Book 12

I now come to what is by far the most arduous portion of the task which I have set myself to perform. Indeed had I fully realised the difficulties when I first designed this work, I should have considered betimes whether my strength was sufficient to support the load that now weighs upon me so heavily. But to begin with, I felt how shameful it would be to fail to perform what I had promised, and later, despite the fact that my labour became more and more arduous at almost every stage, the fear of stultifying what I had already written sustained my courage through every difficulty.

Consequently even now, though the burden that oppresses me is greater than ever, the end is in sight and I am resolved to faint by the wayside rather than despair. But the fact that I began with comparatively trivial details deceived me. Subsequently I was lured still further on my voyage by the temptations of the favouring breeze that filled my sails; but the rules which I was then concerned to give were still of a familiar kind and had been already treated by most writers of rhetorical textbooks: thus far I seemed to myself to be still in sight of shore and I had the company of many who had ventured to entrust themselves to the self-same winds.

But presently when I entered on the task of setting forth a theory of eloquence which had been but newly discovered and rarely essayed, I found but few that had ventured so far from harbour. And finally now that the ideal orator, whom it was my design to mould, has been dismissed by his masters and is either proceeding on his way borne onward by his own impetus, or seeking still mightier assistance from the innermost shrine of wisdom, I begin to feel how far I have been swept into the great deep.

Now there is

Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the Ocean.

One only can I discern in all the boundless waste of waters, Marcus Tullius Cicero, and even he, though the ship in which he entered these seas is of such size and so well found, begins to lessen sail and to row a slower stroke, and is content to speak merely of the kind of speech to be employed by the perfect orator. But my temerity is such that I shall essay to form my orator's character and to teach him his duties. Thus I have no predecessor to guide my steps and must press far, far on, as my theme may demand. Still an honourable ambition is always deserving of approval, and it is all the less hazardous to dare greatly, when forgiveness is assured us if we fail.

The orator then, whom I am concerned to form, shall be the orator as defined by Marcus Cato, a good man, skilled in speaking. But above all he must possess the quality which Cato places first and which is in the very nature of things the greatest and most important, that is, he must be a good man. This is essential not merely on account of the fact that, if the powers of eloquence serve only to lend arms to crime, there can be nothing more pernicious than eloquence to public and private welfare alike, while I myself, who have laboured to the best of my ability to contribute something of value to oratory, shall have rendered the worst of services to mankind, if I forge these weapons not for a soldier, but for a robber. But why speak of myself?

Nature herself will have proved not a mother, but a stepmother with regard to what we deem her greatest gift to man, the gift that distinguishes us from other living things, if she devised the power of speech to be the accomplice of crime, the foe to innocency and the enemy of truth. For it had been better for men to be born dumb and devoid of reason than to turn the gifts of providence to their mutual destruction.

But this conviction of mine goes further. For I do not merely assert that the ideal orator should be a good man, but I affirm that no man can be an orator unless he is a good man. For it is impossible to regard those men as gifted with intelligence who on being offered the choice between the two paths of virtue and of vice choose the latter, nor can we allow them prudence, when by the unforeseen issue of their own actions they render themselves liable not merely to the heaviest penalties of the laws, but to the inevitable torment of an evil conscience.

But if the view that a bad man is necessarily a fool is not merely held by philosolphers, but is the universal belief of ordinary men, the fool will most assuredly never become an orator. To this must be added the fact that the mind will not find leisure even for the study of the noblest of tasks, unless it first be free from vice. The reasons for this are, first, that vileness and virtue cannot jointly inhabit in the selfsame heart and that it is as impossible for one and the same mind to harbour good and evil thoughts as it is for one man to be at once both good and evil:

and secondly, that if the intelligence is to be concentrated on such a vast subject as eloquence it must be free from all other distractions, among which must be included even those preoccupations which are free from blame. For it is only when it is free and self-possessed, with nothing to divert it or lure it elsewhere, that it will fix its attention solely on that goal, the attainment of which is the object of its preparations.

If on the other hand inordinate care for the development of our estates, excess of anxiety over household affairs, passionate devotion to hunting or the sacrifice of whole days to the shows of the theatre, rob our studies of much of the time that is their due (for every moment that is given to other things involves a loss of time for study), what, think you, will be the results of desire, avarice, and envy, which waken such violent thoughts within our souls that they disturb our very slumbers and our dreams?

There is nothing so preoccupied, so distracted, so rent and torn by so many and such varied passions as an evil mind. For when it cherishes some dark design, it is tormented with hope, care and anguish of spirit, and even when it has accomplished its criminal purpose, it is racked by anxiety, remorse and the fear of all manner of punishments. Amid such passions as these what room is there for literature or any virtuous pursuit? You might as well look for fruit in land that is choked with thorns and brambles.

Well then, I ask you, is not simplicity of life essential if we are to be able to endure the toil entailed by study? What can we hope to get from lust or luxury? Is not the desire to win praise one of the strongest stimulants to a passion for literature? But does that mean that we are to suppose that praise is an object of concern to bad men? Surely every one of my readers must by now have realised that oratory is in the main concerned with the treatment of what is just and honourable? Can a bad and unjust man speak on such themes as the dignity of the subject demands?

Nay, even if we exclude the most important aspects of the question now before us, and make the impossible concession that the best and worst of men may have the same talent, industry and learning, we are still confronted by the question as to which of the two is entitled to be called the better orator. The answer is surely clear enough: it will be he who is the better man. Consequently, the bad man and the perfect orator can never be identical.

For nothing is perfect, if there exists something else that is better. However, as I do not wish to appear to adopt the practice dear to the Socratics of framing answers to my own questions, let me assume the existence of a man so obstinately blind to the truth as to venture to maintain that a bad man equipped with the same talents, industry and learning will be not a whit inferior to the good man as an orator; and let me show that he too is mad.

There is one point at any rate which no one will question, namely, that the aim of every speech is to convince the judge that the case which it puts forward is true and honourable. Well then, which will do this best, the good man or the bad? The good man will without doubt more often say what is true and honourable.

But even supposing that his duty should, as I shall show may sometimes happen, lead him to make statements which are false, his words are still certain to carry greater weight with his audience. On the other hand bad men, in their contempt for public opinion and their ignorance of what is right, sometimes drop their mask unawares, and are impudent in the statement of their case and shameless in their assertions.

Further, in their attempt to achieve the impossible they display an unseemly persistency and unavailing energy. For in lawsuits no less than in the ordinary paths of life, they cherish depraved expectations. But it often happens that even when they tell the truth they fail to win belief, and the mere fact that such a man is its advocate is regarded as an indication of the badness of the case.

I must now proceed to deal with the objections which common opinion is practically unanimous in bringing against this view. Was not Demosthenes an orator? And yet we are told that he was a bad man. Was not Cicero an orator? And yet there are many who have found fault with his character as well. What am I to answer? My reply will be highly unpopular and I must first attempt to conciliate my audience.

I do not consider that Demosthenes deserves the serious reflexions that have been made upon his character to such an extent that I am bound to believe all the charges amassed against him by his enemies; for my reading tells me that his public policy was of the noblest and his end most glorious.

Again, I cannot see that the aims of Cicero were in any portion of his career other than such as may become an excellent citizen. As evidence I would cite the fact that his behaviour as consul was magnificent and his administration of his province a model of integrity, while he refused to become one of the twenty commissioners, and in the grievous civil wars which afflicted his generation beyond all others, neither hope nor fear ever deterred him from giving his support to the better party, that is to say, to the interests of the common weal. Some, it is true, regard him as lacking in courage.

The best answer to these critics is to be found in his own words, to the effect that he was timid not in confronting peril, but in anticipating it. And this he proved also by the manner of his death, in meeting which he displayed a singular fortitude.

But even if these two men lacked the perfection of virtue, I will reply to those who ask if they were orators, in the manner in which the Stoics would reply, if asked whether Zeno, Cleanthes or Chrysippus himself were wise men. I shall say that they were great men deserving our veneration, but that they did not attain to that which is the highest perfection of man's nature.

For did not Pythagoras desire that he should not be called a wise man, like the sages who preceded him, but rather a student of wisdom? But for my own part, conforming to the language of every day, I have said time and again, and shall continue to say, that Cicero was a perfect orator, just as in ordinary speech we call our friends good and sensible men, although neither of these titles can really be given to any save to him that has attained to perfect wisdom. But if I am called upon to speak strictly and in accordance with the most rigid laws of truth, I shall proclaim that I seek to find that same perfect orator whom Cicero also sought to discover.

For while I admit that he stood on the loftiest pinnacle of eloquence, and can discover scarcely a single deficiency in him, although I might perhaps discover certain superfluities which I think he would have pruned away (for the general view of the learned is that he possessed many virtues and a few faults, and he himself states that he has succeeded in suppressing much of his youthful exuberance), none the less, in view of the fact that, although he had by no means a low opinion of himself, he never claimed to be the perfect sage, and, had he been granted longer life and less troubled conditions for the composition of his works, would doubtless have spoken better still, I shall not lay myself open to the charge of ungenerous criticism, if I say that I believe that he failed actually to achieve that perfection to the attainment of which none have approached more nearly, and indeed had I felt otherwise in this connexion, I might have defended my point with greater boldness and freedom. Marcus Antonius declared that he had seen no man who was genuinely eloquent (and to be eloquent is a far less achievement than to be an orator), while Cicero himself has failed to find his orator in actual life and merely imagines and strives to depict the ideal. Shall I then be afraid to say that in the eternity of time that is yet to be, something more perfect may be found than has yet existed?

I say nothing of those critics who will not allow sufficient credit even for eloquence to Cicero and Demosthenes, although Cicero himself does not regard Demosthenes as flawless, but asserts that he sometimes nods, while even Cicero fails to satisfy Brutus and Calvus (at any rate they criticised his style to his face), or to win the complete approval of either of the Asinii, who in various passages attack the faults of his oratory in language which is positively hosthe.

However, let us fly in the face of nature and assume that a bad man has been discovered who is endowed with the highest eloquence. I shall none the less deny that he is an orator. For I should not allow that every man who has shown himself ready with his hands was necessarily a brave man, because true courage cannot be conceived of without the accompaniment of virtue.

Surely the advocate who is called to defend the accused requires to be a man of honour, honour which greed cannot corrupt, influence seduce, or fear dismay. Shall we then dignify the traitor, the deserter, the turncoat with the sacred name of orator? But if the quality which is usually termed goodness is to be found even in quite ordinary advocates, why should not the orator, who has not yet existed, but may still be born, be no less perfect in character than in excellence of speech?

It is no hack-advocate, no hireling pleader, nor yet, to use no harser term, a serviceable attorney of the class generally known as causidici, that I am seeking to form, but rather a man who to extraordinary natural gifts has added a thorough mastery of all the fairest branches of knowledge, a man sent by heaven to be the blessing of mankind, one to whom all history can find no parallel, uniquely perfect in every detail and utterly noble alike in thought and speech.

How small a portion of all these abilities will be required for the defence of the innocent, the repression of crime or the support of truth against falsehood in suits involving questions of money? It is true that our supreme orator will bear his part in such tasks, but his powers will be displayed with brighter splendour in greater matters than these, when he is called upon to direct the counsels of the senate and guide the people from the paths of error to better things.

Was not this the man conceived by Virgil and described as quelling a riot when torches and stones have begun to fly:

Then, if before their eyes some statesman grave

Stand forth, with virtue and high service crowned,

Straight are they dumb and stand intent to hear.

Here then we have one who is before all else a good man, and it is only after this that the poet adds that he is skilled in speaking:

His words their minds control, their passions soothe.

Again, will not this same man, whom we are striving to form, if in time of war he be called upon to inspire his soldiers with courage for the fray, draw for his eloquence on the innermost precepts of philosophy? For how can men who stand upon the verge of battle banish all the crowding fears of hardship, pain and death from their minds, unless those fears be replaced by the sense of the duty that they owe their country, by courage and the lively image of a soldier's honour?

And assuredly the man who will best inspire such feelings in others is he who has first inspired them in himself. For however we strive to conceal it, insincerity will always betray itself, and there was never in any man so great eloquence as would not begin to stumble and hesitate so soon as his words ran counter to his inmost thoughts.

Now: a bad man cannot help speaking things other than he feels. On the other land, the good will never be at a loss for honourable words or fail to find matter full of virtue for utterance, since among his virtues practical wisdom will be one. And even though his imagination lacks artifice to lend it charm, its own nature will be ornament enough, for if honour dictate the words, we shall find eloquence there as well.

Therefore, let those that are young, or rather let all of us, whatever our age, since it is never too late to resolve to follow what is right, strive with all our hearts and devote all our efforts to the pursuit of virtue and eloquence; and perchance it may be granted to us to attain to the perfection that we seek. For since nature does not forbid the attainment of either, why should not someone succeed in attaining both together? And why should not each of us hope to be that happy man?

But if our powers are inadequate to such achievement, we shall still be the better for the double effort in proportion to the distance which we have advanced toward either goal. At any rate let us banish from our hearts the delusion that eloquence, the fairest of all things, can be combined with vice. The power of speaking is even to be accounted an evil when it is found in evil men; for it makes its possessors yet worse than they were before.

I think I hear certain persons (for there will always be some who had rather be eloquent than good) asking, Why then is there so much art in connexion with eloquence? Why have you talked so much of 'glosses,' the methods of defence to be employed in difficult cases, and sometimes even of actual confession of guilt, unless it is the case that the power and force of speech at times triumphs over truth itself? For a good man will only plead good cases, and those might safely be left to truth to support without the aid of learning.

Now, though my reply to these critics will in the first place be a defence of my own work, it will also explain what I consider to be the duty of a good man on occasions when circumstances have caused him to undertake the defence of the guilty. For it is by no means useless to consider how at times we should speak in defence of falsehood or even of injustice, if only for this reason, that such an investigation will enable us to detect and defeat them with the greater ease, just as the physician who has a thorough knowledge of all that can injure the health will be all the more skilful in the prescription of remedies.

For the Academicians, although they will argue on either side of a question, do not thereby commit themselves to taking one of these two views as their guide in life to the exclusion of the other, while the famous Carneades, who is said to have spoken at Rome in the presence of Cato the Censor, and to have argued against justice with no less vigour than he had argued for justice on the preceding day, was not himself an unjust man. But the nature of virtue is revealed by vice, its opposite, justice becomes yet more manifest from the contemplation of injustice, and there are many other things that are proved by their contraries. Consequently the schemes of his adversaries should be no less well known to the orator than those of the enemy to a commander in the field.

But it is even true, although at first sight it seems hard to believe, that there may be sound reason why at times a good man who is appearing for the defence should attempt to conceal the truth from the judge. If any of my readers is surprised at my making such a statement (although this opinion is not of my own invention, but is derived from those whom antiquity regarded as the greatest teachers of wisdom), I would have him reflect that there are many things which are made honourable or the reverse not by the nature of the facts, but by the causes from which they spring.

For if to slay a man is often a virtue and to put one's own children to death is at times the noblest of deeds, and if it is permissible in the public interest to do deeds yet more horrible to relate than these, we should assuredly take into consideration not solely and simply what is the nature of the case which the good man undertakes to defend, but what is his reason and what his purpose in so doing.

And first of all everyone must allow, what even the sternest of the Stoics admit, that the good man will sometimes tell a lie, and further that he will sometimes do so for comparatively trivial reasons; for example we tell countless lies to sick children for their good and make many promises to them which we do not intend to perform.

And there is clearly far more justification for lying when it is a question of diverting an assassin from his victim or deceiving an enemy to save our country. Consequently a practice which is at times reprehensible even in slaves, may on other occasions be praiseworthy even in a wise man. If this be granted, I can see that there will be many possible emergencies such as to justify an orator in undertaking cases of a kind which, in the absence of any honourable reason, he would have refused to touch.

In saying this I do not mean that we should be ready under any circumstances to defend our father, brother or friend when in peril (since I hold that we should be guided by stricter rules in such matters), although such contingencies may well cause us no little perplexity, when we have to decide between the rival claims of justice and natural affection. But let us put the problem beyond all question of doubt. Suppose a man to have plotted against a tyrant and to be accused of having done so. Which of the two will the orator, as defined by us, desire to save? And if he undertakes the defence of the accused, will he not employ falsehood with no less readiness than the advocate who is defending a bad case before a jury?

Again, suppose that the judge is likely to condemn acts which were rightly done, unless we can convince him that they were never done. Is not this another case where the orator will not shrink even from lies, if so he may save one who is not merely innocent, but a praiseworthy citizen? Again, suppose that we realise that certain acts are just in themselves, though prejudicial to the state under existing circumstances. Shall we not then employ methods of speaking which, despite the excellence of their intention, bear a close resemblance to fraud.

Further, no one will hesitate for a moment to hold the view that it is in the interests of the commonwealth that guilty persons should be acquitted rather than punished, if it be possible thereby to convert them to a better state of mind, a possibility which is generally conceded. If then it is clear to an orator that a man who is guilty of the offences laid to his charge will become a good man, will he not strive to secure his acquittal?

Imagine for example that a skilful commander, without whose aid the state cannot hope to crush its enemies, is labouring under a charge which is obviously true: will not the common interest irresistibly summon our orator to defend him? We know at any rate that Fabricius publicly voted for and secured the election to the consulate of Cornelius Rufinus, despite the tact that he was a bad citizen and his personal enemy, merely because he knew that he was a capable general and the state was threatened with war. And when certain persons expressed their surprise at his conduct, he replied that he had rather be robbed by a fellow-citizen than be sold as a slave by the enemy. Well then, had Fabricius been an orator, would he not have defended Rufinus against a charge of peculation, even though his guilt were as clear as day?

I might produce many other similar examples, but one of them taken at random is enough. For my purpose is not to assert that such tasks will often be incumbent on the orator whom I desire to form, but merely to show that, in the event of his being compelled to take such action, it will not invalidate our definition of an orator as a good man, skilled in speaking.

And it is necessary also both to teach and learn how to establish difficult cases by proof. For often even the best cases have a resemblance to bad and, the charges which tell heavily against an innocent person frequently have a strong resemblance to the truth. Consequently, the same methods of defence have to be employed that would be used if he were guilty. Further, there are countless elements which are common to both good cases and bad, such as oral and documentary evidence, suspicions and opinions, all of which have to be established or disposed of in the same way, whether they be true or merely resemble the truth. Therefore, while maintaining his integrity of purpose, the orator will modify his pleading to suit the circumstances.

Since then the orator is a good man, and such goodness cannot be conceived as existing apart from virtue, virtue, despite the fact that it is in part derived from certain natural impulses, will require to be perfected by instruction. The orator must above all things devote his attention to the formation of moral character and must acquire a complete knowledge of all that is just and honourable. For without this knowledge no one can be either a good man or skilled in speaking, unless indeed we agree with those who regard morality as intuitive and as owing nothing to instruction: indeed they go so far as to acknowledge that handicrafts, not excluding even those which are most despised among them, can only be acquired by the result of teaching, whereas virtue, which of all gifts to man is that which makes him most near akin to the immortal gods, comes to him without search or effort, as a natural concomitant of birth. But can the man who does not know what abstinence is, claim to be truly abstinent?

or brave, if he has never purged his soul of the fears of pain, death and superstition? or just, it he has never, in language approaching that of philosophy, discussed the nature of virtue and justice, or of the laws that have been given to mankind by nature or established among individual peoples and nations? What a contempt it argues for such themes to regard them as being so easy of comprehension!

However, I pass this by; for I am sure that no one with the least smattering of literary culture will have the slightest hesitation in agreeing with me. I will proceed to my next point, that no one will achieve sufficient skill even in speaking, unless he makes a thorough study of all the workings of nature and forms his character on the precepts of philosophy and the dictates of reason.

For it is with good cause that Lucius Crassus, in the third book of the de Oratore, affirms that all that is said concerning equity, justice, truth and the good, and their opposites, forms part of the studies of an orator, and that the philosophers, when they exert their powers of speaking to defend these virtues, are using the weapons of rhetoric, not their own. But he also confesses that the knowledge of these subjects must be sought from the philosophers for the reason that, in his opinion, philosophy has more effective possession of them.

And it is for the same reason that Cicero in several of his books and letters proclaims that eloquence has its fountain-head in the most secret springs of wisdom, and that consequently for a considerable time the instructors of morals and of eloquence were identical. Accordingly this exhortation of mine must not be taken to mean that I wish the orator to be a philosopher, since there is no other way of life that is further removed from the duties of a statesman and the tasks of an orator.

For what philosopher has ever been a frequent speaker in the courts or won renown in public assemblies? Nay, what philosopher has ever taken a prominent part in the government of the state, which forms the most frequent theme of their instructions? None the less I desire that he, whose character I am seeking to mould, should be a wise man in the Roman sense, that is, one who reveals himself as a true statesman, not in the discussions of the study, but in the actual practice and experience of life.

But inasmuch as the study of philosophy has been deserted by those who have turned to the pursuit of eloquence, and since philosophy no longer moves in its true sphere of action and in the broad daylight of the forum, but has retired first to porches and gymnasia and finally to the gatherings of the schools, all that is essential for an orator, and yet is not taught by the professors of eloquence, must undoubtedly be sought from those persons in whose possession it has remained. The authors who have discoursed on the nature of virtue must be read through and through, that the life of the orator may be wedded to the knowledge of things human and divine.

But how much greater and fairer would such subjects appear if those who taught them were also those who could give them most eloquent expression! O that the day may dawn when the perfect orator of our heart's desire shall claim for his own possession that science that has lost the affection of mankind through the arrogance of its claims and the vices of some that have brought disgrace upon its virtues, and shall restore it to its place in the domain of eloquence, as though he had been victorious in a trial for the restoration of stolen goods!

And since philosophy falls into three divisions, physics, ethics and dialectic, which, I ask you, of these departments is not closely connected with the task of the orator? Let us reverse the order just given and deal first with the third department which is entirely concerned with words. If it be true that to know the properties of each word, to clear away ambiguities, to unravel perplexities, to distinguish between truth and falsehood, to prove or to refute as may be desired, all form part of the functions of an orator, who is there that can doubt the truth of my contention?

I grant that we shall not have to employ dialectic with such minute attention to detail when we are pleading in the courts as when we are engaged in philosophical debate, since the orator's duty is not merely to instruct, but also to move and delight his audience; and to succeed in doing this he needs a strength, impetuosity and grace as well. For oratory is like a river: the current is stronger when it flows within deep banks and with a mighty flood, than when the waters are shallow and broken by the pebbles that bar their way.

And just as the trainers of the wrestling school do not impart the various throws to their pupils that those who have learnt them may make use of all of them in actual wrestling matches (for weight and strength and wind count for more than these), but that they may have a store from which to draw one or two of such tricks, as occasion may offer;

even so the science of dialectic, or if you prefer it of disputation, while it is often useful in definition, inference, differentiation, resolution of ambiguity, distinction and classification, as also in luring on or entangling our opponents, yet if it claim to assume the entire direction of the struggles of the forum, will merely stand in the way of arts superior to itself and by its very subtlety will exhaust the strength that has been pared down to suit its limitations.

As a result you will find that certain persons who show astonishing skill in philosophical debate, as soon as they quit the sphere of their quibbles, are as helpless in any case that demands more serious pleading as those small animals which, though nimble enough in a confined space, are easily captured in an open field.

Proceeding to moral philosophy or ethics, we may note that it at any rate is entirely suited to the orator. For vast as is the variety of cases (since in them, as I have pointed out in previous books, we seek to discover certain points by conjecture, reach our conclusions in others by means of definition, dispose of others on legal grounds' or by raising the question of competence, while other points are established by syllogism and others involve contradictions or are diversely interpreted owing to some ambiguity of language), there is scarcely a single one which does not at some point or another involve the discussion of equity and virtue, while there are also, as everyone knows, not a few which turn entirely on questions of quality.

Again in deliberative assemblies how can we advise a policy without raising the question of what is honourable? Nay, even the third department of oratory, which is concerned with the tasks of praise and denunciation, must without a doubt deal with questions of right and wrong.

For the orator will assuredly have much to say on such topics as justice, fortitude, abstinence, self-control and piety. But the good man, who has come to the knowledge of these things not by mere hearsay, as though they were just words and names for his tongue to employ, but has grasped the meaning of virtue and acquired a true feeling for it, will never be perplexed when he has to think out a problem, but will speak out truly what he knows.

Since, however, general questions are always more important than special (for the particular is contained in the universal, while the universal is never to be regarded as something superimposed on the particular), everyone will readily admit that the studies of which we are speaking are pre-eminently concerned with general questions.

Further, since there are numerous points which require to be determined by appropriate and concise definitions (hence the definitive basis of cases), it is surely desirable that the orator should be instructed in such things by those who have devoted special attention to the subject. Again, does not every question of law turn either on the precise meaning of words, the discussion of equity, or conjecture as to the intention—subjects which in part encroach on the domain of dialectic and in part on that of ethics?

Consequently all oratory involves a natural admixture of all these philosophic elements—at least, that is to say, all oratory that is worthy of the name. For mere garrulity that is ignorant of all such learning must needs go astray, since its guides are either non-existent or false. Physics on the other hand is far richer than the other branches of philosophy, if viewed from the standpoint of providing exercise in speaking, in proportion as a loftier inspiration is required to speak of things divine than of things human; and further it includes within its scope the whole of ethics, which as we have shown are essential to the very existence of oratory.

For, if the world is governed by providence, it will certainly be the duty of all good men to bear their part in the administration of the state. If the origin of our souls be divine, we must win our way towards virtue and abjure the service of the lusts of our earthly body. Are not these themes which the orator will frequently be called upon to handle? Again there are questions concerned with auguries and oracles or any other religious topic (all of them subjects that have often given rise to the most important debates in the senate) on which the orator will have to discourse, if he is also to be the statesman we would have him be. And finally, how can we conceive of any real eloquence at all proceeding from a man who is ignorant of all that is best in the world?

If our reason did not make these facts obvious, we should still be led by historical examples to believe their truth. For Pericles, whose eloquence, despite the fact that it has left no visible record for posterity, was none the less, if we may believe the historians and that free-speaking tribe, the old comic poets, endowed with almost incredible force, is known to have been a pupil of the physicist Anaxagoras, while Demosthenes, greatest of all the orators of Greece, sat at the feet of Plato.

As for Cicero, he has often proclaimed the fact that he owed less to the schools of rhetoric than to the walks of Academe: nor would he ever have developed such amazing fertility of talent, had he bounded his genius by the limits of the forum and not by the frontiers of nature herself. But this leads me to another question as to which school of philosophy is like to prove of most service to oratory, although there are only a few that can be said to contend for this honour.

For in the first place Epicurus banishes us from his presence without more ado, since he bids all his followers to fly from learning in the swiftest ship that they can find. Nor would Aristippus, who regards the highest good as consisting in physical pleasure, be likely to exhort us to the toils entailed by our study. And what part can Pyrrho have in the work that is before us? For he will have doubts as to whether there exist judges to address, accused to defend, or a senate where he can be called upon to speak his opinion.

Some authorities hold that the Academy will be the most useful school, on the ground that its habit of disputing on both sides of a question approaches most nearly to the actual practice of the courts. And by way of proof they add the fact that this school has produced speakers highly renowned for their eloquence. The Peripatetics also make it their boast that they have a form of study which is near akin to oratory. For it was with them in the main that originated the practice of declaiming on general questions by way of exercise. The Stoics, though driven to admit that, generally speaking, their teachers have been deficient both in fullness and charm of eloquence, still contend that no men can prove more acutely or draw conclusions with greater subtlety than themselves.

But all these arguments take place within their own circle, for, as though they were tied by some solemn oath or held fast in the bonds of some superstitious belief, they consider that it is a crime to abandon a conviction once formed. On the other hand, there is no need for an orator to swear allegiance to any one philosophic code.

For lie has a greater and nobler aim, to which he directs all his efforts with as much zeal as if he were a candidate for office, since he is to be made perfect not only in the glory of a virtuous life, but in that of eloquence as well. He will consequently select as his models of eloquence all the greatest masters of oratory, and will choose the noblest precepts and the most direct road to virtue as the means for the formation of an upright character. He will neglect no form of exercise, but will devote special attention to those which are of the highest and fairest nature.

For what subject can be found more fully adapted to a rich and weighty eloquence than the topics of virtue, politics, providence, the origin of the soul and friendship? The themes which tend to elevate mind and language alike are questions such as what things are truly good, what means there are of assuaging fear, restraining the passions and lifting us and the soul that came from heaven clear of the delusions of the common herd.

But it is desirable that we should not restrict our study to the precepts of philosophy alone. It is still more important that we should know and ponder continually all the noblest sayings and deeds that have been handed down to us from ancient times. And assuredly we shall nowhere find a larger or more remarkable store of these than in the records of our own country.

Who will teach courage, justice, loyalty, self-control, simplicity, and contempt of grief and pain better than men like Fabricius, Curius, Regulus, Decius, Mucius and countless others? For if the Greeks bear away the palm for moral precepts, Rome can produce more striking examples of moral performance, which is a far greater thing.

But the man who does not believe that it is enough to fix his eyes merely on his own age and his own transitory life, but regards the space allotted for an honourable life and the course in which glory's race is run as conditioned solely by the memory of posterity, will not rest content with a mere knowledge of the events of history. No, it is from the thought of posterity that he must inspire his soul with justice and derive that freedom of spirit which it is his duty to display when he pleads in the courts or gives counsel in the senate. No man will ever be the consummate orator of whom we are in quest unless he has both the knowledge and the courage to speak in accordance with the promptings of honour.

III. Our orator will also require a knowledge of civil law and of the custom and religion of the state in whose life he is to bear his part. For how will he be able to advise either in public or in private, if he is ignorant of all the main elements that go to make the state? How can he truthfully call himself an advocate if he has to go to others to acquire that knowledge which is all-important in the courts? He will be little better than if he were a reciter of the poets.

For he will be a mere transmitter of the instructions that others have given him, it will be on the authority of others that he propounds what he asks the judge to believe, and he whose duty it is to succour the litigant will himself be in need of succour. It is true that at times this may be effected with but little inconvenience, if what he advances for the edification of the judge has been taught him and composed in the seclusion of his study and learnt by heart there like other elements of the case. But what will he do, when he is confronted by unexpected problems such as frequently arise in the actual course of pleading? Will he not disgrace himself by looking round and asking the junior counsel who sit on the benches behind him for advice?

Can lie hope to get a thorough grasp of such information at the very moment when he is required to produce it in his speech? Can he make his assertions with confidence or speak with native simplicity as though his arguments were his own? Grant that he may do so in his actual speech. But what will he do in a debate, when he has continually to meet fresh points raised by his opponent and is given no time to learn up his case? What will do, if he has no legal expert to advise him or if his prompter through insufficient knowledge of the subject provides him with information that is false? It is the most serious drawback of such ignorance, that he will always believe that his adviser knows what he is talking about.

I am not ignorant of the generally prevailing custom, nor have I forgotten those who sit by our store-chests and provide weapons for the pleader: I know too that the Greeks did likewise: hence the name of pragmaticus which was bestowed on such persons. But I am speaking of an orator, who owes it as a duty to his case to serve it not merely by the loudness of his voice, but by all other means that may be of assistance to it.

Consequently I do not wish my orator to be helpless, if it so chance that he puts in an appearance for the preliminary proceedings to which the hour before the commencement of the trial is allotted, or to be unskilful in the preparation and production of evidence. For who, sooner than himself, should prepare the points which he wishes to be brought out when he is pleading? You might as well suppose that the qualifications of a successful general consist merely in courage and energy in the field of battle and skill in meeting all the demands of actual conflict, while suffering him to be ignorant of the methods of levying troops, mustering and equipping his forces, arranging for supplies or selecting a suitable position for his camp, despite the fact that preparation for war is an essential preliminary for its successful conduct.

And yet such a general would bear a very close resemblance to the advocate who leaves much of the detail that is necessary for success to the care of others, more especially in view of the fact that this, the most necessary element in the management of a case, is not as difficult as it may perhaps seem to outside observers. For every point of law, which is certain, is based either on written law or accepted custom: if, on the other hand, the point is doubtful, it must be examined in the light of equity.

Laws which are either written or founded on accepted custom present no difficulty, since they call merely for knowledge and make no demand on the imagination. On the other hand, the points explained in the rulings of the legal experts turn either on the interpretation of words or on the distinction between right and wrong. To understand the meaning of each word is either common to all sensible men or the special possession of the orator, while the demands of equity are known to every good man.

Now I regard the orator above all as being a man of virtue and good sense, who will not be seriously troubled, after having devoted himself to the study of that which is excellent by nature, if some legal expert disagrees with him; for even they are allowed to disagree among themselves. But if he further wishes to know the views of everyone, he will require to read, and reading is the least laborious of' all the tasks that fall to the student's lot.

Moreover, if the class of legal experts is as a rule drawn from those who, in despair of making successful pleaders, have taken refuge with the law, how easy it must be for an orator to know what those succeed in learning, who by their own confession are incapable of becoming orators! But Marcus Cato was at once a great orator and an expert lawyer, while Scaevola and Servius Sulpicius were universally allowed to be eloquent as well.

And Cicero not merely possessed a sufficient supply of legal knowledge to serve his needs when pleading, but actually began to write on the subject, so that it is clear that an orator has not merely time to learn, but even to teach the law.

Let no one, however, regard the advice I have given as to the attention due to the development of character and the study of the law as being impugned by the fact that we are familiar with many who, because they were weary of the toil entailed on those who seek to scale the heights of eloquence, have betaken themselves to the study of law as a refuge for their indolence. Some of these transfer their attention to the praetor's edicts or the civil law, and have preferred to become specialists in formulae, or legalists, as Cicero calls them, on the pretext of choosing a more useful branch of study, whereas their real motive was its comparative easiness.

Others are the victims of a more arrogant form of sloth; they assume a stern air and let their beards grow, and, as though despising the precepts of oratory, sit for a while in the schools of the philosophers, that, by an assumption of a severe mien before the public gaze and by an affected contempt of others they may assert their moral superiority, while leading a life of debauchery at home. For philosophy may be counterfeited, but eloquence never.

Above all, our orator should be equipped with a rich store of examples both old and new: and he ought not merely to know those which are recorded in history or transmitted by oral tradition or occur from day to day, but should not neglect even those fictitious examples invented by the great poets.

For while the former have the authority of evidence or even of legal decisions, the latter also either have the warrant of antiquity or are regarded as having been invented by great men to serve as lessons to the world. He should therefore be acquainted with as many examples as possible. It is this which gives old age so much authority, since the old are believed to have a larger store of knowledge and experience, as Homer so frequently bears witness. But we must not wait till the evening of our days, since study has this advantage that, as far as knowledge of facts is concerned, it is capable of giving the impression that we have lived in ages long gone by.

Such are the instruments of which I promised to give account, the instruments, that is, not merely of the art, as some have held, but of the orator himself. These are the weapons that he should have ready to his hand, this the knowledge with which he must be equipped, while it must be supplemented by a ready store of words and figures, power of imagination, skill in arrangement, retentiveness of memory and grace of delivery. But of all these qualities the highest is that loftiness of soul which fear cannot dismay nor uproar terrify nor the authority of the audience fetter further than the respect which is their due.

For although the vices which are its opposites, such as arrogance, temerity, impudence and presumption, are all positively obnoxious, still without constancy, confidence and courage, art, study and proficiency will be of no avail. You might as well put weapons into the hands of the unwarlike and the coward. It is indeed with some reluctance, as it may give rise to misunderstanding, that I say that even modesty (which, though a fault in itself, is an amiable failing which may easily be the mother of virtues) is on occasion an impediment and has frequently caused the fruits of genius and study to consume away in the mildew of obscurity merely because they have never been displayed to the public day.

But in case any of my readers should still lack skill to distinguish the precise meaning of each word, I would have him know that it is not honest shame that is the object of my criticism, but that excess of modesty which is really a form of fear deterring the soul from doing what is its duty to do, and resulting in confusion of mind, regret that our task was ever begun, and sudden silence. For who can hesitate to give the name of fault to a feeling that makes a man ashamed to do what is right?

On the other hand, I am not unwilling that the man who has got to make a speech should show signs of nervousness when he rises to his feet, should change colour and make it clear that he feels the risks of his position: indeed, if these symptoms do not occur naturally, it will be necessary to simulate them. But the feeling that stirs us should be due to the realisation of the magnitude of our task and not to fear: we should be moved, but not to the extent of collapsing. But the best remedy for such excess of modesty is confidence: however great our natural timidity of mien, we shall find strength and support in the consciousness of the nobility of our task.

There are also those natural instruments which, as I mentioned above, may be further improved by care, such as voice, lungs and grace of carriage and movement, all of which are of such importance as frequently to give a speaker the reputation for talent. Our own age has had orators of greater resource and power, but Trachalus appeared to stand out above all his contemporaries, when he was speaking. Such was the elect produced by his lofty stature, the fire of his eye, the dignity of his brow, the excellence of his gesture, coupled with a voice which was not almost a tragedian's, as Cicero demands that it should be, but surpassed the voice of all tragedians that I have ever heard.

At any rate I remember that, when he was speaking in the Basilica Julia before the first tribunal, and the four panels of judges were assembled as usual and the whole building was full of noise, he could still be heard and understood and applauded from all four tribunals at once, a fact which was not complimentary to the other pleaders. But gifts like these are such as all may pray for and few are happy enough to attain. And if we cannot achieve such fortune, we must even be content to be heard by the court which we are addressing. Such then should the orator be, and such are the things which he should know.

The age at which the orator should begin to plead will of course depend on the development of his strength. I shall not specify it further, since it is clear that Demosthenes pleaded against his guardians while he was still a mere boy, Calvus, Caesar and Pollio all undertook cases of the first importance before they were old enough to be qualified for the quaestorship, others are said to have pleaded while still wearing the garb of boyhood, and Augustus Caesar delivered a funeral oration over his grandmother from the public rostra when he was only twelve years old.

In my opinion we should aim at a happy mean. The unripe brow of boyhood should not be prematurely robbed of its ingenuous air nor should the young speaker's powers be brought before the public while yet unformed, since such a practice leads to a contempt for study, lays the foundations of impudence and induces a fault which is pernicious in all departments of life, namely, a self-confidence that is not justified by the speaker's resources.

On the other hand, it is undesirable to postpone the apprenticeship of the bar till old age: for the fear of appearing in public grows daily and the magnitude of the task on which we must venture continually increases and we waste time deliberating when we should begin, till we find it is too late to begin at all. Consequently it is desirable that the fruit of our studies should be brought before the public eye while it is still fresh and sweet, while it may hope for indulgence and be secure of a kindly disposition in the audience, while boldness is not unbecoming and youth compensates for all defects and boyish extravagance is regarded as a sign of natural vigour.

Take for example the whole of the well-known passage from Cicero's defence of Sextus Roscius: For what is more common than the air to the living, than the earth to the dead, than the sea to mariners or the shore to shipwrecked men? etc. This passage was delivered at the age of twenty-six amid loud applause from the audience, but in later years he acknowledges that the ferment of youth has died down and his style been clarified with age. And, indeed, however much private study may contribute to success, there is still a peculiar proficiency that the courts alone can give: for there the atmosphere is changed and the reality of the peril puts a different complexion on things, while, if it is impossible to combine the two, practice without theory is more useful than theory without practice. Consequently, some who have grown old in the schools lose their heads when confronted by the novelty of the law courts and wish that it were possible to reproduce all the conditions under which they delivered their exercises. But there sits the judge in silence, their opponent bellows at them, no rash utterance passes unnoticed and all assumptions must be proved, the clock cuts short the speech that has been laboriously pieced together at the cost of hours of study both by day and night, and there are certain cases which require simplicity of language and the abandonment of the perpetual bombast of the schools, a fact which these fluent fellows completely fail to realise.

And so you will find some persons who regard themselves as too eloquent to speak in the courts. On the other hand, the man, whom we conducted to the forum while still young and in the charm of immaturity, should begin with as easy and favourable a case as may be (just as the cubs of wild beasts are brought up to start with on softer forms of prey), and should not proceed straight from this commencement to plead case after case without a break, or cause his talents to set and harden while they still require nourishment; on the contrary, as soon as he has come to realise the nature of the conflicts in which he will have to engage and the object to which his studies should be directed, he should take an interval of rest and refreshment. Thus, at an age to which boldness is still natural, he will find it easy to get over the timidity which invariably accompanies the period of apprenticeship, and will not, on the other hand, carry his boldness so far as to lead him to despise the difficulties of his task. This was the method employed by Cicero: for when he had already won a distinguished position at the bar of his day, he took ship to Asia and there studied under a number of professors of philosophy and rhetoric, but above all under Apollonius Molon, whose lectures he had attended at Rome and to whom he now at Rhodes entrusted the refashioning and recasting of his style. It is only when theory and practice are brought into a perfect harmony that the orator reaps the reward of all his study.

When our orator has developed his strength to such a pitch that it is equal to every kind of confact in which he may be called upon to bear his part, his first consideration should be to exercise care in the choice of the cases which he proposes to undertake. A good man will undoubtedly prefer defence to prosecution, but he will not have such a rooted objection to the task of accuser as to disregard his duty towards the state or towards individuals and refuse to call any man to render an account of his way of life. For the laws themselves would be powerless without the assistance of advocates equal to the task of supporting them; and to regard it as a sin to demand the punishment of crime is almost equivalent to the sanctioning of crime, while it is certainly contrary to the interest of the good to give the wicked free leave to work their will.

Therefore, our orator will not suffer the complaints of our allies, the death of friends or kinsmen, or conspiracies that threaten the common weal to go unavenged, while his conduct will be governed not by a passion to secure the punishment of the guilty, but by the desire to correct vice and reform morals. For fear is the only means of restraining those who cannot be led to better ways by the voice of reason.

Consequently, while to devote one's life to the task of accusation, and to be tempted by the hope of reward to bring the guilty to trial is little better than making one's living by highway robbery, none the less to rid one's country of the pests that gnaw its vitals is conduct worthy of comparison with that of heroes, who champion their country's cause in the field of battle. For this reason men who were leaders of the state have not refused to undertake this portion of an orator's duty, and even young men of high rank have been regarded as giving their country a pledge of their devotion by accusing bad citizens, since it was thought that their hatred of evil and their readiness to incur enmity were proofs of their confidence in their own rectitude.

Such action was taken by Hortensius, the Luculli, Sulpicius, Cicero, Caesar and many others, among them both the Catos, of whom one was actually called the Wise, while if the other is not regarded as wise, I do not know of any that can claim the title after him. On the other hand, this same orator of ours will not defend all and sundry: that haven of safety which his eloquence provides will never be opened to pirates as it is to others, and he will be led to undertake cases mainly by consideration of their nature.

However, since one man cannot undertake the cases of all litigants who are not, as many undoubtedly are, dishonest, he will be influenced to some extent by the character of the persons who recommend clients to his protection and also by the character of the litigants themselves, and will allow himself to be moved by the wishes of all virtuous men; for a good man will naturally have such for his most intimate friends.

But he must put away from him two kinds of pretentious display, the one consisting in the officious proffering of his services to the powerful against those of meaner position, and the other, which is even more obtrusive, in deliberately supporting inferiors against those of high degree. For a case is not rendered either just or the reverse by the social position of the parties engaged. Nor, again, will a sense of shame deter him from throwing over a case which he has undertaken in the belief that it had justice on its side, but which his study of the facts has shown to be unjust, although before doing so he should give his client his true opinion on the case.

For, if we judge aright, there is no greater benefit that we can confer on our clients than this, that we should not cheat them by giving them empty hopes of success. On the other hand, no client that does not take his advocate into his counsel deserves that advocate's assistance, and it is certainly unworthy of our ideal orator that he should wittingly defend injustice. For if he is led to defend what is false by any of the motives which I mentioned above, his own action will still be honourable.

It is an open question whether he should never demand a fee for his services. To decide the question at first sight would be the act of a fool. For we all know that by far the most honourable course, and the one which is most in keeping with a liberal education and that temper of mind which we desiderate, is not to sell our services nor to debase the value of such a boon as eloquence, since there are not a few things which come to be regarded as cheap, merely because they have a price set upon them.

This much even the blind can see, as the saying is, and no one who is the possessor of sufficient wealth to satisfy his needs (and that does not imply any great opulence) will seek to secure an income by such methods without laying himself open to the charge of meanness. On the other hand, if his domestic circumstances are such as to require some addition to his income to enable him to meet the necessary demands upon his purse, there is not a philosopher who would forbid him to accept this form of recompense for his services, since collections were made even on behalf of Socrates, and Zeno, Cleanthes and Chrysippus took fees from their pupils.

Nor can I see how we can turn a more honest penny than by performance of the most honourable of tasks and by accepting money from those to whom we have rendered the most signal services and who, if they made no return for what we have done for them, would show themselves undeserving to have been defended by us. Nay, it is not only just, but necessary that this should be so, since the duties of advocacy and the bestowal of every minute of our time on the affairs of others deprive us of all other means of making money.

But we must none the less observe the happy mean, and it makes no small difference from whom we take payment, what payment we demand, and how long we continue to do so. As for the piratical practice of bargaining and the scandalous traffic of those who proportion their fees to the peril in which their would-be client stands, such a procedure will be eschewed even by those who are more than half scoundrels, more especially since the advocate who devotes himself to the defence of good men and worthy causes will have nothing to fear from ingratitude. And even if a client should prove ungrateful, it is better that he should be the sinner and not our orator.

To conelude, then, the orator will not seek to make more money than is sufficient for his needs, and even if he is poor, he will not regard his payment as a fee, but rather as the expression of the principle that one good turn deserves another, since he will be well aware that he has conferred far more than he receives. For it does not follow that because his services ought not to be sold, they should therefore be unremunerated. Finally, gratitude is primarily the business of the debtor.

We have next to consider how a case should be studied, since such study is the foundation of oratory. There is no one so destitute of all talent as, after making himself thoroughly familiar with all the facts of his case, to be unable at least to communicate those facts to the judge.

But those who devote any serious attention to such study are very few indeed. For, to say nothing of those careless advocates who are quite indifferent as to what the pivot of the whole case may be, provided only there are points which, though irrelevant to the case, will give them the opportunity of declaiming in thunderous tones on the character of persons involved or developing some commonplace, there are some who are so perverted by vanity that, on the oft-repeated pretext that they are occupied by other business, they bid their client come to them on the day preceding the trial or early on the morning of the day itself, and sometimes even boast that they learnt up their case while sitting in court;

while others by way of creating an impression of extraordinary talent, and to make it seem that they arc quick in the uptake, pretend that they have grasped the facts of the case and understand the situation almost before they have heard what it is, and then after chanting out some long and fluent discourse which has nought to do either with the judge or their client, but awakens the clamorous applause of the audience, they are escorted home through the forum, perspiring at every pore and attended by flocks of enthusiastic friends.

Further, I would not even tolerate the affectation of those who insist that their friends, and not themselves, should be instructed in the facts of the case, though this is a less serious evil, if the friends can be relied upon to learn and supply the facts correctly. But who can give such effective study to the case as the advocate himself? How can the intermediary, the go-between or interpreter, devote himself whole-heartedly to the study of other men's cases, when those who have got to do the actual pleading do not think it worth while to get up their own?

On the other hand, it is a most pernicious practice to rest content with a written statement of the case composed either by the litigant who betakes himself to an advocate because he finds that his own powers are not equal to the conduct of his case, or by some member of that class of legal advisers who admit that they are incapable of pleading, and then proceed to take upon themselves the most difficult of all the tasks that confront the pleader. For if a man is capable of judging what should be said, what concealed, what avoided, altered or even invented, why should he not appear as orator himself, since he performs the far more difficult feat of making an orator?

Such persons would not, however, do so much harm if they would only put down all the facts as they occurred. But as it is, they add suggestions of their own, put their own construction on the facts and insert inventions which are far more damaging than the unvarnished truth. And then the advocate as a rule, on receiving the document, regards it as a crime to make any alteration, and keeps to it as faithfully as if it were a theme set for declamation in the schools. The sequel is that they are tripped up and have to learn from their opponents the case which they refused to learn from their own clients.

We should therefore above all allow the parties concerned ample time for an interview in a place free from interruption, and should even exhort them to set forth on the spot all the facts in as many words as they may choose to use and allowing them to go as far back as they please. For it is less of a drawback to listen to a number of irrelevant facts than to be left in ignorance of essentials. Moreover, the orator will often detect both the evil and its remedy in facts which the litigant regarded as devoid of all importance, one way or the other. Further, the advocate who has got to plead the case should not put such excessive confidence in his powers of memory as to disdain to jot down what he has heard. Nor should one hearing be regarded as sufficient. The litigant should be made to repeat his statements at least once, not merely because certain points may have escaped him on the occasion of his first statement, as is extremely likely to happen if, as is often the case, he is a man of no education, but also that we may note whether he sticks to what he originally said.

For a large number of clients lie, and hold forth, not as if they were instructing their advocate in the facts of the case, but as if they were pleading with a judge. Consequently we must never be too ready to believe them, but must test them in every way, try to confuse them and draw them out.

For just as doctors have to do more than treat the ailments which meet the eye, and need also to discover those which he hid, since their patients often conceal the truth, so the advocate must look out for more points than his client discloses to him. After he considers that he has given a sufficiently patient hearing to the latter's statements, he must assume another character and adopt the rôle of his opponent, urging every conceivable objection that a discussion of the kind which we are considering may permit.

The client must be subjected to a hosthe cross-examination and given no peace: for by enquiring into everything, we shall sometimes come upon the truth where we least expect it. In fact, the advocate who is most successful in getting up his case is he who is incredulous. For the client promises everything: the people, he says, will bear witness to the truth of what he says, he can produce documentary evidence at a moment's notice and there are some points which he says his opponent will not deny. It is therefore necessary to look into every document connected with the case, and where the mere sight of them is not sufficient, they must be read through. For very frequently they are either not at all what the client alleged them to be, or contain less, or are mixed up with elements that may damage our case, or prove more than is required and are likely to detract from their credibility just because they are so extravagant.

Further, it will often be found that the thread is broken or the seal tampered with or the signatures unsupported by witnesses. And unless you discover such facts at home, they will take you by surprise in court and trip you up, doing you more harm by forcing you to abandon them than they would have done had they never been promised you. There are also a number of points which the client regards as irrelevant to his case, which the advocate will be able to elicit, provided he go carefully through all the dwelling places of argument which I have already described.

Now though, for reasons already mentioned, it is most undesirable that he should hunt for and try every single one of those, while actually engaged in pleading his case, it is most necessary in the preliminary study of the case to leave no stone unturned to discover the character of the persons involved, the circumstances of time and place, the customs and documents concerned, and the rest, from which we may not merely deduce the proofs known as artificial, but may also discover which witnesses are most to be feared and the best method of refuting them. For it makes a great difference whether it be envy, hatred or contempt that forms the chief obstacle to the success of the defence, since of these obstacles the first tells most against superiors, the second against equals, and the third against those of low degree.

Having thus given a thorough examination to the case and clearly envisaged all those points which will tell for or against his client, the orator must then place himself in the position of a third person, namely, the judge, and imagine that the case is being pleaded before himself, and assume that the point which would have carried most weight with himself, had he been trying the case, is likely to have the greatest influence with the actual judge. Thus he will rarely be deceived as to the result of the trial, or, if he is, it will be the fault of the judge.

As regards the points to be observed in the actual pleading, I have dealt with these in every portion of this work, but there still remain a few on which I must touch as being specially appropriate to the present place, since they are concerned not so much with the art of speaking as with the duties of the advocate. Above all it is important that he should never, like so many, be led by a desire to win applause to neglect the interest of the actual case.

It is not always the duty of generals in the field to lead their armies through flat and smiling country: it will often be necessary to cross rugged mountain ranges, to storm cities placed on inaccessible cliffs or rendered difficult of access by elaborate fortifications. Similarly oratory will always be glad of the opportunity of manœuvring in all its freedom and delighting the spectator by the deployment of its full strength for conflict in the open field;

but if it is forced to enter the tortuous defiles of the law, or dark places whence the truth has to be dragged forth, it will not go prancing in front of the enemy's lines nor launch its shafts of quivering and passionate epigram of the fashion that is now so popular, but will wage war by means of sap and mine and ambush and all the tactics of secrecy.

None of these methods win applause during their actual execution: the reward comes after they have been carried to a successful termination, when even the most ambitious will reap a richer recompense than they could ever have secured by other means. For so soon as the thunders of applause awakened among their admirers by these affected declamatory displays have died away, the glory of true virtue rises again with renewed splendour, the judges do not conceal who it is has moved them, the well-trained orator wins their belief and oratory receives its only genuine tribute, the praise accorded it when its task is done.

The old orators indeed used to conceal their eloquence, a method which is recommended by Marcus Antonius, as a means of securing that the speaker's words should carry conviction and of masking the advocate's real designs. But the truth is that the eloquence of those days was capable of concealment, for it had not yet attained that splendour of diction which makes it impossible to hide its light under a bushel. Therefore artifice and stratagem should be masked, since detection in such cases spells failure. Thus far, and thus only, may eloquence hope to enjoy the advantages of secrecy.

But when we come to consider the choice of words, the weight essential to general reflexions and the elegance demanded by figures, we are confronted by elements which must either strike the attention or be condemned to nonexistence. But the very fact that they strike the attention is a reason why they should not flaunt themselves obtrusively. And, if we have to make the choice, I should prefer that it should be the cause, and not the orator, to which we award our praise. Nevertheless, the true orator will achieve the distinction of seeming to speak with all the excellence that an excellent case deserves. One thing may be regarded as certain, that no one can plead worse than he who wins applause despite the disapproval meted out to his case. For the inevitable conclusion is that the applause must have been evoked by something having no connexion with the case.

Further, the true orator will not turn up his nose at cases of minor importance on the ground of their being beneath his dignity or as being likely to detract from his reputation because the subject matter does not allow his genius full scope. For the strongest reason for undertaking a case is to be fund in our duty towards our clients: nay, we should even desire the suits in which our friends are involved to he as unimportant as possible, and remember that the advocate who gives an adequate presentment to his case, has spoken exceeding well.

But there are so he who, even although the cases which they have undertaken give but small scope for eloquence, none the less trick it out with matter drawn from without and, if all else fails, fill up the gaps in their case with abuse of their opponents, true if possible, but false if necessary, the sole consideration that weighs with them being that it affords exercise for their talents and is likely to win applause during its delivery. Such conduct seems to me so unworthy of our perfect orator that, in my opinion, he will not even bring true charges against his opponents unless the case demand.

For it is a dog's eloquence, as Appius says, to undertake the task of abusing one's opponent, and they who do so should steel themselves in advance to the prospect of being targets for like abuse themselves, since those who adopt this style of pleading are frequently attacked themselves, and there can at any rate be no doubt that the litigant pays dearly for the violence of his advocate. But such faults are less serious than that which lies deep in the soul itself, making the evil speaker to differ from the evil doer only in respect of opportunity.

It is not uncommon for the litigant to demand a base and inhuman gratification of his rancour, such as not a single man among the audience will approve, for it is on revenge rather than on protection that his heart is set. But in this, as in a number of other points, it is the duty of the orator to refuse to comply with his clients' desires. For how can a man with the least degree of gentlemanly feeling consent to make a brutal attack merely because another desires it?

And yet there are some who take pleasure in directing their onslaughts against their opponents' counsel as well, a practice which, unless they have deserved such attacks, shows an inhuman disregard of the duties incumbent on the profession, and is not merely useless to the speaker (since he thereby gives his opponent the right to reply in the same strain), but contrary to the interests of his case, since it creates a hosthe and antagonistic disposition in the advocates attacked, whose eloquence, however feeble it may be, will be redoubled by resentment at the insults to which they have been subjected.

Above all, it involves a complete waste of one of the most valuable of an orator's assets, namely that self-restraint which gives weight and credit to his words, if he debases himself from an honest man into a snarling wrangler, directing all his efforts not to win the goodwill of the judge, but to gratify his client's spite.

Often too the attractions of freedom of speech will lure him into a rashness of language perilous not merely to the interests of the case, but to those of the speaker himself. It was not without good reason that Pericles used to pray that no word might occur to his mind that could give offence to the people. But what he felt with regard to the people, I feel with regard to every audience, since they can cause just as much harm to the orator as the people could ever do to Pericles. For utterances which seemed courageous at the moment of speaking, are called foolish when it is found that they have given offence.

In view of the tact that there is commonly a great variety in the aims which pleaders set before themselves and that the diligence shown by some is branded as tedious caution, while the readiness of others is criticised as rashness, I think that this will be an appropriate place to set forth my views as to how the orator may strike the happy mean.

He will show all the diligence of which he is capable in his pleading. For to plead worse than he might have done, is not merely an indication of negligence, but stamps him as a had man and a traitor, disloyal to the cause which he has undertaken. Consequently he must refuse to undertake more cases than he feels he can manage.

As far as possible he will deliver only what he has written, and, if circumstances permit, only what he has, as Demosthenes says, carved into shape. Such a practice is possible in first hearings and also in subsequent hearings such as are granted in the public courts after an interval of several days. On the other hand, when we have to reply on the spot, it is impossible to prepare everything: in fact for the less ready type of speaker, it may, in the event of his opponents putting forward arguments quite other than those which they were expected to advance, be a positive drawback to have written anything.

For it is only with reluctance that such speakers will under such circumstances consent to abandon what they have written, and throughout their pleading keep looking back and trying to discover whether any portion of their manuscript can be saved from the wreck and interpolated into what they have to improvise. And if they do make such interpolations, the result is a lack of' cohesion which is betrayed not merely by the gaping of the seams where the patch has been unskilfully inserted, but by the differences of style.

Consequently, the vigour of their eloquence will be hampered and their thought will lack connexion, each of which circumstances reacts unfavourably upon the other, since what is written trammels the mind instead of following its lead. Therefore, in such pleadings we must, as the rustic adage says, stand on all our feet.

For since the case turns on the propounding and refutation of arguments, it is always possible to write out what we propose to advance on our own behalf, and similar preparation is also possible with regard to the refutation of such replies as are absolutely certain to be made by our adversary: for there are times when we have this certainty. But with regard to all other portions of our speech, the only preparation that is possible in advance consists in a thorough knowledge of our case, while there is a second precaution which may be taken in court, consisting in giving our best attention to our opponent's speech.

On the other hand, there is much that may be thought out in advance and we may forearm our mind against all possible emergencies, a course which is far safer than writing, since a train of thought can easily be abandoned or diverted in a new direction. But whether we have to improvise a reply, or are obliged to speak extempore by some other reason, the orator on whom training, study and practice have conferred the gift of facility, will never regard himself as lost or taken at hopeless disadvantage.

He stands armed for battle, ever ready for the fray, and his eloquence will no more fail him in the courts than speech will fail him in domestic affairs and the daily concerns of life: and he will never shirk his burden for fear of failing to find words, provided he has time to study his case: for all other knowledge will always be his at command.

The question of the kind of style to be adopted remains to be discussed. This was described in my original division of my subject as forming its third portion: for I promised that I would speak of the art, the artist and the work. But since oratory is the work both of rhetoric and of the orator, and since it has many forms, as I shall show, the art and the artist are involved in the consideration of all these forms. But they differ greatly from one another, and not merely in species, as statue differs from statue, picture from picture and speech from speech, but in genus as well, as, for example, Etruscan statues differ from Greek and Asiatic orators from Attic.

But these different kinds of work, of which I speak, are not merely the product of different authors, but have each their own following of admirers, with the result that the perfect orator has not yet been found, a statement which perhaps may be extended to all arts, not merely because some qualities are more evident in some artists than in others, but because one single form will not satisfy all critics, a fact which is due in part to conditions of time or place, in part to the taste and ideals of individuals.

The first great painters, whose works deserve inspection for something more than their mere antiquity, are said to have been Polygnotus and Aglaopllon, whose simple colouring has still such enthusiastic admirers that they prefer these almost primitive works, which may be regarded as the first foundations of the art that was to be, over the works of the greatest of their successors, their motive being, in my opinion, an ostentatious desire to seem persons of superior taste.

Later Zeuxis and Parrhasius contributed much to the progress of painting. These artists were separated by no great distance of time, since both flourished about the period of the Peloponnesian war: for example, Xenophon has preserved a conversation between Socrates and Parrhasius. The first-mentioned seems to have discovered the method of representing light and shade, while the latter is said to have devoted special attention to the treatment of line.

For Zeuxis emphasised the limbs of the human body, thinking thereby to add dignity and grandeur to his style: it is generally supposed that in this he followed the example of Homer, who likes to represent even his female characters as being of heroic mould. Parrhasius, on the other hand, was so fine a draughtsman that he has been styled the law-giver of his art, on the ground that all other artists take his representations of gods and heroes as models, as though no other course were possible.

It was, however, from about the period of the reign of Philip down to that of the successors of Alexander that painting flourished more especially, although the different artists are distinguished for different excellences. Protogenes, for example, was renowned for accuracy, Pamphilus and Melanthius for soundness of taste, Antiphilus for facility, Theon of Samos for his depiction of imaginary scenes, known as φαντασίαι, and Apelles for genius and grace, in the latter of which qualities he took especial pride. Euphranor, on the other hand, was admired on the ground that, while he ranked with the most eminent masters of other arts, he at the same time achieved marvellous skill in the arts of sculpture and painting.

The same differences exist between sculptors. The art of Callon and Hegesias is somewhat rude and recalls the Etruscans, but the work of Calamis has already begun to be less stiff, while Myron's statues show a greater softness of form than had been achieved by the artists just mentioned. Polyclitus surpassed all others for care and grace, but although the majority of critics account him as the greatest of sculptors, to avoid making him faultless they express the opinion that his work is lacking in grandeur.

For while he gave the human form an ideal grace, he is thought to have been less successful in representing the dignity of the gods. he is further alleged to have shrunk from representing persons of maturer years, and to have ventured on nothing more difficult than a smooth and beardless face. But the qualities lacking in Polyclitus are allowed to have been possessed by Phidias and Alcamenes.

On the other hand, Phidias is regarded as more gifted in his representation of gods than of men, and indeed for chryselephantine statues he is without a peer, as he would in truth be, even if he had produced nothing in this material beyond his Minerva at Athens and his Jupiter at Olympia in Elis, whose beauty is such that it is said to have added something even to the awe with which the god was already regarded: so perfectly did the majesty of the work give the impression of godhead. Lysippus and Praxiteles are asserted to be supreme as regards faithfulness to nature. For Demetrius is blamed for carrying realism too far, and is less concerned about the beauty than the truth of his work.

Now, if we turn our attention to the various styles of oratory, we shall find almost as great variety of talents as there are of personal appearance. There were certain kinds of oratory which, owing to the circumstances of the age, suffered from lack of polish, although in other respects they displayed remarkable genius. In this class we may place orators such as Laelius, Africanus, Cato, and even the Gracchi, whom we may call the Polygnoti and Callones of oratory.

Among orators of the intermediate type we may rank Lucius Crassus and Quintus Hortensius. Then let us turn to a vast harvest of orators who flourished much about the same period. It is here that we find the vigour of Caesar, the natural talent of Caelius, the subtlety of Calidius, the accuracy of Pollio, the dignity of Messala, the austerity of Calvus, the gravity of Brutus, the acumen of Sulpicius and the bitterness of Cassius, while among those whom we have seen ourselves we admire the fluency of Seneca, the strength of Africanus, the mellowness of Afer, the charm of Crispus, the sonority of Trachalus and the elegance of Secundus.

But in Cicero we have one who is not, like Euphranor, merely distinguished in a number of different forms of art, but is supreme in all the different qualities which are praised in each individual orator. And yet even his own contemporaries ventured to attack him on the ground that he was bombastic, Asiatic, redundant, given to excessive repetition, liable at times to be pointless in his witticisms, sensuous, extravagant and (an outrageous accusation!) almost effeminate in his rhythm.

And later, after he had fallen a victim to the proscription of the second triumvirate, those who hated and envied him and regarded him as their rival, nay, even those who had flattered him in the days of his power, attacked him now that he could no longer reply. But that very man, who is now regarded by some as being too jejune and dry, was attacked by his personal enemies on no other ground than that his style was too florid and his talents too little under control. Both charges are false, but there is more colour for the he in the latter case than in the former.

Those, however, who criticised him most severely were the speakers who desired to be regarded as the imitators of Attic oratory. This coterie, regarding themselves as the sole initiates in the mysteries of their art, assailed him as an alien, indifferent to their superstitions and refusing to be bound by their laws. Their descendants are among us to-day, a withered, sapless and anemic band.

For it is they that flaunt their weakness under the name of health, in defiance of the actual truth, and because they cannot endure the dazzling rays of the sun of eloquence, hide themselves beneath the shadow of a mighty name. However, as Cicero himself answered them at length and in a number of passages, it will be safer for me to be brief in my treatment of this topic.

The distinction between the Attic and the Asiatic schools takes us back to antiquity. The former were regarded as concise and healthy, the latter as empty and inflated: the former were remarkable for the absence of all superfluity, while the latter were deficient alike in taste and restraint. The reason for this division, according to some authorities, among them Santra, is to be found in the fact that, as Greek gradually extended its range into the neighbouring cities of Asia, there arose a class of men who desired to distinguish themselves as orators before they had acquired sufficient command of the language, and who consequently began to express by periphrases what could have been expressed directly, until finally this practice became an ingrained habit.

My own view, however, is that the difference between the two styles is attributable to the character both of the orators and the audiences whom they addressed: the Athenians, with their polish and refinement, refused to tolerate emptiness and redundance, while the Asiatics, being naturally given to bombast and ostentation, were puffed up with a passion for a more vainglorious style of eloquence.

At a later period, the critics, to whom we owe this classification, added a third style, the Rhodian, which they asserted to he midway between the two and to be a blend of both, since the orators of this school are neither so concise as the Attic nor redundant like the Asiatic school, but appear to derive their style in part from their national characteristics, in part from those of their founder.

For it was Aeschines who introduced the culture of Athens at Rhodes, which he had chosen as his place of exile: and just as certain plants degenerate as a result of change of soil and climate, so the fine Attic flavour was marred by the admixture of foreign ingredients. Consequently certain of the orators of this school are regarded as somewhat slow and lacking in energy, though not devoid of a certain weight, and as resembling placid pools rather than the limpid springs of Athens or the turbid torrents of Asia.

No one therefore should have any hesitation in pronouncing Attic oratory to be by far the best. But although all Attic writers have something in comion, namely a keen and exact judgement, their talents manitest themselves in a number of different forms.

Consequently I regard those critics as committing a serious error who regard only those authors as Attic who, while they are simple, lucid and expressive, are none the less content with a certain frugality of eloquence, and keep their hands modestly within the folds of their cloaks. For what author is there who answers to this conception? I am prepared to grant that there is Lysias, since he is the favourite model of the admirers of this school, and such an admission will save us from being referred to Coccus and Andocides.

But I should like to ask whether Isocrates spoke in the Attic style. For there is no author less like Lysias. They will answer in the negative. And yet it is to the school of Isocrates that we owe the greatest orators. Let us look for something closer. Is Hyperides Attic? Yes, they reply, but of an over-sensuous character. I pass by a number of orators, such as Lyucrgus and Aristogeiton and their predecessors Isaeus and Antiphon; for though they have a certain generic resemblance, they may be said to differ in species.

But what of Aesehines, whom I mentioned just now? Is not his style ampler and holder and more lofty than theirs? And what of Demosthenes himself? Did not he surpass all those simple and circumspect orators in force, loftiness, energy, polish and rhythm? Does he not rise to great heights in his commonplaces Does he not rejoice in the employment of figures? Does he not make brilliant use of metaphor? Does he not lend a voice, a fictitious utterance to speechless things?

Does not his famous oath by the warriors who fell fighting for their country at Salamis and Marathon show that Plato was his master? And shall we call Plato an Asiatic, Plato who as a rule deserves comparison with poets instinct with the divine fire of inspiration? What of Pericles? Can we believe that his style was like the slender stream of Lysias' eloquence, when the comedians, even while they revile him, compare his oratory to the bolts and thunder of the skies?

What is the reason, then, why these critics regard that style which flows in a slender trickle and babbles among the pebbles as having the true Attic flavour and the true scent of Attic thyme? I really think that, if they were to discover a soil of exceptional richness and a crop of unusual abundance within the boundaries of Attica, they would deny it to be Attic, on the ground that it has produced more seed than it received: for you will remember the mocking comments passed by Menander on the exact fidelity with which the soil of Attica repays its deposits.

Well, then, if any man should, in addition to the actual virtues which the great orator Demosthenes possessed, show himself to be the possessor of others, that either owing to his own temperament or the laws of Athens Demosthenes is thought to have lacked, and should reveal in himself the power of strongly stirring the emotions, shall I hear one of these critics protesting that Demosthenes never did this? And if he produces something rhythmically superior (an impossible feat, perhaps, but let us assume it to be so), are we to be told that it is not Attic? These critics would show finer feeling and better judgement, if they took the view that Attic eloquence meant perfect eloquence.

Still I should find this attitude less intolerable if it were only the Greeks that insisted on it. For Latin eloquence, although in my opinion it closely resembles the Greek as far as invention, arrangement, judgement and the like are concerned, and may indeed be regarded as its disciple, cannot aspire to imitate it in point of elocution. For, in the first place, it is harsher in sound, since our alphabet does not contain the most euphonious of the Greek letters, one a vowel and the other a consonant, than which there are none that fall more sweetly on the ear, and which we are forced to borrow whenever we use Greek words.

The result of such borrowing is, for some reason or other, the immediate accession to our language of a certain liveliness and charm. Take, for example, words such as sephyri and zophori: if they were spelt according to the Latin alphabet, they would produce a heavy and barbarous sound. For we replace these letters by others of a harsh and unpleasant character, from which Greece is happily immune.

For the sixth letter in our alphabet is represented by a sound which can scarcely be called human or even articulate, being produced by forcing the air through the interstices of the teeth. Such a sound, even when followed by a vowel, is harsh enough and, as often as it clashes (frangit) with a consonant, as it does in this very word frangit, becomes harsher still. Then there is the Aeolic digamma whose sound occurs in words such as our servus and cervus; for even though we have rejected the actual form of the letter, we cannot get rid of that which it represents.

Similarly the letter Q, which is superfluous and useless save for the purpose of attaching to itself the vowels by which it is followed, results in the formation of harsh syllables, as, for example, when we write equos and aequum, more especially since these two vowels together produce a sound for which Greek has no equivalent and which cannot therefore be expressed in Greek letters.

Again, we have a number of words which end with M, a letter which suggests the mooing of a cow, and is never the final letter in any Greek word: for in its place they use the letters nu, the sound of which is naturally pleasant and produces a ringing tone when it occurs at the end of' a word, whereas in Latin this termination is scarcely ever found.

Again, we have syllables which produce such a harsh effect by ending in B and D, that many, not, it is true, of our most ancient writers, but still writers of considerable antiquity, have attempted to mitigate the harshness not merely by saying aversa for abversa, but by adding an S to the preposition ab, although S is an ugly letter in itself Our accents also are less agreeable than those of the Greeks. This is due to a certain rigidity and monotony of pronunciation, since the final syllable is never marked by the rise of the acute accent nor by the rise and fill of the circumflex, but one or even two grave accents are regularly to be found at the end. Consequently the Greek language is so much more agreeable in sound than the Latin, that our poets, whenever they wish their verse to be especially harmonious, adorn it with Greek words.

A still stronger indication of the inferiority of Latin is to be found in the fact that there are many things which have no Latin names, so that it is necessary to express them by metaphor or periphrasis, while even in the case of things which have names, the extreme poverty of the language leads us to resort to the same practice. On the other hand, the Greeks have not merely abundance of words, but they have also a number of different dialects.

Consequently he who demands from Latin the grace of Attic Greek, must first provide a like charm of tone and equal richness of vocabulary. If this advantage is denied us, we must adapt our thoughts to suit the words we have and, where our matter is unusually slight and delicate, must avoid expressing it in words which are, I will not say too gross, but at any rate too strong for it, for fear that the combination should result in the destruction both of delicacy and force.

For the less help we get from the language, the more must we rely on inventiveness of thought to bring us through the conflict. We must discover sentiments full of loftiness and variety, must stir all the emotions and illumine our style by brilliance of metaphor. Since we cannot be so delicate, let us be stronger. If they beat us for subtlety, let us prevail by weight, and if they have greater precision, let us outdo them in fullness of expression.

Even the lesser orators of Greece have their own havens where they may ride in safety, while we as a rule carry more sail. Let stronger gales fill our canvas, and yet let us not always keep the high seas; for at times we must cling to shore. The Greeks can easily traverse any shallows; I must find a deeper, though not much deeper, channel, that my bark may not run aground.

For even though the Greeks surpass us where circumstances call for delicacy and restraint, though we acknowledge their superiority in this respect alone, and therefore do not claim to rival them in comedy, that is no justification for our abandonment of this department of oratory, but rather a reason why we should handle it as best we can. Now we can at any rate resemble the Greeks in the method and judgement with which we treat our matter, although that grace of language, which our words cannot provide, must be secured by the admixture of foreign condiments.

For example, is not Cicero shrewd, simple and not unduly exalted in tone, when he deals with private eases? Is not Calidius also distinguished for the same virtue? Were not Scipio, Laelius and Cato the Attic orators of Rome? Surely we ought to be satisfied with them, since nothing can be better.

There are still some critics who deny that any form of eloquence is purely natural, except that which closely resembles the ordinary speech of everyday life, which we use to our friends, our wives, our children and our slaves, a language, that is to say, which contents itself with expressing the purpose of the mind without seeking to discover anything in the way of elaborate and far-fetched phraseology. And they hold that whatever is added to this simplicity lays the speaker open to the charge of affectation and pretentious ostentation of speech, void of all sincerity and elaborated merely for the sake of the words, although the sole duty assigned to words by nature is to be the servants of thought.

Such language may be compared to the bodies of athletes, which although they develop their strength by exercise and diet, are of unnatural growth and abnormal in appearance. For what, say these critics, is the good of expressing a thing by periphrasis or metaphor (that is, either by a number of words or by words which have no connexion with the thing), when everything has been allotted a name of its own?

Finally, they urge that all the earliest orators spoke according to the dictates of nature, but that subsequently there arose a class of speakers resembling poets rather than orators, who regarded false and artificial methods of expression as positive merits; they were, it is true, more sparing than the poets in their use of such expressions, but none the less worked on similar lines. There is some truth in this contention, and we should therefore be careful not to depart from the more exact usage of ordinary speech to the extent that is done by certain orators.

On the other hand, that is no reason for thus calumniating the man who, as I said in dealing with the subject of artistic structure, succeeds in improving upon the bare necessaries of style. For the common language of every day seems to me to be of a different character from the style of an eloquent speaker. If all that was required of the latter was merely to indicate the facts, he might rest content with literalness of language, without further elaboration. But since it is his duty to delight and move his audience and to play upon the various feelings, it becomes necessary for him to employ those additional aids which are granted to us by that same nature which gave us speech.

It is, in fact, as natural to do this as to harden the muscles, increase our strength and improve our complexion by means of exercise. It is for this reason that among all nations one man is regarded as more eloquent and more attractive in his style than another (since if this were not the case, all speakers would be equal); but the same men speak differently on different subjects and observe distinctions of character. Consequently the more effective a man's speaking, the more in accordance with the nature of eloquence will it be.

I have, therefore, no strong objection even to the views expressed by those who think that some concession should be made to the circumstances under which we speak and to the ears of the audience which require something more polished and emotional than ordinary speech. For this reason I consider that it would be absurd to restrict an orator to the style of the predecessors of Cato and the Gracchi, or even of those orators themselves. And I note that it was the practice of Cicero, while devoting himself in the main to the interests of his case, to take into account the delectation of his audience as well, since, as he pointed out, his own interests were concerned as well as those of his client, although of course the latter were of paramount importance. For his very charm was a valuable asset.

I do not know what can be added by way of improvement to the charms of his style, except perhaps the introduction of something more in the way of brilliant reflexions to suit the taste of our own times. For this can be done without injury to the treatment of our case or inpairing the authority of our language, provided that such embellishments are not too frequent or continuous, and do not mutually destroy the effects which they were designed to produce.

I am ready to go so far along the path of concession, but let no man press me further. I concur in the fashion of the day to the extent of agreeing that the toga should not be long in the nap, but not to the extent of insisting that it should be of silk: I agree that the hair should be cut, but not that it should be dressed in tiers and ringlets, since we must always remember that ornaments, unless they be judged from the standpoint of the fop and the debauchee, are always effective in proportion to their seemliness.

But with regard to those passages to which we give the name of reflexions, a form of ornament which was not employed by the ancients and, above all, not by the Greeks, although I do find it in Cicero, who can deny their usefulness, provided they are relevant to the case, are not too diffuse and contribute to our success? For they strike the mind and often produce a decisive effect by one single blow, while their very brevity makes them cling to the memory, and the pleasure which they produce has the force of persuasion.

There are, however, some who, while allowing the actual delivery of such specially brilliant forms of ornament, think that they should be excluded from the written speech. Consequently I must not dismiss even this topic without a word of discussion. For a number of learned authorities have held that the written and the spoken speech stand on different footings, and that consequently some of the most eloquent of speakers have left nothing for posterity to read in durable literary form, as, for example, is the case with Pericles and Decades Again, they urge that there have been authors, like Isocrates, who, while admirable writers, were not well-fitted for actual speaking;

and, further, that actual pleading is characterised by a greater energy and by the employment, almost verging on license, of every artifice designed to please, since the minds of an uneducated audience require to be moved and led. On the other hand, the written speech with is published as a model of style must be polished and filed and brought into conformity with the accepted rules and standards of artistic construction, since it will come into the hands of learned men and its art will be judged by artists.

These subtle teachers (for such they have persuaded themselves and others that they are) have laid it down that the παράδειγμα is best suited for actual speech and the ἐνθύμημα for writing. My own view is that there is absolutely no difference between writing well and speaking well, and that a written speech is merely a record of one that has actually been delivered. Consequently it must in my opinion possess every kind of merit, and note that I say merit, not fault. For I know that faults do sometimes meet with the approval of the uneducated.

What, then, will be the difference between what is written and what is spoken? If I were given a jury of wise men, I should cut down a large number of passages from the speeches not only of Cicero, but even of Demosthenes, who is much more concise. For with such a jury there would be no need to appeal to the emotions nor to charm and soothe the ears, since according to Aristotle even exordia are superfluous, if addressed to such persons, as they will have no influence upon judges who are truly wise: it will be sufficient to state the facts with precision and significance and to marshal our array of proofs.

Since, however, our judges are the people, or drawn from the people, and since those who are appointed to give sentence are frequently ill-educated and sometimes mere rustics, it becomes necessary to employ every method that we think likely to assist our case, and these artifices must not merely be produced in speech, but exhibited in the written version as well, at least if in writing it our design is to show how it should be spoken.

If Demosthenes or Cicero had spoken the words as they wrote them, would either have spoken ill And is our acquaintance with either of those two great orators based on anything save their writings? Did they speak better, then, or worse than they wrote? If they spoke worse, all that can be said is that they should have spoken as they wrote, while, if they spoke better, they should have written as they spoke.

Well, you ask, is an orator then always to speak as he writes? If possible, always. If, however, the time allowed by the judge is too short for this to be possible, he will have to cut out much that he should have said, but the published speech will contain the omitted passages. On the other hand, such passages as were uttered merely to suit the character of the judges will not be published for the benefit of posterity, for fear that they should seem to indicate the author's deliberate judgement instead of being a mere concession to the needs of the moment.

For it is most important that we should know how the judge is disposed to listen, and his face will often (as Cicero reminds us) serve as a guide to the speaker. Consequently we must press the points that we see commend themselves to him, and draw back from those which are ill-received, while our actual language must be so modified that he will find our arguments as intelligible as possible. That this should be necessary is scarcely surprising, when we consider the alterations that are frequently necessary to suit the characters of the different witnesses.

He was a shrewd man who, when he asked a rustic witness whether he knew Amphion, and the witness replied that he did not, dropped the aspirate and shortened the second syllable, whereupon the witness recognised him at once. Such situations, when it is impossible to speak as we write, will sometimes make it necessary to speak in language other than that which we use in writing.

There is another threefold division, whereby, it is held, we may differentiate three styles of speaking, all of them correct. The first is termed the plain (or ἰσχνόν), the second grand and forcible (or ἁδρόν), and the third either intermediate or florid, the latter being a translation of ἀνθηρόν.

The nature of these three styles is, broadly speaking, as follows. The first would seem best adapted for instructing, the second for moving, and the third (by whichever name we call it) for charming or, as others would have it, conciliating the audience; for instruction the quality most needed is acumen, for conciliation gentleness, and for stirring the emotions force. Consequently it is mainly in the plain style that we shall state our facts and advance our proofs, though it should be borne in mind that this style will often be sufficiently full in itself without any assistance whatever from the other two.

The intermediate style will have more frequent recourse to metaphor and will make a more attractive use of figures, while it will introduce alluring digressions, will be neat in rhythm and pleasing in its reflexions: its flow, however, will be gentle, like that of a river whose waters are clear, but overshadowed by the green banks on either side.

But he whose eloquence is like to some great torrent that rolls down rocks and disdains a bridge and carves out its own banks for itself, will sweep the judge from his feet, struggle as he may, and force him to go whither he bears him. This is the orator that will call the dead to life (as, for example, Cicero calls upon Appius Caecus); it is in his pages that his native land itself will cry aloud and at times address the orator himself, as it addresses Cicero in the speech delivered against Catiline in the senate.

Such an orator will also exalt his style by amplification and rise even to hyperbole, as when Cicero cries, What Charybdis was ever so voracious! or By the god of truth, even Ocean's self, etc. (I choose these fine passages as being familiar to the student). It is such an one that will bring down the Gods to form part of his audience or even to speak with him, as in the following, For on you I call, ye hills and groves of Alba, on you, I say, ye fallen altars of the Albans, altars that were once the peers and equals of the holy places of Rome. This is he that will inspire anger or pity, and while he speaks the judge will call upon the gods and weep, following him wherever he sweeps him from one emotion to another, and no longer asking merely for instruction.

Wherefore if one of these three styles has to be selected to the exclusion of the others, who will hesitate to prefer this style to all others, since it is by far the strongest and the best adapted to the most important cases?

For Homer himself assigns to Menelaus an eloquence, terse and pleasing, exact (for that is what is meant by making no errors in words) and devoid of all redundance, which qualities are virtues of the first type: and he says that from the lips of Nestor flowed speech sweeter than honey, than which assuredly we can conceive no greater delight: but when he seeks to express the supreme gift of eloquence possessed by Ulysses he gives a mighty voice and a vehemence of oratory equal to the snows of winter in the abundance and the vigour of its words.

With him then, he says, no mortal will contend, and men shall look upon him as on a god. It is this force and impetuosity that Eupolis admires in Pericles, this that Aristophanes compares to the thunderbolt, this that is the power of true eloquence.

But eloquence cannot be confined even to these three forms of style. For just as the third style is intermediate between the grand and the plain style, so each of these three are separated by interspaces which are occupied by intermediate styles compounded of the two which he on either side.

For there are styles fuller or plainer than the plain, and gentler or more vehement than the vehement, while the gentler style itself may either rise to greater force or sink to milder tones. Thus we may discover almost countless species of styles, each differing from the other by some fine shade of difference. We may draw a parallel from the winds. It is generally accepted that there are four blowing from the four quarters of the globe, but we find there are also a large number of winds which he between these, called by a variety of names, and in certain cases confined to certain districts and river valleys.

The same thing may be noted in music. For after assigning five notes to the lyre, musicians fill up the intervals between the strings by a variety of notes, and between these again they interpose yet others, so that the original divisions admit of a number of gradations.

Eloquence has, therefore, a quantity of different aspects, but it is sheer folly to inquire which of these the orator should take as his model, since every species that is in itself correct has its use, and what is commonly called style of speaking does not depend on the orator. For he will use all styles, as circumstances may demand, and the choice will be determined not only by the case as a whole, but by the demands of the different portions of the case.

For just as he will not speak in the same way when he is defending a client on a capital charge and when he is speaking in a lawsuit concerned with an inheritance, or discussing interdicts and suits taking the form of a wager, or claims in connexion with loans, so too he will preserve a due distinction between the speeches which he makes in the senate, before the people and in private consultations, while he will also introduce numerous modifications to suit the different persons and circumstances of time and place. Thus in one and the same speech he will use one style for stirring the emotions, and another to conciliate his hearers; it is from different sources that he will derive anger or pity, and the art which he employs in instructing the judge will be other than that which he employs to move him.

He will not maintain the same tone throughout his exordium, statement of fact, arguments, digression and peroration. He will speak gravely, severely, sharply, with vehemence, energy, fullness, bitterness, or geniality, quietly, simply, Hatteringly, gently, sweetly, briefy or wittily; he will not always be like himself, but he will never be unworthy of himself.

Thus the purpose for which oratory was above all designed will be secured, that is to say, he will speak with profit and with power to effect his aim, while he will also win the praise not merely of the learned, but of the multitude as well.

They make the gravest mistake who consider that the style which is best adapted to win popularity and applause is a faulty and corrupt style of speaking which revels in license of diction or wantons in childish epigram or swells with stilted bombast or riots in empty commonplace or adorns itself with blossoms of eloquence which will fall to earth if but lightly shaken, or regards extravagance as sublime or raves wildly under the pretext of free speech.

I am ready to admit that such qualities please many, and I feel no surprise that this should be the case. For any kind of eloquence is pleasing and attractive to the car, and every effort of the voice inspires a natural pleasure in the soul of man; indeed this is the sole cause of those familiar gatherings in the Forum or on the Old Wall, so that there is small reason for wonder if any pleader is safe to draw a ring of listeners from the crowd.

And when any unusually precious phrase strikes the ears of an uneducated audience, whatever its true merits, it wakens their admiration just for the very reason that they feel they could never have produced it themselves. And it deserves their admiration, since even such success is hard to attain. On the other hand, when such displays are compared with their betters, they sink into insignificance and fade out of sight, for they are like wool dyed red that pleases in the absence of purple, but, as Ovid says, if compared with a cloak of Tyrian dye, pales in the presence of the fairer hue.

If, however, we test such corrupt eloquence by the touchstone of a critical taste, as, for example, we test inferior dyes with sulphur, it will lay aside the false brilliance that deceived the eye and fade to a pallor almost too repulsive to describe. Such passages shine only in the absence of the sunlight, just as certain tiny insects seem transformed in the darkness to little flames of fire. Finally, while many approve of things that are bad, no one disapproves of that which is good.

But the true orator will not merely be able to achieve all the feats of which I have spoken with supreme excellence, but with the utmost ease as well. For the sovereign power of eloquence and the voice that awakens well-deserved applause will be free from the perpetual distress of harassing anxiety which wastes and fevers the orator who painfully corrects himself and pines away over the laborious weighing and piecing together of his words.

No, our orator, brilliant, sublime and opulent of speech, is lord and master of all the resources of eloquence, whose affluence surrounds him. For he that has reached the summit has no more weary hills to scale. At first the climber's toil is hard, but the higher he mounts the easier becomes the gradient and the richer the soil.

And if by perseverance of study he pass even beyond these gentler slopes, fruits for which none have toiled thrust themselves upon him, and all things spring forth unbidden; and yet if they be not gathered daily, they will wither away. But even such wealth must observe the mean, without which nothing is either praiseworthy or beneficial, while brilliance must be attended by manliness, and imagination by soundness of taste.

Thus the works of the orator will be great not extravagant, sublime not bombastic, bold not rash, severe but not gloomy, grave but not slow, rich but not luxuriant, pleasing but not effeminate, grand but not grandiose. It is the same with other qualities: the mean is safest, for the worst of all faults is to fly to extremes.

After employing these gifts of eloquence in the courts, in councils, in public assemblies and the debates of the senate, and, in a word, in the performance of all the duties of a good citizen, the orator will bring his activities to a close in a manner worthy of a blameless life spent in the pursuit of the noblest of professions. And he will do this, not because he can ever have enough of doing good, or because one endowed with intellect and talents such as his would not be justified in praying that such glorious labours may be prolonged to their utmost span, but for this reason, that it is his duty to look to the future, for fear that his work may be less effective than it has been in the past.

For the orator depends not merely on his knowledge, which increases with the years, but on his voice, lungs and powers of endurance. And if these be broken or impaired by age or health, he must beware that he does not fall short in something of his high reputation as a master of oratory, that fatigue does not interrupt his eloquence, that he is not brought to realise that some of his words are inaudible, or to mourn that he is not what once he was.

Domitius Afer was by far the greatest of all the orators whom it has been my good fortune to know, and I saw him, when far advanced in years, daily losing something of that authority which his merits had won for him; he whose supremacy in the courts had once been universally acknowledged, now pleaded amid the unworthy laughter of some, and the silent blushes of others, giving occasion to the malicious saying that he had rather faint than finish.

And yet even then, whatever his deficiencies, he spoke not badly, but merely less well. Therefore before ever he fall a prey to the ambush where time lies in wait for him, the orator should sound the retreat and seek harbour while his ship is yet intact. For the fruits of his studies will not be lessened by retirement. Either he will bequeath the history of his own times for the delight of after ages, or will interpret the law to those who seek his counsels, as Lucius Crassus proposes to do in the de Oratore of Cicero, or compose some treatise on the art of oratory, or give worthy utterance to the sublimest ideals of conduct.

His house will, as in the days of old, be thronged by all the best of the rising generation, who will seek to learn from him as from an oracle how they may find the path to true eloquence. And he as their father in the art will mould them to all excellence, and like some old pilot will teach them of the shores whereby their ships must sail, of the harbours where they may shelter, and the signs of the weather, and will expound to them what they shall do when the breeze is fair or the tempest blows. Whereto he will be inclined not only by the common duty of humanity, but by a certain passion for the task that once was his, since no man desires that the art wherein he was once supreme should suffer decay or diminution.

And what can be more honourable than to teach that which you know surpassing well? It was for this that the elder Caelius brought his son to Cicero, as the latter tells us, and it was with this intent that the same great orator took upon himself the duties of instructor, and trained Pansa, Hirtius and Dolabella by declaiming daily before them or hearing them declaim.

And I know not whether we should not deem it the happiest moment in an orator's life, when he has retired from the public gaze, the consecrated priest of eloquence, free from envy and far from strife, when he has set his glory on a pinnacle beyond the reach of detraction, enjoys, while still living, that veneration which most men win but after death, and sees how great shall be his renown amid generations yet unborn.

I can say with a good conscience that, as far as my poor powers have permitted, I have published frankly and disinterestedly, for the benefit of such as might wish to learn, all that my previous knowledge and the researches made for the purpose of this work might supply. And to have taught what lie knows is satisfaction enough for any good man.

I fear, however, that I may be regarded as setting too lofty an ideal for the orator by insisting that he should be a good man skilled in speaking, or as imposing too many subjects of study on the learner. For in addition to the many branches of knowledge which have to be studied in boyhood and the traditional rules of eloquence, I have enjoined the study of morals and of civil law, so that I am afraid that even those who have regarded these things as essential to my theme, may he appalled at the delay which they impose and abandon all hope of achievement before they have put my precepts to the test.

I would ask them to consider how great are the powers of the mind of man and how astonishing its capacity for carrying its desires into execution: for has not man succeeded in crossing the high seas, in learning the number and the courses of the stars, and almost measuring the universe itself, all of them accomplishments of less importance than oratory, but of far greater difficulty? And then let them reflect on the greatness of' their aims and on the fact that no labour should be too huge for those that are beckoned by the hope of such reward.

If they can only rise to the height of this conception, they will find it easier to enter on this portion of their task, and will cease to regard the road as impassable or even hard. For the first and greatest of' the aims we set before us, namely that we shall be good men, depends for its achievement mainly on the will to succeed: and he that truly and sincerely forms such resolve, will easily acquire those forms of knowledge that teach the way to virtue.

For the precepts that are enjoined upon us are not so complex or so numerous that they may be acquired by little more than a few years' study. It is repugnance to learn that makes such labour long. For if you will only believe it, you will quickly learn the principles that shall lead you to a life of virtue and happiness. For nature brought us into the world that we might attain to all excellence of mind, and so easy is it for those to learn who seek for better things, that he who directs his gaze aright will rather marvel that the bad should be so many.

For as water is the natural element of fish, dry land for creatures of the earth and the circumambient atmosphere for winged things, even so it should be easier to live according to nature than counter to her will. As regards other accomplishments, there are plenty of years available for their acquisition, even though we measure the life of man not by the span of age, but by the period of youth. For in every case order and method and a sense of proportion will shorten our labour.

But the chief fault lies with our teachers, in that they love to keep back the pupils they have managed to lay their hands on, partly from the desire to draw their miserable fees for as long as possible, partly out of ostentation, to enhance the difficulty of acquiring the knowledge which they promise to impart, and to some extent owing to their ignorance or carelessness in teaching. The next most serious fault lies in ourselves, who think it better to linger over what we have learned than to learn what we do not yet know.

For example, to restrict my remarks mainly to the study of rhetoric, what is the use of spending so many years, after the fashion now so prevalent (for I will say nothing of those who spend almost their whole lives), in declaiming in the schools and devoting so much labour to the treatment of fictitious themes, when it would be possible with but slight expenditure of time to form some idea of what the true conflicts are in which the orator must engage, and of the laws of speaking which he ought to follow?

In saying this, I do not for a moment mean to suggest that we should ever omit to exercise ourselves in speaking. I merely urge that we should not grow old over one special form of exercise. We have been in a position to acquire varied knowledge, to familiarise ourselves with the principles that should guide our life, and to try our strength in the courts, while we were still attending the schools. The theory of speaking is of such a nature that it does not demand many years for its acquisition. For any one of the various branches of knowledge which I have mentioned will, as a rule, be found to be comprised in a few volumes, a fact which shows that instruction does not require an indefinite amount of time to be devoted to it. The rest depends entirely on practice, which at once develops our powers and maintains them, once developed.

Knowledge increases day by day, and yet how many books is it absolutely necessary to read in our search for its attainment, for examples of facts from the historians or of eloquence from the orators, or, again, for the opinions of the philosophers and the lawyers, that is to say, if we are content to read merely what is useful without attempting the impossible task of reading everything?

But it is ourselves that make the time for study short: for how little time we allot to it! Some hours are passed in the futile labour of ceremonial calls, others in idle chatter, others in staring at the shows of the theatre, and others again in feasting. To this add all the various forms of amusement, the insane attention devoted to the cultivation of the body, journeys abroad, visits to the country, anxious calculation of loss and gain, the allurements of lust, wine-bibbing and those remaining hours which are all too few to gratify our souls on fire with passion for every kind of pleasure.

If all this time were spent on study, life would seem long enough and there would be plenty of time for learning, even though we should take the hours of daylight only into our account, without asking any assistance from the night, of which no little space is superfluous even for the heaviest sleeper. As it is, we count not the years which we have given to study, but the years we have lived.

And indeed even although geometricians, musicians and grammarians, together with the professors of every other branch of knowledge, spend all their lives, however long, in the study of one single science, it does not therefore follow that we require several lives more if we are to learn more. For they do not spend all their days even to old age in learning these things, but being content to have learned these things and nothing more, exhaust their length of years not in acquiring, but in imparting knowledge.

However, to say nothing of Homer, in whom we may find either the perfect achievements, or at any rate clear signs of the knowledge of every art, and to pass by Hippias of Elis, who not merely boasted his knowledge of the liberal arts, but wore a robe, a ring and shoes, all of which he had made with his own hands, and had trained himself to be independent of external assistance, we accept the universal tradition of Greece to the effect that Gorgias, triumphant over all the countless ills incident to extreme old age, would bid his hearers propound any questions they pleased for him to answer.

Again in what branch of knowledge worthy of literary expression was Plato deficient? How many generations' study did Aristotle require to embrace not merely the whole range of philosophical and rhetorical knowledge, but to investigate the nature of every beast and plant. And yet they had to discover all these things which we only have to learn. Antiquity has given us all these teachers and all these patterns for our imitation, that there might be no greater happiness conceivable than to be born in this age above all others, since all previous ages have toiled that we might reap the fruit of their wisdom.

Marcus Cato was at once a great general, a philosopher, orator, historian, and an expert both in law and agriculture, and despite his military labours abroad and the distractions of political struggles at home, and despite the rudeness of the age in which he lived, he none the less learned Greek, when far advanced in years, that he might prove to mankind that even old men are capable of learning that on which they have set their hearts.

How wide, almost universal, was the knowledge that Varro communicated to the world! What of all that goes to make up the equipment of an orator was lacking to Cicero? Why should I say more, since even Cornelius Celsus, a man of very ordinary ability, not merely wrote about rhetoric in all its departments, but left treatises on the art of war, agriculture and medicine as well. Indeed the high ambition revealed by his design gives him the right to ask us to believe that he was acquainted with all these subjects.

But, it will be urged, to carry out such a task is difficult and has never been accomplished. To which I reply that sufficient encouragement for study may be found in the fact, firstly, that nature does not forbid such achievement and it does not follow that, because a thing never has been done, it therefore never can be done, and secondly, that all great achievements have required time for their first accomplishment.

Poetry has risen to the heights of glory, thanks to the efforts of poets so far apart as Homer and Virgil, and oratory owes its position to the genius of Demosthenes and Cicero. Finally, whatever is best in its own sphere must at some previous time have been non-existent. But even if a man despair of reaching supreme excellence (and why should he despair, if he have talents, health, capacity and teachers to aid him?), it is none the less a fine achievement, as Cicero says, to win the rank of second or even third.

For even if a soldier cannot achieve the glory of Achilles in war, he will not despise fame such as fell to the lot of Ajax and Diomede, while those who cannot be Homers may be content to reach the level of Tyrtaeus. Nay, if men had been obsessed by the conviction that it was impossible to surpass the man who had so far shown himself best, those whom we now regard as best would never have reached such distinction, Lucretius and Macer would never have been succeeded by Virgil, nor Crassus and Hortensius by Cicero, nor they in their turn by those who flourished after them.

But even though we cannot hope to surpass the great, it is still a high honour to follow in their footsteps. Did Pollio and Messala, who began to plead when Cicero held the citadel of eloquence, fail to obtain sufficient honour in their lifetime or to hand down a fair name to posterity? The arts which have been developed to the highest pitch of excellence would deserve but ill of mankind if that which was best had also been the last of its line.

Add to this the further consideration that even moderate eloquence is often productive of great results and, if such studies are to be measured solely by their utility, is almost equal to the perfect eloquence for which we seek. Nor would it be difficult to produce either ancient or recent examples to show that there is no other source from which men have reaped such a harvest of wealth, honour, friendship and glory, both present and to come. But it would be a disgrace to learning to follow the fashion of those who say that they pursue not virtue, but only the pleasure derived from virtue, and to demand this meaner recompense from the noblest of all arts, whose practice and even whose possession is ample reward for all our labours.

Wherefore let us seek with all our hearts that true majesty of oratory, the fairest gift of god to man, without which all things are stricken dumb and robbed alike of present glory and the immortal record of posterity; and let us press forward to whatsoever is best, since, if we do this, we shall either reach the summit or at least see many others far beneath us.

Such, Marcellus Victorius, were the views by the expression of which it seemed to me that I might, as far as in me lay, help to advance the teaching of oratory. If the knowledge of these principles proves to be of small practical utility to the young student, it should at least produce what [value more,—the will to do well.