Institutio Oratoria
Quintilian
Quintilian. Institutio Oratoria, Volume 1-4. Butler, Harold Edgeworth, translator. Cambridge, Mass; London: Harvard University Press, William Heinemann Ltd., 1920-1922.
In many cases it is desirable to soften the harshness of our language by the infusion of a more conciliatory tone, as, for example, Cicero did in his speech [*](Now lost.) dealing with the children of the proscribed. What fate could be more cruel than that the children of men of good birth and the descendants of distinguished ancestors should be excluded from participation in public life? For this reason that supreme artist in playing on the minds of men admits that it is hard, but asserts that the constitution is so essentially dependent on the laws of Sulla, that their repeal would inevitably involve its destruction. Thus he succeeded in creating the impression that lie was doing something on behalf of those very persons against whom he spoke. [*]( Cicero argued that it was better that a few should suffer unjustly than that the state should be upset by admitting them to office. But he admitted that their case was hard and suggested that it was better for them to live in an orderly state than run the risks in which revolution would involve them as well as others. )
I have already [*]( iii. 28. ) pointed out, in dealing with the subject of jests, how unseemly it is to take the position in life of individuals as the target for our gibes, and also have urged that we should refrain from insulting whole classes, races or communities. But at times our duty toward our client will force us to say something on the general character of a whole class of people, such as freedmen, soldiers, tax farmers or the like.
In all these cases the usual remedy is to create the impression that it is with reluctance that we introduce topics which must give pain, while further we shall avoid attacking everything, and even while using the language of reproof with regard to the essential point of attack, shall make up for our censure by praising our victims in some other connexion.
For example, if we charge soldiers with rapacity, we shall
With regard to foreign nations, Cicero's practice varies. When he intends to disparage the credibility of Greek witnesses he admits their distinction in learning and literature and professes his admiration for their nation. [*](E.g. pro Flacco xxvi. ) On the other hand, he has nothing but contempt for the Sardinians [*]( In a fragment of pro Scauro. ) and attacks the Allobroges as the enemies of Rome. [*](pro Font. viii. ) In all these cases none of his remarks, at the time they were made, were inconsistent with or adverse to the claims of decorum.
If there be anything offensive in the subject on which we have to speak, it may be toned down by a studied moderation in our language; for example, we may describe a brutal character as being unduly severe, an unjust man as led astray by prejudice, an obstinate man as unreasonably tenacious of his opinion. And there are a large number of cases where we should attempt to defeat our opponents by reasoning, which forms the gentlest of all methods of attack.
To these remarks I would add that all extravagance of any kind is indecorous, and consequently statements which are in sufficient harmony with the facts will none the less lose all their grace unless they are modified by a certain restraint. It is hard
I think I should also add a few brief words to the effect that not only very different rhetorical virtues have their special admirers, but that they are often praised by the same persons. For instance, there is one passage [*]( See Or. rxiii. 76. In this and the next passage Quintilian does not quote, but paraphrases. ) in Cicero where he writes that the best style is that which we think we can easily acquire by imitation, but which we find is really beyond our powers. But in another passage [*]( See Or. xxviii. 97. ) he says that his aim was not to speak in such a manner that everyone should be confident that he could do the same, but rather in a style that should be the despair of all.
These two statements may seem to be inconsistent, but as a matter of fact both alike deserve the praise which they receive. The difference is due to the fact that cases differ in character. Those of minor importance are admirably suited by the simplicity and negligence of unaffected language, whereas cases of greater moment are best suited by the grand style. Cicero is pre-eminent in both. Now while eminence in one of these styles may seem to the inexperienced to be within their grasp, those who understand know that they are capable of eminence in neither.
II. Some regard memory as being no more than one of nature's gifts; and this view is no doubt true to a great extent; but, like everything else, memory
But pleaders need not only to be able to retain a number of facts in their minds, but also to be quick to take them in; it is not enough to learn what you have written by dint of repeated reading; it is just as necessary to follow the order both of matter and words when you have merely thought out what you are going to say, while you must also remember what has been said by your opponents, and must not be content merely with refuting their arguments in the order in which they were advanced, but must be in a position to deal with each in its appropriate place.
Nay, even extempore eloquence, in my opinion, depends on no mental activity so much as memory. For while we are saying one thing, we must be considering something else that we are going to say: consequently, since the mind is always looking ahead, it is continually in search of something which is more remote: on the other hand, whatever it discovers, it deposits by some mysterious process in the safe-keeping of memory, which acts as a transmitting agent and hands on to the delivery
I do not conceive, however, that I need dwell upon the question of the precise function of memory, although many hold the view that certain impressions are made upon the mind, analogous to those which a signet-ring makes on wax. Nor, again, shall I be so credulous, in view of the fact that the retentiveness or slowness of the memory depends upon our physical condition, as to venture to allot a special art to memory.
My inclination is rather to marvel at its powers of reproducing and presenting a number of remote facts after so long an interval, and, what is more, of so doing not merely when we seek for such facts, but even at times of its own accord, and not only in our waking moments, but even when we are sunk in sleep.
And my wonder is increased by the fact that even beasts, which seem to be devoid of reason, yet remember and recognise things, and will return to their old home, however far they have been taken from it. Again, is it not an extraordinary inconsistency that we forget recent and remember distant events, that we cannot recall what happened yesterday and yet retain a vivid impression of the acts of our childhood?
And what, again, shall we say of the fact that the things we search for frequently refuse to present themselves and then occur to us by chance, or that memory does not always remain with us, but will even sometimes return to us after it has been lost? But we should never have realised the fullness of its power nor its supernatural capacities, but for the fact that it is memory which has brought oratory to its present position of glory.
For it provides the orator not merely with the order of his thoughts, but even of
This fact may even be advanced as an argument that there must be some art of memory and that the natural gift can be helped by reason, since training enables us to do things which we cannot do before we have had any training or practice. On the other hand, I find that Plato [*](Phaedr. 275 A. ) asserts that the use of written characters is a hindrance to memory, on the ground, that is, that once we have committed a thing to writing, we cease to guard it in our memory and lose it out of sheer carelessness.
And there can be no doubt that concentration of mind is of the utmost importance in this connexion; it is, in fact, like the eyesight, which turns to, and not away from, the objects which it contemplates. Thus it results that after writing for several days with a view to acquiring by heart what we have written, we find that our mental effort has of itself imprinted it on our memory.
The first person to discover an art of memory is said to have been Simonides, [*](See x. i. 64.) of whom the following well-known story is told. He had written an ode of the kind usually composed in honour of victorious athletes, to celebrate the achievement of one who had gained the crown for boxing. Part of the sum for which he had contracted was refused him on the ground that, following the common practice of poets, he had introduced a digression in praise of Castor and Pollux, and he was told that, in view of what he had done, he had best ask for the rest of the sum due from those whose deeds he had