Book: The Orations of Marcus Tullius Cicero, Volume 4

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That then is a delightful kind of oratory, free, fluent, shrewd in
its sentiments, sweet sounding in its periods, which is found in that
demonstrative kind of speaking which we have mentioned. It is the
peculiar style of sophists; more suitable for display than for actual
contest; appropriate to schools and exhibitions; but despised in and
driven from the forum. But because eloquence is first of all trained
by this sort of food, and afterwards gives itself a proper colour and
strength, it appeared not foreign to our subject to speak of what is
as it were the cradle of an orator. However, all this belongs to the
schools, and to display: let us now descend into the battle-field and
to the actual struggle.

XIV. As there are three things which the orator has to consider; what
he is saying; and in what place, and in what manner he is saying each
separate thing; it seems on all accounts desirable to explain what is
best as to each separate subject, though in rather a different
manner from that in which it is usually explained in laying down the
principles of the science. We will give no regular rules, (for that
task we have not undertaken,) but we will present an outline and
sketch of perfect eloquence; nor will we occupy ourselves in
explaining by what means it is acquired, but only what sort of thing
it appears to us to be.

And let us discuss the two first divisions very briefly. For it is
not so much that they have not an important reference to the highest
perfection, as that they are indispensable, and almost common to
other studies also. For to plan and decide on what you will say are
important points, and are as it were the mind in the body; still they
are parts of prudence rather than of eloquence; and yet what matter is
there in which prudence is not necessary? This orator, then, whom we
wish to describe as a perfect one, must know all the topics suited to
arguments and reasons of this class. For since whatever can possibly
be the subject of any contest or controversy, gives rise to the
inquiry whether it exists, and what it is, and what sort of thing it
is; while we endeavour to ascertain whether it exists, by tokens; what
it is, by definitions; what sort of thing it is, by divisions of right
and wrong; and in order to be able to avail himself of these topics
the orator,--I do not mean any ordinary one, but the excellent one
whom I am endeavouring to depict,--always, if he can, diverts the
controversy from any individual person or occasion. For it is in his
power to argue on wider grounds concerning a genus than concerning
a part; as, whatever is proved in the universal, must inevitably be
proved with respect to a part. This inquiry, then, when diverted from
individual persons and occasions to a discussion of a universal genus,
is called a thesis. This is what Aristotle trained young men in, not
after the fashion of ordinary philosophers, by subtle dissertations,
but in the way of rhetoricians, making them argue on each side,
in order that it might be discussed with more elegance and more
copiousness; and he also gave them topics (for that is what he called
them) as heads of arguments, from which every sort of oration might be
applied to either side of the question.

XV. This orator of ours then (for what we are looking for is not some
declaimer out of a school, or some pettifogger from the forum, but a
most accomplished and perfect orator), since certain topics are given
to him, will run through all of them; he will use those which are
suitable to his purpose according to their class; he will learn also
from what source those topics proceed which are called common. Nor
will he make an imprudent use of his resources, but he will weigh
everything, and make a selection. For the same arguments have not
equal weight at all times, or in all causes. He will, therefore,
exercise his judgment, and he will not only devise what he is to say,
but he will also weigh its force. For there is nothing more fertile
than genius, especially of the sort which has been cultivated by
study. But as fertile and productive corn-fields bear not only corn,
but weeds which are most unfriendly to corn, so sometimes from those
topics there are produced arguments which are either trifling, or
foreign to the subject, or useless; and the judgment of the orator has
great room to exert itself in making a selection from them. Otherwise
how will he be able to stop and make his stand on those arguments
which are good and suited to his purpose? or how to soften what is
harsh, and to conceal what cannot be denied, and, if it be possible,
entirely to get rid of all such topics? or how will he be able to
lead men's minds away from the objects on which they are fixed, or
to adduce any other argument which, when opposed to that of his
adversaries, may be more probable than that which is brought against
him?

And with what diligence will he marshal the arguments with which he
has provided himself? since that is the second of his three objects.
He will make all the vestibule, if I may so say, and the approach to
his cause brilliant; and when he has got possession of the minds of
his hearers by his first onset, he will then invalidate and exclude
all contrary arguments; and of his own strongest arguments some he
will place in the van, some he will employ to bring up the rear, and
the weaker ones he will place in the centre.

And thus we have described in a brief and summary manner what this
perfect orator should be like in the two first parts of speaking. But,
as has been said before, in these parts, (although they are weighty
and important,) there is less skill and labour than in the others.

XVI. But when he has found out what to say, and in what place he is to
say it, then comes that which is by far the most important division of
the three, the consideration of the manner in which he is to say it.
For that is a well-known saying which our friend Carneades used to
repeat:--"That Clitomachus said the same things, but that Charmadas
said the same things in the same manner." But if it is of so much
consequence in philosophy even, how you say a thing, when it is the
matter which is looked at there rather than the language, what can we
think must be the case in causes in which the elocution is all in all?
And I, O Brutus, knew from your letters that you do not ask what sort
of artist I think a consummate orator ought to be, as far as devising
and arranging his arguments; but you appeared to me to be asking
rather what kind of eloquence I considered the best. A very difficult
matter, and, indeed, by the immortal gods! the most difficult of all
matters. For as language is a thing soft and tender, and so flexible
that it follows wherever you turn it, so also the various natures
and inclinations of men have given rise to very different kinds of
speaking.

Some men love a stream of words and great volubility, placing all
eloquence in rapidity of speech. Others are fond of distinct and
broadly marked intervals, and delays, and taking of breath. What can
be more different? Yet in each kind there is something excellent.
Some labour to attain a gentle and equable style, and a pure and
transparent kind of eloquence; others aim at a certain harshness and
severity in their language, a sort of melancholy in their speech:
and as we have just before divided men, so that some wish to appear
weighty, some light, some moderate, so there are as many different
kinds of orators as we have already said that there are styles of
oratory.

XVII. And since I have now begun to perform this duty in a more ample
manner than you did require it of me, (for though the question which
you put to me has reference only to the kind of oration, I have
also in my answer given you a brief account of the invention and
arrangement of arguments,) even now I will not speak solely of the
manner of making a speech, but I will touch also on the manner of
conducting an action. And so no part whatever will be omitted: since
nothing need be said in this place of memory, for that is common to
many arts.

But the way in which it is said depends on two things,--on action
and on elocution. For action is a sort of eloquence of the body,
consisting as it does of voice and motion. Now there are as many
changes of voice as there are of minds, which are above all things
influenced by the voice. Therefore, that perfect orator which our
oration has just been describing, will employ a certain tone of voice
regulated by the way in which he wishes to appear affected himself,
and by the manner also in which he desires the mind of his hearer to
be influenced. And concerning this I would say more if this was the
proper time for laying down rules concerning it, or if this was what
you were inquiring about. I would speak also of gesture, with which
expression of countenance is combined. And it is hardly possible to
express of what importance these things are, and what use the orator
makes of them. For even people without speaking, by the mere dignity
of their action, have often produced all the effect of eloquence; and
many really eloquent men, by their ungainly delivery have been thought
ineloquent. So that it was not without reason that Demosthenes
attributed the first, and second, and third rank to action. For if
eloquence without action is nothing, but action without eloquence is
of such great power, then certainly it is the most important part of
speaking.

XVIII. He, then, who aims at the highest rank in eloquence, will
endeavour with his voice on the stretch to speak energetically; with
a low voice, gently, with a sustained voice, gravely, and with a
modulated voice, in a manner calculated to excite compassion.

For the nature of the voice is something marvellous, for all its great
power is derived from three sounds only, the grave sound, the sharp
sound, and the moderate sound, and from these comes all that sweet
variety which is brought to perfection in songs. But there is also
in speaking a sort of concealed singing, not like the peroration of
rhetoricians from Phrygia or Caria, which is nearly a chant, but that
sort which Demosthenes and Aeschines mean when the one reproaches the
other with the affected modulation of his voice. Demosthenes says even
more, and often declares that Aeschines had a very sweet and clear
voice. And in this that point appears to me worth noting, with
reference to the study of aiming at sweetness in the voice. For nature
of herself, as if she were modulating the voices of men, has placed
in every one one acute tone, and not more than one, and that not more
than two syllables back from the last, so that industry may be guided
by nature when pursuing the object of delighting the ears. A good
voice also is a thing to be desired, for it is not naturally implanted
in us, but practice and use give it to us. Therefore, the consummate
orator will vary and change his voice, and sometimes straining it,
sometimes lowering it, he will go through every degree of tone.

And he will use action in such a way that there shall be nothing
superfluous in his gestures. His attitude will be erect and lofty, the
motion of the feet rare, and very moderate, he will only move across
the tribune in a very moderate manner, and even then rarely, there
will be no bending of the neck, no clenching of the fingers, no rise
or fall of the fingers in regular time, he will rather sway his whole
body gently, and employ a manly inclination of his side, throwing out
his arm in the energetic parts of his speech, and drawing it back in
the moderate ones. As to his countenance, which is of the greatest
influence possible next to the voice, what dignity and what beauty
will be derived from its expression! And when you have accomplished
this, then the eyes too must be kept under strict command, that there
may not appear to be anything unsuitable, or like grimace. For as the
countenance is the image of the mind, so are the eyes the informers as
to what is going on within it. And their hilarity or sadness will be
regulated by the circumstances which are under discussion.

XIX. But now we must give the likeness of this perfect orator and of
this consummate eloquence, and his very name points out that he excels
in this one particular, that is to say, in oratory and that other
eminent qualities are kept out of sight in him. For it is not by his
invention, or by his power of arrangement, or by his action, that
he has embraced all these points, but in Greek he is called [Greek:
raetor], and in Latin "eloquent," from speaking. For every one claims
for himself some share in the other accomplishments which belong to an
orator, but the greatest power in speaking is allowed to be his alone.
For although some philosophers have spoken with elegance, (since
Theophrastus[60] derived his name from his divine skill in speaking,
and Aristotle attacked Isocrates himself, and they say that the Muses
as it were spoke by the mouth of Xenophon; and far above all men who
have ever written or spoken, Plato is preeminent both for sweetness
and dignity,) still their language has neither the vigour nor the
sting of an orator or a forensic speaker. They are conversing with
learned men whose minds they wish to tranquillize rather than to
excite, and so they speak on peaceful subjects which have no connexion
with any violence, and for the sake of teaching, not of charming, so
that even in the fact of their aiming at giving some pleasure by their
diction, they appear to some people to be doing more than is necessary
for them to do.

It is not difficult, therefore, to distinguish between this kind of
speaking and the eloquence which we are now treating of. For the
address of philosophers is gentle, and fond of retirement, and not
furnished with popular ideas or popular expressions, not fettered by
any particular rhythm, but allowed a good deal of liberty. It has
in it nothing angry, nothing envious, nothing energetic, nothing
marvellous, nothing cunning, it is as it were a chaste, modest,
uncontaminated virgin. Therefore it is called a discourse rather than
an oration. For although every kind of speaking is an oration, still
the language of the orator alone is distinguished by this name as its
own property.

It appears more necessary to distinguish between it and the copy of
it by the sophists, who wish to gather all the same flowers which the
orator employs in his causes. But they differ from him in this that,
as their object is not to disturb men's minds, but rather to appease
them, and not so much to persuade as to delight, and as they do it
more openly than we do and more frequently, they seek ideas which are
neat rather than probable, they often wander from the subject, they
weave fables into their speeches, they openly borrow terms from other
subjects, and arrange them as painters do a variety of colours, they
put like things by the side of like, opposite things by the side of
their contraries, and very often they terminate period after period in
similar manners.

XX. Now history is akin to this side of writing, in which the authors
relate with elegance, and often describe a legion, or a battle,
and also addresses and exhortations are intermingled, but in them
something connected and fluent is required, and not this compressed
and vehement sort of speaking. And the eloquence which we are looking
for must be distinguished from theirs nearly as much as it must from
that of the poets.

For even the poets have given room for the question, what the point
is in which they differ from the orators, formerly it appeared to be
chiefly rhythm and versification, but of late rhythm has got a great
footing among the orators. For whatever it is which offers the ears
any regular measure, even if it be ever so far removed from verse,
(for that is a fault in an oration,) is called "number" by us,
being the same thing that in Greek is called [Greek: ruthmos]. And,
accordingly, I see that some men have thought that the language of
Plato and Democritus, although it is not verse, still, because it
is borne along with some impetuosity and employs the most brilliant
illustration that words can give, ought to be considered as poetry
rather than the works of the comic poets, in which, except that they
are written in verse, there is nothing else which is different from
ordinary conversation. Nor is that the principal characteristic of
a poet, although he is the more to be praised for aiming at the
excellences of an orator, when he is more fettered by verse. But,
although the language of some poets is grand and ornamented, still
I think that they have greater licence than we have in making
and combining words, and I think too that they often, in their
expressions, pay more attention to the object of giving pleasure to
their leaders than to their subject. Nor, indeed, does the fact of
there being one point of resemblance between them, (I mean judgment
and the selection of words,) make it difficult to perceive their
dissimilarity on other points. But that is not doubtful, and if there
be any question in the matter, still this is certainly not necessary
for the object which is proposed to be kept in view.

The orator, therefore, now that he has been separated from the
eloquence of philosophers, and sophists, and historians, and poets,
requires an explanation from us to show what sort of person he is to
be

XXI. The eloquent orator, then, (for that is what, according to
Antonius, we are looking for) is a man who speaks in the forum and
in civil causes in such a manner as to prove, to delight, and to
persuade. To prove, is necessary for him; to delight, is a proof of
his sweetness, to persuade, is a token of victory. For that alone of
all results is of the greatest weight towards gaining causes. But
there are as many kinds of speaking as there are separate duties of an
orator. The orator, therefore, ought to be a man of great judgment and
of great ability, and he ought to be a regulator, as it were, of this
threefold variety of duty. For he will judge what is necessary for
every one, and he will be able to speak in whatever manner the cause
requires. But the foundation of eloquence, as of all other things, is
wisdom. For as in life, so in a speech, nothing is more difficult than
to see what is becoming. The Greeks call this [Greek: prepon], we call
it "decorum." But concerning this point many admirable rules are laid
down, and the matter is well worth being understood. And it is owing
to ignorance respecting it that men make blunders not only in life,
but very often in poems, and in speeches.

But the orator must consider what is becoming not only in his
sentences, but also in his words. For it is not every fortune, nor
every honour, nor every authority, nor every age, or place, or time,
nor every hearer who is to be dealt with by the same character of
expressions or sentiments. And at all times, in every part of a speech
or of life, we must consider what is becoming, and that depends partly
on the facts which are the subject under discussion, and also on the
characters of those who are the speakers and of those who are the
hearers. Therefore this topic, which is of very wide extent and
application, is often employed by philosophers in discussions on duty,
not when they are discussing abstract right, for that is but one thing
and the grammarians also too often employ it when criticising the
poets, to show their eloquence in every division and description of
cause. For how unseemly is it, when you are pleading before a single
judge about a gutter, to use high sounding expressions and general
topics, but to speak with a low voice and with subtle arguments in a
cause affecting the majesty of the Roman people.

XXII. This applies to the whole genus. But some persons err as to
the character either of themselves, or of the judges, or of their
adversaries and not only in actual fact, but often in word. Although
there is no force in a word without a fact, still the same fact is
often either approved of, or rejected, according as this or that
expression is employed respecting it. And in every case it is
necessary to take care how far it may be right to go, for although
everything has its proper limit, still excess offends more than
falling short. And that is the point in which Apelles said that those
painters made a blunder, who did not know what was enough.

There is here, O Brutus, an important topic, which does not escape
your notice, and which requires another large volume. But for the
present question this is enough, when we say that this is becoming,
(an expression which we always employ in all words and actions, both
great and small)--when, I say, we say that this is becoming and
that that is not becoming, and when it appears to what extent each
assertion is meant to be applicable, and when it depends on something
else, and is quite another matter whether you say that a thing is
becoming or proper, (for to say a thing is proper, declares the
perfection of duty, which we and all men are at all times to regard
to say a thing is becoming, as to say that it is fit as it were, and
suitable to the time and person: which is often very important both
in actions and words, and in a person's countenance and gestures
and gait;)--and, on the other hand, when we say that a thing is
unbecoming, (and if a poet avoids this as the greatest of faults, [and
he also errs if he puts an honest sentiment in the mouth of a wicked
man, or a wise one in the mouth of a fool,] or if that painter saw
that, when Calchas was sad at the sacrifice of Iphigenia, and Ulysses
still more so, and Menelaus in mourning, that Agamemnon's head
required to be veiled altogether, since it was quite impossible to
represent such grief as his with a paint brush; if even the actor
inquires what is becoming, what must we think that the orator ought to
do?) But as this is a matter of so much importance, the orator must
take care what he does in his causes, and in the different parts of
them; that is plain, that not only the different parts of an oration,
but that even whole causes are to be dealt with in different styles of
oratory.

XXIII. It follows that the characteristics and forms of each class
must be sought for. It is a great and difficult task, as we have often
said before; but it was necessary for us to consider at the beginning
what we would discuss; and now we must set our sails in whatever
course we are borne on. But first of all we must give a sketch of the
man whom some consider the only orator of the Attic style.

He is a gentle, moderate man, imitating the usual customs, differing
from those who are not eloquent in fact rather than in any of his
opinions. Therefore those who are his hearers, even though they
themselves have no skill in speaking, still feel confident that they
could speak in that manner. For the subtlety of his address appears
easy of imitation to a person who ventures on an opinion, but nothing
is less easy when he comes to try it; for although it is not a style
of any extraordinary vigour, still it has some juice, so that even
though it is not endowed with the most extreme power, it is still, if
I may use such an expression, in perfect health. First of all, then,
let us release it from the fetters of rhythm. For there is, as you
know, a certain rhythm to be observed by an orator, (and of that we
will speak presently,) proceeding on a regular system; but though it
must be attended to in another kind of oratory, it must be entirely
abandoned in this. This must be a sort of easy style, and yet not
utterly without rules, so that it may seem to range at freedom, not to
wander about licentiously. He should also guard against appearing to
cement his words together; for the hiatus formed by a concourse
of open vowels has something soft about it, and indicates a not
unpleasing negligence, as if the speaker were anxious more about the
matter than the manner of his speech. But as to other points, he must
take care, especially as he is allowed more licence in these two,--I
mean the rounding of his periods, and the combination of his words;
for those narrow and minute details are not to be dealt with
carelessly. But there is such a thing as a careful negligence; for as
some women are said to be unadorned to whom that very want of ornament
is becoming, so this refined sort of oratory is delightful even when
unadorned. For in each case a result is produced that the thing
appears more beautiful, though the cause is not apparent. Then every
conspicuous ornament will be removed, even pearls; even curling-irons
will be put away; and all medicaments of paint and chalk, all
artificial red and white, will be discarded; only elegance and
neatness will remain. The language will be pure and Latin; it will be
arranged plainly and clearly, and great care will be taken to see what
is becoming.

XXIV. One quality will be present, which Theophrastus calls the fourth
in his praises of oratory;--full of ornament, sweetness, and fluency.
Clever sentiments, extracted from I know not what secret store, will
be brought out, and will exert their power in the speeches of this
perfect orator. There will be a moderate use of what I may call
oratorical furniture; for there is to a certain degree what I may call
our furniture, consisting of ornaments partly of things and partly of
words. But the ornaments consisting of words are twofold: one kind
consisting of words by themselves, the other consisting of them in
combination. The simple embellishment is approved of in the case of
proper and commonly employed words, which either sound very well,
or else are very explanatory of the subject; in words which do not
naturally belong to the subject,--it is either metaphorical, or
borrowed from some other quarter; or else it is derived from the
subject, whether it is a new term, or an old one grown obsolete; but
even old and almost obsolete terms may be proper ones, only that we
seldom employ them. But words when well arranged have great ornament
if they give any neatness, which does not remain if the words are
altered while the sense remains. For the embellishments of sentiments
which remain, even if you alter the language in which they are
expressed, are many, but still there are but few of them which are
worth remarking.

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