LVII. I think, then, that necessity means that which cannot be resisted by any power; that which cannot be softened nor altered. And that this may be made more plain, let us examine into the meaning of it by the light of examples, so as to see what its character and how great its power is. "It is necessary that anything made of wood must be capable of being burnt with fire. It is necessary that a mortal body should at some time or other die." And it is so necessary, that that power of necessity which we were just now describing requires it; which cannot by any force whatever be either resisted, or weakened, or altered. Necessities of this kind, when they occur in oratory, are properly called necessities; but if any difficult circumstances arise, then we shall consider in the previous examination whether it, the thing in question, be possible to be done. And it seems to me, that I perceive that there are some kinds of necessity which admit of additions, and some which are simple and perfect in themselves. For we say in very different senses:—"It is necessary for the people of Casilinum to surrender themselves to Hannibal;" and, "It is necessary that Casilinum should come into the power of Hannibal." In the one case, that is, in the first case, there is this addition to the proposition:—"Unless they prefer perishing by hunger." For if they prefer that, then it is not necessary for them to surrender. But in the latter proposition such an addition has no place; because whether the people of Casilinum choose to surrender, or prefer enduring hunger and perishing in that manner, still it is necessary that Casilinum must come into the power of Hannibal. What then can be effected by this division of necessity? I might almost say, a great deal, when the topic of necessity appears such as may be easily introduced. For when the necessity is a simple one, there will be no reason for our making long speeches, as we shall not be able by any means to weaken it; but when a thing is only necessary provided we wish to avoid or to obtain something, then it will be necessary to state what advantage or what honour is contained in that addition. For if you will take notice, while inquiring what this contributes to the advantage of the state, you will find that there is nothing which it is necessary to do, except for the sake of some cause which we call the adjunct. And, in like manner, you will find that there are many circumstances of necessity to which a similar addition cannot be made; of such sort are these:—"It is necessary that mortal men should die;" without any addition:—"It is not necessary for men to take food;" with this exception,—"Unless they have an objection to dying of hunger."
Therefore, as I said before, it will be always proper to take into consideration the character of that exception which is added to the original proposition. For it will at all times have this influence, that either the necessity must be explained with reference to what is honourable, in this manner:—"It is necessary, if we wish to live with honour;" or with reference to safety, in this manner:—"It is necessary, if we wish to be safe;" or with reference to convenience, in this manner:—"It is necessary, if we are desirous to live without annoyance."
LVIII. And the greatest necessity of all appears to be that which arises from what is honourable; the next to it is that which arises from considerations of safety; the third and least important is that which has ideas of convenience involved in it. But this last can never be put in comparison with the two former. But it is often indispensable to compare these together; so that although honour is more precious than safety, there is still room to deliberate which one is to consult in the greatest degree. And as to this point, it appears possible to give a settled rule which may be of lasting application. For in whatever circumstances it can happen by any possibility that while we are consulting our safety, that slight diminution of honesty which is caused by our conduct may be hereafter repaired by virtue and industry, then it seems proper to have a regard for our safety. But when that does not appear possible, then we must think of nothing but what is honourable. And so in a case of that sort when we appear to be consulting our safety, we shall be able to say with truth that we are also keeping our eyes fixed on what is honourable, since without safety we can never attain to that end. And in these circumstances it will be desirable to yield to another, or to put oneself in another's place, or to keep quiet at present and wait for another opportunity. But when we are considering convenience, it is necessary to consider this point also,—whether the cause, as far as it has reference to usefulness, appears of sufficient importance to justify us in taking anything from splendour or honour. And while speaking on this topic, that appears to me to be the main thing, that we should inquire what that is which, whether we are desirous of obtaining or avoiding it, is something necessary; that is to say, what is the character of the addition; in order that, according as the matter is found to be, so we may exert ourselves, and consider the most important circumstances as being also the most necessary.
Affection is a certain way of looking at circumstances either with reference to the time, or to the result, or management of affairs, or to the desires of men, so that they no longer appear to be such as they were considered previously, or as they are generally in the habit of being considered. "It appears a base thing to go over to the enemy; but not with the view which Ulysses had when he went over. And it is a useless act to throw money into the sea; but not with the design which Aristippus had when he did so." There are, therefore, some circumstances which may be estimated with reference to the time at which and the intention with which they are done; and not according to their own intrinsic nature. In all which cases we must consider what the times require, or what is worthy of the persons concerned; and we must not think merely what is done, but with what intention, with what companions, and at what time, it is done. And from these divisions of the subject, we think that topics ought to be taken for delivering one's opinion.
LIX. But praise and blame must be derived from those topics which can be employed with respect to persons, and which we have already discussed. But if any one wishes to consider them in a more separate manner, he may divide them into the intention, and the person of the doer, and extraneous circumstances. The virtue of the mind is that concerning the parts of which we have lately spoken; the virtues of the body are health, dignity, strength, swiftness. Extraneous circumstances are honour, money, relationship, family, friends, country, power, and other things which are understood to be of a similar kind. And in all these, that which is of universal validity ought to prevail here; and the opposites will be easily understood as to their description and character.
But in praising and blaming, it will be desirable to consider not so much the personal character of, or the extraneous circumstances affecting the person of whom one is speaking, as how he has availed himself of his advantages. For to praise his good fortune is folly, and to blame it is arrogance; but the praise of a man's natural disposition is honourable, and the blame of it is a serious thing.
Now, since the principles of argumentation in every kind of cause have been set forth, it appears that enough has been said about invention, which is the first and most important part of rhetoric. Wherefore, since one portion of my work has been brought down to its end from the former book; and since this book has already run to a great length, what remains shall be discussed in subsequent books.
[The two remaining books are lost.]
THE ORATOR OF M.T. CICERO. ADDRESSED TO MARCUS BRUTUS.
This work was composed by Cicero soon after the battle of Pharsalia, and it was intended by him to contain the plan of what he himself considered to be the most perfect style of eloquence. In his Epistles to his Friends (vi. 18.) he tells Lepta that he firmly believed that he had condensed all his knowledge of the art of oratory in what he had set forth in this book.