the rest, I regard slowness of intellect as preferable to actual badness. But a good boy will be quite unlike the dullard and the sloth.

My ideal pupil will absorb instruction with ease and will even ask some questions; but he will follow rather than anticipate his teacher. Precocious intellects rarely produce sound fruit.

By the precocious I mean those who perform small tasks with ease and, thus emboldened, proceed to display all their little accomplishments without being asked: but their accomplishments are only of the most obvious kind: they string words together and trot them out boldly and undeterred by the slightest sense of modesty. Their actual achievement is small, but what they can do they perform with ease.

They have no real power and what they have is but of shallow growth: it is as when we cast seed on the surface of the soil: it springs up too rapidly, the blade apes the loaded ear, and yellows ere harvest time, but bears no grain. Such tricks please us when we contrast them with the performer's age, but progress soon stops and our admiration withers away.

Such indications once noted, the teacher must next consider what treatment is to be applied to the mind of his pupil. There are some boys who are slack, unless pressed on; others again are impatient of control: some are amenable to fear, while others are paralysed by it: in some cases the mind requires continued application to form it, in others this result is best obtained by rapid concentration. Give me the boy who is spurred on by praise, delighted by success and ready to weep over failure.

Such an one must be encouraged by appeals to his ambition; rebuke will bite him to the quick; honour will be a spur, and there is no fear of his proving indolent.

Still, all our pupils will require some relaxation, not merely because there is nothing in this world that can stand continued strain and even unthinking and inanimate objects are unable to maintain their strength, unless given intervals of rest, but because study depends on the good will of the student, a quality that cannot be secured by compulsion.

Consequently if restored and refreshed by a holiday they will bring greater energy to their learning and approach their work with greater spirit of a kind that will not submit to be driven.

I approve of play in the young; it is a sign of a lively disposition; nor will you ever lead me to believe that a boy who is gloomy and in a continual state of depression is ever likely to show alertness of mind in his work, lacking as he does the impulse most natural to boys of his age.

Such relaxation must not however be unlimited: otherwise the refusal to give a holiday will make boys hate their work, while excessive indulgence will accustom them to idleness. There are moreover certain games which have an educational value for boys, as for instance when they compete in posing each other with all kinds of questions which they ask turn and turn about.

Games too reveal character in the most natural way, at least that is so if the teacher will bear in mind that there is no child so young as to be unable to learn to distinguish between right and wrong, and that the character is best moulded, when it is still guiltless of deceit and most susceptible to instruction: for once a bad habit has become engrained, it is easier to break than bend.

There must be no delay, then, in warning a boy that his actions must be unselfish, honest, self-controlled, and we must never forget the words of Virgil,

So strong is custom formed in early years.

I disapprove of flogging, although it is the regular custom and meets with the acquiescence of Chrysippus, because in the first place it is a disgraceful form of punishment and fit only for slaves, and is in any case an insult, as you will realise if you imagine its infliction at a later age. Secondly if a boy is so insensible to instruction that reproof is useless, he will, like the worst type of slave, merely become hardened to blows. Finally there will be absolutely no need of such punishment if the master is a thorough disciplinarian.

As it is, we try to make amends for the negligence of the boy's paedagogus, not by forcing him to do what is right, but by punishing him for not doing what is right. And though you may compel a child with blows, what are you to do with him when he is a young man no longer amenable to such threats and confronted with tasks of far greater difficulty?

Moreover when children are beaten, pain or fear frequently have results of which it is not pleasant to speak and which are likely subsequently to be a source of shame, a shame which unnerves and depresses the mind and leads the child to shun and loathe the light.

Further if inadequate care is taken in the choices of respectable governors and instructors, I blush to mention the shameful abuse which scoundrels sometimes make of their right to administer corporal punishment or the opportunity not infrequently offered to others by the fear thus caused in the victims. I will not linger on this subject; it is more than enough if I have made my meaning clear. I will content myself with saying that children are helpless and easily victimised, and that therefore no one should be given unlimited power over them.

I will now proceed to describe the subjects in which the boy must be trained, if he is to become an orator, and to indicate the age at which each should be commenced.

As soon as the boy has learned to read and write without difficulty, it is the turn for the teacher of literature. My words apply equally to Greek and Latin masters, though I prefer that a start should be made with a Greek:

in either case the method is the same. This profession may be most briefly considered under two heads, the art of speaking correctly and the interpretation of the poets; but there is more beneath the surface than meets the eye.

For the art of writing is combined with that of speaking, and correct reading precedes interpretation, while in each of these cases criticism has its work to perform. The old school of teachers indeed carried their criticism so far that they were not content with obelising lines or rejecting books whose titles they regarded as spurious, as though they were expelling a supposititious child from the family circle, but also drew up a canon of authors, from which some were omitted altogether.

Nor is it sufficient to have read the poets only; every kind of writer must be carefully studied, not merely for the subject matter, but for the vocabulary; for words often acquire authority from their use by a particular author. Nor can such training be regarded as complete if it stop short of music, for the teacher of literature has to speak of metre and rhythm: nor again if he be ignorant of astronomy, can he understand the poets; for they, to mention no further points, frequently give their indications of time by reference to the rising and setting of the stars. Ignorance of philosophy is an equal drawback, since there are numerous passages in almost every poem based on the most intricate questions of natural philosophy, while among the Greeks we have Empedocles and among our own poets Varro and Lucretius, all of whom have expounded their philosophies in verse.

No small powers of eloquence also are required to enable the teacher to speak appropriately and fluently on the various points which have just been mentioned. For this reason those who criticise the art of teaching literature as trivial and lacking in substance put themselves out of court. Unless the foundations of oratory are well and truly laid by the teaching of literature, the superstructure will collapse. The study of literature is a necessity for boys and the delight of old age, the sweet companion of our privacy and the sole branch of study which has more solid substance than display.

The elementary stages of the teaching of literature must not therefore be despised as trivial. It is of course an easy task to point out the difference between vowels and consonants, and to subdivide the latter into semivowels and mutes. But as the pupil gradually approaches the inner shrine of the sacred place, he will come to realise the intricacy of the subject, an intricacy calculated not merely to sharpen the wits of a boy, but to exercise even the most profound knowledge and erudition.

It is not every ear that can appreciate the correct sound of the different letters. It is fully as hard as to distinguish the different notes in music. But all teachers of literature will condescend to such minutiae: they will discuss for instance whether certain necessary letters are absent from the alphabet, not indeed when we are writing Greek words (for then we borrow two letters from them), but in the case of genuine Latin words:

for example in words such as seruus and uulgus we feel the lack of the Aeolic digamma; there is also a sound intermediate between u and i, for we do not pronounce optimum as we do opimum, while in here the sound is neither exactly e or i.

Again there is the question whether certain letters are not superfluous, not to mention the mark of the aspirate, to which, if it is required at all, there should be a corresponding symbol to indicate the opposite: for instance k, which is also used as an abbreviation for certain nouns, and q, which, though slanted slightly more by us, resembles both in sound and shape the Greek koppa, now used by the Greeks solely as a numerical sign: there is also x, the last letter of our own alphabet, which we could dispense with as easily as with psi.

Again the teacher of literature will have to determine whether certain vowels have not been consonantalised. For instance iam and etiam are both spelt with an i, uos and tuos both with a u. Vowels, however, when joined as vowels, either make one long vowel (compare the obsolete method of indicating a long vowel by doubling it as the equivalent of the circumflex), or a diphthong, though some hold that even three vowels can form a single syllable; this however is only possible if one or more assume the role of consonants.

He will also inquire why it is that there are two vowels which may be repeated, while a consonant can only be followed and modified by a different consonant. But i can follow i (for coniicit is derived from iacit): so too does u, witness the modern spelling of seruus and uulgus. He should also know that Cicero preferred to write aiio and Maaiiam with a double i; in that case one of them is consonantalised.

A boy therefore must learn both the peculiarities and the common characteristics of letters and must know how they are related to each other. Nor must he be surprised that scabillum is formed from scamnus or that a double-edged axe should be called bipennis from pinnus, sharp: for I would not have him fall into the same error as those who, supposing this word to be derived from his and pennae, think that it is a metaphor from the wings of birds.

He must not be content with knowing only those changes introduced by conjugation and prefixes, such as secat secuit, cadit excidit, caedit excīdit, calcat exculcat, to which might be added lotus from lauare and again inlotus with a thousand others. He must learn as well the changes that time has brought about even in nominatives. For just as names like Valesius and Fusius have become Valerius and Furius, so arbos, labos, vapos and even clamos and lases were the original forms.

And this same letter s, which has disappeared from these words, has itself in some cases taken the place of another letter. For our ancestors used to say mertare and pultare. They also said fordeum and faedi, using f instead of the aspirate as being a kindred letter. For the Greeks unlike us aspirate f like their own phi, as Cicero bears witness in the pro Fundanio, where he laughs at a witness who is unable to pronounce the first letter of that name.

In some cases again we have substituted b for other letters, as with Burrus, Bruges, and Belena.

The same letter too has turned duellum into bellum, and as a result some have ventured to call the Duelii Belii.

What of stlocus and stlites? What of the connexion between t and d, a connexion which makes it less surprising that on some of the older buildings of Rome and certain famous temples we should find the names Alexanter and Cassantra? What again of the interchange of o and u, of which examples may be found in Hecoba, notrix, Culcides and Pulixena, or to take purely Latin words dederont and probaueront? So too Odysseus, which the Aeolian dialect turned into Ulysseus, has been transformed by us into Ulixes.

Similarly e in certain cases held the place that is now occupied by i, as in Menerua, leber, magester, and Dioue victore in place of Dioui victori. It is sufficient for me to give a mere indication as regards these points, for I am not teaching, but merely advising those who have got to teach. The next subject to which attention must be given is that of syllables, of which I will speak briefly, when I come to deal with orthography. Following this the teacher concerned will note the number and nature of the parts of speech, although there is some dispute as to their number.

Earlier writers, among them Aristotle himself and Theodectes, hold that there are but three, verbs, nouns and convictions. Their view was that the force of language resided in the verbs, and the matter in the nouns (for the one is what we speak, the other that which we speak about), while the duty of the convinctions was to provide a link between the nouns and the verbs. I know that conjunction is the term in general use. But conviction seems to me to be the more accurate translation of the Greek.

Gradually the number was increased by the philosophers, more especially by the Stoics: articles were first added to the convinctions, then prepositions: to nouns appellations were added, then the pronoun and finally the participle, which holds a middle position between the verb and the noun. To the verb itself was added the adverb. Our own language dispenses with the articles, which are therefore distributed among the other parts of speech.

But interjections must be added to those already mentioned. Others however follow good authority in asserting that there are eight parts of speech. Among these I may mention Aristarchus and in our own day Palaemon, who classified the vocable or appellation as a species of the genus noun. Those on the other hand who distinguish between the noun and the vocable, make nine parts of speech. But yet again there are some who differentiate between the vocable and the appellation, saying that the vocable indicates concrete objects which can be seen and touched, such as a house or bed, while an appellation is something imperceptible either to sight or touch or to both, such as the wind, heaven, or virtue. They added also the asseveration, such as alas and the derivative such as fasciatim. But of these classifications I do not approve.

Whether we should translate προσηγορία by vocable or appellation, and whether it should be regarded as a species of noun, I leave to the decision of such as desire to express their opinion: it is a matter of no importance.

Boys should begin by learning to decline nouns and conjugate verbs: otherwise they will never be able to understand the next subject of study. This admonition would be superfluous but for the fact that most teachers, misled by a desire to show rapid progress, begin with what should really come at the end: their passion for displaying their pupils' talents in connexion with the more imposing aspects of their work serves but to delay progress and their short cut to knowledge merely lengthens the journey.

And yet a teacher who has acquired sufficient knowledge himself and is ready to teach what he has learned—and such readiness is all too rare—will not be content with stating that nouns have three genders or with mentioning those which are common to two or all three together.

Nor again shall I be in a hurry to regard it as a proof of real diligence, if he points out that there are irregular nouns of the kind called epicene by the Greeks, in which one gender implies both, or which in spite of being feminine or neuter in form indicate males or females respectively, as for instance Muraena and Glycerium.

A really keen and intelligent teacher will inquire into the origin of names derived from physical characteristics, such as Rufus or Longus, whenever their meaning is obscure, as in the case of Sulla, Burrus, Galba, Plautus, Pansa, Scaurus and the like; of names derived from accidents of birth such as Agrippa, Opiter, Cordus and Postumus, and again of names given after birth such as Vopiscus. Then there are names such as Cotta, Scipio, Laenas or Seranus, which originated in various ways.

It will also be found that names are frequently derived from races, places and many other causes. Further there are obsolete slave-names such as Marcipor or Publipor derived from the names of their owners. The teacher must also inquire whether there is not room for a sixth case in Greek and a seventh in Latin. For when I say wounded by a spear, the case is not a true ablative in Latin nor a true dative in Greek.

Again if we turn to verbs, who is so ill-educated as not to be familiar with their various kinds and qualities, their different persons and numbers. Such subjects belong to the elementary school and the rudiments of knowledge. Some, however, will find points undetermined by inflexion somewhat perplexing. For there are certain participles, about which there may be doubts as to whether they are really nouns or verbs, since their meaning varies with their use, as for example lectum and sapiens, while there are other verbs which resemble nouns, such as fraudator and nutritor.

Again itur in antiquam silvam is a peculiar usage. For there is no subject to serve as a starting point: fletur is a similar example. The passive may be used in different ways as for instance in panditur interea domus omnipotentis Olympi

Meanwhile the house of almighty Olympus is opened. and in totis usque adeo turbatur agris.

There is such confusion in all the fields.

Yet a third usage is found in urbs habitatur, whence we get phrases such as campus curritur and mare navigatur. Pransus and potus have a meaning which does not correspond to their form. And what of those verbs which are only partially conjugated? Some (as for instance fero) even suffer an entire change in the perfect. Others are used only in the third person, such as licet and piget, while some resemble nouns tending to acquire an adverbial meaning; for we say dictu and factu as we say noctu and diu, since these words are participial though quite different from dicto and facto.

Style has three kinds of excellence, correctness, lucidity and elegance (for many include the all-important quality of appropriateness under the heading of elegance). Its faults are likewise threefold, namely the opposites of these excellences. The teacher of literature therefore must study the rules for correctness of speech, these constituting the first part of his art.

The observance of these rules is concerned with either one or more words. I must now be understood to use verbum in its most general sense. It has of course two meanings; the one covers all the parts of which language is composed, as in the line of Horace:

Once supply the thought,

And words will follow swift as soon as sought the other restricts it to a part of speech such as lego and scribo. To avoid this ambiguity, some authorities prefer the terms voces, locutiones, dictiones.

Individual words will either be native or imported, simple or compound, literal or metaphorical, in current use or newly-coined. A single word is more likely to be faulty than to possess any intrinsic merit. For though we may speak of a word as appropriate, distinguished or sublime, it can possess none of these properties save in relation to connected and consecutive speech; since when we praise words, we do so because they suit the matter.

There is only one excellence that can be isolated for consideration, namely euphony, the Greek term for our uocalitas: that is to say that, when we are confronted with making a choice between two exact synonyms, we must select that which sounds best.

In the first place barbarisms and solecisms must not be allowed to intrude their offensive presence. These blemishes are however pardoned at times, because we have become accustomed to them or because they have age or authority in their favour or are near akin to positive excellences, since it is often difficult to distinguish such blemishes from figures of speech.1 The teacher therefore, that such slippery customers may not elude detection, must seek to acquire a delicate discrimination; but of this I will speak later when I come to discuss figures of speech.

For the present I will define barbarism as an offence occurring in connexion with single words. Some of my readers may object that such a topic is beneath the dignity of so ambitious a work. But who does not know that some barbarisms occur in writing, others in speaking? For although what is incorrect in writing will also be incorrect in speech, the converse is not necessarily true, inasmuch as mistakes in writing are caused by addition or omission, substitution or transposition, while mistakes in speaking are due to separation or combination of syllables, to aspiration or other errors of sound.

Trivial as these points may seem, our boys are still at school and I am reminding their instructors of their duty. And if one of our teachers is lacking in education and has done no more than set foot in the outer courts of his art, he will have to confine himself to the rules published in the elementary text-books: the more learned teacher on the other hand will be in a position to go much further: first of all, for example, he will point out that there are many different kinds of barbarism.

One kind is due to race, such as the insertion of a Spanish or African term; for instance the iron tire of a wheel is called cantus, though Persius uses it as established in the Latin language; Catullus picked up ploxenum (a box) in the valley of the Po, while the author of the in Pollionem, be he Labienus or Cornelius Gallus, imported casamo from Gaul in the sense of follower. As for mastruca, which is Sardinian for a rough coat, it is introduced by Cicero merely as an object of derision.

Another kind of barbarism proceeds from the speaker's temper: for instance, we regard it as barbarous if a speaker use cruel or brutal language.

A third and very common kind, of which anyone may fashion examples for himself, consists in the addition or omission of a letter or syllable, or in the substitution of one for another or in placing one where it has no right to be.

Some teachers however, to display their learning, are in the habit of picking out examples of barbarism from the poets and attacking the authors whom they are expounding for using such words. A boy should however realize that in poets such peculiarities are pardonable or even praiseworthy, and should therefore be taught less common instances.

For Tinga of Placentia, if we may believe Hortensius who takes him to task for it, committed two barbarisms in one word by saying precula for pergula: that is to say he substituted c for g, and transposed r and e. On the other hand when Ennius writes Mettocoque Fufetioeo, where the barbarism is twice repeated, he is defended on the plea of poetic licence.

Substitution is however sometimes admitted even in prose, as for instance when Cicero speaks of the army of Canopus which is locally styled Canobus, while the number of authors who have been guilty of transposition in writing Trasumennus for Tarsumennus has succeeded in standardising the error. Similar instances may be quoted. If adsentior be regarded as the correct form, we must remember that Sisenna said adsentio, and that many have followed him on the ground of analogy: on the other hand, if adsentio is the correct form, we must remember that adsentior has the support of current usage.

And yet our fat fool, the fashionable schoolmaster, will regard one of these forms as an example of omission or the other as an instance of addition. Again there are words which when used separately are undoubtedly incorrect, but when used in conjunction excite no unfavourable comment.

For instance dua and tre are barbarisms and differ in gender, but the words duapondo and trepondo have persisted in common parlance down to our own day, and Messala shows that the practice is correct.

It may perhaps seem absurd to say that a barbarism, which is an error in a single word, may be made, like a solecism, by errors in connexion with number or gender. But take on the one hand scala (stairs) and scopa (which literally means a twig, but is used in the sense of broom) and on the other hand hordea (barley) and mulsa (mead): here we have substitution, omission and addition of letters, but the blemish consists in the former case merely in the use of singular for plural, in the latter of plural for singular. Those on the other hand who have used the word gladia are guilty of a mistake in gender.

I merely mention these as instances: I do not wish anyone to think that I have added a fresh problem to a subject into which the obstinacy of pedants has already introduced confusion. The faults which arise in the course of actual speaking require greater penetration on the part of the critic, since it is impossible to cite examples from writing, except in cases where they occur in poetry, as when the diphthong is divided into two syllables in Europai and Asiai; or when the opposite fault occurs, called synaeresis or synaloephe by the Greeks and complexio by ourselves: as an example I may quote the line of Publius Varro:

turn te flagranti deiectum fulmine Plaethon.

If this were prose, it would be possible to give the letters their true syllabic value. I may mention as further anomalies peculiar to poetry the lengthening of a short syllable as in Italiam fato profugus, or the shortening of a long such as unĭius ob noxam et furias; but in poetry we cannot label these as actual faults.

Errors in sound on the other hand can be detected by the ear alone; although in Latin, as regards the addition or omission of the aspirate, the question may be raised whether this is an error when it occurs in writing; for there is some doubt whether h is a letter or merely a breathing, practice having frequently varied in different ages.

Older authors used it but rarely even before vowels, saying aedus or ircus, while its conjunction with consonants was for a long time avoided, as in words such as Graccus or triumpus. Then for a short time it broke out into excessive use, witness such spelling as chorona, chenturia or praecho, which may still be read in certain inscriptions: the well-known epigram of Catullus will be remembered in this connexion.

The spellings vehementer, comprehendere and mihi have lasted to our own day: and among early writers, especially of tragedy, we actually find mehe for me in the older MSS.

It is still more difficult to detect errors of tenor or tone (I note that old writers spell the word tonor, as derived from the Greek τόνος), or of accent, styled prosody by the Greeks, such as the substitution of the acute accent for the grave or the grave for the acute: such an example would be the placing of the acute accent on the first syllable of Camillus, or the substitution of the grave for the circumflex in Cethegus, an error which results in the alteration of the quantity of the middle syllable, since it means making the first syllable acute; or again the substitution of the circumflex for the grave on the second syllable of Appi, where the contraction of two syllables into one circumflexed syllable involves a double error.

This, however, occurs far more frequently in Greek words such as Atrei, which in our young days was pronounced by the most learned of our elders with an acute accent on the first syllable, necessitating a grave accent on the second; the same remark applies to Nerei and Terei. Such has been the tradition as regards accents.

Still I am well aware that certain learned men and some professed teachers of literature, to ensure that certain words may be kept distinct, sometimes place an acute accent on the last syllable, both when they are teaching and in ordinary speech: as, for instance, in the following passage:

quae circus litora, circum piscosos scopulos, where they make the last syllable of circum acute on the ground that, if that syllable were given the grave accent, it might be thought that they meant circus not circuitus.

Similarly when quale is interrogative, they give the final syllable a grave accent, but when using it in a comparison, make it acute. This practice, however, they restrict almost entirely to adverbs and pronouns; in other cases they follow the old usage.

Personally I think that in such phrases as these the circumstances are almost entirely altered by the fact that we join two words together. For when I say circum litora I pronounce the phrase as one word, concealing the fact that it is composed of two, consequently it contains but one acute accent, as though it were a single word. The same thing occurs in the phrase Troiae qui primus ab oris.

It sometimes happens that the accent is altered by the metre as in pecudes pictaeque volucres; for I shall read volucres with the acute on the middle syllable, because, although that syllable is short by nature, it is long by position: else the last two syllables would form an iambus, which its position in the hexameter does not allow.

But these same words, if separated, will form no exception to the rule: or if the custom under discussion prevails, the old law of the language will disappear. (This law is more difficult for the Greeks to observe, because they have several dialects, as they call them, and what is wrong in one may be right in another.) But with us the rule is simplicity itself.

For in every word the acute accent is restricted to three syllables, whether these be the only syllables in the word or the three last, and will fall either on the penultimate or the antepenultimate. The middle of the three syllables of which I speak will be acute or circumflexed, if long, while if it be short, it will have a grave accent and the acute will be thrown back to the preceding syllable, that is to say the antepenultimate.

Every word has an acute accent, but never more than one. Further the acute never falls on the last syllable and therefore in dissyllabic words marks the first syllable. Moreover the acute accent and the circumflex are never found in one and the same word, since the circumflex itself contains an acute accent. Neither the circumflex nor the acute, therefore, will ever be found in the last syllable of a Latin word, with this exception, that monosyllables must either be acute or circumflexed; otherwise we should find words without an acute accent at all.

There are also faults of sound, which we cannot reproduce in writing, as they spring from defects of the voice and tongue. The Greeks who are happier in inventing names than we are call them iotacisms, lambdacisms,

ἰσχνότητες (attenuations) and πλατειασμοί (broadenings); they also use the term κοιλοστομία, when the voice seems to proceed from the depths of the mouth.

There are also certain peculiar and indescribable sounds for which we sometimes take whole nations to fault. To sum up then, if all the faults of which we have just spoken be avoided, we shall be in possession of the Greek ὀρθοέπεια, that is to say, an exact and pleasing articulation; for that is what we mean when we speak of correct pronunciation.

All other faults in speaking are concerned with more words than one; among this class of faults is the solecism, although there have been controversies about this as well. For even those who acknowledge that it occurs in connected speech, argue that, since it can be corrected by the alteration of one word, the fault lies in the word and not in the phrase or sentence.

For example whether amarae corticis or medio cortice contains a solecism in gender (and personally I object to neither, as Vergil is the author of both; however, for the sake of argument let us assume that one of the two is incorrect), still whichever phrase is incorrect, it can be set right by the alteration of the word in which the fault lies: that is to say we can emend either to amari corticis or media cortice. But it is obvious that these critics misrepresent the case. For neither word is faulty in itself; the error arises from its association with another word. The fault therefore lies in the phrase.

Those who raise the question as to whether a solecism can arise in a single word show greater intelligence. Is it for instance a solecism if a man when calling a single person to him says uenite, or in dismissing several persons says abi or discede? Or again if the answer does not correspond to the question: suppose, for example, when someone said to you Whom do I see?, you were to reply I. Some too think it a solecism if the spoken word is contradicted by the motion of hand or head.

I do not entirely concur with this view nor yet do I wholly dissent. I admit that a solecism may occur in a single word, but with this proviso: there must be something else equivalent to another word, to which the word, in which the error lies, can be referred, so that the solecism arises from the faulty connexion of those symbols by which facts are expressed and purpose indicated.

To avoid all suspicion of quibbling, I will say that a solecism may occur in one word, but never in a word in isolation. There is, however, some controversy as to the number and nature of the different kinds of solecism. Those who have dealt with the subject most fully make a fourfold division, identical with that which is made in the case of barbarisms: solecisms are brought about by addition, for instance in phrases such as nam enim, de susum, in Alexandriam;

by omission, in phrases such as ambulo viam, Aegypto venio, or ne hoc fecit: and by transposition as in quoque ego, enim hoc voluit, aulem non habuit. Under this last head comes the question whether igitur can be placed first in a sentence: for I note that authors of the first rank disagree on this point, some of them frequently placing it in that position, others never.

Some distinguish these three classes of error from the solecism, styling addition a pleonasm, omission an ellipse, and transposition anastrophe: and they assert that if anastrophe is a solecism, hyperbaton might also be so called.

About substitution, that is when one word is used instead of another, there is no dispute. It is an error which we may detect in connexion with all the parts of speech, but most frequently in the verb, because it has greater variety than any other: consequently in connexion with the verb we get solecisms of gender, tense, person and mood (or states or qualities if you prefer either of these terms), be these types of error six in number, as some assert, or eight as is insisted by others (for the number of the forms of solecism will depend on the number of subdivisions which you assign to the parts of speech of which we have just spoken). Further there are solecisms of number;

now Latin has two numbers, singular and plural, while Greek possesses a third, namely the dual. There have however been some who have given us a dual as well in words such as scripsere and legere, in which as a matter of fact the final syllable has been softened to avoid harshness, just as in old writers we find male merere for male mereris. Consequently what they assert to be a dual is concerned solely with this one class of termination, whereas in Greek it is found throughout the whole structure of the verb and in nouns as well, though even then it is but rarely used.

But we find not a trace of such a usage in any Latin author. On the contrary phrases such as devenere locos, conticuere omnes and consedere duces clearly prove that they have nothing to do with the dual. Moreover dixere, although Antonius Rufus cites it as proof to the contrary, is often used by the usher in the courts to denote more than two advocates.

Again, does not Livy near the beginning of his first book write tenuere arcem Sabini and later in adversum Romani subiere? But I can produce still better authority. For Cicero in his Orator says, I have no objection to the form scripsere, though I regard scripserunt as the more correct.

Similarly in vocables and nouns solecisms occur in connexion with gender, number and more especially case, by substitution of one for another. To these may be added solecisms in the use of comparatives and superlatives, or the employment of patronymics instead of possessives and vice versa.

As for solecisms connected with expressions of quantity, there are some who will regard phrases such as magnum peculiolum as a solecism, because the diminutive is used instead of the ordinary noun, which implies no diminution. I think I should call it a misuse of the diminutive rather than a solecism; for it is an error of sense, whereas solecisms are not errors of sense, but rather faulty combinations of words.

As regards participles, solecisms occur in case and gender as with nouns, in tense as with verbs, and in number as in both. The pronoun admits of solecisms in gender, number and case.

Solecisms also occur with great frequency in connexion with parts of speech: but a bare statement on this point is not sufficient, as it may lead a boy to think that such error consists only in the substitution of one part of speech for another, as for instance if a verb is placed where we require a noun, or an adverb takes the place of a pronoun and so on.

For there are some nouns which are cognate, that is to say of the same genus, and he who uses the wrong species in connexion with one of these will be guilty of the same offence as if he were to change the genus. Thus an and aut are conjunctions, but it would be bad Latin to say in a question hic and ille sit;

ne and non are adverbs: but he who says non feceris in lieu of ne feceris, is guilty of a similar mistake, since one negative denies, while the other forbids. Further intro and intus are adverbs of place, but eo intus and intro sum are solecisms.

Similar errors may be committed in connexion with the various kinds of pronouns, interjections and prepositions. It is also a solecism if there is a disagreement between what precedes and what follows within the limits of a single clause.

Some phrases have all the appearance of a solecism and yet cannot be called faulty; take for instance phrases such as tragoedia Thyestes or ludi Floralia and Megalensia

: although these are never found in later times, they are the rule in ancient writers. We will therefore style them figures and, though their use is more frequent in poets, will not deny their employment even to orators.

Figures however will generally have some justification, as I shall show in a later portion of this work, which I promised you a little while back. I must however point out that a figure, if used unwittingly, will be a solecism.

In the same class, though they cannot be called figures, come errors such as the use of masculine names with a female termination and feminine names with a neuter termination. I have said enough about solecisms; for I did not set out to write a treatise on grammar, but was unwilling to slight the science by passing it by without salutation, when it met me in the course of my journey.

I therefore resume the path which I prescribed for myself and point out that words are either native or foreign. Foreign words, like our population and our institutions, have come to us from practically every nation upon earth.

I pass by words of Tuscan, Sabine and Praenestine origin; for though Lucilius attacks Vettius for using them, and Pollio reproves Livy for his lapses into the dialect of Padua, I may be allowed to regard all such words as of native origin. Many Gallic words have become current coin, such as raeda (chariot) and petorritim (four-wheeled wagon) of which Cicero uses the former and Horace the latter. Mappa (napkin) again, a word familiar in connexion with the circus, is claimed by the Carthaginians, while I have heard that gurdus, which is colloquially used in the sense of stupid, is derived from Spain.

But this distinction between native and foreign words has reference chiefly to Greek. For Latin is largely derived from that language, and we use words which are admittedly Greek to express things for which we have no Latin equivalent. Similiarly they at tines borrow words from us. In this connexion the problem arises whether foreign words should be declined according to their language or our own.

If you come across an archaistic grammarian, he will insist on absolute conformity to Latin practice, because, since we have an ablative and the Greeks have not, it would be absurd in declining a word to use five Greek cases and one Latin.

He will also praise the patriotism of those who aimed at strengthening the Latin language and asserted that we had no need of foreign practices. They, therefore, pronounced Castorem with the second syllable long to bring it into conformity with all those Latin nouns which have the same termination in the nominative as Castor. They also insisted on the forms Palaemo, Telamo, and Plato (the last being adopted by Cicero), because they could not find any Latin nouns ending in -on.

They were reluctant even to permit masculine Greek nouns to end in -as in the nominative case, and consequently in Caelius we find Pelia cincinnatus and in Messala bene fecit Euthia, and in Cicero Hermagora. So we need not be surprised that the majority of early writers said Aenea and Anchisa.

For, it was urged, if such words are spelt like Maecenas, Sufenas and Asprenas, the genitive should terminate in -is not in -e. On the same principle they placed an acute accent on the middle syllable of Olympus and tyrannus, because Latin does not allow an acute accent on the first syllable if it is short and is followed by two long syllables.

So too we get the Latinised genitives Ulixi and Achilli together with many other analogous forms. More recent scholars have instituted the practice of giving Greek nouns their Greek declension, although this is not always possible. Personally I prefer to follow the Latin method, so far as grace of diction will permit. For I should not like to say Calypsonem on the analogy of Iunonem, although Gaius Caesar in deference to antiquity does adopt this way of declining it. Current practice has however prevailed over his authority.

In other words which can be declined in either way without impropriety, those who prefer it can employ the Greek form: they will not be speaking Latin, but will not on the other hand deserve censure. Simple words are what they are in the nominative, that is, their essential nature.

Compound words are formed by the prefix of a preposition as in innocens, though care must be taken that two conflicting prepositions are not prefixed as in imperterritus: if this be avoided they may in certain cases have a double prefix as in incompositus or reconditus or the Ciceronian subabsurdtim. They may also be formed by what I might term the combination of two independent units, as in maleficus.

For I will not admit that the combination of three is possible at any rate in Latin, although Cicero asserts that capsis is compounded of cape si vis, and there are to be found scholars who contend that Lupercalia likewise is a compound of three parts of speech, namely luere per caprum.

As for Solitaurilia it is by now universally believed to stand for Suovelaurilia, a derivation which corresponds to the actual sacrifice, which has its counterpart in Homer as well. But these compounds are formed not so much from three words as from the fragments of three. On the other hand Pacuvius seems to have formed compounds of a preposition and two vocables (i.e. nouns) as in Nerei repandirostrum incurvticervicum pecs:

The flock

Of Nereus snout-uplifted, neck-inarched the effect is unpleasing.

Compounds are however formed from two complete Latin words, as for instance supefui and subterfui; though in this case there is some question as to whether the words from which they are formed are complete. They may also be formed of one complete and one incomplete word, as in the case of malevolus, or of one incomplete and one complete, such as noctivagus, or of two incomplete words as in pedisecus (footman), or from one Latin and one foreign word as in biclinium (a dining-couch for two), or in the reverse order as in epitogium (an upper garment) or Anticato, and sometimes even from two foreign words as in epiraedium (a thong attaching the horse to the raeda). For in this last case the preposition is Greek, while raeda is Gallic, while the compound is employed neither by Greek nor Gaul, but has been appropriated by Rome from the two foreign tongues.

In the case of prepositions they are frequently changed by the act of compounding: as a result we get abstulit, aufugit, amisit, though the preposition is ab, and coil, though the preposition is con. The same is true of ignauus and erepublica. But compounds are better suited to Greek than to Latin, though I do not think that this is due to the nature of our language: the reason rather is that we have a preference for foreign goods, and therefore receive κυρταύχην with applause, whereas we can scarce defend incurvicervicus from derisive laughter. Words are proper when they bear their original meaning;

metaphorical, when they are used in a sense different from their natural meaning. Current words are safest to use: there is a spice of danger in coining new. For if they are adopted, our style wins but small glory from them; while if they are rejected, they become a subject for jest.

Still we must make the venture; for as Cicero says, use softens even these words which at first seemed harsh. On the other hand the power of onomatopoeia is denied us. Who would tolerate an attempt to imitate phrases like the much praised λίγξε βιός, the bow twanged, and σῖζεν ὀφθαλμός the eye hissed? We should even feel some qualms about using balare to baa, and hinntre, to whinny, if we had not the sanction of antiquity to support us.

There are special rules which must be observed both by speakers and writers. Language is based on reason, antiquity, authority and usage. Reason finds its chief support in analogy and sometimes in etymology. As for antiquity, it is commended to us by the possession of a certain majesty, I might almost say sanctity.

Authority as a rule we derive from orators and historians. For poets, owing to the necessities of metre, are allowed a certain licence except in cases where they deliberately choose one of two expressions, when both are metrically possible, as for instance in imo de stirpe recisum and aeriae quo congessere palumbes or silice in nuda and the like. The judgment of a supreme orator is placed on the same level as reason, and even error brings no disgrace, if it result from treading in the footsteps of such distinguished guides.

Usage however is the surest pilot in speaking, and we should treat language as currency minted with the public stamp. But in all these cases we have need of a critical judgment, especially as regards analogy (a Greek term for which a Latin equivalent has been found in proportion).

The essence of analogy is the testing of all subjects of doubt by the application of some standard of comparison about which there is no question, the proof that is to say of the uncertain by reference to the certain. This can be done in two different ways: by comparing similar words, paying special attention to their final syllables (hence monosyllables are asserted to lie outside the domain of analogy) and by the study of diminutives.

Comparison of nouns will reveal either their gender or their declension: in the first case, supposing the question is raised as to whether junis be masculine or feminine, panis will supply a standard of comparison: in the second case, supposing we are in doubt as to whether we should say hac domu or hac domo, domuum or domorum, the standard of comparison will be found in words such as anus or manus.

Diminutives merely reveal the gender: for instance, to return to a word previously used as an illustration, funiculus proves that funis is masculine.

The same standard may be applied in the case of verbs. For instance if it should be asserted that the middle syllable of fervere is short, we can prove this to be an error, because all verbs which in the indicative terminate in -eo, make the middle syllable of the infinitive long, if that syllable contain an e: take as examples such verbs as prandeo, pendeo, spondeo with infinitives prandēre, pendēre, spondēre.

Those verbs, however, which terminate in -o alone, if they form the infinitive in e, have the e short; compare lego, dico, curro, with the infinitives, legĕre, dicĕre, currĕre. I admit that in Lucilius we find— fervit aqua et fervet: firvit nunc ferverit ad annum.

The water boils and boil it will; it boils and for a year will boil. But with all due respect to so learned a man, if he regards fervit as on the same footing as currit and legit, we shall say fervo as we say lego and curro: but such a form has never yet come to my ears.

But this is not a true comparison: for fervit resembles servit, and on this analogy we should say fervire like servire.

It is also possible in certain cases to discover the present indicative of a verb from the study of its other tenses. I remember, for instance, refuting certain scholars who criticised me for using the word pepigi: for, although they admitted that it had been used by some of the best authors, they asserted that it was an irrational form because the present indicative paciscor, being passive in form, made pactus sum as its perfect.

I in addition to quoting the authority of orators and historians maintained that I was also supported by analogy. For when I found ni ita pacunt in the Twelve Tables, I noted that cadunt provided a parallel: it was clear therefore that the present indicative, though now obsolete, was paco on the analogy of cado, and it was further obvious that we say pepigi for just the same reason that we say cecidi.

But we must remember that analogy cannot be universally applied, as it is often inconsistent with itself. It is true indeed that scholars have attempted to justify certain apparent anomalies: for example, when it is noted to what an extent lepus and lupus, which resemble each other closely in the nominative, differ in the plural and in the other cases, they reply that they are not true parallels, since lepus is epicene, while lupus is masculine, although Varro in the book in which he narrates the origins of Rome, writes lupus femina, following the precedent of Ennius and Fabius Pictor.

The same scholars, however, when asked why aper became apri in the genitive, but pater patris, asserted that aper was an absolute, pater a relative noun. Further since both words derive from the Greek, they took refuge in the fact that πατρός provides a parallel to patris and κάπρου to apri.

But how will they evade the difficulty that feminine nouns whose nominative singular ends in -us never make the genitive end in -ris, and yet the genitive of Venus is Veneris: again nouns ending in -es have various genitive terminations, but never end in -ris, but yet we have no choice but to make the genitive of Ceres Cereris?

Again what of those words which, although identical in the form of the nominative or present indicative, develop the utmost variety in their inflections. Thus from Alba we get both Albanus and Albensis, from volo both volui and volavi. Analogy itself admits that verbs whose present indicative ends in -o have a great variety of perfect formations, as for instance cado cecidi, spondeo spopondi, pingo pinxi, lego legi, pono posui, fiango fregi, laudo laudavi.

For analogy was not sent down from heaven at the creation of mankind to frame the rules of language, but was discovered after they began to speak and to note the terminations of words used in speech. It is therefore based not on reason but on example, nor is it a law of language, but rather a practice which is observed, being in fact the offspring of usage.

Some scholars, however, are so perverse and obstinate in their passion for analogy, that they say audaciter in preference to audacter, the form preferred by all orators, and emicavit for emicuit, and conire for coire. We may permit them to say audivisse, scivisse, tribunale and faciliter, nor will we deprive them of frugalis as an alternative for frugi:

for from what else can frugalitas be formed? They may also be allowed to point out that phrases such as centum milia nummum and fidem deum involve a double solecism, since they change both case and number. Of course we were in blank ignorance of the fact and were not simply conforming to usage and the demands of elegance, as in the numerous cases, with which Cicero deals magnificently, as always, in his Orator.

Augustus again in his letters to Gaius Caesar corrects him for preferring calidus to caldus, not on the ground that the former is not Latin, but because it is unpleasing and as he himself puts it in Greek περίεργον (affected).

Some hold that this is just a question of ὀρθοέπεια or correctness of speech, a subject to which I am far from being indifferent. For what can be more necessary than that we should speak correctly? Nay, I even think that, as far as possible, we should cling to correct forms and resist all tendencies to change. But to attempt to retain forms long obsolete and extinct is sheer impertinence and ostentatious pedantry.

I would suggest that the ripe scholar, who says ave without the aspirate and with a long e (for it comes from avēre and uses calefacere and conservavisse in preference to the usual forms, should also add face, dice and the like to his vocabulary.

His way is the right way. Who doubts it? But there is an easier and more frequented path close by. There is, however, nothing which annoys me more than their habit not merely of inferring the nominative from the oblique cases, but of actually altering it. For instance in ebur and robur, the forms regularly used both in writing and speech by the best authors, these gentlemen change their second syllable to o, because their genitives are roboris and eboris, and because sulpur and guttur keep the u in the genitive. So too femur and iecur give rise to similar controversy.

Their proceedings are just as arbitrary as if they were to substitute an o in the genitives of sulpur and guttur on the analogy of eboris and roboris. Thus Antonius Gnipho while admitting robur, ebur and even marmur to be correct, would have their plurals to be ebura, robura and marnura.

If they would only pay attention to the affinities existing between letters, they would realize that robur makes its genitive roboris in precisely the same way that limes, miles, iudex and uindex make their genitives militis, limitis, iudicis and uindicis, not to mention other words to which I have already referred.

Do not nouns which are similar in the nominative show, as I have already observed, quite different terminations in the oblique eases? Compare uirgo and Iuno, lusus and fusus, caspis and puppis and a thousand others. Again some nouns are not used in the plural, while others are not used in the singular, some are indeclinable, while others, like Jupiter, in the oblique cases entirely abandon the form of the nominative.

The same is true of verbs: for instance fero disappears in the perfect and subsequent tenses. Nor does it matter greatly whether such forms are nonexistent or too harsh to use. For what is the genitive singular of progenies or the genitive plural of spes? Or how will quire and ruere form a perfect passive or passive participles.

Why should I mention other words when it is even doubtful whether the genitive of senatus is senati or senatus? In view of what I have said, it seems to me that the remark, that it is one thing to speak Latin and another to speak grammar, was far from unhappy. So much for analogy, of which I have said more than enough.

Etymology inquires into the origin of words, and was called notation by Cicero, on the ground that the term used by Aristotle is σύμβολον, which may be translated by nota. A literal rendering of ἐτυμολογία would be ueriloquium, a form which even Cicero, its inventor, shrinks from using. Some again, with an eye to the meaning of the word, call it origination. Etymology is sometimes of the utmost use, whenever the word under discussion needs interpretation.

For instance Marcus Caelius wishes to prove that he is homo frugi, not because he is abstemious (for he could not even pretend to be that), but because he is useful to many, that is fructuosus, from which frugalitas is derived. Consequently we find room for etymology when we are concerned with definitions.

Sometimes again this science attempts to distinguish between correct forms and barbarisms, as for instance when we are discussing whether we should call Sicily Triquetra or Triquedra, or say meridies or medidies, not to mention other words which depend on current usage.

Such a science demands profound erudition, whether we are dealing with the large number of words which are derived from the Greek, more especially those inflected according to the practice of the Aeolic dialect, the form of Greek which most nearly resembles Latin; or are using ancient historians as a basis for inquiry into the origin of names of men, places, nations and cities. For instance what is the origin of names such as Brutus, Publicola, or Pythicus? Why do we speak of Latium, Italia or Beneventum? What is the reason for employing such names as Capitolium, collis Quirinalis or Argietum?

I now turn to minor points concerning which enthusiasts for etymology give themselves an infinity of trouble, restoring to their true form words which have become slightly altered: the methods which they employ are varied and manifold: they shorten them or lengthen them, add, remove, or interchange letters and syllables as the case may be. As a result perverseness of judgment leads to the most hideous absurdities. I am ready to admit that consul may be derived from consulere in the sense of consulting or judging; for the ancients used consulere in the latter sense, and it still survives in the phrase rogat boni consulas, that is bonum iudices, judge fit.

Again senatus may well be derived from old age (for the senators are called the fathers): I concur in the derivations assigned to rex rector to say nothing of many other words where there can be no doubt, and do not refuse to accept those suggested for tegula, regula and the like: let classis be from calare (call out, summon), lepus be a contraction of levipes and vulpes of volipes.

But are we also to admit the derivation of certain words from their opposites, and accept lucus a non lucendo, since a grove is dark with shade, ludus in the sense of school as being so called because it is quite the reverse of play and Dis, Ditis from diues, because Pluto is far from being rich? Are we to assent to the view that homo is derived from humus, because man sprang from the earth, as though all other living things had not the same origin or as if primitive man gave the earth a name before giving one to himself? Or again can verbum be derived from aer verheratus, beaten air?

Let us go a little further and we shall find that stella is believed to be still luminis a drop of light, a derivation whose author is so famous in literature that it would be unkind to mention his name in connexion with a point where he comes in for censure.

But those who collected such derivations in book form, put their names on the title page; and Gavius thought himself a perfect genius when he identified caelibes, bachelors, with caelites, gods, on the ground that they are free from a heavy load of care, and supported this opinion by a Greek analogy: for he asserted that ἠΐθεοι young men, had a precisely similar origin. Modestus is not his inferior in inventive power: for he asserts that caelibes, that is to say unmarried men, are so called because Saturn cut off the genital organs of Caelus. Aelius asserts that pituita, phlegm, is so called quia petat uitam, because it attacks life.

But we may pardon anyone after the example set by Varro. For he tried to persuade Cicero, to whom he dedicated his work, that a field was called eager because something is done in it (agitur), and jackdaws graculos because they fly in flocks (gregatim), in spite of the obvious fact that the first word is derived from the Greek, the latter from the cry of the bird in question.

But Varro had such a passion for derivations that he derived the name merula a blackbird from mera uolans on the ground that it flies alone! Some scholars do not hesitate to have recourse to etymology for the origin of every word, deriving names such as Rufus or Longus from the appearance of their possessor, verbs such as strepere or murmurare from the sounds which they represent, and even extending this practice to certain derivatives, making uelox for instance find its origin in uelocitas, as well as to compounds and the like: now although such words doubtless have an origin, no special science is required to detect it, since it is only doubtful cases that demand the intervention of the etymologist.

Archaic words not only enjoy the patronage of distinguished authors, but also give style a certain majesty and charm. For they have the authority of age behind them, and for the very reason that they have fallen into desuetude, produce an attractive effect not unlike that of novelty.

But such words must be used sparingly and must not thrust themselves upon our notice, since there is nothing more tiresome than affectation, nor above all must they be drawn from remote and forgotten ages: I refer to words such as topper, quite, antegerio, exceedingly, exanclare, to exhaust, prosapia, a race and the language of the Salian Hymns now scarcely understood by its own priests.

Religion, it is true, forbids us to alter the words of these hymns and we must treat them as sacred things. But what a faulty thing is speech, whose prime virtue is clearness, if it requires an interpreter to make its meaning plain! Consequently in the case of old words the best will be those that are newest, just as in the case of new words the best will be the oldest.

The same arguments apply to authority. For although the use of words transmitted to us by the best authors may seem to preclude the possibility of error, it is important to notice not merely what they said, but what words they succeeded in sanctioning. For no one to-day would introduce words such as tuburchinabunidus, voracious, or lurchinabundus, guzzling, although they have the authority of Cato; nor make lodices, blankets, masculine, though Pollio preferred that gender; nor say gladiola, small swords, though Messala used this plural, nor parricidatus for parricide, a form which can scarcely be tolerated even in Caelius, nor will Calvus persuade me to speak of collos, necks. Indeed, were these authors alive to-day, they would never use such words. Usage remains to be discussed.

For it would be almost laughable to prefer the language of the past to that of the present day, and what is ancient speech but ancient usage of speaking? But even here the critical faculty is necessary, and we must make up our minds what we mean by usage.

If it be defined merely as the practice of the majority, we shall have a very dangerous rule affecting not merely style but life as well, a far more serious matter. For where is so much good to be found that what is right should please the majority? The practices of depilation, of dressing the hair in tiers, or of drinking to excess at the baths, although they may have thrust their way into society, cannot claim the support of usage, since there is something to blame in all of them (although we have usage on our side when we bathe or have our hair cut or take our meals together). So too in speech we must not accept as a rule of language words and phrases that have become a vicious habit with a number of persons.

To say nothing of the language of the uneducated, we are all of us well aware that whole theatres and the entire crowd of spectators will often commit barbarisms in the cries which they utter as one man. I will therefore define usage in speech as the agreed practice of educated men, just as where our way of life is concerned I should define it as the agreed practice of all good men.

Having stated the rules which we must follow in speaking, I will now proceed to lay down the rules which must be observed when we write. Such rules are called orthography by the Greeks; let us style it the science of writing correctly. This science does not consist merely in the knowledge of the letters composing each syllable (such a study is beneath the dignity of a teacher of grammar), but, in my opinion, develops all its subtlety in connexion with doubtful points.

For instance, while it is absurd to place a circumflex over all long syllables since the quantity of most syllables is obvious from the very nature of the word which is written, it is all the same occasionally necessary, since the same letter involves a different meaning according as it is long or short. For example we determine whether mains is to mean an apple tree or a bad man by the use of the circumflex;

palus means a stake, if the first syllable is long, a marsh, if it be short; again when the same letter is short in the nominative and long in the ablative, we generally require the circumflex to make it clear which quantity to understand.

Similarly it has been held that we should observe distinctions such as the following: if the preposition ex is compounded with specto, there will be an s in the second syllable, while there will be no s if it is compounded with pecto.

Again the following distinction has frequently been observed: ad is spelt with a d when it is a preposition, but with a t when it is a conjunction, while cum is spelt quum when it denotes time, but cum when it denotes accompaniment.

Still more pedantic are the practices of making the fourth letter of quidquid a c to avoid the appearance of repeating a question, and of writing quotidie instead of colidie to show that it stands for quot diebus. But such practices have disappeared into the limbo of absurdities.

It is often debated whether in our spelling of prepositions we should be guided by their sound when compounded, or separate. For instance when I say optinuit, logic demands that the second letter should be a b, while to the ear the sound is rather that of p: or again take the case of immunis:

the letter n, which is required by strict adherence to fact, is forced by the sound of the m. which follows to change into another m.

We must also note when analysing compound words, whether the middle consonant adheres to the preceding syllable or to that which follows. For example since the latter part of haruspex is from spectare, the s must be assigned to the third syllable. In abstemius on the other hand it will go with the first syllable since the word is derived from abstinentia temeti, abstention from wine.

As for k my view is that it should not be used at all except in such words as may be indicated by the letter standing alone as an abbreviation. I mention the fact because some hold that k should be used whenever the next letter is an a, despite the existence of the letter c which maintains its force in conjunction with all the vowels. Orthography, however, is also the servant of usage and therefore undergoes frequent change. I make no mention of the earliest times when our alphabet contained fewer letters and their shapes differed from those which we now use, while their values also were different. For instance in Greek the letter o was sometimes long and short, as it is with us, and again was sometimes used to express the syllable which is identical with its name.

And in Latin ancient writers ended a number of words with d, as may be seen on the column adorned with the beaks of ships, which was set up in the forum in honour of Duilius. Sometimes again they gave words a final g, as we may still see in the shrine of the Sun, close to the temple of Quirinus, where we find the word uesperug, which we write uesperugo (evening star).

I have already spoken of the interchange of letters and need not repeat my remarks here: perhaps their pronunciation corresponded with their spelling.

For a long time the doubling of semivowels was avoided, while down to the time of Accius and beyond, long syllables were indicated by repetition of the vowel.

The practice of joining e and i as in the Greek diphthong ει lasted longer: it served to distinguish cases and numbers, for which we may compare the instructions of Lucilius: The boys are come: why then, their names must end

With e and i to make them more than one; and later—

If to a thief and liar (mendaci furique) you would give,

In e and i your thief must terminate.

But this addition of e is quite superfluous, since t can be long no less than short:

it is also at times inconvenient. For in those words which end in i and have e as their last letter but one, we shall on this principle have to write e twice: I refer to words such as aurei or argentei and the like.

Now such a practice will be an actual hindrance to those who are learning to read. This difficulty occurs in Greek as well in connexion with the addition of an iota, which is employed not merely in the termination of the dative, but is sometimes found in the middle of words as in λῄστης, for the reason that the analysis applied by etymology shows the word to be a trisyllable and requires the addition of that letter. The diphthong ae now written with an e, was pronounced in old days as ai;

some wrote ai in all cases, as in Greek, others confined its use to the dative and genitive singular; whence it comes that Vergil, always a passionate lover of antiquity, inserted pictai uestis and aquai in his poems.

But in the plural they used e and wrote Syllae, Galbae. Lucilius has given instructions on this point also; his instructions occupy quite a number of verses, for which the incredulous may consult his ninth book.

Again in Cicero's days and a little later, it was the almost universal practice to write a double s, whenever that letter occurred between two long vowels or after a long vowel, as for example in caussae, cassus, diuissiones. That he and Vergil both used this spelling is shown by their own autograph manuscripts.

And yet at a slightly earlier date iussi which we write with a double s was spelt with only one. Further optimnus maximus, which older writers spelt with a u, appear for the first time with an i (such at any rate is the tradition) in an inscription of Gaius Caesar.

We now write here, but I still find in manuscripts of the old comic poets phrases such as heri ad me uenit, and the same spelling is found in letters of Augustus written or corrected by his own hand.

Again did not Cato the censor spell dicam and faciam as dicem and faciem and observe the same practice in words of similar termination? This is clear from old manuscripts of his works and is recorded by Messala in his treatise on the letter s. Sibe and quase are found in many books, but I cannot say whether the authors wished them to be spelt thus:

I learn from Pedianus that Livy, whose precedent he himself adopted, used this spelling: to-day we make these words end with an i.

What shall I say of uorlices, uorsus and the like, which Scipio Africanus is said to have been the first to spell with an e?

My own teachers spelt seruus and ceruus with a uo, in order that the repetition of the vowel might not lead to the coalescence and confusion of the two sounds: to-day however we write these words with a double u on the principle which I have already stated: neither spelling however exactly expresses the pronunciation. It was not without reason that Claudius introduced the Aeolic digamma to represent this sound. It is a distinct improvement that to-day we spell cui as I have written it:

when I was a boy it used to be spelt quoi, giving it a very full sound, merely to distinguish it from qui.

Again, what of words whose spelling is at variance with their pronunciation? For instance C is used as an abbreviation for Gaius, and when inverted stands for a woman, for as we know from the words of the marriage service women used to be called Gaiae, just as men were called Gaii.

Gnaeus too in the abbreviation indicating the praenomen is spelt in a manner which does not agree with its pronunciation. We also find columnas and consul spelt without an n, while Subura when indicated by three letters is spelt Suc. I could quote many other examples of this, but I fear that I have already said too much on so trivial a theme.

On all such subjects the teacher must use his own judgment; for in such matters it should be the supreme authority. For my own part, I think that, within the limits prescribed by usage, words should be spelt as they are pronounced.

For the use of letters is to preserve the sound of words and to deliver them to readers as a sacred trust: consequently they ought to represent the pronunciation which we are to use.

These are the more important points in connexion with writing and speaking correctly. I do not go so far as to deny to the teacher of literature all part in the two remaining departments of speaking and writing with elegance and significance, but I reserve these for a more important portion of this work, as I have still to deal with the duties of the teacher of rhetoric.

I am however haunted by the thought that some readers will regard what I have said as trivial details which are only likely to prove a hindrance to those who are intent upon a greater task; and I myself do not think that we should go so far as to lose our sleep of nights or quibble like fools over such minutiae; for such studies make mincemeat of the mind. But it is only the superfluities of grammar that do any harm.

I ask you, is Cicero a less great orator for having given this science his diligent attention or for having, as his letters show, demanded rigid correctness of speech from his son? Or was the vigour of Gaius Caesar's eloquence impaired by the publication of a treatise on Analogy?

Or the polish of Messala dimmed by the fact that he devoted whole books to the discussion not merely of single words, but of single letters? Such studies do no harm to those who but pass through them: it is only the pedantic stickler who suffers.

Reading remains for consideration. In this connexion there is much that can only be taught in actual practice, as for instance when the boy should take breath, at what point he should introduce a pause into a line, where the sense ends or begins, when the voice should be raised or lowered, what modulation should be given to each phrase, and when he should increase or slacken speed, or speak with greater or less energy.

In this portion of my work I will give but one golden rule: to do all these things, he must understand what he reads. But above all his reading must be manly, combining dignity and charm; it must be different from the reading of prose, for poetry is song and poets claim to be singers. But this fact does not justify degeneration into sing-song or the effeminate modulations now in vogue: there is an excellent saying on this point attributed to Gaius Caesar while he was still a boy: If you are singing, you sing badly: if you are reading, you sing.

Again I do not, like some teachers, wish character as revealed by speeches to be indicated as it is by the comic actor, though I think that there should be some modulation of the voice to distinguish such passages from those where the poet is speaking in person.

There are other points where there is much need of instruction: above all, unformed minds which are liable to be all the more deeply impressed by what they learn in their days of childish ignorance, must learn not merely what is eloquent; it is even more important that they should study what is morally excellent.

It is therefore an admirable practice which now prevails, to begin by reading Homer and Vergil, although the intelligence needs to be further developed for the full appreciation of their merits: but there is plenty of time for that since the boy will read them more than once. In the meantime let his mind be lifted by the sublimity of heroic verse, inspired by the greatness of its theme and imbued with the loftiest sentiments.

The reading of tragedy also is useful, and lyric poets will provide nourishment for the mind, provided not merely the authors be carefully selected, but also the passages from their works which are to be read. For the Greek lyric poets are often licentious and even in Horace there are passages which I should be unwilling to explain to a class. Elegiacs, however, more especially erotic elegy, and hendecasyllables, which are merely sections of Sotadean verse (concerning which latter I need give no admonitions), should be entirely banished, if possible; if not absolutely banished, they should be reserved for pupils of a less impressionable age. As to comedy, whose contribution to eloquence may be of no small importance, since it is concerned with every kind of character and emotion, I will shortly point out in its due places what use can in my opinion be made of it in the education of boys. As soon as we have no fear of contaminating their morals, it should take its place among the subjects which it is specially desirable to read. I speak of Menander, though I would not exclude others. For Latin authors will also be of some service.

But the subjects selected for lectures to boys should be those which will enlarge the mind and provide the greatest nourishment to the intellect. Life is quite long enough for the subsequent study of those other subjects which are concerned with matters of interest solely to learned men. But even the old Latin poets may be of great value, in spite of the fact that their strength lies in their natural talent rather than in their art: above all they will contribute richness of vocabulary: for the vocabulary of the tragedians is full of dignity, while in that of the comedians there is a certain elegance and Attic grace.

They are, too, more careful about dramatic structure than the majority of moderns, who regard epigram as the sole merit of every kind of literary work. For purity at any rate and manliness, if I may say so, we must certainly go to these writers, since to-day even our style of speaking is infected with all the faults of modern decadence.

Finally we may derive confidence from the practice of the greatest orators of drawing upon the early poets to support their arguments or adorn their eloquence.

For we find, more especially in the pages of Cicero, but frequently in Asinius and other orators of that period, quotations from Ennius, Accius, Pacuvius, Lucilius, Terence, Caecilius and others, inserted not merely to show the speaker's learning, but to please his hearers as well, since the charms of poetry provide a pleasant relief from the severity of forensic eloquence.

Such quotations have the additional advantage of helping the speaker's case, for the orator makes use of the sentiments expressed by the poet as evidence in support of his own statements. But while my earlier remarks have special application to the education of boys, those which I have just made apply rather to persons of riper years; for the love of letters and the value of reading are not confined to one's schooldays, but end only with life.

In lecturing the teacher of literature must give attention to minor points as well: he will ask his class after analysing a verse to give him the parts of speech and the peculiar features of the feet which it contains: these latter should be so familiar in poetry as to make their presence desired even in the prose of oratory. He will point out what words are barbarous, what improperly used, and what are contrary to the laws of language.

He will not do this by way of censuring the poets for such peculiarities, for poets are usually the servants of their metres and are allowed such licence that faults are given other names when they occur in poetry: for we style them metaplasms, schematisms and schemata, as I have said, and make a virtue of necessity. Their aim will rather be to familiarise the pupil with the artifices of style and to stimulate his memory.

Further in the elementary stages of such instruction it will not be unprofitable to show the different meanings which may be given to each word. With regard to glossemala, that is to say words not in common use, the teacher must exercise no ordinary diligence, while still greater care is required in teaching all the tropes which are employed for the adornment more especially of poetry, but of oratory as well, and in making his class acquainted with the two sorts of schemata or figures known as figures of speech and figures of thought. I shall however postpone discussion of tropes and figures till I come to deal with the various ornaments of style.

Above all he will impress upon their minds the value of proper arrangement, and of graceful treatment of the matter in hand: he will show what is appropriate to the various characters, what is praiseworthy in the thoughts or words, where copious diction is to be commended and where restraint.

In addition to this he will explain the various stories that occur: this must be done with care, but should not be encumbered with superfluous detail. For it is sufficient to set forth the version which is generally received or at any rate rests upon good authority. But to ferret out everything that has ever been said on the subject even by the most worthless of writers is a sign of tiresome pedantry or empty ostentation, and results in delaying and swamping the mind when it would be better employed on other themes.

The man who pores over every page even though it be wholly unworthy of reading, is capable of devoting his attention to the investigation of old wives' tales. And yet the commentaries of teachers of literature are full of such encumbrances to learning and strangely unfamiliar to their own authors.

It is, for instance, recorded that Didymus, who was unsurpassed for the number of books which he wrote, on one occasion objected to some story as being absurd, whereupon one of his own books was produced which contained the story in question.

Such abuses occur chiefly in connexion with fabulous stories and are sometimes carried to ludicrous or even scandalous extremes: for in such cases the more unscrupulous commentator has such full scope for invention, that he can tell lies to his heart's content about whole books and authors without fear of detection: for what never existed can obviously never be found, whereas if the subject is familiar the careful investigator will often detect the fraud. Consequently I shall count it a merit in a teacher of literature that there should be some things which he does not know.

IX. I have now finished with two of the departments, with which teachers of literature profess to deal, namely the art of speaking correctly and the interpretation of authors; the former they call nethodicē, the latter historiē We must however add to their activities instruction in certain rudiments of oratory for the benefit of those who are not yet ripe for the schools of rhetoric.

Their pupils should learn to paraphrase Aesop's fables, the natural successors of the fairy stories of the nursery, in simple and restrained language and subsequently to set down this paraphrase in writing with the same simplicity of style: they should begin by analysing each verse, then give its meaning in different language, and finally proceed to a freer paraphrase in which they will be permitted now to abridge and now to embellish the original, so far as this may be done without losing the poet's meaning.

This is no easy task even for the expert instructor, and the pupil who handles it successfully will be capable of learning everything. He should also be set to write aphorisms, moral essays (chriae) and delineations of character (ethologiae), of which the teacher will first give the general scheme, since such themes will be drawn from their reading. In all of these exercises the general idea is the same, but the form differs: aphorisms are general propositions, while ethologiae are concerned with persons

. Of moral essays there are various forms: some are akin to aphorisms and commence with a simple statement he said or he used to say: others give the answer to a question and begin on being asked or in answer to this he replied, while a third and not dissimilar type begins, when someone has said or done something. Some hold that a moral essay may take some action as its text;

take for example the statement Crates on seeing an ill-educated boy, beat his paedagogus, or a very similar example which they do not venture actually to propose as a theme for a moral essay, but content themselves with saying that it is of the nature of such a theme, namely Milo, having accustomed himself to carrying a calf every day, ended by carrying it when grown to a bull. All these instances are couched in the same grammatical form and deeds no less than sayings may be presented for treatment.

Short stories from the poets should in my opinion be handled not with a view to style but as a means of increasing knowledge. Other more serious and ambitious tasks have been also imposed on teachers of literature by the fact that Latin rhetoricians will have nothing to do with them: Greek rhetoricians have a better comprehension of the extent and nature of the tasks placed on their shoulders.

I have made my remarks on this stage of education as brief as possible, making no attempt to say everything, (for the theme is infinite), but confining myself to the most necessary points. I will now proceed briefly to discuss the remaining arts in which I think boys ought to be instructed before being handed over to the teacher of rhetoric: for it is by such studies that the course of education described by the Greeks as ἐγκύκλιος παιδεία or general education will be brought to its full completion.

For there are other subjects of education which must be studied simultaneously with literature. These being independent studies are capable of completion without a knowledge of oratory, while on the other hand they cannot by themselves produce an orator. The question has consequently been raised as to whether they are necessary for this purpose.

What, say some, has the knowledge of the way to describe an equilateral triangle on a given straight line got to do with pleading in the law-courts or speaking in the senate? Will an acquaintance with the names and intervals of the notes of the lyre help an orator to defend a criminal or direct the policy of his country?

They will perhaps produce a long list of orators who are most effective in the courts but have never sat under a geometrician and whose understanding of music is confined to the pleasure which their ears, like those of other men, derive from it. To such critics I reply, and Cicero frequently makes the same remark in his Orator, that I am not describing any orator who actually exists or has existed, but have in my mind's eye an ideal orator, perfect down to the smallest detail.

For when the philosophers describe the ideal sage who is to be consummate in all knowledge and a very god incarnate, as they say, they would have him receive instruction not merely in the knowledge of things human and divine, but would also lead him through a course of subjects, which in themselves are comparatively trivial, as for instance the elaborate subtleties of formal logic: not that acquaintance with the so called horn or crocodile problems can make a man wise, but because it is important that he should never trip even in the smallest trifles.

So too the teacher of geometry, music or other subjects which I would class with these, will not be able to create the perfect orator (who like the philosopher ought to be a wise man), but none the less these arts will assist in his perfection. I may draw a parallel from the use of antidotes and other remedies applied to the eyes or to wounds. We know that these are composed of ingredients which produce many and sometimes contrary effects, but mixed together they make a single compound resembling no one of its component parts, but deriving its peculiar properties from all:

so too dumb insects produce honey, whose taste is beyond the skill of man to imitate, from different kinds of flowers and juices. Shall we marvel then, if oratory, the highest gift of providence to man, needs the assistance of many arts, which, although they do not reveal or intrude themselves in actual speaking, supply hidden forces and make their silent presence felt?

But it will be urged men have proved fluent without their aid. Granted, but I am in quest of an orator. Their contribution is but small. Yes, but we shall never attain completeness, if minor details be lacking. And it will be agreed that though our ideal of perfection may dwell on a height that is hard to gain, it is our duty to teach all we know, that achievement may at least come somewhat nearer the goal. But why should our courage fail? The perfect orator is not contrary to the laws of nature, and it is cowardly to despair of anything that is within the bounds of possibility. For myself I should be ready to accept the verdict of antiquity.

Who is ignorant of the fact that music, of which I will speak first, was in ancient times the object not merely of intense study but of veneration: in fact Orpheus and Linus, to mention no others, were regarded as uniting the roles of musician, poet and philosopher. Both were of divine origin, while the former, because by the marvel of his music he soothed the savage breast, is recorded to have drawn after him not merely beasts of the wild, but rocks and trees.

So too Timagenes asserts that music is the oldest of the arts related to literature, a statement which is confirmed by the testimony of the greatest of poets in whose songs we read that the praise of heroes and of gods were sung to the music of the lyre at the feasts of kings. Does not lopas, the Vergilian bard, sing

The wandering moon and labours of the Sun and the like? whereby the supreme poet manifests most clearly that music is united with the knowledge even of things divine.

If this be admitted, music will be a necessity even for an orator, since those fields of knowledge, which were annexed by philosophy on their abandonment by oratory, once were ours and without the knowledge of all such things there can be no perfect eloquence.

There can in any case be no doubt that some of those men whose wisdom is a household word have been earnest students of music: Pythagoras for instance and his followers popularised the belief, which they no doubt had received from earlier teachers, that the universe is constructed on the same principles which were afterwards imitated in the construction of the lyre, and not content merely with emphasising that concord of discordant elements which they style harmony attributed a sound to the motions of the celestial bodies.

As for Plato, there are certain passages in his works, more especially in the Timaeus, which are quite unintelligible to those who have not studied the theory of music. But why speak only of the philosophers, whose master, Socrates, did not blush to receive instruction in playing the lyre even when far advanced in years?

It is recorded that the greatest generals played on the lyre and the pipe, and that the armies of Sparta were fired to martial ardour by the strains of music. And what else is the function of the horns and trumpets attached to our legions? The louder the concert of their notes, the greater is the glorious supremacy of our arms over all the nations of the earth.

It was not therefore without reason that Plato regarded the knowledge of music as necessary to his ideal statesman or politician, as he calls him; while the leaders even of that school, which in other respects is the strictest and most severe of all schools of philosophy, held that the wise man might well devote some of his attention to such studies. Lycurgus himself, the founder of the stern laws of Sparta, approved of the training supplied by music.

Indeed nature itself seems to have given music as a boon to men to lighten the strain of labour: even the rower in the galleys is cheered to effort by song. Nor is this function of music confined to cases where the efforts of a number are given union by the sound of some sweet voice that sets the tune, but even solitary workers find solace at their toil in artless song.

So far I have attempted merely to sound the praises of the noblest of arts without bringing it into connexion with the education of an orator. I will therefore pass by the fact that the art of letters and that of music were once united: indeed Archytas and Euenus held that the former was subordinate to the latter, while we know that the same instructors were employed for the teaching of both from Sophron, a writer of farces, it is true, but so highly esteemed by Plato, that he is believed to have had Sophron's works under his pillow on his deathbed:

the same fact is proved by the case of Eupolis, who makes Prodamus teach both music and literature, and whose Maricas, who was none other than Hyperbolus in disguise, asserts that he knows nothing of music but letters. Aristophanes again in more than one of his plays shows that boys were trained in music from remote antiquity, while in the Hypobolimaeus of Menander an old man, when a father claims his son from him, gives an account of all expenses incurred on behalf of the boy's education and states that he has paid out large sums to musicians and geometricians.

From the importance thus given to music also originated the custom of taking a lyre round the company after dinner, and when on such an occasion Themistocles confessed that he could not play, his education was (to quote the words of Cicero) regarded as imperfect.

Even at the banquets of our own forefathers it was the custom to introduce the pipe and lyre, and even the hymn of the Salii has its tune. These practices were instituted by King Numa and clearly prove that not even those whom we regard as rude warriors, neglected the study of music, at least in so far as the resources of that age allowed.

Finally there was actually a proverb among the Greeks, that the uneducated were far from the company of the Muses and Graces.

But let us discuss the advantages which our future orator may reasonably expect to derive from the study of Music. Music has two modes of expression in the voice and in the body; for both voice and body require to be controlled by appropriate rules. Aristoxenus divides music, in so far as it concerns the voice, into rhythm and melody, the one consisting in measure, the latter in sound and song. Now I ask you whether it is not absolutely necessary for the orator to be acquainted with all these methods of expression which are concerned firstly with gesture, secondly with the arrangement of words and thirdly with the inflexions of the voice, of which a great variety are required in pleading.

Otherwise we must assume that structure and the euphonious combination of sounds are necessary only for poetry, lyric and otherwise, but superfluous in pleading, or that unlike music, oratory has no interest in the variation of arrangement and sound to suit the demands of the case.

But eloquence does vary both tone and rhythm, expressing sublime thoughts with elevation, pleasing thoughts with sweetness, and ordinary with gentle utterance, and in every expression of its art is in sympathy with the emotions of which it is the mouthpiece.

It is by the raising, lowering or inflexion of the voice that the orator stirs the emotions of his hearers, and the measure, if I may repeat the term, of voice or phrase differs according as we wish to rouse the indignation or the pity of the judge. For, as we know, different emotions are roused even by the various musical instruments, which are incapable of reproducing speech.

Further the motion of the body must be suitable and becoming, or as the Greeks call it eurythmic, and this can only be secured by the study of music. This is a most important department of eloquence, and will receive separate treatment in this work.

To proceed, an orator will assuredly pay special attention to his voice, and what is so specially the concern of music as this? Here too I must not anticipate a later section of this work, and will content myself by citing the example of Gaius Gracchus, the leading orator of his age, who during his speeches had a musician standing behind him with a pitchpipe, or tonarion as the Greeks call it, whose duty it was to give him the tones in which his voice was to be pitched.

Such was the attention which he paid to this point even in the midst of his most turbulent speeches, when he was terrifying the patrician party and even when he had begun to fear their power. I should like for the benefit of the uninstructed, those creatures of the heavier Muse, as the saying is, to remove all doubts as to the value of music.

They will at any rate admit that the poets should be read by our future orator. But can they be read without some knowledge of music? Or if any of my critics be so blind as to have some doubts about other forms of poetry, can the lyric poets at any rate be read without such knowledge? If there were anything novel in my insistence on the study of music, I should have to treat the matter at greater length.

But in view of the fact that the study of music has, from those remote times when Chiron taught Achilles down to our own day, continued to be studied by all except those who have a hatred for any regular course of study, it would be a mistake to seem to cast any doubt upon its value by showing an excessive zeal in its defence.

It will, however, I think be sufficiently clear from the examples I have already quoted, what I regard as the value and the sphere of music in the training of an orator. Still I think I ought to be more emphatic than I have been in stating that the music which I desire to see taught is not our modern music, which has been emasculated by the lascivious melodies of our effeminate stage and has to no small extent destroyed such manly vigour as we still possessed. No, I refer to the music of old which was employed to sing the praises of brave men and was sung by the brave themselves. I will have none of your psalteries and viols, that are unfit even for the use of a modest girl. Give me the knowledge of the principles of music, which have power to excite or assuage the emotions of mankind.

We are told that Pythagoras on one occasion, when some young men were led astray by their passions to commit an outrage on a respectable family, calmed them by ordering the piper to change her strain to a spondaic measure, while Chrysippus selects a special tune to be used by nurses to entice their little charges to sleep.

Further I may point out that among the fictitious themes employed in declamation is one, doing no little credit to its author's learning, in which it is supposed that a piper is accused of manslaughter because he had played a tune in the Phrygian mode as an accompaniment to a sacrifice, with the result that the person officiating went mad and flung himself over a precipice. If an orator is expected to declaim on such a theme as this, which cannot possibly be handled without some knowledge of music, how can my critics for all their prejudice fail to agree that music is a necessary element in the education of an orator?

As regards geometry, it is granted that portions of this science are of value for the instruction of children: for admittedly it exercises their minds, sharpens their wits and generates quickness of perception. But it is considered that the value of geometry resides in the process of learning, and not as with other sciences in the knowledge thus acquired. Such is the general opinion.

But it is not without good reason that some of the greatest men have devoted special attention to this science. Geometry has two divisions; one is concerned with numbers, the other with figures. Now knowledge of the former is a necessity not merely to the orator, but to any one who has had even an elementary education. Such knowledge is frequently required in actual cases, in which a speaker is regarded as deficient in education, I will not say if he hesitates in making a calculation, but even if he contradicts the calculation which he states in words by making an uncertain or inappropriate gesture with his fingers. Again linear geometry is frequently required in cases, as in lawsuits about boundaries and measurements.

But geometry and oratory are related in a yet more important way than this.

In the first place logical development is one of the necessities of geometry. And is it not equally a necessity for oratory? Geometry arrives at its conclusions from definite premises, and by arguing from what is certain proves what was previously uncertain. Is not this just what we do in speaking? Again are not the problems of geometry almost entirely solved by the syllogistic method, a fact which makes the majority assert that geometry bears a closer resemblance to logic than to rhetoric? But even the orator will sometimes, though rarely, prove his point by formal logic.

For, if necessary, he will use the syllogism, and he will certainly make use of the enthymeme which is a rhetorical form of syllogism. Further the most absolute form of proof is that which is generally known as linear demonstration. And what is the aim of oratory if not proof?

Again oratory sometimes detects falsehoods closely resembling the truth by the use of geometrical methods. An example of this may be found in connexion with numbers in the so-called pseudographs, a favourite amusement in our boyhood. But there are more important points to be considered. Who is there who would not accept the following proposition? When the lines bounding two figures are equal in length, the areas contained within those lines are equal. But this is false, for everything depends on the shape of the figure formed by these lines, and historians have been taken to task by geometricians for believing the time taken to circumnavigate an island to be a sufficient indication of its size. For the space enclosed is in proportion to the perfection of the figure.

Consequently if the bounding line to which we have referred form a circle, the most perfect of all plane figures, it will contain a greater space than if the same length of line took the form of a square, while a square contains a greater space than a triangle having the same total perimeter, and an equilateral triangle than a scalene triangle.

But there are other points which perhaps present greater difficulty. I will take an example which is easy even for those who have no knowledge of geometry. There is scarcely anyone who does not know that the Roman acre is 240 feet long and 120 feet broad, and its total perimeter and the area enclosed can easily be calculated.

But a square of 180 feet gives the same perimeter, yet contains a much larger area within its four sides. If the calculation prove irksome to any of my readers, he can learn the same truth by employing smaller numbers. Take a ten foot square: its perimeter is forty feet and it contains 100 square feet. But if the dimensions be fifteen feet by five, while the perimeter is the same, the area enclosed is less by a quarter.

On the other hand if we draw a parallelogram measuring nineteen feet by one, the number of square feet enclosed will be no greater than the number of linear feet making the actual length of the parallelogram, though the perimeter will be exactly as that of the figure which encloses an area of 100 square feet. Consequently the area enclosed by four lines will decrease in proportion as we depart from the form of a square.

It further follows that it is perfectly possible for the space enclosed to be less, though the perimeter be greater. This applies to plane figures only: for even one who is no mathematician can see that, when we have to consider hills or valleys, the extent of ground enclosed is greater than the sky over it.

But geometry soars still higher to the consideration of the system of the universe: for by its calculations it demonstrates the fixed and ordained courses of the stars, and thereby we acquire the knowledge that all things are ruled by order and destiny, a consideration which may at times be of value to an orator.

When Pericles dispelled the panic caused at Athens by the eclipse of the sun by explaining the causes of the phenomenon, or Sulpicius Gallus discoursed on the eclipse of the moon to the army of Lucius Paulus to prevent the soldiers being seized with terror at what they regarded as a portent sent by heaven, did not they discharge the function of an orator?

If Nicias had known this when he commanded in Sicily, he would not have shared the terror of his men nor lost the finest army that Athens ever placed in the field. Dion for instance when he came to Syracuse to overthrow the tyranny of Dionysius, was not frightened away by the occurrence of a similar phenomenon. However we are not concerned with the uses of geometry in war and need not dwell upon the fact that Archimedes singlehanded succeeded in appreciably prolonging the resistance of Syracuse when it was besieged.

It will suffice for our purpose that there are a number of problems which it is difficult to solve in any other way, which are as a rule solved by these linear demonstrations, such as the method of division, section to infinity, and the ratio of increase in velocity. From this we may conclude that, if as we shall show in the next book an orator has to speak on every kind of subject, he can under no circumstances dispense with a knowledge of geometry.

XI. The comic actor will also claim a certain amount of our attention, but only in so far as our future orator must be a master of the art of delivery. For I do not of course wish the boy, whom we are training to this end, to talk with the shrillness of a woman or in the tremulous accents of old age.

Nor for that matter must he ape the vices of the drunkard, or copy the cringing manners of a slave, or learn to express the emotions of love, avarice or fear. Such accomplishments are not necessary to an orator and corrupt the mind, especially while it is still pliable and unformed. For repeated imitation passes into habit.

Nor yet again must we adopt all the gestures and movements of the actor. Within certain limits the orator must be a master of both, but he must rigorously avoid staginess and all extravagance of facial expression, gesture and gait. For if an orator does command a certain art in such matters, its highest expression will be in the concealment of its existence. What then is the duty of the teacher whom we have borrowed from the stage?

In the first place he must correct all faults of pronunciation, and see that the utterance is distinct, and that each letter has its proper sound. There is an unfortunate tendency in the case of some letters to pronounce them either too thinly or too fully, while some we find too harsh and fail to pronounce sufficiently, substituting others whose sound is similar but somewhat duller.

For instance, lambda is substituted for rho, a letter which was always a stumbling-block to Demosthenes; our l and r have of course the same value. Similarly when c and g are not given their full value, they are softened into t and d.

Again our teacher must not tolerate the affected pronunciation of s with which we are painfully familiar, nor suffer words to be uttered from the depths of the throat or rolled out hollow-mouthed, or permit the natural sound of the voice to be over-laid with a fuller sound, a fault fatal to purity of speech; the Greeks give this peculiarity the name καταπεπλασμένον (plastered over), a term applied to the tone produced by a pipe, when the stops which produce the treble notes are closed, and a bass note is produced through the main aperture only.

He will also see that final syllables are not clipped, that the quality of speech is continuously maintained, that when the voice is raised, the strain falls upon the lungs and not the mouth, and that gesture and voice are mutually appropriate.

He will also insist that the speaker faces his audience, that the lips are not distorted nor the jaws parted to a grin, that the face is not thrown back, nor the eyes fixed on the ground, nor the neck slanted to left or right. For there are a variety of faults of facial expression. I have seen many, who raised their brows whenever the voice was called upon for an effort, others who wore a perpetual frown, and yet others who could not keep their eyebrows level, but raised one towards the top of the head and depressed the other till it almost closed the eye.

These are details, but as I shall shortly show, they are of enormous importance, for nothing that is unbecoming can have a pleasing effect.

Our actor will also be required to show how a narrative should be delivered, and to indicate the authoritative tone that should be given to advice, the excitement which should mark the rise of anger, and the change of tone that is characteristic of pathos. The best method of so doing is to select special passages from comedy appropriate for the purpose, that is to say, resembling the speeches of a pleader.

These are not only most useful in training the delivery, but are admirably adapted to increase a speaker's eloquence.

These are the methods to be employed while the pupil is too young to take in more advanced instruction; but when the time has come for him to read speeches, and as soon as he begins to appreciate their merits, he should have a careful and efficient teacher at his side not merely to form his style of reading aloud, but to make him learn select passages by heart and declaim them standing in the manner which actual pleading would require: thus he will simultaneously train delivery, voice and memory.

I will not blame even those who give a certain amount of time to the teacher of gymnastics. I am not speaking of those, who spend part of their life in rubbing themselves with oil and part in winebibbing, and kill the mind by over-attention to the body: indeed, I would have such as these kept as far as possible from the boy whom we are training.

But we give the same name to those who form gesture and motion so that the arms may be extended in the proper manner, the management of the hands free from all trace of rusticity and inelegance, the attitude becoming, the movements of the feet appropriate and the motions of the head and eyes in keeping with the poise of the body.

No one will deny that such details form a part of the art of delivery, nor divorce delivery from oratory; and there can be no justification for disdaining to learn what has got to be done, especially as chironomy, which, as the name shows, is the law of gesture, originated in heroic times and met with the approval of the greatest Greeks, not excepting Socrates himself, while it was placed by Plato among the virtues of a citizen and included by Chrysippus in his instructions relative to the education of children.

We are told that the Spartans even regarded a certain form of dance as a useful element in military training. Nor again did the ancient Romans consider such a practice as disgraceful: this is clear from the fact that priestly and ritual dances have survived to the present day, while Cicero in the third book of his de Oratore quotes the words of Crassus, in which he lays down the principle that the orator should learn to move his body in a bold and manly fashion derived not from actors or the stage, but from martial and even from gymnastic exercises. And such a method of training has persisted uncensured to our own time.

In my opinion, however, such training should not extend beyond the years of boyhood, and even boys should not devote too much time to it. For I do not wish the gestures of oratory to be modelled on those of the dance. But I do desire that such boyish exercises should continue to exert a certain influence, and that something of the grace which we acquired as learners should attend us in after life without our being conscious of the fact.

The question is not infrequently asked, as to whether, admitting that these things ought to be learned, it is possible for all of them to be taught and taken in simultaneously. There are some who say that this is impossible on the ground that the mind is confused and tired by application to so many studies of different tendencies: neither the intelligence nor the physique of our pupils, nor the time at our disposal are sufficient, they say, and even though older boys may be strong enough, it is a sin to put such a burden on the shoulders of childhood.

These critics show an insufficient appreciation of the capacities of the human mind, which is so swift and nimble and versatile, that it cannot be restricted to doing one thing only, but insists on devoting its attention to several different subjects not merely in one day, but actually at one and the same time.

Do not harpists simultaneously exert the memory and pay attention to the tone and inflexions of the voice, while the right hand runs over certain strings and the left plucks, stops or releases others, and even the foot is employed in beating time, all these actions being performed at the same moment?

Again, do not we ourselves, when unexpectedly called upon to plead, speak while we are thinking what we are to say next, invention of argument, choice of words, rhythm, gesture, delivery, facial expression and movement all being required simultaneously? If all these things can be done with one effort in spite of their diversity, why should we not divide our hours among different branches of study? We must remember that variety serves to refresh and restore the mind, and that it is really considerably harder to work at one subject without intermission. Consequently we should give the pen a rest by turning to read, and relieve the tedium of reading by changes of subject. However manifold our activities, in a certain sense we come fresh to each new subject.

Who can maintain his attention, if he has to listen for a whole day to one teacher harping on the same subject, be it what it may? Change of studies is like change of foods: the stomach is refreshed by their variety and derives greater nourishment from variety of viands.

If my critics disagree, let them provide me with an alternative method. Are we first to deliver ourselves up to the sole service of the teacher of literature, and then similarly to the teacher of geometry, neglecting under the latter what was taught us by the former? And then are we to go on to the musician, forgetting all that we learned before? And when we study Latin literature, are we to do so to the exclusion of Greek? In fine, to have done with the matter once and for all, are we to do nothing except that which last comes to our hand?

On this principle, why not advise farmers not to cultivate corn, vines, olives and orchard trees at the same time? or from devoting themselves simultaneously to pastures, cattle, gardens, bees and poultry? Why do we ourselves daily allot some of our time to the business of the courts, some to the demands of our friends, some to our domestic affairs, some to the exercise of the body, and some even to our pleasures? Any one of these occupations, if pursued without interruption, would fatigue us. So much easier is it to do many things than to do one thing for a long time continuously.

We need have no fear at any rate that boys will find their work too exhausting: there is no age more capable of enduring fatigue. The fact may be surprising, but it can be proved by experiment. For the mind is all the easier to teach before it is set.

This may be clearly proved by the fact that within two years after a child has begun to form words correctly, he can speak practically all without any pressure from outside. On the other hand how many years it takes for our newly-imported slaves to become familiar with the Latin language. Try to teach an adult to read and you will soon appreciate the force of the saying applied to those who do everything connected with their art with the utmost skill he started young! Moreover boys stand the strain of work better than young men.

Just as small children suffer less damage from their frequent falls, from their crawling on hands and knees and, a little later, from their incessant play and their running about from morn till eve, because they are so light in weight and have so little to carry, even so their minds are less susceptible of fatigue, because their activity calls for less effort and application to study demands no exertion of their own, since they are merely so much plastic material to be moulded by the teacher.

And further owing to the general pliability of childhood, they follow their instructors with greater simplicity and without attempting to measure their own progress: for as yet they do not even appreciate the nature of their work. Finally, as I have often noticed, the senses are less affected by mere hard work than they are by hard thinking.

Moreover there will never be more time for such studies, since at this age all progress is made through listening to the teacher. Later when the boy has to write by himself, or to produce and compose something out of his own head, he will neither have the time nor the inclination for the exercises which we have been discussing.

Since, then, the teacher of literature neither can nor ought to occupy the whole day, for fear of giving his pupil a distaste for work, what are the studies to which the spare time should preferably be devoted?

For I do not wish the student to wear himself out in such pursuits: I would not have him sing or learn to read music or dive deep into the minuter details of geometry, nor need he be a finished actor in his delivery or a dancer in his gesture: if I did demand all these accomplishments, there would yet be time for them; the period allotted to education is long, and I am not speaking of duller wits.

Why did Plato bear away the palm in all these branches of knowledge which in my opinion the future orator should learn? I answer, because he was not merely content with the teaching which Athens was able to provide or even with that of the Pythagoreans whom he visited in Italy, but even approached the priests of Egypt and made himself thoroughly acquainted with all their secret lore.

The plea of the difficulty of the subject is put forward merely to cloak our indolence, because we do not love the work that lies before us nor seek to win eloquence for our own because it is a noble art and the fairest thing in all the world, but gird up our loins for mercenary ends and for the winning of filthy lucre.

Without such accomplishments many may speak in the courts and make an income; but it is my prayer that every dealer in the vilest merchandise may be richer than they and that the public crier may find his voice a more lucrative possession. And I trust that there is not one even among my readers who would think of calculating the monetary value of such studies.

But he that has enough of the divine spark to conceive the ideal eloquence, he who, as the great tragic poet says, regards oratory as the queen of all the world and seeks not the transitory gains of advocacy, but those stable and lasting rewards which his own soul and knowledge and contemplation can give, he will easily persuade himself to spend his time not, like so many, in the theatre or in the Campus Martius, in dicing or in idle talk, to say naught of the hours that are wasted in sleep or long drawn banqueting, but in listening rather to the geometrician and the teacher of music. For by this he will win a richer harvest of delight than can ever be gathered from the pleasures of the ignorant, since among the many gifts of providence to man not the least is this that the highest pleasure is the child of virtue.

But the attractions of my theme have led me to say overmuch. Enough of those studies in which a boy must be instructed, while he is yet too young to proceed to greater things! My next book will start afresh and will pass to the consideration of the duties of the teacher of rhetoric.