 CHAPTER 11 The comic actor will also claim a certain amount of our attention, but only in so far as our future orator must be a master of the art of delivery. For I do not, of course, wish the boy, whom we are training to this end, to talk with the shrillness of a woman or in the tremulous accents of old age. Nor for that matter must he ape the vices of the drunkard or copy the cringing manners of a slave or learn to express the emotions of love, avarice or fear. Such accomplishments are not necessary to an orator and corrupt the mind, especially while it is still pliable and unformed. For repeated imitation passes into habit. Nor yet again must we adopt all the gestures and movements of the actor. Within certain limits the orator must be a master of both, but he must rigorously avoid stagingness and all extravagance of facial expression, gesture and gait. For if an orator does command a certain art in such matters, its highest expression will be in the concealment of its existence. What then is the duty of the teacher whom we have borrowed from the stage? In the first place he must correct all faults of pronunciation and see that the utterance is distinct and that each letter has its proper sound. There is an unfortunate tendency in the case of some letters to pronounce them either too thinly or too fully, while some we find too harsh and fail to pronounce sufficiently, substituting others whose sound is similar but somewhat duller. For instance, lambda is substituted for rho, a letter which was always a stumbling block to the moustanies. R, L and R have of course the same value. Similarly when C and G are not given their full value, they are softened into T and D. Again our teacher must not tolerate the affected pronunciation of S, with which we are painfully familiar, nor suffer words to be uttered from the depths of the throat or rolled out hollow-mouthed, or permit the natural sound of the voice to be overlaid with a fuller sound, a fault fatal to purity of speech. The Greeks give this peculiarity the name catapeplasmenon, plastered over, a term applied to the tone produced by a pipe, when the stops which produce the treble notes are closed, and a bass note is produced through the main aperture only. He will also see that final syllables are not clipped, that the quality of speech is continuously maintained, that when the voice is raised the strain falls upon the lungs and not the mouth, and that gesture and voice are mutually appropriate. He will also insist that the speaker faces his audience, that the lips are not distorted, nor the jaws parted to a grin, that the face is not thrown back, nor the eyes fixed on the ground, nor the neck slanted to left or right. For there are a variety of fault of facial expression. I have seen many who raised their eyebrows whenever the voice was called upon for an effort, others who wore a perpetual frown, and yet others who could not keep their eyebrows level, but raised one towards the top of the head and depressed the other till it almost closed the eye. These are details, but as I shall shortly show, they are of enormous importance for nothing that is unbecoming can have a pleasing effect. Our actor will also be required to show how a narrative should be delivered, and to indicate the authoritative tone that should be given to advise, the excitement which should mark the rise of anger, and the change of tone that is characteristic of pathos. The best method of so doing is to select special passages from comedy appropriate for the purpose, that is to say, resembling the speeches of a pleader. These are not only most useful in training the delivery, but are admirably adapted to increase a speaker's eloquence. These are the methods to be employed while the pupil is too young to take in more advanced instruction. But when the time has come for him to read speeches, and as soon as he begins to appreciate their merits, he should have a careful and efficient teacher at his side, not nearly to form his style of reading aloud, but to make him learn select passages by heart, and acclaim them standing in the manner which actual pleading would require, thus he will simultaneously train delivery, voice, and memory. I will not blame even those who give a certain amount of time to the teacher of gymnastics. I am not speaking of those who spend part of their life in rubbing themselves with oil and part in wine bibbing, and kill the mind by overattention to the body. Indeed, I would have such as these kept as far as possible from the boy whom we are training. But we give the same name to those who form gesture and motion, so that the arms may be extended in the proper manner, the management of the hands free from all trace of rusticity and inelegance, the attitude becoming, the movements of the feet appropriate, and the motions of the head and eyes in keeping with the poise of the body. No one will deny that such details form a part of the art of delivery, nor a divorce delivery from oratory. And there can be no justification for disdaining to learn what has got to be done, especially as Chironomy, which, as the name shows, is the law of gesture, originated in heroic times and met with the approval of the greatest Greeks, not accepting Socrates himself, while it was placed by Plato among the virtues of a citizen, and included by Crecipus in his instructions relative to the education of children. We are told that the Spartans even regarded a certain form of dance as a useful element in military training. Nor again did the ancient Romans consider such a practice as disgraceful. This is clear from the fact that priestly and ritual dances have survived to the present day, while Cicero, in the third book of his De Oratory, quotes the words of Crecius, in which he lays down the principle that the orator should learn to move his body in a bold and manly fashion, derived not from actors or the stage, but from martial and even from gymnastic exercises. And such a method of training has persisted uncensured to our own time. In my opinion, however, such training should not extend beyond the years of boyhood, and even boys should not devote too much time to it, for I do not wish the gestures of oratory to be modeled on those of the dance, but I do desire that such boyish exercises should continue to exert a certain influence, and that something of the grace which we acquired as learners should attend us in afterlife without our being conscious of the fact. CHAPTER XII The question is not infrequently asked, as to whether, admitting that these things ought to be learned, it is possible for all of them to be taught and taken in simultaneously. There are some who say that this is impossible on the ground that the mind is confused and tired by application to so many studies of different tendencies, neither the intelligence nor the physique of our pupils, nor the time at our disposal are sufficient, they even though older boys may be strong enough, it is a sin to put such a burden on the shoulders of childhood. These critics show an insufficient appreciation of the capacities of the human mind, which is so swift and nimble and versatile that it cannot be restricted to doing one thing only, but insists on devoting its attention to several different subjects, not nearly in one day, but actually at one and the same time. Do not harpists simultaneously exert the memory and pay attention to the tone and inflections of the voice, while the right hand runs over certain strings, and the left plucks, stops or releases others, all these actions being performed at the same moment. Again, do not we ourselves, when unexpectedly called upon to plead, speak while we are thinking what we are to say next, invention of argument, choice of words, rhythm, gesture, delivery, facial expression and movement, all being required simultaneously. If all these things can be done with one effort, in spite of their diversity, why should we not divide our hours among different branches of study? We must remember that variety serves to refresh and restore the mind, and that it is really considerably harder to work at one subject without intermission. Consequently, we should give the pen a rest by turning to read, and relieve the tedium of reading by changes of subject. However many fold our activities, in a certain sense would come fresh to each new subject. Who can maintain his attention, if he has to listen for a whole day to one teacher harping on the same subject, be it what it may? Change of studies is like change of foods. The stomach is refreshed by their variety, and derives greater nourishment from variety of vines. If my critics disagree, let them provide me with an alternative method. Are we first to deliver ourselves up to the sole service of the teacher of literature, and then similarly to the teacher of geometry, neglecting under the latter what was taught us by the former? And then are we to go on to the musician, forgetting all that we learned before? And when we study Latin literature, are we to do so to the exclusion of Greek? And fine, to have done with the matter once and for all, are we to do nothing except that which last comes to our hand? On this principle, why not advise farmers not to cultivate corn, vines, olives and orchard trees at the same time? Or from devoting themselves simultaneously to pastures, cattle, gardens, bees and poultry? Why do we ourselves daily allot some of our time to the business of the courts, some to the demands of our friends, some to our domestic affairs, some to the exercise of the body, and some even to our pleasures? Any one of these occupations, if pursued without interruption, would fatigue us. So much easier is it to do many things than to do one thing for a long time continuously. We need have no fear at any rate that boys will find their work too exhausting. There is no age more capable of enduring fatigue. The fact may be surprising, but it can be proved by experiment. For the mind is all the easier to teach before it is said. This may be clearly proved by the fact that, within two years after a child has begun to form words correctly, he can speak practically all without any pressure from outside. On the other hand, how many ears it takes for our newly imported slaves to become familiar with the Latin language? Try to teach an adult to read, and you will soon appreciate the force of the saying, apply it to those who do everything connected with their art with the utmost skill. He started young. Moreover, boys stand a strain of work better than new gentlemen. Just as small children suffer less damage from their frequent falls, from their crawling on hands and knees, and a little later, from their incessant play and their running about from mourn till eve, because they are so light in weight and have so little to carry. Even so, their minds are less susceptible of fatigue, because their activity calls for less effort, and application to study demands no exertion of their own, since they are merely so much plastic material to be molded by the teacher. And further owing to the general pliability of childhood, they follow their instructors with greater simplicity and without attempting to measure their own progress, for as yet, they do not even appreciate the nature of their work. Finally, as I have often noticed, the senses are less affected by mere hard work than they are by hard thinking. Moreover, there will never be more time for such studies, since at this age all progress is made through listening to the teacher. Later, when the boy has to ride by himself or to produce and compose something out of his own head, he will neither have the time nor the inclination for the exercises which we have been discussing. Since then, the teacher of literature neither can nor ought to occupy the whole day, for fear of giving his pupil a distaste for work, what are the studies to which the spare time should preferably be devoted? For I do not wish the students to wear himself out in such pursuits. I would not have him sing or learn to read music, or dive deep into the minute details of geometry, nor need he be a finished actor in his delivery, or a dancer in his gesture. If I did demand all these accomplishments, there would yet be time for them. The period allotted to education is long, and I am not speaking of duller wits. Why did Plato bear away the poem in all these wrenches of knowledge, which in my opinion the future orator should learn? I answer, because he was not merely content with the teaching which Athens was able to provide, or even with that of the Pythagoreans whom he visited in Italy, but even approached the priests of Egypt, and made himself thoroughly acquainted with all their secret lore. The plea of the difficulty of the subject is put forward merely to cloak our indolence, because we do not love the work that lies before us, nor seek to win eloquence for our own, because it is a noble art, and the fairest thing in all the world, but gird up our loins for mercenary ends, and for the winning of filthy lucre. Without such accomplishments many may speak in the courts, and make an income, but it is my prayer that every dealer in the vilest merchandise may be richer than they, and that the public crier may find his voice a more lucrative possession, and I trust that there is not one even among my readers who would think of calculating the monetary value of such studies, but he that has enough of the divine spark to conceive the ideal eloquence, he who, as the great tragic poet says, regards oratory as the queen of all the world, and seeks not the transitory gains of advocacy, but those stable and lasting rewards, which his own soul and knowledge and contemplation can give, he will easily persuade himself to spend his time, not, like so many, in the theater or in the campus marches, in dicing or in idol talk, to say not of the hours that are wasted in sleep or long-drawn banqueting, but in listening rather to the geometrician and the teacher of music, for by this he will win a richer harvest of the light that can ever be gathered from the pleasures of the ignorant, since among the many gifts of providence to men, not the least is this that the highest pleasure is the child of virtue. But the attractions of my theme have led me to say over much. Enough of those studies in which a boy must be instructed while he is yet too young to proceed to greater things. My next book will start afresh and will pass to the consideration of the duties of the teacher of rhetoric. End of Chapter 12. End of Book 1. The custom has prevailed, and is daily growing commoner, of sending boys to the schools of rhetoric much later than is reasonable. This is always the case as regards Latin rhetoric, and occasionally applies to Greek as well. The reason for this is twofold. The rhetoricians, more especially our own, have abandoned certain other duties, and the teachers of literature have undertaken tasks which rightly belong to others. For the rhetorician considers that his duty is merely to decline and give instruction in the theory and practice of declamation, and confines his activities to deliberative and judicial themes regarding all others as beneath the dignity of his profession. While the teacher of literature is not satisfied to take what is left him, and we owe him a debt of gratitude for this, but even presumes to handle declamations in character and deliberative themes, tasks which impose the very heaviest burden on the speaker. Consequently, subjects which once formed the first stages of rhetoric have come to form the final stages of a literary education, and boys who are right for more advanced study are kept back in the inferior school and practice rhetoric under the direction of teachers of literature. Thus we get the absurd result that a boy is not regarded as fit to go on to the schools of declamation till he knows how to decline. The two professions must each be assigned their proper sphere. Grammatike, which we translate as the science of letters, must learn to know its own limits, especially as it has encroached so far beyond the boundaries to which its unpretentious name should restrict it and to which its earlier professors actually confine themselves. Springing from a tiny fountain head, it has gathered strength from the historians and critics, and has swollen to the dimensions of a brimming river. Since not content with the theory of correct speech, no inconsiderable subject, it has usurped the study of practically all the highest departments of knowledge. On the other hand, rhetoric which derives its name from the power of eloquence must not shirk its peculiar duties, nor rejoice to see its own burdens shouldered by others, for the neglect of these is little less than a surrender of its birthright. I will, of course, admit that there may be a few professors of literature who have acquired sufficient knowledge to be able to teach rhetoric as well, but when they do so, they are performing the duties of the rhetorician, not their own. A further point into which we must inquire concerns the age at which a boy may be considered sufficiently advanced to profit by the instructions of the rhetorician. In this connection, we must consider not the boy's actual age, but the progress he has made in his studies. To put it briefly, I hope that the best answer to the question, when should a boy be sent to the school of rhetoric, is it when he is fit? But this question is really dependent on that previously raised, for if the duties of the teacher of literature are prolonged to include instruction in deliberative declamation, this will postpone the need for the rhetorician. On the other hand, if the rhetorician does not refuse to undertake the first duties of his task, his instruction will be required from the moment the boy begins to compose narratives, and his first attempts at passages of praise or denunciation. We know that the orators of earlier days improve their eloquence by declining themes and commonplaces, and other forms of rhetorical exercises not involving particular circumstances or persons, such as providing the material for real or imaginary causes. From this, we can clearly see what a scandalous dereliction of duty it is for the schools of rhetoric to abandon this department of their work, which was not merely its first, but for a long time its sole task. What is there in those exercises of which I have just spoken that does not involve the matters which are the special concern of rhetoric, and further, are typical of actual legal cases? Have we not to narrate facts in the law courts? Indeed, I am not sure that this is not the most important department of rhetoric in actual practice. Are not eulogy and denunciation frequently introduced in the course of the contests of the courts? Are not commonplaces frequently inserted in the very heart of lawsuits? Whether, like those which we find in the works of Cicero, they are directed against vice? Or, like those published by Quintus Hortensius, deal with questions of general interest, such as whether a small point of argument should carry weight? Or are employed to defend or impugn the credibility of witnesses? These are the weapons which we should always have stored in our armor, ready for immediate use as occasion may demand. The critic who denies that such matters concern and order is one who will refuse to believe that a statue is being begun when its limbs are actually being cast. Some will think that I am in too great a hurry, but let no one accuse me of thinking that the pupil who has been entrusted to the rhetorician should forthwith be withdrawn from the teacher of literature. The latter will still have certain hours allotted him, and there is no reason to fear that a boy will be overloaded by receiving instruction from two different masters. It will not mean any increase of work, but merely the division among two masters of the studies which were previously indiscriminately combined under one, and the efficiency of either teacher will be increased. This method is still in vogue among the Greeks, but has been abandoned by us, not perhaps without some excuse, as there were others ready to step into the rhetorician's shoes. Chapter 2 As soon, therefore, as a boy has made sufficient progress in his studies to be able to follow what I have styled the first age of instruction in rhetoric, he should be placed under a rhetorician. Our first task must be to enquire whether the teacher is of good character. The reason which leads me to deal with this subject in this portion of my work is not that I regard character as a matter of indifference where other teachers are concerned. I have already shown how important I think it in the preceding book, but the age to which the pupil has attained makes the mention of this point especially necessary. For, as a rule, boys are on the verge of manhood when transferred to the teacher of rhetoric and continue with him even when they are young men. Consequently, we must spare no effort to secure that the purity of the teacher's character should preserve those of tenderer years from corruption, while its authority should keep the bolder spirits from breaking out into license. Nor is it sufficient that he should merely set an example of the highest personal self-control. He must also be able to govern the behavior of his pupils by the strictness of his discipline. Let him, therefore, adopt a parental attitude to his pupils and regard himself as the representative of those who have committed their children to his charge. Let him be free from vice himself and refuse to tolerate it in others. Let him be strict but not austere, genial but not too familiar, for austerity will make him unpopular while familiarity breeds contempt. Let his discourse continually turn on what is good and honorable. The more he admonishes, the less he will have to punish. He must control his temper without, however, shutting his eyes to faults requiring correction. His instruction must be free from affectation, his industry great, his demands on his class continuous, but not extravagant. He must be ready to answer questions and to put them unasked to those who sit silent. In praising the recitations of his pupils, he must be neither grudging nor over-generous. The former quality will give them a distaste for work, while the latter will produce a complacent self-satisfaction. In correcting faults, he must avoid sarcasm and, above all, abuse for teachers whose rebukes seem to imply positive dislike, discourage industry. He should decline daily himself, and what is more, without stint, that his class may take his utterances home with them. For however many models for imitation he may give them from the authors they are reading, it will still be found that fuller nourishment is provided by the living voice, as we call it, more especially when it proceeds from the teacher himself, who, if his pupils are rightly instructed, should be the object of their affection and respect. And it is scarcely possible to say how much more readily we imitate those whom we like. I strongly disapprove of the prevailing practice of allowing boys to stand up or leap from the seats in the expression of their applause. Young men, even when they are listening to others, should be temperate in manifesting their approval. If this be insisted upon, the pupil will depend on his instructor's verdict and will take his approval as a guarantee that he has spoken well. The worst form of politeness, as it has come to be called, is that of mutual and indiscriminate applause, a practice which is unseemly, theatrical and unworthy of a decently disciplined school, in addition to being the worst foe to genuine study. For if every effusion is greeted with a storm of ready-made applause, care and industry come to be regarded as superfluous. The audience, no less than the speaker, should therefore keep their eyes fixed on their teacher's face, since thus they will learn to distinguish between what is praiseworthy and what is not. For just as writing gives facility, so listening begets the critical faculty. But in the schools of today, we see boys stooping forward, ready to string to their feet. At the close of each period, they not merely rise but rush forward with shouts of unseemly enthusiasm. Such compliments are mutual and the success of a declamation consists in this kind of applause. The result is vanity and empty self-sufficiency carried to such an extent that, intoxicated by the wild enthusiasm of their fellow pupils, they conceive a spite against their master, if his praise does not come up to their expectation. But teachers must also insist on receiving an attentive and quiet hearing from the class, when they themselves decline. For the master should not speak to suit his pupil's standard, but they should speak to suit his. Further, he should, if possible, keep his eyes open to note the points which each boy praises, and observe the manner in which he expresses his approval, and should rejoice that his words give pleasure, not only for his own sake, but for that of those who show sound judgment in their appreciation. I do not approve of boys sitting mixed with young men, for even if the teacher be such and one as we should desire to sing charge of the morals and studies of the young, and can keep his youthful pupils under proper control, it is nonetheless desirable to keep the weaker members separate from the more mature, and to avoid not only the actual charge of corruption, but the nearest suspicion of it. I have thought it worthwhile to put my views on this subject quite briefly, for I do not think it necessary even to warn the teacher that both he and his school must be free from the grosser vices. And should there be any father who does not trouble to choose a teacher for his son, who is free from the obvious taint of immorality, he may rest assured that all the other precepts, which I am attempting to lay down for the benefit of our youth, will be absolutely useless to him if he neglects this. Chapter 3 I do not think that I should pass by in silence, even the opinion of those who, even when they regard boys as right for the rhetorician, still do not think that they should at once be placed under the most eminent teacher available, but prefer to keep them for a while under inferior masters. On the ground that, in the elementary stages, a mediocre instructor is easier to understand and to imitate, and less reluctant to undertake the tiresome task of teaching the rudiments as being beneath his notice. I do not think that I need waste much time in pointing out how much better it is to absorb the best possible principles or how hard it is to get rid of faults which have once become ingrained, for it places a double burden on the shoulders of the later teacher and the preliminary task of un-teaching is harder than that of teaching. It is for this reason that the famous Piper Timotheus is said to have demanded from those who had previously been under another master a fee double the amount which he charged for those that came to him untaught. The mistake to which I am referring is, however, twofold. First, they regard these inferior teachers as adequate for the time being and are content with their instruction because they have a stomach that will swallow anything. This indifference, though blameworthy in itself, would yet be tolerable if the teaching provided by these persons were merely less in quantity and not inferior in quality as well. Secondly, and this is a still commoner delusion, they think that those who are blessed with greater gifts of speaking will not condescend to the more elementary details and that consequently they sometimes disdain to give attention to such inferior subjects of study and sometimes are incapable of so doing. For my part, I regard a teacher who is unwilling to attend to such details as being unworthy of the name of teacher and as for the question of capacity, I maintain that it is the most capable man who, given the will, is able to do this with most efficiency. For in the first place it is a reasonable inference that a man blessed with abnormal powers of eloquence will have made careful note of the various steps by which eloquence is attained. And in the second place, the reasoning faculty, which is especially developed in learned men, is all important in teaching, while finally no one is eminent in the greater things of his art if he be lacking in the lesser. Unless indeed we are asked to believe that while Phidias modeled his Jupiter to perfection, the decorative details of his statue would have been better executed by another artist, or that an orator does not know how to speak, or a distinguished physician is incapable of treating minor ailments. Yes, it may be answered, but surely you do not deny that there is a type of eloquence that is too great to be comprehended by undeveloped boys. Of course there is, but this eloquent teacher whom they fling in my face must be a sensible man with a good knowledge of teaching and must be prepared to stoop to his pupil's level, just as a rapid walker, if walking with a small child, will give him his hand and lessen his own speed, and avoid advancing at a pace beyond the powers of his little companion. Again, it frequently happens that the more learned the teacher, the more lucid and intelligible is his instruction. For clearness is the first virtue of eloquence, the less talented a man is, the more he will strive to exalt and dilate himself, just as short men tend to walk on tiptoe and weak men to use threads. As for those whose style is inflated or vicious, and whose language reveals a passion for high-sounding words or labors under any other form of affectation, in my opinion they suffer not from excess of strength, but of weakness, like bodies swollen, not with the plumpness of health, but with disease, or like men who wary of the direct road, but take them to bypass. Consequently, the worse a teacher is, the harder he will be to understand. I have not forgotten that I stated in the preceding book, when I urged that school was preferable to home education, that pupils at the commencement of their studies, when progress is as yet but in the bud, are more disposed to imitate their school fellows than their masters, since such imitation comes more easily to them. Some of my readers may think that the view which I am now maintaining is inconsistent with my previous statement, but I am far from being inconsistent, for my previous assertion affords the strongest reason for selecting the very best teachers for our boys, since pupils of a first-rate master, having received a better training, will, when they speak, say something that may be worthy of imitation, while if they commit some mistake, they will be promptly corrected. But the incompetent teacher, on the other hand, is quite likely to give his approval to faulty work, and by the judgment which he expresses, to force approval on the audience. The teacher should therefore be as distinguished for his eloquence as for his good character, and like Phoenix in the Iliad, be able to teach his pupil both how to behave and how to speak. I shall now proceed to indicate what I think should be the first subjects in which the rhetorician should give instruction, and shall postpone for a time our consideration of the art of rhetoric in the narrow sense in which that term is popularly used. For, in my opinion, it is most desirable that we should commence with something resembling the subjects already acquired under the teacher of literature. Now, there are three forms of narrative, without counting the type used in actual legal cases. First, there is the fictitious narrative, as we get it in tragedies and poems, which is not merely not true, but has little resemblance to truth. Secondly, there is the realistic narrative, as presented by comedies, which, though not true, has yet a certain very similitude. Thirdly, there is the historical narrative, which is an exposition of actual fact. Poetic narratives are the property of the teacher of literature. The rhetorician, therefore, should begin with the historical narrative, whose force is in proportion to its truth. I will, however, postpone my demonstration of what I regard as the best method of narration, till I come to deal with narration as required in the courts. In the meantime, it will be sufficient to urge that it should be neither dry nor judge-une, for why spend so much labor over our studies if a bold and naked statement of fact is regarded as sufficiently expressive. Nor, on the other hand, must it be tortuous or revel in elaborate descriptions, such as those in which so many are led to indulge by a misguided imitation of poetic license. Both these extremes are false, but that which springs from poverty of wit is worse than that which is due to imaginative excess. For we cannot demand or expect a perfect style from boys, but there is greater promise in a certain luxuriance of mind, an ambitious effort and an ardor that leads, at times, to ideas bordering on the extravagant. I have no objection to a little exuberance in the young learner. Nay, I would urge teachers, too, like nurses, to be careful to provide softer food for still undeveloped minds, and to suffer them to take their fill of the milk of the more attractive studies. For the time being, the body may be somewhat plump, but mature years will reduce it to a spareer habit. Such plumpness gives hope of strength. Child fully formed in every limb is likely to grow up a puny weakling. The young should be more daring and inventive, and should rejoice in their inventions, even though correctness and severity are still to be acquired. Exuberance is easily remedied, but bareness is incurable. Be your efforts what they may. To my mind, the boy who gives least promise is one in whom the critical faculty develops in advance of the imagination. I like to see the first fruits of the mind copious to excess, and almost extravagant in their profusion. The years as they pass will skim off much of the froth, reason who file away many excrescences, and something, too, will be removed by what I may perhaps call the wear and tear of life, so long as there is sufficient material to admit of cutting and chiseling away. And there will be sufficient, if only we do not draw the plate too thin to begin with, so that it runs the risk of being broken if the graver cuts too deep. Those of my readers who know their Cicero will not be surprised that I take this view, for does he not say I would have the youthful mind run riot in the luxuriance of its growth? We must therefore take a special care, above all, where boys are concerned, to avoid a dry teacher, even as we avoid a dry and arid soil for plants that are so young and tender. For with such a teacher, their growth is stunted, and their eyes are turned earthwards, and they are afraid to rise above the level of daily speech. Their leanness is regarded as a sign of health, and their weakness as a sign of sound judgment, and while they are content that their work should be devoid of faults, they fall into the fault of being devoid of merit. So let not the ripeness of vintage come too soon, nor the must turn harsh while yet in the vat, thus it will last for years and mellow with age. It is worthwhile too to warn the teacher that undue severity in correcting faults is liable at times to discourage a boy's mind from effort. He loses hope and gives way to vexation. Then, less of all, comes to hate his work, and fearing everything attempts nothing. This phenomenon is familiar to farmers, who hold that the pruning hook should not be applied while the leaves are yet young, for they seem to shrink from the steel, and to be unable as yet to endure a scar. The structure, therefore, should be as kindly as possible at this stage. Remedies which are harsh by nature, must be applied with a gentle hand. Some portions of the work must be praised, others tolerated, and others altered. The reason for the alterations should, however, be given, and in some cases the master will illumine an obscure passage by incertaining something of his own. Occasionally the teacher will find it useful to dictate whole themes himself, that the boy may imitate them, and for the time being, love them as they were his own. But if a boy's composition is so careless as not to admit of correction, I have found it useful to give a fresh exposition of the theme, and to tell him to write it again, pointing out that he was capable of doing better, for there is nothing like hope for making study a pleasure. Different ages, however, demand different methods. The task set and the standard of correction must be proportioned to the pupil's strength. When boys ventured on something that was too daring or exuberant, I used to say to them that I approved of it for the moment, but that the time would come when I should no longer tolerate such a style. The result was that the consciousness of ability filled them with pleasure without blinding their judgment. However, to return to the point from which I had digressed. Written narratives should be composed with the utmost care. It is useful at first, when a child has just begun to speak, to make him repeat what he has heard, with a view to improving his powers of speech, and for the same purpose and with good reason, I would make him tell his story from the end back to the beginning, or start in the middle, and go backwards or forwards, but only so long as he is at his teacher's knee, and while he is incapable of greater effort, and is beginning to connect words and things, thereby strengthening the memory. Even so, when he is beginning to understand the nature of correct and accurate speech, extemporary effusions, improvised without waiting for thoughts to supply the matter, or a moment's hesitation before rising to the feet, must not be permitted. They proceed from a passion for display that would do credit to a common mountbank. Such proceedings fill ignorant parents with senseless pride, while the boys themselves lose all respect for their work, adopt a conceited bearing, and acquire the habit of speaking in the worst style, and actually practicing their faults, while they develop an arrogant conviction of their own talents, which often proves fatal, even to the most genuine proficiency. There will be a special time for acquiring fluency of speech, and I shall not pass the subject by a notice. For the meantime, it will suffice if a boy, by dint of taking pains and working as hard as his age will permit, manages to produce something worthy of approval. Let him get used to this, until it becomes a second nature. It is only he who learns to speak correctly, before he can speak with rapidity, who will reach the heights that are our goal, or the levels immediately below them. To narratives is annexed the task of refuting and confirming them, styled Anaskewe and Kataskewe, from which no little advantage may be derived. This may be done not merely in connection with fiction and stories transmitted by the poets, but with the actual records of history as well. For instance, we may discuss the credibility of the story that a raven saddled on the head of Valyrius in the midst of a combat, and with its swings and beak struck the eyes of the goal who was his adversary, and a quantity of arguments may be produced on either side. Or we may discuss the tradition that Scipio was begotten by a serpent, or that Romulus was suckled by a she-wolf, or the story of Numa in Algeria. As regards Greek history, it allows itself something very like poetic license. Again, the time and place of some particular occurrence, and sometimes even the persons concerned, often provide matter for discussion. Livy, for instance, is frequently in doubt as to what actually occurred, and historians often disagree. From this, our pupil will begin to proceed to more important themes, such as the praise of famous men and the denunciation of the wicked. Such tasks are profitable in more than one respect. The mind is exercised by the variety and multiplicity of the subject matter, while the character is molded by the contemplation of virtue and vice. Further, wide knowledge of facts is thus acquired, from which examples may be drawn if circumstances so demand, such illustrations being of the utmost value in every kind of case. It is but a step from this to practice, in the comparison of the respective merits of true characters. This is, of course, a very similar theme to the preceding, but involves a duplication of the subject matter, and deals not merely with the nature of virtues and vices, but with their degree as well. But the method to be followed in panagyric and invective will be dealt with in its proper place, as it forms the third department of rhetoric. As to common places, I refer to those in which we denounce vices themselves, such as adultery, gambling, or profligacy, without attacking particular persons. They come straight from the courts, and if we add the name of the defendant, amount to actual accusations. As a rule, however, the general character of a common place is usually given a special turn. For instance, we make our adulterer blind, our gambler poor, and our profligate far advanced in years. Sometimes, too, they entail defense, for we may speak on behalf of luxury or love, while a pimp or a parasite may be defended in such a way that we appear as counsel, not for the character itself, but to rebut some specific charge that is brought against him. Theses, on the other hand, are concerned with the comparison of things and involve questions, such as which is preferable, town or country life, or which deserves the greatest praise, the lawyer or the soldier. These provide the most attractive and copious practice in the art of speaking, and are most useful, whether we have an eye to the duties of deliberative oratory, or the arguments of the courts. For instance, Cicero in his Promurena deals very fully with the second of the two problems mentioned above. Other theses, too, belong entirely to the deliberative class of oratory, as for instance the questions as to whether marriage is desirable, or whether a public career is a proper object of ambition. Put such discussions into the mouths of specific persons, and they become deliberative declamations at once. My own teachers used to prepare us for conjectural cases, by a form of exercise, which was at once useful and attractive. They made us discuss and develop questions, such as, why in Sparta is Venus represented as wearing armor? Or, why is Cupid believed to be a winged boy armed with arrows and a torch, and the like? And these exercises, our aim was to discover the intention implied, a question which frequently occurs in controversial declamations. Such themes may perhaps be regarded as a kind of kriya or moral assi. That certain topics, such as the question as to whether we should always believe a witness, or whether we should rely on circumstantial evidence, are part and parcel of actual forensic pleading. It's so obvious that certain speakers, men, too, who have held civil office with no small distinction, have written out passages dealing with such themes, committed them to memory, and kept them ready for immediate use, with a view to employing them when occasion arose as a species of ornament to be inserted into their extemporary speeches. This practice, for I am not going to postpone expressing my judgment on it, I regard a confession of extreme weakness. For how can such men find appropriate arguments in the course of actual cases, which continually present new and different features? How can they answer the points that their opponents may bring up? How deal a rapid counter-stroke in debate, or cross-examine a witness? If even in those matters which are of common occurrence, and crop up in the majority of cases, they cannot give expression to the most familiar thoughts, except in words prepared so far in advance. And when they produce the same passage in a number of different cases, they must come to loathe it like food that has grown cold or stale, and they can hardly avoid a feeling of shame at displaying this miserable piece of furniture to an audience whose memory must have detected it so many times already. Like the furniture of the ostentatious poor, it is sure to shoe signs of wear through being used for such a variety of different purposes. Also, it must be remembered that there is hardly a single commonplace of such universal application that it will fit any actual case, unless some special link is provided to connect it with the subject. Otherwise, it will seem to have been tacked on to the speech, not interwoven in its texture, either because it is out of keeping with the circumstances, or, like most of its kind, is inappropriately employed, not because it is wanted, but because it is ready for use. Some speakers, for example, introduce the most long-winded commonplaces, just for the sake of the sentiments they contain, whereas rightly the sentiments should spring from the context. Such disquisitions are at once ornamental and useful, only if they arise from the nature of the case. But the most finished eloquence, unless it tend to the winning of the case, is to say the least superfluous, and may even defeat its own purpose. However, I must bring this digression to a close. The praise or denunciation of laws requires greater powers. Indeed, they should almost be equal to the most serious tasks of rhetoric. The answer to the question as to whether this exercise is more nearly related to deliberative or controversial oratory depends on custom and law, and consequently varies in different states. Among the Greeks, the proposer of a law was called upon to set forth his case before a judge, while in Rome it was the custom to urge the acceptance or rejection of a law before the public assembly. But in any case, the arguments advanced in such cases are few in number, and of a definite type, for there are only three kinds of law, sacred, public, and private. This division is of rhetorical value, chiefly when a law is to be praised. For example, the oratory may advance from praise to praise by a series of gradations, praising in enactment first because it is law, secondly because it is public, and finally designed for the support of religion. As regards the questions which generally arise, they are common to all cases. Doubts may be raised as to whether the mover is legally in a position to propose a law, as happened in the case of Poblius Claudius, whose appointment as tribune of the plebs was alleged to be unconstitutional. Or the legality of the proposal itself may be impugned in various ways. It may, for instance, be urged that the law was not promulgated within 17 days, or was proposed, or as being proposed, on an improper day, or in defiance of the tribunitial veto, or the auspices, or any other legal obstacle, or again that it is contrary to some existing law. But such points are not suitable to elementary rhetorical exercises, which are not concerned with persons, times, or particular cases. Other subjects, whether the dispute be real or fictitious, are generally treated on the following lines. The fault must lie either in the words or the matter. As regards the words, the question will be whether they are sufficiently clear or contain some ambiguity. And as regards the matter, whether the law is consistent with itself, or should be retrospective, or apply to special individuals. The point, however, which is most commonly raised, is the question whether the law is right or expedient. I am well aware that many rhetoricians introduce a number of subdivisions in connection with this letter inquiry. I, however, include under the term right, all such qualities as justice, piety, and religion. Justice is, however, usually discussed under various aspects. The question may be raised about the acts with which the law is concerned, as to whether they deserve punishment or reward, or as to the degree of punishment or reward that should be assigned, since excess in either direction is open to criticism. Again, expediency is sometimes determined by the nature of things, sometimes by the circumstances of the time. Another common subject of controversy is whether a law can be enforced, while one must not shut one's eyes to the fact that exception is sometimes taken to laws in their entirety, but sometimes only in part, examples of both forms of criticism being found in famous speeches. I am well aware, too, that there are laws which are not proposed with a view to perpetuity, but are concerned with temporary honors or commands, such as the Lex Manilia, which is the subject of one of Cicero's speeches. This, however, is not the place for instructions on this topic, since they depend on the special circumstances of the matters under discussion, not on their general characteristics. Such were the subjects on which the ancients, as a rule, exercised their powers of speaking, though they called in the assistants of the logicians as well, to teach them the theory of argument. For it is generally agreed that the declamation of fictitious themes and imitation of the questions that arise in the law-quartz or deliberative assemblies came into vogue among the Greeks about the time of the Matrius of Filarum. Whether this type of exercise was actually invented by him, I have failed to discover, as I have acknowledged in another work. But not even those who most strongly assert his claim to be the inventor can produce any adequate authority in support of their opinion. As regards Latin teachers of rhetoric, of whom Plotius was the most famous, Cicero informs us that they came into existence towards the end of the Age of Cresces. End of Book 2, Chapter 4 Book 2, Chapters 5-7 of On the Education of an Order by Quintilian, translated by H. E. Butler. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 5. I will speak of the theory of declamation a little later. In the meantime, as we are discussing the elementary stages of her rhetorical education, I think I should not fail to point out how greatly the rhetorician will contribute to his pupil's progress if he imitates the teacher of literature whose duty it is to expound the poets and gives the pupils whom he has undertaken to train instruction in the reading of history and still more of the orators. I myself have adopted this practice for the benefit of a few pupils of suitable age whose parents thought it would be useful. But though my intentions were excellent, I found that there were two serious obstacles to success. Long custom had established a different method of teaching, and my pupils were for the most part full-grown youths who did not require this form of teaching, but were taking my work as their model. However, the fact that I have been somewhat late in making the discovery is not a reason why I should be ashamed to recommend it to those who come after me. I now know that this form of teaching is practiced by the Greeks, but is generally entrusted to assistants as the professors themselves consider that they have no time to give individual instruction to each pupil as he reads. And I admit that the form of lecture which this requires, designed as it is to make boys follow the written word with ease and accuracy, and even that which aims at teaching the meaning of any rare words that may occur, are to be regarded as quite below the dignity of the teacher of rhetoric. On the other hand, it is emphatically part of his profession and the undertaking which he makes in offering himself as a teacher of eloquence to point out the merits of authors or, for that matter, any faults that may occur. And this is all the more the case as I am not asking teachers to undertake the task of recalling their pupils to stand at their knee once more and of assisting them in the reading of whatever book they may select. It seems to me at once an easier and more profitable method to call for silence and choose some one pupil, and it will be best to select them by turns, to read aloud in order that they may at the same time learn the correct method of allocution. The case with which the speech selected for reading is concerned should then be explained, for if this is done they will have a clearer understanding of what is to be read. When the reading is commenced, no important point should be allowed to pass unnoticed, either as regards to the resourcefulness or the style shown in the treatment of the subject. The teacher must point out how the auditor seeks to win the favor of the judge in his exhortium, what clearness, brevity, and sincerity, and at times what true design and well-concealed artifice is shown in the statement of facts. For the only true art in pleading is that which can only be understood by one who is a master of the art himself. The teacher will produce further to demonstrate what skill is shown in the division into heads, how subtle and frequent are the thrusts of argument, what vigor marks the stirring, and what charm the soothing passage, how fierce is the invective, and how full of wit the jests, and in conclusion how the auditor establishes his sway over the emotions of his audience, forces his sway into their very hearts, and brings the feelings of his jury into perfect sympathy with all his words. Finally, as regards to the style, he will emphasize the appropriateness, elegance, or sublimity of particular words, will indicate where the amplification of the theme is deserving of praise, and where there is virtue in a diminuendo, and will call attention to brilliant metaphors, figures of speech and passages combining smoothness and polish with a general impression of manly vigor. It will, even at times, be of value to read speeches which are corrupt and faulty in style, but still meet with general admiration thanks to the perversity of modern tastes, and to point out how many expressions in them are inappropriate, obscure, high-flown, groveling, mean, extravagant, or effeminate, although they are not merely praised by the majority of critics, but worse still, praised just because they are bad. For we have come to regard direct and natural speech as incompatible with genius, while all that is in any way abnormal is admired as exquisite. Similarly, we see that some people place a higher value on figures which are in any way monstrous or distorted, than they do in those who have not lost any of the advantages of the normal form of men. There are even some who are captivated by the shams of artifice, and think that there's more beauty in those who pluck out superfluous hair, or use depilatories, who dress their locks by scorching them with the curling iron, and glow with a complexion that is not their own, than can ever be conferred by nature, pure and simple, so that it really seems as if physical beauty depended entirely on moral hideousness. It will, however, be the duty of the rhetorician not merely to teach these things, but to ask frequent questions as well, and test the critical powers of his class. This will prevent his audience from becoming inattentive, and will secure that his words do not fall on deaf ears. At the same time, the class will be led to find out things for themselves, and to use their intelligence, which is, after all, the chief aim of this method of training. For what else is our object in teaching save that our pupils should not always require to be taught? I will venture to say that this particular form of exercise, if diligently pursued, will teach learners more than all the textbooks of all the rhetoricians. These are, no doubt, of very considerable use, but being somewhat general in their scope, it is quite impossible for them to deal with all the special cases that are of almost daily occurrence. The art of war will provide a parallel. It is no doubt based on certain general principles, but it will, nonetheless, be far more useful to know the methods employed, whether wisely or the reverse, by individual generals under varying circumstances and conditions of time and place. For there are no subjects in which, as a rule, practice is not more valuable than precept. It is a teacher to decline to provide a model for his audience, and will not more profit be derived from the reading of Cicero or Demosthenes. It is a pupil to be publicly corrected if he makes a mistake in the claiming, and will it not be more useful and more agreeable to to correct some actual speech? For everyone has a preference for hearing the faults of others censured rather than his own. I might say more on the subject, but everyone can see the advantages of this method. Would that the reluctance to put it into practice were not as great as the pleasure that would undoubtedly be derived from so doing? This method once adopted, we are faced by the comparatively easy question as to what authors should be selected for our reading. Some have recommended authors of inferior myriad on the ground that they were easier to understand. Others, on the contrary, would select the more florid school of writers on the ground that they are likely to provide an orishment best suited to the mind of the young. For my part, I would have them read the best authors from the very beginning, and never leave them, choosing those, however, who are simplest and most intelligible. For instance, when prescribing for boys, I should give Livy the preference over Salist. For although the latter is the greater historian, one requires to be well advanced in one's studies to appreciate him properly. Cicero, in my opinion, provides pleasant reading for beginners, and is sufficiently easy to understand. It is position not only to learn much from him, but to come to love him. After Cicero, I should, following the advice of Livy, place such authors as most nearly resemble him. There are two faults of taste against which boys should be guarded with the utmost care. Firstly, no teacher suffering from an excessive admiration of antiquity should be allowed to cramp their minds by the study of Cato and the Gracchi and other similar authors. For such reading will give them a harsh and bloodless style, since they will as yet be unable to understand the force and vigor of these authors, and contending themselves with a style which doubtless was admirable in its day, but is quite unsuitable to ours, who come to think, and nothing could be more fatal, that they really resemble great men. Secondly, the opposite extreme must be equally avoided. They must not be permitted to fall victims to the pernicious allurements of the precious blooms produced by our modern euphemists, thus acquiring a passion for the luscious sweetness of such authors, whose charm is all the more attractive to boyish intellects, because it is so easy of achievement. Once, however, the judgment is formed and out of danger of perversion, I should strongly recommend the reading of ancient authors, since if, after clearing away all the incoutness of those rude ages, we succeed in absorbing the robust vigor and virility of their native genius, our more finished style will shine with an added grace. I also approve the study of the moderns at this stage, since even they have many merits. For nature has not doomed us to be dullers, but we have altered our style of oratory and indulged our cabrises over much. It is in their ideals, rather than their talents, that the ancients show themselves as superiors. It will therefore be possible to select much that is valuable for modern writers, but we must say here that precious metal is not debased by the dross with which it is so closely intermingled. Further, I would not merely gladly admit, but would even contend that we have recently had and still have certain authors who deserve imitation in their entirety. But it is not for everyone to decide who these writers are. Error in the choice of earlier authors is attended with less danger, and I have therefore postponed the study of the moderns for fear that we should imitate them before we are qualified to judge of their merits. 6. I come now to another point in which the practice of teachers has differed. Some have not been content with giving directions as to the arrangements of the subjects set them as themes for declamation, but have developed them at some length themselves, supplying not merely the proofs, but the lines upon which the emotional passages should proceed. Others have merely suggested a bare outline, and then, when the declarations were over, have indicated the points missed by each speaker, and worked up certain passages with no last care that they would have used, had they been going to stand up to speak themselves. Both practices have their advantages, and therefore I will not give either the preeminence. But if we must choose one of the two, it will be found more profitable to point out the right road at the outset, and not merely to recall the pupil from his error when he has already gone astray. Since in the first place, the correction is only received by the ear, whereas when he is given a sketch of the various heads of the declamation, he has to take them down and think about them. Secondly, instruction is always more readily received than reproof. Indeed, those of our pupils who have a lively disposition are liable in the present condition of manners to lose their temper when admonished, and to offer silent resistance. That, however, is no reason for refraining from the public correction of faults, for we must take the rest of the class into account, who will believe that whatever has not been corrected by the master is right. The two methods should be employed conjointly, and in such a way as circumstances may demand. Beginners must be given a subject sketched out ready for treatment and suitable to their respective powers. But when they show that they have formed themselves sufficiently closely on the models placed before them, it will be sufficient to give them a few brief hints for their guidance, and to allow them to advance trusting in their own strength and without external support. Sometimes they should be left entirely to their own devices, that they may not be spoiled by the bad habit of always relying on another's efforts, and so prove incapable of effort and originality. But as soon as they seem to have acquired a sound conception of what they ought to say, the teacher's work will be near completion. If they still make some mistakes, they must be brought back under his guidance. We may draw a lesson from the Birds of the Year, whom we see distributing the food which they have collected in their bills among their weak and helpless nestlings. But as soon as they are fledged, we see them teaching their young to leave the nest and fly around about it, themselves leading the way. Finally, when they have proved their strength, they are given the freedom of the open sky and left to trust in themselves. 7. There is one practice at present in vogue for boys of the age under discussion, which ought, in my opinion, undoubtedly to be changed. They should not be forced to commit all their own compositions to memory, and to deliver them on an appointed day, as is at present the custom. This practice is especially popular with the boys' fathers, who think that their sons are not really studying, unless they declaim on every possible occasion. Although, as a matter of fact, progress depends mainly on industry. For though I strongly approve of boys' writing compositions, and would have them spend as much time as possible over such tasks, I had much rather that for the purpose of learning by heart, passages should be selected from the orators or historians or any other works that may be deserving of such attention. For it is a better exercise for the memory to learn the words of others than it is to learn one's own, and those who have practiced this far harder task will find no difficulty in committing to memory their own compositions, with which they are already familiar. Further, they will form an intimate acquaintance with the best writings, will carry their models with them, and unconsciously reproduce the style of the speech which has been impressed upon the memory. They will have a plentiful and choice vocabulary, and a command of artistic structure, and the supply of figures which will not have to be hunted for, but will offer themselves spontaneously from the treasure house, if I may so call it, in which they are stored. In addition, they will be in the agreeable position of being able to quote the happy sayings of the various authors, a power which they will find most useful in the courts. For phrases which have not been coined merely to suit the circumstances of the lawsuit of the moment, carry greater weight and often, when greater praise than if they were our own. I would, however, allow boys occasionally to reclaim their own compositions, that they may reap the reward of their labors in the applause of a large audience, that most coveted of all prizes. But this should not be permitted until they have produced something more finished than usual. They will thus be rewarded for their industry, and rejoice in the thought that the privilege accorded them is the recompense of merit. END OF BOOK 2 CHAPTER 8 It is generally and not unreasonably regarded as the sign of a good teacher that he should be able to differentiate between the abilities of his respective pupils and to know their natural bent. The gifts of nature are infinite in their variety, and mind differs from mind, almost as much as body from body. This is clear from a consideration of the orators themselves, who differ in style to such an extent that no one is like another, in spite of the fact that numbers have modeled their style on that of their favorite authors. Many again think it useful to direct their instruction to the fostering of natural advantages, and to guide the talents of their pupils along the lines which they instinctively tend to follow. Just as an expert gymnast, when he enters a gymnasium full of boys, after testing body and mind in every way, is able to decide for what class of athletic contest they should be trained. Even so, they say, a teacher of oratory, after careful observation of a boy's stylistic preferences, be they for terceness and polish. Energy, dignity, charm, roughness, brilliance, or wit will so adapt his instructions to individual needs, that each pupil will be pushed forward in the sphere for which his talents seem specially to design him. For nature, when cultivated, goes from strength to strength, while he who runs counter to her bent is ineffective in those branches of the art for which he is less suited and weakens the talents which he seemed born to employ. Now, since the critic who is guided by his reason is free to descend even from received opinions, I must insist that to my thinking, this view is only partially true. It is undoubtedly necessary to note the individual gifts of each boy, and no one would ever convince me that it is not desirable to differentiate courses of study with this in view. One boy will be better adapted for the study of history, another for poetry, another for law, while some perhaps had better be packed off to the country. The teacher of rhetoric will distinguish such special attitudes, just as our gymnast will turn one pupil into a runner, another into a boxer, or wrestler, or an expert at some other of the athletic accomplishments for which prizes are awarded at the sacred games. But on the other hand, he who is destined for the bar must study not one department merely, but must perfect himself in all the accomplishments which his profession demands, even though some of them may seem too hard for him when he approaches them as a learner. For, if natural talent alone were sufficient, education might be dispensed with. Suppose we are given a pupil who, like so many, is of depraved tastes and swollen with his own conceit. Shall we suffer him to go his own sweet way? If a boy's disposition is naturally dry in de june, I cannot feed it up or at any rate clothe it in fairer apparel. For, if in some cases it is necessary to remove certain qualities, surely there are others where we may be permitted to add what is lacking. Not that I would set myself against the will of nature, no in that good quality should be neglected, but defects must be made good and weaknesses made strong. When Isocrates, the prince of Instructors, whose works proclaim his eloquence no less than his pupils testify to his excellence as a teacher, gave his opinion of aphoras and teopompus to the effect that the former needed the spur and the latter the curb, what was his meaning? Surely not that the sluggish temperament of the one and the headlong order of the other alike required modification by instruction, but rather that each would gain from an admixture of the qualities of the other. In the case of weaker understandings, however, some concession must be made and they should be directed merely to follow the call of their nature, since thus they will be more effective in doing the only thing that lies in their power. But if we are fortunate enough to meet with richer material, such as justifies us in the hope of producing a real order, we must leave no oratorical virtue uncared for. For though he will necessarily have a natural bend for some special department of oratory, he will not feel repelled by the others, and by sheer application will develop his other qualities, until they equal those in which he naturally excels. The skilled gymnast will once again provide us with a parallel. If he undertakes to train a pancreatist, he will not merely teach him how to use his fists or his heels, nor will he restrict his instructions to the holds in wrestling, giving special attention to certain tricks of the sky, but will train him in every department of the science. Some will no doubt be incapable of attaining proficiency in certain exercises. These must specialize on those which lie within their powers. For there are two things which he must be most careful to avoid. First, he must not attempt the impossible. Secondly, he must not switch off his pupil from what he can do well to exercises for which he is less well suited. But if his pupil is like the famous Nicostratus, whom we saw when he was old and we were boys, he will train him equally in every department of the science, and make him a champion both in boxing and wrestling, like Nicostratus himself, who won the pre for both contests within a few days of each other. And how much more important is the employment of such methods where our future order is concerned? It is not enough to be able to speak with terceness, subtlety, or vehemence any more than it would be for a singing master to excel in the upper, middle, or lower register only, or in particular sections of these registers alone. Eloquence is like a harp, and will never reach perfection unless all its strings be taught and in tune. Though I have spoken in some detail of the duties of the teacher, I shall for the moment confine my advice to the learners to one solitary admonition, that they should love their masters not less than their studies, and should regard them as the parents not indeed of their bodies, but of their minds. Such attachments are of invaluable assistance to study. For under their influence, they find it a pleasure to listen to their teachers, believe what they say, and long to be like them, come cheerfully and gladly to school, are not angry when corrected, rejoice when praised, and seek to win their master's affection by the devotion with which they pursue their studies. For as it is the duty of the master to teach, so it is the duty of the pupil to show himself teachable. The two obligations are mutually indispensable, and just as it takes two parents to produce a human being, and as the seed is scattered in vain, if the ground is hard, and there is no furrow to receive it, and bring it to growth, even so eloquence can never come to maturity unless teacher and taught are in perfect sympathy. Chapter 10. These elementary stages are in themselves no small undertaking, but they are merely members and portions of the greater whole. When therefore the pupil has been thoroughly instructed and exercised in these departments, the time will, as a rule, have come for him to attempt deliberative and forensic themes. But before I begin to discuss these, I must say a few words on the theory of declamation, which is at once the most recent and most useful of rhetorical exercises. For it includes practically all the exercises of which we have been speaking, and is in close touch with reality. As a result, it has acquired such a vogue that many think that it is the sole training necessary to the formation of an order, since there is no excellence in a formal speech which is not also to be found in this type of rhetorical exercise. On the other hand, the actual practice of declamation has degenerated to such an extent, owing to the fault of our teachers, that it has come to be one of the chief causes of the corruption of modern oratory. Such is the extravagance and ignorance of our declaimers. But it is possible to make a sound use of anything that is naturally sound. The subjects chosen for themes should therefore be as true to life as possible, and the actual declamations should, as far as may be, be modeled on the pleadings for which it was devised as a training. For we shall hunt in vain among sponsornes and interdicts, from magicians and plagues and oracles and stepmothers more cruel than any in tragedy, and other subjects so more unreal than these. What, then, are we never to permit young men to handle unreal or to be more accurate poetic themes that they may run riot and exult in their strength and display their full stature? It were best to prohibit them absolutely. But at any rate, the themes, however swelling and magnificent, should not be such as to seem foolish and laughable to the eye of an intelligent observer. Consequently, if we must make some concession, let us allow the declaimer to gorge himself occasionally as long as he realizes that his case will be like that of cattle that have blown themselves out with a surfeit of green food. They are cured of their disorder by bloodletting and then put back to food such as will maintain their strength. Similarly, the declaimer must be rid of his superfluous fat and his corrupt humors must be discharged if he wants to be strong and healthy. Otherwise, the first time he makes any serious effort, his swollen emptiness will stand revealed. Those, however, who hold that declamation has absolutely nothing in common with pleading in the courts, are clearly quite unaware of the reasons which gave rise to this type of exercise. For if declamation is not a preparation for the actual work of the courts, it can only be compared to the rant of an actor or the raving of a lunatic. For what is the use of attempting to conciliate a non-existent judge or of stating a case which all know to be false or of trying to prove a point on which judgment will never be passed? Such waste of effort is, however, a comparative trifle. But what can be more ludicrous than to work oneself into a passion and to attempt to excite the anger or grief of our hearers, unless we are preparing ourselves by such mimic combats for the actual strife and the pitched battles of the law courts? Is there then no difference between our declamations and genuine forensic oratory? I can only reply that if we speak with a desire for improvement, there will be no difference. I wish, indeed, that certain additions could be made to the existing practice, that we made use of names, that our fictitious debates dealt with more complicated cases and sometimes took longer to deliver, that we were less afraid of words drawn from everyday speech, and that we were in the habit of seasoning our words with jests. For, as regards all these points, we are mere novices when we come to actual pleading, however elaborate the training that the schools have given us on other points. And even if display is the object of declamation, surely we ought to unbend a little for the entertainment of our audience, for even in those speeches which, although undoubtedly to some extent concerned with the truth, are designed to charm the multitude, such, for instance, as panegyrics and the oratory of display in all its branches. It is permissible to be more ornate, and not merely to disclose all the resources of our art, which, in cases of law, should, as a rule, be concealed, but actually to flaunt them before those who have been summoned to hear us. Declamation, therefore, should resemble the truth, since it is modeled on forensic and deliberative oratory. On the other hand, it also involves an element of display, and should in consequence assume a certain air of elegance. In this connection, I may cite the practice of comic actors, whose delivery is not exactly that of common speech, since that would be inartistic, but is, on the other hand, not far removed from the essence of nature. For, if it were, their mimicry would be a failure. What they do, therefore, is to exalt the simplicity of ordinary speech by a touch of stage decoration. So, too, we shall have to put up with certain inconveniences arising from the nature of our fictitious themes. Such drawbacks occur more especially in connection with those numerous details which are left uncertain, and which we presume to suit our purpose, such as the ages of our characters, their wealth, their families, or the strength, laws and manners of the cities where our scenes are laid and the like. Sometimes, we even draw arguments from the actual flaws of the assumptions involved by the theme. But each of these points shall be dealt with in its proper place. For, although the whole purpose of this work is the formation of an orator, I have no intention of passing over anything that has a genuine connection with the practice of the schools, for fear that students may complain of the omission. Chapter 11. I have now arrived at the point when I must begin to deal with that portion of the art at which those who have omitted the preceding stages generally commence. I can see, however, that certain critics will attempt to obstruct my path at the very outset, for they will urge that eloquence can dispense with rules of this kind, and in smug satisfaction with themselves and the ordinary methods and exercises of the schools will laugh at me for my pains, in which they will be only following the example of certain professors of no small reputation. One of these gentlemen, I believe, when asked to define a figure and a thought, replied that he did not know what they were, but that if they had anything to do with the subject, they would be found in his declamation. Another, when asked whether he was a follower of Theodorus or Apollodorus. Oh, as for me, I am all for the iterations. To do him justice, he could hardly have found a neater way to avoid confessing his ignorance. These persons, just because, thanks to their natural gifts, they are regarded as brilliant performers and have, as a matter of fact, uttered much that deserves to be remembered, think that while most men share their careless habits, few come near them for talent. Consequently, they make it their boast that there is no need of proof or careful marshalling effects when we are speaking on fictitious themes, but only of some of those sounding epigrams, the expectation of which has filled the lecture room, and these, they say, are best improvised on the spur of the moment. Further, owing to their contendance for method, when they are meditating on some future effusion, they spend whole days looking at the ceiling, in the hope that some magnificent inspiration may occur to them, or rock their bodies to and throw, booming inarticulately, as if they had a trumpet inside them, and adapting their agitated movements, not to the delivery of the words, but to their pursuit. Some again, saddle on certain definite openings, long before they have thought what they are going to say, with a view to using them as pegs for subsequent snatches of eloquence, and then, after practicing their delivery, first in silent thought, and then allowed for hours together, in utter desperation of providing any connecting links, abandon them, and take refuge in one formula after another, each no less hacknide and familiar than the last. The least unreasonable of them devote their attention not to the actual cases, but to their purple patches, in the composition of which they pay no attention to the subject matter, but fire off a series of isolated thoughts, just as they happen to come to hand. The result is a speech which, being composed of disconnected passages, having nothing in common with each other, must necessarily lack cohesion, and can only be compared to a schoolboy's notebook, in which he jots down any passages from the declamations of others that have come in for a word of praise. Nonetheless, they do occasionally strike out some good things, and some fine epigrams, such as they make their boast. Why not? Slaves and barbarians sometimes achieve the same effects, and if we are to be satisfied with this sort of thing, then goodbye to any theory of oratory. I must, however, admit that the general opinion is that the untrained speaker is usually the more vigorous. This opinion is due primarily to the erroneous judgment of faulty critics, who think that true vigor is all the greater for its lack of art, regarding it as a special proof of strength to force what might be opened, to break what might be united, and to drag what might be led. Even a gladiator who plunges into the fight with no skill at arms to help him, and a wrestler who puts forth the whole strength of his body the moment he has got a hold, is acclaimed by them for his outstanding vigor. Although it is a frequent occurrence in such cases for the latter to be overthrown by his own strength, and for the former to find the fury of his own slot harried by his adversary with a supple turn of the wrist. But there are many details in this department of our art which the unskilled critic will never notice. For instance, careful division under heads, although of the utmost importance in actual cases, makes the outward show of strength seem less than the reality. The unhewn block is larger than the polished marble, and things, when scattered, seem more numerous than when placed together. There is moreover a sort of resemblance between certain merits and certain defects. Abuse passes for freedom of speech, rashness for courage, prodigality for abundance. But the untrained advocate will abuse too openly and too often, even though by so doing he imperils the success of the case which he has undertaken, and not seldom his own personal safety as well. But even such violence will win men's good opinion, since they are only too pleased to hear another say things which nothing would have induced them to utter themselves. Such speakers are also less careful to avoid that other peril, the pitfall of style, and are so reckless in their efforts that sometimes, in their passion for extravagance, they light upon some really striking expression, but such success is rare and does not compensate for their other defects. For the same reason, the uninstructed sometimes appear to have a richer flow of language, because they say everything that can be said, while the learned exercise discrimination and self-restraint. To this must be added the fact that such persons take no trouble to prove their contentions, and consequently steer clear of the chilly reception given in our decadent lawful words to arguments and seek only for such themes as may beguile the ears of the public, even at the cost of appealing to the most perverted tastes. Again, their epigrams, the sole objects of their quest, seem all the more striking, because of their dreariness and squalor of their context, since fleshes are more clearly seen against a background not of mere shade, as Cicero says, but of pitchy darkness. Well, let the world credit them with as much genius as it pleases, so long as it is admitted that such praise is an insult to any man of real eloquence. Nonetheless, it must be confessed that learning does take something from oratory, just as the file takes something from rough surfaces or the whetstone from blunt edges or age from wine. It takes away defects, and if the results produced after subjection to the polish of literary study are less, they are less only because they are better. But these creatures have another weapon in their armory. They seek to obtain the reputation of speaking with greater vigor than the trained orator by means of their delivery, for they shout on all and every occasion, and bellow their every utterance with uplifted hand to use their own phrase, dashing this way and that, panting, gesticulating wildly and wagging their heads with all the frenzy of a lunatic. Smite your hands together, stamp the ground, slap your thigh, your breast, your forehead, and you will go straight to the heart of the dingier members of your audience. But the educated speaker, just as he knows how to moderate his style and to impart variety and artistic form to his speech, is an equal adapt in the matter of delivery, and will suit his action to the tone of each portion of his utterances. While, if he has any one canon for universal observance, it is that he should both possess the reality and present the appearance of self-control. But the ranchers confer the title of force on that which is really violence. You may also occasionally find not merely pleaders, but what is far more shameful, teachers as well, who, after a brief training in the art of speaking, throw method to the winds, and yielding to the impulse of the moment, run riot in every direction, abusing those who hold literature in higher respect as fools without life, courage or vigor, and calling them the first and worst name that occurs to them. Still, let me congratulate these gentlemen on attaining eloquence without industry, method or study. As for myself, I have long since retired from the task of teaching in the schools and of speaking in the courts, thinking it the most honorable conclusion to retire while my services were still in request, and all I ask is to be allowed to console my leisure by making such researches and composing such instructions as will, I hope, prove useful to young men of ability, and are at any rate a pleasure to myself. Let no one, however, demand from me a rigid code of rules such as most authors of textbooks have laid down, or ask me to impose on my students of rhetoric a system of laws immutable as fate, a system in which injunctions as to the exhortium and its nature lead the way. Then come the statement effects and the laws to be observed in this connection. Next, the proposition, or as some prefer, the digression, followed by prescriptions as to the order in which the various questions should be discussed, with all the other rules, which some speakers follow, though they had no choice, but to regard them as orders, and as if were a crime to take any other line. If the whole of rhetoric could be thus embodied in one compact code, it would be an easy task of little compass, but most rules are liable to be altered by the nature of the case, circumstances, time and place, and by hard necessity itself. Consequently, the all important gift for an order is a wise adaptability, since he is called upon to meet the most varied emergencies. What if you should instruct a general, as often as he marshalls his troops for battle, to draw up his front in line, advance his wings to left and right, and station his cavalry to protect his flank? This will perhaps be the best plan if circumstances allow, but it may have to be modified owing to the nature of the ground, if, for instance, he is confronted by a mountain, if a river bars his advance, or his movements are hampered by hills, woods, or broken country. Or again, it may be modified by the character of the enemy, or the nature of the crisis by which he is faced. On one occasion, he will fight in line, on another in column, on one he will use his auxiliary troops, and another his legionnaires, while occasionally a faint of flight may win the day, so too with the rules of oratory. Is the exhortium necessary or superfluous? Should it be long or short, addressed entirely to the judge, or sometimes directed to some other quarter by the employment of some figure's speech? Should the statement of fact be concise or developed at some length? Continuous or divided into sections? And should it follow the actual or an artificial order of events? The auditor will find the answers to all these questions in the circumstances of the case, so too with the order in which questions should be discussed, since in any given debate it may often suit one party best that such and such a question come up first. While their opponents will be best suited by another. For these rules have not the formal authority of laws or decrees of the plebs, but are, with all they contain, the children of expediency. I will not deny that it is generally expedient to conform to such rules, otherwise I should not be writing now, but if our friend expediency suggests some other course to us, why? We shall disregard the authority of the professors and follow her. For my part, above all things, this I enjoin and urge and urge anew, that in all his pleadings the order should keep two things constantly in view, what is becoming and what is expedient. But it is often expedient and occasionally becoming to make some modification in the time honored order. We see the same thing in pictures and statues. Dress, expression and attitude are frequently varied. The body, when held bold upright, has but little grace, for the face looks straight forward, the arms hang by the side, the feet are joined, and the whole figure is stiff from top to toe. But that curve, I might almost call it motion, with which we are so familiar, gives an impression of action and animation. So too, the hands will not always be represented in the same position, and the variety given to the expression will be infinite. Some figures are represented as running or rushing forward, others sit or reclying, some are nude, others clothed, while some again are half dressed, half naked. Where can we find a more violent and elaborate attitude than that of the discoverer of Mayan? Yet, the critic who disapproved of the figure, because it was not upright, would merely show his utter failure to understand the sculpture's art, in which the very novelty and difficulty of execution is what most deserves our praise. A similar impression of grace and charm is produced by rhetorical figures, whether they be figures of thought or figures of speech, for they involve a certain departure from the straight line, and have the merit of variation from the ordinary usage. In a painting, the full face is most attractive, but a palace painted antigonus in profile, to conceal the blemish caused by the loss of one eye. So too, in speaking, there are certain things which have to be concealed, either because they ought not to be disclosed, or because they cannot be expressed as they deserve. Timothy's, who was, I think, a native of Sidnes, provides an example of this in the painting with which he won the victory over qualities of Teas. It represented the sacrifice of Iphigenia, and the artist had depicted an expression of grief on the face of Calcas, and of still greater grief on that of Ulysses, while he had given Menelaus an agony of sorrow beyond which his art could not go. Having exhausted his powers of emotional expression, he was at a loss to portray the father's face as it deserved, and solve the problem by veiling his head, and leaving his sorrow to the imagination of the spectator. Salas did something similar when he wrote, I think it better to say nothing of Carthage, rather than say too little. It has always, therefore, been my custom not to tie myself down to universal or general rules, this being the nearest equivalent I can find for the Greek Catholic rules. For rules are rarely of such a kind that their validity cannot be shaken and overthrown in some particular or other. But I must reserve each of these points for fuller treatment in its proper place. For the present, I will only say that I do not want young men to think their education complete when they have mastered one of the small textbooks of which so many are in circulation, or to ascribe a talismanic value to the arbitrary decrees of theorists. The art of speaking can only be attained by hard work and aciduity of study, by a variety of exercises and repeated trial, the highest prudence and unfailing quickness of judgment. But rules are helpful all the same, so long as they indicate the direct road and do not restrict us absolutely to the ruts made by others. For he who thinks it an unpardonable sin to leave the old old track must be content to move at much the same speed as a tight rope walker. Thus, for example, we often leave a paved military road to take a shortcut, or finding that the direct route is impossible owing to floods having broken down the bridges are forced to make a circuit, while if our house is on fire and flames bar the way to the front door, we make our escape by breaking through a party wall. The orators task covers a large ground, is extremely varied and develops a new aspect almost every day, so that the last word on the subject will never have been said. I shall, however, try to set forth the traditional rules and to point out their best features, mentioning the changes, additions and subtractions which seem desirable.