Book 3

IN the second book the subject of inquiry was the nature and the end of rhetoric, and I proved to the best of my ability that it was an art, that it was useful, that it was a virtue and that its material was all and every subject that might come up for treatment. I shall now discuss its origin, its component parts, and the method to be adopted in handling and forming our conception of each. For most authors of text-books have stopped short of this, indeed Apollodorus confines himself solely to forensic oratory.

I know that those who asked me to write this work were specially interested in that portion on which I am now entering, and which, owing to the necessity of examining a great diversity of opinions, at once forms by far the most difficult section of this work, and also, I fear, may be the least attractive to my readers, since it necessitates a dry exposition of rules.

In other portions of this work I have attempted to introduce a certain amount of ornateness, not, I may say, to advertise my style (if I had wished to do that, I could have chosen a more fertile theme), but in order that I might thus do something to lure our young men to make themselves acquainted with those principles which I regarded as necessary to the study of rhetoric: for I hoped that by giving them something which was not unpleasant to read I might induce a greater readiness to learn those rules which I feared might, by the dryness and aridity which must necessarily characterise their exposition, revolt their minds and offend their ears which are nowadays grown somewhat over-sensitive.

Lucretilus has the same object in mind when he states that he has set forth his philosophical system in verse; for you will remember the well known simile which he uses:— And as physicians when they seek to give

A draught of bitter wormwood to a child,

First smear along the edge that rims the cup

The liquid sweets of honey, golden-hued, and the rest.

But I fear that this book will have too little honey and too much wormwood, and that though the student may find it a healthy draught, it will be far from agreeable. I am also haunted by the further fear that it will be all the less attractive from the fact that most of the precepts which it contains are not original, but derived from others, and because it is likely to rouse the opposition of certain persons who do not share my views. For there are a large number of writers, who though they are all moving toward the same goal, have constructed different roads to it and each drawn their followers into their own.

The latter, however, approve of the path on which they have been launched whatever its nature, and it is difficult to change the convictions implantted in boyhood, for the excellent reason that everybody prefers to have learned rather than to be in process of learning.

But, as will appear in the course of this book, there is an infinite diversity of opinions among writers on [his subject, since some have added their own discoveries to those portions of the art which were still shapeless and unformed, and subsequently have altered even what was perfectly sound in order to establish a claim to originality.

The first writer after those recorded by the poets who is said to have taken any steps in the direction of rhetoric is Empedocles. But the earliest writers of text-books are the Sicilians, Corax and Tisias, who were followed by another from the same island, namely Gorgias of Leontini, whom tradition asserts to have been the pupil of Empedocles.

He, thanks to his length of days, for he lived to a hundred and nine, flourished as the contemporary of many rhetoricians, was consequently the rival of those whom I have just mentioned, and lived on to survive Socrates.

In the same period flourished Thrasymachus of Chalcedon, Prodicus of Ceos, Protagoras of Abdera, for whose instructions, which he afterwards published in a text-book, Euathlus is said to have paid 10,000 denarii, Hippias of Elis and Alcidamas of Elaea whom Plato calls Palamedes.

There was Antiphon also, who was the first to write speeches and who also wrote a text-book and is said to have spoken most eloquently in his own defence; Polycrates, who, as have already said, wrote a speech against Socrates, and Theodorus of Byzantium, who was one of those called word-artificers by Plato.

Of these Protagoras and Gorgias are said to have been the first to treat commonplaces, Prodicus, Hippias, Protagoras and Thrasymachus the first to handle emotional themes. Cicero in the Brutus states that nothing in the ornate rhetorical style was ever committed to writing before Pericles, and that certain of his speeches are still extant. For my part I have been unable to discover anything in the least worthy of his great reputation for eloquence, and am consequently the less surprised that there should be some who hold that he never committed anything to writing, and that the writings circulating under his name are the works of others.

These rhetoricias had many successors, but the most famous of (Gorgias' pupils was Isocrates, although our authorities are not agreed as to who was his teacher: I however accept the statement of Aristotle on the subject.

From this point the roads begin to part. The pupils of Isocrates were eminent in every branch of study, and when he was already advanced in years (and he lived to the age of ninety-eight), Aristotle began to teach the art of rhetoric in his afternoon lectures, in which he frequently quoted the wel-known line from the Philoctetes in the form Isocrates still speaks. 'Twere shame should I Sit silent.

Both Aristotle and Isocrates left text-books on rhetoric, but that by Aristotle is the larger and contains more books. Theodectes, whose work I mentioned above, also lived about the same period: while Theophrastus, the pupil of Aristotle, produced some careful work on rhetoric. After him we may note that the philosophers, more especially the leaders of the Stoic and Peripatetic schools, surpassed even the rhetoricians in the zeal which they devoted to the subject.

Hermagoras next carved out a path of his own, which numbers have followed: of his rivals Athenaeus seems to have approached him most nearly. Later still much work was done by Apollonius Molon, Areus, Caecilius and Dionysius of Halicarnassus.

But the rhetoricians who attracted the most enthusiastic following were Apollodorus of Pergamus, who was the instructor of Augustus Caesar at Apollonia, and Theodorus of Gadara, who preferred to be called Theodorus of Rhodes: it is said that Tiberius Caesar during his retirement in that island was a constant attendant at his lectures.

These rhetoricians taught different systems, and two schools have arisen known as the Apollodoreans and the Theodoreans, these names being modelled on the fashion of nomenclature in vogue with certain schools of philosophy. The doctrines of Apollodorus are best learned from his pupils, among whom Cains Valgius was the best interpreter of his master's views in Latin, Atticus in Greek. The only text-book by Apollodorus himself seems to be that addressed to Matius, as his letter to Domitius does not acknowledge the other works attributed to him. The writings of Theodorus were more numerous, and there are some still living who have seen his pupil Herinagoras.

The first Roman to handle the subject was, to the best of my belief, Marcus Cato, the famous censor, while after him Marcus Antonius began a treatise on rhetoric: I say began, because only this one work of his survives, and that is incomplete. he was followed by others of less note, whose names I will not omit to mention, should occasion demand.

But it was Cicero who shed the greatest light not only on the practice but on the theory of oratory; for he stands alone among Romans as combining the gift of actual eloquence with that of teaching the art. With him for predecessor it would be more modest to be silent, but for the fact that he himself describes his Rhetorica as a youthful indiscreition, while in his later works on oratory he deliberately omitted the discussion of certain minor points, on which instruction is generally desired.

Cornificius wrote a good deal, Stertinius something, and the elder Gallio a little on the same subject. But Gallio's predecessors, Celsus and Laenas, and in our own day Verginius, Pliny and Tutilius, have treated rhetoric with greater accuracy. Even to-day we have some distinguished writers on oratory who, if they had dealt with the subject more comprehensively, would have saved me the trouble of writing this book. But I will spare the names of the living. The time will come when they will reap their meed of praise; for their merits will endure to after generations, while the calunmies of envy will perish utterly.

Still, although so many writers have preceded me, I shall not shrink from expressing my own opinion on certain points. I am not a superstitious adherent of any school, and as this book will contain a collection of the opinions of many different authurs, it was desirable to leave it to my readers to selcet what they will. I shall be content if they praise me for my industry, wherever there is no scope for originality.

The question as to the origin of rhetoric need not keep us long. For who can doubt that mankind received the gift of speech from nature at its birth (for we can hardly go further back than that), while the usefulness of speech brought improvement and study, and finally method and exercise gave perfection?

I cannot understand why some hold that the elaboration of speech originated in the fact that those who were in peril owing to some accusation being made against them, set themselves to speak with studied care for the purpose of their own defence. This, however, though a more honourable origin, cannot possibly be the earlier, for accusation necessarily precedes defence. You might as well assert that the sword was invented for the purpose of self-defence and not for aggression.

It was, then, nature that created speech, and observation that originated the art of speaking. Just as men discovered the art of medicine by observing that some things were healthy and some the reverse, so they observed that some things were useful and some useless in speaking, and noted them for imitation or avoidance, while they added certain other precepts according as their nature suggested. These observations were confirmed by experience and each man proceeded to teach what he knew.

Cicero, it is true, attributes the origin of oratory to the founders of cities and the makers of laws, who must needs have possessed the gift of eloquence. But why he thinks this the actual origin, I cannot understand, since there still exist certain nomad peoples without cities or laws, and yet members of these peoples perform the duties of ambassadors, accuse and defend, and regard one man as a better speaker than another.

The art of oratory, as taught by most authorities, and those the best, consists of five parts:- invention, arrangement, expression, memory, and delivery or action (the two latter terms being used synonymously). But all speech expressive of purpose involves also a subject and words.

If such expression is brief and contained within the limits of one sentence, it may demand nothing more, but longer speeches require much more. For not only what we say and how we say it is of importance, but also the circumstances under which we say it. It is here that the need of arrangement comes in. But it will be impossible to say everything demanded by the subject, putting each thing in its proper place, without the aid of memory.

It is for this reason that memory forms the fourth department. But a delivery, which is rendered unbecoming cither by voice or gesture, spoils everything and almost entirely destroys the effect of what is said. Delivery therefore must be assigned the fifth place.

Those (and Albutins is among them), who maintain that there are only three departments on the ground that memory and delivery (for which I shall give instructions in their proper place) are given us by nature not by art, may be disregarded, although Thrasymachus held the same views as regards delivery.

Some have added a sixth department, subjoining judgment to invention, on the ground that it is necessary first to invented and then to exercise our judgment. For my own part I do not believe that invention can exist apart from judgement, since we do not say that a speaker has invented incousistent, two-edged or foolish arguments, but merely that he has failed to avoid them. It is true that Cicero in his Rhetorica includes judgment under mention; but in my opinion judgment is so inextricably mingled with the first three departments of rhetoric (for without judgment neither expression nor arrangement are possible), that I think that even delivery owes much to it. I say this with all the greater confidence because Cicero in his Partitiones oratoriae arrives at the same five-fold division of which I have just spoken. For after an initial division of oratory into invention and expression, he assigns matter and arrangement to invention, words and delivery to expression, and makes memory a fifth department common to them all and acting as their guardian. Again in the Orator he states that eloquence consists of five things, and in view of the fact that this is a later work we may accept this as his more settled opinion.

Others, who seem to me to have been no less desirous than those mentioned above to introduce some novelty, have added order, although they had already mentioned arrangement, as though arrangement was anything else than the marshalling of arguments in the best possible order. Dion taught that oratory consisted only of invention and arrangement, but added that each of these departments was twofold in nature, being concerned with words and things, so that expression comes under invention, and delivery under arrangement, while memory must be added as a fifth department. The followers of Theodorus divide invention into two parts, the one concerned with matter and the other with expression, and then add the three remaining departments.

Hermagoras places judgment, division, order and everything relating to expression under the heading of economy, a Greek word meaning the management of domestic affairs which is applied metaphorically to oratory and has no Latin equivalent.

A further question arises at this point, since some make memory follow invention in the list of departments, while others make it follow arrangement. Personally I prefer to place it fourth. For we ought not merely to retain in our minds the fruits of our invention, in order that we may be able to arrange them, or to remember our arraangement in order that we may express it, but we must also commit to memory the words which we propose to use, since memory embraces everything that goes to the compposition of a speech.

There are also not a few who have held that these are not parts of rhetoric, but rather duties to be observed by the orator. For it is his business to invent, arrange, express, etcetera. If, however, we accept this view, we leave nothing to art.

For although the orator's task is to speak well, rhetoric is the science of speaking well. Or if we adopt another view, the task of the artist is to persuade, while the power of persuasion resides in the art. Consequently, while it is the duty of the orator to invent and arrange, intention and arrangement may be regarded as belonging to rhetoric.

At this point there has been much disagreement, as to whether these are parts or duties of rhetoric, or, as Athenaeus believes, elements of rhetoric, which the Greeks call στοιχεῖα But they cannot correctly be called elements. For in that case we should have to regard them merely as first-principles, like the moisture, fire, matter or atoms of which the universe is said to be composed. Nor is it correct to call them duties, since they are not preformed by others, but perform something themselves. We must therefore conclude that they are parts.

For since rhetoric is composed of them, it follows that:, since a whole consists of parts, these must be parts of the whole which they compose. Those who have called them duties seem to me to have been further influenced by the fact that they wished to reserve the name of parts for another division of rhetoric: for they asserted that the parts of rhetoric were, panegyric, deliberative and forensic oratory. But if these are parts, they are parts rather of the material than of the art.

For each of them contains the whole of rhetoric, since each of them requires invention, arrangement, expression, memory and delivery. Consequently some writers have thought it better to say that there are three kinds of oratory; those whom Cicero has followed seem to me to have taken the wisest course in terming them kinds of causes.

There is, however, a dispute as to whether there are three kinds or more. But it is quite certain that all the most eminent authorities among ancient writers, following Aristotle who merely substituted the term public for deliberative, have been content with the threefold division.

Still a feeble attempt has been made by certain Greeks and by Cicero in his de Oratore, to prove that there are not merely more than three, but that the number of kinds is almost past calculation: and this view has almost been thrust down our throats by the greatest authority of our own times.

Indeed if we place the task of praise and denunciation in the third division, on what kind of oratory are we to consider ourselves to be employed, when we complain, console, pacify, excite, terrify, encourage, instruct, explain obscurities, narrate, plead for mercy, thank, congratulate, reproach, abuse, describe, command, retract, express our desires and opinions, to mention no other of the many possibilities?

As an adherent of the older view I must ask for indulgence and must enquire what was the reason that led earlier writers to restrict a subject of such variety to such narrow bounds. Those who think such authorities in error hold that they were influenced by the fact that these three subjects practically exhausted the range of ancient oratory.

For it was customary to write panegyrics and denunciations and to deliver funeral orations, while the greater part of their activities was devoted to the law-courts and deliberative assemblies; as a result, they say, the old writers of text-books only included those kinds of oratory which were most in vogue.

The defenders of antiquity point out that there are three kinds of audience: one which comes simply for the sake of getting pleasure, a second which meets to receive advice, a third to give judgement on causes. In the course of a thorough enquiry into the question it has occurred to me that the tasks of oratory must either be concerned with the law-courts or with themes lying outside the law-courts.

The nature of the questions into which enquiry is made in the courts is obvious. As regards those matters which do not come before a judge, they must necessarily be concerned either with the past or the future. We praise or denounce past actions, we deliberate about the future.

Again everything on which we have to speak must be either certain or doubtful. We praise or blame what is certain, as our inclination leads us: on the other hand where doubt exists, in some cases we are free to form our own views, and it is here that deliberation comes in, while in others, we leave the problem to the decision of others, and it is on these that litigation takes place.

Anaximenes regarded forensic and public oratory as genera but held that there were seven species:— exhortation, dissuasion, praise, denunciation, accusation, defence, inquiry, or as he called it ἐξεταστικόν. The first two, however, clearly belong to deliberative, the next to demonstrative, the three last to forensic oratory.

I say nothing of Protagoras, who held that oratory was to be divided only into the following heads: question and answer, command and entreaty, or as he calls it εὐχωλή. Plato in his Sophist in addition to public and forensic oratory introduces a third kind which he styles προσομιλητική, which I will permit myself to translate by conversational. This is distinct from forensic oratory and is adapted for private discussions, and we may regard it as identical with dialectic.

Isocrates held that praise and blame find a place in every kind of oratory.

The safest and most rational course seems to be to follow the authority of the majority. There is, then, as I have said, one kind concerned with praise and blame, which, however, derives its name from the better of its two functions and is called laudatory; others however call it demonstrative. Both names are believed to be derived from the Greek in which the corresponding terms are encomiastic, and epideictic.

The term epideictic seems to me however to imply display rather than demonstration, and to have a very different meaning from encomiastic. For although it includes laudatory oratory, it does not confine itself thereto.

Will any one deny the title of epideictic to panegyric? But yet panegyrics are advisory in form and frequently discuss the interests of Greece. We may therefore conclude that, while there are three kinds of oratory, all three devote themselves in part to the matter in land, and in part to display. But it may be that Romans are not borrowing from Greek when they apply the title demonstrative but are merely led to do so because praise and blame demonstrate the nature of the object with which they are concerned.

The second kind is deliberative, the third forensic oratory. All other species fall under these three genera: you will not find one in which we have not to praise or blame, to advise or dissuade, to drive home or refute a charge, while conciliation, narration, proof, exaggeration, extenuation and the moulding of the minds of the audience by exciting or allaying their passions, are common to all three kind of oratory.

I cannot even agree with those who hold that laudalory subjects are concerned with the question of what is honourable, deliberative with the question of what is expedient, and forensic with tie question of what is just: the division thus made is easy and neat rather than true: for all three kinds rely on the mutual assistance of the other. For we deal with justice and expediency in punegyric and with honour in (deliberations, while you will rarely find a forensic case, in part of which at any rate something of those questions just mentioned is not to be found.

Every speech however consists at once of that which is expressed and that which expresses, that is to say of matter and words. Skill in speaking is perfected by nature, art and practice, to which some add a fourth department, namely imitation, which I however prefer to include under art.

There are also three aims which the orator must always have in view; he must instruct, move and charm his hearers. This is a clearer division than that made by those who divide the task of oratory into that which relates to things and that which concerns the emotions, since both of these will not always be present in the subjects which we shall have to treat. For some themes are far from calling for any appeal to the emotions, which, although room cannot always be found for them, produce a most powerful effect wherever they do succeed in forcing their way.

The best authorities hold that there are some things in oratory which require proof and others which do not, a view with which I agree. Some on the other hand, as for instance Celsus, think that the orator will not speak on any subject unless there is some question involved in it; but the majority of writers on rhetoric are against him, as is also the threefold division of oratory, unless indeed to praise what is allowed to be honourable and to denounce what is admittedly disgraceful are no part of an orator's duty.

It is, however, universally agreed that all questions must be concerned either with something that is written or something that is not. Those concerned with what is written are questions of law, those which concern what is not written are questions of fact. Hermagoras calls the latter rational questions, the former legal questions, for so we may translate λογικόν and νομικόν.

Those who hold that every question concerns either things or words, mean much the same. It is also agreed that questions are either definite or indefinite. Indefinite questions are those which may be maintained or impugned without reference to persons, time or place and the like. The Greeks call them theses, Cicero propositions, others general questions relating to civil life, others again questions suited for philosophical discussion, while Athenaeus calls them parts of a cause.

Cicero distinguishes two kinds, the one concerned with knowledge, the other with action. Thus Is the world governed by providence? is a question of knowledge, while Should we enter politics? is a question of action. The first involves three questions, whether a thing is, what it is, and of what nature: for all these things may be unknown: the second involves two, how to obtain power and how to use it.

Definite questions involve facts, persons, time and the like. The Greeks call them hypotheses, while we call them causes. In these the whole question turns on persons and facts.

An indefinite question is always the more comprehensive, since it is from the indefinite question that the definite is derived. I will illustrate what I mean by an example. The question Should a man marry? is indefinite; the question Should Cato marry? is definite, and consequently may be regarded as a subject for a deliberative theme. But even those which have no connexion with particular persons are generally given a specific reference. For instance the question Ought we to take a share in the government of our country? is abstract, whereas Ought we to take part in the government of our country under the sway of a tyrant? has a specific reference.

But in this latter case we may say that a person is tacitly implied. For the mention of a tyrant doubles the question, and there is an implicit admission of time and quality; but all the same you would scarcely be justified in calling it a cause or definite question. Those questions which I have styled indefinite are also called general: if this is correct, we shall have to call definite questions special questions. But in every special question the general question is implicit, since the genus is logically prior to the species.

And perhaps even in actual causes wherever the notion of quality comes into question, there is a certain intrusion of the abstract. Milo killed Clodius: he was justified in killing one who lay in wait for him. Does not this raise the general question as to whether we have the right to kill a man who lies in wait for us? What again of conjectures? May not they be of a general character, as for instance, What was the motive for the crime? hatred? covetousness? or Are we justified in believing confessions made under torture? or Which should carry greater weight, evidence or argument? As for definitions, everything that they contain is undoubtedly of a general nature.

There are some who hold that even those questions which have reference to persons and particular cases may at times be called theses, provided only they are put slightly differently: for instance, if Orestes be accused, we shall have a cause: whereas if it is put as question, namely Was Orestes rightly acquitted? it will be a thesis. To the same class as this last belongs the question Was Cato right in transferring Marcia to Hortensius? These persons distinguish a thesis from a cause as follows: a thesis is theoretical in character, while a cause has relation to actual facts, since in the former case we argue merely with a view to abstract truth, while in the latter we have to deal with some particular act.

Some, however, think that general questions are useless to an orator, since no profit is to be derived from proving that we ought to marry or to take part in politics, if we are prevented from so doing by age or ill health. But not all general questions are liable to this kind of objection. For instance questions such as Is virtue an end in itself? or Is the world governed by providence? cannot be countered in this way.

Further in questions which have reference to a particular person, although it is not sufficient merely to handle the general question, we cannot arrive at any conclusion on the special point until we have first discussed the general question. For how is Cato to deliberate whether he personally is to marry, unless the general question whether marriage is desirable is first settled? And how is he to deliberate whether he should marry Marcia, unless it is proved that it is the duty of Cato to marry?

There are, however, certain books attributed to Hermagoras which support this erroneous opinion, though whether the attribution is spurious or whether they were written by another Hermagoras is an open question. For they cannot possibly be by the famous Hermagoras, who wrote so much that was admirable on the art of rhetoric, since, as is clear from the first book of the Rhetorica of Cicero, he divided the material of rhetoric into theses and causes. Cicero objects to this division, contends that theses have nothing to do with an orator, and refers all this class of questions to the philosophers.

But Cicero has relieved me of any feeling of shame that I might have in controverting his opinion, since he has not only expressed his disapproval of his Rhetorica, but in the Orator, the de Oratore and the Topica instructs us to abstract such discussions from particular persons and occasions, because we can speak more fully on general than on special themes, and because what is proved of the whole must also be proved of the part.

In all general questions, however, the essential basis is the same as in a cause or definite question. It is further pointed out that there are some questions which concern things in themselves, while others have a particular reference; an example of the former will be the question Should a man marry? of the latter Should an old man marry?; or again the question whether a man is brave will illustrate the first, while the question whether he is braver than another will exemplify the second.

Apollodorus defines a cause in the following terms (I quote the translation of his pupil Valgius):— A cause is a matter which in all its parts bears on the question at issue, or again a cause is a matter of which the question in dispute is the object. He then defines a matter in the following terms:— " A matter is a combination of persons, circumstances of place and time, motives, means, incidents, acts, instruments, speeches, the letter and the spirit of the law.

Let us then understand a cause in the sense of the Greek hypothesis or subject, and a matter in the sense of the Greek peristasis or collection of circumstances. But some, however, have defined a cause in the same way that Apollodorus defines a matter. Isocrates on the other hand defines a cause as some definite question concerned with some point of civil affairs, or a dispute in which definite persons are involved; while Cicero uses the following words:— A cause may be known by its being concerned with certain definite persons, circumstances of time and place, actions, and business, and will relate either to all or at any rate to most of these.

VI. Since every cause, then, has a certain essential basis on which it rests, before I proceed to set forth how each kind of cause should be handled, I think I should first examine a question that is common to all of them, namely, what is meant by basis, whence it is derived and how many and of what nature such bases may be. Some, it is true, have thought that they were peculiar merely to forensic themes, but their ignorance will stand revealed when I have treated of all three kinds of oratory.

That which I call the basis some style the constitution, others the question, and others again that which may be inferred from the question, while Theodorus calls it the most general head, κεφάλαιον γενικώτατον, to which everything must be referred. These different names, however, all mean the same thing, nor is it of the least importance to students by what special name things are called, as long as the thing itself is perfectly clear.

The Greeks call this essential basis στάσις, a name which they hold was not invented by Hermagoras, but according to some was introduced by Naucrates, the pupil of Isocrates, according to others by Zopyrus of Clazomenae, although Aeschines in his speech against Ctesiphon seems to employ the word, when he asks the jury not to allow Demosthenes to be irrelevant but to keep him to the stasis or basis of the case.

The term seems to be derived from the fact that it is on it that the first collision between the parties to the dispute takes place, or that it forms the basis or standing of the whole case. So much for the origin of the name. Now for its nature. Some have defined the basis as being the first conflict of the causes. The idea is correct, but the expression is faulty.

For the essential basis is not the first conflict, which we may represent by the clauses You did such and such a thing and I did not do it. It is rather the kind of question which arises from the first conflict, which we may represent as follows. You did it, I did not, Did he do it?, or You did this, I did not do this, What did he do? It is clear from these examples, that the first sort of question depends on conjecture, the second on definition, and that the contending parties rest their respective cases on these points: the bases of these questions will therefore be of a conjectural or definitive character respectively.

Suppose it should be asserted that sound is the conflict between two bodies, the statement would in my opinion be erroneous. For sound is not the actual conflict, but a result of the conflict. The error is, however, of small importance: for the sense is clear, whatever the expression. But this trivial mistake has given rise to a very serious error in the minds of those who have not understood what was meant: for on reading that the essential basis was the first conflict, they immediately concluded that the basis was always to be taken from the first question, which is a grave mistake.

For every question has its basis, since every question is based on assertion by one party and denial by another. But there are some questions which form an essential part of causes, and it is on these that we have to express an opinion; while others are introduced from without and are, strictly speaking, irrelevant, although they may contribute something of a subsidiary nature to the general contention. It is for this reason that there are said to be several questions in one matter of dispute.

Of these questions it is often the most trivial which occupies the first place. For it is a frequent artifice to drop those points in which we place least confidence, as soon as we have dealt with them; sometimes we make a free gift of them to our opponents, while sometimes we are content to use them as a step to arguments which are of greater importance.

A simple cause, however, although it may be defended in various ways, cannot have more than one point on which a decision has to be given, and consequently the basis of the cause will be that point which the orator sees to be the most important for him to make and on which the judge sees that he must fix all his attention. For it is on this that the cause will stand or fall. On the other hand questions may have more bases than one.

A brief example will show what I mean. When the accused says Admitting that I did it, I was right to do it, he makes the basis one of quality; but when he adds but I did not do it, he introduces an element of conjecture. But denial of the facts is always the stronger line of defence, and therefore I conceive the basis to reside in that which I should say, if I were confined to one single line of argument.

We are right therefore in speaking of the first conflict of causes in contradistinction to the conflict of questions. For instance in the first portion of his speech on behalf of Rabirius Postumus Cicero contends that the action cannot lie against a Roman knight, while in the second he asserts that no money ever came into his client's hands. Still I should say that the basis was to be found in the latter as being the stronger of the two.

Again in the case of Milo I do not consider that the conflict is raised by the opening questions, but only when the orator devotes all his powers to prove that Clodius lay in wait for Milo and was therefore rightly killed. The point on which above all the orator must make up his mind, even although he may be going to take up various lines of argument in support of his case, is this: what is it that he wishes most to impress upon the mind of the judge? But although this should be the first point for his consideration, it does not follow that it should be the first that he will make in his actual speech.

Others have thought that the basis lay in the first point raised by the other side in its defence. Cicero expresses this view in the following words:— the argument on which the defence first takes its stand with a view to rebutting the charge. This involves a further question as to whether the basis can only be determined by the defence. Cornelius Celsus is strongly against this view, and asserts that the basis is derived not from the denial of the charge, but from him who affirms his proposition. Thus if the accused denies that anyone has been killed, the basis will originate with the accuser, because it is the latter who desires to prove: if on the other hand the accused asserts that the homicide was justifiable, the burden of proof has been transferred and the basis will proceed from the accused and be affirmed by him. I do not, however, agree.

For the contrary is nearer to the truth, that there is no point of dispute if the defendant makes no reply, and that consequently the basis originates with the defendant.

But in my opinion the origin of the basis varies and depends on the circumstances of the individual case. For instance in conjectural causes the affirmation may be regarded as determining the basis, since conjecture is employed by the plaintiff rather than the defendant, and consequently some have styled the basis originated by the latter negative. Again in any syllogism the whole of the reasoning proceeds from him who affirms.

But on the other hand he who in such cases denies appears to impose the burden of dealing with such bases upon his opponent. For if he says I did not do it, he will force his opponent to make use of con- jecture, and again, if he says The law is against you, he will force him to employ the syllogism. Therefore we must admit that a basis can originate in denial. All the same we are left with our previous conclusion that the basis is determined in some cases by the plaintiff, in some by the defendant.

Suppose the accuser to affirm that the accused is guilty of homicide: if the accused denies the charge, it is he who will determine the basis. Or again, if he admits that he has killed a man, but states that the victim was an adulterer and justifiably killed (and we know that the law permits homicide under these circumstances), there is no matter in dispute, unless the accuser has some answer to make. Suppose the accuser does answer however and deny that the victim was guilty of adultery, it will be the accuser that denies, and it is by him that the basis is determined. The basis, then, will originate in the first denial of facts, but that denial is made by the accuser and not the accused.

Again the same question may make the same person either accuser or accused. He who has exercised the profession of an actor, is under no circumstances to be allowed a seat in the first fourteen rows of the theatre. An individual who had performed before the praetor in his private gardens, but had never been presented on the public stage, has taken his seat in one of the fourteen rows.

The accuser of course affirms that he has exercised the profession of an actor: the accused denies that he has exercised the profession. The question then arises as to the meaning of the exercise of the profession of actor. If he is accused under the law regarding the seats in the theatre, the denial will proceed from the accused; if on the other hand he is turned out of the theatre and demands compensation for assault, the denial will be made by the accuser.

The view of the majority of writers on this subject will, however, hold good in most cases. Some have evaded these problems by saying that a basis is that which emerges from affirmations and denials, such as You did it, I did not do it, or I was justified in doing it.

But let us see whether this is the basis itself or rather that in which the basis is to be found. Hermagoras calls a basis that which enables the matter in question to be understood and to which the proofs of the parties concerned will also be directed. My own opinion has always been that, whereas there are frequently different bases of questions in connexion with a cause, the basis of the cause itself is its most important point on which the whole matter turns. If anyone prefers to call that the general question or general head of the cause, I shall not quarrel with him, any more than I have done hitherto if he produced a different technical term to express the same thing, although I know that whole volumes have been written on such disputes. I prefer however to call it the basis.

There is the greatest possible disagreement among writers about this as about everything else, but in this case as elsewhere they seem to me to have been misled by a passion for saying something different from their fellow-teachers. As a result there is still no agreement as to the number and names of bases, nor as to which are general and which special. To begin with Aristotle lays down that there are ten categories on which every question seems to turn.

First there is οὐσία which Plautus calls essence, the only available translation: under this category we inquire whether a thing is. Secondly there is quality, the meaning of which is self-evident. Third comes quantity, which was subdivided by later philosophers as dealing with two questions as to magnitude and number. Next relation, involving questions of competence and comparison. This is followed by when and where. Then come doing, suffering and possessing, which for example are concerned with a person's being armed or clothed. Lastly comes κεῖσθαι or position, which means to be in a certain position, such for instance as being warm, standing or angry. Of these categories the first four concern bases, the remainder concern only certain topics for argument.

Others make the number of categories to be nine. Person, involving questions concerning the mind, body or external circumstances, which clearly has reference to the means by which we establish conjecture or quality. Time, or χρόνος, from which we get questions such as whether a child is born a slave, if his mother is delivered of him while assigned to her creditors. Place, from which we get such disputes as to whether it is permissible to kill a tyrant in a temple, or whether one who has hidden himself at home can be regarded as an exile.

Then comes time in another sense, called καιρός by the Greeks, by which they refer to a period of time, such as summer or winter; under this heading come problems such as that about the man who held high revel in a time of pestilence. Action or πρᾶξις, to which they refer questions as to whether an act was committed wittingly or unwittingly, by accident or under compulsion and the like. Number, which falls under the category of quantity, under which come questions such as whether the state owes Thrasybulus thirty talents for ridding it of the same number of tyrants.

Cause, under which heading come a large number of disputes, whenever a fact is not denied, but the defence pleads that the act was just and reasonable. τρόπος or manner, which is involved when a thing is said to have been done in one way when it might have been done in another: under this category come cases of such as that of the adulterer who is scourged with thongs or starved to death. Opportunity for action, the meaning of which is too obvious to need explanation or illustration: the Greeks however call it ἔργων ἀφορμαί

These authorities like Aristotle hold that no question can arise which does not come under one of these heads. Some subtract two of them, namely number and opportunity, and substitute for what I have called action, things, or in Greek πράγματα. I have thought it sufficient to notice these doctrines, for fear someone might complain of their omission. Still I do not consider that bases are sufficiently determined by these categories, nor that the latter cover every possible kind of topic, as will be clear to any that read carefully what I have to say on both points. For there will be found to be many topics that are not covered by these categories.

I find it stated in many authors that some rhetoricians only recognise one kind of basis, the con- jectural. But they have not mentioned who these rhetoricians are nor have I been able to discover. They are however stated to have taken this view on the ground that all our knowledge is a matter of inference from indications. On this line of reasoning they might regard all bases as qualitative, because we inquire into the nature of the subject in every case. But the adoption of either view leads to inextricable confusion.

Nor does it matter whether one recognises only one kind of basis or none at all, if all causes are of the same nature. Coniectura is derived from conicere to throw together, because it implies the concentration of the reason on the truth. For this reason interpreters of dreams and all other phenomena are called coniectores conjecturers. But the conjectural basis has received more names than one, as will appear in the sequel.

Some have recognised only two bases. Archedemus for instance admits only the conjectural and definitive and refuses to admit the qualitative, since he held that questions of quality take the form of What is unfair? what is unjust? what is disobedience? which he terms questions about identity and difference.

A different view was held by those who likewise only admitted two bases, but made them the negative and juridical. The negative basis is identical with that which we call the conjectural, to which some give the name of negative absolutely, others only in part, these latter holding that conjecture is employed by the accuser, denial only by the accused.

The juridical is that known in Greek as δικαιολογικός But just as Archedemus would not recognise the qualitative basis, so these reject the definitive which they include in the juridical, holding that in these questions we have to enquire whether it is just that the act with which the accused is charged should be called sacrilege or theft or madness.

Pamplihlus held this opinion but subdivided quality into several different species. The majority of later writers have classified bases as follows, involving however no more than a change of names:— those dealing with ascertained facts and those dealing with matters where there is a doubt. For a thing must either be certain or uncertain: if it is uncertain, the basis will be conjectural; if certain, it will be some one of the other bases.

Apollodorus says the same thing when he states that a question must either lie in things external, which give play to conjecture, or in our own opinions: the former he calls πραγματικός the latter περὶ ἐννοίας The same is said by those who employ the terms ἀπροληπτὸς and προληπτικός, that is to say doubtful and presumptive, by this latter term meaning those facts which are beyond a doubt.

Theodorus agrees with them, for he holds that the question is either as to whether such and such a thing is really so, or is concerned with the accidents of something which is an admitted fact: that is to say it is either περὶ οὐσίας or περὶ συμβεβηκότων For in all these cases the first basis is conjectural, while the second belongs to one of the other classes. As for these other classes of basis, Apollodorus holds that there are two, one concerned with quality and the other with the names of things, that is to say a definitive basis. Theodorus makes them four, concerned with existence, quality, quantity and relation.

There are some too who make questions of identity and difference come under the head of quality, others who place it under the head of definition. Posidonius divides them into two classes, those concerned with words and those concerned with things. In the first case he thinks that the question is whether a word has any meaning; if so, what is its meaning, how many meanings has it, and how does it come to mean what it means? In the latter case, we employ conjecture, which he calls κατ᾽ αἴσθησιν, or inference from perception, quality, definition which he calls κατ᾽ ἔννοιαν, or rational inference, and relation. Hence also comes the division into things written and unwritten.

Even Cornelius Celsus stated that there were two general bases, one concerned with the question whether a thing is, the other with the question of what kind it is. He included definition under the first of these, because enquiry may equally be made as to whether sacrilege has been committed, when a man denies that he has stolen anything from a temple, and when he admits that he has stolen private money from a temple. He divides quality into fact and the letter of the law. Under the head of the letter of the law he places four classes, excluding questions of competence:

quantity and intention he places under the head of conjecture.

There is also another method of dividing bases into two classes: according to this disputes are either about substance or quality, while quality is treated either in its most general sense or in its special senses.

Substance is dealt with by conjecture: for in enquiring into anything, we ask whether it has been done, is being done, or is likely to be done, and sometimes also consider its intention: this method is preferable to that adopted by those who style the conjectural basis a basis of fact, as though we only enquired into the past and what has actually been done.

The consideration of quality under its most general aspect rarely comes up in the courts; I refer to questions such as whether that is honourable which is generally praised. With regard to the special aspects of quality, questions sometimes occur about some common term, such as whether sacrilege has been committed when a man has stolen private money from a temple, or about some act with a definite name, when there is no doubt either as to the commission or the nature of the act. Under this heading come all questions about what is honourable, just or expedient.

These bases are said to contain others as well, because quantity is sometimes concerned with conjectural bases, as in the question whether the sun is bigger than the earth, and sometimes with qualitative bases, as in the question what reward or punishment it would be just to assign to some particular person, while questions of competence undoubtedly are concerned with quality, and definition with questions of competence.

ratiocinative basis or syllogism and the majority of questions dealing with the letter of the law and intention are based on equity, with the exception that this last question sometimes admits of conjecture as, for instance, concerning the intentions of the legislator: ambiguity, however, must always be explained by conjecture, because as it is clear that the words admit of two interpretations the only question is as to the intention.

A large number of writers recognise general bases; Cicero adopts them in his Orator, and holds that everything that can form the subject of dispute or discussion is covered by the three questions, whether it is, what it is, and of what kind it is. The names of these three bases are too obvious for mention. The same view is asserted by Patrocles.

Marcus Antonius stated that there were three bases in the following words:— The things which form the ground of every speech are few and are as follows:—' Was a thing done or not done? 'Was it just or unjust?' 'Was it good or bad?' But since, when we are said to have been justified in doing anything, this does not merely mean that our action was legal, but further implies that it was just, those who follow Antonius attempt to differentiate these bases with greater exactness. They therefore called them conjectural, legal and juridical, a division which meets with the approval of Verginius as well.

These they then subdivided into species, placing definition under the head of the legal basis, together with all others which are concerned with the letter of the law: such as that of contradictory laws, or ἀντινομία that which rests on the letter of the law and on meaning or intention (which the Greeks call κατὰ ῥητὸν καὶ διάνοιαν and μετάληψις to which latter we give various names, styling it the translative, transumptive or transpositive basis; the syllogism, which we call the ratiocinative or deductive basis; and those which turn on ambiguity or ἀμφιβολία. I mention these because they are called bases by most writers, though some prefer to call them legal questions.

Athenaeus laid down that there were four bases: the προτρεπτικὴ or παρορμητική, that is, the hortative, which is peculiar to deliberative themes; the συντελική which is shown to be the conjectural, not so much from the name itself, but from what follows; the ὑπαλλακτική or definitive, for it consists in a change of terms.; and the juridical to which he gives the name employed by other Greek writers.

For, as I have said, there is a great variety in the names employed. There are some who, arguing from its meaning of change, hold that ὑπαλλακτική is the translative basis, which is concerned with competence. Others, Caecilius and Theon for instance, hold that there are the same number of bases, but make them of a different kind, namely, those covered by the questions whether a thing is, what it is, of what kind it is and how great it is.

Aristotle in his Rhetoric states that all enquiry turns on the questions whether a thing is, of what kind it is, how great it is, and of how many parts it consists. In one place however he recognises the force of definition as well, saying that certain points are defended on the following lines:— I took it, but did not steal it. I struck him, but did not commit an assault.

Cicero again in his Rhetorica makes the number of bases to be four, namely those concerned with fact, names, kinds, and legal action, that is to say conjecture is concerned with fact, definition with names, quality with kinds, and law with action: under this latter head of law he included questions of competence. But in another passage he treats legal questions as a species of action. Some writers have held that there are five bases:

the conjectural, definitive, qualitative, quantitative and relative. Theodorus, also, as I have said, adopts the same number of general heads, whether a thing is, what it is, of what kind it is, how great it is, and to what it refers. The last he considers to be chiefly concerned with comparison, since better and worse, greater and less are meaningless terms unless referred to some standard.

But questions of relation, as I have already pointed out, enter also into translative questions, that is, questions of competence, since in cases such as Has this man a right to bring an action? or Is it fitting that he should do such and such a thing, or against this man, or at this time, or in this manner? For all these questions must be referred to a certain standard.

Others hold that there are six bases: conjecture or γένεσις, quality, particularity or ἰδιότης by which word they mean definition, quantity or ἀξία, comparison and competence, for which a new term has been found in μετάστασις I call it new when applied to a basis, for Hermagoras employs it to describe a species of juridical question.

Others think there are seven, while refusing to recognise competence, quantity or comparison, in place of which they substitute four legal bases, completing the seven by the addition of those three which they call rational.

Others again make eight by the addition of competence to the above-mentioned seven. Some on the other hand have introduced a fresh method of division, reserving the name of bases for the rational, and giving the name of questions to the legal, as I mentioned above, since in the former the problem is concerned with facts, in the latter with the letter of the law. Some on the contrary reverse this nomenclature calling the legal questions bases and the rational grounds questions.

But others have thought that there are only three rational bases, covered by the questions whether a thing is, what it is, and of what kind it is? Hermagoras is alone in thinking that there are four, namely conjecture, particularity, competence, and quality: to the latter he appends the phrase κατὰ συμβεβηκός according to its accidents, illustrating his meaning by putting a case where it is enquired whether a man happen to be good or bad. He then subdivides quality into four species: first that which is concerned with things to he sought or avoided, which belongs to deliberative oratory:

secondly those concerned with persons, by which he indicates panegyric: thirdly the practical or pragmatic, which is concerned with things in general without reference to persons, and may be illustrated by questions such as whether he is free who is claimed as a slave and waiting the trial of his case, whether riches beget insolence, and whether a thing is just or good; lastly there is the juridical species, under which practically the same questions arise, but in relation to certain definite persons, as for instance when it is asked whether that particular man has done well or ill.

I am aware that another explanation is given by Cicero in the first book of his Rhetorica of the species known as practical, where he says that it is the department under which we consider what is right according to civil usage and equity: this department is regarded by us as the special sphere of the lawyer.

But I have already mentioned what his opinion was about this particular work. The Rhetorica are simply a collection of school-notes on rhetoric which he worked up into this treatise while quite a young man. Such faults as they possess are due to his instructor. In the present instance he may have been influenced by the fact that the first examples given by Hermagoras of this species are drawn from legal questions, or by the fact that the Greeks call interpreters of the law πραγματικοί.

But for these early efforts Cicero substituted his splendid de Oratore and therefore cannot be blamed for giving false instruction. I will now return to Hermagoras. He was the first rhetorician to teach that there was a basis concerned with competence, although the elements of this doctrine are found in Aristotle, without however any mention of the name.

The legal questions were according to Hermagoras of five kinds. First the letter of the law and its intention; the names which he gives to these are κατὰ ῥητόν and ὑπεξαίρεσις, that is to say the letter of the law and the exceptions thereto: the first of these classes is found in all writers, but the term exception is less in use. The number is completed by the ratiocinative basis and those dealing with ambiguity and contradictory laws.

Albutius adopts this classification, but eliminates competence, including it under the juridical basis. Further he holds that in legal questions there is no ratiocinative basis. I know that those who are prepared to read ancient writers on rhetoric more carefully than I have, will be able to discover yet more on this subject, but I fear that I may have been too lengthy even in saying what I have said.

I must admit that I am now inclined to take a different view from that which I once held. It would perhaps be safer for my reputation if I were to make no modification in views which I not only held for so many years, but of which I expressed my open approbation.

But I cannot bear to be thought guilty of concealment of the truth as regards any portion of my views, more especially in a work designed for the profit of young men of sound disposition. For Hippocrates, the great physician, in my opinion took the most honourable course in acknowledging some of his errors to prevent those who came after from being led astray, while Cicero had no hesitation about condemning some of his earlier works in books which he published later: I refer to his condemnation of his Lucullus and Catulus and the books on rhetoric which I have already mentioned.

Indeed we should have no justification for protracting our studies if we were forbidden to improve upon our original views. Still none of my past teaching was superfluous: for the views which I am now going to produce will be found to be based on the same principles, and consequently no one need be sorry to have attended my lectures, since all that I am now attempting to do is to collect and rearrange my original views so that they may be somewhat more instructive. But I wish to satisfy everybody and not to lay myself open to the accusation that I have allowed a long time to elapse between the formation and publication of my views.

I used to follow the majority of authorities in adhering to three rational bases, the conjectural, qualitative and definitive, and to one legal basis. These were my general bases. The legal basis I divided into five species, dealing with the letter of the law and intention, contradictory laws, the syllogism, ambiguity and competence.

It is now clear to me that the fourth of the general bases may be removed, since the original division which I made into rational and legal bases is sufficient. The fourth therefore will not be a basis, but a kind of question; if it were not, it would form one of the rational bases.

Further I have removed competence from those which I called species. For I often asserted, as all who have attended my lectures will remember, and even those discourses which were published against my will included the statement, that the basis concerned with competence hardly ever occurs in any dispute under such circumstances that it cannot more correctly be given some other name, and that consequently some rhetoricians exclude it from their list of bases.

I am, however, well aware that the point of competence is raised in many cases, since in practically every case in which a party is said to have been ruled out of court through some error of form, questions such as the following arise: whether it was lawful for this person to bring an action, or to bring it against some particular person, or under a given law, or in such a court, or at such a time, and so on

But the question of competence as regards persons, times, legal actions and the rest originates in some pre-existent cause: the question turns therefore not on competence itself, but on the cause with which the point of competence originates. You ought to demand the return of a deposit not before the praetor but before the consuls, as the sum is too large to come under the praetor's jurisdiction. The question then arises whether the sum is too large, and the dispute is one of fact. You have no right to bring an action against me, as it is impossible for you to have been appointed to represent the actual plaintiff. It then has to be decided whether he could have been so appointed. You ought not to have proceeded by interdict, but to have put in a plea for possession. The point in doubt is whether the interdict is legal. All these points fall under the head of legal questions.

not even those special pleas, in which questions of competence make themselves most evident, give rise to the same species of question as those laws under which the action is brought, so that the enquiry is really concerned with the name of a given act, with the letter of the law and its meaning, or with something that requires to be settled by argument? The basis originates from the question, and in cases of competence it is not the question concerning which the advocate argues that is involved, but the question on account of which he argues.

An example will make this clearer. You have killed a man. I did not kill him. The question is whether he has killed him; the basis is the conjectural. But the following case is very different. I have the right to bring this action. You have not the right. The question is whether he has the right, and it is from this that we derive the basis. For whether he is allowed the right or not depends on the event, not on the cause itself, and on the decision of the judge, not on that on account of which he gives such a decision.

The following is a similar example. You ought to be punished. I ought not. The judge will decide whether he should be punished, but it is not with this that the question or the basis is concerned. Where then does the question lie? You ought to be punished, for you have killed a man. I did not kill him. The question is whether he killed him. I ought to receive some honour. You ought not. Does this involve a basis? I think not. I ought to receive some honour for killing a tyrant. You did not kill him. Here there is a question and a basis as well.

So, too, You are not entitled to bring this action, I have, involves no basis. Where then is it to be found? You have no right to bring this action, because you have been deprived of civil rights. In this case the question is whether he has been so deprived, or whether loss of civil rights debars a person from bringing an action. Here on the other hand we find both questions and bases. It is therefore to kinds of causes, not to bases that the term competence applies: other kinds of cause are the comparative and the recriminatory.

But, it is urged, the case 'I have a right,' 'You have not,' is similar to 'You have killed a man,' 'I was justified in so doing.' I do not deny it, but this does not make it a basis. For these statements are not propositions until the reasons for them are added. If they were propositions as they stand, the case could not proceed. Horatius has committed a crime, for he has killed his sister.

He has not committed a crime, since it was his duty to kill her for mourning the death of an enemy. The question is whether this was a justifiable reason, and the basis is one of quality. So too as regards competence.

You have no right to disinherit, since a person who has been deprived of civil rights is not allowed to take legal action.

I have the right, since disinheriting is not legal action. The question here is what is legal action. And we shall arrive at the conclusion that the son's disinheritance is unlawful, by use of the syllogism. The case will be similar with all the rational and legal bases.

I am aware that there have been some who placed competence among rational bases, using as illustrations cases such as, I killed a man under orders from my general, I gave the votive offerings in a temple to a tyrant under compulsion, I deserted owing to the fact that storms or floods or ill health prevented me from rejoining. That is to say it was not due to me, but some external cause.

From these writers I differ even more widely: for it is not the nature of the legal action itself which is involved in the question of competence, but the cause of the act; and this is the case in almost every defence. Finally he who adopts this line of defence, does not thereby abandon the qualitative basis; for he states that he himself is free from blame, so that we really should differentiate between two kinds of quality one of which comes into play when both the accused person and his act are defended, and the other when the accused person alone is defended.

We must therefore accept the view of the authorities followed by Cicero, to the effect that there are three things on which enquiry is made in every case: we ask whether a thing is, that it is, and of that kind it is. Nature herself imposes this upon us. For first of all there must be some subject for the question, since we cannot possibly determine what a thing is, or of what kind it is, until we have first ascertained whether it is, and therefore the first question raised is whether it is. But even when it is clear that a thing is, it is not immediately obvious what it is. And when we have decided what it is, there remains the question of its quality. These three points once ascertained, there is no further question to ask. These heads cover both definite and indefinite questions. One or more of them is discussed in every demonstrative, deliberative or forensic theme.

These heads again cover all cases in the courts, whether we regard them from the point of view of rational or legal questions. For no legal problem can be settled save by the aid of definition, quality and conjecture.

Those, however, who are engaged in instructing the ignorant will find it useful at first to adopt a slightly less rigid method: the road will not be absolutely straight to begin with, but it will be more open and will provide easier going. I would have them therefore learn above all things that there are four different methods which may be employed in every case, and he who is going to plead should study them as first essentials. For, to begin with the defendant, far the strongest method of self-defence is, if possible, to deny the charge. The second best is when it is possible to reply that the particular act with which you are charged was never committed. The third and most honourable is to maintain that the act was justifiable. If none of these lines of defence are feasible, there remains the last and only hope of safety: if it is impossible either to deny the charge or justify the act, we must evade the charge with the aid of some point of law, making it appear that the action has been brought against us illegally

Hence arise those questions of legal action or competence. For there are some things, which, although not laudable in themselves, are yet permitted by law; witness the passage in the Twelve Tables authorising creditors to divide up a debtor's body amongst themselves, a law which is repudiated by public custom. There are also certain things which although equitable are prohibited by law; witness the restrictions placed on testamentary disposition.

The accuser likewise has four things which he must keep in mind: he must prove that something was done, that a particular act was done, that it was wrongly done, and that he brings his charge according to law. Thus every cause will turn on the same sorts of questions, though the parts of plaintiff and defendant will sometimes be interchanged: for instance in the case of a claim for a reward, it will be the plaintiffs task to show that what was done was right.

These four schemes or forms of action which I then called general bases fall into two classes as I have shown, namely, the rational and the legal. The rational is the simpler, as it involves nothing more than the consideration of the nature of things. In this connection, therefore, a mere mention of conjeclure, definition and quality will suffice.

Legal questions necessarily have a larger number of species, since there are many laws and a variety of forms. In the case of one law we rely on the letter, in others on the spirit. Some laws we force to serve our turn, when we can find no law to support our case, others we compare with one another, and on others we put some novel interpretation.

Thus from these three bases we get three resemblances of bases: sometimes simple, sometimes complex, but all having a character of their own, as, for instance, when questions of the letter of the law and its intention are involved, for these clearly come under conjecture or quality; or again where the syllogism is involved, for this is specially connected with quality; or where contradictory laws are involved, for these are on the same footing as the letter of the law and intention; or yet again in cases of ambiguity, which is always resolved by conjecture.

Definition also belongs to both classes of question, namely those concerned with the consideration of facts and those concerned with the letter of the law. All these questions, although they come under the three bases, yet since, as I have mentioned, they have certain characteristic features of their own, require to be pointed out to learners; and we must allow them to be called legal bases or questions or minor heads, as long as it is clearly understood that none of them involve any other questions than the three I have mentioned.

As regards questions of quantity, number, relation, and, as some have thought, comparison, the case is different. For these have no connexion with the complexities of the law, but are concerned with reason only. Consequently they must always be regarded as coming under conjecture or quality, as, for instance, when we ask with what purpose, or at what time, or place something was done.

But I will speak of individual questions when I come to handle the rules for division. This much is agreed to by all writers, that one cause possesses one basis, but that as regards secondary questions related to the main issue of the trial, there may frequently be a number in one single cause.

I also think there is at times some doubt as to which basis should be adopted, when many different lines of defence are brought to meet a single charge; and, just as in regard to the complexion to be given to the statement of the facts of the case, that complexion is said to be the best which the speaker can best maintain, so in the present connexion I may say that the best basis to choose is that which will permit the orator to develop a maximum of force.

It is for this reason that we find Cicero and Brutus taking up different lines in defence of Milo. Cicero says that Clodius was justifiably killed because he sought to waylay Milo, but that Milo had not designed to kill him; while Brutus, who wrote his speech merely as a rhetorical exercise, also exults that Milo has killed a bad citizen.

In complicated causes, however, two or three bases may be found, or different bases: for instance a man may plead that he did not do one thing, and that he was justified in doing another, or to take another similar class of case, a man may deny two of the charges.

The same thing occurs when there is a question about some one thing which is claimed by a number of persons, who may all of them rely on the same kind of plea (for instance, on the right of the next of kin), or may put in different claims, one urging that the property was left him by will, another that he is next of kin. Now whenever a different defence has to be made against different claimants, there must be different bases, as for example the well-known controversial theme:

Wills that are made in accordance with law shall be valid. When parents die intestate, their children shall be the heirs. A disinherited son shall receive none of his father's property. A bastard, if born before a legitimate son, shall be treated as legitimate, but if born after a legitimate son shall be treated merely as a citizen. It shall be lawful to give a son in adoption. Every son given in adoption shall have the right to re-enter his own family if his natural father has died childless. A father of two legitimate sons gave one in adoption, disinherited the other, and acknowledged a bastard, who was born to him later. Finally after making the disinherited son his heir he died. All three sons lay claim to the property. Nothbus is the Greek word for a bastard; Latin, as Cato emphasized in one of his speeches, has no word of its own and therefore borrows the foreign term. But I am straying from the point.

The son who was made heir by the will finds his way barred by the law A disinherited son shall receive none of his father's property. The basis is one resting on the letter of the law and intention, and the problem is whether he can inherit by any means at all? can he do so in accordance with the intention of his father? or in virtue of the fact that he was made heir by the will? The problem confronting the bastard is twofold, since he was born after the two legitimate sons and was not born before a legitimate son.

The first problem involves a syllogism: are those sons who have been cast out from their own family to be regarded as though they had never been born? The second is concerned with the letter of the law and intention. For it is admitted that he was not born before any legitimate son, but he will defend his claim by appealing to the intention of the law, which he will maintain to imply that the bastard, born when there was no legitimate son in the family, should rank as legitimate.

He will dismiss the letter of the law, pointing out that in any case the position of a bastard is not prejudiced by the fact that no legitimate son was born after him, and arguing as follows:— Suppose that the only son is a bastard, what will his position be? Merely that of a citizen? and yet he was not born after any legitimate son. Or will he rank as a son in all respects? But he was not born before the legitimate sons. As it is impossible to stand by the letter of the law we must stand by its intentions.

It need disturb no one that one law should originate two bases. The law is twofold, and therefore has the force of two laws. To the son who desires to re-enter the family, the disinherited's first reply is, Even though you are allowed to re-enter the family, I am still the heir. The basis will be the same as in the claim put forward by the disinherited son, since the question at issue is whether a disinherited son can inherit.

Both the disinherited and the bastard will object, You cannot re-enter the family, for our father did not die childless. But in this connexion each will rely on his own particular question. For the disinherited son will say that even a disinherited man does not cease to be a son, and will derive an argument from that very law which denies his claim to the inheritance; namely that it was unnecessary for a disinherited son to be excluded from possession of his father's property if he had ceased to be one of the family; but now, since in virtue of his rights as son he would have been his father's heir if he had died intestate, the law is brought to bar his claim; and yet the law does not deprive him of his position as son, but only of his position as heir. Here the basis is definitive, as turning on the definition of a son.

Again the bastard in his turn will urge that his father did not die childless, employing the same arguments that he had used in putting forward his claim that he ranked as a son; unless indeed he too has recourse to definition, and raises the question whether even bastards are not sons. Thus in one case we shall have either two special legal bases, namely the letter of the law and intention, with the syllogism and also definition, or those three which are really the only bases strictly so called, conjecture as regards the letter of the law and intention, quality in the syllogism, and definition, which needs no explanation.

Further every kind of case will contain a cause, a point for the decision of the judge, and a central argument. For nothing can be said which does not contain a reason, something to which the decision of the judge is directed, and finally something which, more than aught else, contains the substance of the matter at issue. But as these vary in different cases and are as a rule explained by writers on judicial causes, I will postpone them to the appropriate portion of my work. For the present I shall follow the order which I prescribed by my division of causes into three classes.

VII. I will begin with the class of causes which are concerned with praise and blame. This class appears to have been entirely divorced by Aristotle, and following him by Theophrastus, from the practical side of oratory (which they call πραγματικῇ,) and to have been reserved solely for the delectation of audiences, which indeed is shown to be its peculiar function by its name, which implies display.

Roman usage on the other hand has given it a place in the practical tasks of life. For funeral orations are often imposed as a duty on persons holding public office, or entrusted to magistrates by decree of the senate. Again the award of praise or blame to a witness may carry weight in the courts, while it is also a recognised practice to produce persons to praise the character of the accused. Further the published speeches of Cicero directed against his rivals in the election to the consulship, and against Lucius Piso, Clodius and Curio, are full of denunciation, and were notwithstanding delivered in the senate as formal expressions of opinion in the course of debate.

I do not deny that some compositions of this kind are composed solely with a view to display, as, for instance, panegyrics of gods and heroes of the past, a consideration which provides the solution of a question which I discussed a little while back, and proves that those are wrong who hold that an orator will never speak on a subject unless it involves some problem.

But what problem is involved by the praise of Jupiter Capitolinus, a stock theme of the sacred Capitoline contest, which is undoubtedly treated in regular rhetorical form? However, just as panegyric applied to practical matters requires proof, so too a certain semblance of proof is at times required by speeches composed entirely for display.

For instance, a speaker who tells how Romulus was the son of Mars and reared by the she-wolf, will offer as proofs of his divine origin the facts that when thrown into a running stream he escaped drowning, that all his achievements were such as to make it credible that he was the offspring of the god of battles, and that his contemporaries unquestionably believed that he was translated to heaven.

Some arguments will even wear a certain semblance of defence: for example, if the orator is speaking in praise of Hercules, he will find excuses for his hero having changed raiment with the Queen of Lydia and submitted to the tasks which legend tells us she imposed upon him. The proper function however of panegyric is to amplify and embellish its themes. This form of oratory is directed in the main to the praise of gods and men, but may occasionally be applied to the praise of animals or even of inanimate objects.

In praising the gods our first step will be to express our veneration of the majesty of their nature in general terms. next we shall proceed to praise the special power of the individual god and the discoveries whereby he has benefited the human race.

For example, in the case of Jupiter, we shall extol his power as manifested in the governance of all things, with Mars we shall praise his power in war, with Neptune his power over the sea; as regards inventions we shall celebrate Minerva's discovery of the arts, Mercury's discovery of letters, Apollo's of medicine, Ceres' of the fruits of the earth, Bacchus' of wine. Next we must record their exploits as handed down from antiquity. Even gods may derive honour from their descent, as for instance is the case with the sons of Jupiter, or from their antiquity, as in the case of the children of Chaos, or from their offspring, as in the case of Latona, the mother of Apollo and Diana.

Some again may be praised because they were born immortal, others because they won immortality by their valour, a theme which the piety of our sovereign has made the glory even of these present times.

There is greater variety required in the praise of men. In the first place there is a distinction to be made as regards time between the period in which the objects of our praise lived and the time preceding their birth; and further, in the case of the dead, we must also distinguish the period following their death. With regard to things preceding a man's birth, there are his country, his parents and his ancestors, a theme which may be handled in two ways. For either it will be creditable to the objects of our praise not to have fallen short of the fair fame of their country and of their sires or to have ennobled a humble origin by the glory of their achievements.

Other topics to be drawn from the period preceding their birth will have reference to omens or prophecies foretelling their future greatness, such as the oracle which is said to have foretold that the son of Thetis would be greater than his father.

of the individual himself will be based on his character, his physical endowments and external circumstances. Physical and accidental advantages provide a comparatively unimportant theme, which requires variety of treatment. At times for instance we extol beauty and strength in honorific terms, as Homer does in the case of Agamemnon and Achilles; at times again weakness may contribute largely to our admiration, as when Homer says that Tydeus was small of stature but a good fighter.

Fortune too may confer dignity as in the case of kings and princes (for they have a fairer field for the display of their excellences) but on the other hand the glory of good deeds may be enhanced by the smallness of their resources. Moreover the praise awarded to external and accidental advantages is given, not to their possession, but to their honourable employment.

For wealth and power and influence, since they are the sources of strength, are the surest test of character for good or evil; they make us better or they make us worse.

Praise awarded to character is always just, but may be given in various ways. It has sometimes proved the more effective course to trace a man's life and deeds in due chronological order, praising his natural gifts as a child, then his progress at school, and finally the whole course of his life, including words as well as deeds. At times on the other hand it is well to divide our praises, dealing separately with the various virtues, fortitude, justice, self-control and the rest of them and to assign to each virtue the deeds performed under its influence.

We shall have to decide which of these two methods will be the more serviceable, according to the nature of the subject; but we must bear in mind the fact that what most pleases an audience is the celebration of deeds which our hero was the first or only man or at any rate one of the very few to perform: and to these we must add any other achievements which surpassed hope or expectation, emphasising what was done for the sake of others rather than what he performed on his own behalf.

It is not always possible to deal with the time subsequent to our hero's death: this is due not merely to the fact that we sometimes praise him, while still alive, but also that there are but few occasions when we have a chance to celebrate the award of divine honours, posthumous votes of thanks, or statues erected at the public expense.

Among such themes of panegyric I would mention monuments of genius that have stood the test of time. For some great men like Menander have received ampler justice from the verdict of posterity than from that of their own age. Children reflect glory on their parents, cities on their founders, laws on those who made them, arts on their inventors and institutions on those that first introduced them; for instance Numa first laid down rules for the worship of the gods, and Publicola first ordered that the lictors' rods should be lowered in salutation to the people.

The same method will be applied to denunciations as well, but with a view to opposite effects. For humble origin has been a reproach to many, while in some cases distinction has merely served to increase the notoriety and unpopularity of vices. In regard to some persons, as in the story of Paris, it has been predicted that they would be the cause of destruction to many, some like Thersites and Irus have been despised for their poverty and mean appearance, others have been loathed because their natural advantages were nullified by their vices: the poets for instance tell us that Nireus was a coward and Pleisthenes a debauchee.

The mind too has as many vices as virtues, and vice may be denounced, as virtue may be praised, in two different ways. Some have been branded with infamy after death like Maelius, whose house was levelled with the ground, or Marcus Manlius, whose first name was banished from his family for all generations to come.

The vices of the children bring hatred on their parents; founders of cities are detested for concentrating a race which is a curse to others, as for example the founder of the Jewish superstition; the laws of Gracchus are hated, and we abhor any loathsome example of vice that has been handed down to posterity, such as the criminal form of lust which a Persian is said to have been the first to practise on a woman of Samos.

And even in the case of the living the judgment of mankind serves as a proof of their character, and the fairness or foulness of their fame proves the orator's praise or blame to be true.

Aristotle however thinks that the place and subject of panegyrics or denunciations make a very considerable difference. For much depends on the character of the audience and the generally received opinion, if they are to believe that the virtues of which they approve are pre-eminently characteristic of the person praised and the vices which they hate of the person denounced. For there can be little doubt as to the attitude of the audience, if that attitude is already determined prior to the delivery of the speech.

It will be wise too for him to insert some words of praise for his audience, since this will secure their good will, and wherever it is possible this should be done in such a manner as to advance his case. Literature will win less praise at Sparta than at Athens, endurance and courage more. Among some races the life of a freebooter is accounted honourable, while others regard it as a duty to respect the laws. Frugality might perhaps be unpopular with the Sybarites, whilst luxury was regarded as a crime by the ancient Romans.

Similar differences of opinion are found in individuals. A judge is most favourable to the orator whose views he thinks identical with his own. Aristotle also urges a point, which at a later date Cornelius Celsus emphasised almost to excess, to the effect that, since the boundary between vice and virtue is often ill-defined, it is desirable to use words that swerve a little from the actual truth, calling a rash man brave, a prodigal generous, a mean man thrifty; or the process may, if necessary, be reversed. But this the ideal orator, that is to say a good man, will never do, unless perhaps he is led to do so by consideration for the public interest.

Cities are praised after the same fashion as men. The founder takes the place of the parent, and antiquity carries great authority, as for instance in the case of those whose inhabitants are said to be sprung from the soil. The virtues and vices revealed by their deeds are the same as in private individuals. The advantages arising from site or fortifications are however peculiar to cities. Their citizens enhance their fame just as children bring honour to their parents.

Praise too may be awarded to public works, in connexion with which their magnificence, utility, beauty and the architect or artist must be given due consideration. Temples for instance will be praised for their magnificence, walls for their utility, and both for their beauty or the skill of the architect. Places may also be praised, witness the praise of Sicily in Cicero. In such cases we consider their beauty and utility: beauty calls for notice in places by the sea, in open plains and pleasant situations, utility in healthy or fertile localities.

Again praise in general terms may be awarded to noble sayings or deeds. Finally things of every kind may be praised. Panegyrics have been composed on sleep and death, and physicians have written eulogies on certain kinds of food. While therefore I do not agree that panegyric concerns only questions regarding what is honourable, I do think that it comes as a rule under the heading of quality, although all three bases may he involved in Panegyric and it was observed by Cicero that all were actually used by Gaius Caesar in his denunciation of Cato. But panegyric is akin to deliberative oratory inasmuch as the same things are usually praised in the former as are advised in the latter.

VIII. I am surprised that deliberative oratory also has been restricted by some authorities to questions of expediency. If it should be necessary to assign one single aim to deliberative I should prefer Cicero's view that this kind of oratory is primarily concerned with what is honourable. I do not doubt that those who maintain the opinion first mentioned adopt the lofty view that nothing can be expedient which is not good.

That opinion is perfectly sound so long as we are fortunate enough to have wise and good men for counsellors. But as we most often express our views before an ignorant audience, and more especially before popular assemblies, of which the majority is usually uneducated, we must distinguish between what is honourable and what is expedient and conform our utterances to suit ordinary understandings.

For there are many who do not admit that what they really believe to be the honourable course is sufficiently advantageous, and are misled by the prospect of advantage into approving courses of the dishonourable nature of which there can be no question: witness the Numantine treaty and the surrender of the Caudine Forks.

Nor does it suffice to restrict deliberative oratory to the basis of quality which is concerned with questions of honour and expediency. For there is often room for conjecture as well. Sometimes again definition is necessary or legal problems require handling; this is especially the case when advice has to be given on private matters, where there is some doubt of the legality of the course under consideration. Of conjecture'

I shall speak more fully a little later on. Returning to definition for the moment, we find it in the question raised by Demosthenes, whether Philip should give or restore Halonnesus, and to that discussed by Cicero in the Philippics as to the nature of a tumultus. Again does not the question raised in connection with the statue of Servius Sulpicius as to whether statues should be erected only in honour of those ambassadors who perish by the sword bear a strong resemblance to the questions that are raised in the law courts?

The deliberative department of oratory (also called the advisory department), while it deliberates about the future, also enquires about the past, while its functions are twofold and consist in advising and dissuading. Deliberative oratory does not always require an exordium, such as is necessary in forensic speeches, since he who asks an orator for his opinion is naturally well disposed to him. But the commencement, whatever be its nature, must have some resemblance to an exordium. For we must not begin abruptly or just at the point where the fancy takes us, since in every subject there is something which naturally comes first.

In addressing the senate or the people the same methods apply as in the law courts, and we must aim as a rule at acquiring the goodwill of our audience. This need cause no surprise, since even in panegyric we seek to win the favour of our hearers when our aim is praise pure and simple, and not the acquisition of any advantage. Aristotle, it is true, holds, not without reason, that in deliberative speeches we may often begin with a reference either to ourselves or to our opponent, borrowing this practice from forensic oratory, and sometimes producing the impression that the subject is of greater or less importance than it actually is. On the other hand he thinks that in demonstrative oratory the exordium may be treated with the utmost freedom, since it is sometimes drawn from irrelevant material, as for example in Isocrates' Praise of Helen, or from something akin to the subject, as for instance in the Panegyricus of the same author, when he complains that more honour is given to physical than to moral excellence, or as Gorgias in his speech delivered at the Olympic games praises the founders of the great national games. Sallust seems to have imitated these authors in his Jugurthine War and in the introduction to his Catiline, which has no connection with his narrative.

But it is time for me to return to deliberative oratory in which, even when we introduce an exordium, we must content ourselves with a brief prelude, which may amount to no more than a mere heading. As regards the statement of facts, this is never required in speeches on private subjects, at least as regards the subject on which an opinion has to be given, because everyone is acquainted with the question at issue.

Statements as to external matters which are relevant to the discussion may however frequently be introduced. In addressing public assemblies it will often be necessary to set forth the order of the points which have to be treated.

As regards appeals to the emotions, these are especially necessary in deliberative oratory. Anger has frequently to be excited or assuaged and the minds of the audience have to be swayed to fear, ambition, hatred, reconciliation. At times again it is necessary to awaken pity, whether it is required, for instance, to urge that relief should be sent to a besieged city, or we are engaged in deploring the overthrow of an allied state. But what really carries greatest weight in deliberative speeches is the authority of the speaker.

For he, who would have all men trust his judgment as to what is expedient and honourable, should both possess and be regarded as possessing genuine wisdom and excellence of character. In forensic speeches the orator may, according to the generally received opinion, indulge his passion to some extent. But all will agree that the advice given by a speaker should be in keeping with his moral character. The majority of Greek writers have held that this kind of oratory is entirely concerned with addressing public assemblies and have restricted it to politics.

Even Cicero himself deals chiefly with this department. Consequently those who propose to offer advice upon peace, war, troops, public works or revenue must thoroughly acquaint themselves with two things, the resources of the state and the character of its people, so that the method employed in tendering their advice may be based at once on political realities and the nature of their hearers.

This type of oratory seems to me to offer a more varied field for eloquence, since both those who ask for advice and the answers given to them may easily present the greatest diversity. Consequently there are three points which must be specially borne in mind in advice or dissuasion: first the nature of the subject under discussion, secondly the nature of those who are engaged in the discussion, and thirdly the nature of the speaker who offers them advice.

As to the subject under discussion its practicability is either certain or uncertain. In the latter case this will be the chief, if not the only point for consideration; for it will often happen that we shall assert first that something ought not to be done, even if it can be done, and secondly, that it cannot be done. Now when the question turns on such points as to whether the Isthmus can be cut through, the Pontine Marshes drained, or a harbour constructed at Ostia, or whether Alexander is likely to find land beyond the Ocean, we make use of conjecture.

But even in connection with things that are undoubtedly feasible, there may at times be room for conjecture, as for instance in questions such as whether Rome is ever likely to conquer Carthage, whether Hannibal will return to Africa if Scipio transports his army thither, or whether the Samnites are likely to keep faith if the Romans lay down their arms. There are some things too which we may believe to be both feasible and likely to be carried into effect, but at another time or place or in another way.

When there is no scope for conjecture, our attention will be fixed on other points. In the first place advice will be asked either on account of the actual thing on which the orator is required to express his views, or on account of other causes which affect it from without. It is on the actual thing that the senate for instance debates, when it discusses such questions as whether it is to vote pay for the troops. In this case the material is simple.

To this however may be added reasons for taking action or the reverse, as for example if the senate should discuss whether it should deliver the Fabii to the Gauls when the latter threaten war, or Gaius Caesar should deliberate whether he should persist in the invasion of Germany, when his soldiers on all sides are making their wills. These deliberative themes are of a twofold nature.

In the first case the reason for deliberation is the Gallic threat of war, but there may still be a further question as to whether even without such threat of war they should surrender those who, contrary to the law of nations, took part in a battle when they had been sent out as ambassadors and killed the king with whom they had received instructions to treat.

In the second case Caesar would doubtless never deliberate on the question at all, but for the perturbation shown by his soldiers; but there is still room for enquiry whether quite apart from this occurrence it would be wise to penetrate into Germany. But it must be remembered that we shall always speak first on that subject which is capable of discussion quite apart from the consequences.

Some have held that the three main considerations in an advisory speech are honour, expediency and necessity. I can find no place for the last. For however great the violence which may threaten us, it may be necessary for us to suffer something, but we are not compelled to do anything; whereas the subject of deliberation is primarily whether we shall do anything.

Or if by necessity they mean that into which we are driven by fear of worse things, the question will be one of expediency. For example, if a garrison is besieged by overwhelmingly superior forces and, owing to the failure of food and water supplies, discusses surrender to the enemy, and it is urged that it is a matter of necessity, the words otherwise we shall perish must needs be added: consequently there is no necessity arising out of the circumstances themselves, for death is a possible alternative. And as a matter of fact the Saguntines did not surrender, nor did those who were surrounded on the raft from Opitergium.

It follows that in such cases also the question will be either one of expediency alone or of a choice between expediency and honour. But, it will be urged, if a man would beget children, he is under the necessity of taking a wife. Certainly. But he who wishes to become a father must needs be quite clear that he must take a wife.

It appears to me, therefore, that where necessity exists, there is no room for deliberation, any more than where it is clear that a thing is not feasible. For deliberation is always concerned with questions where some doubt exists. Those therefore are wiser who make the third consideration for deliberative oratory to be τὸ δυνατόν or possibility as we translate it; the translation may seem clumsy, but it is the only word available.

That all these considerations need not necessarily obtrude themselves in every case is too obvious to need explanation. Most writers, however, say that there are more than three. But the further considerations which they would add are really but species of the three general considerations just mentioned. For right, justice, piety, equity and mercy (for thus they translate τὸ ἥμερον), with any other virtues that anyone may be pleased to add, all come under the heading of that which is honourable.

On the other hand, if the question be whether a thing is easy, great, pleasant or free from danger, it comes under questions of expediency. Such topics arise from some contradiction; for example a thing is expedient, but difficult, or trivial, or unpleasant, or dangerous.

Some however hold that at times deliberation is concerned solely with the question whether a thing is pleasant, as for instance when discussion arises as to whether a theatre should be built or games instituted. But in my opinion you will never find any man such a slave to luxury as not to consider anything but pleasure when he delivers an advisory speech.

For there must needs be something on every occasion that takes precedence of pleasure: in proposing the institution of public games there is the honour due to the gods; in proposing the erection of a theatre the orator will consider the advantages to be derived from relaxation from toil, and the unbecoming and undesirable struggle for places which will arise if there is no proper accommodation; religion, too, has its place in the discussion, for we shall describe the theatre as a kind of temple for the solemnization of a sacred feast.

Often again we shall urge that honour must come before expediency; as for instance when we advise the men of Opitergium not to surrender to the enemy, even though refusal to do so means certain death. At times on the other hand we prefer expediency to honour, as when we advise the arming of slaves in the Punic War.

But even in this case we must not openly admit that such a course is dishonourable: we can point out that all men are free by nature and composed of the same elements, while the slaves in question may perhaps be sprung from some ancient and noble stock; and in the former case when the danger is so evident, we may add other arguments, such as that they would perish even more cruelly if they surrendered, should the enemy fail to keep faith, or Caesar (a more probable supposition) prove victorious.

But in such a conflict of principles it is usual to modify the names which we give them. For expediency is often ruled out by those who assert not merely that honour comes before expediency, but that nothing can be expedient that is not honourable, while others say that what we call honour is vanity, ambition and folly, as contemptible in substance as it is fair in sound.

Nor is expediency compared merely with inexpediency. At times we have to choose between two advantageous courses after comparison of their respective advantages. The problem may be still more complicated, as for instance when Pompey deliberated whether to go to Parthia, Africa or Egypt. In such a case the enquiry is not which of two courses is better or worse, but which of three or more.

On the other hand in deliberative oratory there will never be any doubt about circumstances wholly in our favour. For there can clearly be no doubt about points against which there is nothing to be said. Consequently as a rule all deliberative speeches are based simply on comparison, and we must consider what we shall gain and by what means, that it may be possible to form an estimate whether there is more advantage in the aims we pursue or greater disadvantage in the means we employ to that end.

A question of expediency may also be concerned with time (for example, it is expedient, but not now) or with place ( it is expedient, but not here) or with particular persons (it is expedient, but not for us or not as against these) or with our method of action (it is expedient, but not thus) or with degree (it is expedient, but not to this extent). But we have still more often to consider personality with reference to what is becoming, and we must consider our own as well as that of those before whom the question is laid.

Consequently, though examples are of the greatest value in deliberative speeches, because reference to historical parallels is the quickest method of securing assent, it matters a great deal whose authority is adduced and to whom it is commended. For the minds of those who deliberate on any subject differ from one another and our audience may be of two kinds.

For those who ask us for advice are either single individuals or a number, and in both cases the factors may be different. For when advice is asked by a number of persons it makes a considerable difference whether they are the senate or the people, the citizens of Rome or Fidenae, Greeks or barbarians, and in the case of single individuals, whether we are urging Cato or Gaius Marius to stand for office, whether it is the elder Scipio or Fabius who is deliberating on his plan of campaign.

Further sex, rank, and age, must be taken into account, though it is character that will make the chief difference. It is an easy task to recommend an honourable course to honourable men, but if we are attempting to keep men of bad character to the paths of virtue, we must take care not to seem to upbraid a way of life unlike our own.

The minds of such an audience are not to be moved by discoursing on the nature of virtue, which they ignore, but by praise, by appeals to popular opinion, and if such vanities are of no avail, by demonstration of the advantage that will accrue from such a policy, or more effectively perhaps by pointing out the appalling consequences that will follow the opposite policy.

For quite apart from the fact that the minds of unprincipled men are easily swayed by terror, I am not sure that most men's minds are not more easily influenced by fear of evil than by hope of good, for they find it easier to understand what is evil than what is good.

Sometimes again we urge good men to adopt a somewhat unseemly course, while we advise men of poor character to take a course in which the object is the advantage of those who seek our advice. I realise the thought that will immediately occur to my reader: Do you then teach that this should be done or think it right? Cicero might clear me from blame in the matter; for he writes to Brutus in the following terms, after setting forth a number of things that might honourably be urged on Caesar: Should I be a good man to advise this? No. For the end of him who gives advice is the advantage of the man to whom he gives it. But, you say, your advice is right. Certainly, but there is not always room for what is right in giving advice. However, this is a somewhat abstruse question, and does not concern deliberative oratory alone. I shall therefore reserve it for my twelfth and concluding book.

For my part I would not have anything done dishonourably. But for the meantime let us regard these questions as at least belonging to the rhetorical exercises of the schools: for knowledge of evil is necessary to enable us the better to defend what is right.

For the present I will only say that if anyone is going to urge a dishonourable course on honourable man, he should remember not to urge it as being dishonourable, and should avoid the practice of certain declaimers who urge Sextus Pompeius to piracy just because it is dishonourable and cruel. Even when we address bad men, we should gloss over what is unsightly. For there is no man so evil as to wish to seem so.

Thus Sallust makes Catiline speak as one who is driven to crime not by wickedness but by indignation, and Varius makes Atreus say: My wrongs are past all speech,

And such shall be the deeds they force me to.

How much more has this pretence of honour to be kept up by those who have a real regard for their own good name!

Therefore when we advise Cicero to beg Antonius for mercy or even to burn the Philippics if Antonius promises to spare him on that condition, we shall not empliasise the love of life in our advice (for if that passion has any force with him, it will have it none the less if we are silent), but we shall exhort him to save himself in the interest of the state.

For he needs some such reason as that to preserve him from feeling shame at entreating such a one as Antony. Again if we urge Gaius Caesar to accept the crown we shall assert that the state is doomed to destruction unless controlled by a monarchy. For the sole aim of the man who is deliberating about committing a criminal act is to make his act appear as little wicked as possible.

It also makes a great deal of difference who it is that is offering the advice: for if his past has been illustrious, or if his distinguished birth or age or fortune excite high expectations, care must be taken that his words are not unworthy of him. If on the other hand he has none of these advantages he will have to adopt a humbler tone. For what is regarded as liberty in some is called licence in others. Some receive sufficient support from their personal authority, while others find that the force of reason itself is scarce sufficient to enable them to maintain their position.

Consequently I regard impersonation as the most difficult of tasks, imposed as it is in addition to the other work involved by a deliberative theme. For the same speaker has on one occasion to impersonate Caesar, on another Cicero or Cato. But it is a most useful exercise because it demands a double effort and is also of the greatest use to future poets and historians, while for orators of course it is absolutely necessary.

For there are many speeches composed by Greek and Latin orators for others to deliver, the words of which had to be adapted to suit the position and character of those for whom they were written. Do you suppose that Cicero thought in the same way or assumed the same character when he wrote for Gnaeus Pompeius and when he wrote for Titus Ampius and the rest? Did he not rather bear in mind the fortune, rank and achievements of each single individual and represent the character of all to whom he gave a voice so that though they spoke better than they could by nature, they still might seem to speak in their own persons?

For a speech which is out of keeping with the man who delivers it is just as faulty as the speech which fails to suit the subject to which it should conform. It is for this reason that Lysias is regarded as having shown the highest art in the speeches which he wrote for uneducated persons, on account of their extraordinary realism. In the case of declaimers indeed it is of the first importance that they should consider what best suits each character: for they rarely play the role of advocates in their declamations. As a rule they impersonate sons, parents, rich men, old men, gentle or harsh of temper, misers, superstitious persons, cowards and mockers, so that hardly even comic actors have to assume more numerous roles in their performances on the stage than these in their declamations.

All these rôles may be regarded as forming part of impersonation, which I have included under delibertive themes, from which it differs merely in that it involves the assumption of a role. It is sometimes introduced even with controversial themes, which are drawn from history and involve the appearance of definite historical characters as pleaders.

I am aware also that historical and poetical themes are often set for the sake of practice, such as Priam's speech to Achilles or Sulla's address to the people on his resignation of the dictatorship. But these will fall under one or other of the three classes into which I have divided causes. For entreaty, statement, and argument, with other themes already mentioned, are all of frequent occurrence in forensic, deliberative or demonstrative subjects, according as circumstances demand, and we often introduce fictitious speeches of historical persons, whom we select ourselves. Cicero for instance in the pro Caelio makes both Appius Caecus and her brother Clodius address Clodia, the former rebuking her for her immorality, the latter exhorting her thereto.

In scholastic declamations the fictitious themes for deliberative speeches are often not unlike those of controversial speeches and are a compromise between the two forms, as for instance when the theme set is a discussion in the presence of Gaius Caesar of the punishment to be meted out to Theodotus; for it consists of accusation and defence, both of them peculiar to forensic oratory.

But the topic of expediency also enters into the case, in such questions as whether it was to Caesar's advantage that Pompeius should be slain; whether the execution of Theodotus would involve the risk of a war with the king of Egypt; whether such a war would be highly inopportune at such a critical moment, would prove dangerous and be certain to last a long time.

There is also a question of honour. Does it befit Caesar to avenge Pompeius' death? or is it to be feared that an admission that Pompeius did not deserve death will injure the cause of the Caesarian party?

It may be noted that discussions of such a kind may well occur in actual cases. Declaimers have however often been guilty of an error as regards deliberative themes which has involved a series of consequences. They have considered deliberative themes to be different and absolutely opposed to forensic themes. For they have always affected abrupt openings, an impetuous style and a generous embellishment, as they call it, in their language, and have been especially careful to make shorter notes for deliberative than for forensic themes.

For my part while I realise that deliberative themes do not require an exordium, for reasons which I have already stated, I do not, however, understand why they should open in such a wild and exclamatory manner. When a man is asked to express his opinion on any subject, he does not, if he is sane, begin to shriek, but endeavours as far as possible to win the assent of the man who is considering the question by a courteous and natural opening.

Why, I ask, in review of the fact that deliberations require moderation above all else, should the speaker on such themes indulge in a torrential style of eloquence kept at one high level of violence? I acknowledge that in controversial speeches the tone is often lowered in the exordium, the statement of facts and the argument, and that if you subtract these three portions, the remainder is more or less of the deliberative type of speech, but what remains must likewise be of a more even flow, avoiding all violence and fury.

With regard to manificence of language, deliblerative declaimers should avoid straining after it more than others, but it comes to them more naturally. For there is a preference among those who invent such themes for selecting great personages, such as kings, princes, senators and peoples, while the theme itself is generally on a grander scale. Consequently since the words are suited to the theme, they acquire additional splendour from the magnificence of the matter.

In actual deliberations the case is different, and consequently Theophrastus laid it down that in the deliberative class of oratory the language should as far as possible be free from all affectation: in stating this view he followed the authority of his instructor, although as a rule he is not afraid to differ from him. For Aristotle held that the demonstrative type of oratory was the best suited for writing and that the next best was forensic oratory: his reason for this view was that the first type is entirely concerned with display, while the second requires art, which will even be employed to deceive the audience, if expedience should so demand, whereas advice requires only truth and prudence.

I agree with this view as regards demonstrative oratory (in fact all writers are agreed on this point), but as regards forensic and deliberative themes I think that the style must be suited to the requirements of the subject which has to be treated.

For I notice that the Philippics of Demosthenes are pre-eminent for the same merits as his forensic speeches, and that the opinions expressed by Cicero before the senate or the people are as remarkable for the splendour of their eloquence as the speeches which he delivered in accusing or defending persons before the courts. And yet Cicero says of deliberative oratory that the whole speech should be simple and dignified, and should derive its ornament rather from the sentiments expressed than the actual words.

As regards the use of examples practically all authorities are with good reason agreed that there is no subject to which they are better suited, since as a rule history seems to repeat itself and the experience of the past is a valuable support to reason.

Brevity and copiousness are determined not so much by the nature as by the compass of the subject. For, just as in deliberations the question is generally less complicated, so in forensic cases it is often of less importance. Anyone who is content to read not merely speeches, but history as well, in preference to growing grey over the notebooks of the rhetoricians, will realise the truth of what I say: for in the historians the speeches delivered to the people and the opinions expressed in the senate often provide examples of advice and dissuasion.

he will find an avoidance of abrupt openings in deliberatire speeches and will note that the forensic style is often the more impetuous of the two, while in both cases the words are suited to the matter and forensic speeches are often shorter than deliberative.

Nor will he find in them those faults into which some of our declaimers fall, namely a coarse abuse of those who hold opposite opinions and a general tendency to speak in such a way as to make it seem that the speaker's views are in opposition to those of the persons who ask his advice. Consequently their aim seems to be invective rather than persuasion.

I would have my younger readers realise that these words are penned for their special benefit that they may not desire to adopt a different style in their exercises from that in which they will be required to speak, and may not be hampered by having to unlearn what they have acquired. For the rest if they are ever summoned to take part in the counsels of their friends, or to speak their opinions in the senate, or advise the emperor on some point on which he may consult them, they will learn from practice what they cannot perhaps put to the credit of the schools.

IX. I now come to the forensic kind of oratory, which presents the utmost variety, but whose duties are no more than two, the bringing and rebutting of charges. Most authorities divide the forensic speech into five parts: the exordium, the statement of facts, the proof, the refutation, and the peroration. To these some have added the partition into heads, proposition and digression, the two first of which form part of the proof.

For it is obviously necessary to propound what you are going to prove as well as to conclude. Why then, if proposition is a part of a speech, should not conclusion be also? Partition on the other hand is merely one aspect of arrangement, and arrangement is a part of rhetoric itself, and is equally distributed through every theme of oratory and their whole body, just as are invention and style.

Consequently we must regard partition not as one part of a whole speech, but as a part of each individual question that may be involved. For what question is there in which an orator cannot set forth the order in which he is going to make his points? And this of course is the function of partition. But how ridiculous it is to make each question an aspect of proof, but partition which is an aspect of a question a part of the whole speech.

As for digression (egressio, now more usually styled excessus), if it lie outside the case, it cannot be part of it, while, if it lie within it, it is merely an accessory or ornament of that portion of the case from which digression is made. For if anything that lies within the case is to be called part of it, why not call argument, comparison, commonplace, pathos, illustration parts of the case?

On the other hand I disagree with those who, like Aristotle, would remove refuation from the list on the ground that it forms part of the proof: for the proof is constructive, and the reputation destructive. Aristotle also introduces another slight novelty in making proposition, not statement of facts, follow the exordium. This however he does because he regards proposition as the genus and statement of facts as the species, with the result that he holds that, whereas the former is always and everywhere necessary, the latter may sometimes be dispensed with.

It is however necessary to point out as regards these five parts which I have established, that that which has to be spoken first is not necessarily that which requires our first consideration. But above all we must consider the nature of the case, the question at issue and the arguments for and against. Next we must consider what points are to be made, and what refuted, and then how the facts are to be stated.

For the stalement of facts is designed to prepare the way for the proofs and must needs be unprofitable, unless we have first determined what proofs. are to be promised in the statement. Finally we must consider how best to win the judge to take our view. For we cannot be sure until we have subjected all the parts of the case to careful scrutiny, what sort of impression we wish to make upon the judge: are we to mollify him or increase his severity, to excite or relax his interest in the case, to render him susceptible to influence or the reverse?

I cannot however approve the view of those who think that the exordium should actually be written last. For though we must collect all our material and determine the proper place for each portion of it, before we begin to speak or write, we must commence with what naturally comes first.

No one begins a portrait by painting or modelling the feet, and no art finds its completion at the point where it should begin. Otherwise what will happen if we have not time to write our speech? Will not the result of such a reversal of the proper order of things be that we shall be caught napping? We must therefore review the subject-matter in the order laid down, but write our speech in the order in which we shall deliver it.

X. Every cause in which one side attacks and the other defends consists either of one or more controversial questions. In the first case it is called simple, in the second complex. An example of the first is when the subject of enquiry is a theft or an adultery taken by itself. In complex cases the several questions may all be of the same kind, as in cases of extortion, or of different kinds, as when a man is accused at one and the same time of homicide and sacrilege. Such cases no longer arise in the public courts, since the praetor allots the different charges to different courts in accordance with a definite rule; but they still are of frequent occurrence in the Imperial or Senatorial courts, and were frequent in the days when they came up for trial before the people. Private suits again are often tried by one judge, who may have to determine many different points of law.

There are no other species of forensic causes, not even when one person brings the same suit on the same grounds against two different persons, or two persons bring the same suit against one, or several against several, as occasionally occurs in lawsuits about inheritances. Because although a number of parties may be involved, there is still only one suit, unless indeed the different circumstances of the various parties alter the questions at issue.

There is however said to be a third and different class, the comparative. Questions of comparison frequently require to be handled in portions of a cause, as for instance in the centum viral court, when after other questions have been raised the question is discussed as to which of two claimants is the more deserving of an inheritance. It is rare however for a case to be brought into court on such grounds alone, as in divinations which take place to determine who the accuser shall be, and occasionally when two informers dispute as to which has earned the reward.

Some again have added a fourth class, namely mutual accusation, which they call ἀντικατηγορία Others, however, regard it as belonging to the comparative group, to which indeed the common case of reciprocal suits on different grounds bears a strong resemblance. If this latter case should also be called ἀντικατηγορία (for it has no special name of its own), we must divide mutual accusation into two classes, in one of which the parties bring the same charge against each other, while in the other they bring different charges. The same division will also apply to claims.

As soon as we are clear as to the kind of cause on which we are engaged, we must then consider whether the act that forms the basis of the charge is denied or defended, or given another name or excepted from that class of action. Thus we determine the basis of each case.

XI. As soon as these points are ascertained, the next step, according to Hermagoras, should be to consider what is the question at issue, the line of defence, the point for the judge's decision and the central point, or, as others call it, the foundation of the case. The question in its more general sense is taken to mean everything on which two or more plausible opinions may be advanced.

In forensic subjects however it must be taken in two senses: first in the sense in which we say that a controversial matter involves many questions, thereby including all minor questions; secondly in the sense of the main question on which the case turns. It is of this, with which the basis originates, that I am now speaking. We ask whether a thing has been done, what it is that has been done, and whether it was rightly done.

To these Hermagoras and Apollodorus and many other writers have given the special name of questions; Theodorus on the other hand, as I have already said, calls them general heads, while he designates minor questions or questions dependent on these general heads as special heads. For it is agreed that question may spring from question, and species be subdivided into other species.

This main question, then, they call the ζήτημα. The line of defence is the method by which an admitted act is defended. I see no reason why I should not use the same example to illustrate this point that has been used by practically all my predecessors. Orestes has killed his mother: the fact is admitted. He pleads that he was justified in so doing: the basis will be one of quality, the question, whether he was justified in his action, the line of defence that Clytemnestra killed her husband, Orestes' father. This is called the αἴτιον or motive. The point for the decision of the judge is known as the κρινόμενον and in this case is whether it was right that even a guilty mother should be killed by her son.

Some have drawn a distinction between αἴτιον and αἰτίαν making αἴτιον mean the cause of the trial, namely the murder of Clytemnestra, αἰτία the motive urged in defence, namely the murder of Agamemnon. But there is such lack of agreement over these two words, that some make αἰτία the cause of the trial and αἴτιον the motive of the deed, while others reverse the meanings. If we turn to Latin writers we find that some have given these causes the names of initinum, the beginning, and ratio, the reason, while others give the same name to both.

Moreover cause seems to spring from cause, or as the Greeks say αἴτιον ἐξ αἰτίον as will be seen from the following:— Clytemnestra killed Agamemnon, because he had sacrificed their daughter and brought home a captive woman as his paramour. The same authors think that there may be several lines of defence to one question: for instance Orestes may urge that he killed his mother because driven to do so by oracles. But the number of points for the decision of the judge will be the same as the number of alleged motives for the deed: in this case it will be whether he ought to have obeyed the oracles.

But one alleged motive may also in my opinion involve several questions and several points for the decision of the judge, as for instance in the case when the husband caught his wife in adultery and slew her and later slew the adulterer, who had escaped, in the market place. The motive is but one: he was an adulterer. But there arise as questions and points for decision by the judge, whether it was lawful to kill him at that time and at that place.

But just as, although there be several questions, each with its special basis, the basis of the case is but one, namely that to which all else is referred, even so the real point for the decision of the judge is, strictly speaking, that on which judgment is given.

As for the σύνεχον the central argument, as I have mentioned it is called by some, or the foundation as it is called by others, or as Cicero styles it the strongest argument of the defender and the most relevant to the decision of the judge, some regard it as being the point after which all enquiry ceases, others as the main point for adjudication.

The motive of the deed does not arise in all controversial cases. For how can there be a motive for the deed, when the deed is denied? But when the motive for the deed does come up for discussion, they deny that the point for the decision of the judge rests on the same ground as the main question at issue, and this view is maintained by Cicero in his Rhetorica and Partitiones.

For when it has been asserted and denied that a deed was done, the question whether it was done is resolved by conjecture, and the decision of the judge and the main question rest on the same ground, since the first question and the final decision are concerned with the same point. But when it is stated and denied that Orestes was justified in killing his mother, considerations of quality are introduced: the question is whether he was justified in killing her, but this is not yet the point for the decision of the judge. When, then, does it become so? She killed my father. Yes, but that did not make it your duty to murder your mother. The point for the decision of the judge is whether it was his duty to kill her.

As regards the foundation, I will put it in the words of Cicero himself:— The foundation is the strongest argument for the defence, as for instance, if Orestes were ready to say that the disposition of his mother towards his father, himself and his sisters, the kingdom, the reputation of the race and the family were such that it was the peculiar duty of her children to punish her.

Others again use illustrations such as the following:— He who has spent his patrimony, is not allowed to address the people. But he spent it on public works. The question is whether everyone that spends his patrimony is to be prohibited, while the point for decision is whether he who spent it in such a way is to be prohibited.

Or again take the case of the soldier Arruntius, who killed the tribune Lusius for assaulting his honour. The question is whether he was justified in so doing, the line of defence, that the murdered man made an assault upon his honour, the point for the decision of the judge, whether it was right that a man should be killed uncondemned or a tribune by a soldier.

Some even regard the basis of the question as being different from the basis of the decision. The question as to whether Milo was justified in killing Clodius, is one of quality. The point for the decision of the judge, namely whether Clodius lay in wait for Milo, is a matter for conjecture.

They also urge that a case is often diverted to the consideration of some matter irrelevant to the question, and that it is on this matter that judgment is given. I strongly disagree. Take the question whether all who have spent their patrimony are to be prohibited from addressing the people. This question must have its point for decision, and therefore the question and the point for decision are not different, but there are more than one question and more than one point for decision in the case. Again, in the case of Milo, is not the question of fact ultimately referred to the question of quality? For if Clodius lay in wait for Milo, it follows that he was justifiably killed. But when the case is shifted to some other point far removed from the original question, even in this case the question will be found to reside in the point for decision.

As regards these questions Cicero is slightly inconsistent with himself. For in the Rhetorica, as I have already mentioned, he followed Hermagoras, while in the Topicai he holds that the κρινόμενον or disputed point is originated by the basis, and in addressing the lawyer Trebatius on this subject he calls it the point at issue, and describes the elements in which it resides as central arguments or foundations of the defence which hold it together and the removal of which causes the whole defence to fall to the ground.

But in the Partitiones Oratoriae he gives the name of foundation to that which is advanced against the defence, on the ground that the central argument, as it logically comes first, is put forward by the accuser, while the line of defence is put forward by the accused, and the point for the decision of the judge arises from the question jointly raised by the central argument and the line of defence. The view therefore of those who make the basis, the central argument, and the point for the decision of the judge identical, is at once more concise and nearer to the truth. The central argument, they point out, is that the removal of which makes the whole case fall to the ground.

In this central argument they seem to me to have included both the alleged causes, that Orestes killed his mother and that Clytemnestra killed Agamemnon. the same authorities have likewise always held that the basis and the point for the decision of the judge are in agreement; any other opinion would have been inconsistent with their general views.

But this affectation of subtlety in the invention of technical terms is mere laborious ostentation: I have undertaken the task of discussing them solely that I might not be regarded as having failed to make sufficient inquiry into the subject which I have chosen as my theme. But it is quite unnecessary for an instructor proceeding on less technical lines to destroy the coherence of his teaching by attention to such minute detail.

Many however suffer from this drawback, more especially Hermagoras who, although he labours these points with such anxious diligence, was a man of penetrating intellect and in most respects deserves our admiration, so that even where we must needs blame him, we cannot withhold a certain meed of praise.

But the shorter method, which for that very reason is also by far the most lucid, will not fatigue the learner by leading him through a maze of detail, nor destroy the coherence of his eloquence by breaking it up into a number of minute departments. For he who has a clear view of the main issue of a dispute, and divines the aims which his own side and his opponents intend to follow and the means they intend to employ (and it is to the intentions of his own side that he must pay special attention), will without a doubt be in possession of a knowledge of all the points which I have discussed above.

And there is hardly anyone, unless he be a born fool without the least acquaintance with the practice of speaking, who does not know what is the main issue of a dispute (or as they call it the cause or central argument) and what is the question between the parties and the point on which the judge has to decide, these three being identical. For the question is concerned with the matter in dispute and the decision of the judge is given on the point involved in the question.

Still we do not keep our attention rigidly fixed on such details, but the desire to win praise by any available means and the sheer delight in speaking make us wander away from the subject, since there is always richer material for eloquence outside the strict theme of the case, inasmuch as the points of any given dispute are always few, and there is all the world outside, and in the one case we speak according to our instructions, in the other on the subjects of our own choice.

We should teach not so much that it is our duty to discover the question, the central argument, and the point for the decision of the judge (an easy task), as that we should continually keep our attention on our subject, or if we digress, at least keep looking back to it, lest in our desire to win applause we should let our weapons drop from our grasp.

The school of Theodorus, as I have said, groups everything under heads, by which they mean several things. First they mean the main question, which is to be identified with the basis; secondly they mean the other questions dependent on the main question, thirdly the proposition and the statement of the proofs. The word is used as we use it when we say It is the head of the whole business, or, as Menander says, κεφάλαιόν ἐστιν. But generally speaking, anything which has to be proved will be a head of varying degrees of importance. I have now set forth the principles laid down by the writers of text-books, though I have done so at a greater length than was necessary. I have also explained what are the various parts of forensic causes. My next book therefore shall deal with the exordium.