And what an exploit is that, never, amid all your important occupations, to interrupt your study of philosophy! You are always either writing something yourself or inviting me to write something. Therefore, I began this work as soon as I had finished my Cato, which I should never have meddled with, being alarmed at the aspect of the times, so hostile to virtue, if I had not thought it wicked not to comply with your wishes, when you were exhorting me and awaking in me the recollection of that man who was so dear to me, and I call you to witness that I have only ventured to undertake this subject after many entreaties on your part, and many refusals on mine. For I wish that you should appear implicated in this fault, so that if I myself should appear unable to support the weight of such a subject, you may bear the blame of having imposed such a burden on me, and I only that of having undertaken it. And then the credit of having had such a commission given me by you, will make amends for the blame which the deficiency of my judgment will bring upon me.
XI. But in everything it is very difficult to explain the form (that which is called in Greek [Greek: charaktaer]) of perfection, because different things appear perfection to different people. I am delighted with Ennius, says one person, because he never departs from the ordinary use of words. I love Pacuvius, says another, all his verses are so ornamented and elaborate while Ennius is often so careless. Another is all for Attius. For there are many different opinions, as among the Greeks, nor is it easy to explain which form is the most excellent. In pictures one man is delighted with what is rough harsh looking, obscure, and dark, others care only for what is neat cheerful and brilliant. Why should you, then give any precise command or formula, when each is best in its own kind, and when there are many kinds? However, these difficulties have not repelled me from this attempt, and I have thought that in everything there is some point of absolute perfection even though it is not easily seen, and, that it can be decided on by a man who understands the matter.
But since there are many kinds of speeches, and those different, and as they do not all fall under one form, the form of panegyric, and of declamation, and of narration, and of such discourses as Isocrates has left us in his panegyric, and many other writers also who are called sophists; and the form also of other kinds which have no connexion with forensic discussion, and of the whole of that class which is called in Greek [Greek: epideiktikon], and which is made up as it were for the purpose of being looked at—for the sake of amusement, I shall omit at the present time. Not that they deserve to be entirely neglected; for they are as it were the nursery of the orator whom we wish to draw; and concerning whom we are endeavouring to say something worth hearing.
XII. From this form is derived fluency of words; from it also the combination and rhythm of sentences derives a freer licence. For great indulgence is shown to neatly turned sentences; and rhythmical, steady, compact periods are always admissible. And pains are taken purposely, not disguisedly, but openly and avowedly, to make one word answer to another, as if they had been measured together and were equal to each other. So that words opposed to one another may be frequently contrasted, and contrary words compared together, and that sentences may be terminated in the same manner, and may give the same sound at their conclusion; which, when we are dealing with actual causes, we do much more seldom, and certainly with more disguise. But, in his Panathenaic oration, Isocrates avows that he diligently kept that object in view; for he composed it not for a contest in a court of justice, but to delight the ears of his hearers.
They say that Thrasymachus of Chalcedon, and Gorgias of Leontini, were the first men who taught this science; after him Theodorus of Byzantium, and many others whom Socrates in the Phaedrus calls [Greek: logodaidaloi]; who have said many things very tolerably clever, but which seem as if they had arisen at the moment, trifling, and like animals which change their colour, and too minutely painted. And this is what makes Herodotus and Thucydides the more admirable; for though they lived at the same time with those men whom I have named, still they kept aloof as far as possible from such amusements, or I should rather say from such follies. For one of them flows on like a tranquil river, without any attempts at facetiousness; the other is borne on in a more impetuous course, and relates warlike deeds in a warlike spirit; and they are the first men by whom, as Theophrastus says, history was stirred up to dare to speak in a more fluent and adorned style than their predecessors had ventured on.
XIII. Isocrates lived in the age next to theirs; who is at all times praised by us above all other orators of his class, even though you, O Brutus, sometimes object in a jesting though not in an unlearned spirit. But you will very likely agree with me when you know why I praise him. For as Thrasymachus appeared to him to be too concise with his closely measured rhythm, and Gorgias also, though they are the first who are said to have laid down any rules at all for the harmony of sentences; and as Thucydides was somewhat too abrupt and not sufficiently round, if I may use such an expression; he was the first who adopted a system of dilating his ideas with words, and filling them up with better sounding sentences; and as by his own practice he formed those men who were afterwards accounted the most eminent men in speaking and writing, his house got to be reckoned a perfect school of eloquence. Therefore, as I, when I was praised by our friend Cato, could easily bear to be blamed by the rest; so Isocrates appears to have a right to despise the judgment of other men, while he has the testimony of Plato to pride himself on. For, as you know, Socrates is introduced in almost the last page of the Phaedrus speaking in these words:—"At present, O Phaedrus, Isocrates is quite a young man; but still I delight in telling the expectations which I have of him." "What are they?" says he. "He appears to me to be a man of too lofty a genius to be compared to Lysias and his orations: besides, he has a greater natural disposition for virtue; so that it will not be at all strange if, when he has advanced in age, he will either surpass all his contemporaries who turn their attention to eloquence, and in this kind of oratory, to the study of which he is at present devoted, as if they were only boys; or, if he is not content with such a victory, he will then feel some sort of divine inspiration prompting him to desire greater things. For there is a deep philosophy implanted by nature in this man's mind." This was the augury which Socrates forms of him while a young man. But Plato writes it of him when he has become an old man, and when he is his contemporary, and a sort of attacker of all the rhetoricians. And Isocrates is the only one whom he admires. And let those men who are not fond of Isocrates allow me to remain in error in the company of Socrates and Plato.
That then is a delightful kind of oratory, free, fluent, shrewd in its sentiments, sweet sounding in its periods, which is found in that demonstrative kind of speaking which we have mentioned. It is the peculiar style of sophists; more suitable for display than for actual contest; appropriate to schools and exhibitions; but despised in and driven from the forum. But because eloquence is first of all trained by this sort of food, and afterwards gives itself a proper colour and strength, it appeared not foreign to our subject to speak of what is as it were the cradle of an orator. However, all this belongs to the schools, and to display: let us now descend into the battle-field and to the actual struggle.
XIV. As there are three things which the orator has to consider; what he is saying; and in what place, and in what manner he is saying each separate thing; it seems on all accounts desirable to explain what is best as to each separate subject, though in rather a different manner from that in which it is usually explained in laying down the principles of the science. We will give no regular rules, (for that task we have not undertaken,) but we will present an outline and sketch of perfect eloquence; nor will we occupy ourselves in explaining by what means it is acquired, but only what sort of thing it appears to us to be.
And let us discuss the two first divisions very briefly. For it is not so much that they have not an important reference to the highest perfection, as that they are indispensable, and almost common to other studies also. For to plan and decide on what you will say are important points, and are as it were the mind in the body; still they are parts of prudence rather than of eloquence; and yet what matter is there in which prudence is not necessary? This orator, then, whom we wish to describe as a perfect one, must know all the topics suited to arguments and reasons of this class. For since whatever can possibly be the subject of any contest or controversy, gives rise to the inquiry whether it exists, and what it is, and what sort of thing it is; while we endeavour to ascertain whether it exists, by tokens; what it is, by definitions; what sort of thing it is, by divisions of right and wrong; and in order to be able to avail himself of these topics the orator,—I do not mean any ordinary one, but the excellent one whom I am endeavouring to depict,—always, if he can, diverts the controversy from any individual person or occasion. For it is in his power to argue on wider grounds concerning a genus than concerning a part; as, whatever is proved in the universal, must inevitably be proved with respect to a part. This inquiry, then, when diverted from individual persons and occasions to a discussion of a universal genus, is called a thesis. This is what Aristotle trained young men in, not after the fashion of ordinary philosophers, by subtle dissertations, but in the way of rhetoricians, making them argue on each side, in order that it might be discussed with more elegance and more copiousness; and he also gave them topics (for that is what he called them) as heads of arguments, from which every sort of oration might be applied to either side of the question.
XV. This orator of ours then (for what we are looking for is not some declaimer out of a school, or some pettifogger from the forum, but a most accomplished and perfect orator), since certain topics are given to him, will run through all of them; he will use those which are suitable to his purpose according to their class; he will learn also from what source those topics proceed which are called common. Nor will he make an imprudent use of his resources, but he will weigh everything, and make a selection. For the same arguments have not equal weight at all times, or in all causes. He will, therefore, exercise his judgment, and he will not only devise what he is to say, but he will also weigh its force. For there is nothing more fertile than genius, especially of the sort which has been cultivated by study. But as fertile and productive corn-fields bear not only corn, but weeds which are most unfriendly to corn, so sometimes from those topics there are produced arguments which are either trifling, or foreign to the subject, or useless; and the judgment of the orator has great room to exert itself in making a selection from them. Otherwise how will he be able to stop and make his stand on those arguments which are good and suited to his purpose? or how to soften what is harsh, and to conceal what cannot be denied, and, if it be possible, entirely to get rid of all such topics? or how will he be able to lead men's minds away from the objects on which they are fixed, or to adduce any other argument which, when opposed to that of his adversaries, may be more probable than that which is brought against him?