 Section 1 of a Dialogue Concerning Oratory or the Causes of Corrupt Eloquence A Dialogue Concerning Oratory or the Causes of Corrupt Eloquence by Publius Cornelius Tacitus translated by Arthur Murphy You have often inquired of me, my good friend Justice Fabius, how and from what causes it has preceded that while ancient times display a race of great and splendid orators, the present age, dispirited and without any claim to the praises of eloquence, has scarcely retained the name of an orator. By that appellation we now distinguish none but those who foreshed in a former period. To the eminent of the present day we give the title of speakers, pleaders, advocates, patrons, in short, everything but orators. The inquiry is in its nature delicate, tending, if we are not able to contend with antiquity, to impeach our genius, and if we are not willing, to arraign our judgment. An answer to so nice a question is more than I should venture to undertake were I to rely altogether upon myself. But it happens that I am able to state the sentiments of men distinguished by their eloquence, such as it is in modern times, having in the early part of my life been present at their conversation on the very subject now before us. What I have to offer will not be the result of my own thinking. It is the work of memory only, a mere recital of what fell from the most celebrated orators of their time, a set of men who thought with subtlety and expressed themselves with energy and precision, each in his turn assigning different but probable causes, at times insisting on the same, and in the course of the debate maintaining his own proper character and the peculiar cast of his mind. What they said upon the occasion I shall relate as nearly as may be in the style and manner of the several speakers observing always the regular course and order of the controversy. For a controversy it certainly was, where the speakers of the present age did not want an advocate who supported their cause with zeal, and after treating antiquity with sufficient freedom and even derision assigned the palm of eloquence to the practicers of modern times. Curious maternus gave a public reading of his tragedy of Cato. On the following day a report prevailed that the peace had given umbrage to the men in power. The author, it was said, had laboured to display his favourite character in the brightest colours, anxious for the fame of his hero, but regardless of himself. This soon became the topic of public conversation. Maternus received a visit from Marcus Upper and Julius Secundus, both men of genius, in the first ornaments of the forum. I was, at that time, a constant attendant on those eminent men. I heard them, not only in their scenes of public business, but feeling an inclination to the same studies. I followed them with all the order of youthful emulation. I was admitted to their private parties. I heard their debates and the amusement of their social hours. I treasured up their wit and their sentiments on the various topics which they had discussed in conversation. Respected as they were, it must, however, be acknowledged that they did not escape the malignity of criticism. It was objected to Secundus that he had no command of words, no flow of language, and to Upper that he was indebted for his fame, not to art or literature, but to the natural powers of a vigorous understanding. The truth is, the style of the former was remarkable for its purity, concise, yet free and copious, and the latter was sufficiently versed in all branches of general erudition. It might be said of him that he despised literature, not that he wanted it. He thought, perhaps, that by scorning the aid of letters, and by drawing altogether from his own fund his fame would stand on a more solid foundation. We went together to pay our visit to Maternus. Upon entering his study we found him with the tragedy which he had read on the preceding day, lying before him. Secundus began, and are you then so little affected by the censor of malignant critics as to persist in cherishing a tragedy which has given so much offence? Perhaps you are revising the peace, and after retrenching certain passages intend to send your Cato into the world. I will not say improved, but certainly less obnoxious. There lies the poem, said Maternus. You may, if you think proper, reuse it with all its imperfections on its head. If Cato has omitted anything, Tyastes, at my next reading, shall atone for all deficiencies. I have formed the fable of a tragedy on that subject. The plan is warm in my imagination, and that I may give my whole time to it. I now am eager to dispatch an addition of Cato. Marcus Upper interposed. And are you indeed so enamored of your dramatic muse as to renounce your oratorical character and the honors of your profession in order to sacrifice your time? I think it was lately to Medea, and now to Tyastes. Your friends in the meantime expect your patronage. The colonies invoke your aid, and the municipal cities invite you to the bar. And surely the weight of so many causes may be deemed sufficient without this new solicitude imposed upon you by the mishis or Cato. And must you thus waste all your time amusing yourself forever with scenes of fictitious distress and still laboring to add to the fables of Greece the incidents and characters of the Roman story? The sharpness of that reproof, replied Maternus, would perhaps have disconcerted me if by frequent repetition it had outlost its sting. To differ on this subject is grown familiar to us both. Poetry, it seems, is to expect no quarter. You wage an incessant war against the followers of that pleasing art. And I, who am charged with deserting my clients, have yet every day the cause of poetry to defend. But we have now a fair opportunity, and I embrace it with pleasure, since we have a person present of ability to decide between us. A judge, who will either lay me under an injunction to write no more verses, or, as I rather hope, encourage me, by his authority, to renounce forever the dry employment of forensic causes in which I have had my share of drudgery, that I may, for the future, be at leisure to cultivate the sublime and sacred eloquence of the tragic news, Secunda's desire to be heard. I am aware, he said, that opera may refuse me as an umpire. Before he states his objections, let me follow the example of all fair and upright judges, who, in particular cases, when they feel a partiality for one of the contending parties, desire to be excused from hearing the cause. The friendship and habitual intercourse, which I have ever cultivated with Solea's bosses, that excellent men, and no less excellent poet, are well known. And let me add, if poetry is to be arraigned, I know no client that can offer such handsome bribes. My business, replied opera, is not with Solea's bosses. Let him, and all of his description, who, without talents for the bar, devote their time to the muses, pursue their favorite amusement without interruption. But maternus must not think to escape the crowd. I single him out from the rest, and since we are now before a competent judge, I call upon him to answer, how it happens that a man of his talents, formed by nature to reach the heights of manly eloquence, can think of renouncing a profession which not only serves to multiply friendships, but to support them with reputation, a profession which enables us to conciliate the esteem of foreign nations, and, if we regard our own interest, lays open the road to the first honors of the state. A profession, which besides the celebrity that it gives within the walls of Rome, spreads an illustrious name throughout this wide extent of the empire. If it be wisdom to make the ornament and happiness of life the end and aim of our actions, what can be more advisable than to embrace an art by which we are unable to protect our friends, to defend the cause of strangers and succour the distressed? Nor is this all. The eminent orator is a terror to his enemies, envy and malice tremble while they hate him. Secure in his own strength, he knows how to ward off every danger. His own genius is his protection, a perpetual guard that watches him, an invincible power that shields him from his enemies. In the calm seasons of life, the true use of oratory consists in the assistance which it affords to our fellow citizens. We then behold a triumph of eloquence. Have we reason to be alarmed for ourselves? The sword and breastplate are not a better defense in the heat of battle. It is at once a buckler to cover yourself and a weapon to brandish against your enemy. Armed with this, you may appear with courage before the tribunals of justice, in the senate, and even in the presence of the prince. We lately saw Eprius Marcellus arraign before the fathers. In that moment, when the minds of the whole assembly were inflamed against him, what had he to oppose to the vehemence of his enemies but that nervous eloquence which he possessed in so eminent a degree? Collected in himself and looking terror to his enemies, he was more than a match for Helvidius Priscus, a man, no doubt, of consummate wisdom but without that flow of eloquence which springs from practice and that skill in argument which is necessary to manage a public debate. Such is the advantage of oratory. To enlarge upon it were superfluous. My friend Maternas will not dispute the point. I proceed to the pleasure arising from the exercise of eloquence, a pleasure which does not consist in the mere sensation of the moment but is felt through life, repeated every day and almost every hour. For let me ask to a man of an ingenuous and liberal mind, who knows the relish of elegant enjoyments, what can yield such true delight as a concourse of the most respectable characters crowding to his levy? How must it enhance his pleasure when he reflects that the visit is not paid to him because he is rich and wants an heir or is in possession of a public office but purely as a compliment to superior talents, a mark of respect to a great and accomplished orator? The rich who have no issue and the men in high rank and power are his followers. Though he is still young and probably the astute of fortune, all conquer in paying their court to solicit his patronage for themselves or to recommend their friends to his protection. In the most splendid fortune and all the dignity and pride of power, is there anything that can equal the heartfelt satisfaction of the able advocate when he sees the most illustrious citizens, men respected for their ears and flourishing in the opinion of the public, yet paying their court to a rising genius and in the midst of wealth and grandeur, fairly owning that they still want something superior to all their possessions? What shall be sad of the attendants that follow the young orator from the bar and watch his motions to his own house? With what importance does he appear to the multitude? In the courts of Judicature, with what veneration? When he rises to speak, the audience is hushed in mute attention. Every eye is fixed on him alone. The crowd presses round him. He is master of their passions. They are swayed, impelled, directed as he thinks proper. These are the fruits of eloquence, well known to all and palpable to every common observer. There are other pleasures, more refined and secret, felt only by the initiated. When the orator, upon some great occasion, comes with a well-digested speech, conscious of his matter, and animated by his subject, his breast-expense, and heaves with emotions unfelt before. In his joy there is a dignity suited to the weight and energy of the composition which he has prepared. Thus he rises to hazard himself in a sudden debate. He is alarmed for himself, but in that very alarm there is a mingle of pleasure which predominates till the stress itself becomes delightful. The mind exalts in the prompt exertion of its powers and even glories in its rashness. The productions of genius, those of the field, have this resemblance. Many things are sown and brought to maturity with toil and care. Yet that which grows from the wild vigor of nature has the most grateful flavor. As to myself, if I may allude to my own feelings, the day on which I put on the manly gown, and even the days that followed, when, as a new man at Rome, born in a city that did not favor my pretensions, I rose in succession to the offices of questor, tribune, and preter. Those days, I say, did not awaken in my breast such exalted rapture as when, in the course of my profession, I was called forth with such talents as have fallen to my share to defend the accused, to argue a question of law before the centumvri, or in the presence of the prince to plead for his freedmen and the procurators appointed by himself. Upon those occasions, I towered above all places of profit and all preferment. I looked down on the dignities of tribune, preter, and consul. I felt within myself what neither the favor of the great nor the wills and codicils of the rich can give, a vigor of mind, an inward energy that springs from no external cause, but it's altogether your own. Look through the circle of the fine arts, survey the whole compass of the sciences, and tell me in what branch can the professors acquire a name to vie with the celebrity of a great and powerful orator? His fame does not depend on the opinion of thinking men who attend to business and watch the administration of affairs. He is applauded by the youth of Rome, at least by such of them as are of a well-turned disposition and hope to rise by honorable means. The eminent orator is the model which every parent recommends to his children. Even the common people stand at gaze as he passes by. They pronounce his name with pleasure and point at him as the object of their admiration. The provinces resound with his praise. The strangers who arrive from all parts have heard of his genius. They wish the behold the men, and their curiosity is never at rest till they have seen his person and reused his countenance. I have already mentioned Eprius Marcellus and Crispus Vibius. I cite living examples in preference to the names of a former day. Those two illustrious persons, I will be bold to say, are not less known in the remotest parts of the empire than they are at Capua or Vercelli, where we are told they both were born. And to what is their extensive fame to be attributed? Not surely to their immoderate riches. Three hundred thousand sisteresses cannot give the fame of genius. Their eloquence may be said to have built up their fortunes, and indeed such is the power, I might say, the inspiration of eloquence. That in every age we have examples of men who by their talents raise themselves to the summit of their ambition. But I wave all former instances. The two whom I have mentioned are not recorded in history, nor are we to glean an imperfect knowledge of them from tradition. They are every day before our eyes. They have risen from low beginnings, but the more abject their origin, the more sordid the poverty in which they set out, their success rises in proportion, and affords a striking proof of what I have advanced, since it is apparent that without birth or fortune, neither of them recommended by his moral character, and one of them deformed in his person. They have, notwithstanding all disadvantages, made themselves for a series of years the first men in the state. They began their career in the forum, and as long as they chose to pursue that road of ambition, they flourished in the highest reputation. They are now at the head of the Commonwealth, the ministers who dragged and governed, and so high in favor with the Prince, that the respect with which he receives them is little short of veneration. The truth is, Vespasian, now in the veil of years, but always open to the voice of truth, clearly sees that the rest of his favorites derive all their luster from the favors which his munificence has bestowed. But with Marcellus and Christmas, the case is different. They carry into the cabinet what no Prince can give, and no subject can receive. Compared with the advantages which those men possess, what are family pictures, statues, busts, and titles of honor, they are things of a perishable nature, yet not without their value. Marcellus and Vibius know how to estimate them, as they do wealth and honors, and wealth and honors are advantages against which you will easily find men that decline, but none that in their hearts despise them. Hence it is that in the houses of all who have distinguished themselves in the career of eloquence, we see titles, statues, and splendid ornaments, the reward of talents, and at all times the decorations of the great and powerful orator. End of Section 1 It confers no dignity, nor does it serve any useful purpose. It is attended with some pleasure, but it is the pleasure of a moment, springing from vain applause, and bringing with it no solid advantage. What I have said, and am going to add, may probably, my good friend Maternus, be unwelcome to your ear, and yet I must take the liberty to ask you, if Agamemnon or Jason speaks in your peace with dignity of language, what useful consequence follows from it? What client has been defended? Who confesses an obligation? In that whole audience, who returns to his own house with a grateful heart? Our friend Solaeus Bassus is, beyond all question, a poet of eminence, or, to use a warmer expression, he has the God within him, but who attends his levy, who seeks his patronage, or follows in his train? Should he himself, or his intimate friend, or his near relation, happen to be involved in a troublesome litigation? What course do you imagine he would take? He would, most probably, apply to his friend, Secundus, or to you, Maternus, not because you are a poet, nor yet to obtain a copy of verses from you. Of those, he has a sufficient stock at home, elegant, it must be owned, an exquisite in the kind. But after all his labour and waste of genius, what is his reward? When, in the course of a year, after toiling day and night, he has brought a single poem to perfection, he is obliged to solicit his friends and exert his interest in order to bring together an audience, so obliging as to hear a recital of the peace. Nor can this be done without expense. A room must be hired, a stage or pulpit must be erected, benches must be arranged, and hand-builds distributed throughout the city. What if the reading succeeds to the height of his wishes? Pass but a day or two, and the whole harvest of praise and admiration fades away, like a flower that withers in its bloom, and never ripens into fruit. By the event, however flattering, he gains no friend, he obtains no patronage, nor does a single person go away impressed with the idea of an obligation conferred upon him. The poet has been heard with applause, he has been received with acclamations, and he has enjoyed a short-lived transport. Bosses, it is true, has lately received from Vespasian a present of fifty thousand sisteresses. Upon that occasion we all admired the generosity of the Prince. The deserved so distinguished proof of the sovereign's esteem is, no doubt, highly honorable. But is it not still more honorable if your circumstances require it to serve yourself by your talents, to cultivate your genius for your own advantage, and to owe everything to your own industry, indebted to the bounty of no men whatever. It must not be forgotten that the poet, who would produce anything truly excellent in the kind, must bid farewell to the conversation of his friends. He must renounce not only the pleasures of Rome, but also the duties of social life. He must retire from the world, as the poets say, to groves and grotos every muses' son. In other words, he must condemn himself to a sequestered life in the gloom of solitude. The love of fame, it seems, is the passion that inspires the poet's genius. But even in this respect, is he so amply paid as to rival in any degree the professors of the persuasive arts? As to the indifferent poet, men leave him to his own mediocrity. The real genius moves in a narrow circle. Let there be a reading of a poem by the ablest master of his art. Will the fame of his performance reach all quarters? I will not say of the empire, but of Rome only. Among the strangers who arrive from Spain, from Asia, or from Gaul, who inquires after Salaia's buses? Should it happen that there is one who thinks of him? His curiosity is soon satisfied. He passes on, content with a transient view, as if he had seen a picture or a statue. In what I have advanced, let me not be misunderstood. I do not mean to deter such as are not blessed with the gift of oratory from the practice of their favorite art, if it serves to fill up their time and gain a degree of reputation. I am an admirer of eloquence. I hold it venerable and even sacred in all its shapes and every mold of composition. The pathetic of tragedy of which you, maternus, are so great a master. The majesty of the epic, the gaiety of the lyric muse, the wanton elegy, the keen iambic, and the pointed epigram all have their charms. An eloquence, whatever may be the subject which she chooses to adorn, is with me the sublimest faculty, the queen of all the arts and sciences. But this, maternus, is no apology for you, whose conduct is so extraordinary that, though formed by nature to reach the summit of perfection, you choose to wander into devious paths and rest contented with a humble station in the veil beneath. Were you a native of Greece, where to exhibit in the public games is an honorable employment? And if the gods had bestowed upon you the force and sinew of the athletic micostratus, do you imagine that I could look tainly on and see that amazing vigor waste itself away and nothing better than the frivolous art of darting the javelin or throwing the coid? To drop the illusion, I summon you from the theater and public recitals to the business of the forum, to the tribunals of justice, to scenes of real contention, to a conflict worthy of your abilities. You cannot decline the challenge, for you are left without an excuse. You cannot say, with a number of others, that the profession of poetry is safer than that of the public orator, since you have ventured in a tragedy written with spirit to display the ardor of a bold and towering genius. And for whom have you provoked so many enemies? Not for a friend that would have had alleviating circumstances. You undertook the cause of Cato, and for him committed yourself. You cannot plead by way of apology the duty of an advocate or the sudden effusion of sentiment in the heat and hurry of an unpermeditated speech. Your plan was settled. A great historical personage was your hero, and you chose him because what falls from so distinguished a character falls from a height that gives it additional weight. I am aware of your answer. You will say it was that very circumstance that ensured the success of your piece. The sentiments were received with sympathetic rapture, the room echoed with applause, and hence your fame throughout the city of Rome. Then let us hear no more of your love of quiet and a state of security. You have voluntarily courted danger. For myself, I am content with controversies of a private nature and the incidents of the present day. If, hurried beyond the bounds of prudence, I should happen, on any occasion, to grate the ears of men in power, the zeal of an advocate in the service of his client will excuse the honest freedom of speech and perhaps be deemed a proof of integrity. Opera went through his argument, according to his custom, with warmth and vehemence. He delivered the whole with a peremptory tone and an eager eye. As soon as he finished, I am prepared, said Maternas, smiling, to exhibit a charge against the professors of oratory, which may perhaps counterbalance the praise so lavishly bestowed upon them by my friend. In the course of what he said, I was not surprised to see him going out of his way to lay poor poetry frosted at his feet. He has indeed shown some kindness to such as are not blessed with oratorical talents. He has passed an act of indulgence in their favour, and they, it seems, are allowed to pursue their favourite studies. For my part, I will not say that I think myself wholly unqualified for the elephants of the bar. It may be true that I have some kind of talent for that profession, but the tragic muse affords superior pleasure. My first attempt was in the reign of Nero, in opposition to the extravagant claims of the Prince, and in defiance of the domineering spirit of Aetinius, that pernicious favourite, by whose cores buffoonery the muses were every day disgraced, I might say, most impiously profane. The portion of fame, whatever it be, that I have acquired since that time, is to be attributed not to the speeches which I made in the forum, but to the power of dramatic composition. I have, therefore, resolved to take my leave of the bar forever. The homage of visitors, the train of attendance, and the multitude of clients which glitter so much in the eyes of my friend have no attraction for me. I regard them as I do pictures, and busts, and statues of brass, things which indeed are in my family, but they came unlooked for, without my stir, or so much as a wish on my part. In my humble station, I find that innocence is a better shield than oratory, for the last I shall have no occasion, unless I find it necessary, on some future occasion, to exert myself in the just defence of an injured friend. But woods and groves, in solitary places, have not escaped the satirical vein of my friend. To me, they afford sensations of a pure delight. It is there I enjoy the pleasures of a poetic imagination, and among those pleasures it is not the least that they are pursued far from the noise and bustle of the world, without a client to besiege my doors, and not a criminal to distress me with the tears of affliction. Free from those distractions, the poet retires to scenes of solitude, where peace and innocence reside. In those hounds of contemplation, he has pleasing visions, he treads unconsecrated ground. It was there that eloquence first grew up, and there she reared her temple. In those retreats, she first adorned herself with those graces which have made mankind enamoured of her charms, and there she filled the hearts of the wise and good with joy and inspiration. Oracles first spoke in woods and sacred groves. As to the species of oratory, which practices for lucre, or with views of ambition, that sanguinary eloquence snows so much in folk, it is of modern growth, the offspring of corrupt manners and degenerate times. Rather, as my friend opera expressed it, it is a weapon in the hands of ill-designing men. The early and more happy period of the world, or as we poets call it, the golden age, was the era of true eloquence. Crimes and raters were then unknown. Poetry spoke in harmonious numbers, not to varnish evil deeds, but to praise the virtuous and celebrate the friends of humankind. This was the poet's office. The inspired train enjoyed the highest honors. They held commerce with the gods. They partook of the ambrosial feast. They were at once the messengers and interpreters of the supreme command. They ranked on earth with legislators, heroes, and demigods. In that bright assembly, we find no orator, no pleader of causes. We read of Orpheus, of Linus, and if we choose to mount so higher, we can add the name of Apollo himself. This may seem a flight of fancy. Opera will treat it as mere romance and fabulous history, but he will not deny that the veneration paid to Homer with the consent of posterity is at least equal to the honors obtained by the Mostonis. He must likewise admit that the fame of Sophocles and Euripides is not confined within narrower limits than that of Lysius or Hyperides, to come home to our own country. There are, at this day more, who dispute the excellence of Cicero than of Virgil, among the orations of Vazinius or Massala. Is there one that can vie with the Medea of Oven, or the Thiestes of Various? If we now consider the happy condition of the true poet, and that easy commerce in which he passes his time, need we fear to compare his situation with that of the boasted orator who leads a life of anxiety oppressed by business and overwhelmed with care? But, it is said, his contention, his toil and danger, are steps to the consulship. How much more illegible was the soft retreat in which Virgil passed his days, loved by the prince and honored by the people? To prove this, the letters of Augustus are still extant, and the people, we know, hearing in the theater some verses of that divine poet, when he himself was present, rose in a body and paid him every mark of homage, with a degree of veneration, nothing short of what they usually offered to the emperor. Even in our times, will any man say that Cicandus Pomponius, in point of dignity or extent of fame, is inferior to the mish's offer? But, Vivius and Marcellus have been cited as bright examples, and yet, in their elevation, what is there to be coveted? Is it to be deemed an advantage to those ministers that they are feared by numbers and live in fear themselves? They are courted for their favors, and the men who obtain their suit, retire with ingratitude, pleased with their success, yet hating to be obliged. Can we suppose that the men is happy, who by his artifices has wriggled himself into favor, and yet is never thought by his master sufficiently pliant, nor by the people sufficiently free? And after all, what is the amount of all his boasted power? The emperor's fridmen have enjoyed the same. But, as Virgil sweetly sings, me let the sacred muses lead to their soft retreats, their living fountains, and melodious groves, where I may dwell, remote from care, master of myself, and under no necessity of doing every day what my heart condemns. Let me no more be seen at the wrangling bar, a pale and anxious candidate for precarious fame, and let neither the tumult of visitors crowding to my levy, nor the eager haste of a vicious freedman, disturb my morning rest. Let me live free from solicitude, a stranger to the art of promising legacies, in order to buy the friendship of the great, and when nature shall give the signal to retire, may I possess no more than may be safely bequeathed to such friends as I shall think proper. At my funeral, let no token of sorrow be seen, no pompous mockery of woe. Crown me with chaplets, strew flowers on my grave, and let my friends erect no vain memorial to tell where my remains are lodged. Paternas finished with an air of enthusiasm that seemed to lift him above himself. In that moment, Vipstaniya's Missala entered the room. From the attention that appeared in every countenance, he concluded that some important business was the subject of debate. I am afraid, said he, that I break in upon you at an unseasonable time. You have some secret to discuss, or perhaps a consultation upon your hands. Far from it, replied Secundus, I wish you had come sooner. You would have had the pleasure of hearing an eloquent discourse from our friend Upper, who has been endeavoring to persuade Paternas to dedicate all his time to the business of the bar, and to give the whole men to his profession. The answer of Paternas would have entertained you. He has been defending his art, and but this moment closed an animated speech that held more of the poetical than the oratorical character. I should have been happy, replied Missala, to have heard both my friends. It is, however, some compensation for the loss, that I find men of their talents, instead of giving all their time to the little subtleties and naughty points of the forum, extending their views to liberal science, and those questions of taste, which enlarge the mind and furnish it with ideas drawn from the treasures of polite erudition. Angries of this kind afford improvement, not only to those who enter into the discussion, but to all who have the happiness of being present at the debate. It is in consequence of this refined and elegant way of thinking that you, Secundus, have gained so much applause by the life of Julius Asiaticus, with which you have lately obliged the world. From that specimen we are taught to expect other productions of equal beauty from the same hand. And like Manor, I see with pleasure that our friend Upper loves to live in his imagination with topics of controversy, and still lays out his leisure in questions of the schools, not indeed in imitation of the ancient erasures, but in the true taste of our modern returations. I am not surprised, return Upper, at that stroke of regulatory. It is not enough for Masala that the oratory of ancient times engrosses all his admiration. He must have his fling at the moderns. Our talents and our studies are sure to fill the sellies of his pleasantry. I have often heard you, my friend Masala, in the same humor. According to you, the present age has not a single orator to boast of, though your own eloquence and that of your brother are sufficient to refute the charge. But you assert roundly and maintain your proposition with an air of confidence. You know how high you stand, and while in your general censure of the age you include yourself, the smallest tincture of malignity cannot be supposed to mingle in a decision which denies to your own genius what by common consent is allowed to be your undoubted right. I have as yet, replied Masala, seen no reason to make me retract my opinion, nor do I believe that my true friends here, or even you yourself, though you sometimes affect a different tone, can seriously maintain the opposite doctrine. The decline of eloquence is too apparent. The causes which have contributed to it merit a serious inquiry. I shall be obliged to you, my friends, for a fair solution of the question. I have often reflected upon the subject, but what seems to others a full answer with me serves only to increase the difficulty. What has happened at Rome, I perceive to have been the case in Greece. The modern orators of that country, such as the priest Nisettis, and others who like him, stun the schools of Mittelenei and Ephesus, are fallen to a greater distance from Eskenes and the Mostonis than offer an Africanus or you, my friend, from Tully or a Sinnias polio. End of Section 2 Section 3 of a dialogue concerning oratory or the causes of corrupt eloquence by Publius Cornelius Tacitus, translated by Arthur Murphy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. You have started an important question, said Secundus, and who so able to discuss it as yourself? Your talents are equal to the difficulty. Your acquisitions in literature are known to be extensive, and you have considered the subject. I have no objection, replied Massala. My ideas are at your service. Upon condition that, as I go on, you will assist me with the lights of your understanding. For two of us I can venture to answer, said Maternus. Whatever you omit, or rather, what you leave for us to glean after you, we shall be ready to add to your observations. As to our friend Upper, you have told us that he is apt to differ from you upon this point, and even now I see him preparing to give battle. He will not tamely bear to see us joined in a league in favor of antiquity. Certainly not, replied Upper, nor shall the present age unheard and undefended be degraded by a conspiracy. But before you sound the arms, I wish to know, who are to be reckoned among the ancients? At what point of time do you fix your favorite era? When you talk to me of antiquity, I carry my view to the first ages of the world, and see before me Ulysses and Nestor, who flourished little less than 1300 years ago. Your retrospect, it seems, goes no farther back than to the Mastanese and Hyperides, men who lived in the times of Philip and Alexander, and indeed survived them both. The interval between the Mastanese and the present age is little more than 400 years, a space of time which, with a view to the duration of human life, may be called long. But, as a portion of that immense tract of time which includes the different ages of the world, it shrinks into nothing, and seems to be but yesterday. For, if it be true, as Cicero says in his treatise called Hortensius, that the great and genuine year is that period in which the heavenly bodies revolve to the station from which their source began. And, if this grand rotation of the whole planetary system requires no less than 12,954 years of our computation, it follows that the Mastanese, your boasted ancient, becomes a modern, and even our contemporary, nay, that he lived in the same year with ourselves, I had almost said in the same month. But, I am in haste to pass to our Roman orators. Mennonius Agrippa may fairly be deemed an ancient. I take it, however, that he is not the person whom you mean to oppose to the professors of modern eloquence. The era which you have in view is that of Cicero and Caesar, of Cilius and of Calvis, of Brutus, of Cinius and of Masala. Those are the men whom you place in the front of our line. But for what reason they are to be classed with the ancients and not, as I think they ought to be, with the moderns, I am still to learn. To begin with Cicero, he, according to the account of Tyro, his freedman, was put to death on the 7th of the Ides of December, during the consulship of Hirtius and Ponsa, who, we know, were both cut off in the course of the year, and left their office vacant for Augustus and Quintus Pettus. Count from that time six and fifty years to complete the reign of Augustus, three and twenty for that of Tiberius, four for Caligula, eight and twenty for Claudius and Nero, one for Galba, Otto and Vitalius, and finally six from the accession of Vespasian to the present year of our Felicity. We shall have, from the death of Cicero, a period of about one hundred and twenty years, which may be considered as the term allotted to the life of men. I myself remember to have seen in Britain a soldier far advanced in years, who avert that he carried arms in that very battle in which his countrymen sought to drive Julius Caesar back from their coast. If this veteran who served in the defense of his country against Caesar's invasion had been brought a prisoner to Rome, or if his own inclination or any other accident in the course of things had conducted him thither, he might have heard not only Caesar and Cicero, but even ourselves in some of our public speeches. In the late public largesse, you will acknowledge that you saw several old men who assured us that they had received more than once the like distribution from Augustus himself. If that be so, might not those persons have heard Corvinus and Asinius? Corvinus, we all know, lived through half the reign of Augustus, in Asinius almost to the end. How then are we to ascertain the just boundaries of a century? They are not to be varied at pleasure, so as to place some orators in a remote and others in a recent period, while people are still living, who heard them all, and may therefore, with good reason, rank them as contemporaries. From what I have said, I assume it as a clear position that the glory, whatever it be, that accrue to the age in which those orators lived is not confined to that particular period but reaches down to the present time and may more properly be said to belong to us than to Servius Galba or to Carbo and others of the same or more ancient date. Of that whole race of orators, I may freely say that their manner cannot now be relished. Their language is coarse and their composition rough, uncouth and harsh, and yet your Calvas, your Cilius and even your favorite Cicero can descend to follow that inelegant style. It were to be wished that they had not thought such models worthy of imitation. I mean to speak my mind with freedom, but before I proceed it will be necessary to make a preliminary observation, and it is this, eloquence has no settled form. At different times it puts on a new garb and changes with the manners and the taste of the age. Thus we find that Dracus, compared with the elder Cato, is full and copious. But in his turn yields to Cressus, an orator more polished, more correct and florid. Cicero rises superior to both, more animated, more harmonious and sublime. He is followed by Carvinus, who has all the softer graces, a sweet flexibility in his style and a curious felicity in the choice of his words, which was the greatest orator is not the question. The use I make of these examples is to prove that eloquence does not always wear the same dress, but even among your celebrated ancients has its different modes of persuasion. And be it remembered that what differs is not always the worst. Yet such is the malignity of the human mind that what has the sanction of antiquity is always admired. What is present is sure to be condemned. Can we doubt that there have been critics who were better pleased with obvious see-his than with Cato? Cicero had his adversaries. It was objected to him that his style was redundant, turgid, never compressed, void of precision and destitute of attic elegance. We all have read the letters of Calvas and Brutus to your famous orator. In the course of that correspondence we plainly see what was Cicero's opinion of those eminent men. The former appeared to him cold and languid, the latter disjointed, loose and negligent. On the other hand we know what they thought in return. Calvas did not hesitate to say that Cicero was diffuse, luxuriant to a fault and floored without vigor. Brutus in express terms says he was weakened into length and wanted sinew. If you ask my opinion each of them had reason on his side. I shall hereafter examine them separately. My business at present is not in the detail I speak of them in general terms. The era of ancient oratory is, I think, extended by its admirers no farther back than the time of Cassius Severus. He, they tell us, was the first who dared to deviate from the plain and simple style of his predecessors. I admit the fact. He departed from the established forms, not through want of genius or of learning, but guided by his own good sense and superior judgment. He saw that the public ear was formed to a new manner, and eloquence, he knew, was to find new approaches to the heart. In the early periods of the Commonwealth, a rough, unpolished people might well be satisfied with the tedious length of unskillful speeches at a time when to make an herring that took up the whole day was the orator's highest praise. The Prolex Exordium, wasting itself in feeble preparation, the circumstantial narration, the ostentatious division of the argument under different heads, and the thousand proofs and logical distinctions with whatever else is contained in the dry precepts of Hermagoras and Apollodorus were in that rude period received with universal applause. To finish the picture, if your ancient orator could glean a little from the common places of philosophy and interweave a few shreds and patches with the thread of his discourse, he was extolled to the very skies. Nor can this be a matter of wonder. The maxims of the schools had not been divulged. They came with an air of novelty. Even among the orators themselves, there were but few who had any tincture of philosophy, nor had they learned the rules of art from the teachers of eloquence. In the present age, the tenets of philosophy and the precepts of rhetoric are no longer a secret. The lowest of our popular assemblies are now, I will not say fully instructed, but certainly acquainted with the elements of literature. The orator, by consequence, finds himself obliged to seek new avenues to the heart and new graces to embellish his discourse that he may not offend fastidious ears, especially before a tribunal where the judge is no longer bound by precedent, but determines according to his will and pleasure. Not as formally observing the measure of time allowed to the advocate, but taking upon himself to prescribe the limits. Nor is this all. The judge, present, will not condescend to wait till the orator in his own way opens his case, but of his own authority, reminds him of the point in question, and if he wonders, calls him back from his digression, not without a hint that the court wishes to dispatch. Who, at this time, would bear to hear an advocate introducing himself with a tedious preface about the infirmities of his constitution? Yet, that is the threadbare exhortium of Corvinus. We have five books against various. Who can endure that vast redundance? Who can listen to those endless arguments upon points of form, and caveling exceptions, which we find in the erasions of the same celebrated advocate for Marcus Tilius and Ola Cicina? Our modern judges are able to anticipate the argument. Their quickness goes before the speaker. If not struck with the vivacity of his manner, the elegance of his sentiments and the glowing collars of his descriptions, they soon grow weary of the flat and sippid discourse. Even in the lowest class of life, there is now a relish for rich and splendid ornament. Their taste requires the gay, the florid, and the brilliant. The unpolished style of antiquity would now succeed as ill at the bar as the modern actor who should attempt to copy the deportment of Roshes or ambivious terpio. Even the young men who are preparing for the career of eloquence, and for that purpose attend the forum and the tribunals of justice, have now a nice discriminating taste. They expect to have their imaginations pleased. They wish to carry home some bright illustration, some splendid passage that deserves to be remembered. What has struck their fancy, they communicate to each other. And in their letters, the glittering thought, given with sententious brevity, the poetical illusion that enliven the discourse and the dazzling imagery, are sure to be transmitted to their respective colonies and provinces. The ornaments of poetic diction are now required, not indeed copied from the rude, obsolete style of Asias and Pachavius, but embellished with the graces of Horus, Virgil and Lucan. The public judgment has raised a demand for harmonious periods, and in compliance with the taste of the age, our orators grow every day more polished and adorned. Let it not be sad that what we gain in refinement we lose in strength. Are the temples raised by our modern architects of a weaker structure, because they are not formed with shapeless stones, but with the magnificence of polished marble and decorations of the ridgest gilding? Shall I fairly own to you the impression which I generally receive from the ancient orators? They make me laugh, or lull me to sleep. Nor is this case only when I read the orations of Canutas, Arias, Furnias, Turanias, and others of the same school, or rather the same infirmary, and the machiated, sickly race of orators, without sinew, color or proportion. But what shall be said of your admired Calvus? He, I think, has left no less than one and twenty volumes. In the whole collection there's not more than one or two short orations that can pretend to perfection in the kind. Upon this point there's no difference of opinion. Who now reads his declamations against Azitius or Drusus? His speeches against Vatinius are in the hands of the curious, particularly the second, which must be allowed to be a masterpiece. The language is elegant, the sentiments are striking, and the ear is satisfied with the roundness of the periods. In this specimen we see that he had an idea of just composition, but his genius was not equal to his judgment. The orations of Cilius, though upon the whole defective, are not without their beauties. Some passages are highly finished, in those we acknowledge the nice touches of modern elegance. In general, however, the coarse expression, the halting period, and the vulgarity of the sentiments have too much of the leaven of antiquity. If Cilius is still admired, it is not, I believe, in any of those parts that bear the mark of a rude illiterate age. With regard to Cilius Caesar, engaged as he was in projects of vast ambition, we may forgive him the want of that perfection which might otherwise be expected from so sublime a genius. Brutus, in light manner, may be excused on account of his philosophical speculations. Both he and Caesar, in their oratorical attempts, fell short of themselves. Their warmest admires acknowledged the fact, nor is there an instance to the contrary, unless we accept Caesar's speech for Desius the Samnite, in that of Brutus for King Deotaras. But are those performances, and some others of the same lukewarm temper, to be received as works of genius? He, who admires those productions, may be left to admire their verses also. For verses they both made, and sent them into the world, I will not say with more success than Cicero, but certainly more to their advantage, for their poetry had the good fortune to be little known. Cassinius lived near our own times. He seems to have studied in the old school of Menenius and Apius. He composed tragedies as well as orations, but in a style so harsh and ragged, that one would think him the disciple of Asius and Bacavius. He mistook the nature of eloquence, which may then be sad to have attained its true beauty, when the parts unite with smoothness, strength and proportion. As in the human body, the veins should not swell too high, nor the bones and sinews appear too prominent, but its form is then most graceful when a pure and temperate blood gives animation to the whole frame. And the muscles have their proper play, and the collar of health is diffused over the several parts. I am not willing to disturb the memory of Corvina's messala. If he did not preach the graces of modern composition, the defect does not seem to have sprung from choice. The vigor of his genius was not equal to his judgment. I now proceed to Cicero, who, we find, had often upon his hands the very controversy that engages us at present. It was the fashion with his contemporaries to admire the ancients, while he, on the contrary, contended for the eloquence of his own time. Were I to mention the quality that placed him at the head of his rivals, I should say it was the solidity of his judgment. It was he that first showed a taste for polished and graceful oratory. He was happy in his choice of words, and he had the art of giving weight and harmony to his composition. We find in many passages a warm imagination and luminous sentences. In his later speeches he has lively sallies of wit and fancy. Experience had then matured his judgment, and after long practice he found the true oratorical style. In his earlier productions we see the rough cast of antiquity. The exordium is tedious. The narration is drawn into length. Luxuriant passages are not retouched with care. He is not easily affected, and he rarely takes fire. His sentiments are not always happily expressed, nor are the periods closed with energy. There's nothing so highly finished as to tempt you to avail yourself of a borrowed beauty. In short, his speeches are like a rude building, which is strong and durable, but once that grace and consonance of parts which give symmetry and perfection to the whole. In oratory, as in architecture, I require ornament as well as use. From the man of ample fortune who undertakes to build, we expect elegance and proportion. It is not enough that his house will keep out the wind and the rain. It must strike the eye and present a pleasing object. Nor will it suffice that the furniture may answer all domestic purposes. It should be rich, fashionable, elegant. It should have golden gems so curiously wrought that they will bear examination, often viewed and always admired. The common utensils, which are either mean or sordid, should be carefully removed out of sight. In like manner, the true orator should avoid the tried and vulgar, let him reject the antiquated phrase and whatever is covered with the rust of time, let his sentiments be expressed with spirit, not in careless, ill-constructed, languid periods like a dull writer of annals, let him banish low scurrility, and in short, let him know how to diversify his style, that he may not fatigue the ear with a monotony, ending forever with the same unvaried cadence. I shall say nothing of the false wit and insipid play upon words which we find in Cicero's orations. His pleasant conceits about the wheel of fortune and the arched railery on the equivocal meaning of the word verus do not merit a moment's attention. I omit the perpetual recurrence of the phrase, essa videatur, which chimes in our ears at the close of so many sentences, sounding big but signifying nothing. These are petty blemishes. I mention them with reluctance. I say nothing of other defects equally improper, and yet those very defects are the delight of such as effect to call themselves ancient orators. I need not single them out by name. The men are sufficiently known. It is enough to allude, in general terms, to the whole class. We all are sensible that there is a set of critics now existing who prefer Lucilius to Horus and Lucretius to Virgil, who despise the eloquence of Ophidius Bossus and Servilius Nonianus and yet admire Varro and Cicena. By these pretenders to taste, the works of our modern rhetoricians are thrown by with neglect and even fastidious disdain, while those of Calvus are held in the highest esteem. We see these men prosing in their ancient style before the judges, but we see them left without an audience deserted by the people and hardly endured by their clients. The truth is their cold and spiritless manner has no attraction. They call it sound oratory, but it is want of vigor, like that precarious state of health which weak constitutions preserve by abstinence. What physician will pronounce that a strong habit of body which requires constant care and anxiety of mind? To say barely that we are not ill is surely not enough. True health consists in vigor, a generous warmth, and a certain elecrity in the whole frame. He who is only not indisposed is little distant from actual illness. With you, my friends, the case is different. Proceed as you well can and in fact as you do to adorn our age with all the grace and splendor of true oratory. It is with pleasure, Mesaua, that I see you selecting for imitation the liveliest models of the ancient school. You too, maternus, and you, my friend, Secundus, you both possess the happy art of adding to weight of sentiment all the dignity of language. To a copious invention you unite the judgment that knows how to distinguish the specific qualities of different authors. The beauty of order is yours. When the occasion demands it, you can expend and amplify with strength and majesty and you know when to be concise with energy. Your periods flow with ease and your composition has every grace of style and sentiment. You commend the passions with resistless sway while in yourselves you beget a temperance so truly dignified that though perhaps envy and the malignity of the times may be unwilling to proclaim your merit, posterity will do you ample justice. End of Section 3 Section 4 of a dialogue concerning oratory or the causes of corrupt eloquence by Publius Cornelius Tacitus translated by Arthur Murphy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. As soon as opera concluded you see, said maternus, the zeal and ardour of our friend in the cause of the moderns, what a torrent of eloquence against the ancients, what a fund of invective with great spirit and a vast compass of learning he has employed against his masters the arts for which he is indebted to them. And yet all those vehemence must not deter you, Missala, from the performance of your promise a formal defence of the ancients is by no means necessary we do not presume to vie with that illustrious race we have been praised by opera but we know our inferiority he himself is aware of it though in imitation of the ancient manner he has thought proper for the sake of a philosophical debate to take the wrong side of the question in answer to his argument we do not desire you to expatiate in praise of the ancients their fame wants no addition what we request is an investigation of the causes which have produced so rapid a decline from the flourishing state of genuine eloquence I call it rapid since according to opera's own chronology the period from the death of Cicero does not exceed 120 years I am willing, said Missala to pursue the plan which you have recommended the question whether the men who flourished above 100 years ago are to be accounted ancients has been started by my friend opera and I believe it is of the first impression but it is a mere dispute about words the discussion of it is of no moment provided it be granted whether we call them ancients or our predecessors or give them any other appellation that the eloquence of those times was superior to that of the present age when opera tells us that different periods of time have produced new modes of oratory I see nothing to object nor shall I deny that in one and the same period the style and manners have greatly varied but this I assume that among the orators of Greece the Mostonis holds the first rank and after him Eskinis Hyperides Lyceus and Lycurgus in regular succession that age by common consent is allowed to be the flourishing period of Attic eloquence in light manner Cicero stands at the head of our Roman orators or Calvis Cinius and Caesar Cilius and Brutus follow him at a distance all of them superior not only to every former age but to the whole race that came after them nor is it material that they differ in the mode since they all agree in the kind Calvis is close and nervous Cinius more open and harmonious Caesar is distinguished by the splendor of his diction Cilius by a caustic severity and gravity is the characteristic of Brutus Cicero is more luxuriant in amplification and he has strength and vehemence they all however agree in this their eloquence is manly sound and vigorous examine their works and you will see the energy of congenial minds a family likeness in their Cinius however it may take a distinct color from the specific qualities of the men true they detracted from each other's merit in their letters which are still extant we find some strokes of mutual hostility but this littleness does not impeach their eloquence their jealousy was the infirmity of human nature Calvis Cinius and Cicero might have their fits of animosity and no doubt were liable to envy malice and other degrading passions they were great errators but they were men Brutus is the only one of the set who may be thought superior to petty contentious he spoke his mind with freedom and I believe without a tincture of malice he did not envy Caesar himself and can it be imagined that he envied Cicero as Tagalba Lilius and others of a remote period against whom we have heard upper's declamation I need not undertake their defense since I am willing to acknowledge that in their style and manner we perceive those defects and blemishes which it is natural to expect while art as yet in its infancy needs no advances towards perfection after all if the best form of eloquence must be abandoned and some new fangled style must grow into fashion give me the rapidity of groccus or the more solemn manner of crosses with all their imperfections rather than the effeminate delicacy of miscellaneous or the tinkling symbol of Galio the most homely dress is preferable to gaudy colors ornaments the style in vogue at present is an innovation against everything just natural it is not even manly the luxuriant phrase the inanity of tuneful periods and the wanton levity of the whole composition are fit for nothing but the histrionic art as if they were written for the stage to the disgrace of the age however astonishing it may appear it is the boast the pride the glory of our present orators that their periods are musical enough either for the dancer's heel or the warbler's throat hence it is that by a frequent but preposterous metaphor the orator is sad to speak and melodious cadence and the dancer to move with expression in this view of things even Cassius Severus the only modern who upper has ventured to name if we compare him with the race that followed maybe fairly pronounced a legitimate orator though it must be acknowledged that in what remains of his composition his clumsy without strength and violent without spirit he was the first that deviated from the great masters of his art he despised all method and regular arrangement and delicate in his choice of words he paid no regard to decency eager to attack he left himself unguarded he brandished his weapons without skill or address and to speak plainly he wrangled but did not argue and yet not withstanding these defects he was as I have already said superior to all that came after him whether we regard the variety of his learning the urbanity of his wit or the vigor of his mind I expected that Upper after naming this orator would have drawn up the rest of his forces in regular order he has fallen indeed upon a zinnius, cilius and calvus but where are his champions to enter the lists with them I imagined that he had a phalanx in reserve and that we should have seen them man by man giving battle to Cicero Caesar and the rest in succession he has singled out some of the ancients but has brought none of his moderns into the field he thought it enough to put character in their absence in this perhaps he acted with prudence he was afraid if he selected a few that the rest of the tribe would take offense for among the returitions of the present day is there one to be found who does not in his own opinion tower above Cicero though he has the modesty to yield to Gabinianus proper has admitted I intend to perform I shall produce his moderns by name to the end that by placing the example before our eyes we may be able more distinctly to trace the steps by which the vigor of ancient eloquence has fallen to decay maternus interrupted him I wish he said we claim your promise the superiority of the ancients is not in question we want no proof of it upon that point my opinion is decided but the causes of a rapid decline from ancient excellence remain to be unfolded we know that you have turned your thoughts to this subject and we expected from you a calm disquisition had not the violent attack proper made upon your favorite orators roused your spirit and perhaps given you some offence far from it replied Nassala he has given me no offence nor must you my friends take umbridge if at any time a word should fall from me not quite agreeable to your way of thinking we are engaged in a free inquiry and you know a lot of debate the established law allows every man to speak his mind without reserve that is the law replied maternus you may proceed in perfect security when you speak of the ancients speak of them with ancient freedom which I fear is at a lower ebb than even the genius of those eminent men Masala resumed his discourse the causes of the decay by no means difficult to be traced they are I believe well known to you maternus and also to Secundus not accepting my friend upper it seems however that I am now at your request to unravel the business but there is no mystery in it we know that eloquence with the rest of the polite art has lost its former luster and yet it is not a death of men or a decay of talents that has produced this fatal effect the true causes are the dissipation of our young men the inattention of parents the ignorance of those who pretend to give instruction and the total neglect of ancient discipline the mischief began at Rome it has overrun today and is now with rapid strides spreading through the provinces the effects however are more visible at home and therefore I shall confine myself to the reigning vices of the capital vices that wither every virtue in the bud and continue their baleful influence through every season of life but before I enter on the subject it will not be useless to look back to the system of education that prevailed in former times and to the strict discipline of our ancestors in a point of so much moment as the formation of youth in the times to which I now refer the son of every family was the legitimate offspring of a virtuous mother the infant as soon as born was not consigned to the mean dwelling of a highly nurse but was reared and cherished in the bosom of a tender parent to regulate all household affairs and attend to her infant race was at that time the glory of the female character a matron related to the family and distinguished by the purity of her life was chosen to watch the progress of the tender mind in her presence not one indecent word was uttered nothing was done against propriety and good manners the hours of study and serious employment were settled by her direction and not only so but even the diversions of the children were conducted with modest reserve and sanctity of manners thus it was that Cornelia the mother of the Grechi super intended the education of her illustrious issue it was thus that Aurelia trained up Julius Caesar and thus Atia formed the mind of Augustus the consequence of this regular discipline was that the young mind grew up in innocence unstained by vice unwarped by irregular passions and under that culture received the seeds of science whatever was the peculiar bias whether to the military art the study of the laws or the profession of eloquence that engrossed the whole attention and the youth thus directed embraced the entire compass of one favorite science in the present age what is our practice the infant is committed to a Greek chambermaid and a slave or two chosen for the purpose generally the worst of the whole household train all utter strangers of every liberal notion in that worshipful society the youth grows up and by being folly and vulgar error throughout the house not one servant cares what he says or does in the presence of his young master and indeed how should it be otherwise the parents themselves are the first to give their children the worst examples of vise and luxury the stripling consequently loses all sense of shame and soon forgets the respect he owes to others as well as to himself a passion for horses players and gladiators seems to be the epidemic folly of the times the child receives it in his mother's womb he brings it with him into the world and in a mind so obsessed what room for science or any generous purpose in our houses at our tables sports and interludes are the topics of conversation enter the places of academic lectures and who talks of any other subject the preceptors themselves have caught the contagion nor can this be wondered at to establish a strict and regular discipline and to succeed by giving proofs of their genius is not the plan of our modern returations they pay their court to the great and by servile adulation increase the number of their pupils need I mention the manner of conveying the first elements of school learning no care is taken to give the student a taste for the best authors the page of history lies neglected the study of men and manners is no part of their system and every branch of useful knowledge is left uncultivated a preceptor is called N and education is then thought to be in a fair way but I shall have occasion hereafter to speak more fully of that class of men called returations it will then be seen at what period that profession first made its appearance at Rome and what reception it met with from our ancestors before I proceed let us advert for a moment to the plan of ancient discipline this unwearier diligence of the ancient orators their habits of meditation and their daily exercise in the whole circle of arts and sciences are amply displayed in the books which they have transmitted to us the treatise of Cicero entiled Brutus is in all our hands in that work after commemorating the orators of a former day he closes the account with the particulars of his own progress in science and the method he took in educating himself to the profession of oratory he studied the civil law under Musescevella he was instructed in the various systems of philosophy by Philo of the academic school and by Diodorus the Stoic and though wrong at that time abounded with the best professors he made a voyage to Greece and then to Asia an order to enrich his mind with every branch of learning hence that store of knowledge which appears in all his writings geometry music grammar and every useful art were familiar to him he embraced the whole science of logic and ethics he studied the operations of nature his diligence of inquiry opened to him the long chain of causes and effects and in short the whole system of physiology was his own from a mind thus replenished it is no wonder my good friends in the compositions of that extraordinary man that affluence of ideas and that prodigious flow of eloquence in fact it is not with oratory as with the other arts which are confined to certain objects and circumscribed within their own peculiar limits he alone deserves the name of an orator who can speak in a copious style with dignity as the subject requires who can find language to decorate his argument who through the passions can command the understanding and while he serves mankind knows how to delight the judgment and the imagination of his audience such was in ancient times the idea of an orator to form that illustrious character it was not thought necessary to decline in the schools of returations or to make a vain parade and fictitious controversies which were not only void of all reality but even of a shadow of probability our ancestors pursued a different plan they stored their minds with just ideas of moral good and evil with the rules of right and wrong and the fair and foul in human transactions these on every controversial point are the orators' province in courts of law just and unjust undergo his discussion in political debate between what is expedient and honorable it is his to draw the line and those questions are so blended in their nature they enter into every cause on such important topics who can hope to bring variety of matter and to dignify that matter with style and sentiment if he has not beforehand enlarged his mind with the knowledge of human nature with the laws of moral obligation the deformity of vice the beauty of virtue and other points which do not immediately belong to the theory of ethics the orator who has enriched his mind with these materials may be truly set to have acquired the powers of persuasion he who knows the nature of indignation will be able to kindle or array that passion in the breast of the judge and the advocate of passion and from what secret springs it flows will best know how to soften the mind and melt it into tenderness it is by these secrets of his art that the orator gains his influence whether he has to do with the prejudiced the angry the envious the melancholy or the timid according to the disposition of his audience he will know when to check the workings of the heart and when to raise them to their full tumult of emotion some critics are chiefly pleased with that close mode of oratory which in a laconic manner states the facts and forms an immediate conclusion in that case it is obvious how necessary it is to be a complete master of the rules of logic others delight in the more open free and copious style where the arguments are drawn from topics of general knowledge for this purpose the peripatatic school will supply the orator with ample materials the academic philosopher will inspire him with warmth and energy Plato will give the sublime and Xenophon that equal flow which charms us in that amiable writer the rhetorical figure which is called exclamation so frequent with Epicurus and Metrodorus will add to a discourse those sudden breaks of passion which give motion strength and vehemence it is not for the stoic school nor for their imaginary wise men that I am laying down rules I am forming an orator whose business it is not to adhere to one sect but to go the round of all the arts and sciences accordingly we find that the great master of ancient eloquence laid their foundation in a thorough study of the civil law they added grammar music and geometry the fact is in most of the causes that occur perhaps in every cause the due knowledge of the whole system of jurisprudence is an indispensable requisite there are likewise many subjects of litigation in which an acquaintance with other sciences is of the highest use End of section 4