action,^ he is naturally excited in it to a more magniBoeut species of eloquence; for a multitude Lob such influeuce, that, as theflute-plajer cannot play without his fiutea, bo the orator cauuot be eloquent vithout a uutnerous audience. And, as the inclinations of popular assembliea take many and Tarious turns, an unfavourable espreasion of feeling from the whole people must not be incurred; an eipression which maybe escited by eome fault in the speech, if anything appeare to bane been spoken ^ith harshneaa, with arrogance, in a hue or mean manner, or with a.ny improper feeling whatever; or it may proceed from some offence taken, or ill-will conceived, at-Bome particular individuals, which is either just, or arising from Home calumny or bad report; or it may happen if the subject be displeasing; or if the multitude be swayed by any impulse from their own hopes or fears. To theee four causes as many remedies may be applied; the severity of rebuke, if you have sufficient authority for it; admonition, wbicb is a milder kind of rebuke; an assurance, thnt if they will give you a hearing, they will approve what you say; and entreaty, which is the most condeBceudJng method, but Bomotimea very advautageouB. But on no occasion ia facetiouane^ and ready ■wit ^ of more effect, and any smart saying that ia consistent with dignity and tme jocularity; for nothing is so easily diverted from gloom, and often from rancour, as a multitude, even by a single espression uttered opportunely, quickly, smartly, and with good humour.
LXXXIV. " I have now stated to you generally, to the best of my abilities, what it is my practice, in both kinds of causes, to pursue, what to avoid, what to keep in view, and to what method I ordinarily adhere in my pleadings. Nor is that third kind, panegyric, which I in the commencenient eicluded, as it were, from my rules, attended with any diffi- culty; but it was because there are many departments of ora- tory both of greater importance and power, concerning which hardly'any author haB given particular rules,* and because we of this country are not accustomed to deal much in pan^yric.
BXrV.} ON THE CHARACTEH OF THE ORATOR. 323 that I set this topic entirely apart. For the Greek authors themselves, who are the moat worthy of being readj wrote their panegyricB either for amusement, or to compliment some par- ticular peraou, rather than with any desire to promote forensic eloquence; and books of their composition are extant, in which Themistocles, Aristides, Agesilaue, Epaminoudns, Philip, Alesander, aad others, are the subjects of praise. Our lauda- tory speeches, which we deliver in the forum, hove either the simple and unadorned brevity of testimony, or are written as funeral orations, which are by no means suitable for the pomp of panegyric. But as we must eometimee attempt that de- partment, and must occasionally write panegyrics, as Caius LteliUB wrote oue for Publiua Tubero, when he wished to praise his uncle Afrieanus, and in order that we ourselves may be enabled to praise, after the manner of the Greeks, such persons as we may be inclined to praise, let that subject also form port of our disuoaree. It is clear, then, that some qualities in mankind are desirable, and some praiseworthy. Birth, beauty, strength, power, liches, and other things which fortune bestows, either amid external circumstances, or as personal endownieats, carry with them no real praise, which is thought to be due to virtue aloue; but, as virtue itself be- oomea chiefly conspicuous in the use and management of Buch things, these endowments of nature aad of fortune are also to be considered in panegyrics; in which it is mentioned OS the highest praise for a person not to have been haughty iu power, or insolent in wealth, or to have assumed a pre- eminence over others from the abundance of the blessings of fortune; bo that his riches and plenty seem to have afforded means and opportunities, not for the indnlgence of pride and viciuns appetites, but for the cultivation of goodneas and moderation. Virtue, too, which is of itself praiseworthy, and without which nothing can be deserving of praise, is dis- tinguished, however, into several species, some of winch are more adapted to panegyric than others; for there are some virtues which are conspicuous in the manners of men, and consist in some degree in aSability and bene^ceuce; and there are others wliich depend on some peculiar natural genius, or superior greatness and strength of mind. Clemency, justice, benignity, fidelity, fortitude in common dangers, are subjepts jfcle to the audience in panegyric; (for all such virtues 1 are thought beneficial, not so njuoh to the persoua who possess them, as to mankind in gecerai;) while wisdom, and that greatncEs of soul by which all human affairs are regarded ns meaa and iacooiiiderable, eminent power of thought, and elo- quence itflelf, excite indeed no less admiration, but not equal delight; for thej appear to be an ornament and support rather to the pcrsoiiB thomselves whom we commend, than to those befora whom we commend them; yet, in panegyric, these two kinds of virtues must be united; for the ears of men tolerate the praises not only of those parts of virtue which are delightful and agreeable, but of those which excite admiration.
LSXXV. " Since, also, there are certain offices and duties belonging to every kind of virtue, and since to each virtue its peculiar praise is due, it will be necessary to speciiy, in a panegyric on justice, what he who is praised performed with fidelity, or equanimity, or in accordance with any other moral dnty. In other points, too, the praise of actions must be adapted to the nature, power, and name of the virtue under which they fall. The praise of those acts is heard with the greatest pleasure, which appear to have been undertaken by men of spirit, without advanti^e or reward; but those which have been also attended with toil and danger to them- selves afford the largest scope for panegyric, because they may be set forth with the greatest ornaments of eloquence, and the account of them may he heard with the utmost satis- footion; for that appears the highest virtue in a man of eminence, which is beneficial to others, but attended with danger or toil, or at least without advantage, to iiimself. It is commonly regarded, too, as a great and admirable merit, to have borne adversity with wisdom, not to have been van- quished by fortune, and to have maintained dignity in the worst of circumstances. It is also an honour to a mau that distinctions have been bestowed upon him, rewards decreed to his merit, and that his achievements have been approved by the judgment of mankind; and, on such subjects, to attri- bute success itself to the judgment of the immortal gods, is a part of panegyrio. But such actions should be selected for praise as are either of extraordinary greatness, or unprece- dented novelty, or singular in their kind; for such as ore trivial, or common, or ordinary, generally appear to deservfl j gencrauy appear lo aeservfl ^ ? THE ORATOH.
no admiration or even comnieiidation. A coinparisoa also with other great men has a noble effect in panegyric.
" On this Bpecioa of oloquence I have felt inulined to Eay something more thaa I had proposed, not bo much for the improvement of pleading in tiio forum, which has been kept in view by me through this whole discourse, as that jou might see that, if panegyric be a part of the orator's buainesB, — and nobody denies that it is,— a knowledge of all the virtues, without which panegyric cannot be composed, is necessary to the orator. As to the rules for censuring, it is clear that they are to be deduced from the vices contrary to these vir- tues; and it is also obviouB, that neither can a good man be praised with propriety and copiousness of matter, without a knowledge of the several virtues, nor a bad man he stigma- tized and branded with sufficient distinction and asperity, without a knowledge of the opposite vices. On these topici of panegyric and satire we must often touch in all kinds " You have now heard what I think about the invention and arrangement of matter. I shall add some observations on memory, with a view to lighten the labour of Crasaua, and to leave nothing for him to discuss, but the art of embellish- ing those departments of eloquence which I have specified."
LXXXVI. "Proceed," said Crassus; "for I feel pleasure in seeingyouappearasaprofessedartist, stripped of the disguises of dissimulation, and fairly exposed to view; and, in leaving nothing for me to do or but little, you consult my con- venience, and confer a Eivour upon me." " How much 1 leave jtou to do," said Antonius, " will be in your own power; for if you are inclined to act fairly, I leave you everything to do; but if you wish to shrink from any portion of your under- taking, you must consider how you can give this company satisfaction. But to return to the point; I am not," he con- tinued, " possessed of such iutellectual power as Themistocles had, that I had rather know the art of foigetfulness than that of memory; and I am gratefiil to the famous Simonidea of Ceos, who, as people say, first invented an art of memory. For they relate, that when Simonides was at Crannon in Thessaly, at an entertainment given by Soopas, a man of rank and fortune, and had recited a poem which he had com- posed in his praise, in which, for the eake of embelliahment, BE OKAToaB; on, [b. O^ after the maaiier of the poeta, there were many particulars intraduced coaceming Castor and Pollui, Scopaa told Si- monides, with esCraordinary meanneES, that he would pay him half the sum which he had agreed to give for the poem, and that he might ask the remainder, if he thought proper, from hiB Tyndaridat, to whom he had given an equal share of praise. A short tirao after, they say that a message waa brought in to Simonides, to deaire him to go out, as two youths were waiting at the gate who earnestly wished Lim to come forth to them; when he arose, went forth, and found nobody. In the meantime the apartment in which Scopes waa feasting fell down,aod be himself, and his company, were overwhelmed and buried in the ruins; and when their friends were desirous to inter their remains, but could not possibly diatingniah one from another, so much crusbed were the bodies, Simonides is said, from his recollection of the place in which each had sat, to have given satisfactory directions for their interment. Admouished by this occurrence, he ia re- ported to have discovered, that it is chiefly order that gives distinctness to memory; and that by those, therefore, who would improve tliis part of the understanding, certain places must be fised npon, and that of the things which they desire to keep in memory, symbols must be conceived in the mind, and ranged, as it were, iu those places; thus the order of places would preserve the order of things, and the symbols of iJie things would denote the thiugs themselves; so that we should use the places as waxen tablets, and the symbols as letters.
LXXXVII. " How great the benefit of memory ia to the orator, how great the advantage, how great the power, what need is there for me to observel Why should I remark how ck- cellent a thing it is to retain the instructions which you have received with the cause, and the opinion which you have formed upon itt to keep all your thoughts upon it fiied in your mind, all your arrangement of language marked out there 1 to listen to him from whom yon receive any informal tion, or to hun to whom you have to reply, with such power of retention, that they seem not to have poured their dis- oourae into your oars, but to have engraven it on your mental tablet 1 They alone, accordingly, who have a vigorous memory, know what, and how much, and in what manner they are about to speak; to what they have replied, and wh 0. LXXXVIL] on the CHABACTEH of TtIB OlliTOE. 327 unanswered; and they also remember many uourses that thoy have formerly adopted in other caBea, and many which they htiTe heard from others. I must, however, acknowledge that nature is the chief author of this qualification, as of all those of which I have previously spoken; (but this whole art of oratory, or image and resemblance of an art, has the power, not of engendering and producing anything entirely of itaei^ of which no part previously eiisted in our underatandinga, but of being able to give education and strength to what has been generated, and has b^ its birth there;) yet there is scarcely any one of so strong a memory as to retain the order of his language and thoughts without a previous arrangeraeat and observation of heads; nor is any one of so weak a memory as not to receive assistance from this practioe and exercise. For Simonidea, or whoever else invented the art, wisely saw, that those tilings are the moat strongly fixed in our minds, which are communicated to them, aad imprinted upon them, by the senses; that of all the seusea that of seeing is the most acute; and that, accordingly, those tiiingB are most easily retained in our minds which we have received from the hearing or the understanding, if they are also recommeuded to the imagination by means of the mental eye; so that a kind of foiTD, reaemhJanoe, and representation might denote invi^ble otgects, and such as are in their nature withdrawn from the cognisance of the sight, in such a manner, that what we are scarcely capable of comprehending by thought we may retain as it were by the aid of the visual faculty. By these imaginary forms and objects, as by all those that come under our corporeal vision, our memory is admonished and excited; but some place for them must be ima^ned; as bodily Khape cannot be conceived without a place for it. That I may not, tiien, be prolix and inapertineut upon bo weil-tnown and common a subject, we must fancy many plain distinct places, at moderate distances; and such symbols as are impressive, striking, aud well-marked, so that they may present them- selves to the mind, and act upon it with the greatest quicknefB. This faculty of artificial faemctry practice will afford, (from which proceeds habit,) as well as the derivation of similar words converted aud altered in cases, or transferred from particulars to generals, aud the idea of an entire sentence from the symbol of a single word, ailer the manner aud method of 1 I I EE OBATORH; OH, any skilful painter, wbo diBtinguiaheB spocea liy the variety J vhat he depicts. « LXXKVIII. " But the memory of words, ■which, howevw JB le£s necessary for us,' is to be diBtinguishod by a greater Tariety of ayiubols; for there are maay words which, like joiatH, connect the members of our speech, that cannot possibly be represented by anything similar to them; and for these we must invent symbols that we may invariably usa The memory of tilings Is the proper busineaa of the orator; this we may be enabled to impress on ourselves by the creation of imaginary figures, aptly arranged, to represent particular heads, so that we may recollect thoughts by images, and their order by place. Nor is that true which is said by people un- skilled in this artifice, that the memory is oppressed by the weight of these representations, aud that even obscured which unassisted nature might have clearly kept in view; for I havs seenmenof consummate abitities, and an almost divine faculty of memory, as Charmadas at Athens, and Scepsius Metrodorus in Asia, who is said to be still living, each of whom used to Bay that, as he wrote with letters on wai, so he wrote with ^mbols as it were, whatever he wished to remember, on these places which he had conceived in imagination. TboU|' therefore, a memory cannot he entirely formed by this p tice, if there is none given by nature; yet certainly, if t is latent natural faculty, it may be caJled forth.
" You have now had a very long dissertation from a p whom I wish yon may not esteem impudent, but who is Q tainly not over-modest, in having spoken, so copioudy i I have done, upon the art of eloquence, in your heariBf Catulus, and that of Lucius Crassus; for of the rest of t company the age might perhaps reasonably make less ii sioa upon me; but you will certainly eicuse me, if you b. listen to the motive which impelled me to loquacity a unusual with me." i LXXXIX. " We indeed," said Catulus, " {for I make thj answer for my brother and myself) not only excuse you, bt feel love and great gi-atitude to you for what you have dou and, OS wo acknowledge your peliteness and good-nature, so i admire your learning and copious store of matter. Iudeed.9 ' Beeaiieo worda are at Datter ie aupplied, ei 1 OP THE ORiTOB.
cd from a ^M think that I have reaped this benefit, that I am freed great mistake, and relieved from that aatoniahment used always to feel, in common with many others, aa to the source from which that divine power of yours in pleading was derived; for I never imagined that jou had even elightly touched upon those matters, of which I now perceive that you poaseas an exact knowledge, gathered from all quarters, and which, taught by experience, you have partly corrected and partly approved, Nor have I now a less high opinion of yo«r eloquence, whOe I have a far higher one of your general merit and diligence; and I am pleased, at the same time, that my own judgment is confirmed, inasmuch as I always laid it down aa a maiim, that no man can attain a character for wisdom and eloquence without the greatest study, indnstiy, and learning. But what was it that yon meant, when you said that we shonld excuse you if we Imew the motive which had impelled you to this discourse t What other motive conld there be but your inclination to oblige us, and to satisfy the desire of these young gentlemen, who have listened to you with the utmost attention J" " I was desirous," replied Antouiue, " to tike away from Crassus every pretence for refusal, who would, I was suie, engage in such a kind of dissertation either a little too modestly, or too reluctantly, for I would not apply the word disdainfully to a man of his af&bility. But what excuse will he now be able to make 1 That he is a person of consular and censorial dignity? I might ha,ve made the same excuse. Will he plead his a^ 1 Ho is four years younger than I. Can he say that ho is ignorant of these matters, of which 1 indeed have snatched some knowledge late in life, cur- sorily, and, as people say, at spare times, while he has applied to them from his youth with the most diligent study, under the most able masters^ I will Bay nothing of his genius, in which no man was ever his equal; for no one that hears me apeak, has so contemptible an opinion of himself as cot to hope to speak better, or at least as well; but while Crtisaus is speaking, no one is so conceited as to have the presumption to think that he shall ever Bpeak like him. Lest persons, therefore, of so much dignity as the present company, should have come to you in vain, let us at length, Crassus, hear you DE OIU.TOEB; OB, XC. " If I ahould grant you, Antonius," replied Craaaus, " that these tilings ax^ so, which however are far otherwise, what have you left for me this day, or for any man^ that he can possibly say 3 For I wOl apeak, my dearest friends, what I really thiak: I have oftea heard men of learning, {why do I say often! I should rather say sometimes; for how could I have that opportunity often, when I entered the forum quite a youth, and waa never abaent from it. longer than during my quiestorship!) but I have heard, as I said yester- day, both while I was at Athena, men of the ^rreatest learning, and in Asia that &mous rhetorician Scepaiua Metrodonu, discoursing upon these very aubjects; but no one of them ever appeared to me to have engaged in such a disaertation with greater eitent ofknowledge, or greater penetration, than our friend has shown to-day; hnt if it were otherwise, and if I thought anything had been omitted by Antonius, I ehould not be so unpolite, nay eo almost churlish, as to think that a trouble which I perceived to be your desire." " Have you then forgotten, Crassus," said Sulpioius, " that Autonius made such a divisiou with you, that he should e^^plain the equipmeat and implementa of the orator, and leave it to you to speak of decoration and embellishment!" " In the fii'st place," rejoined Craflaus, " who gave Antonius leave either to make such a partition, or to choose first that pEut which he liked heat 1 In tho next, if I rightly comprehended what I heard with the utmost pleoaure, he seemed to me to treat of both these matters in conjunction/' " But," observed Cotta, " he said nothing of the embelTisbioenta of language, or on that eicellence from which eloquence derives its very name." "Antonius then," said Crassus, " left me nothing but words, and took the substance for himseE." " Well," remai'ked Cteear, " if he has left you the more difficult part, wo have reason to desire to liear you; if that which is the easier, you have no reason to refiise." " And in regard to what yon said, CrassuB," interposed Catulus, "that if we would stay and pas the day with you here, you would comply with our wishes, do you not think it binding on your honourl" Cotta then smiled, and said, " I might, Crassus, escuae you; but take oare that Catulua has not made it a matter of religioua fiiith; it ia a point for the censor'a cognisance; and tou Bee how disgraceful it would be for a person of cans THE OHAHACTER OF THE ORATOB.
dignity^ to render himself obnosioua to anch censure." "Do as you pleasa, then," replied Crassus; " but for the present, as it is time, I think we must rise, and take some repose; in ths afternoon, if it is then ^reeable to jou, I ivill say something on these points, unless perclianoe you may wish to put me off till to-morrow." They ajl replied tliat they were ready to hear him either at once, or in the afternoon if he prefeiTed; as soon however as poaaible.
Cicero, iq tho iDtroduction to this book, litnients the sad deatbs of CrasBUB and AntoiuiiB. Ue then procaedB to relate Ciaaeuti'a further remarkB on elotiuence, and especioUj un style and delivery, in whkh ha wofi thought to excel all other epeskerii. Bee Cic. de Clar. Oiab. 0. 38. He shuws that an orator abould opeak correctly, perepieuoualy, elegintty, uid to the purpose. Style is to be omaznented by n taste- ' f al ohoioa of nords. snd by tropes and Sgures; and it must hava a oertein riiythm or harmony. Some obBerratlons are added on action and delivery in geneiiJ. In c. 14 a digresEsian is roade on the praiaes of eloquence, nnd the comhinatioti of a knowledge of philosophy, especudly the Academic and Feripabetic, with the study of it.
I. When I proceeded to execute ray design, brother Quintus, of relating and committing to writing in this third book, the remarks which Crassus made after the disBertation of An- tooias, bitter remembrance renewed in my mind its former concern and regret; for the genius worthy of immortality, the learning, tbe virtue that were in Lucius CrasauH, were all extinguished by sudden death, within ten days from the day whiob is comprised in this and the former book. When ha returned to Bomo on the last day of the theatrical enter- tainments," he was put into a violent emotion by that oration which was i-eported to have been delivered in an assembly of the people by Philippus, who, it was agreed, had deulared, " that he miist look for another counoil, as he could not : hod cftrry on the government with such a senate;" and on the morning of the thirteenth of September, both Crnaaus and a Ml senate came into the house on the call of Drusus. There, when DruBua had made many compiainta againat Philippua, he brought formally before the senate tbe fact that the oonBul liad thrown such grievous obloquy 6n that order, in his speech to the people. Here, as I have often heard it unanimoiisly said by men of the greatest judgment, although indeed it continually happened to Crasaua, ■whenever he had delivered a speech more exquisite than ordinary, that he was always thought never to have spoken better, yet by universal oouseiit it -was then determined, that all other orators had always been eicelled by CraBSuH, but that on that day he had been etoelled by himself; for he deplored the misfortune unsupported condition of the senate; an order whose hei ta,ry dignity was then being torn from it by a consul, some lawless ruf&an, a consul whose duty it was to act part of a good parent or trusty guardian towards it; but. that it waa not surprising, if, after he had ruined the com- monwealth by his own ooimsels, he should divorce the coun- sels of the senate from the commonwealth. When he bad applied these erpressions, which were like firebrands, to Phi-