Ancient Literary Criticism

This page intentionally left blank

Ancient Literary
CriticisITl
Principal Texts in New Translations

EDITED BY

D. A. RUSSELL
Fellow ofSt. John 's College, Oxford

AND

M. WINTERBOTTOM
Fellow of Worcester College,

OXFORD UN SITY PR S
 OxJord University Press, Walton Street, OxJord OX2 6DP
O)((ord New York
Athens Auckland Bangkok Bombay Calcutta Cape Town
Dar es Salaam Delhi Florence Hong Kong Istanbul Karachi
Kuala Lumpur Madras Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi
Paris Singapore Taipei Tokyo Toronto
and associated companies in
Berlin Ibadan

OxJord is a trade mark oJ OxJord University Press

Published in the United States by

OxJord University Press inc., New York

<© OxJord University Press 1972

First published 1972

All rights reserved. No part oJ this publication may be reproduced,

stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any Jorm or by any means,
without the prior permission in writing oJ OxJord University Press.
Within the UK, exceptions are allowed in respect oJ any Jair dealing Jor the
purpose oJ research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted
under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, or in the case oJ
reprographic re;Jroduction in accordance with the terms oJ the licences
issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning
reproduction outside these terms and in other countries should be
sent to the Rights Department, OxJord University Press,
at the address above

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way
of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the publisher's prior consent in any form oJ bin4/ing or cover
other than that in which it is published and without a si"!ilar condition
including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

ISBN 0-1,}-814360-5

7 9 10 8

Printed in Hong Kong

 PREFACE
WE are extremely grateful to Miss M. E. Hubbard for allowing us to in-
clude her translations of Aristotle, to Miss D. C. Innes for her Demetrius,
and to Mr. T. F. Higham for his Frogs. Of the rest, Mr. D. A. Russell is
responsible for the Greek texts, and for the Ars Poetica, and Dr. M.
Winterbottom for the remainder of the Latin texts.
We have not attempted to enSlllre complete uniformity in presentation
or in the style or scale of annotation throughout the book. The Indexes are
meant to supplement the notes, especially in explaining proper names.
They have been made possible by the help of Mrs. S. Argyle, to whom we
should like to express here our gratitude and appreciation.
Other texts might, and perhaps should, have been included; but we
hope we have made a sufficient selection to give the reader who wishes to
study this subject in English a fair and intelligible view of ancient criticism
within the compass of a single volume.
D.A.R.
M.W.

/
This page intentionally left blank
 CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION xiii

1. BEGINNINGS. Translated by D. A. RUSSELL:

A. Homer (I. Iliad 2. 484-92. 2. Odyssey I. 325 If. 3. Odyssey 8.
477 If. 4. Odyssey 22. 342 If.)
B. Hesiod: the poet and the Muses (Theogony I-Il, 21-34) 2
C. Theognis: immortality in poetry (237 If.) 3
D. Pindar (Olympian 2.83 If. Nemean 7. Il If. Fr. 137 Bowra) 3
E. Fragments of philosophers (Xenophanes B H. Democritus
B 18,21) 4
F. Anecdotes of the poets (Ion of Chios, fr. 8. Passages from
Plutarch, Moralia 79 b, 346 f-348 d) 4
G. Gorgias: the power of Logos (He/em~ 8-14) 6
Translated by T. F. HIGHAM:
H. Aristophanes (Frogs 830-1481) 8

2. PLATO. Translated by D. A. RUSSELL:

A. Rhapsodes and inspiration (Ion) 39

B. Poetry in education (Republic 2. 376-3. 398) 50
c. The true nature of imitation (Republic 10. 595-607) 66
D. Poetic madness (Phaedrus 245 a) 75
E. Rhetoric, actual and ideal (Phaedrus 266 d-274 a) 75
F. Real and assumed tastes (Laws 2. 655 c-656 a) 81
G. Pleasure as a criterion-but whose pleasure? (Laws 2.658 a-659 c) 82
H. Causes of decline (Laws 3. 700 a-'701 b) 84

3. ARISTOTLE. Translated by M. E. HUBBARD:

A. Poetics 85
B. Catharsis (Politics 1341 b32 If.) 132
c. The origins of aesthetic pleasure (Rhetoric I. 1371"21 If.) 134
D. Prose style (Rhetoric 3) 134
viii CONTENTS
4. DEMETRIUS, On Style. Translated by D. c. INNES 171

5. CICERO. Translated by M. WINTERBOTTOM:

A. Who should judge orators? (Brutus 183-200) 216
B. The progress of Greek oratory (BTUtUS 25-51) 219
c. Cato (Brutus 61--76) 224
D. Atticus on Cato (Brutus 292--i) 226
E. The nature of eloquence (de oratore I. 80-95) 228
F. Philosophy and oratory (de oratore I. 64--73) 231
G. Which philosophical sect should the orator choose? (de oratore 3.
54--71) 233
H. 'Attic' oratory (Orator 22-32) 237
I. The three styles and the perfect orator (Orator 75-121) 240
J. The best type of orator (de optimo genere oratorum) 250

K. History (de oratore 2. 51-8) 255

L. The use of words (de oratore 3.149-81) 256

6. LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY.

Translated by M. WINTERBOTTOM:
A. A poet defends himself (Terence, Andria 1-27. Heauton
Timoroumenos 35 If.) 265
B. A defence of satire (Horace, Satires I. 4) 266
C. More about Lucilius and satire (Horace, Satires I. 10) 269
D. A letter to Augustus (Horace, Epistles 2. I) 272
Translated by D. A. RUSSELL:
E. The Art of Poetry (Horace, Ars Poetiea) 279
Translated by M. WINTERBOTTOM:
F. A poet's autobiography (Ovid, Tristia 4. 10. 1-64) 292
G. Poetry and morality (Ovid, Tristia 2. 353 If.) 293
H. Immortality through poetry (Ovid, Amores I. IS) 297
I. The true poet (Petronius 1I8) 298

7. GREEK AUGUSTANS. Translated by D. A. RUSSELL:

A. Against Eratosthenes' view that poetry is entertainment (Strabo
I. 2. 3--i) 300
 CONTENTS b
B. Rome and the classical revival (Dionysius of Halicamassus, On
the ancient orators, preface 30 5
c. Demosthenes (Dionysius of Halicamassus, Demosthenes 1-7, 8-22,
23, 32, with omissions) 307
D. On the Arrangement of Words (Dionysius of Halicamassus, De
compositione verborum 1-13, 20, 21-6, with omissions) 321

8. DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS

Translated by M. WINTERBOTTOM:
A. Dispute about the son of a man who exposed a child and a woman
who was divorced (Pseudo-Quintilian, Declamation 338) 344
B. Gcero deliberates whether to beg Antony's pardon (Seneca,
Suasoriae 6. 1-14) 349
c. Declamation and the forum (Seneca, Controversiae 3, praefatio) 354
D. Ovid in the schools (Seneca, Controversiae 2. 2. 8-9, 12) 358
E. The decay of oratory (Seneca, Controversiae 1, praefatio 6-10) 359
F. The absurdities of declamation (petronius 1-4) 361
G. Styles and morals (Seneca, Epistles II4. 1-23) 362
H. Speed in oratory (Seneca, Epistles 40. II-I4) 367
I. The style for a philosopher (Seneca, Epistles 100. 1-12) 368
J. Seneca on his predecessors (Aulus Gellius 12. 2) 370

9. QUINTILIAN AND PLINY

Translated by M. WINTERBOTTOM:
A. Declamation and reality (Q!iintilian 2. 10) 372
B. The importance of expression (Q!iintilian 8, praefatio 13-33) 374
c. Reading in the schools of rhetoric (Quintilian 2. 5) 377
D. Reading for the advanced student (Quintilian 10. I) 380
E. Imitation (Quintilian 10. 2) 400
F. Types of oratory (Quintilian 12. 10) 404
G. The good man skilled in speaking (Quintilian 12. I) 417
H. Pliny's Letters:
I. To Tacitus: on brevity (I. 20) 423
2. To Cerealis: on public recitals (2. 19) 426
3. To Voconius Romanus: sent with a copy of Pliny's Panegyric
~~ ~
x CONTENTS
4. To Paternus: morality in poetry (4. 14)
5. To Lupercus: on the sublime (9. 26)

10. TACITUS, DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 43 2

Translated by M. WINTERBOTTOM

11. 'LONGINUS', ON SUBLIMITY

Translated by D. A. RUSSELL

12. DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH: THE GREEK

REVIV AL. Translated by D. A. RUSSELL:
A. Philoctetes in the tragedians (Dio Chrysostom, Oration 52) 504
B. On the Study of Poetry (plutarch, de audiendis Metis 1-8 =
Moralia 14 d If.) 507
c. Comparison of Aristophanes and Menander (Plutarch, Moralia
~3aOC) , ~I
D. On reading comedy at dinner (Plutarch, Moralia 711 f If.) 532

13. TWO CRITICS OF HISTORY

Translated by D. A. RUSSELL:
A. Malice in history (Plutarch, de malignitate Herodoti 1-9 = Moralia
~e~ rn
B. How to write history
1. History, poetry, and panegyric (Lucian, de conscribenda historia
6-13) 53 6
2. The ideal historian and his work (ibid. 34-64) 540

14. SECOND- AND THIRD-CENTURY TEXTS

Translated by M. WINTERBOTTOM:
A. Virgil, Theocritus, and Homer (A. Gellius 9. 9)

B. Virgil and Pindar (A. Gellius 17. 10)

Translated by D. A. RUSSELL:
c. Imagination (philostratus, Life of Apol/onius 6. 19) 552
D. Male and female styles (Aristides Qpintilianus 2. 7-9) 552
E. Poetry and prose (Aelius Aristides 45. 1-10, 13) 55 8
 CONTENTS xi
15. LATER GREEK RHETORIC. Translated by D. A. RUSSELL:
A. Hermogenes, On Types
1. Introduction; general concepts (pp. 213 ff. Rabe) 561
2. Dignity, grandeur, solemnity (pp. 241 ff.) 566
3. 'Character', simplicity (pp. 321 ff.) 572
4. The purely 'panegyric' mode and its exponents (pp. 403 ff.) 575
B. On invented hymns (Menander 3. 340 ff. Spengel) 579
c. Propemptica (valedictions) (Menander 3. 395 ff. Spengel) 580

INDEXES
1. INDEX OF GREEK AND LATIN TERMS 585
2. INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 586
3. GENERAL INDEX 600
This page intentionally left blank
 INTRODUCTION

THERE are a number of recent surveys, both long and short, of the Greek
and Roman contribution to literary criticism. I The purpose of this book
is to provide, in English and with brief explanatory comments, the most
important texts on which any judgement must be based. We have tried
to keep in mind the intrinsic interest of what our authors say, its im-
portance as a commentary on ancient literature, and its influence on later
criticism. Some of the texts are well known and have often been translated;
others, especially the later Greek ones, are less familiar.
In date, these texts are concentrated-by the accident of survival-in
two main periods: the century which ended with Aristotle, and the two
centuries beginning with Cicero. Of the first beginnings of Greek critical
thought in the casual but illuminating remarks of poets, we have only
scraps: enough however to show that the basic ideas of inspiration, social
or didactic commitment, and levels of style and genre, were present and
natural in the Greek approach to literature long before speculation
became articulate. Yet most of the first part of this book (chaps. 2-3) is
devoted to the two great philosophers, Plato and Aristotle. Plato's view of
literature is indeed a curiously negative one; concerned always with his
moral counter-revolution, his attempt to defend inherited values in a
hostile world, he seems to give most of his attention to the task of counter-
acting the bad effects of poetry and rhetoric. It is obvious that Aristotle
in the Poetics is activated by the need to answer Plato's austerity; the
contrast between master and pupil is perhaps more interesting in this
marginally philosophical field than in the issues of logic and metaphysics.
We see how Aristotle's detachment from civic emotion and the limitations
of his own literary talent lead him to a saner and more illuminating view of
what poets do and ought to do for their fellow men.
It is, as we said, the accident of survival that determines the chrono-
logical pattern of our texts. The Hellenistic age is a blank. One candidate
presented himself, but could not be included: Philodemus the Epicurean,
a contemporary indeed of Cicero, but an active debater in the contro-
versies of the Hellenistic schools. The fragments of his work (papyri from
Herculaneum) are obscure and thorny; it is often difficult to distinguish
his own views from those he is arguing against. But the reader who wishes

I G. M. A. Grube, The Greek and Roman Critics, Toronto, 1965, is now a standard

book; miniature surveys by D. A. Russell in Oxford Classical Dictionary, 2nd edn., s.v.
Literary Criticism, and in A Social History of Western Literature, ed. D. Daiches, vol. i.
xiv INTRODUCTION
to take a fair view of the whole development can hardly avoid taking him
into account. Like Horace, he was a poet as well as a critic; and it is clear
that he protested both against the current didactic view of the poet's
function and against the ordinary rhetorical assumption that content
and form can be treated separately. I
All the rest of this book (chaps. 4-15) dates from a long but fairly
homogeneous period: that of the imitative, bilingual literature of the
Roman empire, an age of standardized rhetorical teaching and very great
concern with form, especially stylistic form. Only Demetrius (chap. 4)
and Strabo (chap. 7, A) open the window a little on the preceding dark-
ness: Demetril,ls byhis obvious connections with stylistic problems as seen
in the late fourth century B.C., Strabo by his 'didactic' reaction to the
Hellenistic opinion that the essence of poetry lies in its entertainment
value. The rest of our authors should be seen against the background of
the changing fashions of oratory and prose style generally in the first
two centuries of the Empire. There are of course great differences between
the Greeks an!ithe Romans; there are also strikingly close connections-
the 'survey of literature' which Q!lintilian gives as a guid(! to the orator's
reading (chap. 9, D) is largely derived, in its Greek part, from Dionysius'
book 'On Imitation', written perhaps a century earlier.
The Greek picture is both simpler and more baffling. Dionysius
(chap. 7) is the prophet of a reformation: he has a vision of a new litera-
ture arising out of the intelligent imitation of the classics, discarding the
extravagance, banality, and illiteracy which he sees in Hellenistic prose.
But of course this reformation did not produce a clean sheet. 'Longinus'
(chap. u) shar(!s Dionysius' historical view-but neither is his own
writing classicizing nOr is the quality of 'sublimity' with which he is
concerned one that is particularly prominent in Attic prO!le. He does
battle with a friend of Dionysius-Caecilius of Caleacte-over the
crucial subject of the evaluation of Plato : his admiration for the rich
metaphorical abundance of the Timaeus ('Longinus' 32) is symptomatic
of a 'baroque' taste :which is very far from jehme Atticism.
But it is difficult to follow the fluctuations of Greek taste-the texts
we have (apart from Dionysius) are of doubtful date, the successive
waves of 'reform' are hard to distinguish from one another. We are on
much firmer historical ground with the Romans.
Here the dominance of rhetoric in our texts is particularly obvious.
We have not only Cicero (chap. 5) and Q!lintilian (chap. 9), but a selection
(chap. 8) of practical examples of 'declamation' and comments on the
practice. It is clear that the habit of debating general themes and imaginary
I See Grube, 193 If., for a useful and intelligent. summary of what is known of

Philodemus.
 INTRODUCTION xv

cases in rhetorical schools had pervasive effects on all kinds of Latin

writing under the Empire. It is important to see why this happened.
I t is an adaptation to new circumstances of something very fundamental
in all classical literature. Right from the time of Gorgias (chap. I, G), the
practical 'art of speaking' was thought to give a guide to the evaluation
even of poetry. This was natural, because the Greeks (and the Romans
after them) always seem to have been primarily concerned with the
element of persuasiveness or convincingness in literature-its reference
not to the writer's needs nor to the subject's, but to the impact on the
audience. This persuasiveness involved reasoning, giving pleasure, and
-most important-inducing emotional responses. It seems doubtful
whether self-release and self-expression were ever thought of as im-
pulses to write-even though the irrationality of the poet's drive was
recognized and treated as divine or daemonic. Normally, two motives
were understood: the need to make people do what you wanted, and the
desire for reputation as a master of men's minds. Now, in the age of
Cicero (as in classical Athens) much energy was naturally occupied in the
political and forensic activities of civic life; these produced real 'urgency'
(agon, contentio) and hence real oratorical literature. With the fall of the
Republic, which meant both the establishment of a monarchy and the
transfer of power from assemblies to armies and their commanders, this
'real' oratory began to fade. The practice of declamation did something to
replace it. Addressed to a leisured and expert audience, the imaginary
speeches encouraged ingenuity, sophistication, a rapid development of
tricks and devices. The first-century literary scene, with the theories and
comments that rose out of it, is impregnated with all this.
Much of the most interesting material in these later texts is concerned
with ~he classical authors of the past. The Romans, it is true, maintained
a tradition of commenting on contemporary developments: Horace (often
under a veil of talk about Greek literature) deals with Augustan problems;
we have Seneca on his predecessors (chap, 8, J) and Q!Jintilian on Seneca
(chap. 9, D); Pliny discusses his own works (chap. 9, H); Tacitus (chap. 10)
gives one of the speakers in his Dialogue an apologia for the modern
manner. But the Greeks hardly ever do this. Plutarch (chap. 12) is
concerned, following in Plato's footsteps, to save the young from the
perils of poetry: he means Homer and classical tragedy and comedy.
His criticism of Aristophanes and Herodotus is in the same vein. It is
only Lucian (chap. 13, B) who strikes a more contemporary note-his
targets are archaizing historians of the second-century Parthian wars.
Yet there can be no doubt that the attention to the classics which the
educational system of these centuries demanded led to very considerable
critical virtues: clear standards of 'true' and 'false' sublime; minute and
xvi INTRODUCTION
.' .
appreciative observation of style, tone, and genre; balance and common
sense.
But the authors must speak for themselves. To generalize about them
is inevitably to point out limitations. Rhetoric, ethics, education-what
has all this to do with literature? The answer lies in the spirit and
intelligence with which they undertook such enterprises of criticism as
they understood; on this score, Aristotle and "i-onginus', Cicero, Tacitus,
and ~intiIian, need have no fears.
D. A. R.
 1
BEGINNINGS

In this chapter we collect passages from early Greek poets and other writers to
illustrate the beginnings of aesthetic reflection and criticism. Many of the original
texts are printed (with Italian commentary and translation) in G. Lanata,
Poetica pre-platonica, Firenze, 1963. See also R. Harriott, Poetry and Criticism
before Plato, London, 1969.

A. HOMER
The epics, and especially the Odyssey, contain a number of passages which
express views on the function and nature of poetry (the poet's dependence on
the Muse, his divine skill, and so on) and the power of speech. See Grube,
pp. 1-4; H. Maehler, Die AufJassung des Dichterberuft im friihen Griechentum,
G6ttingen, 1963, pp. 9-34.
I. Tell me now, Muses who dwell on Olympus-for you are goddesses,
you are there, you know everything, while we hear only repute and know
nothing-tell me who were the leaders and princes of the Danaoi. Their
number I could not tell or name, no, not if I had ten tongues and ten
mouths, a voice that would not tire, a heart of bronze, if the Olympian
Muses, daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus, did not tell me how many
there were who went to Troy. (Iliad 2.484-92)
2. And the famous bard (aoidos) sang to them, and they sat quietly
listening. He sang of the dreadful return of the Achaeans that Pallas
Athene sent them on their way home from Troy ... And Penelope wept
and said to the divine bard: 'Phemius, you know many ways to charm
men with deeds of men and gods, that bards commemorate. Sit by me and
sing one of those; let them drink their wine in silence; but stop this song,
this dreadful song, that always pains my heart in my breast, for intolerable
grief touches me deeply. For I always remember and yearn for the head
of a man whose fame is great in Hellas and Argos.'
Wise Telemachus answered: 'Mother, why grudge the trusted bard
giving such pleasure as h is mind commands him? Bards are not to blame;
it is Zeus who is to blame, because he gives what lot he pleases to every
man on earth. No blame to Phemius, either, for singing the bad fortune
of the Danaoi: men give most praise always to the newest song they hear.'
(Od.yssey 1. 325-8, 336-52)
S148591 B
2 BEGINNINGS
3. 'Herald, come here, take this meat for Demodocus to eat; let me
embrace him, for all my sorrows. Bards earn honour and respect among
all men on earth, because the Muse has taught them the ways of song
(oimai), and loves the race of bards ...
'Demodocus, I praise you above all men. Either the Muse taught you,
the daughter ofZeus, or else Apollo. Very beautifully you sing the fate of
the Achaeans, their deeds and sufferings and toils, as if you were there
yourself or had heard from someone else. But change your tune now,
and sing of the making of the Wooden Horse ... If you will sing me that
tale properly, I shall tell all mankind that god in kindness gave you the
divine power of song.' (Odyssey 8. 477 ff.)
4. [Phemius] ..• seized Odysseus by the knees and spoke to him, begging:
'I beg you, Odysseus, respect me and pity me. You will suffer hereafter
if you kill a bard who sings to gods and men. I taught myself; god put
all kinds of ways of song into my mind; I am fit to sing at your side
as at a god's; do not desire to cut my throat.' (Odyssey 22. 342 ff.)

B. HESIOD: THE POET AND THE MUSES

Hesiod's Theogony (c. 700 B.C.) opens with a hymn to the Muses, in which the
poet describes his encounter with them while he was keeping his sheep on
Helicon. They gave him a staff of bay, inspired him to sing, and prescribed his
subject.
There may well be elements in this narrative which were already convention.
Shepherd-poets are found in other literatures: Amos and Credmon come to
mind. There are also of course many imitations, especially in Hellenistic and
Roman poetry. But the familiarity of the symbolism in later literature should
not cause us to deny to Hesiod a sincere conviction of the divine origin of his
calling.
Text and commentary: M. L. West, Oxford, 1966.
With the Muses of Helicon let us begin our song.
They dwell on the high and holy mountain of Helicon
and dance on their dainty feet
round the dark spring and the altar of mighty Kronion. I
In Permessos or Hippokrene
or Olmeios divine
they wash their delicate skin.
They form their lovely dances on Helicon's highest summit,
nimble and strong of foot;
and thence they arise and go in the night, in darkness enveloped,
uttering marvellous music, singing the praises of Zeus,
I 'Son of Kronos', i.e. Zeus.
 HESIOD 3
of Zeus who carries the aigis, and Hera queen of Argos •••
and the holy race of the other immortals.
It was they who taught Hesiod once their beautiful song,
as he kept his sheep under holy Helicon.
Yes, me, whom you hear, the goddesses spoke to unbidden,
the Muses of Olympus, the daughters of aigis-bearing Zeus:
'Shepherds dwelling in the fields,' they said,
'living scandals, greedy guts,
we know how to tell many lies that resemble the truth,
but we know also how to tell the truth when we wish.'
With these words
the eloquent daughters of Zeus plucked and gave me as a staff
a splendid branch of growing bay.
And they breathed divine song into me
that I might tell of the past and of the future,
and they commanded me to sing of the race of the immortal, blessed Gods,
and always to sing of themselves, both first and last.
(Theogony I - I l , 21-34)

C. THEOGNIS: IMMORTALITY IN POETRY

This passage-sixth- or fifth-century B.c.-is an early, perhaps the earliest,
statement of the poet's claim to confer immortality. It is a love poem.
I give you wings to flyover the boundless sea, soaring easily over every
land. You shall be at every feast and banquet, in many men's mouths.
Lovely young men will sing clear and beautiful songs about you to the
clear notes of the flute. And when you go down to Hades' house of mourn-
ing in the hollow places of the murky earth, even in death you will not
lose your fame; you will always be thought of among men, with a name
that will last for ever, Cyrnus, as you rove round Greece and among the
islands, passing over the unharvested, fish-teeming sea-not riding on
a horse's back, but escorted by the splendid gifts of the violet-crowned
Muses. You will be a song for all men who care, even in time to come, so
long as earth and sun endure.
But scant is the regard I get from you: you cheat me as though I were
a little child. (237 ff.)

D. PINDAR
The greatest lyric poet of the fifth century speaks now and then, in his own
person, about the making and purpose of poetry. See especially C. M. Bowra.
Pina"ar, Oxford, 1964, chap.!.
4 BEGINNINGS
1. Under my arm are many sharp arrows in the quiver, that speak to those
that understand. For the world at large, they need interpreters. Wise is he
who knows many things by nature. But those who have merely learned
gabble incessantly, like crows insatiate of chatter, against the holy bird
of Zeus... (Olympian 2. 83 ff.)
2. A man successful in his deeds gives a pleasant cause for the Muses'
streams to flow. Great valour dwells in deep darkness for need of song.
In one way only we know a mirror for noble deeds-if thanks to bright-
clad Memory reward is found for labour in the famous songs of poetry
... I fancy Odysseus' story has become greater than his sufferings because
of the sweet poetry of Homer. There is something grand about his lies
and winged devices. Wisdom deceives, misleading with fables. But the
mass of men have a blind heart. . • (Nemean 7. I I ff.)
3. Prophesy (manteueo), Muse, and I will be your interpreter (propha-
teusa). (fr. 137 Bowra)

E. FRAGMENTS OF PHILOSOPHERS
Xenophanes (c. 565-470 B.C.) was both poet and philosopher. To him is assigned
the first criticism of early poetry on moral grounds; he seems to anticipate the
view that Plato develops in the Republic (below, chap. 2, B).
Homer and Hesiod attributed to the gods all the reproaches and disgraces
of men-theft, adultery, deceit. (fr. B I I Diels-Kranz)
Democritus (c. 460-360 B.C.), the greatest of the atomists, is often quoted as an
authority for the doctrine that poets need divine inspiration (cf. Horace, The
Art of Poetry, 295 ff.: below, p. 287).
Whatsoever a poet writes under possession (enthousiasmos) and the divine
spirit (hieron pneuma) is very beautiful. (fr. B 18)
Homer, being endowed with a nature subject to divine influences (phusis
theazousa), constructed a fair work of poetry of every kind. (fr. B 21)

F. ANECDOTES OF THE POETS

In classical Greece, poets were famous men and there were many stories about
them. We give first a contemporary anecdote of Sophocles by another tragic
poet, Ion of Chios.
The boy blushed even deeper, and Sophocles said to his neighbour at
dinner:
'How right Phrynichus was:
"On red cheeks shines the light of love!" ' I
1 Fr. 13 Nauck.
 ANECDOTES OF THE POETS 5
The Eretrian, who was a schoolmaster, took this up. 'Ofcourse, Sophocles,
you are an expert in poetry. But Phrynichus was surely wrong in calling
the boy's jaws "red". If a painter were to colour this boy's jaws red, he
wouldn't be beautiful any m.ore. It's not right to liken the beautiful to what
isn't beautiful.' Sophocles laughed. 'Then I take it, sir,' he said, 'that
you don't approve either of Simonides' much-admired line:
"the maid from red lips speaking"-'
or of Homer's "gold-haired Apollo".2 For if the painter had made the
god's hair gold and not black, the painting would have been worse.
And what about "rosy-fingered"?3 If you dipped your fingers in rose
colour, the result would be a dye-worker's hands, nota beautiful woman's.'
(Ion of Chios, fr. 8 von Blumenthal)
Next, Sophocles on his own development-perhaps a paraphrase in Plutarch's
Greek rather than the original words. See C. M. Bowra, Problems in Greek
Poetry, Oxford, 1953, pp. 108-125; the translation dissents from his interpreta-
tion because we take lexis as '(ordinary) speech'.
Sophocles used to say that, having played through the magniloquence of
Aeschylus, and then the sharp artificiality of his own manner, he turned
finally to the style of (ordinary) speech, the best and most expressive of
character. (Plutarch, Moralia 79 b)
It is again to Plutarch that we owe the following stories and sayings, embedded
in the sophisticated and involved argument of a declamation on 'whether the
glory of Athens is due more to war or to wisdom'.
But Simonides calls painting 'silent poetry' and poetry 'talking painting'.
For literature relates and sets down as having happened the same events
that painters represent as happening. And the colours and shapes of the
painters and the words and expressions of the writers make manifest the
same things; they differ in material and manner of imitation, but they
both have the same goal. The best historian then is he who brings his'
narrative to life like a picture with emotions and personalities. Thucydides
always strives after this vividness (enargeia), in his desire to make the
hearer a spectator and to rouse in the reader's mind all the emotions of
dismay and disturbance which the eyewitness felt ...
Poetry owed its charm and honour to its power to express things in a
lifelike way: as Homer says, she
'spoke many lies, resembling truth'.4
One of Menander's friends is supposed to have said to him, 'Menander
the festival's coming up, and you haven't done your comedy yet.' 'Oh
I Fr. 80 Page. 2 Not in Homer, but (e.g.) in Tyrtaeus.
3 Frequent Homeric epithet of dawn. 4 Odyssey 19. 203.
6 BEGINNINGS
yes, I have,' he replied, 'the plot is arranged, there's only the verses to
add'-because, no doubt, poets themselves believe the action to be much
more essential and important than the words. When Pindar was a young
man and flaunted his learning, Corinna took him to task for tastelessness,
because instead of composing myths, the proper function of poetry, he
heightened the flavour of his subject with rare words, catachreses, meta-
phors, song, and rhythm. Pindar listened to what she had to say, and
then produced the following and showed it to her:
Ismenos or Melias of golden spindle,
Cadmus or the holy race of the Spartoi,
Heracles' mighty strength
or Dionysus' glorious honour.'
Corinna laughed: 'Sow with the hand,' she said, 'not with the sack.' For
in fact Pindar had mixed a complete hotchpotch of myths into the poem.
But that poetry is concerned with myths is testified also by Plato. 2 And
a myth is a false statement resembling a true one; hence it is far removed
from reality, since a statement is an image or ghost of an action, and a
myth of a statement ...
Athens possessed no notable practitioner of epic or lyric poetry.
Cinesias seems to have been a poor dithyrambist-himself a (? sterile)
dim creature, he has had a bad reputation because of the jokes and jeers
of the comic poets. As for the drama, comedy was thought such a low,
vulgar activity that no Areopagite was allowed, by law, to compose a
comedy. Tragedy did flourish, and was famous: a wonderful experience
for the eyes and ears of that generation. It lent to myth and emotion a
deceit wherein, as Gorgias 3 says, the deceiver is more just than the non-
deceiver, and the deceived is wiser than the undeceived. The deceiver is
more just because he has fulfilled his promise; the deceived is wiser,
because it takes a measure of sensibility to be accessible to the pleasures
of literature. . . (Moralia 346 f-348 d)

G. GORGIAS: THE POWER OF LOGOS

The passage just quoted contains a characteristically ingenious remark of Gor-
gias of Leontini (c. 483-(. 376). He was among the earliest teachers of rhetoric.
At Athens (c. 427) his fantastic style, with its elaborate antitheses and figures,
was a dazzling success. We translate-without attempting to reproduce the often
bizarre verbal effects of the original-a passage from A Defence of He/en in
which Gorgias discusses the irresistible power of speech: one possible excuse for
I Fr. 9 Bowra.
2 Phaedo 61 b.
3 See the next section. Cf. also Plutarch, On the Study of Poetry I (below, p. 509).
 GORGIAS 7
Hclen is that she was beguiled by logos. The text is not well preserved: we have
indicated places where there is serious doubt.
Text: L. Radermacher, Artium Scriptores, Vienna, 1951, 52 if.; commentary
by O. Immisch, Berlin, 1927. Discussion: Grube, 17 if.
If it was speech that persuaded her and deceived her soul, it is not 8
difficult to make her defence and get the charge dismissed.
Thus:
Speech is a great prince. With tiny body and (? strength) unseen, he
performs marvellous works. He can make fear cease, take away pain,
instil joy, increase pity. I will explain how; the audience I must feel
convinced of this. I hold all poetry to be speech with metre, and that is 9
how I use the word. Those who hear poetry feel the shudders of fear,
the tears of pity, the longings of grief. Through the words, the soul
experiences its own reaction to successes and misfortunes in the affairs
and persons of others.
Let me shift my ground. Inspired charms which use speech are sum- 10
moners of pleasure and banishers of pain. The force of the charm meets
the conviction of the mind and bewitches, persuades, and changes it by
sorcery. Of sorcery and magic, two arts have been discovered, to mislead
the mind and deceive the judgement.
Think how many people, by inventing false words, have deceived, and II
do every day deceive, many minds on many matters! If everyone had
memory of all the past, knowledge of the present, and foresight of the
future, speech would not be (? like this). But as it is, we have no facility
in remembering the past or viewing the present or divining the future;
so that on most subjects most people summon opinion to be the mind's
adviser. But opinion is treacherous and unstable, and involves her
employers in treacherous and unstable successes ... [corrupt sentence
omitted].
For speech the persuader forces the persuaded mind to agree with what 12
is said and approve what is done. The persuader therefore does wrong
because he compels, and the persuaded, because she is compelled by
speech, deserves no abuse.
The alliance of speech and persuasion shapes the mind as it wishes. 13
We can see this in various ways. First, in the talk of the scientists, who
rob us of one opinion to give us another, and make the incredible and
unseen apparent to the eyes of opinion. Secondly, in the debates which
events force upon men, wherein a single speech pleases and persuades a
multitude, by the skill of its writing, not the sincerity of its utterance.
Thirdly, in the contentions of philosophers, where is displayed a rapidity
I i.e. the imaginary jury which has to be persuaded of the validity of the defence.
 8 BEGINNINGS
of intellect that makes it easy to change the conviction with which an
opinion is held.
14 The effect of speech bears the same rel~tion to the constitution of the
mind as the prescribing of drugs does to the nature of the body. For just
as various drugs expel various humours from the body, some ending
disease and some ending life, so some speeches give pain, some pleasure,
some fear, some confidence, while others again poison and bewitch the
mind with a malevolent persuasiveness. (Helena 8-14)

H. ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 830-1481

INTRODUCTION

1. The play in its time

I. Aristophanes produced the first of his comedies in 427 B.C. at the age of
about 23, and the last of the eleven which survive in 388, shortly before his death.
The Frogs was first shown in late January or early February 405. It was awarded
the first prize and also received the rare honour of a second performance,
perhaps later in the same year. Theatrical performances at Athens formed part
of the festivals of Dionysus, god at this time not only of wine but of all the
creative or recreative fluids in nature.
The god himself is a central figure in the Frogs; and in the first half of it
mainly but not entirely a figure of fun. This role would surprise no anthropo-
logist and no student of medieval Christian festivities. On set occasions ribald
fun at the god's expense was thought to give him both honour and delight, as
certainly as it gave his worshippers the pleasures of release. Dionysus (whose
High Priest presided at the theatre) and his half-brother Herakles were constant
butts of comedy. Very few of the other gods, not even Zeus, were spared.
2. To write any comedy in the early months of 405 must have been a desper-
ately baffling task. The preceding year, marking half a century since the death of
Aeschylus, had been marked also by the deaths of his great successors in Tragedy.
First Euripides, aged about 75, had been mourned; then Sophoc1es, older by
J2 years or more, whose death, if much later, may well have caused some revision
in the draft of the play. Over and above all this, the time was one of military
exhaustion, acute political unrest, and subversive free thought. By prayers and
plans Athens was seeking deliverance in a war destined to bring her downfall
in 404. It had begun in 431 and had continued with only one brief intermission.
In 413 the disaster suffered by Athenian arms in Sicily had been followed by
Sparta's occupation of part of Attica. Since then the city had been crowded
with refugees; and economic resources, for this and other reasons, were severely
strained. They depended not only on local supplies but on command of the seas
-an uncertain factor even after the naval victory of Arginusae (off Mytilene) in
406. Meanwhile party faction had increased the sum of trouble. It had driven
Alkibiades, the most brilliant, if egoistic, of Athenian war-leaders, into voluntary
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 9
exile and had made of him a political adventurer. He had even gone over to the
Spartans for a time and given advice most damaging to his native land (cf.
1427-9). In 411 continuing unrest had come to the surface in 'The Revolution
of the 400', an oligarchical movement. This was followed in 410 by a restoration
of the democracy; which meant that some of the revolutionaries lost their lives,
and others their civil rights, in whole or in part.
It is for these disfranchised citizens that Aristophanes pleads in the 'Para-
basis' of the Frogs (686--?oS), a part of the play traditional in comedy, where the
Chorus 'comes forward' and the playwright, speaking through the mouth of its
leader, freely expresses his own views on public affairs and personalities.
Aristophanes' pleading was widely approved and contributed much to the
play's success. It was no time for vindictive party feeling. Athens needed the
whole-hearted service of all good men.
One question which divided the country was whether to conclude an early
peace on honourable terms or to fight on for higher stakes. Aristophanes almost
certainly shared the feelings of the landowners and other refugees from occupied
Attica. These desired an end to the war and welcomed an offer of peace made by
Sparta soon after Arginusae. But the offer had been refused, mainly under the
influence of Kleophon, a demagogue openly attacked in Frogs 67g-85, IS32 f.
Seventy Spartan ships had been lost at Arginusae, together with the admiral
in command. In gratitude for victory the Athenians set free all slaves who had
served on board. But the price of victory had been high-twenty-five triremes,
with casualties which saddened the whole city; and finalJy all joy was soured
by the impeachment of the victorious commanders for having failed to recover
the crews of disabled ships and the floating dead.

3. Theramenes, a leading politician twice satirized in the Frogs (S34-41, 967-70),

was closely concerned in these events. Some account of him is necessary because
Euripides, so prominent in the play, is made (in line 967) to boast of him and
of Kleitophon as typical products of his own teaching. Both were 'modems',
conversant with the New Learning, Kleitophon being a member of the Socratic
circle; both, like Euripides himself, were right-wing democrats, favouring a
restricted franchise, but not a narrow oligarchy; and in 411 Theramenes, backed
by Kleitophon, had been a prime agent in establishing a dominant 'Four
Hundred'. Later he had advocated their deposition and the execution of two of
his former friends. Behaviour of this kind earned him the name ofa turncoat-
in Greek 'a buskin' that would fit either foot. At Arginusae he himself,
together with other subordinates, had been charged with the work of recovery.
In self-defence they laid the blame on dilatory action by their superiors, eight
of whom were eventually condemned to death, Erasinides, mentioned in Frogs
1196, among them. This result was largely due to the cleverness and eloquence
of Theramenes.
In ancient times his character was violently attacked by writers of extreme
views, but as warmly defended by others, including Aristotle, who thought of
him as wi1ling to serve Athens under any government that was constitutional.
Today, as A. W. Gomme writes, 'we have no means of judging Theramenes'
10 BEGINNINGS
sincerity'.' That discussion is closed. But writers still take sides in discussing the
kindred question: what did Aristophanes really think of Theramenes? And
their answer to this must also determine, to some extent, their opinion of his
views on Euripides.
According to A. W. Gomme, Aristophanes 'makes fun of Theramenes'
cleverness, but genially'. Gilbert Murray, on the other hand, finds that in Frogs
534-41 the tone of Aristophanes 'is peculiarly soft and venomous, unlike his
ordinary loud railing', because Theramenes 'was unpleasantly stained with the
blood of his companions'.· I share this view and would add that the venom is
made all the more deadly by the context of the lines, viz. Dionysus' cowardly
exchanges of dress with Xanthias. Anything to save his own skint-which, as
we are reminded in 968-70 is the principle so ably acted upon by Theramenes.
Gomme's opinion is in keeping with the tenet of most modern scholars that
Aristophanes wrote his plays not as political pamphlets, but with the main, if
not the sole, object of raising the laughter and applause by which the judges
were mainly guided in awarding the prizes. On that assumption one may read
the lines on Theramenes as ambivalent. His supporters might take them as a
'genial' flick at his cleverness; his opponents as a 'venomed' shot at his duplicity.
The laughs and applause could come from both sides.
4. Aristophanes paid Euripides the high compliment of parody. There is no
doubt that he knew his plays through and through and admired his crea-
tive genius and technical skill. But he was also in touch with the Socratic
circle and could see the plays as documents of the religious, social, and literary
changes which the New Learning was bringing about. These changes included
the gradual erosion of the old religion (cf. 890 if.) and of time-honoured con-
ventions in the drama that had sprung from it. In tragedy elevation of style
had been demanded by tradition, which also governed music, metre, and dress;
in comedy tradition had protected extreme freedom of speech and the ritual
use of broad humour. Aristophanes may well have viewed the modern trends
with some real dislike and misgiving. In the final scene of the Frogs the Chorus
sing: 'It's bad form, then, to sit chatting with Socrates; to discard the rules of
composition; and to neglect the chief canons of tragedy. Anyone who idles his
time away in pretentious discussion and in scratching up trivialities as food for
thought is out of his mind' (1491-9). Aeschylus, soon after, is more outright.
He says to Pluto: 'Hand over the Chair of Poetry to Sophocles against my return.
On no account let Euripides sit there, even by accident. He sticks at nothing,
he's a liar, and scurrilous too' (1515 if.).
It is difficult to read that last scene without feeling that Aristophanes com-
bined a great professional admiration for Euripides with some personal dislike
both of the man and of the intellectual movement he represented. In the Frogs,
so ably constructed to get laughs and to stir memories of happier days when the
countryside was open to the Mystae and to all country-lovers, a challenging,
old-fashioned glance sometimes flashes out from the mask of fun.
I Oxford Classical Dictionary, s.v. 'Theramenes'.
2 The Frogs Translated into English Verse, London, 1908, p. 117.
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS II

5. It is noticeable that Dionysus in judging between the two poets makes up his
mind only after putting to them two questions of a non-literary kind. This was
fair enough, because both had agreed (1008-12) that admonition and advice
were a function of poetry. The two questions (1422 f., 1435 f.) are both political
'feelers'. Asked simply for their views on Alkibiades-which meant their views
on the question of his recall from exile at this critical moment-Euripides gives
no advice, but generalizes, expressing his hatred for Alkibiades by implication.
Aeschylus, by contrast, urges the need for tolerance: 'If you rear a lion-cub,
you must humour him.' This comes near to suggesting a policy and matches the
frame of mind pleaded for by Aristophanes in the Parabasis. Finally the merits
of the two replies are summed up by Dionysus with diplomatic ambiguity,
which must have released political tension and earned a laugh.
Unfortunately the replies to the second question-how to save the country-
cannot be determined with certainty, because the Greek text from 1435 to 1466
is very much confused. But of course (or so I think!) Dionysus' verdict had to go
to Aeschylus. The veteran of Marathon and Salamis was clearly the man for the
moment. He represented the fighting spirit and high-mindedness and single-
hearted patriotism that were required.

2. Scenes previous to the literary contest

The first 172 lines of the Frogs suggest to the audience what they may expect
as its main theme: the rescue of Euripides from Pluto's realm of Hades, the
Underworld of the dead. But this expectation is disappointed.
Dionysus, accompanied by the slave Xanthias, his porter on donkey-back,
sets out intent on the rescue. A club and lion-skin disguise him, not very
convincingly, as Herakles, his more masculine and less literate half-brother,
who had once stolen the dog Cerberus from Hades. The impersonation, he
hoped, might prove protective.
A first stop is made at Heraklcs' house. Dionysus explains to him the lack of
truly skilful and creative poets in Athens and the crying need for restoring
Euripides to life. The prior claims of Sophocles (whose comic value to Aristo-
phanes would be less) are neatly brushed aside: 'He must not come back', says
Dionysus, 'until I've learned how well his son, the poet Iophon, can write
without his father's help.' Herakles, with his pioneer's knowledge of the Under-
world, is then consulted on the best routes to take and on the provision made
there for human needs. He describes 'the great big lake' and its ferryman,
Charon; the region of snakes and fearful monsters; and the huge slough and
rivers of ordure where the worst of wrong-doers lie. Then follow sights and
sounds which move even Herakles to eloquence: 'The musical breath of flutes
will float around you and you'll look on the finest daylight, such as our own up
here, and myrtle groves and happy throngs of men and women and a great
clapping of hands. For there go the Mystae ... They live just at Pluto's gate
and will direct you.'
Aristophanes chose, at a time of public mourning and acute anxiety, to give
his play a Chorus of Mystae, the Initiates of a mystical religion. In the longest
of their choral interludes (316-459) they re-enact the processional rites, part
12 BEGINNINGS
solemn and part festive, of one or other of the two chief Mysteries at Athens;'
or, in my guess, combine elements of both, to please as many spectators as
possible. We know very little about these Mysteries, except that they promised
happiness in a life after death on certain conditions. That was a theme suitable
to a time of great recent losses in war. But the festival required, and everyone
also needed, the release of a really good laugh and of pleasant memories. The
first choral song (209-68), which gave the play its name, very skilfully provided
both. It was sung off-stage, beginning when Dionysus, a comical oarsman, is
about to row across 'the great big lake' and has been told by Charon that 'frogs
as musical as swans' will help him to keep a rhythmical stroke. The frogs'
refrain 'Brekekekex koax koax' (a sound still to be heard in Romney marshes,
with Kentish variations) must have brought to mind scenes dear to country-
bred refugees from occupied Attica; and Dionysus' efforts to match the frogs
in their changes of rhythm and finally to outpace them have remained 'good
theatre' and cheerful reading to this day.
High comedy continues in the adventures which follow and lead up to the
long interludes by the Mystae and to Aristophanes' political pleading in the
Para basis. Then come further adventures at the gate of Pluto's domain. Of
these it is enough to say that Dionysus' impersonation of Herakles brings more
danger than protection. Herakles is 'wanted' by Pluto's janitor and legal lumi-
nary Aeacus for dog-stealing; and by the mistress of an Underworld lodging-
house for robbery with violence. Dionysus, true to his character from Homeric
days (Iliad 6. 135 f.) onwards, plays the coward throughout, forcing or wheedling
Xanthias to exchange clothes with him whenever trouble is likely to come and to
change back again if some pleasant invitation comes first. In the third of these
exchanges-much as Theramenes after the battle of Arginusae rounded on his
superiors-Dionysus, now dressed as the slave, actively encourages the arrest
by Aeacus of Xanthias, now dressed as the master. Xanthias protests his com-
plete innocence of dog-stealing and offers Dionysus, his supposed slave, for
interrogation by torture. He, in this crisis, declares his divinity. Aeacus, however,
is not convinced; and assuming that if one of the two is really a god he will show
no signs of pain, flogs them both-but without clear result. The matter is then
referred to Pluto and his wife Persephone; the true Dionysus is recognized;
and a final exchange of clothes takes place.
Tony Hancock, a leading comedian in his time, 'always maintained that the
best of comedy was written by the Greeks'2-and he, if anyone, must have
known. I suspect that he had in mind these closely-packed, quick-moving
scenes of the Frogs.
In front of Pluto's gateway the switch to the second half of the play is made,

, These two were the Mysteries of Demeter and Persephone, centred in the precinct of
Demeter at Eleusis, 12 miles from Athens, and the Dionysian Mysteries, traced back
to Orpheus and connected with the 'Lenaean' festival of Dionysus, the name of which
may be derived from 'Lenai', female followers of the god. It was at' this festival the
Frogs was first shown. Its setting was the southern slopes of the Acropolis.
2 Cf. 'Death of a Comedian' by Michael Wade, in The Times Saturday Review,

1 Feb. 1969, p. 19.

 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 13
with amusing inconsequence. A servant from Pluto's household exchanges
confidences with Xanthias on domestic service. Their dialogue is of great interest
because it forms a link between the 'Old Comedy' of Aristophanes and the
Comedy of Manners that was to develop in the next century and pass on through
the Romans to us. Suddenly the talk is interrupted by noises otf-confused
shouts and abusive language. These are explained to Xanthias as a brawl between
Aeschylus and Euripides arising from an old local custom. Maintenance in
Pluto's dining hall and Chairs aligned with his were granted to Great Masters
in all the major arts. Only Masters greater still could displace the holders.
Euripides, encouraged by a mob of crooks who were crazy about his verbal
dexterities, was now laying claim to the Chair of Poetry, held for the last
50 years by Aeschylus. There was popular clamour for an official trial of skill.
Sophocles was not competing. On arrival he had kissed Aeschylus and clasped
his hand and withdrawn. He would stand for the Chair only if Euripides became
the new holder. Xanthias' master Dionysus had been appointed by Pluto to
judge the contest; and all the necessary apparatus had been provided.
The slaves' dialogue is followed by a choral ode characterizing the two
contestants in elaborately metaphorical style. It is after this ode that the
English translation begins.
In this part of the play the Chorus has a less important role than before.
It comments briefly on the action that has preceded, or invites interest in what
is to come. On the whole it is impartial, but seems in one or two places to be a
mentor and partisan of Aeschylus. In itself it nowhere serves to hold the play
together; but it does at one point (384 If.) give a clue to the structural plan.
For it prays for grace from Demeter 'to say much in jest and much in earnest'
and thereby to win the first prize. This prayer favours a view that such unity
as the play can be said to possess derives entirely from its central figure, Dionysus
himself. I His character has two sides. The comic side reflects the fruitful,
positive aspects of social life and the laughing acceptance by mankind of their
own limitations; or their equally gay self-assertion, in drunken release, as subject
to no will but their own. 2 The other side, thoughtful and serious, is revealed in
Dionysus as god also of the tragic stage, where individual men and women play
out their part in agonizing struggles for and against society. This serious side
appears in the opening scenes of the play, where Dionysus avows his intention
of giving Athenian tragedy-and Euripides-a new lease of life. In the Para-
basis it makes a brief reappearance, if the Chorus may be regarded as spokesmen
of their god. Finally, in the Literary Contest, Dionysus strives throughout to
maintain the gravity befitting a judge. If gaiety breaks in, it is snubbed (II50)
or kept in check (1399 f.) until judgement is pronounced (1467-'78).

I See C. P. Segal, 'The Character of Dionysus and the Unity of the Frogs', Harvard

Studies in Classical Philology, 65, 1961, as revised for Twentieth Cetltury Interpretations
of the 'Frogs', ed. D. J. Littlefield, New Jersey, 1968, pp. 55 f. and reff.
2 cr. Arthur Platt, Nine Essays, Cambridge, 1927, pp. 55 f.
 BEGINNINGS.

NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION

The nature of a translation must always depend very largely on its purpose.
The translation I have made for this book is to illustrate a chapter of history
-the history of ancient literary criticism. I have therefore thought it right to keep
closely to the text of Aristophanes, translating line for line, and, except in the
rendering of expletives, making only a sparing use of modernizations, though
these might well be used in versions written for the stage of today. The text
I have followed, with only a few deviations, is that of Professor W. B. Stanford's
second edition of the play. I am much indebted to him also for his commentary.
To represent the ordinary dialogue metre of Greek comedy-an iambic
six-foot line ('trimeter') much more freely constructed than that of tragedy-
I have used a five-beat verse with an indeterminate number of 'slack' syllables.
This makes it possible to render line for line without padding or other embarrass-
ment; and when the speaker quotes from tragedy, or plays at being tragic, the
line can be contracted to the more formal measure of our own tragic blank-verse.
Fidelity to the spirit of the Greek really involves fidelity to its metrical forms;
for metres have a way of asserting their own personality. I have therefore tried,
outside the ordinary dialogue, to reproduce these forms. Metre in ancient
Greek depended upon measurements of time. Syllables were regarded as either
'long' (-) or 'short' (v) in duration, usually called 'quantity'; and Greek syllaba-
tion differed from our own, except when we sing, e.g. they said pe-ri-phe-ry,
not per-iph-er-y. In English, by contrast, the incidence of stress n, meaning
loudness or emphasis however slight, is the guiding metrical principle. This
being so, the only practical method, in my opinion, of conveying some notion
of Greek metrical patterns is to represent the longs and shorts by stressed
and unstressed syllables respectively. But preferably, the stressed syllables
should also be 'true-timed', i.e. actually long in duration as judged by the ear;
and the short should have naturally short vowels, uncluttered by consonants.
What will then be written-and what I have tried myself to write-is best called
'true-timed accentual verse'. The 'quantitative' translation of classical metres,
which attempts to observe most of the ancient rules of prosody, is quite different.
On it see The Oxford Book o/Greek Verse ill Translation (1938), pp. lvi-ix and
Robert Bridges' quantitative hexameters on pp. 55-60 of the same book.
In writing true-timed verse by elr one soon finds that the quantity of one and
the same syllable varies with its context. Contrast, for example, an angry 'Hurry
up!' with 'She won't hurry up for anyone!' where the 'She' is followed by a
flurry of shorts. Or take the word 'and'. In some places it bears sufficient stress
to count as a long; but with stressed syllables next to it on either side, as in
'bread and bUtter' it is little more than "n'. There are other discoveries to be
made--but here's a caution. Readers of my translation should not, in the act of
reading, try to work out the metrical patterns. My hope is that if they go ahead,
as naturally as they would in reading the morning paper, most of the metrical
patterns will assert themselves.
Some of the patterns are not foreign to English poetry; and among that
number is one which is well worth reproducing both because of its recurrence
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 15
in the Frogs and because Euripides, at one point, is criticized for a fault in his
use of it. It is known as the 'Glyconic' metre and was adapted by Tennyson on
an accentual basis (mostly true-timed) for a poem 'On the Jubilee of QIeen
Victoria'. For example:
You then joyfully, all of you,
Set the mountain aflame to-night,
Shoot your stars to the firmament •••
In Greek the basic form with its common variations is '" Ci I - v v - I '" -.
Metrists mark it off, as shown, into 3 constituents or 'feet', of which the most
distinctive is the central 'nucleus' - v v -, a 'choriambus'. Variations shown in
the 1st foot are an iambus (v -), a spondee (- -), or a trochee (- v); and in the
last v - , or - -. In certain places and on certain conditions further variation
could be made by 'resolving' a long into two shorts. Such 'resolutions' both in
dialogue and in lyrics are commoner in Euripides than in Aeschylus or Sophocles
and may perhaps be classed among his dietary methods (cf. 939-43) of slimming
the Tragic Muse. Associated with glyconics is a metre, the 'Pherecratean',
exactly the same except in the last foot, which consists of a single long syllable.
See 1253, 1256, 1258-60.
Nine glyconics are quoted from or attributed to Euripides by Aeschylus in
the course oflines 1310-28. Five of these keep to the basic form, viz. 13II, 1318,
1320, 1324, 1326. Two show 'resolutions' in the 1st foot, viz. 1317, 1327. There
is nothing uncommon in these. But the remaining two are unique. In 1322
Aeschylus quotes from Euripides:
put an arm I round mother, child I of mine,
where the 1st foot is an 'anapaest' (v v -). In theory this could be explained as
a spondee (- -) with the first long 'resolved'; but in normal practice that licence
was ruled out. So Aeschylus, himself beginning a glyconic of basic form, asks
Dionysus 'This foot's I curious, see I it?' To which Dionysus replies not with a
monosyllabic 'yes', which would have completed the line regularly, but with 'I
do', making a licentious anapaest ('it? I do') in the 3rd foot and showing that he
had taken Aeschylus' point.
Aristophanes had great metrical versatility. This translation may perhaps give
some conception of it to readers with no knowledge of Greek.

EURIPIDES DIONYSUS AESCHYLUS CHORUS PLUTO

EURIPIDES (To Dionysus) I claim the Chair and won't give up. Don't
lecture me.
In the art of poetry I say I'm the better man.
DIONYSUS. You see his point, Aeschylus. Then why so mum?
EUR. First he'll assume a proud reserve, that trick
of mystification common to his tragic heroes.
DIO. My dear good fellow, take a moderate tone.
EUR. I know the man, long ago I saw clean through him,
16 BEGINNINGS
the creator of boorish characters, tongue-tied when he will,
or mouthing with no curb, no continence, no closure,
a narrow-ranging big-mouthed-bundle-of-bombast.
AESCHYLUS. Is that so, you son of a market-garden goddess?l 840
Do you speak so of me, you picker-up of tittle-tattle,
you stager of beggar-men, you rag-and-tatters-patcher ?
o but you'll soon be sorry for it!
010. Aeschylus, stop!
'And let no passionate rancour fire your soul.'
AES. I shall not stop until I have clearly shown
what this stager of cripples is worth, for all his bluff.
DIO. (Playfully suggesting a sacrifice to appease the Storm god)
A lamb, boys, a black lamb, go, fetch it out;
there's a hurricane here, working up for a sortie.
AES. (To Euripides) You picker-up of Cretan monodies, you importer
of sacrilegious unions into the art of Tragedy. 850
010. Hi, you! Hold hard, most honourable Aeschylus;
and you, my poor Euripides, if you're wise,
go off, well away from the hailstones falling,
or else he'll strike in his rage, coming down on your head
with some capital phrase that will knock your Te!ephlls out of it.
You, Aeschylus, don't be wild, but give and take
criticism gently. Poets should not exchange
volleys of abuse like bake-house wives; but you
flare up all at once with the roar of an oak on fire.
EUR. I am ready for battle, I am not shirking; 860
ready, if he's game, to give or get first bite,
probing dialogue, lyrics, and sinews of structure;
and I'll submit, 'fore god, my Peleus, my Aeolus,
my Me!eager too, and even the Telephus as well.
010. (To Aeschylus) What plan do you suggest? Speak, Aeschylus.
AES. I have never wished to hold a contest here;
we are not meeting, you see, on equal terms. 010. How's that?
AES. My works have not died with me, as his with him;
his will be handy here, when he wishes to quote.
However, since you approve, I too must comply. 870
010. (Preparing to invoke the Muses) Come, then, bring me frankincense,
someone, and fire;
then I, before the battle of wits begins,
can pray for grace to judge with professional skill.
I ef. 947. Whatever the real social status of Euripides' mother, Aristophanes likes

to refer to her as a market-gardener or greengrocer.

 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS
(Tuming to the Chorus) You'll accompany my prayer with a hymn
to the Muses.

CHO. Virginal Nine, the begotten of Zeus,

Muses, who gaze from above on our masters of speech subtly-woven,
coiners of wise aphorisms, that are stamped with their learning and insight,
-sharp witted, too, in the turns and the twists of a wrestle at word-
play-
Muses, descend! For the ablest of men,
marvels at shaping a phrase, with a wealth of 880
lexical carpentry, square up to fight-
see, the stupendous professional bout now waits the word to open!

ora. (To Aesch. and Eur.) Now you two pray, before you speak yout
lines. 885
AES. Demeter, who informed and fed my mind,
may I prove worthy of thy Mysteries.
ora. (To Eur.) It's your turn now. Put some incense on. EUR. No, thank
you.
The gods I pray to are other ones than these.
DIO. Personal gods, new coinages? EUR. For sure. 890
ora. Pray, then, to your private, nonconformist gods.
EUR. Upper Air, my nutriment! Pivoted, wagging Tongue!
Intellectual Power! Nostrils that scent out faults!
Right well may I expose the flaws I pounce upon.

CHO. All ears are we! Let us hear, speak out!

what is the strife estranging you, most clever of men?
Where is the warpath like to lead?
Tongues of both are stirred to fury,
stout of heart are both and daring,
both have minds soon roused to act;
so to one we look for something 900
smart, of piquant urban flavour,
some refined, smooth style of wit;
while a Titan's strength uproots him
arguments and all, confounding
countless twists and turns of speechcraft's wrestling holds.

(Dionysus gives a lead with the long iambic measure commonly used in
attack and bids Euripides open the debate.)
8143591 c
18 BEGINNINGS
DlO. Now speak and hurry; making sure that all you say is witty;
jocose comparisons are out and commonplace expressions.
EUR. My observations on myself as poet I'll put second;
at first I'll deal with Aeschylus and shortly I'll expose him
as nothing else than charlatan and cheat. I'll show the dodges
by which he fooled the simple souls of Phrynichus'I upbringing. 910
He'd stage at first some lonely form, seated and veiled, and faceless,
Achilles, say, or Niobe-a piece of window dressing,
for there they'd sit without a word, never so much as grunting.
DlO. Qllite true, not even a grunt.
EUR. Meanwhile the choir would force upon us
string after string of lyric verse-and still that form was silent.
DlO. I revelled in the silence and I found it no less pleasant
than listening to our talkers of to-day.
EUR. But you were simple,
depend upon it.
DlO. I agree. But why did the feller do it?
EUR. A charlatan's device to hold his audience: they'd be waiting
for Niobe to say something. On went the play and on. 920
DlO. The utter scoundrel! How I was imposed upon!
(Turning to Aeschylus) Hi, you there!
What makes you fume and fidget so?
EUR. He knows when he is beaten.
Then after all this choral stuff, when half the play was over
came twelve big words from the ox-hide age, browbeaters, helmed and
crested,
unheard-of horrors, bogywords.
AES. Oh my, oh my!
DlO. Be silent.
EUR. Not one intelligible thing he'd say.
DlO. (To Aeschylus) Don't gnash your teeth, man.
EUR. His talk was all Scamanders, trenches, shields with griffin-eagles
embossed in beaten bronze, and heaps of towering, craggy phrases
of meaning hard to gather.
DlO. Yes, my word, I've lain before now 930
'sleepless the long night-watches through' and inwardly debating
whatever kind of bird the phrase 'a brown horse-cock' denoted.
AES. An emblem, that was, painted on the ships, you ignoramus.
DlO. And all the time I thought it meant Phil6xenos' boy, Eryxis!
EUR. But should one write in tragic verse of even a barn-door rooster?
AES. And,,"y0u, you god-forsaken rogue, of what, I ask, did you write?
I The greatest of Aeschylus' predecessors: cf. 1300.
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 19
EUR. Ofhorse-cocks never! Good god, no! Nor andered goats, as you did-
the things one sees depicted on those tapestries from Persia.
Oh no! When I took over tragic art, "nd found our mistress
blown out with your bombastic stuff and phrases stomach-loading, 940
a slimming course was first my care. To take off weight, I gave her
versicles, constitutionals, some white beetroot for purges,
and verbal flux, strained off from books, presented in decoction.
Next, monodies to plump her-Dlo. With KephisophonI for dressing.
EUR. Again, no prating prologues mine; no slapdash, clueless forewords!
My prologist at once explained the drama's antecedents.
DlO. And more respectable than yours, god knows, he must have shown them!
EUR. And further, from the play's first lines I'd have no unemployment;
the women I'd keep talking, and the servants just as freely, 949
the master of the house, young girl and aged crone-AES. Then surely
you should have died the death for such effrontery. EUR. Good lord, no!
I acted in a democratic spirit. DlO. Let that be, friend;
for you it's not a subject that would warrant an excursus. 2
EUR. (With a gesture to the audience) What's more, I taught our people here
the way to talk. AES. I'll say so!
And better if your guts had split before you started teaching!
EUR. I taught them to apply a subtler Metrik; trim their verses
by set-square; ponder, pry, perceive; love twisting and sharp practice;
think evil and be always hypercritical. AES. I'll say so!
I showed our common life, familiar things, the things around us,
which could themselves have proved me wrong, because my audience
knew them 960
and could have faulted me. I never used pretentious language
to make the listeners lose their heads, staging to stupefy them
a Kyknos or a Memnon with-bell-harness-and-cheek-pieces.
Our pupils mark the difference between us: two of his are
Phormisius the hearth-rug and Megainetus the cock-shy,3
the-trumpet-lance-and-whiskers-breed whose-arched-pine-stems-
disrupt-you.
Kleitophon's mine, and mine Theramenes, the Smartie.
DlO. Theramenes? Ah, there's an artist! Up to every challenge!
I An Athenian, living in Euripides' house; supposed to help him with his plays and

to have an affair with his wife. Cf. 1408; also 1046, 1440-4.
2 An insinuation that Euripides had oligarchic leanings, like his 'pupils' Theramenes
and Kleitophon, and that spending his last years at the Macedonian court was far from
democratic.
3 Phonnisius was shaggy in appearance; a part of his name suggests the Greek for a
rug. Megainetus may have resembled the bronze figure which formed part of the target
for heel-taps thrown from a wine-cup in the game of'Kottabos'.
20 BEGINNINGS
Wherever trouble faces him and brinkmanship is needed,
he's trouble-free the trimmer's way-if Chians lose, he's Keian. 970

(The short iambic lines which follow form the traditional 'breathless piece'
(pnigos), so called because delivered at high speed. These mark the end
of the attacking speech of the first debater.)
EUR. Such sound advice on how to think
I gave our friends the audience
by blending my tragedian's art
with Reasoning and Searching Thought,
that no one now could name a thing
beyond their grasp: they know what's what,
including new, progressive ways
of keeping house: 'Is all well here?'
they ask, 'Where's this?' and 'Who's got that?'
DIO. Lord, yes! The menfolk, everyone, 980
in Athens now, no sooner home,
bawl out to their domestic staff
'Where is the crock? This sprat's head, where?
Who wolfed it? Can the bowl I used
last year have died on me? We had
some garlic yesterday: what's left?
This olive's partly gnawed: by whom?'
The times are gone when they'd sit round
as feeble-minded as you please,
with jaws agape, mere suckers all 990
and simple sugar-babies.
rno. (To Aeschylus) 'You behold these things, lustrous Achilles ?'l
What on earth will you say? How refute them? Look to it, or
passion may be sweeping you
off the race-course, past the 0lives. 2
Grave your rival's accusations!
o beware, my noble friend!
Do not state your case in anger;
reef to just one edge of canvas,
inch by inch then ease her on. 1000
Keep a wary eye the meanwhile,
wait the moment ripe for sail and
open out to catch a constant, gentle breeze.
(The leader of the Chorus urges Aeschylus to the counter-attack, giving
him a lead in the anapaestic measure he will adopt.)
I From the lost Myrmidons of Aeschylus. 2 Flanking the course.
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 21

Prime builder in all our IIellene race of majestic, towering phrases,

endowing tragedians' stuff with a style, take heart, throw open the
sluices.

AES. I'm bridling with rage at this turn of events and my innards revolt
at the notion
of a counter attack on the likes of my foe. But in case he should say I
am cornered-
(To Euripides) first answer me this: for a gift of what kind is it right
to admire any poet?
EUR. For his expertise and his sound advice and because we improve by
our teaching
mankind's civic sense and their natures too. AES. Very well, if you've
failed to improve them 1010
and have made finished rascals of those who were sound and of noble
demeanour aforetime,
what is due, will you say, for amends? DIO. It is death. Spare him such
a personal question.
AES. Now please to reflect what the breed of my day proved like, when I
handed them over;
they were noble, upstanding, of four cubits' height, not malingering
skrimshankerburghers,
not your idlers or tricksters, the type of today, nor the rogues whose
kind stick at nothing;
for the spear and the lance were the breath of their lives and the white-
ness of plumes coruscating
and the casque and the greave and a heart fear-proofed sevenfold, as a
buckler of oxhide!
EUR. It's his curse, getting worse-DlO. And will bore me to death, if he
will knock away at his helmets.
EUR. (To Aeschylus) What in fact did you do to instruct and produce so
noble a breed of our manhood?
DlO. Speak, Aeschylus, speak, no longer persist in your obstinate pride
and displeasure. 1020
AES. There's a drama I wrote, full of war. DIO. How so? AES. 'Seven
leagued against Thebes' was the title.
Not a soul could have seen it without the desire himself to give proof
of his mettle.
DlO. How wrong of you, that! It's the army of Thebes that your warlike
play has emboldened
-and to side with our foes! For that service at least the reward you
receive is-a hiding!
22 BEGINNINGS
AES. Y\Ju Athenians, ton, could have trained for the field, but you turned
to your own avocations.
To resume: in my Persians again, let me add, I extolled a superlative
action;
and the lesson I taught was to crave always for supremacy over
opponents.
DIO. I rejoiced in that scene where the King's crown prince wailed loud
for his father departed
and the chorus at once clapped their hands-like so I-with a hullabaloo
of 'i-au-oi'.
AES. (Disregarding interruption) It's the duty of poets to practise their art
in the ways I have told; reckon only 1030
how helpful the nobler among them have been, to this day from the
earliest ages.
First Orpheus showed us his mystical rites and barred foods taken by
slaughter;
Musaeus, again, taught cures of disease and oracular lore; and from
Hesiod
field-work we have learned, when to reap, when to plough. Or reflect
on the genius of Homer-
whence came all his glory and fame? Was it not from his teaching us
practical lessons ?
Battle-order he showed and the deeds that excel and the way to bear
arms- DJO. That is something
Pantokles never learned; for our greatest of fools, t'other day, on parade
as an escort,
strapped a helmet on first, then was mounting a plume-as if plumes
could be fixed from the outside!
AES. Yet he taught many more, fine soldiers and brave, such as Lamachus, I
known as 'the Hero'.
I too, being shaped to the mould of his mind, bodied forth many
patterns of greatness- 1040
a Patr6klos, or Teucer, the old lion-hearts; and I hoped that my fellow
Athenians
might take on the stamp of heroical types at the sound of the trumpeter
calling.
Never once, god knows, did my hand portray loose Phaedras or loose
Sthenoboias, 2
'One of the three generals commanding in Sicily in 415 B.C. He was killed there.
Z Phaedra, wife of Theseus, who loved her stepson Hippolytus: the reference is to
Euripides' Hippolytus-the earlier version shocked more than the one extant. For
Sthenoboia (or Anteia) and Bellerophon see Iliad 6.
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 23
not in one of my plays could you find anywhere any lovelorn woman
presented.
EDR. God knows, Aphrodite can hardly have made any mark upon you!
AES. Never may she!
What a burden she was, what a cumbersome weight, when she lighted
on you and your household!
And she tumbled your own very self to the ground. DID. That's a fact,
god's truth, very much so!
Those plays, written round other folk and their wives, struck painfully
back at their author!
EDR. (To Aeschylus) What's the harm, you bigot, you're thinking I do to
our country by my Sthenoboias?
AES. If the noblest of wives from our noblest of homes drained poison to
end their abasement, 1050
it was all your fault, with the lure of your plays and the shame your
BeIlerophons brought them.
EDR. Do you think there was no foundation of fact in the play I composed
about Phaedra?
AES. Lord knows, it was true; but a poet should veil and conceal what is
base and immoral,
not stage and propound it. Our infants are taught by whoever is near to
instruct them;
but the poets alone are the teachers of youth-so, for sure, what we say
in our poems
should adhere to what's morally sound. EDR. I suppose if your vocables
dwarf Lycabettus,
Parnassus-big mouthfuls of speech, that's the way to impart sound
moral instruction?
No, rather be human and speak man to man. AES. Poor fool, by a law of
their nature
su blime ideas and greatness of thought are be getters oflofty expression, I
and, again, demigods as of right should excel mere mortals in grandeur
of phrasing, -1060
since greater magnificence, too, than our own is the outward mark of
their clothing.
I preached sound doctrine in all these points. You ruined the show.
EUR. By what action?
AES. Byyourtreatment of Royalty. Time and again, to arouse compassion,
you staged them
not in royal array but in bundles of rags. EDR. And whatever was harm-
ful in that?
I Cf. 'Longinns' (below, p. 468).
 BEGINNINGS
AES. A result is that now there is no one of means who will stanu running-
costs of a trireme.
Ostensibly clothed in a costume of rags he'll weep and declare he's a
pauper.
DlO. By our Lady, that's true! And beneath, all the time, he is swathed
in the warmest of woollens
and when once well away with his fraudulent tale-up he bobs buying
delicatessen!
AES. And another effect of the views you professed is the talkative, tongue-
wagging fashion;
for it emptied the gyms, it was hard on the rumps of the young, sitting
long in discussion, 10']0
and encouraged indiscipline. Admirals' crews give an officer back-chat.
In my day
they knew little else than to shout for their loaves and to bawl 'pull
away' at a send-off.
DlO. Lord, yes! And to blow from abaft in the face ofa rower behind in
the galley,
or to crown a messmate with a load of their dirt and to filch civvy
clothes on a shore-leave.
Nowadays whole crews give you cheek and won't row, spreading sail
on their slightest occasions.

(To match 971-91 a 'breatltless piece' follows in shorter lines or the

preceding metre.)
AES. Is there any disgrace for which he's not to blame?
It was he, was it not, who put bawds ' in the cast;
He wrote of accouchements in shrines of the gods
and of sisters incestuous, mating with brothers, 1080
and of women who swear that in life we are dead.
Now, thanks to such ploys, who are crowding our streets?
Here, legions of clerks, petty servants of State;
there, sly jackanapes with a hold on the mob-
t Bawds: e.g. the old nursesofPhaedta and Sthenoboia (1043), who in pity for their

mistresses became go-betweens. Accouchements in shrines: the reference may be to

Auge in Euripides' play of that name. Sisters incestuous: e.g. C:inace, in a play bearing
the name of her father Aeolus, god of the winds, who is said in Homer, Odyssey 10.
6 f., to have married his six daughters to his six sons. Cf. the Ptolemies in ancient
Egypt. In life we are dead: the sentiment occurs in fragments of two lost plays ofEuri-
. pides, e.g. in the Polyidus, as translated by Sir Maurice Bowra: 'Who knows if living
after all is death, I While death is counted life by those below?' (Tile Oxford Book
of Greek Verse in Translation, 1938, p. 460). The quotation is lIsed by Dionysus with
devastating effect in 1477.
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 25
expertly bamboozling it, time after time.
There's nobody left who can race with a torch,
not a soul with a notion of training.
010. Not a soul, that's a facti I was hoarse with guffaws
at the All-Athens Show when I saw one who raced
pale, paunchy, bent over. With how much ado 1090
he was pounding on, left ever further behind!
Then the crowd at the Potteries, hard by the gates,
had a whack at him, paunch, rib and flank and backside;
and this oaf, at the feel of the flats of their hands
with a feeble back-fire
flew, blowing the flame to revive it.

am. Big is the crisis, bitter the quarrel, massive hostilities now impend.
Is there a judge could make decision IlOO
when, of the two, one throws his weight in,
yet his opponent, ably wheeling, scores a fine, sharp counter-blow?
Now for both it's 'up and at him!'
Openings there are in dozens, ways for new inroads of wit.
If any quarrel is to be settled,
tell of it, go ahead, bring you up, both of you,
incriminations, new or ancient.
Take a chance with subtle wisecracks phrased with knowledgeable skill.
Should you feel alarm, mistrusting these your listeners' competence,
thinking they will fail to see the IlIO
finer points in what you're saying,
feel no fear, the whole position is today completely changed.
All by now are old campaigners,
one and all possess a textbook and perceive the smarter hits.I

I The references in these lines to the intelligence of the audience, who are 'old cam-

paigners, each one with a book', are best taken as (i) advance notice of the literary fare
Aristophanes is about to provide; (ii) a jest, appearing to deprecate the spread oflearning
and bookishness-his Clouds in 423 B.C. had been above the heads of most of the audience.
The very word 'book' had become a good gag, as its use in Aristophanes elsewhere
shows, from at least 414 B.C.; cf. line 943 above. Books, in the form of a papyrus roll
. (or papyrus folded horizontally for short memoranda), had become available from the
second haIf of the fifth centtuy or earlier. Aristophanes makes only one certain reference
to the text of a written play, viz. in Frogs 52, where Dionysus 'had been reading Euri-
pides' Andromeda on board ship'. It seems that books were sometimes distributed to
friends by their authors after a public reading and eventually traded in the market-
place from sold-up estates. There is no trace at this time of professional publishers,
speculating on public demand. See E. G. Turner, Athenian Books in the 5th and 4th
centuries B.C., London, 1952.
26 I3EGINNINGS
Now their minds, by grace of nature
sharp before, are sharper still.
Forge ahead, then, do not worry,
you've no need to doubt your audience, they're a highly cultured lot!
EUR. (To Dionysus) Mark, then, his prologues! in themselves. I'll turn
at first to them, testing the part that's first II20
in this accomplished author's tragic dramas;
for some preliminary facts he'd not make clear.
DIO. And which of his prologues will you test? EUR. A good number.
(To Aeschylus) Recite me first the one from the myth of Orestes.
AES. 'Thou Nether Hermes, watchman of realms paternal,
be thou my saviour and ally, I pray thee,
for I am come to this country and return. '2
DIO. (To Euripides) Have you any faults to find there? EUR. Twelve or more.
DIO. But the lines recited are only three in all. II30
EUR. With a score of faults in every single line.
DIO. Aeschylus, take my advice and quote no more,
or amends will clearly be owing for more than three.
AES. Am I to shut up to please him?
DIO. If you take my advice.
EUR. At the very start a blunder, huge as high OlympusP
AES. (To Dionysus) Do you see what rot your advice is?
DIO. I couldn't care less.
AES. (To Euripides) How do you say I went wrong?
EUR. Repeat, from the start.
AES. 'Thou Nether Hermes, watchman of realms paternal .. .'
EUR. Orestes is speaking, isn't he, close to the tomb
of his father, who is dead?
AES. That's nothing but what I say. II40
EUR. Then was it the death which Orestes' own father died,
'By stealthy cunning slain at a woma.n's hand'
- was it that of which Hermes, he said, was the watchman?
AES. No, no! he invoked not Hermes the CWd of Stealth
but Nether Hermes, the Helpful, making this clear

I Formal prologues are found in all but four of the extant Greek tragedies. They are

spoken by one of the characters or by a divine being closely in touch with the events
concerned. The prologist by explaining the situation out of which the plot develops
gave useful help to the audience, for the myths on which plays were based had more
than one version.
2 The beginning of the Choephori-known only through Aristophanes.

3 I borrow the translation from Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, iv. 3. 90 if.: Cassius. A
friendly eye could never see such faults. Bru/lIs. A flatterer's would not, though they do
appear I As huge as high Olympus.
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS
by calling that role a paternal, inherited power.
EUR. There's a bigger fault, then, than the one I was meaning;
for if he holds his nether-world power by inheritanee-
DlO. (Interrupting) That would make him a grave-robber on his father's
side.
AES. Dionysus, that is not a vintage joke!1 1150
DIO. (To Aeschylus) Give him another verse. (To Euripides) You, watch
the costs.
AES. 'Be thou my saviour and ally, I pray thee,
for I am come to this country and return.'
EUR. The accomplished Aeschylus has told us the same thing twice.
AES. How so?
EUR. Consider the phrasing-but I'll inform you.
'I am come to this country', he says, and 'I return' says he;
but to 'come to the country' and to 'return' are one and the same.
DlO. Lord, yes! it's just as if one begged from a neighbour like this:
'Please lend me a bowl, or a crock, if you will, to mix in.'
AES. It's not 'one and the same', you talked-silly creature! rr60
Far from it. The verse is excellently phrased.
EUR. In what respect? Tell me your reason for saying so.
AES. A man with civic rights can be said to 'come home',
for without more ado he arrives home and is there;
but an exile does more than to 'come': he 'returns' or 'is restored'.
D1O. By Apollo, well said! Your answer, Euripides ?
EUR. I deny that Orestes was ever 'restored' to his home.
He came home secretly, without official leave.
DlO. By Hermes, well said-but, seareh me, what does he mean?
EUR. (To Aeschylus) Go ahead now with another verse.
DIO. Go on, Aeschylus, do, 1170
and jump to it! (To Euripides) You, keep a close look out for faults.
AES. 'On this heaped tomb I call upon my father
to hear and hearken .. .'
EUR. Two words for one again!
'To hear and hearken', says he. A clear tautology!
DlO. It's the dead he was addressing, you insufferable fool,
to whom we cry out thrice, yet never get through.
AES. (To Euripides) And how did you compose your prologues?
EUR. I'll explain.
And if ever I say the same thing twice, or if
I I have some recollection that an unnamed pupil offered the translation I print of
this line to his tutor the late J. D. Denniston of Hertford College, Oxford, who passed
it on to me. I wish I could make fuller acknowledgement.
 BEGINNINGS
you detect any padding or irrelevance-spit on me!
DIO. Come, then, recite. Clearly it's up to me 1180
to hear how correctly written your prologues are.
EUR. 'Oedipus was at first a happy man .. .'1
A~. Good god, no! In misery he was born and bred.
Why, Apollo foretold even before his birth
that he would kill his father, aye, spoke it of one unborn.
How could he have been 'at first a happy man' ?
EUR. (Continuing) 'to prove in turn of all men wretchedest'.
AES. Good god, no! He never 'proved' that way 'in turn',
his wretchedness never ceased. From his earliest hour
they exposed him, in winter, abandoned in a crock, II90
to prevent his growing up and killing his father;
then ill-chance linked him with Polybus, his feet all swollen;
next, he was married young to an old beldame,
and his own mother she was, to make it worse;
lastly, he gouged his eyes out.
DIO. Happy still, even if
he had shared Erasfnides' command-and execution. 2
EUR. (To Aeschylus) You drivel, sir. My prologues are elegantly
written.
AES. I won't now carp at your phrasing word by word,
'fore heaven no! but demolish, so help me god,
your prologues with the aid of a litt'l old f1ask. 3 1200
EVR. My prologues? With a litt'l old flask?
AES. A single one,
for your style is such that the meanest things are in place-
a lit~'l old fleece, or flask, or shopping bag;
they suit your iambic verse, as I'll prove on the spot.
EUR. You'll prove it, will you? AES. Yes. DIO. (To Euripides) Recite away.
EUR. (Quotinglrom a prologue 01 his)
'Aegyptus, in the tale most widely told,
with fifty sons took ship; and driven by oar
to port in Argos . . .'

I Euripides' Antigone.
2 See above, p. 9.
3 The word (Jekuthion) for flask in 1200 and the two words coupled with it are all
diminutives, i.c. expressive of affection or, more often, contempt, and mostly of collo-
quial use. A small, globular flask, often containing oil such as sunbathers use, was carried
about by Athenians or their slaves. In translating I found that a plain English diminutive
('little flask', 'flasklet', etc.) did not convey the undertones and the flat colloquial bathos
of the diminutive in Greek. Hence' litt'l old flask'.
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS

AES. lost his litt'l old flask.'

DIO. What ever's the point of this litt'l old flask? Doggone it!
Recite him another prologue, let's see once more. 1210
EUR. 'Dionysus, who with wands and fawn-skins dight
among the pine-flares on Parnassus' wold
leaps with the dancers ... '
AES. lost his litt'l old flask.
DIO. Oh my! The flask has struck again and caught us!
EUR. It won't matter at all, he won't be able
to attach a flask to the prologue I've got here:
'There lives no man in all things fortunate;
of noble nature is one, but wants his bread;
another, ignoble .. .'
AES. lost his litt'l old flask.
DIO. Euripides-EUR. Well? DIO. We'd better reef in a bit, 1220
this litt'l old flask will blow a nasty gale.
EUR. Bah! By our Lady I wouldn't give it a thought,
it'll now be knocked from his hand, once and for all.
DIO. Come, then, try another-and keep well clear of the flask.
EUR. 'Faring from Sidon, Cadmus long ago
son of Agenor . . .'
AES. lost his litt'l old flask.
DIO. (To Euripides) My dear, good fellow, buy back that litt'l old flask
and stop him from tearing our prologues to shreds. EUR. What's that?
Buy it? I? To please him? DIO. If you'll take my advice.
EUR. No, no! There's many a prologue I'll manage to quote 1230
that will baffle him yet in attaching a litt'l old flask.

I The Greeks sometimes amused themselves by completing the structure of a broken

quotation with a fixed phrase or 'tag' such as 'and the partridge leg'. So, in modem
versions of the same pastime, tags used are 'pork and greens' or 'grandmother's big
red toe'. Sometimes, as in this scene, when the game was for two players, an object of
some kind could be staked, and won or forfeited according to success or failure in
attaching the tag, cf. 1227, 1235 f.
All the simpler souls among the audience of the Frogs could enjoy the familiar fooling.
Perhaps the scene has nothing more to it. But it can be argued that beneath the fooling
Euripides is criticized partly for incongruity of style, cf. 1202 f.; that he deserves it
because of his boasts in 959, 971--9; and that the point is emphasized by choosing from
his prologues lines of perfectly suitable diction for tragedy and then rounding them oft·
with a tag of ridiculousl y humble and prosaic associations.
Further, the lines chosen have a wearisome sameness of syntactical structure, all of
them, except 1217 ff., opening with a proper name and an attached participial clause.
Lines 1232 f. are the only examples of this structure found in his extant plays, but
others may have shown it becoming a habit.
 30 BEGINNINGS
(QJloting again) 'Pelops of Tantalus' line to Pisa driven
by mares of mettle . . .'
AES. lost his litt'l old flask.
DIO. You see? He's attached the Iitt'1 old flask again.
Pay up, my good fellow, by hook or crook, even now;
you'll get it for an obol, a sound and shapely flask.
EUR. Not yet, good Lord no! I've many a prologue still!
(Quoting again) 'Oeneus, one harvest ... '
AES. lost his litt'l old flask.
EUR. Allow me first to recite the verse complete:
'Oeneus, one harvest, from his fields' rich crop 1240
offering first-fruits ... '
AES. lost his litt'l old flask.
DIO. In the act of offering? What sneakthief pinched it from him?
EUR. Let it pass, friend. I defy him to chip in to this one:
'Zeus, as the very voice of Truth has told ...'
DIO. (Interrupting to close the scene) You'll bore me stiff! 'Lost his litt'l
old flask', he'll say.
The flasket sprouts on your prologues like styes on the eye.
For god's sake turn instead to his choral songs.
EUR. Of course, for I've got the means of showing him up
as a bad song-writer who makes all his songs the same. 1250

CHO. What is afoot? What is starting now?

So I ponder, and ask myself
what are his incriminations?
How fault one who in wealth of song
prized for beauty has far surpassed
all his kind to this moment?
I do wonder what line he'll take-
how on earth will he fault him,
King by Bacchus appointed?
Fears have I for his fortune. 1260

EUR. Wonderful songs indeed I-as will soon appear.

I'll cut them all down to a single unit of metre.
DIO. All right. With some of these pebbles I'll keep the score.

(Interlude follows on the flute, which then accompanies the lyrics.)

EUR.I 'Phthiot Achilles,
at the sound of men's hacking and hewing ... '
I Euripides recites (with offensive intonation?) isolated lines from Aeschylus' plays,

making no continuous sense. To each he adds, as a kind of refrain, a shorter line, the
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 31
o pam
upon pain! Come you not to the rescue?
'Hermes, Sire of our race,
we adore thee, a breed of the lake-lands .
o pain
upon pain! Come you not to the rescue?
DIO. That is two against Aeschylus, two pains.
EUR. 'My lesson learn, great king of kings,
in Achaia supreme, son of Atreus .. .'
o pain
upon painl Come you not to the rescue?
DIO. That's a third against Aeschylus, three pains.
EUR. 'Silencel Artemis' honey-bee maids
are approaching to open her temple .. .'
o pain
upon pain! Come you not to the rescue?
'1 am well able to speak
of their march and their Chiefs, sped by Heaven .. .'
o pain
upon pain! Come you not to the rescue?
DIO. Zeus, King of Heaven I What a bellyful of 'pains' I
I'm for the bathroom, a douche is the thing for me,
pains upon pains have set my kidneys aching. 1280
EUR. Don't go, first hear another set of his songs,
worked up from modes accompanied on the lyre.!
same every time, which picks up the dactylic rhythm into which the quotations invari-
ably fall. Very possibly the rhythm was commoner in lost plays than in those we possess.
Dionysus meanwhile keeps the score with pebbles for counters. His two interjections
match the rhythm of the refrain, which theline·arrangementofthe translation helps to mark.
I264. PhthiBt: ofPhthia or Phthiotis, just N. of the Euboic gulf.
This quotation (from the Myrmidons) and the next three are all from plays known to
us by little more than their titles. The last is from the Agamemnon.
I Tragic choruses were normally accompanied by the flute, not the lyre as here. Loss

of the music obscures the point made by Euripides in this second set of quotations from
Aeschylus. As before, the prevailing rhythm is dactylic, the dactyls being preceded in
the Ist and 4th quotations by an iambic' metron (v - v -); and, as before, the line-
arrangement in the translation aims at marking the recurrent dactylic run. By contrast.
the metre of the refrain 'tophlattothrat' is iambic and suggests that Euripides made play
of thrumming on a lyre as he sang. It seems that he is charging Aeschylus with musical as
well as metrical monotony.
The Ist and 3rd quotations are from the Agamemnotl, the 4th is of unknown origin,
and the 2nd and 5th are from plays known to us only by their titles. Stitched together
they make a crazy kind of continuous sense. The 5th matches the refrain in metre,
except in the last foot (-v forv-). It is incomplete, gives no clear sense, and may be an
interpolation.
32 BEGINNINGS
DID. Proceed, proceed-and don't go tacking on 'pains'.
EUR. 'How kings, twin-throned,
of Achaia and spearmen of Hellas'
to-phlat-to-thrat to-phlat-to-thrat
'dire as the Sphinx,
a dispenser of evil, a hell-hound',
to-phlat-to-thrat to-phlat-to-thrat
'marched to avenge,
bidden on by a heartening omen',
to-phlat-to-thrat to-phlat-to-thrat 1290

'a find for vultures,

for the tear-away hounds heaven-ranging',
to-phlat-to-thrat to-phlat-to-thrat
'and how converged against Ajax ... '
to-phlat-to-thrat to-phlat-to-thrat .. .
DIO. What's this to-phlat-to-thrat? Was it from Marathon, or where,
that you got together these chanties of the rope-walk?
AES. I brought them, at any rate, from an honoured source and put them
to honourable purpose, that none should see me culling
flowers where Phrynichus had culled, a holy close, Muse-haunted; 1300
but he (pointing to Euripides) gets his honey from every whoreson
frippet,
from Meletus' drinking-catches, from Carian flute-songs,
from dirges and dance-music. I'll soon prove my point.
Bring me the lyre, someone-but hold, what need
of a lyre for his stuff? Where's she that clacks the bones?
Come, woman, only you are Euripides' true Muse,
his songs are fit for no other lead than yours.
(Here enters an unlovely female figure, possibly with large ill-matched
feet (line I323), who marks with the castanets, as she dances, the
metrical patterns attributed by Aeschylus to Euripides. The song is
mainly a patchwork of quotations, without consecutive sense.)
DID. She's never practised Lesbian arts,1 not she!

AES.2 Halcyons, who float along in a buzz of small-talk

I Lesbos was famous for lyric poetry, as well as for sexual perversion.
Z The first few lines of this song have a faint semblance of continuity, but soon pass
into a series of disjointed quotations from Euripides. The point of some, such as 1319,
is lost to us, but most are clearly chosen to illustrate technical faults, including confused
imagery, as in lines 1313-16, or questionable diction, music, and metre-a trio that are
sometimes not merely technical but exemplify ways in which Aeschylus thought a
stately choral tradition had been debased. This debasement is his main concern. He also
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 33
o'er the sea-waves tireless flood, 13 10
bathed meanwhile in a dewy spray
of liquid atomies thrown from your wings;
you, too, spiders, who crouched in the rafter-nooks,
twi-i-i-i-i-i-ine with your toes the yam, that tightly
drawn to fit a loom-hung webbing
moves the busy reed-sley to a song-
many a flute-loving dolphin there
leapt, enchanting the dark ships' prows!
Race-courses and oracles!
Sapful sheen of the vine in bud! 1320
Agony-banishing cluster of grapes!
Put an arm round mother, child of mine!
(The grotesque feet of Euripides' 'Muse' are now displayed, while
Aeschylus savours with distaste the initial anapaestic foot 'put an arm'
and provokes from Dionysus, in response, an equally licentious final
anapaest 'it? I do', making a pair ofthem.)
This foot's curious-see it? 010. I do.
AES. What's that? See you its pair? 010. I do.
AES. (To Euripides)
Sure, Kyrene taught you her style!
How dare you to disparage mine?
Fit model she! For the songs you write
ape twelve tricks of the whore's trade!
(Relapsing into dialogue) So much for your choric songs. I also wish
thoroughly to expound the style of your lyric solos. 1 1330
finds Euripides too fond of trivialities, e.g. the 'small-talk' (a colloquialism in the Greek)
and spray-baths of halcyons, or the activities of spiders in the attic. On the musical side
he evidently objects to roulades (1314), but we do not know enough of the facts to say
more, except that music and morals were intimately connected according to Plato and
other Greek thinkers.
I The burlesque solo which Aeschylus sings is a mixture of quotation and parody

much as before, but with greater originality in their setting. They are integral parts of a
central story which serves to ridicule Euripides' proud boast of having democratized
tragedy (948-52). The narrator is a working woman. She begins with the tale of her
ill-boding dream, the taint of which demands a ritual purification. Then, invoking the
Sea-god, she relates her dream's horrible fulfilment: her rooster has been stolen! And
the thief is a female slave called Glyke, a name roughly equivalent to 'Dulcie'.
This disaster prompts invocations of her housemates, or maybe townsfolk; of the
mountain nymphs; and of a menial whose name Mania is the same as that of a Phrygian
prostitute.
Next she tells how she was working far into tlJe night at her spinning-perhaps implying
that she fell asleep at the task. Meanwhile tlJe theft occurred and the cock, as pictured in
her imagination, soared up and away in temporary escape from Glyke---or did she
dream of it as flying away from herself for ever? (footnote continued overleaf)
843591 D
34 BEGINNINGS

AES. 0 Night, darkly luminous Night,

whose ghost, in my dream, do you rouse from the murk,
whose nightmare shape dead-alive, living-death,
from his Hell steals forth
night-spawned, very creature of darkness?
Deep-black grave-cloths shroud those bones-
o most dire
most horrible is the sight of him!
A blood lust, a blood lust peers from his eyes
and his nails are talons-enormous!
o to be clean! Hurry, maids, with a light for me!
Go, dip your pails in the dewy fresh streams and prepare me a bathful;
I'd be cleansed of my demonic phantasy. 1340

o help, Sea-god, 0 help me!

This is it! 0 help me, house mates !
Witness a sight to astound you!
He is gone, the cock I loved! Glyke has pinched him-
and she's decamped!
Nymphs of the hills, rally round!
You, Maniii, lend a hand!
Ah me, how intently
did I strive to finish a skein's length,
hands working the packed spindle of flax thread,
whir-ir-ir-irring it round,
so early I planned to rise
and darkling go on my way 1350
to find me a market!
Then he flew, up he flew to the height of heav'n,
bird never soared on a lighter wing!
Invocations follow of Cretan bowmen; of the huntress Artemis, here called 'Dictynna'
and 'beauty queen'; and of Hekate, all in the hope of making a posse to catch Glyke at
home bearing evidence of her guilt.
Subordinate to the main theme, but important, is burlesque of Euripides' metrical
and musical extravagances; of his inconsequent narrative style; of his love for uniting
opposites in a single, striking expression, e.g. 'darkly luminous' (cf. D. H. Lawrence on
'Bavarian Gentians' in Last Poems: 'Bavarian gentians, big and dark, only dark / darken-
ing the daytime torch-like with smoking blueness of Piu to's gloom'); of his addiction to
invocations and to words for light and darkness and flight; and of his many repetitions
of emotive words, 'a blood lust, a blood lust', etc. Lapses into colloquialism, such :lS
'This is it!', add to the picture of democratized Tragedy.
In 1331-7 ('0 Night ... enormous') the line-division, but not the substance or the
metre, varies from that of Stanford's Greek text.
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 35
To me bitter, bitter is his legacy,
drop upon drop ever my eyes let fall,
showering, showering, oh, poor me!
Cretans!1
Ida's breed, hasten hither,
aid me with the archers, your artillerymen, 1357
haste along, lithely stepping, round the household form a ring!
Hither 0 Dictynna, named 'beauty queen',
bring your own bitchlet pack, cast around, thoroughly search all
the house! 13 60

Come child of Zeus, Hekate, to my aid,

your torch, double-branched, penetrating, hold!
Let it blaze, lift it high and show me in
to catch Glyke the raider, bird and all!
DIO. Now both of you stop the songs. MS. I've had enough too,
I want to take him up to the weighing machine.
Only the scales can put our poetry to the test;
the weight of our phrases will try us and find us out.
DIO. Then both come here, if I really must weigh up
slabs of poetic art like any cheesemonger.
CHO. Clever men do take endless pains!
Another oddity's soon to come,
novel, and fully as strange could be.
Who could have figured it out? None other!
Dammit, if I for one had heard it,
said by a sound authority even,-
man in the street, say,2-I'd have thought him
talking arrant nonsense!
DIO. Come on, stand each to his scale-pan. MS. and EUR. So!
And each take hold of it and say his say in turn,
not letting go until I call 'kokku'.3 1380
AES. and EUR. We're holding. DIO. Speak, then, down into the scales.
EUR. 'Would the ship Argos never had winged through .. .'4
AES. 'Spercheios' river and grazing grounds of kine.'
I Mter the initial cry 'Cretans!' the metrical system is based on the 'cretic' foot
- v -with substitutions, typical of Euripides, of two shorts for a long syllable. In 1358
two cretics are followed by a trochaic run cut short in the last foot (- v 1-- 1- v 1-).
Hekate is invoked in a system combining iambs and anapaests.
2 A hit at the way rumour spreads, especially in war-time.

3 The cock's crow--Qr the cuckoo's cry. 4 Medea I.

 BEGINNINGS
DIO. Kokku! AES. and EUR. It's freed. DIO. And actually far the lower
(pointing to Aeschylus) is this one's scale-pan.
EUR. However can that be so ?
DIO. 'How?' ask you? Why, he placed a river in, moistening
his utterance, just as a woolman damps his wool;
but yours was a featherweight, it had wings to it.
EUR. Let him speak another and counterbalance mine.
DlO. Take hold again, then. AES. and EUR. See, it's done. DIO. Speak on.
EUR. 'Persuasion has no other shrine than speech.' 1391
AES. 'Death is the only god who loves not gifts.'
DIO. Let go! AES. and EUR. It's freed. DIO. Yes, again it's his scale sinking,
he placed Death in, the heaviest bane of all.
EUR. And I, Persuasion. My saying's a masterpiece.
DIO. Persuasion's an airy, irrational kind of thing.
Go, search for something else, one of your heavyweights,
something to draw your scale down, brawny and big.
EUR. Let's see ... Where, oh where, have I such a line? DlO. I'll tell you:
'Achilles has thrown two singles and a four.'1 J400
Speak on, please, both of you. This is your last round.
EUR. 'Heavy with iron the club his right hand grasped.'
AES. 'Chariot on chariot piled, corpse upon corpse.'
DlO. He's thoroughly tricked you once again. EUR. How so?
DIO. He placed two 'chariots' in and 'corpses' two,
a weight not a hundred Egyptians could lift up.
AES. For me, then, no more tests by single sayings!
Into the scale himself let him step, and sit,
with children, wife, Kephisophon and all,
taking his library with him. I, for my part,
shall speak but twice, two sayings, and outweigh them. 1410
DIO. (To Pluto) They're both my friends. I won't decide between them,
I'll not become embroiled myself with either;
One I consider clever-and one delights me. Z
PLU. What? Will you leave undone all that you came for?
DIO. Suppose I do judge? PLU. Off you'll go with one of them,
the one you pick, and won't have come here to no purpose.
DIO. Thanks, and god bless you. (To Aeschylus and Euripides) Look,
now, I'd have you know
I came down here in search of a poet. EUR. And why?
DIO. That Athens, saved by him, might keep her choirs.

1 A trifling line, said to come from Euripides' much-ridiculed Telephus (cf. 855, 864).
2 In view of J468 I agree with those who think that the one who 'delights' Dionysus
is Aeschylus; but lines can be adduced to support the opposite opinion.
 ARISTOPHANES, FROGS 37
And so, whichever one gives her the sounder advice 1420
on policy, he is the man I am minded to take.
(He turns to Aeschylus and Euripides)
First, then, about Alkibfades. What views
have you? The country's in travail, painfully, for an answer.
EUR. What are her own views, pray? 010. 'Her own', you ask.
'She yearns and hates and fain would have him back.'
But tell me, you two, what you think about it.
EUR. I hate a citizen should he prove slow
to help his country and swift to do much harm,
meeting his own needs well, shiftless in hers.
DIO. Lord bless me, that's well said. (Turning to Aeschylus) And what's
your view? 1430
AES. "Twere best to rear no lion in the State;
if one be reared, best humour his caprice.'
010. Lord help me, I'm in a torment of indecision!
One's given a clever, one a lucid answer.
But state your views once more, you two, and tell us
what means of saving the country you envisage.
EUR. Suppose Kle6kritos were given the featherweight
Kinesias for wings and blown to sea-
DIO. That sight would be a laugh, but what's the idea?
EUR. Suppose a sea-fight and the pair with flasks 1440
of vinegar, showering it into our enemies' eyes! 1441
DIO. Well done, my Palamedes, a born genius you! 145 1 I
Your own thought was it? Or Kephisophon's ?
EUR. My own, barring the vinegar flasks. That's his.
DIO. (To Aeschylus) And what say you? AES. First tell me about the
country,
-is she served by serviceable men? 010. Of course not,
she hates their guts. AES. And likes the ne'er-do-wells?
DIO. Not she, oh no! Bad lots are forced upon her.
AES. What means, then, are there of saving such a country,
'unsuited both by smooth wear and the rough' ?
DIO. Find means, good heavens, if you're to rise from the dead. 1460
AES. Above ground I'll speak: here I would rather not.
010. Please, please, not that! Send up and save from here. 1462
AES. I know a way to do it and will show. 010. Speak on. 1442
AES. When we think trusty what we now mistrust
and what we trust untrusty. DIO. How? I'm lost.
Less learning, please, and more lucidity.
I 1442-62 rearranged as shown.
 BEGINNINGS
AES. If we mistrusted citizens whom now
we trust, and used the services of those
we do not use, we should, perhaps, be saved;
and if in present courses we fare badly,
would not the opposite ways be our salvation? 1450
(Here it is assumed that two lines, in which Aesclzylus was asked to
elaborate his advice, are missing.)
AF.S.When they regard their enemy's land as theirs, 1463
their own as free to him; and find sea-power
means full State-banks: tax-levies, bankruptcy.
DIO. Good! But all gains are swiped by soak-the-rich courts.
PLU. (To Dionysus) Your judgement, please. DIO. I'll judge this way
between you:
'choosing the one my soul is pleased to choose'.
EUR. Mindful of gods you named in sworn assurance
that you would take me home again, choose your friends. 1470
DIO. 'My tongue has sworn, but'-I'll choose Aeschylus.
EUR. What have you done, you bloody man? DIO. Meaning me?
Aeschylus I judged the winner. And why not?
EUR. 'Can you meet my eyes, fresh from your deed of shame ?'1
DIO. 'What's shameful, if the audience think not so ?'2
£OR. Have you no heart? Will you really shrug me off, dead?
DIO. 'Who knows? Perhaps to be alive is death'3
(Improvising equal nonsense) and breath our bread and sleep a fleecy
nap. 1481
PLU. Go in then, Dionysus, you and he. DIO. Why so?
PLU. You'll be my guests before you sail. DIO. That's fine,
god bless me, fine! I don't mind if I do.
I From Aeolus.

• Again from Aeolus, with one word-change, viz. 'audience' for 'doers'.
3 Euripidcs Polyidus; ef. 1082.
 2
PLATO

Plato's discussions of poetry and rhetoric are numerous and have often been
studied. For a recent, systematic treatment see P. Vicaire, PIaton: critique
Iitteraire, Paris, 1960.

A. RHAPSODES AND INSPIRATION

We give the Ion in full. It is in Plato's lighter vein: Socrates punctures the
pretensions to knowledge of a professional reciter of epic, Ion of Ephesus, and
in the process makes a number of points about the irrational nature of poetic
inspiration and the weakness of the claim that the poets and their expositors can
teach the arts of life.
Grube 48-<).
H. Flashar: Der DiaIog Ion als Zeugnis pIatonischer Phi!osophie, Berlin, 1958.
'Welcome, Ion! Where have you arrived from? Have you been home to 530
Ephesus ?'
'No, Socrates; I've come from Epidaurus, from the Asclepieia.'1
'Oh, do the Epidaurians hold a competition for rhapsodes too in honour
of the god?'
'Yes indeed, and for other musical arts.'
'Did you compete then? And how did you get on ?'
'We won the first prize, Socrates.'
'Splendid! Mind we win the Panathenaea too!'
'God willing, we shall.'
'I have often envied you rhapsodes your profession, Ion. It is an
enviable lot, to find it always professionally appropriate to be beautifully
dressed and look as handsome as possible, and at the same time to find it
essential to occupy oneself with so many good poets, and Homer above
all, the best and divinest of all, and learn not only his words but his
meaning. No one can be a good rhapsode who fails to understand what
the poet says; the rhapsode has to be an interpreter of the poet's meaning,
and this can't be done properly unless he understands what the poet says.
It's all most enviable.'
'~ite right, Socrates. Anyway, that is what gives me most work in my
profession, and I believe I can speak about Homer better than any man.
I The most celebrated festival of Asclepius in Greece was that at Epidaurus; games

and musical contests formed a part of it from classical times. See E. J. and L. Edelstein,
Asclepius, Baltimore, 1945, i. 313, ii. 208 ff.
 PLATO
Neither Metrodorus of Lampsacus nor Stesimbrotus of Thasos nor
Glaucon nor anybody else has ever had so many fine thoughts to utter
about Homer as I have.'!
'Splendid, Ion! I'm sure you won't grudge me a demonstration.'
'Well, Socrates, my embellishments of Homer really are worth hearing.
I deserve a golden crown from the Homeridae,z I fancy.'
'I shall make leisure to hear you yet; but for the moment just tell me one
53 1 thing. Are you good only at Homer, or at Hesiod and Archilochus too?'
'Only at Homer; I think that is quite enough.'
'But is there anything about which Homer and Hesiod say the same ?'
'Many things, surely.'
'Then can you expound what Homer says about these things better
than what Hesiod says?'
'Equally well, Socrates, as far as the things about which they both say
the same are concerned.'
'And what about things where they don't say the same? For instance,
Homer and Hesiod both speak of divination.'
'Yes.'
'Well, would you or a good diviner give a better explanation of the
similarities and differences between what these two poets say about
divination ?'
'The diviner.'
'And if you were a diviner, would you not know how to expound the
things which they say differently, if you were able to expound those of
which they give a similar account?'
'Certainly I should.'
'Why then are you good at Homer but not at Hesiod or any other poet?
Is it that Homer talks about different things from all other poets? Does
he not for the most part talk of war, dealings of men-good and bad,
laymen and craftsmen-with one another, the dealings of gods with one
another and with men, the phenomena of the heavens, Hades, the
genealogies of gods and heroes? These are the su bjects of Homer's poetry,
are they not?'
'Indeed, Socrates.'
'And what about other poets? Don't they handle the same subjects ?'
'Yes, but not like Homer, Socrates.'
'Worse ?'

I See R. Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship, Oxford, 1968, p. 35. Metrodorus, a

pupil of Anaxagoras, allegorized Homer; Stesimbrotus did not; nothing is known

about Glaucon.
2 A guild of reciters known in Chios by the sixth century and claiming (apparently)

descent from Homer.

 RHAPSODES AND INSPIRATION
'Much.'
'Homer's better?'
'Yes, indeed.'
'My dear Ion, when many people speak about number, and one talks
best, the good speaker can be recognized, can't he?'
'Yes.'
'By the same person who will recognize the bad speakers?'
'Yes.'
'In fact, by the possessor of the skill of arithmetic?'
'Yes.'
'Take another example. When a number of people discuss healthy food
and one speaks best, will it be the same critic or a different one who will
be able to recognize the best speaker and the worse ?'
'The same, obviously.'
'Who? What is he called?'
'A doctor.'
'So to sum up, it will always be the same person who, in a given group
of speakers, will know who is speaking well and who badly; if he doesn't 532
recognize the bad, he won't recognize the good either, so long as the
subject is the same.'
'Yes.'
'Then the same man is clever at both tasks?'
'Yes.'
'Now you say that Homer and the other poets, including Hesiod and
Archilochus, talk about the same subjects, but not all equally well?'
'Yes, and it's true.'
'Then if you know the good speaker, you will also know that the bad
speakers are in fact worse.'
'So it would seem.'
'Then we shall not be wrong if we say that Ion is clever both about
Homer and about other poets, since you admit yourself that the same
person is an adequate judge of all who speak about the same subject,
and that poets, generally speaking, all compose on the same subjects.'
'Then why is it, Socrates, that when someone talks about any other
poet I don't attend and I can't contribute anything at all worth while-
I just doze off-but as soon as someone mentions Homer, I wake up and
attend and find I have something to say?'
'It's not hard to make a guess about that, my friend. It's plain to anyone
that you are not capable of talking about Homer out of skill (techne) and
knowledge; because, if you were, you would have been able to talk about
all the other poets as well; the whole thing is poetry, isn't it ?'
'Yes.'
 42 PLATO
'Then, when one takes some other complete art, the inquiry will takc
the same form, whatever the art? Do you want to understand what I mean,
Ion?'
'Indeed I do, Socrates. I love listening to you clever people (sophoi).'
'I wish you would tell the truth, Ion; it's you rhapsodes and actors and
those whose poems you recite who are clever; I simply tell the truth, like
a plain man. To take the question I asked you just now; see how easy and
unspecialized it is-anyone can understand the point-to see that when
one takes any art as a whole the manner of inquiry is the same. For
instance, take painting; it's an art as a whole, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'And there are and have been many painters, good and bad?'
'Yes.'
'Well, have you ever seen anyone good at explaining what is well done
and what badly in the work of Polygnotus ' the son of Aglaophon, but
533 incapable of doing this for other painters? Anyone who dozes and is
at a loss and can make no contribution when shown the work of other
painters, but wakes up and attends and has something to say when he
has to give an opinion about Polygnotus or some other one, individual
painter ?'
'Good gracious, no.'
'Take sculpture too. Have you ever seen anybody good at explaining
the good things in Daedalus son of Metion or Epeus son of Panopeus or
Theodorus of Samos2 or some other one individual sculptor, but dozes
and is at a loss and has nothing to say about the works of other sculptors?'
'No, I've never seen anyone like that either.'
'Nor yet, I imagine, have you ever seen, in connection with f]ute- or
lyre-playing or singing to the lyre or being a rhapsode, anyone who is
good at expounding Olympus or Thamyras or Orpheus or Phemius the
rhapsode from Ithaca,3 but at a loss about Ion of Ephesus, with no
contribution to make as to what he recites well and what badly?'
'I can't oppose you, Socrates. But I do know that I speak about Homer
better than anyone else, and I have much to say, and everyone says I am
good; but not about the others. Please see what this can mean.'
'I do see, Ion, and I am going on to explain to you what I think
it is.
'This ability of yours to speak well about Homer is, as I was saying
just now, no art (techne). It is a divine force which moves you. It is like
, OfThasos, active in Athens after the Persian wars; G. M. A. Richter, Handbook of
Greek Art, London, r959, p. 264.
2 The first two are mythical; Theodorus was a gem-engraver of the sixth century B.C.

3 Legendary figures: Phemius is from the Odyssey (r. 154 etc.).

 RHAPSODES AND INSPIRATION 43
the force in the stone Euripides calls a magnet, and most people "the
Herac1ean stone". This not only attracts iron rings, but induces in the
rings the power to do the same themselves in turn-namely to attract
other rings, so that sometimes a long chain of iron rings is formed, sus-
pended from one another, all having the force derived from the stone.
Thus the Muse herself makes people possessed, and from these possessed
persons there hangs a chain of others, possessed with the same enthusiasm.
All good epic poets produce all their beautiful poems not by art but
because they are inspired and possessed. So too with good lyric poets: 534
just as Corybantic dancersI perform when they are not in their right
mind, so the lyric poets compose these beautiful songs when they are
not in their right mind; once involved in harmony and rhythm, they are
in a state of possession and it is then-just as women draw honey and
milk from the rivers when under Bacchic possession, but not when they
are in their right mind-it is then that the lyric poets have the experience
they describe to us. They say, you see, that it is from fountains flowing
with honey, in groves and gardens of the Muses, that they cull, like bees,
the songs they bring us; and they too do it on the wing. Now this is
perfectly true: a poet is a light, winged, holy creature, and cannot compose
until he is possessed and out of his mind, and his reason is no longer in
him; no man can compose or prophesy so long as he has his reason. So,
because it is not art but divine dispensation that enables them to compose
poetry and say many fine things about the world, as you do about Homer,
every individual poet can only compose well what the Muse has set him
to do-one dithyrambs, one encomia, one hyporchemata,z one epic, one
iambics. They are no good at anything else. This is because their utter-
ances are the result not of art but of divine force. If they could utter on
anyone theme by art, they would also be able to do so on every other. This
is why god takes away their senses and uses them as servants, as he does
divine prophets and seers, so that we who hear may realize that it is not
these persons, whose reason has left them, who are the speakers of such
valuable words, but god who speaks and expresses himself to us through
them. There is good evidence for this in Tynnichus of Chalcis, who never
composed a poem worth remembering except the paean3 which everybody
sings, perhaps the most beautiful of all lyrics, a real 'windfall of the Muses',
as he says himself. Herein god seems to me to have shown, to prevent us
I i.c. participants in an orgiastic ritual dance, which was believed to have therapeutic

powers in some kinds of madness. See E. R. Dodds, The Greeks and the Irrational,
University of California Press, 1951, p. 79.
2 Dithyrambs were elaborate sung lyrics in various metres, sometimes of narrative

content; encomia are songs of praise; hyporchemata are songs with a dance accom-
paniment (the word first occurs here, and exact definition is difficult).
3 Strictly, a song in praise of Apollo.
 PLATO
being in any doubt, that these beautiful poems are not human and of
men, but divine and of the gods, poets being merely interpreters of the
gods, each possessed by his own peculiar god. To demonstrate this, the god
deliberately sang the most beautiful song through the mouth of the
535 worst poet. Don't you think I'm right, Ion?'
'Indeed I do. You touch me in the heart, Socrates, by what you say,
and I believe it is by a divine dispensation that good poets interpret these
messages to ITs from the gods.'
'And you rhapsodes then interpret the messages of the poets?'
'That's right too.'
'So you are interpreters of interpreters?'
'Just so.'
'Well now, tell me this, Ion, and don't hide what I ask you. When you
recite well and most amaze your audience-say when you sing Odysseus I
leaping on the threshold, revealing himself to the suitors and pouring
the arrows out at his feet, or Achilles 2 advancing against Hector, or some
pathetic passage about Andromache or Hecuba or Priam-are you at
that time in your right mind, or are you beside yourself? Does your mind
imagine itself, in its state of enthusiasm, present at the actual events you
describe-in Ithaca or at Troy or whatever the poem requires?'
'That's a very clear indication you've given me, Socrates; I'll tell you
without concealment. When I recite a pathetic passage, my eyes fill with
tears; when it is something alarming or terrifying, my hair stands on
end in terror and my heart jumps.'
'Well, now, Ion: can we call a man sane who, when elaborately dressed
and wearing a gold crown, and not having lost any of this finery, never-
theless breaks into tears at a sacrifice and festival, or feels frightened in
the company of twenty thousand or so friendly persons, not one of whom
is trying to rob him or do him any harm?'
'To tell you the truth, Socrates-no.'
'You know then that you people have the same effect on many of the
spectators ?'
'Certainly I do. I can see them from up on the platform, weeping and
looking fierce and marvelling at the tale. Indeed, I am obliged to attend
to them; for if I can set them crying, I shall laugh when I get my money,
but if I make them laugh, I lose my money and it's I who'll be crying.'
'You know then that the spectator is the last of the rings which I described
as taking their force from the Heraclean stone? You-the rhapsode or
536 the actor-are the middle link, and the poet himself is the first. Through
all these, the god draws the human mind in any direction he wishes,
hanging a chain of force from one to the other. Just as with the stone,
I Odyssey 22. I ff. 2 Iliad 22. 31 2 ff.
 RHAPSODES AND INSPIRATION 45
there IS a huge chain of dancers, producers, and under-producers, hanging
sideways from the rings which hang down from the Muse. Poets are
suspended from different Muses-we say "possessed by", but it is much
the same thing-a matter of being held-and from this first set of rings,
the poets, are suspended-or possessed-other persons, some from one
and some from another, some from Orpheus, some from Musaeus-but
most are possessed and held by Homer. You are one of these, Ion. You
are possessed by Homer. When something by any other poet is performed,
you fall asleep and have nothing to say, but the moment anyone utters a
song of Homer, you wake up, your heart dances, and you have a lot to
say; this is because your talk about Homer comes not from knowledge or
art, but from divine dispensation and possession. Like the Corybantic
dancers, who are keenly aware only of the tune that belongs to the god
who possesses them and can dance and give utterance to this alone,
taking no notice of others, so you, Ion, are ready enough when Homer is
mentioned, but at a loss with everything else; and the reason for this,
which is what you're asking, the reason why you are ready on the subject
of Homer but not of the others, is that it is not art but divine dispensation
that makes you a good encomiast of Homer.'
'You do speak well, Socrates; but I should be surprised if you were
eloquent enough to persuade me that I am possessed and mad when I
praise Homer. I don't believe you'd think so yourself if you heard me
speaking about Homer.'
'I want to hear you very much, but not before you have answered one
question. I Which of the subjects Homer speaks of do you speak well
about? It can't be all, surely.'
'Every single one, Socrates.'
'But not surely about things which Homer speaks of but of which you
are ignorant ?'
''\nd what is there, pray, that Homer speaks of and I don't know?'
'Well, doesn't Homer often say a good deal about various arts? For 537
example, chariot-driving. If I can remember the lines, I'll say them.'
'No, I will: I remember.'
'Well, then, repeat what Nestor says to his son Antilochus, advising
him to take care at the turn in the chariot race in honour of Patroclus.'2
'Lean over yourself in your polished chariot
gently, to the left; goad on the right-hand horse,
and let him have the reins.
I This passage marks the transition from the account Socrates has given of'posscssion'

to his demonstration of the falsity of the rhapsodes' claim to knowledge.

2 Iliad 23. 335 If.
 PLATO
Let the left-hamler graze the post,
so the wheel-hub seems just to touch,
but beware of hitting the stone.'

'That'1I do. Now, Ion, who would know best whether Homer is right
here-a doctor or a charioteer ?'
'A charioteer, of course.'
'Because he possesses the art, or for some other reason ?'
'Because he possesses the art.'
'Then god has granted every art the power of knowing some one thing?
What we know by the pilot's craft, we shan't know by medicine, for
instance.'
'Indeed not.'
'And what we know by medicine, we shan't know by carpentry.
'No.'
'And so with all other arts: what we know by one, we shan't know by
another? But first answer me this: do you say there are different arts ?'
'Yes.'
'When one is knowledge of one set of things, and another of another,
I go by that, and call them different arts: is that what you do?'
'Yes.'
'Now if there were a science which dealt with one set of things, how
could we say that there were two differC1lt sciences, at least if the same
facts were to be learned from both? For example, I know that these
fingers are five in number, and you know so too; and if I were to ask you
whether you and I both knew this by the same art, namely arithmetic, or a
different one, you would reply "by the same".'
'Yes.'
538 'Then tell me now what I was going to ask you just then. Do you
think it applies to all arts that the same art must necessarily have know-
ledge of the same things, and a different art of different things?'
'Yes I do, Socrates.'
'Then anyone who doesn't possess a certain art will not be able to know
properly the words or actions which belong to that art?'
'True.'
'Then consider the lines you recited. Will you or a charioteer know
better whether Homer is right or not?'
'The charioteer.'
'Because you are a rhapsode, not a charioteer ?'
'Yes.'
'And the rhapsode's art is different from that of the charioteer?'
'Yes.'
 RHAPSODES AND INSPIRATION 47
'Therefore, since it is different, it is knowledge concerned with different
things ?'
'Yes.'
'And what about the place where Homer says that Hecamede, Nestor's
concubine, gave the wounded Machaon a draught to drink?-
... with Pramnian wine; and she grated goat's cheese upon it
with a bronze grater; and an onion went with the drink?1

Is it the business of the rhapsode's art or that of the doctor to tell properly
whether Homer is right?'
'The doctor's.'
'And when Homer saYS:2
Like a lead weight she went to the bottom,
that, mounted on the horn of an ox of the field,
goes to bring trouble to the ravenous fish,

is it the business of the rhapsode's art or the fisherman's to judge the

correctness of this?'
'The fisherman's, obviously, Socrates.'
'Then suppose you were to put a question to me in these terms:
"Socrates, since you are discovering what there is in Homer which each
of these arts ought to determine, go on now, please, to prophets and
divination-of what ought the prophet to be able to judge the correctness
or incorrectness?" See how readily I shall give you an answer. In the
Odyssey, there is a lot of this: for instance the words of the Melampodid
prophet Theoclymenus to the suitors: 3
Gentlemen, what's wrong ? Your heads are covered in darkness 539
and your face and your bodies:
wailing I hear, and cheeks are wet with tears;
the hall and the courtyard are full of ghosts
hastening hellwards in the dark;
the sun has gone from the sky and an evil gloom has come over
everything.

And there's a lot in the Iliad, too: for example, in the battle for the wall: 4
A bird came towards them as they made to cross,
an eagle flying high, flanking the host on the left.
He carried a huge snake in his claws,
, Iliad II. 639 f. 2 Iliad 24. 80 If.
3 Odyssey 20. 351 If. • Iliad 12. 200 If.
 PLATO
alive, still writhing-it had not yet forgotten its fight,
for it bent back ~nd bit the eagle by the neck,
and he felt the p~in and dropped it to the ground,
dropped it in the middle of the army,
and flew off screaming on the wind.
This and similar passages, I shall maintain, are for the prophet to examine
and criticize.'
'You are quite right, Socrates.'
'Well, you say it's right too, Ion. Now what I want you to do for me is
this: just as I picked out for you passages in the Iliad and the Odyssey
which belong to the prophet, the doctor, and the fisherman, you pick out
for me, since you know Homer better than I do, passages which belong
to the rhapsode and his art-things which the rhapsode ought to be able
to examine and criticize better than other people.'
'In my view, Socrates, that means everything.'
'That's not your view, Ion: or are you so forgetful? A rhapsode has
no business being forgetful.'
540 'What am I forgetting ?'
'Don't you remember that you said that the rhapsode's art was different
from the charioteer's?'
'I remember.'
'And you admitted that, being different, it would have knowledge of
different things?'
'Yes.'
'Then, on your view, the rhapsode and his art will not have knowledge
of everything.'
'No; they will, Socrates, except perhaps for such exceptions.'
'And by "such exceptions" you mean the fields of other arts. But what
will the rhapsode know, since it won't be everything?'
'I think it would be what a man ought to say, or a woman, or a slave,
or a free man, or a subject or a ruler.'
'You mean that the rhapsode will know better than the pilot what the
ruler of a ship ought to say in a storm at sea ?'
'No; the pilot will know that better.'
'And the rhapsode will know better than the doctor what the ruler of a
sick patient ought to say?'
'No.'
'He knows what a slave ought to say, does he?'
'Yes.'
'The rhapsode will know better than the cowherd, will he, what a slave
cowherd ought to say to quieten his cattle when they are excited ?'
'Oh no.'
 RHAPSODES AND INSPIRATION 49
'And what about what a woman woolworker ought to say about the
treatment of wool ?'
'Not that either.'
'But he will know what a man ought to say as a general exhorting his
troops ?'
'Yes; that's the sort of thing the rhapsode wilL know.'
'Then is the rhapsode's art the same as the general's?' 54!
'Well, I should know what sort of thing a general ought to say.'
'Perhaps because you have the talents of a general, Ion. If you were
both a horseman and a lyre-player, you would know good horsemanship
from bad, but if I asked you which of your arts it was that enabled you
to recognize good horsemanship, what would you answer ?'
'The horseman's art.'
'And if you recognized good lyre-playing, that, you would admit,
would have been by virtue of your being a lyre-player, not by virtue of
your being a horseman?'
'Yes.'
'Then since you understand military matters, is this so because you
have military talents or because you are a good rhapsode ?'
'I don't think there's any difference.'
'What? No difference? Are the rhapsode's art and the general's one or
two?'
'One, I believe.'
'Then the man who is a good rhapsode is in fact a good general'?
'Certainly, Socrates.'
'And the good general is a good rhapsode?'
'Well, no.'
'But the good rhapsode-you still think this ?-is a good general?'
'Yes.'
'And you're the best rhapsode in Greece?'
'By a long way, Socrates.'
'Are you the best general in Greece, too, then?'
'Of course, Socrates, I've learned it from Homer.'
'Then why on earth, Ion, being the best rhapsode and the best general
in Greece, do you go round performing as a rhapsode but not commanding
as a general? Do you think Greece has need of a rhapsode with his gold
crown but not of a general?'
'My city, Socrates, is under the government and military leadership of
yours and needs no general, and your people and the Spartans would never
elect me, for you think you are good enough yourselves.'
'My dear Ion, don't you know Apollodorus of Cyzicus?'
'Who do you mean?'
8143591 E
 ~ PLATO
'The foreigner whom the Athenians have often elected general. And
there's Phanosthenes of Andros and Heraclides of Clazomenae, whom this
city advances to generalship and other offices, though they are foreigners,
because they have shown that they are men of worth. Won't it then elect
Ion ofEphesus general, and honour him, if he seems to be a man of worth?
Anyway, aren't you Ephesians Athenians by old tradition? Isn't Ephesus
a city as great as any? The fact is, Ion, that if you are right in saying
that your capacity for praising Homer comes from art and knowledge,
you are not playing fair: you professed to know many fine things about
Homer, and you said you would demonstrate your knowledge, but now
you deceive me and are far from making the demonstration; why, you
won't even say what it is you're clever at, despite all my insistence, but
twist about and turn yourself into all sorts of shapes like a veritable
Proteus, until in the end you escape me altogether and turn up as
a general! Anything to avoid demonstrating how good your Homeric
542 scholarship is. As I say, if you are a man of art and are deceiving me with
your undertaking to give a demonstration about Homer, you are not
playing fair; but if you are no man of art, but are possessed by Homer
by some divine dispensation and say many fine things about the poet
without having any knowledge-this is the account I gave of you-then
you're not being unfair. So choose which you would rather be thought-
an unfair man or an inspired one.'
'That's a very unequal choice, Socrates; it's much more honourable
to be thought inspired.'
'Then, so far as I am concerned, the more honourable part is yours,
Ion; it is not art that makes you praise Homer as you do, but divine
inspiration.'

B. POETRY IN EDUCATION
In this first discussion in the Republic (2. 376-3. 398), Socrates is explaining to
Adimantus his ideas for the education of the 'guardians' of the new state. The
passage is mostly concerned with a critique of the moral values inculcated by
existing myth and poetry; there follow some suggestions of what poets ought to
do. After discussing content, Socrates goes on to form; this gives rise to a first
account of mimesis (imitation).
Text and commentary: J. Adam, 1902.
Grube 50 ff.; Vicaire 41 ff.
There are many English translations: e.g. by F. M. Cornford, Oxford, 1941,
clear but abridged; and by H. D. P. Lee in the Penguin Classics.
 POETRY IN EDUCATION SI

THE PLACE OF FICTION IN EDUCATION

'Then what is this education? Or is it difficult to invent one any better

than that which long ages have evolved? In other words, gymnastics for
the body and "music" for the mind.'
'Indeed it is.'
'Then shall we begin with music before gymnastics?'
'Naturally.'
'And do you regard words (logoi) as part of music or not ?'
'I do.'
'And there are two kinds of words, the true and the false (pseudos) ?'
'Yes.'
'Education is in both kinds, but first in the false.' 377
'I don't understand what you mean.' .
'Don't you understand that we first of all tell child!en fables? Now
these are, taken over all, falsehood, though there are true things in them.
And we give children fables before we give them physical exercises.'
'That's true.'
'Well, that's what I meant by saying that we must tackle music before
gymnastics.'
'You were right.'
'Well, you know that the beginning is the biggest part of any work,
especially where the young and tender are concerned; for that is the most
malleable age, when any mark you want can best be stamped on the
individual.'
'Exactly.'
'So shall we lightly allow our children to hear any fables, no matter
who made them up, and to take them to heart, though they are in fact,
generally speaking, contrary to the opinions we shall expect them to hold
when they grow up ?'
'We shan't allow that at all.'
'Then, it would seem, we must begin by controlling the fable-makers,
and admit only the good fables they compose, not the bad. We shall then
persuade nurses and mothers to tell children the admitted fables, and
mould their minds with fable much more than they now mould their
bodies with the hand. Most of the tales they tell now will have to be
thrown out.'
'Which?'
'If we look at the big fables, we shall also see the little ones. Big and
little need to be of the same type and have the same effect. Don't you
agree ?'
'Yes: but I don't see what you mean by the big ones.'
 ~ PLATO
'Those that Hesiod and Homer told, and the other poets. For it's the
poets who told men, and still tell them, the false stories they themselves
compose.'
'What stories? And what fault do you find with them ?'
'The fault one must find, first and foremost, especially when someone
tells falsehoods wrongly.'
'But what is it ?'
'Making bad verbal likenesses of gods and heroes-just like a painter
making a picture unlike the object he wants to paint.'
'Well, it's certainly right to find fault with that sort of thing. But just
what do we mean ?'
'To begin with, the greatest falsehood, involving the greatest issues,
was wrongly told by the person who said that Ouranos did what Hesiod
378 said he did,' and that Kronos took his revenge upon him. What Kronos
did and what happened to him at his son's hands is something I should
not want to be told without precaution to the young and foolish, even ifit
had been true. If possible, it should have been veiled in silence; but if
there had been great need to tell it, it should have been made a secret, for
as small an audience as possible-and they should have had to sacrifice
not a pig,2 but some expensive and inaccessible victim, so that as few
people as possible should hear the tale.'
'These stories are indeed difficult.'
'They are not to be repeated in our city, Adimantus. Nor is it to be said
in a young man's hearing that if he committed the most outrageous
crimes, or chastised an erring father by the direst means, he would be
doing nothing remarkable, but only what the first and greatest of the gods
have done.'
'I don't myself think that these are suitable stories.'
'It's the same with all the tales of how gods war, plot, and fight against
gods-not that they're true anyway-if our future city-guardians are to
believe that readiness to hate one another is the greatest scandal. Still less
must they be told elaborate fables of battles of giants, and all the other
various hostilities of gods and heroes towards their kith and kin. If we are
somehow to convince them that no citizen has ever been the enemy of
another, nor is it right that he should be, then that is the lesson that older
men and women must impress on the children from the start, the lesson
(more or less) that poets too must be forced to impress on the adult popu-
lation. Hera tied up by her son, Hephaestus thrown out by his father
because he was proposing to defend his mother against a beating, Homer's
I Theogony 137 If., 453 If. According to this primitive myth, Kronos castrated his

father Ouranos and swallowed his children.

• The victim required of an initiate in the Eleusinian mysteries.
 POETRY IN EDUCATION 53
battles of gods-all this is inadmissible, whether it was composed allegori-
cally (en huponoiais) or not. Young people can't distinguish the allegorical
from the non-allegorical, and what enters the mind at that age tends to
become indelible and irremovable. Hence the prime need to make sure
that what they first hear is devised as well as possible for the implanting
of virtue.'
'That· makes sense. But if we were to be asked what these things are,
what the stories are, what should we say?'

ADMISSIBLE PATTERNS FOR TALES OF THE GODS

'You and I, Adimantus, are not poets, at the moment: we are founders 379
of a city. Founders have to know the patterns within which poets are to
be made to construct fables, and beyond which they must not be allowed
to go, but they don't have to make up fables themselves.'
'True enough: but just what are the patterns for an account of the gods?'
'Something like this, I fancy. God must always be represented as he is,
whether in epic or in lyric or in tragedy.'
'Yes indeed.'
'Now God is in truth good and must so be described.'
'Of course.'
'And nothing good is harmful, is it?'
'No.'
'Does the non-harmful harm ?'
'No.'
'And does what doesn't harm do any evil?'
'No.'
'And what does no evil is cause of no evil?'
'Of course.'
'Now again. The good is useful?'
'Yes.'
'Therefore the cause of felicity ?'
'Yes.'
'The good therefore is not the cause of everything, but only of what is
well.'
'Certainly.'
'God therefore, being good, cannot be responsible for everything, as is
the common opinion, but only of some few things in human life. There is
much for which he bears no responsibility. Our blessings are far fewer
than our troubles, and, while none but God is responsible for the blessings,
we must seek other causes for the troubles.'
'That seems perfectly right.'
 54 PLATO
'We mllst therefill'e not allow Homer or any other poet to make this
fuolish mistake about the gods, and to say that
by Zeus's door stand two jars full of dooms,
one good, one bad, I
and that if Zeus gives a man a mixture of the two,
sometimes he is in trouble, sometimes in luck,
while if he gives him the one kind unmixed,
grim famine drives that man over the earth.
Nor can we allow that Zeus is "steward of our goods and ills". Nor shall
we approve anyone who says that the breach of the oaths and truce,
committed by Pandarus, was due to the agency of Athena and Zeus 2-
or that the quarrel and judgement of the goddesses was the work of Zeus
380 and Themis. Young people must not be allowed to be told, in Aeschylus'
words, that
god breeds a crime in men.
when he would utterly overthrow a house. 3
If a poet does write about the story of Niobe, or the House of Pelops, or
Troy, or anything like that, then either he must be allowed to say that
they are not the works of god, or if they are, he must concoct some such
account as the one we are now seeking, and say that what god did was just
and good, and the victims profited from their punishment. What the
poet mustn't say is that god did it, and the victims were wretched. It is
all right to explain that the wicked were wretched because they needed
punishment, and profited from receiving that punishment at the god's
hands. But that god, who is good, is the cause of evil to anyone is a
proposition to be resisted at all costs. No one must say such a thing in the
city, if it is to be well governed. No one must hear it said. This goes for
young and old, for verse fables and prose. Such tales, if told, would be
wicked, unprofitable and self-contradictory.'
'I shall vote with you for that law. I like it.'
'Then that's one of the laws and patterns relating to the gods, which
speakers and poets will have to observe: god is responsible only for the
good things.'
'That sufIices.'
'What about the second one then? Do you think that god is a magician
and appears, as it were deliberately, in different shapes at different times,
sometimes in person, changing himself into many shapes, and sometimes
1 Iliad 24. 527 If.; cf. Plutarch (below, p. 523). • I Had 4. 69 If.
3 Aeschylus, fr. 156 Nauck.
 POETRY IN EDUCATION ss
deceiving us and making us think this of him? Or is he single and least
likely of any being to depart from his own form ?'
'I can't say, just at the moment.'
'Well. Ifhe were to depart from his own form, must he not do so either
by his own act or under the influence of another ?'
'Yes.'
'But things which are in a very good condition are not changed or
moved by other things. Consider the effect of food, drink, and exercise
on bodies, or of exposure to sun and wind and other circumstances on
plants; the healthiest and strongest are changed least.'
'Of course.'
'Then the mind which external happenings are least likely to disturb 381
and change is the bravest and wisest?'
'Yes.'
'And, similarly, manufactured tools, houses, and clothing are least
altered by time and other circumstances if they are well constructed and
in good condition?'
'Yes.'
'Then, in general, whatever is in a good condition, as a result of nature
or art or both, admits the minimum change from external influence?'
'So it seems.'
'But god and what is god's is in every way exceedingly good?'
'Of course.'
'So from this point of view god can't have "many shapes" ?'
'No.'
'But might he change and vary himself?'
'He must, if he varies at all.'
'Well, then, does he change himself for better or for worse?'
'For worse, inevitably, if he does vary: for we can't say that god is
defective in beauty or goodness.'
'Qy.ite right. And that being so, Adimantus, do you think any god, or
man, would voluntarily make himself worse in any way?'
'Impossible. '
'Impossible therefore for god to want to vary himself. Every god, being
exceedingly beautiful and good, remains always simply, so far as possible,
in his own shape.'
'Necessarily so.'
'So let none of the poets tell us that
in guise of foreign strangers
gods visit cities in every manner of shape. I
I Odyssey 17. 485 f.
 56 PLATO
Let us have no tales against Proteus and Thetis; let us not have Hera
brought in, in tragedy or any other poem, disguised as a priestess begging
to the life-giving children of Inachus, river of ArgoS.1

There are a lot of other false tales we must not hear. Mothers must not
be persuaded by these people into frightening their children with horrid
fables of how the gods go about at night in the shape of strangers of all
kinds. We can't have them blaspheming the gods and making cowards of
their boys at the same time!'
'No, they mustn't do that.'
'Can it be then that, though the gods themselves can't change, they
make us think they appear in various guises, deceiving and bewitching us?'
'Maybe.'
'Indeed? Might a god want to give a false impression in word or deed
382 by exhibiting a phantom ?'
'I don't know.'
'You don't know that all gods and men abhor the true falsehood, if I
may use such an expression?'
'What do you mean?'
'That no one deliberately wants to be false in the most important part
of his being or in relation to the most important subjects. Everyone is
afraid of having falsehood there.'
'I still don't understand.'
'Because you think I'm saying something grand. But all I'm saying is
that everybody will refuse to continue or to be put into a state of false-
hood, or to be ignorant, in relation to reality in the mind, or to have or
acquire falsehood in that department. This is something they detest.'
'Indeed.'
'But it's the mental ignorance of the deceived that is rightly called, as I
was saying, true falsehood. Verbal falsehood is a representation of the
mental situation, a subsequent image, not real, undiluted falsehood.
Agreed?'
'Yes.'
'So real falsehood is abhorred by men as well as by gods?'
'I think so.'
'What about verbal falsehood? When is it useful, and not deserving of
detestation? Is it not useful in dealing with enemies, and, as a medicine,
against some supposed friends, to deter them when they try to do some-
thing bad through madness or folly? Or again, falsehood can surely be
made useful in mythology, such as we have been discussing, because we
J Aeschylus, fr. 168 Nauck.
 POETRY IN EDUCATION 57
don't know the truth about antiquity: what we do is to make the false-
hood as like the truth as possible.'
'That's right.'
'Then in which of these ways is falsehood useful to god? Will he
produce falsehoods of the likeness type because he doesn't know the past ?'
'Ridiculous idea!'
'So there's no false poet in god?'
'No.'
'Will he lie then for fear of enemies?'
'Certainly not.'
'Or because of his friends' folly or madness?'
'No lunatic or fool is god's friend.'
'So god can have no reason for falsehood?'
'No.'
'So the superhuman and divine is altogether free from falsity ?'
'Yes.'
'God, therefore, is simple and true in deed and word. He neither
changes nor deceives in visions or words or significant signs, in waking
or in sleep.'
'That is how it seems to me as I listen to you.' 383
'You agree, then, that this is the second pattern within which tales and
poetry about gods are to be constructed: they are not wizards to change
themselves nor do they trick us with falsehoods in word or deed.'
'Agreed.'
'There is much in Homer we must praise: but we shall not praise the
dispatch of the Dream by Zeus to Agamemnon.I Nor, in Aeschylus, shall
we praise the passage where Thetis tells of Apollo's song at her marriage:
he hymned my happy children,
a long and healthy life;
he told it all, sang of god's love, my good fortune,
heartening me, and I thought his holy lips,
so skilled in prophecy, could speak no falsehood;
but he who sang the hymn, he who was at the feast,
he who said all this, he is my boy's killer. 2
When a poet says things like this about gods, we shall be angry and shall
not let his play be produced. Nor shall we allow teachers to use it for
education, if our guardians are to be god-fearing and divine, in so far as
human powers can be.'
'I agree completely with these patterns. I shall regard them as laws.. .'
'To conclude, then: men who are to honour the gods and their parents 3. 386
1 Iliad 2. 1-34. • Aeschylus, fr. 350 Nauck.
 58 PLATO
and set a high value on mutual friendship must keep to some such rules
as these about what may and may not be listened to concerning the gods.'
'And I think our view is right.'

THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF BRAVERY

'But what about their beingbrave? Mustwenotalso say things of a kind

to make them unafraid of death? Or do you think a man can be brave if
he has this fear in him?'
'I do not.'
'Do you think that anyone who believes that Hades exists and is terrible
will be unafraid of death, or will prefer death in battle to defeat and
slavery ?'
'No.'
'We must therefore exercise control over these myths too, and ask
those who essay them not to speak ill of Hades but to praise it: otherwise
what they say will be neither true nor useful to future warriors.'
'Right.'
'So we shall delete all such passages, beginning with:
Rather would I be bound to the soil, a thrall to another,
to a poor man at that, with no land to his portion,
than be king of all the nations of the dead ... I

387 b We shall ask Homer and the other poets not to be angry if we strike out
these and similar lines. Not that they're not poetical and pleasant hearing
for the general public: indeed, the more poetical they are, the less they
should be presented to boys and men who ought to be free, and more
afraid of slavery than of death.'
'Certainly.' .•.
387 c 9 '':'he pattern to be followed III stories and poetry is therefore the
opposite of these.'
'Clearly.'
'We shall therefore excise lamentations and expressions of pity by men
of note.'
'Inevitably, if we excluded what we have already discussed.'
'Well, consider whether we shall be doing right or not. We say, I
think, that the good man (epieikes) will not think death a terrible thing for
another good man, whose friend he is.'
'We do.'
I Odyssey II. 489 ff. Other examples follow, but we omit them: 11. 20. 64, 23.103;
Od. 10.495; /1.16.856,23.100; Od. 24. 6-9.
 POETRY IN EDUCATION S9
'So he won't lament for him as though something dreadful had happened
to him.'
'No.'
'We also say that such a man is particularly self-sufficient for living a
good life, and needs other people less than anyone does.'
'True.'
'So it's least dreadful for him to be deprived of a son or a brother or
money or anything like that.'
'Yes.'
'So he grieves least, and endures most placidly, when such a disaster
overtakes him.'
'Yes.'
'So we should be right to remove the laments of notable men, and give
them to women-but not to good women-and to bad men, so that the
guardians whom we claim to be educating are disgusted at the idea of
doing likewise.'
'Right.'1 •••

'If our young men heard things like this in earnest and did not laugh 388 d
at them as unworthy remarks, they would be most unlikely to think
themselves, being but men, below this sort of thing, or to check them-
selves if it occurred to them to say or do anything of the kind. They
would mourn and lament freely, without shame or restraint, at small
accidents.'
'Very true.'
'But they ought not to do so, as our argument just now showed-and
we ought to be convinced by it, until someone convinces us with a better
one.'
'Indeed they ought not.'

LAUGHTER AND JEST

'Nor must they be fond of laughter. If you indulge a violent fit of

laughter, you're looking for a violent change.'
'I agree.' 389
'So we mustn't allow anyone to represent serious men as overcome by
laughter, much less gods.'
'Much less.'
'So, on your argument, we mustn't admit Homeric passages about the
gods like
I Examples oflaments of heroes and heroines follow, but are here omitted: It. 24.10,

22.414, 18. 54,22. 168, 16.433.

 60 PLATO
then unquenchable laughter arose among the blessed gods,
as they saw Hephaestus bustling about the room.'I
'Call it my argument if you like. Anyway, we mustn't admit that.'
'But we must attach great value to truth. If we were right just now, and
falsehood is useless to gods and useful to men only as a remedy, it can
be allowed only to doctors, not to the layman.'
'Clearly.'
'Rulers of the city, therefore, may, if anybody may, appropriately use
falsehoods, because of enemies or fellow citizens, to help the city. No
one else can be allowed to touch such things. For a private person to
employ falsehood towards rulers like ours is wrong: it is the same mistake,
only on a bigger scale, that a patient makes if he doesn't tell his doctor
the truth about his physical condition, or an athlete his trainer, or a sailor
if he doesn't give the helmsman a proper account of what he or his fellow
sailors are doing.'
'True.'
[plato goes on to deal similarly with the need for modest behaviour (sophrosunl)
and endurance. He concludes the section on the content ofliterature as follows:]
392 a 'In our attempt to define what kind of stories should be told, and what
not, what class of story still remains? We have discussed gods, demigods
and heroes, and Hades.'
'Yes.'
'The subject of men remains.'
'Oearly.'
'Well, we can't legislate for that at the moment.'
'Why not?'
'Because, I imagine, we shall say that poets and prose-writers make
serious bad statements about men-that there are many Mjust men who
are happy and just men who are miserable, that secret wrongdoing is
profitable, that justice is the good of others and our own loss-and so
on. We shall have to forbid them to say this, and command them to com-
pose songs and fables to the opposite effect.'
'I'm sure we shall.'
'Then if you agree I am right, shall I say you have agreed to what we
have long been seeking?'
'Yes, that's right.'
'Then we shall come to our agreement that this is the sort of thing to
be said about men only when we have discovered what justice is and what
is its natural advantage to its possessor, whether or not he appears just.'
'True.'
I Iliad I. 599.
 POETRY IN EDUCATION. 61

MORAL ASPECTS OF THE CHO I CE OF EXPRESSION

'SO much for what is said (logoi). We must next consider its expression
(Iexis). When that is done we shall have covered the whole subject of what
is to be said and how.'
'I don't understand what you mean.'
'You ought to; but perhaps you'll know better if I put it like this.
Everything that fable-tellers or poets say is a narrative of past or present
or future.'
'Of course.'
'And they execute it either by simple narrative or by narrative conveyed
by imitation (mimesis) or by both.'
'I should like a clearer account of that too, please.'
'I must be a ridiculously obscure teacher. I'll try to do what incom-
petent speakers do and show you what I mean by taking a little bit, and
not the whole topic. Tell me: you know the beginning of the Iliad, where
the poet says that Chryses asked Agamemnon to release his daughter,
Agamemnon was angry, and Chryses, unsuccessful, cursed the Achaeans 393
to the god?'
'I know.'
'Then you know that as far as the lines
and he begged all the Achaeans,
and especially the two Atridae, the generals of the host, I
the poet speaks in his own person, and does not try to turn our attention
in another direction by pretending that someone else is speaking. But
from this point on he speaks as though he were Chryses himself and tries
to make us think that it is not Homer talking, but the old priest. And he
does practically all the rest of the narrative in this waY,2 both the tale of
Troy and the episodes in 1thaca and the whole Odyssey.'
'Yes.'
'Now it is narrative both when he makes the various speeches and in
the passages between the speeches.'
'Of course.'
'But when he makes a speech pretending to be someone else, are we
not to say that he is assimilating his expression as far as possible to the
supposed speaker?'
'Certainly.'
'And to assimilate oneself in voice or gesture to another is to imitate
him?'
I Iliad I. 15-16.
2 i.e. in a combination of speeches with linking or introductory narrative.
 62 PLATO
'Yes.'
'So in this sort of thing Homer and the other poets are conveying their
narrative by way of imitation (mimesis)?'
'Yes.'
'Now if the poet never concealed himself, his whole poetry and mirra-
tive would be free of imitation. Don't say you don't understand again-
I'll explain how it would be. If Homer, having said that Chryses came
with his daughter's ransom to be a suppliant of the Achaeans, and
particularly of the kings, had gone on not as Chryses but as Homer, it
would have been pure narrative, not imitation. It would have gone
something like this-I'll do it without metre, for I'm no poet. "The
priest came and prayed that the gods might grant them to capture Troy
and return home safely, if they accepted ransom, respected the god, and
freed his daughter. Most of them respected his words and were ready to
agree, but Agamemnon was angry, telling him to go away and never
come back, lest his staff and the god's garlands might prove of no avail
to him: before the daughter was freed, she would grow old in Argos with
him. And he told the old man to be off and not stir up trouble, if he
394 wanted to get home safe. Hearing this, Chryses was frightened and went
silently away, but when he had left the camp he prayed long to Apollo,
calling on him by his special names, reminding him and begging him, if
he had ever given him before an acceptable gift in temple-building or
sacrifice; in return for this, he prayed to him to avenge his tears on the
Greeks with his arrows."-That's pure narrative without imitation.'
'I understand.'
'Then understand that the opposite happens when the poet removes the
passages between the speeches and leaves just the exchange ofconversation
(ta amoibaia).'
'I see: that's what we have in tragedies.'
'Q!!.ite right. I think I'm making clear to you now what I couldn't
before, namely that there is one kind of poetry and fable which entirely
consists of imitation: this is tragedy and comedy,.as you say; and there's
another kind consisting of the poet's own report-you find this particularly
in dithyrambs; while the mixture of the two exists in epic and in many
other places, if you see what I mean.'
'Yes: I understand now what you meant then.'
'Remember also what we said even before that-that we've dealt with
the question what to say, but have still to consider how.'
'I remember.'
'Well, what I meant was, that we must come to an understanding as to
whether we are to allow our poets to narrate by imitation, or partly by
imitation (and if so, what parts), or not to imitate at all.'
 POETRY IN EDUCATION
'I have an inkling that you are asking whether we should admit tragedy
and comedy into the city or no.'
'Perhaps-or perhaps more than that. I don't know yet: we must go
where the wind of the argument blows.'
'That's right.'
'Well then, consider whether our guardians ought to be imitative
people or not. Or does this follow from our previous argument that an
individual can do one thing well but is liable to fail in everything, so far
as acquiring real note is concerned, if he tries to do many things?'
'Bound to follow.'
'Similarly with imitation-one individual can't imitate many things
well, though he can one ?'
'Yes.'
'So still less will one man be able to pursue some worthwhile pursuit
and also imitate many things and be an imitator. Even apparently closely
related imitations (mimemata) cannot be practised well by the same 395
person-tragedy and comedy for example. You called these two imita-
tions, didn't you?'
'Yes; and you're quite right, the same people can't do both.'
'Nor can people be both rhapsodes and actors.'
'True.'
'Nor even tragic actors and comic actors. All these things are imita-
tions, aren't they?'
'Yes.'
'Now it seems to me as if human nature is specialized even more
minutely than this. It is unable to imitate many things well, or to do well
the things of which the imitations are likenesses.'
'True.'
'So if we are to preserve our first conclusion, that our guardians ought
to be exempt from all other crafts and be craftsmen of freedom in the
city, and perfect craftsmen, and ought to practise nothing that does not
conduce to this end, they must not do or imitate anything else. If they do
imitate, the subject of their imitation, from childhood onwards, must be
what is appropriate to them: the brave, the self-controlled, the righteous,
the free, and so on. They must neither display in action nor be good
at imitating the illiberal, or any other disgraceful quality, lest the fruit
of their imitation be the reality. Haven't you observed that imitations, if
persisted in from childhood, settle into habits and fixed characteristics
of body, voice, or mind?'
'I have indeed.'
'So we sa'an't allow those whom we profess to care for, and who we
say ought to be brave men, to imitate a woman, young or old, in the act
 PLATO
of reviling her husband or boastfully competing with the gods, full of the
conceit of her own felicity, or possessed by misfortune or mourning or
lamentation. And as for illness, love, or childbirth-God forbid !'I
'Yes indeed.'
'Nor slaves, male or female, performing slavish tasks.'
'No.'
'Nor bad men, cowards, and people doing the opposite of what we have
just described, people abusing or ridiculing one another or using filthy
396 language, drunk or sober, or committing any of the other errors of word
or deed against self or others that such people incur. Nor must we allow
them to form the habit of likening themselves to madmen by word or
action. Of course they must be able to recognize mad or wicked men
or women-but they're not to do or imitate any of these things.'
'True.'
'Well then, what about smiths or other workmen doing their work, or
rowers in triremes or their officers? Is anything like this to be imitated?'
'How could it be? None of them is going to be allowed even to think
of these things.'
'Well, horses neighing? Bulls lowing? Rivers babbling? The roar of the
sea? Thunder? Are they to imitate this sort of thing ?'Z
'They have been forbidden to be mad or to make themselves like the
mad.'
'If I understand what you're saying, there is a kind of expression and
narrative which the really good man would use, if he had to say anything,
and there is another and very different kind which the person of opposite
breeding and education would consistently use for his narratives.'
'What are these kinds?'
'As it seems to me, the decent man, when he comes in his narrative to
the words or action of a good man, will want to report it by identifying
himself with that good man, and will not be ashamed of such imitation.
Especially will he imitate the good man secure and sane: less readily, the
good man tripped up by sickness, love, drink, or some other accident.
But when he comes to a man unworthy of himself, he will not want
seriously to liken himself to his own inferior, except momentarily, when
he's acting well. He will be ashamed. For one thing, he will have had
no practice in imitating such characters. For another, he will feel disgust
at modelling himself on, and inserting himself into, the patterns of the
inferior. He will have an intellectual contempt for them, except as a game.'
'Probably so.'
'He will therefore use the style of narration that we described ID
r Plato is thinking of tragic heroines: Medea, Niobe, Phaedra.
a a. Plutarch, below, p. 514.
 POETRY IN EDUCATION
connection with Homer's epic. His expression will have elements both of
imitation and of narrative, but with very little narrative to a long story.
Right ?'
'Yes: that must be the pattern of a speaker of this kind.'
'But consider the other kind. The worse he is, the readier he will be to 397
imitate e1erything. He won't regard anything as beneath him. He will
try to imitate everything, seriously and in public--even what we were
speaking of just now, thunder and the noise of wind and hail, axle and
pulley, the sound of trumpets, oboes, pipes, and all kinds of instruments,
the cries of dogs, sheep, and birds. His expression will be entirely imita-
tive, in voice and gesture-or at most it will have a little narration in it.'
'Necessarily so.'
'Then this is what I meant by the two kinds of expression.'
'I see.'
'In one of them, the variations are not great. If you give the expression
its appropriate harmony and rhythm, a correct speaker is able to deliver
the piece practically in one and the same harmony-the variations are
small-and in very much the same rhythm.'
'Quite so.'
'The other performer's type, on the other hand, needs the very opposite
-all harmonies and all rhythms-if it is to be delivered appropriately,
because of the manifold forms of its variations.'
'Certainly.'
'Then all poets and speakers fall into one or other pattern of expression
or into one arising from their combination of the two.'
'Inevitably.'
'What shall we do then? Shall we admit all these patterns into the city,
or one or other unmixed, or the mixed one ?'
'If my vote is allowed to prevail, the imitator of the good, unmixed.'
'But the mixed pattern is pleasing-while to children and their atten-
dants and to the multitude it's the one that's opposite to your choice that
gives by far the most pleasure.'
'Yes, it is.'
'But perhaps you would say it didn't suit our "republic", for we have
no double or multiple men, because everybody performs one function.'
'Well, it doesn't suit.'
'So this is the only city where we shall find the cobbler a cobbler and
not a ship's pilot as well, the farmer a farmer and not a juryman as well,
and the man of war a man of war and not also a man of money.l Isn't it?'
'It is.'
I Plato is contrasting his city with democratic Athens, where just these combinations

of roles were characteristic.

8143591 F
 66 PLATO
398 'Suppose then there arrived in our city a man who could make himself
into anything by his own skill, and could imitate everything. Suppose he
brought his poems and wanted to give a display. We should salute him
as divine, wonderful, a pleasure-giver: but we should then say that there
is no· one of his sort in our city and it is not allowed that there should
be. We should therefore pour ointment on his head, give him a garland
of wool, and send him off elsewhere. Meanwhile we should employ the
more austere and unpleasing poet and tale-teller, for use not pleasure:
he would imitate the expression of the good man and tell his tales within
the patterns for which we legislated at the beginning, when we were trying
to educate the soldiers.'
'Indeed we should, if it were in our power.'

C. THE TRUE NATURE OF IMITATION

We turn to Book X of the Republic. Here Plato comes back to the subject of
poetry in the light of the philosophical and psychological doctrines expounded
in the middle books: the 'theory of forms' and the doctrine of the three elements
of the soul (the reasoning, 'spirited', and 'desiring' elements). The result is a
profounder account of the dangers inherent in mimesis.
Socrates is here talking to Glaucon.

CONFIRMATION OF THE EXCLUSION OF POETRY

595 'There are many respects in which I feel convinced, when I reflect on it,
that we founded our city rightly-and not least in this business of poetry.'
'In what way?'
'In our refusing to admit imitative poetry. It is even clearer, I think,
that we ought not to admit it, now that we have distinguished the elements
in the mind.'
'How so?'
'Between ourselves-and 1 know you're not going to denounce me to
the writers of tragedy and all the other imitators-all this kind of thing
is ruination to the listeners' minds, unless they are protected by the
knowledge of what it really is.'
'What are you thinking of?'
'I shall have to be frank-though my lifelong liking and respect for
Homer inhibits me, for he is the prime teacher and leader of all these fine
folk. Still, persons mustn't be put before the truth. As 1 say, I shall have
to be frank.'
'Indeed you will.'
'Listen then-or rather answer.'
'Ask away.'
 THE TRUE NATURE OF IMITATION

THE REAL NATURE OF IMITATION

'Can you tell me what imitation in general is? 1 can't see myself what
it means.'
'Then it's hardly likely that 1 should.'
'There would be nothing surprising if you did. Duller eyes often see
sooner than sharp ones.'
'1 dare say. But with you there 1 shouldn't be able even to want to speak
if 1 have an idea. You try and see.'
'Would you like us to begin with our usual procedure ? We are in the
habit of assuming a "form" in relation to each group of particular objects
to which we apply the same name. I Or do you not understand?'
'1 understand.'
[On this assumed basis of the 'theory of forms' Plato develops the argument
that there are, for instance, three beds: the 'idea' of bed, the actual bed,
the image of a bed. The constructor of the first is God, of the second the
bed-builder, of the third the painter, who is an imitator. So imitators-
tragic poets, for instance-are 'third from the King and from truth' (597 e 7).
We resume where the argument returns specifically to poetry.]
'We must now consider tragedy and its leader, Homer, in the light of S98 d
this, for we hear it said by some that tragedians know all arts, all human
affairs where vice and virtue are involved, and all divine things too: for,
they say, the good poet must compose with knowledge ifhe is to compose
well on any subject. We must therefore consider whether these people
have fallen in with a set of imitators who have deceived them and have
failed to realize that their works, which they see, are 'third removes' from 599
the reality and are easy to make even if you don't know the truth. They
are images, not realities. Or do you think there is something in what they
say, and good poets really do know about the things which ordinary
people think they describe so well?'
'We must certainly go into this.'
'Do you think then that if anyone could make both the object of imita-
tion and the image, he would let himself take image-construction seriously
and make it the guiding principle in his life, as though it were the best
thing he had ?'
'No.'
'But if he was really knowledgeable about the things he imitates, he
would take trouble over the real object rather than the imitation, and try
to leave many beautiful objects behind as his memorial. He would rather
be praised than compose the praises of others.'
I A reference to Plato's characteristic 'theory of forms': see e.g. R. S. Bluck, Plato's

Phaedo, London, 1955, pp. 7 If.

 68 PLATO
'Surely: the honour and the advantage are not comparable.'
'There are things we need not ask Homer or any other poet about. We
need not ask whether, supposing one of them was a doctor and not an
imitator of medical language, anyone is said to have been made healthy
by a poet, old or new, as by Asclepius, or whether any poet has left pupils
in medicine, as Asclepius left descendants.! Nor need we ask such ques-
tions about the other arts. We can let them be. But it's fair to ask about
the grandest and most splendid subjects that Homer tries to speak of-
wars, strategy, government, education. "Dear Homer," let us say, "if
you are not at third remove from truth in the matter of goodness, an
image-maker, an imitator as we defined it, but only at two removes, and
if you have been able to know what pursuits make men better and worse in
their private and public conduct-tell us what city was better governed
because of you, as Sparta was because of Lycurgus, and many others,
great and small, because of others? What city claims you as a good law-
giver and its benefactor? Italy and Sicily claim Charondas, we claim
Solon. Who claims you ?" Will he be able to name anywhere ?'
'I don't think so; at any rate nothing is said even by the Homeridae.'
600 'But is there record of any war in Homer's time which was well con-
ducted thanks to his generalship or advice ?'
'No.'
'Then are there many ingenious ideas for techniques or other activities
reported of Homer as being a clever man in some craft? I am thinking of
Thales of Miletus and Anacharsis the Scythian.'
'Nothing like that.'
'Well, if there is no public service, perhaps Homer is said to have guided
the education of some privately-people who respected him for his
company and handed down to posterity a Homeric Way of Life, as
Pythagoras was respected in this way and his followers still speak of a
Pythagorean life which distinguishes them from the rest of the world.'
'Nothing like that is reported. Indeed Creophylus, Homer's friend,
may prove even more ridiculous in his education than in his name,· if
what we are told about Homer is true. Homer is said to have been very
much neglected by him in his lifetime.'
'So they say. But, Glaucon, do you think that if Homer had really been
able to educate men and make them better-being capable of knowing
about these things, not just imitating-he would have failed to acquire
many friends and earn their respect and liking? Protagoras of Abdera,
Prodicus of Ceos, and many others are able to convince their contem-
poraries in private conversation that they will be incapable of managing
house or city unless they take charge of their education. They earn such
I Cf. Ion, above, p. 39. 2 'Meat-stock.'
 THE TRUE NATURE OF IMITATION
affection for this expertise that their friends almost carry them round
on their heads. Now if Homer had been able to help men to acquire
virtue, would his contemporaries have let him-and the same goes for
Hesiod-wander round reciting poetry? Would they not have held on
to him more eagerly than gold and forced him to stay at home with them?
Failing that, wouldn't they have danced attendance wherever he went till
they got enough education?'
'I think you're absolutely right, Socrates.'
'Shall we then put down all poets, from Homer onwards, as imitators
of images of virtue and of all their other subjects, without any contact
with the truth? As we were saying just now, the painter will make a
semblance of a cobbler, though he knows nothing about cobbling, and
neither do his public-they judge only by colours and shapes.'
'Yes.'
'Similarly, we can say that the poet with his words and phrases lays
on the colours of every art, though all he understands of it is how to
imitate it in such a way that other people like himself, judging by the
words, think it all very fine if someone discusses cobbling or strategy or
anything in metre, rhythm, and harmony. These have by their very nature
such immense fascination. I imagine you know what the content of
poetry amounts to, stripped of the colours of music, just on its own.
You must have seen it.'
'I have.'
'It's like a pretty but not beautiful face, isn't it, when youth has de-
parted from it?'
'Exactly.'
[Plato proceeds to distinguish three arts relating to anyone subject: the art
that uses it, the art that makes it, the art that imitates it. The imitator, he
argues, will have no knowledge of the subject such as the others have. Poets
merely imitate what the ignorant think about good and bad. A new and
important argument begins at 602 c.]

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL EFFECTS OF IMITATION

'SO this imitation relates to something three removes from truth, 602 C
does it?'
'Yes.'
'Now what element in human nature does it affect?'
'What do you mean?'
'Something like this. The same size appears different according to
whether it is seen close at hand or at a distance.'
'Yes.'
 ~ PLATO
'A thing may seem straight or crooked according to whether it is seen
in or out of water. Similarly with the concave and convex, because of
visual error connected with colours. This is evidently a sort of total mental
confusion: and it's this natural experience that' perspective drawing
exploits with its magic, and conjuring tricks too, and many other such
devices.'
'True.'
'Now the best aid in all this is measurement, counting and weighing.
These prevent the apparently bigger or smaller, heavier or more numerous,
from prevailing in our minds, and make the calculating, measuring, and
weighing element do so.'
'Just so.'
'Now this will be the work of the ratiocinative part of our mind.'
'It will.'
'Now it often happens that when this faculty has measured and indicates
that A is bigger or smaller than B, or equal to it, it nevertheless finds
contrary appearances at the same time about the same object.'
'Yes.'
'Now we said that the same thing cannot make contrary judgements at
the same time about the same object.'
'And that was surely right.'
603 'Then the element of the mind that judges against the measurements
is not the same as that which judges with them.'
'No.'
'But that which relies on measurement and calculation will be the best
element of the mind.'
'Of course.'
'So its opponent will be one of the inferior elements.'
'Necessarily.'
'This is the agreement I was aiming at when I said that painting, and
imitative art generally, accomplishes work that is far removed from truth
and addresses itself to an element in us that is far removed from wisdom,
becoming this element's friend and close associate for no good or honest
purpose.'
'Q!tite so.'
'So the art of imitation is an inferior thing, its associate is inferior,
and its products are inferior.'
'So it seems.'
'Does this apply only to visual imitation or also to auditory imitation
-what we call poetry?'
'Probably to this too.'
'Then let us not simply trust the probability on the evidence of painting,
 THE TRUE NATURE OF IMITATION
but consider what-mental element it is that poetical imitation consorts
with. Is it good or bad?'
'We must indeed consider that.'
'Let us set the question out like this. Imitation imitates men perform-
ing actions' either forced or voluntary, and believing that they are either
successful or not in these actions, and feeling pain or pleasure as a result
of it all. Is there anything else ?'
'No.'
'Now is a man in a state of concord with himself in all these circum-
stances? Or does he dissent and quarrel within himself in his actions as
he did visually when he had contrary judgements at the same time about
the same things? But I recall that we need not agree this point now,
because we agreed earlier quite adequately that our minds are full of
contradictions of this kind.'
'O!Iite rightly, too.'
'Yes: but I think we must now go into the point which we omitted
then.'
'What is that ?'
'We said that a good man who has, for example, lost a son or something
else to which he attaches great value, will bear the disaster more easily
than others.'z
'Yes.'
'Let us now consider whether he will feel no grief at all or, that being
impossible, show moderation in his grief.'
'The second seems right.'
'Then tell me one thing more. Do you think he will resist and fight his 60 4
grief more when he is seen by his peers, or when he is alone by himself
in solitude?'
'When he's being seen, by a long way.'
'Yes: when he's alone, I imagine, he will allow himself to say many
things he would be ashamed to be heard saying, and do many things he
would not allow anyone to see him doing.'
'Yes.'
'Now the element that bids him resist is reason and law; that which
pulls him towards the grief is the painful experience itself.'
'True.'
'And if there are contrary pulls in the man at the same time in regard
to the same situation, we say that there must be two elements in him.'
'Of course.'
'One of which is ready to obey the law, wherever it gives guidance.'

I Cf. Aristode, Poetics 1448al (below, p. 92). 2 387 d-e (above, p. 58).
 P PLATO
'What do you mean?'
'The law says it is best to keep as quiet as possible in misfortune and
not show distress. The good and the evil in such situations are not clear,
nothing is gained for the future by indignation, no human affairs are worth
great trouble, and, finally, grief prevents the arrival of what ought to be
our most present help.'
'What do you mean by that ?'
'Planning in relation to f!1e event. We have to make the right move to
respond to the throw of the dice, as it were, and do what reason dictates
as best. If we fall down, we mustn't clap our hands to the hurt place and
scream like babies, but accustom our mind to attend as quickly as it
can to the healing and setting upright of the fallen and sick. Medicine
must drown threnodies.'
'Certainly that is the right way to react to disasters.'
'So the best part of us wants to follow this reasoning.'
'Obviously.'
'And the element that encourages recollection of the trouble and
lamentation, and is never sated with these, is irrational, inert, and asso-
ciated with cowardice?'
'So we shall say.'
'Now the indignant element admits much varied imitation, while the
. quiet and sensible personality, always very much on the same level, is
difficult to imitate-and difficult to detect if someone does try to imitate
it, especially at a festival where miscellaneous multitudes throng into
the theatre, for it's an imitation of an experience which is foreign to them.'
605 '~ite so.'
'So the imitative poet is obviously not made for this element in the
mind-nor is his skill directed to please it, ifhe is to win popular renown-
but for the indignant and variable personality, because it is easy to imitate.'
'Oearly.'
'So we can now properly take hold of him and place him as corre-
sponding to the painter. He is like hiin in his inferiority with regard to
truth, and also in his habitual association with an element of the mind
which has the same characteristics, rather than with the best element.
We should now be right not to admit him into a potentially well-governed
city, because he rouses and feeds this part of the mind and by strengthen-
ing it destroys the rational part. It is like giving power to bad men in a
city and handing it over to them, while ruining the better. The imitative
poet, we shall say, produces a bad government in the individual mind,
indulging the foolish element that cannot recognize greater and less but
thinks the same thing one moment big, and the next little; he is an image-
maker, far removed indeed from the truth.'
 THE TRUE NATURE OF IMITATIO;N 73

'Yes.'
'But we still haven't brought the greatest accusation against him. It is
a terrible thought that he can ruin good men, apart from a very few.'
'But of course he can, if he does this.'
'Listen and think. When the best of us hear Homer or some other
tragic poet imitating a hero in mourning, delivering a long speech of
lamentation, singing, or beating his breast, you know how we feel pleasure
and give ourselves up to it, how we follow in sympathy and praise the
excellence of the poet who does this to us most effectively.'
'Of course I know.'
'But when we have some private bereavement, you notice how we
pride ourselves on the opposite reaction-on keeping quiet and sticking
it out-because this is a man's reaction, and the other, which we were
praising just now, a woman's.'
'I notice that.'
'Is this approval proper? Is it right not to be disgusted, but to feel 606
pleasure and give praise when you see a man whom you would be
ashamed to be yourself?'
'Well, it's not reasonable.'
'No, especially if you look at it like this.'
'Like what ?'
'The element which is forcibly restrained in our own misfortunes,
starved of tears and the satisfaction of lamentation, though it naturally
desires this, is the very element which is satisfied and given pleasure by
the poets. In these circumstances, our best element, not being adequately
trained by reason or habituation, relaxes its watch over this element of
lamentation, because the sorrows it sees are others' sorrows and there
seems no disgrace in praising and pitying a man who claims to be virtuous
and is mourning out of season; indeed, the pleasure seems a positive
gain, and we can't bear to reject the whole poem and so be deprived of it.
Not many people can see that the consequences of others' experience
invade one's own, because it is difficult to restrain pity in one's own
misfortunes when it has grown strong on others'.'
'Very true.'
'Does not the same apply to the ridiculous? Suppose you enjoy in a
comedy or a private conversation jokes you would be ashamed to make
yourself, instead of disliking them as morally bad-aren't you doing the
same thing as with the expressions of pity? You are releasing the element
in you that likes jokes, and that you used to restrain by reason because
you were afraid of a reputation for buffoonery. Without realizing it, you
have made a big thing of it by your frequent indulgence in private con-
versation, with the result that you've become a comedian.'
 74 PLATO
'Quite so.'
'Poetical imitation in fact produces the same effect in regard to sex
and anger and all the desires and pleasures and pains of the mind-and
these, in our view, accompany every action. It waters them and nourishes
them, when they ought to be dried up. It makes them our rulers, when
they ought to be under control so that we can be better and happier people
rather than worse and more miserable.'
'I cannot but agree.'
'So when you find admirers of Homer saying that he educated Greece
and that for human management and education one ought to take him
up and learn his lesson and direct one's whole life on his principles, you
607 must be kind and polite to them-they are as good as they are able to be-
and concede that Homer is the foremost and most poetical of the tragic
poets; but you must be clear in your mind that the only poetry admissible
in our city is hymns to the gods and encomia to good men. If you accept
the "sweetened Muse" in lyric or epic, pleasure and pain will be enthroned
in your city instead oflaw and the principle which the community accepts
as best in any given situation.'
'True.'
'Well, these were the points that I wanted to recall to complete our
justification for wishing to banish poetry from the city, such being its
nature. The argument forced us. But let us say to her, lest she damn us as
coarse and philistine, that there is an old quarrel between poetry and
philosophy. I could quote a lot of passages for that: "the yapping bitch
that barks at her master", "a great man amid the vanities of fools", "the
rabble of know-all heads", "thin thinkers starve", and so on.t However,
let us make it clear that if poetry fo: pleasure and imitation have any
arguments to advance in favour of their presence III a well-governed city,
we should be glad to welcome them back. We are conscious of their
charms for us. But it would be wrong to betray what we believe to be the
truth. Doesn't poetry charm you, especially when you see her in Homer ?'
'Indeed she does.'
'So she deserves to return from exile, if she can make her defence in
lyric or other metre ?'
'Yes.'
'And we might also allow her defenders, who are lovers of poetry but
not themselves poetical, to make a prose speech on her behalf, to show
that she is not only pleasing but useful for government and human life;
and we shall be glad to listen. After all, it will be our gain if she turns out
useful as well as pleasing.'
'Certainly it will.'
I The source of these quotations is not known.
 POETIC MADNESS 7S

D. POETIC MADNESS
Plato's Phaedrus deals mainly with rhetoric; but it includes also this classic
statement of the irrationality of the poet's urge (245 a).
Translation: R. Hackforth, Cambridge, 1952. Commentary: G. J. de Vries,
Amsterdam, 1969.
See E. R. Dodds, The Greeks and the Irrational, chap. 3.
. . . Third! is the possession and madness of the Muses. Gripping the
delicate and untouched mind, it rouses it to frenzy in songs and other
poems, and, by its adornment of innumerable deeds of the ancients, it
educates posterity. He who comes to poetry's door without the Muses' mad-
ness, convinced that art will make him an adequate poet, is without fulfil-
ment himself, and his sane man's poetry vanishes before that of the insane.

E. RHETORIC, ACTUAL AND IDEAL

This part of Socrates' conversation with Phaedrus (266 d-274) contains both
a critique of the existing art of rhetoric and some suggestions for an improve-
ment on it. This is a late work of Plato (? 360-350 B.c.)-contemporary with
early Demosthenes.
' ... We must explain just what remains in rhetoric.' 266d
'There's a great deal, Socrates, in the books that have been written On
the art or science (techlle) of speech.'
'I am glad you reminded me. There's something called a prooemium,
to be spoken at the beginning-that's what you mean, isn't it-this
sort of refinement in the art ?'
'Yes.'
'And secondly there's "narration" (diegesis) and "evidence", thirdly
"arguments" (tekmeria), fourthly "probabilities" (eikota). And the
great word-contriver of Byzantium added "confirmation" and "supra-
confirmation" (pistasis, epipistasis).'
'You mean the excellent Theodorus ?'
'I do. And "refutation" and "counter-refutation" (elenchos, epex- 267
elenchos), to be used in accusation and defence. And don't we mention
the admirable Euenos from Paros, the inventor of "sub demonstration"
(hupodelOsis) and "indirect laudation" (parepainos)? Some say he wrote
"indirect invectives" (parapsogoi) in metre, for mnemonic reasons. He
was a brilliant man. Are we to let Tisias and Gorgias sleep undisturbed?
They saw that probabilities are more to be honoured than the truth;
they make small seem great and great small through the force of words,
old new and new old-and they discovered how to be brief or infinitely
I The first two 'useful madnesses' are those of prophecy and orgiastic religion.
 PLATO
lengthy on any subject. Prodicus heard me say this once, and he laughed
and said he'd invented the art of right speech-and right meant moderate,
neither brief nor lengthy.'
'Brilliant, Prodicus!'
'And not a word of Hippias? I suspect that visitor from Elis would
have sided with Prodicus.'
'Certainly he would.'
'And how shall I tell of Po Ius' "word museums", reduplication, maxims,
and similes? And what of the vocabulary of Licymnius, that he gave Polus
as a present to enable him to produce fine writing ?'
'Wasn't there something like that in Protagoras, Socrates?'
'Correct diction, yes, and many other splendid things. But it was the
mighty man of Chalcedon I who learnt to control scientifically the woeful
words of victims of age and poverty; and he was a remarkable man,
too, at making many people angry at once, and then charming them (his
own word) with his spells-not to speak of accusing and rebutting
accusations from any quarter; he was famous at that. As to the end of the
speech, they're all agreed-some call it a resume (epanodos), some have
another name for it.'
'You mean the recapitulation that reminds the audience at the end of
what was said ?'
'That's right. Now, if you've anything to say about the art of speech-'
'Only some small points, not worth mentioning.'
268 'Well, let's let them be, then, if they're only small points. Let's just
look at these things in a good light to see what force they have derived
from their art.'
'Immense force, Socrates, in big assemblies.'
'Yes, indeed. But see if you agree with me in finding them not of very
close texture.'
'Explain.'
'Well, suppose someone went up to your friend Eryximachus2 or his
father Acumenus and said, "I know how to apply various things to the
body to produce heat or cold, if I want, or to make a man vomit or be
purged-all kinds of things like that. With this knowledge, I claim to
be a medical man and to make others medical men by transmitting my
knowledge to them." What would Eryximachus or Acumenus say?'
'They'd ask him if he also knew who should be treated, and when and
to what extent.'
'Then suppose he replied, "No; but 1 expect my pupil to be able to
do what you ask" ?'

I Thrasymachus. 2 A doctor-a character in Plato's Symposium.

 RHETORIC, ACTUAL AND IDEAL 77
'Then they'd say he was mad-he'd heard a reading from a book
somewhere or had come across some medicines, and thought himself a
doctor without any knowledge of the science.'
'Now suppose someone went up to Sophocles or Euripides and said
he knew how to compose long speeches on small subjects and small
speeches on big subjects, and speeches of pity, fear, or menace as he
wished, and so on; and he thought that by teaching this he could trans-
mit tragic poetry ?'
'They would laugh at him, Socrates, if anyone supposed that tragedy
was anything other than a combination ·of these elements formed in a
way appropriate to them individually and to the whole.'
'No doubt, of course, they wouldn't be rude. If a musician meets a
man who believes himself to know harmony because he knows how to
make the highest and the lowest notes, he wouldn't say fiercely, "Fool,
you're mad"; he'd give a gentler answer, being a musician, and say,
"My friend, a potential musician must indeed know this, but there's
nothing to prevent a person in your state of mind from being totally
ignorant of harmony. You know the studies preliminary to harmony, but
not harmony proper.'"
'O!Iite right too.'
'So Sophocles might say that the person who was boasting to Euripides 26 9
and himself knew the preliminaries of tragedy, not tragedy; and Acu-
menus might similarly speak of the preliminaries of medicine, as distinct
from medicine.'
'Certainly.'
'Now what about Adrastus of the honeyed voice-or Pericles for that
matter? Suppose they heard us talking about our wonderful devices,
brachylogies and iconologies, and all the other things we said we'd better
look at "in a better light" . Would they make rude remarks-as you and
I were uncultivated enough to do-about writers and teachers of these
techniques who claim that they are the "art of rhetoric" ? Or would they,
being wiser than we, reproach us too? I imagine them saying, "Phaedrus
and Socrates, there's no need to be angry. If people who are ignorant of
dialectic can't define rhetoric, they are to be excused. It is this disability
that has led them to imagine that they possess rhetoric when all they have
is the essential preliminary studies, and to think ·that by teaching these
they've taught rhetoric, while their pupils ought to provide for themselves
in their speeches the convincing use of each element and the composition
of the whole; there's nothing to this, they believe.'"
'I agree, Socrates. This probably is the state of the art which these
people teach and write as rhetoric. I think you are right. But how can
one acquire the art of the truly rhetorical and convincing?'
 PLATO
'The capacity to become an accomplished performer in court, Phaedrus,
probably-perhaps necessarily-rests on the same conditions as every-
thing else: if you are by nature of a rhetorical disposition, you will be a
famous orator if you acquire also the knowledge and the practice. Without
either of these, you will be defective in that department. As to the element
of art, the right method doesn't seem to me to be the one by which Lysias
and Thrasymachus proceed.'
'Then what is it?,
'It may be quite natural that Pericles was the most accomplished of all
men in rhetoric.'
'Why?'
'Every great art needs a supplement of talk and speculation about
270 Nature. Sublimity and perfection seem to come from some such source.
Pericles was not only well endowed by nature: he acquired new powers
by associating with Anaxagoras, who was that sort of person, and thus
filling himself with lofty speculations and arriving at the essence of Mind
and MindlessnessI-a favourite subject of Anaxagoras-and then adopting
for rhetorical purposes whatever in all this seemed appropriate.'
'What do you mean?'
'Rhetoric is like medicine, I imagine.'
'How?'
'Both require an analysis of their subject-body in one, mind (psuche)
in the other-if you're going to have a science, and not just knack and
expertise, to help you in giving health and strength to the body by the
application of drugs and food, and conviction and virtue to the mind by
the application of words and proper habits.'
'That sounds plausible, Socrates.'
'Now do you think one can analyse the nature of mind properly apart
from the nature of all things?'
'If we may believe Hippocrates the follower of Asclepius, not even
body can be understood without this procedure.'
'And he's quite right too. Still, we mustn't simply trust Hippocrates,
but see if the argument holds together.'
'Agreed.'
'Consider then what Hippocrates and reason say about nature. Have
we not to ask the following questions about the nature of anything?
One: is the subject about which we wish to acquire or impart science
simple or complex? Two: if it is simple, what capacity has it for action
in what direction, and for reaction to what stimulus? And if it is
I Anaxagoras' philosophical writings contained a famous account of the part played

by Mind (Nous) in the creation and continuance of the universe. Peric1es did indeed
know Anaxagoras; but Plato's account of his debt to him is fantastic.
 RHETORIC, ACTUAL AND IDEAL 79
complex, how many parts has it, and what are the capacities for action
and reaction in each ?'
'That's about right, Socrates.'
'Well, a procedure without this would be like a blind man's walk.
But the scientific inquirer can't be compared to the blind or the deaf.
If you arc imparting rhetoric to anyone scientifically you'll obviously
have to explain to him carefully the nature of the thing to which he is to
apply his rhetoric. And that means the mind.'
'Yes.'
'Then that's where all the effort goes; it's conviction that he tries to 271
produce, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'Then Thrasymachus, or anyone else who seriously imparts a science
of rhetoric, will first describe the mind with complete accuracy and make
it apparent whether it is a homogeneous whole or complex, like the body;
this is what we mean by "explaining a nature".'
'Quite so.'
'And, secondly, he will show how it acts and reacts in relation to other
things.'
'Of course.'
'And, thirdly, having classified the species of words and of the mind,
together with the ways they are affected (pathemata), he will explain the
causes, fitting each species to each, and explain what kind of mind is
bound to be convinced or not convinced by particular kinds of words,
and why.'
'That would be excellent.'
'Neither this subject nor any other will ever be scientifically treated in
speech or writing, for display or delivery, in any other way. The present
writers of treatises on the science, whom you have heard, are dishonest;
they know all about the mind, but hide it. Let us therefore not allow that
they are writing scientifically, until they talk and write in this way.'
'What way?'
'It's not easy to put words to it. But I am prepared to explain how
one must write if it is to be as scientific as possible.'
'Do.'
'The power of speech is a charm for the mind (psuchagogia), and the
potential orator must therefore know the kinds of mind there are. They
are such-and-such in number, and of such-and-such kinds. Men there-
fore are of various types. These distinguished, we proceed to distinguish
various kinds of words. We then say: men of type A are easily convinced
by words of type B, for reason C, of proposition D-and type E, for
reason F, is not so easily convinced. Having grasped this theory, one must
 80 PLATO
then see these things in practice, and be able to pick them up by quickness
of perception. Otherwise, one doesn't know any more than the lectures
one used to hear I Once able to explain what types of men are convinced
by what types of argument-once able to point out to oneselfby perception
272 in actual fact that "this is the man and this is the sort of character we were
talking about-it's really here now, and I must apply argument X in
this way to persuade them to Y"-once able to do this, given also the
proper moments for speech and silence, and understanding when it is
opportune and when inopportune to employ concision and "words of
pity" and "exaggeration" and so on-then, and then only, one will have
reached the perfection of art. If there is any defect in these respects in
the speaker or teacher or writer, but he still claims science, the unbeliever
wins! "Do you really think that?" our writer may object-"or is there
some other way of understanding the notion of a science of speech ?'"
'No other way possible, Socrates. But it's a big job.'
'Indeed it is. This is why we ought to turn all the arguments this way
and that to see if there's any easier and shorter road. We don't want a long,
rough journey for nothing, if a short, smooth one will do. Do try and
recollect if you have heard Lysias or anyone else say anything helpful.'
'I can try, but I haven't anything in mind at the moment.'
'Would you like me, then, to repeat something I heard from the experts
in these matters ?'
'Of course.'
'Even the wolf's cause ought to be presented, as they say, Phaedrus.'
'Well, present it.'
'They say there is no need to make such a grand business of it, or go
such a roundabout way. As we said at the beginning of our discussion,
the potential good orator need have nothing to do with truth in regard to
just or good actions-or men, whether good by nature or by education.
Nobody worries about these things in law-courts. They are concerned
with persuasiveness-and this means probability, which ;s the scientific
speaker's proper study. Both in prosecutions and in defences, there are
times when one ought not to tell the truth, if it's not probable, but rather
what is probable. Probability is always to be pursued, and you can say
good-bye to truth. It's probability, which runs through a speech from
273 beginning to end, that constitutes the whole subject of the science.'
'Indeed, Socrates, that is exactly what those who claim to understand
the science of speech say. I remember we touched on this before; it's a
big subject for those concerned.'
'Well, you've studied Tisias himself pretty thoroughly; so let Tisias
tell us whether he means by probability anything other than "what
most people believe".'
 RHETORIC, ACTUAL AND IDEAL 81
'He can't.'
'This clever and scientific discovery, it seems, led him to write that if
a weak but brave man beat up a hefty cowar~, stealing his cloak or
something, and was brought into court, neither party ought to tell the
truth. The coward ought to say he wasn't beaten up by the brave man
alone, and the other ought then to prove that there were only the two of
them, and then use the argument "Look at him and look at me; how could
I have tackled him?" The other man, of course, won't admit his own
cowardice; he'll try some other lies, which will soon give his opponent
a chance to refute it. "Scientific" advice is all about this sort of thing,
isn't it, Phaedrus?'
'It is indeed.'
'Ah me, it's a fearfully recondite science that Tisias discovered, or
whoever it was and whatever he likes to be called. But ought we, or ought
we not, to say to him-'
'What were you thinking of?'
'This. "Tisias, we have been saying for some time, before you came in,
that this probability generally arises through similarity to the truth, and
we argued a little while ago that in everything it's the man who knows
the truth who best knows how to find similarities. So, while we'd give a
hearing to anything else you say about the science of words, as to this,
we'll abide by our discussion. Without enumerating the natures of the
potential audience, and being able to divide things according to their kinds
and grasp each under a single form, no one can attain science in words,
so far as human capacities go. And this is unattainable without much
labour, which the good man ought not to undertake for the sake of speech
and action in human relationships, but only in order to be able to speak
and act as far as he can in a manner pleasing to the gods. Wiser men than
we, Tisias, say that the wise ought not to strive to please their fellow 274
slaves, except incidentally, but to please masters who are good and of good
folk. So don't wonder if the way round is long; the object is a great one,
on a different scale from what you imagine ... '"

F. REAL AND ASSUMED TASTES

We append three short passages from Plato's last work, the Laws, in which he
modifies or expands upon points made in the Republic. The first is from Book I1,
655 c-656 a.
Vicaire66 If.; Grube6I If.; G. R.Morrow, Plato's Cretan City, Princeton, 1960.
Translation: A. E. Taylor, London, 1934; T.]. Saunders, London (Penguin),
1970 •
8143591 G
82 PLATO
Athenian. Now another point. Do we all enjoy all dances alike, or is
this far from true?
Clinias. As far from true as anything can be.
Athenian. Then what do we say can have led us into error? Is it that
the same things are not beautiful to us all? Or only that the same things
don't seem beautiful? No one, surely, will say that the dances of vice are
lovelier than those of virtue, or that he himself enjoys the figures of
wickedness, though others like some very different Muse. Yet most
people say that musical correctness (orthotes) consists in giving pleasure to
the mind. This idea, however, is intolerable and impious. It's the other
that is more likely to be the cause of our error.
Clinias. What do you mean?
Athenian. Dancing is an imitation of manners, involved in actions and
fortunes of every kind. The personages do everything by character and
imitation. Consequently, whatever is said, sung or performed in any way
to accord with a man's manner, be it natural or habitual, that he inevitably
enjoys, corn mends, and calls beautiful. Those who find it contrary to their
nature, ways, or habits, can neither enjoy it nor praise it, but call it ugly.
People whose natures are right and habits wrong, or habits right and
natures wrong, give their praises in a way contrary to their pleasures;
they say things are pleasant but bad, and are ashamed to put their bodies
through such movements in front of people they believe to be wise,
or to sing and give the impression they seriously think the song beautiful-
though privately they enjoy it.

G. PLEASURE AS A CRITERION-BUT WHOSE PLEASURE?

From the same book (658 a-659 c).
'Now suppose someone proposed a competition without saying whether
it was gymnastic, musical, or equestrian, but just assembled the whole
population and offered a prize, for whoso wished to come forward to
compete in pleasure-the prize being for the man who delighted the
audience most. There would be no limitation on how he should do it ...
What do we think would happen as a result of such a proclamation.'
'In what respect?'
'Well, someone might perform a rhapsody, like Homer, someone a
piece of lyre-music, others a tragedy or a comedy, and I dare say some
character would expect to win with a conjuring show. But can we say
who would justly win out of these innumerable and various performers ?'
'What an odd question! How could anyone answer with knowledge
 PLEASURE AS A CRITERION
without hearing-without in fact having heard all the competitors him-
self?'
'Well? Would you like me to give you your odd answer?'
'Of course.'
'If the little children were the judges, they will award it to the conjurer,
won't they?'
'Yes, of course.'
'If it's the bigger boys, it'll be the comedian; the educated women, the
young lads, and perhaps the general multitude, will be for the tragedy.'
'I dare say.'
'And it'll be we old men who will give the palm for pleasure to a
rhapsode who's given a good performance of the Iliad or Odyssey or
some piece of Hesiod. Who then will have rightly won-that's the next
question, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'Now it's plain that you and I have to say that the competitors chosen
by our contemporaries are the right winners. For our habits are, we
generally suppose, much the best of any today in all cities, and indeed
everywhere. '
'Well ?'
'I am in agreement myself with the majority, so far as to say that music
should be judged by pleasure-but not by the pleasure of all and sundry.
The most beautiful Muse, for me, is that which gives pleasure to the best
and best-educated, and especially that which pleases a single judge,
outstanding for virtue and education. This is why we say the judges of
these competitors need virtue; they must have something of all wisdom,
and especially of courage. The true judge must not learn from the
audience, and be thrown offhis balance by the noise of the multitude and
his own lack of training; nor must he, when he makes his judgement,
give a soft and insincere one out of cowardice and unmanliness, lying
with those very lips with which he called on the gods when he began
giving his judgement! The judge is there, properly speaking, as a teacher
of the audience, not as their pupil; he is to oppose those who offer the
spectators pleasure wrongly or improperly. Under the old Greek law
this was allowable. The present Italian and Sicilian practice of handing
over to the mass of spectators and deciding the winner by a show of hands
has corrupted the poets, because they regard the vulgar pleasures of
their judges as a standard and let the audience be their teachers. It has
also corrupted the audience's own pleasures, because, when they ought
to put their pleasure on a higher level by hearing things above the level
of their own character, they in fact experience the opposite-and by
their own action at that.'
 PLATO
H. CAUSES OF DECLINE
Finally (3. 700 a-701 b), a short passage on a theme much canvassed in later
times. Vicaire 69.
c••• Under our old laws, the people was not the master in certain fields,
but in a sense was voluntarily enslaved to the laws.'
'What laws ?'
'Firstly, those relating to the music of that period. I want to explain
from the beginning the growth of the life of licence. In those days, our
music was divided according to genres and forms. One kind of song was
prayers to the gods-these were called hymns; another kind, opposite to
this, was what might best have been called dirges; then there were paeans
and dithyrambs-these concerned with the birth of Dionysus. They
actually used the word nomoi (laws) also for a sort of tune, and added the
adjective "citharoedic". With these and other similar distinctions firmly
established it was impossible to use one type of song for the purposes of
another. The authority to decide and judge and fine the disobedient was
not a hiss or a raucous shout from the mob, as it is today, nor the hand-
clapping that nowadays awards praise. The educated were determined to
listen in silence all through; the children, their attendants, and the
multitude were kept in order by the rod. The mass of the people was
thus willing to be controlled in an orderly way, and did not venture to
give a noisy judgement. But as time went on, tasteless lawlessness was
initiated by poets who were poetical enough by nature but ignorant of
the due and right rules of the Muse, frenzied and indecently possessed
by pleasure; they mixed dirges and hymns, paeans and dithyrambs, made
the lyre mimic the flute, and generally confused everything; their folly
led them to the false conclusion that there was no correctness (orthotes) in
music, but it is judged most correctly by the pleasure of the enjoyer,
whether he be good or bad . . . Hence audiences became vocal, and
imagined they understood beauty and ugliness in the Muses. Instead of
an aristocracy, a vile theatrocracy arose. If it had only been a democracy
of decent men, it wouldn't have been so bad.'
 3
ARISTOTLE

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Poetics
Aristotle Poetics: Introduction, Commentary, and Appendixes by D. W. Lucas,
Oxford, 1968 (this, the most recent commentary, itself contains a useful brief
bibliography).
H. House, Aristotle's Poetics, London, 1956.
The translation of T. S. Dorsch in the Penguin volume Classical Literary
Criticism, 1965, is valuable.

Rhetoric
E. M. Cope, An Introduction to Aristotle's Rhetoric, London and Cambridge,
1867.
- - The Rhetoric of Aristotle with a Commentary, revised by]. E. Sandys,
3 vols., Cambridge, 1877.
J. H. Freese, Aristotle: The 'Art' of Rhetoric (Loeb), London, 1926.

A. POETICS
INTRODUCTION

Aristotle's Poetics is probably the most important single book that has ever
been written about poetry, both for what it says and for what it has been taken
to say. Various factors make it a work singularly easy to misinterpret, and the
misinterpretations have been just as seminal in the development of aesthetic
theory and, at some periods, of poetry itself as a correct understanding of it.
The factors that make for misunderstanding are worth listing, if only for
monitory purposes: (I) Aristotle's thought, though generally exquisitely lucid,
is never easy and never slack; it is therefore as hard for a person who knows
Greek to follow him as it is for a person who knows English to follow Hume.
(2) Some accidental features of its composition or its transmission have made
the Poetics one of his most compressed and elliptical works; the contrast with
the comparatively open texture of the Rhetoric, for instance, is marked. (3)
Aristotle presupposed in his audience an acquaintance not only with the doctrines
of the Ethics and Politics but also with the central concepts of his logical and meta-
physical theories (cf. below, pp. 98 n. 4, 99n. I, 101 n. 3,106 n. I). (4) The Poetics
envisages a variety of different interests in literature, the politician'S, the poet's,
the critic's; but the book is not written primarily for any of these, but rather
for the philosopher. In other words, it is neither principally a defence of poetry,
86 ARISTOTLE
nor a treatise on how to write it, nor an enunciation of principles of literary
criticism, though it has elements of all these; it is first and foremost a work of
aesthetic theory, and interpretations that under-stress this fact inevitably lead to
distortion.

ARISTOTLE'S THEORY OF AESTHETIC PLEASURE

Aristotle had a quite coherent theory of the nature of our pleasure in art. It
starts from simple principles and ramifies everywhere; it explains his preferences
in literature and it is the antithesis of Plato's, though it accepts some of the same
presuppositions.
The basic premiss of Aristotle's aesthetic theory is stated in c. 4 of the
Poetics and several times in the Rhetoric (below, pp. 94, 134, ISO): it is that by
and large human beings positively enjoy learning or understanding or realizing
things. ' Our desire to understand things is a natural desire like hunger, and its
satisfaction is pleasurable, a 'restoration to a natural state', like eating (below,
p. 134). Our pleasure in art is a branch of this pleasure; the poet or the orator
or the painter makes us see or understand things that we did not see before, and
particularly he points out the relations and similarities between different things,
enables us to say, in Aristotle's phrase, 'this is that' (below, pp. 94, 134, ISO).
This basic foundation of aesthetic pleasure explains many of Aristotle's
further requirements in art. First and foremost, it justifies the general Greek
belief, which Aristotle accepted and elaborately defends, that art is essentially
'representational', i.e. that mimesis is necessary to it.' Aristotle takes the relation
between mimesis and mathesis to be a close one, both at the simplest level, where
'we make our first steps in learning through mimesis' (below, p. 94) and at the
infinitely more sophisticated one where the tragic poet makes 'general statements'
analogous to those of the moral philosopher. At the lowest level mimesis is what
Plato asserted it was at any level, mere copying, a parrot act that can be performed
without any real knowledge of the act or object copied; even here, however,
Aristotle implies that though we may not have knowledge before we engage in
mimesis we acquire knowledge by engaging in it. And at the higher level the
tragic poet, presenting individually characterized people in specific situations,
makes us aware of moral facts and moral possibilities relevant to more than the
situation he envisages.
If mimesis is to produce the sort of realization that Aristotle demands of art
at its best, a prime requirement is obviously truth. A poem or play that operates
in the realm of fantasy can charm and rouse wonder, and Aristotle is as sus-
ceptible as anyone to the enchantment of the fantastic in Homer (below,
pp. 125 f.). Yet his judgement is against fantasy and given in favour of the more
I These are different possible translations of mathesis and the associated verb man-

thanein.
Z Once at any rate, in an interesting passage of the Phi/eh us (SI b--e), Plato does

question the necessity of mimesis to aesthetic pleasure; but in general he, like Aristotle,
accepts the general Greek assumption that our pleasure in art is principally pleasure in
mimesis.
 POETICS
rigorous causal chain of tragedy,' which, because it is presented to the senses
and not just to the feebler imagination, cannot afford to follow epic into the
area of the marvellous and the irrational.
Yet the realization must be a sudden one too, and for this the prime require-
ment is surprise. A play whose plot, however truthful, is predictable will not
give us the pleasure of sudden realization. This is the reason for Aristotle's
insistence on the unexpected and a second reason for his preference for the
complex form of tragedy, which is defined with reference to surprise turns
(peripeteiai) and recognitions. It is juxtaposition that best makes us aware of
opposites (below, pp. 138, 149, 167), and the sudden reversals of fortune in com-
plex tragedy most powerfully bring home to us the truths that the poet is stating.
For both these reasons Aristotle regards complex tragedy as the entelecheia
or full realization of the essential nature of poetry. It is the form that makes us
realize most truth fastest, and therefore provides in greatest measure and con-
centration the pleasure that a work of art can provide. The same criteria are de-
ployed not only to judge between or within literary kinds, but also in evaluating
details of style, both in poetry and prose. It is the requirements of mathisis
that determine the high estimate Aristotle sets on metaphor (pp. 122,150), on
the periodic style (p. 148), on antithetical expression (pp. 149, 150 f., 154), on
rhythm in prose (p. 146), on various forms of argument (p. 150).

THE DEFENCE OF TRAGEDY

Whatever may be true of other arts, 2 tragedy at any rate operates on a conscious-
ness heightened by intense emotion, and specifically by the two emotions of
fear and pity. The discussion of these two emotions in Rhetoric 2. 5 and 2. 9
shows them closely related; essentially they are roused by the same kind of
situations, but fear is self-regarding and pity other-regarding. Aristotle's state-
ment that tragedy arouses fear in the audience therefore implies that he takes
for granted a remarkable degree of identification between the audience and the
characters presented. No doubt the fear felt by the audience of tragedy does not
cover the whole range of fear in ordinary life, but the flat statement of the
Rhetoric 3 inescapably implies that Aristotle does not agree with Dr. Johnson's
'The truth is, the audience are always in their senses', much less with more
recent aesthetic theories about the necessity of 'distancing'.
A by-product of the stimulation of these intense emotions is their catharsis
(p. 97). This cryptic phrase has attracted more attention than it deserves,
but the theory concealed by it is nevertheless important. Plato had attacked
mimesis, and particularly tragedy, on two counts, the first that it does not present
us with truth (above, pp. 66 ff.), the second that it stimulates emotions that a
, The topic is developed in Poetics, cc. 7-9, below, pp. 100 If.
2 It is never made quite clear whether or not epic also operates by rousing the same

emotions as tragedy.
3 1382b30 If. 'No one feels fear if he thinks nothing is likely to happen to him, or
fear of things he does not think would happen to him or of people he does not think
likely to harm him, or at the time when he does not anticipate harm.'
88 ARISTOTLE
good man tries to suppress (above, pp. 69 ff.). Aristotle's answer to the first
charge is to be found in the mathesis doctrine, and especially in c. 9 of the
Poetics: Plato had claimed that an instance of mimesis has less reality than an
individual particular, which in turn has less reality than the idea. Aristotle
replies that the statements of the poet, so far from being inferior to statements of
particulars, are more comprehensive and more philosophical (below, p. 102);
ifhe were thinking in Platonic terms this would amount to saying that the object
of mimesis is not the particular but the idea. Of course he does not say any such
thing, as he did not believe in substantive ideai; but the implication was drawn
by later Platonists. 1 The answer to Plato's second charge is contained in the
reference to catharsis. 2
Some light is thrown on the concept of catharsis by the passage cited from the
Politics (below, pp. 132 ff.). But that passage is also in some respects mis-
leading, as there Aristotle is talking from the point of view of the legislator and
educationalist and discussing the uses of various kinds of music. In the Poetics
he is indeed talking at the legislator, but not from his point of view, and he can
be content with a more purely defensive position. As against Plato he only has
to show that tragedy's stimulation of the emotions is not in fact undesirable and
may indeed be beneficial.
The passage, unprovided with the explanation promised in the Politics, has
provoked the most various interpretations. The most promising line is that
put forward by House, op. cit., pp. 100 ff.; he takes catharsis in its medical sense
of the production of a 'mean', and interprets the concept of 'mean' in Aristotle's
own sense. When we consider what degree of emotion is 'undue', we take into
account not merely the quantity of emotion but its object and its circumstances
(Nic. Eth. II06b l8 ff. 'One can feel fear, confidence, desire, anger, pity .•.
both too much and too little, and in both cases wrongly; but the mean is attained
when we feel them at the right time, at the right objects, towards the right
people, for the right reason, in the right way'). Aristotle's answer to Plato,
so maddeningly undeveloped, seems to be that tragedy presents us with objects
(great and good men suffering terrible fortunes) that are proportioned to the
degree of emotion they arouse. So far from encouraging a vicious indulgence
in emotion on any and every occasion, tragedy gives us an imaginative apprehen-
sion of a degree of suffering normally beyond our ken. We need not suppose that
Aristotle has romantic expectations about the educative power of tragedy; of
course one perception of the mean is not enough to make a virtuous man. Yet
any perception of the mean helps one to right feeling and right behaviour, and
that is so far, so good.
It is important that the concept of catharsis does not commit Aristotle to
either of two erroneous aesthetic positions common both in antiquity and later
times. Catharsis is not something the tragic poet aims to produce. His aim is
I Cicero, Orator 8 If., Plotinus S. 8. I.
2 It certainly required a reply and in the Poetics gets no other. This is a main
reason for rejecting the interpretation of catharsis recently proposed by L. Golden,
Transactions of the American Philological Association, 93, 1962, SS If. (reiterated in the
commentary of Golden and Hardison); cf. also Classical Philology 64,1969, 145 If.
 POETICS
defined below (p. 108) as 'to produce the pleasure springing from pity and fear
via mimesis'. Catharsis is a therapeutic by-product, not something the poet either
does or should intend. But just as Aristotle can therefore avoid the Scylla of
taking the poet to have a duty to improve his audience's morals, he equally
shuns the Charybdis of denying that poetry has any moral effect. Tragedy is
not trivial; it does alter our moral attitudes, and a legislator might well consider
whether to do something about it. Aristotle is not however convinced that the
legislator would be well advised to tell the poet what kind of poems to write.

THE TRANSLATION

Theories on how to translate the Poetics are almost as numerous as the actual
translations. This translation is based on the single principle of trying to make
coherent sense, of the material presented by tradition when one can make sense
of it, of modem conjectures when one cannot. The attempt to express in English
the logical relation between Aristotle's ideas inevitably leads to some camouflaging
of the way he puts them, but is necessary to avoid the more damaging impression
that Aristotle spoke a version of the higher Babu. If he arranges two nouns
and two adjectives chiastically and says that the ridiculous is 'a blunder or
ugliness that does not imply pain or cause damage', one should suppress this
stylistic elegance in the interests of clarity. Ifhe says 'On the one hand this and
on the other hand that' and means, as Greeks did, 'Though this, nevertheless
that' or alternatively 'Just as this, so also that', it is better to make him say in
English what he means in Greek. If he wants to say 'anything' and has to use a
word equally open to the translation 'everything', there is no reason to make
him tell lies by putting the second into his mouth. He is not responsible for the
fact that Greek is over-fond of the co-ordinate form of expression and sometimes
uses one word for two different concepts. Anyone who understood his author
would accept such principles of translation if he were dealing with, say, an
orator; there is no sense in allowing a slavish adherence to the actual Greek
words to obscure Aristotle's meaning in a way that would not be tolerable in a
rendering ofDemosthenes. On the other hand, I have tried to be very scrupulous
in warning the reader by square brackets whenever I have added a phrase to
show what I take to be the logical relation between sentences. The chapter and
paragraph headings are mine.
Some constant technical terms are merely transliterated, like peripeteia or
pathos (with its plural patM); these are defined in the treatise itself and when
used in the sense defined are left in their transliterated form. I have followed
the same course with mimesis, the central concept of the Poetics, which is too
important to be rendered by an only roughly approximate English word. It is
never defined and the range of ideas Aristotle uses it to cover is a shifting one;
one sees better what they are if one comes to it with no English-based pre-
conceptions.
In some other places, particularly those dealing with minute stylistic points,
the Greek examples are left untranslated; we have no way, for instance, of
showing in English the stylistic effect of what Aristotle calls a 'dialect term'
 90 ARISTOTLE
(below p. 119). Merely to render it by a stronger, though current, English word
undervalues the strangeness of the dialect term, while a scattering of occasional
phrases from Lallans or Mummerset would not be, to English taste, agreeable.

CHAPTER I

THE PRELIMINARIES TO THE DEFINITION OF TRAGEDY

Contents
1447' The subject I wish us to discuss is poetry itself, its species with their
1 respective capabilities, the correct way of constructing plots so that the
work turns out well, the number and nature of the constituent elements
[of each species], and anything else in the same field of inquiry.

SECTION A. THE DIVISION PER GENUS ET DIFFERENTIAM

I. The genus we are here concerned with stated!

To follow the natural order and take first things first, epic and tragic
poetry, comedy and dithyrambic, and most music for the flute or lyre
are all, generally considered, varieties of mimesis, differing from each other
in three respects, the media, the objects, and the mode of mimesis.
['Media' needs explaining]: in some cases where people, whether by
technical rules or practised facility, produce various mimeseis by portraying
things, the media are colours and shapes, while in others the medium
is the voice;2 similarly in the arts in question, taken collectively, the media
of mimesis are rhythm, speech, and harmony, either separately or in
combination.

2. The genus divided

(a) ACCORDING TO DIFFERENCES OF MEDIA

(i) Those which do not use speech

For example, harmony and rhythm are the media of instrumental
music,3 rhythm alone without harmony the medium of dancing, as dancers
I The genus that Aristotle proceeds to divide is not, as one sometimes finds stated,

mimesis in general, but a variety of mimesis defined by the media, 'mimesis in speech,
harmony, and rhythm, separately or in combination'.
2 The reference is to sounds, not necessarily articulate, made by the human vocal
organs. Direct mimicry of the bird-call kind seems to be what Aristotle has in mind.
3 Literally 'flute-playing and lyre-playing and any other arts that have the same
capability, for example, playing the Pan-pipe'.
 POETICS 91
represent characters, passions, I and actions by rhythmic movement and
postures.

(ii) Those which do use speech (i.e. the poetic kinds)2

The art that uses only speech by itself or verse [that is, rhythmical
speech], the verses being homogeneous or of different kinds, has as yet 1447b
no name;3 for we have no common term to apply to the [prose] mimes of
Sophron and Xenarchus and to the Socratic dialogues, nor any common
term for mimeseis produced in verse, whether iambic trimeters or elegiacs
or some other such metre. True, people do attach the making [that is the
root of the word poietes] to the name of a metre and speak of elegiac-
makers and hexameter-makers; they think, no doubt, that 'makers' is
applied to poets not because they make mimeseis but as a general term
meaning 'verse-makers', since they call 'poets' or 'makers' even those
who publish a medical or scientific theory in verse. But [this is open to
two objections]: (I) as Homer and Empedocles have nothing in common
except their metre, the latter had better be called a scientific writer, not
a poet, if we are to use 'poet' of the former; (2) similarly, if we suppose
a man to make his mimesis in a medley of all metres, as Chaeremon in
fact did in the Centaur, a recitation-piece in all the various metres, we
still have to call him a poet, a 'maker'.4
So much for the simpler kinds. Some use all the media mentioned,
rhythm, song, and verse: 5 these are dithyrambic and nomic poetry,
I Others interpret this as the opposite of 'actions', i.e. 'things that happen to people'.
2 The order of the following section suggests that here too Aristode is using a
not-x, x method of division, considering first the arts that do not use music and dancing
and next those that do.
l Aristode's complaint seems to be double, that the whole mimetic art that uses
speech but not music and dancing has no name and that the two species, prose and verse
composition, have no names. Lobel makes the sense tidier by conjecturing: 'The art
that uses only speech by itself and that which uses verse ••• have as yet no names.'
4 The point (a sophistical one) seems to be that both on Aristode's criterion of
mimesis and on the ordinary language criterion of verse, Chaeremon belongs to the
generic class 'poet', but that ordinary language can find no specific term for him parallel
to 'hexameter-maker'. The other argument is no better, given Aristode's own com-
mendation of Empedoc1es in the On the Poets as 'Homeric and stylistically excellent,
particularly in his use of metaphor'. In arguing for the necessity of the criterion of
mimesis Aristode is not too particular about the weapons he uses.
5 This is commonly equated with the 'rhythm, harmony, and speech' mentioned
above; but Aristode is here dealing with more complicated elements than in the original
definition. By 'rhythm' here he means dancing, while 'song' is a combination of all
three of the media isolated earlier, and verse a combination of rhythm and speech.
The analysis really applies better to comedy and tragedy than it does to choral lyric,
in which there is no distinction between 'song' and 'verse'; later in the Poetics 'verse' is
used to refer to the dialogue scenes in tragedy as distinct from the choral 'songs'.
 92 ARISTOTLE
tragedy and comedy. But the two former use them all simultaneously,
while the latter use different media in different parts. So much for the
differentiae derived from the media.

(b) ACCORDING TO DIFFERENCES OF OBJECTS

1448a The objects of this mimesis are people doing things/ and these people
2 [as represented] must necessarily be either good or bad, this being,
generally speaking, the only line of divergence between characters, since
differences of character just are differences in goodness and badness, or
else they must be better than are found in the world or worse or just the
same, as they are represented by the painters, Polygnotus portraying
them as better, Pauson as worse, and Dionysius as they are;z clearly
therefore each of the varieties of mimesis in question will exhibit these
differences, and one will be distinguishable from another in virtue of
presenting things as different in this way.
These dissimilarities can in fact be found in dancing and instrumental
music, and in the arts using speech and unaccompanied verse: Homer
for instance represents people as better and Cleophon as they are, while
Hegemon of Thasos, the inventor of parodies, and Nicochares, the author
of the Deiliad, represent them as worse; the same is true of dithyrambs
and nomes, where the mimesis can differ as ... ,3 and as that of the Cyclopes
does in Timotheus and PhiIoxenus; this is also the differentia that marks
off tragedy from comedy, since the latter aims to represent people as
worse, the former as better, than the men of the present day.

(c) ACCORDING TO DIFFERENCES OF MODE

3 There is still a third difference, the mode in which one represents each
of these objects. For one can represent the same objects in the same
media
I Aristode's word prattonton means, for him, 'people performing responsible and
morally characterizable actions'.
Z The second distinction is a refinement on the first, perhaps an afterthought. The
translation 'better than are found in the world' is suggested by Dryden's classification
of the subject-matter of comedy as 'such humours, adventures and designs as are to be
found and met with in the world' (Preface to An Evening's Love, or The Mock Astrologer,
1671). Dryden of course is speaking of comedy as it descends from the post-Aristotelian
New Comedy of Menander and his fellows, which claims to portray people 'as they
are'; the comedy Aristotle is talking about is a comedy of caricature like Pauson's
painting, and nearer to Dryden's 'Farce'. What Aristotle intended by 'better than are
found in the world' is most usefully shown by Nic. Eth. II4SaI9 if.: 'An excellence
beyond the human scale, something heroic and divine, which may be illustrated by the
phrase Homer makes Priam use of Hector to express his signal excellence, "He seemed
the son of a god, not of a mortal man".' I owe this reference to Miss G. M. Matthews.
3 Text defective.
 POETICS 93
(i) sometimes in narration and sometimes becoming someone else, as
Homer does, or
(ii) speaking in one's own person without change, or
(iii) with all the people engaged in the mimesis actually doing things.!
These three then, media, objects, and mode, are, as I said at the begin-
ning, the differentiae of poetic mimesis. So, if we use one of them [to
separate poets into classes], Sophocles will be in the same class as Homer,
since both represent people as good, and if we use another, he will be in
the same class as Aristophanes, since they both represent people as
actively doing things.

Digression on the etymological fancies of the Dorians2

Some people say that this verb dran, 'to do', is why plays are called
dramas, because such poets represent people as doing things; and this
is the ground on which the Dorians claim the invention of both tragedy
and comedy. Comedy is claimed by the Megarians, both by those of
mainland Greece, who say it arose when their democracy was established,3
and by those of [Megara Hyblaea in] Sicily, the home of Epicharmus,
who lived well before Chionides and Magnes. 4 Tragedy is claimed by some
of the Peloponnesians. In each case they found their claim on etymology:
they say that while they call outlying villages komai, the Athenians call
them demoi, and they take 'comedy' to be derived not from komazein, 'to
revel', but from the fact that the comic actors wandered among the
villages because driven in contempt from the city; and they say that they 1448b
use the word dran of doing, while the Athenians say prattein.

Conclusion
So much for the number and nature of the differentiae of poetic
mimesis.
I The Greek is perhaps defective and also admits the interpretation '(i) sometimes in

narration, either becoming someone else, as Homer does, or speaking in one's own
person without change, or (ii) with all the people .. .'. The threefold classification given
in the translation is in accordance with Plato's view (Rep. 392 d If.); more important,
it agrees better with Aristode's own insistence on the uniqueness of Homer (pp. 94 f.,
101 f., 123, 125 f.).
2 The position of this digression, carefully segregated from the following serious
discussion of the development of the poetic kinds, seems to show that Aristode thought
Iitde of the Dorian claims.
3 Early in the sixth century.
4 The first known poets of Attic comedy, very litde later, in fact, than Epicharmus.
 94 ARISTOTLE
SECTION B. THE PROOF THAT THE KINDS WE ARE INTERESTED
IN DEFINING ARE EACH A COMPLETELY DEVELOPED AND
A SINGLE SPECIES

I. The origins of poetry

4 Poetry, I believe, has two over-all causes, both of them natural:
(a) Mimesis is innate in human beings from childhood-indeed we
differ from the other animals in being most given to mimesis and in making
our first steps in learning through it-and pleasure in instances of mimesis
is equally general. This we can see from the facts: we enjoy looking at the
most exact portrayals of things we do not like to see in real life, the lowest
animals, for instance, or corpses. This is because not only philosophers,
but all men, enjoy getting to understand something, though it is true
that most people feel this pleasure only to a slight degree; therefore they
like to see these pictures, because in looking at them they come to under-
stand something and can infer what each thing is, can say, for instance,
'This man in the picture is so-and-so'.' If you happen not to have seen
the original, the picture will not produce its pleasure qua instance of
mimesis, but because of its technical finish or colour or for some such
other reason.
(b) As well as mimesis, harmony and rhythm are natural to us, and verses
are obviously definite sections of rhythm.

2. The development of pre-dramatic poetry

These two were gradually developed by those who had most natural
gift for them. Poetry, arising from their improvisations, split up according
to the authors' divergent characters: the more dignified represented noble
actions and those of no ble men, the less serious those of low-class people;
the one group produced at first invectives, the others songs praising gods
and men. We cannot name any author of a poem of the former kind before
Homer's time, though there were probably many of them, but from
Homer on we do find such poems-his own Margites, for instance, and
others of the kind. These introduced the metre that suited them, stilI
called 'iambic' (from iambizein, 'to lampoon'), because it was the metre of
their lampoons on each other. So some of the ancients produced heroic
[i.e. hexameter] verse and the others iambics.
As well as being the most creative poet of high actions,2 his mimeseis
I The pleasure of understanding and realizing something is for Aristotle basic to

aesthetic pleasure; cf. the fuller discussion in Rhet. I. I37Ia2I ff. (below, p. I34) and
pp. 86 f.
2 The translation is borrowed from Milton (P.R. 4. 266); the word is translated 'good'
 POETICS 95
in this kind being the only ones that are not only well done but essentially
dramatic, Homer also first adumbrated the form of comedy by dramatizing
the ridiculous instead of producing invectives; his Margites bears the
same relation to comedy as the Iliad and Odyssey do to tragedy.' 1449a
On the subsequent appearance of tragedy and comedy, those whose
natural bent made lampooners of them turned to comedy, while those
naturally inclined to epic became tragedians, because the new forms were
more ample and more highly esteemed than the old.

3. The development of tragedy

To inquire whether even tragedy [as distinct from epic] is sufficiently
elaborated in its qualitative elements, judging it in itself and in its relation
to the audience, is another story.2 At any rate, after originating in the
improvisations of the leaders of the dithyramb, as comedy did in those
of the leaders of the phallic songs still customary in many. Greek cities,
tragedy gradually grew to maturity, as people developed the capacities
they kept discovering in it, and after many changes it stopped altering,
since it had attained its full growth. The main changes were:
(i) in the number of actors, raised from one to two by Aeschylus, who
made the choral part less important and gave speech the leading role;
Sophocles added a third-and also scene-painting;
(ii) in amplitude: as tragedy developed from the satyr-style, its plots
were at first slight and its expression comical, and it was a long time before
it acquired dignity;
(iii) in metre: the iambic trimeter replaced the trochaic tetrameter,
which had been used before as suitable for a satyr-style poetry, that is,
for productions involving more dancing; when verbal expression came
to the fore, however, nature herself found the right metre, the iambic
being the most speakable of all metres; this we can see from the fact that
it is the one we most often produce accidentally in conversation, where
(for example, at p. 92) or 'noble' (p. 96) when used of persons. For the concept cf.
p. 92, n. 2.
I Aristotle's unwillingness either to distort or accurately to report the facts of history

produces in this section some embarrassment of expression, which has induced some
editors to rearrange the argument in the form Aristotle would have given it if he had
been unscrupulous. The series hymns-Homer-tragedy leads him to posit a similar
series invectives-Homer-comedy. In fact the invention of the iambic trimeter was
attributed to Homer in the Margites, and Archilochus, the great poet of invective, was
later than Homer.
2 Tragedy is more elaborated than epic, as it has more qualitative elements (p. 96).

The 'other story' seems to be given by the deduction of the sufficiency of the qualitative
elements of tragedy on pp. 97 f.
 ARISTOTLE
hexameters are rare and only occur when we depart from conversational
tone;
(iv) in the increased number of episodes.
There is no need to say more of this or of the other developments that
gave it beauty; it would take too long to go through them in detail.

4. The development of comedy

5 Comedy is, as I said, a mimesis of people worse than are found in the world
-'worse' in the particular sense of 'uglier', as the ridiculous is a species
of ugliness; for what we find funny is a blunder that does no serious
damage or an ugliness that does not imply pain, the funny face, for
instance, being one that is ugly and distorted, but not with pain. While
the changes and the authors of the changes in tragedy are known, the
I449b development of comedy is obscure because it was not at first taken
seriously; the chorus, for instance, were for a long time volunteers, and
not provided officially by the archon. The form was already partly fixed
before the first recorded comic poets, and so we do not know who intro-
duced masks, prologues, numerous actors, and so on; the making of
plots, however, certainly came first from Sicily, Crates being the first
Athenian to drop the lampoon form and construct generalized stories or
plots.

SECTION C. APOLOGY FOR POSTPONING THE TREATMENT OF EPIC,

IN DEFIANCE OF CHRONOLOGY

Epic, in so far as it is a sizeable! mimesis in verse of noble personages,

goes along with tragedy, but differs from it in using metre alone [without
music] and in being in narrative form; it also differs in length, tragedy
attempting so far as possible to keep to the limit of one revolution of
the sun or not much more or less, while epic is unfixed in time. This
differentiates them now, but at first tragic practice was the same as epic.
Of their elements some are the same, some peculiar to tragedy, so that any
judge of excellence in tragedy can judge of epic too, since tragedy has
everything that epic has, while epic lacks some of tragedy's elements.
6 I shall deal later with the art of mimesis in hexameters and with comedy;
here I want to talk about tragedy, picking up the definition of its essential
nature that results from what I have said.
I The text is corrupt and the 'sizeable' is a conjecture.
 POETICS 97
CHAPTER 11
THE NATU.RE OF TRAGEDY

SECTION A. THE NATURE OF TRAGEDY ACCORDING TO THE

CATEGORY OF SUBSTANCE

Well then, a tragedy is a mimesis of a high, complete action ('complete' in

the sense that implies amplitude), in speech pleasurably enhanced, the
different kinds [of enhancement] occurring in separate sections, in
dramatic, not narrative form, effecting through pity and fear the catharsis'
of such emotions. By 'speech pleasurably enhanced' I mean that involving
rhythm and harmony or song, by 'the different kinds separately' that
some parts are in verse alone and others in song.

SECTION B. THE NATURE OF TRAGEDY ACCORDING TO THE

CATEGORY OF QUALITY

1. The deduction of the qualitative elements of tragedy

One can deduce as necessary elements of tragedy Ca) [from the mode] the
designing of the spectacle, since the mimesis is produced by people doing
things; (b) [from the media] song-writing and verbal expression, the
media of tragic mimesis; by 'verbal expression' I mean the composition of
the verse-parts, 2 while the meaning of 'song-writing' is obvious to any-
body. [Others can be inferred from (c) the objects of the mimesis:] A
tragedy is a mimesis of an action; action implies people engaged in it;
these people must have some definite moral and intellectual qualities,
since it is through a man's qualities that we characterize his actions,3 1450'
and it is of course with reference to their actions that men are said to
succeed or fail. We therefore have (i) the mimesis of the action, the plot,
by which I mean the ordering of the particular actions; (ii) [the mimesis of]
the moral characters of the personages, namely that [in the play] which
makes us say that the agents have certain moral qualities; (iii) [the
mimesis of] their intellect, namely those parts [of the play] in which they
demonstrate something in speech or deliver themselves of some general
maxim. 4
I Cf. below, pp. 132 ff. 2 i.e. of the dialogue parts.
3 The manuscripts add 'to explain actions we refer to the moral character and
intellect of the person doing them'; this is sensible enough in itself, but it disrupts the
sentence and is clearly an intrusive gloss to explain the preceding clause.
• Throughout the rest of the treatise 'mimesis of character' and 'mimesis of intellect'
are used without square brackets to translate ethos and dianoia in this technical sense.
8143591 H
 ARISTOTLE
So tragedy as a whole will necessarily have six elements, the possession
of which makes tragedy qualitatively distinct [from other literary kinds]:
they are plot, the mimesis of character, verbal expression, the mimesis of
intellect, spectacle, and song-writing. The media of mimesis are two, the
mode one, the objects three, and there are no others. Not a few tragedians
do in fact use these as qualitative elements; indeed virtually I every play
has spectacle, the mimesis of character, plot, verbal expression, song, and
the mimesis of intellect.

2. The qualitattve elements ranged in order of importance

(a) THE ARGUMENTS FOR THE PRE-EMINENCE OF PLOT

The most important of these elements is the arrangement of the particular

actions [as the following arguments show]:
(a) A tragedy is [by definition] a mimesis not of people but of their
actions and life. Both success and ill success are success and ill success
in action-in other words the end and aim of human life 2 is doing some-
thing, not just being a certain sort of person; and though we consider
people's characters in deciding what sort of persons they are, we call
them successful or unsuccessful only with reference to their actions. 3
So far therefore from the persons in a play acting as they do in order to
represent their characters, the mimesis of their characters is only included
along with and because of their actions. So the particular actions, the plot,
are what the rest of the tragedy is there for,4 and what the rest is there for
is the most important.
1 The manuscripts nonsensically attach this to 'Not a few'; the transposition was
suggested by Bywater.
2 Commonly assumed by the Greeks to be eudaimonia, an assumption that Aristotle

accepts. The word is often rendered by 'happiness', here by 'success'.

3 The content of this passage is Aristotelian, but the word for 'ill success' does not
occur elsewhere in his works; other arguments urged against the passage are uncon-
vincing, though there may be corruption in detail. Whether entirely written by Aristotle
or embodying explanatory additions by somebody else, it is not out of harmony with
the insistence (no doubt against some current opinion) on the primacy of plot over
character.
• Sometimes misleadingly rendered as 'are what tragedy aims at'. But Aristotle is
talking in terms of his own theory of explanation (traditionally called 'the doctrine of the
four causes'); in this teleological explanations ('final causes') are of more than one kind.
Though one sort of 'final cause' is the answer to the question '''Vhat is the purpose of
x 1', another is the answer to the question 'For the sake of what in x is the rest of x
there?'; to take a simple example, one 'final cause' of a knife is cutting, and another is
the cutting edge. The argument here plainly shows that plot is the 'final cause' of tragedy
in the second sense, not in the first. The purpose of tragedy is stated on p. 108, 'the
poet's job is to produce the pleasure springing from pity and fear via mimesis'.
 POETICS 99
Cb) [By definition] a work could not be a tragedy if there were no
action. But there could be a tragedy without mimesis of character,
and the tragedies of most of the modems are in fact deficient in it; the
same is true of many other poets, and of painters for that matter, of
Zeuxis, for instance, in comparison with Polygnotus: the latter is good
at depicting character, while Zeuxis' painting has no mimesis of character
to speak of.
(c) If you put down one after another speeches that depicted character,
finely expressed and brilliant in the mImesis of intellect, that would not
do the job that, by definition, tragedy does do, while a tragedy with a
plot, that is, with an ordered series of particular actions, though deficient
in these other points, would do its job much better.
(d) The most attractive things in tragedy, peripeteiai and recognition
scenes, are parts of the plot.
(e) Novices in poetry attain perfection in verbal expression and in the
mimesis of character much earlier than in the ordering of the particular
actions; this is also true of almost all early poets.

(b) THE STATEMENT OF THE ORDER

The plot therefore is the principle, or one might say the principle of
life,' in tragedy, while the mimesis of character comes second in impor-
tance, a relation similar to one we find in painting, where the most beautiful I4S0b
colours, if smeared on at random, would give less pleasure than an un-
coloured oudine that was a picture of something. A tragedy, I repeat,
is a mimesis of an action, and it is only because of the action that it is a
mimesis of the people engaged in it. Third comes the mimesis of their
intellect, by which I mean their ability to say what the situation admits
and requires; to do this in speeches is the job of political sense and rhetoric,
since the older poets made their people speak as the former directs, while
the modems make them observe the rules of rhetoric. Of these two, the
mimesis of character is that [in the play] which makes plain the nature of
the moral choices the personages make,2 so that those speeches in which
there is absolutely nothing that the speaker chooses and avoids involve
no mimesis of character. By 'mimesis of intellect' I mean those passages in
which they prove that something is or is not the case or deliver themselves
I The 'principle of life' renders psyche ('sou!'), which stands to the living body in the

same relation as plot to tragedy; it is 'what the rest is there for' as in argument (a), and
it is what the living body essentially is as in argument (b). In traditional language it is
both a 'final cause' and the 'formal cause'. a. De Anima 4ISbSff.
2 After this the manuscripts add 'in cases in which it is not clear whether (?) he chooses

or avoids', a corrupt anticipation of the following clause.

 100 ARISTOTLE
of some general statement.' Fourth comes the expression of the spoken
parts, by which I mean, as I said before, the expression of thought in
words; the meaning is the same whether verse or prose is in question.
Of the others, which are there to give pleasure, song-writing is the most
important, while spectacle, though attractive, has least to do with art,
with the art of poetry, that is; for a work is potentially a tragedy2 even
without public performance and players, and the art of the stage-designer
contributes more to the perfection of spectacle than the poet's does.

3. Closer analysis ofplop

(a) THE ESSENTIAL CHARACTERISTICS OF A PLOT, WITH REFERENCE
TO ITS DEFINITION AS THE MIMESIS OF A WHOLE ACTION4

(i) The first implication of wholeness: order

7 Now that these definitions are out of the way, I want to consider what the
arrangement of the particular actions should be like, since that is the
prime and most important element of tragedy.
Now, we have settled that a tragedy is a mimesis of a complete, that is,
of a whole action, 'whole' here implying some amplitude (there can be a
whole without amplitude).
By 'whole' I mean 'with a beginning, a middle, and an end'. By
'beginning' [in this context] I mean 'that which is not necessarily the
consequent of something else, but has some state or happening naturally
consequent on it', by 'end' 'a state that is the necessary or usual consequent
of something else, but has itself no such consequent', by 'middle' 'that
which is consequent and has consequents'. Well-()rdered plots, then, will
exhibit these characteristics, and will not begin or end just anywhere.

I a. pp. 116 f.
2 Others interpret 'a tragedy can do its job', making Aristotle say the same as in
c. 26, pp. 131 f. But the point here seems a different one; though an aCIUal, fully realized
performance of a tragedy demands spectacle, the poet has done what he has to do when
he has produced something that is potentially a tragedy. Its staging is not something
that belongs to the poet's art.
3 In this large and important section Aristotle is not yet talking about what is
necessary for a good plot, a subject that he only begins to discuss on p. 106. He is
continuing his analysis of the essential nature of tragedy by considering the minimum
characteristics that a plot must have if it is not to be judged positively defective.
4 It is perhaps worth pointing out that the four essential characteristics are not on a
level, but that the first three are defined in terms of the last. The kind of order, the kind
of ampliIUde, the kind of unity in question are all explained in terms that invoke
probable or necessary connection.
 POETICS 101

(ii) The second implication of wholeness: amplitude

It is not enough for beauty that a thing, whether an animal or anything
else composed of parts, should have those parts well-ordered; since
beauty consists in amplitude as well as in order, the thing must also have
amplitude-and not just any amplitude. Though a very small creature
could not be beautiful, since our view loses all distinctness when it comes
near to taking no perceptible time, an enormously ample one could not
be beautiful either, since our view of it is not simultaneous, so that we 145 1a
lose the sense of its unity and wholeness as we look it over; imagine, for
instance, an animal a thousand miles long. Animate and inanimate bodies,
then, must have amplitude, but no more than can be taken in at one
view; and similarly a plot must have extension, but no more than can be
easily remembered. What is, for the poetic art, the limit of this extension?
Certainly not that imposed by the contests and by perception I-if a
hundred plays had to be performed during the festival, they would time
the performances by the hour glass, t as they say once on another occa-
sion ... tz As the limit imposed by the actual nature of the thing, one may
suggest 'the ampler the better, provided it remains clear as a whole', or,
to give a rough specification, 'sufficient amplitude to allow a probable or
necessary succession of particular actions to produce a change from bad
to good or from good to bad fortune'.

(iii) The third implication of wholeness: unity

Unity of plot is not, as some think, achieved by writing about one man; 8
for just as the one substance admits innumerable incidental properties,
which do not, some of them, make it a such-and-such,3 so one man's
actions are numerous and do not make up any single action. That is
why I think the poets mistaken who have produced Heracleids or Theseids
or other poems of the kind, in the belief that the plot would be one just
because Heracles was one. Homer especially shows his superiority in
taking a right view here-whether by art or nature: in writing a poem on
Odysseus he did not introduce everything that was incidentally true of
him, being wounded on Parnassus, for instance, or pretending to be mad
at the mustering of the fleet, neither of which necessarily or probably
I The remark is puzzling, in view of the preceding discussion; if Aristotle means the

perception of a particular audience, its power of attending to a play, the audience in

question must at any rate be presumed defective (cf. perhaps p. 107 below).
2 The text is corrupt and its reference uncertain.

3 The interpretation is that ofVahlen and is the only one that does justice to the Greek.
The analogy is drawn from logic. To give an example, some of the statements to be made
about a coffee-pot will define it as a piece of crockery, those plus some more statements
will define it as a coffee-pot; but a great many statements that are incidentally true of
it will only detail its life history and not define it as a member of any species.
 102 ARISTOTLE
implied the other at all; instead he composed the Odyssey about an action
that is one in the sense I mean, and the same is true of the Iliad. In the
other mimetic arts a mimesis is one if it is a mimesis of one object; and in
the same way a plot, being a mimesis of an action, should be a mimesis of
one action and that a whole one, with the different sections so arranged
that the whole is disturbed by the transposition and destroyed by the
removal of anyone of them; for if it makes no visible difference whether
a thing is there or not, that thing is no part of the whole.

(iv) The fourth implication of wholeness: probable and necessary connection

9 What I have said also makes plain that the poet's job is saying not what
did happen but the sort of thing that would happen, that is, what can
happen in a strictly probable or necessary sequence. The difference
145Ib between the historian and the poet is not merely that one writes verse
and the other prose-one could turn Herodotus' work into verse and it
would be just as much history as before; the essential difference is that
the one tells us what happened and the other the sort of thing that would
happen. That is why poetry is at once more like philosophy and more
worth while than history, since poetry tends to make general statements,
while those of history are particular. A 'general statement' means [in this
context] one that tells us what sort of man would, probably or necessarily,
say or do what sort of thing, and this is what poetry aims at, though it
attaches proper names; a particular statement on the other hand tells us
what Alcibiades, for instance, did or what happened to him.!
That poetry does aim at generality has long been obvious in the case of
comedy, where the poets make up the plot from a series of probable
happenings and then give the persons any names they like, instead of
writing about particular people as the lampooners did. In tragedy, how-
ever, they still stick to the actual names; this is because it is what is
possible that arouses conviction, and while we do not without more ado
believe that what never happened is possible, what did happen is clearly
I It is hard to be temperate in one's admiration for the intellectual power and refine-

ment of analysis that Aristode displays in this argument. One should remember that to
the Greeks Oedipus was just as much a historical personage as Alcibiades. The dis-
tinction between what a poet means when he says 'X did such-and-such' and what an
historian means when he makes an identical statement is not in itself obvious and was
not grasped by most ancient historians. The historian must not suppress the fact that
does not fit in, he must not bridge the gaps in his evidence with plausible conjecture
presented as a statement of fact. The poet, on the other hand, cannot say anything that
his audience will not take to be relevant to the picture they assume he is presenting,
and this picture is an investigation of moral possibilities. Poetry is therefore like philo-
sophy (or like science); its statements, though in form the same as the historians', are
in fact taken to be statements of the greatest generality that its subject-matter allows.
 POETICS 103

possible, since it would not have happened if it were not. Though as a

matter of fact, even in some tragedies most names are invented and only
one or two well known: in Agathon's Antheus, for instance, the names
as well as the events are made up, and yet it gives just as much pleasure.
So one need not try to stick at any cost to the traditional stories, which are
the subject of tragedies; indeed the attempt would be absurd, since even
what is well known is well known only to a few, but gives general pleasure
for all that.
It is obvious from all this that the poet should be considered a maker
of plots, not of verses, since he is a poet qua maker of mimesis and the
objects of his mimesis are actions. 1 Even if it is incidentally true that the
plot he makes actually happened, that does not mean he is not its maker;
for there is no reason why some things that actually happen should not
be the sort of thing that would probably happen,z and it is in virtue of
that aspect of them that he is their maker.

(v) Plots that Jail to exhibit the essential characteristics

Of defective 3 plots or actions the worst are the episodic, those, I mean,
in which the succession of the episodes is neither probable nor necessary;
bad poets make these on their own account, good ones because of the
judges;4 for in aiming at success in the competition and stretching the
plot more than it can,bear they often have to distort the natural order. 1452"

(b) A FIFTH REQUIREMENT, SUGGESTED BY THE MENTION OF PITY

AND FEAR IN THE DEFINITION: SURPRISE

Tragedy is a mimesis not only of a complete action, but also of things

arousing pity and fear, emotions most likely to be stirred when things
happen unexpectedly but because of each other (this arouses more
surprise than mere chance events, since even chance events seem more
marvellous when they look as if they were meant to happen-take the
case of the statue of Mitys in Argos killing Mitys' murderer by falling on
I It is sometimes obscured that Aristotle's purpose here and on p. 91 above is not

to deny the necessity of verse to poetry (though he might have done, if pushed), but to
assert the necessity of mimesis.
Z The manuscripts add 'and that can happen', perhaps defensible as a piece of donnish

humour, but suspect because it is absent from the Arabic version.

3 This reading is due to conjecture; the manuscripts have 'Of simple plots .• .'. It is
not a serious objection to this that we have not yet been introduced to the simple plot
(below, p. 104); what does matter is that a reference to the simple plot is irrelevant in
the context.
4 Most manuscripts have 'because of the actors'; for the bad influence of the judges,
cf. Plato's remark (above, pp. 83 f.).
 104 ARISTOTLE
him as he looked at it; for we do not think that things like this are merely
random); so such plotsI will necessarily be the best.

(c) THE SPECIES OF PLOT

10 Some plots are simple, some complex, since the actions of which the
plots are mimeseis fall naturally into the same two classes. By 'simple
action' I mean one that is continuous in the sense defined 2 and is a unity
and where the change of fortune takes place without peripeteia or recogni-
tion, by 'complex' one where the change of fortune is accompanied by
peripeteia or recognition or both. The peripeteia and recognition should
arise just from the arrangement of the plot, so that it is necessary or
probable that they should follow what went before; for there is a great
difference between happening next and happening as a result.

(d) THE ELEMENTS OF PLOT

(i) Peripeteia
11 A peripeteia occurs when the course of events takes a turn to the
opposite in the way described,3 the change being also probable or neces-
sary in the way I said. For example, in the Oedipus, when the 4 man came
and it seemed that he would comfortS Oedipu sand free him from his fear
about his mother, by revealing who he was he in fact did the opposite.
Again in the Lynceus, Lynceus was being led off and it seemed that he
would be put to death and that Danaus who was with him would kill him,
but the earlier actions produced Danaus' death and Lynceus' release.

(ii) Recognition
Recognition is, as its name indicates, a change from ignorance to know-
ledge, tending either to affection or to enmity; it determines in the direction
of good or ill fortune the fates of the people involved. The best sort of
recognition is that accompanied by peripeteia, like that in the Oedipus.
I Those where things happen unexpectedly but because of each other.

• That is, one that has probable or necessary connection.

3 That is, in a way involving surprise.
4 The Corinthian shepherd.
S Or 'came with the intention of comforting'. The construction used is the same here
and in the Lynceus example, where one can certainly say that it was not Lynceus'
intention to be put to death. In view of this it is unnecessary to attribute to Aristotle
the misstatement that the shepherd came with the intention of freeing Oedipus from
his fear about his mother, or even with the expectation of doing so. The frustrated
expectation seems to be felt not by the characters but by the audience, who are here,
as on p. 103 above, taken not to be very familiar with the events of heroic legend.
 POETICS 105

There are of course other kinds of recognition. For a recognition of

the sort described can be a recognition of inanimate objects, indeed of
quite indifferent ones, and one can also recognize whether someone has
committed an act or not. But the one mentioned has most to do with
the plot, 'that is, most to do with the action; for a recognition accompanied
by peripeteia in this way will involve either pity or fear, and tragedy is by 1452b
definition a mimesis of actions that rouse these emotions; it is moreover
such recognitions that lead to good or bad fortune.
Since recognition involves more than one person, in some cases only
one person will recognize the other, when it is clear who the former is, and
sometimes each has to recognize the other: Orestes, for example, recog-
nized Iphigenia from her sending the letter, but a second recognition
was necessary for her to recognize him.

(iii) Pathos
These then are two elements of the plot, and a third is pathos. I have
dealt with the first two, peripeteia and recognition. A pathos is an act
involving destruction or pain, for example deaths on stage and physical
agonies and woundings and so on.
So much for the parts of tragedy that one ought to use as qualitative 12
elements.

SECTION C. THE NATURE OF TRAGEDY ACCORDING TO THE

CATEGORY OF QUANTITY

Now for the category of quantity and the quantitative divisions of a

tragedy: they are prologue, episode, exodos, choral part, the last being
divided into parodos and stasimon; the last two are common to all plays,
while some have as well songs from the actors and kommoi.
The prologue is the complete section of a tragedy before the entrance
of the chorus, an episode the complete section of a tragedy between
complete choral odes, the exodos a complete section of a tragedy not
followed by a choral ode. Of the choral part, the parodos is the first
complete utterance of the chorus, a stasimon a choral song not using the
anapaestic dimeter or trochaic tetrameter, I a kommos a lament shared by
the chorus and the actors.
Having dealt beforehand with the parts of tragedy that one ought to
I The anapaestic dimeter is a marching metre, normal in chorus entries, the tetra-

meter a running metre appropriate to a hasty choral entry. Cf. A. M. Dale, Collected
Papers, Cambridge, 1969, pp. 34 If.
 106 ARISTOTLE
use as qualitative elements, I have now dealt with the category of quantity
and the quantitative divisions of a tragedy. I

CHAPTER III
EXCELLENCE IN TRAGEDY

SECTION A. WITH RESPECT TO PLOT

13 What ought one to aim at and beware of in composing plots? And what
is the source of the tragic effect? These are the questions that naturally
follow from what I have now dealt with.

I. Things to aim at and beware of

WeB, the arrangement of tragedy at its best should be complex, not
simple, and it should also present a mimesis of things that arouse fear and
pity, as this is what is peculiar to the tragic mimesis.
So it is clear that one should not show virtuous ·men passing from good
to bad fortune, since this does not arouse fear or pity, but only a sense of
outrage. Nor should one show bad men passing from bad to good fortune,
as this is less tragic than anything, since it has none of the necessary
14533 requirements; it neither satisfies our human feeling nor arouses pity and
fear. Nor should one show a quite wicked man passing from good to bad
fortune; it is true that such an arrangement would satisfy our human
feeling, but it would not arouse pity or fear, since the one is felt for some-
one who comes to grief without deserving it, and the other for someone
like us (pity, that is, for the man who does not deserve his fate, and fear for
someone like us); so this event will not arouse pity or fear. So we have
left the man between these. He is one who is not pre-eminent in moral
virtue, who passes to bad fortune not through vice or wickedness, but
because of some piece of ignorance, and who is of high repute and great
good fortune, like Oedipus and Thyestes and the splendid men of such
families. 2
I This sentence repeats almost exactly that at the beginning of the section, importing

as well a late form not used by Aristotle; such a dreary piece of scholasticism is unlike
him. The whole discussion of tragedy under the category of quantity has been chal-
lenged, and may be an interpolation. Yet it stands where it should stand, concluding the
analysis of the nature of tragedy and preceding the consideration of its virtues, and
though bald is not absurd in content. Of the ten categories that belong to the Aristotelian
theory of predication, it is of course these three, substance, quality, and quantity, that
provide the definition of a thing's essential nature; the other categories only state
things that are incidentally true of it at a particular time and place.
2 Aristotle's thought in this section is best illuminated by the discussion in Rhetoric

2. 9 of the emotions that expel pity, and particularly by the discussion of 'justified
 POETICS 107
So the good plot must have a single line of development, not a double
one as some people say;' that line should go from good fortune to bad
and not the other way round; the change should be produced not through
wickedness, but through some htrge-scale piece of ignorance; the person
ignorant should be the sort of man I have described-certainly not a
worse man, though perhaps a better one.
This is borne out by the facts: at first the poets recounted any story
that came to hand, but nowadays the best tragedies are about a few families
only, for example, Alcmaeon, Oedipus, Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, Tele-
phus, and others whose lot it was to suffer or commit fearful acts.
Well then, the best tragedy, judged from the standpoint of the tragic
art, comes from this sort of arrangement. That is why those who censure
Euripi~es for doing this in his tragedies and making many of them end
with disaster are making just the same mistake. 2 For this is correct in
the way I said. The greatest proof of this is that on the stage and in the
contests such plays are felt to be the most properly tragic, if they are well
managed, and Euripides, even if he is a bad manager in the other points,
is at any rate the most tragic of the poets. 3
Second comes the sort of arrangement that some people say is the best:
this is the one that has a double arrangement of the action like the
Odyssey, and ends with opposite fortunes for the good and bad people.
It is thought to be the best because-of the weakness of the audiences;
for the poets follow the lead of the spectators and make plays to their

indignation' (nemesiin). This emotion has several aspects, pain at the undeserved mis-
fortunes of the good, pain at the undeserved good fortune of the wicked, pleasure at the
deserved misfortunes of the wicked; these three aspects correspond to the three cases
that Aristotle here excludes. 'What satisfies our human feeling' (to philanthropon) seems
here to be the opposite of 'the morally outraging' (to miaron).
Aristotle clearly has some difficulty in reconciling the need to avoid 'justified indigna-
tion' with the requirement that the characters of high poetry should be good. To do so
he invokes hamartia as the cause of their misfortune. In the context two things are
necessary, that the tragic figure should in some sense be responsible for his fate (to
avoid the first case), and that his fate should nevertheless be worse than he deserves (to
avoid the third case); that is, a hamartia here is 'a going wrong that is venial'. Other
discussions (especially Nic. Eth. 3. 1-2) show that it is venial because the character did
not know what he was doing; the same act done in full knowledge would be a crime. In
the case of Oedipus, for instance, the hamartia is simply and solely the murder of Laius
and the marriage with Jocasta, in ignorance of the fact that they were his parents. The
Bradleyan notion popular among English critics that the hamartia is a fault of character
is of course excluded by the description of the hamartia as large-scale; a large-scale
fault of character is not, in Aristotle's view, venial.
I See below, n. 2.

2 They make the same mistake as the 'some people' mentioned above and below,

those who prefer a happy ending for the good.

3 'Most tragic' must mean 'best at arousing pity and fear'.
 108 ARISTOTLE

specifications. But this is not the pleasure proper to tragedy, but rather
belongs to comedy; for in comedy those who are most bitter enemies
throughout the plot, as it might be Orestes and Aegisthus, I are reconciled
at the end and go off and nobody is killed by anybody.

2. The source of the tragic effect

1453b Now though pity and fear can be elicited by the spectacle, they can also
14 be elicited just by the arrangement of the particular actions [that make
up the plot], and this is a prior consideration 2 and the sign of a better
poet. For the plot ought to be so composed that even without seeing the
action, a man who just hears what is going on shudders and feels pity
because of what happens; this one would feel on hearing the plot of the
Oedipus, for instance. But to produce this effect via the spectacle has
less to do with the art of tragedy and needs external aids. To go further
and use the spectacle to produce something that is merely monstrous,
instead of something that rouses fear, is to depart entirely from tragedy.
For one should look to tragedy for its own pleasure, not just any pleasure;
and since the poet's job is to produce the pleasure springing from pity
and fear via mimesis, this clearly ought to be present in the elements of
the action.
What sort of events, then, do seem apt to rouse fear, or [rather] pity?
This is my next subject. In such actions, people must do something to
those closely connected with them, or to enemies, or to people to whom
they are indifferent. Now, if it is a case of two enemies, this arouses no
particular pity, whether the one damages the other or only intends to;
or at least, pity is felt only at the pathos 3 considered in itself. The same
is true in the case when people are indifferent to each other. The cases
we must look for are those where the pathos involves people closely
connected, for instance where brother kills brother, son father, mother
son, or son mother---or if not kills, then means to kill, or does some other
act of the kind.
Well, one cannot interfere with the traditional stories, cannot, for
instance, say that Clytaemestra was not killed by Orestes or Eriphyle by
Alcmaeon; what one should do is invent for oneself and use the traditional
material well. Let me explain more clearly what I mean by 'well'. One
can make the act be committed as the ancient poets did, that is, with the
I In tragedy, naturally. Aristotle is denied his joke by those who either hunt solemnly

for a comedy on the topic of Orestes and Aegisthus or take this to be a reference to a
hypothetical third form of tragedy, with a happy ending for everybody.
• Prior both in time and in importance, as it belongs to the poetic art proper; the
point is the same as that made about spectacle on p. 100 above.
3 Cf. above, p. 105.
 POETICS log
agents knowing and aware [whom they are damaging]; even Euripides has
the example of Medea killing her children with full knowledge. [And
they can have knowledge and not act].' Or they can commit the deed that
rouses terror without knowing to whom they are doing it, and later
recognize the connection, like Sophocles' Oedipus; this indeed happens
outside the play, but we have examples in the tragedy itself, for example,
Astydamas' Alcmaeon and Telegonus in the Wounded Odysseus. 2 Again,
apart from these one might through ignorance intend to do something
irreparable, and then recognize the victim-to-be before doing it. These
are the only possible ways, as they must either do it or not, and in know-
ledge or ignorance.
The worst of these is to have the knowledge and the intention and
then not do it; for this is both morally outraging and untragic-'untragic'
because it involves no pathos. That is why nobody does behave in this 1454a
way except very rarely, as Haemon, for example, means to kill Creon
in the Antigone. 3 The second worst is doing it: the better form of this is
when the character does it in ignorance, and recognizes his victim after-
wards; for this involves no feeling of outrage and the recognition produces
lively surprise. But the best is the last, for example, the case in the Cres-
phontes4 where Merope means to kill her son and does not, but recognizes
him instead, and the case involving brother and sister in the Iphigenia in
Tauris; again in the Helle the son recognized his mother when on the
point of giving her up.s
I In view of the last sentence of the paragraph this addition from the Arabic

translation seems necessary.

• The Odysseus Acanthoplex of Sophocles.
3 The incident is not shown but described in three lines of Sophocles' messenger's
speech (1232 fT.).
4 Of Euripides.
5 No amount of special pleading can do away with the fact that in commending this
last case Aristotle is commending a situation that leads to a happy ending for the good.
This passage is therefore in downright contradiction with the censure of the happy
ending on pp. 107 f., and it is hardly possible to believe that it forms part of the same chain
of thought. Moreover the next paragraph follows more happily on the words 'or if not
kills, then means to kill, or does some other act of the kind' than it does on anything
else in the section. Bywater is therefore probably right in taking the two paragraphs
from 'Well, one cannot interfere .. .' to ' ... giving her up' to be a later addition made
by Aristotle himself to his own text and enshrining a change of mind. He cannot be
right about the reason for the change of mind, which he finds in Aristotle's 'somewhat
tardy recognition of the necessity of avoiding' the morally outraging; the recognition
is so far from tardy that it has dominated the discussion from the beginning of c. 13, and
in any case the tragic situation where the deed is done in ignorance is expressly said to
involve no feeling of outrage. There seems little to be done with the change of mind
but to accept it. However surprising it may seem to people in full strength, Aristotle is
not after all the only great man to pass in later years from a preference for tragedy to
a preference for tragicomedy; Shakespeare and Sophocles are notable examples.
 IIO ARISTOTLE
As I said before, this is why tragedies are about very few families.
As it was not art but chance that led the poets in their search to the
discovery of how to produce this effect in their plots, they have to go to
the families in which such patM occurred.
So much for the arrangeme~t of the particular acts and the qualities
required of plots.

SECTION B. WITH RESPECT TO CHARACTER

IS In the representation of character, there are four things that one ought
to aim at:
(a) First and foremost, the characters represented should be morally
good. The speech or action will involve mimesis of character if it
makes plain, as said before, the nature of the person's moral choice, and
the character represented will be good if the choice is good. This is
possible in each class: for example, a woman is good and so is a slave,
though the one is perhaps inferior, and the other generally speaking
low-grade.
(b) The characters represented should be suitable: for example, the
character represented is brave, I but it is not suitable for a woman to be
brave or clever in this way.2
(c) They should be life-like; this is different from the character's
being good and suitable in the way I used 'suitable'.3 .
(d) They should be consistent: for even if the subject of the mimesis is
an inconsistent person, and that is the characteristic posited of him,
still he ought to be consistently inconsistent.
An example of unnecessary badness of character is Menelaus in
the Orestes,4 of the unsuitable or inappropriate Odysseus' lament in the
Scylla s and Melanippe's speech,6 of the inconsistent Iphigenia in the
Iphigenia at Aulis, as the girl who pleads for her life is quite different
from the later one.
In the representation of character as well as in the chain of actions
one ought always to look for the necessary or probable, so that it is
I And therefore meets the requirement of being morally good.
2 Cf. Politics I. 5, and 1277b21 ff., for the difference between the virtues of men and
women, even when their virtues are called by the same name.
3 It is not clear what Aristotle means by this requirement, especially as he either did
not give or the tradition has lost the example ofits violation.
4 His cowardice in 682-715. Else rightly argues that this and the other examples
given are, when we can check them, 'unnecessary' because they do not contribute to the
action of the play, which would be unaffected whether they were there or not.
S The example does not come from tragedy, but from a dithyramb by Timotheus.
6 In Euripides' Melanippe the Wise Woman.
 POETICS III

necessary or probable that a person like this speaks or acts as he does,

and necessary or probable that this happens after that. Clearly then,
the denouements of plots ought to arise just from the mimesis of 1454b
character,! and not from a contrivance, a/deus ex machina, as in the Medea
and in the events in the Iliad about the sering off.2 The contrivance should
be used instead for things outside thb play, either all that happened
beforehand that a human being could not know, or all that happens later
and needs foretelling and reporting; for we attribute omniscience to the
gods. In the particular actions themselves there should be nothing
irrational, and if there is it should be outside the tragedy, like that of
Sophocles' Oedipus. 3
Since a tragedy is a mimesis of people better than are found in the world,
one ought to do the same as the good figure-painters; for they too give
us the individual form, but though they make people lifelike they represent
them as more beautiful than they are. Similarly the poet too in representing
people as irascible and lazy and morally deficient in other ways like that,
ought nevertheless to make them good, as Homer makes Achilles both
good and an example of harsh self-wiI1.4
One must watch out for all these points, and also for the errors against 5
the perceptions necessarily attending on the poetic art; for in these
perceptions too one can often go wrong. But I have said enough about
them in my published works.

DIGRESSION ON VARIOUS TOPICS OF INTEREST TO THE

PRACTISING PLAYWRIGHT6

I. Recognition
I gave before the genus definition of recognition. Now for its species: 16
(a) The first and least artistic (and the one most used because people
I This is the reading of the sixth-century Syriac translation and is the only one that
allows all this chapter, apart from the last sentence (below, n. 5), to deal with character.
The rest of the evidence for the text has 'should arise from the plot itself'. If this is
right, we must suppose that the bundle of practical hints for playwrights that occupies
chapters 16-18 and interrupts the orderly development of the treatise begins with this
sentence, and not with the last sentence of c. 15 or the first of c. 16 (below, n. 6).
2 Probably Athene's intervention at Iliad 2. 166 If.
3 Cf. below, p. 126.
4 The last clause renders Lobel's conjecture.
s Or 'arising from'. The text and interpretation are uncertain. The sentence seems to
have some relation to the discussion of poetic imagination on p. I 13 below.
6 The discussion of excellence in tragedy, which proceeds from plot (cc. 13-14) and
character (c. 15) to the representation of intellect (c. 19) and verbal expression (cc. 19 If.),
is suspended, and we have three chapters which nobody would have planned to put
where we find them, though they are indubitably Aristotelian.
 II2 ARISTOTLE
can think of nothing better) is recognition by visible signs. These signs
may be birthmarks, like 'the spear the earth-born bear' or stars like those
Carcinus supposed in his Thyestes, or acquired after birth; there are two
kinds of the latter, bodily onesJike scars, or external ones, like necklaces
and the recognition by means of the cradle in Sophocles' Tyro. Even
such signs can be well or badly handled: for example, Odysseus' scar
leads to his being recognized in one way by his nurse and in another by
the swineherds; recognitions like the latter, which are just meant to
convince [the other characters in the poem], are less artistic, and so are all
others similarly contrived; those that spring from a peripeteia, like that
in the Bath episode, are better.!
(b) The next are those manufactured by the poet: this makes them
inartistic. An example is Orestes' making himself known in the Iphigenia
in Tauris; for she herself was recognized by means of her letter, but
Orestes says without more ado what the poet wants him to say, not what
the plot demands. So this is quite near the previous fault, since it would
have been possible for him to bring some tokens too. There is also the
'voice of the shuttle' in Sophocles' Tereus. 2
(c) The third is by means of memory, that is, when one's awareness is
1455a roused by seeing something: for example, in Dicaeogenes' Cyprians, he
sees the picture and bursts into tears, and in the story of Alcinous Odysseus
is reminded by listening to the harpist, and weeps; this leads to the
recognition in each case.
(d) The fourth is recognition on the basis of reasoning: in the Choe-
phoroe, for instance, we have the argument 'Somebody like me has come;
nobody but Orestes is like me; so Orestes has come'.3 Another example
is the way the sophist Polyidus dealt with Iphigenia; it was natural, he
thought, for Orestes to argue that his sister had been sacrificed and now
it was his turn to be sacrificed. Another is in Theodectes' Tydeus to the
effect that in coming to find his son he was losing his own life. Again, in
the Sons of Phineus, when the women saw the place they inferred that
they were destined to die there, since that was where they had been
exposed.
There is also a composite kind involving a false inference on the part
of the other character. An example of this is in Odysseus the False Mes-
senger. For that Odysseus and only he can string the bow is something
I The Bath episode is the recognition by Eurycleia in Odyssey 19.
2 Philomela told her story by weaving it, as her tongue had been cut out.
3 Electra does not use this dubious bit of reasoning to help her recognize Orestes; he
recognizes her because he hears her producing it in lines 164 if. Her recognition of him
is 'manufactured by the poet', i.e. he simply declares who he is (219) and also produces
tokens (225 if.: the lock fits the place on his head from which it was cut and he has a
robe that Electra embroidered). Editors have failed to see this.
 POETICS II3
manufactured by the poet, and there is a hypothesis 'If he said that he
would know the bow that he has not seen', I but to construct the plot so
that it looks as if he will recognize him through this [false inference] is
[the case of] paralogism [being described].z
(e) The best kind of all is that which arises from the actions alone,
with the surprise developing through a series of likelihoods; examples are
that in Sophodes' Oedipus and Euripides' Iphigenia in Tauris; for it was
likely that she would want to send a letter. 3 Only such recognitions are
really free from manufactured signs and necklaces. The next best are
those that come from reasoning.

2. Poetic imagination
In composing plots and working them out so far as verbal expression 17
goes, the poet should, more than anything else, put things before his eyes,
as he then sees the events most vividly as if he were actually present,
and can therefore find what is appropriate and be aware of the opposite.
The censure on Carcinus is an indication of this: that was a matter of
Amphiaraus' coming from the temple, which would have escaped notice
ifithad not been seen, but fell flat on the stage, because the audience made
a fuss about it. So far as possible one should also work it out with the
appropriate figures. 4 For given the same natural endowment, people who
actually feel passion are the most convincing; that is, the person who most
realistically expresses distress is the person in distress and the same is true
of a person in a temper. That is why poetry is the work of a genius rather
than of a madman; for the genius is by nature adaptable, while the mad-
man is degenerate. s
I Taking this to be a hypothesis entertained by one of the characters and meaning

'Ifhe truly says that he will recognize the bow that he has not, since his arrival in Ithaca,
seen', one can see that the character might falsely infer 'He is Odysseus'. The false
inference is the fallacy ofinferring the antecedent from the consequent; below, p. 126.
Z Text and interpretation are a matter of speculation. The false inference might be

made by the audience instead of by another character, and we do not know whether the
work discussed is a play or the relevant part of the Odyssey.
3 Iph. Taur. 725-803.
• Le. of speech and thought. Others interpret 'gestnres'.
5 The manuscripts have 'That is why poetry is the work of a genius or of a madman',
in conjunction with which the next clause must be interpreted 'for the genius is by
nature adaptable, while the madman is beside himself'; if this is right Aristotle is placidly
assenting en passant to Plato's account of poetic mania (above, p. 75), though that
account can hardly be reconciled with the demands he himself makes on the poet in this
discussion. This attitude is, to say the least, less to be expected than that of tacit dissent
from a Platonic paradox. The pseudo-Aristotelian Problems (954) implies that both
madmen and geniuses share the temperament later called 'melancholy adust', but that in
8143591 I
 ARISTOTLE
Whether the argument of a play is pre-existent or whether one is
I455b inventing it oneself, one should set it out in general terms, and only
then make it into episodes and extend it. By 'setting it out in general
terms' I mean, to take the case of the Iphigenia in Tauris: [before the
action proper begins] a girl was sacrificed and disappeared without the
sacrificers knowing what had happened to her, and she was settled in
another country where there was a law that ont,! sacrificed strangers to
the goddess; she was installed as priestess of this rite ; [then in the action
proper] it came about later that the priestess's brother arrived (that he
came because of an oracle and his purpose in coming are things outside
the action); anyway he came and was captured and when on the point
of being sacrificed disclosed himself, either as in Euripides' poem or
as in Polyidus,I saying, that is, as was natural, that it turned out that he
was destined to be sacrificed as well as his sister; and this recognition
produced his rescue. After this one should come to adding the names
and making the episodes. Take care that the episodes are relevant; for
example, in the case of Orestes in the Iphigenia such episodes are the fit
of madness that led to his capture, and his escape through being purified.
In plays episodes are brief, but epic uses them to increase its length.
The Odyssey, for instance, has a very brief argument: [as preliminary to
the action] a man is away from home for many years and jealously
watched by Poseidon and has lost his followers; moreover at home his
affairs are such that his property is being wasted by suitors and plots
laid against his· son; [and in the action proper] he comes home in dire
distress and after disclosing himself makes an attack and destroys his
enemies without being killed himself. This is what is proper to the
action; the rest of the poem is episodes.
the genius 'the excessive heat has sunk to a moderate amount'; it also contains the signi-
ficant remark that 'Maracus the Syracusan was even a better poet when he was mad',
an example so remote from the main stream of poetry and so cautious in expression that
it is clear that the author of the Problems, at any rate, did not think poetic mania very
common. The manuscript tradition has been challenged by three people in whose
company it is a comfort to be, Castelvetro, Dryden, and Tyrwhitt; there is also a passage
in which Coleridge, though without reference to Aristotle, fascinatingly makes the same
point (Table Talk, May I, 1833):
, "Great wits are sure to madness near allied" says Dryden, and true so far as this,
that genius of the highest kind implies an unusual intensity of the modifying power,
which, detached from the discriminative and reproductive power, might conjure a
plaited straw into a royal diadem: but it would be at least as true, that great genius is
most alien from madness, yea, divided from it by an impassable mountain,-nameiy,
the activity of thought and vivacity of the accumulative memory, which are no less
essential constituents of "great wit".'
I Above, p. II2. Aristotle's expression here rather implies that Polyidus produced

this criticism in a poem, not in a critical work, i.e. that he made his criticism by managing
the recognition differently.
 POETICS lIS
3. Complicati01z and denouement (desis and lusis)
Part of every tragedy is the complication, part the denouement: the 18
preliminaries and often some of the action proper are the complication,
the rest the denouement. By 'complication' I mean the section from the
beginning to the last point before he begiI).s to change to good or bad
fortune, by 'denouement' the part from the beginning of the change to
the end; for example, in Theodectes' Lynceus the complication is made
up of the preliminaries, the kidnapping of the child and their being
found out, the denouement is everything from the capital charge to
the end.

4. The species of tragedy

Tragedy has four species,' the complicated, whose entire nature depends
on peripeteia and recognition, the tragedy of pathos, for example those
about Aias and Ixion, the tragedy of character, for example the Phthiotides 1456a
and the Peleus, while the fourth is spectacle,z like the Phorcides and
Prometheus and any set in hell.
Preferably, of course, one should try to have all four, but if not, to
have the most important and as many as may be, especially given the way
people criticize poets nowadays; for since there have been poets good in
each kind, they demand that a poet should all by himself surpass the
peculiar excellence of each of them. It is fair too to say that tragedies are
the same or different principally on the basis of their plots, that is, when
they have the same complication and denouement. Many can manage the
first but not the second, but one should always be master of both.

5. The selection of tragic material

One ought to remember what I have often said and not make an epic
body of material into a tragedy (by 'epic' I mean one containing many
stories), as if, for instance, one were to compose a play on the whole story
of the Iliad. For in epic because of its length the parts can have a size
that suits them, whereas in plays things turn out quite contrary to what
one expected. We can find a proof of this in the poets who have dealt
with the whole of the sack of Troy and not with a part of it as Euripides
did, or with the story of Niobe and not in the way Aeschylus did; such
I The manuscripts add 'for that was the number of the elements mentioned', a

statement that has no possible reference; if Aristotle made it, he had forgotten his own
analysis.
2 The reading is uncertain.
 II6 ARISTOTLE
poets are either hissed off the stage or do badly in the contest-even
Agathon was hissed off just for this reason.

6. The element of surprise

In peripeteiai and also in simple plots poets aim at the effects they want
by means of surprise, I as surprise is tragic and satisfies our human feelin g. Z
This happens when a clever scoundrel is deceived, like Sisyphus, and a
courageous wrongdoer worsted. For this is not only surprising but likely
in the way described by Agathon, when he said it is likely that many
things should happen contrary to likelihood.

7. The treatment of the chorus

One should regard the chorus too as one of the actors, and as a part of the
whole and taking part in the action; that is, one should follow Sophocles'
practice rather than Euripides'. In poets apart from these,3 the songs
have no more to do with the plot than with some quite other tragedy; this
is why they [nowadays] sing interpolated songs (the first who began this
practice was Agathon). But it is absurd, for there is no difference between
singing interpolated songs and transferring a speech or a whole episode
from one play to another.

SECTION C. WITH RESPECT TO THE MIMESIS OF

INTELLECT4

19 As I have dealt with the other qualitative elements, I now have to talk
about the representation of intellect and about verbal expression. The
representation of intellect we may take to be covered by the Rhetoric; for
it does belong rather to that inquiry. What is involvcd in the representation
of intellect is every effect to be produced by speech. Its sections are proof
and disproof, rousing emotion (pity, fear, anger, and so on), making a
14S6b thing look important or unimportant. 5 OearIy in the plot too one ought

I The manuscripts have 'to a surprising degree'; the translation is of Castelvetro's

conjecture.
2 Above, pp. 106 f.

3 To a modern reader the failure to take Aeschylus into account is notable. One may
remark also that Aeschylus is thought to have composed a trilogy on the main action
of the Iliad (Myrmidons, Nereids, Phrygians), something derisively mentioned only as
an absurd possibility on p. IIS above.
4 At this point the main line of the argument is resumed (above, p. 1 II n. 6).
5 Except on p. 99 above, Aristotle in c. 6 confined the mimesis of intellect to
the speeches containing demonstrative arguments and general maxims. Here he includes
 POETICS
to proceed from just these same main heads, when one needs to produce
an effect of pity or fear, likelihood or importance. There is some difference,
though; in the action these should be obvious without one's being told,
whereas the other effects should be produced in words by the person
using them and should result from his words, as the speaker would be
quite unnecessary if the desired result were obvious without his saying
anything.

SECTION D. WITH RESPECT TO VERBAL EXPRESSION

I. Exclusion of subjects that fall under delivery

So far as verbal expression goes, one branch of inquiry is that into the
forms of speech. Knowledge of this really falls under the study of delivery
and is the province of the expert in that subject. I mean such questions as
'What is a command, a wish, a statement, a threat, a question, an answer ?'
and so on. A poet's knowledge or ignorance in this sphere does not leave
him open to any critical censure worth bothering about. For anyone
would think pretty trivial the fault censured by Protagoras, when he says:
'Homer thinks he is beginning with a prayer and in fact uses a command,
when he says, "Sing of the wrath, goddess", since to tell somebody to
do something or not is a command.' So let us leave that alone, since it
belongs to another field and not to poetry.

2. The grammatical basis of the discussion

Verbal expression as a whole has the following parts: element, syllable, 20
linking word, articulatory word, noun, verb, termination, statement.
An element is an indivisible sound, not any sound, but that capable of
producing intelligible utterance; for some animals produce indivisible
sounds, which I do not, however, call elements. This class has three sub-
divisions, sounded, half-sounded, and soundless. I A sounded element
is that which has an audible sound without any contact occurring. A
half-sounded element is one that produces an audible sound when contact

the use that the characters make of persuasive language more widely defined. The
negatives 'disproof' and 'unimportant' and the varieties of emotions mentioned show
that in this sentence he is speaking of the effect the characters in a play have on each
other. The next sentence seems a rather casual addition, pointing out that the poet in
composing his plot and aiming to produC(' a certain effect on his audience draws on the
same sources of argument as he makes his characters use.
I In modern tenninology: vowels, fricatives, and stops.
 lIS ARISTOTLE
does occur: such are sand r. A soundless element is one where contact
occurs without the element itself having any audible sound, though it is
audible when combined with elements that have audible sound: such are
g and d. The elements in these three classes can be further classified,
according to the shape of the mouth, the place of contact, rough or smooth
breathing, length or shortness of quantity, and accent, acute, grave, or
intermediate. One can investigate the subject further in works on metric.
A syllable is a composite non-significant sound made up of a voiceless
element and one with voice: gr, for example, is a syllable by itself without
a, and also if a is added to make gra. I But the investigation of this too is a
matter of metric.
1457' A linking word is (a) a non-significant sound which neither prevents
nor produces the formation from a number of sounds of one significant
utterance; it ought not to stand alone at the beginning of a statement:
examples are men, toi, de, de [the linking particles]; (b) a non-significant
sound that naturally produces from a plurality of sounds that nevertheless
signify one thing a single significant utterance: examples are amphi, peri,
and the rest [of the prepositionsJ.2
An articulatory word (arthron) is a non-significant sound that indicates
the beginning or end or dividing point of a statement; it is naturally
put at either end (?) of a statement or in the middle. 3
A noun is a composite significant sound with no temporality, and made
up of parts not in themselves significant. For in compound words we
do not take the parts to be significant in themselves; in Theodorus, for
example, the doron has no significance.
A verb is a composite significant sound with temporality, and, like a
noun, is made up of parts not in themselves significant; by 'with tem-
porality' I mean that, while 'man' and 'white' do not signify when, 'walks'
and 'walked' do signify present and past time respectively.
Termination is the part of a noun or verb that signifies case and number
and also the part concerned with delivery, for example, question and
command: 'Did he walk?' and 'Walk' show terminations of the verb under
the sections of this class.
A statement is a composite significant sound whose separate parts are
themselves significant; I give this definition because not every statement
is made up of nouns and verbs-the definition of man, for instance;4

I cr. eR N.S.20, 1970, 179.

2 Text very uncertain: we follow Bywater's conjectures and transpositions.
3 Aristotle probably means co-ordinating and subordinating conjunctions-he does not
mean the article, though the same term is used for this in later grammatical terminology.
4 In statements like 'Man is a featherless biped' Greek can omit the copula; the
definition of 'statement' corrects onc given by Plato.
 POETICS
one can, that is, have a statement with no verb, but it will always have a
significant part.! A statement is one statement in two senses: (a) as signi-
fying one thing, (b) by being composed of a plurality of statements: the
Iliad, for example, is one as being composite, and the definition of man as
signifying one thing.

3. Different ways of classifying nouns2

The species of nouns are: (a) simple: by this I mean 'not composed of 21
significant parts', for example, 'earth'; (b) double: this has two varieties:
(i) composed of a significant element and a non-significant element [e.g.
prepositional compounds]; one must qualify this by saying that they are
not significant and non-significant in the word;3 (ii) composed of signi-
ficant elements; (c) possible species are also triple, quadruple, and indeed
multiple, like most aggrandized words,4 'Hermocaicoxanthus' . . . 1457b
Nouns may also be divided into standard terms, dialect terms,
metaphorical terms, decorative terms,S neologisms, lengthened words,
shortened words, altered words.
By 'standard term' I mean that used by any society.
By 'dialect term' I mean one used by another people. The same word
can obviously be both a standard term and a dialect term, though not in
the same society: sigunon is a standard term in Cyprus, a dialect term in
Athens.
A 'metaphorical term' involves the transferred use of a term that
properly belongs to something else; the transference can be from genus
to species, from species to genus, from species to species, or analogical.
I The manuscripts add the lunatic and irrelevant clause 'for example, "Qeon" in

"Cleon is walking".'
2 To avoid repetition, Aristode's discussion of poetical style covers more than tragedy,

dealing as well with choral lyric and with epic. The compound words discussed in the
first classification are particularly suitable to choral lyric, while many of the decorative
elements in the second classification are epic rather than tragic.
3 Above, p. II 8. The qualification must also be extended to variety (ii).
4 The Arabic translation has 'Massiliote words', for which editors have a strange
affection, though they admit that the 'most' then becomes nonsensical; it also suggests
that our text is defective after 'Hermocaicoxanthus'.
5 Unlike the other terms in the list, this is not defined and discussed below. A
papyrus fragment of a work perhaps written by Theophrastus seems to deal with
ornamental epithets ('blazing steel', 'bright gold') after a discussion of metaphor akin
to ours. Others have thought of synonymous terms and have tried to provide the treat-
ment of 'decorative terms' from fr. 3: 'Aristode says in his Poetics that things are
synonymous if they have more than one name but the same definition, that is, things
that have several names, for example, topion and himation and pharos (all words for
"cloak").'
 120 ARISTOTLE
By 'from genus to species' I mean, for example, 'Here my ship is still"I
as lying at anchor is a species of being still. By 'from species to genus',
'Odysseus conferred ten thousand benefits',2 as 'ten thousand' is a specific
example of plurality and he uses this instead of 'many'. By 'species to
species', 'drawing the life with the bronze' and 'cutting off [the water]
with the unwearying bronze';3 in these examples 'drawing' is used for
'cutting off' and 'cutting off' for 'drawing', and both are species of the
genus 'removing'. By 'analogical' I mean where the second term is related
to the first as the fourth is to the third; for then the poet will use the
fourth to mean the second and vice versa. And sometimes they add the
term relative to the one replaced: I mean, for example, the cup is related
to Dionysus as the shield is to Ares; so the poet will call the cup 'Dionysus'
shield' and the shield 'Ares' CUp';4 again old age is to life what evenjng
is to day, and so he will call evening 'the old age of the day' or use
Empedocles' phrase,s and call old age 'the evening of life' or 'the sunset of
life'.6 Sometimes one of the four related terms has no word to express it,
but it can be expressed through a comparison; for example, scattering
seed is called 'sowing', but there is no term for the scattering of light by
the sun; but as this is related to the sun as sowing is to the scatterer of
seed, we have the expression 'sowing the god-created fIame'.7 There is
yet another form of analogical metaphor: this is the use of the transferred
term coupled with the denial of one of its implications, for example,
calling the shield 'the wineless cup' instead of 'Ares' cup'.
Neologisms are terms not in use at all, but invented by the poet himself;
some are thought to be of this kind, for example, ernuges for 'horns' and
areter for 'priest'.8
14S8a A 'lengthened word' is one using a longer vowel than is usual, or an
extra syllable: an example of the former is poleos for polcos, and of the
second PeleiadiO for Peleidou. 9
A 'shortened word' is one where something is removed from it, for
example, kr' for krithC, do for doma, and ops for opsis •..

I Homer, Odyssey 1. 18S.

2 Homer, Iliad 2.272.
3 Both examples are assigned to Empedocles (frr. 138, 143); the reference in the
second is to a bronze bucket.
4 Timotheus, PMG 797; 'Dionysus' shield' may well be Aristode's own invention.
S The reference to Empedocles may be misplaced or corrupt; it seems likely that he is
responsible for one of the metaphors in this group.
6 Plato, Laws 770 a.
7 The phrase might come from choral lyric or from a tragic chorus.
8 The latter is used three times by Homer.
9 The terms in this and the following two sections are epic. To explain them nowadays
we invoke comparative philology, but Aristode thinks of poetic licence.
 POETICS 121

An 'altered word' is one where part of the ordinary term is left, and
something made up is added, like dexiteron for dexion •••1

4. Excellence in poetic style

[In poetry] verbal expression is good if it is clear without being mean. z 22
The clearest is of course that made up of standard words, but it is mean:
an example is the poetry of Oeophon and Sthenelus. The style that uses
strange expressions is solemn and out of the ordinary; by 'strange
expressions' 1 mean dialect terms, metaphor, lengthening, and everything
over and above standard words. But if anyone made an entire poem like
this, it would be either a riddle or gibberish, a riddle if it were entirely
metaphorical, gibberish if all composed of dialect terms. For it is the
nature of a riddle that one states facts by linking impossibilities together
(of course, one cannot do this by putting the actual words for things
together, but one can if one uses metaphor), for example 'I saw a man
welding bronze on a man with fire'3 and so on. And a poem wholly made
up of dialect terms is gibberish. So there ought to be a sort of admixture
of these, as the one element will prevent the style from being ordinary
and mean, that is, dialect, metaphor, decorative terms, and the other
species 1 mentioned, while standard terms will make it clear.
Q!Jite a large contribution to a style both clear and out of the ordinary 1458b
is made by lengthenings, shortenings, and alterations of words. For
because it is other than standard, being unusual, it will produce an effect
of being out of the ordinary; at the same time, it will be clear because of its
element of the usual. So there is something incorrect in the censure of
those who blame this sort of style and mock at Homer, in the way the
elder Euclides did, when he said it was easy to be a poet if one were
allowed to lengthen things as much as one liked ...4 Of course it is
absurd to be found obviously using this sort of thing; but all the kinds
demand a due measure, as one could also use metaphors and dialect
words and so on in an inappropriate and deliberately ridiculous way and
produce the same result. If one wants to see how important it is to use
them suitably one should take epic verses and put ordinary words into
them. In all cases, dialect, metaphor, and so on, if one substituted the
I Mter this the manuscripts add a section on the division of nouns into masculine,

feminine, and neuter. This is untrue, fatuous, and irrelevant; it is impossible to believe
that it is the work of the same man who produced the penetrating linguistic analysis
of pp. 117 ff. above, and it is accordingly omitted here.
Z Contrast the definition of excellence in prose style, below, p. 137.

3 Cf. below, p. 139 .

.. Aristode here quotes two hexameters in which Euclides parodied Homer's occa-
sional irrational lengthening of short syllables.
 122 ARISTOTLE
standard word, one would easily see the truth of what I am saying. For
example, Aeschylus and Euripides produced the same iambic line,1 with
the change of a single word, as Euripides put a dialect term for the stan-
dard word, and so produced a beautiful line instead of an unimpressive
one; for Aeschylus in his Philoetetes said 'The canker that eats the flesh
of my foot', while Euripides substituted thoiniitai for [the standard verb]
esthiei. Again, take the line 'being little (oligos) and no worth (outidanos)
and hideous (aeikes)' and substitute the standard words mikros, asthenikos,
aeides;2 and for 'putting down a poor (aeikelion) chair and little (oligen)
table'3 put mochtheron (poor) and mikran (little);4 and for etones booosin s
(,the shores shout') put ei"ones krazousin. 6
Ariphrades mocked the tragedians as well for using expressions that
1459" nobody would use in conversation ... 7 Wrongly, for all such expressions,
because not standard, produce a stylistic effect of being out of the ordinary;
but Ariphrades did not know that.
It is extremely important to use in the proper place each of the kinds
I have mentioned,s but by far the most important is to be good at meta-
phor. For this is the only one that cannot be learnt from anyone else,9
and it is a sign of natural genius, as to be good at metaphor is to perceive
resemblances. Of nouns, compounds best suit dithyrambs, dialect words
hexameter verse, and metaphors iambic verse. ID Though in hexameters
all the kinds are useful, in iambics, because they most closely represent
actual speech, the most suitable are those that one would also use in prose
speeches, that is, standard words, metaphors, and decorative termsY
So much for tragedy and mimesis via action.
I Aeschylus, fro 253; Euripides, fr. 792.
2 Homer, Odyssey 9. 515. oligos in the sense of 'small' is here regarded as a dialect
term; in Attic it means 'few'. outidanos does not belong to prose at all, while asthenikos
is decidedly prosaic as most of the words terminating in -ikos were not only of recent
formation, but associated with philosophical and scientific discourse. aeides also seems
to be used only by philosophers and medical writers.
3 Homer, Odyssey 20. 259.
4 mochtheros, in the sense of'distressed' or 'distressful' or as a term of moral condemna-
tion, does belong to high poetry; but its use of things like chairs, to signify that they are
'in a bad way', is confined to Attic colloquial speech.
5 Homer, Iliad 17. 265.
6 krazein of human bawling is no more or less prosaic than boiin, with which indeed
it is sometimes linked as a synonym by the orators; but boijosin is a 'lengthened' word, for
which Attic would use boiisin.
7 Aristotle adds examples: archaic forms of pronouns, anastrophe of prepositions
(i.e. placing them after their nouns).
8 The manuscripts add 'and (? both) compound words and dialect terms'. This seems
to be a foolish interpolation from the context immediately below.
9 Cf. below, p. 138. 10 The metre of tragic dialogue.

11 Cf. above, p. 119; below, pp. 136 If.

 POETICS 123

CHAPTER IV
EPIC

SECTION A. THE SIMILARITIES BETWEEN EPIC AND TRAGEDY

I. The need for unity

Now for the narrative art that uses verse as its medium of mimeSIS. 23
Clearly one should compose the plots here to be dramatic, just as in the
case of tragedies, that is, about one whole or complete action with a
beginning, middle parts, I and end, so that it produces its proper pleasure
like a single whole living creature. Its plots should not be like histories;
for in histories it is necessary to give a report of a single period, not of a
unified action, that is, one must say whatever was the case in that period
about one man or more; and each of these things may have a quite casual
interrelation. For just as, if one thinks of the same time, we have the
battle of Salamis and the battle of Himera against the Carthaginians not
directed to achieve any identical purpose, so in consecutive times one
thing sometimes happens after another without any common purpose
being achieved by them. Most epic poets do make plots like histories.
So in this respect too Homer is marvellous in the way already described,
in that he did not undertake to make a whole poem of the war either,2
even though it had a beginning and an end. For the plot would have been
too large and not easy to see as a whole, or if it had been kept to a moderate
length it would have been tangled because of the variety of events. As
it is he takes one part and uses many others as episodes, for example, the
catalogue of the ships and the other episodes with which he breaks the
uniformity of his poem. But the rest make a poem about one man or one
period of time,3 like the poet of the Cypria or the Little Iliad. That is why 1459b
the Iliad and Odyssey have matter only for one tragedy or only for two,4
whereas there is matter for many in the Cypria, and in the Little Iliad for
I The plural, as distinct from the 'middle' of tragedy (above, p. 100), allows for

epic's greater extension.

2 In the Iliad; there seems to be a reference back to the discussion of the unity of the

Odyssey on pp. 101 f. 'Whole' here as there implies 'unified'.

3 The manuscripts add 'that is (? and) about one action with many parts'; this is
very like the description of the Iliad and the Odyssey themselves that Aristotle gives
below, p. 132. Moreover, if we believe that we know anything at all about the poems of
the epic cycle, it is hard to credit that Aristotle ever allowed that their ramshackle
structures dealt with 'one action', however polymerous.
4 The reference is to the principal action of the poems, not to the episodes, like that
ofBellerophon, which provided material for more tragedies; for the neglect of Aeschylus,
cf. above, p. 1I6 n. 3.
 124 ARISTOTLE
more than eight, for example, The Adjudgement of the Arms, Philoctetes,
Neoptolemus, Eurypylus, Odysseus as a Beggar, The Lacolliall Women, The
Sack of Troy, The Departure, plus the Sinon and the Trojan Women.!

2. The species of epic

24 Moreover, epic must have the same species as tragedy, that is, must be
simplez or complex, a story of character or one of pathos. [And the
elements are the same except for music and spectacle.] And it needs
peripeteiai and recognitions and pathe. [Moreover its mimesis of in-
tellect and its verbal expression should be good.] All of these Homer
was the first to use and his use of them is exemplary. For in the case of
each of the poems, the composition of the Iliad is simple and full of
pathos, that of the Odyssey complex, as there are recognitions throughout,
and full of character. [And in addition he is pre-eminent in his verbal
expression and mimesis of intellect.]3

SECTION B. THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN EPIC

AND TRAGEDY

Epic differs from tragedy in the length of its plot and in its metre.

I. Length
The above mentioned limit oflength4 is an adequate guide: that is, one
should be able to get a synoptic view of the beginning and the end. This
will be the case if the poems are shorter than those of the ancients,S and
about as long as the number of tragedies offered at one sitting.
Epic has a peculiar characteristic in that its size can be considerably
I Probably not everything in this list is due to Aristotle.
2 Cf. above, p. II5. 'Simple' here corresponds to what should probably be 'spectacle'
there.
3 F. Soimsen, CQ 29, 1935, 195, was probably correct in arguing that a series of
remarks about the qualitative parts (here enclosed in double brackets) has been super-
imposed on a straightforward discussion of the species of epic. Whether he is right
in believing that these inane interruptions are later additions by Aristotle himself is
another matter.
4 Above, p. 101.
S The phrase delicately veils the name of Homer, the only one of the older epic poets
to produce very long compositions. The limit suggested by Aristotle is virtually that
observed by Apollonius Rhodius; Virgil decided that he needed more room to deploy a
heroic theme.
 POETICS
further extended; for though in tragedy it is impossible to represent
many parts as at the moment of their occurrence, since one can only
represent the part on the stage and involving the actors, in epic, because
it is narrative, one can tell of many things as at the moment of their
accompli~hment, and these if they are relevant make the poem more
impressive. So it has this advantage in the direction of grandeur
and variety for the hearer and in being constructed with dissimilar
episodes. For it is similarity and the satiety it soon produces that make
tragedies fail.

2. Metre
The heroic verse was found suitable from experience. For if anyone were
to make a narrative mimesis in any other metre or in many metres, it would
be obviously unsuitable, as the heroic metre is the steadiest and most
weighty of all (which is why it is most ready to admit dialect terms and
metaphors); for the narrative mimesis has itself a sort of abundance
in comparison with the others. The iambic trimeter and trochaic tetra-
meter are metres of movement, one of the dance, the other of action. It 1460•
would be even stranger if one mixed them like Chaeremon. That is why
no one has composed a long composition except in heroic verse; instead,
nature herself teaches people to choose the metre appropriate to the com-
position in the way I said.

SECTION C. THE SPECIAL MERITS OF HOMER

Homer especially deserves praise as the only epic poet to realize what the
epic poet should do in his own person, that is, say as little as possible,
since it is not in virtue of speaking in his own person that he is a maker of
mimesis. Other pocts are personally engaged throughout, and only rarely
use mimesis; but Homer after a brief preface at once brings on a man or
woman or other characterized person, none of them characterless, but all
full of character.'
Though one ought of course to aim at surprise in tragedy too, epic is
more tolerant of the prime source of surprise, the irrational, because one is
not looking at the person doing the action. For the account of the pursuit
of Hector would seem ludicrous on the stage, with the Greeks standing

I The doctrine in this section seems at variance with the view that plain narrative is a

variety of mimesis (above, p. 93). The same sort of exaggeration of the small part played
in Homer by direct narration seems to occur in Plato, Republic 393 a (above, p. 61).
 I26 ARISTOTLE
still and not pursuing him, and Achilles refusing their help;1 but in epic
one does not notice it. And surprise gives pleasure, as we can see from the
fact that we all make additions when telling a story, and take it that we are
giving pleasure. Now it was Homer who taught other poets the proper
way to tell lies, that is, by using paralogism. For people think that if,
whenever one thing is true or happens, another thing is true or happens,
then if the second is true, the first is true or happens; but this is not so.
That is why, if the first is false, but if it were true something else must be
true or happen, one should add the second; for because we know that the
second is true, our soul falsely infers that the first is also true. The thing
in the Bath scene is an example of this. Z
One ought to prefer likely impossibilities to unconvincing possibilities
and not compose one's argument of irrational parts. Preferably there
should be no irrationality at all, and if there is it should be outside the
plot; the Oedipus, for example, has this sort of irrationality in his not
knowing how Laius died. 3 It should not be inside the plot like the mes-
sengers from the Pythian games in the Electra4 or the man who went
speechless from Tegea to Mysia in the Mysians. 5 So it is absurd to say
that otherwise the plot would have been ruined, as one should not com-
pose them to be like this in the first place. If one does put in an irration-
ality and it is apparent that it could be dealt with more rationally, it is
absurd as well. For it is clear that even the irrationalities in the Odyssey
1460b about his being put ashore 011 Ithaca would have been intolerable if
produced by a bad poet;6 but as it is Homer completely disguises the
flavour of absurdity by his other excellences. It is in the parts that involve
no action and no mimesis of character or intellect that one should be most
elaborate in verbal expression; when character and intellect are being
represented too brilliant a style often conceals them.

I Homer, Iliad 22. 131 If.

• The reference is to Homer, Odyssey 19. 220 If. where Pene10pe infers from
Odysseus' account of the clothes he wore in Crete that he had met Odysseus there. The
instance is not particularly to the point, as it involves a false inference made by one
character about another, whereas the context is talking about how the poet misleads his
hearers.
3 It may be remarked that Sophocles seems to have been aware of this irrationality,
and to have tried to palliate it by attributing to the royal house of Thebes and to the
chorus an instinctive distaste for the public discussion of unpleasant subjects (91 f.
Creon, 637 f. Jocasta, 678 f., 685 f. the chorus).
4 Sophocles, Electra 680 If. The irrationality may lie in the anachronism.
S Of Aeschylus or Sophocles.
6 Homer, Odyssey 13. II3 If.
 POETICS IZ7

SECTION D. CRITICISMS OF HOMER AND HOW TO ANSWER

THEMI

I. The bases of the answers

The next subject is questions about what is said and the answers to them.
How many species do they fall under and what are the species? If we
look at the matter as follows the answer will be clear.
(a) Since the poet produces mimeseis, just like a painter or other visual
artist, the object of his mimesis must always be one of three things, that
is, what was or is, what is commonly said and thought to be the case, and
what should be the case.
(b) The narration of these involves verbal expression, including the
use of dialect terms and metaphor and many abnormal elements of expres-
sion, as these are licences we allow to poets.
(c) Further, correctness in poetry is not the same thing as correctness
in morals,2 nor yet is it the same as correctness in any other art. Faults
that are relevant to the art of poetry itself are of two kinds, one involving
its essential nature, and the other incidental. If the poet is incapable of
representing what he set out to represent, this is an error involving the
essential nature of poetry. If the error arises through the poet's setting
out to represent something incorrectly, for example, representing a horse
with both its right legs forward,3 and this is the reason why we find
in the poem either a mistake with reference to any particular art (for
example, medicine or some other art) or, more generally, any other im-
possibility, this does not involve the essential nature of poetry.4
So one should use these principles in examining and answering the
questions raised.

2. The twelve sorts of answer

(a) ANSWERS DERIVED FROM BASIS (c)
Let us take first of all the errors that involve the art of poetry itself:
1. If the poem contains[, for instance,] an impossibility,s that is a
fault; but it is all right if the poem thereby achieves what it aims at (what
I This discussion is extremely difficult and compressed, presumably because it is

an epitome of the four books that Aristotle wrote on Homeric Problems.

2 This curt phrase is a very important part of Aristotle's answer to Plato.
3 Photography has shown that horses do sometimes employ this gait.
4 The English reader may recall the justified censure of Milton's botany in Lycidas.
5 It is important to realize that though Aristotle takes an impossibility as an example,
he could equally well have chosen something irrational, morally damaging, or self-
contradictory (below, p. 131).
 128 ARISTOTLE
it aims at I have already discussed), that is, if in this way the surprise
produced either by that particular passage or by another is more striking.
An example is the pursuit of Hector. However, if it was possible for the
aim to be attained either more or no less without any error in the art
[essentially] concerned, it is not all right; for, if possible, there should be
no error at all.
2. Secondarily, one should consider whether the error involves the
essential nature of poetry or something incidental, as it is a lesser fault
not to know that a hind has no antlers than to paint it in a way that is not
adequate to mimesis.

(b) ANSWERS DERIVED FROM BASIS (a)'

3. In answer to the charge of not being true, one can say, 'But perhaps
it is as it should be': Sophocles, for example, said that he represented
people as they should be, and Euripides as they are; this is the answer.
4. If it is neither true nor as it should be, one can reply, 'But it is what
people say'. An example of this is the treatment of the gods: for this,
perhaps, is neither a better thing to say nor a true one, but instead the
'461" facts are perhaps as Xenophanes saw them;2 but anyhow that is what
people say.
5. Again, if the reply that it is better is not open, the answer can be,
'It used to be so'; an example here is the remark about weapons, 'Their
spears stood upright on their butt-ends';3 that was the custom then, as it
still is among the Illyrians.
6. Then there is the question whether someone's statement or action
is good or-not. Here one should not look just at what is said or done in
considering whether it is good or bad, but should also take into account
the person who says or does it, asking to whom he said or did it, when,
with what, and for what motive. Was it, for instance, to produce a greater
good or avert a greater evil?

(c) ANSWERS DERIVED FROM BASIS (b)4

Some objections should be answered by considering the expressions
used:
I The first three answers here are various ways of dealing with the charge that what

is said is not true, the fourth with the charge that what is said is not as it should be,
i.e. is morally damaging.
3 Above, p. 4. 3 Homer, Iliad 10. '52.
4 The charges answered are, as one would expect, of very diverse kinds; answer (7),
for instance, copes first with a supposed irrationality, then with a supposed self-
contradiction ('How could Dolon run fast if he was deformed ?'), then with something
supposed morally damaging.
 POETICS 129

7. A dialect word may be involved: for example, in 'First it attacked

the mules',' it may be that oureas means 'sentinels', not 'mules'; and in
the case of Dolon 'whose form (eidos) was not good',Z he means he had an
ugly face, not a distorted body, since the Cretaris use eueides to mean
'having a handsome face'; again, in 'make the mixture zoroteron', this
word means, not 'stronger' with the implication that they were wine-
bibbers, but 'faster'.3
8. Some expressions are metaphorical. For example, in 'The rest of
gods and men slept the night 10ng',4 where he says at the same time
'when he looked toward the plain of Troy, he marvelled at the din of
flutes and pipes',5 'all' is used metaphorically for 'many', as totality is a
species of plurality. Similarly 'The pole star alone has no contact with the
Ocean'6 is also metaphorical; for 'alone' is put for 'best known'.
9. The answer may be to change the accents and breathing: such a
solution was given by Hippias of Thasos in suggesting the imperatival
infinitive did6men for didomen in 'and we grant him the achievement of
glory',7 and the negative ou for the partitive hou in 'part of it is rotted by
the rain'.8
10. Some may be answered by a change of punctuation, for example,
Empedocles' 'at once things became mortal which had been used to be
immortal, and things unmixed formerly mixed'.9
II. Another reply is that the expression is ambiguous, for example, in
'more of the night was past than two thirds; the third was left';1O here
pleo, 'more', is ambiguous [and may mean 'full'].
12. Some things are a matter of usage. We call wine and water 'wine',
and by analogy with this Homer says 'greaves of new.,forged tin'.lI And
we call iron-workers 'bronze-smiths', and on the.analogy of this Gany-
mede is said to pour wine for Zeus, IZ though gods do not drink wine; this
could also be explained as an analogical metaphor.

I Homer, Iliad I. 50.

• Ibid. 10. 316.

3 Ibid. 9. 202.
4 Ibid. 10. I f., 2. I f.
5 Ibid. 10. 11-13.
6 Ibid. 18. 489, Odyssey 5. 275; Aristotle gives tlris and some otlrer of tlre quotations
in this section in a much abbreviated form.
7 Homer, Iliad 21.297 and perhaps in Aristotle's text of Iliad 2. IS.
8 Ibid. 23. 328.
9 Fr. 35. 14 f. Aristotle means tlrat one should take 'formerly' witlr 'unmixed' instead
of witlr 'mixed'.
la Homer, Iliad 10. 251 ff.
l[ Ibid. 21. 592; 'tin' is used for 'bronze', an alloy containing it.
a Ibid. 20. 234.

8143591 K
 13 0 ARISTOTLE

3. Summary
In fact, whenever a word is thought to signify something involving a
contradiction, we ought to consider how many meanings the word
might have in the phrase in question; for example, in 'by it the bronze
spear was stayed',. in how many senses is it possible to take 'was stayed
by it', and is it by taking it in this sense or in that sense that one would be
146Ib going most contrary to the practice described by Glaucon, when he said
that some people make irrational assumptions about a thing and, having
passed this vote of censure all by themselves, make an inference from it
and blame the poet as if he had said what they think he did, if what he
says contradicts what they imagine. This has happened in the argument
about Icarius. They think he was a Spartan and therefore say it is absurd
that Telemachus did not meet him when he went to Sparta. But the
facts may be as stated by the Cephallenians; they say that Odysseus took
his wife from among them and that his father-in-law was Icadius, not
Icarius; so probably the criticism rests on a mistake.
Generally speaking, one should answer a charge that a thing is im-
possible by a reference to the demands of poetry (I), or to the fact that
it is better so (3) or commonly thought to be so (4). By 'the demands of
poetry' I mean that a convincing impossibility is preferable to something
unconvincing, however possible; again it is perhaps impossible for people
to be as beautiful as Zeuxis painted them, but it is better so, as the ideal
should surpass reality.
A charge of irrationality should be dealt with by reference to what is
commonly said (4). That is one answer. Another is that on some occasions
it is not irrational, as it is likely that things happen even contrary to
likelihood. 2
A charge of self-contradiction one should consider on the same basis
as refutations in argument, asking, that is, whether it is itself the same,
and related to the same thing, and used in the same sense, so that it is the
poet himself who is contradicting either what he himself says or what a
sensible man assumes.
A charge of irrationality or of representing wickedness is justified if
there is no necessity for the irrationality or moral wickedness and no
use is made of it. An example of the former is Euripides' treatment of
Aegeus [in the Medea], of the latter his treatment of Menelaus in the
Orestes.J
I Homer, Iliad 20. 272; the problem is how the layer of gold stopped the spear when

it passed the layers of bronze.

2 Above, p. II6. The figures in round brackets in this and the preceding paragraph
refer to the relevant 'answers'.
3 Above, p. IIO.
 POETICS 131

Well then, people produce censures under five heads, claiming that
things are impossible, irrational, morally dangerous, self-contradictory,
or contrary to technical correctness. I The answers to them are on the
basis of the points enumerated: they are twelve in number.

SECTION E. EPIC AND TRAGEDY

Which is better, the epic or the tragic mimesis? This is a question one 26
might raise.

I. The statement of the opponents of tragedy

Now if whichever is less vulgar is superior, and the less vulgar in any
area is what is directed towards a superior audience, it is quite obvious
that the one prepared to represent just anything is vulgar. For on the
assumption that the audience will not grasp what is meant unless the
performer underlines it, they go in for a variety of movements, like bad
flute-players rolling about if they have to represent a discus, or dragging
the chorus-leader up and down when they play Scylla. Now this is what
tragedy is like, resembling in this the later actors, as their predecessors
thought of them. For Mynniscus called Callipides an ape, meaning that
he went too far, and people thought the same about Pindarus; their 1462'
relation to their own predecessors is the same as that of tragedy as a whole
to epic. Epic, they say, is directed to a cultivated audience which does
not need gesture, tragedy to a low-class one; so if it is vulgar, it must
obviously be worse.

2. The arguments for tragedy

We may say first and foremost that this charge is directed against the art
of the performer, not that of the poet, since one can be over-elaborate
and over-emphatic in reciting epic as well, like Sosistratus, and in a
singing contest, like Mnasitheus of Opus. Moreover not all movement is
disreputable, given that not all dancing is disreputable either, but only
the movement of low-class people; this censure was made against Calli-
pi des and others, on the ground that they represent women of no repute.
Again, tragedy produces its effect even without movement, just as epic
I i.e. involving ignorance of, for instance, botany or zoology; cf. above, p. 127. An

olfence against 'the art of poetry itself' would be an indefensible example of one of the
other four.
2 The position here stated is largely that formulated by Plato: see the criticism
of mimesis in the Republic (above, pp. 61 If.).
 132 ARISTOTLE
does; for a reading I makes its nature quite clear. So ifit is superior in all
other respects, this charge will not necessarily lie. 2
Again, tragedy has everything that epic has (it can even use its metre),
and moreover has a considerable addition in the music and the spectacle,
which produce pleasure in a most vividly perceptible way.
Moreover, it has vividness when read as well as when performed.
1462b Again, it takes less space to attain the end of its mimesis; this is an ad-
vantage because what comes thick and fast gives more pleasure than some-
thing diluted by a large admixture of time-think, for instance, of the
effect if someone put Sophocles' Oedipus into as many lines as the Iliad.
Again, the mimesis of the epic poets is less unified, as we can see from the
fact that any epic mimesis provides matter for several tragedies. The
result of this is that if they do make a single plot, it either appears cur-
tailed, when it is only briefly indicated, or follows the lead of its lengthy
metre and becomes dilute; I mean here the poem made up of several
actions, in the way in which the Iliad has many such parts and also the
Odyssey, and these parts have extension in themselves (and yet these two
poems are as admirably composed as can be and are, so far as possible,
the mimesis of a single action).
If tragedy is superior in all these respects and also in artistic effective-
ness (for these arts should produce not just any pleasure, but the one
we have discussed),3 it would obviously be superior to epic as it is more
successful in attaining what it aims at.
So much for tragedy and epic, their nature, the number and differences
of their qualitative elements and quantitative parts, the reasons for success
and failure in them, and criticisms of them and how to answer them.

B. CATHARSIS
(Politics 134Ib32 If.)
In the absence of better evidence, this passage must be taken as determinant of
the meaning of catharsis in the Poetics as well; and in speaking of pity and fear
Aristotle certainly seems to have tragedy in mind rather than just music.
Catharsis therefore operates by rousing to a high pitch an emotion to which
people are, either morbidly or to some degree, prone; the intensification of
emotion produces a relief from it. Nevertheless, music is not quite on all fours
with tragedy: its place in therapeutic practice was established; more important,
though the Greeks regarded music as more 'programmatic' than we do, it is
I Cf. below, p. 143.
2 The three arguments in this paragraph are defensive; the rest state positive ad-
vantages of tragedy.
3 Cf. above, pp. 86 f. The catharsis of pity and fear could hardly stand at the point
where it does in the definition of tragedy if Aristotle thought it characteristic of epic too.
 CATHARSIS 133
still not the case that music makes 'general statements' of the kind that tragedy
makes. Music stirs the audience up, tragedy presents it with something to get
stirred up about. The physiological manifestations of the resulting emotion
may be the same, but the psychological attitude will be other; as Aristotle
remarks (De anima 403'29 ff.), one needs to know both. Some caution is there-
fore necessary in applying the notion of musical catharsis to tragedy.
We accept the classification of tunes made by some of the philosophers
when they say that some are relevant to character, some to action, and
some to high excitement,! and also that each of these has a particular
musical mode naturally related to it. We also say that we should use
music for several beneficial purposes, not just one, for example, for the
education of the young and for catharsis (the meaning of catharsis I leave
unexpressed at the moment and shall explain more clearly in the Poetics),
and thirdly for entertainment, for relaxation and relief from tense effort.
These premisses obviously imply that we should use all the modes, but
not all in the same way; instead, we should use for education those
relevant to character, while when we are listening to others performing
the best are those relevant to action and high excitement. For the emotions
that violently affect some minds are present to all, though with differences
of degree, pity and fear, for instance, and also high excitement, as this
too is a disturbance to which some are morbidly subject. We see the effect
of sacred music on the latter when they use the tunes that produce frenzy
and are thereby restored to health, finding, as it were, cure and catharsis;2
the same effect will necessarily follow in the case of those over-inclined to
pity, fear, and other emotions, in the proportion appropriate to each
individual, that is, they all get a sort of catharsis, a relief accompanied
by pleasure. Similarly, cathartic melodies give people 3 a harmless enjoy-
ment.
So we should allow the competitors who go in for the music appro-
priate to the theatre4 to use such modes and melodies. Since the audience
is diverse, some free-born and educated, others vulgar, artisans, labourers,
and so on, the latter too should have contests, shows, and the like for
relaxation. And just as their souls are warped from the natural state, so
there are deviations from the modes and high-strung melodies with smaller
intervals than normal, and what produces pleasure in any set of people
is what they find naturally akin to them; so we should allow the con-
testants to use such music to such an audience. For the education of the
I These are enthousiastika; cf. p. 146 n. 3.
2 For the homoeopathic use of music in curing madness, cf. E. R. Dodds, The Greeks
alld the Irrational, pp. 77 ff.
3 Presumably those without the morbid tendency to emotion felt by the people men-
tioned in the previous sentence.
• Such music belongs to dithyrambs and nomes as well as to the drama.
 l34 ARISTOTLE
young, however, as said above, we should use the melodies and modes
relevant to character.

C. THE ORIGINS OF AESTHETIC PLEASURE

(Rhetoric I, 137I'ZI-I37IbZS)
Again, generally speaking, understanding and wondering give pleasure, as
wondering involves a desire to understand, so that a thing that rouses
wonder is a thing in connection with which we feel desire, while under-
standing implies a restoration to a natural state ... 1 Now since both
understanding and wondering give pleasure, the things that rouse them
must also give pleasure, an example of mimesis, for instance, as painting
and statuary and poetry do. and in general any instance of successful
mimesis, even if its object does not itself give pleasure. For the pleasure
is not just pleasure in the object; instead there is an inference that 'This is
that', so that the result is our coming to understand something. The same
is true of sudden changes of fortune 2 and hairbreadth escapes from danger,
as all such things rouse wonder.3

D. PROSE STYLE
(Rhetoric 3)
Book 3 of the Rhetoric is a kind of appendix to what Aristotle regarded as his
principal contribution to the art, the analysis of rhetorical argument and of
psychology. It is more open and much more richly provided with examples than
the Poetics, and can much more easily be left to speak for itself. Our headings are
designed merely to make obvious a structure that is in any case pretty per-
spicuous, and the notes to provide a minimum of background information.

PREFACE TO THE DISCUSSION OF VERBAL EXPRESSION AND

ARRANGEMENT

I40 3b There are three things that need to be treated in discussing speaking,
1 the sources of convincing arguments, their verbal expression, and the
proper arrangement of the parts of the speech. 4 I have dealt with con-
I Cf. above, p. 86.
2 The word used is peripeteiai, but it does not seem here to have its technical sense
(above, p. 104).
3 The verb thaU11Iazeill, here translated 'wonder', can also be used of surprise; cf.
above, p. 87.
4 Standard rhetorical theory added two others, memory and delivery. Aristotle says
nothing of memory and confines to the preface of this book the brief remarks he has to
make on delivery.
 PROSE STYLE 135
vincing arguments, stating the number of their sources (three), and what
they are, and why there are no others (the reason is that in all cases people
feel conviction either because they are affected in some particular way
themselves, or because they suppose the speaker to have some particular
character, or because they are offered demonstrative proof); I have also
dealt with the proper sources of rhetorical inferences (entlzumemata),
some of which are specific and some common places. The next subject to
be discussed is expression. This is necessary because it is not enough to
know what to say; one must also say it in the right way, and this does a
good deal towards giving a speech its particular character.
The first subject that people investigated was naturally what came
naturally first, the sources of convincingness in what is being talked about;
next came how to express and arrange them; there is a third which is
powerfully effective but has not yet been seriously treated, the subject
of delivery. Even in relation to tragic acting and to epic recitation it was
a long time before it came to the fore, as the poets themselves acted their
own tragedies at first. Now clearly there is something of this kind in the
study of oratory as well as in the study of poetry, where it has been
treated by Glaucon of Teos among others. This study is about the proper
use of the voice (loud, soft, and moderate, to express individual emotions),
the proper use of accents (acute, grave, and circumflex), and the rhythms
appropriate to different things. These are the three subjects they investi-
gate, loudness, harmony, and rhythm. Generally speaking it is actors good
at delivery who win prizes in the dramatic contests, and nowadays the
actors have more influence there than the poets; the same is true of
political contests, because of the low character of the citizens.' But, as I
said, there is no treatise on the subject (naturally enough, as even the
study of verbal expression made a late appearance) and iF is thought 1404'
vulgar, and rightly so. Still, as the whole study of rhetoric is directed
towards producing belief,3 we should attend to it on the assumption that
it is necessary even if not strictly proper. Of course the proper thing is
not to bother about anything in speaking except the avoidance of giving
either pain or pleasure; for the proper thing is to use no weapons other
than the actual facts, so that everything except demonstrative proof is
superfluous. Nevertheless, it is, as I said, very effective because of the
low character of the auditor.
Now the study of verbal expression has some minimal necessity in
all forms of instruction, as it makes some difference to clarity of exposition
whether one says a thing in this way or that, though not all that much
I This is a conjecture; the manuscripts have 'of the political institutions'.
2 The reference in the rest of this paragraph is to delivery, not verbal expression.
3 That is, not knowledge.
 ARISTOTLE
difference, since all this is mere presentation and directed at the hearer;
that is why nobody tries to teach geometry in a rhetorical fashion. Now
whenever you find successful expression it will have the same effect as
delivery; there has been a little systematic discussion of it, for example
by Thrasymachus in his Eleoi. I And whereas delivery is a matter of natural
endowment rather than of technique, the study of verbal expression is
a technical one. So people who are powerful in this field also win prizes,
just like the speakers who rely on delivery; for the written speeches are
more efficacious because oftheir expression than because of their thought. 2

CHAPTER I
VERBAL EXPRESSION3

SECTION A. THE ORIGINS AND NATURE OF PROSE STYLE

Now the first originators [of styleJ were naturally the poets, as words 4
are imitative of things and the voice is the most imitative of all our organs
(hence the development of the various arts of epic recitation, acting, and
others). Since the poets, because what they said was naive, were held to
have earned their repute by the way they said it, [prose] style was at first
poetical, for instance, that of Gorgias; and even today the majority of the
uneducated think such speakers the best. This is wrong, the style of
oratory being different from that of poetry, as the facts show; for the
tragedians no longer use it in the same way either, and just as they
changed from the trochaic tetrameter to the iambic trimeter because tllis
is of all metres the one most like prose, they have also given up words
unfamiliar in ordinary usage, which were used for decorative effect by ilie
earlier tragedians and are still used by hexameter poets. So it is absurd
to imitate the poets, when they themselves no longer follow the former
style. Clearly then we need not concern ourselves in detail with every

I Presumably a work on the production of pathetic effects.

2 The paragraph is rather incoherent, and bears some signs of incomplete revision;
it seems, for instance, to have two starting-points ('Now the study .. .' and 'Now when-
ever .. .'). Cope's note, which has misled translators, suggests that the subject of the
second sentence is 'oratorical delivery' and that the word here translated 'delivery'
means 'acting'; but this interpretation imports even more confusion into the paragraph.
3 The word lexis is the active abstract noun derived from legein 'to speak'. In the
following discussion it is sometimes translated 'verbal expression' or just 'expression',
sometimes 'style', and occasionally 'the way they said them' or some such phrase.
4 The word used is onomata 'names', which in its stricter use (as in c. 2 or on p. I 18
in the Poetics) means 'nouns and adjectives'.
 PROSE STYLE 137
aspect of style, but only with what belongs to the sort of style we mean;
the other has been discussed in the Poetics.
So much for that inquiry. Now let us define the excellence of prose 1404b
style as being clear (for as speech indicates something, it will not do its 2
job if it does not make that thing clear) and neither mean nor too elevated
for its purpose, but appropriate;! for a poetical style is perhaps not mean,
but it is not appropriate to prose. N:ow among nouns and verbs those
that produce clarity are the standard ones (kuria), whereas the others
described in the Poetics 2 make the style decorated and not mean; departure
from the ordinary makes it look more dignified, as men have the same
reaction to style as they do when comparing strangers with fellow citizens.
That is why one should make one's style something out of the ordinary;
men feel wonder at what is not to hand, and what rouses wonder gives
pleasure. 3 Now in verse many things produce this effect and in verse they
are suitable, because the subject-matter and the persons involved are
more out of the ordinary, but prose has much more restricted resources,
as its theme is less grand. (Even in poetry it would be inappropriate to
put fine language into the mouth of a slave or a boy or to use it of trivial
subjects; even there propriety demands a lowering as well as a heightening
of tone.) That is why one should not produce this effect obviously, but
should give the impression that one is speaking naturally, not artificially.
Naturalness is convincing, artificiality the reverse; people think they are
being got at and take offence, as they do at blended wines. One should
aim at the effect attained by Theodorus' voice in comparison with other
actors'; his seems to belong to the character, theirs to be imposed on iu
Artifice is successfully concealed when one carefully chooses words from
ordinary speech and puts them together; this Euripides does and he was
the first to show how. s

SECTION B. THE RESOURCES OF PROSE STYLE

Their nature and proper use

I.

The components of a speech are nouns and verbs, and the nouns are
classifiable in the way investigated in the Poetics. Of the classes there
I Contrast the excellence of poetic style 'to be clear and not mean' (p. 12I).
2 Cf. pp. II9 If. 3 Cf. p. I34.
4 Cf. Proust on the acting of Berma : 'I could not even, as I could with her companions,
distinguish in her diction and in her playing intelligent intonations, beautiful gestures.
I listened to her as though I were reading PhUre, or as though Phaedra herself had at
that moment uttered the words that I was hearing, without its appearing that Berma's
talent had added anything at all to them.'
5 Cf. 'Longinus', below, p. 498.
 ARISTOTLE
mentioned, there are very few times or places where it is right to use
dialect words, compounds, and neologisms (I shall say where later, and the
reason has already been given: they involve too great a departure from
the appropriate); the only ones that are really useful for prose are standard
proper words and metaphor. This is shown by the fact that they are the
only ones everybody uses; everyone talks in metaphor and standard
proper words, so that clearly if one does this well, the result will be out
of the ordinary and yet not obvious, and it will be clear. And this is what
we said was excellence in oratorical style. I
140Sa The definition of each of these, the enumeration of the species of
3 metaphor, and the statement that the latter is most effective both in
poetry and in prose, is to be found, as I said, in the Poetics; one should
take all the more pains with metaphors in prose, because it has fewer
resources than verse. It is metaphor more than anything that provides
clarity, pleasure, and the unusual; moreover one cannot learn metaphor
from anyone else. One's use both of epithets2 and of metaphors should be
appropriate. This is secured by using the right analogy; otherwise it will
seem inappropriate, as opposites show up most when juxtaposed. Instead,
one should consider, given that a scarIet cloak suits a youth, what suits
an old man (it is not the same dress), and if one wants to make something
look finer, one should derive one's metaphor from what is best in the
same genus, and if one intends blame, from the worse. For instance, since
opposites belong to the same genus, to say that a beggar is praying or
that someone praying is begging, both being varieties of requesting, is
doing what I describe. Another instance is Iphicrates' calling CaIIias a
mendicant priest instead of a torch-carrier, to which CaIIias rejoined that
Iphicrates could not have been initiated, as otherwise he would have called
him a torch-carrier, not a mendicant priest (both offices are religious,
but one is honourable, the other disreputable). Similarly someone called
actors Dionysus' hangers-on, while they refer to themselves as artists
(both of these are metaphors, one derogatory, the other the reverse), and
pirates nowadays call themselves 'providers'. That is why one can say
that a wrongdoer errs and the man in error does wrong, and use both
'takes' and 'plunders' of a thief. But Telephus' phrase in Euripides,
lord of the oar, landing in Mysia,3
I After this the manuscripts add: 'The sophist can use homonyms, as these are his

instruments in cheating, the poet synonyms, I mean words both standard and synony-
mous, like poreuesthai and badizein; both these are standard and synonymous with each
other' (they mean 'go'). This sentence is pointless in the context, laboured and tiresome
in expression, and introduces a different classification from the one in the Poetics. It is
tempting to regard it as an interpolation.
2 Cf. below, p. I39 n. 3. 3 Fr. 705.
 PROSE STYLE 139
is inappropriate because 'lord' is too grand for the subject; so the artifice is
not concealed. There is also a fault in the syllables, if they do not express
an agreeable sound; for instance, Dionysius Chalcus in his elegies calls
poetry 'CalIiope's scream' because both are vocal sounds, but the metaphor
is a bad one because of the non-significant sounds.!
Moreover metaphors should not be far-fetched; instead one should
derive them from things of the same genus or species so as to give to
things that have no name one that will be obviously akin as soon as it is
said, as in the celebrated riddle
I saw a man weld bronze on a man with fire; 140Sb

what is happening has no name, but both are a sort of application and
so he used 'welding' of the application of the CUp.2 Generally indeed one
can derive good metaphors from good riddles, as metaphors do pose
riddles, so that the metaphor [borrowed from a riddle] is clearly successful.
The sources from which one derives metaphors should also be beautiful.
Beauty of words depends partly, as Licymnius says, on their sounds or
on the object signified, and so does ugliness. There is also a third possi-
bility, which answers a sophistic argument: it is not the case that, as
Bryson says, nobody uses indecent words since the meaning is the same
whether you say this or that; this is false, because one word is more
standard than another and more like the object and more akin, by virtue
of putting the thing spoken of before one's eyes. Moreover the thing
is not regarded in the same light when one indicates it by this word rather
than that, so that in this respect too one must take one word to be more
beautiful or uglier than the other; both of them signifY the beautiful or
ugly thing, but not qua beautiful or ugly, or if they do, they express the
beauty or ugliness in greater or less degree. One must then derive meta-
phors from sources that are beautiful either because of their sound or
because of what they can signify or because of the appeal to the eyes or
some other sense. It makes a difference whether one says 'rosy-fingered
dawn' in preference to 'scarlet-fingered' or, worse still, 'red-fingered'.
Similarly in the case of epithets,3 the qualities attributed can be derived
from a bad or ugly source, like 'matricide', or from a nobler one, like
'father's avenger';4 so too Simonides, when offered a small fee by the
victor in the mule-race, refused to write a poem on the ground that he
felt distaste at writing for mules, but when given an acceptable fee, wrote
Hail, daughters of the tempest-footed mares,
I The text is corrupt and the drift of the second criticism uncertain.
2 The reference is to medical 'cupping'. Cf. below, p. 192.
3 Epithets are 'accessory expressions'; the word covers genitival and other qualifica-
tions as well as adjectives; cf. the examples on pp. 140 f. below.
4 The examples are from Eur. Orestes IS87-8.
 ARISTOTLE
though they were of course the asses' daughters tOO.I One can also use
diminutives [for the same purpose]; a diminutive is what diminishes
both evil and good, as, for instance, in Aristophanes' jests in the Babylon-
ians, where he uses diminutive forms for 'gold-piece', 'cloak', 'abuse',
and 'disease'. One should be careful and keep an eye on the right pro-
portion in both [epithets and diminutives].

2. Misuse of stylistic resources

3 Bathetic lapses 2 are found in four stylistic features:
(i) The first is in the use of compounds, like Lycophron's 'many-
countenanced heaven of high-peaked earth' and 'narrow-pathed shore',
or Gorgias' 'beggarly-mu se-flatterers false-swearing against one true-
1406" swearing', or Alcidamas' 'his soul swelling with wrath, fire-coloured his
visage' and his saying he had thought their zeal would be 'achievement-
bringing', and making persuasion in speeches 'achievement-bringing',
and the sea's foundation 'indigo-coloured'; all these appear poetical
because of the compounding.
(ii) The second reason for failure is the use of dialect words .. .J
(iii) A third is in the use of epithets that are too long, unseasonable, or
over-frequent; though it is appropriate in poetry to talk of 'white milk',
some things of this kind are inappropriate in prose, while others, if used
to satiety, convict the work of being manifestly poetry. For though one
should use the latter kind because they transform the usual and make the
style out of the ordinary, one should aim at a mean since the result can
be much worse than speaking haphazard; the latter misses excellence,
but the former can incur failure. That is why Alcidamas' works fall flat;
for he uses his epithets not as a seasoning but as the main dish, since
they are so frequent, grandiose, and obtrusive. For example, he says not
'sweat' but 'damp sweat', not 'to the Isthmia' but 'to the gathering at the
Isthmia', not 'laws' but 'laws that are kings of cities', not 'at a run' but
'with his soul's impulse arace', and 'taking over' not 'learning's shrine'
but 'nature's shrine of learning', and 'his soul's anxiety glowering', and
'artificer' not 'of favour' but 'of a whole people's favour', and 'dispenser
of the hearers' pleasure', and not 'with branches' but 'with the branches
I The point is clearer in Greek, where the standard term for mules is 'half-asses'.
2 Psuchra. 'Bathos' is not an ancient critical term, but belongs to the English eighteenth
century (cf. 'Longinus' 4, below, pp. 464 f.). The concept however is very like thatwhiclt
the Greeks expressed by psuchros and the Romans by 'frigidus' and which is often trans-
lated 'frigid' (cf. Demetrius II4, below, p. 194). The term is used of things that 'fall
flat', 'do not come off', like bad jokes or, as here, unsuccessful attempts at elevation.
3 Aristotle gives several examples of the use in prose of words belonging to high
poetry. Cf. the discussion in the Poetics, above, pp. 121 f.
 PROSE STYLE
of the wood he concealed ...', and 'he clothed' not 'his body' but 'his
body's shame', and 'the desire of his soul counter-imitative' (this is com-
pound as well as an epithet, so that the result is a piece of poetry), and
'the excess of depravity so beyond all bounds'. So by speaking in poetical
style such people produce ridiculous and bathetic results because of the
lack of propriety, while their garrulousness makes for lack of clarity; for
whenever a speaker piles more on someone who already understands, he
destroys the clarity of his expression by obscuring it. In ordinary life
people use compounds when the thing referred to has no name and the
compounding is easy, as in chronotribein, 'passing time'; but if this is done I406b
much, the result is altogether poetical. That is why the compounded
style is most useful to dithyrambic poets, as they make a great deal of
din, dialect words to hexameter poets, as the epic is grand and domineer-
ing, and metaphor to iambic poets (it is metaphor that they use nowadays,
as I said before).!
(iv) A fourth kind of failure is in metaphor. Metaphors, too, can be
inappropriate, some because they are ludicrous (comic poets also use
metaphors), some because they are too grand and tragic; they are also
unclear if far-fetched, like Gorgias' 'affairs pale and bloodless', 'you
sowed this in baseness and reaped it in misery' (this is too poetical). The
same is true of Alcidamas' calling philosophy 'an outpost to assail the
law' and the Odyssey 'a fair mirror of human life' and 'not employing any
such toy in his poetry'; all these are unconvincing for the reasons given.
But Gorgias' remark to the swallow when she flew overhead and dropped
on him is in fine tragic style; he said 'Shame, Philomela!' It was no dis-
grace to a bird to do it, but it would be shocking if a girl did. There is
elegance in his reproaching her by calling her what she was, not what she is.

3. Eikones 2
The eikon 3 is also a metaphor, as there is only a slight difference; for when 4
he says 'Like a lion he leapt upon him' it is an eikon, while 'A lion, he
leapt upon him' is a metaphor (because both are brave he 4 metaphorically
called Achilles a lion). The eikon can be used in prose, but only rarely, as
I Cf. above, p. 122.
2 One would expect this section to come earlier, as part of the discussion of the
resources of prose, not to follow the treatment of their misuse.
3 Conventionally rendered 'simile', which suits the initial description well enough.
But the statement that the eikiin is a possible metaphor if used without the reason for the
comparison being stated suggests a more elaborate form, which appears in many of the
examples, 'X is like Y; forY is A and so is X'. But cf. M. H. McCall, Ancient Rhetorical
Theories of Simile and Comparison (Harvard, 1969), pp. 32 If.
4 Homer (Iliad 22. 164).
 ARISTOTLE
it is poetical. They should be derived from the same sources as metaphors,
since they are really metaphors, apart from the difference mentioned.
An example of an eikon is Androtion's remark against Idrieus, 'He is
like unchained curs; they rush at people and bite, and Idrieus grew
tyrannical once freed from his chains'. There is also Theodamas' com-
parison of Archidamus to a Euxenus ignorant of geometry, which is
analogical, as Euxenus will be an Archidamus with knowledge of geo-
metry. So too in Plato's Republic the comparison of those who strip the
dead with curs that bite the stone but do not touch the thrower, and of the
people in a democracy with a sturdy but rather deaf ship's captain, and
140 7a of the poets' verses with those who have the bloom of youth without
beauty; for when the boys have lost their bloom or the verses are broken
up, they no longer look the same.! And Pericles' saying of the Samians
'They are like children, who wail as they take the sop', and of the Boeotians
'They are like holm-oaks; just as the oaks are cut down by themselves,
the Boeotians are ruined by intestine wars'.2 And Demosthenes' saying
of the people that they were like sea-sick passengers. 3 And Democrates'
comparison of politicians with nurses who swallow the sop they chew,
and smear the baby with the spittle. 4 And Antisthenes' comparison of the
thin Cephisodotus with frankincense, because he gave pleasure by
wasting away. One can produce all these either as eikones or as metaphors;
so any such comparisons that have won favour when stated as metaphors
will clearly be [possible] eikones as well, and eikones [possible] metaphors
if used without the reason being given. One should always give the
analogical metaphor reciprocity, so that it is applicable to either of the
things of the same genus; for instance, if the cup is Dionysus' shield,
it is also appropriate for the shield to be called Ares' cup.s
5 So much for the elements of which a speech is composed.

SECTION C. THE ESSENTIAL CHARACTERISTICS AND VIRTUES

OF PROSE STYLE6

I. Correctness
The first requirement of style is speaking pure Greek. This consists in
five things:
I PI. Rep. 469 d, 488 a, 601 b; Aristotle has misremembered the second example.
2 The comparison involves an ironical twist, as the first statement is like our 'They are
real he;trt-of-oak', and the eikon therefore seems laudatory at first, and then turns out
not to be.
3 If the Demosthenes referred to is the orator, this is Aristotle's only reference to him.
4 Nurses chewed the baby's food to soften it. 5 Cf. above, p. 120.
6 Cf. the statement (derived from Theophrastus) of the four requirements of prose
style in Cicero, below, p. 241.
 PROSE STYLE 143

(i) The first is in the use of particles, giving them in sequence in their
natural order, in the way some of them require; for instance, 'Now .. .'
and 'Now I .. .' require 'but .. .' and 'but he .. .'1 One should duly
produce the second while the first is still in mind, and nol: append it at
too great a distance, nor put another particle before the one needed, as
this is very rarely suitable. 'Now I, when he had spoken (for Cleon came
with both demands and entreaties), set off with them as company.' Here
many particles are interpolated before the 'but he .. .' demanded by the
'Now I .. .'; if there is a long interval before the 'set off', the result is
unclear.2 One element, then, is the correct use of particles.
(ii) The second is the use of particular terms and not inclusive ones.
(iii) The third is the use of unambiguous terms, unless of course one
intends the opposite effect, as people do when they have nothing to say,
but pretend they have; such persons do use ambiguous expressions in
verse, Empedocles, for example. This long circumlocution imposes on
the hearers, who are affected in the same way as the majority are by
fortune-tellers; when they speak ambiguously, people nod solemn assent
('Croesus by crossing the Halys will destroy a great empire'). And because 1407b
it involves less error fortune-tellers use generic descriptions of what is
being discussed; one would be more likely to succeed in playing 'odd and
even' if one said 'Odd' or 'Even' and not how many the other player had,
and similarly with saying an event will occur rather than when it will
occur; that is why oracle-mongers never define the when. All these are
akin to one another, so that, unless for some such purpose, one should
avoid them.
(iv) The fourth is the correct use of Protagoras' classification of nouns
into masculine, feminine, and things; these must also properly and duly
correspond.
(v) The fifth is the correct use of number.3

2. Clarity
Generally speaking, a written work should be easy to read aloud4 and to
deliver, which is really the same thing. This is impaired by a superfluity
[ The "Greek men . .. de: the commonest particles to indicate an adversative relation-
ship between two statements.
• If the text is right, Aristode himself has not succeeded in making it clear whether he
approves or disapproves of the example he has constructed. Perhaps he wrote: 'Here
not many ... ; but if ... '
3 Aristode gives examples of the last two classes, which there is no point in translating
into an uninflecte'\.language.
4 The first person of whom we are told cxplicidy that he read without sound is
St. Ambrose (Aug. Con! 6. 3).
 144 ARISTOTLE
of particles or in works not easy to pWlctuate, like those of Heraclitus.
Punctuating Heraclitus is hard work because it is not clear whether some-
thing is to be taken with what precedes or what follows, as, for example,
at the beginning of his treatise, where he says, 'This truth which is constant
ever misWlderstood by men' and it is not clear to which phrase one should
attach the 'ever'. Another thing that produces solecism is not giving the
due accompaniment, I mean if you link [to two terms] one that does not
suit both; for instance, 'seeing' is not appropriate to both sOWld and
colour, while 'perceiving' is. It is also unclear if you do not make a full
statement beforehand when you mean to interpolate many things in
between, like saying 'I intended after a discussion with him about this
and that and in these terms to set out', rather than 'I intended to set out
after a discussion with him', and then 'This and that took place and in
these terms'. I

3. Pomp2
6 Pomp of style is aided by the following means:
(i) The use of a definition instead of a word, saying, for instance, not
'circle' but 'the surface with a circumference equidistant from its centre';
concision results from the opposite, using a word instead of a definition.
(ii) When something is ugly or lacking in propriety, then if the ugliness
is in the definition one should use the word, if in the word use the
definition.
(iii) Representing things by metaphor and epithets, while taking care
to avoid the poetical.
(iv) Using the plural for the singular, as the poets do; for even when
there is only one harbour they still say 'to the Achaean harbours' and
'Here are the many-leaved folds of the tablet'.3
(v) Not combining [two words with one article], but giving each its
own ...4; for concision one should do the opposite.
(vi) Using particle linkings; for concision one should not use particles,
but not write asyndetically either. Examples are 'having gone and had a
1408a discussion', 'having gone I had a discussion'.s
(vii) One can also use Antimachus' trick of describing a thing by
qualities it does not have (so he says of Teumessus 'There is a little
windless hill'); this gives limitless possibilities of amplification. One can
also use this 'It does not have so and so' of things good and bad, ID
I The 'and then' is normally taken to be part of the example.

• Onkos. 3 Eur. [ph. Taur. 727.

• Aristotle gives a simple example of a common idiom.
S It is far from clear what these are examples of.
 PROSE STYLE 145
whichever direction it is serviceable; this is the source of the poetical
phrases like 'stringless' or 'lyreless music'. The poets give things such
privative epithets, a practice that finds favour when used in analogical
metaphors, saying, for instance, that the trumpet gives forth a lyreless
music.

4. Propriety
There are three conditions for propriety: that the style be capable of 7
expressing emotion and of expressing character, and that it be propor-
tioned to its subject-matter. Proportion consists in not talking in an
off-hand way about subjects that require pomp nor in a grand style about
trivial subjects, and in not attaching a decorative epithet to a trivial word;
otherwise the result seems a piece of comedy as in Cleophon, whose
expression in some cases was very much in the style of 'Lady fig'.
By 'capable of expressing emotion', I mean that if an outrage is being
described the style should be that of an angry man, if impious and shame-
ful acts, that of a person feeling disgust and reluctant even to describe them,
if praiseworthy, that one should speak admiringly, if pitiable, miserably
and so on. A fact is made more credible by the style that belongs to it;
for our mind assumes that a man is speaking with genuine feeling and
falsely infers that the feeling is roused by the events described, so that
people think the facts are what the speaker says, even if they are not.
Moreover the hearer always feels in sympathy with the person who
expresses emotion, even if he says nothing of substance; that is why
many speakers try to stun the audience with din.
One can express character too by this indication by signs, when the
suitable indication goes with the relevant class and disposition. By 'class'
here I mean, for example, determination by age or sex or nationality,
while I confine 'disposition' to those that make us say that in his life a
man has such and such a character; of course not every disposition helps
to characterize a life. Well then, if a speaker uses the words adapted to
his disposition he will express his character; a rustic and an educated man
would not use the same terms or in the same way.
The hearers are also affected by the trick that the speech-writers use
ad nauseam, 'Who does not know?' and 'Everyone knows'. The hearer
assents in shame, so that he can share this universal knowledge.
Seasonable and unseasonable use is something common to all the 1408b
kinds. The cure for every excess is the one constantly used, of reproaching
oneself; this is thought to be all right, since the speaker is aware of what
he is doing. Moreover one should not use all the elements of a proportion
at once, as the hearer is less aware of what is happening if one does not;
8143591 L
 146 ARISTOTLE

I mean, for example, if the words are harsh, you should not also employ
a voice and a facial expression to suit, as otherwise it is obvious what is
going on in each case. But if one is one thing and ONe another, this secures
the same effect without being obvious. So if one says soft things in a harsh
tone and harsh ones softly, it is unconvincing.!
Compound words and plurality of epithets and terms out of the ordinary
best suit the speaker who is expressing emotion; one forgives an angry
man for saying that an evil is 'heaven-high' or 'monstrous',2 and also a
speaker who already has a grip on his audience and has filled them with
high excitement 3 by encomium or invective or anger or love, as Isocrates
too does in the Panegyricus at the end ... 4 People do voice such expressions
when excited, so that an audience in the same state will obviously find
them acceptable. That is why I said they suit poetry, as it involves such
high excitement. One should use them therefore either in the circum-
stances described or ironically, as Gorgias did or as in the Phaedrus. 5

SECTION D. PROSE RHYTHM

8 The form of expression should be neither metrical nor unrhythmical.

The former is unconvincing because it seems artificial, and it is also
distracting because it makes one attend to the similarity and wonder when
it will recur, just as children anticipate the answer to the herald's cry
'Whom does the freedman choose as his patron?' with 'Cleon'. On the
other hand, the unrhythmical is indefinite, whereas the form should be
defined, though not metrically, because the indefinite gives no pleasure
and is hard to recognize. In every case it is number that gives definition,
and number in the context of verbal expression is rhythm, of which
verses (metra) are sections. That is why a speech should have rhythm,
though not metre, as that would make it a piece of poetry. The rhythm
moreover should not be too precise, and this is achieved by restricting
its use.
Of the various rhythms the dactylic is grand but lacks the conversa-
tional tone, while the iambic is the rhythm of ordinary speech (which is
why in conversation people utter more iambic trimeters than any other
I So the manuscripts: but interpretation is difficult. Thurot conjectured 'convincing',

but the advice still seems quaint.

2 The Greek word is one of the dialect terms censured on p. 140 above.

3 This idea is expressed by the verb enthousiazein, which in earlier writers is used of
divinely inspired excitement, as in the Ion, pp. 42 If. above. In Aristotle the word has no
such religious overtones and seems quite conventional.
4 Aristotle misquote~ some elevated phrases.
5 231 d, 241 e.
 PROSE STYLE 147

metre), whereas onc needs grandeur and an effect higher than usual. The
trochaic is too appropriate to the comic dance, as one can see from the
tetrameter, which is a bustling rhythm. So we are left with the paean, 1409'
which people have used from the time of Thrasymachus, though they
were not able to describe it. The paean is a third rhythm, related to those
mentioned, as it has the ratio of 3: 2, while of the others the dactylic is
I : I, the iambic and trochaic 2: I; It: lis related to these and is the ratio
of the paean.' So the others should be left alone for the reasons given
and also because they have fixed verse forms,z while the paean should be
accepted, as it is the only one of the rhythms mentioned that has no fixed
verse form and is therefore least obvious. Now at the moment people
use the same form of paean both at the beginning of a sentence and at
the end, but the end should be different from the beginning. There are
two kinds of paean that are opposites, and one of them is suitable at the
beginning, where people do in fact use it; this is the one with its first
syllable long and the other three short. 3 The reverse form is that which
starts with three shorts and ends with a long. 3 This makes a suitable end,
as a short ending, being incomplete, makes the rhythm look maimed.
Instead one should cut the sentence off with a long and make the ending
clear not with the scribe's help, using a punctuation mark, but by means
of the rhythm. 4
So much for the subject of the necessity to prose of agreeable rhythm,
and what rhythms are agreeable and how they are constructed.

SECTION E. THE LOOSE AND THE PERIODIC STYLESs

The style will inevitably be either strung together (eiromene) and made
one by connection, like the preludes in dithyrambs, or neatly ended like
the antistrophes of the ancient choral lyrists. The strung-together style
I In measuring the quantity of syllables, a long syllable is taken to be equivalent to

two shorts; thus the long of the dactylic or anapaestic foot (-vv, vv-) exactly balances
the two shorts, that is, they are in a I : I ratio, while the iambic and trochaic (y -, - y)
have a I : 2 or 2 : I ratio. The long of the paean (- v vv, v v v -) is 2 to its 3 short
syllables, which gives a ratio midway between the I : 1 of the dactyl and the 2 : 1 of the
iambic and trochaic.
2 i.e. they are organized in trimeters, tetrameters, hexameters, and so on.

3 We omit Aristotle's examples.

• Whether or not for Aristotle's mathematical reason, ancient prose did increasingly
take as its basic rhythmical unit the cretic(-v-), of which the paeans are resolved forms.
There is not however much sign that writers took to heart the advice to begin with a
first paean and end with a fourth, though there is again an increasing dislike for a short
syllable ending.
, Cf. Demetrius 1 If., below, p. 173.
 148 ARISTOTLE
is the ancient one l (it was universally practised formerly, but rarely
nowadays); by 'strung-together' I mean that the sentence has no end
prescribed by its own structure, unless the thing being talked of is finished
with. It is disagreeable because of its lack of definition, as everyone wants
to have the end in view. That is why runners only pant hard and relax
when they pass the goal; they do not flag earlier because they can see the
end in front of them. Such, then, is the strung-together style.
By 'neatly-ended' I mean the periodic style. By 'period' I mean an
expression that has a beginning and end determined by its own structure
1409b and a length that can be seen as a whole. This gives pleasure and is easy to
grasp. It gives pleasure because it is the opposite of the indefinite and
because the hearer constantly thinks that he has got hold of something
and that something has been made definite for him, whereas not being
able to foresee or finish something off is disagreeable; it is easy to grasp
because it is easily remembered, the reason for this being that the periodic
style involves number, which is of all things the easiest to remember.
That is why everyone can remember verses better than pell-mell phrases;
verses have number to measure them. The period should also be com-
pleted along with the thought and not cut up like Sophocles' lines 2-
This land is Calydon. Of Pelops' isle ...
Such a division can lead one to suppose what is contrary to fact, in this
case, for example, that Calydon is in the Peloponnese.
The period is of two kinds, that composed of cola and the simple one.
By 'that composed of cola' I mean the one that is completely finished off
and has its parts distinct and can be uttered without exhausting the breath,
not with a stop at an arbitrary point as in the period cited, but as a whole
(by 'c%n' I mean one of the two parts of the period), while by 'simple' I
mean that which has only one c%n. Both the cOla and the periods should
be neither curtailed nor over-long. Shortness makes the hearer often
stumble; it is inevitable, when he is still making for a distant point and
for the limit that he defines for himself and then is pulled into reverse
because the c%n or period comes to an end, that he should as it were stumble
because of the check. Excessive length on the other hand makes him feel left
I The manuscripts add 'This is the setting-forth of the inquiries of Herodotus of

Thurii', a misquotation of the opening phrase ofHerodotus, which disrupts the sentence
and is not even an example of the 'strung-together' style, though that is frequent in
Herodotus.
• Actually Euripides (fr. 515). The next line may be rendered:
The adverse shore confronts its fertile plains.
But the two lines could also be translated:
This land is Calydon in Pe1ops' isle,
With fertile plains upon the ad verse shore.
 PROSE STYLE 149
behind, just as those who only turn when they have passed the limit
leave behind the people they are walking with; similarly periods that are
too long become a speech in themselves and are like a dithyrambic
prelude. The result is like what Democritus of Chios mocked at in
Melanippides, who composed preludes instead of antistrophic works:

In working woe to another a man works woe to himself;

and a long trailing prelude is worst for the poet's self.!

One can say the same of periods with over-long cola. Those where the
cola are too short are not periods at all; and consequently they send
the hearer flying headlong.
The expression composed of cola has two species, the divided and the
antithetical; an example of a divided one is 'I have often marvelled at the
men by whom assemblies are constituted and athletic games instituted'; aI4IO
while the antithetical is that in which in the pair of clauses either opposite
answers opposite or one word serves as a bridge between the opposites.
Examples are: 'They benefited both those who stayed at home and those
who went out; for the latter they acquired more than they had at home,
for the former they left their possessions at home adequate' (staying at
home is opposed to going out, more to adequate); 'so that both those who
needed money and those who wanted enjoyment' (enjoyment is opposed
to acquisition). And again: 'It often happens in these affairs that the sen-
sible fail and the senseless succeed', 'Then and there they were deemed
worthy of the prize of valour, and not long after they acquired the empire
of the sea', 'to sail over the land, to march over the sea, by bridging the
Hellespont and channelling through Athos', 'and though by nature they
are citizens, by law they are deprived of citizenship', 'some of them
wretchedly perished, some were disgracefully saved', 'and as private citizens
to use barbarians as slaves, but as a state allow many of their allies to be
enslaved [to barbarians]" 'either to have in life or to leave at death'.2 And
what someone said in court againstPitholaus and Lycophron: 'while at home
they sold you, and when they came to you they bought you'. All these
produce the effect described. Such a form of expression gives pleasure
because opposites are easiest to recognize (and even easier when put
beside each other), and because it is like a piece of reasoning; for refuta-
tion involves bringing together opposite conclusions. 3

I A parody of Hesiod, Works and Days z6S f.

2 The above examples in this paragraph are all quoIations or misquotations from
Isocrates' Panegyr;cus.
3 Or, 'refuIation involves inferring opposite conclusions'. Aristotle seems to be refer-
ring to the form of refuIation in which a respondent can be shown that his premisses
 ARISTOTLE
[There follows a short section, mainly made up of examples, on parjsosjs (equal
cola) and similar figures: we resume where the next topic begins.]

SECTION F. WIT 1

l.pOb Now that we have got clear descriptions of all this, the next thing to
10 discuss is the source of witty expressions that are well thought of. Though
producing them is a task for the person of natural talent or practised skill,
showing how to is a proper subject for this inquiry. So let us say what
they are and list them, taking this as our starting-point: anybody natur-
ally enjoys understanding something easily,Z and as words signifY some-
thing those that produce understanding in us give most pleasure. Now
as we are unfamiliar with dialect words and know standard terms already,
it is metaphor that most produces this effect; for when he3 calls old age
stubble, he makes us understand and realize something via their generic
similarity, as both are past their prime. The poets' eikones4 also produce
the same effect, and therefore, when successful, give an impression of wit.
The eikOn, as I said before, is a metaphor with a difference in the way of
setting it out; that is why it gives less pleasure, because it is more long-
winded, and it does not say that this is that, so that our soul does not
even inquire whether it is. So necessarily wit will be found in expressions
and inferences that produce immediate understanding. That is why
people think nothing of superficial inferences (those, I mean, that are
obvious to anybody and are found without investigation), nor of those
that we do not understand when they are expressed, but admire those
whose force we realize the moment they are uttered, even though we had
no notion of them before, or those where the understanding lags only a
little behind; this produces a sort of sudden realization which is absent
in the other two cases. Well then, so far as the sense is concerned, people
think well of the sort of inferences described. In the expression of them a
are in conflict by deriving from them directly contradictory conclusions, rather than a
situation where one speaker says A and the other arrives at the conclusion not-A.
• asteia, in Latin urbane dicta. 'Wit' is unfortunately devalued in modern English;
it is used here in the hope that its older usage will carry over. The concept that Aristotle is
deploying is very like 'wit' in the two aspects that Dr. Johnson suggests in the Lift of
Cowley: 'If by a more noble and more adequate conception that be considered as wit
which is at once natural and new, that which, though not obvious, is, upon its first
production, acknowledged to be just; if it be that which he that never found it wonders
how he missed ... But wit, abstracted from its effects upon the hearer, may be more
rigorously and philosophically considered as a kind of diseordia coneors; a combination
of dissimilar images, or discovery of occult resemblances in things apparently unlike.'
• O. the discussion on p. 134 above.
3 Homer (Od. 14.214); cf. p. 141, n. 4 above.
• Cf. above pp. 141 f.
 PROSE STYLE 151

similar effect is produced by the form of the statement, if it is put anti-

thetically, as in 'and they thought a peace all others shared a war directed
against their own interests'l (war is opposed to peace), and also by the
individual words if they involve metaphor, and a metaphor neither far-
fetched, as that makes it hard to see the two things together, nor super-
ficial, as that leaves us unaffected. The expression should also bring things
before our eyes,2 as we should see them as happening rather than likely
to happen. So one should aim at these three things, antithesis, metaphor,
[an impression of] activity.
Of the four kinds of metaphor3 the most highly thought of is the ana- l41l a
logical. So Pericles said that the young men lost in the war had vanished
from the city as if one were to take the spring from the year. Leptines
said of the Spartans, that they would not let Greece lose one of her two
eyes. Cephisodotus, when Chares was eager to pass his audit4 about the
Olynthian war, complained that he was choking the people to suffocation
in trying to pass his audit. And when urging the Athenians to take pro-
visions and proceed to Euboea, he said they should march to Miltiades'
decree. s Iphicrates, when the Athenians made a truce with Epidaurus
and the coastal area, complained that they had filched the travel-rations
of the war. Pitholaus called the state-trireme the people's cudgel, and
Sestos the corn-booth of the Piraeus. Pericles urged them to remove
Aegina, the eyesore of the Piraeus. Moerocles said he was no worse than
a prominent citizen he named, as the latter played the scoundrel at
33 per cent, while he himself was content with IO. And Anaxandrides'
line about daughters being past the time for marriage:
My girls are in arrears for marriage now.
And Polyeuctus' phrase of a paralytic called Speusippus, that he could
not keep quiet though ill luck had locked him in a pillory of disease. And
Cephisodotus called the warships gaily painted millstones, and the Cynic6
said the cookshops were the mess-halls of Athens.' And Aesion that they
had poured the city down the drain of Sicily; this is both metaphorical
and vivid. And 'so that all Greece cried out' is also a kind of metaphor
and vivid. And as Cephisodotus urged them to beware of meeting in too
I Isocrates, Phi/ippus 73.
2 The phrase 'before our eyes' develops some curious syntactic usages later in the
book and will sometimes be translated 'vividness' or 'vivid presentation'.
1 Cf. above, pp. 1I9 f.
4 Athenian magistrates had to submit an account of their tenure of oftlce and persuade
the people to accept it.
S As at the time of Marathon. One should perhaps accept Victorius's conjecture 'to
proceed to Euboea and get their provisions there'.
6 Diogenes. 7 Mess-halls were a Spartan institution.
 152 ARISTOTLE
many mobs} And Isocrates of those who rushed together for the festivals.
And as in the Funeral Speech,2 that it was right that at the tomb of those
who died at Salamis Greece should cut her hair in mourning, as her
freedom was buried with their valour; if he had just said it was right to
weep because their valour was buried with them, that would be a meta-
phor and vivid, but 'her freedom with their valour' involves a sort of
antithesis. And in Iphicrates' phrase 'The path of my words lies through
the midst of Chares' deeds' there is an analogical metaphor, and the
'through the midst' is vivid. And saying one is inviting dangers to help
out dangers is vivid and a metaphor. And Lycoleon on Chabrias, 'not
even feeling awe at the symbol of his supplication, the bronze statue';
that was a metaphor at the moment, though not for ever, but it is always
vivid; for it is when he is in danger that the statue supplicates, the
'inanimate animated', the memorial of the city's achievements.3 And
'practising poor-spiritedness with all his might';4 'practising' implies
trying to increase something. And 'the god kindled intelligence as a light
in the soul'; both make things clear. 'We do not put a truce to wars, but
merely adjourn them';5 both involve the future, adjournment and a peace
of this kind. And saying that a treaty is a much finer trophy than those
set up in war, because the latter are for trivial achievements and a single
success, while the former celebrates success in the whole war;6 here both
are signs of victory. And 'cities pay a heavy reckoning to men's censure';
'reckoning' is a punishment imposed by law.
II So much for the fact that witty expressions are derived from analogical
metaphor and from vivid presentation. The next thing to discuss is the
meaning of 'vivid presentation', and what one does to secure this effect.
Well then, I say it is produced by all expressions that signify activity;
for example, to say that a good man is 'four-square" is a metaphor, both
being perfect, but does not signify activity. But 'with the prime of his man-
hood in bloom'S is [an expression of] activity, and so is 'but you, like a
free-ranging creature', and in 'and then the Greeks darting on'9 the 'darting
on' is both expressive of activity and a metaphor, as it indicates speed.
And Homer's frequent practice of attributing life to inanimate things via
I Used instead of 'assemblies'.
• Ps.-Lys. 2. 60; in fact, and more plausibly, the reference is to the Athenian dead at
Aegospotami, not at Salamis.
3 The statue, of a hoplite with spear protruded and his shield resting on the left knee,
commemorated an exploit of Chabrias' in 378 D.C. It is not clear how much of the last
clause is a quotation from Lycoleon, nor what precisely Aristotle is saying.
4 Isocrates, Panegyricus ISI. 5 Ibid. 172. 6 Ibid. 180.
7 Simonides, fr. 542. 3.
8 Isocrates, Philippus 10; the next example is from Phi/ippus 127.
9 Eur. Iphigenia in Aulis 80.
 PROSE STYLE 153
metaphor. In all such cases the expression finds favour because it produces
[the impression of] activity, for example, 'once more the unmanageable
boulder rolled down to the plain' I and 'the arrow flew'2 and 'eager to 1412'
hit its mark'3 and 'they stuck in the ground longing for their fill of flesh'4
and 'the spear rushed through his breast, quivering with eagerness'.s In
all these cases they seem to be active because animate, as 'being insolent'
and 'quivering with eagerness' and the rest are [expressions of] activity.6
He has attached them to the objects via analogical metaphor, since the
boulder is to Sisyphus as the insolent man is to the object of his insolence.
He does the same with inanimate things in the eikones that find favour,
'arched, foam-crested, some first, then others after them';7 he makes them
all moving and living, and activity is a species of motion.
One should, as I said before, derive metaphors from things that are
akin and not obvious, just as in philosophy it is the keen-witted man who
can see the similarity in things remote from each other, like Archytas'
saying that an arbitrator was the same as an altar, as both were the refuge
of the ill-used. Or if one were to say that an anchor and a crane-sling
are the same, as they are the same something but differ in that one goes
down, and the other goes up. And 'levelling' used of political societies
is the same concept applied to very different objects, namely, equality to
surface and to power.
Most witty expressions depend not only on metaphor but on rousing
a false expectation, as that makes it more obvious that one has learnt
something because of the contrariety, and our soul seems to say 'How true,
and I missed id' And witty apophthegms are derived from not meaning
what one says, like Stesichorus' 'The cicadas will sing to themselves from
the ground'.8 And good riddles give pleasure for the same reason that they
involve both realization and metaphor. And so does saying something

I Horn. Od. 11. 598. Cf. below, p. 336. • Horn. It. 13. 587.
3 Ibid. 4. 126. 4 Ibid. II. 574. 5 Ibid. IS. 542.
6 One may contrast with Aristotle's praise the condemnation of Ruskin in his essay
on the Pathetic Fallacy (Modern Painters iii, pt. 4, § 6): 'Now we are in the habit of con-
sidering this fallacy as eminently a character of poetical description, and the temper of
mind in which we allow it as one eminently poetical, because passionate. But, I believe,
if we look well into the matter, that we shall find the greatest poets do not often admit
this kind of falseness-that it is only the second order of poets who much delight in it';
(§ II) 'it is one of the signs of the highest power in a writer to check all such habits of
thought, and to keep his eyes fixed firmly on the pure fact, out of which if any feeling
comes to him or his reader, he knows it must be a true one.'
7 Horn. Il. 13. 799.
8 Aristotle's manuscripts almost all offer the reflexive, which gives the threat two
points, that the trees will be cut down and the people massacred; the scholiast and
Demetrius (below, p. 192) have 'will sing to them'. Aristotle cites the saying also in
Book 2 (1395"2) with no pronoun at all.
 IS4 ARISTOTLE
strange, to use Theodorus' phrase; this happens when the phrase is
unexpected and, in his words, 'not in line with our previous opinion',
but is instead like the parodic turns in jokes (the same effect is produced
by puns, as they also cheat expectation) and in verse lines, as they too do
not run in the way the hearer assumed ('he went on his way and beneath
his feet were chilblains', when the hearer expected 'sandals'). Such a turn
should be obvious the moment it is uttered.
[We omit a section on puns and the like, again mainly composed ofexamples,
some of which are unintelligible.]
I41Zb21 These expressions are all of the same kind; but the more succinctly and
antithetically they are expressed, the better thought of they are. The
reason is that we understand better because of the antithesis and faster
because of the brevity. It should always have as well correct expression
of its personal application, if what is said is to be both true and free of
superficiality;I an expression can have one of these qualities2 without
the other, like 'One should die without doing wrong', 'The deserving
man should marry the deserving woman'. But there is no wit unless both
qualities are present, 'It is right to die when it is not right for one to die'.3
The more of the qualities described an expression has the wittier it will
appear, I mean, if the terms are metaphorical and the metaphor is of a
particular kind and there is antithesis and paris6sis, and an expression of
activity.
As I said above, the eikones that are well thought of are also metaphors
in a way, as they always involve two terms, like analogical metaphors; for
14 1 3' instance, to use our ordinary example, 'the shield is Ares' cup' and 'the
bow is a lyre without strings'.4 When they speak in this way the expression
is not simple, like calling the bow a lyre or the shield a cup. And they
produce eikones in the same way, for instance likening a flute-player to an
ape, a short-sighted man to a lamp with water dripping on it, because both
blink. Excellence in them demands metaphor; one can produce an eikon
comparing the shield to Ares' cup and ruins to the rags of a house,s and
Niceratus can be called 'a Philoctetes bitten by Pratys', as in Thrasy-
machus' eikon when he saw Niceratus after his defeat by Pratys in the
citharoedic contest, stilI dishevelled and unwashed. Such comparisons
I The text here is uncertain.
2 i.e. truth and freedom from superficiality.
3 In the section omitted Aristotle cited a line of Anaxandrides, 'It is fine to die before
doing what rightly merits death', which he said was equivalent to the formulation given
here.
4 Theognis, trag. 1, above, p. IZO.
5 The opposite comparison of rags to 'ruins of clothes' occurs in trag. adesp. 7, Eur.
Tro. 1025.
 PROSE STYLE 155
earn poets the most hisses when they fail and the most applause when they
succeed, I mean, when they make them correspond:
His legs are curly like parsley-leaves.!
Like Philammon at close quarters with the punch-ball. 2
All such expressions are eikones. And I have said often already that
eikones are metaphors.
Proverbs are also metaphors, of the species to species kind. 3 For instance,
if a man calls in another expecting to benefit and is then hurt, he says
'Like the Carpathian with the rabbit',4 as each of them has suffered the
fate described. Well then, the sources of witty expression and the reasons
why they are sources have been just about dealt with. Hyperboles of the
kind that are well thought of are also metaphors, for instance, of the
man with the black eye, 'You would have thought he was a basket of
mulberries'; the black eye is red, but the expression is very extreme. The
'Just like such and such' is really a hyperbole with a different form of
expression: 'like Philammon at close quarters with the punch-ball', 'You
would have thought he was Philammon fighting with the punch-ball',
'His legs are curly like parsley-leaves', 'You would have thought his legs
not legs but parsley, they were so curly'. Hyperboles are juvenile, as they
indicate vehemence. That is why they are most used by people in a temper:
'Not if he were to give me gifts as many as the sand and dust. I shall
not marry the daughter of Agamernnon, :A.treus' son, not if she vies in
beauty with golden Aphrodite and in handiwork with Athena.'s That is why 1413
such expression is inappropriate in the mouth of an older man.

SECTION G. THE VARIOUS KINDS OF STYLE

One must not forget that different styles are suitable for different kinds 12
of discourse. The styles of written composition and extemporary debate
are not the same, and [within the latter] the style of political debate is
different from that of the law-courts. One needs to know both; capability
in debate is knowing how to express oneself in Greek, and the other means
you are not compelled to be silent if you want to impart your ideas to the
rest of the world, a fate suffered by those who do not know how to produce
written compositions. The written style is the most finished, the style of
debate that most capable of being delivered (the latter has two species,
one expressive of character, the other of emotion); that is why actors
eagerly seek for plays in this style and poets for such actors, while the
I Com. adesp. 208. • Com. adesp. 207. 3 Cf. p. 120 above.
4 'Like the Australians and the rabbit' would make the same point nowadays.
5 Horn. Il. 9. 385 ff. At this point the manuscripts add: 'Its use is very frequent in
Attic orators'.
 ARISTOTLE
poets who can be read are continually in our hands, like Chaeremon (he
is as finished as a writer of speeches) and Licymnius among the dithy-
rambic poets. When the two sorts are put side by side the speeches of
the writers seem too constrained in actual delivery, while those of the
extemporary speakers, which were admirable when delivered, seem unpro-
fessional when one takes them up to read. The reason is that it' is suitable
in real debate; this is also why, when delivery is removed, the features
adapted for delivery seem inane because they are not producing their
proper effect, things, for instance, like asyndeta and frequent repetitions
of the same idea, which are rightly disapproved of in the written style
but not in that of debate, and are in fact used by the orators, as such a
style is adapted for delivery. In repeating the same idea one should use
variation, since this paves the way for the form of delivery, as in 'He is the
one who robbed you, he is the one who cheated you, he the one who finally
attempted to betray you', or as the actor Philemon did in Anaxandrides'
Old Men's Madness,2 whenever he said 'Rhadamanthys and Palamedes',
and the'!, in the prologue of the Devotees;3 if one does not deliver such
things expressively, one would be like a man who had swallowed a poker.
The same is true of asyndeta, 'I came, I approached him, I besought
him'; one needs to deliver this expressively and not give it a uniform
vehemence and a uniform expression of character as if one were saying
only one thing. There is moreover a special feature of asyndeta, that many
things are taken to be said in the time it would take to say one, since
connection makes a unity out of plurality, so that its removal obviously
turns a unit into a plurality. It therefore gives an effect of magnifica-
14 1 4a tion: 4 'I came, I spoke to him, I besought him' (this seems a lot of things),
'he contemned everything I said'.s This is what Homer aims to do with
his
Nireus from Syme .. .
Nireus son of Aglaia .. .
Nireus the most beautiful ...6
If one says a lot about a thing, one must speak of it more than once; so if
one speaks of it more than once, one is taken to be saying a lot about it.
So Homer here has magnified Nireus, though mentioning him only once,
because we make the false inference, and has made us remember him
though he says nothing at all about him later in the poem.
The style adapted to public assemblies is throughout like outline
painting, since the more numerous the crowd, the further the individuals
I If the text is right the 'it' must be something like 'such a style'.
2 Com. 2.138 f. K. 3 Also by Anaxandrides, ibid. 140.
4 Auxesis. 5 The text is uncertain. 6 Horn. It. 2. 671 ff.
 PROSE STYLE 157
stand away from the picture. That is why in both cases exact finish is
superfluous and indeed produces an inferior impression. 1he style of
the law-courts is more finished, and most of all the style that depends
on a single judge, as it least admits the arts of the speaker; it is easier here
to keep in one view what is relevant to the case and what not, and as there
is no public debate, the judgement is unimpeded. That is why the same
speakers do not find favour in all three ki,nds; instead, whenever delivery
is most in point, finish is least required. And this is the case where we need
a voice and most of all where we need a loud voice.
Well then, the style of epideictic speeches is best adapted to writing,
as its function is to be read, and next to it comes the style of the courts.
It is superfluous to go in for further distinctions about style and say,
for instance, that it should give pleasure and be magnificent. Why that
rather than temperate or liberal or endowed with any other moral virtue?
The qualities described above will obviously make it give pleasure, if
excellence of style has been rightly defined. What else is the point of its
being clear and not mean but appropriate? If one is garrulous one is not
clear, and nor is one if one is over-concise, so that the mean between these
is obviously suitable. The things described will make it give pleasure if they
are well-blended, the usual and the out-of-the-ordinary, and rhythm,
and the convincingness produced by propriety. So much for style, both the
general discussion common to all kinds and the particular description of
each.

CHAPTER 11. ARRANGEMENT

SECTION A. THE ESSENTIAL PARTS OF A SPEECH: ARGUMENTS

AGAINST THE CURRENT OVER-ELABORATE TERMINOLOGY

The remaining subject is arrangement. There are two [real] parts of a 13

speech: one must necessarily state what one is talking about, and then
prove it. That is why it is impossible to make the statement and not
proceed to proof, or to prove one's case without making the preliminary
statement, since anyone producing proofs is trying to prove something,
and anyone who makes a preliminary statement makes it with a view to
proving it. These two parts are the preliminary setting-out and the
argument, analogous to the division [in dialectic] between stating the
problem and giving a demonstrative proof. The current method of divi-
sion is ludicrous [for several reasons] :
(i) Narration belongs only to speeches in the courts, while epideictic
 ARISTOTLE
and political oratory cannot possibly admit a narration of the kind they
I414b describe, nor yet the arguments directed against one's rival litigant.
(ii) Demonstrative arguments cannot admit a peroration. I
(iii) The proem and the comparison of opposite positions and the
review occur in political oratory only where there is an opposing speech
(for that matter, accusation and defence also occur there, but not in so
far as it is political advice).
(iv) Moreover the peroration does not belong even to forensic oratory
as a whole, for instance, if the speech is short and the subject easily
remembered; for its effect is to remove the [impression made by] length.
So the necessary sections are the setting-forth and the argument. These
are the parts that characterize a speech, while the maximum is proem,
setting-forth, argument, peroration; arguments against the other litigant
are part of the argument, while comparison of opposite positions is an
amplification of the arguments for one's case, so that it too is part of the
argument, as the person who does it is trying to prove something. But
this is not true of the proem or the peroration, as that serves instead as a
reminder. If one goes in for divisions of the fashionable kind, as in Theo-
dorus and his school, one will get narrative as one thing and supple-
mentary narrative as another, and preliminary narrative and refutation
and supplementary refutation. 2 But one should state a species and use a
differentia when assigning names; otherwise the result is inane chatter
of the kind Licymnius produces in his treatise, using words like 'on-
wafting' and 'off-wandering' and 'branches'.

SECTION B. THE PROEM

14 Well then, a proem is the beginning of a speech, corresponding to the

prologue in poetry and the prelude in flute-playing; all these are begin-
nings and pave the way for what is to come.

1. The proem in epideictic oratory

The flute-prelude is like the proem of epideictic speeches. Flautists play
their best piece first and then link it to the theme, and one should write
in the same way in epideictic speeches, saying straight away whatever
one likes and then entering on the theme and linking it up. This is in fact
what they all do; an example is the proem of Isocrates' He/en, where the
eristics3 have nothing to do with Helen. It is suitable for the speaker even
I Interpretation uncertain.
2 Cf. PI. Phaedr. 266 d-Z67 a.
3 Isocrates begins with an attack on 'eristic' logicians.
 PROSE STYLE 159
to go off on an alien topic and for the speech not to seem all of one kind.
The opening words of epideictic proems concern praise or blame, as in
Gorgias' Olympic, 'There are many reasons, fellow Greeks, for admir-
ing .. .' (he goes on to praise the organizers of the festal assemblies, where-
as Isocrates' blames them for honouring only physical excellence and not
establishing any prize for the intelligent); or they can start with advice
(for example, that one should honour the good, which is why the speaker is
praising Aristides, or one should honour those who are neither highly
reputed nor base, but are good without being noticed, like Priam's son
Paris, who is giving the advice);2 they can also take their start from
forensic proems, that is, be directed to conciliating the hearer, if the speech 14 1 5'
is about something surprising or difficult or trite, so as to win pardon as
in Choerilus'
Now that all is assigned. 3
Well then, the proems of epideictic speeches start from the topics
mentioned, praise, blame, suasion, dissuasion, and appeal to the hearer:
the opening themes may be either alien from or akin to the speech.

2. The proem in forensic oratory

As for the proem of the forensic speech, one should take it to have the
same point as prologues in plays and proems in epics. The proems of
dithyrambs are like those of epideictic speeches (,Because of you and your
gifts or should I call them spoils ?'), whereas in prologues and in epic
there is an indication of what is to be said, so that the hearers can know
beforehand what the work is about and the mind not be kept in suspense,
since what is undefined makes the attention wander. So the speaker who
as it were puts the beginning in the hearer's hand makes him hold fast
and follow what is said. That is why we have
Sing of the wrath, goddess ... 4
Tell me of the man, Muse ... 5
Tell me another story, how from the Asian land there
came to Europe a great war ...6
And the tragedians similarly tell what the play is about, if not at once as
Euripides does, still somewhere in the prologue, like Sophocles' 'My
I P anegyricus I f.
2 If this interpretation is right, this defence of Paris, which Aristotle also mentions
several times in Book 2, was p ut into his own mouth, and is the earliest known example
of a fonn of declamation that later became common.
3 An epic poet who wrote on the Persian wars and used this phrase to excuse the
novelty; for this sentiment, cf. Virgo Georg. 3· 4.
• Horn. Il. 1. 1. 5 Horn. Od. I. I. 6 Choerilus.
 160 ARISTOTLE
father was Polybus';1 the same is true of comedy. So the most necessary
and the characteristic function of the proem is telling what the speech is
aiming at (which is why one need not use a p~oem if that is clear and the
subject a small one).
The other general heads that they use [in proems] are 'remedies' and
common to other parts of the speech. Remedies of this kind take their
starting-point from the speaker, the hearer, the subject-matter. or the
adversary. In the case of oneself and the adversary it is a matter of doing
away with prejudice or creating it. The method is not similar: if one is
defending oneself one answers the prejudice first, while if one is accusing
another one attacks him in the peroration, for the obvious reason that in
defence, if one is going to put oneself across, one must get rid of obstacles
and therefore deal first with prejudice, whereas in rousing prejudice one
should do it in the peroration, so that the audience remembers it better.
Remedies directed at the hearer start from making him well-disposed or
angry, and sometimes attentive or the reverse; it is not always useful to make
him attentive, which is why many speakers try to divert him to laughter. So
far as his being disposed to learn goes, everything produces that result
if one wants it, including giving an impression of virtue, since people
141Sh do pay special attention to the virtuous. The things people attend to are
important ones, and ones that concern them or surprise them or give
them pleasure; that is why one should try to produce the notion that
one's speech deals with matters of this kind, while if one wants them
inattentive, one should suggest that the matter is trivial, of no interest to
them, and painful. One should be aware that all such things are alien
to the speech proper, as they are directed at a low-class hearer who
listens to what does not concern the real subject-matter; if he is of a
different kind one does not need a proem, except to state the subject
in a summary form, so that the body can have a head. Moreover securing
the audience's attention is something common to all parts of the speech,
if it is required at all; there is nowhere they are less likely to relax than
at the beginning, so that it is ridiculous to put it at the beginning, that is,
at the point where everybody listens most attentively anyway. Instead,
whenever the right moment comes, one should say, 'And listen carefully
to what I say; it concerns you just as much as me', and 'I shall tell you
something more dreadful and more surprising than you have ever heard'.
This is the same as what Prodicus said, that whenever his audience
showed signs of nodding off, he threw in a bit of the fifty-drachmae
I It is not easy to believe that Aristotle so far forgot the Oedipus Tyrannus as to
attribute line 774 to the prologue. Ross conjectures 'if not at once as Euripides does in
the prologue, still somewhere or other .. .'; but tlIis will hardly do in a context talking
of prologues.
 PROSE STYLE 161

course. It is obviously directed at the hearer not qua hearer [of the speech
proper], since everyone uses the proem when they are trying to rouse
prejudice or remove alarm (,Lord, I shall not tell you that with haste .. ."
and 'Why this proem ?').z Similarly with those who have or think they
have a bad case; they think it better to spend their speech on any subject
rather than the facts of the case. That is why slaves do not answer the
question asked but beat about the bush and produce a long proem. The
sources of conciliating goodwill have already been stated,3 and everything
else of the same kind. 'Let the Phaeacians befriend me and pity me
when I come to them' is a good saying; so one should aim at these
two things.
In epideictic speeches one should make the hearer feel that he too is
being praised, either himself or his family or his pursuits or something
or other; there is truth in Socrates' remark in the Epitaphios 4 that it is
not hard to praise Athenians among Athenians, though it is among
Spartans.

3. The proem in political oratory

The proems of political oratory are derived from those of forensic
oratory. Of its own nature it needs the proem hardly at all, since the
audience knows what the speech is about and the facts require no proem
unless because of oneself and opposing speakers, or if the audience
assumes the matter to be of greater or less importance than you want it
to, so that one has to rouse or dilute prejudice or heighten or diminish the
importance of the subject. These are the reasons for needing a proem,
or else for decorative effect, since it appears off-hand not to have one. 1416a
An example is Gorgias' encomium on the Eleans; that begins without any
prelude or preliminary sparring with 'Elis, blessed city'.

4. Prejudices
On the question of prejudice, one subject is the means of doing away 15
with a damaging assumption (it makes no difference whether someone
has voiced it or not, so that this is a general description). Another topic
is how to deal with the things one contests, by denying either that they
are the case or that they are injurious or injurious to him, or saying that
they are not so important as he says, or not a wrong or not a substantial
1 The watchman's opening words in Soph. Ant. 223.
2 Eur. [ph. Taur. II62. 3 Book 2, c. 4.
4 Plato, Menerenus 235 d.
5 This development, prompted by the mention of prejudice in § 2 above, is not
altogether tidily worked in.
8143591 M
 162 ARISTOTLE
one, or not disgraceful or not a substantial disgrace. These are the sort
of things that are contested, as by Iphicrates· against Nausicrates; he
admitted that he had done what his opponent said and that he had in-
flicted injury, but denied inflicting wrong. Or when one has done wrong
one can try to compensate for it, by saying that if it was an injury it was
nevertheless noble, if painful, yet beneficial or something else of the kind.
Another topic is that it was done in error or by ill chance or under con-
straint; so Sophocles said that he was trembling not, as his adversary
said, so as to be thought old, but because he could not help it; it was not
of intent that he was eighty. One can also compensate by stating the
expected result, that he meant to do not injury but something else, and
did not do what he is accused of, as the injury was incidental ('It would be
fair to hate me if I had intended this result of my action'). Another topic
arises if the accuser himself or someone connected with him has been
involved in the same charge, either now or formerly. Another, if g!hers
are involved in it who are agreed to be innocent, for example, 'If X is an
adulterer because he dresses neatly, so must Y be'. Another, if someone
else or the accuser himself has roused unfair prejudice against others,
or if, without such an attack, others were exposed to the same suspicion
as you are now, and were later shown to be innocent. Another from
retorting the attack on one's accuser, and saying that it would be absurd
to trust his words when his character is distrusted. Another, if there
has been a previous decision, as in Euripides' reply to Hygiaenon in the
exchange case, when he accused him of impiety for saying
My tongue has sworn, my mind remains unsworn;1
he retorted that it was not fair of Hygiaenon to bring judgements from the
Dionysiac contest into court, as he had given account of his words there,
or would do so if Hygiaenon wanted to accuse him. Another from the
accusation of arousing prejudice, with the arguments that it is monstrous,
that it introduces judgements about irrelevant matters, that it does not
I4I6b show confidence in the facts. Both accuser and defender can use the topic
of tokens, as in the Teucer 2 Odysseus argues that Teucer was related to
Priam, whose sister Hesione was, Teucer that his father Telamon was
hostile to Priam and that he himself had not denounced the spies. Another
is open to the attacker, praising the trivial at great length and blaming a
substantial fault concisely, or setting forth many good qualities in his
opponent and blaming just one, the one being that which really furthers
the charge; such topics are the most skilful and most unfair, as they try
to damage the good qualities by mixing them up with the bad. Another
topic common to both accuser and defender is that of motive, as the
I Hippolytus 608. 2 Of Sophocles.
 PROSE STYLE
same act can be done for different reasons; the accuser should disparage
the act by taking the worse motive, while the defender should take the
better, saying, for example, that Diomede chose Odysseus because he
was the bravest, whereas the accuser says that this was not the reason
but that he was the only Greek whose rivalry Diomede did not fear,
taking him to be a coward. So much for unfair prejudice. 16

SECTION C. THE NARRATIVE

1. The narrative in epideictic oratory

Narration in epideictic speeches should be not consecutive but divided.
The reason is that one has to report the achievements on which the speech
is based, since the speech is a composite unity, part of which does not
involve technical skill, as the speaker is in no way responsible for the
achievements, and part of which does, that is, showing that something is
the case, if it is hard to believe, or that it has some particular quality or
importance, or doing all these at once. One's narration should sometimes
be broken up, as displaying things consecutively is hard on the memory;
the achievements that show his courage are different from those that
show his wisdom or justice. And this sort of speech is less complicated,
whereas a differently constructed one is elaborate and not plain enough.
One should merely remind people of well-known achievements; that is
why people need no narration if you mean, for instance, to praise Achilles,
as everyone knows his achievements, and one should just use them; but
one does need a narration in praising Critias, as not many know about
him ... 1

2. The narrative in forensic oratory

... As things are they absurdly say that the narration should be swift.
In fact, there is point here too in what the man said to the baker when he
asked whether he should knead the dough hard or soft, 'Why, can't you
do it just right?' One should not make one's narration long-winded,
any more than one's proem or the statement of one's arguments; there
too excellence does not consist in speed or concision but in a due length,
that is, in saying enough to explain the facts, or to make the hearer take 1417"
it that the act, the damage, the injury did happen and was as important
as you wish to convey, while the opponent needs to do the opposite.
Along with the narration one should tell everything that helps to give an
[ Several sentences have been lost at this point.
 ARISTOTLE
impression of one's own merits (for example, 'I tried to restrain him, by
reiterating what was fair, from leaving his cpildren in the lurch') or of
your opponent's demerits ('And he answered that wherever he was
himself, he could get other children', as Herodotus says the mutinous
Egyptians replied). One should also add what gives pleasure to the jury.
In defence the narration is less extensive, as one's retort is that it did not
happen or was not a damage or not an injury or not so important, so that
one need not waste time on what is agreed, unless something contributes
to the desired aim, for example, if you admit the deed but claim it was not
an injury. One should also tell of things as past, unless they tend to rouse
pity or indignation when represented as actually going on; examples are
the story told to Alcinous, which is retold to Penelope in sixty lines, and
Phayllus' treatment of the epic cycle, and the prologue to the Oeneus. I
The narrative should be expressive of character, and will be so if we
know what produces this effect. One thing is what reveals moral purpose;
the character is of some particular kind because the purpose is of a
particular kind, and the purpose is of a particular kind because of the
end one aims at. That is why mathematical treatises do not express
character, as they do not indicate moral purpose, not having any particular
motive, whereas the Socratic dialogues do, as this is the sort of subject
they are talking about. Other things indicative of character are the con-
comitants of different sorts of character, like for instance, 'He went on
walking as he spoke', an act that shows insolence and boorishness of
character. And not giving the impression of speaking from the intellect as
people do nowadays, but from moral purpose ('I wanted it, and indeed
had purposed it; but even if I gained nothing by it, it was better'; this
shows both a prudent and a good man, as a prudent man pursues advantage
and a good man what is honourable). And if the thing is hard to believe one
should add the reason, as Sophocles does; an example is Antigone's
saying that she cared more for her brother than for husband and children,
as she could have more children if she lost them, 'But with my mother and
father in Hades no other brother could be born for me'.2 If you cannot
give a reason, you should say you know what you are saying is hard to
believe, but that is just how you naturally are, since people disbelieve
that men willingly do anything except what is to their advantage. Part of
your narrative should also employ such elements of emotional significance
as the natural and known concomitants of an emotion and particular
characteristics of yourself or your adversary (,He went off, giving me a
1417b scowl', and what Aeschines said about Cratylus, 'furiously hissing and
I These seem to be cited as summary narratives of past events, suitable models for
cases that do not demand a more elaborate and impassioned account.
z Antigone 909 if.
 PROSE STYLE 165
waving his arms'); such things are convincing because they are known
tokens of the unknown. One can derive many such indications from
Homer, 'So he spoke, and the old woman threw her hands over her face';I
people beginning to weep do cover their eyes. And introduce yourself
at once as having a certain character so that the audience can contemplate
you as such, and do the same with your adversary, but without being
obvious. It is easy to do, as you can see from people who tell us stories,
who give us an impression even of people we know nothing about. There
are many places where narration is in point, and sometimes it is not in
point at the beginning.

3. The narrative in political oratory

In political oratory narration has very little place, as no one uses narration
of the future; but if there is narration, it should tell what has happened,
so that people can deliberate better about the future for being reminded
of the past, or by way of rousing prejudice or praising merit; but in this
the speaker is not doing the job of giving political advice. If it is hard to
believe, one should both promise and state the explanation at once and
set it out with any details they want, as for instance Carcinus' Jocasta in
the Oedipus keeps making promises when questioned by the man who
is looking for her son, and like Sophocles' Haemon. 2

SECTION D. THE ARGUMENTS

I. Arguing a positive case 3

One's arguments should be demonstrative, and the demonstration should 17
bear on the point at issue, of which there are four kinds; for instance, if
one disputes the actual occurrence of the event, one should direct one's
demonstration to deciding this, if its being a damage, to this, and similarly
to showing that it is not so important or not an injury, in the same way
as if the occurrence of the event were in question. One should be aware
that it is only in this last case that one or other of the contestants must
necessarily be a scoundrel, since ignorance cannot be responsible for the
dispute as it might be if they disputed about whether or not it was an
injury; so one must spend time in this case, but need not in the others.
In epideictic speeches one's method of amplification should usually be
I Odyssey 19. 361.
: The point of this reference is quite obscure.
3 The main lines of this section are fair! y clear, but it seems to degenerate into a
rag-bag of assorted notes at the end.
 166 ARISTOTLE
stating that things are honourable and beneficial, as the facts should be
taken on trust; there are a few occasions when one offers demonstrative
proof of them, when they are hard to believe or someone else is supposed
responsible for them. In political oratory one might dispute that something
will be the case, or grant that it will be the case if they do what one's
opponent recommends and argue that it will be injurious or not useful
or not so important.
One should also keep an eye out for any lies that do not concern the
l.pS" fact in dispute, as they are indications that he is lying in other things as
well. Examples belong more to political oratory, inferences to forensic,
as the former concerns the future and so necessarily cites examples from
the past, while the latter deals with things that are or are not the case,
where there is more possibility of demonstrative proof and necessary
statements, as past statements are necessarily true. One should not state
one's inferences one after another but mix them up [with other things];
otherwise they damage each other, as there is also a quantitative limit
('My friend, since you have said as much as a sensible man would'; 'as
much' he says, not 'what'). And one should not look for inferences about
everything; otherwise you will end up like some philosophers, who arrive
at conclusions better known and more convincing than the premisses
they start from. And when you try to produce an impression of emotion
do not employ an inference (it will either expel the emotion or itself be
stated to no purpose, as simultaneous movements operate against each
other and either destroy or weaken each other's effect). Similarly, when the
statement is expressive of character ope-:should not look for an' inference
at the same time, as demonstrative proof does not imply character or
moral purpose. Instead one should use general reflections both in the
narrative and in the argument, as they do express character (,And I gave
it, though I well knew one should not be over-trusting') and can also be
used for emotional effect ('And I do not regret it, despite the injury done
me; he has the profit, but I have the advantage of acting rightly').
Political oratory is more difficult than forensic, reasonably enough,
since it concerns the future and forensic oratory the past, which is already
known even to prophets, as Epimenides the Cretan said (he did not
produce divination about the future, but only about things past but lost
in obscurity). Another reason is that the law provides the first premiss in
forensic argument, and given the starting-point it is easier to find a
demonstrative proof. Moreover, political oratory does not offer many
chances of wasting time, in talking, for example, against one's adversary
or about oneself or producing emotional effects; indeed it offers less than
any other kind, unless it departs from its proper nature. So if one is short
of matter one should do what the speakers at Athens do and also Isocrates;
 PROSE STYLE
in giving political advice he produces an accusation, of the Spartans, for
instance, in the Panegyricus, I of Chares in the speech On the AlIiance. 2
In epideictic oratory one should divide the speech into acts by laudations
as Isocrates does; he is p:::rpetually introducing some person or other.
And what Gorgias said, that he was never at a loss for something to say,
comes to the same; if his subject is Achilles, he praises his father, his
grandfather, his divine great-grandfather, and also courage, which
produces such and such effects or is a quality of such and such a kind.
When one has demonstrative arguments one should display one's
character as well as produce arguments, while if you have no inferences
to produce, you should just express character; and indeed it is more
suitable to a good man to give an impression of virtue than produce a
speech exactly argued. 1418b
Of inferences those that refute find more favour than those that prove
something, because those that produce refutation more clearly show
syllogistic reasoning, since opposites are better recognized when set
beside each other.

2. Refutation
The refutation of one's adversary is not a separate element; to refute
some of his case by producing a contrary proposition, some by reasoning,
is part of the argument. Both in political and in forensic oratory one
should, if one is the opening speaker, state one's own arguments first,
and later meet the opponent's arguments by refutation, i.e. by pulling
them to pieces before he produces them. If the opposition is very diversi-
fied, you should begin with the opponent's case, as Callistratus did in
the Messenian assembly; he stated his own case only after destroying
beforehand the arguments they were going to use. If one speaks second,
one should deal first with the opponent's case, refuting it and producing
counter-reasonings, most especially if it has found favour; the mind
refuses a welcome to a man against whom prejudice has been created,
and similarly to an argument, if the opponent is thought to have spoken
well. So one should make room in the hearer for the speech that is to
come, and this you will do if you destroy the arguments against you;
that is why one should try to make one's own case convincing only after
combating all or the most important or the most favourably received
or the most easily refuted on the other side ('First I shall speak in the
goddesses' defence; I think that Hera .. .';3 with these words she attacked
first the silliest opposing argument).
So much for arguments.
I §§ IIO If. 2 De Pace 27. J Eur. T,oades 969 f.
 168 ARISTOTLE
3. Char~cterl

So far as character goes, it is invidious, long-winded, or open to contradic-

tion to say some things about oneself, and abusive or boorish to say some
things about other people; one should therefore ascribe them to another
speaker, as Isocrates does in the Philip and the Antidosis,3 and as Archi-
lochus 4 does in invective, where he makes the father speak of his daughter
in the lampoon beginning 'Nothing is unexpected, nothing one would
take one's oath will not happen', and introduces the carpenter Charon in
that beginning 'Not Gyges' wealth for me'. Similarly Sophocles' Haemon
defends Antigone against his father by citing other speakers. s
One should also occasionally change the form of one's inferences and
express them as general maxims, for example, 'Men of sense should make
peace when they are successful, as that would bring them the greatest
gains' (in the form of an inference this would be 'If one should make
peace when the peace would be most useful and bring most gain, one
should make it when one is successful').

4. Interrogation
18 As for interrogation, the most advantageous occasion for its use is when
1419' your opponent has stated one [of two contradictory propositions], so
that with one further question an absurdity will result. For instance, when
Pericles questioned Lampon about initiation into the rites of Demeter
and Lampon said it was i,mpossible for the uninitiated to be told, Pericles
asked if he knew them himself, and when he said yes, continued 'And
how, when you are not initiated?' The second best is when one premiss of
an inference is obvious and it is clear that he will grant the other if
questioned; one should ask him about the one premiss and not proceed to
a question about the obvious one, but simply state the conclusion. An
example is Socrates' question when Meletus denied that he recognized
gods but said that he spoke of a daimonion; he asked whether the dai-
mones were either children of gods or something divine, and when he
said 'Yes', went on, 'Well, is there anyone who thinks there are children
of gods but no gods ?'6 A third case is where one means to show that one's
opponent is saying something self-contradictory or paradoxical. A fourth
where he can resolve the difficulty only by a sophistic answer; if he
gives such a reply, like 'It is and it isn't', 'Sometimes yes, sometimes no',
or 'In some ways yes, in some ways no', the audience shout him down and
I This and the following two sections are appendices to the discussion of argument.
2 4 If., 23. 3 141 If. • Frs. 74 and 22 Diehl.
5 Antigone 688 If. 6 Plato, Apology 27 d.
 PROSE STYLE
think he is at a loss. Otherwise do not attempt it, as if he resists you will
be thought to have been defeated, since one cannot ask many questions
because of the feebleness of the audience. That is why one should try
to make one's inferences, too, as compact as possible.
In answering, you should meet ambiguous questions with a developed
distinction, not a concise one, and deal with supposed contradictions by
producing the solution straight away in your reply, before he asks the
next question and proceeds to the conclusion, as it is quite easy in some
cases to foresee what he will say. Both this and the forms of solution
are clear to us from the Topics. And when he draws the conclusion, if he
puts it in the form of a question, one should give the explanation, as
Sophocles did when Pisander asked if he, like the other probouloi, had
assented to the establishment of the Four Hundred. 'Yes', he said. 'Well
then, did you think this wrong?' 'Yes.' 'So you committed this wrong
act?' 'Yes, as there was no better one possible.' Or like the Spartan being
examined on his ephorate and asked if he thought the condemnation of
his colleagues had been fair: 'Yes', he replied. 'Did you concur in their
actions?' 'Yes.' 'Then would it not be fair to condemn you too?' 'Cer-
tainly not', he said. 'They did it for bribes, I because I thought it best.'
That is why one should not ask another question after stating the con- 14I9b
clusion nor put the conclusion itself in the form of a question, unless there
is a tremendous surplus of truth on your side.

5. Jokes
So far as jokes go, they are thought to have some use in actual debate, and
Gorgias rightly said that one should ruin one's opponent's seriousness
with laughter and his laughter with seriousness. Jokes are to be found
classified in the Poetics,I some of them suitable for a gentleman, some
not, so that one can choose what suits one. Irony is more gentlemanly
than buffoonery, as the ironical man makes a jest for his own amusement,
the buffoon for another's.

SECTION E. THE EPILOGUE

The epilogue is composed of four elements: they are making the hearer 19
well-disposed towards oneself and the contrary towards one's opponent,
amplification and belittling, rousing emotion in the hearer, recapitulating.
It is natural that one should first prove one's own truth and one's oppo-
nent's falsehood, and then go on to praise, blame, and hammer the point
I In the lost second book.
 ARISTOTLE
home. [In the first of the four] one should aim at one of two things,
being thought good by this jury or being thought good without qualifica-
tion (and also at making your opponent seem bad to them or bad without
qualification). The sources from which one can produce this impression
have been stated, that is, the topics basic to producing an impression of
goodness or badness. The next thing, when the proof is over, is naturally
amplification or belittling, since the facts must be admitted before one
can assign a particular importance to them, just as bodily growth is growth
from what was there before. The sources of amplification and belittling
have also been stated previously. After this, when it is clear what the
facts are and how important, is the time to produce emotion in the hearer.
These emotions are pity, indignation, anger, hatred, envy, emulation,
quarrelsomeness. The sources of these have also been previously de-
scribed, so that the remaining subject is the recapitulation. The suitable
place for this is not the proem, as usually but wrongly recommended (we
are urged to be repetitive there so as to make the hearer receptive). Well
now, in the proem one should state the subject, so as to make the hearer
aware what his decision is about, and in the epilogue the various proofs
of it, in a summary way. The starting-point is that one has performed
what one promised, and so one must say what and why. This is sometimes
based on a comparison with your adversary. One can compare what both
have said on the same subject, either directly ('But he said this about that,
while 1 said this other thing and for the following reasons'), or ironically
1420' (,He said this, 1 that' and 'What would he have done if he had proved
this rather than that ?'), or in question form ('Well then, what has been
proved?' or 'What has he proved ?'). Either then one can do it this way
via comparison or in the natural order as it was said, recapitulating one's
own argument and in turn, if one likes, stating separately what one's
opponent said. As the ending of the speech an asyndeton is suitable,
something to finish off the speech, not make another one: '1 have said
my say, you have heard it all, it is in your hands, give your judgements.'
 4
DEMETRIUS ON STYLE

INTRODUCTION
(i) ANALYSIS
On Style may be summarized as follows:
1-35:' the structure of sentences-clauses and periods.
36--304: the four styles, each followed by a brief account of its corresponding
faulty style:
(I) 36---7: the theory offour styles.
(2) 38-II3: the grand style.
II4-27: the frigid style.
(3) 128-85: the elegant style.
186--9: the affected style.
(4) .190--235: the plain style.
236--9: the arid style.
(5) 240--301: the forceful style.
302-4: the unpleasant style.
Each style is analysed under the same three headings of diction, word-arrange-
ment, and subject-matter; additional topics then follow. In the grand style, for
example, we find grandeur from arrangement, subject-matter, and diction in
38-102, extra topics in 103-13. Similarly in the plain style the analysis under
these three headings in 190--208 is followed by the accounts of vividness, per-
suasiveness, and the style of letters in 209-35, and in the forceful style subject-
matter, composition, and diction in 24Q--16 are followed by a series of topics,
for example, oblique allusion and the three categories of style in 287--98. The
one exception is the elegant style: ostensibly we find the three headings of
diction (137-55), subject-matter (156--62), and arrangement (179-85) but in
136 and 156 only two headings are recognized and the account of diction includes
topics from arrangement (e.g. figures of speech in 140--1). The style is logically
analysed as follows:
(i) 128-35: the forms of charm.
(ii) 136--62: the sources of charm: style and subject-matter.
(iii) 163-85: additional topics, of which the last is elegant arrangement-as if
it had not been realized that arrangement had already been discussed with
diction.
This irregular structure is partly a result of the fact that the elegant style
, The numbering is sixteenth-century. In the translation these numbers appear in
the margin, the paragraphing and sub-tiding are the translator's.
 DEMETRIUS
contains two concepts, graceful charm and witty charm, partly of the adoption
not only of material from a work on wit but the traditional twofold classification
of wit under style and content (e.g. Cicero, de Oratore 2.248).

(ii) AUTHORSHIP AND DATE

The author is unknown. We must reject the medieval attribution to Demetrius
of Phaleron on grounds of chronology and style, but the author may well have
been called Demetrius: it was a common name and would readily be associated
with its most famous literary holder, Demetrius of Phaleron. Alternatively On
Style was anonymous and ascribed to Demetrius of Phaleron because of its
Peripatetic sympathies.
This sympathy for the Peripatetic school is the only probable fact we have
about the author. The only authorities named are either Peripatetics (Aristotle,
Theophrastus, and Praxiphanes) or unknown critics cited in connection with
Aristotle (Archedemus in 34, Artemon in 223). Aristotle's influence is also
frequent without direct acknowledgement: for example, the choice of the term
'frigid' in preference to the regular 'tumid' or 'swollen' to describe the fault
adjacent to grandeur derives from Rhetoric 3. 38 (above, p. 140).
The date is uncertain and the subject of much controversy. Since there is no
extant reference to the work in other writers before the fourth century A.D., we
have to rely on internal evidence; but early material does not prove an early date
because of the strong conservative tendency in rhetoric and in handbooks
generally. There is the added complication that handbooks were open to later
insertions or modifications, so that one part suggesting a late date need not
necessarily prove that the work as a whole is also late. In its present form,
however, On Style cannot be earlier than 275 B.C. (see especially the mention
of the Sotadean metre in 189) and almost certainly precedes Dionysius of
Halicarnassus, since it is a natural inference from 179 that Demetrius did not
know of Dionysius' account of elegant word-arrangement. A date earlier than
the fust century A.D. also fits the subsidiaIY role played by Demosthenes, the
supreme model in all styles of writing in critics like Dionysius but virtually
confined in Demetrius to the forceful style of oratorical attack. More precise
dating is probably impossible but the first century B.C. is, I think, at least con-
sistent with the evidence of language and style.

(iii) MERITS AND DEFECTS

This unpretentious handbook can make no claim to originality but possesses
much interest. It preserves much material not otherwise known to us, for
example, the basic scheme of four styles. A system of three styles, grand, plain,
and middle or flowery, I was more common, and though there are occasional
references to other systems, On Style is the only practical illustration of this
variety. More important perhaps, Demetrius gives us the only detailed and
I See below, pp. 240 ff.
 ON STYLE 173
systematic account of these styles still extant. Again, he is one of our few sources
on wit and laughter and his account of letter-writing in 223-35 is especially
valuable as an aid to understanding a minor but interesting genre of ancient
literature.
The author has also some perhaps more positive merits. His comments are
generally sensible and show sensitivity to the Greek language, for example his
account of letters and the use of poetic vocabulary in II3-I4. His style is
admittedly plain and matter-of-fact, reminiscent of the schoolroom in its fre-
quent summarizing and occasional repetitions; but there are no arid lists of
stylistic devices such as figures of speech and the style is enlivened by short
analogies such as the fine reference to the Mysteries in 101 (compare, for
example, 58,62, and 108) and proverbs (e.g. 28, Il2, Il9, and 291). In particular
he illustrates his comments with frequent and usually apt examples from a
strikingly wide range of authors, both verse and prose; these examples are then
frequently rewritten by Demetrius to reinforce his argument. He is, moreover,
not primarily interested in oratory, unlike so many other extant accounts-
indeed he even shows an engaging interest in strictly irrelevant subjects, as in
the Egyptians' songs in 71, musical words in 176--7, and dramatic technique in
195. In short, he is not an original thinker like Aristotle but neither is he a mere
dry rhetorician.

Editions
L. Radermacher (text, notes), Teubner, 1901, reprinted 1966.
W. Rhys Roberts (text, translation, notes), Cambridge, 1902.
T. A. Moxon (translation), Everyman library, London, 1934.
G. M. A. Grube (translation, useful introduction), Toronto, 1961.
D. M. Schenkeveld, Studies in Demetrius on Style, Amsterdam, 1964 (includes
a recent bibliography).
G. M. A. Grube, The Greek and Roman Critics, London, 1965, pp. nD-21.

ON STYLE
THE STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES: CLAUSES

Just as poetry is divided by metres such as the short metres,I hexameters, I

and the like, prose is divided and articulated by what are called clauses
(cola). These may be said to offer rests for both the speaker and the
subject itself and set frequent bounds to the discourse, which would
otherwise prove long and unending and simply run the speaker out
of breath. It is the function of these clauses to mark the conclusion 2

of a thought, sometimes a whole thought, as in the opening words of

I Hemimetra: I take this as meaning, e.g., the short epodic metres of ArchiIochus

(cf. 5), but text and interpretation have been questioned.

 174 DEMETRIUS
Hecatacus' history, 'Hecataeus of Miletus relates as follows', where a com-
plete thought is comprised in one complete elause and both come to
an end together. In other cases the clause does not constitute a complete
thought but only a part which is itself complete. For if it is of some length
a complete thought may contain parts which are themselves complete,
just' as an arm is itself a complete whole but has parts which are also
complete, such as the fingers and forearm (for each of these parts has
3 its own contour and component parts). Take, for example, the beginning
ofXenophon's Anabasis: 'Darius and Parysatis had sons, the elder Arta-
xerxes, the younger Cyrus.' This is all one complete thought but its two
clauses are each a part of it and each brings to a conclusion a thought
which forms a distinct unit: in the case of 'Darius and Parysatis had
sons' the thought that Darius and Parysatis had children has its own
completeness, and the same is true of the second clause, 'the elder
Artaxerxes, the younger Cyrus'. I hold, then, that a clause will in all cir-
cumstances comprise a thought, either a complete thought or a complete
part of one.
4 Clauses should not be made very long, since the sentence then lacks
due measure and is hard to follow. Even poetry only very exceptionally
exceeds the length of the hexameter: for it would be ridiculous if metre
lacked due measure and at the end of a line we had forgotten when it
began. Long clauses, then, are unsuitable in prose because they lack due
measure, but the same is true of short clauses, since the sentences become
what is called arid, as in the following example: 'Life is short, art long,
time fleeting.'! The sentence seems abrupt and fragmented and makes a
5 poor impression because all its parts are small. Yet sometimes a long
clause is in place, for example to describe grand themes such as Plato's
'For all this universe is sometimes escorted and helped to revolve on its
course by the god himself'.2 The elevation of the passage matches the
length of the clause. It is also for this reason of length that the hexameter
is called the heroic metre and is suitable for heroes. It would not be
fitting to write Homer's Iliad in the short metres of Archilochus, such as
'sorrowful staff' and 'who stole your wits?', nor yet in those of Anacreon,
as in 'bring water, bring wine, lad':3 that rhythm suits to perfection a
drunken old man, but not a hero in battle.
6 Just as we have seen how a long clause may sometimes be suitable,
there may also be occasions for a short one, for example when our subject
is small, as in Xenophon's description of the Greeks' arrival at the river
I Hippocrates, Aphorism 1. 1. The sentence continues on the same lines: 'experience

dangerous, judgement difficult'.

Z Plato, Politicus 269 c.

3 Archilochus, frr. 89 anu 94 Bergk; Anacreon, Poetae Melici Graeei 396 Page.
 ON STYLE 175
Teleboas: 'It was not large, beautiful though.' The short, broken rhythm
I

mirrors the river's smallness and charm. If he had expanded the sentence
to say 'in size it fell short of most other rivers but in beauty it surpassed
them all', he would have shown bad judgement and the passage would
have become what is called frigid-but we must fliscuss frigidity later. 2
Short clauses may also be used in the forceful style, since much expressed 7
briefly gives added force and pungency. This forcefulness is the reason
why the Spartans use words sparingly. Commands too are succinct and
concise and every master is monosyllabic to his slave, whereas supplica-
tions and laments are prolix and Homer describes the Prayers 3 as lame
and wrinkled because of their slowness, that is to say their loquacity; old
men are similarly loquacious because they are frail. An example of such 8
brevity is 'Sparta to Philip: Dionysius in Corinth'.4 This compressed
message is much more forceful than if the Spartans had expanded it and
said: 'Though Dionysius was once, like you, a great tyrant, he is now living
as a private citizen in Corinth.' Set out in full it no longer resembles a
threat but a piece of narrative and suggests an author imparting informa-
tion, not instilling fear. The amplification weakens the vigour and strength
of the passage and, just as wild beasts coil themselves before they attack,
the spoken word should also draw itself taut to form a sort of coil for
forceful impact.
This kind of brevity in sentences is called a phraseS and a phrase is 9
defined as being shorter than a clause, as in the above example, 'Dionysius
in Corinth', and the maxims of the sages, 'knowyourself'and 'follow god'.
Brevity fits proverbs and adages and it shows considerable skill to com-
press much meaning into a few words, just as seeds contain the potentiality
of whole trees. Express a maxim at length and it becomes instead a mere
statement and empty rhetoric.

THE STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES: PERIODS

From the combination of such clauses and phrases are formed what are 10
called periods. A period is a combination of clauses and phrases which
has brought the underlying thought to a conclusion with a neatly turned
ending, as in this example: 'It was especially because I thought it in the
interest of the state for the law to be repealed and secondly because of
I Anabasis 4. 4. 3. The same point is made in 121 below.
z See II4 If. on the frigid style.
3 Iliad 9. 502 If.
4 Cf. 102 below. Dionysius became tyrant of Syracuse in 367 B.C.
S 'Phrase' is an inadequate rendering of the Greek 'komma', which, like the clause,
refers to a complete thought.
 DEMETRIUS
Chabrias' son that 1 have agreed to be, to the best of my ability, my
clients' advocate.'I This period, formed from three clauses, has a sort
of twist and concentration at the end. This is Aristotle's definition of the
period: 'A period is a sentence with a beginning and end'z-a very good
and appropriate definition. For by saying 'period' we immediately imply
that it has a beginning, will have an ending, and is hurrying to a definite
goal, just like runners when the race has begun, since from the beginning
of the race they too have the goal in view. 3 Hence the term 'period', an
image from paths which form a circle or ring. More generally, the period is
but a certain kind of word-arrangement, as we see if a sentence expressed
in periodic form is broken up and given a different arrangement: the
content remains the same but the period will cease to exist. Suppose we
turned round the period cited above from Demosthenes and said: '1 shall
be my clients' advocate, Athenians; for the son of Chabrias is dear to me,
and much dearer still is the state, whose interests it is right for me to
defend.' The period is now lost.
12 The origin of the period is as follows. One kind of style is called the
neatly-ended style, such as the wholly periodic style found in the rhetori-
cal artifices of Isocrates' school, Gorgias, and Alcidamas, where period
succeeds period no less regularly than the hexameters in the poetry of
Homer. The other style is called the disjointed style and consists ofloosely
related clauses with little interlocking, as in Hecataeus, most ofHerodotus,
and all the early writers generally. Take this example: 'Hecataeus of
Miletus relates as follows. 1 write of these things as I believe them to be
true. For the stories of the Greeks are, it seems to me, both many and
absurd.' The clauses seem to be piled one on top of the other and thrown
together without any integration and interdependence and they do not
13 give the mutual support found in periods. Periodic clauses are in fact
like stones which uphold rounded domes by their mutual support and
dependence, while the clauses of the disconnected style resemble stones
which are merely thrown down near one another and not fitted together.
14 It is this characteristic which gives early style the sharp outlines and
neatness of early statues, when sculptors strove for compactness and
spareness, while later style corresponds to the works of Phidias in the
IS combination of nobility and finish. 4 1 myself consider that speech should
be neither wholly a string of periods, as in Gorgias, nor wholly discon-
I Demosthenes, Against Leptines I. The passage recurs in 20.
2 Aristotle, Rhetoric 3. 9, 1409a3S: see above, p. 148.
3 In the diaulos or two-lap race the runner ran back from the end of the first lap
towards the starting-point again. The comparison is particularly apt since the Greek
word 'periodos' means literally 'a path brought round'.
4 For the rare chronological comparison to sculpture compare Cicero, Brutus 70 and
Q!!int. 12. 10. 1--9 (below, pp. 404-6).
 ON STYLE
nected, as in the early writers, but a combination of the two. Then it will
have both artistic finish and simplicity and from the presence of both it
will be pleasing, neither too rude nor too artificial. As for those who use
periods uninterruptedly, even their own heads reel and they seem in-
tOl.:icated, while the audience feels nauseated by the implausibility and
finds the end of each sentence so inevitable that they sometimes forestall
them by shouting it aloud.
The smaller periods consist of two clauses, the longest of four. Any- 16
thing beyond four would exceed the proper proportions of the period.
There are also some of three clauses, while some have only one and are 17
called simple periods. Whenever a clause has some length and a twist at
the end, it becomes a single-clause period, as in this example, 'The
results of the inquiries of Herodotus of Halicarnassus are here set forth' /
or again 'Clear language brings great illumination to the hearer's mind'.
Both characteristics of the simple period are essential, length and the
twist at the end; one alone is not enough. In compound periods the last 18
clause should be longer and, as it were, envelop and encompass the
others.2 Then the period will be grand and stately, since it ends on a
long, stately clause; otherwise it is abrupt and seems to limp. Here is
an example: 'Nobility lies not in noble words but in following noble
words with deeds.'3
There are three forms of period, the historical, the dialogue, and the 19
rhetorical. The historical is neither too well-rounded nor too loose but
between the two, so that it does not seem rhetorical and unconvincing
because of its rounding but has the dignity suitable for history from its
simplicity, as in the sentence 'Darius and Parysatis' down to 'the younger
Cyrus',4 where the closing phrase seems to halt on a firmly secured and
safe ending. The rhetorical period has a taut, circular form, requiring a 20
firm utterance and gestures which are in accordance with the rounded
structure, as in the sentence: 'It was especially because 1 thought it in
the interest of the state for the law to be repealed and secondly because of
Chabrias' son that I have agreed to be, to the best of my ability, my
clients' advocate.'s From almost its very beginning such a period has a
tautness which suggests that it will not run on to end simply. The dialogue 21
period is one which is still looser and simpler than the historical period and
is scarcely seen to be a period, as in the following example: 'I went down
to the Piraeus yesterday with Glaucon, the son of Ariston, partly to offer
I Herodotus I. I. The author of the second example is unknown.
: A principle quite commonly followed in ancient prose, especially in 'tricolon
crescendo', where three clauses appear with increasing length.
3 Author unknown. 4 Cf. above, 3.
s Demosthenes 20. I. Cr. above, 10.
8143591 N
 DEMETRIUS

prayers to the goddess, but partly also because I wanted to watch the
ceremony to see how they would conduct it, since this was its first cele-
bration.'! The clauses have been thrown one on top of the other, as in the
disconnected style, and when we stop at the end *e barely realize that
the sentence is a period. The dialogue period sh~uld be written in a
manner midway bet'Yeen the disjointed and neatly-ended styles, forming
a combination which draws from both. These, then, are the three forms
of period.

ANTITHESIS AND SIMILARITY IN CLAUSES

22 Periods are also formed from clauses in antithesis. These may be anti-
thetical either in content, as in 'sailing over the land and marching over
the sea',2 or in two respects, content and language, as in the case of this
23 same period. There are also clauses with purely verbal antithesis, as in
this comparison of Helen to Heracles: 'For the one he created a life full
of labour and danger, in the other he formed a beauty surrounded by
admiration and strife.'3 There is antithesis of article to article, connective
to connective, like to like throughout, with correspondence of 'created'
to 'formed', 'labour' to 'admiration', 'danger' to 'strife', in factlike matches
24 like at every point. We also find clauses which are not antithetical but
have an apparent antithesis because they are shaped in an antithetical
pattern, as in the playful words of the poet Epicharmus:
Now I was in their house, now in their company.4
The same idea is expressed twice and there is no real contrast, but the
structure of the sentence, with its imitation of an antithesis, looks like
an attempt to mislead; but perhaps Epicharmus used this antithetical
form for its ludicrous effect and to ridicule the rhetoricians.
25 There are also closely similar clauses, some with the similarity at the
beginning, as in
Presents could buy them, prayers could move them,s
others at the end, as at the beginning of the Panegyricus: 'I have often
marvelled at the men by whom assemblies are constituted and athletic
games instituted.'6 Another form of similarity is the isocolon, where two
clauses have the same number of syllables, as in Thucydides: 'Neither
I The opening words of Plato's Republic. Cf. Dionysius, below, p. 34I.
2 Isocrates, Panegyricus 89.
3 Isocrates, Praise of Helen 17. 4 Fr. 147 Kaibel.
5 Homer, Iliad 9. 526.
6 Isocrates, Panegyricus 1. Cf. above, p. 149.
 ON STYLE 179
did those questioned disclaim the deed nor did those concerned to know
censure it." This, then, is isocolon. Homoeoteleuton occurs in clauses 26
with similar endings, either of the same word, as in 'When he was alive
you would speak of him slightingly, now that he is dead you write of him
slightingly',z or of the same final syllable, as in the Panegyricus passage
above.
The use of such clauses is risky. They do not suit forceful speech, since 27
the artifice and premeditation destroy any forcefulness, as is clear from
this example in Theopompus' invective against the friends of Philip:
'Slayers of men by nature, sleeping with men by habit, they were called
his men but were really his women.'3 The balanced structure and anti-
thesis destroy the forcefulness by their misplaced artifice. Anger has no
need of artifice and the style of such invectives should seem spontaneous
and natural. But if, as I have shown, such clauses do not suit forceful 28
speech, they are also alien to the expression of the passionate or milder
emotions. 4 Strong passion is essentially simple and unaffected, and the
same is true of the milder emotions. Take the passage from Aristotle's On
Justice where the speaker grieves for the city of Athens. 5 If he were to
say 'What city did they ever take from the enemy as great as their own
city which they had lost?', he would have spoken with passion and grief.
But if he used balanced clauses to say 'What city of the enemy had they
constrained as great as their own which they had not retained ?', he will
assuredly excite neither passion nor pity but what are called tears of
laughter. In fact the proverb, 'to jest among mourners', sums up such
misapplied artifice in emotional contexts. Yet sometimes these devices 29
are useful, as in Aristotle: 'I went from Athens to Stagira because of the
great king and from Stagira to Athens because of the great winter.'6 If
you remove the second 'great', you will also remove the charm. Such
clauses may also contribute towards a nobility of expression, as do many
antitheses in Gorgias and Isocrates. So much, then, on similar clauses.

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PERIOD AND ENTHYMEME

The enthymeme differs from the period in that the period is a rounded 30
form of sentence-structure (hence its name), whereas it is the content
which gives the enthymeme its function and existence. The period may
give rounded form to an enthymeme just as it can to any subject but
the enthymeme is a thought which draws a conclusion either from a
I Thuc. I. 5. Z Author unknown. It recurs in 2II.
3 Fr. 249 Mueller. Compare 75 and 240.
4 Pathos and ethos: compare Q!Iint. 6. 2. 8 If. 5 Fr. 82 Rose
6 Cf. 154 below. Aristotle, fr. 669 Rose.
 ISo DEMETRIUS
31 contradiction or in the form of a logical consequence. l In proof of this asser-
tion, if you broke up the structure of an enthymeme, you would destroy
any periodic form but the enthymeme remains untouched. Suppose, for
example, we broke up this enthymeme of Demosthenes: 'Just as you would
not have sponsored this bill if any of them had been co~victed, no one
else will in the future if you are convicted now.'2 Let us break it up: 'Do
not be lenient to sponsors of unconstitutional bills; for if they were
always stopped, the defendant would not be sponsoring this bill now,
nor will anyone else sponsor them in the future if he is convicted now.'
Here the circular form of the period is broken up but the enthymeme
32 remains as it was. In general terms, the enthymeme is a rhetorical syllog-
ism, whereas the period is not a form of argumentation but merely a
particular sentence-structure. We also use periods in all the sections of a
speech, for example in introductions, but we do not use enthymemes
everywhere. The enthymeme is, as it were, an additional comment, the
period is simply a form of words. The former is a sort of imperfect
33 syllogism, the latter involves no syllogism, perfect or imperfect. The
enthymeme has the accidental property of being a period if it is expressed
in periodic form but it is not itself a period, just as a white building has
the accidental property of whiteness but buildings are not always white.
This concludes my discussion of the difference between the enthymeme
and the period.

ADDITIONAL COMMENT ON ARISTOTLE'S DEFINITION OF

THE CLAUSE

34 This is Aristotle's definition of a clause: 'A clause is one of the two parts
of a period.' He then adds: 'There is also the simple period.'3 By 'one of
the two parts' in his definition he clearly signifies a period of only two
clauses. Archedemus4 combined Aristotle's definition and additional
comment to produce a clearer and more correct definition: 'A clause is
35 either a simple period or part of a composite period.' I have explained the
simple period already; but in saying 'part of a composite period' it would
seem that Archedemus does not limit the period to two clauses but allows
three or more. I have given my views on the proper limits of the period:
let us now turn to describe the types of style.
I On the two types of enthymeme compare Aristotle, Rhetoric 2. 22, 1396b z5 and

Quint. 5. 14.4. The first refutes the opponent, the second proves something from agreed
premisses.
2 Against Aristocrates 99.
3 Rhetoric 3. 9, 1409b I6: cf. above, p. 148.
4 No identification is possible.
 ON STYLE 181

THE FOUR STYLES

There are four primary styles, plain, grand, elegant, and forceful. There 36
are also styles formed from combinations of these, though not every
combination is possible: the elegant style combines with the plain and the
grand, likewise the forceful with the same two, but-the one exception-a
mixture of the grand and plain styles is impossible, since the two stand,
as it were, diametrically opposed to each other in permanent conflict.
This is in fact why some people claim that only these two styles exist
and that the other two are contained within them; for they classify the
elegant under the plain style and the forceful under the grand on the
grounds that the elegant style involves an element of triviality and
daintiness, the forceful style weight and majesty. But this line of argument 37
is absurd. It ignores the fact that, with the exception of the two extremes
already mentioned, every combination of styles is possible. In the epic
poetry of Homer, for example, and the prose of Plato, Xenophon, Hero-
dotus, and many other authors there is a considerable element of grandeur
but also a considerable element of forcefulness and charm. We must, then,
recognize our original number of four styles, each with an appropriate
form of expression which I shall now describe.

THE GRAND STYLE, BEGINNING WITH WORD-ARRANGEMENT:

RHYTHM, CLAUSES, PERIODS, HARSH JUXTAPOSITION,
WORD-ORDER

I shall begin with grandeur, the quality which men now term true 38
eloquence. Grandeur springs from three sources, thought, diction, and
appropriate word-arrangement. In arrangement grandeur is, as Aristotle I
says, given by the use of paeonic rhythm. There are two kinds of paeon,
the initial paeon formed by one long syllable followed by three shorts
(e.g. erxiito de)z and, the reverse of this, the final paeon formed by three
short syllables and one long (e.g. Arab/a). In the clauses of the grand style 39
the initial type of paeon should stand at the beginning, the terminal type
later, as in this example from Thucydides:
-u u v vvu-

erxato de to kakon ex Aithiopias. 3

Why did Aristotle give this advice? Simply because a note of grandeur
should be struck immediately at the very beginning of the clause and again
I Rhetoric 3. 8, especially 1408h32 If. (above, p. 146).
2 Thuc. 2. 48, 'it originated'.
3 Thuc. 2. 48, 'the disease originated in Ethiopia'.
 182 DEMETRIUS
at the end, as is the case if we begin and end on a long syllable. For a long
syllable is of its nature imposing. Put at the beginning it has an imme-
diate impact, while at the end it leaves the reader with an impression
of grandeur. We all remember particularly what comes first or last and
are moved by it, while the intervening part has less force and is, as it
40 were, dimmed and outshone. This is evident in the case of Thucydides,
where it is almost entirely the use of heavy rhythms which lends him
grandeur throughout and, although he has grandeur of every kind, it is
perhaps on his arrangement alone or for the most part that his greatest
distinction depends.
41 We should, however, bear in mind that, even if we cannot give the
beginning and end of our clauses initial and final paeons respectively
in their exact form, we should at any rate make our sentences roughly
paeonic, for example by beginning and ending with more than one long
syllable. It would seem that this is what Aristotle himself intends and that
he described the two kinds of paeon in technical language merely for the
sake of exactitude. This is why Theophrastus can set down the following
clause as an example of grandeur:
v v v - v v - vu vv v

ton men peri ta medenos axia philosophounton. I

It does not consist of paeons in the exact sense but is roughly paeonic.
The reason why the paeon should be adopted in prose is the element of
safety provided by its mixture oflong and short syllables. The long syllable
42 lends grandeur, the shorts suitability for prose. If we look at the other
rhythms, the heroic rhythm is dignified but too sonorous for prose and
not only an unsuitable rhythm but no rhythm at all when it has only
long syllables,' as in hekon hemon eis ten choran ['arrived inside our land'],
where the accumulation oflong syllables goes beyond the limits of prose.
43 The iambic rhythm is undistinguished and like our everyday speech-in
fact many people use iambics unconsciously in conversation. The paeon,
however, forms a happy mean between the two with its elements of both.
This, then, is how paeonic rhythm should be used in passages of grandeur.
44 Long clauses also create grandeur, as in 'Thucydides the Athenian
composed this history of the war between the Peloponnesians and
Athenians' and 'The results of the inquiries of Herodotus of Halicarnassus
are here set forth'.3 To stop abruptly on a short clause undermines the
dignity of a passage, even if there is grandeur in the underlying thought
and diction.
I 'Those who philosophize about trivialities.'
2 Text uncertain. The example recurs, in longer form, in 117. The author is unknown.
3 The opening words of the histories of Thucydides and Herodotus respectively.
 ON STYLE
Sentences formed with a periodic structure arc also impressive, as in 45
Thucydides: 'The river Achelous, which flows from Mount Pindus
through Dolopia and the territory of the Agrianians and Amphilochians
and passes inland by the city of Stratus before running into the sea at
Oeniadae and surrounding the city with marshes, because of its volume
of water makes it impossible to start military operations in winter.'l The
grandeur derives entirely from the periodic structure and the fact that it
scarcely allows Thucydides or the reader to pause. If you were to break 46
it up and rewrite it as follows: 'The river Achelous flows from Mount
Pindus and has its outlet into the sea at Oeniadae, but before this outlet it
transforms the plain of Oeniadae into a marsh, with the result that the
water forms a protection and barrier against winter invasions from their
enemies'-rewritten in this form the passage will have many pauses but
the grandeur will be lost. In fact, just as frequent halts make a long 47
journey short, while deserted roads even over a short distance have an
illusion of length, exactly the same illusion is produced in sentences.
~other frequent source of grandeur is harsh-sounding juxtaposition, 48
as III
Aias d' ho megas aien ep' Hektori khalkokoruste,2
'Ajax, strong in might, aimed always at Hector of the bronze helmet.'
In other respects the dashing letters are perhaps discordant but they
bring out extraordinarily well the hero's might. Smoothness and euphony
have little place in the grand style, except very occasionally, and Thucy-
dides almost without exception avoids a smooth, even flow of words and
always seems rather to stumble along, like men negotiating rough paths,
as in this example: 'The year, it was agreed, from all other illness was,
as it happened, free.'3 It would be easier and more euphonious to say
'happened to be free' but the grandeur would be lost. Harsh word- 49
arrangement creates in fact the same effect of grandeur as intrinsically
harsh words such as 'shrieking' instead of 'calling' and 'bursting forth'
instead of 'moving along', the sort of words which Thucydides uses,
accommodating the words to his arrangement and the arrangement to
his words.
The order of the words should be such that the less vivid come first, 50
the more vivid second and last. Then the first word will sound vivid to us
but the next still more vivid, whereas on the opposite order we would
seem to lose strength and fall away, as it were, from strength to weakness.
Here is an example from Plato: 'When a man lets music sway him and 51
stream through his ears.' The second verb is much more vivid than the
I Thuc. 2. 102. Cf. 202. 2 Homer, Iliad 16.358. Cf. 105.
3 Thuc. 2. 49.
 DEMETRIUS
first. Again, in the same passage : 'Yet, when the stream of music is not
restrained but bewitches him, after that point his spirit melts and spills
forth.'l Here 'spills forth' is stronger than 'melts' and closer to poetry.
If Plato had put it first, 'melts' in second position would have seemed
rather weak. Homer similarly heightens the hyperbole continually in his
52 account of the Cyclops and seems to climb ever higher:
He did not resemble
men who eat bread, but a wooded peak,
one which is, furthermore, a high mountain, towering above its neigh-
bours. Z The grandeur of each successive part is overtaken by something
still greater.

CONNECTIVES

53 Connective particles such as men and del should not answer each other too
exactly. Exactitude is petty and we should cultivate instead a certain
negligence, such as we find in this passage of Antiphon: 'The island on
the one hand which we inhabit is visibly on the one hand high and rugged
even from a distance, its productive on the one hand and arable area is
small, its unproductive area on the other hand large for such a small
54 island.'4 Here one de answers three instances of men. Often too a chain of
connectives exalts even small things, for example the names of the Boeo-
tian towns in Homer: of no account and unimpressive in themselves,
they take on weight and grandeur from a great chain of connectives, as in:
and Schoenus and Scolus and mountainous Eteonus. 5
55 Expletive particles should not be used as empty fillers and, as it were,
alien growths or extra chippings to fill cracks, though this is the aimless
manner in which some people use 'indeed' and 'now', but only if they
56 increase the grandeur of what is being said, as in Plato's 'And indeed
mighty Zeus in heaven' and Homer's
But when indeed they came to the ford of the fair-flowing river.6
By forming a fresh start and wrenching what follows away from what
precedes, the particle has created a stately effect, since many fresh starts
achieve dignity. If Homer had said:
But when they reached the ford of the river,
I Republic 411 a-b. 2 Odyssey 9. 190-2.
3 i.e. 'on the one hand' (men) and 'but on the other hand' (de).
4 Fr. 50 Blass. 5 Iliad 2. 497.
6 Plato, Phaedrus 246 e and Homer, Iliad 14- 433 (also 21. 1).
 ON STYLE
the sentence would have seemed insignificant and a mere continuation
of the preceding narrative.
A particle may often be used to express emotion, as in Calypso's words 57
to Odysseus:
• Descendant of Zeus, son of Laertes, guileful Odysseus,
so it is indeed your wish to return to your own dear country?I
If you remove the particle, you will also remove the feeling of emotion.
In general, as Praxiphanes 2 says, such particles were used to represent
moanings and groans and, just as we all see the function of 'ah! ah!' and
'alas!', in exacdy the same way, he says, in Homer's
And now upon their laments 3
the 'now' was appropriate for laments because it creates the effect of an
interjection of woe. Those, however, he continues, who use particles 58
aimlessly are like actors who aimlessly insert this or that interjection, as if
one were to say:
This land is Calydon and Pelops' realm, alas!
beholds its fertile plains across the straits, ah! ah!4
If the 'alas!' and 'ah! ah!' are redundant there, the same is true if we
poindessly insert particles everywhere.

FIGURES OF SPEECH

This, then, is how particles give grandeur from arrangement. Figures 59

of speech are also a form of arrangement, since the expression of the
same idea twice, whether by repetition, anaphora, or anthypallage, implies
a rearrangement or change of word-order. We must, then, assign the
appropriate figures to each style, beginning with our immediate concern,
the grand style. First, anthypallage, as in Homer's 60
The two rocks, one of them reaches up to the broad heaven. 5
The unusual case gives far more stateliness than if he had said
Of the two rocks one reaches up to the broad heaven.
This would have been banal; everything banal is trivial and as a result
fails to arouse wonder. Consider Nireus: he is himself unimportant, his 61
I Odyssey 5. 203-4.
2 The text of this sentence is corrupt but the general sense seems clear.
3 e.g. Iliad 23. 154.
4 Euripides, Me/eager, fr. 515 Nauck.
5 Odyssey 12. 73.
 186 DEMETRIUS
contingent still less important (three ships and a few men); but he and
his contingent are magnified and multiplied by Homer's use of the com-
bined two figures of anaphora and asyndeton:
Nireus brought three ships,
Nireus son of Aglaia,
Nireus the most beautiful of men.'

The ana ph ora of the repeated Nireus and the asyndeton give the im-
pression of a mighty contingent, though he has only two or three ships,
62 and, although Nireus is named only once in the course of the action,
we remember him as vividly as Achilles and Odysseus, whose names recur
in almost every line. The reason is the force of the figure of speech: if
Homer had said

Nireus son of Aglaia brought three ships from Syme,

it would have been as if he had never mentioned him. This deceptive

effect in literature is comparable to the arrangement of a few dishes at a
banquet to seem many.
63 Often, however, it is polysyndeton, the opposite of asyndeton, which
is more conducive to grandeur, as in this sentence, 'There marched
together Greeks and Carians and Lycians and Pamphylians and Phry-
gians', 2 where the use of the same connective suggests an army of infinite
64 size. On the other hand, the absence of the connective 'and' makes
Homer's 'arched, foam-crested'3 more imposing than if he had said
'arched and foam-crested'.
65 Grandeur from figures is also obtained from a change to a different
construction, as in Thucydides: 'The first to step on the gangway, he
both fainted and, as he fell on the outrigger, his shield was dropped.'4
This is far more imposing than if he had continued his construction to
say 'and fell on the outrigger and dropped his shield'.
66 Repetition too can sometimes achieve grandeur, as in Herodotus: 'In
some parts of the Caucasus there were vast serpents, vast and numerous.'5
The repetition of 'vast' lends dignity to the sentence.
67 Figures should not, however, occur too frequently or they reveal a
lack of taste and are obtrusive. Look rather at the early writers, who use
[ Iliad 2. 671-3. Cf. Arist. Rhet. 3. 12, 1414a2 If.; above, p. 156.
2 Author unknown.

3 Iliad 13. 799. Cf. 81.

4 ThuC.4. 12.
5 The passage does not occur in our texts of Herodotus. Either Demetrius has
misattributed the passage or we should read Herodorus, a less famous early historian.
 ON STYLE
many figures in their works but because they distribute them with tact
seem more natural than those who avoid them.

HIATUS

The subject of hiatus has produced varying opinions. Isocrates and his 68
followers deliberately avoided it, others used it indiscriminately at every
opportunity. The proper course is not to make our sentences too resonant
by a random and indiscriminate use of hiatus (that simply wrenches and
jerks the words asunder) nor to pursue only an unbroken continuity,
since the sentence will then perhaps run more smoothly but will be less
musical and completely monotonous because it will have lost the melodious
euphony which hiatus gives. We should bear in mind, first of all, that 69
even common usage, whose chief aim is euphony, admits words with
internal hiatus, such as Aiakos and chian,I and even forms many words
like Aiaie and Euios2 which have only vowels but are no less euphonious
than any others and perhaps even more melodious. Then in poetry we 70
find forms where the vowels are deliberately resolved and juxtaposed, for
example edios, which is more melodious than keHos, and likewise ore on
instead of oran.3 The resolution and hiatus add the suggestion of a song.
We also find many words which would sound harsher if the vowels were
run together but are melodious if they remain apart and stand in hiatus,
as in kala estin:4 if you run the vowels together to say kal' estin, the phrase
will sound harsher and more banal. Again, in Egypt the priests even chant 7I
hymns to the gods in which they sound each of the seven vowels in turn,
and men listen to the sound of these letters in preference to the flute or
lyre because of their euphony. If we remove the hiatus, we simply lose
entirely the hymns' melody and music. But perhaps now is not the time
to enlarge on this topic.
In the grand style the appropriate form of hiatus to use is the juxta- 72
position of the same two long vowels, as in laan ana atheske,5 where the
hiatus makes the line ponderous and reproduces the stone's resistance and
the force needed to push it up. Similar examples occur in Thucydides ... 6
The juxtaposition of different vowels also produces grandeur, with the 73
added merit of variety from the diversity of sound, as in eas and still
I i.e. 'Aeacus' and 'snow'.
2 i.e. Aeaea, the name of an island, and Euius, an epithet of Bacchus.
3 'Sun' (keHos) and 'mountains' (oran).
~ 'They are beautiful.'
S Homer, Odyssey II. 596. 'He pushed the stone upwards.' Cf. the discussion of the
passage by Dionysius, below pp. 335 if.
6 We omit two examples, one between two long vowels and one between two
diphthongs.
 188 DEMETRIUS
more hoien,' where the change of vowels is accompanied by the transition
74 from aspirated to unaspirated sound. As a result it has many elements of
dissimilarity. In songs too trills are sung on one single long vowel, a song
within a song one might say: hiatus, then, between the same two long
vowels will compose a small part of a song or a trill. Here I conclude my
account of hiatus and the whole topic of grandeur in word-arrangement.

GRANDEUR FROM SUBJECT-MATTER

75 Grandeur also derives from the nature of the subject-matter, for example
an important and famous battle on land or sea or the theme of the heavens
or of earth. If we listen to a dignified subject we immediately suppose
that the speaker is using a dignified style-but we are deceived. We must
consider not the content but the manner of its expression. It is perfectly
possible to speak on dignified themes in an undignified manner and
produce a style inappropriate to the subject. This is why we find some
writers like Theopompus who are thought forceful but merely express
76 forceful themes in an unforceful style. The painter Nicias 2 used to say
that it was, to look no further, an important part of the painter's art to
choose a distinguished subject and not to fritter away his skill on tiny
things like little birds or flowers but to take cavalry or naval battles where
he could portray horses in many different poses-galloping, rearing,
stumbling to their knees-and many riders hurling javelins or thrown
to the ground. He thought that the theme itself was as integral a part of the
painter's art as the plot is part of the poet's. It is not surprising, then, if
grandeur results in prose also from the choice of dignified subject.

GRANDEUR FROM DICTION, BEGINNING WITH METAPHOR

AND SIMILE

77 In this style the diction should be ornate, distinctive, and unusual. It will
then have dignity, whereas normal, ordinary diction has clarity but is
78 plain and cheap. Pride of place belongs to metaphors, since these make
the greatest contribution of charm and grandeur to prose, but they must
not occur too frequently or we find ourselves writing dithyrambic poetry
instead of prose, and they should not be far-fetched but derived from a
related analogy in a similar field. For instance, there is a similarity between
I i.e. 'dawn' (cos) and 'such' (hoien).
2 Athenian painter of the second half of the fourth century. For his choice of theme
compare the famous Alexander mosaic in the House of the Faun at Pompeii, a copy of a
fourth-century original.
 ON STYLE
a general, pilot, and charioteer, since they all control something, and we
may safely call a general 'pilot of the state' or conversely a pilot 'charioteer
of the ship'. Not all metaphors, however, have this reciprocal quality: 79
Homer could call the lower slope of Mount Ida its 'foot' but never a
man's foot his 'lower slope'.
If a metaphor seems risky, turn it into a simile (eikasia). Then it will 80
be safer. A simile is an extended metaphor. For example, take the words
'Then the orator Python rushed in spate against you' 1 and expand them
to say 'Then the orator Python rushed, as it were, in spate against you':
the passage has become a simile and acquired safety, while the original
version was a metaphor and more risky. This is why Plato's use of meta-
phor in preference to simile is thought a tricky procedure; Xenophon,
however, prefers similes.
Aristotle considers the best metaphor to be what is called the active 81
metaphor,z where inanimate objects are presented as if they were animate,
as in the description of an arrow 'sharp-pointed, eager to hit its mark
in the crowd' and waves 'arched, foam-crested'.3 All such terms as 'foam-
crested' and 'eager' imply the activities of living creatures.
Some ideas are expressed more clearly and properly in metaphors than 82
if the proper terms were used. Take 'The battle shuddered';4 no version
using only proper terms could have greater truth or clarity. By 'shuddering
battle' Homer has expressed the movement of the spears and their low,
continuous sound-and at the same time he has also made use of the
active metaphor we have just discussed, since he speaks of the battle
shuddering like a living creature.
It must not be forgotten, however, that some metaphors create a loss 83
of dignity rather than grandeur, even when the metaphor is intended to
give dignity as in:
All around the great heaven trumpeted. s
Homer should not have likened the sound of the heaven to the sound of
a trumpet-unless perhaps he can be defended on the grounds that the
great heaven resounded as it would if the whole heaven were a sounding
trumpet. Let us find, then, a second example of a metaphor which creates 84
loss of dignity instead of grandeur, bearing in mind that metaphors should
compare small to great, not the reverse. Take Xenophon's passage:
'When, during their march a part of the phalanx surged out.'6 He has
I Demosthenes, On the Crown 136. Cf. 272.
2 Rhetoric 3. Il, I4IIh32 If. above, p. 152.
3 Homer, Iliad 4. 126 and 13. 799. Cf. 64.
• Homer, Iliad 13. 339.
5 Ibid. 21. 388. Cf. 'Longinus' (below, p. 469), Pliny (below, p. 430).
6 Anabasis 1. 8. 18.
 190 DEMETRIUS
compared a falling out of rank to the surging waves and rightly applied
the metaphor, but if anyone were to reverse the analogy and speak of
waves falling out of rank, perhaps the metaphor would not even be appro-
priate, certainly it is utterly devoid of dignity.
85 Some people make a metaphor safe by adding an epithet if they think
it too bold. Theognis, for example, applies the phrase 'lyre without
strings' I to a bow in his description of a man shooting: to call a bow a
lyre is bold but the epithet 'without strings' makes it safe.
86 Usage is our guide in everything but particularly in the case of meta-
phors. Almost every expression in common use involves a metaphor but
we do not notice because they are safe metaphors, such as 'clear voice',
'keen man', 'rough character', 'lengthy speaker', and all the other in-
stances where the metaphor is applied so aptly that it seems the proper
87 term. This, then, is my criterion for metaphors in prose, usage as estab-
lished by art or nature. Usage has in fact taken over some metaphors so
successfully that we no longer feel the lack of a proper term and the
metaphor is firmly established as the proper term, for example 'the eye
88 of the vine' and suchlike expressions. Note, however, that when 'sphon-
dulos', 'kleis', and 'ktenes' are applied to parts of the body,z these terms
are not being used metaphorically from analogy but because of their
physical resemblance to a spindle-weight, key, and comb respectively.
89 When we turn a metaphor into a simile in the way I described, we
should aim at conciseness and add no more than 'like'. Otherwise it will
be a poetic comparison instead of a simile, as in Xenophon's 'like a valiant
hound which recklessly attacks a boar'3 and 'like a horse let loose which
90 prances and cavorts over the plain'.4 These no longer resemble similes
but poetic comparisons, which should not be used lightly in prose but
only with the greatest care. So much, then, for an outline sketch on the
subject of metaphor.

COMPOUND WORDS

91 We should also use compound words, not dithyrambic formations such

as 'divinely-portented wanderings' or 'the flame-speared army of the
stars'S but those resembling compounds sanctioned by usage. To speak
generally, in fact, I consider usage the only criterion in forming words,
I Poetae Melici Graeci 951 Page. He is probably the tragic poet of that name ridiculed

by Aristophanes.
2 viz. vertebra, collar-bone, and back of the hand.

3 Cyropaedia 1. 4. 21.
• Author unknown: but cf. Iliad 6. 506/f.
5 Of unknown authorship. See Poetae Melici Graeci 962 Page.
 ON STYLE
and it gives us 'lawgivers', 'master-builders', and many other formations
which we may safely copy. A compound word will not only have variety 92
and grandeur from the fact that it is a compound but also conciseness.
A whole phrase will be replaced by one word, for instance 'supplies of
corn' by 'corn-convoy', a much more impressive expression-though
sometimes it may be more impressive to reverse the process and turn
a word into a phrase, for example 'convoy of corn' instead of 'corn-
convoy'. Another instance of a word replacing a phrase may be taken from 93
Xenophon: 'It was possible to catch a wild ass only if the horsemen were
spaced out and hunted in relays." From the single word 'relays' we
understand that some gave chase from behind, others rode forward to
meet them, so that the ass was intercepted between the two. Finally, we
should not use compound words in profusion or we transgress the limits
of prose.

NEOLOGISMS
Critics define neologisms as words which imitate the sound of an emotion 94
or action, for example 'hissed' and 'lapping'.2 Such words create grandeur 95
on account of their resemblance to inarticulate sounds and in particular
from their strangeness, since the neologist does not use existing words but
ones which are now appearing for the first time. It also shows cleverness
to create a new form and, as it were, a new usage. In fact, in coining such
words he resembles the original creators of language.
We3 must aim primarily at clarity and natural Greek elements in 96
forming new words and secondly at achieving forms analogous to existing
words, so that we may not seem to speak the barbarous Greek ofPhrygians
and Scythians. Such a neologism must be either a completely new form, 97
as, for example, when a writer called the drums and other accompani-
ments of the eunuch priests their 'effeminacies' and Aristotle invented
'elephantist',4 or an existing form given a secondary meaning, as, for
example, when a writer called a man who was rowing his craft a 'crafts-
man' and Aristotle called the man who lived alone by himself an 'autite'.S
On the same lines Xenophon says 'The army rang out',6 deriving the 98
I Anabasis I. 5. 2.
2 Homer, Odyssey 9.394 and Iliad 16. 161. Cf. 220.
3 The transition to derivative neologisms is harsh. If we compare the unwarranted
'as I said' in 98, it is attractive to assume a lacuna here: e.g. 'There are also derivative
neologisms. Like all neologisms they carry risks, even for poets.'
• Author unknown and Aristotle, History of Animals 497b28.
5 Author unknown and Aristotle, fr. 668 Rose. Elsewhere the latter example refers
to home-made wine. The point is hard to make in English: 'selfish' is a possible ren-
dering, if we suppose it might bear two meanings. Cf. '44 below.
6 Anabasis 5. 2. 14.
 192 DEMETRIUS
meaning from their continuous ringing cheers. Neologism is, however,
as I said, a risky procedure even for poets.
Again, a compound word will be a species of neologism, since a com-
pound obviously derives from parts already in existence.

ALLEGORY

99 Allegory is yet another source of grandeur, especially when it has the

function of a threat, as in Dionysius' warning: 'The cicadas will sing to
100 them from the ground.'1 If he had said openly that he would cut down
the trees of Locris, he would have seemed hot-tempered and negligible;
as it is, he has used an allegory to veil his meaning. For what is implied
is always more fearsome, since people imagine varying interpretations,
whereas anything clear and explicit is likely to meet the scorn given to
101 men who have been stripped. This is why the Mysteries are expressed
through allegories, to arouse fear and awe-the very reason why they
are celebrated in darkness and at night. Allegory may indeed be regarded
102 as a sort of darkness and night. We should, however, take care not to
accumulate allegories or our words turn into a dark riddle, as in the
description of the doctor's cupping-glass:
I saw a man weld bronze on a man with fire. 2
The Spartans too would often use allegory to arouse fear, as in their
answer to Philip, 'Dionysius in Corinth',3 and many similar threats.

FURTHER DISCUSSION OF WORD-ARRANGEMENT

103 In some cases brevity, especially aposiopesis, creates grandeur, since

some things are more impressive if they are not openly expressed but
merely implied; in other cases it has a trivial effect, just as its opposite,
repetition, may give dignity, as in Xenophon: 'The chariots rushed along,
some of them right through their allies, others right through the enemy.'''
This version is much more impressive than if he had said 'right through
104 both allies and enemy'. Often too an oblique construction is more im-
pressive than a straightforward one, for example 'The aim was one of
charging and hacking a path through the ranks of the Greeks'S instead
105 of 'They intended to charge and hack a path through'. Contributory
I The warning is attributed to Stesichorus by Aristotle (Rhetoric 1395al-2 and
1412~3-4)·
2 Oeobulina, fr. I Bergk. Cf. above, p. 139. 3 Cf. 9 above.
4 Anabasis I. 8. 20. 5 Xenophon, Anabasis I. 8. 10.
 ON STYLE 193
factors are the verbal assonance and the obviously harsh sound. For
harshness often gives weight, as in:
Ajax (Aias), strong in might, aimed always (aim) at Hector,r
where the clash of the two sounds is a more effective indication of Ajax'
might than his shield of seven bulls' hides.

THE EPIPHONEME

\-Vhat is called the epiphoneme may be defined as added ornamentation 106

and is the highest form of grandeur in prose. Language is in part func-
tional, in part ornamental. The following is functional:
like the hyacinth which the shepherds on the hills
trample underfoot. 2
Then we have a decorative ornamentation:
and on the ground the purple flower ...
Here it is obvious that the epiphoneme gives added ornamentation and
beauty to the preceding words. Homer's poetry is full of examples, as in: 107

Out of the smoke I rescued them, for they seemed no longer

as they once were, when Odysseus went to Troy and left them behind.
A god, moreover, put this still greater anxiety in my heart,
that under the effects of wine you might turn to quarrelling
and wound one another. 3
Then he adds an epiphoneme:
for iron of itself draws a man on to fight.
To speak generally, the epiphoneme resembles conspicuous displays of r08
wealth like cornices, triglyphs, and broad bands of purple: 4 for it is
itself a sort of verbal mark of wealth.
The enthymeme might be considered a form of epiphoneme, but, even log
if it does come last in the manner of an epiphoneme, it is not one, since
it is used for proof, not ornamentation. Similarly, a maxim might seem 1I0
an appended epiphoneme but, even if it does sometimes have the final
Ier. 48 above.
• Sappho, fr. 105 (c) Lobel-Page.
3 Odyssey 19. 7-13.
4 Most probably broad bands of paint, for example on the plain surfaces of the
metopes or along the cornice.
8145(;91 o
 194 DEMETRIUS
position of the epiphoneme, it too is not one, since it is frequently put
III first. Again, in the line
Fool! he was not fated to escape his harsh doom'
there is no epiphoneme. It is neither additional nor a decorative ornamenta-
tion and bears no resemblance to an epiphoneme but only to an address
or rebuke.
II2 Poetical language in prose also gives grandeur-as is clear, in the words
of the proverb, even to the blind. Some writers, however, imitate the
poets quite openly, or rather they do not imitate but plagiarize, as is
Il3 Herodotus' practice. Contrast Thucydides: even if he adopts words from
poets, he makes them his own by using them in his own individual way.
In his description of Crete, for instance,
There lies the land of Crete, in the midst of the wine-dark sea,
beautiful, fertile, sea-girt,z
Homer had used 'sea-girt' for its dignity; Thucydides, on the other hand,
thought it right for the Sicilians to unite because their land was one
single sea-girt area,3 but, although he has used the same words, 'land' to
describe an island and 'sea-girt', he seems to be saying something quite
different, because he is using them not for any dignity of style but as
arguments in favour of unity. Here I conclude my account of grandeur.

THE FRIGID STYLE4

Il4 Each style has an adjacent fault in the same way that there are adjacent
good and bad qualities in the field of ethics, such as courage and rashness
or reverence and shame. The first to be discussed will be the neighbour
of the grand style. Its name is the frigid style, and frigidity is defined by
Theophrastus as that which exceeds the proper expression, as in
A cup un based cannot be tabled,s
instead of 'A cup which has no base cannot be placed on a table'. The
IlS slight nature of the subject does not allow such an ornate style. Like
grandeur, frigidity springs from three sources: first the thought, as in
one account of the Cyclops hurling a rock at Odysseus' ship: 'As the rock
sped on its way, goats \vere grazing on it.'6 This is frigid because the
I Homer, Iliad 12. 113. 2 Odyssey 19. 172-3.
3 Thuc. 4. 64.
4 The use of the word pSllchros to describe the fault of excessive grandeur is as odd in
Greek as 'frigid' in English. Demetrius' use derives from Aristotle, Rhetoric 3. 3,
140Sb3S if.: see note on this passage, where we use 'bathetic' for pSlIcilros (above, p. 140).
5 Sophoc1es, Triplolemus, fr. 554 l'iauck. 6 Author unknown.
 ON STYLE 19S

thought is extravagant and an impossible exaggeration. In diction Aris- 116

totle! recognizes four forms .••
[Brief lacuna which included the first two forms, glosses-i.e. dialectal or
rare words-and epithets.]
... as in Alcidamas' 'damp sweat'; thirdly compounds, if the compounding
produces dithyrambic formations like 'lone-wandering' or any other
excessively ornate word; and finally metaphors, as in 'The situation was
trembling and pale'.2 These, then, are the four kinds of frigid diction.
In word-arrangement there is frigidity if the sentence lacks good rhythm 117
and is unrhythmical because all its syllables are long, as in this example:
'arrived inside our land, with all our state expectant'.3 The series oflong
syllables is unsuitable for prose and too bold. It is also frigid to use a 118
series of metrical phrases, as some writers do, since the regularity obtrudes.
Verse in prose is out of place and as frigid as lines in verse with excess
syllables. To sum up, frigidity is akin to boastfulness. The boaster lays 119
claim to what he does not have as though he did, and the author who
adorns a trivial subject with dignified language may be regarded as a man
boasting of what are really trivialities. The proverbial 'dressed up pestle'
exactly describes such misuse of elevated style upon trivialities.
Some critics, however, think it proper to use dignified language of 120
trivial circumstances and consider it a mark of exceeding skill. For myself
I do not disapprove of the rhetorician Polycrates 4 when he adorns his
eulogy of [... ] as if he were an Agamemnon, with antithesis, metaphor,
and all the other stylistic embellishments of eulogy: he was writing in
jest, not in earnest, and the very ornateness of the style is part of the jest.
Let jesting, then, be permitted, I say, but propriety must always be pre-
served, that is to say, the style must be appropriate, plain for a trivial
subject, dignified for a dignified subject. Take Xenophon's description 121
of the beautiful little river Teleboas: 'This was a river which was not
large, beautiful though.'5 The brevity of the clauses and the ending upon
a 'though' all but bring the little river before our eyes. Contrast another
writer's description of a river like the Teleboas: 'Its source lies in the
hills of Laurium and it disembogues into the sea.'6 The style conjures up
the cataracts of the Nile or the mouth of the Danube. All such inappro-
priate grandeur is called frigidity.
There is, however, another way in which we may magnify trifles, yet 122
I Aristotle's account in Rhetoric 3. 3 (above, p. 140) allows us to fill the lacuna.
2 Gorgias, fr. B. 16 Diels. 3 Cf. 42 above.
4 A fourth-century Athenian, noted for his paradoxical eulogies. The name of the
person praised has been lost-perhaps Thersites or Busiris.
5 Anabasis 4. 4. 3. Cf. 6 above. 6 Author unknown.
 DEMETRIUS
it is not inappropriate and sometimes a necessity. For example, we may
wish to exaggerate a general's minor victory into a great victory, or we may
wish to praise the Spartan ephor who flogged a man for playing ball with
extra flourishes alien to the Spartan tradition. This misdeed taken by
itself sounds venial, but we can dwell upon its consequences, pointing out
that any leniency towards minor faults of character opens the way to more
serious ones and that punishment should be directed against minor rather
than serious offences; we may also adduce the proverb 'the beginning is
half the whole' as an apt description of this slight fault or even assert
123 that no fault is slight. It is on these lines, then, that we may exaggerate
a small success without fear of impropriety, and just as a great deed can
often be usefully disparaged, a minor one can conversely be magnified.
124 The device most inherently frigid is hyperbole. It takes three forms,
depending on whether it asserts a likeness, as in 'like the winds in speed', I
or a superiority, as in 'whiter than snow',z or an outright impossibility,
125 as in 'her head reached up to meet the sky'.3 Of course every hyperbole
involves an impossibility-there is nothing whiter than snow, nothing
like the winds in speed-but this third kind is specifically called the im-
possible. It is in fact precisely because of their element of impossibility that
126 every hyperbole is thought especially prone to be frigid. It is also the
chief reason why the comic poets use hyperbole, since the impossible is
.a source of laughter, as in one writer's exaggerated account of the Persians'
gluttony, 'they excreted whole plains', and 'they carried oxen in their
127 jaws':1 Of the same nature are the phrases 'balder than the blue sky' and
'healthier than a pumpkin'. Sappho's 'more golden than gold',S however,
may be a hyperbole and impossibility but she draws charm, not frigidity,
from this very impossibility. We may indeed give especial praise to the
divine Sappho for the way in which she has used to charming effect a
device which is of its nature dangerous and hard to use successfully.

THE ELEGANT STYLE

128 Here I conclude my account of frigidity and hyperbole and turn to

discuss the elegant style, the style of charm and light pleasantries. Some
forms of charm are more stately and dignified, those associated with
poetry, others are more lowly and more suited to comedy, akin to gibes
and found in such writers as Aristophanes, Sophron, and Lysias. If we
consider such witticisms as Lysias' comment on an old woman, 'It would
I Homer, Iliad 10. 437. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid. 4. 443.
4 Unknown authors. The first may be a paraphrase of Aristophanes, Acharnians 82.
The second reappears in 161.
5 Sophron, frr. 108 and 34 Kaibel, Sappho,. fr. 156 Lobel-Page. All recur in 162.
 ON STYLE 197

be easier to count her teeth than her fingers', and 'He has made off with as
many drachmas as he deserved strokes of the whip',! they are indistin-
guishable from gibes and close to the laughter of buffoonery. On the other 129
hand, Homer's lines,z
The nymphs
played at her side, and Leto rejoiced in her heart
and
She was easily pre-eminent, though all were beautiful,
show what we call the dignified or stately kind of charm. Homer also uses 130
pleasantries on occasion to add force and expressiveness and the very
jesting makes him more fearsome. He seems to have been the first to
discover forceful pleasantries, as in the gift of hospitality offered by that
most repulsive character, the Cyclops:
I shall eat No-man last, after the others. 3
Nothing expresses his monstrous nature as vividly as this witticism, not
even when he devours two of Odysseus' companions, nor the huge door
of his cave, nor his mighty club. Xenophon too adopts this device and 131
derives forcefulness from pleasantries, as in the case of the armed dancing-
girl: when a Greek was asked by a Paphlagonian whether their women
too went on campaigns, he replied: 'Yes, and it was the women who
routed the king.'4 The witticism is forceful on two scores, the implication
that the women who accompanied them were not ordinary women but
Amazons and the sneer that the king was so weak that he was put to
flight by women.
These, then, are the varieties and characteristics of charm. Some 132
derive from the content, such as gardens of the nymphs, wedding-songs,
loves, all the poetry of Sappho. Even if handled by a Hipponax 5 such
themes retain their charm and are intrinsically gay. No one could sing
a wedding-song in wrath or achieve a style able to turn Cupid into a
Fury or a giant, or laughter into tears. But if some themes have their own 133
charm, the style can lend added charm, as in Homer:
As when the daughter of Pandareus, the auburn nightingale,
warbles her sweet song in the first days of spring. 6
I Frr. I. 5 and 275 Sauppe.
2 Odyssey 6. 105-6 and 108. Homer compares Nausicaa among her handmaidens to
Artemis among the nymphs.
3 Odyssey 9. 369. Cf. 152 below.
4 Anabasis 6. I. 12-13.
5 Sixth century B.C., notorious for his invective poetry.
6 Odyssey 19. 518-19.
 DEMETRIUS
The nightingale is a charming bird and spring is always a charming
thought but the style has greatly heightened the beauty by the added
charm of 'auburn' and the personification of a bird as a daughter of
134 Pandareus. Both are the poet's own contributions. Often too a subject
which is essentially unattractive and grim may acquire gaiety from the
writer's treatment. This skill seems to be found first in Xenophon. His
subject was a stem and grim character, the Persian Aglaitadas, yet he
135 created laughter with a tharming jest: 'It is easier to strike fire from you
than laughter." This kind of charm has the most powerful effect and
more than any other depends on the writer, since he takes a subject like
Aglaitadas which is essentially grim and hostile to charm and shows that
it is possible to make jests even from unpromising material, just as one
may be cooled by warmth and warmed by cold.
136 We have now indicated the forms of charm and the ways in which they
appear. Now we shall indicate their sources. We have already seen that
charm derives from style and content and we shall treat the sources under
these two headings, beginning with style.

CHARM FROM STYLE, BEGINNING WITH BREVITY, WORD-

ORDER, AND FIGURES OF SPEECH

137 First we have charm from brevity, where an idea which would become
unattractive under detailed treatment derives charm from a passing
mention, as in Xenophon: '''This man has in fact no claim to be Greek,
for I saw him with both ears pierced like a Lydian"-and this was SO.'2
The brevity of the final 'and this was so' creates charm, while a longer
version, 'What he had said was true; they were obviously pierced', would
138 have replaced the charm with a bald narrative. Again, we may often
contrive a charming effect by combining two ideas in one, as in one
writer's description of the sleeping Amazon: 'Her bow lay strung, her
quiver full, her shield beside her head; but they do not loosen their
girdles.'3 The same words indicate the regular custom about the girdle
and the fact that she had not loosened her girdle, two points in one. The
brevity is elegant.
139 A second source is word-order, since a final position lends some words
a charm which they lack if put in the beginning or middle. Here is an
example from Xenophon on Cyrus: 'He gave him gifts, a horse, a robe,
a necklace, and a promise against further ravaging of his country.'4 The
last gift, the promise against further ravaging, creates charm from its
, Cyropaedia 2. 2. 15. 2 Anabasis 3. I. 31.
3 Author unknown. • Anabasis I. 2. 27.
 ON STYLE 199
strangeness and peculiarity. The final position is responsible: reverse
the order, for example 'He gave him gifts, a promise against further
ravaging of his country, a horse, a robe, and a necklace', and there would
be no charm; as it is, he begins with the conventional gifts and adds at
the end the one which is strange and unusual. Hence the charming effect.
The charm derived from the use of figures of speech is self-evident 140
and is found above all in Sappho, as in her use of repetition, for example
when a bride addresses her virginity,
Virginity, virginity, where have you gone, deserting me?
and her virginity replies, using the same figure,
Never again shall I come to you, never again shall I come.!
The idea would have less charm if it were expressed only once, without
the figure of speech. It is true that repetition seems to have been invented
rather as a means of lending forcefulness, but Sappho makes even the
most forceful turns of style contribute charm. Sometimes she derives 141
charm from anaphora, as in her address to the evening-star:
Evening-star, you bring everything home,
you bring the sheep, you bring the goat, you bring the child to the mother. z
Here again there is charm, the result of the repetition of 'you bring' at
the beginning of successive clauses. Many other examples could be 142
adduced.

CHARM FROM SINGLE WORDS

There are also examples from single words, for instance metaphor, as
in this passage on the cicada:
From under its wings
it lets its shrill song flow forth, whenever the blazing ... ;3
or compound words of a dithyrambic nature, such as 143
Pluto, lord of the black-winged ... 4
-but these are more especially the playful oddities of comedy and satyr-
plays. There may also be charm from a word associated with a particular 1#

I Fr. 114 Lobel-Page. 2 Fr. 104 (a) Lobel-Page.

3 Alcaeus, fr. Z. 23 Lobel-Page. The end of the quotation is deeply corrupt.
4 Author unknown. The rest of the quotation is deeply corrupt and it is uncertain
whether it is from lyric or comedy. See Poetae MC/ici Graeci 9n3 Page and Supple-
mentum ComiCllm, Frag. Adesp. 1 Demianczuk.
 200 DEMETRIUS
author,! as in Aristotle, 'The more lonesome I am, the fonder I have
become of stories', or from a neologism, as in the same sentence, 'The
more lonesome and "alitite" I am, the fonder I have become of stories'.
Here 'lonesome' is rare outside Aristotle,! while 'autite' is a neo-
'45 log ism from 'auto-'. Again, many words derive charm from a particular
application, as in the remark, 'This bird is a flatterer and rogue'/ where
the charm lies in the mockery of the bird as if it were a man and the
consequent use of words not normally applied to birds.

CHARM FROM COMPARISON, RECANTATION, PARODY, ALLEGORY,

SIMILAR CLAUSES, AND VEILED ACCUSATIONS

'46 Such are the sources of charm from single words. We may also derive
charm from comparisons, as in Sappho's description of a tall, handsome
man:
pre-eminent, like the Lesbian singer among strangers. 3
Here the comparison has resulted in charm, not the grandeur which could
have been achieved by the choice of a more poetical comparison, for
example 'pre-eminent, like the moon among the stars' or 'like the sun in
'47 brightness'. Sophron too derives charm from this source, for example:
'See how many leaves and twigs the boys shower on the men, in just the
way they say, my dear, the Trojans hurled mud at Ajax.'4 This com-
parison is charming, because it makes fun of the Trojans as if they were
children.
'48 There is also a source which Sappho has made peculiarly her own,
recantation. She says something, then recants and, as it were, changes
her mind, as in this example:
Raise the haII
high, you builders.
The bridegroom is entering, the equal of Ares,
taller by far than a taII man. S
She seems to check herself, conscious of using an impossible exaggeration
'49 since no one is the equal of Ares. Similar is this passage in Telemachus: 6
'Two dogs were tethered in front of the court and I can even tell you the
dogs' names-but why should I wish to give their names?' The writer
has wittily changed his mind in the middle and suppressed their names.
I Or 'from a colloquial word' ... 'is colloquial'. The fragment (668 Rose) is cited

in 97 and is a probable interpolation in 164.

2 Author unknown. 3 Fr. 106 Lobel-Page.
4 Fr. 32 Kaibel. ' Fr. 'II Lobel-Page.
6 Unknown: name may be corrupt. But possibly a version of the Odyssey story is
meant: we may recall Eumaeus' dogs (for the relevant passage see below, p. 324).
 ON STYLE 201

There is also charm in parodying someone else's line, for example ISO
Aristophanes mocks Zeus somewhere for failing to cast his thunderbolts
against the wicked:
But he strikes his own temple and 'Sunium, headland of Athens';
It is as though it were no longer Zeus but Homer and Homer's line
which find ridicule, and this increases the charm.
Again, some allegories have a piquant flavour, as in 'Delphians, your ISI
bitch is with child'2 or Sophron's description of old men: 'Here I too
sit at anchor with you, white-haired like myself, waiting to set sail on the
sea; for men of our age are ready to lift anchor.' He also has an allegory
on the subject of women, using the imagery of fish: 'Razor-fish, oysters
with soft flesh, delicacies for widows.'3 But comparisons like this last
example are gross and suitable only for mimes.
Charm also springs from the unexpected, as in the Cyclops' words 152
that he would eat No-man last4 (for neither Odysseus nor the reader had
expected such a token of hospitality) or in Aristophanes' mockery of
Socrates:
He melted the wax, then took a pair of compasses
and in the wrestling school-he stole a cloak. 5
In this example there are, however, two sources of charm: the last com- 153
ment is not only unexpected, it does not even cohere with what precedes.
This sort of incoherence is called double-entendre 6 and may be illustrated
from the speech ofBulias in Sophron (none of his remarks cohere together)
and the prologue of Menander's Woman of Messenia.
Similar clauses are another frequent source of charm, as in Aristotle: 154
'I went from Athens to Stagira because of the great king and from Stagira
to Athens because of the great winter." The fact that both clauses have
the same ending lends charm and, if you delete 'great' from either clause,
you will also remove the charm.
Veiled accusations can sometimes seem charming, as in Xenophon's 155
account of how Heraclides, one of Seuthes' followers, approaches each
of the dinner-guests in turn and urges him to give what he can to Seuthes. 8
The request has a sort of charm and is at the same time a veiled accusation.
J Clouds 401, with parody of Odyssey 3. 278.
• Author unknown and interpretation uncertain.
3 Frr. 52 and 24 Kaibel.
4 Homer, Odyssey 9. 369. Cf. 130. 5 Clouds 149 and 178--9.
6 At first hearing there is a surface meaning but it does not make sense and we look
for the underlying real meaning. We have no details on either of the two examples
(Sophron, fr. 109 Kaibel; Menander, fr. 268 Koerte).
7 Fr. 669 Rose. Cf. 29. 8 Anabasis 7.3. 15 If.
 202 DEMETRIUS
CHARM FROM CONTENT: PROVERBS, FABLES, MISTAKEN
FEARS, COMPARISONS, AND HYPERBOLES
156 So much, then, on the number and sources of charm derived from style.
In content we derive charm from proverbs, since they are of their nature
charming. In Sophron, for example, we find 'Epioles who choked his
father' and, in another passage, 'he deduced the lion from the claw', 'he
scraped the ladle', and 'he split cummin'.' He amasses charm by having
two or three proverbs in quick succession and we can almost make a
157 complete collection of all proverbs from his dramas. Aptly introduced
fables are also charming. Some are traditional, such as Aristotle's com-
ment on the story that the eagle dies of hunger because its beak becomes
bent: 'and it suffers this fate because once, when it was a man, it injured
158 a guest'.2 This is a traditional and familiar fable. There are also many
fables which we invent to match and suit the context, like one writer's
novel addition to the story that the cat grows fat and thin in sympathy
with the phases of the moon: 'hence the story that the moon is the eat's
mother.'3 There is not only charm from the novelty, the story that the
moon is the cat's mother is itself attractive.
159 Relief from fear 4 is another frequent source of charm, when a man is
needlessly afraid, for example when he mistakes a strap for a snake or a
stove for a hole in the ground-but these mistakes are essentially more
160 suited to comedy. Comparisons are yet another source, if you compare a
cock to a PersianS because its crest stands upright-or to a king because it
is purple or because we jump up when a cock crows, just as we do when
161 a king calls. But comic charm derives especially from hyperbole, since
every hyperbole involves an impossibility.6 For example, Aristophanes
exaggerates the gluttony of the Persians,
They roasted oxen, not bread, in the ovens,7
and another writer of the Thracians, 'Medoces their king would carry
162 a whole ox in his jaw'.8 There are other examples of the same kind,
'healthier than a pumpkin', 'balder than the blue sky', and Sappho's
More melodious by far than a lyre,
more golden than gold. 9
The charm of all such examples derives from hyperbole.
I Frr. 68 and 110 Kaibel. The meaning of the first is obscure.
2 History of Animals 619316.
3 Author unknown. 4 Text uncertain.
5 Aristophanes, Birds 486-7 and 490. In fact only the king in Persia wore his tiara
upright.
6 The impossible is a regular source oflaughter.
7 Aristophanes, Acharnians 85-6. 8 Author unknown. Cf. 126.
9 Sophron, frr. 108 and 34 Kaibel; Sappho, fr. 156 Lobel-Page. Cf. 127.
 ON STYLE 203

THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN LAUGHTER AND CHARM

Comic laughter and graceful charm differ. They differ, first of all, in their 163
material. Gardens of the nymphs and loves are material for charm but
do not provoke laughter, unlike Irus and Thersites I who do. The differ-
ence, then, is as great as that between Thersites and Cupid. They also 164
differ in language: charm welcomes stylistic adornment and beautiful
words, the richest source of charm, as in
The many-garlanded earth was carpeted with flowers
and 'auburn nightingale',2 whereas laughter is not merely content to use
commonplace, ordinary words 3 but is actually destroyed by stylistic 165
adornment and becomes grotesque. Charm, then, may be adorned without
offence 4 but to elaborate upon a subject for laughter is tantamount to
beautifying an ape. It is for this reason that Sappho uses beautiful, 166
melodious words when she speaks of beauty or loves, spring and the
halcyon. Every beautiful word is woven into her poems and some are
even her own creation. But her style changes when she mocks the boorish 167
bridegroom and the doorkeeper of the bridal chamber: then she departs
from poetic language to use very ordinary and pedestrian words and we
feel readier to recite these poems in a conversational tone than to sing
them, and they would not fit the accompaniment of chorus and lyre-
unless of course you can imagine a chorus which merely recites. But the 168
most fundamental difference lies in their aims: the elegant and comic
writers have different aims, the former to delight us, the latter to make
us laugh. Their results are similarly different, since the one arouses
laughter, the other praise. Different too are their spheres of action: in 169
some genres, the satyr-play and comedy, we need both laughter and
charm, whereas tragedy makes frequent use of charm but laughter is
its enemy. No one could even conceive of a mirthful tragedy: he would
simply produce a satyr-play.

JESTS AND GIBES, SUITABLE AND UNSUITABLE

Even sensible men will sometimes make jests, on appropriate occasions 170
such as banquets and parties and in rebuking the dissolute, for example
I Irus, the beggar in Homer, Odyssey 18, and Thersites, ugliest of the Greeks in the
Iliad.
2 Author unknown (Poetae Me/ici Graeci 964(a) Page) and Homer, Odyssey 19.518,

already quoted in 133.

3 I delete the example, Aristotle, fr. 668 Rose, quoted in 144, since it has charm and
does not illustrate the crude laughter of comedy.
• Text uncertain.
 204 DEMETRIUS
the beggar's bag of Telauges I and Crates' poetry 2-or one might read a
praise of lentil-soup to a gathering of gourmets. This is the sort of
procedure associated with the Cynics, for such jests usurp the function
171 of moral anecdotes and maxims. A man's jests are also an indication of
his character, revealing either humour or a lack of good manners, as
in the case of the man who held out the wine which had been poured
into his cup and said 'Peleus instead ofOeneus'.3 The punning substitu-
tion and the air of premeditation indicate a character with no taste or
breeding.
172 'Io turn to gibes,4 some are harmlessly witty comparisons. Examples
of this kind will be 'Egyptian clematis' to describe a tall, swarthy man
and 'sea-sheep' to describe a fool at sea. This kind will be used, but we will
avoid any others as coarse abuse.

BEAUTIFUL WORDS

17J Charm is also created by the use of what are called beautiful words. This
is Theophrastus' definition: 'There is beauty in a word if it is attractive
174 to the ear or eye or has inherent nobility from its meaning.' Attractive
to the eye are such expressions as 'rose-coloured' and 'flower-laden
meadow' (for whatever delights the eye retains its beauty when we hear
about it) and attractive to the ear are 'Callistratus' and 'Annoon', where
175 there is resonance in the double '11' and 'nn'; it is also for the sake of
euphony that Attic writers generally add 'n' in forms like Demosthenell
and Sokraten. s Nobility from meaning is exemplified by 'our ancestors'
instead of 'the ancients': 'our ancestors' is more distinguished.
176 Musicians classify words as smooth, rough, well-proportioned, and
weighty. A smooth word consists wholly or largely of vowels, for
example 'Aias', whereas 'bebrokC'6 is a rough word-in fact the sound of
this particular rough word reflects its meaning. The well-proportioned
I A Pythagorean ascetic, contemporary with Socrates and mocked by Aeschines of

Sphettus (see 291).

z c. 365-285 B.C.; a Cynic philosopher, whose parodies include a praise oflentil-soup,
the diet of the poor.
3 Peleus and Oeneus, the names of famous heroes, are made to pun on pilos (mud or
wine-lees) and oinos (wine).
4 The text of this section is partly corrupt. The clematis is a tall plant, Egyptians
dark-hence the man is tall and dark; the sheep was proverbially silly-hence this man
is as silly as a sheep when he is at sea. The gibes are clever because there was in fact an
Egyptian clematis (not a tall plant) and a fish called a sheep.
5 Outside Attic the accusative of Demosthenes and Socrates was Demosthene and
Siikrate.
6 'Devoured.'
 ON STYLE 205

word has elements of both and is in sound an equal admixture of rough

and smooth. The weighty word has three characteristics, breadth, length, 177
and a resonant enunciation, I as in bronta instead of bronte,z where the
first syllable has roughness and the long Doric 'a' of the second gives not
only length but breadth. The Dorians broaden all their vowels-hence
the fact that comedy was not written in Doric but in the sharp sounds of
Attic. The Attic dialect has a terseness and everyday air which make it
suitable for the wit of comedy. This disquisition has been an irrelevant 178
digression but of the various kinds of words we should use only smooth
words in view of their elegance.

ELEGANT ARRANGEMENT

Elegance also derives from the arrangement of words, but it is not an easy 179
subject to discuss, since no earlier critic has treated elegant arrangement.
I must, however, attempt it as best I can. It seems, then, that pleasure 180
and charm will result if we construct our sentences from metres, either
whole or half lines, but so that the metres do not obtrude as such in
continuous speech and we detect them only if you separate and analyse
each different part. There will be the same charm even if the rhythm is 181
only roughly metrical. The charm from this kind of pleasing arrange-
ment steals upon us imperceptibly and is the form prevalent in the
Peripatetics, and in Plato, Xenophon, and Herodotus; it seems that it is
also frequent in Demosthenes, but Thucydides avoids it. It might be 182
illustrated by the following example from Dicaearchus: en Elea tes Italias,
presbuten ide ten helileian onta. 3 The ends of the two clauses are roughly
metrical but the metre is hidden by the unbroken continuity in the flow
of words. This gives considerable charm. Again, Plato often derives 183
elegance from rhythm alone by using long clauses which avoid harsh-
sounding juxtapositions and a succession of long syllables (for the former
characterizes the plain and forceful styles, long syllables the grand
style). Each clause seems to glide smoothly into the next and they are
neither completely metrical nor unmetrical, for example his description
of music beginning 'we were saying a moment ago'4 ...

, One can linger on the sounds, producing a sort of recitative. a. Quint.

1.11.6.
a 'Thunder'; bronte is the regular form outside Doric.
3 Fr. 39 Wehrli: i.e. 'at Elea in Italy, an old man already in years'. Dicaearchus was a
Peripatetic, pupil of Aristotle and contemporary with Theophrastus.
4 Plato, Republic 4II a. I omit 184 and 185, which contain further examples from
Republic 399 d.
 206 DEMETRIUS
THE AFFECTED STYLE

186 So much, then, on the appearance of elegance in arrangement, a difficult

topic. I have now concluded my account of the elegant style and shown
its elements and sources. Just as the frigid style is the adjacent fault of
the grand style, so there is an adjacent faulty perversion of the elegant style.
I call it by that current catchword 'affeoted' (kakozelon) and, like all the
187 others, it too springs from three sources. Affectation in thought is seen,
for example, when one writer spoke of the Centaur being his own rider,
and another writer, on the theme of Alexander considering whether to
compete in the Olympic games, exclaimed: 'Alexander, run in your
188 mother's name.' It may also spring from diction, for instance 'The sweet-
complexioned rose laughed', where the metaphorical use of 'laughed' is
quite unsuitable and a sane man would not choose the compound 'sweet-
complexioned' even in poetry, or, another example, 'The pine whistled
189 to the sound of the gentle breezes'.! So much, then, on diction. In arrang-
ing words it is affected to use rhythms which are anapaestic and resemble
the dissolute and undignified metres, in particular the Sotadean on
account of its effeminacy, as in
sketas kaumati kalupson
and
seion melien Peliada de:cioll kat' omoll
instead of
seion Peliadii me/iell kata dexioll omon. 2
The line seems to have changed its nature, like the men in the legends
who are turned into women. So much, then, on affectation.

THE PLAIN STYLE

190 In the case of the plain style we should perhaps choose trivial subjects
of the kind appropriate to plain treatment, as in Lysias: 'I have a modest
house on two floors, and the upper floor is exactly like the lower.'3 The
diction should be entirely ordinary and in everyday use, since anything
I Authors unknown. In the second example of 187, there is a pun on Olympias, the

name of Alexander's moIher.

2 Sotadca 17 Powell ('having dried it, conceal it') and Sotades, fr. 4(a) Powell, a
transposition of Homer, Iliad 22. 133 (,brandishing the Pelian ash-spear over his right
shoulder'). 3 Agai1/st Eratostheru:s I.
 ON STYLE 20 7

ordinary is always more trivial, while words which are unusual and meta-
phorical create grandeur. Compound words are also to be avoided, since 19 1
they too are characteristic of the opposite style, as are neologisms and all
the other embellishments which produce grandeur. Above all, the plain
style should have clarity. This derives from several qualities, in the first 192
place from the use of ordinary words, secondly from connectives. Writing
which is unconnected and disjointed is utterly unclear, since the lack of
articulation obscures the beginning of each clause, as in Heraclitus, whose
lack of connectives is largely responsible for his reputation as a dark
riddler. This disconnected style is perhaps more suited to the immediacy 193
of debate. It is also called the dramatic style because the lack of connectives
stimulates dramatic delivery, whereas the written style is easier to read
because its parts are fitted together and, as it were, secured in place by
connectives. This is why actors like Menander, whose style for the
most part lacks connectives, but readers prefer Philemon. 1 To prove the 194
dramatic nature of unconnected clauses let us take this example:
I conceived you, I bore you, I nurse you, my dear.2

The lack of connectives will force even an unwilling reciter to give the
line a dramatic delivery: but if you insert connectives and say
I conceived you and I bore you and I nurse you,
the connectives will bring with them a great loss of emotion, and any-
thing which lacks emotion gives no scope for dramatic delivery. Dramatic 195
technique includes other interesting factors. Euripides' Ion,3 for example,
snatches his bow and threatens the swan which is fouling the statues:
here the actor is given a variety of movements, such as the run to his
bow, the face turned upwards to the sky as he addresses the swan and all
the other gestures which the dramatic nature of the scene demands. But
our present concern is not dramatic technique.
Clear writing should also avoid ambiguities and use the figure of 196
epanalepsis, the repetition of a connective in the course of a long sentence,
for example: 'Now all Philip's actions, the subjection of Thrace, the cap-
ture of the Chersonese, the siege of Byzantium, the refusal to return
Amphipolis-now all these I shall pass over.'4 The repetition of the con-
nective may be said to remind us of the first words and re-establish us
at the beginning of the sentence. Again, we should often repeat ideas for 197
the sake of clarity, since greater charm than clarity results from brevity.
I Dramatist contemporary with Menander.
Z Menander, fr. 685 Koerte.
3 Ion 158 fT. 4 Author unknown.
 208 DEMETRIUS
For just as we sometimes overlook men racing past us, a sentence too can
rush along too quickly for comprehension.
19 8 The use of dependent constructions should also be avoided, because
they lack clarity, as we see from the style of Philistus. I A briefer example
of obscurity from a dependent construction may be found in Xenophon:
'He heard news of triremes sailing round from Ionia to Cilicia with
Tamos on board and belonging to the Spartans and Cyrus himself.'2
This could be expressed in the following straightforward construction:
'Triremes were expected in Cilicia, many of them Spartan but many of
them Persian ships built by Cyrus for this very purpose. They were
sailing from Ionia and the commander in charge was the Egyptian Tamos.'
This version would perhaps be longer but certainly clearer.
199 As a general rule we must use the natural order of words, as in 'Epidam-
nus is a city on your right as you sail into the Ionian gulf'.3 First the subject
is mentioned, then the predicate (it is a city) and then the rest in due
200 order. The reverse order may also appear, for example 'There is a city
Ephyra'.4 We neither completely approve of the one nor disapprove of the
201 other: we are simply giving the natural way of ordering words. In narrative
we must begin either with a nominative, 'Epidamnus is a city', or with an
accusative, 'It is said the city Epidamnus .. .'5 Use of other cases will
result in obscurity and torture both speaker and reader.
202 Try also to avoid extremely long periods of the kind in this sentence:
'The Achelous, which flows from Mount Pindus and passes inland by
the city of Stratus before running into the sea .. .'6 Instead, make a break
immediately and give the reader a rest: 'The Achelous flows from Mount
Pindus and runs into the sea.' This version is much clearer, on the analogy
of roads with many signposts and resting-places: the signposts act as
guides, whereas a straight road without signposts, however short· it is,
seems aimless.
203 These are a few of the many remarks one might make on the subject
of clarity. It is to be used particularly in the plain style.
[We omit 204-8, on word-arrangement in the plain style.]

VIVIDNESS

209 Vividness derives in the first place from accurate detail and the fact that
no circumstance is omitted or deleted, as in the whole of Homer's simile
beginning
I Historian c. 430-356 B.C.; his style imitated that of Thucydides: cf. Dionysius,

Letter to Pompey 5. 2 Anabasis I. 2. 21.

3 Thucydides 1.24. 4 Homer, Iliad 6. 152.

5 In Greek an accusative and infinitive construction is a way of expressing indirect
speech. 6 Thucydides 2. 102. Cf. 45-'7.
 ON STYLE
As when a man draws off water in a trench.!
It is vivid because all the details are included and nothing is left out. The 210
same applies to the chariot-race in honour of Patroclus, where Homer
says
Their breath blew hot on Eumelus' back
and
They always seemed to be on the point of mounting his chariot. 2
The whole passage is vivid because it includes all the race's usual and
unusual features. One consequence is that it is often more vivid to repeat 211
an idea than to express it only once, for example 'When he was alive you
would speak of him slightingly, now that he is dead you write of him
slightingly',3 where the repetition of 'slightingly' lends greater vividness
to the reproach. Consider too the attack on Ctesias 4 for garrulous re- 212
petitions; the charge may often be justified but often his accusers are
blind to his vividness. The repetition is there simply because it often
produces a greater impact. This is true of the following example: 'When 213
Stryangaeus, a Mede, threw a Sacian woman down from her horse (the
Sacian women fight like Amazons), he saw her grace and beauty and let
her escape. Later, when peace was made, he fell in love with her but was
repulsed. He decided to starve himself to death but first he wrote this
letter of reproach: "I saved you, you were saved through me, yet I am
dead through you.'" Here a supporter of terse style might censure him 214
for a pointless repetition in 'I saved you' and 'you were saved through me',
since both express the same idea. But if you remove either, you will also
remove the vividness and the emotional impact of the vividness. Vividness
is also present in the next sentence from the use of the past tense 'I am
dead' instead of ' I am dying' :.put in the past it is more forceful than if it
were still in the present or future. In fact, speaking generally, throughout 215
his writings this poet (for we may fairly call him a poet) has mastered the
craftsmanship of vividness. Take this second example, remembering that 216
we should not tell bad news all at once but gradually, keeping the hearer
in suspense and forcing him to share the anguish. This is what Ctesias
does over the annouJ;lcement of Cyrus' death. The messenger arrives but
in the presence of Parysatis he does not immediately say that Cyrus is
dead. That would be the proverbial bluntness of the Scythians. Instead he
first announceijl Cyrus' victory. His mother rejoices and is deeply affected.
I Iliad 21. 257. • Iliad 23. 380 and 379.
3 Author unknown. a. 26.
4 Early fourth-century B.C. physician who wrote histories of Persia and India. The
two examples which follow are frr. 27 and 42 Mueller.
8143591 p
 210 DEMETRIUS
Then she asks: 'How is the king?' He answers that he has fled. She
remarks: 'Yes, for this he may hold Tissaphernes responsible.' Again
she questions him: 'Where is Cyrus now?' The messenger replies: 'In
the bivouac of the brave.' Little by little and step by step the truth is
forced. out until at last, to use the stock phrase, 'the news was broken'.
By this delay Ctesias has very realistically and vividly brought out the
messenger's unwillingness to announce the news and forced the reader
to enter into the mother's anguish. ,
217 Vividness also springs from the mention of accompanying details, as
in one writer's description of a farmer's walk: 'The crash of his feet
heralded his approach from afar.'! 'Crash' suggests that the man is not
218 just walking but trampling the ground. Another example is Plato's
description of Hippocrates: 'He blushed-for there was already a faint
ray oflight to let me see him.'z No one can fail to see the extreme vividness,
the result of Plato's careful use of words and the recollection that Hippo-
crates had arrived during the night.
219 Harsh sounds are another frequent source, as in
He dashed them down and out gushed their brains
and
frequently upward and downward,3
where the sound mimics the jolty movement. In fact all mimicry is vivid.
220 Mimicry is the reason why onomatopoeia is vivid, as in 'lapping':4 if Homer
had said 'drinking', there would be no mimicry of the sound of dogs
drinking and, as a result, no vividness. The juxtaposition with the next
word, 'tongues', increases still more the vivid impression of the passage.
So much, then, by way of a brief outline on the subject of vividness.

PERSUASIVENESS

221 Persuasiveness has two characteristics, clarity and ordinary language.

Anything obscure and out of the ordinary is unconvincing. For persuasive
effect, then, we must aim to avoid diction which is ornate and pretentious
and arrange the words so that the sentence has a firm structure with no
222 attempt at rhythmical effects. In addition to these factors there is the
point made by Theophrastus that not everything should be given lengthy
treatment with full details but some points should be left for our hearer
to grasp and infer for himself. If he infers what you have omitted, he no
I Author unknown. 2 Protagoras 312 a.
3 Homer, Odyssey 9. 290 and Iliad 23. 116.
4 Homer, Iliad 16. 161. Cf. 94.
 ON STYLE 2II

longer just listens to you but acts as your witness, one too who is pre-
disposed in your favour since he feels he has been intelligent and you
are the person who has given him this opportunity to exercise his intelli-
gence. In fact, to tell your hearer everything as if he were a fool is to reveal
that you think him one.

THE STYLE OF LETTERS

Since the style of letters should also be plain, I shall turn to this topic. 223
Artemon,I the editor of Aristotle's letters, says that dialogue and letters
should be written in the same manner, since a letter may be regarded as one
of the two sides in a dialogue. His comment has some truth perhaps, but 224
not the whole truth. A letter should somehow be slightly more elaborately
written than a dialogue, because the latter aims at an effect of improvisa-
tion but the former is of its nature written and is sent as a sort of gift.
Who would ever talk to a friend in the way Aristotle writes to Antipater 225
to express sympathy for the old man in exile ?-'If he wanders over all
the world, an exile with no prospect of return, clearly no reproach attaches
to men in his position if they wish to find a home in the kingdom of the
dead.'2 A man who talked like that would seem to be declaiming, not
chatting.
Frequent disjointed sentences are also unsuitable in letters, since dis- 226
jointedness in written compositions destroys clarity and imitation of the
spoken word suits writing less than the immediacy of debate, as we see in
the Euthydemus: 'Who was that, Socrates, who was talking with you in
the Lyceum yesterday? There was certainly a large crowd standing round
you.' And a little further on: 'I thought he was from abroad, that man who
was talking with you. Who was he ?'3 All this kind of style in imitation
of the spoken word suits an actor but not the written nature of letters.
A letter should be very largely an expression of character, just like the 227
dialogue. Perhaps everyone reflects his own soul in writing a letter. It is
possible to discern a writer's character in every other form of literature
but in none so fully as in the letter.
The length of a letter should be moderate, as should its style. Any 228
which are too long and, furthermore, rather pompous in language can
assuredly never become letters but are monographs with the conventional
opening of a letter, as in the case of many of Plato's letters and that one of
Thucydides. The actual sentences should be rather loosely formed. It is 229
ridiculous to build periods as if you were writing a speech, not a letter.
I Date uncertain. 2 Fr. 665 Rose.

3 Euthydemus 271 a, at the beginning of the dialogue.

 212 DEMETRIUS
In fact such elaboration in letters is worse than merely ridiculous, it is
also unfriendly, since friends should, in the words of the proverb, 'call
a spade a spade'.
230 We should also recognize that it is not only a certain style but certain
topics which suit letters. Let me quote Aristotle, who is admitted to be
an especially felicitous writer ofletters: 'I do not write to you on this: it
231 does not suit a letter.'! If anyone writes on logic or science in a letter, he
is writing something but certainly not a letter. A letter aims to be a brief
232 token of friendship and handles simple topics :n simple language. Its
charm lies in the warmth of friendship it conveys and in its numerous
proverbs. This is the only kind of wisdom a letter should have: for
proverbs give popular sayings in everyday use. The man who is sententious
and sermonizes seems to have lost the letter's air of a talk and mounted
233 the pulpit. Aristotle, however, can even use logical arguments sometimes
in such a way that they are adapted to the letter. For example, he wants
to prove that benefactors should help large and small towns alike: 'For
the gods in both are equal and, since the graces are gods, you will lay
up an equal store of grace in both.'2 Here the point made suits a letter,
as does the proof itself.
234 We sometimes write to cities and kings: give letters of this kind a
slightly more elevated style, since we must also adapt ourselves to the
character of the recipient, but not so elevated that the letter turns into
a monograph, the fault of Aristotle's letters to Alexander and Plato's
letter to the friends of Dion.
235 To summarize, the letter should derive its form of expression from a
combination of two styles, the charming and the plain. So much, then,
on the letter.
[236-<), here omitted, illustrate the 'dry' style which is a perversion of the
plain.]

THE FORCEFUL STYLE: SUBJECT-MATTER

240 We now come to forcefulness (deinotes) and it will be clear from what has
already been said that it too springs from the same three sources as all
the preceding styles. There are some subjects which have an inherent
forcefulness which makes even writers whose style is feeble seem forceful.
When Theopompus, for example, speaks of the flute-girls of the Piraeus,
the brothels, and the men playing the flute, singing, and dancing,3 all
I Fr. 670 Rose. 2 Fr. 656 Rose.

3 Theopompus fr. 320 Mueller (lIS FGH 290 Jacoby).

 ON STYLE 21 3

these ideas have such a forceful effect that his feeble style is overlooked
and he is thought forceful.
[We omit 241-71, which deal with word-arrangements and figures appro-
priate to forcefulness.]

THE FORCEFUL STYLE: DICTION

We should use every kind of diction found in the grand style, only our aim 272
will be different. Force can be achieved from metaphor, as in 'Python
grew bold and rushed in full spate against you', and from simile, as in 273
Demosthenes' words: 'This decree made the danger which then sur-
rounded the city pass away like a cloud.'! Poetical comparisons, however, 274
are disqualified by their length, as in 'like a valiant but inexperienced
hound which recklessly attacks a boar':2 beauty and precise detail
characterize such images, whereas forcefulness requires pungent brevity
and is like an exchange of blows. Again, compound words can give force, 275
as we see from the many examples in current usage, for example 'loose-
livers', 'brainless',3 and the like. Many such examples may be found in
the orators. We should also attempt to find words in keeping with the 276
thought. For example, a man acts with reprehensible violence: say 'he
forced his way through'; or with open and reckless violence: say 'he cut
and hacked his way through'; or with furtive secrecy: say 'he insinuated
himself' or 'he stole his way through'.
[We omit 277-86, where other kinds of dcinotcs are illustrated.]

OBLIQUE ALLUSIONS

What we call oblique allusion is used by modern orators in a ridiculous 287

manner, with unseemly and obtrusive innuendo. True allusion has the
two characteristics of propriety and wary circumspection. There is pro- 288
priety when Plato, for example, wishes to censure Aristippus and Cleom-
brotus for feasting in luxury at Aegina during the many days of Socrates'
imprisonment in Athens and not sailing across to their friend and teacher,
a distance of under twenty-five miles. He does not give all these circum-
stances explicitly, for that would be open abuse, but tactfully implies
them: Phaedo is asked who were with Socrates and names each in turn;
IDemosthenes, On the Crown 136 (cf. 80) and 188.
2Author unknown. Cf. 89.
3 Literally 'thrown to the ground' (a common prostitute) and 'struck sideways' (a
madman).
 214 DEMETRIUS

then he is further asked if Aristippus and Cleombrotus were also there

and replies: 'No, they were in Aegina.'I The whole of what I have just
said is expressed in the words, 'They were in Aegina', and the passage
seems all the more forceful from the fact that it is the situation itself and
not the writer's words which give the forceful effect. In this example of
oblique censure Plato could perhaps have openly rebuked Aristippus and
289 his friends in perfect safety but we are often compelled to use an oblique
approach when we are talking to a tyrant or some other domineering
person whom we wish to reproach. For example, the Macedonian Craterus
sat on a golden chair high above everyone else and received the embassies
from Greece in a purple robe with insolent arrogance: Demetrius of
Phaleron, however, countered with this oblique reproach: 'We too once
received these men as envoys, Craterus here among them.'2 The use of the
290 word 'here' indirectly indicates and rebukes all Craterus' insolence. The
same tact is found in Plato's reply to Dionysius, who had broken and then
repudiated a promise: 'I, Plato, have made no promise to you; but you-
by heaven !'3 Dionysius is convicted of breaking his promise, yet the
291 rebuke combines dignity with circumspection. On many occasions
equivocation is also useful: if anyone wishes an example of hidden
denunciation, Aeschines' treatment of Telauges 4 may be cited. Almost
the entire narrative will leave the reader in doubt whether it is eulogy or
derision. This kind of ambiguity is not irony but it creates an ironical
effect.
292 Another form of oblique allusion is possible: since men and women
in positions of power do not relish hearing of their own faults, we shall
not warn them against their faults by any outright mention but either
denounce others for similar behaviour-for example, in speaking to the
tyrant Dionysius we shall censure the tyrant Phalaris for his cruelty-or
praise men whose behaviour contrasts with that of Dionysius, for example
Gelo and Hiero for proving fathers and teachers of Sicily; for the hearer
is admonished without open censure, feels envious of Gelo's praises and
293 strives to achieve such praise for himself. Such guarded handling of
tyrants is frequently required. Philip, for example, had only one eye and
became angry at any mention of the Cyclops in his presence or even of the
term 'eye' generally. Hermias, too, the ruler of Atarneus, was normally
mild-tempered, we are told, but was sensitive to any mention of knife,
surgery, or amputation: he was a eunuch. I have chosen these examples
from a wish to single out the character of absolute rulers in particular,
because there is especial need in their case for the guarded manner of
I Phaedo 59 c. 2 Fr. 183 Wehrli. 3 Epistle 7, 349 b.
4 The text of this sentence is uncertain but the main point seems clear. Aeschines
of Sphettus was a pupil of Socrates and wrote philosophical dialogues. Cf. 297.
 ON STYLE 21 5

speech called oblique allusion-though in fact important and powerful 294

democracies often require this kind of allusion as much as any tyrant,
for example the Athenian democracy in the time when it ruled Greece
and encouraged flatterers like Cleon and Cleophon. Flattery is shaming,
censure is dangerous, best is the middle course of oblique allusion.
Sometimes we will even praise a man who has been at fault, not for his 295
faults but for overcoming them. For example, we will tell a hot-tempered
man that he was praised yesterday for the mildness he showed to the
failings of such and such a person and that he is a model of behaviour for
the citizens around him. Everyone likes to be his own model and is eager
to add to his praises, or rather to win one consistent theme of praise.
In short, language is like a piece of wax which one man will shape into 296
a dog, another into an ox, and another into a horse. The same subject will
in one writer be phrased as a statement and assertion, for example: 'Men
leave their property to their children, yet they do not include in it the
knowledge of how to use the legacy.'! This form of remark is called
Aristippean. In another writer the idea will be phrased as a precept, the
form regular in Xenophon: 'You should not leave your property to your
children without including the knowledge of how to use it.' \Ve also have 297
the form specifically called Socratic and considered the model of Aes-
chines and Plato in particular. Here our same example would be adapted
to become interrogative: 'My boy, how much property has your father
left you? A great deal, more than you can easily count?' -'A great deal,
Socrates.'-'Has he then also left you the knowledge of how to use it?'
Socrates unobtrusively drives the youth into a quandary, reminds him
that he lacks knowledge and urges him to find instruction. It is all done
with fine characterization and good taste and is far removed from the
proverbial Scythian bluntness. Such dialogues were very successful when 298
they were first invented, or rather people were struck with admiration for
their vivid realism and the nobility of the ideas they advocated. Let this,
then, suffice on the categories of speech and oblique allusions.
[We omit 299-304, which includes a short discussion of faults relating to
forcefulness.]
I Author unknown, conceivably Aristippus himself.
 5
CICERO

Cicero, besides his life-long practice of oratory and literature, was always
concerned with the theory that lay behind it; the list of his theoretical works
begins with an immature handbook On Invention, dating from the 80S B.C., and
passes through the dialogue On the Orator (55) to a series of shorter works written
in the 40s. These later works reflect Cicero's standpoint in a controversy that
had developed around the concepts of Atticism and Asianism in oratory; but
that by no means limits their interest, and Cicero's theory shows at all periods
of his development consistent enough attitudes to justify our abandoning the
chronological order of his works in the interests of giving a clear over-all view.
We begin therefore with an extract from the Brutus (46 B.C.; text by E. Malcovati
(Teubner, 1965), complete translation by G. L. Hendrickson (Loeb); com-
mentary by A. E. Douglas (Oxford, 1966».

A. WHO SHOULD JUDGE ORATORS?

Brutus 183-200

183 Here Atticus said: 'How do you mean, both in your judgement and in
everybody's? Does the judgement of the mob always coincide with that
of the knowledgeable in the approval or disapproval of an orator? Or are
some approved by the many, others by the experts?'
'You are right to ask, Atticus', I said, 'but you will hear an answer that
perhaps may not be given the approval of everybody.'
184 'Does that worry you', he asked, 'if you manage to prove your point to
Brutus here?'
'Atticus', I said, 'I should very much prefer this discussion on the
approving and disapproving of the orator to please you and Brutus; my
eloquence, however, I should wish to be approved by the people. For it
follows that someone who speaks so as to win the approval of the many
will win that of the connoisseur also. So long as I am capable of judge-
ment, I shall be able to judge what is right or wrong in speaking. But an
orator's quality will be realized from what he can bring about by his
185 oratory. There are in my opinion three things that oratory should bring
about: the instruction of the hearer, his being given pleasure, his being
strongly moved. It will be for the technical expert to judge what virtues
in an orator cause each of these, and what faults mean that he fails to
 WHO SHOULD JUDGE ORATORS?
attain them or even slips and falls in the attempt. But whether the orator
succeeds or fails in making his audience feel the required emotions is
normally judged by the applause of the mob and the approval of the
people. And so there has never been a difference between the people and
the experts on whether an orator was good or not. Or do you imagine 186
that, in the periods during which there flourished the orators I have
mentioned, I there was not an identical ranking of orators in the judgement
of the crowd and of the educated? If-you asked the man in the street:
"Who is the most eloquent man in the country ?" he would answer either
Antonius or Crassus, or he would hesitate between the two. Would
nobody prefer to these Philippus, so agreeable, weighty, and witty an
orator--one whom we ourselves, who are trying to apply some system to
our weighing of these matters, claimed to be next in rank to the other two ?
Nobody surely; it is a mark of the top orator to be regarded as top orator
by the people.
'If the flute-player Antigenidas said to a pupil who was a failure in 187
public "Play for me and the Muses", my advice to Brutus here when he
speaks (as he often does) before a crowd is: "Play for me, my friend, and
the people." Those who listen will feel the effect of your speech; I shall
realize why that effect is produced. The orator's audience believes his
words, thinks them true, assents, approves; his speech carries conviction;
what more could the critic ask? A listening multitude is charmed and 188
allured by oratory, it is deluged with delight: what can the critic find fault
with here? The crowd rejoices, grieves, laughs, cries, likes, dislikes, de-
spises, envies, pities, feels shame, feels annoyance. It is angered and soothed,
it hopes and fears. These effects take place according to the way in which
the minds of those present are worked on by words, thoughts, and de-
livery. Why wait for the judgement of some expert? What the multitude
approves must be approved by the expert too.
'Here is a final illustration of popular judgement-and there has never
yet been any difference here between people and connoisseurs. There 189
have been many orators of various styles; yet who has been popularly
reputed to excel without being approved by the expert as well? In
our fathers' day either Antonius or Crassus would unquestionably have
been the invariable choice of anyone free to select his advocate. Many
other lawyers were practising; yet though someone might have doubted
which of the two to choose, no one would have failed to choose one or the
other. Again, in my youth, Cotta and Hortensius were pre-eminent:
would anyone with a choice have preferred anybody else to these two ?'
Then Brutus said: 'Why look elsewhere? What about you? We saw 190
what defendants preferred, and what Hortensius himself thought. When
I The Brutus consists largely ofa roll-call of Roman orators down to Cicero's time.
 218 CICERO
he was splitting a case with you (I often used to be there) he would
leave you the last speech, where oratory has most of its effect.'
'He did do that', I replied. 'It must have been his friendliness towards
me that made him so generous. However, I don't know what the people
think about me; but in the case of others, I am confident that those who
have been popularly regarded as the most eloquent have been the most
19 1 highly regarded by the experts. Demosthenes could not have said what is
attributed to the famous poet Antimachus. Once Antimachus got an
audience together and began to read them a large volume of his (you
know it). Everyone but Plato walked out as he read. "I shall go on reading
all the same", he said. "For me Plato counts as a hundred thousand." And
quite right too; for a poem, if abstruse, need move the enthusiasm only of
the few. But a speech is meant for the people-and must win the approval
of the crowd. And ifDemosthenes were reduced to having Plato as his sole
19 2 audience, he would not be able to say a word. What could you do, Brutus,
if you got abandoned by your audience as Curio once was by his ?'
'To tell the truth', said he, 'I shouldn't be able to go on if I was aban-
doned by the audience, even in a case where my speech was wholly
directed at the judge and not at the people at all.'
'That's how it is', I said. 'If a flute didn't give any sound when it was
blown, the player would think it time to throw it away. And to the orator
the people's ears a~e like a flute; if they don't receive what he blows
in, or if the audience (like a horse) just doesn't suit-then it's no use
persevering.
193 'However, there is this difference, that the mob sometimes approves an
orator who doesn't deserve it-but it approves without applying any
comparison. When it is pleased by a middling or even poor speaker, it
contents itself with him and, not realizing that anything better is available,
it gives its applause to what there is, whatever its quality. Even a second-
rate orator, providing he has something, can hold the attention; for nothing
so influences men's minds as arrangement and embellishment of
style.'
[Cicero proceeds (194-8) to give the details of a case in which Quintus
Scaevola and Lucius Crassus had been on opposing sides.]
198 'Now this ordinary critic of ours, having admired one of these two when
heard by himself, might find himself laughing at his judgement when he
heard the other; while an educated and knowledgeable hearer of Scaevola
would sense that there was room for something richer and more ornate.
But if both critics were to be consulted at the completion of the case as to
which was the better orator, the judgement of the skilled man would
surely not differ from that of the layman.
 WHO SHOULD JUDGE ORATORS? 21 9

'Where then does the expert surpass the layman? In an important matter, 199
and one hard to achieve: for it is important to know how effects that
should be obtained by oratory, or at least must not be let slip, are in fact
achieved or lost. There is another superiority of skilled over unskilled
in that, when the people approve of two or more orators, the skilled critic
can tell what style is best. For what is not liked by the people cannot be
liked by the expert either. You can tell from the sound of the strings how
skilfully a lyre is being played; and you can tell from the emotions aroused
in the mind what the orator is doing by his playing on them. Thus 200
the skilled critic of oratory can often judge an orator in passing and
at a glance, without sitting by and listening carefully. He can see the
judges yawning, talking to a neighbour, sometimes even chatting in
groups, asking the time, calling for an adjournment: so he knows that in
that case there is no orator capable of bringing his oratory to bear on the
minds of judges like a hand to a lyre. But if he goes by and sees the judges
sitting up, wide-awake, proving by their very faces that they are getting
the point: if he sees them held in suspense by the speech like a bird by
music, or-most important of all-violently shaken by pity, anger, or some
other emotion: if he goes by, I say, and sees all this, even without hearing
anything he will judge that an orator is at work in that case and that the
orator's job is being done-or has already been completed.'

B. THE PROGRESS OF GREEK ORATORY

Also from Brut us (25-51); the rather repetitive and disorderly exposition is
Cicero's concession to the conventions of dialogue.
I said: 'It is not my intention here-nor is it necessary-to praise 25
eloquence, to describe the extent of its powers, and of the prestige it
brings to those who have attained to it. But one thing I will say without
hesitation: whether it is produced by art, by practice, or by nature,
eloquence is a uniquely difficult accomplishment. It is ~aid to consist of
five elements:' and each of these is a great skill in itself. Thus it can be
imagined how powerful, and how difficult to reach, is this combination of
five major skills.
'Look, for example, at Greece: she was fired with enthusiasm for 26
eloquence, and has long excelled all her rivals in it; yet all her other
arts are longer established, and were discovered and even perfected well
before such effective and fluent oratory was developed. Now when I look at
Greece, Atticus, there particularly comes to my mind, with a sort of glow,
your favourite city Athens, where the orator first raised his head, and where
I Invention, arrangement, diction, memory, delivery.
 220 CICERO
27 speeches were first immortalized in the literary record. Yet before
Pericles, some of whose works are extant in writing, and Thucydides,
both of whom lived when Athens was adult, not adolescent, there is no
written word that shows any degree of ornament, any sign of the orator,
though there is certainly a tradition that the far earlier Pisistratus, together
with Solon rather before him and Clisthenes after him, were, for their
28 times, powerful speakers. A number of years after that generation, as we
can tell from Atticus' chronology,! came Themistocles, who is agreed to
have stood out for wisdom and eloquence too; after him Pericles, a
brilliant example of every virtue, earned nevertheless his highest fame in
this field of oratory. It is known too that Cleon, at the same period, was,
29 though an obstreperous citizen, an eloquent speaker. More or less con-
temporary were Alcibiades, Critias, and Theramenes. The type of oratory
that flourished at this time can be best judged from Thucydides, who lived
at the same period. They were elevated in their vocabulary, close-packed
in thought, brief, compressed, and sometimes, for that very reason, some-
what obscure.
30 'Now when it became known what influence careful and studied
oratory could have, many teachers of the art of speaking suddenly sprang
up. Gorgias of Leontini, Thrasymachus of Chalcedon, Protagoras of
Abdera, Prodicus ofCeos, Hippias of Elis were in great repute; and many
others at this period professed, arrogantly enough, their ability to teach
how the weaker cause (as they put it) could by skill in oratory be made the
31 stronger. They found an opponent in Socrates, who used an acute method
of disputation to reject their claims. His fruitful conversations gave rise
to disciples of great learning; and it is at this time that the branch of
philosophy that disputes about good and bad, about men's lives and ways,
as opposed to the older type concerned with nature, is said to have been
invented. This phenomenon lies outside my present subject: philosophers
I must leave for another occasion; let us return to the orators from whom
I have digressed.
32 'Now in the old age of the men I have just mentioned appeared
Isocrates, whose home was open to all Greece as a sort of school and
factory of oratory. He was himself a great orator and a consummate
teacher, even though he avoided the glare of the courts and fostered
indoors a glory that no one, in my judgement, has ever since equalled.
He both wrote himself, much and brilliantly, and taught others; he ex-
celled earlier orators in other ways but especially in that it was he who
first realized that in prose too you must, while steering clear of verse,
33 preserve a certain measured rhythm. For before him there was no
I Atticus' liber anna/is, the source of much of Cicero's chronological lore: cf. 39, 42;

Oralor 120.
 THE PROGRESS OF GREEK ORATORY ZZI

structuring of words for effect, no rhythmic cadence-or, if there some-

times was, it was not clear that it had been purposely sought after: that
may be a compliment, but the fact remains tnat at that period such
occasional effects occurred naturally and by chance rather than by
systematic intention. For nature itself can express and round off a thought 34
in periodic form; and, when such a sentence is tightly organized with
words that fit, it generally also has a rhythmic ending as well. For our
ear by itself judges what sounds full, what hollow; and our breath by
a kind of natural law imposes an end on a period-for it is undignified
to be short of wind, let alone run out altogether.
'At this time, too, lived Lysias. To be sure, he did not himself play a 35
part in legal cases, but he was a writer of surpassing delicacy and elegance
(subtilis atque elegans), whom you could almost venture to call the perfect
orator. For the absolutely perfect orator, with virtually no deficiencies,
may easily be said to be Demosthenes. No acute, no (so to say) cunning or
clever line of argument could be found in the cases he dealt with but he
saw it. When he spoke, delicately, concisely, and to the point, nothing could
have been filed to greater perfection. When he spoke grandly, excitedly,
with every ornament of weighty word and weighty sentiment, nothing
could have been more sublime. Next to him come Hyperides, Aeschines, 36
Lycurgus, Dinarchus, Demades (who left no written speeches), and many
others-such was the fertility of that generation.
'In my view, it was only up to and including this period of oratory
that the juice and blood that gives a natural, not artificial bloom remained
untainted. For when they were old, they were succeeded by a young 37
man from Phaleron, I more learned than any of them, but formed in the
training ground rather than the battlefield. So it was that he delighted
the Athenians: he did not set them ablaze. For he had come out into the
sun and the dust not (as it were) from a soldier's tent, but from the shady
retreat of the scholarly Theophrastus. And it was Demetrius who first put 38
oratory on a new path, making it soft and languishing; he wished to seem
(as indeed he was) sweet rather than serious, and sweet with a sweetness
to permeate the mind rather than to break into it. Hence he left a memory
of prettiness, unlike Pericles, who, in the words of Eupolis, left a sting,
along with the pleasure, in the minds of those who heard him.'
'Thus you may see how, even in the very city where eloquence was born 39
and bred, it was a late arrival on the scene. There is no record of any
eloquent man before the time of Solon and Pisistratus. They may be old-
timers by Roman standards, but they can only be regarded as compara-
tive youngsters in the history of Athens. They flourished in the reign of
I Demetrius.
2 Eupolis, fr. 94 Kock: cf. Pliny, ep. I. 20. 17 (below, p. 425).
 222 CICERO
Servius Tullius. But at that date Athens had already existed for far longer
than Rome has existed to-day. Of course, I am not doubting that speech
40 has always had great influence. Back in the times of Troy, Homer would
not have assigned so much praise to the oratory of Ulysses and Nestor
(the one, for him, had forcefulness, the other sweetness) unless there was
already prestige accorded to eloquence.' Nor, indeed, would the poet
himself have been so skilled in speaking-a real orator, in fact. His date is
uncertain, but he lived many years before Romulus: for he was clearly
not younger than the first Lycurgus, founder of the legally enforced
41 Spartan system of education. But it is in Pisistratus that application to
this art, and greater capacity for it, can be recognized. Themistocles was
a generation after him, very ancient by our standards, not very
old by Athenian. For he lived when Greece was dominant, while our
state had not long freed itself from the tyranny of the kings: the Volscan
war of such importance in which Coriolanus participated as an exile was
at about the same time as the Persian war, and the two great men suffered
42 similar fortunes. Both had been famous citizens. Both were unjustly
expelled by an ungrateful people, betook themselves to the enemy, and
stilled in death the enterprises which their anger prompted. You have
a different account of Coriolanus, Atticus: but you must allow me to
acquiesce in this manner of his dying rather than yours.'
Atticus laughed and said: 'It's your choice. It's granted that orators may
tell lies in historical matters in order to make a point more neatly.z Just
as you made up a story about Coriolanus, so Clitarchus and Stratocles
43 produced their fictions about Themistocles. Thucydides, an Athenian, of
the highest birth and office, and not much later in date, wrote that
Themistocles died merely from natural causes and was buried secretly in
Attica, adding a rumour that he committed suicide by poison. But the
other two say that Themistocles sacrificed a bull, caught the blood in a
bowl, drank it, and dropped dead. That, of course, was the sort of death
they could give a rhetorical and tragic gloss: the other ordinary kind left
no scope for decoration. So since it suits you that everything was parallel
in the cases of Themistocles and Coriolanus, you can take the bowl from
me too, and I'll give you the victim as well-let Coriolanus be a straight-
forward second Themistocles.'
44 'Well', I said, 'be it as you wish about him. And in future I shall touch
on history more cautiously when you are listening. I can compliment you
as being the most scrupulous of authorities on Roman history.
'However that may be, about that time Pericles, son of Xanthippus,
I Iliad 3.221; 1.247: cf. Pliny (below, p. 426); Quint. 12. 10.64 (below, p. 4'4).
2 The context of this famous remark should be closely examined by those who wish
to generalize on Cicero's view of history: see Douglas's note (and also p. 255 below)
 THE PROGRESS OF GREEK ORATORY 223

whom I mentioned before, first brought training to bear. This did not
then exist in the field of oratory, but Pericles was taught by the philosopher
Anaxagoras, I and easily transferred the mental accOlpplishments acquired
in recondite and abstruse matters to cases befor~ courts and people.
Athens was captivated by his charm, wondered at his fullness and facility,
and feared the terrifying force of his eloquence.
'This was the generation that was the first, at Athens, to produce the 45
almost perfect orator. Ambition for eloquence is not normally born in
those founding states and waging wars, or in men hampered and ham-
strung by the rule of despots. Eloquence is the companion of peace, the
friend of leisure, foster-child of a securely settled society. And so, as 46
Aristotle says,2 it was when the tyrants had been got rid of in Sicily, and
private property was being claimed back after a long interval by legal
process, that (the Sicilian race being sharp-witted and naturally gifted for
dispute) a handbook and rules for oratory were first composed, by the
Sicilians Corax and Tisias; no one before that was accustomed to speak
methodically and systematically, though many spoke with care and from
a written text. Protagoras prepared written discussions of important
matters, now called commonplaces. Gorgias did the same, composing 47
eulogies of and invectives against particular things, because he regarded
it as especially the orator's job to be able to increase merit by praise and to
depress it again by invective. Antiphon of Rhamnus had similar composi-
tions written out. We have the excellent witness of Thucydides,3 who
heard the speech, that no one ever pleaded a capital case better than
Antiphon did in his own defence.
'Lysias (still according to Aristotle) was at first a professor of the art of 48
oratory, but later, because Theodorus was subtler in theory (though
thinner in his practice), Lysias began to write speeches for others, and
abandoned theory. Similarly, Isocrates at first denied the existence of an
art of speaking, though he made a practice of writing speeches for others
to use in court. But after himself being frequently summoned to trial for
alleged offences against the law forbidding legal malpractice, he stopped
writing speeches for others, and devoted himself entirely to composing
handbooks. Here you have the birth and origin of Greek oratory, long 49
ago by the standard of our history, but quite recently by theirs. For the
city of Athens had many memorable feats, in war and peace, to its credit
before it began to take delight in the accomplishment of oratory.
'Now this enthusiasm was peculiar to Athens, not shared with the whole
of Greece. Who can tell of an Argive or Corinthian or Theban orator 50
at that period? Unless, that is, we may speculate about the literary
1 ef. Plato, Phaedrus 269 e (above, p. 78).
2 In a lost work. 3 8. 68.
 224 CICERO
accomplishments of Epaminondas. And I have never heard of a Spartan
orator to this day. Homer tells us that even Menelaus was a man of few
words, though an agreeable speaker. I Now conciseness is sometimes, and
in particular passages, a good thing; but in oratory as a whole it is without
51 merit. Outside Greece, however, there were great vogues for oratory;
honour was heaped on skill in eloquence, making the name of orator
illustrious. For, once it left the Piraeus, eloquence passed through all the
islands and made itself so much at home throughout Asia that it became
contaminated with the ways of foreigners, 2 lost the old health and sound-
ness of the Attic style, and almost forgot how to speak. Hence we have
the orators of Asia, by no means to be despised for their speed and full-
ness, but not concise enough and over-redundant. The Rhodians are
sounder, and more like the Attic orators. But enough of the Greeks:
perhaps even what I have said is unnecessary.'

C.CATO

In BTutus 61-'76, Cicero, in the course of his survey of Latin orators, praises the
elder Cato.
61 'Cethegus, then, was followed chronologically by Cato, who was consul
63 nine years after him 3• • • Cato's speeches are hardly less numerous than
those of the Attic Lysias, and he wrote very many (there is no doubt of
his being Attic, by the way: he was certainly born and died in Athens,
and did all his civic duties there, though Timaeus ... claims him for
Syracuse): and in a way there is a certain resemblance between the two
authors.4 They are both pointed, elegant, witty, brief. But the Greek is
64 happier in his reputation. He has a distinct set of enthusiastic admirers
who pursue slimness rather than grossness. So long as health is un-
impaired, they find positive pleasure in being thin. In Lysias, indeed,
there are often muscles showing too, nothing could be stronger; but he is in
general pretty spare. However: as I say, he has his admirers, who rejoice
in his very slenderness.
65 But what orator of our time reads Cato? Who even knows him? Yet
what a man he was! Forget about Cato the citizen, the senator, the general
-we are looking at the orator now. Who is more weighty than he in
panegyric, more savage in invective, more penetrating in thought, more
1 Iliad 3. 213-a passage elsewhere quoted with the lines cited above, 40.
2 Cf. the account of the origin of 'Asianism' in Quintilian 12. 10. 16 f. (below,
P·407).
3 i.e. in 195 B.C.
• Echoes of the Atticist-Asianist controversy are audible here.
 CATO
subtle in exposition and explanation? His speeches, more than a hundred
and fifty that I have so far found and read, are stuffed with notable lan-
guage and content. Pick out the passages deserving especial notice and
praise: you will find all the qualities of an orator there. And as to the 66
Origins, what ornament, what brilliance of eloquence do they not possess?1
Cato lacks admirers, just as many centuries ago did Philistus of Syra-
cuse and even Thucydides. Their brief sentences, sometimes not altogether
lucid because of their brevity and extreme point, are eclipsed by the high
elevation of Theopompus (as Lysias is by Demosthenes); similarly the
loftier stylistic erections of those who succeeded him have got in the
way of our appreciation of Cato's brilliance. But our critics are so blind 67
that, while on the Greek side they rejoice in antiquity and what they call
'Attic' slenderness (subtilitas), they don't even know it exists in Cato.
They want to be like Hyperides and Lysias. Well and good: why not
like Cato? They say they enjoy the Attic type. Very wise-would that 68
they did imitate the Attic orators, blood as well as bones! Still, it's
pleasant that they even want to.
Why, then, are Lysias and Hyperides loved, while Cato gets utterly
ignored? His language is rather dated, his vocabulary sometimes a little
uncouth. That was how they spoke then. Change that (he could not, in
his day); give him rhythm, arrange the words to fit better and (so to say)
joint them together (something antiquity didn't achieve even in Greece):
then you won't put anyone higher than Cato. The Greeks think language 69
is embellished if they use the deviations of words that are called tropes,
and figures (schemata) in thought and speech. It is hardly credible how
frequently and how notably Cato employs these features. I am perfectly
aware that he's not yet polished enough, that he leaves scope for the
search for something more finished. Fair enough-he's so remote in
comparison with our day that no writer's work that is at all worth read-
ing exists from any earlier period. But antiquity enjoys greater repute
in every other art than it does in oratory.
No one who is expert in such comparatively trivial matters fails to 70
realize that Canachus' statues are too rigid to be life-like, that Calamis' are
stiff, but less so than Canachus'; that Myron's aren't yet sufficiently
realistic, though undoubtedly to be described as beautiful; that Poly-
clitus' are more beautiful and by now positively perfect (or so I think). So
too in painting. We praise Zeuxis, Polygnotus, Timanthes, and the shapes
and lines produced by those who used no more than four colours. But
in Aetion, Nicomachus, Protogenes, Apelles, everything is now perfect. 2
Perhaps the same is true generally: nothing is perfect the moment it is 71
I This was Cato's work on Roman history, beginning with Aeneas.
2 For the analogy with painting and statuary cf. Qpint. 12. 10. 3 (below, p. 5).
8143591 Q
 226 CICERO
invented. There were undoubtedly poets before Homer, as you can tell
from the songs sung in his poems at the feasts of the Phaeacians and the
suitors. I And where have our old verses got to, the ones that
once the Fauns and bards would sing,
when (none had scaled) the Muses' heights?
There was no one keen on learned words before him, as the poet 2 says of
himself-and though he boasts, he does not lie. That's how the facts
stand. For the Latin Odyssey 3 is a sort of work of Daedalus, and the plays
75 of Livius aren't worth reading twice ... If only the songs still existed,
the ones that Cato records in the Origins as once being sung by the guests
in turn at banquets many centuries before his day, in praise of famous
men! However, like some work of Myron's, the Punic War of an author 4
whom Ennius counted among bards and Fauns does give pleasure.
76 Ennius may be-certainly is-better finished. But if he despised him as he
pretends to he wouldn't leave out the bitterly fought first Punic war in his
recital of every war in Roman history. And he says why he does it: 'Others
have written the story in verse's-and written it brilliantly indeed, even
if less elegantly than you, Ennius: and you shouldn't dissent-you've
taken over much from Naevius: that's what we'll say if you admit to it;
if you deny it, it's a theft. 6

D. ATTICUS ON CATO

Brutus 292-9
This answers Cicero's encomium.
292 Then Atticus said: 'I regard as witty and elegant the irony they say
Socrates possessed, which he displays in the books by Plato, Xenophon,
and Aeschines. 7 Only a man of taste and wit could, when wisdom
is under discussion, disown it for himself while playfully attributing
it to those who claim it: thus in Plato Socrates praises to the skies
Protagoras, Hippias, Prodicus, Gorgias, and the rest, and pretends that
he himself is ignorant of everything and quite naive. This somehow suits
Socrates, and 1 don't agree with Epicurus' condemnation of it.s But in
history-which after all you were employing throughout your description
I e.g. Odyssey 1. 154,8.43. 2 i.e. Ennius (Annales 214).
3 By Livius Andronicus, in Saturnians.
4 Naevius. 5 Enn. Atmales 213.
6 Cf. 'Longinus' on 'theft' and 'borrowing' (below, p. 476).
7 The Socratic, not the orator.
S For an Epicurean attack on Socrates, cf. Plutarch, Againsl Colotes 19-20.
 ATTICUS ON CATO 227

of the individual orators-you may find that irony is as reprehensible as

it is in the giving of evidence.'
'What is this leading up to?' 1 said. 'I don't understand.' 293
'You praised certain orators in such a way as perhaps to mislead the
ignorant. At one point I could scarcely restrain my laughter, when you
were comparing our Cato to the Attic Lysias; CatD-as no one denies-
was a great man, no, a supreme and remarkable man. But an orator?
Comparable to Lysias? A master of colourful oratory? A nice piece of
irony if we were having a jest; but if we are in earnest, I think that we're
on oath just as much as if we were giving evidence. I give credit to your 294
Cato as a citizen, a senator, a general, a man of surpassing foresight and
industry, marked by every virtue. His speeches I give high marks-for
his time. They have some sign of genius, but a quite unpolished and
untutored genius. But as for the Origins: when you said they are full of
every good oratorical quality, when you compared their author to
Philistus and Thucydides, did you expect to persuade Brutus or me?
Those are authors no Greek even can aspire to imitate; yet you match
with them a man from Tusculum who hadn't even the first idea what it
means to speak with fullness and elaboration!
'You praise Galba. If you do so because he was foremost of his age, 295
I agree-that is what we are told. But if you praise him as an orator,
please give me his speeches (they are extant) and dare to say that you
would wish Brutus here, whom you love more dearly than yourself, to
speak in that manner. You approve Lepidus' speeches. Here 1 do agree
a little, so long as you praise them as being antique. So too with Africanus,
and Laelius-whose speech, according to you, is incomparably charming:
incomparably 'august', you add, whatever that may be. You use as bait
for us the name of a supremely important man, the undeniable virtues
of a life lived with the utmost taste. Take all that away: that 'charming'
speech becomes so humble that no one wants to look at it.
'I know Carbo ranked among the great orators. But it is in oratory as in 296
other things: what is for the moment unsurpassed tends to be praised,
whatever its quality. I have the same to say about the Gracchi, though you
said things about them with which I agree. I won't discuss the rest, but
come straight to the men in whom you think eloquence has already reached
its perfection-great orators beyond all question, Crassus and Antonius.
1 heard them speak, and 1 very much agree with you in your compliments
to them, but not in the way you put them. You said that Crassus' speech
for the Lex Servilia was your tutor, just as Lysippus said of Polyclitus'
Doryphorus. This is pure irony. I shan't say why I think so: you would
think I was flattering you. I won't, then, mention what you said of these 297
orators, of Cotta, Sulpicius, and, just now, of Caelius. These certainly
 228 CICERO
were orators; how good and what sort is for you to decide. I'm less con-
cerned about your heaping together all the meanest labourers in oratory
to such an extent that 1 think some people might have wished to die in
order to qualify as one of your list of orators.'
'You have started something', 1 said when he had finished, 'that could
be discussed for a long while, worthy, in fact, of a whole new argument:
298 but that we must put off to another time. It would involve turning over
the books of many orators, in particular Cato; and you would then
realize that nothing was missing in his sketches except the bloom and
colour of pigments that had not then been discovered. My judgement on
that speech of Crassus' is that he himself could perhaps have written it
better-but no one else. You shouldn't regard me as ironical in saying
that it was my tutor. You apparently think better of such abilities as 1
now have. But when I was young 1 had nothing in Latin more worthy of
299 my imitation. And as to the fact that many names appeared on my list, the
point was (as 1 said not long ago) that 1 wished it to be understood how
few worthy of mention came to the front in a field where so many were
so ambitious.'

E. THE NATURE OF ELOQUENCE

Our next extract (de oratore I. 80-95: text by K. Kumaniecki, Teubner, 1969;
translation by E. W. Sutton and H. Rackham, Loeb. 1942; commentary by
A. S. Wilkins, Oxford, 1892) conveniently summarizes various Greek views on
the nature and scope of eloquence: cf. Qyintilian 2. 15-21. The dialogue is set in
91 B.C., and the speaker is the orator Antonius, whom Cicero represents as
sceptical of the views of Crassus on the wide training of an orator.
80 'You carry conviction with me, Crassus. 1 have no doubt that the man
who has taken in the method and essence of every department of know-
8r ledge and every art would be much richer in his powers of speech. But,
first, that is a difficult thing to attain, especially in the sort of life we lead
and amid the sort of business that occupies us. Again, there is the fear
that we may get diverted from the normal custom and practice of speak-
ing in the forum and before the people. The men I you have just described,
however brilliantly and impressively they speak on nature or on human
affairs, have, I think, a rather different manner of oratory. It is a bright and
rich style, belonging rather to the gymnasium and the oil-jars than to the
rough-and-tumble of court and politics.
82 'I came late to Greek literature, and only had a smattering of it. But when
1 was on my way to Cilicia as proconsul 1 was held up several days in
Athens because of sailing delays. I had some scholars in my company
I Philosophers.
 THE NATURE OF ELOQUENCE 229

every day-more or less the people you just mentioned; and when it got
about somehow that I (like you) tend to get involved in important law-
suits, they all put forward for themselves their arguments on the function
and method of the orator. Some of them, including the famous Mnesar- 83
chus, said that what we call orators are no more than odd-job men with
quick and practised tongues. Only the wise man is an orator. l Eloquence
itself (defined as the knowledge of speaking well) is one virtue; whoever
possesses one virtue possesses all, and all are equal and on a par. Thus the
eloquent man has all the virtues and is a wise man. But this was a dry and
thorny argument that I found very repellent.
'Charmadas, however, was much more forthcoming on the same sub- 84
ject-not that he voiced his own opinion, it being the traditional custom
of the Academy always to oppose everybody in an argument. But on
this occasion he argued that those who are called rhetors and who teach
the rules of oratory have no real knowledge. The only man capable of
attaining any sort of ability at speaking is the man who has learned the
discoveries of the philosophers.
'Opposition was expressed by some eloquent Athenian lawyers and 8s
politicians, including that Menedemus who was recently my guest in Rome.
Menedemus said that there exists a certain practical wisdom that func-
tions in the discovery of methods of organizing and ruling states; where-
upon that quick-witted and widely learned speaker/ who has such an
extraordinary fund of varied information, was provoked to reply that
every facet of this practical wisdom is to be looked for from philosophy.
The provisions of states about religion, education, justice, endurance,
temperance, moderation in everything, and all the other things in whose
absence cities could not exist, at least in any good condition, are never
found in the books of the rhetoricians. If in fact teachers of rhetoric 86
embrace within their art such an abundance of key matters, why are their
books full of proems and epilogues and trivialities (that was the word he
used) of this kind? Why can no word be found there of the organization
of states, the codification of laws, equity, justice, good faith, the over-
coming of desire, the shaping of morals? This same man kept making 87
fun of rhetoricians' precepts, demonstrating that rhetors are quite devoid
of the practical wisdom they claim for themselves, and what is more are
not even aware of the correct method of oratory itself. He regarded it as the
hallmark of the orator to appear to the audience in the light he wishes
(that is attained by living a respectable life-a subject ignored by teachers
of rhetoric in their precepts) and further to ensure that his hearers feel
the emotions he intends them to feel: and that, too, cannot come about
I The Stoic position. Cf. also Qyintilian's view (12. I. I If., below, p. 417).
2 Channadas.
 230 CICERO
unless the speaker knows what methods and what style of oratory avail
to sway the minds of men in each direction. Now these are matters
hidden away deep in philosophy, an ocean into which these rhetors have
never ventured a toe.
88 'Menedemus endeavoured to refute all this by instances rather than by
arguments. He quoted from memory a good deal of first-rate quality from
the speeches of Demosthenes, and showed that that speaker was not un-
skilled in using his oratory to move judges and people in any direction,
and could thereby get effects that the other had asserted could not be
89 attained without philosophy. To this the reply was that there was no
denying that Demosthenes possessed supreme practical wisdom and
supreme powers of speech: but that whether he owed that to his natural
ability or to the fact that (as was well known) he had been an ardent pupil
of Plato, the question at issue concerned not the genius of Demosthenes
but the teaching of the rhetors.
90 'Often this speaker went so far as to assert that there is no 'art' of
speaking. He had arguments to prove this, such as that we are born with
a natural ability to flatter those from whom we have to get something,
and to menace and frighten our adversaries, to narrate an event, to prove
a point or disprove an opposite contention, and, finally, to beg or com-
plain-this being the full range of the orator's potentialities. Or he would
argue, again, that it is habit and practice that sharpen intellect and spur
on eloquence to greater fluency. He also had an abundance of illustrations
91 to offer. First, he said that, as it were on principle, no writer of an 'Art' has
ever been even moderately eloquent-and he went back to one Corax
and one Tisias, apparently the acknowledged inventors and originators of
the technique. On the other hand, he named countless very eloquent men
who never learnt the 'art' and took no trouble to get acquainted with it:
among them he counted myself, perhaps for a joke, or perhaps because
he really believed, from hearsay, that I belong in that company, having
had no training and nevertheless (so he said) possessing some power of
oratory. I was very ready to agree on the point that I had learnt nothing;
on the other point, I thought he was making fun of me or else was him-
self mistaken.
92 'However, he said there is no art that is not made up of known and
thoroughly understood facts, tending to a single end and never deceptive;
on the other hand, everything that is treated by the orator is uncertain
and doubtful: the speaker is not in full possession of it, the hearer is
regarded as the recipient not of knowledge but of temporary opinion,
93 false or at the least obscure. Isn't that enough? This was how he purported
to persuade me that there is no technique of oratory, and that no one can
speak cleverly or fully unless he is acquainted with the doctrines of the
 THE NATURE OF ELOQUENCE 23 1
most learned philosophers. Charmadas here used to express the highest
admiration of your gifts, Crassus-he said that while I was a very ready
listener, you were a very doughty disputant.
'So it was that I was attracted by this same view, and went so far as to 94
say, in a little book that slipped out and was read by people though I was
unaware and even unwilling, that I had known a few accomplished
speakers, but none yet who was eloquent. I defined an accomplished
speaker as one who could speak with tolerable intelligence and clarity in
the presence of second-rate men and keeping to the average view. An
eloquent man, on the other hand, was one who could magnify and
embellish whatever he wished in an extraordinary and splendid manner,
containing in his mind and in his memory all the sources of everything
relevant to oratory. That is something hard to attain for us, who plunged
ourselves in a legal career before we got round to training. But it does not,
let us assume, lie outside the bounds of possibility. For I-as far as my 95
powers of augury allow and in view of the eminent talents I see in our
race-do not despair that one day there will be a man I gifted with keener
enthusiasm than ours is or has been, with more leisure and opportunity
to learn in early life, with superior industry and ability to work hard;
who, having devoted himself to listening and reading and writing, may
prove to be the sort of orator we are looking for, one who deserves to be
called not just a good speaker but truly eloquent: a man embodied, in
my opinion, either here and now in Crassus, or in someone who shall
have equal abilities but, having heard and read and written more than
Crassus, may be able to add somewhat to Crassus' attainments.'

F. PHILOSOPHY AND ORATORY

In this extract (de oratore 1. 64-'73) Crassus, to whom Cicero gives most of his
own views, discusses the wide training that the properly qualified orator must
have. It must include some philosophy. Cf. also Orator II3 ff. (below, p. 248).
'Hence, if one is to define comprehensively the whole and precise mean- 64
ing of 'orator', one must say, I think, that he alone is worthy of this
imposing name who-whatever turns up that has to be put over in speech
-is capable of speaking wisely, with order and ornament, displaying a
good memory and a certain impressiveness of delivery. If anybody thinks 65
that I'm being too indefinite in putting 'whatever' into my definition-
well, let him chop it and prune it as he will; but I shall still maintain this:
an orator may be ignorant of the details of other arts and disciplines, and
be conversant only with the techniques of debate and the practice of the
I Cicero was thinking of himself.
 232 CICERO
courts-but all the same, ifhe has to make a speech on these other matters,
he, as being an orator, will speak far better than the actual exponents of
the arts in question, once, of course, he has been briefed in the individual
details by an expert.
66 'For example, if our friend Sulpicius has to speak on a military subject,
he will make inquiries of our relation, Gaius Marius; and having got the
information, he will deliver his speech in such a fashion that Marius him-
self will think that the orator is better acquainted with such things than
the soldier. If it's a question of civil law, he will get in touch with you,
Scaevola. You are a man experienced and adept in the legal matters that
he will learn from you; yet he will surpass you by his technique of
67 oratory. If something turns up in which remarks have to be made on
nature, on human vice, on desires, on moderation, on continence, on pain,
or on death, he may perhaps, if he feels like it, go to Sextus Pompeius,
the learned philosopher, though an orator ought to be acquainted with
such things himself. In fact, this will be the outcome: whatever the
orator learns, whoever he learns it from, he will speak on that matter more
brilliantly than the man who gave him the information.
68 'But if I am any authority, philosophy being divided into three cate-
gories-the secrets of nature, the complications of dialectic, and the
problems of morality-we may let two of these go as a concession to our
laziness: but unless we cling fast to the third, which has always been the
province of the orator, we shall be leaving him nothing in which he can
69 display his greatness. So the subject of ethics must be learnt through and
through by the orator; as for the rest, if he doesn't learn them he'll be
able to give them the embellishment of his oratory, when necessary, so
long as he is briefed in them.
'Scholars agree that Aratus, a man ignorant of astronomy, succeeded in
writing an excellent and brilliant poem on the heavens and the stars;
Nicander of Colophon could hardly have been more remote from the
countryside-but he wrote su<;cessfully on agricultural matters by virtue
of a poet's abilities, not a farmer's. Why, then, should not an orator
speak most eloquently on matters which he has learnt up for a particular
70 case and a particular time? In fact, the poet is next door to the orator.
His metre ties him down rather more, and he's freer to use words as he
will: but in many departments of embellishment he is his ally and equal
-virtually the same, indeed, in one thing at least, that he sets no bounds
to his prerogatives, to his freedom to wander where he likes with the same
licence as the orator enjoys.
71 'You said, Scaevola, that there was one thing you wouldn't have tolerated
if you hadn't been on my demesne I-my saying that the orator should be
I The scene of the dialogue is Crassus' villa at Tusculum.
 PHILOSOPHY AND ORATORY 233

fully trained in every type of speech and in every branch of human affairs.
Well, I should not say that if I thought that I was the man I'm trying to
portray to you. But, as Gaius Lucilius used to say (a man who had a bit 72
of a grudge against you, and so wasn't as much my friend as he would
have wished-still, a learned and a very witty man), my view is that no
one should be counted an orator unless he is highly polished in all liberal
arts. Even if we are not employing them in a speech, it is quite clear and
evident whether we are ignorant or educated in them: similarly, a ball- 73
player may not employ in a game the virtuosity characteristic of the
gymnasium, but his very manner of moving shows whether he's trained
or untrained; or take an artist-he may not actually be wielding a brush
at a given moment, but it's not difficult to tell whether he knows how to
paint or not. So in oratory-in court, popular assembly, or senate: even if
the rest of the arts are not being employed particularly, nevertheless it's
perfectly easy to see whether the speaker has merely done the rounds of
the declaimers or comes to his oratory equipped with all the arts a gentle-
man should have mastered.'

G. WHICH PHILOSOPHICAL SECT SHOULD THE

ORATOR CHOOSE?
Here too Crassus is the speaker (de oratore 3.54-71).
'Antonius said that he had never yet seen anyone who spoke like that, 54
and that it was only to such orators that the name of 'eloquent' should be
given. So you may take my advice and laugh to scorn all those who think
they have, thanks to the precepts of the rhetors (as they are now called),
acquired all possible powers of oratory, but who have in fact not managed
to realize what part they have to play and what their profession is. For
the true orator should have investigated, heard, read, discussed, treated,
and mulled over everything in human life-for that is the field of an orator,
and that is the material that is set before him. For eloquence is one of the 55
supreme virtues. Even though all the virtues are equal and level,I never-
theless some are more beautiful and glorious to the gaze, as is this attain-
ment, which masters facts and verbally sets forth the thoughts and plans
of the mind in such a way that it compels the hearer in the direction which
it takes. And the greater this attainment is, the more important is it that
it should coincide with probity and supreme wisdom. 2 If we pass on the
capacity for oratory to persons without these virtues, we shall not be
making orators but putting arms into the hands of the mad.
1 A Stoic view: see above, p. 229.
2 Cf. Q!lintilian's view of the orator, below, p. 417.
 234 CICERO
56 'As I say, this method of thought and expression, this faculty of speech,
was called by the ancient Greeks 'wisdom'. Partaking of it we find men
of the stamp of Lycurgus, Pittacus, Solon, and, among Romans of a like
kind, people such as Coruncanius, Fabricius, Cato, and Scipio. Perhaps
these Romans were not so well educated, but they had similar vigour of mind
and similar principles. The same wisdom, allied however to a different
approach to life, which made them pursue leisure and quiet, marked for
example Pythagoras, Democritus, and Anaxagoras, who rather than rule
states devoted themselves entirely to knowledge. This kind oflife, because
of its tranquillity and because knowledge itself is so uniquely agreeable
57 to man, appealed to more people than was convenient for states. Men of
the highest talents devoted themselves to philosophy; the opportunity
was excellent, their time unoccupied. Hence scholars with leisure and
ability in abundance thought they must trouble themselves with research
and investigation into far more things than was strictly necessary. The old
training had been the teacher of right behaviour as well as right speech;
and there was no separation in the instruction-the same men taught
about life and about speaking, like Phoenix in Homer, who says that he
was given by Peleus to his son Achilles as a companion in war in order to
58 make him 'a speaker of words and a doer of deeds'.' Now men who are
used to incessant toil every day tend to resort to ball or dice or domi-
noes when the weather stops them working, or even devise some new
leisure-time game for themselves. Similarly, those men, being outside
public business (which they regarded as work) either because the times
kept them out of it or because they gave themselves a voluntary holiday,
devoted themselves completely to poetry or mathematics or music; while
others, like the dialecticians, organized a new hobby for themselves, and
spent all their time, indeed all their lives, in arts that had been discovered
59 merely to mould the minds of children to morality and virtue. But there
were some, in fact many, who were famous in their city for an ambi-
dexterous wisdom in both speech and action (which indeed are insepar-
able), for example, Themistocles, Pericles, and Theramenes, or else who,
while not themselves politicians, nevertheless proposed to teach this same
wisdom-like Gorgias, Thrasymachus, and Isocrates.
'Thus there could be found men who, though learned and able, shrank
from politics and affairs on principle, and therefore harried and despised
60 the practice of oratory. Chief among these was Socrates, a man who on
the evidence of every scholar and in the judgement of all Greece easily
excelled in every department to which he turned, combining as he did
wisdom, intelligence, charm, and cleverness with eloquence, variety, and
copiousness. Men who dealt with, professed, and taught the subjects with
I Iliad 9. 443.
 WHICH SECT SHOULD THE ORATOR CHOOSE? 235
which we are now concerned were called by a single name: for all know-
ledge of the most important things, and exercise in them, was known as
philosophy. This common name Socrates snatched from its exponents.
In his discussions he separated the knowledge of wise thought and embel-
lished expression, which are in fact inseparable. Socrates himself left no
written word behind him. But Plato's writings handed down to immor-
tality his genius and his varied conversations. This was the origin of a 61
split, as it were, of tongue from brain, ridiculous indeed and inexpedient
and reprehensible, that meant that one set of men teach us to be
wise, another to speak. Many more or less sprang from Socrates. But be-
cause different people took different points away from his varied,
diverse, and wide-ranging discussions, there were born separate and
disparate families that disagreed among themselves, even though all
these philosophers wanted to be known as Socratics and thought of
themselves as such.
'First from Plato himself sprang Aristotle and Xenocrates, who took on 62
the names of Peripatetic and Academy respectively. Next, from Anti-
sthenes, who had particularly liked the ideal of endurance and toughness
that he found in Socrates' conversation, arose the Cynics and later the
Stoics. Again, from Aristippus, who enjoyed rather the lighter discus-
sions, flowed the Cyrenaic philosophy. Aristippus and his successors
defended their view openly; those who nowadays measure everything by
the standard of pleasure, I though more modest, can find no proper place
for the good, though they do not despise it: at the same time they cannot
convincingly defend the very pleasure to which they long to cling. There
have been other philosophic sects, more or less all claiming to be followers
of Socrates-the Eretrians, the Erillians, the Megarians, .the Pyrrhonians.
But these have by now long been broken and extinguished by the forcible
arguments of the rest.
'But of those that remain, the philosophy which has undertaken to 63
defend pleasure, though it may seem true to some, is far removed
from the man we are looking for, the man we want to be adviser of the
people, leader of the state, first in authority and eloquence in senate,
popular assembly, and law court. I intend no harm to that philosophy;
it will not be banished from fields it desires-it will be able to stay peace-
ably in its gardens where it likes to be, and from which, lounging there
luxuriously and fastidiously, it summons us to leave the rostrum, the
courts, the senate-house-perhaps it is wise, especially as things now are. 2
But I'm not at the moment asking which philosophy is the truest, but 64
which is most appropriate to the orator. So let us get rid of that lot without
I The Epicureans.
2 Epicureans advocated withdrawal from public life.
 CICERO
any insult intended. They are good men, and, as they see it, happy. Let us
only warn them to keep one doctrine quiet as though it were a sacred
mystery, however true it is-that it's no duty of the wise man to take part
in public life. If they persuade us and all the best citizens on this point,
they won't be able to go on being leisured, which is their dearest wish.
65 'As for the Stoics, with whom I find no fault, I still send them away.
I have no fear of their being offended: they don't know how to feel anger
at all. [ And I'm grateful to them for one thing: alone of all sects they
have called eloquence a virtue and wisdom. But surely there is something
in them that is repugnant to the orator we are equipping. For one thing,
they say that all those who are not wise are slaves, robbers, enemies,
madmen, and they deny that anyone is wise. It is very silly to entrust an
assembly, a senate, or any gathering to a man who regards none of those
66 present as sane, free, or in possession of citizen rights. Moreover, they
have a style of speech that may be subtle and is undoubtedly acute, but
which, for an orator, is thin, unusual, repellent to the ears of the crowd,
obscure, feeble, bare, and yet quite unsuitable for use before the ordinary
mob. The Stoics have different concepts of good and bad from their
fellow citizens-or indeed from all other nations. They have a different
idea of honour, dishonour, reward, punishment. Whether they are right
or wrong is irrelevant: if we follow them, we have no chance of getting
anything over in a speech.
67 'There remain the Peripatetics and Academics. The Academics have
one name but two views. Speusippus, Plato's nephew, and Xenocrates,
Plato's pupil, together with Xenocrates' pupils Polemo and Crantor, did
not differ greatly from Aristotle, a fellow pupil of Plato. Maybe they were
not up to him in fullness and variety of expression. It was first of all
Arcesilas, pupil of Polemo, who fastened on the point in the various
Platonic writings and Socratic dialogues that there is nothing certain to be
perceived by mind or senses. Arcesilas disposed of a wonderfully charm-
ing style. He despised every judgement made by mind or sense, and was
the first to make a practice (though this was a very Socratic trait) of not
stating his own view but arguing against the views expressed by others.
68 This was the source of the newer Academy, in which flourished Carneades,
divinely gifted in quickness of wit and breadth oflanguage. I got to know
many of those who sat at his feet in Athens. But I can mention as the most
distinguished authorities both my father-in-law Scaevola, who heard
him in Rome when a young man, and ~intus Metellus, son of Lucius,
my friend and a notable man, who used to say that when he was a youth
he heard Carneades, already old, over a number of days in Athens.
69 'Thus, just as the ridge of the Apennines is a watershed for rivers, so
I The ideal Stoic felt no violent emotion.
 WHICH SECT SHOULD THE ORATOR CHOOSE? 237

separate streams of doctrine flowed from the single hill-crest of wisdom.

The philosophers flowed down, as it were, into the upper Greek sea,
one that welcomes with many ports;1 but the orators into our lower
Tuscan sea, crude, rocky, and hostile, where evep. Ulysses went astray.
Hence, if we are content with the eloquence and the orator that knows 70
one must either deny a charge, or, if that is impossible, show that the
deed was done rightly or by the fault of another or by another's wrong-
doing or according to the law or not against the law or by mistake or
through necessity, or is not to be called by the name used in the charge,
or that the trial is not being held rightfully and legally;2 if you think it
enough to learn the teaching of the handbook-writers-expounded by
Antonius much more colourfully and richly than they expound them; if
you are content with this, together with the precepts you have asked me
to explain, then you are excluding the orator from a great and unlimited
field and forcing him into a distinctly narrow compass. But if you want 71
to follow in the footsteps of the old Pericles or Demosthenes (who is more
familiar to us because of the abundance of his writings), if you have fallen
in love with that brilliant and outstandingly beautiful ideal of the perfect
orator-then you must take in the dialectical force either of Carneades
or of Aristotle.'

H. 'ATTIC' ORATORY

In the 40s, Cicero found himself under attack from admirers of the orator
Calvus, who regarded his elaborate and rhythmical oratory as turgid-the sort
of thing one would associate with Asia Minor rather than with Attica. a.
Tacitus, Dia/ogus 18 (below, p. 443); Qp.intilian 12. 10. 12-15 (below, p. 406).
He replied in the Brutus, by showing himself as the culmination of the long
development of Roman oratory, and also in the Orator (ed. P. Reis, 1932;
O. Jahn-W. Kroll, 1913; ]. E. Sandys, 1885), where he showed that Attic
oratory covered a wider field than the plainness of Lysias, the principal hero
of the 'Atticists'. We begin with Orator 22-32.

We see that there have been orators whose style combined ornament 22

and weight, dexterity and plainness. Would that we could find such a
model among the Romans! It would be excellent to content ourselves
I i.e. the Adriatic.
2 This alludes to the doctrine of stasis (Lat. status), much developed in Hellenistic
times by Hermagoras and others; it was a set of rules intended to help the orator to think
out and select the most telling and appropriate ways of treating his case.
 CICERO
23 with home-grown products and not have to look abroad. In the conversa-
tion recorded by me in the Brutus, I conceded a good deal to Roman
writers, to encourage others or because I was enthusiastic for my fellow
countrymen: but I remember, all the same, that I put Demosthenes on
his own ahead of all rivals.! And it is Demosthenes that'l should wish to
identify with the ideal eloquence which I feel without myself having known
it in anyone. No one has ever been more weighty than Demosthenes,
cleverer or more self-controlled. My advice, therefore, to those whose
ignorant views have been publicized-who want to be called 'Attic' or
themselves claim to speak in the Attic manner-is that they should admire
this man most of all: Athens herself was surely not more truly Attic.
Thus they would learn what the 'Attic' is, and would measure eloquence
24 by his strength, not their own weakness. For, as it is, everyone gives
praise to what he thinks his own imitation may perhaps attain. These
people have the most admirable enthusiasm, but their taste is unstable;
and I do not think it irrelevant to try to instruct them in the nature of the
characteristic excellence of the Attic orators.
Orators have always had, to guide their eloquence, the good sense of
their listeners. All who wish to be popular have regard to the taste of those
who hear them; they mould and adapt themselves to it completely, and
2S to their will and nod. Hence Caria, Phrygia, and Mysia,Z being far from
cultured and far from elegant, took up a style of oratory that, in its rich-
ness and as it were fattiness, was suited to their ears. This style was never
liked by their neighbours across the narrow stretch of sea, the Rhodians,
still less by the mainland Greeks; and it was altogether rejected by the
Athenians, whose taste was always so sensible and sure that they could
listen to nothing that was corrupt or inelegant. Their scruples had to be J

respected by the orator, who would not dare to introduce a word that was
26 unusual or objectionable. Hence the orator whom I have ranked above
the rest, in far his best speech, that for Ctesiphon, began quietly, pro-
ceeded concisely in his argument about the laws, but then later, after
gradually enflaming his hearers, spread himself boldly in the remainder
of the speech once he saw that the jury were on fire. Yet this same Demo-
sthenes, who carefully weighed the merits of every word, was criticized in
some respects by Aeschines. Aeschines harried him, mockingly saying
that his vocabulary was harsh, hateful, intolerable: he went so far as to
call him a monster, asking whether these were words or wonders.3 To
27 Aeschines, apparently, not even Demosthenes seemed to speak Attic. Of
course, it is easy to pick on one, as it were, burning word, and make fun
of it once the flames of emotion have died down. So Demosthenes made
I Cf. Brutus 3S (above, p. 221). 2 Cf. Dionysius, below, p. 306.

3 Aeschines, Against Ctesipholl !66; cf. Pliny, epist. 9. 26 (below, p. 430).

 CATTIC' ORATORY 239
a joke of the matter when he came to reply; he said I that the fortunes of
Greece did not turn on whether he used this word or that, stretched his
hand in one direction or another. How, then, would a Mysian or Phrygian
have been received in Athens when even Demosthenes was criticized as
tasteless? When such a visitor began to chant in the Asiatic style, with a
low wailing voice, who would have put up with him? Who indeed would
not have asked for him to be put out?
Those, then, who adapt themselves to the keen and scrupulous ears of 28
the Attic audience are to be judged as speaEng in the Attic manner.
There are many kinds of Attic orator: my opponents can conceive only of
one. They think that the uncultivated rough speaker-so long as he is
discriminating and pithy-is the only Attic orator. They are wrong in
thinking that he is the only one: they are right in thinking that he is Attic.
On their standard, if that is the only type of Atticism, not even Pericles 29
spoke in the Attic manner-and he was accorded the highest rank with-
out question. If he had used the plain style he would never have been
said by the poet Aristophanes to 'lighten, thunder, and confound Greece'. 2
That most pleasant and polished of writers, Lysias, may be agreed to
speak in the Attic manner-who could deny it ?-so long as we understand
that what makes Lysias Attic is not that he is plain and unadorned, but
that he has nothing unusual or tasteless. But it must be an Attic quality
to speak ornately, weightily, copiously-otherwise neither Aeschines nor
Demosthenes is Attic.
And now we have people who claim to be Thucydideans; a new variety 30
of ignorance, this, and one we have not heard of before. For those who
follow Lysias are at least following a lawyer-not perhaps a grand and
noble one, but a careful and elegant speaker who would take his place
with distinction in legal cases. But Thucydides narrates history, wars, and
battles, weightily and excellently no doubt, but not in such a way that
anything can be transferred from him to public or legal oratory. Even
those well-known speeches of his have so many obscure and recondite
thoughts that they can scarcely be understood-perhaps the worst fault
of all in public oratory. Can men be so perverse as to feed on acorns after 31
the discovery of corn? Food could be improved thanks to the Athenians: 3
why not oratory? And which of the Greek rhetoricians ever drew any-
thing from Thucydides? 'But he has been praised by everyone.' Certainly
-as a narrator of events, sensible, austere, and serious: not as dealing
with cases in the courts but as relating wars in history books. He was 32
never counted as an orator, and if he had not written a history his name
I On the Crown 232.

• Acharnians 530 (cf. Pliny, epist. I. 20. 19, below, p. 426).

3 Grain having, according to legend, originated in Attica.
 CICERO
would not survive, however honoured and well-born he may have been.
In any case, no one tries to imitate his austerity of words and sentiment:
they think that they are genuine Thucydideses when they have said
something broken and gaping-and they could have managed that even
without a model. I have even come across people who wanted to be like
Xenophon-a writer whose style is certainly sweeter than honey, but very
far removed from the hurly-burly of the forum.

I. THE THREE STYLES AND THE PERFECT ORATOR

Here (Orator 75-121) we have a classic exposition of a central theme of ancient

criticism: the types of style. a. the four types of Demetrius (above, chap. 4);
the three-type scheme is much the commonest, and we shall see it in various
guises in QIintilian and Dionysius.
7S Next must be investigated the mark and pattern of each type-a great
and difficult task, as I have often said before. But I should have reflected
what I was about at the time of embarkation; now I must set sail, wherever
the winds take me.

THE PLAIN STYLE

First of all, I must sketch the man whom some regard as the only true
76 Attic orator. He is pitched in a low key and unpretentious, giving an
appearance of using ordinary language, but in reality differing from the
inexpert more than is commonly supposed. Hence those who hear him,
however incapable of utterance themselves, are confident that they too
could speak like that. Plainness of style may seem easily imitable in
theory; in practice nothing could be more difficult. It has not a great deal
of blood about it, but it must have a sort of sap to give it good health
even if it lacks the greatest strength.
77 The plain orator must first be freed from the shackles of rhythm: for
there are, as you know, certain rhythms used in oratory, to be dealt with
later, which one must methodically keep to in another style but altogether
ignore here. This must be quite unrhythmic, though not wandering; it
should seem to walk freely, not stray at random. It should not trouble to
(as it were) cement words to each other: hiatus, thanks to the juxtaposi-
tion of vowels, has something soothing about it, something that indicates
a not unpleasant negligence on the part of a speaker more worried about
78 content than about phraseology. But other matters must be seen to, even
though these two factors-periodic structure and the 'glueing' of words-
are not enforced on this style. For even short and cut-up sentences are
 THREE STYLES AND THE PERFECT ORATOR 241

not to be organized negligently: even negligence sometimes demands

care. Just as some women are said to be prettier when not made-up-for
it is that that suits them-so this plain style pleases despite its lack of
decoration. There is something present in each case that adds beauty
without becoming apparent.
Next, all obvious pearls of ornament, as it were, are to be removed: not
even the curling-tongs are to be applied; all preparations giving artificial 79
red or white are to be banned; only elegance and neatness will remain.
The language will be correct and Latin, clear and unambiguous; regard
will be paid to what is fitting; and the only absentee will be what Theo-
phrastus put fourth in his list of the virtues of oratoryI-ornamentation,
smooth and rich. There will be perceptive, close-packed thought, dug up
from I don't know what hidden depths: and-the most important point in
this style-a sparing use of the stock-in-trade of oratory. For we have in a 80
way our stock, consisting of ornaments, partly of matter, partly of words.
Ornament of words is twofold, one kind of words taken separately, one of
words in combination. In the former, standard words (propria) and words
in common parlance are 'ornamental' when they sound best or best
express the content. Among words that are in some way unnatural, we
have words transferred and borrowed: 2 those new and made up by the
author: and those ancient and out of use (though even these can be
classed among standard words, except that we only rarely use them).
On the other hand, words in combination are ornamental if they produce 81
a certain balance that would not remain if the words were altered while
the thought stayed the same: ornaments of thought, which remain even
if you change the wording, are doubtless very numerous, but only a few
of them are conspicuous.
Thus our slender orator, while remaining elegant, will be shy of coining
words, modest and sparing in metaphor, restrained in the use of old
words and of the other ornaments, both of word and thought: though he
will perhaps use comparatively frequently the type of metaphor most
commonly found in all conversation, of town and country folk alike-
for it's countrymen who say 'the vines are gemming', 'the fields are thirsty',
'the crops are cheerful', 'the corn is luxuriant'. Each of these is bold 82
enough, but in every case the comparison is very close, or, if a thing lacks
a name of its own, it is obvious that the metaphor is used to get the mean-
ing across, not for fun. The restrained type of orator will use this rather
more freely than other ornaments, but not so lavishly as if he were em-
ploying the amplest style of oratory. And so the unfitting, whose nature
can be d~puced from its opposite, is obvious in this field also, in cases
1 These four 'virtues' were: correctness, clarity, appropriateness, and 'ornamentation'.
2 i.e. metaphor. Compare with all this de oratore 3. 155 (below, p. 258).
8143591 R
 CICERO
where a metaphor is too violent, and what would be suitable in another
style is placed in the 'low' style.
83 But the neatness which decks out collocations of words with the decora-
tions that the Greeks call schemata, 'gestures', as it were, of speech (the
same word that they use also of decorations of thought), will certainly
find a place in the armoury of the fine-spun orator (rightly called Attic,
though the term should not be restricted to him). But he will use it
rather sparingly. It is just like the organization of dinner-parties: fighting
shy of grandness, he will want to be thought to have good taste (elegantia)
as well as leanings to economy. Hence, he will choose (eliget) what device
84 to use. And there are many things that are suited to the thriftiness prac-
tised by the orator of whom I am speaking. Certainly our acute speaker
must avoid the devices I described earlier, such as balanced clauses of
equal length, clauses with the same endings and the same cadences, and
clever effects sought by mere change of a letter: for he must avoid being
85 clearly convicted of artificial symmetry and the pursuit of pleasure. Again,
repetitions of words involving strain and noise will be alien to this orator's
restraint. But other devices he will be able to use without discrimination,
so long as he dismantles and splits up long periodic structures, and uses
the most ordinary words, the most gentle metaphors. He will employ
even decorations of thought, at least those that are not over-gaudy. He
will not make the republic speak, or call up the dead from the underworld, I
or pile many elements up and bind them within one period. These things
are suited to stronger lungs, and are not to be expected or required of the
86 orator we are sketching. He will be subdued in voice and style alike. But
many of those figures will be suitable even to the plain style, although it
will make a rougher use of the same ornaments: that is the kind of character
I am exhibiting. Add a delivery that is not tragic or stagy, that involves
little movement of the body, but accomplishes much by facial expression
-not the type by which people are said to grimace, but that by which they
signifY without affectation in what sense everything they say is to be
understood.
87 On this type of oratory there will also be sprinkled jests, which have
extreme effectiveness in speech. 2 There are two kinds, one humour, the
other wit. Our orator will use both; but one will be appropriate in telling
a story pleasantly, the other in projecting and dispatching something that
causes laughter-and of this there is more than one variety: but that is
83 another matter. A word of warning: the orator will employ the laughable
infrequently, so as not to behave like a buffoon, with no double entendre,
so as not to descend to the level of a mime, without malice, so as not to
I As, e.g., in pro Caelio. Cf. Quint. 12. 10. 61 (below, p. 414).
2 In general, see de ora tore 2. 216 If.; Quint. 6. 3; Demetrius (above, p. 203),
 THREE STYLES AND THE PERFECT ORATOR 243
be impudent. He will not use it against misfortune (that would be cruel),
or against crime (lest laughter take the place of hatred). He will use no
jest that conflicts with his character or that of the judges or with the
situation: that comes under the head of the unsuitable. He will also avoid 89
the prepared joke, one not made up on the spur of the moment but brought
along from home-such usually fall flat. He will spare his friends and men
of importance; he will steer clear of inflicting injuries that cannot be
healed; he will hit only his opponents, and them not always, and not all of
them or in every way. With these exceptions he will employ wit and
humour in a manner that I have not observed among our latter-day
Atticists-though it is in itself, without question, a highly Attic attribute.
This, in my view, is the outline of the restrained orator who is yet a 90
great and genuine Attic speaker. For whatever is witty or healthy in a
speech is characteristic of Attic orators. Not all of them were humorous:
Lysias and Hyperides are reputed tolerable in this respect, Demades
supreme, Demosthenes inferior. In my view, nothing could be more ur-
bane than Demosthenes; yet he was not so much witty (dicax) as humor-
ous (focetus): wit requires the keener natural gift, humour the greater art.

THE MIDDLE STYLE

There is another type, richer and rather more robust than this plain one 91
1 have been describing, but more restrained than the fullest, which 1 have
yet to discuss. This type has a minimum of muscle, a maximum of sweet-
ness. For it is fuller than our concise type, more restrained than the ornate
and copious style. Here all stylistic ornaments are appropriate: for this 92
pattern of oratory has the greatest possible charm. Many have distin-
guished themselves in it in Greece, but in my view Demetrius ofPhaleron
surpasses the rest. His style flows gently and quietly, but it is brightened,
as ifby stars, by words transferred and altered. 1 mean (as often before)
by the former those that are transferred by means of a similarity from one
thing to another to give pleasure or to satisfy a lack: by 'altered' those
in which another word is substituted for the correct one, meaning the
same, but drawn from some associated idea. This, too, of course, is the 93
result of 'transferring'; but Ennius was using one sort of transference
when he said: '1 am bereft of citadel and city', quite another when he
made 'horrid Africa shake with terrible tumult'. I This last the rhetoricians
call hupallage, because (as it were) words are exchanged for words;
grammarians use the term metonymy, because it is names that are
I AIU/romache, fr. 88; Annales 310.
 CICERO
94 transferred. Now Aristotle! ranges under 'transference' (i.e. metaphor)
both these phenomena and also 'abuse'-his word is katachresis-as, for
instance, when we say that a man's spirit is 'minute' rather than 'small':
and we can 'abuse' words neighbouring on each other, if we need a word
that pleases or is suitable.
When several metaphors have flowed on successively, a new sort of
speech develops: this type the Greeks call allegory-a good enough name,
but the better classification is to regard all these devices, as Aristotle
does, under the genus 'metaphor'. Demetrius uses them frequently, and
they are most agreeable. He has much metaphor-and no one has more
9S 'alterations' (immutationes). Into this same style of oratory (I am still
speaking of the moderate and blended kind) fall all figures of speech, and
many too of thought. Here wide-ranging and learned disputations will be
deployed, and commonplaces recited without heat. To sum up, orators of
this kind generally emerge from the schools of philosophy; they will
merit our admiration for their own sake, so long as we avoid open com-
96 parison with a stronger. The style is decorative, flowery, bright, and
polished; all beauties of word and sentiment are interwoven here. The
whole flowed from a sophistic fountain-head into the courts; but scorned
by the plain orators, rejected by the weighty, it has come to rest, as I
have described, in the middle.

THE GRAND STYLE

97 The third type of orator is the full, copious, weighty, and ornate. Here
surely lies the most power. It is he whose splendour and fullness the world
has so admired that it has suffered eloquence to prevail in our cities-
meaning by eloquence the sort which is carried along with vast flow and
sound, looked up to and wondered at by all, by all thought to be above
their own powers of attainment. This eloquence has it in itself to manipu-
late minds, to move them in every way. Sometimes it breaks through into
the feelings, sometimes insinuates itself. It sows new opinions, uproots
old ones.
98 But there is a great difference between this style and those discussed
above. The orator in the plain and sharp style who has striven to speak
shrewdly and acutely, without higher pretensions, is a great orator, even
if not the greatest, if he attains this one aim. He will be on safe ground;
if he once gets a footing, he will never fall. The middle orator, whom I
call moderate and temperate, so long as he does justice to his own aims,
need not fear the doubtful and uncertain chances of oratory. Even if, as
I Poetics 21 (above, p. II9).
 THREE STYLES AND THE PERFECT ORATOR 245
often happens, he does not always succeed, he will not be running a grave
danger: he cannot fall far. 1 But the weighty, fierce, and burning orator, 99
whom we put first, deserves the greatest scorn if he is born to this style
alone, and has practised and studied it and only it, without blending his
fullness with the other two kinds. The restrained speaker is regarded as
wise because he speaks acutely and with an expert's skill; the middle
manner is thought pleasant; but the very full speaker, if he is nothing
else, is scarcely to be regarded as sane. He who can say nothing quietly
and gently, nothing that shows organization, precision, clarity, and wit
(especially as cases are sometimes in part, sometimes wholly to be handled
in these ways), looks like a madman raving in sane company, a drunk
revelling among the sober, if he begins to set a subject alight for ears
that he has not prepared in advance.

THE PERFECT ORATOR

Here, then, Brutus, we have the man we are looking for-but in our 100
minds only: for if I'd managed to get him in my clutches, not all his
eloquence would persuade me to let him go. But all the same we have
surely found the eloquent man whom Antonius never saw. 2 Who is he?
I shall sum up briefly, then explain at length. That man is eloquent who
can speak of humble things plainly, lofty things with gravity, middling
things with the blended style. There never was such a man, you will say.
Maybe not. I am talking of what I should like to see, not what I have seen: 101
which takes me back to that Platonic 'form' and 'pattern' of which I
spoke earlier, and which we can have in our minds even if we do not see
it. I am not seeking the eloquent man, or anything that is mortal and
subject to decay, but the quality whose possessor is thereby eloquent-
nothing else, in fact, but eloquence itself, which we can see only with the
eye of the mind. To repeat: he will be eloquent who can speak of trivial
things in a subdued manner, middling things in the blended style, great
things with gravity.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE STYLES

My whole speech in defence of Caecina concerned the words of an 102

interdict; I used definition to unravel the complicated circumstances, I
eulogized civil law, I interpreted ambiguous words. In my speech on the
Manilian law, I had to polish up the image ofPompey: I used a temperate
I On the topic of 'danger' in oratory cf. Pliny, epist. 9. 26 (below, p. 429).
2 De oratore I. 94 (above, p. 231).
 CICERO
style to provide the polish. The whole prestige of the state was involved in
the case of Rabirius; hence I then blazed out with every means of ampli-
103 fication. But sometimes these elements have to be blended and varied.
Well, what type cannot be found in the seven books in which I accused
Verres? Or in my defences of Cluentius, of Cornelius, of many others? I
might have looked out examples, but they are well known-or inquirers
can choose them for themselves. There is no quality in any style of which
there is not, in my speeches, if not a consummate instance, at least an
104 attempt and adumbration. I do not attain my goal: I see what goal ought
to be set.

DEMOSTHENES

Now, in fact, I am speaking not of myself but of a quality; and here I

am so far from being an admirer of my own productions, I am so harsh
and critical, that Demosthenes himself doesn't satisfy me. He is uniquely
eminent in all branches of oratory: yet he doesn't always give my ears
what they expect, so greedily and consumingly do they often yearn after
105 some immeasurable and infinite perfection. But you got to know this
orator as a whole when you were in Athens, studying with his fervent
admirer Pammenes, and you have not given him up: on the other hand,
you make a practice of reading my work also; you surely must be in a
position to see that he achieves much, I try for much, that he can speak
in whatever way the case demands, I merely wish to. That great man
had great predecessors, and excellent orators contemporary with him.
That is less true of myself. It would have been a great achievement if I
could have reached the heights to which I aspired in a city in which, as
106 Antonius said, no eloquent man has been heard. Yet if Antonius did not
think Crassus or even himself eloquent, he would not have thought
Cotta or Sulpicius or Hortensius eloquent. For Cotta could say nothing
grandly, Sulpicius nothing gently, Hortensius little with weight. Their
predecessors, I mean Crassus and Antonius, were more suited to all the
branches.

CICERO'S YOUTH

The taste of the city, then, as I took it over, was hungry for this oratory
of many facets, that spreads with equal facility into every style, and I
turned the ears of Rome, in my earliest years, however slight my qualities
and achievements, to a quite extraordinary enthusiasm for this kind of
107 oratory. How great the applause when, as a youth, I spoke words on the
 THREE STYLES AND TilE PERFECT ORATOR 247
punishment of parricides' that only rather later did I begin to feci had
not sufficiently come off the boil! 'For what is so common a boon as
breath to the living, as earth to the dead, as the sea to the storm-tossed,
as the shore to the ship-wrecked? They live, while they can-but cannot
draw breath from the sky. They die, but their bones never touch the earth.
They are tossed by the waves, but they are never washed by them. They
are cast ashore at last-but find no rest in death even upon the rocks',
and what follows. 2 Everything bears the mark of a young man, praised
not for mature performance but for the hopes he aroused. In that vein,
too, were words spoken in maturer years: 'The wife of her son-in-law,
stepmother of her son, rival of her daughter.'3
But I wasn't carried away into making all my speeches sound like this. 108
Even that youthful copiousness has much that is subdued, even some-
thing a little more gay: witness the speeches for Cluentius and Cornelius
and some others. For no orator, even in the leisure of Greece, has written
so much as I-and my works have the variety which I am recommending.
I should concede to Homer, Ennius, and the rest of the poets, particularly 109
the tragedians, that they need not everywhere use the same strained
manner, that they should frequently vary it, and sometimes even descend
to the normal everyday style of conversation: was I myself then never to
leave the vehemence of my highest flights? But why bring up the inspired
poets? I have seen actors at the very top of their profession who could
not only acquit themselves well in the most dissimilar characters, while
keeping to their own special field, but could do pretty well in tragedy,
though specializing in comedy, or in comedy, though specializing in
tragedy; was I not to strive for the like?
And when I say'!', I mean you, Brutus. What was possible in me was IIO
long ago complete. But will you go on delivering all your speeches in the
same way? Will you reject one particular sort of case? Will you, within
the same case, preserve a constantly animated tone with no variation?
Demosthenes-you must, I imagine, admire him, for I saw a bronze
of him among the statues of you and your family when I visited you
in your villa at Tusculum-Demosthenes yields nothing in plainness to
Lysias, nothing in sharpness and acumen to Hyperides, nothing in
smoothness and brilliance of diction to Aeschines. Many of his speeches II1

are plain throughout, as for example that against Leptines. Many are
wholly grand, as some of the Philippics. Many have variety, such as the
speech against Aeschines on the misconduct of the embassy or against
the same man on behalf of Ctesiphon. Again, he snatches at the middle
style whenever he wishes, and, when he leaves the grandest, it is thither
I Parricides were tied lip in sacks and thrown into the sea.
• Pro Sex. Roscjo Ameri7lo 72. 3 Pro Cluentio 199.
 CICERO
that he prefers to resort. But he rouses applause and has most effect
in his oratory when he is developing the grand passages.
JI2 But let us leave him for a while; we are investigating a type, not an
individual: let us reveal the potentialities and nature of a thing-eloquence.
"But let us remember what I said before, that I shall say nothing in the way
of precept, and shall behave like a critic, not a teacher. But I go the further
in many points because I see that you won't be the only reader of these
words (which are more familiar to you than to me, your apparent instruc-
tor): this book is bound to be publicized by your name being attached
to it-if not by any merit of mine.

THE ATTAINMENTS OF THE PERFECT ORATOR

II3 Now I think the perfectly eloquent man must not merely have his own
peculiar capacity, for flowing and copious speech: he must also acquire
a neighbouring branch of knowledge, namely logic. Of course, oratory is
one thing, disputation another. Dialectic and rhetoric differ. But both
are branches of discourse. To the logicians belongs the technique of
dispute and argument; to the orators that of speech and ornamentation.
Zeno, founder of Stoicism, used to use his hand to demonstrate the dif-
ference between these arts. Clenching his fist, he would say that logic was
like that: relaxing and spreading the hand, that eloquence resembled the
JI4 palm, so. Even before that, Aristotle, at the start of his Rhetoric, said that
that art was as it were the complement of logic: they differ (of course)
because rhetoric is wider, dialectic more contracted. Therefore, I want
my supreme orator to be familiar with every logical technique that may
be applicable to oratory. You are an expert in this field, and will know
that logic has been taught in two ways. Aristotle himself handed down
very many precepts for argument, and later the so-called dialecticians I
lIS produced many rather thorny rules. My view is that the aspirant for
eloquence should not be altogether naive in these matters, but should
receive training either in the old doctrine of Aristotle or in the newer one
of Chrysippus. He should know the force, nature, and types of words
both in isolation and in combination; the various modes of assertion; the
method of judging between truth and falsehood; what deduction should
be made from each statement, what is consequent, what contrary; and
-since many ambiguous statements are made-how each ambiguity
should be analysed and resolved. These principles must be borne in
mind by the orator, and they often come up; but on their own they are

I Especially the Stoic Chrysippus.

 THREE STYLES AND THE PERFECT ORATOR 249
somewhat unattractive, and a certain stylistic polish must be brought to
their exposition.
In everything that is being put over methodically, one must first of all II6
decide what each thing is: unless the disputants agree on the nature of the
point in dispute, there can be no meaningful discussion and no conclu-
sion. So we must often use words to give our view on a thing, and to
clear up obscure concepts by definition-definition being words that show
as briefly as possible the point at issue. Next, as you know, once the genus
of each thing has been expounded, we have to see what the species and
parts of that genus may be, so that our whole speech may be distributed
among them. Our candidate for eloquence, then, must have the capacity II7
to define: not indeed so briefly and narrowly as is usual in scholarly
disputation, but more clearly, more fully, and in a way more calculated
to suit the average taste and the intelligence of the populace. When
circumstances demand, he will also be able to divide a genus into determi-
nate species, so that none is omitted and none superfluous. It is not rele-
vant here to say when he is to do this and how; as I said, I want to be a
judge, not a teacher.
Nor should he be equipped only by the logicians; he should be familiar 118
in theory with all the commonplaces of philosophy, and have handled
them in practice. Nothing concerning religion, death, piety, patriotism,
good, bad, virtue, vice, duty, pain, pleasure, passion, and error-things
that often come up in cases, but tend to get treated pretty sparsely-
nothing on these subjects can be said and discussed with weight, dignity,
and fullness without the knowledge I have spoken of.
I am still talking of the subject-matter of oratory, not actual style. For II9
I want our orator to have a topic, and one worthy of the learned, before he
gets round to considering what language he is to employ. And, to make
him grander and loftier, as I said of Pericles above, I want him to be
acquainted with science also. Surely he will be capable of feeling and
speaking everything more sublimely and more magnificently when he
returns to humanity from the heavens.
Having mastered the divine, I don't want him ignorant of human affairs 120
either. He must grasp civil law, which is needed every day in court.
Nothing could be more shaming than to take cases that turn on law when
you are ignorant of the laws and the civil code. He should also know of the
course of history and the past, particularly at Rome, but extending to
imperial peoples and famous kings. This task has been lightened by the
pains of my friend Atticus, I for he has brought into the compass of a
single book the history of seven hundred years, with no important omission,
in strict conformity to a stated chronological order. Not to know what
I See on Brutus 28 (above, p. 220).
 250 CICERO
happened before you were born is to be a child for ever. What is the life of
man unless history binds it to the past? In any case, reference to antiquity
and the putting forward of instances is not only pleasurable but a source
121 of authority and conviction in a speech. This will be the equipment with
which he will come to court.

J. THE BEST TYPE OF ORATOR

De optimo genere oratorum
This little treatise is a preface to a Latin translation (not extant) of the speeches of
Demosthenes and Aeschines for and against Ctesiphon. Argument and style
seem inferior to Cicero's best, and there are some grounds for thinking the
work spurious. Text: A. S. Wilkins, Oxford, 1903.
I There are said to be types of orators, as of poets. This is wrong. Certainly
there are a number of branches of poetry. There is tragic, comic, epic, and
also melic and dithyrambic poetry, each with its own individual proper-
ties. I For instance, in tragedy the comic is a fault, and in comedy the
tragic displeases: and of the other branches each has a definite sound, a
2 sort of tone of voice that experts can recognize. But if anyone marks off

various types of orator-some grand or grave or full, others plain or fine-

drawn or concise, others in between and as it were forming the mean-
he is saying something about the individuals, little in the abstract. For in
the abstract, we inquire what is best. In the case of an individual, we
describe what is. Thus, we may, if we like, call Ennius the greatest epic
poet, and Pacuvius the greatest tragedian, and Caecilius, perhaps, the
3 greatest comic writer. But I make no divisions of type among orators:
I am looking for the perfect one. There is only one type of the perfect
orator; those who do not belong to it do not differ from him in type (as
Terence does from Accius): they are of the same type, but not equal in
quality. For the best orator is the one who by his oratory instructs, pleases,
and moves the minds of his audience. To instruct is a debt to be paid, to
give pleasure a gratuity to confer, to rouse emotion a sheer necessity.
4 Now it must be agreed that orators differ in their ability in these fields.
But this is a matter of degree, not of type. There is one thing that is
perfect, and what comes next is what is most like the perfect. From
this it is clear that what is most unlike the best is the worst.
Now since eloquence consists of words and thoughts, we must con-
trive, while speaking in a pure and correct manner (that is, in good Latin),
to attain, besides that, choiceness of words, whether used metaphorically
or not. Among non-metaphorical words, we must choose the most
I Text uncertain.
 THE BEST TYPE OF ORATOR
smart: in metaphorical language, we must not stray far from our com-
parison, but use borrowed terms with moderation. Of thoughts, there are 5
as many types as I said there were of qualities of oratory. To instruction
belong pointed sentiments, to pleasure-giving brilliant ones, to emotional
oratory high-sounding ones. There is also such a thing as verbal structure,
which brings about two results, rhythm and smoothness, while thoughts
have their own organization, an order adapted to the formulation of a
proof. But of all these things there is one foundation-memory: and all
are given lustre by delivery.
The man, therefore, in whom all these things combine in their highest 6
degrees will be the most perfect orator: the middling orator will have
them in middling degrees, the worst orator in their lowest degree. But
they will all be called orators, just as even bad painters are still called
painters; they will differ from each other not in type but in capacity.
And so there is no orator who would not wish to be like Demosthenes.
But Menander did not wish to be like Homer: their types differed. This
is not true of orators. Or rather, if it does happen that one orator pursues
gravity but shuns subtlety, while another wishes to be acute rather than
ornate, neither (you may be sure) is the best, though he may be fairly
good; the type that is best is the one that has all good qualities.
I have said all this more concisely than the matter deserved; but to 7
have been fuller would not have suited my present object. There is one
type; we are inquiring what sort of a type it is. It is the sort that flourished
in Athens; it is the source of the glory of the Attic orators (which is
familiar), and of their capacity (which is not). Many have seen one side
of them-that they have nothing faulty. Few have seen the other-that they
have many points to be praised. It is faulty in a sentiment if anything in
it is absurd or irrelevant or unintelligent or insipid: in vocabulary if a
word is low, vulgar, inapt, harsh, or far-fetched. These faults have been 8
avoided by virtually all who are numbered among the Attic or even speak
Attic. But those whose strengths only go as far as this may certainly be
regarded as fit and healthy-but only like wrestlers who may stroll about
the gymnasium but cannot hope for Olympic medals. Our pattern should
if possible be those who lack every fault, but are not content merely with
good health (as it were) but go in search of strength, muscle, red blood,
a certain attractiveness of complexion. If this is not possible, we should
prefer to imitate those whose health is unaffected (the Attic characteristic)
rather than those in whom copiousness is taken to a fault (many such have
been produced by Asia). When we do this (if we can attain even that: for 9
it is a great achievement), let us, if possible, imitate Lysias and his plain
oratory for preference. He is, in many passages, fairly lofty; but since he
wrote most of his speeches on private issues, and those for the delivery of
 CICERO
others and concerning trivial matters, hc gives a rather jejune impression,
for he purposely filed his speech down to the standards of unimportant
cases. Someone who does this, but cannot be richer if he wishes to be, may
be regarded as an orator no doubt, but a minor one. On the other hand,
a great orator also often has to speak in that manner, where the type
10 of case suits it. Thus, Demosthenes certainly could speak in a lower key:
Lysias may not have been able to speak in a higher one. But as for those
who think that it would have been fitting for the speech for Milo to have
been made (at a time when the army was in position in the forum and all
the temples round about) in the same tone as if! had been speaking about
a private case before a single judge: such people are measuring the force
of eloquence by their own capabilities, not by its potentialities.
I I So, since the claims of various people have been bruited abroad-some
saying that they themselves are 'Attic' speakers, some that no Roman
speaks in the Attic manner-we may ignore the one group. The facts
themselves make sufficient reply to them, for they are either not made
advocates in court at all, or, if they are, meet with scornful laughter (if it
was just laughter, well and good; that would be a characteristic of Attic
orators). But as for those who want me to speak in the Attic manner, but
confess that they are no orators-well, if they have keen ears and per-
ceptive taste, they will get a hearing, just as in the judging of pictures even
those who cannot paint are appealed to, so long as they have a certain
12 knack of criticism. But if what they call 'perception' is merely fastidious-
ness in listening, and if they are not ready to be pleased by anything
lofty and splendid, let them say outright that they want something fine-
drawn and polished, but despise the grand and ornate: but let them stop
saying that the only Attic speakers are those who speak in this fine-drawn
way-that is, 'dryly' and 'correctly'. It is the mark of Attic orators to
speak fully and ornately and copiously as well as soundly. Is there any
doubt about our answer to the question: do we want our oratory to be
merely tolerable, or worthy of admiration into the bargain? We aren't
now inquiring what it is to speak in the Attic manner, but what it is to
13 speak in the best way. From this an inference can be drawn: since, of the
Greek orators, the most eminent were the Athenians, and since, of these,
easily the best was Demosthenes, an imitator of him will speak both in the
Attic and in the best possible manner. So that as the Attic orators are
suggested as our patterns, speaking well is the same as speaking in the
Attic way.
But since a great error has got abroad as to what that type of oratory is,
I thought that I should undertake a labour useful to students, though not
I.J necessary for myself. For I have translated the most renowned speeches
of the two most eloquent speakers of Attica-Aeschines and Demosthenes:
 THE BEST TYPE OF ORATOR 253

these speeches they made on opposite sides of the same case. I have
translated not as an interpreter but as an orator, preserving the sentiments
and their forms (so to say, 'figures') from the original, but adapting the
words to our own usage. I have not thought it necessary to translate word
for word, but I have kept to the same kind of words, preserving their
general meaning. I did not think I ought to count the words out one by
one to the reader, but as it were to weigh them out. The result of my 15
labour will be that our countrymen may know what to ask of those who
want to be known as Atticists, and understand by what (as it were) rule
of speech they should measure them.
'But', you may say, 'Thucydides will be brought up. Some people
admire his eloquence.' That is certainly proper; but it has nothing to do
with the orator we are in search of. It is one thing to give a survey of
historical facts by narration, quite another to use arguments to bring
accusations or refute them; one thing to hold a hearer's attention while
narrating, another to stir his emotions. 'But his style is so agreeable.'
Better than Plato's? In any case, the orator we are searching for must deal 16
with legal issues in a style of oratory suitable for instructing, pleasing,
and stirring emotion. Thus, if there is anyone who claims that he will
plead cases in the forum in the Thucydidean style, he can have no notion
of what goes on in legal and political affairs. If he merely wants to register
admiration of Thucydides, he can add my vote to his.
Even Isocrates himself, Plato's virtual contemporary and the subject 17
of a warm encomium by that immortal author, through the mouth of
Socrates in the Phaedrus I-a man whom all scholars have accepted to be
a great orator: even Isocrates I do not put into this class. He has no
experience of battlefield and cold steel. His oratory fences, with a
wooden sword. To use a trivial analogy, I am introducing a very notable
pair of gladiators: Aeschines, like Aeserninus in Lucilius' poem (no 'lout',
however, but a keen and learned man), 'is matched with Pacideianus, far
the best of all men born'.2 Nothing nearer the gods could be imagined,
I think, than that great orator.
This task of mine encounters two types of criticism. One is this: 18
'Didn't the Greeks do this better?' The counter-question is: 'Could you
do anything better in Latin?' The other is: 'Why should I read these
rather than the Greek originals?' Yet these same critics welcome Latin
versions of the Andria and the Synephebi, no less than the Andromache
or the Antiope or the Epigoni. 3 What is this distaste of theirs for orations
translated from the Greek which doesn't apply to poetry?
I 27 8 e. 2 Lucilius 149 f. Marx.
3 Comedies by Terence and Caecilius, tragedies by Ennius, Pacuvius, and Accius.
All versions of Greek originals.
 254 CICERO
19 But I must start on my task-once I have explained the case that was
brought to judgement. There was a law in Athens 'that no one should
decree that anyone be granted a crown during his magistracy before he
has rendered account for his office': and another that 'those who are re-
warded by the people should have that reward conferred in the popular
assembly; those rewarded by the council should have the reward con-
ferred in the council chamber'. Demosthenes was the official in charge of
the renewing of the walls, and he renewed them at his own expense;
Ctesiphon, therefore, moved a decree, though Demosthenes had not
accounted for his office, that a golden crown should be given to him, that
the conferment should take place at an assembly of the people in the
theatre, which is not the place for lawful assemblies, and that the citation
should read that he received the honour 'because of the virtue and bene-
20 volence which he displayed towards the Athenian people'. This Ctesiphon

was accordingly brought to court by Aeschines on the grounds that he

had illegally moved that a crown should be awarded without account
being given for the magistracy and that it should be conferred in the
theatre, and on the further ground that what he had stated about Demo-
sthenes' virtue and benevolence was false, as he was in fact not a good man
and had not deserved well of the city. The case itself is not in accordance
with the forms of our legal system, but it is an important one. It involves
acute interpretation of the law on both sides, and a comparison of services
21 to the state that is certainly weighty. Aeschines had himself been accused
by Demosthenes, on a capital charge, of misconducting an embassy; he
therefore had a motive: in order to avenge himself on his enemy, the trial
would (under the name of Ctesiphon) in reality concern the actions and
reputation of Demosthenes. For Aeschines did not say so much about
the failure to account as about the charge that a wicked citizen had been
praised as though he were an excellent one.
22 Aeschines sought to inflict this penalty on Ctesiphon four years before
the death of Philip of Macedon. But the trial actually took place a few
years later, when Alexander was already master of Asia-and it was a
trial to which there is said to have been a rush from all over Greece. 1 What
indeed could have been more worth seeing or hearing than the confronta-
tion of the greatest orators in an important case-a contest carefully
23 prepared for and sharpened by personal enmity? If (as I hope) I succeed
in reproducing their orations, using all their qualities (their thoughts and
figures and order of subject-matter), and keeping to their words except
where they conflict with our usage (they may not all be translated from
the Greek, but I have striven that they should be of the same kind),
there will be a standard to which the speeches of those who wish to speak
I It took place in 330 B.C.; Phi lip had died in 336.
 THE BEST TYPE OF ORATOR 255
in the Attic manner may be directed. That is enough about me. Let us
at last hear Aeschines himself, speaking in Latin.

K. HISTORY
This extract (de oratore 2. 51-8) gives some of Cicero's views on the writing of
history. Compare the beginning of de legibus, the famous letter to Lucceius (ad
Jam. 5. 12), and Brutus 42 (above, p. 222). See also below, chap. 13, for some
Greek views on similar topics.
'Well, now,' said Antonius, 'what sort of orator, how great a stylist does SI
it take to write history?'
'If you mean history in the way the Greeks wrote it,' said Catulus, 'it
takes a very great one. If you mean our sort, there's no need of an orator
at all. It's enough not actually to be untruthful.'
'I must stop you despising our historians', said Antonius. 'The Greeks
themselves wrote like our Cato, Pictor, and Piso at the start. History 52
meant merely the compiling of annals. It was for this purpose, in other
words for the preservation of public records, that, from the beginning of
Rome right up to the pontificate ofPublius Mucius, the Pontifex Maximus
used to commit to writing the complete history of each year. He made
a fair copy, and put up the tablet in his residence so that it became
public knowledge: even nowadays these are called the 'Great Annals'.
This kind of writing was imitated by many who have eschewed ornament 53
and left mere records of dates, people, places, and events. Corresponding
to many Greeks, including Pherecydes, Hellanicus, and Acusilas, we have
on our side Cato, Pictor, and Piso; they had no notion of what goes to
embellish a piece of writing-that is something quite recently introduced
to Rome-and so long as they were understood, they had only one
criterion for excellence in speech-brevity. A fine man, Coelius Anti- 54
pater, a friend of Crassus', made a little progress and gave history a
louder voice. The rest were merely narrators of events: they did not make
them attractive.'
'That is quite true', Catulus said. 'But even Antipater did not set off
his history with varied colour, nor did he polish it with studied word-
arrangement and a smooth even flow of language. Still, for a man neither
learned nor particularly suited to oratory, he chiselled away as best he
could. And, as you say, he did surpass his predecessors.'
Antonius replied: 'There is nothing the least surprising if history hasn't 55
yet been made brilliant in Latin. No Roman studies eloquence except
to shine at the bar. It was different in Greece. Extremely eloquent men,
far removed from the law, applied themselves to various important
 256 CICERO
subjects, and particularly to history. Herodotus, one knows, the first dis-
tinguished writer in this field, never touched a lawsuit at' all, yet he's so
eloquent that I get great pleasure from him-so far, that is, as I can
56 understand Greek. Later, Thucydides was (in my view) easily superior
to any other manipulator of words. His material is so close-packed that he
has almost as many ideas as words, and he's so exact and concise in
language that one doesn't know whether to say that his material is made
brilliant by its expression or the other way round. Yet not even he-
statesman though he was-is recorded as having pleaded cases; and his
actual history is said to have been composed at a time when he was out-
side politics and indeed in exile-something that tended to happen as a
matter of course to the most honourable Athenians.
57 'Next came Philistus of Syracuse, a great friend of the tyrant Dionysius,
who spent his leisure time writing history, in imitation particularly, I
think, of Thucydides. After that, a very famous rhetorical factory (so to
speak) produced two highly talented men, Theopompus and Ephorus,
who turned to history on the encouragement of their teacher, Isocrates.
58 They never touched a case. Finally, even philosophy gave rise to historians,
notably Xenophon, a follower of Socrates, and later Callisthenes, an
Aristotelian and friend of Alexander. Callisthenes certainly was more or
less a rhetorician. But Xenophon employed a gentler tone; he hadn't the
orator's drive, and so was perhaps less forceful-but I think he was a bit
more agreeable. Younger than all these was Timaeus. As far as I can
judge, he was much the most learned, overflowing with information and
unfailing in ideas. Nor was he unpolished in word-arrangement. He
brought great eloquence to his writing-but no forensic experience.'

L. THE USE OF WORDS

Our final extract from Cicero (de oratore 3. 149-81) gives a sample of his effi-
ciency in handling technical matters in a relaxed and interesting manner. Contrast
Orator 80 ff., 92 ff. (above, p. 241). The speaker is again Crassus.

INDIVIDUAL WORDS

149 All speech, then, is the product of words.' Let us consider how they are
employed, first singly, then in combination: for words taken individually
and in combination form two different kinds of ornamentation of speech.
The words we use are either (1) those 'proper' to things, as it were their
fixed names, coeval, almost, with them: or (2) those 'transferred', put
where they do not really belong: or (3) those that result from our own
innovation and creation.
 THE USE OF WORDS 257
'PROPER' WORDS

As to 'proper' words, the orator attains distinction ifhe avoids the vulgar 150
and obsolete and employs those that are choice and bright and that have
something full and resonant about them. In this type, selection has to
be exercised, the decision being left to the judgement of the ear: here
good usage is of paramount importance. The ignorant tend to say 151
of orators: 'This man uses good words', 'So-and-so doesn't use good
words'. But this is something not to be judged on any system; it has to
be left to a certain innate sense. It is important here, though hardly a
matter for high praise, to be able to avoid faults; but the essential founda-
tion is the ability to use good words and never run short of them. What 152
the orator himself is to build on this foundation, where he is to employ
his art, is, I think, the subject of my inquiry.
Now there are three things with regard to the individual word that the
orator may use to brighten and ornament his language: the unusual word,
the coined word, the 'transferred' word.

'UNUSUAL' WORDS

Unusual words are, in most cases, old ones, long obsolete in ordinary 153
everyday conversation. They are more freely available to poetic licence
than to us: all the same even in prose a poetic word may occasionally
supply dignity. I should not hesitate to say (as Coelius I did) qua tempestate
Poenus in Ita/iam uenit ('at which tide the Carthaginian came to Italy'),
or pro/es ('scion'), or suboles ('offspring'), or effari ('outspeak'), or nuncu-
pare ('clepe'); or, as you often do, Catulus, non rebar ('I did not deem')
or opinabar (,methought'); or many other things which in their right
place often make oratory more grand and more archaic.

COINED WORDS

Words are coined when they are produced and invented by the speaker 154
himself. It may be that he links words together:
I am terrified: fear out-breasts all my sense 2
and
His crafty-spoken malice you'd not want me ... 3
You will observe that the words 'out-breasts' and 'crafty-spoken' are
I i.e. the historian Coelius Antipater. • Ennius, Alcmeo, fr. 2.
3 TrQg. fr. incerl. 62. Ribbeck.
8145591 s
 258 CICERO
manufactured, rather than born, by the linking of words. But often words
are coined even without such conjunctions: e.g. 'that abandoned oldster',
'genital gods', 'incurve with richness of berries'.l

METAPHORS

ISS The third method, involving 'transferring' words, has wide ramifications.
It was the result of necessity imposed by shortage of vocabulary; but
it was made popular later by the agreeable charm it brought. Just as
clothes were originally invented to keep off the cold, but later began to
serve the purposes of bodily decoration and dignity as well, so transference
of words was instituted out of need but extended for pleasure. Even
rustics say: 'The vine is gemming', ')lie grass is luxuriant', 'the crops are
happy'. When we use a metaphor to express something that it is difficult
to get over without it, our meaning is given clarity by the analogy intro-
156 duced. These metaphors, therefore, are a kind of borrowing; you take
from elsewhere what you have not got to hand. But there is a rather bolder
category of metaphors that are not a sign of lack of vocabulary, but bring
a positive splendour to the style. It is hardly necessary for me to explain
157 their origin or types. But metaphor is desirable when it makes a thing
more vivid, e.g.
the sea bristles,
the shadows mass, the blackness of night and clouds blinds,
flame dazzles in the clouds, the sky shakes with thunder,
hail with heavy rain falls sudden, headlong.
All the winds burst forth, savage whirlwinds appear,
the sea seethes with surge. 2
Almost all of this is expressed in metaphor for the sake of vividness.
158 Another object of metaphor is to express the whole of some action or
intention. For instance, this description, by means of two metaphors, of
someone concealing his intentions:
for he clothes himself in words, fences himself with guile)
Sometimes, again, metaphors allow brevity: e.g. the well-known 'If a
weapon fled the hand'-the lack of intention in the discharge of the
weapon couldn't have been put over more briefly in non-metaphorical
terms than it has been here in a single metaphor.
159 While I am on this subject, I should say that it often surprises me that
everyone should find more pleasure in transferred 'alien' words than in

I Trag. fr. incert. 72. 2 Pacuvius,fr. incerl. 45. 3 Trag.fr. incert. 61.
 THE USE OF WORDS 259
the 'proper' ones that really belong. Certainly, if something has no name
proper to it (a 'sheet' in a boat; 'bond' as used of a transaction in law;
'parting' in the case of a wife), you are forced to take from elsewhere
what you do not possess. Yet even where 'proper' words abound, men still
take much greater pleasure in the 'alien' word, providing the metaphor is
properly done. This, I believe, is either because it's a sign of cleverness to 160
pass over the obvious in favour of the far-fetched, or maybe because the
listener, without actually straying, is led in his thought in a new direction
-and this is a source of the greatest pleasure. Or perhaps it is because
the situation and the whole analogy is embodied in a single word, or
because every apt metaphor is directed to the senses, particularly that of
sight, the keenest of all. Of course, phrases like 'a whiff of urbanity' or 'the 161
softness of humanity' or 'the roar of the sea' or 'the sweetness of a speech'
draw on other senses. But those appealing to the sight are much sharper:
they almost place within the mind's eye things that we cannot see and
perceive in fact. For there is nothing in the world whose name we could
not use of something else. From wherever you can draw a likeness (from
everything, in fact) the single word that contains the likeness will bring
the brilliance of metaphor to one's language.
Here the first thing to avoid is lack of likeness. Take 'the vast archways 162
of heaven'. I Ennius may (as we are told) have brought a sphere on to the
stage; but there is no likeness to an archway in a sphere.
Live, Ulysses, while you can:
snatch with your eyes the last bright light. 2
He didn't say 'seek' or 'take' (that would imply the taking of a little time,
on the part of a man hoping to live longer), but 'snatch': the word is
suited to what went before-'while you can'.
Second, one must make sure that the likeness is not too remote. For 163
'the Syrtes of his patrimony' I should rather say 'the rock', for 'the
Charybdis of his wealth' rather 'the whirlpool'. The mind's eye is more
easily carried to things seen than to things heard of.
The highest distinction here is that a metaphor should strike the senses.
Accordingly, one should shun any indecency in the things to which the
attention of the listener will be directed by one's analogy. I don't like it 164
to be said that the state was 'castrated' by the death of Africanus. I don't
like Glaucia to be called 'the excrement of the senate-house'. However
close the analogy may be, the thought raised by both likenesses is not
pretty. I also dislike the metaphor to be too great for the subject (,the
tempest of the revelry') or too trivial ('the revelry of the tempest'). I dislike
I Ennius, trag. fr. incert. 33. Z Trag. fr. incert. 29.
 CICERO
the metaphorical word being narrower than the 'proper' one would have
been:
What is it, I beg yOU? Why do you shake your head
at my approach?1

Better would be 'Why do you forbid, prohibit, deter': for he had said:
Stay right there,
lest my contagious shadow harm good men.
165 Also, if you are afraid that a metaphor may seem over-harsh, you may
often soften it by prefixing some phrase. For instance, if, in d,ays gone by,
at the death of Marcus Cato someone had said that the senate was left
'orphan', it would be rather harsh. But if he said 'so to say, orphan', it
becomes rather milder. Indeed, a metaphor should be modest; it should
seem to have been escorted to the place of another, not to have burst in:
to have come on sufferance, not by force.

ALLEGORY

166 There is no more decorative means of employing individual words, none

that brings more lustre to a speech: for the off-shoot of metaphor which
involves a difference between what is said and what is understood does
not consist in the transference of one word, but in the knitting together
of a whole series of transferred words:
I shall not allow myself, like the Argive fleet
of old, to run a second time on the same rock. 2
Or again:
You are wrong, wrong. As you exult in your confidence
the strong bridles of the law will restrain you,
press you with the yoke of empire. 3
167 In this type a similar circumstance is selected, and the words proper to
that circumstance are, as I have said, transferred to another, in succession.
This is a great ornament of style. But obscurity must be avoided: for it is
in this type that there arise what are called riddles. However, this is not
a device applied to single words, but to speech, that is, the combination
of words.
I Ennius, Thyestes, fr. 8. • Trag. fr. incert. 74.
3 Trag.fr. incert. 67.
 THE USE OF WORDS 261

METONYMY

There is no coining of words to be found In substitutions and inter-

changes such as
Horrid Africa shakes with terrible tumult,1
in which 'Africa' is used of the Africans. This doesn't involve coining
a word (like 'the sea with its rock-breaking waves') or using a metaphor
('the sea is softened');Z instead, one 'proper' word is exchanged for another,
for the sake of ornament:
Cease, Rome, your enemies ... 3
and
Witness are the great plains. 3
This is an impressive device to give ornament to style, and is often to be
employed. In this category fall 'Mars, impartial in war', or the use of
Ceres for corn, Liber for wine, Neptune for the sea, senate-house for the
senate, booths for elections, toga for peace, arms and weapons for war.
Also under this head comes the use of names of virtues and vices in place I68
of their possessors: 'the house into which luxury burst' and 'where
avarice penetrated', or 'faith was strong', 'justice brought it about'.
Surely by now you can see the whole type: thanks to the modification
and alteration of a word, the same thing is given more ornate expression.
Neighbouring on these is the less decorative but not unimportant
device of letting part represent whole (as when we say walls or roofs for
buildings), or whole represent part (as when we call one squadron 'the
cavalry of the Roman people'), or one stand for many:
But the Roman, though the deed was well done,
trem bled in his heart ... ;4
or many for one:
We are Romans who were once of Rudiae;5
or however it may be, in the same category, that one looks not to the
literal but to the suggested meaning.

CATACHRESIS

Further, we often 'abuse' a word, not so elegantly as when we make a I69

metaphor of it, but all the same not always with impropriety, however
I Ennius, Annates 3IO. 2Pacuvius, Chryses, fr.!.
3 Ennius, Scipio, fr. 5. • Ennius, Annates 547-8.
s Ibid. 377. The reference is to Ennius himself.
 CICERO
boldly we do it. Thus we say 'a great speech' for a long one, a 'minute
mind' for a small one. But you must see that the use of interlinked meta-
phors (see above) is a matter of speech, not of the individual word; while
the exchanged words, as I put it, and those that have to be understood
differently from what they actually say, are in some sense 'transferred'.
170 So all the distinction to be won from individual words has three sources.
The word may be old, though still tolerable to current idiom: it may be
manufactured-by combination, or by coining (here again one must have
regard to taste and idiom): or it may be 'transferred'-something above
all that marks off and brightens speech as though with stars.

ARRANGEMENTS AND PATTERNS OF WORDS

Ijl I turn to series ofwords. This requires two things primarily: first, arrange-
ment, then a certain shape and pattern.
Arrangement involves so ordering and positioning words that their
joins should not be harsh or gaping but smooth and as it were cemented.
On this matter, Lucilius,I who could do that sort of thing very urbanely,
put the following pleasantries into the mouth of my father-in-law:
How nicely his phrases are put together! All just like mosaic,
skilfully arranged on a pavement, in wriggling inlays.
After this joke at the expense of Albucius, he laid into me too:
My son-in-law is Crassus-so don't get too rhetorical.
Well? This Crass us, since you make use of his name, what does he do?
Just that. Rather better, however, than Albucius, as Scaevola implied
(and as I should hope). Still, he had his joke at me, as usual.
Ij2 All the same, we cannot neglect this arranging of words. It makes
language rhythmic, coherent, smooth, flowing. You will attain it if you
so juxtapose the end of one word with the start of the next that there is
neither harsh clash nor too wide a gulf.

RHYTHM

Ij3 Following on this duty comes the shaping and balancing of words. Catulus
here, I fear, may find this puerile. The old writers thought that we should
bring a certain rhythm, almost amounting to verses, into our prose: and
that speeches should have pauses (clausulae) dictated by the need to draw
I Fr. 84 Marx. The father-in-law was Scaevola. Albucius was a very philhellene

orator of the second century B.C. See Brutus 13I.

 THE USE OF WORDS
breath rather than by complete exhaustion, and marked not by scribes'
punctuation but by the pattern of words and content. This is said to have
been introduced first by Isocrates; as his pupil Naucrates writes, his aim
was to shackle with rhythm, for the sake of the pleasure it gives our ears,
the disorganized manner of speech employed by the ancients. For two 174
things, verse and melody, were devised by musicians, who at one time
were identical with poets; their aim was pleasure: they intended, employ-
ing word-rhythm and musical measure, to defeat monotony by the
delight afforded the ear. They thus thought that these two factors,
modulation of the voice and rounding off of words, should, as far as the
severity of prose allowed, be transferred to eloquence from poetry.
The key point here is that if the sequence of words causes the appear- 175
ance of verse in prose, there is something wrong: yet at the same time we
want the sequence of words to end rhythmically, just as a verse does,
tidily and completely. There is no one thing, out of so many, that more
clearly marks off the orator from the man who is ignorant and unskilled
in speaking than that the untutored pour out all they can shapelessly,
letting breath, not technique, dictate the pauses in what they say: while
the orator so binds his thought in words that he imposes on it a rhythm
at once disciplined and free. Having bound it with balance and rhythm, 176
he relaxes and frees it by changes of order, ensuring that the words are
neither su bjected like verse to some particular rule nor so free as to wander
at large.
How, then, shall we set about this important task, so as to feel confi-
dent that we can attain this faculty of rhythmic utterance? It is a thing
that is essential rather than difficult, there being nothing more pliant,
flexible, and amenable to your lead than speech. It is capable both of 177
producing verses and irregular rhythms and of giving rise to prose of
various manners and types. Vocabulary for conversation and for high
oratory is one and the same. There is no difference in the type employed
for daily purposes and for the public arena. We have taken up the words
that were lying in the common stock, and we mould and shape them to
our whim as though they were the softest wax. Sometimes we are grave,
sometimes plain, sometimes in between; accordingly our style of speech
corresponds to our standpoint, and varies and alters to suit every pleasure
of the ear and every emotion of the heart. Nature, astonishingly, has 178
made provision, in speech as in many spheres, that what possesses most
utility should also have most dignity-and often most beauty as well.
It is for the safety and happiness of all that we see the whole universe of
nature to be what it is-the sky round, the earth at its centre, held in
position by its own force and tendency, the sun revolving round it,
approaching the winter solstice, then rising again gradually in the opposite
 CICERO
direction, the moon receiving the sun's light according as it approaches
or recedes, the five planets keeping the same courses though at different
179 speeds and on different routes. These things are so ordered that the
slightest change would bring about their disruption: so beautiful that no
vision could conceivably be more splendid. Let your mind turn to the
shape and form of man or even the other living things. You will find that
no part of the body has been shaped without some compelling reason:
that the ,..,hole is the perfect product not of chance but of art. Look at
those trees. Their trunks, their branches, their leaves have no other
purpose than to guard and preserve their nature: no part anywhere that
is not beautiful.
180 Let us leave nature and turn to the arts. What is more essential in a
ship than sides, holds, prow, poop, yard-arms, sails, masts? Yet these
things are so good to look at that they might seem to have been invented
with pleasure as well as safety in mind. Columns keep temples and
porticoes up: yet they are as dignified as they are useful. The gables of the
Capitol and the other temples were the device not of beauty but of
necessity: it was first considered how water could flow off both parts of
the roof; the dignity of the gables came second to the needs of the temple.
Yet the outcome is that even if the Capitol were to be erected in heaven,
where rain would be impossible, it might be thought to have no dignity
if it had no gables.
181 We find the same in every department of oratory: utility and virtual
necessity go hand in hand with charm and attractiveness. Failure and
shortage of breath caused clausulae and pauses between words; that, once
discovered, turns out to be so pleasant that even if someone were granted
unfailing breath we should not want him to deliver words without a
break. For what our ears find agreeable is what is not only tolerable but
easily attainable by human lungs.
 6

LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY

We group here a number of Latin views of poetry, most of them written by
poets themselves.

A. A POET DEFENDS HIMSELF

The first is from Terence's first play, Andria (166 B.C.). Terence used the pro-
logues of his plays for literary polemic rather than simply for introducing the plot.

When your poet first applied his mind to writing, he thought his only
business was to make sure his plays pleased the public. But he's realizing
that things are turning out quite differently: he has to use all his time in
his prologues not in describing the plot but in replying to the abuse of
an ill-disposed old poet. Please listen to the complaint. Menander wrote
an Andria and a Perinthia. Anyone who knows one of these plays well
knows both; their plots are pretty similar-but they have different styles
of language. Your poet agrees that he has transferred various things that
fitted from the Perinthia to his Andria and used them for his own purposes.
This is what people carp at-they claim that it's not right for plays to be
'contaminated" in this way. Doesn't their understanding let them under-
stand anything? When they accuse this poet, they accuse those he relies
on as precedents-Naevius, Plautus, Ennius: 2 he would rather rival their
negligence than these people's dim diligence. I suggest they keep quiet
from now on, and stop their abuse if they don't want to hear their own
faults rehearsed. Be kind, be fair, and judge: you may learn what hope
there is-whether the comedies he writes in future are to be given a hear-
ing, or hissed off the stage. (Andria 1-27)
More positive is Terence's claim to delicate comedy and pure language:

Be fair-give me permission to put across a quiet comedy in silence, so

that we don't always have to have a Running Slave, an Angry Old Man,
a Greedy Parasite, an Impudent Sycophant, a Miserly Pander 3-all acted
I Disputed meaning; see Fifty Years (and Twelve) of Classical Scholarship, Blackwells,

1968, p. 305.
• i.e. the first great Roman dramatists, already thought of as classics.
3 Stock characters of comedy: Terence claims more discriminating characterization,
higher and less farcical comedy.
 266 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
with the greatest noise and the maximum effort ... In this play is un-
corrupted language. Try out what my talents can do in both directions.
(Heauton Timoroumenos 35 ff.)

B. A DEFENCE OF SATIRE

Rorace's satirical poems contain a good deal of comment on poetry. We begin

with two sermones (conversation-pieces), written in the 30S B.C., in which he
discusses the genre of satire. Many of the names used are fictional or unknown.
There are many editions: A. Palmer, London, 1883; E. c. Wickham, Oxford,
1891; A. Kiessling-R. Reinze-E. Burck, Leipzig, 1959. See also E. Fraenkel,
Horace, Oxford, 1957, 124 ff.; N. A. Rudd, The Satires of Horace, Cambridge,
1966, 86 if. On satire see U. Knoche, Die Romische Satire Z, Gottingen, 1957.

Rorace: Satires I. 4
LUCILIUS

The poets Eupolis, Cratinus,and Aristophanes, and other writers of Old

Comedy, used great freedom in pillorying anyone worthy of being repre-
sented as a bad man and a thief, as an adulterer or murderer or some
other type of criminal. On them Lucilius is completely dependent; he
followed their footsteps, changing only their metres and rhythms; he was
witty, sharply discerning, tough in composing his verses-indeed he was
10 that to a fault: he would often take pride in dictating two hundred lines
in an hour, standing on one leg. He flowed along like a muddy river, and
there was much in him that cried out for deletion; he was garrulous, and
lazy in carrying the burden of writing.

THE CHARGE AGAINST THE SATIRIST

Writing well, that is: that he wrote a lot is irrelevant. Here's Crispinus
taking me on at long odds: 'Come on, if you like, pick up these tablets:
let's have a place, a time, umpires-let's see which of us can write more.'
The gods did well to give me a scanty and feeble talent that says little and
that rarely; you can behave, if you wish, like the air shut up inside a pair
20 of goat-skin bellows, labouring on until the fire softens the iron. Fannius
is a popular success-people bring him presents of bureaux and busts:
 A DEFENCE OF SATIRE
nobody reads my writings, and I don't like to give public recitations
because some people aren't best pleased by this genre-after all, most of
them deserve criticism. Choose someone out of a crowd: he's a victim of
avarice or the unhappiness of ambition; one man is mad with love for
married women, another for boys; one is dazzled by the gleam of silver-
but Albius there is crazy over bronze; another trades from the lands of
sunrise to the sunset warmth of the west-he's carried headlong from 30
one disaster to another like the dust in a whirlwind, dreading that he
may lose something from his capital or fail to increase it. All such people
fear poetry and hate poets. 'He has hay on his horns: 1 keep a long way
away from him-so long as he can raise a laugh, he isn't concerned to
spare any of his friends, or himself: he's agog that anything he smears
down on paper as first thoughts should be read by every labourer coming
back from bakery and vat, boys and old women alike.' Hey, listen to
something on the other side.

HORACE IS NO POET

First of all, let me dissociate myself from the company of those I grant
to be poets; you can't say it's enough merely to write in verse-you 40
shouldn't think anyone who, like me, writes something nearer to ordinary
language, is a poet. Give the honour of that name to someone of genius,
with inspired mind and resonant tongue. This is why some people have
raised the question: 'Is Comedy poetry or not?' For its content and its
language equally lack inspiration and force-it's mere conversation,
except for the regular metre. 'But you get a father seething with rage
because his spendthrift son is madly in love with a whore, and is refusing 50
an heiress, and disgracefully walks the streets before nightfall with
torches, drunk.' But would Pomponius be let off lighter than that if his
father were alive?z So it's not enough to write verses in ordinary words
which, reduced to prose, you might hear on the lips of any angry father,
just the same as a stage one. If you removed the beat and the fixed metre
from what I'm writing now-or what Lucilius wrote in the past-and
switched the order of words about, putting first later and last first, you
wouldn't get the same result as if you broke up 'After loathsome Discord 60
shattered War's ironbound posts and doors'3-there you'd get the re-
mains of a poet, albeit a dismembered one.

I Like a dangerous bull.

2 i.e. the language of comedy, even in exalted scenes, rises to the heights only in the
way that real speech may. For the context, cf. The Art of Poetry 92 ff. (below, p. 282).
3 Lines ofEnnius (Annales 266-7).
 268 LA TIN CRITICISM OF POETRY

SATIRE UNJUSTLY SUSPECTED

SO much for that. Another time I may inquire if satire is legitimate poetry
-now I merely ask whether this type of composition justly arouses
your suspicion. When fierce Sulcius and Caprius, I terribly hoarse,
summonses at the ready, stroll the streets, they strike fear into the hearts
of robbers. But if a man lives honestly and with clean hands he can despise
70 both. You may be like the robbers Caelius and Birrius: that doesn't make
me like Caprius and Sulcius. Why fear me? My books aren't to be found
in shops and stalls to be clutched by the sweaty hands of the mob-and
of Hermogenes TigeIIius. I give recitations to no one except friends-
and I have to be forced to do that: and I give them not just anywhere or
in just anyone's presence. There are many who recite in mid forum, or in
the bath-house-the enclosed space gives an agreeable resonance to the
voice. This pleases empty-heads who don't stop to inquire whether they
mayn't be acting tactlessly and out of season.

THE REAL SNAKE IN THE GRASS

'You like hurting', someone says, 'and you do it with conscious malice.'
80 Where did you get that stone to cast at me? Who among those I have lived
with told you that story? A man who backbites a friend in his absence,
who doesn't defend him from another's criticism, who clutches at cheap
laughs and wants to be known as a wit, who can make up things he hasn't
seen, but cannot keep a secret-this is the viper, this is the one you should
beware of, citizen of Rome! You may often see a dinner-party, four
guests each on three couches: one of them makes it his business to find
something to sneer at in all those present, except the host-and him too
once he's tight, when truthful Bacchus opens up the secrets of the heart.
90 You hate vipers-yet you find such a man pleasant, urbane, frank. But
if I smile because Rufillus smells of lozenges, Gargonius of goat, can you
call me bitter and biting? If there's some mention in your hearing of the
thefts of Petillius Capitolinus, you may defend him as your custom
demands-'Capitolinus has been my companion and friend since boy-
hood, and he's done a great deal for me when I've asked him to, and I'm
delighted he's still safe and in Rome: all the same, I'm surprised that he
100 got off that charge.' This is the real venom, the straight smear. I promise-
if I ever promise anything faithfully about myself-that in the future as
in the past that vice will stay far from my pages and from my mind.
I Informers.
 A DEFENCE OF SATIRE

HORACE'S FATHER

If I should ever say anything a little too frankly, or a iittle too jokingly,
you will concede me a point and forgive me: it was my father who
accustomed me to avoid vices by putting a black mark against examples
of them. If he was exhorting me to live carefully and frugally, contented
with what he'd saved for me, he'd say: 'Don't you see what a bad time
Albius' son has, and pauper Baius? They're an excellent warning to 110
anyone not to squander his fortune.' When he steered me off sordid
affairs with tarts: 'Don't be like Scetanus.' If he was discouraging me
from chasing married women when I could find legitimate sex elsewhere:
'Trebonius got caught-and his reputation isn't pretty', he used to say.
'A philosopher will give the reasoning on what to pursue and what to
avoid. It's enough for me if I can keep the old traditions up, and preserve
your life and your good name while you're in need of a guardian. As soon
as age has hardened your limbs and your character, you will swim with- IZO
out cork.' That was the way he shaped me as a boy with his advice. If he
was ordering me to do something, he'd say: 'You have a precedent for
doing this', and point out one of the judges. If he was forbidding me,
'You surely can't doubt that this is a dishonest and unprofitable thing to
do when this or that man is in such bad odour?' Ailing gluttons are
terrified by a neighbour's death and forced through reflection on mor-
tality to go carefully: similarly reproaches cast at others often deter
tender minds from wrong.
The result is that I am free of disastrous vices, though the prey of 130
minor and venial faults. Perhaps even they have been diminished gener-
ously by long life, a frank friend, my own good sense; I don't leave myself
alone when I'm in a litter or a portico. 'This thing is more honest: if! do
this I shall lead a better life. In such-and-such a way I shall make myself
agreeable to my friends. So-and-so was not wise to act like that: shall
I ever unwittingly do something similar?' These are the thoughts I
ponder, lips pursed: when I have a moment, I scribble in my notebook.
Indeed, that is one of my 'minor faults': and if you won't concede me that 140
one, a great band of poets would come to my rescue-we should outnumber
you, and like Jews force you to conform with our company.

C. MORE ABOUT LUCILIUS AND SATIRE

Horace: Satires I. 10

All right, I said Lucilius' verses ran harshly. Lucilius' most stupid fan
would agree with me. But on the same page you'll find compliments on
 270 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
the man's rubbing the city down with a great deal of salt. If I concede
that, I don't concede the rest-if I did, I should have to admire even the
mimes of Laberius, think them beautiful poems. So it's not enough to
split the hearer's mouth with a smile (though that's ope point to watch):
10 you need conciseness, so that the thought runs free an1d doesn't bog itself
down with words that tire the dulled ear: and you need a style now sad,
now gay, keeping up the role sometimes of a declaimer or poet, sometimes
of a wit who purposely spares his strength and tones down his efforts.
Normally it's the joking, not the bitter word that hits the important nail on
the head, hard and well. This was the principle of Old Comedy, and that's
where we should follow it-though the pretty Hermogenes never read it,
nor did the well-known ape whose learning extends only so far as reading
Calvus and Catullus. I

MIXING GREEK AND LATIN

20 'But Lucilius mixed Greek and Latin words-there's a feat!' You're

a bit slow, aren't you-that's no wonderful achievement: the Rhodian
Pitholeon brought it off without even trying. 'But a style fitted up with
both languages at once is sweeter, like a mixture of Chian and Falernian.'
Well, I ask you-do you mean when you're writing verse, or when you've
got to fight Petillius' case for him against the odds as well? I suppose
while Pedius Publicola and Corvinus are content to sweat away at their
briefs in Latin, you forget your country and your father and choose to
30 mix up foreign words with native ones, like the bilingual Apulians.
When I was trying to write Greek verses, despite being born this side of
the Tyrrhenian sea, Q!lirinus warned me off;2 he appeared after mid-
night, when dreams are true, and said something like: 'Wanting to add
to the ranks of the Greeks is madder than taking firewood into a forest.'

WHAT SUITED HORACE

Thus, while turgid Alpinus 3 is slitting Memnon's throat and muddy-

ing the sources of the Rhine, I play at this: pieces that will never resound
in the temple in a competition judged by Tarpa, never return over and
40 over again for performance in the theatre. When it's a question of a slick
I Catullus and Calvus are the fashionable poets of the previous generation, rarely

praised by the Augustans. We do not know who their 'ape' is.

• i.e. Romulus, warning the poet as (e.g.) Apollo does Virgil (Eel. 6. 3 fr.).
3 Cover-name for M. Furius Bibaculus, who wrote an Aethiopis (hence Mernnon) and
a poem on Caesar's wars in Gau!.
 MORE ABOUT LUCILIUS AND SATIRE
courtesan and the slave Davus tricking old man Chremes, Fundanius is
the one living writer who can turn out agreeable chatty plays. Pollio is the
one for singing of the deeds of royalty in trimeters. Varius briskly leads
epic to battle-no one like him. To Virgil the muses of the countryside
have granted a gentle and witty talent (molle atque Jacetum). This was
what I proved capable of writing-better than Varro Atacinus and some
others who have tried it unsuccessfully, but worse than the man l who
showed me the way: and I wouldn't venture to snatch from his head the
crown that he wears with such distinction.

FOR AND AGAINST LUCILIUS

But I said Lucilius flowed along muddily, often carrying along in his 50
stream more that should be cut out than should be left Well, here's a
question for you: do you find no fault, you learned man, with the great
Homer? Doesn't the level-tempered Lucilius want to change anything
in the tragedian Accius? Doesn't he smile at verses of Ennius that are
something less than dignified, without regarding himself as superior to
the poets he criticizes? What is there to prevent me too from asking, as
I read the writings of Lucilius, whether it was his own shortcomings, or
the shortcomings of his subject, that stopped him producing better-
finished, smoother verses-smoother, that is, than a man might turn out
if he's content just to make sure there are six feet a verse and normally 60
writes two hundred lines before supper and two hundred after it, with
the flood-like facility of Cassius Etruscus, who is reported to have been
cremated on a pyre consisting solely of his own books in their cases?
Right: Lucilius may be pleasant, witty, more refined than an illiterate
untouched by the Greek culture, than the multitudinous primitives. But
if fate had made him a contemporary of ours, he'd be cutting a lot out
of his own works, deleting everything that goes on after the point is made. 70
He'd be scratching his head as he wrote his verses, and biting his nails
to the quick.

PLEASING THE FEW

If you want to write something worth re-reading, keep the eraser busy;
forget the adulation of the many, and be happy to have a few readers.
You're not, I take it, insane enough to want your poems dictated in the
elementary schools? I am not. It's enough for me if knights applaud-as
I i.e. Lucilius.
 272 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
the unperturbed Arbuscula said when she was hissed off the stage. She
ignored the others. And am I to be worried about the louse Pantilius,
or feel the pinch if Demetrius gibes at me when I'm not there to defend
80 myself? Do I mind if silly Fannius, boon companion of Hermogenes
Tigellius, wounds me? Plotius, Varius, Maecenas, Virgil, Valgius, Octa-
vius-it's their approval I want, and the praise of my friend Fuscus and
the two Visci. I'm not looking to my future when I name Pollio, and
Messalla and his brother, and Bibulus and Servius, and the candid Furnius,
and many others whom I do not mention, but don't forget either, for
they are friends, and friends of taste. I want my book to please them,
90 such as it is; and I should be sorry if they like it less than I hope they
may. Demetrius and Tigellius can go and wail among the desks of their
school-girls. Run, boy, be quick and make this the last line of my book.

D. A LETTER TO AUGUSTUS
Horace: Epistles 2. I

We come now to a major work. Commentaries by E. C. Wickham (1891),

A. S. Wilkins (1885), Kiessling-Heinze-Burck (1959); see also E. Fraenkel,
Horace, pp. 383--99; G. W. Williams, Tradition and Originality in Roman
Poetry, Oxford, 1968, pp. 71-4.

PROOEMIUM

You have much important business to conduct with no one to help you,
defending Italy with arms, adorning her with virtue, chastening her with
laws; and I should thwart the public interest, Caesar, if I occupied your
time with a lengthy conversation. Romulus and father Liber, Castor and
Pollux, were all received into the temples of the gods after a life of tremen-
dous deeds; but while they looked after the world and the human race,
settling bitter wars, allotting land, founding cities, they lamented that
their services were not matched by the popularity for which they hoped.
10 The heroI who crushed the dread Hydra, and quelled familiar monsters in
labours assigned by fate, likewise found that death is the only cure for
unpopularity. The man who is felt by inferior talents to weigh on them
arouses envy by his brilliance; once he is eclipsed, he will be loved. Yet it
is while you are still with us that we bestow on you honours that come
before the usual time; we set up altars that bind oaths by your divinity,
and acknowledge that nothing comparable has arisen before or will arise
again.
I Hercules.
 A LETTER TO AUGUSTUS 273

THE CRAZE FOR THE OLD

All the same, this people of yours, wise and correct in preferring you to
all rulers, Roman or Greek, do not apply similar standards to other things: 20
they scorn and hate everything that is not removed from the world and
safely dead. They so favour the ancients that they have a tradition that
the Muses spoke, on the Alban Hill, the Tables! forbidding misdoing
that the decemvirs sanctioned, the royal treaties made on equal terms with
Gabii and the unyielding Sabines, the books of the Pontiffs, 2 and the aged
volumes of the prophets. The oldest writings of the Greeks are the best;
and if one weighs Roman writers in the same scale there is not much to 30
say. On that principle,3 an olive could be argued to have no stone, a nut
no shell. We have reached the peak: therefore we paint and play the lyre
and wrestle better than the well-oiled Achaeans.
But if passage of time improves poems as it does wine, I have a question:
how many years will give value to a book? Should a writer dead for a
hundred years be registered under the perfect old or the worthless new?
Let us have a limit, to stop disputes: 'He is old and good who completes a
century.' What then of someone who died a month or a year later-where 40
will he come? Among the old poets, or those to be rejected alike by the
present and the future? 'Of course it will be right to place him among
the ancients, if he is a short month, or even a whole year, more recent.'
I follow up this concession, and gradually pluck the hairs from the horse's
tail, taking away one and then another until, baffled by the Fallacy of the
Diminishing Heap,4 the searcher of annals, the man who judges quality
by age, the admirer of nothing that Death has not sanctified, is brought
to his knees.
Ennius is-so the critics say-wise, strong, a second Homer, and doesn't 50
much worry how the promises of his Pythagorean dreams turn out.S
Naevius is on our shelves and in our minds, almost undated. Such is the
sanctity of every old poem. When dispute arises who excels whom,
Pacuvius carries off the reputation of being an erudite oldster, Accius
a sublime one. The Roman dress of Afranius' comedies, they say, fitted
Menander's back. Plautus hurries along after the manner of the Sicilian
I The Twelve Tables, the earliest code of Roman law.
2 Cf. Cicero, de oratore 2. 52 (above, p. 255).
3 i.e. such analogical arguments could be used to lead to absurd conclusions. Olives
have no stones because nuts have none (so too nuts have no shells); we are supreme in the
arts because we are masters of the world.
• If I take things away one by one, when does it stop being a heap?
5 i.e. his immortality is assured whether or not he was right in believing in Pythagorean
transmigration. Ennius began his Annals with a vision of Homer, whose reincarnation
he perhaps claimed to be.
8143591 T
 274 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY

60 Epicharmus. Caecilius excels in dignity, Terence in technique.! These

are the poets Rome at the height of its power learns by heart, these it
packs the narrow theatre to see. These are the poets it reckons up between
the writer Livius <Andronicus) and our own day.
Sometimes the majority gets things right, sometimes it gets them wrong.
If it admires and praises the old poets without allowing anything to excel
or compare with them, it is mistaken. If it believes that they wrote some
things over-archaically, a certain amount harshly, a great deal casually-
then it has taste: it agrees with me-and Jupiter favours its judgement.
I don't inveigh against Livius' poems or suppose that they should be
70 consigned to destruction (I remember Orbilius beating them into me
when I was a boy). But I'm astonished they should be thought polished,
beautiful and nearly perfect. Perhaps a fine word gleams out in them,
or one or two verses more elegant than the rest; but it's wrong that this
should support and sell the whole volume. I get annoyed to hear something
criticized, not for being grossly and disagreeably put together, but for
being recent: to see honour and glory sought for the ancients, not merely
allowance made. Should I dare to express a doubt whether it's right for
80 the comedies of Atta to walk the stage amidst the flowers and the saffron,
pretty well all respectable citizens shout that decency has died, because I
venture to find fault with pieces that grave Aesopus and skilful Roscius
played. Perhaps they think nothing good unless they liked it; or perhaps
they regard it as embarrassing to follow the views of the young, and at
their age to acknowledge that what they learned before their beards grew
should be consigned to oblivion. Indeed, the encomiast of Numa's Saliar
Hymn,2 who understands it no more than I, though he would like to be
thought the only person who follows it-such a man is not really keen
on the buried geniuses he applauds, but merely likes attacking our handi-
work. He is jealous: he hates us and our products.

THE GREEK ATTITUDE

90 But if the Greeks had hated novelty as much as we, what would exist
now to be ranked as old? What would the public have to read and thumb,
man by man? When Greece first laid aside her wars and began to be
frivolous, slipping into vice as fortune smiled, she burned with favour now
for athletes, now for horses, loved craftsmen in marble or ivory or bronze,
I A comprehensive list of the second-century poets. Afranius' togatae were comedies

in Roman dress, as distinct from the Greek-dress palliatae of Plautus, Caecilius, and
Terence.
2 The archaic chant of the Salii, priests instituted by Numa, unintelligible to Horace's

contemporaries.
 A LETTER TO AUGUSTUS 275
gazed long and thoughtfully at paintings, enthused over flute-players and
tragic actors. Like a little girl playing around her nurse's feet, she soon 100
had had enough, and abandoned what she had sought so greedily. What
finds favour or disfavour that is not subject to change?! All this was the
result of benign peace and favouring winds.\

THE CRAZE FOR POETRY

At Rome it was for long usual, and agreeable, to get up early, open the
house up, tell one's client his rights, lend (with due security) to respect-
able debtors, pass on to the young what one heard from the old about
the increasing of one's property and the avoidance of damaging self-
indulgence. Now the fickle people has changed: it has only one enthusi-
asm to excite it-writing. Boys and dignified fathers alike dine with leaves IIO
in their hair, and dictate poetry. I swear I write no verse, but I'm a bigger
liar than a Parthian: I get up before dawn, to call for pen, paper, desk.
One who knows nothing about ships hesitates to steer them. You don't
venture to prescribe southernwood 2 to the sick unless you've been to
medical school-doctors look after their own profession. Craftsmen ply
crafts. But we all write poetry, taught and untaught alike.

THE POET HAS HIS USES

This is an aberration, a mild form of madness, but it has many advantages.

Look at it this way. A poet's mentality will not readily prove avaricious. 120
He likes verses-that's his one hobby. He smiles at loss, escaped slaves,
fires. He won't plot frauds against his partner or his ward. He lives on
pulse and black bread. He's an inefficient and lazy soldier-but he has his
uses to the city, if you will grant that great affairs are helped by small.
It is the poet who gives shape to the pliant, stuttering lips of the young
boy; even at this early stage, he is diverting his ears from obscenity: soon
he is forming his character with friendly precept, suppressing cruelty and
envy and anger. He relates good deeds, equips youth with familiar 130
instances, consoles the poor and the sick. Where would chaste boys and
virgin girls learn their prayers if the muse had not provided us with poets?
The choir asks for help from the gods, feels the divine presence: win-
ningly, with the prayers it is taught, it implores rain from heaven, turns
away plagues, wards off fearful dangers, wins peace and a fruitful year.
It is poetry that placates the gods of heaven and underworld. 3
I Misplaced--{)r interpolated-sentence.
Z An aromatic shrub, Artemisia abrotanum, much in favour in ancient medicine.
3 Cf. Horace's own Secular Hymn, composed for the games of 17 H.C.
 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
THE DEVELOPMENT OF ROMAN POETRY

Primitive farmers, brave men whom a little made rich, used to appease
140 Earth with a pig, Silvanus with milk, their Genius I (who knows how

short life is) with flowers and wine at feast-time, when they had brought
the crops in and were relaxing body and mind (it's the prospect of an end
that makes the mind endure) in company with their loyal wives and the
sons who shared their labours. In this manner, the licentious Fescennines 2
were discovered, that made verse dialogues the vehicle for rustic insult;
this freedom, handed down through the years, gave agreeable sport, until
the joking became savage, turned to open madness, and raced, menacing
150 and unpunished, through decent households. Those who were attacked
had something to cry about-a tooth that drew blood. But even those
unaffected began to worry about the situation in general. In fact a law
and penalties were provided, forbidding anyone to be savaged in a mali-
cious poem. Men were given the cudgel to fear, and so they changed their
ways, and returned to innocent words and entertainment.

ROMAN DRAMA

Greece, now captive, took captive its wild conqueror, and introduced the
arts to rural Latium. The unprepossessing Saturnian 3 rhythm went out,
160 and elegance drove off venom. All the same, traces of the country long
remained, and they are there today. It was late in the day that the Roman
applied his intelligence to Greek literature; for it was in the lull after the
Punic Wars 4 that he began to inquire what use there might be in Sophocles
and Thespis and Aeschylus. He had a go himself too, seeing whether he
could make a decent translation, and wasn't displeased with the result,
thanks to a natural loftiness and bite. The spirit was tragic enough, the
innovations daring and felicitous; but in his ignorance he feared erasure,
and thought it shameful.
Comedy is thought to involve less sweat, seeing that it takes its material
170 from daily life. But it is more burdensome in that it receives less indul-
gence. See how badly Plautus maintains the character of a youth in love,
an economical father, a treacherous pimp--what a Dossennus 5 he is with
I i.e. the individual's tutelary spirit.
2 'Fescennine verses' were traditionally ribald lines sung at Roman weddings: cf.
Catullus 61. 120.
3 The common verse of early Roman poetry. Specimens survive, but even whetheritis
basically quantitative or accentual is still discussed.
4 The Hannibalic war ended in 201 B.C.
S i.e. clown, dolt.
 A LETTER TO AUGUSTUS 277
his greedy parasites, shuffling in his loose slippers across the stage. The
author only wants money for his pocket-after that he doesn't care if the
play flops or keeps its footing.
Ifit was Fame that carried the playwright to the stage in her airy chariot,
he is deflated by an indifferent audience, encouraged by an attentive one.
So small and light a thing is it that can overthrow or refresh a mind that is
athirst for praise. Goodbye to the stage if a prize denied sends me home 180
thin, a prize won makes me fat! And often, if a poet is brave, he is dis-
concerted and put to flight by the fact that the majority (deficient, how-
ever, in rank and virtue), stupid, illiterate, ready to fight it out with any
of their betters who differ from them, call for bears or boxers in the middle
of the play. That's what the plebs enjoys. In fact, even the knights have
now transferred all their pleasure from the ear to the shifting and empty
delights of the eye. The curtain is up for four hours or more while 190
squadrons of horse and hordes offoot pour over the stage. Once-glorious
kings are dragged by, hands pinioned; chariots, carriages, wagons, ships
hurry on, carrying looted ivory and models of captured Corinth. I If
Democritus were alive he'd laugh at the way the hybrid camelopard or
the white elephant keeps the crowds riveted; he'd watch the populace
more attentively than the actual spectacle, as being far more worthy of his
gaze. As for the writers, he'd imagine they were telling their tale to a
deaf ass: no voice could make itself heard above the clamour emitted by 200
our theatres. You might think it was the moaning of the Apulian forests
or the Tuscan sea-such is the noise as they watch the show, the objets
d' art and the exotic wealth: when an actor is smeared over with that, he
only needs to stand on the stage and hands start to clap. 'Has he said
anything yet?' 'No, nothing.' 'What's so popular, then?' 'Wool turned
violet by the purple of Tarentum.'

THE POET WHO KEEPS AWAY FROM THE THEATRE

You mustn't suppose that I am being sparing in praise of things that I

refuse to do because others do them well; the poet who tears my heart 210
with imaginary griefs, provokes it, soothes it, fills it with unreal fears-
such a poet I regard as capable of a tight-rope act. He is like a magician,
who can transport me now to Thebes, now to Athens. But please spare a
modicum of attention for those who devote themselves to a reader rather
than put up with the haughty scorn of a spectator: if, that is, you want to
fill your library (a gift worthy of Apollo)2 and spur on the poets to seek
I Or 'captured Corinthian bronzes',

• The new library on the Palatine, built by Augustus.

 278 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
?reen Helic0!l more diligently. We poets often do ourselves damage (this
220 IS to take a sickle to my own vineyard) when we give you a book despite
your being worried or tired; when we get hurt if a friend ventures to find
fault with a single verse; when we come back unrequested to passages
we've already recited; when we lament that our labour is lost and the
fine craftsmanship unnoticed; when we hope that the day will come when
you're nice enough to send for us the moment you hear we're composing
and say to us: 'Write-and want for nothing.'

THE COURT POET

230 All the same, it's worth finding out what sort of priests should serve
virtue well-tried at home and abroad-for it's not something to be handed
over to an unworthy poet. The great king Alexander gave his favour to
the notorious Choerilus/ who repaid the royal gifts of gold pieces in verses
ill-born and inelegant. Black ink when handled leaves a disagreeable blot;
similarly writers often smear disgusting poems over fine deeds. All the
same, this king who so dearly bought such absurd poetry (improvident
man I) made an edict that he was to be painted by none but Apelles, and
that only Lysippus should cast statues to represent the martial features
of Alexander. He had, then, an acute taste in the visual arts-but summon
it to pronounce on books and poetry, and you'd swear he was a Boeotian,
born in a gross climate. 2
But your judgement of your favourite poets, Virgil and Varius, has not
been disgraced by them, nor the gifts which they have received from you,
so much to your credit. And for portraying the character and mind of
famous men, the work of the poet is as satisfactory as the representation
of their features in bronze statues. I wouldn't choose these conversation
pieces that creep along the ground in preference to writing history, telling
of the lie of lands and the course of rivers, of mountain-top citadels and
foreign kingdoms, of wars won over all the world under your auspices,
of Janus, guardian of Peace, shut up behind his gates, of Rome a terror
to Parthia now that you are emperor-if, that is, my abilities measured
up to my desires. But your greatness will not tolerate a slight poem, and
260 I am ashamed to try a theme that my strength won't stand. Attentiveness
tends to be stupid and annoy the object of its attentions, particularly when
it uses verse and art to commend itself. What we admire and venerate

I Cf. The Art of Poetry 357 (below, p. 289).

• Athenian malice made the stupidity of Boeotians a byword cf. the proverbial
'Boeotian pig'.
 A LETTER TO AUGUSTUS 279
is less likdy to impress itself on our memory than the risible. 11 don't
care for attentions that annoy me. I don't ever want to be set up in wax,
my face portrayed for the worse. I don't want to be cdebrated in badly-
turned verse: I'd only blush when I got such a coarse gift; and along with
the writer, laid out in an open book-case, I'd be removed to the quarter
where they sell perfumes and scent and pepper and everything else that 270
gets wrapped up in worthless literature.

E. THE ART OF POETR Y

Horace: Ars Poetica
This is an even longer and more elaborate 'epistle'. Its raw material is more
technical (Horace used the work of Neoptolemus of Parium and, at least in-
directly, Aristotle's Poetics) but its humour and allusiveness make it clear that
we have something far removed from a versified treatise. Leading themes,
however, are easy to define, though in the poem they are bewilderingly inter-
laced: consistency, unity, propriety, the debt to Greece, the need for scrupulous
technique, the still greater need for moral seriousness. The poet must be a com-
mitted artist. The mere eccentric is no use.
Many of the themes and illustrations are also to be found in the other literary
epistles. But here the relevance to the Augustan situation is harder to see. In
particular, why so much time on satyr-plays, a minor genre never successfully
revived? Was there an idea of reviving them? Or did the satyr-play, as a cross
between tragedy and comedy, have a special theoretical importance?
Grube 238 ff.; C. O. Brink, Horace on Poetry (vo!. i, Prolegomena, Cam-
bridge, 1963; vo!. ii, Commentary, 1971). Williams, op. cit., 329 ff. Good
(Victorian) verse translation by J. Conington; but note also Ben Jonson's version.

UNITY AND CONSISTENCY

Imagine a painter who wanted to combine a horse's neck with a human

head, and then clothe a miscellaneous collection of limbs with various
kinds of feathers, so that what started out at the top as a beautiful woman
ended in a hideously ugly fish. If you were invited, as friends, to the
private view, could you help laughing? Let me tell you, my Piso friends,
a book whose different features are made up at random like a sick man's
dreams, with no unified form to have a head or a tail, is exactly like that
picture.
'Painters and poets have always enjoyed recognized 2 rights to venture
on what they will.' Yes, we know; indeed, we ask and grant this permission 10
turn and turn about. But it doesn't mean that fierce and gentle can be
united, snakes paired with birds or lambs with tigers.
I Horace now puts himself in the position of Augustus, recipient of unwanted poetic

attention. a Or 'equal'.
 280 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
Serious and ambitious designs often have a purple patch or two sewn on
to them just to make a good show at a distance-a description of a grove
and altar ofDiana, the meanderings of a stream running through pleasant
meads, the River Rhine, the rainbow: but the trouble is, it's not the place
for them.
Maybe you know how to do a picture of a cypress tree? What's the
good of that, if the man who is paying for the picture is a desperate ship-
wrecked mariner swimming to safety? The job began as a wine-jar: the
20 wheel runs round-why is that a tub that's coming out? In short, let it
be what you will, but let it be simple and unified.

SKILL NEEDED TO AVOID FAULTS

Most of us poets-father and worthy sons-are deceived by appearances

of correctness. I try to be concise, but I become obscure; my aim is
smoothness, but sinews and spirit fail; professions of grandeur end in
bombast; the over-cautious who fear the storm creep along the ground.
Similarly, the writer who wants to give fantastic variety to his single
30 theme paints a dolphin in his woods and a wild boar in his sea. l If art is
wanting, the flight from blame leads to faults. The poorest smith near the
School of Aemilius will reproduce nails and mimic soft hair in bronze,
though he has no luck with the over-all effect of his work, because he won't
know how to organize the whole. If I were anxious to put anything
together, I would as soon be that man as I would live with a mis-shapen
nose when my black eyes and black hair had made me a beauty.
You writers must choose material equal to your powers. Consider long
what your shoulders will bear and what they will refuse. The man who
40 chooses his subject with full control will not be abandoned by eloquence
or lucidity of arrangement.
As to arrangement: its excellence and charm, unless I'm very wrong, con-
sist in saying at this moment what needs to be said at this moment, and post-
poning and temporarily omitting a great many things. An author who has
undertaken a poem must be choosy-cling to one point and spurn another. z
As to words: if you're delicate and cautious in arranging them, you
will give distinction to your style if an ingenious combination makes
a familiar word new. If it happens to be necessary to denote hidden
mysteries by novel symbols, it will fall to you to invent terms the Cethegi
so in their loin-cloths3 never heard-and the permission will be granted if
1 Note this use of the idea of faults related to particular virtues: cf. 'Longinus'

3. 3 ff. (below, p. 464).

• Bentley and others rearrange so that this sentence is taken differently: 'As to
words: an author who has undertaken a poem should be delicate and cautious in
arranging them, like one and spurn another.' 3 i.e. primitive Romans.
 THE ART OF POETR Y 281
you accept it modestly-and, moreover, your new and freshly invented
words will receive credit, if sparingly derived from the Greek springs. Is
the Roman to give Caecilius and Plautus privileges denied to Virgil and
Varius? Why am I unpopular if I can make a few acquisitions, when the
tongue of Cato and Ennius so enriched their native language and pro-
duced such a crop of new names for things?

FASHIONS IN WORDS

It always has been, and always will be, lawful to produce a word stamped
with the current mark. Ai!. woods change in leaf as the seasons slide on,
and the first leaves fall, so the old generation of words dies out, and the 60
newly born bloom and are strong like young men. We and our works
are a debt owed to death. Here a land-locked sea protects fleets from the
North wind-a royal achievement; here an old barren marsh where oars
were plied feeds neighbouring cities and feels the weight of the plough;
here again a river gives up a course that damaged the crops and learns a
better way. But whatever they are, all mortal works will die; and still less
can the glory and charm of words endure for a long life. Many words which
have fallen will be born again, many now in repute will fall if usage' decrees: 70
for in her hand is the power and the law and the canon of speech.

METRE AND SUBJECT

Histories of kings and generals, dreadful wars: it was Homer who showed
in what metre these could be narrated. Lines unequally yoked in pairs
formed the setting first for lamentations, then for the expression of a vow
fulfilled;2. though who first sent these tiny 'elegies' into the world is a
grammarians' quarrel and still sub judice. Madness armed Archilochus
with its own iambus; that too was the foot that the comic sock and tragic 80
buskin held, because it was suitable for dialogue, able to subdue the
shouts of the mob, and intended by nature for a life of action. To the
lyre, the Muse granted the celebration of gods and the children of gods,
victorious boxers, winning race-horses, young men's love, and generous
wine. If I have neither the ability nor the knowledge to keep the duly
assigned functions and tones of literature, why am I hailed as a poet?
Why do I prefer to be ignorant than learn, out of sheer false shame? A
comic subject will not be set out in tragic verse; likewise, the Banquet of
Thyestes disdains being told in poetry of the private kind, that borders 90
on the comic stage. Everything must keep the appropriate place to which
it was allotted.
I Or 'need'.
Z Horace is thinking of inscriptions accompanying dedications to gods.
 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
Nevertheless, comedy does sometimes raise her voice, and angry
Chremes perorates with swelling eloquence. Often too Telephus and Pe-
teus' in tragedy lament in prosaic language, when they are both poor
exiles and throwaway their bombast and words half a yard long, if
they are anxious to touch the spectator's heart with their complaint.

EMOTION AND CHARACTER

It is not enough for poetry to be beautiful; it must also be pleasing and

100 lead the hearer's mind wherever it will. The human face smiles in sym-
pathy with smilers and comes to the help of those that weep. If you want
me to cry, mourn first yourself; then your misfortunes will hurt me,
Telephus and Peleus. If your words are given you ineptly, I shall fall asleep
or laugh. Sad words suit a mournful countenance, threatening words an
angry one; sportive words are for the playful, serious for the grave. For
nature first shapes us within for any state of fortune-gives us pleasure
110 or drives us to anger or casts us down to the ground with grievous sorrow
and pains us-and then expresses the emotions through the medium of
the tongue. If the words are out of tune with the speaker's fortunes, the
knights and infantry of Rome will raise a cackle. It will make a lot of
difference whether the speaker is a god or a hero, an old man of ripe
years or a hot youth, an influential matron or a hard-working nurse, a
travelling merchant or the tiller of a green farm, a Colchian or an Assyrian,
one nurtured at Thebes or at Argos.

CHOICE AND HANDLING OF MYTH

Either follow tradition or invent a consistent story. If as a writer you are

120 representing Achilles with all his honours, let him be active, irascible,
implacable, and fierce; let him say 'the laws are not for me' and set no limit
to the claims that arms can make. Let Medea be proud and indomitable,
Ino full of tears, Ixion treacherous, 10 never at rest, Orestes full of
gloom. On the other hand, if you are putting something untried on the
stage and venturing to shape a new character, let it be maintained to the
end as it began and be true to itself. It is hard to put generalities in an
individual way: you do better to reduce the song of Troy to acts than
13 0 if you were the first to bring out something unknown and unsaid. 2 The
I Euripidean characters.
2 i.e. to invent names and circumstances for a general theme is undesirable; if you
object that the known myths are hackneyed, the remedy is in the treatment of them in
a new way.
 THE ART OF POETRY
common stock will become your private property if you don't linger on
the broad and vulgar round, or anxiously render word for word, a loyal
interpreter, or again, in the process of imitation, find yourself in a tight
corner from which shame, or the rule of the craft, won't let you move; or,
once again, if you avoid a beginning like the cyclic poet-
Of Priam's fortune will I sing, and war
well known to fame.
If he opens his mouth as wide as that, how can the promiser bring forth
anything to match it? The mountains shall be in labour, and there shall
be born-a silly mouse. How much better was the way of that poet whose 140
every endeavour is to the point!
Tell me, 0 Muse, of him who, after Troy
had fallen, saw the manners and the towns
of many men. I
His plan is not to turn fire to smoke, but smoke to light, so as to relate
magnificent wonders thereafter-Antiphates and the Cyclops, Scylla and
Charybdis. 2 He doesn't start the Return of Diomedes from the death of
Meleager, nor begin the Trojan war from the twin egg; he is always making
good speed towards the end of the story, and carries his hearer right into
the thick of it as though it were already known. He leaves out anything
which he thinks cannot be polished up satisfactorily by treatment, and ISO
tells his fables and mixes truth with falsehood in such a way that the
middle squares with the beginning and the end with the middle.
Let me tell you what I and the public both want, if you're hoping for
an applauding audience that will wait for the curtain and keep its seat
until the epilogue-speaker says 'Pray clap your hands'. You must mark
the manners of each time oflife, and assign the appropriate part to chang-
ing natures and ages. 3 The child, just able to repeat words and planting
his steps on the ground with confidence, is eager to play with his con-
temporaries, gets in and out of a temper without much cause, and changes 160
hour by hour. The beardless youth, his tutor at last out of the way, enjoys
his horses and dogs and the grass of the sunny Park. Moulded like wax
into vice, he is surly to would-be advisers, slow to provide for necessities,
prodigal of money, up in the air, eager, and quick to abandon the objects
of his sudden love. Soon interests change: the grown man's mind pursues
wealth and influential connections, is enslaved to honour, and avoids doing
anything he may soon be trying to change. Many distresses surround
the old man. He is acquisitive, and, poor man, daren't put his hand on
I Odyssey I. I If. 2 The various tales in Odyssey 9-12.
l Cf. Aristotle, Rhetoric 2. 12 for the 'ages of man'.
 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
170 what he has laid up; he is afraid to use it. He goes about his business
timidly and coldly, procrastinating, letting things drag on in hope, lazy
yet greedy of his future; he is awkward and grumbling, given to praising
the days when he was a boy and to criticizing and finding fault with his
juniors. Years as they come bring many blessings with them, and as they
go take many away. To save yourself giving a young man an old man's
role or a boy a grown man's, remember that your character should always
remain faithful to what is associated with his age and suits it.

SOME RULES FOR DRAMATISTS'

Actions may be either performed on the stage or reported when performed.

180 What comes in through the ear is less effective in stirring the mind than
what is put before our faithful eyes and told by the spectator to himself.
However, you are not to bring on to the stage events which ought to be
carried out within; you are to remove many things from sight, and let
them be related in due course by the eloquence of an eye-witness. Don't
let Medea murder the children before the people's gaze, or wicked Atreus
cook human offal in public, or Procne be metamorphosed into a bird or
Cadmus into a snake. Anything you show me like that earns my incredu-
lity and disgust.
190 A play that wants to be in demand and to be revived must not be
shorter or longer than five acts. Z
There should be no god to intervene, unless the problem merits such a
champion.
No fourth character should attempt to speak.
The chorus should play an actor's part, and do a man's duty.3 It should
not sing between the acts anything which has no relevance to or cohesion
with the plot. It should side with the good and give them friendly counsel,
restrain the angry, and approve those who scruple to go astray. It should
praise a frugal table's fare, sound justice, law, and times of peace when the
zoo town's gates stand open. It should keep secrets entrusted to it, and beg
and pray the gods that Fortune may return to the wretched and abandon
the proud.

DEVELOPMENT OF TRAGEDY

The flute used not to be, as it is now, bound with copper and a rival to
the trumpet. It was slight and simple, with few apertures, but serviceable
J U. Aristotle, Poetics, for many of these precepts.

• Not Aristotelian; but Menander seems normally to have composed his comedies in
five acts, separated by choral interludes. 3 Poetics 18 (above, p. II6).
 THE ART OF POETRY 28 5
to accompany and aid the chorus and to fill with its music the still not
too crowded benches, where a population of no great size gathered in
numbers easily counted, honest and decent and modest: But when that
same population won wars and began to extend its territory, when longer
walls came to embrace the cities, and people indulged themselves on 210
holidays by drinking in the daytime, and nobody blamed them, then
rhythm and tunes acquired greater licence. For what taste could the
uneducated show, the holiday crowd of countrymen and townsmen,
honest folk and rogues, all mixed up together? This is how the musician
came to add movement and elaboration to his art, and to trail his robe as
he roamed the stage. This is how even the austere lyre gained a stronger
voice, while lofty eloquence produced strange utterance and thought
that shrewdly grasped practical needs and prophesied the future grew
indistinguishable from the oracles of Delphi.

SATYR-PLA YSI

The competitor in tragic poetry, who strove for a worthless goat, next 220
showed the rustic Satyrs, naked. Preserving his seriousness despite his
keen wit, he made an attempt at a joke, because the audience, drunk and
lawless at the end of the festival, had to be prevented from going away by
tricks and pleasing innovations. But the way to recommend your laughing,
joking satyrs, the way to turn seriousness to jest, is this: no god or hero
you bring on the stage, if he was seen not long ago in royal gold and
purple, must lower his language and move into a humble cottage; nor, on
the other hand, must his efforts to get off the ground lead him to try to 230
grasp clouds and void. Tragedy does not deserve to blurt out trivial lines,
but she will modestly consort a little with the forward satyrs, like a
respectable lady dancing because she must on a feast day.
As a Satyr-writer, my Piso friends, I shall not limit my liking to plain
and proper terms, nor yet try to be so different from the tone of tragedy
that there is no difference between Davus talking or bold Pythias, when
she's just tricked Simon out of a talent,2 and Silenus, at once guardian
and servant of the god he has brought up. I shall make up my poem of 240
known elements, so that anyone may hope to do the same, but he'll sweat
and labour to no purpose when he ventures: such is the force of arrange-
ment and combination, such the splendour that commonplace words
1 These featured Silenus and satyrs in burlesque episodes of myth; style and metre
were those of tragedy, not <;omedy. The piece was commonly performed as a fourth
play after three tragedies.'Euripides' Cyclops is the only complete extant example.
Aristotle believed satyr-plays were at the origin of tragedy (above, p. 95); others,
as Horace here, that they were a later refinement.
• Typical New Comedy names: slave, maid or prostitute, old man.
 286 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
acquire. Your woodland Fauns, if you take my judgement, should beware
of behaving as if they were born at the street corner and were creatures of
the Forum-they shouldn't play the gallant in languishing verse or crack
dirty and disreputable jokes; possessors of horses or ancestors or property
take offence at this sort of thing and don't look kindly on work approved
250 by the fried-peas-and-nuts public, or give it the prize.

THE NEED FOR TECHNICAL PERFECTION

A long syllable following a short one makes an iambus. I He is a quick

foot; this is why he ordered iambic lines to be called trimeters, although
he was giving six beats to the line, and was the same in form from first to
last. Not all that long ago, wanting to fall rather more slowly and weightily
upon our ears, he admitted the stately spondees to family privileges-
what a comfortable, easy-going foot he is!-but without being quite so
complaisant as to give up the second and fourth positions in the line.
Rarely does he appear in Accius' noble trimeters, and his rarity in Ennius'
260 weighty lines as they fly out on the stage damns them with the shocking
accusation of hasty and careless craftsmanship-or else sheer ignorance of
the trade.
Of course, it's not every critic that notices lines that aren't tuneful,
and Roman poets have enjoyed undeserved licence. But does that entitle
me to make mistakes and scribble away carelessly? Or should I rather
expect everyone to see my mistakes, and so play safe and cautious,
keeping within the bounds of what I can hope to be pardoned for? In
that case, all I've done is to avoid blame; I have not deserved praise.

GREEK MODELS

270 Study Greek models night and day. Your ancestors praised Plautus' metre
and his humour. On both counts their admiration was too indulgent, not
to say childish, if it's true that you and I know how to distinguish a witless
jest from a subtle one and if we've skill in our fingers and ears to know
what sounds are permitted.
I Horace's main theme in what preceded was propriety; in the next section it is

perfection. He marks the transition by humorously giving some very elementary metrical
instruction. Greektrimetershavethe basic scheme: \.!-Iv-I \.!-Iv-I \.!-I v-, whereas
the corresponding old Latin senarius (Ennius, Accius) admits spondees (- -) also in the
second and fourth feet.
 THE ART OF POETRY

INVENTIVENESS OF THE GREEKS IN DRAMA

The hitherto unknown genre of the tragic Muse is said to be Thespis'

invention; he is supposed to have carried on a cart verses to be sung and
acted by performers whose faces were smeared with wine-lees. After him
came Aeschylus, the inventor of the mask and splendid robe; he gave
the stage a floor of modest boards, and taught the actors to talk big and
give themselves height by their high boots. Next came Old Comedy, 280
much praised, though its liberty degenerated into vice and violence
deserving restraint of law; the law was accepted, and the chorus fell silent,
its right of shameful insult removed.

INVENTIVENESS OF THE ROMANS

Our poets have left nothing unattempted. Not the least part of their
glory was won by venturing to abandon the footsteps of the Greeks and
celebrate our own affairs; some produced historical plays, some comedies
in Roman dress. Latium would have been as famous for literature as for
valour and deeds of arms if the poets had not, one and all, been put off 290
by the labour and time of polishing their work. Children of Numa, show
your disapproval of any poem which long time and much correction have
not disciplined and smoothed ten times over, to satisfy the well-pared nail.

THE POETI

Democritus z thinks native talent a happier thing than poor, miserable

art, and banishes sane poets from his Helicon. That's why so many don't
bother to cut their nails or beard, but seek solitude and keep away from
the bath. For a man is sure to win the reward and name of poet if he never
lets barber Licinus get hold of that head that three Anticyras 3 won't make 300
sound. I'm a fool to purge my bile when spring comes round. I could
write as good poetry as any; but nothing is worth that price, and so I'll
play the part of the whetstone, that can sharpen the knife though it can't
itself cut. In other words, without writing myself, I will teach function
and duty-where the poet's resources come from, what nurtures and
forms him, what is proper/and what not, in what directions excellence and
error lead. -
I From this point, the poem turns to topics concerned with the poet himself: inspira-

tion, moral knowledge, care for posterity, commitment. This main theme continues
to the end. 2 See above, p. 4.
3 Hellebore, proverbially a cure for madness, came from Anticyra.
 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
Wisdom is the starting-point and source of correct writing. Socratic
310 books will be able to point out to you your material, and once the material
is provided the words will follow willingly enough. If a man has learned
his duty to his country and his friends, the proper kind oflove with which
parent, brother, and guest should be cherished, the functions of a senator
and a judge, the task of a general sent to th~ front-then he automatically
understands how to give each character its proper attributes. My advice
to the skilled imitator will be to keep his eye on the model oflife and man-
ners, and draw his speech living from there.
320 Sometimes a play devoid of charm, weight, and skill, but attractive
with its commonplaces and with the characters well drawn, gives the
people keener pleasure and keeps them in their seats more effectively than
lines empty of substance and harmonious trivialities.

GREEK AND ROMAN ATTITUDES

The Greeks have the gift of genius from the Muse, and the power of
well-rounded speech. They covet nothing but praise. Roman boys do
long sums and learn to divide their as into a hundred parts.!
'Young Albinus, subtract one uncia from a quincunx: what's left? ...
You could have told me by now .. .'
'A triens.'
'Excellent. You'll be able to look after your affairs. Now add an uncia.
What is it now?'
'A semis.'
330 Once this rust and care for cash has tainted the soul, can we hope for
poems to be written that deserve preserving with cedar oil and keeping
safe in smooth cypress?
Poets aim either to do good or to give pleasure-or, thirdly, to say
things which are both pleasing and serviceable for life.
Whatever advice you give, be brief, so that the teachable mind can take
in your words quickly and retain them faithfully. Anything superfluous
overflows from the full mind.
Whatever you invent for pleasure, let it be near to truth. We don't
want a play to ask credence for anything it feels like, or draw a living
340 child from the ogress's belly after lunch. The ranks of elder citizens chase
things off the stage if there's no good meat in them, and the high-spirited
youngsters won't vote for dry poetry. The man who combines pleasure
with usefulness wins every suffrage, delighting the reader and also giving
I 12 unciae = 1 as; 5 unciae = quincunx; t as = triens; t as = semis.
 THE ART OF POETRY
him advice; this is the book that earns money for the Sosii,1 goes overseas
and gives your celebrated writer a long lease of fame.
However, there are some mistakes we are ready to forgive. the string
doesn't always give the note that the hand and mind intended: it often
returns a high note when you ask for a low. The bow won't always hit
what it threatens to hit. But when most features of a poem are brilliant, I 350
shan't be offended by a few blemishes thrown around by carelessness or
human negligence. But what then? If a copyist goes on making the same
mistake however much he is warned, he is not forgiven; if a lyre-player
always gets the same note wrong, people laugh at him; so, in my estima-
tion, if a poet fails to come off a good deal, he's another Choerilus, whom I
admire with a smile if he's good two or three times. Why, I'm angry even
if good Homer goes to sleep, though a doze is quite legitimate in a long 360
piece of work.
Poetry is like painting. Some attracts you more if you stand near, some
if you're further off. One picture likes a dark place, one will need to be
seen in the light, because it's not afraid of the critic's sharp judgement.
One gives pleasure once, one will please if you look it over ten times.
Dear elder son of Piso, though your father's words are forming you in
the right way and you have wisdom of your own besides, take this piece of
advice away with you and remember it. In some things, a tolerable
mediocrity is properly allowed. A mediocre lawyer or advocate is a long 370
way from the distinction oflearned Messalla and doesn't know as much as
Aulus Cascellius, but he has his value. But neither men nor gods nor
shop-fronts allow a poet to be mediocre. Just as music out of tune or
thick ointment or Sardinian honey with your poppy gives offence at a nice
dinner, because the meal could go on without them, so poetry, which was
created and discovered for the pleasure of the mind, sinks right to the
bottom the moment it declines a little from the top. The man who doesn't
know how to play keeps away from the sporting gear in the park. The 380
man who's never been taught ball or discus or hoop keeps quiet, so that
the packed spectators can't get a free laugh. But the man who doesn't
know how to make verses still has a go. Why shouldn't he? He's free,
and of free birth, he's assessed at an equestrian property rate, and he's
not got a fault in the world.
You will never do or say anything if Minerva is against you: your taste
and intelligence guarantee us that. But if you do write something some
day, let it find its way to critic Maecius' ears, and your father's, and mine,
and be stored up for eight years in your notebooks at home. You will be
able to erase what you haven't published; words once uttered forget the 390
way home.
I Booksellers.
8US591 U
 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY

POETRY AND ITS SOCIAL USES AND VALUE

Orpheus, who was a holy man and the interpreter of the gods, deterred
the men of the forests from killing and from disgusting kinds of food.
This is why he was said to tame tigers and rabid lions. This too is why
Amphion, the founder of the city of Thebes, was said to move rocks
where he wished by the sound of the lyre and coaxing prayers.! In days
of old, wisdom consisted in separating public property from private, the
sacred from the secular, in checking promiscuity, in laying down rules
for the married, in building cities, in inscribing laws on wooden tablets.
And that is how honour and renown came to divine poets and poetry.
4')') After them came the great Homer and Tyrtaeus, who sharpened masculine
hearts for war by their verses. Oracles were uttered in verse. The path of
life was pointed out in verse. Kings' favours were won by the Muses'
tunes. Entertainment was found there also, and rest after long labour.
So there is no call to be ashamed of the Muse with her skill on the lyre
or of Apollo the singer.

ART AND NATURE

Do good poems come by nature or by art? This is a common question.

For my part, I don't see what study can do without a rich vein of talent,
nor what good can come of untrained genius. They need each other's
410 help and work together in friendship.2 A boy who wants to reach the
hoped-for goal in the race endures and does a lot, sweats and freezes,
refrains from sex and wine. The clarinetist who is playing in honour of
Apollo learns his lesson first and stands in awe of his master. But nowadays
it's enough to say: 'I write marvellous poems. The itch take the hindmost!
It's a disgrace for me to be left behind and admit I don't know something
that, to be sure, I never learned.'
420 A poet who is rich in land and investments bids his flatterers 'come and
better themselves'-just like an auctioneer collecting a crowd to buy his
wares. But if he's a man who can set out a good dinner properly and go
bail for a poor and impecunious client and get him out of a grim legal
tangle, I shall be surprised if the lucky fellow knows how to distinguish
a false friend from a true. If you have given a man a present, or if you
want to, don't then lead him, full of joy, to your verses. He's bound to
say 'Splendid, beautiful, just right'; he'll grow pale here, he'll drip dew
43 0 from loving eyes, he'll jump about, he'll beat the ground with his foot.
Your mocker is more deeply stirred than your true admirer, just as hired
I Horace allegorizes the myths. For similar exempla (no allegory), cf. Aristophanes,

Frogs 1030 ff. (above, p. 22). 2 Cf. 'Longinus' 2 (below, p. 463).

 THE ART OF POETRY

mourners at a funeral say and do almost more than those who genuinely
grieve. Kings are said to ply a man with many cups and test him with wine
if they are trying to discover if he deserves their friendship. If you write
poetry, the fox's hidden feelings will never escape you. If you read any-
thing aloud to Q!iintilius, he'd say 'pray change that, and that'. You would
say you couldn't do better, though you'\d tried two or three times, to no
purpose. Then he'd tell you to scratch it out and put the badly turned 440
lines back on the anvil. If you preferred defending your error to amend-
ing it, he wasted no more words or trouble on preventing you from
loving yourself and your handiwork without competition. A wise and
good man will censure flabby lines, reprehend harsh ones, put a black
line with a stroke of the pen besides unpolished ones, prune pretentious
ornaments, force you to shed light on obscurities, convict you of ambi-
guity, mark down what must be changed. He'll be an Aristarchus. I He
won't say, 'Why should I offend a friend in trifles?' These trifles lead to 450
serious troubles, if once you are ridiculed and get a bad reception.

THE MAD POET

Men of sense are afraid to touch a mad poet and give him a wide berth.
He's like a man suffering from a nasty itch, or the jaundice, or fanaticism,
or Diana's wrath. Boys chase him and follow him round incautiously. And
if, while he's belching out his lofty lines and wandering round, he happens
to fall into a well or a pit, like a fowler intent on his birds, then, however
long he shouts 'Help! Help! Fellow citizens, help!' there'll be no one to 460
bother to pick him up. And if anyone should trouble to help and let down a
rope, my question will be, 'How do you, know that he didn't throw himself
down deliberately? Are you sure he wants to be saved?' And I shall tell
the tale of the death of the Sicilian poet. Empedocles wanted to be re-
garded as an immortal god, and so he jumped, cool as you like, into burn-
ing Etna. Let poets have the right and privilege of death. To save a man
against his will is the same as killing him. This isn't the only time he's
done it. If he's pulled out now, he won't become human or lay aside his
love of a notorious end.
It's far from clear why he keeps writing poetry. Has the villain pissed 47 0
on his father's ashes? Or disturbed the grim site of a lightning-strike?
Anyway, he's raving, and his harsh readings put learned and unlearned
alike to flight, like a bear that's broken the bars of his cage. If he catches
anyone, he holds on and kills him with reading. He's a real leech that
won't let go of the skin till it's full of blood.
I The great Alexandrian scholar marked spurious or doubtful lines in Homer

with the sign which Horace here attributes to the good critic.
 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY

F. A POET'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY

In this and the next two sections we give extracts from the elegiac poems of
Ovid, the greatest poet of the generation after Horace. The first passage (Tristia
4. 10. 1-64), like the second, was written in exile at Tomi on the Black Sea in
the first decade of our era.
See, in general, L. P. Wilkinson, Ovid Recal/ed, Cambridge, 1955.
Listen, readers of the future, if you want to know who I was-the jesting
author of light love poems whom you read. My birthplace is Sulmo, rich
in cold streams, and ninety miles away from the City. Here I was raised:
if you want to know the year, it was when both consuls met a like fate. I
If it's of any note, I inherit my rank from distant forefathers: it wasn't
merely a gift of fortune that made me Knight. I was not the first child-
10 I had an elder brother, born a twelve-month earlier. The same star shone
on both our birthdays: there was one day to celebrate, with two cakes.
It's one of the five feast-days of the warlike Minerva-the one that is
first to get stained with blood in battle. 2
Our education began while we were still young; thanks to our father's
care, we went off to distinguished professional men in the city. My brother
had an inclination towards oratory from a tender age; he was born to
wield the stout weapons of the garrulous forum. But as for me, while I
20 was still a boy I enjoyed poetry, gift of the gods, and the Muse kept
furtively luring me over to her department. My father often said: 'Why
touch it? It's a useless pursuit. Homer himself had no money to leave
in his will.' I was persuaded by what he said, left Helicon altogether, and
had a go at writing prose. But what I tried to say proved to be verse-
poetry came of its own accord and the rhythms fitted.3
Meanwhile, as the years glided by on silent foot, my brother and I
put on the toga of a free man: the purple robe with the wide stripe went
30 over our shoulders.4 And still our former interests remained. When my
brother was twenty, he died, and I had to start getting used to doing
without a half of myself. I took on the first honours my youth allowed;
once I was one of the tresviri. There remained the senate; but I had my
stripe narrowed: that was a load too great for my strength. My body
wouldn't put up with the work, my mind was not suitable for it; I became
a fugitive from tiresome ambition. And the Muses kept persuading me
40 to retreat to safety and quiet-which my judgement had always hankered
I Hirtius and Pansa in 43 B.C. 2 i.e. 20 March: cf. Fast; 3. 809 ff.

3 Cf. Seneca on Ovid's declamations: below, p. 358.

4 Signifying preparation for a senatorial career. When Ovid took to a narrower stripe
(below), he renounced these ambitions, and remained an eques.
 A POET'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY 293
after. I cultivated the acquaintance of poets of the day. Any available
bard I regarded as a god. The older Macer often read me his lines on
birds, on dangerous snakes, on herbal remedies. Propertius often recited
his love poetry to me, as was the due of my comradeship with him.
Ponticus (famous for epic) and Bassus (famous for iambics) were agreeable
members of my circle. The musical Horace attracted my attention as he
struck out his polished poems on an Italian lyre. Virgil I only saw; and so
the greedy fates did not allow time for me to become a friend of Tibullus.
Tibullus was Gallus' successor, Propertius Tibullus': I was fourth in
order of time after these.
Just as I cultivated my elders, so younger men cultivated me, and my
muse swiftly became famous. When I first read my youthful poems to the
public, I had only shaved once or twice. Corinnal-it was not her real 60
name-had been sung all over town, and she it was who aroused my
talents. I wrote a lot; what I thought faulty, I personally gave for correc-
tion to the flames. When I was going into exile, too, I burnt things
that would have pleased: I was angry with my pursuit, and with my poetry.
[The rest of the poem is of less critical interest: it describes Ovid's wives,
the death of his parents, and his own exile to Tomi.]

G. POETRY AND MORALITY

This apologia is from Tristia 2. 353 If. Compare for the theme Pliny, Epistles
4. 14 (below, p. 428).

Believe me, my character is different from my poetry: my life is decent,

my Muse sportive. A great part of my lEuvre is untruthful fiction, allowing
itself indulgences not permitted to its author. A book is not a revelation
of the mind, but a respectable entertainment, that brings much with it
fit to soothe the ear. Otherwise Accius would be a savage, Terence a
diner-out, and narrators of fierce war warlike.
And I'm not the only composer of light verses-though I was the only 360
one to pay the penalty for composing a love poem. What was the lesson
of the lyric Muse of the old man of Teos?2 Surely it was sex-and a
flood of wine? What did Lesbian Sappho instruct girls in but love?
Nevertheless Sappho was safe-and so was he. Nor did it go hard with
you, son of Battus,3 for the constant declarations of love the reader finds
in your verse. None of the charming Menander's plays ignores love-and 373
he is read by boys and girls. What else is the Iliad itself but the story of
an adulteress who caused a fight between her lover and her husband?
I The 'heroine' of the Amores. 2 Anacreon. 3 Callimachus.
 294 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
What is told in it before the story of the passion aroused by Briseis, and
of how the seizure of the girl angered the chieftains? What is the Odyssey
except the tale of a woman sought by a horde of suitors in the absence of
her husband-all for love? No one but Homer tells the story of Venus
and Mars getting tied up when their bodies were twined on an adulterous
380 couch. How would we know, if Homer did not tell us, that two goddesses I
burned with love for their guest? Every genre of writing is surpassed in
seriousness by tragedy-yet it too constantly involves love.
[Ovid proceeds to illustrate the place oflove in tragedy.]
I should run out of time if I went all through the amours of tragedy: my
book will scarcely find room even for a bare list of names. There is also
4IO the kind of tragedy 2 that merges with pornographic humour, full of words
that leave shame behind. Yet the author who made Achilles effeminate
did not rue it-despite diminishing his brave deeds by his verses. Aristides
associated with himself the vices of Miletus-yet Aristides was not
banished from his city. Nor was Eubius, writer of an obscene story, who de-
scribed how the seeds within mothers were destroyed. No exile either for
the late author of Sybaritica, or for those who have revealed the details
of their sex lives. Such things form part of the output of learned men,
420 and, thanks to our rulers,3 have become common knowledge.

ROMAN EROTICA

Let me not be defended only by foreign aid: Roman literature, too, has
much of a sportive kind. While Ennius sang gravely of war-Ennius, so
talented yet so primitive; while Lucretius expounded the causes of darting
fire, prophesying that the threefold structure of the world would fall:
wanton Catullus frequently sang of the woman disguised under the name
430 of Lesbia. Not content with her, he publicized many affairs, confessing
his own adulteries. Tiny Calvus had equal licence; he revealed his
exploits in various metres. Cinna is their companion, and Anser, more
lascivious than Cinna, and the light-weight compositions of Cornificius
and Cato. What of the work of Ticidas and of Memmius, in whom things
are called by their names-and the names have their shameful side?
What of those who have a place in their books for the woman till recently
disguised as Perilla (now we read of her under your name, Metellus).
440 The man who carried the ArgO on to the waves of Phasis could not keep
I i.e. Circe and Calypso for Odysseus.
2 i.e. Satyr plays (for which see Horace, Ars 220 If.: above, p. 285).
3 Who founded public libraries in Rome.
 POETR Y AND MORALITY 295
quiet about his amorous adventures.' Hortensius' poems are equally
wanton, and Servius'. Who would hesitate to follow in the footsteps of
such great men? Sisenna translated Aristides, and it did not go against
him to have inserted obscene jests in his story. Gallus was not reproached
for celebrating Lycoris, merely for not holding his tongue when drunk.
Tibullus finds it hard to believe his mistress' oath-because she disclaims
knowledge of him to her husband in just the same way. He, moreover,
confesses to teaching how to deceive guards, and says that he's now 450
unfortunate enough to be caught by his own wiles. 2 He recalls that often
he touched his mistress' hand on purpose while pretending to test her
ring and seal. He often spoke with nods and gestures (he says), and drew
silent marks on the round table. He describes how he gets rid of the marks
of love-bites with herbs. He begs the all too unaware husband to look
out for him too, and see that she strays less often. He knows who gets
barked at when he walks alone, to whom he coughs so often before the 460
closed gate, and gives many precepts for similar deceptions, tells how
wives can trick husbands. He came to no harm; Tibullus is read, and he
is in favour, and was known when you were already emperor. You will
find the same precepts in the pleasing Propertius: yet he was not marked
by the least stain. I am their successor, as my uprightness makes me keep
quiet about the names of distinguished living poets. I did not, I must
confess, feel any fear that, on a route where so many ships had sailed
before, one should be shipwrecked, when all the rest were safe. 470
[There have been, says Ovid, 'arts' on dicing, cosmetics, and other frivolous
subjects.]

MIMES ARE NOT CRITICIZED

I was deceived by these, and wrote cheerful poems: but a grim penalty
followed on my jests. Out of all the writers there have ever been I can
find none except myself whose Muse has destroyed him. What if I had
written mimes with obscene jokes, which always contain passages on
illicit sex: where the bedizened adulterer is constantly abroad, and the
clever wife tricks the stupid husband? These are watched by girls ready 500
to marry, by matrons, men and boys-and most of the senate attends.
It's not enough that their ears should be besmirched by unchaste language:
their eyes have to get used to seeing much that is improper. And when the
lover has found some new trick to deceive the husband, there is applause,
I Varro Atacinus.

• See Tibullus I. 5, I. 6. Ovid selects things comparable to what was complained of

in his own Art of Love.
 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
and the prize is awarded amid great enthusiasm. The less edifying the
piece, the more profitable to the poet: and the praetor has to pay a fat
sum for all these crimes. Augustus, look at the accounts of the games you
510 support-you will find that you have paid a lot for much that is of just
this character. You have watched such things often in person, often put
the show on yourself (so affable is your greatness in every sphere); with
those eyes that are at the service of the world you have viewed adultery
on the stage-without getting upset. If it is all right to compose mimes
that represent obscenities, my subject surely deserves a smaller penalty.
Or is it that this kind of writing is made safe by the stage on which it is
shown-is it the theatre that makes mime permissible? Well, my poems
520 too have often been danced before the people, and have often found a
watcher even in you.

A PARALLEL FROM PAINTING

In our houses there are paintings of men long ago, bright from the
artist's hand-but you may find in some corner a miniature representation
of various methods of intercourse and sexual postures. Ajax, son of Tela-
mon, sits there, his face showing his anger;! Medea, that barbarous
mother, has her crime in her eyes: yet a dripping Venus dries her wet
hair and is seen newly emerged from, the waves that gave her birth.

OVID'S OWN FORTE

53 0 Others sing loudly of war and its array of gory weapons; some hymn your
deeds, some those of your race. Nature, grudgingly, has confined me to a
narrow space, and given my intellect but feeble strength. Yet even the
fortunate author of the Aeneid you patronized takes his 'hero and his arms'
to bed in Carthage; no part of the whole work is so eagerly read as the
story of that illicit love. As a youth, he had used the bucolic metre to sing
lightly of the ardour of Phyllis and Amaryllis. In my case too it is long
540 ago that I gave offence with that sort of writing: it is the punishment, not
the offence, that is new; and I had published poetry when I passed your
scrutiny so often, a knight sans reproche. Thus the poems which as a
youth I unwarily supposed would do me no harm have harmed me now
that I am old. A late penalty has afflicted an old book, and the punishment
is far in time from what called it forth.

I Because of the awarding of Achilles' arms to Odysseus.

 POETRY AND MORALITY 297

SOME MORE SERIOUS WORKS

And you shouldn't imagine that all my work is relaxed; I've often hoisted
big sails on my boat. I wrote twelve books of Fasti,I each volume finishing 550
at the end of a month. That, previously, was written in your name,
dedicated to you: but my calamity cut it short. I have issued a book, royal
in its tragic buskins, with the language that the gravity of tragedy de-
mands. 2 And although I did not put the last touch to it, I have written
of bodies changed to new appearances. If only you would relax your anger
for a little while, and in a moment of ease ask to have a bit of that book
read to you-the passage in which I speak of starting from the first origin 560
of the world and tracing the story down to your own times, Caesar.3 You
will observe how much spirit you gave me, how enthusiastically I sing
of you and yours.
I never attacked anyone in vicious poetry: my verses bring no charges. 4
I am straightforward, I shunned humour steeped in bile: no word is
given a venomous jest. Out of so many thousands of Romans, when
I have written so much, I shall be the only one harmed by my Muse. I
do not expect any Roman to have rejoiced at my sad fate-I expect many 570
to have grieved. I cannot believe that anyone spurned my prostrate body-
if my fairness has earned any reward. May your majesty be dissuaded by
these and other pleas, father of your country, its care and its shield! I do
not ask to return to Italy-unless later, when you are overcome by the
length of my punishment; I ask only a safer and a somewhat quieter
exile-to make my penalty fit the crime.

H. IMMORTALITY THROUGH POETRY

Ovid: Amores 1. IS
·l."
Compare Theognis 237 If. (above, p. 3) and Horace, Odes 4. 9. This is an early
poem, published 16 B.C.
Why, mordant envy, reproach me with years passed in idleness? You say
poetry is the product of a slothful character, and you object that I haven't,
like my ancestors, passed my manhood in the pursuit of prizes amid the
dust of war, that I don't learn off wordy laws or prostitute my voice in the
thankless forum.
What you are looking for is perishable; my aim is everlasting fame,
that I should be ever on the world's lips.s Homer will live so long as
I Only six books of this 'calendar' are extant. • Medea, not extant.
3 Metamorphoses 1. 1-4. 4 Cf. Horace, Satires 1. 4 (above, p. 266).
5 The phrase recalls Ennius' epitaph: 'I flit alive on the lips of men.'
 LATIN CRITICISM OF POETRY
10 Tenedos and Mount Ida stand, so long as Simois rolls its swift waters
down to the sea. The poet of Ascra I wi111ive so long as the grape swells
for the vintage, so long as the corn falls beneath the curved sickle. Battus'
son will always be talked of throughout the world; he may not have
great natural talents-but his art is great. The buskin of Sophoc1es will
suffer no loss; Aratus will last as long as sun and moon. Menander will
survive for as long as the deceiving slave, the hard father, the shameless
bawd, the persuasive whore. Ennius, for all his lack of art, and Accius
20 of the spirited tongue have names that will never disappear. What age will
forget Varro,z the first ship, the golden fleece hunted by the hero Jason?
The poem of lofty Lucretius will perish only when one day brings the
destruction of the world. 3 Tityrus and the crops and the arms of Aeneas
will be read of while Rome is at the head of the world she triumphed over.
While there are still fire and bow to arm Cupid, elegant Tibullus' verses
will be learned. Gallus will be known to East and West alike, and with
30 Gallus his Lycoris. 4
Thus, though rocks and the patient plough-share are worn away by
Time, poetry is deathless. To poetry must yield kings and the triumphs
of kings, the generous strand of gold-bearing Tagus. Let the mob admire
worthless things; to me let fair-haired Apollo serve cups full of the water
of Castalia: may I bind my hair with myrtle that fears the frost, and be
constantly read by the anxious lover. Envy battens on the living: after
death it is quiet, when everyone is protected by the honour he has merited.
So, when the last fires have eaten my body away, I shall yet live-and the
best part of me will survive. s

I. THE TRUE POET

Petronius II 8
This is a rather later comment (we draw on Petronius again, below, p. 361); it
leads up, in the context, to an extract from an epic on the Civil War.
'Young men,' said Encolpius, 'many have been deceived by poetry.
Anyone who's fitted a verse out with feet, and woven a thought of some
delicacy into a period, imagines that he's straightway arrived in Helicon.
Thus, men tired out by the duties of the courts often betake themselves to
the tranquillity of poetry as to a safe haven, thinking it easier to construct
a poem than a controversia 6 decked out with vibrant little epigrams. But
I Hesiod. • Varro Atacinus. 3 Cf. Lucretius 5. 235 If.
4 Cf. Virgil, Eel. 10. s a. Horace, Odes 3. 30.
6 A rhetorical exercise. Cf. below, p. 344.
 THE TRUE POET 299
the more noble spirit loves health: the mind cannot conceive or bring
forth its offspring unless it is washed by a vast river of literature. One
must shrink from all so to say cheapness of vocabulary, selecting words
that are remote from the mob (your motto should be: "I hate the profane
crowd and keep it at a distance").' Further, one must take care that the
epigrams don't project obviously from the body of the work, but shine
with a colour that is woven into the texture. Witness Homer, and the
lyric poets, Roman Virgil and the studied felicity of Horace. The rest
either didn't see the route that leads to poetry, or saw it but feared to
tread it. Look at the immense theme of the civil wars. Whoever takes on
that without being immersed in literature must falter beneath the load.
Historical events are not the stuff of verses-that's much better dealt
with by historians. Instead, the free spirit must be plunged in complexi-
ties of plot, divine machinery, and a torrent of mythological material.
The result should be the prophecies of an inspired soul, not the exact
testimony of a man on oath.'
I Horace, Odes 3. I. I.
 7
GREEK AUGUSTANS

Most of this chapter is devoted to Dionysius of Halicarnassus; but we begin

with an extract from Strabo's Geography (written c. A.D. 17)

A. AGAINST ERATOSTHENES' VIEW THAT POETRY

IS ENTERTAINMENT

Strabo I. 2. 3-9
This is a statement of the Stoic position about the didactic value of poetry, and
an argument against the opinions of the great Alexandrian scholar and scientist,
Eratosthenes (c. 275-194 B.C.). See Grube 127 f., R. Pfeiffer, History o/Classical
Scholarship, Oxford, 1968, 166 f. .
1.2. 3 Every poet, according to Eratosthenes, aims at entertainment (psuck-
agjjgia), not instruction. The ancients held a different view. They regarded
poetry as a sort of primary philosophy, which was supposed to introduce
us to life from our childhood, and teach us about character, emotion, and
action in a pleasurable way. My own school, the Stoics, actually said that
only the wise man could be a poet. This is why Greek communities give
children their first education through poetry, not for simple 'entertain-
ment' of course, but for moral improvement. Even the musicians lay claim
to this, when they teach plucking the strings with the fingers, or playing
the lyre or aulos;1 they are, as they say, educators and correctors of
character. Nor is it only the Pythagoreans who can be heard asserting
this; Aristoxenus says the same. Homer himself regards bards as moral
guides-like the man who was set to guard Clytemnestra-
whom, when he sailed for Troy,
Atrides oft enjoined to watch his wife.
Aegisthus, let us recall, did not succeed in seducing Clytemnestra until
he had 'taken the bard to a desert island and left him there'; then he
took willingly home the willing lady.2
Q.!Iite apart from this, Eratosthenes contradicts himself. A little before
the statement just quoted, at the beginning of his Geography, he says that
everyone has always been ambitious to publish researches into this sort
I See below, p. 497.
• Odyssey 3. 267, f., 272.
 AGAINST ERATOSTHENES' VIEW 301
of question. Homer, for example, found room in his poetry for what he
had found out about Ethiopia and Egypt and Libya, and went into
extraordinary detail on Greece and adjacent areas; in phrases like 'Thisbe
of the many doves', 'grassy Haliartus', 'remote Anthedon', 'Lilaia by
Cephissus' spring', there is not an epithet without point.! Well, is the
poet who does this offering entertainment or instruction? Instruction, of
course; but-Eratosthenes might answer-what does not fall within
sense-experience is filled up, by Homer as by other poets, with fabulous
wonders. If this is so, one ought to say that poets say some things for
entertainment and some for instruction; Eratosthenes' conclusion, how-
ever, was that everything was for entertainment. He labours the point
further, asking what it contributes to the excellence of a poet to have
experience of many places or of generalship or farming or rhetoric or
whatever it is that people have wanted to foist on him. To try to foist
everything on him would be the act of a man whose zeal brings him to
grief: as Hipparchus says, to hang every variety of learning and skill
on the poet would be like hanging fruits it can't bear, apples and pears,
on an Attic begging-bush (eiresione).2 You may well be right about that,
Eratosthenes. But it is not right to take away all that learning and prove
poetry to be a mass of old wives' tales, in which any fiction suitable for
entertainment is allowed. Is no contribution made towards the excellence
of the poets' audiences? Surely listening to poets gives them a knowledge
of many places, and of generalship and farming and rhetoric?
Homer certainly attributes all such knowledge to Odysseus, whom he I. 2. 4
adorns above all men with every excellence. Odysseus
saw the cities of many men, and knew their minds;3
Odysseus
knew all manner of guile and cunning devices;4
Odysseus is the sacker of cities, the man who took Tray
by counsel and words and guileful art.5
According to Diomedes,
if he is with us, even from burning fire
we'd both return. 6
I Phrases from the 'Catalogue of Ships' in Iliad 2.

• A wreath with fruits on it, taken from door to door in begging-visits at harvest time.
3 Odyssey I. 3. 4 Iliad 3. 202.
5 A line quoted by other ancient authors but not in our texts of Homer: cf. Stobaeus
4. I3. 48 Hense. 6 Iliad 10. 246.
 302 GREEK AUGUSTANS
And he prides himself on farming skills; on harvesting-
in the meadow, if I had a curving sickle,
and you had one just like it- I
and on ploughing-
you'd see if I could cut a straight furrow. 2
Nor does Homer think so much of all this without finding support in
the whole educated world, which trusts his evidence as embodying right
judgement on the great contribution to wisdom made by such experience.
I. 2. 5 Rhetoric is wisdom relating to words; Odysseus displays this through-
out the poem-in the Testing, the Prayers, the Embassy, the passage
where Antenor says:
But when he let his great voice come up from his chest,
and the words like winter snows,
no man on earth could contend with Odysseus. 3
Can one believe that a poet who can introduce characters delivering
speeches, commanding armies, and performing other virtuous actions,
is himself a humbug and a mountebank, capable only of bewitching and
cajoling his audience without doing them good? Do we pretend that the
excellence of a poet lies in anything but his skill to represent life by the
medium of words? If this is so, how can he represent, if he is inexperienced
in life and foolish? The goodness of a poet is not like that of a carpenter
or a smith. Theirs has nothing grand or noble about it; the poet's is linked
with the man's-one cannot be a good poet without first being a good man.
I. 2. 6 So to deny the poet rhetoric is wholly to disregard our argument.
What is more a subject of rhetoric than diction (phrasis)? And what is
more closely connected with poetry? And who is better at diction than
Homer? 'But poetic diction is something different.' Yes, it is a different
species: just as, within. poetry, tragic diction differs from comic, and,
within prose, historical diction differs from forensic. Speech must be a
generic term, with metrical and prose speech as its species; and this surely
cannot be so unless rhetorical speech also is generic, and also diction and
excellence of speech.
In fact, prose speech of an elaborate kind is very much an imitation
of poetical. Poetical elaboration came into the world first and won fame.
Then writers like Cadmus, Pherecydes, and Hecataeus 4 imitated it,
keeping all the poetical qualities except metre. Their successors further
pruned away various poetic elements, and so brought prose down from
I Odyssey 18. 368 f. • Ibid. 375. 3 Iliad 3. 221.
• Early historians; cf. Hcrmogenes, below, p. 578.
 AGAINST ERATOSTHENES' VIEW 30 3
the heights to its present level. Similarly, one might say that comedy
took its form from tragedy and descended from tragic heights to its present
'prosaic' state (logoeides). The use by early writers of 'sing' for 'tell'
(phrazein) is also evidence of the same point, that poetry was the fount and
beginning of all elaborate diction and rhetoric. Poetry used music to help
her in performances; this was song, Ode, or lyrical verse\.hence the suffix
-ody in rhapsody, tragedy (tragodia), comedy (komodia).J-Ience, since 'to
tell' (phrazein) was first used of poetical diction, and poetry was accom-
panied by song, they could use 'sing' in the same sense as 'tell'. Then,
'sing' being misused for prose, the catachresis extended to the other term
also. The term 'pedestrian' (pezos) I for language without metre also
betrays the descent from a height or a vehicle to the ground.
Homer does not, as Eratosthenes says, speak only of places near at I. 2. 7
hand or in Greece. He gives also much accurate information of remote
places. He does indeed tell fables more than his successors, but they are
not all just wild fantasies. They are allegories or fictions or sermons
composed for instruction. This is especially so with the wanderings of
Odysseus. Eratosthenes is sadly astray about this, when he tries to prove
that Homer's interpreters and Homer himself are talking nonsense. This
is worth a fuller discussion.
For one thing, myths have been accepted not only by poets but, even I. 2. 8
earlier, by cities and lawgivers, for their utility. They have observed what
comes naturally to a reasoning animal. Man loves knowledge; the prelude
to this is a love of fable. This is the area in which children begin to listen
and increase their understanding. The reason is that fable is a novelty
of a kind-it does not tell of the ordinary, but of something new; novelty
and the previously unknown are pleasant; and this is what makes us fond
of knowledge. The addition of the wonderful and marvellous intensifies
the pleasure-and pleasure is the charm to make us learn. These entice-
ments are necessary in the early stages; as the child grows older, and his
mind strengthens and has no need of cajoling, he may be brought to the
knowledge of real things. In a sense, all ordinary uneducated people are
children, and love fable in the same way. Indeed, the same is true of the
partly educated, who have little strength of reason and preserve their
childhood habits.
The marvellous is both pleasing and frightening; both children and
adults need both these elements. We impress on children pleasing stories
to encourage them, frightening ones to deter them: Lamia, Gorgo,
Ephialtes, Mormolyce are such bogies. Most adult citizens, too, are
encouraged by pleasing myths, when they hear the poets relating heroic
deeds of mythology-the Labours ofHeracles or Theseus, or the honours
I Cf. below, p. 538.
 GREEK AUGUSTANS
given by the gods-or when they see paintings, statues, or sculptures
representing such mythical dramas. Similarly, they are deterred by
learning, by word or by visible images, of diVine punishments, terrors,
or threats, or even by coming to believe that people have encountered such
things. A mob of women and common folk cannot be summoned to piety
and holiness and belief by philosophical argument; superstition is the
only means, and this involves fables and marvels. The thunderbolt, the
aegis, the trident, the torches, the snakes, the thyrsus-Iances, are fables,
primitive theology. The founders of our societies, however, used these
tales as bogies for infantile minds. This characteristic of mythology, and
its value in the transition to communal and public life and the acquisition
of genuine knowledge, led the ancients to continue elementary education
right up to adult life. They thought that all ages could receive adequate
moral training through poetry. It was only later that history and philo-
sophy, as it now is, appeared on the scene. Philosophy has a small audience;
it is poetry, and above all Homer's, that is useful to the multitude and can
fill the theatres. The first historians and scientists, moreover, were mytho-
graphers.
1. 2. 9 It was because Homer regarded his fables as educative that he thought
so much of truth, while also 'placing therein' some falsehoods. l The truth
he himself accepted; the false he used to manage and command the
multitude.
Like a man that covers silver with gold,2
Homer added fable to real events, embellishing and adorning his style,
but looking to the same end as the historian or the dealer in facts. Thus
he added fabulous elements to the real event of the Trojan war, and so
also with Odysseus' wanderings. Idle fantasy on no foundation of fact
is not in Homer's way. No doubt it occurs to one that lies are more
convincing if truth is mixed with them; indeed Polybius says this in his
attack on Odysscus' wanderings. The line
he told many lies, resembling truth,3
points the same way-many lies, not all lies, for if it had all been lies it
could not have resembled truth. Homer therefore took his starting-points
from history. Aeolus, they say, dominated the islands round Lipara;
inhospitable Cyclopes and Laestrygones ruled the area of Etna and
Leontini. Hence the straits were inaccessible in those days; Charybdis
and Scyllaeum were haunts of pirates. We can give similar interpretations
of Homer's other descriptions. He knew, for example, that the Cimmerians
lived on the Cimmerian Bosphorus, in the northern darkness; so he
I Iliad 18. 541. 2 Odyssey 6. 232. 3 Ibid. 19. 203.
 AGAINST ERATOSTHENES' VIEW 30 5
moved them to a dark place near Hades, relevant to the mythology of the
Wanderings. Proof that he knew of them is supplied by the chroniclers
who date the Cimmerian invasion in or a little before the time of Homer.I

.B. ROME AND THE CLASSICAL ~EVIVAL

Dionysius of Halicarnassus, de antiquis oratoribus, praeJatio

Dionysius of Halicarnassus was in Rome by 30 B.C., and published his Roman

Antiquities 22 years later. As a historian he is learned but diffuse, writing in the
rhetorical tradition in a moderately classicizing style. As a critic he is the clearest
Greek exponent of Augustan attitudes to the past and confidence in progress.
Much of his writing is concerned with applying a rather mechanical system
of 'good qualities' (aretai) to the classical writers whom he holds up for imi-
tation; but his careful historical scholarship and his fine ear for the effect
of words give his work considerable distinction.
Text: vols. 5 and 6 of the Teubner Dionysius contain the critical works
edited by H. Vsener and L. Radermacher. There is no Loeb, nor any complete
English translation: but there are translations of Three Literary Letters and On
Literary Composition in the editions by W. Rhys Roberts, Cambridge, 1901,
1910.
See Grube 207 ff.; S. F. Bonner, Dionysius oJ Halicarnassus, Liverpool, 1939;
G. A. Kennedy, The Art oJ Persuasion in Greece, Princeton V.P., 1963,337 ff.

Dionysius' ambitious treatise on the classical orators began with a Preface, from
which this extract (5.3-6 Vsener-Raderrnacher) is taken, in which he condemns
Hellenistic writing as 'Asianic' and associates the revival of a purer style with the
domination (and good taste) of the Romans. a. Cicero, Orator 22-32 (above,
p. 237); Quintilian 12. 10 (below, p. 407).

We have need to be deeply thankful, my good Ammaeus, to the age we

live in, for the improved practice of many arts, and especially for the
great progress in the skills of oratory. In the period preceding our own,
the old, philosophical rhetoric collapsed under the insults and grievous
injuries it was forced to endure. Its slow wasting and expiration may be
said to have begun with the death of Alexander of Macedon; by our
own age it had almost completely disappeared. In its place arose another
kind of rhetoric, intolerable in its melodramatic shamelessness, tasteless,
innocent of philosophy or any other liberal study. Unnoticed and unde-
tected by the ignorant vulgar, this rhetoric not only enjoyed an abundance,
I The Cimrnerians lived north of the Black Sea until about 700 B.C. Then, under

pressure from the Scythians, they invaded Asia Minor and penetrated to the Ionian
coast. This would be a late date for Homer.
8143591 x
306 GREEK AUGUSTANS
luxury, and elegance unknown to its predecessor, but attached to itself the
honours and political supremacies which belonged by right to its philo-
sophical sister. With its crudeness and vulgarity, it ended by making
Greece like the household of some desperate roue, where the decent,
respectable wife sits powerless in her own home, while some nitwit of a
girl, there only to ruin the property, thinks she has a right to rule the
roost, and bullies the wife and treats her like dirt. Just so, in every city,
even-worst of all-in the highly cultivated, the old, native Attic Muse
was in disgrace, cast out from her inheritance, while another, sprung
from some Asian sewer the other day-some Mysian or Phrygian or, God
help us, Carian plague-claimed the right to govern the cities of Hellas,
and, in her ignorance and madness, to drive out her sane, philosophical
rival.
But it is not only just men, as Pindar says,! of whom 'time is the best
preserver', but arts and pursuits and indeed all good things. Our own age
is an illustration of this. Whether some god set it in train, or the revolution
of nature itself recalled the old order, or human impulse guided multi-
tudes to the same goal-whatever the cause, this generation has restored
to the old, respectable rhetoric her just honour, and stopped the young
fool enjoying a reputation which did not belong to her, and behaving
extravagantly in another's house. Nor is the fact that men have begun
to honour the better above the worse the only reason for praising this
age and its philosophers. It is true of course that 'well begun is half
done'; but the point is also that the change has been rapid and the progress
great. Apart from some few cities in Asia, where ignorance makes good
learning slow to penetrate, the liking for the vulgar, frigid, and tasteless
in literature has ceased. Those who formerly took pride in such things are
becoming ashamed and gradually deserting to the other side, apart from
a few incurables, while recent beginners are despising that style and
ridiculing the passion for it.
The cause and beginning of this great change lies in Rome. The
mistress of the world makes all other cities look to her. Her own men of
power, who govern their country on the highest moral principles, are
men of education and fine judgement. The discipline they impose has
strengthened the wiser elements of the community, and forced the foolish
to learn sense. In consequence, many serious historical works are now
being written, many elegant speeches published, while philosophical
treatises which are far from contemptible, and many other excellent works,
serious productions both of Romans and of Greeks, have appeared and
will no doubt continue to appear. Such is the change in such a short time
that it would not surprise me if the taste for the foolish style does not
I Fr. 159 Snell.
 ROME AND THE CLASSICAL REVIVAL
survive this one generation; when something once universal has been
contracted to such small properties, the step to its total disappearance is
no great one.

C. DEMOSTHENES

Dionysius' treatise on Demosthenes affords good instances ofhis critical methods.

We give chs. 1--,],8-22,23,32, with omissions.
Text: 5.127-252 Usener-Radermacher.
See Grube 222 ff., Bonner 60 if.
[Dionysius has just quoted Thucydides 3. 82-the famous description of
attitudes to be found in cities in a state of revolution. It is the most
striking example of the elaborate contortions of Thucydides' more abstract
style.]
Such was the abnormal, extraordinary, and elaborate language (texis), 1
filled out with every adventitious ornament, of which Thucydides is the
standard and model. None of his successors surpassed him or indeed
adequately imitated him.
The other manner-the plain, simple one, whose ornament and strength 2
are thought to lie in its resemblance to ordinary speech-has found many
powerful champions among historians, philosophers, and orators. Genea-
logists, authors of local histories, physical scientists, and composers of
moral dialogues, including the whole Socratic school apart from Plato, I
as well as virtually all writers of deliberative or forensic speeches, belong
to this persuasion. It was perfected and brought to the peak of its peculiar
excellence by Lysias, the son of Cephalus, a contemporary of Gorgias and
Thucydides. His intentions and abilities have been discussed in the
preceding book, and there is no need to repeat the discussion here. Suffice
it to say that these two writers span the entire scale of style, each having
chosen and perfected with superhuman zeal one of the two extremes.
Lysias' style is to Thucydides' in the field of oratorical language what
the highest note is to the lowest in music. Thucydides' style has power
to amaze, Lysias' to give pleasure. 2 The one can concentrate and make
tense, the other can relax and give ease. The one rouses us to strong
emotion (pathos), the other settles us in a calmer frame of mind (ethos).
To be forceful and compelling is a mark of Thucydides, as deceit and
evasion are of Lysias. Innovation and audacity characterize the historian's
style, safety and avoidance of risk the orator's ... [Text defective] .•.
Both styles are highly elaborate, and each has reached the perfection of
I Because of Plato's grandeur.
2 For this contrast cf. (e.g.) 'Longinus' I (below, p. 462).
 ~o8 GREEK AUGUSTANS
its peculiar elaboration; but the one tends to exaggerate, the other to
minimize. (pp. 130, 1-131, 17)

THE MIXED STYLE

3 The third species of style was the mixed one: acorn bination of the first
two. The first to make this combination and to bring the style to its
present degree of polish may have been Thrasymachus of ChaIcedon, as
Theophrastus says, or another; I cannot feel sure. However, it was the
Athenian orator Isocrates and the Socratic philosopher Plato who adopted,
developed, and virtually perfected it. Indeed, it would be very hard to
find anyone, apart from Demosthenes, who has done more than these two
writers either in the practice of useful and necessary qualities or in the
display of fine writing and accessory forms of ornament. Thrasymachus'
own style-supposing him to have been really the fountain-head of the
'middle style'-obviously has serious (and worthwhile) intentions; it
is a successful mixture and possesses the usefulness of both. But his
ability does not match his ambitions. (p. 132, 3-18)
[Dionysius quotes a prooemium to prove his point (fr. B I Diels-Kranz).
His criticism is too dependent on verbal effects to be given in English.]

ISOCRATES

4 I have previously discussed at greater length the style of Isocrates, a

writer of very high repute in Greece who produced many excellent pieces
of every type, though he never actually took part in any real case, private
or public. However, there will be no harm in repeating the main points
here.
Isocrates' style possesses the purity and precision of Lysias' ; no archaic,
newly-coined, or obscure words (g!ottematika), only the commonest and
most familiar. It has character, persuasiveness and charm, and avoids
metaphorical language, just like Lysias'. At the same time, it possesses
the grandeur, solemnity, and fine writing of Thucydides and Gorgias.
To convey to the hearer whatever information is needed with perfect
clarity, it employs the simple, unadorned Lysianic diction; to amaze by
the splendour of words and invest subjects with grandeur and solemnity,
it reproduces the extraneous ornamentation of the school of Gorgias.
Sometimes indeed the elegance leads into error. This is true of the imita-
tion of Gorgias' juvenile figures-excessive and inappropriate antitheses,
parisoses, and the like form an ugly blemish on the magnificent surface-
 DEMOSTHENES 309
and even more true of the pursuit of euphony and rhythmical elegance,
in the care taken to avoid the clash of vowels and the use of harsh sounds.
The periodic structure at which this kind of writing consistently aims is
not rounded and concentrated, but drawn-out and broad, curving into
many sinuosities like a meandering river. This results often in excessive
length and lack of sincerity, emotion, and life-in short, a style better
suited to panegyric than to the real conflicts of the courts. I shall give
examples shortly, in the appropriate place.

PLATO'S STYLE

Plato's style, too, also aims at being a mixture of the two manners-the 5
lofty (hupseJos) and the plain (ischnos)-as I said above; but it is not equally
felicitous in both. When it studies to be plain, simple, and unaffected
in diction, it is extraordinarily agreeable and winning. It is pure enough,
and transparent, like the most pellucid of streams, careful and delicate
as any of its rivals. It pursues normality of vocabulary, and clarity,
disdaining all accessory ornamentation. The patina of the past spreads
softly and unobtrusively over its surface; the fresh green bloom of the
springtime burgeons in it. It is as though a fragrant breeze were blowing
off some flowery meadow. The clear tone gives no hint of garrulity, the
cleverness no hint of theatricality. But when-and this often happens-
the style takes an uncontrollable plunge into fanciness and fine writing,
great deterioration ensues. Charmless, incorrect, and coarse, compared
with what it was, it now obscures and darkens what was plain, and drags
out the meaning to vast length when it ought to have been concentrated
in a few words. It spreads itself in tasteless periphrases, showing off a
vain wealth of vocabulary and seeking novel, foreign, and archaic terms
out of contempt for the literal and usual. Most of all is it at sea with tropes.
Rich in epithets, it indulges in and out of season in metonymy, and its
harsh metaphors fail to preserve the proper proportions between the
terms. It wraps itself up in lots oflong allegories, unending and untimely,
and makes a childish parade, with no sense of occasion, of nauseating
poetical, and more particularly Gorgianic, figures. In a word, as Deme-
trius ofPhaleron and many others have said before me-'it's not my
story'-there is a lot of hocus-pocus in Plato in this sort of thing.
I should not like anyone to think that in saying this I condemn all 6
Plato's unusual or elaborate style. I should not wish to be so ignorant or
insensitive as to hold such an opinion about so great a man. I am well
aware that he has written much on many subjects which is splendid and
admirable and the product of the highest abilities. What I want to show
 3 10 GREEK AUGUSTANS
is that he makes this kind of mistake ill his elaborations, and that he falls
below his true level when he aims at the grand or unusual in diction; he
excels himself, on the other hand, when he adopts a manner which is
slight and precise and gives the impression of being artless, though in fact
it has been worked over with simple and faultless artistry. His mistakes
indeed (if he makes any) are insignificant and not worth complaining
about; but I rather thought that so great a genius should have avoided
any possibility of criticism. I As a matter of fact, his contemporaries (whom
I need not name) find fault with him for the same reason. Indeed, he
does it himself-a brilliant stroke; for he seems to have perceived his
own lack of taste, and used the word 'dithyramb' of it-a true comment,
but one I should have been ashamed to make here on my own. The reason
for this decline, in my opinion, is that Plato was reared on Socratic
dialogues, which are very slight and precise in style, but instead of stick-
ing to them fell in love with the elaboration of Gorgias and Thucydides.
It was therefore only to be expected that he should acquire some of the
faults as well as the excellences which these writers' styles possess.
7 The example I offer of elevated language comes from one of Plato's
most famous works-the dialogue in which Socrates sets forth speeches
about Love to one of his friends, Phaedrus, after whom the book is
named. The opening scene has great elegance and charm: 'Where are
you going, Phaedrus, and where have you been?' 'I've been with Lysias,
Socrates, Cephalus' son. And now I'm going for a walk outside the wall.
I've been sitting down a long time there, since early morning.'2 This
style continues up to the reading of Lysias' speech and for some time
thereafter. Then, like a gale suddenly springing up out of calm and settled
weather, he throws his pure diction into turmoil, breaking into tasteless
poeticism. 'Hither, ye clear-toned (ligeiai) Muses-be it for your song you
are so called or for your Ligurian birth-come aid me in my tale.'3
Plato shall explain for himself that this is simply noise and dithyramb,
a vast clatter of words with very little meaning. Even in his explanation
of how eros comes to be the name of the emotion, he uses this manner:
'When irrational desire, tending to pleasure in beauty and in desires
akin to herself, overcomes the judgement that aims at good, the pull
towards beauty of body is mightily (errhomenos) strengthened (rhOstheisa)
and from this strength (rhOme) received the name eros.'4 But after a long
passage of this sort of periphrasis, expressing something which could
have been put adequately in a few words, Plato attacks his own bad taste:
'Listen to me quietly. This is a holy place, I fancy. Don't be surprised
if I am often bewitched as the argument proceeds. My present utterance
I This type of attack is answered by 'Longinus' 32-6 (below, p. 491).
• Phaedrus 227 a. 3 Ibid. 237 a. 4 Ibid. 238 b.
 DEMOSTHENES 311
is pretty dithyrambic." So there you are, most divine Plato; by 'none
other than ourselves condemned',2 we are convicted of being in love
with the sound and fury of the dithyramb! (pp. 134, 8-141, 9)
[Dionysius illustrates his point further by a detailed discussion of Phaedrus
246 e, comparing it with a passage of Pindar (Paean 9, I If.).]

DEMOSTHENES AND HIS MODELS

To avoid too long a discussion, I shall now leave Plato and proceed to 8
Demosthenes. It was in connection with him, after all, that I enumerated
what I considered the most important types of style, and the chief
practitioners in each. My list of writers was not exhaustive. Antiphon,
Theodorus, Polycrates, Isaeus, Zoilus, Anaximenes, and their contem-
poraries had no special novelty or peculiarity, but devised their own
styles out of these types and on these principles. Such was the state of
oratorical style which Demosthenes inherited, such the changes it had
undergone. Demosthenes, in succeeding these great predecessors, took
no single style or writer as his model, because he thought them all
incomplete and immature. Instead, he wove his own style out of an
eclectic choice of the best and most serviceable qualities of them all.
The result was a manner at once grand and simple, elaborate and un-
elaborate, unusual and usual, panegyrical and realistic, severe and smiling,
tense and relaxed, sweet and sharp, attractive in character (lthike) and
forcible in emotion (pathetike). He is like the mythical Proteus in the
old poets, who could take on any shape effortlessly; and who indeed, one
might plausibly conjecture, was not really a god or demigod deceiving
men's eyes but a clever trick of speech in a wise man, always deceiving
the ear-for it is impious to attribute low or indecent appearances to
gods or demigods.
A study of my examples will show whether this view of Demosthenes- 9
namely that his style is a combination of every other type-is the correct
one.
Consider first his modification of Thucydides' manner.
Men of Athens, many speeches are made virtually at every meeting
of the assembly about what Philip, ever since he made peace, has
been doing wrong, not only to you but to all Greece-and everyone, I
am sure, would have said, even if their acts belie their words, that one
ought to speak and act in such a way as to ensure that he is stopped
and punished for his arrogance; and yet I see the situation has gone so
I Ibid. 238 d. 2 Aeschylus, fr. 135 Nauck.
 312 GREEK AUGUSTANS
far, and is so far out of control, that I fear it may now be true to say,
however disagreeable, that if all the speakers had chosen to propose, and
all of you had chosen to vote for, the thing that was going to make
the situation the worst possible, it could not have been worse than it is.'

How do I think this style resembles that of Thucydides? In a feature

very distinctive of that writer: namely, that he does not express his
thoughts in a straightforward manner or simply and plainly, as others
do, but writes in a strange language, perverted from the usual and natural
to the unusual and unnatural. Let me explain further. Expressed simply
and straightforwardly the passage would have run: 'Men of Athens,
many speeches are made at almost every assembly about the wrong Philip
has done you and the other Greeks ever since he made the peace.' But
as it stands, (i) the use of 'virtually' instead of 'almost', (ii) the separation
of 'wrong' and 'Philip' so that the connection is completed only after a
long interval, and (iii) the phrase 'not only you but all Greece' for some-
thing which could have been expressed by a simple connective without
a negative-all this makes the language elaborate and abnormal. Similarly
with the following phrase. Expressed simply and without complexity
this would have run: 'And everybody says, even if some people's actions
belie their words, that one should say and do things which will ensure
that he is stopped and punished for his arrogance.' But the actual ex-
pression 'everyone, I am sure, would have said' abandons the direct
path of speech. 'I am sure' does not need to be inserted, and 'would have
said' for 'says' gives an impression not of simplicity of language but of
abnormality and elaboration. (pp. 143, 1-146, 9)
[Detailed discussion of further passages (PIziIippics 3. 13, Midias 69)
follows. This is hardly intelligible except in Greek, as the argument hangs
on points of word- and clause-order.]
9 There are innumerable such cases in Demosthenes, especially in the
speeches against Philip; indeed, there is no deliberative speech without
these characteristics except On Halonnesos,2 and there is a good deal of
the same sort in the forensic speeches, at least those concerned with
public affairs. Indeed, this is the clearest diagnostic sign of Demosthenes'
style in these speeches and in the public harangues. One may of course
make mistakes of attribution because he employs this manner in differing
degrees according to the nature of the subject and the dignity of the
persons involved. This is only to be expected.
I Philippics 3. I.
2 [Demosthenes], Oration 7-not in fact by Demosthenes, but probably by Heges-
ippus, as some ancient scholars noted. Dionysius evidently thinks it genuine.
 DEMOSTHENES 31 3
Let us now state the difference between Thucydides' style (lexis) and 10
that of Demosthenes formed on the same pattern (charakter). This is
necessary for our argument.
It is certainly not a matter of quality. They are both trying to do the
same thing, namely to vary normal usage and achieve special and unusual
effects. It is rather a matter of quantity, and still more of occasion.
Thucydides uses elaboration indiscriminately and is its servant rather
than its master; he does not understand how to seize the opportunity
for it neatly. This is often the source of his error. Hence the extreme
effort for novelty makes his style obscure, and failure to recognize oppor-
tunities makes it unpleasing. Demosthenes, on the other hand, aims at
giving enough and not too much; he calculates the right moment, and
elaborates his style for use, not, merely, like the historian, to produce a
beautiful object to preserve for ever. Thus without abandoning clarity-
the first requisite of real-life oratory-he manages to give also the im-
pression of being vigorous (deinos), which he is obviously most concerned
to make.
Such are the effects Demosthenes attained from the elevated, elaborate,
devious, abnormal style whose force lay entirely in its vigour, and from
his imitation of the master of this manner, Thucydides.
(pp. 148, 3-149, 13)
[Dionysius now turns to the influence of Lysias and the plain style on
Demosthenes. He quotes a lengthy narrative from Lysias (fr. 232 S.) and
one from Demosthenes (54. 3-9). One could hardly tell, he says, who wrote
which.]
What then is the difference? How can one tell, when Demosthenes 13
descends to the manner of bare necessity, in what way he is superior to
Lysias in style? You expect the answer to this question too, of course.
There is, as I said, a sort of natural elegance and grace all over Lysias'
writing, in which he excels every orator save Demosthenes. It carries
him, like a southerly breeze, through his prooemium and narrative;
but it becomes faint and weak when he gets to the arguments and proofs,
and fails altogether in the emotional parts of the speech, having little
tension (tonos) or strength. In Demosthenes, on the other hand, the
tension is strong and the charm has its own momentum, so that in the
latter his steady and measured movement makes him superior, while on
the point of tension there is just no comparison.
I add a second observation which may help in recognizing Demo-
sthenes' style when it comes down to bare bones like this. Even if it strips
off novelty, wealth of vocabulary, and all accessory forms of ornament,
it does not strip off grandeur or tension; this last is irremovable, whether
 GREEK AUGUST ANS
it is in fact natural or acquired by practice, though of course it does admit
moments both of relaxation and of added intensity as appropriate.
(pp. 157, 12-158, ID)

THE MIDDLE STYLE

14 Of the type of oratory which lies between the two extremes, which
Demosthenes inherited in an imperfect state from Isocrates, his pre-
decessor Thrasymachus, and Plato, and which he perfected to the limit
of human capacity, many examples can be found in the speeches against
Philip and the other public orations, but the most numerous and best
instances are in the defence of Ctesiphon, the speech which in my
opinion employs the finest and most controlled stylistic art. If 1 had time,
I would set out the actual passages; but with many essential topics still
to cover, 1 can do no more here than present a few brief examples,
relying on my readers' knowledge.
For example, the following passage from the attack on Aeschines is
in the middle style: 'It is always right, men of Athens, to hate and punish
traitors and bribe-takers. On this occasion it is especially right and it
will do a service to all mankind. A terrible and dire disease, men of
Athens, has invaded Greece; it needs great good luck and great effort
on your part .. ,'1 (pp. 158, 13-159, 13)
IS This is the style (I approve most). If anyone cannot accept my reason
for not putting Thucydides' extravagances and abnormalities first or
regarding the sovereign virtue of style as lying in the thin conciseness of
Lysias, here is my reply.
People who attend assemblies, courts, and other gatherings where
public speaking is necessary are not all clever or exceptional or possessed
of Thucydidean intelligence. Nor yet are they all plain folk with no ex-
perience of the art of noble speech. Some indeed have come in from
work on their farms or at sea or from some artisan's trade, and these are
certainly better pleased by a simpler and more everyday way of talking.
Precision, special elegance, anything that sounds unusual or unfamiliar,
annoys them and distresses their ears just as really unpleasant food or
drink turns the stomach. Others are used to public life, they come from
the squares and streets and have had a regular education. These cannot
be addressed in the same way. They need elaborate, special, recherche
language. Of course they are not as numerous as the others-they are a
tiny fraction of the whole, as everybody knows-but they are not to be
I 19. 258. Other examples follow: 23. 65, 20. 68, IS. 60.
 DEMOSTHENES 315
despised on that account. Now the speech that aims at the educated few
will not be convincing to the ignorant majority, and the speech that
pleases the multitude of ordinary folk will be despised by the more sophis-
ticated. The speech that tries to win both audiences will be less likely
to fail in its purpose. This means the style composed of the two extreme
styles; and this is why I regard a style so constructed as the most moderate,
and am particularly willing to accept writing that avoids the extremes of
the two manners.

DEMOSTHENES' ADVANCE OVER ISOCRATES

I said at the beginning that in my opinion Isocrates and Plato, the prin- 16
cipal exponents of this style, developed it to a very high standard, but
did not perfect it. I undertook then to show that it was Demosthenes
who completed the task. To this point I now proceed, putting forward
passages of admitted excellence from both authors, and comparing them
with passages of Demosthenes on the same themes, so that the intentions
and abilities of the writers reveal themselves by the searching test of
similar subjects.
First, Isocrates. Let us take a passage of acknowledged charm from 17
the oration On the Peace.! Isocrates himself quotes the passage in the
Antidosis. No doubt he was proud of it. It is a comparison between the
political scene in olden days and the present time, between ancient and
modern achievements. Isocrates approves the old and criticizes the
new. He shows that the responsibility for the deterioration lies with the
demagogues, who, instead of introducing good measures, proposed only
what would give pleasure to the masses. The comparison is lengthy: I
quote only the most important part.
What foreign visitor, not corrupted as we are but coming fresh to the
situation, would not think us lunatic and insane? We take pride in the
deeds of our ancestors and think it right to praise Athens for what she
did in those days, yet we act ourselves not as they did, but in a quite
opposite way. They fought the barbarians on behalf of Greece, we have
brought men from Asia, where their living came from, to attack Greeks.
They liberated and aided Greek cities and so were thought deserving
of hegemony; we enslave and do the reverse of what they did, yet grow
angry that we are refused the honour they enjoyed. How far we fall
short in thought and deed of the men of those days! They found the
courage to leave their home on behalf of the safety of Greece; they
fought by land and sea, they triumphed. We are not even ready to court
I Isocrates 8..41-50.
 31 6 GREEK AUGUSTANS
danger for our own greed, but seek universal rule without being prepared
to serve as soldiers. We go to war againstthewholeworld, but instead of
disciplining ourselves for it we train a horde of refugees, deserters, and
criminals who will join the other side the moment they are offered
higher wages. And yet we love them very dearly: if our own children do
wrong we should not want to suffer on their behalf, but if these creatures
steal and murder and flout the laws and complaints fall upon us, we feel
no anger-indeed we enjoy hearing that they have done this kind of
thing. Such a pitch of folly we have reached that we go without our daily
needs while endeavouring to maintain mercenaries, and distress and
over-tax our own allies to pay these enemies of mankind their wages. The
measure of our inferiority not only to those of our ancestors whose fame
stood high, but to those who earned unpopularity too, is that they, when
they resolved on war, though the acropolis was full of silver and gold,
nevertheless thought it right to risk their own lives for their decisions,
while we, impoverished and numerous as we are, hire our armies like
the king of Persia. In those days, if we manned triremes, we embarked
the foreigners and slaves as sailors, and sent citizens under arms; now
we use the foreigners as soldiers and make the citizens row. Con-
sequently, when we make a landing in enemy territory, the would-be
masters of Greece disembark with their bench-cushions, while the
characters I have been describing face the foe in arms.
But perhaps seeing domestic affairs well managed may give us con-
fidence about the rest? But is not this the area where indignation is most
in place? We claim to be indigenous, we say that this is the oldest city in
Greece-and, when we ought to offer an example of good and orderly
government, we in fact manage our affairs less efficiently and more con-
fusedly than recent foundations. We take pride, and find cause for boast-
ing, in being of better race than others-and yet we share our racial
superiority with others more readily than the Triballoi or the Lucanians
do their inferiority of race.

18 Such is what is reputed to be Isocrates' best manner. It deserves admira-

tion on many counts. Exceptionally pure in vocabulary and precise in
expression, it is lucid and normal and embraces all the excellences that
most make for clarity of expression. Moreover, it possesses many of the
accessory ornaments. It is elevated, serious, dignified, and at the same time
pretty, pleasant, and elegant to an adequate degree-though not in this
respect perfect, for there are many ways, and those not unimportant,
in which it might be criticized as deficient. First, conciseness. In the
search for clarity, this style often neglects moderation. One ought to
think of both at once. Secondly, concentration. It is supine, sinuous,
 DEMOSTHENES 31 7
over-abundant in thought, like the styles of the historians. The style of
real-life oratory, on the other hand, must be well-turned, shapely, and
free from loose folds.
Isocrates has other failings too. He lacks boldness in metaphorical
ornament, fears the sound of his own voice, and has no powerful tones.
Athletes of real-life eloquence need a strong grip and an inescapable
hold. He is incapable of arousing in his audience the passions he wants.
Often, he does not even want, because he is convinced that the orator
has only to express good thoughts and good character. Both these, one
must admit, he achieves. But the fact is that the most important thing
for an orator who is to persuade a people or a court is to move the audience
to emotion. Nor does he invariably achieve propriety, thanks to his theory
that language ought always to be florid and ostentatious, pleasure being
the all-important factor in literature. But not all subjects call for the
same language; there is a vocabulary appropriate to the thought, just as
there is clothing appropriate to the body. To charm the ear by constant
selection of soft and euphonious words, to expect every sentence to
end in a well-formed periodic harmony, and to adorn one's style with
ostentatious figures, is not always a useful course. Epic poets, tragedians,
and serious lyricists teach us this. To them, the gift of pleasure is less
important than the gift of truth.
An examination of the passage just quoted will readily confirm whether 19
these reflections are correct and whether Isocrates really is deficient in
these qualities.
To begin at the beginning: the first thought could have been expressed
in a few words, but he lengthens it out by writing round and round it and
saying the same thing two or three times over. In the first colon, 'what
foreign visitor' includes the idea 'not corrupted as we are but coming
fresh to the situation': the two expressions come to the same thing. Again,
'we take pride in the deeds of our ancestors' includes 'we think it right
to praise Athens for what she did in those days': 'to take pride in' and
'praise' are one and the same. Yet again, 'we act not as they did' includes
'in a quite opposite way' ; either of the two expressions would have done by
itself. The two sentences in fact would have made a single period, briefer
and more pleasing: 'What foreign visitor would not think us mad,
taking pride as we do in the deeds of our ancestors, but acting in no way
as they did?' Many such inessential supplementations are to be found, in
almost every period, which detract from the moderation of the expression
but add to the elegance of the period.
His style, then, is long-winded. How does it also come to be flaccid
and ill-organized? 'They liberated and aided Greek cities and so were
thought deserving of hegemony; we enslave and do the reverse of what
 3I B GREEK AUGUSTANS
they did, and yet grow angry that we are refused the honour they enjoyed.'
These folds could be gathered in and the whole rounded off better thus:
'They liberated and preserved Greece and so advanced to hegemony;
we enslave and destroy and yet grow angry if we do not win the same
reward.' The following thought also is flatly expressed and ill-organized.
'How far we fall short in thought and deed of the men of those days!
They found the courage to leave their home on behalf of the safety of
Greece; they fought by land and sea; they triumphed.' This flaccidity
could be given tension by saying: 'How inferior we are to our ancestors!
They left their country to save Greece; they fought by land and sea, they
triumphed.' One could find innumerable examples of this weakness too,
for with few exceptions, where conciseness is the result of accident rather
than of intention, all his writing is of this kind.
20 Where then does it lack tension and a firm hold? In the appending to
the passage just quoted of the thought that follows: 'The measure of our
inferiority ... the king of Persia'. How could this have been put more
compactly? 'But, though we are inferior to our ancestors in this respect,
we may well be superior in others-not indeed to the famous among them
-that is inconceivable-but to the disliked. Who does not know that
they filled the acropolis with treasure, and, so far from conveying the
common wealth to the enemy as pay, themselves contributed and on
occasion served in person, while we, poor and numerous as we are,
fight with mercenary forces like the king of Persia ?'
The lack of life and emotion in his style, and its poor share of spirit-
the most important quality of all in writing meant for real-life contests-
need, I imagine, no special mention. Of the many possible examples, I
content myself with a single thought. The antithesis just discussed is
followed by another, in the passage: 'In those days ... face the foe in
arms'. I find no fault here with the writer's intention-the thought is a
noble one and capable of rousing emotion-but I do criticize the smooth-
ness and softness of the language. It ought to have been rough, sharp,
delivering something like a blow in the face; instead it is fluid, even,
gliding noiselessly through the ear like olive-oil, in the hope no doubt of
charming and pleasing the hearer.
Then what about all those elaborate figures? Are they well fitted for
battle? Do they enable the style to rouse the audience's emotions? Far
from it. These puerile balances and frigid antitheses and so forth are
the very things that most destroy the force of the style and disgust the
ear. For example, in the passage under discussion, the whole subject
is an antithesis, the individual thoughts are set out one against another,
and each of the periods is antithetically constructed, so that the hearers
become sated and disgusted. Let me explain. Both the beginnings and
 DEMOSTHENES 31 9
the continuations of each thought, period, and point made are of the form
'they ... we .. .', 'those ..• we .. .', 'then ... now', 'on the one hand •..
on the other hand'. This cycle continues from beginning to end. Alter-
nations, variations, and elaborations of figures, designed to relieve the
monotony of the thought, are nowhere to be found.
(pp. 160, 15-172,3)
[For contrast, Dionysius quotes Demosthenes, Third Olynthiac 23-32, as
an example of variety and energy.]
I shall describe what effect these two styles have on me personally; 21
but I suspect that what I feel is a universal experience and not one
peculiar to myself.
When I read a speech of Isocrates, whether one of those written for 22
law-court or assembly, or one intended for a ceremonial occasion, I feel
morally improved, and very stable and settled in mind; the effect is like
that of hearing spondaic music or Dorian and enharmonic melodies. I
But when I pick up a speech by Demosthenes, I feel inspired;z this way
and that goes my mind, caught in the grip of a succession of emotions-
incredulity, anxiety, fear, contempt, hatred, pity, favour, anger, jealousy,
every passion that can dominate the human mind. I feel just like the
initiates in the rites of the Great Mother or the Corybantes or some
similar cult, who achieve all their varied visions by being affected by
smells, if that is what it is, or sounds, or the spirit of the divinities. I have
sometimes wondered what the audiences of those days must have felt
when they heard Demosthenes speak. When we, who are so remote in
time and not involved emotionally in the events, are so seduced and
won over and made to go wherever the argument leads, what was the
orator's effect on the Athenians and the other Greeks in the midst of their
own real conflicts? He was the speaker, his the thoughts. He used his
standing among them to emphasize his personal feeling and emotion.
And he coloured and adorned everything by appropriate delivery-a
sphere in which he was a superb practitioner, as is universally agreed and
indeed is obvious from the passage cited above. No one could go through
that piece as if it were merely attractive reading-matter. It teaches us
itself how it ought to be delivered-with irony, anger, and indignation,
frightening, cajoling, admonishing, exhorting, making the whole mean-
ing plain by the manner of delivery. If the spirit enshrined in his books
has such strength and is so seductive after so many years, it must indeed
have been a supremely wonderful thing when the speeches were first
given.
Ii.e. solemn but not disturbing music.
Plato (Menexenus 235 b) makes Socrates declare (ironically) that he feels a greater
2
man for hearing the orators, and 'loses himself' for a few days.
 320 GREEK AUGUSTANS

DEMOSTHENES AND PLATO

23 But I must not allow prolonged discussion of these matters to compel

me to omit any part of the subject which remains. I shall therefore now
leave Isocrates and the style of his school, and turn to Plato. Here I shall
state my opinion with frankness, neither adding to Plato's reputation nor
subtracting from the truth. This course is particularly forced on me be-
cause some people claim him as the supreme master, among philosophe~s
and orators, of the stylistic expression of his material, and urge us to
regard him as the model and standard of a style at once pure and forceful.
Indeed, I have heard it said that if the gods use the language of men, the
king of the gods must talk like Plato. I shall answer these assumptions
and extravagances with my natural sincerity and straightforwardness;
they are the notions of half-educated persons who neither know nor are
capable of understanding what noble writing really is.
Let me first explain how I think the examination ought to be made.
I am a great admirer of Plato's skill in the dialogues, especially in those
where he maintains the Socratic manner, as in the Philebus.' But I have
no liking for his tastelessness in handling accessory ornament, as I said
before-and certainly none for the occasions when he embarks on
oratorical subjects, and tries to compose an encomium, a censure, an
accusation, or a defence. He is then a changed man and a disgrace to
his philosophical standing. I have often thought of applying to these
works the words of Homer's Zeus to Aphrodite:
The works of war are not for you, my child-
go and attend to the charming works of love. 2
'The works of love' correspond to the Socratic dialogues. This present
business shall be the concern of statesmen and orators. I am happy to
make all scholars the impartial judges of my thesis-all, that is, except
the ambitious who judge things by repute and not by fact. I could not
approve the practice, which some pursue, of choosing the worst things
out of his whole works and setting against them the best specimen of
Demosthenes. The right procedure seemed rather to be to set side by
side and judge the most celebrated passages of both writers. This is
what I shall do. (pp. 176, 7-179, 23)
[Dionysius chooses, and analyses in some detail, a passage of Menexenus,
which he takes as a serious piece of oratory, though Plato probably intended
a parody of the customary Funeral Speeches on Athenian war-dead. The
I An odd choice. Though the subject is an ethical, and so characteristically Socratic,

one, the style is contorted in the way that we find in other late dialogues.
2 Iliad 5. 428 f.
 DEMOSTHENES 321
cntlClSDlis in the same vein as the passage on lsocrates. For contrast,
Dionysius takes On the Crown 199-209. His general conclusion is as follows:]

CONCLUSION

Anyone of moderate literary sensibility, free from malice and con- 32

tentiousness, must admit that the difference between these passages is as
great as that between arms used in war and those carried in processions,
between real objects and reflections, between bodies bred in sun and toil
and the physique of those who take their ease in the shade. Plato's style
aims at nothing but prettiness; hence its beauty is not genuine. Demo-
sthenes' seeks only what conduces to utility and realism. Plato's style
could well be compared to a flowery field, with pleasant resting-places
and short-lived delights; Demosthenes' to a rich and fertile soil with no
lack of the necessities of life or of the superfluities that give pleasure. I
could easily enumerate the individual successes of the two and show the
superiority of Demosthenes not only in point of realism and suitability
for real-life contests (this does not need elaboration) but in the sphere of
metaphor, where Plato's skill is particularly praised. But I have many
possible topics before me, and postpone this one for a future occasion,
if time allows: I shall not hesitate to write a separate book on it.
(pp. 200, 21-201, 22)

D. ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS

De compositione verborum
This treatise (called conventionally De compositione verborum, and by W. Rhys
Roberts (ed. 1910) On Literary Composition) is Dionysius' most original work
not only in content but in its own noticeably mannered style. He distinguishes,
on the analogy of the 'three styles', three types of verbal structure-harmoniai
or suntheseis, the two terms being apparently synonyms. The following extracts
(1-13, 20, 21-68, with omissions) illustrate both his general principles and
(so far as it can be seen in an English version) his detailed criticism.
See Bonner 71 ff.; Grube 217lf.; L. P. Wilkinson, Golden Latin Artistry,
Cambridge, 1962, 10, 22lf., 39 ff. etc.

INTRODUCTION: THE VALUE AND DIFFICULTY OF

THE SUBJECT

'And this, my dear child, is my present to you',' as Helen says in Homer 1

when she entertains Telemachus. This is your first birthday since you
1 Odyssey 14. 125.
Y
322 GREEK AUGUSTANS
came to man's estate; and to me it is the happiest of days, and one that I
delight to honour. It is no 'work of my hands' that I send you, as Helen
said when she gave the boy the robe, nor is it only 'against the season
of marriage' or a gift to give joy to a bride. It is the product and child of
my studies and my brain, a possession and a thing of service against all
the needs in life that involve speech. If I have any right understanding
in the matter, nothing can be more necessary than my present under-
taking, both to all students of practical oratory, of whatever age and
disposition, and especially to you young beginners, my dear Metilius
Rufus, son of my excellent and much respected friend.
The study of any kind of speech involves, one may say, two kinds of
exercise, one concerning thought and the other concerning words. The
former touches more on that department of rhetoric which deals with
content, the latter on that which deals with language. Aspirants to elo-
quence necessarily pursue these two branches equally, but the knowledge
which leads to content and good judgement regarding content is slow of
acquisition and difficult for the young; indeed it cannot be expected of the
beardless youth, because it belongs rather to the mature understanding,
disciplined by later life, nurtured by long research into words and facts
and by long experience of misfortune, both one's own and others'.
Linguistic taste, on the other hand, blossoms in the young. Every youth's
mind is excited by the charms of language and acquires irrational, almost
inspirational, impulses in this direction. The first instruction and train-
ing needs therefore to be careful and intelligent, if the beginner is to be
saved from uttering 'what words soever come to a blundering tongue'! and
putting phrases together at random, and made both to select a pure and
noble vocabulary and to deploy it by an arrangement which combines
dignity with charm. It is on this subject, therefore, the first the young
student should pursue, that I now 'send you a song for love', 2 a treatise
on the arrangement of words. This is a topic which few of the older
writers of textbooks on rhetoric or logic thought of discussing, and no one,
r am sure, has yet discussed it adequately or worked it out in detail.
If I have leisure, I will write you another book on word-selection, so that
you may have a complete treatment of the department of rhetoric relating
to language. Expect it this time next year, if the gods keep me safe and
healthy-if indeed it is my destiny to enjoy these blessings. For the present,
pray accept this work, which the promptings of providence put into my
head to write.
Here, then, are the headings under which my discussion falls:
What is the nature of arrangement? Wherein lies its power? What
I Unknown lyric poet. 2 Philoxenus, fr. 6 Bergk.
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS 32 3
are its aims and how does it achieve them? What are the characteristics
of each variety of it, and which (in my view) is the best?
What is that poetic quality, smooth on the tongue and sweet to the
ear, which prose acquires as a result of arrangement? What, too,
is the force in a poetical manner that imitates unaffected speech and
achieves great success in the imitation?
By what practices can that quality and that force be attained?
These, in broad outline, are the questions I wish to discuss. Now I begin.
Arrangement (sunthesis) is, as its name implies, a placing (thesis) of 2
the parts of speech-what some call the elements of language-beside
one another. Theodectes, Aristotle, and the philosophers of those days
took the number of these parts of speech to be three: nouns, verbs, and
conjunctions. Their successors, especially the leaders of the Stoic sect,
made it up to four, separating 'articles' from 'conjunctions'. Subsequent
writers distinguished 'appellatives' from 'substantive nouns' and so made
five, while a sixth element was added by the distinction made by some
between nouns and pronouns. The number has been multiplied: adverbs
are distinguished from verbs, prepositions from articles, participles
from appellatives, and so on. It would be a long story.!
Now it is the combination and juxtaposition of these primary parts of
speech-three or four or however many there are-which produces what
are called cola; the connection of these in turn completes the period;
and periods make up the entire discourse. The function of arrangement
is thus to place words properly in relation to each other, to give cola their
appropriate connection, and to articulate the discourse properly in
periods. It is the second main subject in order under the general head of
language-word-selection comes first and has a natural priority-but the
charm, conviction, and force which arrangement imparts are of con-
siderably greater importance. Word-selection is a complex and extensive
subject, much discussed by philosophers and orators; arrangement comes
second, and has had nothing like so much discussion. Nevertheless, it
should not be regarded as paradoxical that it possesses force and power
enough to put all the works of the other into the shade. We must remem-
ber what happens in other spheres. In arts which require materials of
different kinds and make a combined product of them-building, car-
pentry, embroidery, and the like-the capacities of arrangement come
second in order to those of selection, but they have greater importance.
It is not absurd that the same should be true of speech; however, there
is no harm in offering evidence for this, so as not to appear to take dis-
putable propositions for granted.
I For the development of grammar, see G. Murray, Greek Studies, Oxford, 1946,

171--{)1; Pfeilfer, History o/Classical Scholarship, Oxford, 1968, esp. 203 If., 272.
 32 4 GREEK AUGUSTANS
3 Every expression by which a thought is signified is either metrical
or unmetrical. Either kind, if given beautiful rhythmical form' (harmonia),
is able to beautify either metre or prose. Thrown out ignorantly and ran-
domly, either kind ruins even the value of the thought it expresses.
Many poets, many historians, philosophers and orators, have chosen
with care and taste beautiful words appropriate to their needs, but have
wasted their efforts by giving them a careless and tasteless rhythmical
form. Others, taking vulgar and contemptible words but arranging them
with charm and distinction, have invested their writing with great elegance.
The relation of arrangement to selection seems in a sense analogous to
that of words to thought. Just as there is no profit in a good idea unless
one gives it the setting of fine words, so it is no use finding pure and
elegant expressions unless one gives them the appropriate setting of
rhythmical form.
In order not to give the impression of putting forward statements
without demonstration, I will try to show by a practical example why I
am convinced that arrangement is a higher and more significant study than
selection. I shall offer a preliminary taste both of poetry and of prose.
Let us take Homer as our poet, and Herodotus as our prose-writer. They
offer material enough for forming an opinion about the rest.
Odysseus, in Homer, is lodging with the swineherd. He is about to
have breakfast, according to the old custom, around dawn. Telemachus
appears, returning from his visit to the Peloponnese. It is a scene of
ordinary life, beautifully expressed. The lines themselves will show where
the excellence of the style lies: 2
Meanwhile, in the hut, Odysseus and the swineherd made breakfast;
it was dawn, and they lit the fire.
They had sent out the herdsmen with the pigs to pasture.
Now on Telemachus the noisy dogs fawned, they did not bark
at his approach. Odysseus noticed the dogs whining,
and there was a sound of footsteps.
He spoke at once to Eumaeus, who was just by.
'Eumaeus, some friend must be coming
or someone well-known; the dogs are not barking,
they are whining, and I hear the sound of footsteps.'
He had not finished speaking, when his own son stood at the door.
Up leapt the swineherd, surprised; the bowl,
in which he was mixing the bright wine, fell from his hands.
He ran to meet his master.
I Or 'sound fonn', if 'rhythmical' narrows the meanillg too much.
a Odyssey 16. 1-16.
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS
He kissed him on the head, on both his eyes,
on both his hands. His tears fell warm and fast.
I am s~re it would be universally acknowledged that this passage attracts
and charms the ear and is not inferior to the most agreeable piece of
poetry. But where does its persuasiveness lie? What makes the piece what..
it is? Is it the selection of words or the arrangement? No one, lam'
convinced, could attribute it to the former: the whole context is made up
of the most commonplace and undistinguished words, which any farmer
or seaman or artisan-anyone who took no trouble to speak well-might
have found ready to hand. Without the metre, they will seem poor and
unattractive; there are no fine metaphors, no hypallages, no catachrese~;
no trope of any kind-and not even any obscure archaic words or foreign
or newly-coined terms. What alternative have we, then, but to attribute
the beauty of the piece to the arrangement? Homer, as everybody of
course knows, contains countless such examples. This one suffices for
the present occasion, since all we want is a reminder.
(pp. 3, 5- 12 ,3)
[Dionysius then gives a prose example, Herodotus 1. 8-IO-the story of
Gyges and Candaules. He follows this with some poetical examples in-
tended to show how a change of order will produce different rhythms and
effects. We omit this, as it is almost impossible to translate adequately and
because it adds little that is new to the argument.]

'ARRANGEMENT' IN PROSE: A NOVEL SUBJECT

To make it easier to see how prose can be affected, like verse, by a change 4
of arrangement, though the words remain the same, I will take the begin-
ning of Herodotus' history, because many people know it well, changing
only the dialect:
Croesus was a Lydian by race, the son of Alyattes, and the ruler of tribes
west of the Halys, which flows from the south between Syria and Paph-
lagonia and debouches in the north in the sea called the Euxine. l
Change the rhythmical form, and the shape of the sentence will no longer
be sinuous and suitable to history, but in the direct manner of the law-
court:
Croesus was the son of Alyattes, by race a Lydian, and ruler of the west
of the Halys tribes: the Halys flowing from the south, between Syria and
Paphlagonia, into the sea called the Euxine debouches in the north.
I Herodotus I. 6.
326 GREEK AUGUSTANS

This style may be thought not very different from that of this passage of
Thucydides:
Epidamnus is a city on the right as you enter the Ionian gulf; neigh-
bouring it are the Taulantioi, barbarians, an Illyrian tribe.!
Next I am going to change the same passage round and give it another
shape. Thus:
Of Alyattes, the son was Croesus, by race a Lydian, and west of Halys
ruler of the tribes; the Halys from the south flowing between Syria and
Paphlagonia towards the north debouches in the so-called Euxine Sea.
This is Hegesianic arrangement, cheap, vulgar, effeminate. Hegesias z is
high priest of all this nonsense:
After a good feast a good we celebrate again;
From Magnesia I come, the great, a man of Sipylus;
Not a small drop into the Thebans' water spat Dionysus; sweet it is,
but makes men mad.
Let this suffice for examples. I think I have now made my point clear,
that arrangement has a greater effect than word-selection. It would be
fair to make a comparison with Homer's Athena, who made Odysseus
look different on different occasions, now small and wrinkled and ugly
like a poor beggar or an old man,3
now, after another touch from the same wand,
taller and stronger to see; and from his head
made thick locks tumble, like the hyacinth flower. 4
Similarly arrangement, taking the same words, makes thoughts seem at
one moment ugly, low, and beggarly, and at another lofty, rich, and
beautiful. Skilful arrangement of words is, indeed, what most dis-
tinguishes poet from poet and orator from orator. The ancients, almost
all of them, took great pains about this. This is why their poems and lyrics
and prose are so beautiful. Of their successors, only a few took trouble;
and in the end the subject fell into total neglect, and nobody thought it
necessary or indeed contributory in any way to the beauty of writing.
They therefore left behind them writings which no one can bear to read
to the end. I am referring to Phylarchus, Douris, Polybius, Psaon,
Demetrius of Callatis, Hieronymus, Antigonus, Heraclides, Hegesianax,
and innumerable others. s If I mentioned all their names, 'the day would
I Thucydides I. 24. • Cf. 'Longinus' 3 (below, p. 464).
3 Odyssey 16. 273. 4 Odyssey 6. 230 ff.
S All Hellenistic writers; only Polybius survives in sufficient quantity for us to judge
the grounds of Dionysius' opinion.
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS 32 7
be too short'. And why be surprised at these, when professors of philo-
sophy and writers of logic textbooks are so miserably inefficient at the
arrangement of words that one is really ashamed to mention it? No need
to go further for a sufficient instance than Chrysippus the Stoic. No one
has given a better or more exact treatment of logic-nor written a book,
a famous and distinguished book anyway, in a worse style. Yet some of
these philosophers claim to take this subject seriously, as a necessary
part of linguistic study, and have written handbooks on the combination
of parts of speech; but they all strayed far from the truth and did not
even dream of what it really is that makes arrangement agreeable and
beautiful. When I resolved on putting this book together, I investigated
previous researches, and especially those of the Stoic philosophers,
knowing that they had devoted considerable thought to linguistic
questions-one must give them their due. But I found no work by any
author of any note, small or great, bearing on the subject I proposed; the
two treatises of Chrysippus 'On the combination (sun taxis) of the parts
of speech' are concerned not with rhetoric but with logic, as those who
have read them l.::.now. They deal with the 'combination' of propositions,
true and false, possible and impossible, admissible, variable, ambiguous,
and so forth; they have no practical value for oratory, at least as far as
elegance and beauty, the aims of word-arrangement, are concerned. I
therefore abandoned this study, and began to inquire independently to
see whether I could discover some natural starting-point, the best kind
of first principle, it is generally believed, for any subject or inquiry.
I had got hold of some observations and thought that things were going
well, when I realized that the road was not leading me in the direction
in which I started and in which I had to travel. I therefore desisted. But
perhaps I had better touch on the inquiry I thus abandoned, and say
why I did so, lest anyone should think that it is ignorance and not deli-
berate intention that leads me to pass it over. (pp. 18, 3-23, 12)

[This false trail is the logical-syntactical determination of order: e.g.

nouns before verbs because substance is logically prior to accident; adverbs
after verbs. Dionysius shows that this principle does not stand up to test-
sometimes a beautiful arrangement obeys these rules, but often it does not.
He dismisses it, and comes to his main positive thesis.]

The science of arrangement has three functions: (i) to see what com- 6
binations produce a total character which is beautiful and agreeable;
(ii) to know what configuration of each of the elements to be combined
will improve the joint effect; (iii) to recognize and execute in an ap-
propriate fashion any necessary modification of the original elements-
 GREEK AUGUSTANS
subtraction, addition, or alteration. Let me explain these three functions
more clearly by means of the analogy of constructive arts which everyone
understands-building, ship-construction, and the like. When a builder
has provided himself with the material from which he is going to construct
the house-stones, timber, tiles, and so on-he proceeds to put the house
together. He first considers three problems: he sees what sorts of stone,
timber, and brick must be fitted together, how each of them should be
placed and on which side, and finally how to trim and shape anything
which does not fit with ease, so as to make it do so. The shipbuilder does
the same. Similarly, the good arranger of the parts of speech. First, he
considers what verb, noun, or other part of speech is appropriately com-
bined with what other, and how the combination can be made good or
better (not every arrangement affects the ear in the same way). Secondly,
he decides what forms of noun, verb, or other word will be more agree-
able, or more appropriate to the subject. For example: in nouns, which
will give the better over-all impression, singulars or plurals, nominatives
or oblique cases? If some masculines can be turned into feminines, or
feminines into masculines, or these genders into neuters, which is the
best form? And so on. Similarly with verbs. Are active or passive forms
better? In what moods-'verbal cases' some call them-should verbs
be expressed in order to aquire the best position? What tense differences
should they indicate? And so on, with the other natural modifications
of verbs. (The same precautions should be taken with the other parts of
speech also, but I do not want to go into detail.) Thirdly, he decides
whether any selected verb or noun needs alteration of form to secure
better sound or setting. This question is a rich one in poetry, but there is
less to it in prose, though it does occur where opportunity allows.
(pp. 27, 18-29, 18)
[Examples follow: tout on;, the emphatic and deictic form, for touton ('this');
kalidon 'seeing' for the uncompounded idon; and various other examples
of changed or modified words.]

COLA

7 One branch of the science of arrangement is thus that which deals

with the primary parts and elements of speech. There is also, as I said
at the beginning, the theory of 'cola', which needs longer and more elabor-
ate treatment. This is what I shall now attempt to expound in my own way.
Cola must be fitted together so as to appear germane and suited to one
another. They must be shaped in the best possible way. They must,
finally, be prepared beforehand where necessary by reduction, enlarge-
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS 32 9
ment, or any modification of which they are suscepti~le. Experience
teaches all this, for it often happens that a given colon, If placed before
or after some other one, proves harmonious and dignified, whereas in
any other company it is unpleasing and without dignity. An example will
make this clearer. In the speech of the Plataeans in Thucydides there is a
very prettily composed and emotionally charged passage which reads
thus:
You, Lacedaemonians, our only hope, we fear you may not be firm.I
Now suppose one were to break up this combination and re-organize the
cola thus:
You, Lacedaemonians, we fear you may not be firm, our only hope.
Does the charm or the emotion remain the same if the cola are arranged
like this? Of course not!
[A further example--Demosthenes 18. 119-follows; the points made are
hardly translatable.]
If this is the theory of the combination of cola, what about that of 8
their conformation? Not all thoughts admit the same kind of expression.
We say some things as statements, some as questions, some as wishes or
instructions, some in doubt, some as hypothetical, and so on; and we
endeavour to form our words in a manner consequent on these differences.
So there are many conformations (schematismoi) of speech, as there are of
thought. They cannot be embraced under a few headings-indeed they
may well be infinite in number. They require long discussion and pro-
found investigation. Consequently, the same colon will have a different
effect if it has a different conformation. I will illustrate this by an example.
If Demosthenes 2 had said 'When I had spoken, 1 made the proposal;
and when 1 had made it, I went on the embassy; and when 1 went, I
convinced the Thebans', would it have been as effective as it is in its
existing form? 'I did not speak and then make no proposal; nor propose
and then go on no embassy; nor go and then not convince the Thebans.'
To explain all the forms of which cola are capable would take a very long
time. The above suffices as an introduction.
On the other hand, it does not take long to show that some cola admit 9
modifications-such as the addition of elements not necessary for the
sense, or subtractions which make the meaning incomplete, and which
poets and prose writers adopt solely for the sake of rhythmical form,
to lend charm and beauty. Who would not agree that the following passage
of Demosthenes is pleonastic in virtue of an unnecessary addition made
I Thucvdides 3. 57. • 18. 179.
330 GREEK AUGUSTANS
for the sake of the rhythmical form? 'A man who schemes and intrigues
to entrap me is at war with me, even if so far he isn't throwing spears or
shooting arrows.'l Here 'shooting arrows' is added not out of necessity
but to make the concluding colon, otherwise harsher and more dis-
agreeable to the ear than it should be, pleasanter by the addition. Again,
take Plato's period from his Funeral Speech: who would not admit that
unnecessary redundancies of diction have contributed to it? 'For deeds
well done, in words skilfully spoken, come remembrance and honour for
the doers from the hearers.'2 Here 'from the hearers' has no essential
function; its purpose is to make the final colon equal in length and impact
to the preceding one. Again, consider the famous tricolon in Aeschines:
'You call him against yourself, you call him against the laws, you call him
against democracy.'3 Is not this of the same type? Aeschines has divided
into three cola what could have been put in one : 'You call him against
yourself and the laws and democracy.' The words 'you call' are repeated
not out of necessity but to make the rhythmical form (harmonia) more
agreeable.
So much for additions to cola. What about curtailments? These occur
when some essential point is going to cause pain and annoyance to the
listener, while its removal makes the rhythm more pleasing. A metrical
example may be taken from Sophocles:
I close my eyes, I open them, I rise,
More guarding than I'm guarded. 4
Here the second line consists of two incomplete cola: the complete
sense would be
more guarding others myself than guarded by others.
This however would have been contrary to the rules of metre and would
not have had the present charm. Now for a prose instance: 'That to
deprive everyone of immunity in the course of accusing some is an
unjust man's part-this I will pass over.'s Here each of the first two cola
has been curtailed. The full expression would have been: 'That, to
deprive everyone of immunity, even those who have a rightful claim, in
the course of accusing some people as being unsuitable recipients of it,
is an unjust man's part-this I will pass over.' But Demosthenes decided
not to make more ado about the exactness of meaning of the cola than
about the rhythm.

I Demosthenes 9. 17. • Plato, Menexenus 236.

3 Aeschines 3. 202 •
.. Sophocles, fr. 706 Nauck. 5 Demosthenes 20. 2.
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS 33 1
I should like to take the same principle as being true of what are called
periods. Here too, prior and secondary periods must be arranged in their
proper order, whenever periodic writing is in place-which is not always;
and indeed, the question of when and to what extent periods should be
used and when not, is also a topic in the science of arrangement.
Having settled these points, I come next to the question of the proper 10
aims of the student of good word-arrangement, and the principles on
which these aims may be attained. In the most general terms, there seem
to be two objects which composers, whether of verse or of prose, ought
to have as their aim: pleasure and beauty. The ear seeks both of these,
resembling in this respect the eye, which, in contemplating sculpture,
painting, carving, or any other work of men's hands, finds satisfaction
and has no further longings as soon as it discovers pleasure and beauty in
them. Let no one think it a paradox that I make two separate aims, and
separate pleasure from beauty-nor think it odd for me to regard a style
as pleasurably but not beautifully organized, or vice versa. The real world
produces such results, and there is nothing novel in my claim. The style
ofThucydides, for instance, or that of Antiphon of Rhamnus, is arranged
as beautifully as any-no one could find fault with them on this score-
but not very pleasurably. On the other hand, the styles of Ctesias, the
historian from Cnidos, and of the Socratic Xenophon, are pleasurably
composed but not as beautifully as one might have wished. (I am speaking
in broad terms, not absolutely, for Thucydides and Antiphon certainly
contain examples of pleasurable arrangement, and Xenophon and Ctesias
of beautiful.) Herodotus' arrangement possesses both qualities: it is
both pleasurable and beautiful.
The four most important elements which make a style pleasurable and II

beautiful are: melody, rhythm, variety, and the accompanying virtue of

appropriateness. Under 'pleasurableness' I class: freshness, charm,
euphony, sweetness, persuasiveness, and the like. Under 'beauty' I class:
magnificence, weight, solemnity, dignity, the patina of age, and so on.'
These seem to me to be the most important elements-the main headings,
as it were. These, and perhaps no others, are the aims that all serious
writers of verse or lyric or what is called 'pedestrian' speech set before
themselves. Many good writers have excelled in one or both of these
manners. It is not possible for me to give examples of them all here-
it would waste the whole book. Moreover, if I am in duty bound to
discuss some one of them, and evidence is to be required, another occa-
sion will be more suitable-namely, when I come to outline the types
(characteres) of rhythmic arrangements (harmoniai). For the moment, the
I This is an important list of qualities: compare the ideai of Hermogenes (below,

P·5 61 ).
332 GREEK AUGUSTANS
above suffices. I return now to the distinction I made of pleasurable and
beautiful arrangements, so that my argument may proceed, as they say,
according to plan.
I said then that the ear is pleased by tunes, by rhythms, and finally
by variations, and in each case by what is appropriate. Experience shall
testify to the truth of my words; no one can find fault with a witness who
agrees with our common feelings. Who indeed has not found himself
affected and charmed by one style and unaffected by another, or soothed
by one rhythm and exasperated by another? I sometime think, in a
crowded theatre, packed with a miscellaneous and uneducated crowd,
that I can see how we all have a natural affinity with melody and rhythm,
because I notice a popular lyre-player howled down by the mob for
striking a wrong note and ruining the piece, or an aulos-player of supreme
skill at his instrument suffering the same fate for blowing an unresonant
note or not closing his mouth and so producing a false note or being
what is called out of tune. And yet if one asked a layman to take the
instrument and perform one of the actions which he was blaming the
musician for doing badly, he couldn't do it. Why? Because this is a matter
of knowledge, which we do not all share, whereas the other is a feeling
which nature imparts to all. I have noticed the same thing with regard
to rhythms. Everyone becomes angry and uncomfortable when a step or
movement or gesture is made with incorrect timing and the rhythm
thereby obscured. It might be thought that, while melody and rhythm
give pleasure and we are all bewitched by them, variations and propriety
do not possess that degree of charm and grace and do not have the same
effect on all ears. But this would be wrong; correctness in this field does
charm us all, as incorrectness causes us distress. For proof of this, I draw
attention to the fact that instrumental and vocal music and dancing, if
successful in achieving charm at every point but lacking timely variation
or erring in propriety, produce in the end a heavy, sated feeling or a
disagreeable sense of the inappropriateness to the subject.
All this is no irrelevant comparison. The science of oratory is a sort
of music which differs quantitatively not qualitatively from the vocal
and instrumental kind; words too have their melody and rhythm, their
variation and propriety, so that in oratory too the ear is delighted by
melody, seduced by rhythm, gratified by variety, and everywhere seeks
what properly belongs. It is simply a difference of degree.
(pp. 32,6-40, 16)

[The following passage, on accent, is valuable for what it tells us of the

nature of the Greek accent but very technical and of little interest for
criticism.]
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS 333
Not all elements of speech affect the ear in the same way, any more 12
than all visible objects affect the sense of vision similarly or all tasted
things the sense of taste, or in general all stimuli their appropriate sense.
Some sounds give a sweet effect, some a bitter, some a rough, some a
smooth, and so on. This is due to the nature of the letters of which speech
consists, which have many and various potentialities, and to the multi-
farious combinations of syllables. Since the elements of speech have this
important capacity, but their nature cannot be changed, the only resource
remaining is to obscure the untoward effects of some of them by mixing,
blending, and juxtaposing. Rough must be mixed with smooth, soft with
hard, euphonious with cacophonous, short with long, sounds easily
articulated with those that are more difficult, and so on. All these elements
must be combined as occasion demands. We must avoid a succession of
many short words-this fragments the auditory impression-or of too
many long ones. Words of similar accentuation or quantity should not be
juxtaposed. With nouns and adjectives, frequent changes of case are
desirable; if one case continues too long, it seriously offends the ear.
The monotony produced by the juxtaposition of many nouns or verbs or
other parts of speech must be broken up; we have to be on our guard
against satiety. Nor should we stay always with the same figure, but make
frequent changes, nor keep on introducing the same tropes, but vary
them; nor begin or end with the same words again and again beyond
all proper occasion.
I should not like to be thought to imply that the devices I recommend
will always produce pleasure, or their opposites annoyance. I am not such
a fool. I know that pleasure results on occasion both from repetition and
from the avoidance of repetition. All I say is that we should always look
for the proper occasion, because this is the best criterion of pleasure and
its opposite. Now no rhetorician or philosopher has so far laid down a
definite technique for 'occasion'; even Gorgias of Leontini, the first to
attempt the subject, wrote nothing worth reading about it. Nor indeed
is it the kind of thing to fall into the framework of a technique; 'occasion'
is something to be tracked down not by knowledge but by opinion. This
opinion is better acquired by those who have exercised themselves often
and on many subjects, and it only rarely and accidentally as it were falls
to the lot of those who do not bother with exercise.
I must now proceed to other points. A writer who aims at making a
pleasing impression on the ear by his word-arrangement must observe
certain principles. First, he must either combine together words which
are harmonious, rhythmical, and euphonious, and which lend sweetness
or softness or, more generally, comfort to the senses, or link words without
these characteristics to others which do have power to charm, so that the
 334 GREEK AUGUSTANS
grace of the latter puts the disagreeable quality of the former into the
shade. Wise generals do something of the kind with armies-they let the
strong conceal the weak, so that the whole force becomes serviceable.
Secondly, sameness must be broken by timely variety; in all things variety
is sweet. Finally-and most important-he must give his subject the type
of structure (harmonia) appropriate to it.
There is no need, in my opinion, to feel shy of any noun or verb in
common use, unless it is something which it would be shameful to men-
tion. My view is that no part ofspeech signifying any object or action is
too low or dirty or otherwise disagreeable to find some appropriate place
in our writing.! Trust your word-arrangement, I would advise, and come
out with your words bravely and confidently. You have plenty of models:
Homer, in whom the most commonplace words can be found, Demo-
sthenes, Herodotus, and so on; I shall mention them all later, and make the
appropriate comments on each.
These few observations-many more might be made~must suffice as
general indications on the pleasant kind of word-arrangement.
13 To proceed, then., If I were asked how, and on what principles, a
beautiful structure might be produced, I should give the same answers
as for the pleasant kind. The same factors go to the making of both-
noble melody, dignified rhythm, splendid modulation (metabole, 'varia-
tion'), propriety in all these respects. As there is a pleasant kind of diction,
so there is a noble one; as there is a smooth rhythm, so there is a grand
one; modulation confers both charm and tension; propriety, finally, has
no characteristics at all if it does not possess a good share of the beautiful.
All these considerations make me say that the beautiful in structure of
language must be sought by the same means as the pleasing.
(pp. 43, 17-47, 22)
[Dionysius now proceeds to discuss the four main factors in turn. 'Melody'
depends largely on the natural qualities of sounds and syllables. This
discussion, and that of rhythm and 'modulation' or 'variety', are detailed,
depending largely on untranslatable features of Greek onomatopoeic
words and the like, and often unconvincing. Of interest in the history of
linguistic theory, this section is of little critical significance. We resume at
the point where Dionysius passes to propriety in this field.]

PROPRIETY

20 It remains to consider propriety. Propriety is a necessary concomitant

to all the rest. Any work which is lacking herein, lacks, if not its whole
I Cf. Q!Jintilian 10, 1. 9 (below, p. 381).
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS 335
effect, at least the most important part of it. This is not the occasion for a
discussion of the entire subject, which is a profound study needing lengthy
exposition. I shall content myself with discussing what I can of this topic-
not indeed the whole or the major part- so far as it concerns the field
here under consideration.
It would be generally agreed that 'propriety' consists in what suits
the persons or actions to be handled. Just as word-selection can be proper
or improper to a subject, so surely can word-arrangement. Ordinary life
gives evidence of this: when we are angry or pleased, sorrowful or afraid,
or in any other troubled or emotional state, we employ a different word-
arrangement from when we think that there is nothing to perturb or
grieve us. It would be an interminable task to enumerate all the species of
propriety, but I will make one point which is both the most readily made
and the most general in application. When people report events of which
they have been eye-witnesses, even though their state of mind does not
change, they do not use the same word-arrangement for everything,
but imitate what they are reporting even in the way they put words
together; this is a natural instinct, not the result of effort. Observing this,
the good poet or orator should imitate whatever he is speaking about not
only in his selection of words but in his arrangement of them. Homer does
this, superb genius that he is, despite the fact that he possesses only one
metre and few rhythms; he is none the less always innovating and using
his ingenuity within this field, so that we see the things happening as
much as we hear them described. I will give a few instances out of the
large number possible.

THE STONE OF SISYPHUS

In his story to the Phaeacians, Odysseus, after relating his own wanderings
and his descent to Hades, comes to the visions of the horrors there. In
this context, he relates the sufferings of Sisyphus, for whom, they say,
the gods of the underworld ordained an end to labour when he succeeded
in rolling a stone over a certain hill-this being, however, impossible,
because the stone always fell back again whenever it got to the top. It is
worth while noticing how he depicts this imitatively with the help of the
actual arrangement of the words:
kai men Sisuphon eiseidon krater' alge' ekhonta,
laan bastazonta pelorion amphoteresin.
etoi ho men skeriptomenos khersin te posin te
laan anD otheske poti lophon.
 GREEK AUGUSTANS
And I saw Sisyphus too in great distress,
lifting a huge stone in his two hands;
and straining with his hands and feet
he pushed the stone up, up the hill.'
Here it is the arrangement which makes all the happenings clear-the
weight of the stone, the laborious shifting of it from the ground, Sisyphus
straining with his limbs and climbing the hill, the rock pushed up with
difficulty. That is undeniable. But just how is each of these effects
achieved? Not automatically or accidentally. First: in the two lines
in which he is rolling the rock uphill, all the words except two are mono-
syllables or disyllables. Second: in each of the two lines, the long syllables
are half as many again as the short. Again: the joints between the words
are set wide apart and there are perceptible intervals, resulting from the
clash of vowels or the combination of semivowels and consonants.
Moreover, the rhythms of which the whole composition is made are
dactyls and spondees, the grandest of all and those with the broadest
spread. What then is the effect of these various factors? The mono-
syllables and disyllables, leaving as they do numerous intervals between
one word and the next, reproduce the slowness of the work; the long
syllables with their rests and impediments reproduce its resistance,
heaviness, and difficulty; the gaps between words and the juxtaposition
of harsh sounds reproduce the interruption and hesitations of the action,
and the immensity of the labour; finally, the rhythms, with their impres-
sion of drawn-out length, represent the stretching limbs and straining
apart of Sisyphus, and the resistance of the stone. That this is the work
not of nature improvising but of art endeavouring to imitate events is
shown by the ensuing lines. Homer does not use the same style for the
return of the stone from the top and its rolling downhill; he speeds up
and concentrates the arrangement of the words. Beginning in the old
manner,
all' hote melloi
akron huperbaleein ...
but when it was just
about to pass the top,
he then adds
tot' epistrepsaske krataiis;
autis epeita pedonde kulindeto laas ana ides,
then momentum took control,
and down to the bottom rattled the unmanageable boulder.
I Odyssey, I. 593 If.
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS 337
Does not the word-arrangement roll downhill with the weight of the rock
-or rather, the speed of the narrative overtake the momentum of the
stone? I believe it does. Once again-why? The answer is worth noticing.
The line which represents the downward movement of the rock contains
no monosyllabic, and only two disyllabic, words. This, in the first place,
accelerates rather than extends the intervals. Further, of the seventeen
syllables in the line, ten are short and only seven long and those not
perfect ones: the expression is therefore inevitably qontracted and com-
pressed under the influence of the shortness of the syllables. Again, no
word has any appreciable separation from the next: no vowel is in juxta-
position with another vowel, no semivowel or consonant with semivowel
-and these are the features which roughen or break up word-structure.
There is no perceptible interval, you see, if the words are not separated.
Instead, they slide into one another to form a single movement; in a
manner of speaking they all become a single word through the exact
fitting of the joins. Most wonderful of all, no long rhythm-spondee or
bacchiusI-such as naturally falls into a heroic metre, is to be found in
the line except at the end. The others are all dactyls-and even they have
their irrational syllables so much accelerated that some hardly differ from
trochees. There is nothing to hinder a composition made up of such ele-
ments from running smoothly and easily and flowingly.
Many similar examples could be cited from Homer. I content myself
with these, to leave myself room for my remaining topics. The above
remarks do, I believe, comprise the most important and essential points
to be kept in mind by those who wish to produce pleasing or beautiful
word-arrangement, either in poetry or in prose. What I could not set
down-minor and more recondite matters, too numerous to be easily
embraced in one work-I will communicate in the course of our daily
exercises, when I will also adduce the evidence of many good poets,
historians, and orators. For the moment, I confine myself to essentials of
my promised plan which have so far been omitted. I shall consider what
different types of word-arrangement there are, and what is the general
character of each. I shall state what writers are supreme in each kind, and
offer specimens. This done, I shall elucidate a problem commonly dis-
cussed-namely, what it is that makes prose seem like poetry though it
remains prose in form, and what makes poetical expression resemble
prose while it preserves the dignity of poetry: most good writers of prose
or poetry have these qualities. I must try, therefore, to say what I think
about this problem too.
But I begin with the first point.
1 __, v--.

8143591 z
 GREEK AUGUSTANS

THE TYPES OF WORD-ARRANGEMENT

21 I certainly think that there are many specific differences in word-

arrangement. They are not easily seen in a general view or enumerated
with exactness. Indeed, every individual has his own particular quality
of word-arrangement, as he has his particular quality of looks. Painting
is not a bad analogy. People who paint pictures all use the same paints,
but the mixtures they produce are quite different from one another.
Similarly, in language, whether in poetry or not, we all use the same
words, but we do not put them together in the same way.
The generic differences, however, number, in my opinion, only three.
Call them what you please, when you have been told their characteristics
and differences. I know no literal terms for them, and so treat them as
having no proper names and call them instead by metaphorical ones:
the dry or austere, the smooth, the well-tempered-though how this
last comes into being I know not, 'my mind is divided to utter the truth' I :
is it by deficiency in both extremes or by their combination? It is hard
to make a safe guess here; perhaps therefore it is better to say that there
are many intermediate terms formed by the relaxation or intensification
of the extremes. In music, the middle note is equidistant from the top and
the bottom, but in literature the middle style is not equidistant from the
two extremes: it is distinguishable only roughly, as with crowds, heaps,
and the like. This, however, is not the moment for this question: I must
keep my promise, and discuss the particular kinds-not indeed saying
all I could (that would be a long story) but making the most salient points.

AUSTERE ARRANGEMENT

22 The characteristics of the austere type of structure are the following.

It requires that words should be securely positioned and given safe
standing, so that each word can be seen all round, while the various parts
keep a respectable distance from each other and are separated by per-
ceptible intervals. It is no disadvantage either if the joints are frequently
rough and awkward, like building stones laid together not properly
squared or smoothed but unworked and improvised. It is often, moreover,
given greater length by the use of big words that cover a lot of space,
whife contraction into a few syllables is thoroughly alien to it except under
dire necessity.
So much for the aims and preferences of this manner in regard to
words. They apply likewise to cola, where it also affects grand and
I Pindar, fr. 213 Snell.
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS 339
dignified rhythms, and dislikes equalized or similar cola, or any that are
slaves to inexorable rules, wanting only the noble, splendid, and free.
It prefers the appearance of nature to that of art, the expression of emotion
to that of character. As to periods, it has generally no desire to construct
such as complete the sense within their own compass; if this should
accidentally happen, it seeks to demonstrate its artlessness and simplicity
by employing no additions unhelpful to the sense merely to complete the
period, by making no attempt to secure striking or smooth clausulae,
no calculations to ensure that the period is the right length for the
speaker's breath, and indeed no endeavour of any such kind. This type
of structure has further characteristics of its own: it is flexible in the use
of cases, varied in figures, has few conjunctions and no articles, often
despises connection, is unpolished, grand, plain-spoken, unembellished,
with archaism and the patina of age as its beauty. This type has had many
devotees in poetry, history and oratory. Specially distinguished are Anti-
machus of Colophon and Empedocles the scientist in epic, Pindar in
lyric, Aeschylus in tragedy, Thucydides in history, Antiphon in oratory.
(pp. 88, 1-98, 12)

SMOOTH ARRANGEMENT

The smooth type of arrangement, which I placed second, has the follow- 23
ing characteristics. It does not seek 'all-round visibility' for every indi-
vidual word, or a broad secure base for them all, or long intervals between
them. Any effect of slowness or stability is alien. The aim is words in
motion, words bearing down on one another, carried along on the stability
afforded by their support of one another, like a perpetually flowing stream.
This style likes the individual parts to merge into one another, to be woven
together so as to appear as far as possible like one continuous utterance.
This is achieved by exactly fitting joints which leave the intervals between
the words imperceptible. It is like cloth finely woven together or pictures
in which the light merges into the shade. All the words are expected to be
euphonious, smooth, soft, virginal; it hates rough, recalcitrant syllables,
and has a cautious attitude towards anything at all bold or risky.
Not satisfied with suitable joins and smooth connections between
words, this manner aims also at a close interweaving of cola, the whole
building up to a period. It limits the length of the colon-not too short,
not unduly long-and of the period, which should be such that an adult
man's breath can control it. It cannot tolerate non-periodic writing, a
period not divided into cola, or a colon out of proportion. It employs
rhythms that are not very long but medium or quite short. The ends of
 340 GREEK AUGUST ANS
its periods must be rhythmical and precisely based. Connections between
periods here are formed on the opposite principle from those between
words: this type of writing merges words but distinguishes periods and
tries to make them visible all round, as it were. Its favourite figures are
not the more archaic or such as produce an impression of solemnity or
weight or tension, but the luxurious and blandishing kind, full of decep-
tive and theatrical qualities. To put it more generally, this manner has
in all important respects the opposite characteristics lo the former; no
more need be said.
It remains to enumerate its distinguished practitioners. Of epic writers,
the finest exponent of this manner is, I think, Hesiod; of lyric poets
Sappho, and then Anacreon and Simonides; among the tragic poets there
is only Euripides; strictly speaking there is no historian, though Ephorus
and Theopompus are nearer than most. Among orators, we have Isocrates.
(pp. II I, 18-II4, 9)

[Examples again follow; the first is Sappho's ode to Aphrodite-the only

extant complete poem ofSappho.]

THE MIXED STRUCTURE

24 THe third kind of structure, midway between the two just mentioned,
I call the mixed kind, for want of a proper and better name. It has no
special form, but is a reasonable combination of the other two, a sort of
selection of the best features of each. To my way of thinking, it deserves
the first prize, because it is a mean-and excellence is a mean in life and
actions too, according to Aristotle and his school-though it is to be seen,
as I said above, in broad outline, not in detail, and has many specific
differences. Its users do not all make the same thing out of it, but some
stress some features and some others, intensifying or underplaying the
same elements in different ways; its successful practitioners, despite
differences of approach, have all profited. Towering above them all,
the source of all the rivers, seas, and springs,!
is, we must say, Homer. Every passage in him that one touches is exquisitely
elaborated in both the austere and smooth manners. The others who have
practised the same 'mean' are very much his inferiors, though well worth
study in their own right. Stesichorus and Alcaeus are the lyric poets,
Sophocles the tragedian, Herodotus the historian, Demosthenes the
orator. Among the philosophers, in my estimation, are to be seen Demo-
I Iliad 21. 196 f.
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS
critus, Plato, and Aristode i it is impossible to find any who have com-
bined styles more successfully than these. (pp. 120, 11-121, 21)

IMPORTANCE OF THE SUBJECT

At this point I suspect an attack from persons who have had no general 2S
education but practise the day-t<Klay part of rhetoric without method
or system. They must be answered. We must not be thought to let the
case go by default.
Now this is what they will say. 'Was Demosthenes such a poor drudge
that whenever he wrote a speech he had to have measures and rhythms
to apply, like a modeller, and tried to fit his cola to these patterns, turning
his words up and down, and watching his quantities and pauses, his
cases and conjugations, fussing about all the tiny modifications of which
the parts of speech are capable? A man of that ability would be a fool to
devote himself to trivial pedantry of that sort.' This kind of scoff and
jeer is not hard to repulse. First, it would not be odd if a man whose
reputation for eloquence transcended all his predecessors, and who was
composing eternal works and submitting himself to the authority of all-
testing time, should want to avoid adopting any word or fact rashly, and
should pay great attention both to the arrangement of his thoughts and to
beauty of expression-especially as his contemporaries were publishing
works more like fine carving and engraving than writing. I mean the
sophists 1socrates and Plato. 1socrates, to take the minimum estimate,
spent ten years writing the Panegyricus, and Plato, in the course of his
eighty years, never gave up combing and curling his dialogues, refashion-
ing them in all kinds of ways. Every scholar knows the anecdotes of his
industry, especially the story of the tablet found after his death containing
the opening sentence of the Republic, with the words arranged in various
ways: 'I went down yesterday to the Piraeus with Glaucon the son of
Ariston.' What was odd then in Demosthenes' also taking thought for
euphony, harmony, and the avoidance of random and unconsidered
placings of word or thought? It seems to me much more appropriate
for an orator composing public speeches as a permanent memorial of his
ability to take care of the smallest detail, than for painters and engravers,
displaying the skill and industry of their hands on perishable material,
to expend their craftsmanship on veins and down and bloom and similar
minutiae. These seem to me reasonable arguments; one might add that
it was only to be expected that, as a young beginner, Demosthenes
should have been careful in everything, so far as human endeavour could
go, but that when long exercise had given mastery and shaped forms and
 342 GREEK AUGUSTANS
models in his mind of everything he practised, he became able to produce
his results with ease and as a matter of habit. The same sort of thing
happens in other arts whose end is activity or creation of some kind.
For example, skilled players of the lyre or harp or autos, when they hear
an unfamiliar tune, finger it out on their instruments with the speed of
thought, with no trouble at all; but while they are still learning, it takes
much time and trouble for them to grasp the force of the various notes.
At that stage, their hands were not in the habit of performing what they
were bidden. It was later, when long practice had established a habit as
strong as nature, that they succeeded in their efforts. There is no need
for other examples. One fact, that we all know, is enough to explode all
the nonsense. When we learn our letters, we first learn their names, then
their shapes and· functions, then syllables and what happens to them,
only then words and their accidents-Iengthenings and shortenings,
accents, and so on. Then, when we have acquired knowledge of these
things, we begin to write and read, at first slowly and syllable by syllable;
it takes a long time to form firm models in our minds, but when that has
happened we do it easily, and run through any book presented to us
accurately and speedily. We must suppose that word-arrangement and
facility with cola develop in the same way in expert performers. It is
no wonder if the inexpert and ignorant are surprised and incredulous
if anyone achieves perfect control through his skill.
26 So much for the scoffers at technical advice. I come next to some remarks
on lyrical and metrical arrangement having a close resemblance to prose.
The first cause of this type (as of the unmetrical equivalent) is the way in
which the words are made to fit, the second is the combination of the
co/a, the third the balance of the periods. Success in this department
requires multifarious variety in the handling and joining of words and the
construction of cola with divisions at the right intervals, not complete
at the ends oflines but dividing the metre; the cola in fact must be unequal
and heterogeneous, often contracted into shorter commata, while the
periods, at least juxtaposed ones, must not be equal in length or similar in
form; irregularity in rhythm and metre gives the closest approximation
to prose. Composers of epic, iambic, and other homogeneous metres
cannot divide their verses up by variety of metrical or rhythmical form,
but have to keep always to the same pattern; lyric poets on the other hand
are allowed to combine many metres or rhythms in one period. Single-
metre composers, therefore, when they break up their lines by dividing
them by cola in a variety of ways, disintegrate and destroy the exactness
of the metre, and when they compose periods of varying length and form
cause us to forget it altogether. The lyric poets on the other hand, with
their polymetric strophes, effect heterogeneous and unequal divisions
 ON THE ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS 343
of unequal and heterogeneous cola; these two features prevent us from
getting a grip of any consistent rhythm, and this produces poetry with
a great similarity to prose. Even if metaphorical, foreign, rare, and other-
wise poetic words remain in the poem, there is still this resemblance.
I should not wish anyone to think me unaware that what is called
'prosiness' is generally supposed to be a fault, or convict me of ignorance
because I regard a fault as a virtue in poetry or prose. I ask my critic to
hear how I think good work can be distinguished from bad in this field
also. As I understand it, one kind of prose writing is private-garrulous
and trivial-and the other public, containing a large element of elabora-
tion and art. When I find a poem resembling the garrulous and trivial
type of prose, I put it down as ridiculous; if it resembles the elaborate and
artistic, I think it deserves our attention and imitation. Now if these two
types of prose had different names, the two types of poets which resemble
them would have different names also. But in fact, the good and the
worthless are both called prose, and it is therefore quite right to call
poetry good if it resembles good prose and bad if it resembles bad, and
not be disturbed by the identity of name. A similarity of name applied to
two different things will not prevent us from seeing the nature of both.
(pp. 13 1, 14- 138,9)
 8
DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS

An important key to the understanding of Silver Latin is the educational

practice of declamation. This was already known in Cicero's time (he practised
the art himself in his later years), but, as public oratory lost much of its point
in real life under the Empire, declaiming became something of an end in itself.
There were two types of declamation, controversia and suasoria. In the former,
the declaimer spoke for prosecution or defence in a mock-legal case. In the
suasoria he offered advice to a historical personage in a particular situation.
Examples of both kinds survive in some quantity, in the works of the elder
Seneca and in collections attributed to Quintilian. There are analogous things
in Greek, mostly rather later. The subject has been treated by S. F. Bonner,
Roman Declamation, Liverpool, 1949, with useful references to earlier literature.

A. DISPUTE ABOUT THE SON OF A MAN WHO EXPOSED

A CHILD AND A WOMAN WHO WAS DIVORCED
We begin with a controversia (338) from a collection which has come down under
the name of ~intilian (ed. C. Ritter, 1884). The author gives us a statement of
the theme, advice on its treatment, and a 'model answer'. The traditional frame-
work of the five divisions of a speech is clearly in evidence.

THEME

A man divorced his wife, by whom he had (apparently) a son, now a

young man, and took another. There were constant quarrels between
stepson and stepmother. Then a poor man began to claim the youth and
call him his own son. The apparent father put the nurse to the torture.
In the first inquisition she said the boy was the son of her master. At the
second she said he had been exposed by the claimant: at this stage she
died. The father is ready to yield the youth to the claimant; the divorced
wife claims him for herself.

ADVICE ON PROEM AND EPILOGUE

A proem has its own particular form, rules, and manner. The form of
narrative and that of commonplaces is quite alien to the proem. There
is one part of a declamation, however, that it is often like-the epilogue.
 AN EXPOSED CHILD AND A DIVORCED WOMAN 345
The resemblance is that both tend to be outside the issue. The proem
precedes the issue, while the epilogue is spoken when the issue has been
dealt with. Moreover, both have the same object-to win over the judge.
They differ, however, in that proems must ensure the attentiveness of the
judge, while this part of the burden is not required of the epilogue, the
speech being over. The epilogue may sometimes indulge in repetition,
to refresh the memory of the judge. Thus at the staft we ensure that the
judge listens to everything, at the end that he remembers what he heard.
Further, the epilogue attracts feelings towards the speaker. This is true
of the proem also, but the end requires more rousing of pity and more
freedom. The proem, though it has something to ask of the judge, should
not tire him (nor indeed should the epilogue either)-for it is a very true
saying that tears dry quickly.
Proems are to be drawn from persons, either our own or those of our
opponents, or sometimes those of the judges themselves. From ours, to
win favour, from our adversaries' to arouse the judges' hatred of those we
are attacking. The persons of the judges rarely come up in school declama-
tions, though often in the forum. Sometimes we may also speak about
facts, for the reason that the controversia of the schools embraces every-
thing that may happen in the forum, and in the forum the proem is
sometimes drawn from facts, if one speech has already been made on
each side and the judge already knows the case. Well then, we shall be
right to do it: as also l both to narrate and, in the same declamation, to
put forward replies even when we are on the side of the accuser-some-
thing that will never happen, to my mind, in the forum; there the first
speaker, who puts forward the case, will not himself be able to reply to
objections unless written evidence has been given by the other side and re-
ceived by the court. To sum up, you must never make capital out of what
the other side may be going to say-only out of what they have said.
Today we are not dealing with the dispute of this woman with her
husband. You can't have a suit between someone who yields and someone
who claims. The youth is claimed by the poor man; the father is ready to
yield to him-but the mother is not.

THE DECLAMATION

Even if the dispute of the woman for whom I appear,z judges, were with
this poor man, my party would be thought the weaker and the worthier
! The point is that in a first speech, for the accuser, narration is in place, but not

replies to something said by the other side, for nothing will yet have been said, unless
there is evidence in writing. Cf. Quint. 4. 2. 28-9, 5. 13. 50.
• The speaker is counsel for the first wife.
 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
of assistance. For woman is in herself a feeble thing, and in this lady the
natural weakness is greatly increased by the fact that she is no longer
married. There is the further particular point in her case that what was
formerly a safeguard has become a source of anxiety. Even if she had
ceased to have a husband and had been driven from the house into which
she came as a young bride, she would not seem quite helpless if she had
her youthful son. But this very fact is in dispute, and at this moment can
bring the mother nothing but worry.
Nevertheless, my contention is that she is not in dispute with the man
you see across the court from me; the case is weighted against her by a
profounder influence. This mother would be distinctly more fortunate if
her husband hau been content to yield his claim to the son; as it is, he has
added weight to his evidence, and forced the wretched nurse, twice
subjected to torture because she spoke the truth, to die-to our dis-
advantage. If her authority moves you, judges, I am content to make one
point in the first part of my speech: her words are evidence on both sides.

NARRATION

But if in fact he wanted his son claimed rather than yielded, he would be
adequately supported by the mere setting forth of the facts. For once
upon a time he was anxious to have children. So he married, rejoiced at
the prospect of imminent offspring, reared the baby, and brought it
through to adolescence (quite far enough) with no doubts. The husband
has suffered a great injury: I should be happier to attack the stepmother,
judges. I know what it meant when she burst into the house of a man
already old, a matrimonial home with a grown son in it: she knew that
the house could be emptied. Do not inquire what her plans were, how
she did it-alone. I She began to hate the boy at once-not merely with a
hidden and secret passion, but openly quarrelling. This very fact,
judges, can be taken as a vital proof: 2 she hated this youth as only a
stepmother can.
He did not lack the outspokenness that confidence inspires; but no fault
could be found in his way of life to justify his being disinherited. Accord-
ingly she found a novel method of getting rid of him. First of all, this
worthless individual,3 ready to be bought to forward any dispute, bore
witness against himself, saying he had exposed the child: doubtless so
that this man should not need to be ashamed of being a bad father. I call
I Text and sense uncertain.

• i.e. that the boy was her husband's son by the previous wife.
3 The poor man.
 AN EXPOSED CHILD AND A DIVORCED WOMAN 347
the gods, I call your sense of what is right, judges, to witness: this man,
wanting to get rid of his son, did not think it enough to believe this man;
he mutilated with all kinds of cruelty the unfortunate nurse-he hated
her too. You ask why he did this: you will realize-when he tortures her
the second time.
The first tortures had merely tired her, and her loyalty had remained
constant, her words the same. She had made her blood his reproach. The
torturer was recalled, the torments renewed. It was obvious to the wretched
woman that she would be tortured for as long as she went on saying the
same thing. I am not angry with her. So long as she had strength and
breath, she resisted. She was not forced into lying until she was on the
point of death. Her conqueror thought that this was the sole object of the
tortures; he had no further doubts. I do not claim him (to speak mildly)
for equal torments. But I do ask that this should be regarded as applying
only to his own cause.'

PROOF

I claim the son for his mother against one who only lately began to claim
him. First of all, judges, you will realize that no burden of proof rests on
me. There has never been any doubt that the youth in question lived for
many years with this man-years that carried him right up to an age of
maturity. Shall I now add weaker points-that she married and was
capable of conception? In fact, if she had not conceived, her husband would
not have believed her.2 The whole burden lies on the other side. My
opponent must prove a lot-that he had a wife, that she conceived, bore-
and bore a son, bore him at a time which fits in with the age of the boy in
dispute: that he exposed him, that the exposed child lived, that he was
taken up by the man from whom he claims the boy-or on the other hand
was produced as her own by this woman, she being (as he asserts)
sterile or having recently miscarried. You will not be able to say she was
sterile-her husband did not think so. And it's not enough to say she
lost her child: it has to be proved. We should make these demands, judges,
if the case concerned a slave, or a sum of money; but you are trying to
snatch a son from a mother, to tear out part of her womb. Against the
groans of a mother, you are content to adduce the negligence of the other
parent.
'What motive have I ? Why am I claiming the child ifhe is not my own?'
Without yet explaining why you are in this dispute,3 I can say that your
I Meaning uncertain. 2 i.e. on the legitimacy of the son.
3 The explanation is the bargain struck between the father and the poor man. illuded
to above.
 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
contention makes no sense. If you have no motive for claiming another's
son, he hasn't any for keeping another's son. Indeed, it is easier for a poor
man to make this pretence. What difference does it make to your fortune
whether you have an heir? But I shall explain the reason for your in-
vention later; meanwhile, I want to discuss the material on which your
case rests.
'I rely', he says, 'on the testimony of the man you say is the father.'
Let us suppose that that is true: the father is only one man, he is angry,
he is the husband of another woman. When I say 'one man', you should
bear in mind people like Cato and Scipio and many other names glorious
in our city} When I say 'he is angry', remember not factual instances in
this country so much as plays on the stage-remember how great an
effect this emotion has had, how many it has driven off course like some
tempest. When I say 'he is the husband of another woman', I say two
things at once. He has a motive for harming the woman he divorced, and
he has a motive for being of service to the woman he married. This is
what I should say if the evidence were his. What does your witness say?
That he knows something. I must next ask: how does he know? From the
nurse. The evidence then is that of the nurse-not of the witness who
believes her. Let us for the moment leave the husband-we shall bring
him back in his place; let us speak of the nurse.
If she had lied from the start, I should venture to say of her yet more
boldly what I venture to say of him: she is only one. As it is, there were
two different examinations. Let us see which is more likely to have elicited
the truth. Under torture she said the youth is your son. I want to give the
evidence weight: it was an old woman who was tortured. Is not one
examination enough for a woman, for an old one ? You rack those already
naturally failing limbs, you lacerate with your whips skin that already
hardly holds together-then you say: 'You lie.' Can she lie for long against
your wishes? Even when the strongest men are tortured, even when the
spirited are subjected to the bitterest pain, it still makes a lot of difference
what reply the torturer wants. She stuck it out, I don't say against fire,
against whips: against you. Truth is the object of the examination so
long as she hopes you are beaten if she tells the truth. But when you
repeat the treatment, call back the executioner, what are you saying
except: 'Torture her-till she lies?' You certainly won a great victory:
you overcame an old woman. As the breath failed, a whisper escaped:
'Pity me. He is not yours. Spare me. I have told the truth.' Here, I
imagine, the torturer was told to press on, and make sure that the result
of the examination was the woman's dying while still saying this, while
you were the victor, happily announcing to your adversary what you had
I The relevance of Cato and Scipio is unclear.
 AN EXPOSED CHILD AND A DIVORCED WOMAN 349
done. I ask you: when the same woman says different things under
torture, isn't it obvious that the answer you wanted 'was the answer you
believed?

EPILOGUE

What mortal does not see through the whole farce? Who fails to see the
wiles of a stepmother, the bargain struck by an unfortunate old man?
I shall have to pity him, even if it goes against me. You ask: why does he
yield? For the same reason that he drove the mother of his grown-up
son from his house, that he broke a long happy marriage, when nothing
was said or suspected of his wife, that he brought a new bride to a bed still
warm with the imprint of the former wife, that he would not even give
his son the privilege of being defeated.' Surely we find quite different
behaviour in those 2 who become parents by means of a passing pleasure,
who are bound to their sons by ties that lie outside themselves. G.!Iite
different is the love of a mother, who brings before you the memory of
ten months, the recollection of all those dangers and anxieties. Count this
youth's years-it will seem brief enough a space; count all the days,
every individual moment that has passed: that is the length of a mother's
testimony. No pretence could last so long.
If the laws permitted, if you allowed, she would wish to be tortured,
demand to be placed on the fire and torn with blows. What are you up to,
woman? You are rash: you are a woman and an old one. You may perhaps
endure the first torments: but pain will overcome, and you will give way
to the final ones. A wonderful thing to say, judges: 'Let him torture me:
I am the mother.' G.!Iite different 3 is a nurse, a slave, tortured by her
master. Well? When you devote your last breath to uttering these words,
to whom are we to deliver the boy? Will you want him to return to this
father-and to that stepmother?

B. CICERO DELIBERATES WHETHER TO BEG ANTONY'S

PARDON

This is a suasoria; it comes from a collection made by the elder Seneca, as an

old man, in the reign of Tiberius. (Edition of suasoriae only by W. A. Edward
(1928), with commentary: texts of suasoriae and controversiae by H. J. Muller
(1887), H. Bornecque (2nd edn. 1932).)
Seneca's practice is to quote notable passages from various declaimers' treat-
ment of the same theme, not complete speeches.
I i.e. he didn't dispute the claim of the poor man. • i.e. fathers.
3 And less credible under torture.
 350 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
The subject of this exercise (suas. 6) was a favourite one; Cicero is given
advice on whether or not to try to beg his Jife from Antony after the proscription
of 43 B.C. §§ I-7 contain extracts from declamations: §§ 8-I4 describe how vari-
ous speakers arranged their arguments, with a few choice epigrams (sententiae).

QUINTUS HATERIUS 1

I Let posterity know that the republic could have been Antony's slave,
Cicero could not. You will have to praise Antony:2 on that theme words
will fail Cicero himself. Believe me, however carefully you control your-
self, Antony will do something that Cicero could not pass over in silence.
You must understand, Cicero, that he is not saying: 'Ask to live', but
'Ask to be a slave'. But how will you be able to enter the senate as it now
is, cruelly drained, dishonourably replenished? Will you want to enter a
senate where you cannot see Pompey, Cato, the Luculli, Hortensius,
Lentulus, and Marcellus-or your own friends, Hirtius and Pansa,
consuls both? Cicero, what place for you in an age not your own?
Our day is over.
2 Cato, in himself the ultimate pattern for life and death, preferred to
die rather than to beg (and he would not have had to beg Antony):
in hands clean to the last of his people's blood he took a sword to strike his
holy breast. Scipio,3 his sword plunged into his breast, heard soldiers
who had embarked on his ship looking for the genera!. 'The general',
he said, 'is wel!.' Defeated, he uttered the words of a victor. 'Milo',
you once said,4 'forbids me to beg his judges.' Beg Antony if you wil!.

PORCIUS LATRO

3 So does Cicero at last speak without Antony being afraid? Does Antony
at last speak so as to frighten Cicero? Sulla's thirst for civil bloodshed
returns to the state. At the triumvirs' auction not Roman taxes but Roman
deaths are for sale. A single notice surpasses in disaster Pharsalus, Munda,
Mutina. The heads of consuls are weighed for gold. Your words, Cicero,
are in place: 'What times! What morals!'s You will see those eyes burn-
ing with cruelty and pride. You will see that face-not of a man but of

I What is known about Haterius and the other Augustan declaimers may be found

in Bonner, op. cit., or in H. Bornecque, Les Diclamations et les diclamateurs d'apres

Sineque le pere, LilIe, 1902.
2 i.e. if he spares you.

3 Q. Metellus Scipio, Pompey's father-in-law, who died after being defeated at

Thapsus. 4 Pro Milone 92, 105. 5 In Catilinam I. 2.
 CICERO AND ANTONY 3SI
Civil War. You will see the throat down which the wealth of Pompey
passed, that torso strong as a gladiator's. You will see that place on the
tribunal which once the Master of the Horse, whom a belch would have
disgraced, defiled with his vomit.! Will you fall suppliant at those knees
and beg for mercy? Will you give that voice, to which the people owes
its safety, words abject and flattering? You should be ashamed: even
Verres under proscription died more bravely.

CLAUDIUS MARCELLUS AESERNINUS

Let Cato, whose death you praised, come before your mind. Is anything 4
worth being indebted to Antony for your life?

CESTIUS PIUS

If you have regard to the loss the people will feel, Cicero, you will die
too soon whenever you perish; if to what you achieved, you have lived
long enough; if to the insults of fortune and the present state of the
republic, you have lived far too long; if to the immortality of your works,
you will live for ever.

POMPEIUS SILO

You can see that it is best not to live-if it is Antony who permits you to
live. Will you be silent when Antony proclaims proscriptions and tears
the state to shreds? Will even your groans not be free? I should rather
the Roman people missed Cicero dead than alive.

TRIARIUS

'What Charybdis is so voracious? I say Charybdis-which, if it existed, 5

was a single animal: the Ocean itself could scarcely have sucked down so
many different things at one and the same time.'2 Do you imagine that
Cicero can be saved from the clutches of this monster's rage?

ARELLIUS FUSCUS SENIOR

We rush from war to war. Victors abroad, we are slaughtered at home.

At home, an internal enemy battens on our blood. When Rome is in this
I Cf. Philippic 2. 63. • Ibid. 2. 67.
 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
plight, Cicero-who could think otherwise ?-lives only under duress.
You will plead with Antony, Cicero, to your discredit: you will plead in
vain. No base grave will hide your body: your virtue will not end with
your life. Memory, eternal guardian of human works, source of perpetual
6 life to great men, shall give you to all time, sanctified: only your body will
perish-fragile, ephemeral, prey to all disease, vulnerable to chance,
exposed to proscription. But your mind, that was drawn from divine
origins, suffering no old age and no death, will be freed of the heavy
bonds that link it to the body and fly back to Its abode, to the stars to
which it is akin. Yet, if we have regard to your age, to the number of your
years (a number never reckoned by the brave), you have passed sixty.
You have clearly lived too long if you die the survivor of the republic.
We have seen civil arms raging over the world: after battles in Italy and
at Pharsalus, Egypt drained the blood of Rome. What cause for resentment
if Antony has the power over Cicero that a eunuch of Alexandria had
over Pompey? This is the death that comes to those who take refuge with
those unworthy of them.

CORNELIUS HISPANUS

7 He who merely followed your lead has been proscribed. The whole list is
just a prelude to your death. One triumvir allows the proscription of a
brother, one of an uncle: what hope have you? All these parricides have
been committed for Cicero to die! Recall your defences, your patronage,
your consulship-greatest of your services: now you can understand that
Cicero can be forced to die-but not to beg.

ARGENT AR IUS

The luxurious banquets of the triumvir kings are laid out, the kitchen
equipped with the tribute of nations. Himself, weak with wine and sleep,
he raises drooping eyes to the heads of the proscribed. In this strait it is
not enough to say: 'Wicked man!'1

DIVISION OF THE ARGUMENTS

8 Latro divided the suasoria thus: even if you can win your life from Antony,
it is not worth so much to ask for it. Then: you cannot win it. In the first
I Philippic z. 77.
 CICERO AND ANTONY 353
part, he put the argument that it is shameful for any Roman, let alone
Cicero, to beg for life. In this passage he placed instances of men who
had voluntarily accepted death. Then: for Cicero life will be worthless in
future, harsher than death now that liberty has gone. Here, he described
all the bitterness of the slavery to come. Then: the bargain will not be
kept. Here, after saying: 'There will be something to offend Antony: a
deed or a word, a silence or a look', he added an epigram: 'Or else you
will content him 1'1
Albucius' division was different. His first point was: Cicero must die, 9
even if no one proscribed him. Here came an invective against the period.
Then: he must die willingly, since he had to die even ifhe were unwilling.
The hatred he aroused had serious causes; the greatest reason for the
proscription was Cicero himself. Albucius was the only declaimer'who
ventured to say that Antony was not Cicero's sole enemy. Here he spoke
the epigram: 'If there is any of the triumvirs who does not hate you,
he finds you a nuisance'-and another very popular one: 'Ask, Cicero:
beg one that you may be the slave of three.'
Cestius' division was as follows: it is expedient for you to die; it is 10
right; it is necessary, so that you may complete your life free and with
undiminished authority. He produced the daring epigram: 'Thus you
may be numbered with Cato, who could not be a slave even though
Antony was not yet master.' MarceIlus' epigram on Cato was better:
'Is everything as topsy-turvy as the Roman people's fortunes that some-
one should be deliberating whether it is better to live with Antony or die
with Cato?' But-to return to Cestius' division. He said it was expedient
for Cicero to die to avoid bodily torture. Cicero would have no straight-
forward death if he fell into Antony's hands. In this part he described
the insults, blows, and tortures to be inflicted on Cicero, and introduced a
much praised epigram: 'Cicero, when you come before Antony you will
beg-for death.'
Varius Geminus' division was like this: 'I should advise you, if you 11

had to do one or the other now-die or beg-to die rather than beg.'
He included all the points covered by the others: adding, however, a
third main heading-he exhorted Cicero to exile. There was Brutus, there
was Cassius, there was Sextus Pompeius. And he added an epigram
highly admired by Cassius Severus: 'Why do we give way? The republic
too has its triumvirs.' Next, he reviewed the regions he could make for.
Sicily had been avenged by Cicero, Cilicia excellently administered in
his proconsulship, Achaea and Asia were well known from his student
days, the kingdom of Deiotarus was bound to him by services rendered,
Egypt remembered a benefit and felt repentant for a perfidy. But he
1 Text uncertain.
8143591 Aa
 354 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
advised him most pressingly to go to Asia and Macedonia and the camp of
Brutus and Cassius. So it was that Cassius Severus used to say that while
others declaimed, Varius Geminus gave living advice.
12
~ot many declaimers pleaded on the other side. Nobody, almost,
ventured to advise Cicero to beg Antony's pardon: they thought too well
ofCicero's spirit. Varius Geminus, however, took the opposite side also,
saying: 'I hope I can persuade my friend Cicero to wish to live. His
high-sounding words-"death not premature to an ex-consul or grievous
to a wise man"I-do not sway me. He is a private citizen now; I know
his ways well-he will do it, he will beg. As for slavery, he will not refuse
it. His neck is already worn by the yoke-Pompey and Caesar broke him
in. You see before you an experienced slave.' And he said many other
facetious things, as usual.
13 His division was: he will be able to beg pardon with honour and with
success. In the former part, he placed the argument that it is not shameful
for the defeated to ask mercy from a victorious fellow citizen. Here he
recalled how many had implored Caesar, and he mentioned Ligarius.
Then: it was quite fair for Cicero to make satisfaction, having been the
first to proscribe Antony and proclaim him enemy: satisfaction always
starts from the defendant; let him be bold-and ask. Then: he will be
begging not on behalf of his life but on behalf of the republic; Cicero had
lived long enough for himself, not long enough for the state. In the second
part, he said that enemies are constantly won over; Cicero himself had
been reconciled and had defended Vatinius and Gabinius at their trials. 2
Antony could more easily be won over because he was one of three: he
would be concerned to prevent either of the others from snatching this
splendid chance for clemency from him. Perhaps Antony was angry
14 because he had not thought it worth his while to beg him. Varius described
the danger of flight, and added that wherever he went he would still be a
slave, would have to put up either with the violence of Cassius, the
hauteur of Brutus, or the stupidity of Pompeius.

C. DECLAMATION AND THE FORUM

The prefaces to Seneca's collection of COlltroversiae are full of genuine and
interesting criticism. We quote first the Preface to Book 3.

I know several cases of eloquent speakers who did not match up to

their reputation when they declaimed. In the forum they spoke to the
admiration of all who heard them, but as soon as they retreated to
our private exercises they were deserted by their talents. This frequent
I Cat. 4.3. • Having previously prosecuted them.
 DECLAMATION AND THE FORUM 355
occurrence I find as surprising as it is undeniable. And I remember
that I once asked Cassius 5everus why it was that his eloquence failed
him in declamation.

A SKETCH OF AN ORATOR

Now in no one could the contrast have been more striking. His oratory 2
was strong, polished, full of striking ideas; no one was less tolerant of the
superfluous in his pleading; there was no part that did not stand on its
own feet, no place where the listener could afford to let his attention
wander. Everything was relevant and pointful. No one better controlled
the emotions of his audience. My friend Gallio truly said of him: 'When
he spoke, he was a king on his throne, so religiously did everyone do what
they were told. When he required it, they were angry. Everyone was
afraid, while he was speaking, in case he should stop.' It is impossible 3
to judge him from his publications, though even there one may sense his
eloquence; he was far better heard than read. It happens to almost every-
one that they gain from being heard rather than read, but to a smaller
degree: in him there was a vastly greater gulf.
First of all, the man ",:as as impressive as the talent. His body was
noticeably big, his voice both sweet and strong (an infrequent combination,
this), while his delivery would have made any actor's reputation, without
being at all reminiscent of an actor's. For-and this is perhaps the most 4
remarkable thing about him-the dignity which he lacked in his life he
possessed in his speech. 50 long as he steered clear of jokes, his oratory
was worthy of a censor. Again, what he actually said was better than what
he wrote. A man of resource, talented rather than studious, he gave more
pleasure by his improvisations than by his prepared version. He spoke
better when in a temper, and hence men took great care not to interrupt
him-he was the only one to benefit by any onslaught on him; chance 5
always served him better than preparation. All the same, this gift never
enticed him into negligence. In one day he would not give more than two
private speeches, one before, one after midday. In public cases, his limit
was one a day. I don't know that he ever defended anyone except him-
self: the only dangers that gave him any scope were his own. He never 6
spoke without notes, and he was not content merely with the sort that
contains the bare bones of the speech, but to a large extent the whole
would be written out. In this text, he used to note even possibilities for
wit. However, though he was not ready to set off without ~quipment, he
was glad to lay it aside. When he had to speak extemp6re, he excelled
himself, and it always paid him to find himself in a tight corner rather than
 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
to be prepared; all the more remarkable that he did not abandon his
care, even though his daring was so successful.
7 So he had everything that could equip him to be a good declaimer:
choice diction, neither common nor low; a ~tyle of oratory that was not
relaxed or languid but burning and spirited I developments neither slow
nor empty, but richer in content than words l; and finally the painstaking
approach which is so great a stand-by even for a mediocre talent. But
when he declaimed he fell below his own level-and that of many others:
so he rarely did declaim-and only when his friends insisted.

CASSIUS EXPLAINS

8 Now when I asked him why he was inferior in declamation, he replied:

'What surprises you in me happens to almost everybody. When has
great genius (hardly my category, I know) ever shown itself in more than
one field? Cicero lost his eloquence when he wrote poetry; Virgil's
abundant talents deserted him in prose; Sallust's speeches are read only
as a compliment to the author of the Histories; the speech of the eloquent
Plato on behalf of Socrates is worthy neither of defender nor defendant.
9 'So too with bodies, whose strength is not suited to everything that
strength can accomplish. One man is unequalled in wrestling; one excels
at raising a heavy load; one will not let go what he has taken a grip on, and
when he puts his hands to a runaway carriage they will keep their hold.
Animals also: some dogs are good for hunting the boar, others the stag.
Not all horses, however swift, have speed suitable for racing; some bear a
10 rider better, some a yoke. To take examples from my own vice: Pyla des
in comedy, Bathyllus in tragedy are quite unlike their normal selves.
My namesake's feet are swift-everyone concedes that, some even
criticize him for it-but his hands are slower.' Some fight better with
fully-armed gladiators, others with the lighter equipped; some desire,
others fear to be matched against a left-hander.
'As to oratory, the material may be the same, but the good arguer
narrates carelessly; in another the development is inferior to the prelimi-
naries. When my friend Passienus begins to speak, there is general
flight after his proem-but we return in force for his epilogue: what comes
I I between is heard only by those who cannot avoid it. Is there anything odd

in a man not declaiming as well as he pleads? Or in another not treating

suasoriae so well as legal controversiae? Pompeius Silo, when he is seated,
displays eloquence and education, and would be regarded as an orator if
he got rid of his audience after his preamble. But he declaims so badly
I Presumably a boxer.
 DECLAMATION AND THE FORUM 357
that it was right of me to wish for him "never to get up". Eloquence is a
great and varied gift, and is never so indulgent as to attend one man with-
out flaw; you are lucky if you are received into one part of it.
'However, I may be able to give you a reason peculiar to me. I am used 12
to keeping my eye on the judge, not the audience. I am used to replying
to my opponents, not to myself. I avoid the superfluous as well as the
contradictory. Everything is superfluous in a declamation: declamation is
superfluous. I will tell you what I feel. When I speak in the forum, I am
doing something. When I declaim (to use Censorinus' excellent phrase of
zealous candidates for local office) I seem to be toiling in a dream. Again, 13
the two things are quite different: it is one thing to fight, quite an~ther to
shake your fist. The school has always been taken to be a sort of game, the
forum as an arena-hence the word 'tiro' for the maiden speaker in the
courts. Come on, bring your declaimers into senate and forum! With their
surroundings they will change their character. They will be like bodies used
to the closet and luxurious shade, unable to stand in the open and put up
with rain and sun. They will scarcely know where they are: they are used
to being eloquent at their own rating. There is no point in judging an J4
orator amid these childish pursuits. How could you test a helmsman on a
fish-pond? I should take more pains in my defence (pleading that I am
not born for such things) if I didn't know that Asinius Pollio, Messalla
Corvinus, and Passienus (now our leading orator) are rated as declaimers
below Cestius or Latro. Is this the fault of the speakers-or their hearers? IS
They are not worse speakers; the audience is judging by worse standards.
It is boys, usually, or youths who throng the schools: and they prefer
their Cestius to the eloquent men I mentioned-and they'd prefer him to
Cicero if they didn't fear a stoning. They do prefer him to Cicero, in
fact, in the one way open to them: they learn all Cestius' declamations.
Cicero's speeches they do not read-except the ones to which Cestius has
written replies.

MOCKERY OF CESTIUS

'I recall that I once went into his school when he was going to recite a 16
speech against Milo. Cestius, with his usual admiration for his own
works, said: "If I were a Thracian, I should be Fusius. If I were a mime,
I should be Bathyllus. If I were a horse, I should be Melissio." I couldn't
contain my rage. I shouted: "If you were a drain, you'd be the Great
Drain." Universal laughter. The scholastics looked at me to discover who
this lout was. Cestius, who had taken on himself to reply to Cicero,
could find nothing to reply to me, and he said he wouldn't go on if I
didn't leave. I said I wouldn't leave the bath until I'd had my wash.
 DECLAMA TION AND THE SENECAS
17 'After that, I resolved to revenge Cicero on Cestius, in the courts.
Soon, I met him and summoned him before the praetor, and when I'd
had enough of deriding and abusing him, I requested the praetor to admit
a charge under the law on unspecified offences. Cestius was so worried
that he asked for an adjournment. Next, I haled him off to a second praetor
and accused him of ingratitude. I Finally, before the Urban Praetor, I
requested a keeper for him. His friends, who had thronged to the spec-
tacle, put in a word for him, and in response to them I said I should give
no further trouble if he swore he was less eloquent than Cicero. But
neither joke nor serious argument would induce him to that.
18 'I've told you this tale to show that declamations breed a virtually
separate race of men. To be comparable with them, I need not more
genius but less sense. So I can scarcely be persuaded to declaim: and
when I am, it is only before my best friends.'
And so he did. His declamations were unequal, but what stood out in
them were things that would have made any declamation look unequal.
His rhythm was harsh, and avoided periodic structure. His epigrams were
lively. But it would be unfair to judge him from the extracts that follow.
They don't show him at his best; but they are what I best remember.

D. OVID IN THE SCHOOLS

From Controversiae 2. 2. 8--<), 12.

8 I remember this controversia being declaimed by Ovid at the school

of the rhetor Arellius Fuscus, whose pupil he was. Ovid greatly admired
Latro, though his style of speaking was quite different. Ovid had a polished,
tasteful, and attractive talent. His oratory even then was no more than
poetry without the verse. He had put his attendance at Latro's declama-
tions to such good use that he transferred many of Latro's epigrams into
his own verses. On the Judgement of Arms, Latro had said: 'Let us
loose off the weapons at the enemy, then go and retrieve them.' Ovid
wrote:
Let the hero's arms be hurled amidst the foe:
bid them retrieve them thence. 2
And this was not the only idea that he borrowed from Latro's treatment
of that suasoria. I recall Latro in a preamble saying something that the
schoolboys learnt off as a sort of tag: 'Do you not see how a torch un-
moved is dim, but shaken gives out its fires? Leisure softens men; iron
[ Bonner, op. cit. 86-8, discusses the legal aspects of these charges.
2 Metamorphoses 13. 121-2.
 OVID IN THE SCHOOLS 359

is worn down by disuse and gathers rust; sloth brings forgetfulness.'

Ovid wrote:
I have seen the flames grow when a torch is shaken,
but die again when no one brandishes it.!

Well, when he was a student, he was regarded as a good declaimer. At 9

least, he declaimed this controversia before Arellius Fuscus (in my opinion)
with particular skill, except that he ran through the common places with-
out any sort of order ...
But Ovid rarely declaimed controversiae, and then only when they 12
involved portrayal of character. He was keener on suasoriae: he hated all
argumentation. He was not unduly free in his use of words except in
poetry, where he was well aware of his faults-and liked them. This is
clear from an incident when he was asked by his friends to get rid of three
of his verses; in exchange he asked that he should be allowed to make
an exception of three verses which they could not touch. This seemed a
fair condition. They wrote down privately the ones they wanted damned:
he wrote down the ones he wanted saved. Both sheets contained the same
verses. The first (according to an eyewitness, Albinovanus Pedo) was:
half-bull man and half-man bull,z

the second:
the freezing North wind and the un freezing South. 3

From which it is clear that this talented man lacked the will rather than
the taste to restrain the licence of his poetry. He used sometimes to say
that a face was all the more beautiful for a mole.

E. THE DECAY OF ORATORY

From the Preface to Book I of the Controversiae, §§ 6-10. A common first-

century theme: cf. Tacitus, Dialogus (below, p. 432); 'Longinus' 44 (below,
p. 501).

My boys, you are doing something necessary and useful in not being 6
satisfied with the models provided by your own day and wanting
to get to know those of the last generation. 4 For one thing, the more
I Amores 1. 2. II-I2. • Art of Love 2. 24.
3 Amores 2. Il. 10.
• Cf. on imitation Quint. 10. 2 (below, p. 400) and 'Longinus' (below, p. 475).
 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
patterns you examine, the greater advantage to your eloquence. You
should not imitate one man, however distinguished, for an imitator
never comes up to the level of his model. This is the way things are;
the copy always falls short of the original. Moreover, you can by these
means judge how sharply standards are falling every day, how far some
grudge on nature's part has sent eloquence downhill. Everything that
Roman oratory has to match the arrogant Greeks (or even prefer to them)
7 reached its peak in Cicero's day: all the geniuses who have brought
brilliance to our subject were born then. Since then things have got worse
daily. Perhaps this is due to the luxury of the age (nothing is so fatal to
talent as luxury); perhaps, as this great art became less prized, com-
petitiveness transferred itself wholly to sordid affairs that bring great
prestige and profit; perhaps it is just Fate, whose grim law is universal-
things that get to the top sink back to the bottom faster than they
8 rose. Look how lazy and sleepy-minded our young men are; no one can
stay awake at night to work at one honest pursuit. Sleep, languor, and
an activity for evil that is more shameful than either have seized hold
of their minds. Libidinous delight in song and dance transfixes these
effeminates. Waving the hair, raising the tone of the voice till it is as
caressing as a woman's, competing in bodily softness with women,
beautifying themselves with indecent cosmetics-this is the pattern our
youth set themselves!
9 Which of your contemporaries-quite apart from his talent and his
studiousness-is enough of a man? Born feeble and spineless, they stay
like that throughout their lives; enemies of others' chastity, careless of
their own. God prevent them being blessed with eloquence-something
for which I should have scant respect if it exercised no choice in those on
whom it bestowed itself. That well-known saying of Cato was really an
oracle-and you are wrong, my dear young men, if you fail to realize it.
For surely an oracle is the divine will given human expression: and what
high priest could the gods have found more holy than Marcus Cato, not
so much to teach mankind as to abuse it? What, then, was it that he said?
10 'An orator, son Marcus, is a good man skilled in speaking.'1 Go and look
for orators among the smooth and hairless of today, men only in their
lusts. As one would expect, they have models as depraved as their intel-
lects. Who cares for his future renown? Who is made popular-I won't
say by great qualities-but even by qualities that are his own? Undetected
by a casual public, they can easily pass off as their own epigrams let drop
by really eloquent speakers, constantly violating the holiness of an elo-
quence they cannot attain.

I a. Quint. 12. I (below, p. 417).

 F. THE ABSURDITIES OF DECLAMATION

Complaints about the unreality and absurdity of declamations are common in

the first century. I We give perhaps the most entertaining of such attacks: the
first preserved passage of Petronius' Satyricon (1-4). This was written before
A.D. 66. The narrator is Encolpius; Agamemnon is a rhetor.
Text: K. Miiller, Munich, 1961. See]. P. Sullivan, The Satyricon ofPetronius:
a Literary Study, London, 1968.
'It must be the same sort of Fury that irritates the declaimers who I

shout: "These wounds I received for the freedom of all: this eye I for-
feited for you. Give me a guide to lead me to my children; my knees are
hamstrung and will not support my body." Even this would be bearable
if it paved the way for aspirers to eloquence. As it is, their only profit
from their inflated material, their empty clamour of epigram, is that
when they get into court they think they've been deposited in another
world. My view is that youths get exceedingly stupid in school, and this
is because they neither hear nor see anything there that one is normally
acquainted with, but only pirates in chains on the beach, tyrants writing
edicts instructing sons to cut off their fathers' heads, oracles ordering that
three or more virgins should be sacrificed to remedy a plague, honeyed
balls of words, everything that's done or said coated with poppy-seed
and sesame.
'Boys brought up amidst all this have as much chance of being sensible 2
as the inhabitant of a kitchen has of smelling nice. Don't be offended if
I say that it is you people, first and foremost, who have destroyed elo-
quence. By stirring up outrageous effects amid trivial and empty sounds,
you have made the body of oratory effeminate and drooping. Youths
weren't confined to declamation when Sophocles and Euripides found
words they could not but use. The scholar in his shady retreat had not
yet stamped out genius when Pindar and the nine lyricists hesitated to
write in Homeric verse. And, to leave poets out of account, I am sure
neither Plato nor Demosthenes got involved with this style of exercise.
Grand and, so to say, respectable speech is not tainted or turgid: it
abounds in a beauty that is natural. It is only recently that grotesque and
windy loquacity has migrated from Asia to Athens, and infected students
of high aspirations like some pestilential planet. 2 The pattern once
become decadent, eloquence came to a halt, fell silent. Who after them
reached the heights of Thucydides, the reputation of Hyperides? There
was not so much as a poem of healthy complexion to shed its brilliance
I Cf. Tacitus, Dialogus 35 (below, p. 454).
2 Cf. Dionysius (above, p. 306), Cicero, Brutus SI (above, p. 224). Note the tenden-
tious 'recendy'-the change, if a real one, happened in Hellenistic times.
 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
abroad; everything was fed on the same food, and could not reach the
white hairs of old age. Painting suffered the same fate, too, once the
daring Egyptians found a short-cut for that great art.
3 'Agamemnon wouldn't let me declaim in the colonnade any longer
than he'd sweated it out in the school. "Young man," he said, "your con-
versation is of no vulgar stamp. What is rarest of all, you approve of good
sense. So I shall not deprive you of the secrets of my trade. No wonder
teachers go astray in these exercises; they think they must rave in the
company of the mad. Unless they say the sort of things the youth will
like, they will be left, as Cicero I put it, alone in the schools. Flatterers in
search of a rich man's hospitality rehearse nothing more readily than
what they suppose will be most acceptable to their hearer-they won't
get what they're after without laying some ambush for the ear. So with
the teacher of eloquence. Unless, like a fisherman, he arms his hook with
the sort of bait he knows the fish will like, he's left stuck on his rock,
with no chance of a catch.
4 "What are we to conclude? The parents are to blame: they don't want
their sons to prosper under stern discipline. Like everything else, their
young hopefuls are sacrificed to ambition. Again, in a hurry to reach
their aims, they thrust still raw lads into the courts, and clothe new-born
kids in eloquence-though proclaiming that nothing is more important.
If they only allowed for gradations of study, so that the studious young
could be immersed in serious reading, form their minds in the precepts
of philosophy, strike out wantonnesses with a savage pen, listen long to
favoured objects of their imitation, if they got used to the idea that
nothing is splendid that boys enjoy-then the old great oratory would
have its proper weight and dignity. As it is, the children play at school:
when they are youths they get laughed at in the forum. Worse than
either, the mistakes a man imbibed at school he is disinclined to admit to
in his old age."

G. STYLES AND MORALS

This is the first of three extracts from the younger Seneca, the second son of the
'rhetor' on whom we have been drawing. These letters were written A.D. 62-4,
and deal with a variety of problems, mostly in ethics. Edition: L. D. Reynolds,
Oxford, 1965. Commentary on selected letters (including 40 and 114) by W. C.
Summers, London, 1910.
This letter (1I4) was regarded by Eduard Norden as the most important
document for the history of first-century prose. It is illuminating to compare
Seneca's strictures on Maecenas with the views of contemporaries and successors
I Pro Caelio 41.
 STYLES AND MORALS
on Seneca himself: the Emperor Caligula called Seneca's works mere prize-day
speeches, 'sand without lime'; Qyintilian (10. 1. 125, below, p. 399) solemnly
warns the young against the"'pleasing vices' of Seneca's style.
Why, you ask, have certain periods seen the appearance of a corrupt I
style of speech? How is it that writers have veered into different sorts of
fault-so that sometimes bombast has prevailed, sometimes emasculated
song-like oratory? Why have bold extravagant ideas found favour at one
time, at another abrupt dark sayings in which there was more to be under-
stood than heard? Why was there a time when immoderate use was made
of the privilege of metaphor? The answer lies in a common saying-one
that is proverbial in Greek: 'As are men's lives, so is their speech.'
Now just as each man's actions are like his style of speaking, so style 2
in oratory sometimes apes the mores of society-if the community's
standards have slipped and it has given itself over to dissoluteness.
Abandoned speech is a sign of public luxury, so long, that is, as such speech
is not confined to a few but is generally approved and accepted.
One's intellect and one's personality cannot have different com- 3
plexions. If the personality is healthy, if it is sedate, serious, and restrained,
the intellect too is dry and sober. When the personality is corrupted, the
intellect too is infected. If the personality is depressed, you can see
the limbs dragging, the feet trailing. If the personality is effeminate, the
softness is expressed in the very gait. If it is fierce and fiery, the step
quickens. If it is mad-or, what is hardly different, angry-the body's
movement is troubled: it is carried along willy-nilly. But surely this is
even more the case with one's intellect, which is inextricably mixed with
the mind-is formed by it, obeys it, looks to it for orders.

LIFE AND STYLE OF MAECENAS

How Maecenas lived is too well known for me to have to relate here how 4
he walked, how fastidious he was, how he longed to be seen, how he had
no wish to hide his faults. So? Is not his style as lax as the man himself
was abandoned? Aren't his words as conspicuous as his dress, his com-
pany, his house, his wife? He would have been a great genius if he had
taken a straighter road, and not tried to avoid being understood, extend-
ing his dissoluteness to his style. The result is a drunkard's eloquence,
complex, wandering, abandoned. What could be worse than these phrases? 5
'Water and woods on the bank leafy.'
'Furrow the bed with the boat, and by stirring the shallows move back
the gardens.'
 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
'Wrinkles his face with a wink to a lady, bills with his lips and sighing
begins, as the monarchs of the glade rut with neck adroop.'
'A conspiracy beyond redemption, they ferret out with feasting, batter
households with the bottle, demand death for hope.'
'Genius scarcely to be invoked on its own festal day.'
'Threads of slim candle and spluttering grain.'
'The fireside mother or wife drape.'I
6 When you read this,you are immediately struck that this is the man
who always walked the streets with his tunic loose (for even when he was
deputizing for the absent Augustus, it was an unbelted Maecenas that
gave the watchword for the day); who at the tribunal, at the rostrum, in
every public gathering could be seen with his head wrapped in his
cloak-only his ears sticking out-like nothing so much as a rich man's
runaway slave in a mime. This was the man who, when the civil wars
were raging at their worst, when the city was in arms and anxious, had
as his bodyguard two eunuchs-and they more men than he; the man
who married one wife-a thousand times.
7 These words so licentiously arranged, so negligently flung down, so
abnormally employed, show us that his character was no less strange,
depraved, and individual. The best thing we can say of him is that he was
kind; he spared the sword, abstained from blood-letting-only in his
licence did he show his possibilities. But this compliment is spoiled by
those portentous self-indulgences in his speech; it is clear that he was
8 soft, not gentle. From that labyrinthine arrangement, those words that
lie in wait to trip you, those extraordinary sentiments, often grand, but
emasculated even in the utterance, anyone can see the truth: too much
luck had turned his head.
9 This sometimes happens to a man, sometimes to an age. When pros-
perity has spread luxury far and wide, in the first place dress starts to
become more elaborate; then trouble is taken over furniture; then care is
lavished on the very houses, so that they extend freely into the country,
walls shining with imported marble, roofs brightened with gold, ceilings
and floors reflecting each other's brilliance. Then lavishness moves on to
food: compliments are sought for novelty of dish or change of the normal
order, the dessert placed first, hors-d'reuvres offered to the parting guest.
10 Once the mind has grown accustomed to despising the normal and feeling
that the usual is stale, it looks for novelty in speech too. Sometimes it
recalls old worn-out words and trots them out again; sometimes it mints
new ones or varies familiar ones; sometimes-as has been popular
recently-bold and frequent metaphor is regarded as smart.
I These examples are all very obscure, and the translation we offer is tentative.
 STYLES AND MORALS
There are some who cut short their sentences, and hope the effect will II
please if the thought remains in the air, challenging the hearer to distrust
its surface meaning; there are others who hold sentences up, and stretch
them out; there are yet others who don't just run into/faults-that is
inevitable if your aims are high-but who love faults for their own sake. I
Th~s, wherever you see that a corrupt style of speech finds favour,
you may be sure that morals too have gone astray. Luxury in feasting and
clothes are signs of an ailing society; so, too, licentious speech, where
widely spread, shows the degeneracy of the minds from which it proceeds.
You need not wonder at the acceptance of the corrupt by the intelligentsia 12
as well as the mob; their only difference is in their togas, not in their
discernment. You may wonder more that faults find approval as well as
faulty works. One thing has always been true: no talent has merited
favour without allowance having to be made. Mention any man of high
reputation: I will tell you what his age had to forgive him, what it de-
liberately ignored in him. I can give examples of many who were not
harmed by their faults, some who were helped by them. I can mention
men of the highest fame, held up to us for our admiration, who would
be destroyed by being corrected. Vices and virtues are inextricably
linked: vices carry virtues along with them.

TYPES OF CORRUPT STYLE

Speech has no fixed rules: it is controlled by the usage of a country- 13

and that never stays the same for long. Many hunt for words out of a
different century; theirs is Twelve-Table talk. 2 Gracchus and Crassus
and Curio are too smart, too new for them-they go back to Appius and
Coruncanius.3 On the other hand, others want nothing that is not well-
worn by custom, and so fall into meanness. Both types are corrupt in 14
different ways; no less, surely, than the practice of using only splendid,
resounding poetic words while avoiding ordinary everyday ones. One
man errs as much as the other; one is unduly elegant, the other unduly
negligent; one shaves even his legs, the other lets the hair grow under his
arms.
Let us pass to the rhythm of sentences. How many kinds of fault shall IS
I produce here? Some want their structure broken and rough; if anything
comes out smoothly, they disturb it on purpose; they want no join to
lack its jolt; they think a sentence which strikes the ear by its lack of
symmetry to be virile and strong. Some go in for singing, not rhythm-
I Cf. the elder Seneca on Ovid (above, p. 359).

• i.e. the archaism of the primitive code of law.

3 i.e. they go back beyond the pre-Ciceronian orators to very remote times.
 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
such is the insinuation and smooth flow of their style. Then there is the
16 structure in which words are delayed: you have to wait for them-and
they scarcely arrive in time for the clausula. Or the kind yhat is slow to
reach an end, like Cicero's, gently sloping, softly restraining the hurrying
reader, never surprising in its customary metre.
There is a further fault in types of epigram-if they are trifling and
childish, or bold and daring beyond the bounds of decency: if they are
flowery and sickly-sweet, if they finish in a vacuum and have no effect
but of sound.
17 Faults like these are introduced by some individual who at a parti-
cular time dominates eloquence; others imitate them, and pass them
on one to another. Thus, when Sallust was at his height, smartness
consisted in the use of sentences cut short, unexpected halts, a dark
conciseness. Lucius Arruntius, a man of remarkable austerity, author
of a history of the Punic War, was a Sallustian-that was where he let
himself go. Sallust has: 'He made an army with silver'-that is, he raised
it by means of money.' Arruntius fell in love with this: he put it on every
page. At one point he said: 'They made a flight for our men'; at another:
'Hiero, king of Syracuse, made a war'; at another: 'This news made the
IS Panormitans yield to the Romans.' I only wanted to give you a taste;
the whole book is a patchwork of these expressions. What was rare in
Sallust becomes frequent in Arruntius-almost continuous. The reason
is clear: Sallust fell into such usages by chance, Arruntius went out to
look for them. You see what happens when a fault becomes a model.
19 Sallust said: 'When the seas wintered'; Arruntius in Book One of
the Punic War said: 'Suddenly the storm wintered.' And at another point,
where he wanted to say that the year was a cold one, he said: 'The
whole year wintered', and elsewhere: 'Then he sent off sixty merchant-
ships, lightly laden except for the soldiers and necessary crew, while the
north wind wintered.' He can't stop stuffing this word in everywhere.
Sallust says somewhere: 'While amid civil arms he sought fames for fair-
ness and goodness.' Arruntius could not restrain himself from putting in
right away in the first book that there were great 'fames' about Regulus.
20 These faults, and ones like them, that imitation instils, are not signs of
luxury or a corrupted mind. You must judge a man's feelings from things
that truly belong to him, that are inborn; an angry man's speech is angry,
21 a disturbed man's unduly excited, a fastidious man's soft and fluid. Look
at the intention of those who pluck their beards or thin them, who shave
their lips close but leave the rest to grow, who wear cloaks of daring
colours, or transparent togas, who don't want to do anything that could
escape the attention of their fellow men: they are provoking them, in-
I This and the other passages from Sallust are from the lost Histories.
 STYLES AND MORALS
sisting on them taking notice, happy even to be criticized so long as
they are not ignored. Such is the style of Maecenas and all the others
whose fault is not due to chance but to their conscious will.
This arises from a great defect of character: when a man drinks wine, 22
his mind has to give way to the pressure, overthrown and betrayed,
before his tongue starts to stammer; similarly, what I can only call
drunkenness of style causes nobody trouble before the mind starts slip-
ping. It is therefore the mind that needs treatment: it causes thoughts,
produces words, it dictates to us our gait, countenances, dress. When
it is healthy and sound, speech is strong too, tough and virile; if it is
overthrown the rest follows its ruin. 'When the king is unharmed, all 23
have a common purpose; when he is lost, they break their faith.'I Our
king is the mind; when it is unharmed the rest remain at their posts, obey,
serve; when it totters a little, they begin to doubt. But when it has given
way to pleasure, its skills and actions decay also, and all its impulses
are enfeebled.
[The rest of the letter is not literary in interest; Seneca moralizes on
cupidity.]

H. SPEED IN ORATORY
Seneca does not approve of too rapid delivery in philosophical lectures (Episl.
40. 11-14)·
But there are some things, I think, more suitable or less suitable for II
whole races as well. Among the Greeks this freedom 2 is tolerable; but
the Romans are accustomed to punctuate even in writing. Our great
Cicero, source of Roman eloquence, was an ambler. The Roman language
is more watchful of itself; it examines itself, and is open to examination.
Fabianus,3 a man excellent in character and learning and also-a 12
secondary thing-in eloquence, used to argue readily rather than pas-
sionately. You could talk of his fluency rather than his speed. Speed I am
prepared to tolerate in a wise man, but I don't demand it. So long as his
speech issues unimpeded, I would rather it were brought forth deliberately
than came pouring out.
Here is another reason to deter you from that disease. Speed is only 13
possible if you stop feeling shame; it involves growing a thick skin and
failing to listen to your own words; unguarded flow of language carries
with it much that you would wish to criticize. Speed, I say it again, cannot 14
I Virgi!, Georgics 4. 212-13. 2 i.e. to speak without pause, like Haterius.
3 See the next extract.
 DECLAMATION AND THE SENECAS
come your way without harming your modesty. You need daily exercise
for it, and concentration has to shift from matter to words. Even if they
are available and can flow with no trouble on your part, words must be
kept under control. A modest gait suits the wise man; so does a style that
is concise and unadventurous. The sum total of my advice is: speak
slowly.

I. THE STYLE FOR A PHILOSOPHER

In this letter (100) Seneca discusses Papirius Fabianus, an eloquent mora-

list of the early first century A.D.
You tell me you have devoured Papirius Fabianus' volumes on Politics
-and that they disappointed you. You forget a philosopher is in question,
and criticizl' his style. Suppose it is true, as you say, that he pours words
out inster.d of aiming them. First, that pleases, in its way; writing that
gently glides on has its individual charm: it makes a vast difference, I
think, ifit comes tumbling out or flows out smoothly. And here is another
2 great distinction: Fabianus, in my view, does not pour words away-he
just pours them. His style is free, untroubled, yet flowing. It bears all
over it the signs of lack of elaboration or over-long attention. Still, let
us have it your way; it was character he was ordering, not words: he
wrote this for the mind, not the ear.
3 Further, if he had spoken it himself, you would have had no time to
scrutinize details: the whole would have swept you on. Generally what
pleases heard at speed is less rewarding when pondered over. But it is
a great thing to hold the gaze at a first glance, even if careful examination
4 will find something to condemn. If you ask me, it is better to sweep
judgement off its feet than to win it over; and yet I know the latter is
safer, I know he's promising himself a bolder effort in the future. Anxious
writing does not suit the philosopher. If he fears for his words, how will
5 he ever be brave and firm, how will he ever put himself at risk? Fabianus
was not careless in his style: he was free of care for it. You will, therefore,
find nothing vulgar. His words are chosen without being hunted down.
They are not, in the manner of the day, unnaturally placed or switched
about; they are splendid-yet taken from the common stock. You have
here upright and fine sentiments, not cramped into epigram but freely
expanded. It remains to be seen what lacks concision, structure, the
latest gloss: but when you look around at the whole, you will notice no
6 cramped nonsense. There may be no contrasted marble, no central
heating, no pauper's cell, none of the other complications introduced by
 THE STYLE FOR A PHILOSOPHER 369
the luxury for which simple elegance is not enough; but it is, as they say,
a sound house. I

WORD-ARRANGEMENT

Moreover, there is no agreed view on word-arrangement. Some would

like its roughness smoothed away; others are so keen on jagged edges that
they purposely disarrange an order that chance had deployed too effemi-
nately, and cut cadences short before they can answer to our expectation.
Look at Cicero. His word-arrangement is homogeneous and bends' its 7
steps gently and softly, though without any indecency. Yet that of Asinius
Pollio is uneven, impetuous, liable to leave you where you least expect.
In fact, in Cicero everything comes to a halt, in Pollio everything falls
flat-except for a few passages confined to one definite pattern.

FABIANUS-AND HIS BETTERS

You go on to say that everything in Fabianus' books seems to you slight 8

and abject. In my judgement, that is not one of his faults. His work is
not slight, but calm, shaped to an even and composed way of thinking:
not low but flat. It lacks the vigour of oratory, and your favourite sudden
and stimulating jabs of epigram. But you must surely see how elegant
and decent is the whole effect. His style does not have dignity: it will
confer dignity.
Bring forward conceivable superiors of Fabianus. There is Cicero, 9
who wrote almost as many books about philosophy as Fabianus. I con-
cede that point-but to be inferior to the best does not automatically
make a thing contemptible. There is Asinius Pollio. I concede that point:
the reply is that in so important a matter to be third is to be outstanding.
I can add Livy (for he wrote both professedly philosophical works and
dialogues as much historical as philosophical): I make room for him also.
Our man is defeated by three-the most eloquent: consider to how many
he must be superior!
But he does not have everything. His style is elevated, but not auda- 10
cious: fluent, but not violent or torrential: pure but not clear . You say:
'One may look in vain for words that are harsh to combat vice, spirited
to combat danger, proud to oppose fortune, abusive to oppose ambition.
I want luxury reviled, lust disgraced, passion broken. There should be an
element of oratorical savageness, tragic grandeur, comic delicacy.' You
are asking him to labour over a tiny thing-words; he has devoted himself
I For this metaphor cf. Tacitus, Dialogus 22 (below, p. «6).
8143591 Bb
 37 0 DECLAMATION AND THE SE NE CAS
to the grandeur of his subject, unconsciously trailing his eloquence
Il behind him, like a shadow. No, the details will not be weighed and con-
centrated; not every word will provoke and prick. Many things will
emerge without making an impact; sometimes what is said will slip
casually by. Yet everything will be brightly lit, spacious without tedium.
One crowning achievement: he makes it clear that he meant what he
wrote. You cannot fail to notice that the point is that you art'\ to know what
pleases him-not that he should please you. Everything aims 'at the reader's
improvement, at his moral welfare. Applause is not the goal.
12 That, I have no doubt, is the character of his writings-so far as my
recollection goes; I haven't got them in mind, and their tone remains
with me not familiarly through recent intercourse, but in a general
way, as happens with acquaintances from the past. Anyway, that is what
I thought of them when I sat at his feet: that they were full without
being solid, designed to uplift the right-minded youth and, without
making him despair of bettering them, summon him on to emulation-
surely the most effective method of exhortation. The man who makes
you want to imitate him while leaving you no hope of success is merely a
deterrent. But he had words in plenty; he did not try to make you admire
the detail, but he is splendid as a whole.

J. SENECA ON HIS PREDECESSORS

We conclude with a passage from Aulus Gellius (Nights in Attica 12. 2: ed.
P. K. Marshall, Oxford, 1968), which gives us both a judgement on Seneca
himself, written from the standpoint of the mid second century, and a report
on Seneca's own view of Cicero, Ennius, and Virgil.

I Some think of Seneca as a singularly unhelpful writer whose books

there is no point in opening-his style being common and banal, the
content and thought either storming on foolishly and vacuously or
marked by a cheap lawyer's smartness, while his learning is regarded as
vulgar and plebeian, with no trace of older writings to give it attractive-
ness or weight. Others, again, while not denying that his language is not
elegant enough, say that he doesn't lack knowledge of the things he says,
and that the impressive severity he applies to the criticism of vice is not
2 disagreeable. I don't need to pass judgement on his talent and achieve-
ment in general; I put forward for consideration the nature of his own
judgements on Cicero, Ennius, and Virgil.
3 In the twenty-second book of the Moral Epistles to Lucilius, he
describes as quite ridiculous these verses of Ennius about the antique
Cethegus:
 SENECA ON HIS PREDECESSORS 37 1
he once was called by the citizens
who lived then and passed their lives
the choice flower of the people, the marrow of Persuasion. I
He added on these same verses: 'I am surprised that men of great eloquence, 4
men devoted to Ennius, should have praised what is lau&hable as though
it were first-rate. At least, Cicero includes these amon'g Ennius' good
lines'.
Of Cicero, too, he says: 'I am not surprised that there was a man 5
capable of writing these verses when there was one capable of praising
them: unless, perhaps, the great orator Cicero was pleading his own cause,
and wanted his own poetry to seem good.' Later he added this fatuous 6
comment: 'In Cicero himself you may find, even in his prose, indications
that he didn't waste the time he spent on reading Ennius.' He then puts 7
down what he criticizes as Ennian in Cicero, from On the Republic:
'Since Menelaus the Spartan had a certain sweet-speaking attractiveness',
and elsewhere: 'He cultivates brief-speaking in oratory.'2 At this point 8
our trifler makes excuses for Cicero's mistakes: 'This was not the fault
of Cicero, but of his time. These things had to be said when those verses
found readers.' Then he adds that Cicero in fact inserted these words to 9
avoid being condemned for having too luxuriant and pretty a style.
In the same passage he says on Virgil: 'Our Virgil, too, put in some 10
harsh, monstrous, and over-long lines just so that a public steeped in
Ennius could find an element of archaism in a modern poem.'
I'm getting tired of Seneca's remarks. But I can't leave out some jokes II

by this foolish and humourless man. 'There are some sentiments in

~intus Ennius so grand that, though written when men smelled of the
goat, they may yet please when men smell of unguents.' And (after
criticizing those verses on Cethegus): 'Those who like verses of this kind
clearly admire beds made even by Sotericus.'
Obviously Seneca deserves to be read and studied by youth, if he com- 12

pares the splendour and attraction of the old style to the beds of
Sotericus--ones of no beauty, obsolete and scorned. All the same you 13
may hear people recalling some dicta of Seneca that are good, such as
what he said in criticism of a greedy avaricious money-grubber: 'What
difference does it make how much you have? What you do not have is
much more.' That is good, isn't it? But youth is so constituted that it 14
is less helped by good sayings than infected by bad-and much more so
if the worse predominate and some of the bad are used not to promote
some triviality but as advice in a crisis.
[ Ennius, Annales 306. • De republica 5., 11.
 9
QUINTILIAN AND PLINY

QUINTILIAN

M. Fabius Q!lintilianus, of Spanish descent (as were the Senecas), had a long
career as an imperially-favoured teacher of rhetoric in Rome. His great work,
Institutio Orataria, was written about A.D. 95. This 'education of an orator'
covers the rhetorical training from the cradle to the grave.
Text: L. Radermacher, Leipzig, 1907, 1935; M. Winterbottom, Oxford,
1970 •
Source-discussion and bibliography: ]. Cousin, Etudes sur Quintilien, Paris,
1936; supplemented in Lustrum 7, 1962, 289 ff.
Loeb translation by H. E. Butler, London, 1921-2.

A. DECLAMATION AND REALITY

Our first extract (2. 10) gives Q!lintilian's views on the central feature of con-
temporary education, declamation: cf. Tacitus, Dialogus 35 (below, p. 454).

I Once a boy has been well trained and sufficiently practised in these
elementary exercises (which are not in themselves trivial, but rather the
parts and so to say limbs of greater things), it will usually be time to
approach deliberative and forensic topics. Before I get on to them, how-
ever, I must say a few words about the actual raison d'etre of declamation
-the most recently developed of all methods of training but far the most
2 useful. It contains within it virtually all the exercises I have mentioned,
and gives the nearest approximation to reality; and so it has become
prevalent to the extent that many people think it all that is needed to
shape eloquence, there being no quality at least of continuous oratorical
prose that is not found as well in this kind of preparation for oratory.
3 Thanks to its teachers it has now so degenerated that the licentious
ignorance of declaimers has become one of the principal causes for the
corruption of eloquence. But things that are naturally good can be put
4 to good use. We must ensure, then, that even fictitious topics should be
as near as possible to real life, and that declamation, as far as may be,
should follow the pattern of the speeches it was invented to train for.
s For wizards and plagues and oracles and stepmothers crueller than those
on the tragic stage and other still more fabulous phenomena will be
 DECLAMATION AND REALITY 373
looked for in vain amid the stipulations and interdicts of the court.
Are we then never to permit youths to treat these unreal and indeed
poetic themes, giving them a chance to spread themselves and enjoy
their topic and as it were put on weight? That would indeed be best; but 6
at least let the themes be grand and even inflated without also being absurd
and laughable to the keen observer, so that, if we are to make this con-
cession, the declaimer may sometimes stuff himself, so long as he realizes
that he must keep his fat down and be purged of any corrupt humours that
he accumulates if he wants to be strong and healthy (similarly, animals
swollen with green-stuffs are treated by blood-letting and can then get
back to foods that will keep them strong). Otherwise the emptiness of the 7
swelling will get shown up on his first attempt at any real-life contest.
Those who regard the whole business of declamation as utterly different
from forensic cases are surely blind even to the reason for the discovery
of this exercise. If it is not a preparation for the forum, it is mere his- 8
trionic display or crazy mouth-shooting. What is the point of 'preparing'
a judge who doesn't exist, narrating what all know to be false, elaborating
proofs for a case on which no one will pronounce? These are a waste of
time, but no more than that: itis sheer mockery, however, to feel emotion,
to be moved by anger or grief, if we're not as it were on manreuvres to
prepare us for the real battle and the serious fighting.
Is there, then, to be no difference between the legal manner of speaking 9
and this declamatory kind? None-if declamation aims solely at our
own improvement. I only wish that we could add to the rules the use of
proper names, and the occasional introduction of more complex con-
troversiae, that would take longer to deliver. We ought to be less afraid
of ordinary words, and get used to putting in jokes. These are things that
show us up as tiros in the forum however practised we may have been in
other respects in the school room. If, on the other hand, declamation is to 10
be aimed at display, we ought surely to go a little out of our way to please
the audience. For in speeches that are certainly to some extent 'real', I I
but are meant for pleasing the public (such as the panegyrics we read,
and the whole 'display' type) one is allowed to use more ornament, and
to acknowledge and even show off to an audience invited with that in
mind all the art that must generally in law-cases be kept hidden. So I2
declamation, as the mirror of suits and deliberations, must resemble
reality; but as having an element of display in it, it must take on a certain
brilliance.
This is the practice of comic actors, who don't speak quite as we do 13
normally (that would require no art), but don't, either, get too far away
from the natural, a fault that would destroy realism. Instead, they deck
out our ordinary habits of speech with a certain actors' gloss.
 374 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
14 Even so, we shall be dogged by some disadvantages arising from our
fictitious themes. In particular much in them is left uncertain, which
can be taken as we decide: ages, wealth, children, parents, the strength
IS of cities, their laws and customs, etc. In fact, sometimes we actually
draw arguments from loopholes in the themes set.

B. THE IMPORTANCE OF EXPRESSION

This passage (8 praef. 13-33) gives Quintilian's sane rejoinder to contemporary

excesses of style; expression is important, but content more important still.
13 What follows demands more care and trouble. For from now on I shall
be dealing with the technique of expression (elocutio), the most difficult
department of oratory, as all orators agree. Marcus Antonius,I whom I
mentioned earlier, said he had seen many accomplished speakers, no
eloquent ones; his view was that an accomplished orator is satisfied to
say what he must, while the eloquent is characterized by speaking with
14 embellishment. Now if this quality had been found in no one up to that
period, including even Crassus and Antonius himself, it is certain that
its lack in all these orators was due to its extreme difficulty. Again,
Cicero 2 regards 'invention' and arrangement as the mark of the man of
sense, eloquence as the sign of the orator; and so he took particular trouble
with his precepts in this department.
IS That he was right to do so is made plain by the very name of our topic.
For to 'express' (eloqui) is to bring out and put over to the audience
everything you have conceived in your mind: and without expression,
whatever I have prescribed so far is empty and like a sheathed sword
16 stuck away in its scabbard. So this matter is particularly taught; no one
can attain it without technique; and to it special attention must be paid.
It is the object of training and of imitation, our preoccupation at every
age. This is what makes orator excel orator, one type of oratory preferable
17 to another. For it isn't that the Asianists or any other type of 'corrupt'
orator did not see what they should say or failed to arrange it: nor were
those we call 'dry'3 either stupid or blind in their conduct of their cases.
The trouble was that the former lacked judgement and moderation in
expression, the latter strength: from which we can see that the good and
bad qualities of oratory lie in expression.
18 That does not mean that we should take trouble only about words:

I Cicero, de oratore I. 94 (above, p. 231). 2 Orator 44.

3 i.e. the 'Atticists'.
 THE IMPORTANCE OF EXPRESSION 375
and I must meet and resist those who are likely to seize on my admission
as it were on the threshold, without letting me go further-l mean the
people who neglect content, the sinews of a case, and grow old in an
empty zeal for words. They do it for the sake of 'beauty', which can in
my view be a most attractive feature in oratory-but only when it comes
naturally, not when it is searched after. Healthy bodies, sound of blood 19
and strengthened by exercise, get their beauty from the same source as
their strength-for they are of good complexion, spare, muscles showing.
But suppose these bodies were to be plucked and rouged and effeminately
prinked; they would become hideous just because of the trouble taken
to make them beautiful. Legitimate and splendid dress gives a man 2C
authority (as a Greek verse testifies); but when it is womanish and luxuri-
ous it does not beautify the body-it lays bare the mind. In the same way,
the diaphanous and multi-coloured way of expression that some affect
takes the manhood from the matter which they clothe in such verbal
costume. Therefore I want care in words-but anxiety for content. For 21
generally the best words cling close to what we want to say, and are
visible by their own light; yet we go in search of them, as though they
were always hiding and secreting themselves. As a result, we never think
they could be round about our subject: instead we look for them else-
where, and when we find them we have to apply force to them. Elo- 22
quence is something to be approached in a loftier spirit: if it is strong all
over, it will not think it part of its business to polish its nails and set
its hair.
It generally happens, in fact, that oratory actually gets worse as a
result of taking undue trouble for words. First of all, the best words are 23
the nearest, those that give a simple and realistic effect. Those that pro-
claim the labour spent on them, positively wanting to look artificial and
contrived, attain no charm and lose all pretence to plausibility, quite
apart from the fact that they envelop the meaning in shade and engulf
it like corn under luxuriant weed. What can be said straightforwardly 24
our love of words makes us express periphrastically; we repeat what has
been sufficiently said, weigh down with many words what would be clear
with one, and often think it better to hint at things than to say them out-
right. Further, nothing but the figurative pleases now; there is no reputa-
tion for eloquence to be won by anything that another might have said.
We borrow figures and metaphors from the most decadent of the poets, 25
and are apparently only geniuses if it needs genius to take our meaning.
Yet Cicero's precept! was quite clear: in oratory the very worst fault is to
shrink from ordinary language and normal idiom. But then Cicero is 26
I De oratore I. 12. For contemporary views on Cicero, see Tacitus, Dialogus 18, 22 f.
(below, p. 443).
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
'harsh' and 'unsophisticated'; we do better-we for whom everything
that nature prescribed has grown stale, who look not for the ornamental
but the meretricious: as if words had any value divorced from content.
If we have to work all our lives to ensure that words are correct,r clear,
ornamental, and fittingly arranged, we have lost all the fruits of our studies.
27 Yet you may see many stuck over individual words, both while in search
of them and while weighing and measuring them.
Even if the object were that they could always use the best words, this
lack of proportion would still be deplorable: it bridles the onward rush of
oratory, and extinguishes the heat of imagination amid delay and diffi-
28 dence. For the orator who cannot with equanimity bear to waste a word is
wretched and poverty-stricken. But in fact he will not lose a word if he
learns the technique of expression, gets together a generous supply of
words by wide and suitable reading, applies to them methodical arrange-
ment, and finally strengthens the whole with a great deal of practice,
29 so that everything is constantly to hand and in view. The man who
does this will find that content brings its words with it. But the pre-
requisite is study, together with abilities that are first acquired and then
as it were put into reserve. That anxious care to search, evaluate, and
compare is to be indulged while we are learning, not while we are speak-
ing. Otherwise, just as those who have not amassed capital have to make a
living from day to day, so in oratory those who have not laid in sufficient
30 store of words 2 will be in trouble; but if power of speech has been acquired
in advance, the words will be at their posts, seeming not so much to
respond when called upon as always to be attached to thoughts, following
31 them as a shadow follows a body. But to this very care there is a
limit. When words are Latin, meaningful, ornate, and fittingly arranged,
what more have we to strive for? Yet some make no end of quibbling:
they linger over almost every syllable, and even when the best words
have been found go on hunting for something more archaic, obscure,
and unexpected, not realizing that content is the loser when it is the words
32 that are praised. Let us, then, take the greatest care in expression com-
patible with the principle that nothing is to be done for the sake of words
-words having been introduced for the sake of content. And of words
those are most to be commended that best express what we think and
33 have the effect that we desire on the minds of the judges. Such words
cannot but produce diction that is both attractive and admirable-but
not admirable in the sense that we 'admire' prodigies, and attractive
with a charm that is not debased but allied to good reputation and dignity.
1 Cf. below, 3 I. These are the four 'virtues' of style attributed to Theophrastus.

Cf. Cicero, Orator 79 (above, p. 241).

2 'laid ... words': this represents a conjectural supplement to the text.
 (377)

C. READING IN THE SCHOOLS OF RHETORIC

In I. 8, Q!lintilian discusses what the child should read in the school of the
grammaticus: Homer, Virgil, tragedy, selected lyric (but no elegy), Menander.
In this passage (2.5) he prescribes reading for the next stage: the school of the
rhetor.'
I shall discuss the technique of declamation a little later;2 for the moment,. I

as I am dealing with the earliest stages of the rhetorical training, I should

not, I think, omit to point out how much the rhetor will contribute to the
progress of the learner if-just as the grammatici are expected to give
expositions of the poets-he too sees that the pupils he has taken on are
made to read history and especially oratory. I myselfkept up this practice
in the case of a few children whose age required it and whose parents
regarded it as useful; but though my intentions even then were excellent, 2
I was hindered by two things: a long-established custom of teaching by
other methods had hardened into a rule, and youths who were practically
grown-up and had no need of this exercise insisted on attending. In any 3
case, even if I had made a new discovery too late to put it into practice
in my own school, I should not be ashamed to make it a precept for the
future. As it is, I know that this is practised by the Greeks-though rather
by means of assistant teachers, because the rhetors think time would run
short if they themselves should undertake to be always seeing individual
pupils through their reading. Certainly the kind of expose which aims at 4
ensuring that children can easily and accurately follow writing with their
eyes, and even the type that gives the meaning of any unusual words
that crop up, is to be regarded as far below what the rhetor can be ex-
pected to do. On the other hand, to point out good qualities in an author, 5
or if necessary bad ones, is highly appropriate to a rhetor's profession
and his claim to be a teacher of eloquence: particularly as I am by no
means asking him to go to the length of calling each pupil to his side and
pandering to him in the reading of whatever book the pupil may care to
choose. For it seems to be, as well as easier, also much more profitable 6
to impose silence and appoint, preferably in rotation, some one pupil
as reader, so that they can get used at the same time to enunciation:
then, after explaining the case to which the speech that is to be read 7
refers (thus promoting clearer understanding of what is said), to leave
nothing untouched that can be remarked on as to content and style,
making clear the technique of winning over the judge in the proem, the
clarity, brevity, and plausibility of the narration, occasional scheming and
I See H.-I. Marrou, Histoire de l'education dans l'antiquite 6 , Paris, 1965, 412 If.
• In 2. 10 (above, p. 372).
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
8 hidden cunning (for in this matter the only skill is that which the skilful
alone can fathom); then pointing out how methodical the division, how
su btle and tight the arguments: how powerfully the orator arouses passion,
how agreeably he soothes: his bitterness in insult, his wit in raillery:
how he rules his hearers' emotions, bursting into their minds, moulding
9 them to his words; then explaining, as to style, which words are appro-
priate, ornamental, lofty: where the exaggeration is worthy of praise
(together with its opposite), what beautiful metaphor, what figures of
speech appear, what rhythms are smooth and squared off without losing
their virility.
10 Nor is it without profit that even corrupt and faulty speeches (admired,
nevertheless, by many, thanks to the decadence of our taste) should some-
times be read aloud, and that it should be pointed out how many things
in them are inappropriate, obscure, inflated, undignified, sordid, wanton,
and effeminate-things which are not only praised by many but, what
I I is worse, praised just because they are corrupt. For straightforward

speech, expressed naturally, is regarded as having no element of genius,

while we admire as more 'exquisite' things that in one way or another
diverge from this standard. A parallel can be found in the fact that some
people put a greater price on distorted or somehow monstrous bodies than
12 on those which have not forfeited a normal appearance, and that even
those who really are attracted by beauty think that more of it attaches to
the plucked and the pumiced, those who curl and pin up their hair and
shine with a colour that is not their own, than could be bestowed by un-
touched nature-so that bodily beauty is made to appear the result of
moral depravity.
13 The instructor should not only himself teach these things, but ask
frequent questions and try out his pupils' taste. Hence, as they listen,
they will be unable to lapse into inattention, and what is said will not go
in at one ear and out at the other: and at the same time they will be
being brought towards the required state of themselves understanding and
making discoveries. For what else are we about in teaching than ensuring
14 that our pupils will not always require to be taught? I should venture to
say that this kind of attention will contribute more to learners than all
the handbooks of all the rhetors, which are doubtless very helpful but
can hardly, with their broader scope, cover all the types of thing that
IS daily come to light. Similarly in military matters, there are handed down
certain generalized precepts; but it will be more useful to know what
method each general used, wisely or unwisely, in what kinds of circum-
stance, time, and place; for in pretty well everything precepts are less
16 important than practice. Are we to make the teacher declaim as a model
for his pupils while denying that more would be provided by the reading
 READING IN THE SCHOOLS OF RHETORIC 379
of Cicero and Demosthenes? Certainly, if a pupil makes a mistake in
his declamation he can be put right for all to hear; but it would surely be
more effective to put a written speech right-more agreeable, too, for
everyone would rather hear another's faults being reproved than his
own. There is a lot more I could say; but no one can be unaware of the 17
usefulness of what I recommend. It would not be disagreeable; let us
hope that it will not be shirked.
If we can carry that point, a further, though easier, question will remain: 18
who should be read by beginners? Some have approved of the minor
authors, because they thought it easier to understand them; others of the
more flowery type, as being better adapted to nurturing the talents of
the young. Personally, I should prefer the reading of the best authors 19
from the start (and indeed always), but the clearest and most accessible of
the best: for instance, Livy rather than Sallust (even if Sallust is the
greater historian: but to appreciate him requires a degree of attainment).
Cicero, at least in my view, is liked by beginners also, and is sufficiently 20

accessible. He can be loved by his readers as well as useful to them. After

that-in the words of Livy's precept-come the authors most like Cicero.
But two dangers I regard as particularly to be avoided by children. 21
On the one hand, excessive admiration for antiquity should not prompt
the teacher to let their style harden by the reading of the Gracchi, Cato,
and other similar authors. That will make them rough and stark; for they
will be as yet unable to appreciate the strengths of those authors, and,
restricting themselves to the imitation of their style (excellent, doubtless,
for that period but alien to ours) they will-and this is the worst fault
here-regard themselves as equals of the great. On the other hand, 22
pupils should not be allowed to fall victim to the blooms of the recent
decadence and lull themselves in vicious pleasures, thus coming to an
excessive admiration for that over-sweet style which is the more agree-
able to the young mind because it is nearer its own level. Only when the 23
intellect is strong and finally out of danger should I recommend reading
the old authors (and if we take from them their sturdy virile strength of
genius and wipe off the grime of their untutored era we can make our
elegance shine out the more brilliantly). The same applies to new authors:
they too have many virtues-nature has not condemned us to slowness 24
of mind, it is merely that we have changed our manner of oratory and
indulged ourselves more than we should. The orators of the past excelled
us not so much in talent as in ideals. Thus we have much scope for selec-
tion, but we must take care not to allow what we select to be infected by
the surrounding faults. But I have no reason to deny-indeed I assert 25
quite freely-that there have recently been and still are some orators
whom we may imitate as a whole; but it isn't for everyone to decide who 26
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
these authors are. It is better to stick to earlier writers, because even
error is safer in their company; I have recommended this delay in the
reading of new authors just in order that imitation should not get ahead of
judgement.

D. READING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT

In this ambitious survey (10. I), Qyintilian attempts to go through in detail the
authors, both Greek and Latin, who will be 'particular1y suitable to those
proposing to become orators'. He meant the list to be used by older pupils who
had finished the rhetorical course and wished to improve their control of vocabu-
lary, figures, and word-arrangement. This famous passage must be read in the
light of these specific intentions, which account for the sketchiness of some of
the judgements, particularly those on types of poetry (e.g. the elegiac) that
offered little to the speaker. The Greek material, at any rate, is for the most part
not original: the fragments of Dionysius' On Imitation show many close verbal
resemblances to Quintilian's judgements.

HOW TO ACQUIRE A HABIT OF FACILITY

I But these precepts on style, though necessary for theoretical knowledge

of oratory, are by no means sufficient to instil mastery of speaking unless
they are reinforced by that stable facility in composition called by the
Greeks hexis. I am aware that it is usual to ask the question whether it is
writing or reading or speaking that contributes most to this ability;
and I should have myself to consider this point carefully if we could in
2 fact rest content with anyone of these methods. But they are actually so
interconnected and inseparable that if any of them were left out time
spent on the others would be wasted. Eloquence can never be mature and
tough if it has not drawn strength from constant writing, and without
the pattern supplied by reading effort devoted to writing will drift un-
guided. One may know how everything ought to be said, but unless
one has one's eloquence always on the alert, ready for any emergency,
3 one will be like a miser brooding over buried treasure. Something may
be an absolutely essential element in oratory, but that does not auto-
matically make it of correspondingly great importance in the forming of
an orator. Certainly speech comes before everything else-for it is in
speaking that an orator's task lies; and it is obvious that it was from speech
that the technique of oratory historically evolved, imitation coming next
4 and writing practice last of all. But though you cannot reach the heights
unless you start from first principles, the first principles start to become of
least importance as the training goes forward. But I am not talking here
 READING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT 38r
about how an orator should be trained (I have already expressed myself
on this topic enough-or at least as well as 1 could); now 1 am dealing with
an athlete who has already learnt all the tricks from his teacher: by what
kind of exercise is he to be prepared for combat? To apply the analogy:
we have to do with someone who already knows how to find and arrange
his material, and has learnt how to choose and dispose his words. Now
we must show him how to do what he has learnt as well and as easily as
possible.

ACCUMULATING VOCABULARY

It is surely beyond question that his task is to assemble (as it were) a 5

store of wealth that he can use whenever he needs it. This wealth con-
sists of an abundance of matter and of words. But matter is individual 6
to each particular case, or, if common, common to only a few cases.
Words have got to be made ready for all kinds of case. If they corre-
sponded one-for-one to things, and varied with them, they would demand
less trouble, for they would all present themselves immediately along with
the matter. But some are more appropriate or more ornate or more sig-
nificant or more euphonious than others; and so they have not only all
to be known, but all to be ready and (so to say) on view, so that when they
come under the critical inspection of the speaker he can easily choose the
best among them. I observe that people are accustomed to learning off 7
synonyms by heart, so that one is sure to come to hand out of many-
and also so that when one has been used and it becomes necessary to use
it again in a short while, they can pick an alternative that means the same
thing and avoid repetition. This is a childish and thankless task-and
not particularly useful either. One merely accumulates a throng of words
out of which one tends to grab at the most handy without discrimination.
We must, however, provide a supply of words without sacrificing 8
judgement; we have an orator's facility, not a huckster's volubility, in
our sights. This we shall attain by reading the best and hearing the
best; for by taking care to do that we shall learn not only the names for
things but the most appropriate for a particular place. Oratory has room 9
for almost all words, except a few that are too indecent. Writers of iambic
verses and Old Comedy may often win applause by using these; it is
enough for us to concentrate on our own field. All words, with the excep-
tions of which I spoke, are somewhere or other the best. For sometimes
one needs even low, vulgar words; words that would seem sordid in a
brilliant context are the correct ones where the matter calls for them.
If we want to get to know words-and not only their meanings but their 10
shapes and rhythmic values too, so that they fit in where we put them,
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
there is only one means: much reading and listening. For it is by ear
that we first pick up all speech. That is why those infants educated on
royal orders by dumb nurses in the wilderness lacked the power of speech,
11 even though they did (we are told) utter a few words. I Now some words
are such that they mean the same thing, though differing in their sounds,
so that it makes no difference to the sense which you decide to use: e.g.
ens;s and gladius used of swords. Others, though when used in their
primary sense they connote separate things, can be transferred figuratively
from their own meanings to signify the same: e.g. 'steel' and 'blade'.
12 Indeed, by a device known as 'abuse' we can call murderers who have
employed any sort of weapon sicarii. Z Other things we can express by a
circumlocution, involving more words than one (e.g. 'abundance of
pressed milk'),3 and many by a change in the form of the phrase: thus
'I know' may become 'I am not unaware' and 'it does not escape me'
and 'it does not pass me by' and 'who does not know?' and 'no one
13 doubts'. But it is also possible to borrow from a neighbour. Often 'I
understand' and 'I feel' and 'I see' mean the same as 'I know'. Rich abun-
dance in such matters we shall obtain by reading, in such a way that we
can use them not just as they come to hand but as they are appropriate.
14 For it is not always that these words perform the same function recipro-
cally. I can correctly say 'I see' about mental understanding, but I
cannot say 'I understand' in connection with visual seeing. A 'blade'
15 can indicate a sword, but 'sword' does not connote 'blade'. This is the
way to acquire a copious vocabulary. But we must not read and listen
merely for the sake of words. For from these sources we get models of
everything that I have been giving instruction in-and more efficacious
they are too than the teachings of the textbooks: once, that is, the learner
has come to be able to understand these models without anyone pointing
them out, and to proceed on his own feet. What the teacher recommended,
the orator points out, in action.

READING AND LISTENING

16 Hearer and reader have different rewards. A speaker arouses the listener
by his animation-he sets him on fire not by the shadow of things but
by the things themselves. Everything lives and moves, and we receive
his words as they (as it were) come newly to birth, with a sympathetic
anxiety. We are moved not only by the way the judgement may go, but
I Herodotus (2. 2) tells how the children, thus brought up, uttered the word bekos,

which turned out to be Phrygian for bread.

2 i.e. 'dagger-men'. 3 i.e. cheese (Virg. Eel.!. 81).
 READING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT 383
also by the danger run by the speakers. Everything combined goes to 17
impress us-voice, grace of gesture, and (perhaps the most powerful
factor in oratory) delivery adapted to the requirement of each particular
passage. When one reads one's judgement is more reliable, while, in a
listener, it is often led astray by partisanship or enthusiastic applause:
one is ashamed to dissent, and a sort of inarticulate shame inhibits us 18
from putting more confidence in our own taste, though in fact bad works
are liked by the majority, and invited audiences are ready to applaud even
things they don't like. Equally, on the other side, it often happens that 19
those whose taste is untrustworthy fail to do justice to the best works.
Reading is free; nor does it hurry by, like a constantly moving speech.
You can frequently go back if you are doubtful of a point or want to
impress it firmly on your memory. We must in fact go back; we must work
over our reading, and hand it on to our memory and our faculty for imita-
tion not raw but softened and, so to say, masticated by constant iteration-
just as we don't swallow food until it has been chewed and almost lique-
fied for easier assimilation.

READING SPEECHES

For a good while only the best writers and the ones least liable to deceive 20
those who trust in them should be read. And it should be done carefully,
almost as carefully as writing. Everything should be scrutinized-but
not merely a little at a time; a book should be read right through, and
then taken up again from the beginning: especially a speech, whose good
points are often hidden, and even deliberately so. Often an orator plans 21
for the future, pretends, lays traps, says in the first part of his speech
things that will payoff at the end. Such passages, therefore, cannot be
properly appreciated in their immediate context, while we are still
unaware of their point, and we shall have to go back to them when we
are familiar with the whole. One most useful thing is to know the details 22
of the cases to which the speeches we are dealing with relate, and, where
possible, to read the pleas on both sides: for example, those of Demo-
sthenes and Aeschines against each other,' Servius Sulpicius and Messalla
(the one for, the other against Aufidia), Pollio and Cassius at the trial of
Asprenas, and many others. Even if some do not appear to be evenly 23
matched, we are right to turn to them in search of an understanding of
the point at issue in the case-for instance, the speeches of Tubero
against Ligarius and of Hortensius for Verres when Cicero was on the
I The speeches On the Crown and Against Ctesiphon: cf. Cicero's (?) preface to the

Latin version of both, above, p. 250.

 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
other side. Moreover, it will be profitable to know how two orators treated
the same case. For Calidius too spoke on Cicero's house, and Brutus
wrote, as an exercise, an oration in favour of Milo (Cornelius Celsus is
24 wrong to think that he actually delivered it in court). Pollio and Messalla
defended the same clients, and in my childhood there circulated notable
speeches in defence of Volusenus Catulus from the pens of Domitius
Afer, Passienus Crispus, and Decimus Laelius. Nor should we, as we read,
immediately assume that everything which great authors said must neces-
sarily be perfect. Sometimes they slip, find their task too much for them,
give their talents a field-day for fun. They are not always trying hard;
sometimes they get tired-Demosthenes in Cicero's view sometimes
nods off, and Horace thought that even of Homer himself.!
25 They are great, these authors, but they remain human; and it is the
fate of those who regard everything they find in these writings as a stylistic
law to find themselves imitating the inferior parts of their models (that
being easier), and to regard themselves as strikingly similar to the great
26 if they attain to the faults displayed by the great. However, in judging
such men, one must be modest and cautious, to avoid a pitfall fatal to
many-condemnation of what they fail to understand. And if one must
err in one direction, I should rather that readers of these authors liked
everything than disliked much.

READING POETRY

27 Theophrastus says that much is contributed to an orator's training by

reading poetry, and many follow this lead, reasonably enough: for the
poets are a source of inspiration in subject, sublimity of language, range
of emotion, appropriateness in depiction of character. In particular, minds
deadened by the daily round of legal activity find especial refreshment
in the attractions of poetry. Hence Cicero's view that we should take our
28 ease in reading of this sort.2 But we must remember that an orator cannot
follow poets through thick and thin; their liberty in use of language and
their licence to employ figures are quite alien to him; the genre is designed
for display; and besides the fact that it is in search of pleasure alone, and
pursues it by the invention not only of falsities but even of impossibilities,
29 it is also aided by a special privilege. It is tied down to a definite and
predetermined pattern of feet, and hence cannot always use the correct
terminology; driven from the straight road it has necessarily to resort
to byways of expression. It must not only change words, but extend,

I The Art of Poetry 359 (above, p. 289). For Cicero, see Plutarch, Gicero 24. 6.
• Pro Archi(l 12 (Cicero's defence of a poet-client).
 READING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT 385
shorten, transpose, and divide them. We, by contrast, are armed soldiers,
standing in the front line, with important matters at stake and victory to
strive for. But I should not wish the arms we use to be dirty, mouldy, and 30
rusted. They should have the glint that brings terror to the beholder,
the glint of steel that dazzles mind and sight at once, not the gleam
of gold and silver which has nothing to do with war and is positively
dangerous to its possessor.

READING HISTORY

History too can nourish the orator, with a rich and pleasant juice. But 3£
this also we must read in the knowledge that many of its good qualities
must be avoided by the orator. It is very near poetry; in a manner of
speaking it is a poem written in prose, composed for telling a story, not
proving a case. The whole genre is designed not for practical effect and
the contest of the moment, but for the enlightenment of posterity and the
glory of the writer's genius. Thus it avoids monotony of narrative by
using words a trifle remote from ordinary usage, and figures a shade free.
So-as I have said before-we must not aim, when we speak in front 32
of a preoccupied and often uneducated judge, at the brevity of Sallust,
perfect as that is for the ears of the attentive and the learned. Equally,
Livy's milky richness is not the style in which to bring a point home to
someone who is looking for conviction, not for agreeable narration.
Cicero, moreover, thinks that not even Thucydides or Xenophon are 33
useful for an orator, though he feels that the one 'sounds for war' and that
the Muses spoke with the other's lips.' We may sometimes use even the
historians' brilliance in our digressions, so long as we bear in mind that in
the crucial passages of a speech it is the strong arm of the soldier, not the
bulging muscle of the athlete that is needed, and that the many-coloured
coat assumed (it is said) by Demetrius of Phaleron is unsuitable for the
dust of the forum. History has a further use-a very important one, 34
though not relevant here-in its supply of knowledge of events and pre-
cedents: in these an orator must be well versed. He must not rely on his
client to supply all the evidence; much he must provide for himselffrom
his own carefully garnered knowledge of the past: that alone can escape
the charge of prejudice and bias-hence its special authority.

READING PHILOSOPHY

We have to go to the philosophers for a great deal; this is the fault of 35

the orators themselves in yielding to the philosophers the best part of
1 Orator 39, 62.
8143591 CC
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
their own field. For it is the philosophers who specialize in talk of justice,
goodness, utility, and their opposites, and of theology: moreover, they
argue keenly, and are particularly useful in preparing the budding orator
36 for questioning and cross-talk in court. But here too we must exercise
judgement. We may sometimes be dealing with the same matters as
philosophers; but we should not imagine that the same rules apply both
to suits and to disputations, to forum and to lecture-hall, to moral
precepts and to practical risks.

THE READING-LIST: INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

37 Doubtless many will expect me-since I judge reading so useful-to add

to my book a list of those who should be read and assign each author his
special virtue. But it would be an endless task to go through them all one
38 by one. Cicero in his Brutus spends thousands of lines merely on Roman
orators, even though he keeps silent about all his surviving contemporaries
except for Caesar and Marcellus. What limits could we set if we dealt
with them, and their successors, and all the Greek orators, and the philo-
39 sophers, poets, and historians as well?I The safest course would be a brief
dictum-like the well-known precept in Livy's letter to his son: 'Read
Demosthenes and Cicero; then those who are most like Demosthenes and
40 Cicero.' And I cannot forbear to summarize my own judgement too:
in my view few-perhaps none-can be found, among those who have
worn well, who would not have something useful to offer to readers
prepared to exercise judgement. Cicero admits that he was much helped
4I even by the oldest authors, who had natural talent but lacked art. I feel
much the same about the modems. Few can be found so mad as not to
have some slight confidence in at least a part of their work, sufficient to
give hope for its fame with posterity. And if anyone does lack this faith,
it will be obvious within a line or two, and we shall leave him smartly
42 before our trial of him costs us too much time. But it is not the case that
everything relevant to some department of knowledge is thereby suited
also to forming style, which is my present topic.
But before I go on to indi~idilals, I must say a little in general about
43 diversity of opinion. Some thip'k that only the ancients should be read,
and that only they have natural eloquence and true manly strength. Others
are gratified by the l\l1:est panderings to wantonness, where everything
44 is aimed at tickling the palates of the uneducated mob. And of those who
do want to follow a correct style of speaking, some think that health and
true Atticism lie only in concise, plain language, as near as possible to
I 'poets ••• as well': this represents a conjectural supplement to the text.
 READING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT 381
everyday speech; others are attracted by a more exalted gift, more ~orce­
ful and full of spirit. And there are not a few lovers of a calm, pohshed,
and sedate style. I shall have more to say about this variety when I come
to examine types of oratory. I Meanwhile, I shall merely touch briefly on
what a reader should look for, and where he should look for it, if he wants
to strengthen his faculty for oratory. I intend to pick out a few authors, 45
the most eminent. Students may easily judge who are the most like these;
so that nobody need complain that I have omitted his spe~ial favourites.
I admit that more writers are worth reading than those I shall name; but
now I intend to list the types of reading that I think particularly suited to
those proposing to become orators.

GREEK AUTHORS: HOMER

Well then: just as Aratus thinks that one should start with Zeus, 2 I 46
think our proper beginning is with Homer. He-rather as, in his own
words,J Ocean is the source of rivers and fountains-gave rise to all
departments of eloquence and provided them with a pattern. No one
could surpass his sublimity in great subjects or his aptness in small.
He combines luxuriance and concision, charm and gravity; he is a miracle
of copiousness as well as brevity, and he is outstanding in the qualities
of an orator as well as a poet. To leave aside his panegyrics, his exhorta- 47
tions, and his consolatory speeches, is it not clear that the ninth book4
containing the embassy to Achilles, or the quarrel between the leaders
in the first, or the opinions voiced in the second, lay bare for us all the
techniques of law-suit and political deliberation? No one is so uneducated 4B
as to deny that this author had under his control all types of emotion,
whether gentle or violent. Indeed, by the openings of both his poems did
he not, in a very few lines-I can hardly say observe-did he not formulate
the rules to be followed in composing a proem? For he makes his listener
well-disposed to him by calling on the goddesses who, it was believed,
preside over poets: attentive by his mention of the greatness of the theme:
and open to instruction by his swift sketch of the plot. As for narrative, 49
who could conduct that more briefly than the author of the announce-
ment of Patroclus' death?S Who more vividly than the narrator of the
war of Curetes and Aetoli?6 And take the comparisons, amplifications,
instances, digressions, signs, and arguments, and the rest of the means
of proof and refutation-all these are so frequent that even writers of
I 12. 10 (below, p. 404). 2 Phaenomma I: 'Let us begin from Zcus.'
3 Iliad 21. 196. • The references in § 47 are all to the Iliad.
5 Iliad 18. 18 If. 6 Iliad 9. 529 If.
 QUlNTILIAN AND PLINY
rhetorical handbooks look to this poet for very many of their examples
50 of these matters. Again, what peroration could ever be equal to Priam's
prayers to Achilles ?l Surely in language, thought, figures, the organization
of his whole work, he passes the bounds of human genius. It takes a great
man to match up to his qualities-not by rivalling them (that would be
impossible) but by understanding them.

OTHER WRITERS IN HEXAMETERS

SI Homer left all others, in every kind of eloquence, far behind him: the
epic poets in particular, for where the matter is similar the comparison
52 can be pressed home most harshly. Hesiod rarely leaves the ground, and a
good deal of his space is occupied with lists of names; however, his
didactic reflections are of use, and one may approve his smooth wording
and structure. He gets the palm in the middle style.
53 In Antimachus, on the other hand, force, impressiveness, and dis-
tinction of style merit praise. The almost unanimous opinion of critics
gives him the second position; but he is deficient in emotion, charm,
arrangement-in technique generally: so that it is quite clear what a
difference there is between coming closest to first and being second.
54 Panyasis, a mixture of the last two, is judged to equal neither's virtues
in his style; but Hesiod he surpasses in subject-matter, Antimachus in
method of organization.
Apollonius [Rhodius] does not come into the classification drawn up
by the critics, for those judges of poets, Aristarchus and Aristophanes,
included no one of their own times. But it was no contemptible work that
55 he composed; it keeps a sort of sustained middle course. Aratus' subject
lacks movement-it has no variety, no emotion, no characters, no speeches:
but he is up to the task to which he thought himself equal. Theocritus in
his genre is wonderful; but that rustic and pastoral muse of his fights shy
even of the city-let alone the law-courts.
56 I seem to hear people pressing numerous names of poets on me from
all directions. Did not Pisandros well describe the deeds of Hercules ?
Are we to say that Macer and Virgil were mistaken in their imitation of
Nicander? Are we to pass Euphorion by?-after all, unless Virgil had
thought he was good, he would never have mentioned in the Eclogues
'poems wrought in Chalcidian verse'. 2 Was Horace wrong to link the names
57 of Tyrtaeus and Homer?3 The fact is that no one is so ignorant of poets
that he could not transfer to his book at least a library catalogue of their
I Iliad 24. 486 If.
2 Eel. 10. 50. Euphorion came from Chalcis in Euboea.
3 The Art of Poetry 402 (above, p. 290).
 READING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT 389
names. If I miss people out, that does not mean I have not heard of them
-or necessarily that I value them lightly: have I not already said that
everyone has something useful to give? But to those lesser poets we shall 58
return once our strength is complete and established. After all, at big
dinners we often find that when we are sated with the best food, the
variety provided by the less luxurious is welcome.

ELEGY, IAMBIC, AND LYRIC

It is then, too, that we shall have leisure to pick up elegy; here the leader
is Callimachus, while most agree that Philetas took second place. But 59
while we are in the process of acquiring the stable facility of which I
spoke, we must get used to the best; our minds must be formed, our style
developed, by much reading rather than the exploration of many authors.
On this principle, we shall say that, of the three writers of iambics marked
off by the judgement of Aristarchus, it is Archilochus who will be found
to have most relevance to hexis. He has the greatest force of style; his 60
reflections are at once powerful, concise, and vibrant, and he has a great
deal of blood and muscle: to such a degree that some people think that
it is not his genius but his subject-matter that prevents him from
leading the field.
Of the nine lyric poets, Pindar is far and away the best. He excels in 61
sublime grandeur of conception, in thought and figures. He has an un-
surpassed supply of words and matter, a great flood of eloquence. And
Horace, for these reasons, was right to believe him inimitable.' The 62
strength of Stesichorus' genius is demonstrated, amongst other things,
by his material, for he sings of the greatest wars and the most famous
generals, measuring up to the burdens of epic poetry on a mere lyre.
For he can give characters their due weight in action and speech alike,
and he could be thought a potential rival of Homer had he preserved a
sense of proportion; but he is redundant and spreads himself-a fault,
without doubt, but a fault of a rich talent. A part of Alcaeus' a?Uvre 63
merits his being awarded a 'golden plectrum'2-the pan in which he
attacked tyrants: here he has much to contribute to morals also. As to
his style, he is brief, lofty, careful, often similar to an orator. But he also
wrote trivia, and descended to erotica, though he was more suited to
higher themes. Simonides, otherwise a slender talent, can be praised for 64
his correctness oflanguage and a certain charm; but his principal quality
lies in his power to arouse pity, so that some critics prefer him in this
respect to all other writers in the genre.
lOdes 4.2. I. 2 Ibid. 2. 13. 26.
 39 0 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
COMEDY AND TRAGEDY

65 Old Comedy is almost alone in preserving the genuine grace of the Attic
tongue; moreover, it has a most eloquent freedom of speech: and if it is
especially notable for its attacks on vices, it has a great deal of strength
in other departments also. It is splendid, elegant, graceful; and nothing
else after Homer (who, like Achilles,1 must always be the exception) is
66 more like oratory, or more suitable for training orators. It has many
exponents, but Aristophanes, Eupolis, and Cratinus stand out.
Tragedy was first brought to light by Aeschylus, lofty, impressive,
and often grandiloquent even to a fault-but in many respects unformed
and inharmonious. Hence the Atheni.ms allowed later poets to correct his
plays for competitive performance, and many won prizes in this manner.
67 Much greater brilliance was brought to this genre by Sophocles and
Euripides: their styles are very different, and many have disputed which
of the two is the better poet. This is irrelevant to my present purpose, and
I leave the question unanswered. But all must agree that it is Euripides
who will be far more useful to those who are preparing themselves for
68 speaking in court. His style is nearer the oratorical type (a point that is in
fact criticized by those who find Sophocles' grave tragic resonance more
lofty). He abounds in noteworthy thoughts, and in philosophical precept
he is almost the equal of the philosophers themselves. In both speech and
repartee he is comparable with any of those whose eloquence has been
heard in the court-room. His command of all emotions, especially pathos,
is remarkable.
69 Menander, as he frequently testifies, greatly admired Euripides; and he
imitated him, though in a different genre. Menander himself, in my
opinion, is the one poet who, if carefully studied, would be enough to
give a pattern for everything that I have been recommending-such is the
complete picture of life that he drew, such his richness of invention and
his powers of expression, such his capacity for adaptation to all subjects,
70 characters, and emotions. And the critics who think that the speeches
published under the name of Charisius were the work of Menander
certainly have a point. But the proof of his rhetorical skill seems to me to
lie far more in his own plays: all an orator's stock-in-trade is seen to
perfection in the well-known trial scenes in the Arbitration,z the Heiress,
and the Locrians, or the soliloquies in the Timid Man, the Law-giver,
71 and the Change/ing. But I think that he has even more to offer to the de-
claimers, who have to assume many different characters to comply with
the nature of controversiae-fathers, sons, bachelors, husbands, soldiers,
I Iliad 2. 673-4.
• Epitrepontes 42 If.; of the scenes mentioned this alone survives.
 R.EADING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT 39 1
countrymen, rich men, poor men, people angry, pleading, gentle, harsh:
in all these types this poet preserves a wonderful trueness to life. I And 72
he has eclipsed the reputation of all other writers in that genre, putting
them in the shade by his resplendent brilliance. All the same, there are
other comic writers who can provide occasional passages worth excerpt-
ing, though you have to read them in an uncritical spirit; particularly
Philemon, who was often preferred to Menander by their contemporaries
-wrongly, though everyone agrees that he did deserve second place.

HISTORY

Many have written history with distinction, but no one doubts that two 73
are far ahead of the rest, different in qualities, but hardly to be distin-
guished in reputation. Thucydides is close-knit, concise, always pressing
on. Herodotus is charming, clear, discursive. The one excels in strong,
the other in calm emotions; the one in set speeches, the other in con-
versations; the one in force, the other in giving pleasure. Theopompus 74
ranks next to these, inferior to them as a historian, but more like an orator
than either-and an orator indeed he was for a long time before he was
persuaded to enter this new field. Philistlls, too, deserves to be distin-
guished in the throng of later historians (however good they may be);
he imitated Thucydides, and managed to be rather more lucid without
attaining his force. Ephorus, as Isocrates thought, needs the spur.
Clitarchus' talents are admired, his veracity impugned. Timagenes ap- 75
peared after a long gap, and is praiseworthy for this very achievement of
restoring with new lustre a historical tradition that had lapsed. I have not
forgotten Xenophon, but shall deal with him under philosophy.

ORATORY

There follows a great throng of orators, ten together produced at the 76

same time in Athens. Of them by far the first is Demosthenes: indeed,
he is virtually a complete code of oratory. He has such force, such con-
centration, such nervous tension, sllch continuous point, such restraint
of style, that you will not find anything lacking in him, or anything super-
fluous. Aeschines is fuller, more discursive, resembling a more elevated 77
speaker to the extent that he is less condensed-but it is more fat that he
has, the muscles are less. Hyperides is eminently pleasant and sharp,
more suitable for less important, not to say more trivial, cases. Lysias is 78
older than these, refined, elegant, the acme of perfection if it were enough
I Cf. Plutarch, below, p. 531.
 392 QUINTIUAN AND PUNY
for an orator to instruct. He has no hollowness, nothing exotic: but he
79 resembles a clear fountain rather than a great river. Isocrates' style of
oratory is different; he is flowery, pretty, more suited to the wrestling
ring than the battlefield. His aim was· every possible beauty of style-
a reasonable pursuit, for he had equipped himself for the lecture-room,
not the law-court. He is facile in imagination, concerned for what is
right, and so careful in his word-arrangement that people even criticize
his minuteness.
80 In all these of whom I have spoken, the virtues mentioned are those I
think most important, but they are not the only ones: nor do I regard the
other orators as without importance. Even Demetrius of Phaleron, who
is said to have ushered in the decadence of oratory, must be admitted to
have had a great deal of talent and eloquence: and he is worth remembering
for the very fact that he is pretty well the last of the Attic school who
deserves the name of orator; and yet in the middle style of oratory which
he exploited Cicero prefers him to all his rivals.

PHILOSOPHY

81 As to philosophers, from whom Cicero l admits that he derived a good deal

of his eloquence, no one can doubt that Plato should be put first, whether
we are thinking of his acuteness in argument or of his divine and Homeric
gift of eloquence. He rises far above prose writing (what the Greek meta-
phor calls 'pedestrian'), and to me he seems to have been inspired by a
82 sort of Delphic oracle, that exalts him above merely human talent. I
hardly need to mention Xenophon's unlaboured charm-charm, however,
that no labour could equal: the Graces themselves might be thought to
have shaped his speech, and the praise given in Old Comedy to Pericles
could very properly be transferred to him-that on his lips sat some god-
83 dess of persuasion. z No need, either, to expatiate on the elegance of the
other philosophers of the Socratic school. As to Aristotle, I am undecided
what to regard as his salient virtue: his factual knowledge, his prolific
output, his pleasant style, his acute thought, or his variety of subject.
Theophrastus' divine brilliance of style is such that he is even said to
84 have taken his name from it.3 The old Stoics paid less attention to elo-
quence. They spoke up for virtue, and showed their best side in arguing
and demonstrating their doctrines. But the acuteness of their argument is
not matched by any grandeur of style-something, of course, they were
not looking for.
• Orator 12. 2 Eupolis, fr. 94 Kock.
3 'Theophrastus' might be supposed to mean 'of divine utterance'.
 READING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT 393

LA TIN LI TERATURE: HEXAMETER POETS

I must keep to the same order in dealing with Roman writers also. 85
With us Virgil-like Homer with the Greeks-may provide the most
auspicious opening; indeed, of all poets of that genre in either language
he undoubtedly comes nearest to Homer. To quote the answer which, as a 86
young man, I received when I asked Domitius Afer who he thought most
nearly approached Homer: 'Virgil comes second, and nearer first than
third.' Of course, we have to yield pride of place to Homer's superhuman
and immortal genius. But Virgil shows more care and pains for the very
reason that he had to work harder. And perhaps we make up by Virgil's
good general level for the inferiority our champion shows to Homer's
heights.
All the rest will be found to follow far behind. Macer and Lucretius 87
are worth reading-but not for any ability to provide the style that is
the stuff of eloquence; each shows elegance on his own subject, but the
one is unambitious, the other difficult. Varro Atacinus made his name as a
translator of another's work; he is not to be despised, but he is hardly
rich enough to increase an orator's powers. Ennius we must venerate as 88
we do groves whose age makes them holy, full of great old oaks that nowa-
days have less beauty than sanctity. Others are closer to us, and more
useful for the matter in question. Ovid is as frivolous in his hexameters
as elsewhere: he is too much in love with his own talents, but deserves
praise in parts. Cornelius Severus, even though a better versifier than 89
poet, could lay good claim to the second place if (as has been said) he had
completed his Sicilian War to the standard of his first book. Premature
death prevented Serranus coming to ripeness, but his youthful works show
outstanding gifts and a concern for stylistic purity especially admirable in
someone so young. We have recently had a great loss in Valerius Flaccus. 90
Saleius Bassus' genius was forceful and poetic, but he too did not have
long life in which to mature. Rabirius and Pedo are worth getting to know
if one has time to spare. Lucan is passionate, spirited, full of bril-
liant thoughts: indeed, to be frank, a better model for orators than poets.

PRAISE OF THE EMPEROR DOMITIAN

This is the extent of my list; for Germanicus Augustus was deflected 91

from the poetic studies he had embarked on by his responsibility for the
world: the gods clearly thought it not enough that he should merely be
the greatest of poets. But what could be more lofty, more learned, more
wholly outstanding than those works of his to which he had recourse when
as a young man he had handed the principate to another? Who is better
 394 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
qualified to be a poet of war than one who wages it as he does? Whom
would the goddesses who preside over literature listen to more sym-
pathetically? To whom would his patron deity, Minerva, more readily
92 open the secrets of her art? Future centuries will tell of this more fully;
for us now his poetic fame is eclipsed by the brilliance of his other qualities.
Our duty, however, is to worship at the sacred shrines of literature; and
you will bear with us, Caesar, if we do not pass this by in silence, and at
least bear witness, in a line of Virgil, that 'the ivy creeps among your
victory bays',!

ELEGY, SATIRE, LYRIC

93 In elegiac verse, too, we can offer a challenge to the Greeks. The most
brief and elegant exponent is in my opinion Tibullus; there are those who
prefer Propertius. avid is less restrained than either, Gallus more harsh.
As for satire, it is completely our own. Lucilius was the first to win
outstanding praise for it, and he still has admirers so devoted that they
do not hesitate to class him above all other poets, not merely all other
94 satirists. I am as far from their view as from that of Horace,z who thinks
that Lucilius 'flows along muddily' and that there are things in him that
you could well be rid of. He has astonishing learning and outspokenness-
and, as a result of that, acerbity: and a great deal of wit. Horace is much
more concise and pure: unless I am biased by my love for him, he is the
best. Persius won a good deal of genuine fame, despite writing only one
book. There are brilliant satirists today, whose names will be celebrated
in the future.
95 The other type of satire,3 an earlier invention, was exploited by Teren-
tius Varro, in his case with prose as well as a variety of metres. This
most learned among Romans composed very many books of vast erudi-
tion. He was highly skilled in the Latin language and every aspect of
antiquity, together with both Greek and Roman history; but he has more
to offer to learning than to eloquence.
96 The iambus has not been much used by the Romans as a metre by
itself, but rather with other sorts of line interposed. You may find in-
stances of its bitter invective in Catullus, Bibaculus, and Horace (though
in him short lines intervene). But of the lyric poets this same Horace is
virtually the only one worth reading. He is lofty at times, full of gaiety and
grace, varied in his use of figures, in his use of words most felicitously
I Eel. 8. I3. 2 Sat. I. 4. II (above, p. 266).

3 i.e. that developed by Ennius, with a variety of metres. Varro's 'Menippean

satires' included also prose: compare the use of verse passages in a prose context in
Petro:llus.
 READING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT 395
daring. If you want to add a second, it will be Caesius Bassus, whom we
have only recently lost. But he is far surpassed by the genius of living
writers.'

TRAGEDY AND COMEDY

Among writers of tragedy, Accius and Pacuvius are the most renowned 97
of the ancients for the high seriousness of their thought, their weighty
language, and their impressive characters. They lack brilliance and the
final touches in the polishing of their plays-but that may be thought to
have been a deficiency of their age, not of themselves. Accius, however,
is conceded to have more power, while critics who lay claim to learning
would have us believe this is where Pacuvius excels. Varius' Thyestes 98
is comparable to any Greek tragedy. avid's Medea shows, in my view,
what its author could have achieved if he had been ready to control his
genius rather than pander to it. Of my contemporaries, far the best is
Pomponius Secundus. Old men thought him not tragic enough, but they
had to agree that he excelled in learning and brilliance.
In the field of comedy, we are at our lamest. Varro may say that the 99
Muses, in the view of Aelius Stilo, would have spoken in the language of
Plautus if they had wished to talk Latin; the ancients may praise Caecilius;
Terence's plays may be thought to have been the work of Scipio Africanus
(they are certainly the most elegant examples of this genre, and would
have had even more grace if they had been restricted to trimeters);2
but despite all this it is a fleeting shadow that we attain to. Indeed I 100
think that the very language of Rome does not admit of the charm that is
conceded to Attic speakers (and only to them, for even the Greeks could
not attain to it in any other dialect of their language). Afranius excels
in plays on Roman subjects. I wish that he had not spoiled his plots by
introducing the sordid homosexual affairs that throw such light on his
own habits.

HISTORY

But in history we do not need to yield to the Greeks. I should not be 101
afraid to match Sallust with Thucydides; and Herodotus should not be
angry to find Livy put on a par with him. For Livy shows extraordinary
grace and brilliant lucidity in narration, while in his speeches he is
indescribably eloquent, so nicely is everything that is said adapted to
I Including Statius?
2 i.e. had not used also the longer and more vivacious iambic and trochaic lines.
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
circumstances and character; and to put it mildly, no historian has better
102 judged his use of emotions, particularly the gentler ones. Hence, by quite
different qualities, he equalled the wonderful speed that we associate with
Sallust. It was, I think, an excellent dictum of Servilius Nonianus that
these two are on the same level rather than alike. Nonianus himself I
have heard recite; he was a man of splendid talents, full of pointed
103 reflection, but more diffuse than the dignity of history demands. That
dignity was excellently maintained, especially in the books on the German
war, by a slightly earlier writer, Aufidius Bassus, thanks to his style. I
He is deserving of approval in all respects, though in some points he
104 falls short of his own powers. There still survives, to the distinction of
our age, a writer 2 worthy of the attention of posterity. In the future he
will be named; now my readers will know who I mean. Cremutius' out-
spokenness, not unreasonably, has its admirers, though it has been docked
of the parts that it ruined him to have written: but you can detect his
splendidly exalted spirit and his daring thoughts even in what survives.
There are other good writers in this field, but I am only dipping into
each genre, not searching out whole libraries.

ORATORY

105 It is our orators, however, who in particular can put Latin eloquence
on a par with Greek: for I should happily pit Cicero against any Greek
writer whatever. I am not unaware of the battle I am provoking: though
I do not intend here to compare him with Demosthenes. Indeed, there is
no point in such a comparison, for I am in any case convinced that Demo-
sthenes must be a primary subject for study-or rather for learning by
106 heart. Their virtues, I think, are most of them alike: their judgement,
arrangement, technique of division, preparation, and proof, everything in
fact that has to do with 'invention'. There is a certain difference of style.
One is closer-packed, the other more diffuse; one rounds his periods more
tightly, the other more spaciously. One fights all his battles by quickness
of wit, the other, often, adds brute strength. One permits of no abbrevi-
ation, the other of no expansion. Demosthenes is more studied, Cicero
107 more naturally gifted. IQ. two matters of especial weight in emotional
oratory, wit and pathos, 'we Romans undoubtedly win. It may be that
Athenian customs denied Demosthenes his epilogues. But it is equally
true that the different genius of the Latin language handicaps us in
attaining· effects that Attic audiences admire. There is no comparison
between the two in letters (which survive from both), or in dialogue
I Text uncertain. 2 Perhaps Fabius Rusticus.
 READING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT 397
(not attempted by Demosthenes). But one point must be conceded: 108
Demosthenes came first, and he it was, to a large extent, who made Cicero
the great orator he was. For Cicero, in my opinion, devoted himself
entirely to the imitation of the Greeks. He reproduced the force of Demo-
sthenes, the copiousness of Plato, the agreeable charm of Isocrates. But 109
he did not merely attain by study to the best points of each of his models;
his superhuman richness of genius produced from itself most, indeed all
of his virtues. He does not (to quote Pindar) 'collect the rain water',
but 'overflows with a vital torrent'. I He was born, by some gift of provi-
dence, as one in whom eloquence could try out her full strength. No one I10
can instruct more painstakingly, rouse emotion more forcefully. No one
was ever so pleasant to hear-so that even when he is wrenching some-
thing out of you, you believe that he is winning your willing consent:
and though he is sweeping the judges off their feet, they think they are
following without any constraint. In all that he says there is so much III
authority that one feels ashamed to disagree. He brings to bear not the
partisan zeal of an advocate, but the reliability of witness or judge. What is
more, all these things, that an ordinary person could scarcely achieve
one at a time after the most laborious effort, flow out without trouble;
and that oratory, the fairest ever heard, nevertheless displays not only
perfect felicity but complete ease. It was, then, not undeservedly that I12
men of his day said that he was king in the courts-or that he has so made
his mark with posterity that 'Cicero' now is regarded not as the name of a
man but as the name of eloquence itself. This, then, should be the object
of our gaze, this the model we set ourselves. By this token a man shall
know that he has made progress-that he takes real pleasure in Cicero.
Asinius Pollio has great powers of invention, supreme (some think I13
excessive) diligence, tolerable judgement, and spirit: but he is so far
removed from the refined and agreeable Cicero that he might be thought
to be earlier by a century. Messalla is refined all right, and lucid, and (as
it were) shows his noble birth in his style: but he is inferior in vigour.
In Gaius Caesar, however, ifhe had devoted his attention solely to law- I14
suits, we should have an incontestable name to set against Cicero; such
are his force, pointedness, and vigour that it is clear that he spoke with the
same spirit with which he made war: and all this is given lustre by his
wonderful choiceness of language, on which he was so peculiarly keen.
In Caelius there is much talent, and, especially in accusation, much wit: lIS
he deserved greater wisdom and' a longer life. I have found those who
preferred Calvus to anyone else, others who agreed with Cicero 2 that by
excessive self-criticism he lost genuine full-bloodedness. All the same,
his style is grave, weighty, correct, and often forceful. But he was a
I Fr. 287 Bowra. 2 Brutus 283.
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
follower of the Attic orators; and his early death did him a disservice only if
he would have added to his qualities, not ifhe would have pared them down.
116 Servius Sulpicius, too, won a not undeserved reputation, by three speeches

only. Cassius Severus, if read with judgement, will give us much worthy
of imitation. If he had added to the rest of his virtues a fit tone and gravity
117 of style, he would have to be ranked among the b~st. For he has a great
deal of talent, astonishing tartness, and much wit; but he prized ill-
temper before judgement. His humour may be bitter; but often the bitter-
ness itself causes laughter.
IIS There are many other eloquent men, for whom I have no space. Of
my contemporaries, Domitius Afer and Julius Africanus are far the best.
Afer is to be preferred for his use of words and his whole style of speak-
ing; you would not hesitate to include him in the ranks of the ancients.
Africanus is more vigorous, but he takes his care in choosing words too
far, and his structure is sometimes diffuse, his metaphors too bold.
119 There have been distinguished talents even quite recently. Trachalus
was often lofty and tolerably lucid. His aspirations, one could well
believe, were of the highest. But he was better heard than read; vocal
endowments, unparalleled in my experience, a delivery that would not
have disgraced the stage, good looks-everything in fact that nature can
give to an orator he had in full measure. There was Vibius Crispus, too,
smooth, agreeable, born to please: better, however, in private cases than
120 public ones. If Julius Secundus had lived longer, he would surely have

won the highest renown for oratory: he would have added, indeed he
already was adding, to his other virtues what might be thought lacking
in him-he would have become, that is, much more pugnacious, and
121 would have had more frequent regard to matter as opposed to style. Cut

short as he was, he still can claim a distinguished position, such is his

eloquence, his grace in putting over whatever he wishes, so clear, smooth,
and attractive his style, such his correctness in the use of words, even
those used figuratively, such his vividness even in expressions that go
122 near the brink of possibility. Later writers on oratory will have great

scope for sincere praise of those who flourish today, when the highest
talents give lustre to the courts. Those now mature are rivals of the
ancients; and they are being imitated and followed by hard-working and
aspiring young men.

PHILOSOPHY

123 There remain writers on philosophy-a genre in which Roman literature

has so far produced few eloquent authors. Cicero, as everywhere else,
 READING FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT 399

was in this genre too a rival of Plato. But Brutus-excellent here, and much
more impressive than in his oratory-did not fall short of the importance
of his subject. You may easily feel his sincerity. A very prolific writer was 124
Cornelius Celsus, follower of the Sextii, and not lacking in polish and
refinement. Plautus, among the Stoics, is useful for his information.
Among the Epicureans, a light-weight but not disagreeable authority is
Catius.

SENECA

It is on purpose that I have put ofi'mention of Seneca in every branch of 125

eloquence. For a false view has got around concerning me; I am supposed
to condemn Seneca, and even hate him. This is the result of my attempt
to recall a corrupted style of oratory, enervated by every vice, to more
rigorous standards: and at the time when I did this, Seneca was virtually
the only reading-matter of young men. I was not trying to reject him 126
altogether: but I was not prepared to have him preferred to his betters.
He had never ceased to attack them: he knew that his own style was dif-
ferent from theirs, and lacked confidence that he could please those who
liked them. But his admirers loved Seneca rather than imitated him;
they fell as far short of him as he of the ancients-for to reach the level 127
of Seneca, or something near it, would be a laudable aim. But he was
popular for his faults alone; everyone set himself to reproducing what he
was capable of reproducing: and in boasting that they were speaking in
the Senecan style his admirers slandered Seneca.
He had, in any case, many great qualities: a fluent and prolific talent, 128
much capacity for work, much knowledge (though he was sometimes
misled by those to whom he had delegated research on various points).
And he handled virtually every branch of study: we have from his hand 129
speeches, I poetry, letters, and dialogues. In philosophy he was careless,
but excellent in his denunciation of vice. He has many brilliant reflections,
and a great deal of what he wrote is worth reading for ethical reasons. But
as far as his style goes, there is much that is corrupt, and particularly
dangerous just because the constant faults are so attractive. You might 130
wish him to have written employing his own genius but someone else's
judgement. If he had not scorned the straightforward and yearned for
the corrupt, ifhe had not loved all his own work, if he had avoided break-
ing up his weighty pronouncements into the briefest possible epigrams,
he would be approved by scholars generally, not merely by enthusiastic
youth. Even as it is, he is to be recommended to those who are already IJI
I None extant.
 40 0 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
mature, toughened sufficiently in a more severe style-just for the reason
that he puts the reader's judgement to the test, for and against him. As I
have said, there is much to be praised, much even to be admired in him,
so long as one takes the trouble to be selective-and would that he had
done that himself! His genius was worthy of better aims: but what he
aimed at he achieved.

E. IMITATION
Quintilian next proceeds (10. 2) to discuss imitation, which he obviously con-
ceives as something much more than mechanical reproduction. Cf. 'Longinus'
13-1 4 (below, pp. 475-6).

I From these authors, and others who may be worth reading, is to be

derived a supply of words, varied figures of speech, and the principle of
verbal arrangement: by them, too, the mind is to be directed towards
examples of every good quality in writing-for there can be no doubt
that a great part of art lies in imitation. Discovery clearly came first, and is
of first importance. But it is none the less profitable to follow up other
2 people's successful discoveries. And every technique in life is founded
on our natural desire to do ourselves what we approve in others. Hence
children follow the shapes ofletters to attain facility in writing; musicians
look for a model to the voice of their instructors, painters to the works of
their predecessors, countrymen to methods of growing that have been
proved successful by experience. In fact, we can see that the rudiments
of any kind of skill are shaped in accordance with an example set for it.
3 Certainly we must either be like or unlike those who excel. It is rarely
that nature makes one man like another: but imitation often does. Yet
this very principle, which makes every accomplishment so much easier
for us than it was for men who had nothing to follow, is dangerous unless
taken up cautiously and with judgement.
4 First of all, then, imitation by itself is not enough. It is the sign of a
lazy mentality to be content with what has been discovered by others.
What would have happened in those times which lacked models if men
had thought that they should do and think nothing thatthey did not already
5 know? Obviously nothing would ever have been discovered. How, then,
can it be wrong for us to discover something that did not exist before?
Those untutored men of old were led by sheer natural talent to bring
so much to fruition: are we not to be inspired to search by the very fact
6 that we know that those who have sought in the past have found? They
had no teacher in anything, yet they handed down a great deal to posterity.
 IMITATION 401
Can we not make use of our experience in one set of facts to dig out
another? Shall we have nothing except by someone else's courtesy-like
painters whose only ambition is to copy pictures by a process of guide-
lines and measurements? It is also shameful to be content merely to 7
reach the level of your model. For the same question arises-what would
have happened if nobody had ever done more than the man he was follow-
ing? We should have nothing in poetry better than Livius Andronicus,
or in history to surpass the annals of the pontiJex maxim us. I We should still
be sailing about on rafts. There would be no pictures, except of the type
that traces out the shadow a body makes against the sun. And if you were 8
to make a general review, you would see that no art is as it was when it was
discovered, or has confined itself to its starting-place. The alternative is
to convict our times of a unique misfortune-it is only now that nothing
is growing. But nothing does grow by mere imitation.
Again, if it is wrong to add to one's predecessors' discoveries, how can 9
we hope for the 'perfect orator' ? For among the orators whom so far we
know as the masters, no one has appeared who cannot be found lacking,
or open to criticism, in some respect or other. Even those who do not
intend to aim for the peaks ought to be rivals, not followers. The man 10
who struggles to overtake may perhaps manage to equal where he cannot
surpass. But no one can overtake someone if he thinks that he must follow
exactly in his footsteps; one who follows is necessarily always in the rear.
Moreover, it is often easier to achieve more than to achieve the same; an
exact replica is very difficult-indeed even nature herself has not con-
trived that things that look very similar and alike indeed should be in-
capable of being told apart by some difference. Again, something that is II
like another thing must also be less than what it imitates, as a shadow is
less than a body, a picture fhan a face, an actor's representation than
true emotion. This is true also 0 i speeches. Nature and real vitality lie
at the root of what we take as examples, but every imitation is a mere
artefact, accommodated to someone else's scheme. This is why declama- 12
tions have less blood and strength than speeches: in the latter the material
is real, in the former fictitious. Moreover, the greatest qualities of an
orator-talent, facility of discovery, force, fluency, everything that art
cannot supply-these things are not imitable. And so many people, 13
.having extracted various words from speeches or a few fixed rhythms,
imagine that they have made a remarkable reproduction of what they
have read. But in fact words fall into disuse or come to popularity with
time, and custom gives the best rule for their use. They are not good or
bad by their own nature, for of themselves they are mere sounds, but
according as they are aptly and rightly positioned (or the opposite).
I a. Cicero, de oratore 2. S2 (above, p. 2SS).
8148591 Dd
 402 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
Similarly, rhythmic structure must be adapted to the matter and Will
credit by its very variety.
14 Thus, every point concerning this branch of our studies is to be weighed
with the most careful judgement. First of all, whom we should imitate,
for there are many who have yearned to resemble the worst and most
decadent authors. Then, in the authors we choose, what it is that we
15 should train ourselves to reproduce. For some faults find their way even
into the great authors, to meet the disapproval of critics and even of other
writers. If only people would improve their oratory by imitating what
is good as much as they ruin it by imitating what is bad! Nor should
those who have enough judgement to avoid faults be satisfied to produce
a mirror-image of a good quality, giving, one might say, merely a veneer,
16 or those 'shapes' I said by Epicurus to flow off the surface of bodies. But
that is what happens to those who have not seen deeply into good quali-
ties, but have modelled themselves, as it were, on the first view of an
orator's style. When their imitation has gone well, they are not very
different from their model in vocabulary and rhythm: but they do not
attain their force of speech and imagination. And generally they take a
turn for the worse, and embrace the faults that lie so near good qualities.
They become bombastic instead of grand, meagre instead of concise,
rash instead of bold, affected instead of rich, jazzy instead of rhythmic,
I7 careless instead of straightforward. Thus, those who have produced some
frigid and empty piece of writing, without polish or structure, believe
themselves the equals of the ancients; those who lack ornament and epi-
gram rival the Attic orators; writers (we are asked to believe) who court
obscurity by amputating their sentences are the superiors of Sallust and
Thucydides; cheerless and jejune writers are rivals of Pollio, easy-going
and limp ones, the moment they have fashioned some rather long period,
IS swear that Cicero would have put it thus. I have known some writers who
imagined they had reproduced the style of that superhuman writer beauti-
fully if they had put esse videatllr at the end of their sentence. 2 Thus it is
the first essential that everyone should understand what he is proposing
to imitate, and should realize why it is good.
19 Next, in taking on a load, he should take account of his own strength.
Some models a writer's weakness may fall short of; with some his utter
unlikeness may clash. The slender talent should not wish to concentrate
on the bold and the rugged. The strong but untamed talent will find that
an enthusiasm for subtlety will destroy his strength, without enabling
I The eidOla that produced sense-perception in Epicurus' atomic theory were com-

posed of a film of particles emitted from the surface of objects.

Z A typical example of a favourite Ciceronian clausl1la: - u """ 1--, cretic (or paeon)
+ spondee. Cf. Tacitl1s, Dialogus 23 (below, p. 446).
 IMITATION
him to reach the elegance he strives for. There is nothing more unbecom-
ing than the unpolished handling of a delicate theme. Certainly in the 20
second book I I gave the teacher I was there instructing the duty of provid-
ing training that went wider than the things for which he saw an indivi-
dual pupil might be most naturally suited. He has to nurture the good
things he has found in each of them, but also, as far as possible, to add
what is lacking and to correct and change other elements. He can do
this because he is the ruler and indeed the moulder of another's intellect-
to shape one's own nature is more difficult. All the same, not even the 21
teacher I was describing, however much he may wish his pupils to have
all the right qualities in the highest degree possible, will trouble to try
to make progress where he secs nature stand full in his path.
One thing to avoid (many fall into this trap) is thinking that we should
imitate poets and historians in oratory, or orators and declaimers in
poetry and history. Each genre has its own rules and proprieties. Comedy 22
does not rise high on tragic buskins, nor does tragedy stroll about in the
slippers of comedy, All the same, every type of eloquence has something
in common-and that is what we must imitate.
Those who have devoted themselves to one particular style find them- 23
selves afflicted by another trouble: if they have fallen in love with some-
one's harsh tone, they cannot get rid of it in cases of a gentle and relaxed
type. If they approve of slenderness and agreeableness, they are unable
to match up to the weight of the subject in tough and serious cases. For
requirements differ not only from case to case, but even in different parts
of the same case. Some things must be dealt with gently, some roughly:
some excitedly, some calmly: some with an eye to instruction, some to
emotion. All these things demand different methods. Thus, I should not 24-
advise a student, either, to devote himself to one particular speaker as
model in everything. Demosthenes is far the most perfect of the Greeks;
he does most things better than anyone else could-but others may do
the occasional thing better than he. Just because someone is most worthy
of our imitation, we should not imitate him alone. Well, you may ask, 2S
isn't it enough to say everything as Ciccro said it? It would be enough for
me, anyway-if I could reach his level in everything. But what harm can
there be in adding, at certain points, Caesar's forcefulness, Caelius'
pungency, Pollio's care, Calvus' taste? A prudent man should, if he can, 26
make his own what he sees to be best in every author; and, besides that,
the matter is so difficult that, if we concentrate on one model alone, we
shall be lucky to pick up even a part of his virtues. Thus, since it is
scarcely given to man to reproduce in his entirety the orator he chooses as
model, we should put before our eyes the good points of a number of
12.8.
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
orators, so that one thing may stick from one source, one from another,
and so that we can fit each in at the right place.
27 But imitation-I shall go on repeating this point-is not to be taken
as being merely a matter of words. We must concentrate on the sense of
fitness that those great men show in adapting themselves to circumstances
and personalities: on their strategy, their arrangement, the way in which
everything-even things that seem to be put in merely for entertainment
-has victory as its aim. We should note what the proem is designed to do;
what sort of tactics are adopted in the narration, and how various they
are; what powers of proof and refutation are displayed, what skill in
arousing all kinds of emotion; how even public popularity is turned to
advantage (something that is honourable when it comes automatically
28 and unsought). If we see all this clearly, we shall be able truly to imitate.
But he who can add his own qualities to these, supplying what was lack-
ing in them, cutting out everything that may be superfluous-he will
be the perfect orator we are looking for. He is capable of complete realiza-
tion particularly at the present time, when so many more models of good
oratory are available than were at hand for those who are, to date, the
greatest. This will be their praise: that they surpassed their predecessors,
and taught their successors.

F. TYPES OF ORA TOR Y

Here (12. 10) Qyintilian discusses different kinds of oratory. His remarks are by
no means the stereotyped ones, and he has interesting things to say on the
parallel with artistic progress, and on the contrast between the Greek and Latin
languages. See R. G. Austin's edn. of Book 12, Oxford, 1948, 1965.
I It remains for me to discuss types of oratory: this was the third topic
I set myself in my original division, for I promised that I would talk of
the art, the artist, and his product. The product both of rhetoric and of
the orator is oratory, and, as I shall show, it has many forms, which differ
much among themselves (though in all the art and the artist are found at
work), not only in species, as statue differs from statue, picture from
picture, one speech from another, but in type even, as Etruscan from
2 Greek statues, or an Asian orator from an Attic. Now all of these types
of product that I speak of have their admirers as well as their exponents;
and perfection in oratory and perhaps in any other art has not yet been
attained not only because each orator has different strengths, but also
because not everyone has preferred the same one kind, partly as a result
of variation of time or place, partly because of individual tastes and
alms.
 TYPES OF ORATORY

THE DEVELOPMENT OF SCULPTURE AND PAINTING I

The first famous painters-the first, at least, whose works deserve looking 3
at not merely on account of their age-are said to have been Polygnotus
and Aglaophon, whose simple use of colour still has admirers so enthu-
siastic as to prefer these crude pictures, mere shadows of the art that was
to come, to the greatest of later artists: but this, I think, is merely a
private bid to be taken for connoisseurs. After this, Zeuxis and Par- 4
rhasius, both of much the same period about the time of the Peloponnesian
wars (we find in Xenophon Z a conversation between Parrhasius and
Socrates), added a great deal to the technique of painting; Zeuxis is said
to have discovered the method of representing light and shade, Parrhasius
to have brought new skill to the exploitation of outline. Zeuxis gave human 5
limbs more fullness, thinking that this gave increased nobility and di-
stinction, and thereby following Homer (it is thought), who likes the
strongest possible bodies, even in women. Parrhasius, however, was so
universally definitive that they call him the lawgiver-everyone follows
his authoritative representation of gods and heroes as though it were
compulsory. Painting in particular flourished in the period of Philip 6
and right down to the successors of Alexander, though its qualities varied.
Protogenes excels in care, Pamphilus and Melanthius in method, Anti-
philus in facility, Theon of Samos in vividness of conception (the Greeks
use the term phantasia),3 Apelles in talent and the grace of which he is
particularly proud. Euphranor is to be admired because, while being
distinguished in the other honourable arts, he was at the same time an
astonishing painter and sculptor.
A similar variety can be traced in statuary. Call on and Hegesias made 7
things that were rather harsh, very like Etruscan. Calamis' products were
already less unbending, Myron's softer still. Polyclitus' had surpassing
care and beauty; most yield him the palm, but, in order to have something
to carp at, find in him a lack of weight. For, while giving an unrealistic 8
beauty to the human form, he is regarded as not having provided gods
with their due of authority. Indeed, he is said to have avoided represent-
ing more advanced age, restricting his enterprise to smooth cheeks.
What Polyclitus lacked, it is agreed that Phidias and Alcamenes possessed.
But Phidias (so it is said) was more skilled at representing gods than men; 9
in ivory, however, he was far beyond any rival-even if he had done
nothing except the Athena in Athens or the Olympian Zeus in Elis,
whose beauty is thought even to have added something to the traditional
I See R. G. Austin's notes on this passage.
1 Manorabilia 3. 10. I.
3 a. 'Longinus' IS, below, p. 477.
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
awe inspired by the god, so fully did the majesty of the piece come up to
the majesty of its subject. It is claimed that Lysippus and Praxiteles
best attained to realism; indeed Demetrius is criticized for over-indulgence
in it, and he was certainly more keen on a likeness than on beauty.

DEVELOPMENT OF ORATORY

10 Now if you care to look at types in oratory, you may find almost as many
kinds of talent as of human body. But there have been types of oratory
that as a consequence of their period were rather rough, while nevertheless
already displaying great vigour of genius. Here may be classed orators
such as Laelius, Africanus, even Cato and Gracchus; these you might
I I call the Polygnotuses and the Callons. The middle class may be assigned

to Lucius Crassus and ~intus Hortensius. After this we may allow to

burst on us a great crop of more or less contemporary orators. Here we
shall find the force of Caesar, the talent ofCaelius, the subtlety of Ca lid ius,
the care of Pollio, the dignity of Messalla, the scrupulousness of Calvus,
the weight of Brutus, the sharpness of Sulpicius, the bite of Cassius;
add, among those recent enough for us to have seen ourselves, Seneca's
flow, Africanus' power, Afer's sophistication, Crisp us' sweetness, Tra-
12 chalus' voice-production, Secundus' elegance. But in Marcus Tullius we
have someone not merely, as Euphranor was, outstanding in several types
of art, but pre-eminent in all skills that are praised in any orator. Never-
theless, even in his own day, men dared to attack him as too inflated, an
Asian, redundant, over-repetitious, occasionally humourless, and in his
rhythms undisciplined, exuberant, and even (worst charge of all) too
13 effeminate to be a true man. And after his death in the triumvirs' pro-
scriptions, when he could no longer answer back, he was the object of
indiscriminate attacks from those who hated, envied, and rivalled him,
and those who flattered the great ones of the day. But this man, who is
today by some regarded as bare and dry, could give even his enemies
no handle for criticism except for excessive floweriness and superfluity
of gifts. Both charges are false; but we may grant that there was more
14 excuse for the lie in the latter case. But he was under especial pressure
from those who wanted to be thought to be imitators of the Attic orators.
This band of pseudo-initiates attacked him as a foreigner, I too little
reverent, too little bound by their rules; their present-day representa~
IS tives are our dry, juiceless, bloodless speakers, the ones who cover their
weaknesses with the description of 'health' (which is just the opposite);
they cannot tolerate the sunshine, as it were, of a more brilliant onrush
I Cicero came from Arpinum, 70 miles from Rome.
 TYPES OF ORATORY
of eloquence, and therefore they cower in the shade of a great name.
Cicero has himself replied to them at length in many passages, I and I
shall be safer to be brief on this topic.

ATTIC AND ASIAN

This division between Attic and Asian orators was an old one; the former 16
were regarded as brief and healthy, the latter tumid and empty; the
former had nothing superfluous, the latter lacked in particular taste and
moderation. Santra, amongst others, thinks that this came about because,
as the Greek language gradually spread into the nearest Asian cities, their
inhabitants were agog for eloquent utterance while they were not yet
sufficiently skilled in ordinary language; thus they began to express by
circumlocutions things that had their own special terms, and then pro-
ceeded to stick to this practice. My view, however, is that the difference 17
of speech was the result of the character of both speakers and hearers;
the Attic people, smooth and correct, would put up with nothing empty
or redundant, while the Asians, in general a more bombastic and boastful
race, puffed themselves out with vainglory in oratory also. A third type, 18
the Rhodian, has been added by those who formulated this distinction,
intending it to be a middle kind partaking of both the other two. The
Rhodians are not concise in the Attic manner or wordy in the Asian, there-
by revealing, besides a certain national characteristic of their race, the
influence of a founder-Aeschines, who, having chosen this place for 19
his exile, brought there the literary interests of Athens, which, just as
certain plants degenerate in new soils and climates, contaminated their
Attic flavour with a foreign one. As a result, the Rhodians are thought of
as rather slow and slack, though not without weight; they are like neither
pure fountains nor muddy torrents: rather do they resemble calm meres.

TYPES OF ATTIC ORATOR

There is no room for doubt, then, that far the best type is the Attic. 20
Within this type, though there is a certain common element of concise and
sharp tastefulness, we may distinguish many different kinds of talent.
Thus, I think that a great mistake is made by those who regard the only 21
Attic orators as those who are plain, clear, pointed, but content with a
certain economy of eloquence, always keeping their hand inside the cloak.
Who will then count as this sort of Attic orator? Suppose it is Lysias
(he is the standard fixed by admirers of the name of Attic, and by choosing
him we may avoid the extreme of Coccus and Andocides): then I should 22

I Both the Orator and the Brutus are in effect a reply to the 'Atticists'.
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
want to ask whether Isocrates spoke in the Attic way. For nothing could
be so different from Lysias. They will say no; yet Isocrates' school
produced master-orators. Let us look for something a little nearer. Was
Hyperides Attic? 'Surely.' But he was less austere than Lysias. I pass
over many, such as Lycurgus, Aristogiton, and the earlier Isaeus and
Antiphon, all of whom you might call similar to each other in genus but
23 different in species. What about Aeschines, whom I mentioned just now?
Is he not broader and more daring and more lofty? Finally, what about
Demosthenes? Did he not surpass all those plain and circumspect
orators with his fire, sublimity, impetus, sophistication, and rhythm?
Does he not have lofty common places ? Does he not gladly'use figures?
24 Does he not shine with metaphor? He is not averse to using fictitious
passages where he gives a voice to the silent; and that great oath by those
who were killed defending their country at Marathon and Salamis '
surely must make it clear that Plato was his teacher. (And I take it that
we are not going to call Plato of all men an Asian; often he is comparable
rather with divinely inspired poets.) Then there is Pericles. Shall we
regard him as being slender like Lysias? After all the comic poets com-
pare him to lightning flashes and thunder from heaven, even while they
2S abuse him.2. There is no reason to think of the Attic savour as the pre-
rogative of those who flow among pebbles in a slender rill, and imagine
that it is only here that one can get a whiff of Attic thyme. I believe that
such critics would be inclined to deny Attic nationality to any rich soil
or fertile crop found in that country just because it gives back more seed
than it received (with an allusion to Menander's jest about the exact-
26 ness with which Attica pays her debts},3 Similarly if an orator were
granted, in addition to the qualities which the supreme Demosthenes
possessed, the one that, thanks to his own nature or the laws of his city,
he lacked-:-more vigorous emotional appeal, would I hear people saying:
'Demosthenes was not like that' ? If a passage were to run more rhythmi-
cally (perhaps that is impossible-but suppose it did), can't we count it as
Attic? I suggest that these people should have a better opinion of the
term, and come to believe that to speak in the Attic manner is to speak
in the best manner.

LATIN AND GREEK CONTRASTED

27 I should be more sympathetic if it were Greeks who persisted in so

perverse a view. But Latin eloquence, in my opinion, while it is similar
I On the Crown, 208. Cf. 'Longinus' 16, below, p. 480.
a Aristophanes, Acharnians S30 ff.
3 Georgos (The Farmer) 3S ff.: Attica pays back exactly what is sownl
 TYPES OF ORATORY
to Greek (and indeed altogether its pupil) in invention, arrangement,
strategy, and all that sort of technique, can scarcely be in a position to
imitate Greek in stylistic matters. For its sound makes it harsher straight
away: we do not possess the most pleasant Greek letters. These are one
vowel and one consonant, I unparalleled in their language for their sweet
tone; we customarily borrow them whenever we use Greek words;
and when this happens, speech instantly becomes somehow gayer and 28
brightens up-as in words like 'Zephyros' and 'Zopyros', which would
produce a dull and outlandish effect if written out with our letters. But,
to fill their gaps, as it were, up come two gloomy and spiky letters that
Greek lacks. One, sixth in our alphabet, has to be blown out between 29
one's teeth. In making this sound the voice is hardly human, or rather not
a voice at all. Even when it gets a vowel next to it, it somehow quakes;
but whenever it comes up against another consonant (as in the word I
have just used, Jrangit), it becomes still more uncouth. (We are also
dogged by the Aeolic letter;2 we have indeed rejected its written form, but
the force of it remains in seruus and ceruus.) The other letter, which also 30
makes syllables harsh, is useful only for linking vowels following it, but
is otherwise superfluous; we use this to write equos and aequum. These
diphthongs, moreover, themselves produce a sound that is not heard in
Greek and so cannot be written in their letters. We may add that Latin 31
often ends words with that mooing letter m which is found at the close
of no Greek word; they substitute for it the agreeable nu, a ringing sort
of letter, particularly in the final position. We only very rarely put this
last. Again, our syllables close in band d to such harsh effect that many 32
old writers, though not the ancients, tried to soften them, not only by
saying auersa instead of abuersa, but also by adding the letter s (not a
particularly nice sound in itself) to the b in the preposition ab. We also 33
have a less agreeable system of accentuation, marred by a certain rigidity
and also by lack of variety: the last syllable may never be given an acute
or circumflex accent, but words always end in one or two graves. Hence,
the Greek language is so much more pleasant than the Latin that when
our poets want to make a poem agreeable they bedeck it with Greek names.
More serious, many things lack terms, making metaphor or circum- 34
locution inevitable; and even when things have been given names, our
extreme poverty of vocabulary brings us back to the same expression time
and again. The Greeks, however, have abundant words-and abundant
dialects into the bargain.

I Upsilon (I}) and zeta ({).

• The digamma (r), with the sound of our 11', represented in Latin by consonantal u
(ceruus).
 410 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY

HOW LATIN MUST FACE UP TO ITS DEFICIENCIES

35 Thus anyone who demands of the Latins the grace that characterizes
the Attic tongue must provide us with an equally agreeable and rich
language. If that is denied us, we shall have to go on fitting our thoughts
to the words we have-taking care not to swamp slender subjects with
words too rich (perhaps I had better say 'too strong') for them: for that
36 is the way to ruin both elements in the confusion. The less one's language
helps one, the more one has to use one's material as one's weapon. We
must search out lofty and varied sentiments, rouse every emotion, enliven
our speech with sparkling metaphor. We cannot be so gracefully slender
as the Greeks: let us be stronger . We are worsted in su btlety; let us
prevail by weight. They have a better chance of finding the exact word;
37 let us vanquish by our fullness. Even lesser Greeks have their ports to
shelter them; we generally sail under a greater spread of canvas. Let a
stronger breeze billow out our sails. But we shall not always be traversing
the open sea; sometimes we must follow the shore. The Greeks can
approach it across the shallowest waters; I shall have to find something
deeper-though not much deeper-to save my craft from going aground.
38 But, even though the Greeks produce these more plain and concise
effects better, and we are inferior here, though only here (hence our
inability to compete in comedy), we should not therefore abandon this side
of oratory: rather we should exploit it as best we can. What we can do is
to rival the Greeks in restraint and tastefulness of matter, while sprinkling
on to our words from other sources the attractions that they do not in
39 themselves have. Cicero in his private speeches was surely pointed, exact,
controlled; Marcus Calidius was noted for these qualities. Scipio, Laelius,
and Cato showed in their actual language that they were the Roman equi-
valent of the Attic orators. What cannot be improved must needs suffice.

'NATURAL' ELOQUENCE

40 Again, some think no eloquence is natural unless it is as near as possible

to ordinary language of the type we use when speaking to friends, wives,
children, and slaves: language that is satisfied to get meaning over, and
looks for nothing exotic or elaborate. Anything beyond that (they say)
is affectation, ostentatious display of language, removed from reality,
made up for the sake of the words it uses-though their natural function
41 is solely to play the servant to subject-matter. Similarly, the bodies of
athletes may become stronger with exercise and dieting, but they are
unnatural, and clash with normal human appearance. What is the point
 TYPES OF ORATORY
(they add) of signifying things with periphrasis and metaphor-more
words, that is, or words out of place-when everything has its proper
name assigned to it? Their final contention is that the more antique an 42
orator, the more he spoke 'according to nature'. Later, orators began to
resemble poets more and more, differing only in the degree in which they
took fictions and abuses of language for virtues.
In this thesis there is some truth; and one would not depart as far as
some do from primary and common words. But (as I have said when dis- 43
cussing rhythm) if someone manages to add something better to the
indispensable minimum of expression, he should not have to face such
criticisms. To my mind ordinary language has one 'nature', the speech
of an eloquent man quite another. If an orator needed merely to point
out facts, he would not trouble to go outside the straightforward meanings
of words. But since he has to please, move, impel his audience into many
different frames of mind, he will use the aids that are granted him-just
as is straightforward speech-by nature. There is nothing unnatural, 44
after all, in hardening the arms by exercise, increasing one's strength,
improving one's complexion. Hence, in every race, one man is accounted
more fluent and agreeable in conversation than another (otherwise every-
one would be equal and alike); in every race, the same men are capable
of speaking differently on different subjects, and preserving differences
of character. Thus, the more a man can bring about by speaking, the
more he is speaking according to the 'nature' of eloquence.

CONCESSIONS TO THE AGE

So I am not too much in disagreement with those who think that the 45
temper of the age and men's tastes need some concession made to them
when they demand something more polished and more emotional.
I don't think an orator should be tied down to predecessors of Cato and
the Gracchi, or even to those orators themselves. And Cicero's principle,
I notice, was to give everything to the needs of his case-but a part to
pleasure; he used to say that he had himself to consider also, but he was
in fact considering his clients above all-the very fact that he was giving
pleasure itself gave him an advantage. And to the pleasure he gave I 46
can personally see no possibility of addition-except that we have more
epigrams in our speeches: something that need not harm the conduct of
a case or our authority of language so long as these conceits are not
frequent, continuous, and self-destructive. But if I make this concession, 47
I am not to be driven further. I will concede to the fashion that a toga need
not be hairy, not that it should be silk: the hair doesn't have to be
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
unbarbered, but it should not be trained into tiers and ringlets. I only add
that unless your norm is luxury and lust, the better things really are the
48 more beautiful they look. These epigrams-sententiae as they are com-
monly called-were not used by the old orators, in particular the Greeks,
though I find them in Cicero. But so long as they have content and are not
simply redundant, and so long as they have a view to the winning of the
case, they can hardly be denied to be useful. They strike the mind, and
can frequently turn it at a single stroke; they stick just because they are
brief, and they are persuasive because they are pleasurable.

WRITTEN SPEECHES AND SPOKEN SPEECHES

49 Yet there are those who feel that these more spirited conceits should be
excluded from one's written text even if they allow them to be spoken.
I cannot, then, neglect this topic I either. Very many scholars have thought
there is one method for speaking, another for writing: and that that is
why orators renowned for making speeches have in some cases left nothing
to posterity and lasting literature-for example Pericles and Demades;
on the other hand, others, such as Isocrates, have been excellent at com-
50 posing speeches but unequipped for delivering them. Further (this view
holds) delivery usually needs more spirit, and rather more courting of
pleasure (it being the uneducated whose minds have to be roused and
won over); but something committed to paper and published as a model
must be polished, filed, composed according to the rules, for it will come
51 into the hands of the learned and have artists to judge its art. In addition,
well-known preceptors (subtle thinkers in their own view and others')
have laid down that the instance (paradeigma) is more suitable for speech,
the rhetorical syllogism (enthumema) for writing. My own view is that it
is one and the same thing to speak well and to write well: and a written
speech is merely the record of a delivered speech. And so it must not have
those virtues alone ... (gap in the text) and virtues, mark you, not faults-
for I am well aware that sometimes the inexperienced like what is faulty.
How, then, will they differ?
52 But if you were to grant me an audience of wise judges, I could prune
quite a lot off the speeches not only of Cicero but even of the much
sparer Demosthenes. For there would be no need to rouse any emotion,
or provide pleasures to soothe the ear--even proems were thought by
Aristotle 2 to be superfluous in such circumstances; these wise men would
not be attracted by such devices-enough to describe the facts in exact
I Cf. Pliny, epist. I. 20 (below, p. 424).
• Rhetoric 3. 14 (above, p. 160).
 TYPES OF ORATORY
and clear language and draw out one's proofs. In fact, however, the judges 53
provided are the people or drawn from the people; those who will give
the verdict are often ill-educated, sometimes even rustics. We therefore
have to bring to bear everything that we think will aid us in carrying
our point. These things will be spoken when we are delivering a speech;
and they cannot be suppressed when we write out a speech, if in fact we
write in order to show how it should be spoken. Would ,Demosthenes or 54
Cicero have done badly to deliver their orations as they wrote them?
Have we, indeed, any way of knowing these distinguished speakers except
by their written texts? Now, did they deliver these speeches better or
worse than that? If worse, they should rather have spoken them as they
wrote them; if better, they should have written them as they spoke them.
Well then, is an orator always to deliver his speech just as he will 55
eventually write it? If possible, always. But there may be limits set by
the judge that embarrassingly shorten the actual speech, causing the
excision of much that could have been said: then the published text will
contain the lot. Again, certain things are said to suit the character of the
judges; they will not be handed down to posterity in that form-other-
wise they might seem to reflect on the orator's standards rather than his
circumstances. In fact, it makes a great deal of difference how a judge is 56
prepared to listen. 'His very face is often the orator's guide', as Cicero
teaches us. I Hence the need to emphasize points that you realize are
popular, and to steer clear of what will not be well received. Even language
may be suited to make the judge take the point as easily as possible;
nor is this surprising, for variations have to be made even to suit the
character of witnesses. Compare the foresight of one who asked a rustic 57
witness whether he knew Amphion and received the answer 'no'. He
proceeded to ask the question again with no aspirate and the second
syllable of the name shortened: 2 in that guise the witness knew Amphion
very well. Circumstances of this kind will cause us sometimes to speak and
write differently-at times when it is impossible to speak as one would
write.

THE THREE STYLES3

There is another division-again tripartite-that is thought to mark off 58

from each other styles of speaking that are not faulty. One type is plain
(Greek ischnon): the second grand and strong (hadron). The third is
variously described as midway between the other two, or flowery (an-
theron). The principle of these, roughly, is that the first undertakes the 59
I Not from any extant work. 2 i.e. Ampion, not Amp-hion.
3 See, e.g., D. A. Russell, 'Longinus', Oxford, 1964, xxxiv ff.
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
task of imparting information, the second of emotional appeal, and the
third (whatever one calls it) of pleasing or, some say, conciliating. Giving
information involves pointedness, conciliating requires gentleness,
emotional appeal force. The technique of narration and proof will lie in
the plain style; and this style is self-sufficient even without the other
60 virtues of speech. The middle style will have more frequent metaphors,
more agreeable figures; its digressions will make it pleasant, it will be
rhythmic, nicely epigrammatic, gentle like a river that is clear but over-
6r shadowed by green banks on either side. But the grand style is the
sort of river that whirls rocks along, 'resents bridges', I makes its own
banks; great and torrential, it will carry along even the judge who tries to
stand up to it, forcing him to go where he is taken. Such an orator will
raise the dead to speak (e.g. Appius Caecus),2 and cause the state to cry
aloud or sometimes (as in Cicero's case in the Catilines)3 to converse with
62 him. He will lift the speech high by his amplifications, and launch into
exaggeration ('What Charybdis was so voracious? ... Even the ocean
itself .. .' Even beginners are familiar with these brilliant passages).4 He
will come near to bringing the gods themselves down to meet and talk
to him: 'You hills and groves of Alba, you uprooted altars of the Albans,
companions and contemporaries of the shrines of the Roman people .. .'5
He will inspire anger and pity; and as he speaks the judge will grow pale,
weep, follow tamely as he is snatched in one direction after another by the
whole gamut of emotion: he will not ask to be given the facts.
63 Thus if we had to choose one out of these three styles, who would
hesitate to prefer this to the others? It is in general the most potent-
and in particular it is adapted to the needs of the most important cases.
64 We have, here, the witness of Homer,6 who provided Menelaus with an
eloquence that was concise, pleasurable, correct (compare the phrase 'not
missing the mark in words') and free of superfluities. These are the virtues
of the first type. From the mouth of Nestor, said Homer, flowed speech
'sweeter than honey' (and no imaginable pleasure surpasses that).
But when he had to represent the highest eloquence in the person of
Ulysses, he gave him strength of voice and a force of oratory that in its
65 flow and onrush of words resembled the snows. No mortal, then, can
compete with such an orator: men will look to him as a god. 7 This is the
force and swiftness that Eupolis admires in Pericles, that Aristophanes
compares to thunderbolts. s This is the capacity for real oratory.
I Virgil, Aeneid 8. 728. 2 In Cicero, pro Caelio 33.
3 1. 27. 4 Cic. Philippics 2. 67. 5 Pro Milone 85.
6 Iliad 3. 214, 1. 249, 3. 221; cf. Pliny, epist. 1. 20. 22 (below, p. 426). Cf. Cicero,
Brutus 40 (above, p. 222). 7 An allusion to Odyssey 8. 173.
8 Cf. Pliny, epist. 1. 20. 17, 19 (below, p. 425).
 TYPES OF ORATORY
But eloquence is not confined to these three forms. Just as there is a 66
third style between the slender and the strong, so there are gaps between
these three that are filled by styles blended between the styles on either
side. We may find something more full or more slender than the slender, 67
more relaxed or more vehement than the vehement. Similarly, the gentle
style may climb towards stronger things or sink to slenderer. Thus comes
about an almost infinite variety of types, which at least at some points
differ from each other. In just the same way, we learn as a general rule
that four winds blow from four points of the compass, whereas in fact
there are many winds in between these with different names, and some
are peculiar to certain regions or rivers. So, too, with musicians, who 68
have five notes on the lyre, but fill the spaces between these strings with a
great variety of notes, even filling in others among those: so that these
few intervals have many degrees.

ALL THE STYLES USEFUL

Eloquence, then, has many aspects. But it is stupid to ask to which the 69
orator should direct himself: every kind, if it is not faulty, has its use.
An orator cannot be said to have (to use the popular phrase) a 'style' of
oratory: he will use all the styles as necessary, varying them not only
according to the case but even to parts of the case. He will not speak in 70
the same ways in defence of a man on trial for his life, in a testamentary
case, on interdicts, securities, loans. He will also preserve the distinction
between speeches in senate and before the people and private delibera-
tions, altering much to suit persons, places, and times. But in one and the
same speech he will use one style to rouse, another to conciliate; he will
have different sources for inspiring anger and pity; he will employ one
technique for instruction, another for emotional appeal. He will not keep 71
to one tone in proem, narration, argument, digression, peroration. He
will speak gravely, austerely, spiritedly, vehemently, stirringly, fully,
pungently; he will speak agreeably, relaxedly, plainly, winningly, gently,
sweetly, briefly, wittily. He will not everywhere be the same, though he
will never fall below his own standards. Thus, he will speak effectively 72
and to good purpose (the main reason for the development of oratory);
and he will also win a reputation, among the populace as well as the
scholars.

MODERN EXCESSES

For it is a great fallacy to suppose that there is more popularity and 73

acclaim to be won by a faulty and decadent style of speech, that
 QUINTlLIAN AND PLINY
cheerfully misuses words, revels in puerile conceits, puffs itself up with
immoderate bombast, indulges in empty common places, gleams with
flowers that will fall at the lightest touch, regards hazardous expression
as sublime expression, or raves under the guise of freedom of speech.
74 It is undeniable, and unsurprising, that this is popular with many. Any
and every eloquence is an agreeable thing that finds much favour; every
voice attracts minds with a pleasure that is only natural (hence the knots
oflisteners in the forum and on the ramparts). Every speaker reasonably
75 enough has a ready-made popular audience. But anything a little out of
the way that falls on unpractised ears, whatever it is, so long as its hearers
despair of producing such an effect themselves, arouses wonder. That
is fair enough; even this is not easy. But such effects vanish and die away
when compared with better things, just as dyed wool pleases when there
is no purple by-'but if you compare it with Spartan purple, it is eclipsed
76 by the sight of something superior', as Ovid puts it.! But if you apply a
more critical taste to these decadent phenomena (like sulphur to dye-
stuffs) they would lose the false colour by which they had deceived and
pale into indescribable ugliness. These things shine only when the sun is
hidden; just as in darkness certain tiny creatures give the impression of
sparks. Many praise the bad; no one finds fault with the good.

'PERSEVERE'

77 All these things of which I have spoken the orator will carry out supremely
well-and supremely easily. The highest force of oratory, the tongue
men marvel at, is not constantly haunted by desperate worries; the true
orator is not wasted and tormented by feverish juggling of words, nor
does he pine away with the effort of weighing and fitting them together.
78 This brilliant, lofty, well-endowed speaker controls a wealth of eloquence
that flows on all sides of him. When you have reached the top, you cease
to struggle with the slope. The climber finds trouble on the lower stretches:
the further you go, the gentler the gradient, the more fertile the soil.
79 And if you pass even beyond the gentler slopes, and persist in your
endeavours, you will find fruits offering themselves to you without your
labour, and everything coming automatically-though you have to
pluck them daily, or they wither. But plenty requires moderation-
without that nothing is praiseworthy or healthy: polish needs a manly
80 elegance, imagination judgement. The outcome will be the great, not
the excessive, the lofty, not the precipitous, the bold, not the rash, the
restrained, not the austere, the impressive, not the slow, the fertile, not
• In a lost hendecasyllabic poem.
 TYPES OF ORATORY
the rank, the pleasant, not the luxurious, the grand, not the turgid.!
It is the same with other qualities. The middle way is usually safest; the
extreme on either side is a fault.

G. THE GOOD MAN SKILLED IN SPEAKING

Our final extract (from 12. I) deals with a topic Quintilian thought of supreme
importance. It puts forward his conviction that the orator must be a morally
good man. He uses a phrase of the elder Cato---vir bonus dicendi peritus-but the
conditions of the early empire (cf. Tacitus, Dialogus 12, below, p. 439, for the
eloquence of professional informers) made the view still topical and piquant. At
the same time, Quintilian's vision of the orator as a great political leader was
altogether outdated-as Tacitus showed in the Dialogus.

Our orator then should be (as Marcus Cato defined him) 'a good man I
skilled in speaking': but particularly a good man-for that is what Cato
put first and what is naturally more desirable and more important. One
reason is that if oratorical ability is added to the armoury of evil nothing
would be more dangerous, whether publicly or privately, than eloquence,
while I myself, who have tried, as far as man could, to contribute towards
capacity for speaking, should deserve very ill of humanity in forging these
weapons for the thief rather than for the soldier. And-to forget about 2
myself-nature would prove to have been no true parent but a mere
stepmother in what is on the face of it her greatest favour to man, the
one that marks us off from other animals, if she devised speech merely
to be the ally of crime, the adversary of innocence, and the enemy of
truth. It would have been better for men to be born speechless and
altogether irrational than to turn the gifts of providence to the destruction
of each other.
But my view goes further. I am not merely saying that the orator 3
ought to be a good man: I say too that he will not even become an orator
unless he is a good man. Surely you would not regard intelligence as an
attribute of those who prefer the worse way when the choice between
honour and dishonour is placed before them? Or good sense when an
unforeseen turn of events can land them in the direst punishments-
those that their own bad consciences inflict, if not, as often happens, those
exacted by the law as well. And if it is alike the saying of philosophers and 4
the constant belief of the lay that no one is bad unless he is also stupid,
well, there will hardly be an orator who is stupid. Moreover, only a mind
free of all faults can have the time even to study this most wonderful of
I For such relationshipsl of faults and virtues, cf. (e.g.) Horace, The Art of Poetry

(above, p. 280), 'Longinus' (below, p. 464).

8143591 Ee
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
subjects. First, the same breast cannot house good and bad at the same
time, and to entertain the best and the worst thoughts simultaneously is
as impossible for one mind as it is for the same man to be both good and
5 bad. Secondly, a mind fixed on so important a matter must be free of all
cares, even innocent ones. Only thus, free and undivided, with nothing to
distract it or lead it astray, will it be able to look firmly towards its objec-
6 tive. If excessive preoccupation with one's estates, extreme trouble taken
over money, the pleasures of the hunt, days devoted to shows, can take
much away from one's studies (time spent on anything else is lost to these),
what can we suppose will be the effect of avarice, greed, and envy, which
arouse uncontrollable thoughts, capable of disturbing even one's sleep
7 and dreams? Nothing is so busy, so various, so torn and mutilated by
conflicting emotion, as the evil heart. When it is plotting, it is rent by
hope, care, trouble; and even when it attains its wicked end, it is tor-
tured by anxiety, remorse, the prospect of every sort of punishment.
What place amidst all this for literature or any respectable pursuit?
As little as for crops on land taken over by thorn and bramble.
S Again, is not temperance necessary if the labours of study are to be
borne? There is no prospect to be looked for from lust and luxury.
Desire for praise is surely the major stimulus towards literary ambitions.
But can we suppose the wicked are troubled about praise? And it is
obvious that the greater part of oratory hinges on the treatment of the
honest and the good, subjects on which the wicked and dishonest man
will hardly speak worthily.
9 Finally, to by-pass most of this question, let us grant the impossible,
that the best man and the worst have identical standards of ability,
exercise, and training: which of the two will be called the better orator?
Surely the one who is also the better man. The bad man and the perfect
10 orator, therefore, will never coincide. That which has something superior
to it is not perfect.
But I don't want to be thought to be playing the Socratic game of making
up replies to my own questions. Let us imagine someone so obstinate in
his opposition to the truth as to venture to say that a bad man will be
no worse an orator than the good man where ability, practice, and training
II are equal; and let us refute this mad proposition too. Surely it cannot be
denied that all oratory aims at making what it puts forward seem true
and fair to the judge? Will it be the good man or the bad who will find
it easier to produce such a conviction? The good man, too, will more
12 frequently say what is true and fair. But even if from time to time he is in
honour bound (this can happen, as I shall soon show) to try to be mis-
leading here, he must receive a more favourable hearing. Bad men, on
the other hand, contemptuous of public opinion and ignorant of what is
 THE GOOD MAN SKILLED IN SPEAKING 419
right, sometimes lose their mask, and are led to shameless and immodest
assertions. The result is an ugly obstinacy and vain trouble on points that 13
cannot be carried: in the courts, as in life, their ambitions are boundless.
And it often happens that, even when they are speaking the truth, no one
believes them: and an advocate bearing such a character is regarded as
an indication of the weakness of the case.
Now to face the chorus of protest that 1 imagine will be raised. 'Was 14
Demosthenes, then, no orator ?-yet we hear that he was a bad man.
Wasn't Cicero ?-yet many have found fault with his character.' What am
1 to do? My reply will involve me in much obloquy: let me first soothe my
audience. 1 don't think Demosthenes' character so tainted that 1 can IS
believe all the charges heaped on him by his enemies. 1 read that his
public policies were excellent, his death noble. As to Cicero, he clearly 16
was in no way deficient in the aspirations of a good citizen. Witness his
noble consulship, the honest administration of his province and his
declining of the vigintivirate: I while in the civil wars, the brunt of which
was taken by his generation, neither hope nor fear diverted him from
allying himself to the better side, that of the Republic. He is regarded as 17
rather cowardly by some; the best answer is his own: 'I am timid not in
facing danger but in foreseeing it.' This he proved by the manner of his
death: which he met in the noblest spirit. Perhaps these men lacked the 18
highest degree of virtue; but if anyone asks whether they were orators,
1 reply as the Stoics would reply if asked whether Zeno, Cleanthes, and
Chrysippus himself were wise men: that they were good men, worthy
of all respect, though they failed to realize the highest possibilities of man.
Even Pythagoras preferred to be called a lover of wisdom rather than 19
(like his predecessors) a wise man. 2 But, keeping to ordinary ways of
language, 1 have often said and shall say again that Cicero is the perfect
orator, just as we commonly call ou~ friends good and wise-attributes,
strictly, only of the perfectly wise man. But when it is a matter of speaking
correctly and according to the most rigorous standards of truth, 1 shall
say, as Cicero himself said, that such an orator is still to seek. I claim that 20
Cicero stood at the very peak of eloquence; I can scarcely find anything
that he lacks (though I might perhaps find something he would have
pruned away: indeed, this is the general view of scholars, that he had
many virtues and a few vices-while Cicero himself testifies 3 that he had
to clamp down on much in his youthful extravagances). All the same,
seeing that this by no means modest man never claimed the name of
wise, and since he could undoubtedly have spoken better given a longer
life and a period more suitable to calm composition, 1 am not being
I A place on a Caesarian land-commission offered him in S9 B.C.

• i.e. phi/o-sophos, not sophos. 3 Orator 107 (above, p. 246).

 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
grudging if I voice my belief that he failed to reach heights that no one
21 else has approached more closely. I could, if I felt differently, defend this
standpoint more stoutly and outspokenly. Marcus Antonius I claimed that
he had seen no eloquent man (a much lower thing), while Cicero himself
was still in search of the ideal and could only imagine it and represent it
to himself; am I then not to dare to say that in all the eternity .of years
that remain it is impossible for something to turn up more perfect than
22 what has so far existed? I am not concerned with those who do not give
Cicero and Demosthenes their due even for th~ir oratory-though in
fact Cicero himself regarded Demosthenes as not altogether perfect
(saying he sometimes nods),2 a complaint made against Cicero by Brutus
and Calvus,3 who criticized his word-arrangement to his face, and by
both the Asinii, who in several places attacked his oratorical faults in a posi-
tively hostile spirit.
23 Let us suppose what is in fact quite impossible, that some bad man has
been found who is supremely eloquent: I should nevertheless say that
he was no orator. Not all who are ready with their fists can be regarded
24 as brave; for bravery has no meaning unless virtue is present. Can we say
that an advocate for the defence has no need of a trustworthiness that
cannot be corrupted by avarice, deflected by prejudice, or broken by
fear? Shall we grant to a traitor, a turncoat, a conniver the sacred name of
orator? If even second-rate counsel are thought to do well to have what
is commonly called goodness, why should not the orator, possible though
25 not yet actual, be as perfect in character as in oratory? I am not training
up some court hack, some voice put out for hire, or (to avoid harsher
language) a not altogether useless advocate-'pleader', as they say: but
a man supremely endowed bJt nature, deeply imbued with all the fairest
arts, a crowning gift to humamty: a man such as the world has never seen,
however far back, unique and perfect in every way, with the finest thoughts
26 and the finest powers of expression. Only a small part of his energies will
be devoted to defending the innocent, crushing the crimes of the wicked,
standing up for the truth against calumny in financial cases. Our speaker
will be supreme in such matters too, but he will gain his brightest lustre
from higher things, the guiding of the counsels of the senate, the leading
of the people away from error and into better courses.
27 Did not Virgil invent a character like this-the man whom he repre-
sents controlling the rebellious mob when they are already hurling
brands and stones? 'Then if they catch sight of a man of authority and
virtue, they are silent and stand ears pricked.' Here, then, we have, before
all else, the good man. It is only after this that VirgiI will proceed to add his
I Cf. on 8 pr. 13 (above, p. 374). 2 Cf. 10. I. 24 (above, p. 384).
3 Tacitus, Dialogus IS (below, p. 443).
 THE GOOD MAN SKILLED IN SPEAKING 42 1
skill in speech: 'with his words he rules their minds and soothes their
hearts."
In war, too, this same orator I am forming will draw his material from 28
the heart of philosophical theory, should the soldiers need spurring on
to battle. For how, as they go out to fight, are they to forget so many
thronging fears of hardship, pain, and death itself, unless the place of
those fears is taken by duty, bravery, and the vivid image of the Good?
And surely these will be put over more persuasively by one who has 29
first persuaded himself. Hypocrisy, however well veiled, betrays itself;
there is no eloquence so great that it does not stumble and come to a halt
when the words are divorced from the feeling. But the bad man is bound 30
to speak against his feelings, while good men will never be short of good
language or-for they will also be practical---of the ability to find good
material. And such material, even if devoid of trappings, is sufficiently
ornamented by its inherent qualities. Everything that is spoken honestly
is spoken eloquently. Let us therefore while we are young-and indeed 31
at all ages, for no age is too late for good principles-strive with all our
minds in this direction, and work towards these things. Perhaps we may
even achieve them fully. Nature doesn't forbid the existence of the good
man or the skilled speaker: why should not some one man attain both
qualities? And why should not each of us hope to be that one man
himself? If our powers are not up to that, we shall be the better for it in 32
both spheres however far we get. At least one thing should be banished
far from our minds-the idea that eloquence, fairest thing of all, can be
allied with vice. Power of speech falling to the lot of evil men must itself
be judged an evil: for it makes those to whom it falls worse.
There will never be a shortage of those who prefer being eloquent to 33
being good; and I think I hear some people saying: 'What is the point of
the well-developed technique in eloquence? Why have you gone on about
'colours' and the defence of difficult cases (even, to some extent, about
admitting guilt) unless sometimes oratory can defeat the truth itself?
Your good man only takes up good cases-and they are adequately de-
fended by the truth even in the absence of training.' In replying to these 34
criticisms, I shall, as well as defending my own book, be touching also
on the duty of a good man should circumstances lead him into pleading
the cause of the guilty.
It is by no means unhelpful to discuss how speeches may sometimes be
made in defence of untruth and even injustice, if only so that we can
the more readily detect and refute them: if you know the diseases, you
are in a better position to apply the remedies. The Academics, while 35
arguing against both sides, live according to one: and the Carneades who
I Aeneid I. 151 If.
 422 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
is said to have been heard in Rome by the censor Cato inveighing against
justice as powerfully as he had spoken on its behalf the day before, was
himself a just man. But vice makes obvious the nature of its opposite,
virtue; honesty becomes clearer as one observes the dishonest; and many
things are shown to be good by their contraries. The orator, therefore,
must be as acquainted with the intentions of his adversaries as a general
with those of the enemy.
36 Again, expediency can even bring about what is at first view a hard
saying, that a good man may sometimes, in defending his case, desire to
conceal the truth from the judge. Some may be surprised that I put this
view forward, though it is not mine specially, but that of those whom
antiquity regarded as the most respectable teachers of wisdom; but my
critics should bear in mind that there are many things that are good or bad
37 rather because of their motive than because of the actual deed. It is
often a virtue to kill a man, sometimes glorious to slay one's children;
still harsher-sounding actions are permissible should the common good
demand. Therefore we should not have regard merely to the type of case
the good man takes up, but also to why and with what motives he takes it.
38 First, everyone must grant me something that even the most rigorous
Stoics concede, that the good man will at times go so far as to tell a lie,
sometimes for fairly trivial reasons. Thus when children are ill we make up
a great deal for their good, and promise much that we don't intend to do-
39 and still more if a brigand has to be diverted from murder or an enemy
deceived for the safety of one's country. So something that on one occa-
sion is reprehensible even in slaves on another may be praiseworthy in
the Wise Man himself. If that is agreed, I can see many eventualities
in which an orator would do well to take the sort of case he would have
40 declined in the absence of a good reason. I don't mean cases involving
support for fathers, brothers, or friends in danger: I propose to follow
sterner principles-though in fact considerable doubt arises when justice
and natural affection come face to face. Let me leave no doubts. Suppose
someone has plotted against a tyrant and is brought to trial for it: will
the orator, as defined by me, refuse to ensure his safety-won't he rather,
having once taken his case on, defend him with false arguments as readily
41 as someone who pleads a bad case before a jury? What if a judge is sure
to condemn some good action unless we prove it was not performed? Will
not the orator, even at the cost of deception, go to the help of a citizen
who is praiseworthy as well as innocent? Suppose we know that some-
thing is in fact good, though inexpedient to the state owing to circum-
stances: shall we not use a technique of oratory that, though good, is
42 not unlike fraud? Again, undoubtedly, if criminals can somehow be
reformed (as is agreed to be possible), it is in the state's interests that they
 THE GOOD MAN SKILLED IN SPEAKING 0423
should be left unharmed rather than punished. Therefore, if the orator
is convinced that a man answering to true charges will become good, will
he not act to ensure his safety? Suppose a good general is faced by an .B
unanswerable accusation, and that without him the state could not defeat
the enemy: the common good will surely call the orator to his aid.
Certainly Fabricius, when war threatened, used his vote in public to
elect to the consulship Cornelius Rufinus, knowing him to be an efficient
general, though in other respects a bad citizen and his personal enemy.
Some were surprised at this action, but Fabricius told them that he
would rather be robbed by a citizen than sold by the enemy. So if he had
been an orator, would he not have defended this same Rufinus even o~
an open-and-shut case of bribery? There are many possible parallels, 44
but one is enough. I am not proposing that the orator whom I am educat-
ing should act thus very often; my point is that if he is compelled to do
so by the logic of events, he may so act without upsetting the definition
of the orator as a good man skilled in speaking.
But it is essential to teach and learn how even awkward cases are to 45
be handled: often even the most respectable cases resemble the bad ones;
often the innocent defendant is threatened by much that looks true, and
so has to be defended in the same manner as if he were guilty. Indeed,
there are innumerable points common to good and bad cases-witnesses,
written evidence, suspicions, reputations. But the probable is proved or
refuted just like the true. Oratory is to be adapted to circumstances;
principle should stand firm.

H. PLINY'S LETTERS

The younger Pliny was a pupil ofQy.intilian. In his Letters he sometimes touches
on literary themes, and often echoes his master. Text: R. A. B. Mynors, Oxford,
1963; commentary: A. N. Sherwin-White, Oxford, 1966; translation: Betty
Radice, Penguin, 1963.

1. TO TACITUS: ON BREVITY (1. 20)

I frequently have arguments with a learned and experienced man who I

likes nothing in the pleading of cases so much as brevity. Brevity, I z
agree, should be maintained where the case allows; where it does not,
it is mere treachery to one's client to neglect what ought to be said, or to
touch only shortly and in passing on points that need to be pressed,
 QUINTILlAN AND PLlNY
3 hammered home, and repeated. Most things gather weight and strength
of a kind if they are given extended treatment. Speech is imprinted on
the mind (like iron on the body) by slow degrees rather than at a single
stroke.
4 Here my friend quotes authority at me, brandishes Lysias' speeches on
the Greek side, on the Latin those of Cato and the Gracchi. Certainly
many of these are brief and circumscribed. But I counter Lysias with
Demosthenes, Aeschines, Hyperides, and many besides; while against
the Gracchi and Cato I pit Pollio, Caesar, Caelius, and especially Cicero,
whose best speech is said to be his longest. And indeed, like other good
5 things, a good book is better the larger it is. Observe how nothing rivals
size for lending beauty to statues, portraits, pictures, and also men and
many animals-trees too, so long as they are graceful. So with speeches;
even the volumes that contain them gain a certain dignity and beauty
from sheer bulk.
6 These, together with others to the same effect, are my habitual pleas;
but he-slippery fellow that he is, never letting you get hold of him in
argument-evades me by contending that these very orators on whose
7 speeches I rest my case in fact said less than they published. ' I think the
opposite. Witness many speeches from many hands, including Cicero's
for Murena and Varenus, where we find a brief and bald sketch of certain
charges indicated by mere headings: from which it is clear that he said
8 much that he left out on publication. Cicero, too, in his speech for Cluen-
tius 2 says that he spoke the whole case through in person in accordance
with tradition, and in that for Cornelius he says he took four days, so
that we cannot refuse to believe that he spoke for several days (as he had
to) rather diffusely, but afterwards cut down and revised his speech and
confined it to the limits of one book, albeit a large one.
9 But a good spoken speech, it may be said, is one thing, a good written
speech another. I know some think this, but I (perhaps wrongly) am
convinced that it is possible for a speech to be good when spoken, bad
when read: but that a good written speech must be good when delivered.
For the written speech is the model and, as it were, archetype of the
10 spoken. And so in a good written speech there are always innumerable
'extemporary' devices to be found-and this is true even of speeches
that we know were never actually delivered: for example, in one. of the
speeches against Verres: 3 'Who was the artist? Who was he? Ah yes,
thank you for reminding me-they said it was Polyclitus.' It follows that
the most perfect delivered speech is the one that most faithfully re-
produces the written: that is, so long as it is given a reasonable and proper
I a. Quint. 12. 10. 49 If. (above, p. 412).

• Pro Cluentio 199. 3 4. s.

 PLlNY'S LETTERS
time for its delivery-and if that is denied it's no blame to the speaker,
much to the judge.
This view of mine is supported by the laws, which grant very long I I
times for speeches, and thus encourage speakers not to be brief but full
(that is, careful). And brevity cannot give full coverage except in the
most restricted cases.
Let me add something I have learned from that excellent teacher, 12
experience. I I have often pleaded, often been a judge, often an adviser.
People are influenced by different things, and often small things carry
great ones with them. Men have differing tastes, differing attitudes. Hence
judges who have heard the same case at the same time often reach different
conclusions, sometimes the same ones for different motives.
Again, people tend to favour their own brain-child, clinging, in the 13
conviction that it is the strongest point, to something said by another
but foreseen by themselves. Everybody, then, must be given something
to hold on to, that they can recognize.
Regulus once said to me when we were both involved in the same case: 14
'You think that you have to go through everything in a case. I see the
jugular at once, and press there.' Certainly he presses the point he has
chosen-but he often gets his choice wrong. So I replied that it is con- 15
ceivable that what he thought to be the jugular should prove to be knee
or heel. I on the other hand (I went on), who am incapable of identifYing
the throat, try everything, test everything, leave no stone unturned. In 16
farming I work trees as well as vines, and fields as well as trees; and in
those fields I don't sow only spelt and wheat, but barley, beans, and other
legumes as well. Similarly in a speech I scatter a lot of seeds pretty widely,
so that I can collect up what comes to fruit. Judges are no less opaque, 17
uncertain and deceptive than weather and land.
I'm not forgetting that the great orator Pericles was complimented by
Eupolis in the following terms:
Apart from his swiftness
Persuasion sat on his lips,
such was his spell. And alone of orators
he left his sting in those who heard him.2
But Pericles himself could not have commanded that persuasion or 18
exercised that spell by means of brevity or swiftness (or both, for they
are different) without possessing the highest abilities also. Giving
pleasure and influencing people requires much to be said, and time to say
I The point of this paragraph is that only a full speech can make the necessary appeal

to different sorts of hearer and attitude.

• Fr. 94 Kock.
 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
it; and the sting can only be left in the minds of the audience by someone
who stabs, not pricks with a pin.
19 Or take what another comic poet wrote of the same Pericies:
He lightened, thundered, stirred up Greece. I
• It is no amputated and crippled oratory but something wide and splendid
and exalted that thunders, lightens, troubles and confuses everything
around it.
20 'The middle way is best.' We all agree. But the middle way is abandoned
as much by the orator who falls short of his theme as by the one who
21 goes too high for it: by the too-brief as well as the too-expansive. Thus
you often hear, as well as 'immoderately and redundantly' the criticism
'baldly and weakly'. One is said to have exceeded his matter, another to
have failed to match up to it. Both are faults, but one is the fault of
weakness, one the fault of strength. And this latter may not be the fault
of the more polished intellect, but it is the fault of the greater.
22 In saying this, I am not approving of the Homeric <Thersites,)
who was 'immoderate in word', but the hero whose words were 'like the
winter snows'. Not that I am not greatly pleased by the one who spoke
'little but very ciearly'.2 But if a choice is to be given us, I prefer the ora-
tory that resembles the winter snows-by being, that is, dense, steady,
23 and abundant, divine and superhuman. 'But many prefer a shorter de-
livered speech.' Maybe-but they are the lazy: and it is absurd to revere
their faddish sloth as the height of taste. If you take these people into
account, better not just speak briefly-better not speak at all.
24 This is still my view, but I will change it if you disagree with me. But
I do ask you to explain clearly why you disagree. I have a duty to yield
to your authority, but I think it's better in so crucial a matter to be over-
25 come by reason rather than authority. If, however, you don't think me
wrong, write to tell me so in as brief a letter as you like-but do write
(you will be confirming my judgement). If.! am mistaken, get a very long
letter ready. Is not this bribery and corruption-to make you write a
short letter if you agree with me, but a long one if you don't? Farewell.

2. TO CEREALIS: ON PUBLIC RECITALS (2. 19)

I You advise me to recite my speech to a number of friends. I shall do it,

2 as you so advise, though with the gravest misgivings. I am well aware that
speeches, when recited, lose all their impetus and warmth, almost their
identity: for what normally sets them in a good light and brings them to
I Aristophanes, Acharnians 531.
2 Cf. Qyint. 12. 10. 64 (above, p. 414). Thersites is from Iliad 2. 212.
 PLINY'S LETTERS 427
fever pitch is the throng of judges, the crowd of advocates, the excite-
ment over the result, the fame of more than one of the speakers, the
divided loyalties of the audience; add, too, the gesture and movement of
the speaker, even his striding about and the way his body reacts vigor-
ously to all his emotions. Thus those who deliver speeches sitting down, 3
though losing few of the advantages of the man who stands, are never-
theless thereby weakened and enfeebled. But reciters have the principal 4-
aids of delivery, eyes and hands, shackled by the text. Hence quite
naturally the attention of the audience relaxes, for it is attracted by no
external lures, provoked by no stings.
Moreover, the speech I am talking about is combative, and pugnacious. 5
Again, it is inevitable that we should think that what we have taken trouble
to write will take some trouble to listen to. Indeed, how few are the listeners 6
so high-minded as to take pleasure in the austere and concise rather than
the charming and resonant 1 It is a shameful difference, but a real one,
that (as often happens) the audience want one thing, the judges another,
though a member of an audience really ought to be particularly moved
by just those things that would most affect him if he were judge.
Maybe, however, despite these difficulties, this book will have the 7
advantage of novelty in its favour-novelty, that is, here: for the Greeks
can show us something not wholly dissimilar (though applied in the other
direction). They had a usage by which they confronted laws which they 8
regarded as contrary to earlier laws by a process of comparison. In rather
the same way, I had to argue that what I was after was contained in the
law on extortion by examining this law and some others. This is hardly
calculated to win the ears of the ignorant, but its attraction to the learned
should match its unpopularity with the lay. And if I do decide on a recita- 9
tion, I will get all the most erudite along. But please weigh again whether
I should recite, putting all the arguments I have brought in the scales, and
come to a conclusion that reason justifies. You are bound to provide reason:
I shall be excused by my dependence on your judgement. Farewell.

3. TO VOCONIUS ROMANUS: SENT WITH A COPY OF

PLINY'S PANEGYRICI (3. 13)

I have sent you my recent consular speech of thanks to our excellent emperor. I

You asked for it, but I should have sent it even if you had not. I should 2
like you to take into account the difficulty of the subject as well as its
attractions. In other speeches the reader is kept interested by the novelty
I Delivered by Pliny as consul before Trajan in A.D. 100.
 p8 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
alone; here everything is familiar, common property, everything has
been said before. So the reader attends only to the style, leisurely and
unmoved as he necessarily is: and when only style is under the critical
3 eye, it is more difficult to make it please. If only people would look at
least at the arrangement, the transitions, the figures I as well! Brilliant
content and impressive expression are sometimes within the capacities
even of the uncivilized: only the expert can arrange with propriety and
give variety to his figures. But one shouldn't always aim at the high-
4 flown and the sublime. In a picture nothing sets off light so well as shade,
5 and similarly in a speech it is as fitting to relax as to strain. But I need
hardly say this to someone so knowledgeable. This, rather: mark what you
think needs correcting. I shall be more ready to believe you like the rest
if you let me know there were some things you disliked. Farewell.

4. TO PATERNUS: MORALITY IN POETRY (4. 14)

I You are perhaps-as usual-demanding and expecting a speech from me:

but I am exhibiting you some trivia of mine, part of an exotic and fanciful
2 stock. You will find with this letter my hendecasyllables-with which

3 I agreeably fill the time in my carriage or my bath or at meals. They are

the vehicle of my humour, gaiety, love, pain, complaints, anger; they
enable me to describe a thing, concisely or high-soundingly: and by this
very variety I try to make sure that different tastes are served-and that
something, maybe, finds favour with everyone.
4 Some things may appear a little risque; but your learning will remind
you that the great and distinguished men who have written similar
poems have not fought shy even of the plainest language-let alone free-
dom in subject-matter: and I have avoided such lengths not because I
am more high-principled (how should I be ?), but because I am more timid.
5 Anyway, I know that the truest principle for this genre is the one laid
down by Catullus: 2
The good poet does well to be chaste
himself: not, however, his verses-
they have bite and brilliance only
if they're relaxed and not too modest.

6 You may judge how highly I value your criticism from the fact that
I wanted to let you ponder all my verses rather than praise a selection.
And indeed even the neatest start looking less neat when they're all on a
I Or 'figuration'-i.e. the general way in which the thoughts are put, not in the

narrower sense 'figurei' of speech or thought. • 16. 5-8.

 PLINY'S LETTERS
level. Besides, the wise and acute reader shouldn't compare different 7
I

poems, but weigh each for itself, not thinking it worse than another if it's
perfect of its own kind.
Enough. To use a long preface to excuse or commend one's indiscretions 8
is in itself hardly discreet. One proviso however: I am thinking of calling
these trifles of mine 'Hendecasyllables', thus referring to nothing except
the metre. You may call them epigrams or idylls or eclogues or (as many 9
do) poematia, 2 or anything else you like: I promise merely hendeca-
syllables.
You are a frank friend: please say to me about my book what you will 10
say to anyone else: no difficult request. 3 If this were my chief or only pro-
duction, it might perhaps be hard to have to say: 'Look for something else
to do.' AB it is, you can say, quite kindly and gently: 'You have other
things to do.' Farewell.

5. TO LUPERCUS: ON THE SUBLIME (9. 26)4

I once said of an orator of our time-a good sound one, but hardly lofty I
and ornate enough-something that I think apt: 'He has no fault except
that he has no fault.' An orator ought to be roused and exalted, at times 2
even boil and get carried away: and he should often come near the edge,
precipices commonly lying near the heights. The flat route is safer, but
it is lower and duller. Runners slip more often than crawlers; but the
crawlers get no praise for failing to slip, and runners get some even if
they do. Eloquence thrives, like some other arts, on hazard as on nothing 3
else. You observe what applause greets tight-rope walkers on their way
up the wire when they seem to be all but falling off. Particular admiration 4
is the reward of the particularly unexpected, the particularly dangerous
and (as the Greeks put it more expressively) hazardous (parabola).
The qualities of a steerSman show up by no means the same on a calm
as on a rough sea; in a calm he wins no admiration: unpraised, un-
honoured he makes his port. But when the sheets shriek, the mast
bends, the rudder groans-then he is famous and rivals the gods of the
ocean.
Why all this? Because you seem to have marked as turgid in my writings 5
some things I thought sublime: as outrageous what I thought daring: as
I i.e. if a selection is made containing only the best.
2 i.e. 'little poems'.
3 a. 'Longinus' I (below, p. 462) for this conventional request for frankness .
.. The attitudes, and even some of the details, of this letter can be paralleled in
'Longinus'.
 43 0 QUINTILIAN AND PLINY
excessive what I thought full. But it's very important whether the
6 passages you mark are blameworthy or outstanding. Anyone can notice
something that sticks up and stands out; but it needs acute taste to decide
if it's excessive or grand, high or grotesque. To turn to Homer for prefer-
ence: who can miss, one way or the other: 'all around the great heaven
trumpeted',! and 'his spear rested on a cloud', and all the part where 'the
7 sea wave does not thunder so loud'?z But whether these are incredible
and empty passages or splendid superhuman ones requires the scales and
balance to decide. I don't mean that I have written or could ever write
anything comparable (I'm not so mad); I mean rather that the reins
should be kept loose on eloquence, that the natural impulses should not
be crippled by keeping them to too narrow a course.
8 'Orators have one set of rules, poets another.' As if Cicero were less
daring! Still, I will leave him out of account (I don't think there is any
dispute there). Let us take Demosthenes himself, the very pattern and
rule of the orator. Does he check and restrain himself when he says in a
famous passage: 'Filthy men, flatterers and devils'; or again: 'I did not
fortify the city with stones or brick .. .'; or just after that: 'Was it not to
make Euboea a sea-ward shield for Attica?';3 or, in another speech:
'I think, men of Athens, that he by heaven is drunk with the vastness of
9 his acts.'4 What could be more daring, again, than that long and fine
digression beginning 'For a disease .. .' ?s What of another passage, shorter
than those but equally daring: 'Then I <confronted) Pytho in all his
pride, flowing down full on us' ?6 In the same rank: 'But when someone
grows powerful, as he has, on malevolent ambition, the first excuse, the
slightest false step customarily unseats and confounds all. '7 Similarly:
'Roped off by every process of justice in the state'; and in the same speech:
'You, Aristogiton, threw away the pity they deserved-indeed, you utterly
destroyed it. Do not, then, think you can anchor in harbours that you
yourself have blocked and filled with obstructions.'8 Before that he had
said: 'I see no spot where he can set foot, but everywhere cliffs, precipices,
chasms.' And again: 'I am afraid you may be thought to be tutoring each
new aspirant to vice in this city.' Or again: 'I do not imagine your an-
cestors built these law-courts for you to propagate such people in them.'
Even this was not enough; he also has: 'But if he is a trader and retailer
and trafficker in wickedness', 9 and many other such things-not to mention
what Aeschines 10 calls not words but wonders.
I Iliad 21.388; cf. 'Longinus' 9. 6 (below, p. 469); Demetrius 83 (above, p. 189).
2 Iliad 5. 356; 14. 394.
3 18. 296, 299, 301. For the range of speeches cited, cf. Hermogenes (below,
pp. 561 If.). 4 Philippics I. 49. 5 19.259. 6 18. 136.
7 2. 9. 8 [25.] 28, 84. 9 [25.] 76, 7, 48, 46.
10 Against Ctesiplioll 167.
 PLINY'S LETTERS 43 1
I have come up against an obstacle; you will say that here is Demo- 10
sthenes being criticized for these things. But observe the superiority of
the man who is criticized to the critic-and the superiority lies partly in
expressions like these: elsewhere we can glimpse his forcefulness-here
his grandeur shines out.
And did Aeschines himself avoid the 'faults' he found in Demosthenes? II

'Gentlemen of Athens, the orator and the law must say the same thing;
but when the law speaks with one voice, the orator with another .. .'
Elsewhere: 'He can be seen throughout the bill .. .' And in yet another:
'But wait there in ambush and listen, and so drive him into words
that break the law.'! He liked this so much that he repeats it: 'But, as 12
in horse-races, drive him into the path of relevance.'2 Then there is
something more brief and guarded: 'You open old sores, and care more
for your immediate words than for the safety of the state.' But this is
loftier: 'Will you not drive away one who is the common misfortune of
Greece? He sails through the state on a flood of words; will you not take
him and punish him as a pirate in public life ?'3
I am sure that you will strike out with the same marks as the passages 13
I mentioned various expressions in this letter, like 'the rudder groans' and
'rivals the gods of the ocean': I know that in asking pardon for earlier
offences I have fallen into the very faults you pointed out. But strike
out as you will, so long as you fix a day now on which we can discuss all
my crimes in person. You shall make me cautious; or I shall make you
rash. Farewell.
I Aeschines, Against Ctesiphon 16, 101, 206.
2 Against Timarchus 176. 3 Against Ctesiphon 208, 253.
 10
TACITUS, DIALOGUE ON ORATORS

The dramatic date of this dialogue is under Vespasian, probably A.D. 74. But it
was perhaps not written till after 100. In it, the historian Tacitus gives a different
view of the state of eloquence from that ofQuintilian; indeed, he may be answer-
ing Quintilian's lost work on the causes of the decay in eloquence. Quintilian
still looked for great oratory, and thought his kind of education might yet produce
it. Tacitus shows that the times are unfavourable; his Maternus refutes both his
Aper (the modem orator) and his Messalla (the admirer of the ancients). The
Dialogue is a minor masterpiece of characterization. Style and form are modelled
on Cicero's dialogues;I but the historian commands perspectives unusual in
classical literary criticism.
Text: E. Kostermann, Leipzig, 1964. Commentaries: W. Peterson, Oxford,
1893; A. Gudeman, 2nd. edn., Leipzig, 1914. The best introduction to the
problems of the work is in R. Syme, Tacitus, Oxford, 1958, 100 ff.

I You often ask me, Justus Fabius, why, while earlier periods were
brightened by the lustre and talent of so many outstanding orators,
our own times should find themselves barren, bereft of distinction in
eloquence-scarcely, indeed, even retaining the name 'orator'. We use
the word now only of the old-timers; the accomplished speakers of our day
are dubbed lawyers, advocates, attorneys-anything rather than orators.
To answer your question is to take up the burden of an important
problem. It reflects on our abilities if we cannot reach the heights
attained by our predecessors, and on our judgement if we do not wish to;
in fact I should hardly venture on to this topic if I proposed to put forward
my own views: actually, however, I have set myself to recount a conversa-
tion between men as eloquent as you may find nowadays, whom I heard
discussing this very question when I was still quite young. So it's not
talent I need, but power of memory. What I heard from these brilliant
men they had thought out carefully, and they used considered language,
each putting forward different though convincing reasons, and each
marking them with the genuine stamp of his own personality and interests.
My task now is to retrace what they said, altering no stage of the dis-
cussion, changing no argument, and keeping the same order that the
disputants took. Nor, indeed, was there lacking someone on the other side,

I The characters in both authors are historical-but little is known about Tacitus'
figures apart from what we can learn from the dialogue itself.
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 433
ready to pour abuse and ridicule on the old days and back modern elo-
quence against the geniuses of the past.
The day before the discussion Curiatius Maternus had recited his z
Cato, thus offending (it was said) the susceptibilities of powerful persons;1
it was felt that in working out the plot of his tragedy he had forgotten
his own situation and thought only of Cato's. The city was buzzing with
the affair when Matemus had a visit from Marcus Aper and Julius
Secundus, the most notable lawyers of the day-men whom I myself was
engaged in following with all attention not only in the courts but even
in their homes and whenever they made public appearances. For I was
in love with my studies, and it was a sort of youthful passion that led
me to hang on their lightest stories, their discussions, and their private
oratorical exercises; though most people, it must be admitted, regarded
them in a less flattering light-found Secundus halting, and thought that
Aper had made his reputation by sheer natural force of intellect rather
than by any systematic education. In fact, however, Secundus' style was
clear, concise, and adequately fluent, while Aper by no means lacked
learning-he wasn't without letters, he merely despised them, perhaps
visualizing a greater reputation for hard work if his abilities stood in no
apparent need of the support of extraneous techniques.
Thus it was that we three entered Maternus' room, to find him sitting 3
there holding the very book that he had read aloud the day before.
Secundus said: 'Maternus, don't the spiteful stories that are going
around frighten you into loving this unpopular Cato of yours a little
less? Or perhaps you've taken the book in hand to give it a thorough
revision and cut out the parts that have given a handle to misrepresenta-
tion: so that Cato on publication may turn out, if not better, at least
safer ?'
'You will find in the book', he replied, 'what Maternus owed it to
himself to put there-and you will recognize what you heard at the recita-
tion. If Cato left anything out, Thyestes will repair the omission at the
next recital. I've already got that tragedy organized in my mind-and I'm
hurrying on the publication of Cato so that I can put that care aside and
concentrate whole-heartedly on the new one.'
'You're never tired of these tragedies of yours', said Aper. 'You still
neglect oratory and the law-courts, and spend all your time on Medea
and now Thyestes, though you're constantly being summoned to the
forum by your friends' cases and countless obligations to colonies and
municipalities. You'd hardly have time for them even if you hadn't
brought this new business on yourself of lumping in Domitius and Cato
-Roman names and Roman episodes-with Greek mythology.'
I The story of the death of Cato naturally gave scope for anti-imperial sentiments.
8143591 F f
 434 TACITUS
4 'I should be more put off by your harshness', said Maternus, 'if our
continual differences of opinion hadn't turned virtually into a habit.
You keep harrying poets and hunting them down; I have a plea to sustain
every day-the defence of poetry against you: so much for my'laziness
in advocacy. So I'm particularly glad we find ourselves provided with a
judge who can either forbid me writing my verses in future, or lend his
own authority to an old dream of mine-to abandon the niceties of the
law (I've sweated away quite enough at them) and devote myself to the
worship of an eloquence that better deserves my respect and reverence.'
5 'Before Aper rejects me as a judge', said Secundus, 'I shall do what
good honest judges always do---excuse themselves in cases where it's
clear that they have an interest on one side. Everybody knows that no one
is a closer friend and companion to me than Saleius Bassus, the best of
men and the most perfect of poets. If poetry is under attack, 1 can't
think of a more credit-worthy defendant.'

APER'S DEFENCE OF THE LEGAL PROFESSION

'Saleius Bassus', said Aper, 'can sleep undisturbed-and so can anyone

else who seeks a reputation for poetry because he is incapable of pleading
cases. 1 have found someone to judge this dispute; and 1 shan't allow
Maternus to shelter behind the protection of a crowd; 1 shall accuse him
alone-in this company-on the following count: he was born with an
orator's manly eloquence, that he could use to win friends and keep
them, form connections, put provinces in his debt; yet he neglects a study
that in our state is inconceivably more useful than any other, more pleasur-
able, more prestigious, more brilliantly productive of fame in Rome and
reputation empire-wide, even world-wide.
'If we must put all our thoughts and actions to the test of utility,
what could be safer than to pursue an art that provides an unfailing weapon
to bring help to your friends, comfort to strangers, safety to the en-
dangered, and yet also strike terror into your enemies and detractors,
while you yourself remain calm behind a wall of perpetual power and
influence? When all is well, you see its power and usefulness in the refuge
and defence it provides for others; but if a note of personal danger
sounds, breast-plate and sword in battle are not a stronger defence than
eloquence to a defendant at risk-a weapon of offence and defence,
enabling you to assail your adversaries or to ward them off, in court or
senate or before the emperor. What could Eprius Marcellus use against a
hostile senate not long ago other than his own eloquence? That was the
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 435
threatening sword he wore when he parried the philosopher Helvidius,
an eloquent speaker perhaps, but a crude tiro in a contest like that.!
I don't need to say anything more on this count; I hardly think my friend
Maternus will try to contradict me here.
'To pass to the pleasures of oratory. Its delights are not confined to 6
one particular moment-they are available almost daily, even hourly.
What is more agreeable for a free-born gentleman, bred to appreciate
something higher than vulgar pleasures, than to see his house always
full, thronged with crowds of important persons: and to know that this
popularity is a tribute paid not to his money or his childlessness or his
job, but to himself? And indeed to be aware that very often the child-
less, the moneyed, and the powerful come to a mere poor youth to
interest him in their own or their friends' troubles? Can huge riches and
vast influence afford such pleasure as the sight of men, old and ex-
perienced, who bas.k in worldly prestige, having to confess, amid their
material luxuries, that they lack the best thing of all ? Think of the soberly-
clad escort when you leave your house and walk the streets; the show you
make on the public scene; the adoration displayed in the courts; the
luxury of rising and taking up your position, the spectators silent,
concentrating on you and you only! Think of the crowds gathering,
pressing close to you, ready to feel any emotion the orator may
assume!
'Those are the common-or-garden pleasures of oratory, ones that the
most inexperienced eye can register; as for the more arcane delights,
known only to orators themselves-these are the greater. If he is deliver-
ing a carefully rehearsed speech, the speaker's pleasure-like his words-
has weight and lasting strength. If he has brought a new composition,
hardly glanced at, he may feel a slight flutter of anxiety: but this very
concern enhances his success, and adds to the joy success brings. But the
highest pleasure by far is that of the extemporary speaker, daring and
even rash in his invention. In the mind, as in the soil, other things may
be sown and worked over for a long time-but it is the spontaneous
growths that are more satisfying.
'I will make a personal confession. The day I received my stripe as a 7
senator, the day I won the quaestorship or tribunate or praetorship,
despite being an unknown from a town which could offer me no ad-
vantages, was not more happy than the days I have been privileged to
use what moderate ability I have as a speaker to get a defendant off,
or plead some case successfully in the centumviral court,z or defend his
[ A Stoic, praetor in A.D. 70, and outspoken in opposition to Vespasian, by whom he
was ultimately exiled and executed.
Z Where important civil suits were tried. See below, c. 38 (p. 457).
 TACITUS
own procurators and freedmen before the emperor himself. On those
occasions I feel that I am rising above tribunates and praetorships and
consulships, that I possess something that, if it is not innate, cannot be
granted by letters patent or supplied by influence. No art can give fame
and prestige that could be compared with the glory accruing to an orator.
Orators are well known in Rome-aren't they?-not only to the busy
men of affairs, but to the idlest youth-at least any youth of character
and ambition. Their names are the first that children are taught to utter:
no one is more often pointed out and addressed by name in the street by
ordinary people. Even visitors and foreigners have heard of them back
in their municipalities and colonies: and as soon as they get to the city,
they ask after them and are agog to recognize them.
8 'I would be prepared to say that Eprius Marcellus-whom I just
mentioned-and Vibius Crispus (you see, I prefer up-ta-date examples to
far-off forgotten ones) are as great in the furthest corners of the world as
at Capua and Vercellae, where I gather they were born. And this fame
is the result not of Eprius' two millions, or Crispus' three, though one
could argue that they attained this very wealth by their eloquence, but
of that eloquence itself. Eloquence is something awesome and super-
natural, and over the centuries it gives many instances of men reaching
the heights by sheer natural ability; but the examples I have just given
are not remote-we don't have to trust to hearsay, but can see them with
our own eyes. The more humbly-born they were, and the more shameful
the constricting poverty that surrounded their births, the more striking
examples they present of the usefulness of oratory. Without advantage of
birth or financial resources, neither principled, one of them even physically
despicable, they have been the most powerful men in the country for
many years; while it pleased them, they dominated the courts-now they
dominate Caesar's intimate circle, carry all before them, and are regarded
even by the emperor with respect as well as liking: for Vespasian, that
decent and fair-minded old gentleman, knows perfectly well that his
other 'friends' depend on things which they received from himself and
which it is easy for him to accumulate and distribute to others; but that
MarceIIus and Crispus brought to their relationship with him something
they did not receive from the emperor-and could not have received
from anyone.
'It may seem trivial in this context of magnificence to mention por-
traits, inscriptions, statues-but such things are not to be despised,
any more than money, at which many rail, but not so many (you will
find) turn up their noses. And it is these signs of fame and riches that
we see thronging the homes of those who from their earliest youth have
devoted themselves to law-courts and oratory.
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 437

APER ATTACKS POETRY

'As for poems and verses, on which Maternus wants to spend his whole 9
life-that was where all this started from-they win their authors no
respectable position and bring them no advantages; the pleasure they give
is fleeting, the fame empty and fruitless. Maternus' ears may reject this
and what I am going on to say: but what good is it to anybody if your
Agamemnons and Jasons wax eloquent? Does it mean that anyone can
return home successfully defended and in your debt? Does anyone escort
Saleius, our friend and excellent poet-most distinguished bard (is
that more impressive ?)-or pay him visits or throng around him in
the street? Ifhe himself, or a friend of his, or a relation gets into difficulty,
he will come running to Secundus here, or to you, Maternus-but not
in your capacity as poet, and not wanting you to write verses for him.
Verses Bassus can supply for himself-they grow in his garden, very
pretty and agreeable tOQ: but the upshot of it all is that after burning the
midnight oil for a whole year, working all day and most of the night, and
contriving to knock together one volume, he has to go round begging and
canvassing to find someone who will condescend to listen to it-at a
price. He has to borrow a house and equip a recital-hall, hire seats and
distribute advertisements. And even if the recitation is a high success,
the praise he wins for it is the matter of a day or two, something plucked
in leaf or flower that cannot go on to give real tangible fruit; he gains no
'friendship', acquires no clients, leaves no grateful memory; the applause
is fleeting, the compliments empty, the pleasure swiftly gone. The other
day we thought Vespasian was being wonderfully and outstandingly
generous when he gave Bassus five thousand. Of course, it's nice to find
one's abilities paying off with the emperor; but it's even nicer, in a domes-
tic emergency, to be able to look to oneself, draw on one's own resources,
test one's own generosity. And after all, if they want to produce anything
worthwhile, poets hav(to leave the society of their friends and the pleasures
of the city, throw up all their other responsibilities, and withdraw, as
they put it, 'to the woodland groves'-that is, to a life of solitude.
'They are enslaved to fame c aitd reputation alone, and agree that this 10
is the only reward they get f~r their labours: but fame hardly attends
poets as assiduously as orators. Nobody knows the third-rate poet, few
the first-rate. Recitations, however successful,' are hardly ever reported
round the whole city, let alone the provinces of this great empire. Few
arrivals from Spain or Asia-to forget about my native Gaul-ask for
Saleius Bassus. And if anyone does, he passes on after seeing him once,
quite contented, just as if he'd viewed a picture or a statue.
I Text conjectural.
 TACITUS
'I don't want you to think that I'm trying to turn away from poetry
those who have been denied a natural talent for oratory, if they can in
fact pass their spare time agreeably in this field and even make a bit of a
name. I regard all branches of eloquence as sacred and holy; not only
your tragic style and the thunder of epic, but pleasing lyrics, saucy
elegiacs, bitter iambics, playful epigrams, and all other types are to be
preferred to other artistic fields. My quarrel is with you personally,
Maternus; your constitution destines you for the heights of eloquence,
yet you prefer to wander below: you could reach the top, but you potter
over trivia. If you were Greek-for in Greece sport too is a respectable
career-and were fortunate enough to have the strength of a Nicostratus,
I shouldn't be content that your immense arms, obviously meant for
wrestling, should squander themselves on tossing light javelins and
discuses. In the same way now I can only summon you to leave your halls
and theatres and come to the forum, to lawsuits and real contests, espe-
cially as you can't take refuge in the plea whi~h many shelter behind,
that poetry is less liable to offend than oratory. Your splendid natural
energy bubbles out, and you give offence-not for some personal friend,
but for Cato--which is more dangerous. You can't minimize the offence
by appealing to the ties of duty or an advocate's responsibilities or the
impulse of extemporary speech. You obviously took care to pick a character
that was notorious and would speak with authority. I can see a possible
reply-such a move brings immense applause, special praise in the
recital-hall, and soon a topic for all tongues. But that destroys the argu-
ment that a poet has a quiet, safe life. You are taking on an adversary
too big for you. We are satisfied to take up non-political disputes-and
ones of our own century: if it were ever necessary to offend great men
because a friend is on trial, our loyalty to him would be approved of, and
our freedom of speech excused.'

MATERNUS DEFENDS POETRY

II Aper had said all this pretty pungently, as usual, and with a serious face.
Maternus was relaxed and smiling. 'I was getting ready,' he said, 'to
start accusing orators as thoroughly as Aper praised them; for I supposed
that he would pass on from his eulogy to a disparagement of poets and the
overthrow of the pursuit of poetry. But he has cunningly disarmed me by
allowing people who couldn't plead at the bar to write poetry. I may, with
an effort, be able to make some impression in law-cases; but it was by
reciting tragedy that I put myself on the road to fame, when, in Nero's
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 439
reign, I broke Vatinius' evil influence that was polluting even literature:
and if! have any name or fame today, I think it's due to my poetry rather
than my speeches. And now I've decided to disengage myself from work at
the bar-I don't want the escorts and ceremonious departures and crowds
of callers that you talk of, any more than the bronzes and portraits that
have pushed their way into my house despite myself. Innocence is a better
safeguard of a man's position than eloquence: no fears in my case that I may
find myself speaking in the senate-except when someone else is in a fix:
'As for the woodland groves, and the solitary life Aper was jeering at, 12
they bring me such joy that I count it among the principal rewards of
poetry that it is composed away from the bustle and the litigant at the door
and the shabby and weeping defendants: the mind is free to withdraw to
fresh innocent places, and enjoy a holy world. This is where true eloquence
had its beginnings and its shrine-this the guise in which it first won over
mortals and flowed into hearts still chaste and uncorrupted. This was
the language of oracles. The profiteering and bloodstained eloquence of
today is a new thing, born of evil habits and-as Aper said-a substitute
for the sword. But the old happy and (as a poet may be allowed to put it)
golden era had neither orators nor accusations, but it swarmed with
inspired poets to sing of good deeds, not to defend bad ones. Nobody
received greater fame or more reverent honour, either from the gods,
whose oracles they passed on and whose feasts they attended (as the
story goes), or from kings who were themselves sacred and descended
from gods. We hear of no pleader then, but of Orpheus and Linus and,
further back, Apollo himself. This may seem tendentious fiction: but
you won't deny, Aper, that the fame of Homer with posterity doesn't
yield to that of Demosthenes: the reputation of Euripides or Sophocles
isn't narrower than Lysias' or Hyperides'. You will come across more
people nowadays to carp at Cicero's reputation than at Virgil's: Ovid's
Medea and Varius' Thyestes are more famous than any volume ofPollio
or Messalla. I
'I have no worries about the contrast of the poet's lot, and his happy 13
relationship to the Muses, with the anxious troubled life of an orator.
They may be brought by their struggles and their perils to the consulship;
I prefer the quiet security of Virgil's retreat-and he didn't go without
imperial favour or popular fame. You need only look at Augustus' letters,
or remember the day when the people rose as one man in the theatre on
hearing lines by Virgil quoted, and rapturously applauded the poet-
who happened to be present as a spectator-as though he was Augustus
himself. And in our time too Pomponius Secundus was every bit as
respectable and lastingly famous as Domitius Afer.
I These famous Augustan plays are lost.
 440 TACITUS
'What is there to envy in the fortunes of Crispus and Marcellus, on whom
you want me to model myself? Is it the fear they feel or the fear they
inspire? Is it that they are every day at the mercy of the importunate, who
turn on them as soon as they get what they want? Or that they are fettered
by every sort of obsequiousness, always too free for the emperor and too
servile for us? How does all this give them supreme power? Freedmen
have as much. I should prefer to be carried by Virgil's 'sweet Muses'l to
their sacred haunts and fountains, far from troubles and cares and the
daily compulsion to act against one's inclinations: and have no further
truck with the mad slippery life of the forum, trembling and pale in the
pursuit of fame. I don't want to be woken up by shouting clients or breath-
less freedmen, or worry so much about the future that I have to write
safeguards into my will, or own more than I could safely leave to the heir
I choose. For 'some day my hour too will come'-I trust the statue on
my grave will be cheerful and garlanded, not sad and grim. No debates, no
petitions about my memorial, please.'

ENTRY OF MESSALLA

14 Maternus, excited and even inspired, had scarcely stopped when

Vipstanus Messalla entered the room. He realized from the intent expres-
sion on all their faces that a serious discussion was in progress, and he
said: 'Have I come at a bad moment, and disturbed you in a private con-
versation on the preparation of some case ?'
'Not at all, not at all', said Secundus. 'In fact, I wish you had come
earlier. You would have had the pleasure of hearing the very detailed
remarks of our friend Aper exhorting Maternus to turn all his attentions
to lawsuits-and Maternus defending his poems in a brilliant speech:
one-as was only right in a defence of poets-that was pretty bold and
more poetic than oratorical.'
'I should have been infinitely delighted by such a debate,' said Messalla,
'and I'm pleased by the very fact that important people like you, the
foremost orators of our age, should be prepared not to employ your
gifts only on legal business and declamation practice, but to take up dis-
cussions of this kind. They feed the mind-and bring the most agreeable
pleasures of learning and literature to yourselves, the disputants, and to
all who hear of them. It is admirable that Secundus has written a life of
Julius Africanus and given us the hope that he may produce more books
like it; though less admirable that Aper hasn't yet deserted the exercises

I Georgics 2. 475.
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS
of the schools, but prefers to spend his leisure as the new rhetoricians
do, rather than as the old orators did.'
Aper said: 'You're always showing your admiration for the old and IS
antique, Messalla, and laughing present-day pursuits to scorn. I've often
heard you in this vein: forgetting your own eloquence, and your brother's,I
and affirming that nobody nowadays is an orator-and particularly boldly
because you don't fear to be called envious: the glory you deny to your-
self others concede to you.'
'I don't repent of my words,' Messalla replied, 'and 1 don't believe
Secundus or Maternus or even you, Aper, despite your occasional
arguments to the contrary, really differ from me. 1 should like one of you to
consent to investigate the causes of the infinite gulf between old and new,
and expound them to me-for 1 often find myself reflecting on the problem.
What consoles others only increases my puzzlement-I mean that the
Greeks too have declined: there's a greater difference between Aeschines
and Demosthenes on the one hand, and Nicetes Sacerdos 2 or any of the
others who shake Ephesus and Mytilene with the shrieked applause of
their pupils, than between Afer or Africanus or yourselves and Cicero or
Asinius.'3
'It's a big question you bring up,' said Secundus, 'and one well worth 16
discussing. But who is more qualified to take it up than you? You have
supreme learning and outstanding powers, and you've taken trouble to
consider the problem beforehand.'
Messalla said: 'I will tell you what 1 have thought-so long as 1 get you
to agree in advance to help me in my speech.'
'I promise for both of us', said Maternus. 'Secundus and 1 will both
take up the sections that we see you have left-not left out, but left to us.
Aper is a habitual dissentient, as you said just now: and it's been obvious
for some time that he's girding himself for the opposition, and won't
easily put up with this alliance of ours in praise of the ancients.'

APER DEFENDS MODERN ORATORY

'No,' said Aper, 'I certainly shall not allow our own century to go unheard
and undefended, and so be condemned by your conspiracy.
'My first question is this: who do you mean by "ancients"? What
generation of orators do you mark off by this term? When 1 hear the
word, 1 think of old-timers born long ago, and Ulysses and Nestor come
into my mind-men living perhaps thirteen hundred years ago. But you
, M. Aquillius Regulus. 2 A first-century Greek orator.

3 i.e. Pollio, consul 40 B.C., a famous politician and literary man at the time of the
beginnings of the principate.
 442 TACITUS

bring up Demosthenes and Hyperides, who without a doubt flourished

under Philip and Alexander-and outlived both. So that little more than
three hundred years separate us from the age of Demosthenes. This may
seem a long time set against the frailty of human life. But it is very short
-merely yesterday-in comparison with the passage of the centuries and
the immeasurable past. Remember Cicero's Hortensius: 1 the true 'great'
year has passed when the same position of the stars in the heavens comes
round again-and this year embraces twelve thousand, nine hundred and
fifty-four of the years we speak of. If that is true, Demosthenes, your great
hero, whom you make out to be old and ancient, is in the same year-
and the same month-as us.
17 'Well, to pass to Latin authors. You don't, I suppose, usually class as
superior to present-day speakers Menenius Agrippa,2 who really could
be counted an ancient-you mean Cicero, Caesar, Caelius, Calvus,
Brutus, Asinius, Messalla: but I don't see why you regard these as belong-
ing to ancient times rather than our own. To take Cicero himself: he was
killed-as Tiro his freedman writes-on the seventh of December in
the consulship of Hirtius and Pansa, the year Augustus made himself
and ~intus Pedius suffect-consuls in place of Pansa and Hirtius. Reckon
fifty-six years for the deified Augustus' rule over the state: add Tiberius'
twenty-three, nearly four for Caligula, fourteen each for Claudius and
Nero, the one long year divided between Galba, Otho, and Vitellius, and
the six years that have so far passed in the present happy reign in which
Vespasian is protecting the country-that makes a hundred and twenty
years from the death of Cicero up to this year: 3 a single lifetime-for
I myself once saw a man in Britain who volunteered that he'd been present
at the battle in which they tried to keep Caesar from British shores and
drive him away when he invaded. 4 If this man who stood in arms against
Caesar had found his way to Rome because of captivity or his own choice
or some chance, he could perfectly well have heard speeches by Caesar
himself and by Cicero, and yet also attended orations given by us. At the
recent largess you yourselves saw plenty of old men who told how they
had received money once or twice from Augustus as well. The inference is
that they could have heard Corvinus and Asinius speaking: Corvinus
lasted till the middle of Augustus' principate, Asinius almost to the end
of it. You can't split up time like this, and go on using 'ancients' and 'old-
timers' of men whom the same hearers could have recognized and thus
joined to us in a single life-span.
I A lost 'exhortation to philosophy': a very famous and influential hook; cf. St.

Augustine, Confessions, 3, 7. 2 Cf. Livy 2. 32; a fifth-century figure!

3 There is something wrong with the sum.
4 Yet 97 years elapsed hetween Caesar's invasion and that under Aulus Plautius.
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 443
'This is all by way of preface, to show that any credit that may accrue 18
to their times from these famous orators is the common possession of all
-and more nearly available to us than to Servius Galba or Gaius Carbo
or others we could justly call ancients. They are uncouth, unpolished,
crude, coarse speakers-and your hero Calvus, or Caelius, or Cicero
himself would have done well not to imitate them at all. I want to take
a bolder and more daring line: but let it be said first that types and styles
of oratory vary with the period. Compared with the elder Cato, Gaius
Gracchus is fuller and richer: compared with Gracchus Crassus is more
refined and decorative: Cicero is more clear, witty, and sublime than
either-and Corvinus surpasses Cicero in gentleness and sweetness and
care in the use of words. I am not looking for the most eloquent among
them; I am for the moment content with proving that eloquence has no
single face. In those you call 'ancients', too, more than one type can be
discerned, and a thing isn't automatically worse because it's different.
But men are so jealous that the old always receives praise, the new scorn.
There have doubtless been those who admired Appius Caecus more than
Cato. It is beyond question that Cicero too had his critics, who found him
inflated, swollen, verbose, exuberant, redundant-and not 'Attic' enough.
You must have read Calvus' and Brutus' letters to Cicero: it's easy enough
to see from them that Cicero thought Calvus bloodless and dry, Brutus
flat and disjointed: and on the other hand Cicero was criticized by Calvus
as lax and spineless, and by Brutus-to use his own words-as "feeble and
hamstrung". If you ask me, all these criticisms were true; but I shall come
to individuals in a moment-meanwhile my business is with the general
trend.
'Admirers of antiquity tend to draw a firm line where it ends-at 19
Cassius Severus: him they make the scapegoat, asserting that he was the
first to stray from the old straight path of oratory. My contention is that
he changed to a new style by an intelligent act of judgement, and not
because of any lack of ability or education. He saw what I said just now
-that as times change and audiences vary, the style and appearance of
oratory must change too. The people in the old days were inexperienced
and ill-educated: they were quite ready to tolerate long speeches, cluttered
up with irrelevancies, and regarded it as a virtue if a speaker took all day.
Then there was applause for long introductions, and narratives delving
deep in the past, elaborate divisions put in merely for show, innumerable
interconnected arguments, and all the other items prescribed in the dry-
as-dust handbooks of Hermagoras and Apollodorus: as for anyone who
had an inkling of philosophy, and inserted a philosophic passage in his
speech, he was lauded to the skies. And no wonder: these things were new
then and unknown, and very few even of the orators themselves were
 TACITUS
acquainted with rhetorical precept or philosophical dogma. But now that
all this is commonplace, and scarcely anyone finds himself in the public
seats who isn't at least a dabbler in these studies, if not an expert, one
needs new and less obvious routes for eloquence to follow. Only so can
an orator escape boring his hearers, especially where judges can decide on
their own authority, not under a legal code, and can make their own pro-
visions about the length of speeches, without having this dictated to them.
They don't have to wait on the orator's pleasure until he cares to talk
about the actual matter in hand: they often go out of their way to warn
him and call him back when he digresses and affirm that they are in a
hurry.
20 'Who nowadays would tolerate a proem on the bad health of the
speaker-a normal theme for Corvinus? Who would wait while five
volumes of speeches against Verres unrolled themselves? Who would
endure the immense books on our shelves-the speech for Tullius or
Caecina-all about objections and legal forms? Nowadays the judge is
always ahead of the speaker, and he grows hostile unless he is lured on
and seduced by fluent arguments, brilliant reflections, refined and colour-
ful description. The crowds of by-standers, too, and spectators who
casually drift in, have by now got used to demanding cheerful and agree-
able oratory: they're no longer prepared to put up with gloom and
unshaven antiquity in the courts any more than they would be to applaud
the reproduction of Roscius' or Ambivius Turpio's gestures on the stage.
Indeed youths still on the educational anvil, who pursue orators for their
own scholastic advantage, want not only to listen, but to take something
splendid and memorable back home with them. They swop things among
themselves, often put them into letters back to their colonies and pro-
vinces-some short, sharp, brilliant epigram, or a passage resplendent
with out-of-the-way poetic colouring. Yes, an orator now has to provide
poetic beauty as well, not the Accius or Pacuvius variety, mildewed with
age, but drawn from the shrines of Horace, Virgil, and Lucan. These are
the ears and these the judgements that contemporary orators have to
pander to-and it is for this reason that they have become more pretty
and more ornate in style. And if our speeches do bring pleasure to their
hearers, that doesn't make them any less effective: to think that would be
as illogical as to suppose that modern temples are flimsier because they
are bright with marble and brilliant with gold, rather than constructions
of rough stone and unsightly tile.
21 'I tell you frankly that when I read some of the ancients, I can hardly
suppress my laughter-and in some I can hardly stay awake. I don't mean
the rank and file-Canutius, Attius, Furnius, Toranius, and other patients
in the same hospital who enjoy desiccation and anaemia: but even Calvus,
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 44S
who, 1 suppose, left twenty-one or so books behind him, comes up to the
mark for me in hardly a single speech. I don't see any general dissent
from this view. Very few read Calvus' speeches against Asitius or Drusus.
Nevertheless all serious students have to reckon with the speeches against
Vatinius, and particularly the second: it is brilliant in language and in
content, and it was entirely suited to the tastes of the jury-so you can
see that Calvus too realized where his style required improving; he didn't
lack the desire to speak more loftily and with more refinement-only the
talent and the strength. Again, it is just those speeches of Caelius in which
we recognize modern colour and sublimity that please us, in whole or
part. But his shabby language, disjointed rhythm, and lack of periodic
structure are the symptoms of the old oratory; and no one, I think, can be
such an antiquarian that he approves of the side of Caelius that is antique.
'We may surely agree that it was because of his multifarious cares and
occupations that Caesar accomplished less in oratory than his miraculous
talents suggested. Equally, we may leave Brutus to his philosophy-even
his admirers confess that in his oratory he fell short of his reputation.
I hardly suppose anyone still reads Caesar's For Decius the Samnite or
Brutus' For King Deiotarus and all the other volumes of like flatness and
tedium-except, perhaps, somebody who also admires their poetry. Yes,
they did write poetry, and sent it to private collectors: they were no
greater poets than Cicero, but they had more luck-fewer know about it.
Asinius too-he was born more recently, but he looks to me like a fellow
student of the Meneniuses and the Appiuses. He reproduced Pacuvius
and Accius in his speeches as well as in his tragedies: such a hard dry
writer is he.
'But oratory is like the human body-it is beautiful only when the
veins don't stand out and the bones can't be counted; when good sound
blood fills the limbs and pulses in the muscles. The sinews are covered in
fine red flesh, and shown off by the attractive surface. I won't harry
Corvinus: it wasn't his fault that he couldn't provide the brilliant
luxuriance of our day. We can all see how far his mind and talent fell
short of his judgement.

APER ON CICERO

'1 come to Cicero. He had the same battle with his contemporaries as I 22
have with you. They admired the ancients, he preferred the eloquence of
his own day. And there is nothing in which he outstripped the orators of
that period more decisively than in his judgement. He was the first to
cultivate oratory, the first to apply choice to words and artifice to structure.
 44 6 TACITUS
He even attempted more flowery passages, and happened on a number of
epigrams, at least in the speeches he wrote as an old man at the end of his
life-after, that is, he had developed, and discovered by practice and
experience what the best style was. For his early speeches have the faults
of the ancients. He is slow in his proems, verbose i\1 his narrative, lax
in his digressions; he is slow to be moved, rarely catches fire; few sen-
tences end neatly and with a punch. Nothing here to excerpt, nothing to
take home-it's like a rough building, with a firm wall that will last but
with no proper polish or splendour.
'I think of an orator as a family man of su bstance and taste: I don't want
him to have a house that merely keeps wind and rain off, but one that
catches the eye and pleases it. His furniture shouldn't be confined to
necessities-he should have gold and jewels in his store, so that one enjoys
frequently taking him down and admiring him. Some things are out of
date and smelly-let them be kept ouf: we want no word tarnished with
rust, no sentences put together in the slow sluggish manner of the annalists:
he must avoid tasteless and disagreeable pleasantry, vary his structure,
and use more than one kind of clausula.
23 'I have no wish to laugh at Cicero's "wheel of fortune"l and "boar-
sauce"2-or the esse videatur which appears instead of an epigram at the
end of every other sentence throughout his speeches. 3 I bring this up
unwillingly, and I ignore many further instances that monopolize the
admiration and even imitation of those who call themselves 'ancient'
orators. No names-I am quite happy just to make the type clear. But in
any case you can picture the people I mean: they read Lucilius in pre-
ference to Horace and Lucretius rather than Virgil; they find the eloquence
of Aufidius Bassus and Servilius Nonianus tame in comparison with
Sisenna's or Varro's; they scorn and even hate the model speeches
published by rhetoricians-but admire Calvus'. These people go on
chatting in front of the judge in the old style, but they have lost their
audience's attention; the spectators don't bother to listen, and even the
litigant can scarcely put up with them, so gloomy and unpolished are
they. They may attain the healthiness they boast of, but they do so by
starving, not by building up their strength. Even as far as the body is
concerned, doctors hesitate to recommend a state of health that involves
mental anxiety. It's not enough not to be unwell: I want a man to be
strong, cheerful, and active. One who is praised only for his health is not
far off illness.
I In Pisonem 22.
2 Cf. Vcrr. I. I. 121: the Latin is a pun, and could also mean 'Verrine justice'.
3 A form of the conunon cretic+spondee (-u---) clausula. Cf. QlIint. 10. 2. 18
(above, p. 402).
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 447
'But you-my very eloquent friends-go on brightening this age of ours
with beauty of speech as you can, and as you do. You, Messalla, 1 observe,
choose out the brightest passages of the ancients for your imitation: and
you, Maternus and Secundus, mix with your grave sentiments brilliant
and refined language. Such is your choice of material, Such your ordering
of it, such your copiousness when the case demands, such your conciseness
when the case permits, such your agreeable rhythm, such the clarity of
your thought, such the vividness of the emotions you portray, such the
discretion of your outspokenness, that even if the judgement of our own
period is dulled by envy and jealousy, our descendants will surely speak
the truth of you.'

MESSALLA REPLIES TO APER

After Aper's speech, Maternus said: 'One recognizes our friend Aper's 24
force and ardour. What an irresistible torrent of eloquence he brought to
the aid of our century! How fully, on how many fronts he harried the
ancients! He showed not merely brilliance of inspiration, but learning and
technique, borrowing from the ancients the weapons with which to go
on and attack them. 1 trust, however, Messalla, that he hasn't put you off
your promise. We aren't looking for a defender of the ancients-and
despite his praise just now we don't put any of ourselves in the class of the
men he attacked. Of course, he isn't being candid: it's an old trick, and
one often used by our friends the philosophers, to take on oneself the
role of opponent. So produce for us not so much a eulogy of the ancients
-their fame is enough praise for them-as the reasons why we have
lagged so far behind their standards of eloquence: particularly when
chronology has proved that only a hundred and twenty years have passed
since the death of Cicero.'
Then Messalla said: 'I shall follow the line you suggest, Maternus. 25
There is certainly no need for a long refutation of Aper-indeed, his first
point was in my view a verbal quibble: 1 mean, that it's improper to call
men ancients who have quite certainly been dead a hundred years. 1 am
not fighting about a word; he can call them ancients or elders or anything
else he prefers, so long as it's granted that the oratory of those days was
superior. And I'm not disposed to argue with the part where he came to
grips with the problem and pronounced that you get more than one style
of oratory even at the same time-let alone in different centuries. Now
among the orators of Attica Demosthenes takes the crown, Aeschines
and Hyperides and Lysias and Lycurgus are in next place: but it is that
period which is by universal consent regarded as the peak. Similarly at
 TACITUS
Rome Cicero outstripped all other eloquent speakers of his time, but Calvus
and Asinius and Caesar and Caelius and Brutus are rightly regarded as
superior to those who came before and after. It makes no difference that
their species differ-the genus is the same. Calvus is more concise,
Asinius more vigorous, Caesar more impressive, Caelius more bitter,
Brutus more serious, Cicero more vehement and full and powerful than
his contemporaries; but they all display the same health of eloquence: if
you turn over all their books together, you can tell that, however much
their talents differed, there is a certain similarity and kinship between
their judgement and intentions. They carped at each other, to be sure--
and there are traces of reciprocated malice in their letters; but that is a
fault they were subject to as men, not as orators. Certainly Calvus,
Asinius, and Cicero too were wont to envy and be jealous and to be
afflicted by other human weaknesses; alone among them Brutus, I think,
laid bare his inmost convictions with no malice or envy, but with sim-
plicity and candour. It's hardly likely he could envy Cicero when he
didn't (I think) envy even Caesar. As for Servius Galba and Gaius
Laelius and other ancients that Aper couldn't stop chasing, the defence
can be waived; I agree that their eloquence, still growing and adolescent,
lacked much.
26 'But if we leave out of account supreme and perfect oratory, and look
round for a style to choose, I should distinctly prefer Gaius Gracchus'
impetuosity or Lucius Crassus' ripeness to Maecenas' curling-tongs I or
Gallio's jingles: better clothe oratory in a hairy toga 2 than prink it out in
gaudy and meretricious costumes. That sort of refinement doesn't suit
oratory-or even a real man: I mean the sort many pleaders of our day
so abuse that they come to reproduce the rhythms of the stage: language
obscene, thoughts frivolous, rhythm licentious. Many people actually
boast, as if it were a step towards fame and a sign of their genius, that
their model speeches are sung or danced: it ought to be almost out of the
question even to listen to talk like this. Hence the common remark-
shameful and perverse though it is-that modern orators speak lasciviously,
modern actors dance eloquently.
'I don't wish to deny that Cassius Severus-the only name Aper dared
to mention-could be called an orator, if we compare him with his suc-
cessors: though he has more bile than good red blood in the great majority
of his speeches. He was the first to despise order in his material, to lay
aside shame and modesty in language. He is inept even in the use of such
arms as he does employ, often so eager to strike a blow that he loses his
balance altogether. He doesn't fight-he brawls. But, as I say, compared
I Cf. Seneca, epist. 114. (above, pp. 363 If.).
Z Cf. Q!lint. 12. 10. 47 (above, p. 411).
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 449
with his successors he is superior by far to the others whom Aper couldn't
bring himself to name or deploy in the battle-superior in variety of
learning, wit, charm, and sheer strength.
'I was certainly expecting that Aper, having condemned Asinius,
Caelius, and Calvus, would bring up a fresh division for us, and give even
more names, or at least as many, so that we could find a pair for Cicero
and Caesar and so on, one by one. As it is, he confines himself to criti-
cizing the ancients by name-but hasn't dared to praise any of their suc-
cessors except in a generalized manner. 1 suppose he was afraid that if he
picked only a few out, he would offend many others. Every man jack of
today's rhetoricians labours under the illusion that he can class himself
Cicero's superior-though at the same time altogether inferior to Gabini-
anus. 1 shan't hesitate to name individuals; if 1 put forward examples,
it becomes easier to see by what stages eloquence has been broken and
enfeebled.'
'Spare us that', said Maternus. 'Just keep your promise. We don't need 27
a demonstration that the ancients are more eloquent-I for one am quite
convinced of that: we're looking for the causes which you mentioned you
frequently thought about. That of course was when you were in a quieter
frame of mind a little while ago and hadn't been provoked by Aper's
criticisms of your ancestors into getting angry with the oratory of today.'
'I haven't been provoked by Aper's point of view,' he said, 'and you
mustn't be provoked if anything happens to grate on your ears. You
know the rule of conversations of this kind: give your honest opinion and
don't worry about giving offence.'
'Go on, then,' said Maternus, 'and since you speak of the ancients,
employ the ancient habit of plain speaking-we've got even further away
from that than from eloquence.'
Messalla went on: 'The causes you are looking for, Maternus, are by 28
no means abstruse-you and Secundus and Aper know them quite well,
even if you have given me the role of expounding publicly things we all
feel. Everybody knows that eloquence, and the other arts too, have
declined from their old heights not for any lack of exponents, but because
the young are lazy, their parents neglectful, their teachers ignorant-and
because the old ways are forgotten. The rot started in Rome, then spread
through Italy-and now is seeping into the provinces. You know better
than I the situation there; I shall talk about the city, and its own indivi-
dual and home-bred vices that are on hand to welcome a child as soon as
he's born, and pile up as he grows older. First of all, I must say a few
words about our ancestors' strict methods in the education and moulding
of their children.
'In the old days everyone had his son-born in wedlock of a chaste
8143591 G g
 45 0 TACITUS
mother-brought up not in the room of some hired nurse but on his
mother's lap; and the mother's especial claim to praise was to look after
her household and slave for her children. Or some older relation was
selected, of tried and proved character, and the whole brood committed
to her charge; in her presence it was not allowed to say anything that was
shameful or do anything that was wrong. She brought an element of
purity and modesty not only to their tasks and studies but to their games
and relaxations as well. This is the way Cornelia, as is well known, took
charge of the upbringing of the Gracchi, and educated these distinguished
children; so Aurelia with Caesar, Atia with Augustus. The object of this
austere training was that each child's nature, open, honest, untwisted by
any vice, should immediately and whole-heartedly seize on good arts.
And whether the child inclined to the army or to law or to eloquence he
concentrated on that alone and made it his whole diet.
29 'But nowadays a child is delivered on birth to some Greek maid, who
is helped by one or other of the slaves-and generally a quite worthless
one at that, unfit for any serious duty. Their nursery stories and supersti-
tions give the first colour to green and untrained minds. Nobody in the
whole house cares what he does or says in the presence of the young
master; even the parents don't trouble to get their little ones used to
goodness and propriety-they substitute wantonness and pertness: hence
very soon impudence creeps in, and contempt for one's own property and
everyone else's. The peculiar and private vices of this city seem to be
implanted in children while they're still in the womb, stage fever and
enthusiasm for gladiators and race-horses. The mind gets taken over and
besieged by these activities, and no room is left for better attainments.
Do you often find people talking of anything else at home? All the youths
are chatting about such things when we go into the lecture room. Even
teachers have no more frequent topic of discussion with their pupils:
indeed they attract students not by being disciplinarians or showing proof
of their attainments, but by servile greetings and the enticements of
flattery.
30 '1 won't stop to discuss elementary education, though here too in-
sufficient trouble is taken; not enough time is spent either on getting to
know authors or studying history or acquiring knowledge of events,
people, and times. They're all agog for the so-called rhetoricians. 1 shall
shortly tell you when the profession was introduced into this city, and
how it had no sort of standing in the eyes of our ancestors; but first let me
draw your attention to the training that we know was undergone by those
old orators: for their endless pains, their daily practice, their constant
exercise in all kinds of study are mentioned in their own books.
'You will, of course, be acquainted with Cicero's Brutus, at the end of
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 4S 1
which, after his recital of the old orators one by one, he relates his own
beginnings, the steps he took towards eloquence, what one may call his
oratorical education. He relates how he studied civil law at the feet of
Qyintus Mucius and took a deep draught of all kinds of philosophy from
the Academic Philo and the Stoic Diodotus. He was by no means content
with the teachers to whom he had access in Rome, and so he traversed
Greece and Asia also, in order to take in the widest variety of accomplish-
ment. This, obviously, is why one can diagnose from Cicero's books that
neither mathematics nor music nor grammar nor any other gentlemanly
branch of knowledge fell outside his range. He was acquainted with the
subtleties of dialectic, the practical teachings of ethics, and the physical
causes and changes of events. This is the point I am making, my friends:
that wonderful eloquence is the lavish overflow from great learning, wide
skills, and universal knowledge. There is no narrow boundary circum-
scribing oratorical potentiality and ability, as there is in other fields: he
only is a true orator who can speak on any question brilliantly and splen-
didly and persuasively, with equal regard for the importance of the
subject, the circumstances of the time, and the pleasure of the audience.
'This was the conviction of those old-time orators. They realized that 31
it was therefore essential not to declaim in the rhetoricians' schools, not
to exercise one's tongue and one's vocal chords in imaginary debates that
have no sort of relation to reality, but to fill their minds with those high
accomplishments that necessitate discussion of Good and Evil, Right and
Wrong, Just and Unjust: this is the material that is the orator's stock-
in-trade. In law-courts we are generally talking about equity, in delibera-
tions about what is expedient, in eulogy about the Good. But often these
distinctions are blurred: and no one can talk fluently and widely and
elegantly on such topics unless he has acquainted himself with human
nature, the power of virtue and the depravity of vice, and can understand
the class of things that are neither virtue nor vice. Hence other advantages:
the man who knows what anger is can more easily arouse or calm a judge's
anger, and a knowledge of the nature of pity and the emotions by which
it is aroused can enable one to move it more freely. If an orator is con-
versant with these arts and this training, whether he has to speak to hostile
or prejudiced or envious or morose or frightened men he will be able to
feel his hearers' pulses, and proceed to adapt his speech as their characters
require. He will have all the means available, stored up for every conceiv-
able use. There are audiences with whom a concise, brief, one-argument-
at-a-time style will carry more conviction; here a training in dialectic
pays off. Others are pleased rather by oratory that is wordy, level,
appealing to common feelings: to influence them we shall borrow from
the Peripatetics commonplaces ready and available for any controversy.
 45 2 TACITUS
The Academics will provide belligerence, Plato sublimity, Xenophon
sweetness. An orator won't regard it as outside his province to bring into
action good remarks even of Epicurus and Metrodorus, and employ them
where appropriate. 1 am trying to model not a sage, or some disciple of the
Stoics, but someone who must take a sip of all the arts, while draining
only some of them down. So it was that the old orators included legal
knowledge in their studies, and learnt the elements of grammar, music,
and mathematics. Many of the cases one comes up against-indeed
virtually all of them-require a knowledge of the law; and there are a
large number that call for acquaintance with those other attainments, too.
32 '1 don't want to hear the retort that it's enough for us to receive straight-
forward special briefings as each occasion requires. First of all, we make
different uses of our own and borrowed materials; it's obvious that it
matters a lot if one owns what one puts on display or merely hires it.
Moreover the very fact that we have wide knowledge of the arts lends us
distinction even when we're on quite another tack-it stands out brilliantly
when you least expect it. This is noticed by ordinary people as well as by
a learned and observant listener; and their instantaneous praise means
that they agree that here is a true orator, who has had a proper training
and has gone through all the right hoops. Such a man cannot be, 1
maintain, and never has been anyone but somebody who goes into the
forum armed with all the arts like a fully-equipped soldier striding into
battle. But this point is so ignored by modern speakers that you may catch
them in their cases uttering phrases with all the disgraceful and shaming
faults of our every-day conversation. They have no knowledge of the
laws, no acquaintance with decrees of the senate, no respect, even, for
the Roman code; as for philosophy and the precepts of the wise they
shudder at the very thought of them. They squeeze eloquence into a hand-
ful of bright ideas and a narrow range of epigrams-dethroning it, one
may say; for once it was the mistress of all the arts, and filled men's
hearts with the beauty of its retinue. Now it is circumscribed and crippled,
with no attendants and no respect shown it, without-I could almost say
-any claim to breeding, and is learnt as though it were a mere low-class
trade. This is, 1 think, the first and foremost cause for the extent to which
we have fallen short of the old oratory.
'If you want witnesses, who better to call than Demosthenes among the
Greeks, whom history relates to have been a most attentive student of
Plato? And Cicero, I seem to remember, committed himself to the state-
ment that anything he may have attained in eloquence he attained thanks
not to the workshops of the rhetoricians but to the wide spaces of the
Academy.1 There are other reasons, weighty and important ones-but it's
I Orator 12.
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 453
only fair that you should expose them; I have done my job, and, accord-
ing to my habit, offended quite enough people who, hearing my argu-
ments, will certainly say that in praising the knowledge of law and
philosophy as essential for an orator, I merely pander to my own foolish
pursuits.'
Maternus said: 'Personally, 1 don't think you have yet completed the task 33
you undertook-indeed you seem merely to have begun it, and drawn a few
preparatory lines and sketches. You've told us what arts the old orators
were normally trained in, and you've contrasted our ignorance and sloth
with their vigorous and fruitful studies. But I'm waiting for the rest: I've
learnt what they knew-or what we don't know-but 1 want also to find
out what exercises youths about to enter the forum generally used to
strengthen and nourish their talents. Eloquence is a matter of art and
knowledge-but far more of capacity and experience: you won't, I'm
sure, dispute that, and 1 judge from the faces of our friends that they
agree.'
Aper and Secundus assented, and Messalla made a sort of fresh start.
'1 think I've given a sufficient exposition of the roots and beginnings of
the old eloquence, showing you in what arts the ancient orators were
normally trained and brought up: now for their exercises. Of course, there
is exercise in the arts themselves; no one can grasp such recondite and
varied matters unless theory is backed by practice, practice by capacity,
capacity by actual experience. From which it can be inferred that there is
no distinction between understanding what you are to express and express-
ing what you understood. This may seem a little obscure; but anyone
who tries to separate theory and practice will at any rate concede that a
mind that is full and trained in these arts comes much more prepared to
those exercises that are characteristic of oratorical education.
'Well, in the time of our ancestors the youth who was preparing for the 34
forum and an oratorical career, after a thorough training at home and
stuffed with desirable knowledge, was led off by his father or relations to
an orator who held a high position in the state. He got used to following
this man about, escorting him, being present at all his speeches in law-
court or public assembly: he was on hand to listen to his legal cross-talk
and observe his tiffs: he learnt to fight, you might say, in the battle-line.
Hence vast experience, vast patience, and immense power of judgement
came the way of youths right from the start. They studied in the full glare
of daylight, amid actual crises where no one says anything stupid or
inconsistent and gets away with it-he faces rejection by the judge, abuse
from his adversaries, scorn even from his own supporters. Thus they
straight away became imbued with an eloquence that was real and un-
spoilt. They might follow one man in particular, but they got to know all
 454 TACITUS
the advocates of the time in constant law-suits and actions. Moreover,
they had a chance to observe the variations of public taste, and so easily
discovered what in each man found favour or disfavour. Thus they had
available a teacher-and a very good select one at that-who presented
the actual face of eloquence to them, not a mere reflection: and opponents
and rivals fighting with swords of steel, not of wood: and an auditorium
never empty, never the same, consisting of hearers for and against them,
with the result that nothing that was said, good or bad, could go un-
noticed. For you know that really great and lasting distinction in oratory
has its source as much in the benches opposite as in those on your side:
there indeed it grows more firmly, and gains strength more surely. Under
this sort of supervisor the youth of whom I am speaking-pupil of
orators, spectator in the forum, follower oflaw-cases, trained and hardened
in the experience of others, familiar with the laws from daily hearing
of them, one to whom the faces of the judges did not seem strange-
constantly observing the habits of assemblies, constantly aware of
the taste of the people-such a man in prosecution or defence, from the
start was by himself and alone equal to the demands of any case.
Lucius Crassus prosecuted Gaius Carbo at eighteen, Caesar Dolabella
at twenty, Asinius Pollio Gaius Cato at twenty-one, Calvus Vatinius
when not much older-and those speeches we read even today with
admiration.
3S 'But now our poor young men are led off to the schools of the so-called
rhetors. That these people emerged a little before the time of Cicero and
displeased our ancestors is clear from the fact that they were ordered by
the censors Crassus and Domitius to close-as Cicero says-their "schools
for shamelessness".! But as I was saying: youths are led off to schools in
which it is difficult to say what has the worst effect on their progress-the
place, their fellow students, or the studies they go through. There is no
respect in a place where no one not of equal ignorance ever goes; the
other students are no help-boys among boys and youths among youths,
they speak and are heard with equal irresponsibility; but the exercises
themselves are to a large extent positively harmful.
'Two types of subject, of course, are dealt with in the rhetors' schools:
suasoriae and controversiae. The former are regarded as much the less
serious and as demanding less experience, and so they are assigned to the
boys; but the older ones get the controversiae-God, how do I describe
those! They are fantastically put together; and moreover these deliberately
unreal subjects are treated with declamatory bombast. So it comes about
that the most grandiose language is lavished on rewards for tyrannicides
or choices by the raped or remedies for plague or adultery by matrons or
I De oratore 30 940 This was in 92 BoC.
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS -455
any of the other topics that come up daily in school, in the forum rarely or
never: but when they come to speak before real judges.. .'1
' ... consider the matter. He could utter nothing sordid, nothing low. 36
Great eloquence is like a flame: it needs fuel to feed it; it is roused by
movement; and it brightens as it burns.
'It was the same principle in our city also that carried the oratory of the
ancients to its heights. Modern orators have attained what influence they
reasonably may in a settled, calm, and contented state; but they saw that
they could reap advantages from the confusion and licence then prevailing;
all was in turmoil, there was no single ruler, and an orator had prestige
to the extent that he could carry a fickle people with him. Hence the
continual passing of laws to win popular acclaim, hence the addresses by
magistrates ready to spend pretty well all night on the rostrum, hence the
prosecutions of leading men and the feuds handed down like family heir-
looms, hence the quarrels of the great and the incessant rivalry of senate
and people. These contributed to the dismemberment of the state: but
they meant practice for the eloquence of those times and ensured that it
was heaped with great rewards; the better at speaking one was, the more
easily one could attain public office, the more when holding it one could
outdistance one's colleagues, the more influence one could wield with
leading men, the more authority in the senate, the more fame and glory
with the public. These people were flooded with clients-even foreign
nations counted as that; they were the object of respect from magistrates
about to go to their provinces and of attentions from the same men on
their return; they seemed to be at the beck and call of praetorships and
consulships, and even when out of office they did not lack power, for their
counsel and authority lent them control of senate and people alike. They
had convinced themselves that no one could attain or preserve an out-
standing and pre-eminent place in the city without eloquence. And no
wonder, when they found themselves addressing the people even when
they did not want to, when it was not enough just to give a brief explana-
tion of your position in the senate, but you had to defend your opinion
with all your powers of eloquence: when they regarded it as essential to
reply in person if one was summoned to face some charge or calumny:
when one had to give evidence at public trials not in absence or in writing,
but present and personally. Eloquence was not just the route to the highest
rewards-it was a vital necessity: it was splendid and glorious to be
thought eloquent, and shameful to be called dumb and tongueless.
'So shame as much as rew'lrd urged them on, to avoid being petty 37
clients rather than patrons, to ensure that inherited connections did
not pass to others, and that they did not, by a reputation for sloth and
I There is a lacuna here. When the text resumes, Maternus is the speaker.
 TACITUS
incompetence, fail to achieve office-or come to grief in it when achieved.
I don't know whether you have handled those old documents, still avail-
able in the libraries of antiquarians and just now being collected by
Mucianus: eleven books of Proceedings and three of Letters have already
come out, haven't they? Ar.yway from these you can judge that Pompey
and Crassus excelled in oratorical talent as well as in military prowess;
the Lentuli, Metelli, Luculli, Curios, and the other top people took a
great deal of trouble over the same pursuits: no one in those days attained
to great power without some eloquence.
'Remember too the distinction of the defendants and the importance
of the cases, themselves a considerable spur to eloquence. For it makes a
lot of difference whether you have to speak about a theft or a rule of
procedure or an interdict-or about electoral bribery, the robbery of
allies, and the slaughter of citizens. No doubt it is better that such things
should not happen; no doubt the best state of affairs for a country is one
in which we don't have to put up with such evils; but seeing that they did
happen, they provided immense scope for eloquence. A talent swells with
the size of the events it has to deal with; no one can produce a famous and
notable oration unless he finds a case equal to his powers. Demosthenes
is not famous, surely, for the speeches he wrote against his guardians,
Cicero isn't a great orator because he defended Publius Q!Jintius or
Licinius Archias. It was Catiline, Milo, Verres, and Antony who covered
him with glory. Don't think I'm saying that it was worth it that the state
should produce such criminal citizens merely to give orators rich scope
for their oratory. But, as I keep saying, let us remember the question under
discussion, and realize that we are speaking of something that flourishes
more easily in stormy and troubled times. It's better (everyone knows
that) and more advantageous to enjoy peace than to be harassed by war:
it remains true that wars produce more good fighters than peace. So it is
with oratory. The more often it stands in the firing-line, the more knocks
it gives and receives, the greater adversaries and the more bitter battles
it takes on, the higher and more sublime it reigns, ennobled by those
crises, in the mouths of men, who are so made that they desire safety but
have a penchant for danger.
38 'I turn now to the shape and customs of the old law-courts. The present
pattern is more convenient, but the forum in its old guise gave more
practice to eloquence. No one then was forced to keep his speech down
to a meagre ration of hours ; there was free scope for postponements; every
speaker fixed his own time-limit, and there was no limitation on the
number of days or of advocates in attendance. Pompey, during his third
consulship, I was the first to bring in restrictions and to put the bit on
I 52 B.C.
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 457
eloquence: all the same everything continued to be conducted in the
forum and according to the laws and before the praetors. For the praetors
presided over far greater cases then, as can most strikingly be seen from
the fact that the centumviral Cl'ses, which now hold first place, were so
overshadowed by the prestige of other courts that we now read no speech
delivered before the Centumviri by Cicero, Caesar, Brutus, Caelius,
Calvus, or any great orator-only the speeches of Asinius entitled For the
Heirs of Urbinia: but they were delivered by Pollio as late as the middle of
Augustus' reign, at a time when a long period of peace, continuous public
calm, unbroken tranquillity in the senate, and particularly the restraining
influence of the emperor had combined to pacify eloquence herself, like
everything else.
'What I am going to say may perhaps seem ridiculously trivial, but I'll 39
say it all the same to get a laugh purposely. Don't we agree that eloquence
has been brought into disrepute by those tight cloaks that enclose and
fetter us when we chat away to the judges? Hasn't it been emasculated by
the recital halls and public record offices where cases are now normally
disposed of? Well-bred horses are proved by spacious race-tracks: and
there is similarly a kind of unfenced field where orators must run free
and unshackled if eloquence is not to be weakened and broken. We even
find ourselves thwarted by the very trouble we take over careful style,
because the judge often asks when you propose to begin-and you have
to begin there, the moment he asks. Often the judge orders silence when
proofs or evidence are being given. Only one or two people are present
amidst all this, and matters proceed in a sort of vacuum. But what an
orator needs is noise and applause, a theatre for his performance: the
old orators had all that every day. An audience large (and well-bred too)
packed the forum; clients, fellow tribesmen, municipal delegations, a
good proportion of the popUlation of Italy came to support defendants---
for in many cases the Roman people believed that what was decided
mattered to them. It is well known that when Gaius Cornelius, Marcus
Scaurus, Titus Milo, Lucius Bestia, and Publius Vatinius were prose-
cuted and defended the whole state came running to listen: even the most
tepid orator might have been excited and inflamed by the enthusiasm of
the partisan public. And this is why, surely, these speeches are extant, and
are so fine that their authors need cite no other evidence to be put in their
true class.
'Moreover, the constant public assemblies, the opportunity to harass 40
any powerful man, the fact that vendettas could bring actual fame-for
many eloquent speakers did not scruple to attack even Scipio, Sulla, or
Pompey, and even actors I used their control of the public ear to assault
1 Text doubtful.
 TACITUS
grave personages (such is malice!)-all this made speakers eager, and gave
the spur to oratory.
'It is no inert and passive thing I speak of, that rejoices in probity and
modesty. The great and famous eloquence I have in mind is the nurseling
of licence-which fools call liberty-and the companion of sedition: it
unbridles and spurs on the people; it has no respect for persons, no proper
dignity; it is insolent, rash, arrogant; in well-organized states it does not
arise. What Spartan or Cretan orators have we heard of? Yet those states
reputedly had the severest constitutions and the severest laws. We know
of no eloquence that flourished among the Macedonians or Persians or
any race that was content not to challenge its rulers. There were some
Rhodian orators, and many Athenian ones-and in their cities everything
was in the power of the people, everything under the control of the
inexperienced: everyone, you might almost say, had a hand in everything.
Our state, so long as it drifted, so long as it sapped itself by faction,
dissension, and discord, so long as there was no peace in the forum, no
agreement in the senate, no settled routine in the courts, no respect for
superiors, no restriction imposed on magistrates, produced no doubt
a stronger eloquence, just as an untilled field has some more luxuriant
plants. But the eloquence of the Gracchi was not worth to the republic the
price it had to pay-the laws of the Gracchi: and Cicero, by the end he
met, bought his fame in eloquence at too high a cost.
41 'And what remains of the old forum only goes to prove that the state is
not yet healed, not yet settled as we should wish. Who needs our advocacy
except the guilty or the unfortunate? What town becomes our client unless
it is harassed by a neighbouring people or by internal discord? Do we
defend a province unless it has been despoiled and plundered? It would
have been better not to have to complain than to have the complaint
rectified. If a state in which no one committed any crime could be found,
the orator would be superfluous amidst those innocent men, like a doctor
among the healthy. And just as medicine has little practice and has made
little progress in races that have the best health and the soundest constitu-
tions, so among dutiful citizens ready to serve their ruler orators have
less honour and a more obscure name. What need oflong speeches in the
senate? Our great men swiftly reach agreement. What neiid of constant
harangues to the people? The deliberations of state are not left to the
ignorant many-they are the duty of one man, the wisest. What need of
prosecutions? Crime is rare and trivial. What need of long and unpopular
defences? The clemency of the judge meets the defendants half way.
Believe me, my excellent friends, who are as eloquent as our day requires:
if you had been born in earlier ages and those men we so much admire
had been born in our times, some god having suddenly switched round
 DIALOGUE ON ORATORS 459
your lives and periods, you would not have missed the highest distinction
in eloquence-and they would not have failed to observe moderation. As
it is, since no one can at the same time enjoy both great fame and great
peace, let each group enjoy the blessings of his own age without carping
at the other's.'
Matemus had finished. Messalla said: 'I should have liked to contradict 42
some things and hear more about others. But the day is over.'
'Let that be later on, as you like,' said Matemus, 'and if anything seemed
obscure in what I said, we can discuss it again.'
And he got up, and embraced Aper, saying: 'I will tell on you to the
poets, and Messalla will to the antiquarians.'
'And I will tell on both of you to the rhetoricians and the professors.'
They laughed; and we went our ways.
 11
LONGINUS, ON SUBLIMITY

INTRODUCTION

(i) ANALYSIS

The single medieval manuscript on which our knowledge of ,Long in us' depends
suffered damage before any of the extant copies of it were made: some pages fell
out. Consequently, about a third of the book is lost (the seven lacunae are in-
dicated in the translation). Though this robs us of much that would be of interest,
it does not, except in one important particular, affect our understanding of the
author's fairly simple plan.
The key to the book is in chapter 8; what precedes this is an extended intro-
duction.
We may summarize the book as follows:
1-2: a formal Preface.
3-5: faults incident to the attempt to achieve 'sublimity'. (This helps to define
the subject by contrast.)
6--]: some marks of true 'sublimity'.
8: the five sources of 'sublimity':
(i) The power of conceiving impressive thoughts (discussed in 9-15);
(ii) strong emotion;
(iii) certain kinds of figures of thought and speech (16-29);
(iv) nobility of diction (30-8, 43);
(v) 'Composition', i.e. word-order, rhythm, euphony (39-42).

(What has happened to (ii)? At the very end of the book (44. 12), we are told that
a separate work on emotions is to follow. It seeIflS most natural to conclude that
the long lacuna in 9 I contained a warning of this change of plan. Certain features
both of the treatment of thought (9-15) and of later sections involve considera-
tions of emotion, which is often mentioned and emphasized; it may be that the
writer pointed this out also in the missing section.)
9-43: working out of the scheme (I have given more details in the headings
of the translation; there is a good deal of unevenness in the scale of
treatment).
44: 'Appendix' on the causes of the current decline of literature.

I The chapter divisions are sixteenth-century, and are (as this example shows)

perverse and unpractical. They will be found in the margin of the translation. My
paragraphing and sub-titling are independent of them.
 ON SUBLIMITY

(ii) AUTHORSHIP

The author of On Sublimity is unknown. The manuscri~ attributes it in one

place to 'Dionysius Longinus', in another to 'Dionysius or'Longinus'. Modern
scholars generally believe that this second version of the title is correct, and
represents two guesses made in Byzantine times: the author was either the
Augustan critic Dionysius of Halicarnassus or Cassius Longinus, a well-known
statesman and critic of the third century A.D. This second view was universally
held in the eighteenth century; it is eloquently developed (Longinus was a
colourful, even heroic, figure) in Boileau's Preface and Gibbon's Decline and Fall
(chap. xi). It has its recent defenders (G. Luck, Arctol, 1968); but the re-
ceived opinion tCHlay is that we have to do with a book of the 1st cent. A.D.
The sole argument for this-and it is a convincing one-is derived from the
last chapter (44), in which the author discusses the relation between the decline
ofliterature and the political change from republican to monarchical government.
This topic occurs frequently in writers of the first century or so of the Roman
principate-e.g. in the two Senecas and in Tacitus. It does not occur much after
A.D. 100, and is inconceivable in the disturbances of the third century.
The only other probable conclusion about the author which can be drawn
from the book-nothing is known about the Roman addressee, Postumius
Terentianus-is that he was either a Jew or in contact with Jewish culture. This
follows from his use (9. 9) of the opening sentences of Genesis as an example of
subliInity. No other pagan writer uses the Bible like this. There are, moreover,
several resemblances between the writer's language and thought and that of the
Alexandrian Jew Philo (c. 30 B.C.-A.D. 45), but the attempts which are sometimes
made to postulate a close connection (e.g. to say that the 'philosopher' of the last
chapter is Philo) press the evidence too far.
The most we can safely say is that the book was written in the first century
A.D., by a writer with both Roman and Jewish contacts.

Editions
W. Rhys Roberts (text, translation, notes), Cambridge, 1899, 1907.
D. A. Russell (text, commentary), Oxford, 1964.
(Both these books contain bibliographies.)

Older translations
N. Boileau-Despreaux, Paris, 1674, etc. (ed. Boudhors, 1942).
W. Smith, London, 1739, etc.

Influence
M. H. Abrams, The Mirror and the Lamp, New York, 1953.
S. H. Monk, The Sublime, New York, 1935.
 'LONGINUS'

ON SUBLIMITY

PREFACE

My dear Postumius Terentianus,

I. I You will recall that when we were reading together Caecilius' monograph
On Sublimity, we felt that it was inadequate to its high subject, and failed
to touch the essential points. Nor indeed did it appear to offer the reader
much practical help, though this ought to be a writer's principal object.
Two things are required of any textbook: first, that it should explain what
its subject is; second, and more important, that it should explain how and
by what methods we can achieve it. Caecilius tries at immense length to
explain to us what sort of thing 'the sublime' is, as though we did not
know; but he has somehow passed over as unnecessary the question how
2 we can develop our nature to some degree of greatness. However, we
ought perhaps not so much to blame our author for what he has left out
as to commend him for his originality and enthusiasm.
You have urged me to set down a few notes on sublimity for your own
use. Let us then consider whether there is anything in my observations
which may be thought useful to public men. You must help me, my
friend, by giving your honest opinion in detail, as both your natural
candour and your friendship with me require. It was well said that what
man has in common with the gods is 'doing good and telling the truth'.
3 Your education dispenses me from any long preliminary definition.
Sublimity is a kind of eminence or excellence of discourse. It is the
source of the distinction of the very greatest poets and prose writers and
4 the means by which they have given eternal life to their own fame. For
grandeur produces ecstasy rather than persuasion in the hearer; and the
combination of wonder and astonishment always proves superior to
the merely persuasive and pleasant. This is because persuasion is on
the whole something we can control, whereas amazement and wonder exert
invincible power and force and get the better of every hearer. Experience
in invention and ability to order and arrange material cannot be detected
in single passages; we begin to appreciate them only when we see the
whole context. Sublimity, on the other hand, produced at the right
moment, tears everything up like a whirlwind, and exhibits the orator's
whole power at a single blow.
2. I Your own experience will lead you to these and similar considerations.
The question from which I must begin is whether there is in fact an art
of sublimity or profundity. I Some people think it is a complete mistake
I This is to translate bathous. The simple, eighteenth-century emendation pathous

means 'emotion'. Boileau omits the word. The English word 'bathos' seems to have
 ON SUBLIMITY
to reduce things like this to technical rules. Greatness, the argument runs,
is a natural product, and does not come by teaching. The only art is to be
born like that. They believe moreover that natural products are very
much weakened by being reduced to the bare bones of a textbook.
In my view, these arguments can be refuted by considering three 2
points:
(i) Though nature is on the whole a law unto herself in matters of
emotion and elevation, she is not a random force and does not work
altogether without method.
(ii) She is herself in every instance a first and primary element of cre-
ation, but it is method that is competent to provide and contribute
quantities and appropriate occasions for everything, as well as perfect
correctness in training and application.
(iii) Grandeur is particularly dangerous when left on its own, unaccom-
panied by knowledge, unsteadied, unballasted, abandoned to mere impulse
and ignorant temerity. It often needs the curb as well as the spur.
What Demosthenes' said of life in general is true also of literature: 3
good fortune is the greatest of blessings, but good counsel comes next,
and the lack of it destroys the other also. In literature, nature occupies the
place of good fortune, and art that of good counsel. Most important of all,
the very fact that some things in literature depend on nature alone can
itself be learned only from art.
If the critic of students of this subject will bear these points in mind,
he will, I believe, come to realize that the examination of the question
before us is by no means useless or superfluous.
[Lacuna equivalent to about two of these printed pages]

FAULTS INCIDENT TO THE EFFORT TO ACHIEVE SUBLIMITY:

TURGIDITY, PUERILITY, FALSE EMOTION, FRIGIDITY

..• restrain the oven's mighty glow. 3. I

For if I see but one beside his hearth,
I'll thrust in just one tentacle of storm,
and fire his roof and turn it all to cinders.
I've not yet sung my proper song. 2
This is not tragedy; it is a parody of the tragic manner-tentacles,
acquired its meaning from a misunderstanding ofthis passage; see Pope's Per; Bathous
or on the Art of Sinking (I728).
I Orations 23. II3.

2 Aeschylus, fr. 281 Nauck. The speaker is Boreas, the North Wind, who is enraged

with King Erechtheus of Athens because he will not give him his daughter Orithyia.
As the passage is incomplete, the point of some of the critical comment is lost.
 'LONGINUS'
vomiting to heaven, making Boreas a flute-player, and so on. The result
is not impressiveness but turbid diction and confused imagery. If you
examine the details closely, they gradually sink from the terrifying to
the contemptible.
Now if untimely turgidity is unpardonable in tragedy, a genre which is
naturally magniloquent and tolerant of bombast, it will scarcely be
2 appropriate in writing which has to do with real life. Hence the ridicule

attaching to Gorgias of Leontini's 'Xerxes, the Persians' Zeus' and 'their

living tombs, the vultures', or to various things in Callisthenes, where he
has not so much risen to heights as been carried off his feet. Clitarchus is
an even more striking example; he is an inflated writer, and, as Sophocles
has it,
blows at his tiny flute, the mouth-band off. I
Amphicrates, Hegesias, Matris-they are all the same. They often fancy
themselves possessed when they are merely playing the fool.
3 Turgidity is a particularly hard fault to avoid, for it is one to which all
who aim at greatness naturally incline, because they seek to escape the
charge of weakness and aridity. They act on the principle that 'to slip
4 from a great prize is yet a noble fault'. In literature as in the body, puffy
and false tumours are bad, and may well bring us to the opposite result
from that which we expected. As the saying goes, there is nothing so dry
as a man with dropsy.
While turgidity is an endeavour to go above the sublime, puerility2 is
the sheer opposite of greatness; it is a thoroughly low, mean, and ignoble
vice. What do I mean by 'puerility' ? A pedantic thought, so over-worked
that it ends in frigidity. Writers slip into it through aiming at originality,
artifice, and (above all) charm, and then coming to grief on the rocks of
tawdriness and affectation.
S A third kind of fault-what Theodorus called 'the pseudo-bacchanalian'
---corresponds to these in the field of emotion. It consists of untimely
or meaningless emotion where none is in place, or immoderate emotion
where moderate is in place. Some people often get carried away, like
drunkards, into emotions unconnected with the subject, which are simply
their own pedantic invention. The audience feels nothing, so that they
inevitably make an exhibition of themselves, parading their ecstasies
before an audience which does not share them.
But I reserve the subject of emotion for another place,3 returning meanT
4· I while to the second fault of those I mentioned: frigidity. This is a con-
stant feature in Timaeus, who is in many ways a competent writer, not
I Fr. 701 Nauck.
2 The context shows what is meant: the shallow pedantry of the immature.
3 Presumably in the lost passage.
 ON SUBLIMITY
without the capacity for greatness on occasion, learned and original, but
as unconscious of his own faults as he is censorious of others', and often
falling into the grossest childishness through his passion for always start-
ing exotic ideas. I will give one or two examples; Caecilius has already 2

cited most of those available.

(i) In praise of Alexander the Great, Timaeus writes: 'He conquered
all Asia in fewer years than it took Isocrates to write the Panegyricus to
advocate the Persian war.' What a splendid comparison this is-the
Macedonian king and the sophist! On the same principle, the Lace-
daemonians were very much less brave than Isocrates: it took them
thirty years to capture Messene, I whereas he took only ten to write the
Panegyricus!
(ii) Listen also to Timaeus' comment on the Athenians captured in 3
Sicily. 'They were punished for their impiety to Hermes and mutilation
of his statues, and the main agent of their punishment was one who had
a family connection with their victim, Hermocrates the son of Hermon.'2
I cannot help wondering, my dear Terentianus, why he does not also
write about the Tyrant Dionysius, 'Because he was impious towards
Zeus and Heracles, Dion and Heraclides robbed him of his throne.'3
But why speak of Timaeus, when those heroes of letters, Xenophon 4
and Plato, for all that they were trained in Socrates' school, forget them-
selves sometimes for the sake of similar petty pleasures? Thus Xenophon
writes in The Constitution of the Lacedaemonians : 'You could hear their
voice less than the voice of stone statues, you could distract their eyes less
than the eyes of bronze images; you would think them more bashful than
the very maidens in the eyes.'4 It would have been more in keeping with
Amphicrates' manner than Xenophon's to speak of the pupils of our eyes
as bashful maidens. And what an absurd misconception to think of every-
body's pupils as bashful! The shamelessness of a person, we are told,
appears nowhere so plainly as in the eyes. Remember the words Achilles
uses to revile Agamemnon's violent temper: 'Drunken sot, with a dog's
eyes !'5 Timaeus, unable to keep his hands off stolen property, as it were, 5

I In the eighth century H.C. Our other sources make this war last twenty years; we do

not know the source of the variant (assuming the text to be correct).
Z The disastrous Athenian expedition against Syracuse (415-413 H.C.) had been
preceded by a mysterious incident at Athens, in which the 'Hermae' in the city were
mutilated one night.
3 Dionysius Il, expelled in 356. The name Dion is etymologically connected with
Zeus (accusative Dia, genitive Dios).
4 The word kore means both 'girl' and 'pupil'; Xenophon replaces it by parthellos,
which means unambiguously 'maiden'.
S Iliad I. 225.-The text of this sentence in 'Longinus' is uncertain, but the general
sense beyond doubt.
8143591 Hh
 'LONGINUS'
has not left the monopoly of this frigid conceit to Xenophon. He uses it in
connection with Agathocles, who eloped with his cousin from the un-
veiling ceremony of her marriage to another: 'Who would have done this,
if he had not had harlots in his eyes for pupils (koras) ?'!
6 And what of Plato, the otherwise divine Plato? He wants to express the
idea. of writing-tablets. 'They shall write', he says, 'and deposit in the
temples memorials of cypress.'2 Again: 'As for walls, Megill..us, I should
concur with Sparta in letting walls sleep in the earth and nOt get Up.'3
7 Herodotus' description" of beautiful women as 'pains on the eyes' is the
same sort of thing, though it is to some extent excused by the fact that
the speakers are barbarians and drunk-not that it is a good thing to
make an exhibition of the triviality of one's mind to posterity, even through
the mouths of"characters like these.
5· 1 All such lapses from dignity arise in literature through a single cause:
that desire for novelty of thought which is all the rage today. Evils often
come from the same source as blessings; and so, since beauty of style,
sublimity, and charm all conduce to successful writing, they are also
causes and principles not only of success but of failure. Variation, hyper-
bole, and the use of plural for singular are like this too; I shall explain
below the dangers which they involve. s

SOME MARKS OF TRUE SUBLIMITY

6. I At this stage, the question we must put to ourselves for discussion is how
to avoid the faults which are so much tied up with sublimity. The answer,
my friend, is: by first of all achieving a genuine understanding and
appreciation of true sublimity. This is difficult; literary judgement comes
only as the final product of long experience. However, for the purposes of
instruction, I think we can say that an understanding of all this can be
acquired. I approach the problem in this way:
7. 1 In ordinary life, nothing is truly great which it is great to despise;
wealth, honour, reputation, absolute power-anything in short which
has a lot of external trappings-can never seem supremely good to the
wise man because it is no small good to despise them. People who could
have these advantages if they chose but disdain them out of magnanimity
are admired much more than those who actually possess them. 6 It is much
the same with elevation in poetry and literature generally. We have to ask
I Agathocles was ruler of Syracuse from 317 to 287. The 'unveiling ceremony' was

normally held on the third day after the marriage. 2 Laws 741 C.
3 Laws 778.d.
4 Herodotus 5. 18. S See chaps. 23 and 38.
6 Compare Aristotle's 'magnanimous man': Nicomachean Ethics 4. 3.
 ON SUBLIMITY
ourselves whether any particular example does not give a show of gran-
deur which, for all its accidental trappings, will, when dissected, prove
vain and hollow, the kind of thing which it does a man more honour to
despise than to admire. It is our nature to be elevated and exalted by true 2
sublimity. Filled with joy and pride, we come to believe we have created
what we have only heard. When a man of sense and literary experience 3
hears something many times over, and it fails to dispose his mind to
greatness or to leave him with more to reflect upon than was contained in
the mere words, but comes instead to seem valueless on repeated inspec-
tion, this is nottrue sublimity; it endures only for the moment of hearing.
Real sublimity contains much food for reflection, is difficult or rather
impossible to resist, and makes a strong and ineffaceable impression on
the memory. In a word, reckon those things which please everybody all 4
the time as genuinely and finely sublime. When people of different train-
ings, ways of life, tastes, ages, and manners all agree about something,
the judgement and assent of so many distinct voices lends strength and
irrefutability to the conviction that their admiration is rightly directed.

THE FIVE SOURCES OF SUBLIMITY; THE PLAN OF THE BOOK

There are, one may say, five most productive sources of sublimity. 8. I

(Competence in speaking is assumed as a common foundation for all

five; nothing is possible without it.)
(i) The first and most important is the power to conceive great thoughts;
I defined this in my work on Xenophon.
(ii) The second is strong and inspired emotion. (These two sources are
for the most part natural; the remaining three involve art.)
(iii) Certain kinds of figures. (These may be divided into figures of
thought and figures of speech.)
(iv) Noble diction. This has as subdivisions choice of words and the
use of metaphorical and artificial language. I
(v) Finally, to round off the whole list, dignified and elevated word-
arrangement.
Let us now examine the points which come under each of these heads. 2
I must first observe, however, that Caecilius has omitted some of the
five-emotion, for example. Now if he thought that sublimity and
emotion were one and the same thing and always existed and developed
together, he was wrong. Some emotions, such as pity, grief, and fear, are
found divorced from sublimity and with a low effect. Conversely,
sublimity often occurs apart from emotion. Of the innumerable
I Or 'and coined words'.
 'LONGINUS'
examples of this I select Homer's bold account of the Aloadae:
Ossa upon Olympus they sought to heap; and on Ossa
Pelion with its shaking forest, to make a path to heaven-
and the even more impressive sequel-
and they would have finished their work ... 1
In orators, encomia and ceremonial or exhibition pieces always involve
3 grandeur and sublimity, though they are generally devoid of emotion.
Hence those orators who are best at conveying emotion are least good at
encomia, and conversely the experts at encomia are not conveyers of
emotion. On the other hand, if Caecilius thought that emotion had no
.. contribution to make to sublimity and therefore thought it not worth
mentioning, he was again completely wrong. I should myself have no
hesitation in saying that there is nothing so productive of grandeur as
noble emotion in the right place. It inspires and possesses our words with
a kind of madness and divine spirit.

(i) GREATNESS OF THOUGHT

9. I The first source, natural greatness, is the most important. Even if it is a

matter of endowment rather than acquisition, we must, so far as is pos-
sible, develop our minds in the direction of greatness and make them
always pregnant with noble thoughts. You ask how this can be done.
2 I wrote elsewhere something like this: 'Sublimity is the echo of a noble
mind.' This is why a mere idea, without verbal expression, is sometimes
admired for its nobility-just as Ajax's silence in the Vision of the Dead
is grand and indeed more sublime than any words could have been. 2
3 First then we must state where sublimity comes from: the orator must
not have low or ignoble thoughts. Those whose thoughts and habits are
trivial and servile all their lives cannot possibly produce anything admir-
able or worthy of eternity. Words will be great if thoughts are weighty.
This is why splendid remarks come naturally to the proud; the man who,
.. when Parmenio said, 'I should have been content'... 3
[Lacuna equivalent to about six pages.]
I Odyssey H. 315-17.
a Odyssey H. 563. Note that this is not an example, but a simile illustrating the point
that ideas in themselves can be grand.
3 Parmenio said to Alexander that if he were Alexander he would be content, and
would not go on fighting. 'So would I, if I were Parmenio', replied Alexander.
 ON SUBLIMITY

SUCCESSFUL AND UNSUCCESSFUL WAYS OF REPRESENTING

SUPERNATURAL BEINGS AND OF EXCITING AWE

... the interval between earth and heaven. One might say that this is the 5
measure not so much of Strife as of Homer. I
Contrast the line about Darkness in Hesiod-if the Shield is by Hesiod:
Mucus dripped from her nostrils. z
This gives a repulsive picture, not one to excite awe. But how does
Homer magnify the divine power?
As far as a man can peer through the mist,
sitting on watch, looking over the wine-dark sea,
so long is the stride of the gods' thundering horses. 3
He uses a cosmic distance to measure their speed. This enormously
impressive image would make anybody say, and with reason, that, if the
horses of the gods took two strides like that, they would find there was
not enough room in the world.
The imaginative pictures in the Battle of the Gods are also very remark- 6
able:
And the great heavens and Olympus trumpeted around them.
Aidoneus, lord of the dead, was frightened in his depths;
and in fright he jumped from his throne, and shouted,
for fear the earth-shaker Poseidon might break through
the ground,
and gods and men might see
the foul and terrible halls, which even the gods detest. 4
Do you see how the earth is torn from its foundations, Tartarus laid bare,
and the whole universe overthrown and broken up, so that all things-
Heaven and Hell, things mortal and things immortal-share the warfare 7
and the perils of that ancient battle? But, terrifying as all this is, it is
blasphemous and indecent unless it is interpreted allegorically; in relating
the gods' wounds, quarrels, revenges, tears, imprisonments, and manifold
misfortunes, Homer, or so it seems to me, has done his best to make the
men of the Trojan war gods, and the gods men. If men are unhappy,
there is always death as a harbour in trouble; what he has done for his
gods is to make them immortal indeed, but immortally miserable.
I The reference is to Iliad 4. 440 ff., where Strife is described as having her head in

the sky and walking on the earth. 'Longinus' means that Homer too is a colossus of
cosmic dimensions.
• Shield of Heracles 267. 3 Iliad 5. 770-2.
4 See Iliad 21. 388 and 20. 61 ff.
 47 0 'LONGINUS'
8 Much better than the Battle of the Gods are the passages which repre-
sent divinity as genuinely unsoiled and great and pure. The lines about
Poseidon, much discussed by my predecessors, exemplify this:
The high hills and the forest trembled,
and the peaks and the city of Troy and the Achaean ships
under the immortal feet of Poseid on as he went his way.
He drove over the waves, and the sea-monsters gambolled around
him,
coming up everywhere out of the deep; they recognized their king.
The sea parted in joy; and the horses flew onward. I
9 Similarly, the lawgiver of the Jews, no ordinary man-for he under-
stood and expressed God's power in accordance with its worth-writes at
the beginning of his Laws: 'God said'-now what ?-"'Let there be
light", and there was light; "Let there be earth", and there was earth.'2
10
Perhaps it will not be out of place, my friend, if I add a further Homeric
example-from the human sphere this time-so that we can see how the
poet is accustomed to enter into the greatness of his heroes. Darkness falls
suddenly. Thickest night blinds the Greek army. Ajax is bewildered.
'0 Father Zeus I', he cries,
'Deliver the sons of the Achaeans out of the mist,
make the sky clear, and let us see;
in the light-kill US.'3
The feeling here is genuinely Ajax's. He does not pray for life-that
would be a request unworthy of a hero-but having no good use for his
courage in the disabling darkness, and so angered at his inactivity in the
battle, he prays for light, and quickly: he will at all costs find a shroud
worthy of his valour, though Zeus be arrayed against him.

COMPARISON BETWEEN THE ILIAD AND THE- ODYSSEY

II In this passage, the gale of battle blows hard in Homer; he

Rages like Ares, spear-brandishing, or the deadly fire
raging in the mountains, in the thickets of the deep wood.
Foam shows at his mouth. 4
In the Odyssey, on the other hand-and there are many reasons for adding
I See Iliad 13. 18 If., and 20. 60.
• Controversy about the genuineness of this reference to Genesis I has raged since
the eighteenth century. For the influence of the reference on literary taste, see S. H.
Monk, The Sublime, 33. 3 Iliad 17. 645 If.
4 From Iliad IS. 605 ff.
 ON SUBLIMITY
this to our inquiry-he demonstrates that when a great mind begins to
decline, a love of story-telling characterizes its old age. We can tell that 12
the Odyssey was his second work from various considerations, in particular
from his insertion of the residue of the Trojan troubles in the poem in
the form of episodes, and from the way in which he pays tribute of
lamentation and pity to the heroes, treating them as persons long known.
The Odyssey is simply an epilogue to the Iliad:
There lies warlike Ajax, there Achilles,
there Patroclus, the gods' peer as a counsellor,
and there my own dear son. I

For the same reason, I maintain, he made the whole body of the Iliad, 13
which was written at the height of his powers, dramatic and exciting,
whereas most of the Odyssey consists of narrative, which is a characteristic
of old age. Homer in the Odyssey may be compared to the setting sun: the
size remains without the force. He no longer sustains the tension as it was
in the tale of Troy, nor that consistent level of elevation which never
admitted any falling off. The outpouring of passions crowding one on
another has gone; so has the versatility, the realism, the abundance of
imagery taken from the life. We see greatness on the ebb. It is as though
the Ocean were withdrawing into itself and flowing quietly in its own
bed. Homer is lost in the realm of the fabulous and incredible. In saying 14
this, I have not forgotten the storms in the Odyssey, the story of Cyclops,
and a few other episodes; I am speaking of old age-but it is the old age
of a Homer. The point about all these stories is that the mythical element
in them predominates over the realistic.
I digressed into this topic, as I said, to illustrate how easy it is for
great genius to be perverted in decline into nonsense. I mean things like
the story of the wineskin, the tale of the men kept as pigs in Circe's
palace ('howling piglets', Zoilus called them), the feeding of Zeus by the
doves (as though he were a chick in the nest), the ten days on the raft
without food, and the improbabilities of the murder !If the suitors.2 What
can we say of all this but that i: really is 'the dreaming of a Zeus' ?3
There is also a second reason for discussing the Odyssey. I want you 15
to understand that the decline of emotional power in great writers and
poets turns to a capacity for depicting manners. The realistic description
of Odysseus' household forms a kind of comedy of manners.

I Spoken by Nestor, Odyssey 3. 109 If.

2 For these various stories, see Odyssey 10. 17 If., 10. 237 If., 12. 447 If., 22. 79 If.
3 Sense uncertain. Possibly the text is corrupt. 'A sick man's dream' has been
suggested: cf. Horace, The Art of Poetry, above, p. 279.
 472 'LONGINUS'

SELECTION AND ORGANIZATION OF MATERIAL

10. I Now have we any other means of making our writing sublime? Every
topic naturally includes certain elements which are inherent in its raw
material. It follows that sublimity will be achieved if we consistently
select the most important of these inherent features and learn to organize
them as a unity by combining one with another. The first of these pro-
cedures attracts the reader by the selection of details, the second by the
density of those selected.
Consider Sappho's treatment of the feelings involved in the madness of
being in love. She uses the attendant circumstances and draws on real
life at every point. And in what does she show her quality? In her skill in
selecting the outstanding details and making a unity of them:
2 To me he seems a peer of the gods, the man who sits facing you
and hears your sweet voice
and lovely laughter; it flutters my heart in my breast. When I see
you only for a moment, I cannot speak;
my tongue is broken, a subtle fire runs under my skin; my eyes
cannot see, my ears hum;
cold sweat pours off me; shivering grips me all over; I am paler
than grass; I seem near to dying;
but all must be endured ... 1

3 Do you not admire the way in which she brings everything together-
mind and body, hearing and tongue, eyes and skin? She seems to have
lost them all, and to be looking for them as though they were external to
her. She is cold and hot, mad and sane, frightened and near death, all
by turns. The result is that we see in her not a single emotion, but a
complex of emotions. Lovers experience all this; Sappho's excellence, as
I have said, lies in her adoption and combination of the most striking
details.
A similar point can be made about the descriptions of storms in Homer,
4 who always picks out the most terrifying aspects. The author of the
Arimaspea on the other hand expects these lines to excite terror:
This too is a great wonder to us in our hearts:
there are men living on water, far from land, on the deep sea:
I See D. L. Page, Sappho and Alcaeus, Oxford, I955, chap. 2, for this poem (= Sappho,

fragment 31). Eighteenth-century translation by Ambrose Phillips, Spectator 229, with

criticism by Addison; Romantic translation by W. Headlam, Oxford Book of Greek
Verse in Translation, no. 141; recent version by Richmond Lattimore, Greek Lyrics,
2nd edn., Chicago, I960, p. 39.
 ON SUBLIMITY 473
miserable they are, for hard is their lot;
they give their eyes to the stars, their lives to the sea;
often they raise their hands in prayer to the gods,
as their bowels heave in pain. I

Anyone can see that this is more polished than awe-inspiring. Now com- 5
pare it with Homer (I select one example out of many):

He fell upon them as upon a swift ship falls a wave,

huge, wind-reared by the clouds. The ship
is curtained in foam, a hideous blast of wind
roars in the sail. The sailors shudder in terror:
they are carried away from under death, but only just. z

Aratus 3 tried to transfer the same thought: 6

A little plank wards off Hades.

But this is smooth and unimpressive, not frightening. Moreover, by

saying 'a plank wards off Hades', he has got rid of the danger. The plank
does keep death away. Homer, on) the other hand, does not banish the
cause of fear at a stroke; he gives a vivid picture of men, one might almost
say, facing death many times with every wave that comes. Notice also
the forced combination of naturally uncompoundable prepositions: hupek,
'from under'. Homer has tortured the words to correspond with the
emotion of the moment, and expressed the emotion magnificently by
thus crushing words together. He has in effect stamped the special
character of the danger on the diction: 'they are carried away from under
death'.
Compare Archilochus on the shipwreck, and Demosthenes on the 7
arrival of the news ('It was evening .. .').4

1 From a lost poem attributed to Aristeas of Proconnesus, a prophet of Apollo said to

have travelled in Siberia in the seventh century B.C. The lines perhaps express the sur-
prised comment of innocent continentals, deep in Asia, on the tales they have heard
about ships and seagoing.
• Ibid. 15. 624 If. 3 Phaetlolnetla 299.
4 The example from Archilochus cannot be certainly identified. That from Demo-
sthenes (On the Crown 169) describes the alarm at Athens when news arrived ofPhilip's
occupation of Elatea (339 B.C.): 'It was evening when somebody brought the prutaneis
the news that Elatea was captured. Some of them got up in the middle of dinner and
began to drive the traders from the stalls in the agora and burn the wicker hurdles.
Others sent for the generals and gave instructions to the trumpeter. The town was full
of uproar.'
 474 'LONGINUS'
In short, one might say that these writers have taken only the very best
pieces, polished them up and fitted them together. They have inserted
nothing inflated, undignified, or pedantic. Such things ruin the whole
effect, because they produce, as it were, gaps or crevices, and so spoil the
impressive thoughts which have been built into a structure whose cohesion
depends upon their mutual relations.!

AMPLIFICATION

II. I The quality called 'amplification' is connected with those we have been
considering. It is found when the facts or the issues at stake allow many
starts and pauses in each section. You wheel up one impressive unit after
2 another to give a series of increasing importance. There are innumerable

varieties of amplification: z it may be produced by commonplaces, by

exaggeration or intensification of facts or arguments, or by a build-up of
action or emotion. The orator should realize, however, that none of these
will have its full effect without sublimity. Passages expressing pity or
disparagement are no doubt an exception; but in any other instance of
amplification, if you take away the sublime element, you take the soul
away from the body. Without the strengthening influence of the sublimity,
the effective element in the whole loses all its vigour and solidity.
3 What is the difference between this precept and the point made above
about the inclusion of vital details and their combination in a unity?
What in general is the difference between amplification and sublimity?
I must define my position briefly on these points, in order to make myself
clear.
12. I I do not feel satisfied with the definition given by the rhetoricians: 'am-
plification is expression which adds grandeur to its subject'. This might
just as well be a definition of sublimity or emotion or tropes. All these add
grandeur of some kind. The difference lies, in my opinion, in the fact that
sublimity depends on elevation, whereas amplification involves extension;
sublimity exists often in a single thought, amplification cannot exist
2 without a certain quantity and superfluity. To give a general definition,
amplification is an aggregation of all the details and topics which constitute
a situation, strengthening the argument by dwelling on it; it differs from
proof in that the latter demonstrates the point made ...
[Lacuna equivalent to about two pages.]

[ Text uncertain in detail; general sense clear.

2 See Q!!int. 8. 4.
 ON SUBLIMITY 475

SAME GENERAL SUBJECT CONTINUED: A COMPARISON

BETWEEN PLATO AND DEMOSTHENES, WITH
A WORD ON CICERO

... spreads out richly in many directions into an open sea of grandeur. 3
Accordingly, Demosthenes, the more emotional of the two, displays in
abundance the fire and heat of passion, while Plato, consistently magnifi-
cent, solemn, and grand, is much less intense-without of course becoming
in the least frigid. These seem to me, my dear Terentianus-if a Greek 4
is allowed an opinion-to be also the differences between the grandeur of
Cicero and the grandeur of Demosthenes. Demosthenes has an abrupt
sublimity; Cicero spreads himself. Demosthenes burns and ravages; he has
violence, rapidity, strength, and force, and shows them in everything; he
can be compared to a thunderbolt or a flash of lightning. Cicero, on the
other hand, is like a spreading conflagration. He ranges everywhere and
rolls majestically on. His huge fires endure; they are renewed in various
forms from time to time and repeatedly fed with fresh fuel.-But this is 5
a comparison which your countrymen can make better than I.
Anyway, the place for the intense, Demosthenic kind of sublimity is in
indignant exaggeration, in violent emotion, and in general wherever the
hearer has to be struck with amazement. The place for expansiveness is
where he has to be deluged with words. This treatment is appropriate in
loci communes, epilogues, digressions, all descriptive and exhibition pieces,
historical or scientific topics, and many other departments.
To return to Plato, and the way in which he combines the 'soundless 13.1
flow'r of his smooth style with grandeur. A passage of the Repuhlic 2 you
have read makes the manner quite clear: 'Men without experience of
wisdom and virtue but always occupied with feasting and that kind
of thing naturally go downhill and wander through life on a low plane of
existence. They never look upwards to the truth and never rise, they never
taste certain or pure pleasure. Like cattle, they always look down, bowed
earthwards and tablewards; they feed and they breed, and their greediness
in these directions makes them kick and butt till they kill one another with
iron horns and hooves, because they can never be satisfied.'

IMITATION OF EARLIER WRITERS AS A MEANS TO SUBLIMITY

Plato, if we will read him with attention, illustrates yet another road to 2
sublimity, besides those we have discussed. This is the way of imitation
and emulation of great writers of the past. Here too, my friend, is an aim
J Plato, Theaetetus 144 b. 2 Republic 9. 586 a (adapted).
 'LONGINUS'
to which we must hold fast. Many are possessed by a spirit not their own.
It is like what we are told of the Pythia at Delphi: she is in contact with the
tripod near the cleft in the ground which (so they say) exhales a divine
vapour, and she is thereupon made pregnant by the supernatural power and
forthwith prophesies as one inspired. Similarly, the genius of the ancients
acts as a kind of oracular cavern, and effluences flow from it into the minds
of their imitators. Even those previously not much inclined to prophesy
become inspired and share the enthusiasm which comes from the great-
3 ness of others. Was Herodotus the only 'most Homeric' writer? Surely
Stesichorus and Archilochus earned the name before him. So, more than
any, did Plato, who diverted to himself countless rills from the Homeric
spring. (If Ammonius had not selected and written up detailed examples
of this, I might have had to prove the point myself.) In all this process
4 there is no plagiarism. It resembles rather the reproduction of good
character in statues and works of art. I Plato could not have put such a
brilliant finish on his philosophical doctrines or so often risen to poetical
subjects and poetical language, if he had not tried, and tried whole-
heartedly, to compete for the prize against Homer, like a young aspirant
challenging an admired master. To break a lance in this way may well
have been a brash and contentious thing to do, but the competition proved
anything but valueless. As Hesiod says, 'this strife is good for men.'2 Truly
it is a noble contest and prize of honour, and one well worth winning, in
which to be defeated by one's elders is itself no disgrace.
1+ I We can apply this to ourselves. When we are working on something
which needs loftiness of expression and greatness of thought, it is good
to imagine how Homer would have said the same thing, or how Plato or
Demosthenes or (in history) Thucydides would have invested it with
sublimity. These great figures, presented to us as objects of emulation
and, as it were, shining before our gaze, will somehow elevate our minds
2 to the greatness of which we form a mental image. They will be even
more effective if we ask ourselves 'How would Homer or Demosthenes
have reacted to what I am saying, if he had been here? What would his
feelings have been?' It makes it a great occasion if you imagine such a
jury or audience for your own speech, and pretend that you are answering
for what you write before judges and witnesses of such heroic stature.
3 Even more stimulating is the further thought: 'How will posterity take
what I am writing?' If a man is afraid of saying anything which will out-
last his own life and age, the conceptions of his mind are bound to be
incomplete and abortive; they will miscarry and never be brought to
birth whole and perfect for the day of posthumous fame.
I Text uncertain: perhaps 'the reproduction of beauty of form •. .'
2 Works and Days 24: healthy rivalry contrasted with the strife that produces war.
 ON SUBLIMITY 477
VISUALIZATION (PH ANT ASIA)

Another thing which is extremely productive of grandeur, magnificence 15. I

and urgency, my young friend, is visualization (phantasia). I use this word

for what some people call image-production. The term phantasia is used
generally for anything which in any way suggests a thought productive of
speech;' but the word has also come into fashion for the situation in
which enthusiasm and emotion make the speaker see what he is saying
and bring it visually before his audience. It will not escape you that 2
rhetorical visualization has a different intention from that of the poets:
in poetry the aim is astonishment, in oratory it is clarity. Both, however,
seek emotion and excitement.
Mother, I beg you, do not drive them at me,
the women with the blood in their eyes and the snakes-
they are here, they are here, jumping right up to me.2.
Or again:
O! O! She'll kill me. Where shall I escape?3
The poet himself saw the Erinyes, and has as good as made his audience
see what he imagined.
Now Euripides devotes most pains to producing a tragic effect with 3
two emotions, madness and love. In these he is supremely successful. At
the same time, he does not lack the courage to attempt other types of
visualization. Though not formed by nature for grandeur, he often forces
himself to be tragic. When the moment for greatness comes, he (in
Homer's words)
whips flank and buttocks with his tail
and drives himself to fight. 4
For example, here is Helios handing the reins to Phaethon: 5 4
'Drive on, but do not enter Libyan air-
it has no moisture in it, and will let
your wheel fall through-'
I A Stoic definition.
2 Euripides, Orestes 255-7. Orestes sees the Furies.
3 Euripides, Iphigenia in Tauris 291. Again Orestes and the Furies.
4 Iliad 20. 170.
s Fr. 779 Nauck. Euripides' lost Phaethon told the story of Phaethon's marriage and
how his mother Clymene revealed to him that Helios was his father; he then begs to be
allowed to drive the sun's chariot, and disaster follows. The passages quoted are probably
from a messenger's speech recounting Phaethon's fall.
 47 8 'LONGINUS'
and again:
'Steer towards the seven Pleiads.'
The boy listened so far, then seized the reins,
whipped up the winged team, and let them go.
To heaven's expanse they flew.
His father rode behind on Sirius,
giving the boy advice: 'That's your way, there:
turn here-turn here.'

. one. not say that the writer's soul has mounted the chariot, has taken
May
wmg WIth the horses and shares the danger? Had it not been up among
those heavenly bodies and moved in their courses, he could never have
visualized such things.
Compare, too, his Cassandra:

Ye Trojans, lovers of horses .. .r

5 Aeschylus, of course, ventures on the most heroic visualizations' he is
like his own Seven against Thebes- '

Seven men of war, commanders of companies,

killing a bull into a black-bound shield,
dipping their hands in the bull's blood,
took oath by Ares, by Enyo, by bloodthirsty Terror-

in a joint pledge of death in which they showed themselves no mercy.

At the same time, he does sometimes leave his thoughts unworked,
tangled and hard. The ambitious Euripides does not shirk even these
risks. For example, there is in Aeschylus a remarkable description of the
6 palace of Lycurgus in its divine seizure at the moment of Dionysus'
epiphany:
the palace was possessed, the house went bacchanal.

Euripides expresses the same thought less harshly:

the whole mountain went bacchanal with them. 2

7 There is another magnificent visualization in Sophocles' account of

I Fr. 935 Nauck, perhaps from the Alexandros. As the context is lost, we do not know

the point. Compare p. 473, n. 4 for a similar abridged quotation, where 'Longinus'
assumes his readers to know the context.
2 Aeschylus, fr. S8 Nauck; Euripides, Bacchae 726. Euripides makes the idea easier by

adding the notion that the mountain shared the ecstasy of the bacchanals themselves.
 ON SUBLIMITY 479
Oedipus dying and giving himself burial to the accompaniment of a sign
from heaven, I and in the appearance of Achilles over his tomb at the
departure of the Greek fieet. 2 Simonides has perhaps described this scene
more vividly than anyone else; but it is impossible to quote everything.
The poetical examples, as I said, have a quality of exaggeration which 8
belongs to fable and goes far beyond credibility. In an orator's visualiza-
tions, on the other hand, it is the element of fact and truth which makes
for success; when the content of the passage is poetical and fabulous
and does not shrink from any impossibility, the result is a shocking and
outrageous abnormality. This is what happens with the shock orators of
our own day; like tragic actors, these fine fellows see the Erinyes, and
are incapable of understanding that when Orestes says
Let me go; you are one of my Erinyes,
you are hugging me tight, to throw me into Hell,3
he visualizes all this because he is mad.
What then is the effect of rhetorical visualization? There is much it can 9
do to bring urgency and passion into our words; but it is when it is closely
involved with factual arguments that it enslaves the hearer as well as
persuading him. 'Suppose you heard a shout this very moment outside
the court, and someone said that the prison had been broken open and the
prisoners had escaped-no one, young or old, would be so casual as not to
give what help he could. And if someone then came forward and said
"This is the man who let them out", our friend would never get a hearing;
it would be the end of him.'4 There is a similar instance in Hyperides' 10
defence of himself when he was on trial for the proposal to liberate the
slaves which he put forward after the defeat. s 'It was not the proposer', he
said, 'who drew up this decree: it was the battle of Chaeronea.' Here the
orator uses a visualization actually in the moment of making his factual
argument, with the result that his thought has taken him beyond the
limits of mere persuasiveness. Now our natural instinct is, in all such cases, I I
to attend to the stronger influence, so that we are diverted from the
demonstration to the astonishment caused by the visualization, which by
its very brilliance conceals the factual aspect. This is a natural reaction:
when two things are joined together, the stronger attracts to itself the
force of the weaker.
I Dosing scene of Oedipus Coloneus.
• Probably in the lost Polyxena. It is possible that something is lost between this
sentence and the reference to Simonides.
3 Euripides, OresW 264-5 •
.. Demosthenes 24. 208.
5 i.e. after Philip's victory at Chaeronea (338 B.C.). The speech is not extant.
 480 'LONGINUS'
12 This will suffice for an account of sublimity of thought produced by
greatness of mind, imitation, or visualization. l

(iii)FIGURES2: AN EXAMPLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE RIGHT

USE OF FIGURES: THE 'OATH' IN 'ON THE CROWN'

16. 1 The next topic is that of figures. Properly handled, figures constitute, as
I said, no small part of sublimity. It would be a vast, or rather infinite,
labour to enumerate them all; what I shall do is to expound a few of those
which generate sublimity, simply in order to confirm my point.
2 Here is Demosthenes putting forward a demonstrative argument on
behalf of his policy.3 What would have been the natural way to put it?
'You have not done wrong, you who fought for the liberty of Greece;
you have examples to prove this close at home: the men of Marathon, of
Salamis, of Plataea did not do wrong.' But instead of this he was suddenly
inspired to give voice to the oath by the heroes of Greece: 'By those who
risked their lives at Marathon, you have not done wrong!' Observe what
he effects by this single figure of conjuration, or 'apostrophe' as I call it
here. He deifies his audience's ancestors, suggesting that it is right to take
an oath by men who fell so bravely, as though they were gods. He inspires
the judges with the temper of those who risked their lives. He transforms
his demonstration into an extraordinary piece of sublimity and passion,
and into the convincingness of this unusual and amazing oath. At the
same time he injects into his hearers' minds a healing specific, so as to
lighten their hearts by these paeans of praise and make them as proud of
the battle with Philip as of the triumphs of Marathon and Salamis. In
short, the figure enables him to run away with his audience.
3 Now the origin of this oath is said to be in the lines of Eupolis:
By Marathon, by my battle,
no one shall grieve me and escape rejoicing. 4
But the greatness depends not on the mere form of the oath, but on place,
manner, occasion, and purpose. In Eupolis, there is nothing but the oath;
he is speaking to the Athenians while their fortunes are still high and they
need no comfort; and instead of immortalizing the men in order to
engender in the audience a proper estimation of their valour, he wanders
away from the actual people who risked their lives to an inanimate object,
namely the battle. In Demosthenes, on the other hand, the oath is
I Note that this is not a complete summary of chaps. 9-15.

• The second 'source', emotion, does not appear in its expected place: see p. 460.
3 The passage discussed is in 18. 208. Cf. below, p. 575.
4 From the lost comedy Demoi. Eupolis parodies Euripides, Medea 395 If.
 ON SUBLIMITY
addressed to a defeated nation, to make them no longer think of Chaeronea
as a disaster. It embraces, as I said, a demonstration that they 'did no
wrong', an illustrative example, a confirmation, an encomium, and an
exhortation. Moreover, because he was faced with the possible objection 4
'your policies brought us to defeat-and yet you swear by-- victories!' he
brings his thought back under control and makes it safe and unanswer-
able, showing that sobriety is needed even under the influence of inspira-
tion: 'By those who risked their lives at Marathon, and fought in the ships
at Salamis and Artemisium, and formed the line at Plataea!' He never says
conquered; throughout he withholds the word for the final issue, because it
was a happy issue, and the opposite to that of Chaeronea. From the same
motives he forestalls his audience by adding immediately: 'all of whom
were buried at the city's expense, Aeschines-all, not only the successful.'

THE RELATION BETWEEN FIGURES AND SUBLIMIT Y

At this point, my friend, I feel I ought not to pass over an observation of 17. I
my own. It shall be very brief: figures are natural allies of sublimity and
themselves profit wonderfully from the alliance. I will explain how this
happens.
Playing tricks by means of figures is a peculiarly suspect procedure. It
raises the suspicion of a trap, a deep design, a fallacy. It is to be avoided
in addressing a judge who has power to decide, and especially in address-
ing tyrants, kings, governors, or anybody in a high place. Such a person
immediately becomes angry if he is led astray like a foolish child by some
skilful orator's figures. He takes the fallacy as indicating contempt for
himself. He becomes like a wild animal. Even if he controls his temper, he
is now completely conditioned against being convinced by what is said. A
figure is therefore generally thought to be best when the fact that it is a
figure is concealed.
Thus sublimity and emotion are a defence and a marvellous aid against 2

the suspicion which the use of figures engenders. The artifice of the trick is
lost to sight in the surrounding brilliance of beauty and grandeur, and it
escapes all suspicion. 'By the men of Marathon .. .' is proof enough. For
how did Demosthenes conceal the figure in that passage? By sheer
brilliance, of course. As fainter lights disappear when the sunshine
surrounds them, so the sophisms of rhetoric are dimmed when they are
enveloped in encircling grandeur. Something like this happens in paint-
ing: when light and shadow are juxtaposed in colours on the same plane,
the light seems more prominent to the eye, and both stands out and
8143591 I i
 'LONGINUS'

actually appears much nearer. Similarly, in literature, emotional and

sublime features seem closer to the mind's eye, both because of a certain
natural kinship I and because of their brilliance. Consequently, they
always show up above the figures, and overshadow and eclipse their
artifice.

RHETORICAL QUESTIONS

18. I What are we to say of inquiries and questions? Should we not say that
they increase the realism and vigour of the writing by the actual form of
the figure ?z
'Or-tell me-do you want to go round asking one another "Is there
any news?"? What could be hotter news than that a Macedonian is
conquering Greece? "Is Philip dead?" "No, but he's ill." What difference
does it make to you? If anything happens to him, you will soon create
another Philip.'3
Again: 'Let us sail to Macedonia. "Where shall we anchor?" says
someone. The war itself will find out Philip's weak spotS.'4 Put in the
straightforward form, this would have been quite insignificant; as it is,
the impassioned rapidity of question and answer and the device of self-
objection have made the remark, in virtue of its figurative form, not only
2 more sublime but more credible. For emotion carries us away more
easily when it seems to be generated by the occasion rather than de-
liberately assumed by the speaker, and the self-directed question and its
answer represent precisely this momentary quality of emotion. Just as
people who are unexpectedly plied with questions become annoyed and
reply to the point with vigour and exact truth, so the figure of question
and answer arrests the hearer and cheats him into believing that all the
points made were raised and are being put into words on the spur of the
moment.
Again-this sentence in Herodotus is believed to be a particularly fine
example of sublimity 5 •••
[Lacuna equivalent to about two pages.]
ASYNDETON

19. I . . . the words tumble out without connection, in a kind of stream, almost
getting ahead of the speaker: 'Engaging their shields, they pushed,
fought, slew, died' (Xenophon).6
I See below, chap. 35.
2 Notice that these remarks are themselves cast as rhetorical questions.
3 Demosthenes 4. 10. 4 Ibid. 44.
5 Perhaps Herodotus 7. 21. 6 Hellenica 4. 3. 19.
 ON SUBLIMITY
'We went as you told us, noble Odysseus, up the woods,
we saw a beautiful palace built in the glades',
says Homer's Eurylochus. 1
Disconnected and yet hurried phrases convey the impression of an
agitation which both obstructs the reader and drives him on. Such is the
effect of Homer's asyndeta.

ASYNDETON COMBINED WITH ANAPHORA

The conjunction of several figures in one phrase also has a very stirring 20. I
effect. Two or three may be joined together in a kind of team, jointly
contributing strength, persuasiveness, charm. An example is the passage
in Against Midias,z where asyndeton is combined with anaphora and vivid
description. 'The aggressor would do many things-some of which his
victim would not even be able to tell anyone else-with gesture, with
look, with voice.' Then, to save the sentence from monotony and a 2
stationary effect-for this goes with inertia, whereas disorder goes with
emotion, which is a disturbance and movement of the mind-he leaps
immediately to fresh instances of asyndeton and epanaphora: 'With
gesture, with look, with voice, when he insults, when he acts as an enemy,
when he slaps the fellow, when he slaps him on the ears ... ' The orator is
doing here exactly what the bully does-hitting the jury in the mind with
blow after blow. Then he comes down with a fresh onslaught, like a 3
sudden squall: ' ... when he slaps the fellow, when he slaps him on the
ears. That rouses a man, that makes him lose control, when he is not used
to being insulted. No one could bring out the horror of such a moment
by a mere report.' Here Demosthenes keeps up the natural effect of
epanaphora and asyndeton by frequent variation. His order becomes dis-
orderly, his disorder in turn acquires a certain order.

POL YS1;-iliDETON

Now add the conjunctions, as Isocrates' school does. 'Again, one must 21. I
not omit this point, that the aggressor would do many things, first with
gesture, then with look, and finally with voice.' As you proceed with these
insertions, it will become clear that the urgent and harsh character of the
emotion loses its sting and becomes a spent fire as soon as you level it
down to smoothness by the conjunctions. If you tie a runner's arms to his 2
side, you take away his speed; likewise, emotion frets at being impeded by
I Odyssey 10. 251-2. 2 Demosthenes 21.72 •
 'LONGINUS'
conjunctions and other additions, because it loses the free abandon of its
movement and the sense of being, as it were, catapulted out.

HYPERBATON

22. IHyperbaton belongs to the same general class. It is an arrangement of

words or thoughts which differs from the normal sequence ... 1 It is a very
real mark of urgent emotion. People who in real life feel anger, fear, or
indignation, or are distracted by jealousy or some other emotion (it is
impossible to say how many emotions there are; they are without number),
often put one thing forward and then rush off to another, irrationally
inserting some remark, and then hark back again to their first point. They
seem to be blown this way and that by their excitement, as if by a veering
wind. They inflict innumerable variations on the expression, the thought,
and the natural sequence. Thus hyperbaton is a means by which, in the
best authors, imitation approaches the effect of nature. Art is perfect
when it looks like nature, nature is felicitous when it embraces concealed
art. Consider the words of Dionysius of Phocaea in Herodotus: 2 'Now,
for our affairs are on the razor's edge, men of Ionia, whether we are to be
free or slaves--and worse than slaves, runaways-so if you will bear
hardships now, you will suffer temporarily but be able to overcome your
2 enemies.' The natural order of thought would have been: 'Men ofIonia,
now is the time for you to bear hardships, for our affairs are on the razor's
edge.' The speaker has displaced 'men ofIonia'; he begins with the cause
of fear, as though the alarm was so pressing that he did not even have
time to address the audience by name. He has also diverted the order of
thought. Before saying that they must suffer hardship themselves (that is
the gist of his exhortation), he first gives the reason why it is necessary,
by saying 'our affairs are on the razor's edge'. The result is that he seems
to be giving not a premeditated speech but one forced on him by the
circumstances.
3 It is even more characteristic of Thucydides to show ingenuity in
separating by transpositions even things which are by nature completely
unified and indivisible.
Demosthenes is less wilful in this than Thucydides, but no one uses
this kind of effect more lavishly. His transpositions produce not only
a great sense of urgency but the appearance of extemporization, as he
4 drags his hearers with him into the hazards of his long hyperbata. He
often holds in suspense the meaning which he set out to convey and,
introducing one extraneous item after another in an alien and unusual
, Probably a few words are missing here. • 6. H.
 ON SUBLIMITY
place before getting to the main point, throws the hearer into a panic lest
the sentence collapse altogether, and forces him in his excitement to
share the speaker's peril, before, at long last and beyond all expectation,
appositely paying off at the end the long due conclusion; the very audacity
and ha~rdousness of the hyperbata add to the astounding effect. There
are so many examples that I forbear to give any.

CHANGES OF CASE, TENSE, PERSON, NUMBER, GENDER;

PLURAL FOR SINGULAR AND SINGULAR FOR PLURAL

What is called polyptoton, like accumulation, variation, and climax, is, 23. I

as you know, extremely effective and contributes both to ornament and to

sublimity and emotion of every kind.)
How do variations in case, tense, person, number, and gender diversify
and stimulate the style? My answer to this is that, as regards variations of 2
number, the lesser effect (though a real one) is produced by instances in
which singular forms are seen on reflection to be plural in sense:
The innumerable host
were scattered over the sandy beach, and shouted.
More worthy of note are the examples in which plurals give a more
grandiose effect, and court success by the sense of multitude expressed by
the grammatical number. An example comes in Sophocles, where Oedipus 3
says:
Weddings, weddings
you bred me and again released my seed,
made fathers, brothers, children, blood of the kin,
brides, wives, mothers-all
the deeds most horrid ever seen in men. Z
All this is about Oedipus on the one hand and Jocasta on the other, but
the expansion of the number to the plural forms pluralizes the mis-
fortunes also.
Another example is;
Hectors and Sarpedons came forth. 3
Another is the Platonic passage about the Athenians, which I have 4
I 'Polyptoton' is the occurrence of the same word in various inflexions. It is not

certain whether 'Longinus' thinks of accumulation (athroismos), variation (metaboIe),

and climax as species of it or as distinct. For what the ancient rhetoricians called
'climax', compare Romans S: 3, 8: 29-30.
2 Oedipus Tyrannus 1403 If. 3 A line of an unknown tragedy.
 'LONGINUS'

quoted elsewhere: 1 'No Pelopses or Cad muses or Aegyptuses or Danauses

or other barbarians by birth have settled among us; we are pure Greeks,
with no barbarian blood', and so on. Such an agglomeration of names in
crowds naturally makes the facts sound more impressive. But the practice
.is only to be followed when the subject admits amplification, abundance,
hyperbole, or emotion-one or more of these. Only a sophist has bells on
his harness wherever he goes.
24. I The contrary device-the contraction of plurals into singulars-also
sometimes produces a sublime effect. 'The whole Peloponnese was
divided.'2 'When Phrynichus produced The Capture of Miletus the
theatre burst into tears' ('theatre' for 'spectators').3 To compress the
separate individuals into the corresponding unity produces a more solid
effect.
2 The cause of the effect is the same in both cases. Where the nouns are
singular, it is a mark of unexpected emotion to pluralize them. 4 Where
they are plural, to unite the plurality under one well-sounding word is
again surprising because of the opposite transformation of the facts.

VIVID PRESENT TENSE

25. I To represent past events as present is to turn a narrative into a thing of

immediate urgency. 'A man who has fallen under Cyrus' horse and is
being trampled strikes the horse in the belly with his sword. The horse,
convulsed, shakes Cyrus off. He falls' (Xenophon).5 This is common in
Thucydides.

IMAGINARY SECOND PERSON

26. I Urgency may also be conveyed by the replacement of one grammatical

person by another. It often gives the hearer the sense of being in the midst
of the danger himself.
'You would say they were tireless, never wearied in war,
so eagerly they fought' (Homer).6
'May you never be drenched in the sea in that month l' (Aratus).7
I Menexenus 245 d. Not quoted in any other extant part of this book.
2 Demosthenes 18. 18. 3 Herodotus 6. 21.
4 Or 'it is a mark of emotion to pluralize them unexpectedly'.
5 Cyropaedia 7. I. 37. 6 Iliad IS. 697.
7 Phaenomena 287.
 ON SUBLIMITY
'You will sail upstream from Elephantine, anu then you will come to 2
a smooth plain. After crossing this, you will embark on another boat and
sail for two days. Then you will come to a great city called Meroe'
(Herodotus). I
Do you see, my friend, how he grips your mind and takes it on tour
through all these places, making hearing as good as seeing? All such forms
of expression, being directed to an actual person, bring the hearer into
the presence of real events.
Moreover, if you speak as though to an individual and not to a large 3
company, you will affect him more and make him more attentive and
excited, because the personal address stimulates:
You could not tell with whom Tydides stood. 2

LAPSES INTO DIRECT SPEECH

Sometimes a writer, in the course of a narrative in the third person, makes a7. I

a sudden change and speaks in the person of his character. This kind of
thing is an outburst of emotion.
Hector shouted aloud to the Trojans
to rush for the ships, and leave the spoils of the dead.
'If I see anyone away from the ships of his own accord,
I will have him killed on the spot.'3
Here the poet has given the narrative to himself, as appropriate to him,
and then suddenly and without warning has put the abrupt threat in the
mouth of the angry prince. It would have been flat ifhe had added 'Hector
said'. As it is, the change of construction is so sudden that it has out-
stripped its creator.
Hence the use of this figure is appropriate when the urgency of the 2
moment gives the writer no chance to delay, but forces on him an im-
mediate change from one person to another. 'Ceyx was distressed at this,
and ordered the children to depart. "For I am unable to help you. Go
therefore to some other country, so as to save yourselves without harming
me" , (Hecataeus).4
Somewhat different is the method by which Demosthenes in Against 3
Aristogiton 5 makes variation of person produce the effect of strong emotion
and rapid change of tone: 'Will none of you be found to feel bile or anger
at the violence of this shameless monster, who-you vile wretch, your right
I 2. 29. z Iliad 5. 85. 3 Iliad IS. 346•
.. Fr. 30 Jacoby. • 25. 27 (a spurious speech).
 'LONGINUS'
of free speech is barred not by gates and Joors which can be opened,
but ... !' He makes the change before the sense is complete, and in effect
divides a single thought between two persons in his passion (,who-you
vile wretch ... !'), as well as turning to Aristogiton and giving the im-
pression of abandoning the course of his argument-with the sole result,
so strong is the emotion, of giving it added intensity.
4 So also Penelope;
Herald, why have the proud suitors sent you here?
Is it to tell Odysseus' maidservants
to stop their work )md get dinner for them?
After their wooing, may they never meet again!
May this be their last dinner here--
you who gather together so often and waste wealth,
who never listened to your fathers when you were children
and they told you what kind of man Odysseus was!'

PERIPHRASIS

28. 1 No one, I fancy, would question the fact that periphrasis is a means to
sublimity. As in music the melody is made sweeter by what is called the
accompaniment, so periphrasis is often heard in concert with the plain
words and enhances them with a new resonance. This is especially true if
it contains nothing bombastic or tasteless but only what is pleasantly
2 blended. There is a sufficient example in" Plato, at the beginning of the
Funeral Speech;2 'These men have received their due, and having received
it they go on their fated journey, eS~(jrted publicly by their country and
privately each by his own kindred.' Plato here calls death a 'fated journey'
and the bestowal of regular funeral rites a public escort by the country.
This surely adds no inconsiderable impressiveness to the thought. He has
lyricized the bare prose, enveloping it in the harmony of the beautiful
periphrasis.
3 'You believe labour to be the guide to a pleasant life; you have gathered
into your souls the noblest and most heroic of possessions; you enjoy
being praised more than anything else in the world' (Xenophon).3 In this
passage 'you make labour the guide to a pleasant life' is put for 'you are
willing to labour'. This and the other expansions invest the praise with
a certain grandeur of conception.
4 Another example is the inimitable sentence of Hero dot us; 'The goddess
inflicted a feminine disease on the Scythians who plundered the temple.'4
I Odyssey 4. 681 If. 2 Menexenus 236 d.
3 Cyropaedia I. 5. 12. 4 Herodotus I. 105.
 ON SUBLIMITY
Periphrasis, however, is a particularly dangerous device if it is not used 29. I
with moderation. It soon comes to be heavy and dull, smelling of empty
phrases and coarseness of fibre. This is why Plato-who is fond of the
figure and sometimes uses it up..seasonably-is ridiculed for the sentence
in the Laws I which runs: 'Neither silvern wealth nor golden should be
permitted to establish itself in the city.' If he had wanted to prohibit
cattle, says the critic, he would have talked of 'ovine and bovine' wealth.

CONCLUSION OF THE SECTION ON FIGURES

So much, my dear Terentianus, by way of digression on the theory of the 2

use of those figures which conduce to sublimity. They all make style more
emotional and excited, and emotion is as essential a part of sublimity as
characterization is of charm. 2

(iv) DICTION: GENERAL REMARKS

Thought and expression are of course very much involved wi th each other. 30. I
We have therefore next to consider whether any topics still remain in the
field of diction. The choice of correct and magnificent words is a source of
immense power to entice and charm the hearer. This is something which
all orators and other writers cultivate intensely. It makes grandeur,
beauty, old-world charm, weight, force, strength, and a kind of lustre
bloom upon our words as upon beautiful statues; it gives things life and
makes them speak. But I suspect there is no need for me to make this
point; you know it well. It is indeed true that beautiful words are the 2
light that illuminates thought.
Magniloquence, however, is not always serviceable: to dress up trivial
material in grand and solemn language is like putting a huge tragic mask
on a little child. In poetry and history, however ...
[Lacuna equivalent to about four pages.]

I 801 b.
2 'Pathos' (emotion) characterizes truly 'sublime' writing; 'ethos' (realistic depiction
of manners or humours) belongs rather to lower, more human, and even comic, genres:
cf. the lliad-Odysuy contrast, 9. 13-15. 'Hedone' (pleasure, chann) is the typical aim
and effect of this second kind of literature. In tenns of the 'three styles' (cf. above,
pp. 413 ff., etc.), it consorts with the 'smooth' style as pathos and sublimity do with the
lofty style.
 490 'LONGINUS'

USE OF EVERYDAY WORDS

31. I • • • and productive, as is Anacreon's 'I no longer turn my mind to the

Thracian filly'.1 Similarly, Theopompus' much-admired phrase seems to

me to be particularly expressive because of the aptness of the analogy,
though Caecilius manages to find fault with it: 'Philip was excellent
at stomaching facts.' An idiomatic phrase is sometimes much more vivid
than an ornament of speech, for it is immediately recognized from every-
day experience, and the familiar is inevitably easier to credit. 'To stomach
facts' is thus used vividly of a man who endures unpleasantness and
2 squalor patiently, and indeed with pleasure, for the sake of gain. There
are similar things in Herodotus: 'Cleomenes in his madness cut his own
flesh into little pieces with a knife till he had sliced himself to death',
'Pythes continued fighting on the ship until he was cut into joints.'2 These
phrases come within an inch of being vulgar, but they are so expressive
that they avoid vulgarity.

METAPHORS

32 • I As regards number of metaphors, Caecilius seems to agree with the pro-

pounders of the rule that not more than two or at most three may be used
of the same subject. Here too Demosthenes is our canon. The right
occasions are when emotions come flooding in and bring the multiplication
2 of metaphors with them as a necessary accompaniment. 'Vile flatterers,

mutilators of their countries, who have given away liberty as a drinking

present, first to Philip and now to Alexander, measuring happiness by the
belly and the basest impulses, overthrowing liberty and freedom from
despotism, which Greeks of old regarded as the canons and standards of
the good.'3 In this passage the orator's anger against traitors obscures the
multiplicity of his metaphors.
3 This is why Aristotle and Theophrastus say that there are ways of
softening bold metaphors-namely by saying 'as if', 'as it were', 'ifI may
put it so', or 'if we may venture on a bold expression'. Apology, they say,
4 is a remedy for audacity. I accept this doctrine, but I would add-and I
said the same about figures-that strong and appropriate emotions and
genuine sublimity are a specific palliative for multiplied or daring meta-
phors, because their nature is to sweep and drive all these other things
along with the surging tide of their movement. Indeed it might be truer to
I Fr. 96 Bergk. 'Filly' is a probable, but not certain, supplement. The text here is

uncertain. Perhaps: ' ... But not Anacreon's "I turn my mind ... ".'
z 6. 75, 7. 181. 3 Demosthenes 18. 296.
 ON SUBLIMITY

say that they demand the hazardous. They never allow the hearer leisure
to count the metaphors, because he too shares the speaker's enthusiasm.
At the same time, nothing gives distinction to commonplaces and 5
descriptions so well as a continuous series of tropes. This is the medium
in which the description of man's bodily tabernacle is worked out so
elaborately in Xenophon and yet more superlatively by Plato. l Thus
Plato calls the head the 'citadel' of the body; the neck is an 'isthmus'
constructed between the head and the chest; the vertebrae, he says, are
fixed underneath 'like pivots'. Pleasure is a 'lure of evil' for mankind; the
tongue is a 'taste-meter'. The heart is a 'knot of veins' and 'fountain of the
blood that moves impetuously round', allocated to the 'guard-room'.
The word he uses for the various passages of the canals is 'alleys'. 'Against
the throbbing of the heart,' he continues, 'in the expectation of danger
and in the excitation of anger, when it gets hot, they contrived a means of
succour, implanting in us the lungs, soft, bloodless, and with cavities,
a sort of cushion, so that when anger boils up in the heart, the latter's
throbbing is against a yielding obstacle, so that it comes to no harm.'
Again: he calls the seat of the desires 'the women's quarters', and the seat
of anger 'the men's quarters'. The spleen is for him 'a napkin for the
inner parts, which therefore grows big and festering through being filled
with secretions'. 'And thereafter', he says again, 'they buried the whole
under a canopy of flesh', putting the flesh on 'as a protection against
dangers from without, like felting.' Blood he called 'fodder of the flesh'.
For the purpose of nutrition, he says also, 'they irrigated the body,
cutting channels as in gardens, so that the streams of the veins might
flow as it were from an incoming stream, making the body an aqueduct'.
Finally: when the end is at hand, the soul's 'ship's cables' are 'loosed',
and she herself 'set free'.
The passage contains countless similar examples; but these are enough 6
to make my point, namely that tropes are naturally grand, that metaphors
conduce to sublimity, and that passages involving emotion and descrip-
tion are the most suitable field for them. At the same time, it is plain 7
without my saying it that the use of tropes, like all other good things in
literature, always tempts one to go too far. This is what people ridicule
most in Plato, who is often carried away by a sort of literary madness into
crude, harsh metaphors or allegorical fustian. 'It is not easy to understand
that a city ought to be mixed like a bowl of wine, wherein the wine seethes
with madness, but when chastened by another, sober god, and achieving
a proper communion with him, produces a good and moderate drink.'2
I Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.4.5 If.; Plato, Timaeus 65 c-85 e ('Longinus' picks various

details out of this long passage, and runs them together).

z Laws 773 c-d.
 49 2 'LONGINUS'
To call water 'a sober god', says the critic, and mixture 'chastening', is the
language of a poet who is far from sober himself.

DIGRESSION: GENIUS VERSUS MEDIOCRITY

8 Faults of this kind formed the subject of Caecilius' attack in his book on
Lysias, in which he had the audacity to declare Lysias in all respects
superior to Plato. He has in fact given way without discrimination to two
emotions: loving Lysias more deeply than he loves himself, he yet hates
Plato with an even greater intensity. His motive, however, is desire to
score a point, and his assumptions are not, as he believed, generally
accepted. In preferring Lysias to Plato he thinks he is preferring a fault-
less and pure writer to one who makes many mistakes. But the facts are
far from supporting his view.
33. I Let us consider a really pure and correct writer. We have then to ask
ourselves in general terms whether grandeur attended by some faults of
execution is to be preferred, in prose or poetry, to a modest success of
impeccable soundness. We must also ask whether the greater number
of good qualities or the greater good qualities ought properly to win the
literary prizes. These questions are relevant to a discussion of sublimity,
and urgently require an answer.
2 I am certain in the first place that great geniuses are least 'pure'.
Exactness in every detail involves a risk of meanness; with grandeur, as
with great wealth, there ought to be something overlooked. It may also
be inevitable that low or mediocre abilities should maintain themselves
generally at a correct and safe level, simply because they take no risks and
do not aim at the heights, whereas greatness, just because it is greatness,
incurs danger.
3 I am aware also of a second point. All human affairs are, in the nature
of things, better known on their worse side; the memory of mistakes is
4 ineffaceable, that of goodness is soon gone. I have myself cited not a few
mistakes in Homer and other great writers, not because I take pleasure in
their slips, but because I consider them not so much voluntary mistakes
as oversights let fall at random through inattention and with the negli-
gence of genius. I do, however, ~hink that the greater good qualities, even
if not consistently maintained, are always more likely to win the prize-
if for no other reason, because of the greatness of spirit they reveal.
Apollonius makes no mistakes in the Argonautica; Theocritus is very
felicitous in the Pastorals, apart from a few passages not connected with
5 the theme; but would you rather be Homer or Apollonius? Is the
Eratosthenes of that flawless little poem Erigone a greater poet than
 ON SUBLIMITY 493
Archilochus, with his abundant, uncontrolled flood, that bursting forth
of the divine spirit which is so hard to bring under the rule of law? Take
lyric poetry: would you rather be Bacchylides or Pindar? Take tragedy:
would you rather be Ion of Chios or Sophocles? Ion and Bacchylides are
impeccable, uniformly beautiful writers in the polished manner; but it is
Pindar and Sophocles who sometimes set the world on fire with their
vehemence, for all that their flame often goes out without ~eason and they
collapse dismally. Indeed, no one in his senses would reckon all Ion's
works put together as the equivalent of the one play Oedipus.
If good points were totted up, not judged by their real value, Hyperides 3+ I

would in every way surpass Demosthenes. He is more versatile, I and has

more good qualities. He is second-best at everything, like a pentathlon
competitor; always beaten by the others for first place, he remains the
best of the non-specialists. In fact, he reproduces all the good features of 2
Demosthenes, except his word-arrangement, and also has for good measure
the excellences and graces of Lysias. He knows how to talk simply where
appropriate; he does not deliver himself of everything in the same tone,
like Demosthenes. His expression of character has sweetness and delicacy.
Urbanity, sophisticated sarcasm, good breeding, skill in handling irony,
humour neither rude nor tasteless but flavoured with true Attic salt, an
ingenuity in attack with a strong comic element and a sharp sting to its
apt fun-all this produces inimitable charm. He has moreover great
talents for exciting pity, and a remarkable facility for narrating myths
with copiousness and developing general topics with fluency. For example,
while his account of Leto is in his more poetic manner, his Funeral
Speech is an unrivalled example of the epideictic style. z Demosthenes, by 3
contrast, has no sense of character. He lacks fluency, smoothness, and
capacity for the epideictic manner; in fact he is practically without all the
qualities I have been describing. When he forces himself to be funny or
witty, he makes people laugh at him rather than with him. When he
wants to come near to being charming, he is furthest removed from it.
Ifhe had tried to write the little speech on Phryne or that on Athenogenes,3
he would have been an even better advertisement for Hyperides. Yet
Hyperides' beauties, though numerous, are without grandeur: 'inert in 4
the heart of a sober man', they leave the hearer at peace. Nobody feels
frightened reading Hyperides.
But when Demosthenes begins to speak, he concentrates in himself
excellences finished to the highest perfection of his sublime genius-the
I Or perhaps 'fluent'.
2 The speech (Deliacus) in whiCh the myth of Leto was told is lost; the Funeral
Speech is extant (Oration 2).
3 The first is lost; the second is Oration 3 (5).
 494 'LONGINUS'
intensity of lofty speech, living emotions, abundance, acuteness, speed
where speed is vital, all his unapproachable vehemence and power. He con-
centrates it all in himself-they are divine gifts, it is almost blasphemous
to call them human-and so out points all his rivals, compensating
with the beauties he has even for those which he lacks. The crash of his
thunder, the brilliance of his lightning make all other orators, of all ages,
insignificant. It would be easier to open your eyes to an approaching
thunderbolt than to face up to his unremitting emotional blows.
35. I To return to Plato and Lysias, there is, as I said, a further difference
between them. Lysias is much inferior not only in the importance of the
good qualities concerned but in their number; and at the same time he
exceeds Plato in the number of his failings even more than he falls short
in his good qualities.
2 What then was the vision which inspired those divine writers who
disdained exactness of detail and aimed at the greatest prizes in literature?
Above all else, it was the understanding that nature made man to be no
humble or lowly creature, but brought him into life and into the universe
as into a great festival, to be both a spectator and an enthusiastic con-
testant in its competitions. She implanted in our minds from the start an
irresistible desire for anything which is great and, in relation to ourselves,
su pernatural.
3 The universe therefore is not wide enough for the range of human
speculation and intellect. Our thoughts often travel beyond the boundaries
of our surroundings. If anyone wants to know what we were born for, let
him look round at life and contemplate the splendour, grandeur, and
4 beauty in which it everywhere abounds. It is a natural inclination that
leads us to admire not the little streams, however pellucid and however
useful, but the Nile, the Danube, the Rhine, and above all the Ocean.
Nor do we feel so much awe before the little flame we kindle, because it
keeps its light clear and pure, as before the fires of heaven, though they
are often obscured. We do not think our flame more worthy of admiration
than the craters of Etna, whose eruptions bring up rocks and whole hills
out of the depths, and sometimes pour forth rivers of the earth-born,
5 spontaneous fire. A single comment fits all these examples: the useful
and necessary are readily available to man, it is the unusual that always
excites our wonder.
36. I So when we come to great geniuses in literature-where, by contrast,
grandeur is not divorced from service and utility-we have to conclude
that such men, for all their faults, tower far above mortal stature. Other
literary qualities prove their users to be human; sublimity raises us
towards the spiritual greatness of god. Freedom from error does indeed
2 save us from blame, but it is only greatness that wins admiration. Need
 ON SUBLIMITY 495
I add that everyone of those great men redeems all his mistakes many times
over by a single sublime stroke? Finally, if you picked out and put together
all the mistakes in Homer, Demosthenes, Plato, and all the other really
great men, the total would be found to be a minute fraction of the successes
which those heroic figures have to their credit. Posterity and human ex-
perience-judges whose sanity envy cannot question-place the crown of
victory on their heads. They keep their prize irrevocably, and will do so
so long as waters flow and tall trees flourish. I
It has been remarked that 'the failed Colossus is no better than the 3
Doryphorus of Polyclitus'.2 There are many ways of answering this. We
may say that accuracy is admired in art and grandeur in nature, and it is
by nature that man is endowed with the power of speech; or again that
statues are expected to represent the human form, whereas, as I said,
something higher than human is sought in literature.
At this point I have a suggestion to make which takes us back to the 4
beginning of the book. Impeccability is generally a product of art;
erratic excellence comes from natural greatness; therefore, art must always
come to the aid of nature, and the combination of the two may well be
perfection.
It seemed necessary to settle this point for the sake of our inquiry; but
everyone is at liberty to enjoy what he takes pleasure in.

SIMILES

We must now return to the main argument. Next to metaphors come 37. I

comparisons and similes. The only difference is ...

[Lacuna equivalent to about two pages.]

HYPERBOLE

... such expressions as: 'Unless you've got your brains in your heels and 38. I

are walking on them'.3 The important thing to know is how far to push
a given hyperbole; it sometimes destroys it to go too far; too much tension
results in relaxation, and may indeed end in the contrary of the intended
effect. Thus Isocrates' zeal for amplifying everything made him do a 2
I 'Epigram on the tomb of Midas', ascribed to Homer: see Plato, Phaedrus 264 d.
2 It is not certain whether 'Longinus' means the Colossus of Rhodes or some other
large statue. For the Doryphorus, famous for its proportions, see, e.g., G. M. A.
Richter, Handbook of Greek Art, Phaidon, 1959, IIO.
3 Demosthenes 7. 45-a speech generally thought to be spurious.
 'LONGINUS'
childish thing. The argument of his Panegyricus is that Athens surpasses
Sparta in services to the Greek race. Right at the beginning we find the
following: I 'Secondly, the power of speech is such that it can make great
things lowly, give grandeur to the trivial, say what is old in a new fashion,
and lend an appearance of antiquity to recent events.' Js Isocrates then
about to reverse the positions of Athens and Sparta? The encomium on
the power of speech is equivalent to an introduction recommending the
3 reader not to believe what he is told! I suspect that what we said of the
best figures is true of the best hyperboles: they are those which avoid
being seen for what they are. The desired effect is achieved when they are
connected with some impressive circumstance and with moments of high
emotion. Thucydides' account of those killed in Sicily is an example:
'The Syracusans came down and massacred them, especially those in the
river. The water was stained; but despite the blood and the dirt, men
continued to drink it, and many still fought for it.'2 It is the intense emo-
tion of the moment which makes it credible that dirt and blood should
4 still be fought for as drink. Herodotus has something similar about
Thermopylae: 'Meanwhile though they defended themselves with swords
(those who still had them), and with hands and mouths, the barbarians
buried them with their missiles.'3 What is meant by fighting armed men
with mouths or being buried with missiles? Still, it is credible; for we
form the impression that the hyperbole is a reasonable product of the
situation, not that the situation has been chosen for the sake of the hyper-
5 bole. As I keep saying, acts and emotions which approach ecstasy provide
a justification for, and an antidote to, any linguistic audacity. This is why
comic hyperboles, for all their incredibility, are convincing because we
laugh at them so much: 'He had a farm, but it didn't stretch as far as a
Laconic letter.' Laughter is emotion in amusement (hedone).
6 There are hyperboles which belittle as well as those which exaggerate.
Intensification is the factor common to the two species, vilification being
in a sense an amplification of lowness.

(v) WORD-ARRANGEMENT OR COMPOSITION4

39. 1 There remains the fifth of the factors contributing to sublimity which we
originally enumerated. This was a certain kind of composition or word-
arrangement. Having set out my conclusions on this subject fully in two
books, I shall here add only so much as is essential for our present
subject.
I Panegyricus 6. 2 Thucydides 7. 84. 3 Herodotus 7. 225.
• Cf. in general Dionysius (above, pp. 321 If.).
 ON SUBLIMITY 497

EFFECT OF RHYTHM

Harmony is a natural instrument not only of conviction and pleasure

but also to a remarkable degree of grandeur and emqtion. The aulos! 2
fills the audience with certain emotions and makes them somehow
beside themselves and possessed. It sets a rhythm, it 'makes the hearer
move to the rhythm and assimilate himself to the tune, 'untouched by the
Muses though he be'. 2 The notes of the lyre, though they have no mean-
ing, also, as you know, often cast a wonderful spell of harmony with their
varied sounds and blended and mingled notes. Yet all these are but 3
spurious images and imitations of persuasion, not the genuine activities
proper to human nature of which I spoke.J Composition, on the other
hand, is a harmony of words, man's natural instrument, penetrating not
only the ears but the very soul. It arouses all kinds of conceptions of
words and thoughts and objects, beauty and melody-all things native and
natural to mankind. The combination and variety of its sounds convey
the speaker's emotions to the minds of those around him and make the
hearers share them. It fits his great thoughts into a coherent structure by
the way in which it builds up patterns of words. Shall we not then believe
that by all these methods it bewitches us and elevates to grandeur, dignity,
and sublimity both every thought which comes within its compass and our-
selves as well, holding as it does complete domination over our minds? Itis
absurd to question facts so generally agreed. Experience is proof enough.
The idea which Demosthenes used in speaking of the decree 4 is reputed 4
very sublime, and is indeed splendid. 'This decree made the danger
which then surrounded the city pass away like a cloud (touto to psephisma
ton tote te polei peristanta kindiinon parelthein epoiesen hOsper nephos).' But
the effect depends as much on the harmony as on the thought. The whole
passage is based on dactylic rhythms, and these are very noble and grand.
(This is why they form the heroic, the noblest metre we know.) .•.
[A short phrase missing.]
... but make any change you like in the order:
touto to psephisma hasper nephos epoiese ton tote kindiinon parelthein,
or cut off a syllable:
epoiese pare/thein has nephos.
You will immediately see how the harmony echoes the sublimity. The
phrase hOsper nephos rests on its long first unit (- -) which measures four
I Oboe or clarinet rather than flute, though the word is often so translated. Cf.

below, p. 541. 2 Euripides, fr. 663 Nauck.

3 Presumably in the work referred to in 39. I.
4 The decree making provision for war after Philip's occupation of Elatea.

8143:;91 K k
 'LONGINUS'

shorts; the removal of a syllable (has nephos) at once curtails and mutilates
the grand effect.
Now lengthen the phrase:
parelthein epoiesen hOsperei nephos.
It still means the same, but the effect is different, because the sheer
sublimity is broken up and undone by the breaking up of the run oflong
syllables at the end.

EFFECT OF PERIOD STRUCTURE

40. 1 I come now to a principle of particular importance for lending grandeur

to our words. The beauty of the body depends on the way in which the
limbs are joined together, each one when severed from the others having
nothing remarkable about it, but the whole together forming a perfect
unity. Similarly great thoughts which lack connection are themselves
wasted and waste the total sublime effect, whereas if they co-operate to
form a unity and are linked by the bonds of harmony, they come to life
and speak just by virtue of the periodic structure. It is indeed generally
true that, in periods, grandeur results from the total contribution of many
elements.
2 I have shown elsewhere J that many poets and other writers who are
not naturally sublime, and may indeed be quite unqualified for grandeur,
and who use in general common and everyday words which carry with
them no special effect, nevertheless acquire magnificence and splendour,
and avoid being thought low or mean, solely by the way in which they
arrange and fit together their words. Philistus, Aristophanes sometimes,
3 Euripides generally, are among the many examples. Thus Heracles says
after the killing of the children:
I'm full of troubles, there's no room for more.:z.
This is a very ordinary remark, but it has become sublime, as the situ-
ation demands. 3 If you re-arrange it, it will become apparent that it is in
the composition, not in the sense, that Euripides' greatness appears.
4 Dirce is being pulled about by the bull:
And where it could, it writhed and twisted round,
dragging at everything, rock, woman, oak,
juggling with them all. 4
I Presumably in the two books on 'composition'.
a Euripides, Hercules Furens 1245.
3 Or 'in accordan"ce with its structure'.
• From Euripides' lost Antiope (fr. 221 Nauck). The Greek contains the words perix
helixlls and petran drun, and these are the effects to which the comment refers.
 ON SUBLIMITY 499
The conception is fine in itself, but it has been improved by the fact that
the word-harmony is not hurried and does not run smoothly; the words
are propped up by one another and rest on the intervals between them;
set wide apart like that, they give the impression of solid strength.

FEATURES DESTRUCTIVE OF SUBLIMITY:

(1) BAD AND AFFECTED RHYTHM

Nothing is so damaging to a sublime effect as effeminate and agitated 41. I

rhythm, pyrrhics (v v), trochees (- v or v v v) and dichorei (- v - v); they
turn into a regular jig. All the rhythmical elements immediately appear
artificial and cheap, being constantly repeated in a monotonous fashion
without the slightest emotional effect. Worst of all, just as songs distract 2
an audience from the action I and compel attention for themselves, so the
rhythmical parts of speech produce on the hearer the effect not of speech
but of rhythm, so that they foresee the coming endings and sometimes
themselves beat time for the speaker and anticipate him in giving the
step, just as in a dance.

(2) THE 'CHOPPED UP' STYLE

Phrases too closely knit2 are also devoid of grandeur, as are those which 3
are chopped up into short elements consisting of short syllables, bolted
together, as it were, and rough at the joins.

(3) EXCESSIVE BREVITY

Excessively cramped expression also does damage to sublimity. It 42. 1

cripples grandeur to compress it into too short a space. I do not mean
proper compression, but cutting up into tiny pieces. Cramping mutilates
sense; brevity gives directness. Conversely with fully extended expres-
sions: anything developed at unseasonable length falls dead. 3

(4) UNDIGNIFIED VOCABULARY

Lowness of diction also destroys grandeur. 43. !

The description of the storm in Herodotus is magnificent in concep-
tion, but includes expressions which are below the dignity of the subject. 4
[ Of a play, presumably.
2 Obscure: is this the same as the 'chopped up' manner or a separate fault?

3 Again an obscure section, partly because 'Longinus' seems to intend it as an

example of 'brevity'. 4 Herodotus 7. 188, !9!; 8. 13.
 500 'LONGINUS'
'The sea seethed' is one instance: the cacophony does much to dissipate
the sublime effect. 'The wind slacked' is another example; yet another
is the 'unpleasant end' which awaited those who were thrown against the
wreckage. 'Slack' is an undignified, colloquial word; 'unpleasant' is
inappropriate to such an experience.
2 Similarly, Theopompus first gives a magnificent setting to the descent
of the Persian king on Egypt, and then ruins it all with a few words: 1
'What city or nation in Asia did not send its embassy to the King?
What thing of beauty or value, product of the earth or work of art, was
not brought him as a gift? There were many precious coverlets and cloaks,
purple, embroidered, and white; there were many gold tents fitted out
with all necessities; there were many robes and beds of great price. There
were silver vessels and worked gold, drinking cups and bowls, some
studded with jewels, some elaborately and preciously wrought. Countless
myriads of arms were there, Greek and barbarian. There were multitudes
of pack animals and victims fattened for slaughter, many bushels of condi-
ments, many bags and sacks and pots of onions and every other necessity.
There was so much salt meat of every kind that travellers approaching
from a distance mistook the huge heaps for cliffs or hills thrusting up from
the plain.'
3 He passes from the sublime to the mean; the development of the scene
should have been the other way round. By mixing up the bags and the
condiments and the sacks in the splendid account of the whole expedition,
he conjures up the vision of a kitchen. Suppose one actually had these
beautiful objects before one's eyes, and then dumped some bags and sacks
in the middle of the gold and jewelled bowls, the silver vessels, the gold
tents, and the drinking-cups-the effect would be disgusting. It is the
same with style: if you insert words like this when they are not wanted,
4 they make a blot on the context. It was open to Theopompus to give a
general description of the 'hills' which he says were raised, and, having
made this change, 2 to proceed to the rest of the preparations, mentioning
camels and multitudes of beasts of burden carrying everything needed for
luxury and pleasure of the table, or speaking of 'heaps of all kinds of seeds
and everything that makes for fine cuisine and dainty living'. If he had
wanted at all costs to make the king self-supporting,3 he could have
talked of 'all the refinements of mattres-d'Mtet and chefs'.
5 It is wrong to descend, in a sublime passage, to the filthy and contempt-
ible, unless we are absolutely compelled to do so. We ought to use words
I The passage is also quoted by Athenaeus (2, 67 f). 'Longinus' probably got it (like
many ofills quotations) from a collection of excerpts rather than from the original.
2 Translation doubtful. Perhaps 'and then make a change of arrangement and

proceed.. .' 3 Text suspect.

 ON SUBLIMITY 50!

worthy of things. We ought to imitate nature, who, in creating man, did

not set our private parts or the excretions of our body in the face, but
concealed them as well as she could, and, as Xenophon says, I made the
channels of these organs as remote as possible, so as not to spoil the beauty
of the creature as a whole.

CONCLUSION

There is no urgent need to enumerate in detail features which produce 6

a low effect. We have explained what makes style noble and sublime; the
opposite qualities will obviously make it low and undignified.

APPENDIX: CAUSES OF THE DECLINE OF LITERATURE'

I shall not hesitate to add for your instruction, my dear Terentianus, one 44. I

further topic, so as to clear up a question put to me the other day by one

of the philosophers.
'I wonder,' he said, 'and so no doubt do many others, why it is that in
our age there are minds which are strikingly persuasive and practical,
shrewd, versatile, and well-endowed with the ability to write agreeably,
but no sublime or really great minds, except perhaps here and there. There
is a universal dearth of literature.
'Are we to believe', he went on, 'the common explanation that demo- 2
cracy nurtures greatness, and great writers flourished with democracy
and died with it? Freedom, the argument goes, nourishes and encourages
the thoughts of the great, as well as exciting their enthusiasm for rivalry
with one another and their ambition for the prize. In addition the avail- 3
ability of political reward sharpens and polishes up orators' talents by
giving them exercise; they shine forth, free in a free world. We of the
present day, on the other hand,' he continued, 'seem to have learned in
infancy to live under justified slavery, swathed round from our first
tender thoughts in the same habits and customs, never allowed to taste
that fair and fecund spring ofliterature, freedom. We end up as flatterers
in the grand manner.'
He went on to say how the same argument explained why, unlike other 4
capacities, that of the orator could never belong to a slave.
I MemorabiliaI. 4. 6.
2 It has been suggested that this chapter is out of place, and belongs after 15. n.
This is impossible to prove, but it is an ingenious solution to the problem of the book's
arrangement.
 502 'LONGINUS'
'The inability to speak freely and the consciousness of being a prisoner
at once assert themselves, battered into him as they have been by the
5 blows of habit. As Homer says,! "The day of slavery takes half one's man-
hood away". I don't know if it's true, but I understand that the cages
in which dwarfs or Pygmies are kept not only prevent the growth of
the prisoners but cripple them because of the fastening which constricts
the body. One might describe all slavery, even the most justified,' as a
cage for the soul, a universal prison.'
6 'My good friend,' I replied, 'it is easy to find fault with the present
situation; indeed it is a human characteristic to do so. But I wonder
whether what destroys great minds is not the peace of the world, but the
unlimited war which lays hold on our desires, and all the passions which
beset and ravage our modern life. Avarice, the insatiable disease from
which we all suffer, and love of pleasure-these are our two slave-masters;
or perhaps one should say that they sink our ship of life with all hands.
Avarice is a mean disease; love of pleasure is base through and through.
7 I cannot see how we can honour, or rather deify, unlimited wealth as we
do without admitting into our souls the evils which attach to it. When
wealth is measureless and uncontrolled, extravagance comes with it,
sticking close beside it, and, as they say, keeping step. The moment wealth
opens the way into cities and houses, extravagance also enters and dwells
therein. These evils then become chronic in people's lives, and, as the
philosophers say,J nest and breed. They are soon busy producing off-
spring: greed, pride, and luxury are their all-toa-legitimate children. If
these offspring of wealth are allowed to mature, they breed in turn those
inexorable tyrants of the soul, insolence, lawlessness, and shamelessness.
8 It is an inevitable process. Men will no longer open their eyes or give
thought to their reputation with posterity. The ruin of their lives is
gradually consummated in a cycle of such vices. Greatness of mind wanes,
fades, and loses its attraction when men spend their admiration on their
9 mortal parts and neglect to develop the immortal. One who has been
bribed to give a judgement will no longer be a free and sound judge
of rightness and nobility. The corrupt man inevitably thinks his own side's
claim just and fair. Yet nowadays bribery is the arbiter of the life and
fortunes of everyone of us-not to mention chasing after other people's
deaths and conspiring about wills. We are all so enslaved by avarice that
we buy the power of making profit out of everything at the price of our
souls. Amid such pestilential corruption of human life, how can we expect
I Odyssey I7. 322-3.
2 I translate as though the adjective dikaios meant the same as it does just above; but
perhaps 'justly exercised', i.e. humane.
3 Cf. Plato, Republic 9, 573 e.
 ON SUBLIMITY 503
that there should be left to us any free, uncorrupt judge of great things
of permanent value? How can we hope not to lose our case to the corrupt
practices of the love of gain?
'Perhaps people like us are better as subjects than given our freedom. 10
Greed would flood the world in woe, if it were really released and let out
of the cage, to prey on its neighbours.'
Idleness, I went on to say, was the bane of present-day minds. We 1I
all live with it. Our whole regime of effort and relaxation I is devoted to
praise and pleasure, not to the useful results that deserve emulation and
honour.
'Best to let these things be',2 and proceed to our next subject. This was 12
emotion, to which we promised to devote a separate treatise. It occupies,
as I said, a very important place among the constituents of literature in
general, and sublimity in particular ...
[A few words missing at the end.]
I Or 'all our effort and all that we undertake'.
• Euripides, Electra 379.
 12
DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH:
THE GREEK REVIVAL
A. PHILOCTETES IN THE TRAGEDIANS
Dio 'Chrysostom', a native ofPrusa in Bithynia, was a successful sophist of the
first century A.D. He is an elegant stylist, and a moralist of convincing earnestness
and charm. See Sir S. Dill, Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius, London,
1905 (reprinted N.Y., 1956), 367-83, for a general account. His critical and
aesthetic works (very few) are discussed by Grube 327 ff.
In Oration 52, a short informal speech, he compares the treatments of the
story of Philoctetes and his bow by Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. Only
Sophocles' play (the latest of the three) survives. See Jebb's edition of this,
Introd., pp. xv ff., for a discussion of Dio's critique.
Dio's views sound conventional. His standpoint is very rhetorical, and the
contrast he draws between Aeschylus and Euripides is essentially the one found
in the Frogs (see above, pp. 8 ff.), applied almost a priori to these particular
plays. Such comparisons (sunkriseis) were common stock in scholastic criticism;
we may well owe to this taste the preservation of plays by all three tragedians
on Orestes' vengeance on Oytemnestra.
I got up about an hour after daybreak, partly because I was unwell, and
partly because the dawn air was cooler-more like autumn, though it was
the middle of the summer. I attended to my toilet and said my prayers.
Then I got into the carriage and took a number of turns on the racecourse,
driving as gently and quietly as possible. I followed this up with a walk
and a little rest; then I oiled myself and bathed and after a light meal
began to read tragedies. They were all treatments of a single subject by
the three great names, Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides: the theft-
or perhaps one should say violent robbery-ofPhiloctetes' bow. Anyway,
Philoctetes is deprived of his weapon by Odysseus and himself taken to
Troy, to a certain extent voluntarily, but with a degree of compulsion
about it too, because he had been deprived of the weapon that gave him
his livelihood on the island and confidence to face his disease, apart from
being his claim to fame. I feasted on the performance, and reflected that
if I had lived in Athens in those days I should not have been able to
participate in a competition between these writers. Some indeed were
present at competitions between the young Sophocles and the old Aes-
chylus, and again between Sophocles in his latter days and the young
Euripides; but Euripides was altogether too late to encounter Aeschylus.
 PHILOCTETES IN THE TRAGEDIANS 505
Moreover, they rarely if ever competed with plays on the same theme.
So I thought I was much indulged, and had discovered a new way of con-
soling myself for being ill. I produced the plays for myself (in my mind's
eye) very splendidly, and tried to give them my whole attention, like a
judge bf the first tragic choruses. But had I been on oath, I could never
have come to a decision. So far as I was concerned, none of them could
have been beaten.
Aeschylus' grandeur and archaic splendour, and the originality of his
thought and expression, seemed appropriate to tragedy and the antique
manners of the heroes; it had nothing subtle, nothing facile, nothing
undignified. Even his Odysseus, though shrewd and crafty for the times,
was miles away from present-day standards of malevolence. He would
seem an old-fashioned fellow indeed by the side of those who in our age
claim to be simple and magnanimous. He did not need Athena to disguise
him in order to prevent him from being recognized by Philoctetes, as
Homer and (after him) Euripides have it. A hostile critic might perhaps
say that Aeschylus was not concerned to make Philoctetes' failure to
recognize Odysseus plausible. There is a possible defence, I think,
against such an objection. The time was indeed perhaps not long enough
for the features to fail to come to mind after a lapse of only ten years,
but Philoctetes' illness and incapacity and the solitary life he had led so
long also contribute to make the situation possible. Many people have
suffered such a failure of memory as a result of illness or misfortune.
Nor did Aeschylus' chorus need to apologize, like that of Euripides.
Both made up their choruses of inhabitants of Lemnos, but Euripides
began by making them apologize for their neglect in not having come to
see Philoctetes or given him any help for so many years, while Aeschylus
simply brought the chorus on without comment. This is altogether simpler
and more tragic, in contrast with Euripides' more sophisticated and pains-
taking treatment. If it had been possible to avoid every irrationality in
tragedy, it might have been reasonable not to let this one pass either; but
in fact poets often, for example, represent heralds as making several days'
journey in one day. Secondly, it simply wasn't possible for none of the
inhabitants of Lemnos to have approached Philoctetes or taken care of
him. He could never have survived ten years without help. Probably
therefore he did get some, but rarely and not on any great scale, and no
one chose to receive him in their house and nurse him because of the
unpleasant nature of his illness. Indeed Euripides himself introduces one
Actor, a Lemnian, who visits Philoctetes as an acquaintance who has often
met him. Nor do I think it right to find fault with Aeschylus' making
Philoctetes relate to an apparently ignorant chorus his desertion by the
Achaeans and his whole history. The unfortunate often recall their
506 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
troubles and weary their listeners, who know it all well and don't want to
hear it again, with their perpetual narrations. Again, Odysseus' deception
ofPhiloctetes and the arguments by which he wins him are not only more
respectable-suitable to a hero, not a Eurybatus or a Pataecion'-but
also, as it seems to me, more convincing. What was the need of elaborate
iJrt and guile in dealing with a sick man-and an archer too, whose prowess
was useless the moment one came near him? To relate the disasters of the
Achaeans, the death of Agamemnon, the death of Odysseus for a shocking
crime, and the total destruction of the army, was not only useful for cheer-
ing up Philoctetes and making him more willing to accept Odysseus'
company, but also not implausible in view of the length of the campaign
and the recent events consequent on the anger of Achilles, when Hector
came near to burning the fleet.
Euripides' intelligence and care for every detail-nothing unconvincing
or negligent is allowed to pass, and instead of bare facts he gives us the
whole force of his eloquence-is the opposite of Aeschylus' simplicity.
This is the style of the man of affairs and the orator; the reader can learn
many valuable lessons from it. For example, Odysseus in the prologue is
represented as revolving in his mind many rhetorically effective (politika)
thoughts. He wonders about his own position. May he perhaps appear
wise and intelligent to many people but in fact be the opposite? He could
be living a secure, untroubled life-and here he is voluntarily involved in
affairs and dangers! The cause, he says, is the ambition of talented and
noble men; it is because they want reputation and fame among all man-
kind that they voluntarily undertake great and arduous tasks:
Nothing so vain as man was ever born.
Then he clearly and accurately explains the plot of the play, and why he
has come to Lemnos. Athena has disguised him so that he shall not be
recognized by Philoctetes when he meets him. (This is an imitation of
Homer, who makes Athena disguise Odysseus when he meets various
people, such as Eumaeus and Penelope).2 He says an embassy is going to
come from the Trojans to Philoctetes, to offer him the kingdom of Troy
in exchange for his own services and those of his bow. This complicates
the story, and affords a starting-point for a speech in which he shows him-
self resourceful and eloquent enough to stand comparison with anyone
in developing the opposite position. Nor does he make Odysseus come
alone; Diomedes is with him, another Homeric touch. In short, he shows
throughout the play great intelligence and convincingness in incident,
and wonderful, hardly credible, skill oflanguage. The iambics are clear,
I Proverbial rogues: cf. Aeschines 3. 137. 189; Plato, Protagoras 327 d.
• O. Odyssey 13. 429 If., 16. 172 If.
 PHILOCTETES IN THE TRAGEDIANS 50 7
natural, rhetorically effective. The lyrics afford not only pleasure but
many exhortations to virtue.
Sophoc1es comes between the two. He possesses neither Aeschylus'
originality and simplicity, nor the craftsmanship, shrewdness, and rhetori-
cal effectiveness of Euripides. His verse is dignified and grand, tragic and
euphonious to the highest degree, combining great charm with sublimity
and dignity. At the same time, his management of the story is excellent
and convincing. He makes Odysseus arrive with Neoptolemus because it
was ordained that Troy should be captured by Neoptolemus and Philo-
ctetes with the bow of Herac1es, but conceal himself while sending Neo-
ptolemus to Philoctetes, telling him what he must do. Moreover, the
chorus is made up not, as in Aeschylus and Euripides, of natives, but of
the crew of Odysseus' and Neoptolemus' ship. The characters are
wonderfully dignified and gentlemanly. Odysseus is much gentler and
more straightforward than in Euripides, Neoptolemus is simple and noble
to excess, unwilling to win his point over Philoctetes by guile and deceit,
but insisting on strength and openness, and afterwards, when Odysseus
has persuaded him and he has deceived Philoctetes and got possession of
the bow, unable to endure his victim's complaints and demands, and quite
capable of giving him the bow back, despite Odysseus' appearance and
attempt to stop him. Indeed, he does give it back in the end; and having
done so then tries to persuade Philoctetes to go with him voluntarily to
Troy. Philoctetes refuses to give way or comply, but begs Neoptolemus to
take him home to Greece, as he had promised. The young man agrees and
is ready to perform his promise, until Herac1es appears and persuades
Philoctetes to sail to Troy voluntarily. The lyrics are without the general
reflections and exhortations to virtue which we saw in Euripides, but
they possess extraordinary charm (hedone) and grandeur (megaloprepeia).
It was not without cause that Aristophanes wrote:
He licked the lip of the jar, as it were, of honey-covered Sophoc1es.!

B. ON THE STUDY OF POETRY

Plutareh (ef. chap. I, F, above) was roughly Dio's contemporary. He was born
c. A.D. 45 and died c. 120. Moralist, philosopher, and biographer, he only
occasionally touches on topics of literary criticism. His preoccupation with
education is evident in all he wrote; he was a man of great learning and
conventional views.
See R. H. Barrow, Plutarch and his Times, London, 1967; also D. A. Russeil,
Greece CS Rome, 13 (1966), 139 if. and IS (1968), 130 if.
I Fr. 58! Hall and Geldart.
 508 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
Our first extract comprises the first part of an educational treatise
entitled 'How young men should study poetry' (De audiendis poetis 1-8 =
Moralia 14 d if.), written in the tradition of the moralizing criticism of Plato's
Republic (above, chap. 2, B). The ingenuity shown in explaining the poets in moral
terms gives many insights into a kind of discussion of the standard classics which
remained common throughout the Roman period. There are significant links
between Plutarch's interpretations and those found in the scholia to Homer.
We have indicated the source of the quotations as far as they are known; but
PlutaIch drew many of them from existing collections, not from first-hand
reading.
The text is in the first volume both of the Loeb and of the Teubner
Moralia.

To Marcus Sedatius l
p. 14 d 'The nicest meat', said the poet Philoxenus,2 'is what is not meat, and
the nicest fish is what is not fish.' Let us leave the discussion of this to the
people who, in Cato's phrase, have more sensibility in their palates than
in their heads. What is plain is that in philosophy very young students
enjoy more what does not appear to be philosophical or serious; to this
they are ready to submit and subject themselves. In going through not
only Aesop's fables and tales from the poets but Heraclides' Abaris and
Ariston's Lycon,3 they take a passionate delight in the doctrines about the
soul which are mixed with the mythology. Thus we must preserve the
decency of the young not only in the pleasures of food and drink; more
important, we must accustom them in their readings and lectures to make
use of the pleasurable element sparingly, as a kind of sauce, and to pursue
the profit and salvation that derives from it. Locked gates do not preserve
a city if one door is open to let in the enemy; continence in other pleasures
does not save a young man if he lets himself go inadvertently through the
p. IS pleasures of the ear. Indeed, the more firmly these delights take hold of
the sensible and intelligent, the more they are overlooked and damage
and destroy their host.
Now it is neither useful nor perhaps possible to keep boys of the age
of my Soclaros or your Cleandros away from poetry. Let us therefore
protect them. They need an escort in reading even more than they do
in the street.
I have decided therefore to send you in written form the thoughts
which came into my mind the other day when I had been talking about
I Not otherwise known.

• Probably Philoxenus of Leucas, author of a gastronomic poem.

3 Two dialogues-popular philosophy with entertaining settings-by pupils of
Aristotle.
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY 50 9
poetry. If they strike you as equal to those prophylactics against Jrunken-
ness which people hang round themselves or take at drinking parties,
share them with Cleandros and get a grip on his character. It is all the
more amenable to the sort of thing we are speaking of because he is never
slow but always so vigorous and alert.
In the polyp's head is good and bad:
it is nice to eat, but results in sleep disturbed by dreams, with confused
and outlandish visions, or so they say. Similarly with poetry: it contains
much that is pleasant and profitable to the young mind, but just as much
that is confusing and misleading, if study is not properly directed. It can
be said of poetry as of the land of Egypt:
Many drugs it bears that are good, and many that are
hurtful to its cultivators;'
therein is love and desire and the intimacies
that cheat and steal the hearts even of the wise. 2
The deceitfulness of poetry does not affect the really stupid and foolish.
This is why, when Simonides was asked: 'Why are the Thessalians the
only people you do not deceive?', he replied: 'Because they are too
ignorant to be deceived by me.' Similarly, Gorgias said that tragedy was
'a deceit in which the deceiver does his duty better than the non-deceiver,
and the deceived is wiser than the undeceived'.3
What then ought we to do? Stop the young men's ears, like the lthacan
sailors', with some hard, insoluble wax, and force them to set sail with
Epicurus, and steer clear of poetry?4 Or fix and settle their judgment
with rational arguments, not letting pleasure distract it into harm, and so
protect them and guide them aright?
For not even the son of Dryas, mighty Lycurgus 5
was a sane man, when, because many people were getting drunk and
behaving badly in their cups, he went round cutting down vines, instead of
bringing the water nearer and (to use Plato's expression) chastening a mad
god with another and sober one. 6 Mixing destroys the harm in wine,
but not its usefulness. Let us not therefore cut out or destroy the vine of
the Muses. When unmixed pleasure makes its fabulous and theatrical
elements wax wanton and luxuriant, blustering violently for reputation,
let us take hold and prune and constrain: but when it touches poetry with
its grace, and the sweet attractions of the style are fruitful and purposeful,
I Odyssey 4. 230. 2 Iliad 14. 216. 3 Cf. above, p. 6.

4 'Set sail and get away from education of every kind', said Epicurus (fr. 163 Usener).
5 Iliad 6. 130. 6 Laws 773 d.
 510 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
let us introduce some admixture of philosophy. For just as mandragora
planted beside vines and transmitting its qualities to the wine makes the
effect on the drinker milder, so poetry, by taking some arguments from
philosophy and combining them with an element of fable, makes learning
easy and agreeable to young people. Future philosophers therefore must
not avoid poetry. Rather should they be initiated into philosophy through
it, becoming accustomed to seek and enjoy truth in pleasant surroundings
p. 16 -or to protest and be annoyed at the lack of it. This is the beginning of
education, and
work well begun is like to finish well
as Sophocles says. I

THE DECEITFULNESS OF POETRY

2 When we first introduce our young men to poetry, there is nothing they
should have learned so thoroughly, nothing so readily springing to their
mind, as the proverbial saying that
poets tell many lies,
whether deliberate or not. The deliberate lies of the poets are due to their
thinking truth drier than fiction, from the point of view of pleasure to
the hearer and charm, which is what most of them aim at. Truth is
real, and does not change course, however unpleasant the outcome.
Fiction easily deviates and turns from the painful to the pleasant. Metre,
trope, grand language, timely metaphor, harmony, and word-order
possess nothing like the beguiling charm of a well-contrived plot. In
painting, colour is more exciting than line because it is colour that
represents flesh and deceives the eye; and similarly in poetry a convincing
fiction produces admiration and satisfaction more than any device of
metre or diction deficient in plot and story. This is why Socrates, the life-
long striver for truth, found himself, when he set about composing poetry
in obedience to a dream, no very convincing or gifted maker of lies; he
therefore put Aesop's fables into verse, on the principle that where there
is no fiction there is no poetry. For there can be sacrifices without dances
and music, but poetry without plot and fiction is impossible. Empedocles,
Parmenides, the Theriaca of Nicander, and the wise saws (gnomologiai) of
Theognis have borrowed from poetry the vehicle, as it were, of grandeur
and metre, so as to avoid the pedestrian.'
I Fr. 747 Nauck.
2 i.e. didactic poetry is not really poetry at all: cf. Arist. Poetics I447b16 If. (above,
P·9 1 ).
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY 5I l
Now consider any absurd or unpalatable statement, in poetry, about
gods or demigods or virtue, put into the mouth of a man of distinction
and reputation. The reader who accepts it as true is lost, -and his judge-
ment ruined. The reader who remembers and clearly bears in mind the
magic of fiction that poetry possesses, and can say to it every time,
'You tricksy beast, more subtle than the lynx,!
why do you contract your brows in fun? Why do you pretend to teach
when in fact you deceive?'-he will come to no harm and believe no evil.
He will check himself when he feels afraid of Poseidon and dreads his burst-
ing the earth open and laying Hades bare. He will hold himself back when
he feels angry with Apollo on behalf of the first man among the Greeks-
he who sang the hymn, he who was at the feast,
he who said all this, he was the killer.2
He will stop weeping for the dead Achilles and Agamemnon in Hades,
stretching out their feeble and powerless hands in their longing for life.
Or if he is disturbed by their sufferings and drugged into submission, he
will not hesitate to say to himself:
Make haste towards the light. Know all these things
to tell your wife hereafter. 3
This is a neat touch of Homer's: the visit to Hades is aptly described as
a tale for women because of its fabulous content.

VOLUNTARY AND INVOLUNTARY ERRORS OF POETS

SO much for the poets' deliberate inventions. More often, however, it is

not invention but false belief and opinion that produce the falsehood they
then rub off on us. For example: Homer says of Zeus
He put in two dooms of death that lays men low, P·17
one for Achilles, one for Hector, tamer of horses;
he seized the middle, and poised it. Down went
Hector's day of doom;
and he was away to Hades, and Phoebus Apollo
abandoned him.4
And Aeschylus built a whole tragedy around the story, calling it 'The
Weighing of the Souls', and presenting Thetis on one side of Zeus' scale
and Eos on the other, praying on behalf of their sons as they fought.
I From an unknown tragedy (Trag. adesp. 349.)
2 Cf. Plato, Republic 383 b (above, p. 57).
3 Odyssey II. 223. 4 Iliad 22. 210.
 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
Now this is plainly a myth or fiction constructed to please or astonish the
hearer. By contrast,
Zeus, who dispenses war among mankind, I
and
God breeds a crime in men
when he would utterly destroy a house,2
are written in accordance with the poets' own opinion and belief; they
express and impart to us their own misconception and ignorance about
the gods.
Again, few readers fail to realize that the portentous tales and descrip-
tions found in accounts of Hades, where horrifying names are used to
produce graphic images and pictures of burning rivers, savage places,
and grim punishments, contain a large element of fable and falsehood-
poison in the food as it were. Homer, Pindar, and Sophocles did not
believe what they were saying when they wrote:
whence the slow streams of murky night
belch forth unending darkness;3
or
and they passed by the streams of Ocean and the White Rock;4
or
narrows of Hell, and ebb and flow of the abyss.s
But what they say in lamentation and fear of the pitifulness of death or
the horror of going unburied comes from genuine feeling and the pre-
judices created by common opinion and error:
Do not go away and leave me unwept and unburied;6
and
The soul flew from the limbs and went down to Hades;
lamenting its fate, leaving manhood and youth behind it;7
and
Do not kill me untimely. Sweet is the light to see;
do not force me to look on what lies under the ground. S
This is why they touch us more and disturb us, because we are filled
with the emotion and weakness out of which they are spoken. To meet
this danger, let us again ensure, right from the beginning, an insistence
I Iliad 4. 84. 2 Cf. Plato, Republic 380 a (above, p. 54).
3 Pindar, fr. 1I4 Bowra. 4 Odyssey 24. II.
5 Sophocles, fr. 748. 6 Odyssey II. 72.
7 Iliad 16. 856, 22. 362. 8 Euripides, Iphigenia at Aulis 1218.
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY
on the fact that poetry is not concerned with truth. Indeed, the truth
about these matters is hard to track down or comprehend even for those
whose only study is the knowledge and understanding of reality. They
admit it themselves. Have ready Empedocles' words:
not visible to men nor audible,
nor to be grasped in the mind; I

and those of Xenophanes:

the certainty no man has known or ever shall know
about the gods and all the things I speak of.2

Remember Socrates' disavowal (in Plato) of knowledge of these things.3

The young men will be less inclined to pay attention to the poets as
sources of knowledge about these matters if they see the philosophers in
a daze!

POETRY AS IMITATION

We shall keep our young student under control even better if, the moment 3
we introduce him to works of poetry, we indicate that poetry is an art of
imitation, a capacity analogous to painting. He should of course be given
the familiar dictum that 'poetry is speaking painting and painting silent
poetry';4 but in addition to this, let us explain that when we see a picture p. 18
of a lizard or a monkey or Thersites' face we feel pleasure and admiration
not because it is beautiful but because it is like. In reality, ugliness cannot
become beautiful, but imitation is commended if it achieves likeness,
whether of a good or a bad object. Indeed, if it produces a beautiful image
of an ugly thing, it fails to provide propriety or probability. Some
painters do in fact represent disconcertingly odd events: Timomachus
did a 'Medea killing her children', Theon an 'Orestes killing his mother',
Parrhasius 'Odysseus feigning madness', while Chaerephanes depicted
indecent intercourse of men and women. The young student must be
educated especially in this kind of thing, and be taught that we praise not
the action represented by the imitation but the art shown in the appropriate
reproduction of the subject. Similarly, since poetry also often narrates by
imitation wicked actions and bad emotions or traits of character, the
young man must not necessarily accept admirable or successful work of
this kind as true, or label it beautiful, but simply commend it as suitable

I Fr. 2 D-K. • Fr. 34 D-K. 3 Phaedo 96 b If.

• ef. chap. I, F (above, p. 5).
8143591 LI
 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
and appropriate to the subject. When we actually hear a pig grunt, a
windlass rattle, the wind whistle or the sea roar, we feel annoyance and
distress;1 but if anyone mimics the noise convincingly, as Parmeno did
the pig or Theodorus the windlass, we feel pleasure. We avoid a sick or
ulcerated man as a disagreeable sight, but we enjoy looking at Aristophon's
'Philoctetes' or Silanion's 'Jocasta', which are made to resemble the sick
and dying. Similarly, when the young man reads what Thersites the
buffoon or Sisyphus the seducer or Batrachos the brothel-keeper is
represented as saying or doing, he should be taught to praise the technique
and skill of the imitation, but to censure and abuse the habits and acti-
vities represented. To imitate something beautiful is not the same thing
as to imitate it beautifully. 'Beautifully' here means fittingly and suit-
ably-and what is fitting and suitable to something ugly is ugly itself.
Damonidas the cripple's shoes, which he prayed might fit the feet of
the man who stole them, were poor shoes, but they fitted him. Similarly,
If we must do wrong, it's best to do it
to win a kingdom;
and
Win a just man's repute, but act like one
who will do anything for profit;
and
The dowry's a talent. Not take it? Can I live
if I disdain a talent? Shall I sleep
if I let it go? Shall I not suffer in hell
for blasphemy against a silver talent?-
all these remarks are wicked and false, but they are in character for
Eteocles, Ixion, and an old moneylender. 2 If therefore we remind our
children that the poets do not commend or approve this kind of thing but
simply attribute queer and vicious words to vicious and queer characters,
they will not be harmed by the poets' opinion. Indeed, the suspicion felt
towards the character discredits the action and the speech as being the
bad act or speech of a bad person. An example is Paris's going to bed with
Helen after he ran away from the battle. 3 By representing no one else as
going to bed with a woman in the daytime except the licentious adulterer,
Homer obviously intends disgrace and blame to be attached to this kind
of indulgence.
[ Cf. Plato, Republic 396 a (above, p. 64).
• The first quotation is from Euripides, Phoenissae 524; the second must be from a
tragedy (Euripides?) on lxion «(rag. adesp. 4), the third from a comedy (corn. adesp. 117).
3 Iliad 3. 380 If.
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY

HINTS TO BE TAKEN

Attention must be paid in this connection to any indication the poet gives 4
that he disapproves of what is being said. For example, Menander writes p. 19
in the prologue to Thais:
Sing me a woman, 0 goddess, pert, pretty, persuasive,
unfair, exclusive, demanding,
loving nobody, but always pretending to 10ve. 1
Homer is best at this, because he gives advance discredit or recommenda-
tion to the bad or good things his characters say. For 'advance recom-
mendation', compare:
He spoke a sweet and shrewd word;2
or
He stood by him, and restrained him with gentle words. 3
In discrediting a remark in advance, Homer virtually gives a solemn
warning not to use or attend to it, because it is outrageous and vicious.
Thus, when he is about to relate Agamemnon's harsh treatment of the
priest, he prefaces it by saying:
But it did not satisfy Agamemnon, son of Atreus, in his heart,
but he dismissed him evilly4-
that is to say, brutally, wantonly, and improperly. Similarly, he gives
Achilles the harsh words
drunken sot, with a dog's eyes and a hind's heart,S
only after stating his own judgement:
Then Peleus' son again with grim words
addressed Atrides: he had not yet ceased from his anger.6
For nothing said angrily and harshly is likely to be good.
Similarly also with actions:
He spoke, and planned dire deeds on Hector,
laying him out on his face by Patroclos' bier.?
And he also uses concluding lines to good effect, casting his own vote
I Menander, fr. I85 K6rte. 2 Odyssey 6. I48.
3 Iliad 2. I89. 4 Ibid. I. 24.
5 Iliad I. 225; cf. 'Longinus' 4. 4, above, p. 465.
6 Iliad I. 223. 7 Ibid. 23. 24.
 516 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
as it were on what is said or done. Thus he makes the gods say of Ares'
adultery:
Bad deeds do not prosper. The slow catches the swift.'
On Hector's pride and boasting, we have:
So he spake, boasting; but Hera was indignant. 2
And on Pandarus' archery:
So spake Athena, and convinced the fool.3
Now these verbal assertions and opinions may be observed by any
attentive reader. But other lessons are supplied by the actual events
related. Euripides, for instance, is said to have answered critics who
attacked his Ixion as impious and vile by saying: 'But I didn't take him
off the stage until he was nailed to the wheel.' In Homer, this kind of
instruction is tacit; but it affords a useful kind of re-interpretation for the
most severely criticized myths. Some critics in fact have so forced and
perverted the meaning of these by using what used to be called huponoia 4
and is now called allegory, as to interpret the revelation by Helios of
Ares' adultery with Aphrodite as meaning that the planet Mars in con-
junction with the planet Venus produces adulterous births, which are
revealed by the return of the sun on his course to discover them; or
again, to interpret the way in which Hera beautified herself for Zeus,
and the magic of the cestus, as symbolizing a purification of the air coming
into proximity with the fiery element. As if Homer did not himself give
the solution of both these problems! In the story of Aphrodite, he in fact
teaches the attentive reader that poor music, bad songs, and speeches
with immoral themes produce dissolute character, unmanly life, and a race
of men content with luxury, softness, womanishness, and
p. :zo changes of clothes, hot baths, and bed.s
This is why he represents Odysseus as instructing the bard to
change the tune, and sing the Making of the Horse 6_
very properly suggesting that musicians and poets should take their
subjects from men of sense and wisdom. In the story of Hera, likewise,
he demonstrates that the sort of intercourse and pleasure between the
sexes that depends on drugs, magic, or deceit, is not only ephemeral,
I Odyssey 8. 329. Z Iliad 8. 198. 3 Ibid. 4. 104.
4 Cf. Plato, Republic 2. 378 d (above, p. 53).
5 Odyssey 8. 249. 6 Ibid. 492.
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY
inconstant, and insecure, but turns to hostility and anger as soon as the
effects of the pleasure fade. Zeus accordingly threatens Hera:
So that you can see if love and bed avail you,
the love you enjoyed when you came from the gods, and
deceived me. l
If the description and representation of bad deeds includes as well the
disgrace and damage which befalls the doers, it benefits rather than
harms the audience. Philosophers use examples, admonishing and in-
structing from given facts, while poets do the same thing by inventing
facts and spinning tales on their own. I am not sure whether Melanthius
was joking or in earnest when he said that Athens was preserved by the
dissidence and dissensions of the politicians, because they did not all
lean to the same side of the boat, but their quarrels somehow counteracted
their damaging effects. 2 But it is like that with poets: their differences
among themselves produce compensating convictions and prevent any
violent swing in a harmful direction. Sometimes, they themselves high-
light the contradictions by putting opposing opinions side by side. We
must then support the better side. For example:
'My child, the gods do often trip men up.'
'Yes, that's the easiest way--convict the gods';3
or
'Should you, but not they, glory in wealth of gold?'
'Stupid to be wealthy and know nothing else';4
or
'Why sacrifice, when you are going to die?'
'It's better; there's no hardship in piety.'s
The solutions of these problems are obvious if, as has been said, we
direct the young by our critical judgement in the better direction.

HOW TO REFUTE THE POETS OUT OF THEIR OWN MOUTHS

Preposterous statements which are not immediately accounted for must

be refuted by using contradictory statements made by the poet elsewhere,
without showing anger with him or annoyance at remarks made not in
earnest but humorously and in character. For example, we may answer
I Iliad 15. 32.

• It is not certain whether this Me1anthius is a fifth-century tragedian or a later

writer. 3 Euripides, fr. 254 Nauck. 4 Euripides, fr. 1069 Nauck.
5 Unknown (trag. atlesp., fr. 350 Nauck).
 SIB DID CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
Homer's episodes in which the gods are 'hurled down' by one another or
wounded by men, or quarrel or are angry, by saying to the poet:
You know a better tale than this 1 -
your thoughts and your words are much better elsewhere: for instance,
'the easy-living gods', or 'there the blessed gods have joy all their days',
or 'such is the fate the gods give wretched men, to live in sorrow, while
they themselves are carefree'. These are perfectly sane and truthful
opinions about the gods; the other passages are inventions to amaze men.
Again, when Euripides says
With many forms of trickery
p. 21 the gods, our masters, trip us up,z
it is not a bad answer to produce his own better line:
If gods do ill, they are no gods. 3
Pindar says cruelly and provocatively:
Do anything to blot your enemy out.4
'But', we may reply, 'you say yourself
A bitter end awaits unrighteous pleasure.'s
Sophocles says:
Profit is sweet, even though it comes from falsehood. 6
'But', we answer, 'we heard you say
False words bear no fruit.'7
Similarly, in reply to the lines about wealth:
For wealth is strong to travel
on public and forbidden ground alike
and places where the poor man, even iflucky,
could never have his will; it makes the ugly
look beautiful, the stumbling talker wise 8-
one can cite many passages of SophocIes:
Even the poor man can be held in honour,9
and
no worse for being a beggar, if he's wise,to
I Iliad 7. 358. For the phrases quoted next, see Iliad 6. 138, Odyssey 6. 46, Iliad

24.5 2 5.
• Euripides, fr. 972. 3 Fr. 292. 4 Isthmian 4. 52.
5 Ibid. 7. 47. 6 Sophocles, fr. 749. 7 Fr. 750.
8 Fr. 85. 9 Fr. 751. 10 Fr. 752.
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY
and
What grace is there in much beauty
if it is wicked intrigue
that breeds prosperity of riches ?r
Menander certainly encouraged and inflated the love of pleasure by the
burning eroticism of the lines:
All things that live and see our common sun
are slaves to pleasure. 2

But elsewhere he converts us and draws us towards the good, eradicating

the wantonness of our wickedness with the words
An ugly life is a disgrace, however pleasant.3
This is of course quite the opposite, and better and more useful.

ONE POET REFUTED BY ANOTHER

Consideration of juxtaposed opposites like this will either lead us to

better views or at least destroy our belief in the worse. But if a poet does
not himself provide a resolution of his absurdities, it is just as good to set
against him the statements of other authorities of repute in order to turn
the scale in the better direction. For example, Alexis disturbs some people
when he says: 'The sensible man ought to collect pleasures. There are
three that really contribute to life-food, drink, and sex. Everything else
is an extra.'4 To counter this, let us recall that Socrates said the opposite-
namely, that bad men live to eat and drink and good men eat and drink to
live. Again, against the saying
Wickedness is no bad weapon against the wicked,
which in a sense invites us to make ourselves resemble them, we may
adduce a remark of Diogenes: when he was asked how an enemy might be
resisted, he replied 'by becoming a good man oneself'. Diogenes is also
useful against Sophocles, who has made myriads despair by saying about
the mysteries:
Thrice blessed they who have beheld these rites
before they go to Hades. They alone
live there, the rest endure infinite ill. s
I Fr. 534. 2 Menander, fr. 6II.
3 Fr. 756. 4 Fr. 271 Kock. 5 Fr. 753.
 52 0 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
'What?' said Diogenes, 'will the thief Pataicion be better off than Epami-
nondas when he dies, just because he was initiated ?'I
p. 22 Timotheus' hymn to Artemis, performed in the theatre, contained the
words:
maddened maenad, raving ranting. 2
'I wish you a daughter like that!' was Cinesias' impromptu retort.
And there is a nice answer of Bion to Theognis' lines:
Men beaten down by need can neither talk nor do;
their tongues are tied. 3
It runs: 'How do you manage to talk such rubbish to us when you're a
poor man yourself?'
5 Neither must we neglect opportunities for correction which arise out
of the context or associated remarks. The cantharis is deadly, but doctors
think its feet and wings valuable, and an antidote to its poison. Similarly,
in poetry, if some noun or verb in the context takes the edge off the com-
pulsion we feel to interpret the passage in a bad sense, we should fasten
on to it and expound its implications. This is sometimes done with the
lines:
This is the privilege of unhappy men,
to crop their hair and let tears fall from their cheeks;4
and with the lines:
Such is the fate the gods give wretched men,
to live in sorrow.S
Homer does not mean here that the gods doom all men indiscriminately to
a life of sorrow, but only the foolish and thoughtless, whom he calls
'unhappy' and 'wretched' because of the miserable and pitiable state to
which their wickedness brings them.

SOME EDUCATIONAL USES OF PHILOLOGICAL KNOWLEDGE

6 Thus there is another way of removing the suspicions attaching to a piece

of poetry, and giving a better interpretation. This is based on the normal
use of words. The young student should be exercised in this more than
in the study of what are called 'glosses'.6 The latter is indeed a scholarly
I Diogenes points out the immorality of saying that a ritual can give a rogue a better
hereafter than a hero. 2 Timotheus, fr. 2 Page.

3 Theognis 177. 4 Odyssey 4- 197. s Iliad 24.525.

6 Cf. Poetics 1457 b 3 ff. (above, p. 119: 'dialect terms' there translates gliissai, here
rendered 'glosses').
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY 521
pursuit, and it is nice to know that rhigedanos means 'doomed to a bad
death' because danos is the Macedonian for death, or that the Aeolians
say kammonie for a victory produced by patience and endurance, or that
the Dryopes call their daimonec; popoi. ' The other however is genuinely
valuable and essential.
If we are to profit from poetry and not be harmed by it, it is essential
to understand how the poets use the names of the gods and of good and
bad, what they mean by Fortune and Fate, whether these terms in their
usage are univocal or equivocal, and so on and so forth. For example, the
word oikos sometimes means 'house':
to the high-roofed oikos;2
and sometimes property:
my oikos is being eaten Up.3
Biotos sometimes means life:
and dark-haired Poseidon deadened the point of his spear,
robbing him of biotos;4
and sometimes money:
others consume my biotos. s
Similarly, aluein is used sometimes for being distressed or at a loss:
He spoke, and she went away distressed, and greatly hurt;6
and sometimes for being exultant and joyful:
Are you on top ofyourself because you have beaten
the beggar lrus?7
Thoazein means either 'to be moved', as in Euripides:
a monster moving from the Atlantic deep;8
or 'to sit', as in Sophocles:
Why sit you thus
garlanded with suppliants' branches?9
It is also a neat trick to accommodate to the subject in hand the use of
words which, as we learn from the grammarians, acquire a different force
in different contexts. For example:
Praise a small ship; load your cargo on a big one. IO
I An explanation of the Homeric exclamation '0 popoi'.
2 Odyssey 5. 42. 3 Ibid. 4- 318. 4 Iliad 13. 562.
s Odyssey 13. 419. 6 Iliad 5. 352. 7 Odyssey 18. 333-393.
8 Fr. 145. • Oedipus Tyrannus 2.
10 Hesiod, Works and Days 643.
 511 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
The word ainein normally means 'praise' (like epainein which we now
use similarly of refusal); compare the common phrases 'that's fine!' and
'how welcome!' which we use when we do not want or do not accept
P.23 something. I So some say that the adjective epaine applied to Persephone
means 'she whom we seek to avert'.
This difference and distinction in words should be carefully observed
in matters of greater consequence and seriousness. The instruction of the
young student may begin with the names of the gods. These are used by
the poets sometimes because they are thinking of the gods themselves
but sometimes because (with no change of word) they are referring to
certain forces which the gods give or over which they hold sway. For
example, when Archilochus says in a prayer:
o Lord Hephaestus, hear my prayer; be favourable to me and help me;
and give whatever thou dost give,2
he is obviously appealing to the god himself. But when, in lamenting his
sister's brother, who was lost at sea and unburied, he says that he could
bear the trouble more easily
if Hephaestus had worked on his head and lovely body,
wrapped in clean clothing 3-
he means fire, not the god of fire.
Again, when Euripides says in an oath
by Zeus amid the stars, by bloody Ares,4
he means the gods themselves; but when Sophocles says:
Ladies, Ares is blind and does not see;
he grubs up trouble with a pig's snout,S
he means war; just as Homer means 'bronze' by Ares in the line:
Sharp Ares spilt their dark blood by Scamander. 6
There are many such examples. We should note particularly that the
poets use the name 'Zeus' sometimes for the god, sometimes for fortune,
often for destiny. When they say
o father Zeus, who rulest from Ida,7
or
o Zeus, who says he is wiser than thou?8
they mean the god in person. But when they give the name Zeus to the
I 'Merci' in refusal is a rough parallel to this usage.
2 Archilochus, fr. 75 Diehl.. 3 Ibid. fr. 12. .. Phoenissae 1006. 5 Fr. 754.
6 Iliad 7.329. 7 Ibid. 3. 276. 8 Unknown (/rag. adesp. 351).
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY 52 3
causes of all events and say that the wrath of Achilles 'hurled many
valiant souls to Hades ... and the plan ofZeus was fulfilled',! they mean
destiny. The poet does not believe that the god plots evil for man; he is
giving a correct indication of the necessity inherent in events: if nations,
armies, or princes behave wisely, success and victory are guaranteed
them; if, like the characters in the Iliad, they fall into passion and error,
and differ and quarrel among themselves, they are fated to make a bad
showing, suffer turmoil and confusion, and come to a bad end:
fated it is that man shall reap
from his bad plans a bad return. 2
And, when Hesiod makes Prometheus advise Epimetheus,
Never accept gifts
from Zeus of Olympus; send them away,3
he is using the name Zeus for the power of fortune; it is the blessings of
fortune that he calls 'gifts of Zeus'-wealth, marriage, office, all external
goods, the possession of which is profitless to those who cannot use them
well. This is why he thinks Epimetheus, a poor foolish creature, ought to
be on his guard and cautious of good fortune, because he may be harmed
and ruined by it.
Again, when he says
Do not reproach a man with dire, killing poverty:
it is the gift of the blessed immortals,4
he is calling the accident of fortune the gift of the gods, and saying that it p. 24
is wrong to reproach those who are poor through bad luck; it is need
accompanied by idleness, softness, and extravagance that incurs shame
and reproach. The actual word 'fortune' (tuche) was not yet in use;5 but
the poets were aware of the strength and-to human calculation-un-
predictability of the irregularly and indeterminately moving cause, and
therefore used the names of the gods to describe it-just as we use the
adjectives 'supernatural' and 'divine' of events, moral qualities, speeches,
and men.
Many apparently outrageous statements about Zeus are to be corrected
in this manner: e.g.
By Zeus's door stand two jars full of dooms,
one good, one bad;6
I I/iad I. 3. 2 Unknown (trag. adesp. 352).
3 Works and Days 86. • Ibid. 717.
5 It was common doctrine (cf. Macrob. Sat. 5. 16) that Homer did not speak of
'fortune', though most later poets did.
6 Cf. Plato, Republic 379 d (above, p. 54); Plutarch quotes from here, not direcdy
from I/. 24. 527.
52 4 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
and
Zeus, enthroned on high, has not ratified the oaths;
he wishes both sides ill ... ;1
and
For then the beginning of woe rolled on
for Trojans and Greeks, through mighty Zeus' design. 2
These passages are about Fortune or Fate-i.e. the element in causation
unamenable to our calculations and in general outside our control. But
where appropriateness, reason, and probability are present, we may
suppose that the god himself is meant: e.g.
The ranks of all the others he visited,
but he avoided the troops of Aias son of Telamon;
for Zeus was indignant when he fought a better man;3
and
In great things, Zeus takes care for men;
the lesser he leaves to other gods. 4
Other words also deserve attention, for they suffer changes and varia-
tions at the hands of the poets in many different situations. 'Virtue'
(arete) is an example. Virtue not only makes men wise, just and good in
word and deed, but also commonly invests them with fame and power.
Accordingly, the poets treat reputation and power as virtue (compare
the names of the trees 'olive' and 'beech' homonymously for their fruit).
So when the poets say
The gods have put sweat in the way of virtue,s
or
Then by their virtue the Greeks broke the phalanx,6
or
If we must die, it is honourable to die thus,
bringing life to its close in virtue. 7
the young student should realize immediately that this is said of the
noblest and most divine quality in us, which we conceive as rightness of
reason, excellence of our rational nature, and a consistent habit of soul.
On the other hand, when he reads
Zeus makes men's virtue wax and wane,s
I IliarJ 7. 69. • OrJyssey 8. 81. 3 IliarJ. II~ 540.
4 Unknown (/rag. arJesp. 353). 5 Hesiod, Works anrJ Days 289.
6 IliarJ 11. 90. 7 Euripides, fr. 994. 8 Iliad 20. 242.
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY
or
Virtue and glory go with wealth, I
he must not sit back in wonder and amazement at the rich, as though
virtue were something wealth could buy, nor must he think that the
increase- or diminution of his own virtue depends on fortune; he must
realize that the poet has used 'virtue' in the sense of reputation, power,
success, or the like. 2
Similarly, by 'evil' (kakotes), they sometimes mean, in the proper sense,
vice or wickedness of soul: thus Hesiod:
Evil you can have in abundance. 3
But sometimes they mean non-moral damage or misfortune: e.g. Homer's
For men grow old quickly in evi1.4
Similarly, it would be self-deception to think that the poets mean 'happi-
ness' in the philosophers' sense of 'complete possession or acquisition of
good things' or 'perfection of life flowing smoothly in its natural tenour'.
In fact they often (by catachresis) call the rich happy or blessed, and P·25
power or reputation happiness. Homer uses the words correctly in the
line
So I do not reign amid this wealth in happiness;5
so does Menander:
I have much property, all call me rich;
but no one calls me happy.6
But Euripides produces great muddle and confusion when he says:
I never want a happy life that's painful,7
and
Why honour tyranny, happy injustice?8-
unless, as I said, we follow the metaphors and catachreses carefully.

POETRY MUST REPRODUCE EVIL AND CONFLICT

Young men must be shown and reminded again and again that the imita- 7
tive purpose of poetry compels it to use its ornaments and splendours in
handling the events and characters of its subject without abandoning the
I Hesiod, Works and Days 313.
Z The argument anticipates a point often emphasized by modern scholars, that
arete in early literature is hardly moral at all, and means 'success' rather than 'virtue'.
3 Hesiod, Works and Days 287. 4 Odyssey 19. 360. 5 Ibid. 4. 93.
6 Fr. 612. 7 Medea 603. 8 Phoenissae 55 2 •
 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
likeness to reality, since the attraction of imitation lies in its convincing-
ness. Any imitation therefore which is not utterly neglectful of truth
inevitably reproduces the marks of vice and virtue along with the actions
concerned. Homer's art, for example, will have..no truck with the Stoic
doctrine that virtue has nothing bad attaching to it and vice nothing good,
the ignorant man being in error in everything and the good man univer-
sally successful. That is what We are told in the schools; in real life, as
Euripides says,
good and bad are not to be found apart;
there is a sort of mixture. I
And even apart from considerations of truth, poetry prefers if possible
to use varied and diversified material: emotional effect, paradox, and
surprise-prime sources of both wonder and charm-are given to myth
by variety, whereas simplicity lacks both emotion and poetical effect.
This is why poets do not represent the same people as always victorious,
prosperous, or successful. Indeed, they do not even treat the gods, when
involved inhuman affairs, as free from passion or error. This is to safe-
guard the disturbing and exciting element in poetry from lapsing through
the absence of danger and conflict.
S This being so, we must ensure, when we introduce the young student
to poetry, that he is free from the prejudice that these great and noble
names were necessarily wise and upright men, excellent kings, and
patterns of all virtue and right conduct. He will indeed come to harm ifhe
thinks everything splendid and gapes in awe, never feeling annoyance at
anything he reads and ignoring the protests of those who find fault with
actions and words like
o father Zeus, Athena, and Apollo,
would that no Trojan alive might escape from death,
and no Argive either, so long as you and I
dodge the destruction, and break, alone, the holy ring-wall
of Troy;2
or
I heard the piteous cry of Priam's daughter, Cassandra,
whom treacherous Clytemnestra killed beside me;J
or
To lie first with the concubine, to make her loathe the old man;
I was persuaded, and I did it;4
I Fr. 21. 2 IJiad 16. 97.
3 OdJ.ssey II. 421. 4 Iliad 9. 452.
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY
or
Father Zeus, no god is more baleful than thou ... '
The young reader must not get into the habit of praising anything of this p. 26
kind, or displaying unscrupulous persuasiveness in devising excuses and
specious evasions for bad deeds. Poetry, he must realize, is an imitation of
the manners and lives of men, who are not perfect, pure, and irreproach-
able, but involved in passions, false opinions, and ignorance-though they
often indeed improve themselves through their natural goodness. This
kind of training and attitude in a young man exalted and inspired by good
words and actions and unreceptive of, and distressed by, bad ones, will
ensure that reading does no harm. The student who admires everything
and makes it his own, and whose judgement is ensnared by the heroic
names, will inadvertently fall victim to many faults: it would be like
imitating Plato's stoop or Aristotle's lisp. There is no need to be cowardly
about it, or shiver or fall down and worship in superstitious awe; we must
accustom ourselves to commenting with confidence, and saying 'wrong'
and 'inappropriate' as often as we say 'right' and 'appropriate'.
Consider for example the conduct of Achilles. He summons an assembly
when the soldiers are ill. It is his own military distinction and reputation,
of course, that particularly make him distressed at the lull in the fighting.
But he has medical knowledge and realizes, after the ninth day (the normal
crisis period), that the disease is no ordinary one and comes from no
common cause. He rises, and, instead of making a speech to the multitude,
addresses advice to the king:
Son of Atreus, now I think we should turn and go home ... 2
This is correct, decent, appropriate behaviour. But when the seer
[Calchas] says he is afraid of the anger of the most powerful of the Greeks,
Achilles no longer behaves so well; he swears that no one shall lay hands
on Calchas while he lives, and adds 'even if you mean Agamemnon'.3
This displays neglect and contempt of the ruler. Then he becomes even
more furious and grabs his sword with intent to murder-a wrong action
from the point of view both of honour and of expediency. His repentance
follows:
He thrust his great sword back into the scabbard
and did not disobey Athene's words.•
It is quite right and proper that, unable to eradicate his anger altogether,
he controls it and subjects it to reason before doing anything irremediable.
I Iliad 3. 365.

• Ibid I. 59. Note that Plato also (above, p. 61) chooses the beginning of the Iliad, as
specially well known, to illustrate a point. 3 Ibid. 90. 4 Ibid. 220.
 52 8 DIO CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
Or take Agamemnon. In his words and actions in the assembly he is a
ridiculous figure, but in the Chryseis episode more dignified and kingly.
When Briseis is dragged off, Achilles
wept and drew aside and sat apart from his comrades;
but Agamemnon puts the woman on board ship himself and hands her
over, though he has not long before said that he thinks more of her than
of his wife. Here is nothing shameful, no yielding to love. Note also what
Phoenix says, after his father has cursed him because of the concubine:
I planned to kill him with the sharp edge of bronze;
but some immortal stopped my wrath, and made me think
of what the folk would say, and all the reproaches:
I did not want to be called my father's murderer. z
P.27 Aristarchus excised these lines, alarmed by them; but they are right in
the situation. Phoenix is showing Achilles what anger is like and what
men dare do out of anger, unless they use their reason and listen to
soothing words. Phoenix also cites Meleager as having been angry with
his fellow citizens, but then pacified. He rightly finds fault with the
emotion, but praises, as both honourable and expedient, Meleager's
resistance, opposition, control, and repentance. In this passage, the
difference is obvious. Where the intention is less clear, a distinction must
be made by drawing the student's attention in some such way as the
following.
If Nausicaa's remark to the maids-
I wish I had a husband like that
living here; I wish he wanted to stayJ-
was made frivolously because when she saw the stranger Odysseus she
felt towards him like Calypso, because she was a spoilt girl and now
marriageable, then her forwardness and lack of control deserve censure;
but if she perceived Odysseus' character from his words and admired his
sensible conversation, and so comes to pray for a husband like that rather
than one of the nautical gentlemen and good dancers of her own country-
then she deserves admiration.
Again, when Penelope converses amiably with the suitors, and they
give her clothes and gold and other ornaments, Odysseus is pleased
because she took their presents and charmed their hearts.4
I Iliad I. 349.

• Iliad 9. 458. These lines are not in our texts of Homer, which thus seems to have
been 'expurgated' as Plutarch reports.
3 Odyssey 6. 244. 4 Ibid. 18. 282.
 ON THE STUDY OF POETRY 52 9
If it is her acceptance of presents and her greed that pleases him, this is
living off immoral earnings to a degree worse than Poliagros in the
comedy:
o happy Poliagros,
with his heavenly goat that brings in the money!1
But if Odysseus thought he would have them more under his thumb
because of their expectations-they would be confident and not see what
was coming-then his pleasure and confidence are justified. Similarly
with his counting the treasure the Phaeacians left with him before they
sailed away. If he was really afraid for the money
for fear they had gone away with something on the ship,z
then indeed-given his desolate situation and the total uncertainty about
his own fate-his avarice deserves pity or disgust. But if, as some say,
he was uncertain whether this really was Ithaca, and thought the safe
transport of the treasure an indication of the Phaeacians' good faith-they
would not otherwise have kept their hands off the money if they had
landed him, with no profit to themselves, in a country not his own-then
he uses a perfectly sound argument, and we should commend his common
sense. Some actually disapprove of his being put ashore like this, if it
really happened while he was asleep. They say the Etruscans preserve
a tradition that Odysseus was naturally sleepy, and bad company to most
people for this reason. They approve it only if the sleep was not genuine-
that is to say, if he felt ashamed to send the Phaeacians away without
presents and hospitality, but was unable to conceal himself from his
enemies if he had them with him, and therefore covered up his difficulty
by pretending to be asleep.
If we point out these things to young people, we shall stop any tendency
to deterioration of character, and encourage the pursuit and choice of the
better course, because we unhesitatingly accord blame to the one and
praise to the other. This is especially necessary in tragedies which con-
tain plausible and unscrupulous speeches concerned with disreputable or
immoral actions. When Sophocles says,
From evil actions good words never come,3
it is just not true. He himself often attaches smiling words and kind
explanations to bad ways and atrocious deeds. As for his colleague
[Euripides], you know how he makes Phaedra actually reproach Theseus p.28
as though it was because of his infidelities that she has fallen in love
I Unknown (com. aJesp. 8 Kock). 2 Odyssey 13. 216. 3 Fr. 755.
8143591 M m
53 0 DID CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
with Hippolytus;1 and we have another example in the language assigned
to Helen about Hecuba in the Trojan Women, where she decides that it is
Hecuba who really should be punished, because she was the adulterer's
mother! The young student must beware of thinking thi~ neat or smart.
He must not smile indulgently at the ingenuity. The words of vice should
be more detestable to him even than the deeds!
It is thus always useful to inquire into the reason for what is said. Cato
as a child used always to do what his attendant told him-but he always
asked why. There is no need to listen to poets as though they were law-
givers or tutors unless their subject stands up to examination-which
it will if it is good. If it is bad, it will be seen as vain and futile. Now
many people inquire acutely into the rationale and significance of lines
like
And not to put the pourer above the bowl
while they are drinking;2
or
The man who can reach another chariot from his own
must thrust with his spear)
But they accept without question dicta on graver matters:
It enslaves a man, however bold he is,
to know a mother's or father's evil deeds;4
and
he who fares badly should have lowly thoughts. s
Yet these sayings touch the character and cause confusion in life, because
they produce bad decisions and unworthy opinions, unless we accustom
ourselves always to ask why the man who fares badly should have lowly
thoughts, instead of resisting fortune and raising himself above humili-
ation. And why, if I am the son of a bad, foolish father, but myself decent
and sensible, should I not be proud of my good character? Must I be
humbled and cast down because of my father's stupidity? If you react and
resist like this, instead of bowing to every word as to a gust of wind, and
if you remember that 'it is a lazy man who takes fright at everything that
is said', you will soon be free of many of these false and unhelpful state-
ments.
So much for the ways of ensuring that reading poetry does no harm.

1 Not in the extant version of Hippolytus: see W. S. Barrett, Euripides; Hjppolytus,

Oxford, 1964, p. 18.

• Hesiod, Works and Days 744. 3 Iliad 4. 306.
4 Euripides, Hippolytus 424. 5 Euripides. fr. 957.
 (53 1)

C. COMPARISON OF ARISTOPHANES AND MENANDER

This is an epitome: i.e. we possess only an abridgement, made up partly of

Plutarch's own words and partly of connecting summaries. Plutarch's preference
for the more polished writer is interesting; his appreciation of Aristophanes is
less fun that of the second-century archaists who followed him.-Moralia
853 a If., Loeb, vo!. x. .

In general, Plutarch greatly prefers Menander. His detailed argument is 853

as follows.
Coarseness, vulgarity, and triviality of language are to be found in
Aristophanes, but not in Menander. Aristophanes' style captivates the
ordinary, uneducated reader for whom he writes, but disgusts the edu-
cated. This is due to its antitheses, rhymes, and puns. Menander thinks
such tricks need careful handling, and employs them sparingly and with
due thought. Aristophanes has them often, with no regard to occasion,
and with a frigid effect.
[Examples of puns follow.]
Aristophanes' vocabulary, then, shows many contradictions and in-
equalities: a tragic element and a comic; the pretentious and the prosaic;
the obscure and the commonplace; grandeur and elevation; vulgar
garrulity and nauseating nonsense. Despite this, his style fails even to
assign appropriate and suitable language to individual characters-
grandeur to a king, cleverness to an orator, simplicity to a woman,
prosaic words to an ordinary man, vulgarity to a street-lounger. Instead,
it puts any words in the mouth of any character, as though out of a hat.
You can't tell if it's a son talking or a father, a farmer or a god, an old
woman or a hero. I
Menander's language, on the other hand, is so polished and its consti-
tuents so harmoniously united that, despite the varied emotions and
characters involved and the fact that it has to suit all kinds of personages,
it gives a single impression and maintains its uniformity by means of
common, everyday words that are in normal use. Should the action
however demand something fanciful or impressive, he opens all the stops
of his instrument, as it were, and then quickly and convincingly closes
them again and restores the tone to its usual quality. Of all the famous
craftsmen there have been, no cobbler has made a shoe, no costumier
I Cf. Horace, The Art of Poetry, 114 If. (above, p. 282).
53 2 DID CHRYSOSTOM AND PLUTARCH
a mask, no tailor a cloak, that would fit at the same time a man, a woman,
a boy, an old man, and a household slave. Yet Menander has so contrived
his language as to make it appropriate to every nature, disposition, and
period of life. And he did this though he began young and died at the
height of his productive career-at the age when, according to Aristotle,
writers make most progress in style. A comparison between Menander's
first plays and those of his middle and late period would show what fresh
achievements he would have added had he lived}
Some playwrights compose for the multitude and the common people,
some for the few. To find one whose manner suited both factions is
difficult. Aristophanes satisfies neither the many nor the intelligent. His
poetry is like a retired prostitute who pretends to be a married woman.
Ordinary folk find its wilfulness intolerable; those who pretend to taste
are disgusted by the licence and the malice. Menander on the other hand,
as well as having charm, never needs anything outside his own powers.
In the theatre, the lecture-room, the dinner-party, his poetry provides
reading, study, and entertainment for a wider public than that com-
manded by any other Greek masterpiece. He shows what mastery of
language really is. He approaches every point with inescapable persuasive-
ness, and has under control every resource of sound and meaning that
Greek affords. What good reason has an educated man for going to the
theatre, except to see Menander? What else fills the theatres with learned
men, when a comic character takes the stage? To whom should the
dinner-table yield place and Bacchus give way more rightfully? Just as
painters, when their eyes are tired, turn to the colours of grass and flowers,
so Menander is a rest for philosophers and students from their unrelieved
and intense pursuits; he invites the mind to a flowery and shady meadow,
fanned by breezes ..•
Athens produced many good comic actors at the time ... Menander's
comedies have the salt of abundant, cheerful wit, derived, one might
imagine, from the same sea whence Aphrodite sprang. Aristophanes'
saltiness, on the other hand, is rough and bitter, with a sharpness to sting
and inflame. Where his reputed ingenuity lies, in speeches or characters,
I have no notion. Whatever he imitates he makes worse; smartness be-
comes malice instead of urbanity, rusticity becomes silliness instead of
simplicity, humour is not amusing but absurd, love not joyous but
indecent. He seems not to have written his poetry for respectable people
at all; the impropriety and indecency appear to be intended for the
licentious, the invective and bitterness for the spiteful and malicious.

I The idea that authors make progress between their earlier and later works is to be

noted: it is unusual in ancient thinking.

 (533)

D. ON READING COMEDY AT DINNER

We give a brief extract (711 f--'712 d) from Plutarch's Table Talk (Quaestiones
Convivales 7. 8. 4-10, Loeb Moralia, vo!. ix).
Old Comedy is unsuitable for drinkers because of its unevenness. The
seriousness and outspokenness of what are called the 'parabases'! are too
unrelieved and intense, while the tendency to jests and buffoonery is
altogether excessive and unrestrained, and improper expressions and
indecent words abound. Moreover, just as at princely dinners every guest
has his own wine waiter, so every reader needs his own grammarian to
explain all the details ... so that the party becomes a class-room, or else
the jokes go by ineffectively and without significance.
But to New Comedy there can be no possible objection. It is so closely
associated with drinking that one might as well do without the wine as
without Menander in arranging the party. The plot is dressed in pleasing,
pedestrian language, such that the sober will not despise it nor the drunk
take annoyance; useful and simple maxims, slipping in quietly, incline
even the toughest characters to better ways and soften the heart, using
the wine as a melting fire. Moreover, the combination of seriousness and
fun might have been invented on purpose to amuse and do good to
persons who have taken drink and are relaxed. The love interest also is
appropriate for men who have drunk and are shortly going to join their
wives in bed. 2 In all his plays, there is no homosexual love, and the
seductions of virgins end decently in marriage. As for the prostitutes, if
they are bold and forward, the affair is checked by punishment or
repentance in the young man; ifthey are good and return the hero's love,
either a proper father is discovered for the girl or the affair is prolonged by
a period which brings a humane relationship of respect. In ordinary life,
all this is perhaps not worth attention; but in drinking the pleasure and
elegance of these plays may well have an educational effect that helps to
mould the character in the likeness of the kindness and humanity they
represent.
I i.e. the addresses and songs given by the chorus, often used for discussions of

politics and personalities.

z Cr. Xenophon, Symposium 9· 7.
 13
TWO CRITICS OF HISTORY

Ancient historians often criticize one another; Thucydides attacks Herodotus by

implication (I. 22), Polybius openly criticizes Timaeus and other predecessors
(Book I2). The following extracts however are not from historians. Plutarch's
The Malice of Herodotus (Moralia 854 If., Loeb vo!. xii) is an ingenious essay
motivated by rather unreal indignation. Plutarch was a Boeotian, Herodotus
had failed to conceal the pro-Persian sympathies of the Boeotians in the great
Persian war. We give only the first few sections, which deal with more general
matters and contain revealing hints on the aims and methods of historians.
Cf. also Cicero's remarks on history, above, pp. 255 If.

A. MALICE IN HISTORY

My dear Alexander,!
Herodotus' simple style, the effortless and facile veneer which covers
his facts, has deceived many. Even more have been taken in by his per-
sonality. Plato says that it is the utmost unrighteousness to seem righteous
when you are noU It is also true that it is the deepest malice to mimic
good temper and simplicity in a way hard to detect.
Though Herodotus spares no one, he shows his malice most towards
the Boeotians and Corinthians. So it is our natural duty to refute him in
defence both of our ancestors and of the truth, in this aspect of his work.
To enumerate all his lies and fictions would need a library.
Terrible is the face of Persuasion,
said Sophocles. 3 This is especially true when a style of charm and power
makes it possible to conceal the writer's eccentricities and nature. Philip
told the Greeks who were deserting him and going over to Flamininus
that they were getting a smoother collar, but a heavier one. 4 Herodotus'
malice is smoother and softer than Theopompus', but it grips and hurts
more-like a wind forced through a narrow passage compared with a
wind in the open.
My best plan, I think, is to make a general outline of the common foot-
prints and recognition-tokens, as it were, of disingenuous and hostile
( The addressee is a friend, but cannot be identified for certain.
• Republic 2, 361 a. 3 Fr. 781 Nauck.
• Cf. Plutarch's Life of Flamininus 10 for a version of this story.
 MALICE IN HISTORY 535
narrative. I shall then classify the individual passages under these head-
ings, if they fit.
(i) A writer is unkind ifhe uses hard words and expressions where more
moderate ones are available: e.g. calling Nicias a fanatic, instead of 'too
much inclined to religious observance',! or speaking of Cleon's 'rashness
and lunacy' instead of his 'frivolity'.2 This is to get a kick out of the facts
by a lively description.
(ii) When there is some discreditable circumstance not relevant to the
history, and the writer seizes on it and foists it on to a context where it is
not needed, expanding and complicating the story to include someone's
misfortune or eccentric or evil action, here too he is plainly taking pleasure
in speaking ill. Though Cleon had abundant faults, Thucydides nowhere
clearly expounds them. He only has a single word for the demagogue
Hyperbolus-'a worthless character', he says,3 and lets it go at that.
Philistus in fact left out all the crimes committed by Dionysius against
non-Greeks unless they were closely connected with Greek events.
Digressions and excursuses in history are usually devoted to myth and
prehistory, and also to encomia; to use a digression for abuse and censure
is to fall victim to the tragedian's curse,
picking out the disasters from human life. 4
(iii) This, as is self-evident, is the opposite of the omission of the good
and honourable. People think this feature unobjectionable, but it is a
characteristic of malice, if the omission belongs to a topic relevant to the
history. Grudging praise is no fairer than enthusiastic blame; indeed, it
may be worse.
(iv) Another mark of unkindness in history is the choice of the less
creditable version when there are two or more available accounts of the
same event. Sophists are allowed, for professional reasons or for reputa-
tion, to take the worse cause sometimes and dress it up; they are not trying
to produce powerful conviction, and do not deny that they often make
paradoxical statements in incredible causes. The historian does his duty
ifhe states as true what he knows, and in cases of doubt says that the more
creditable story seems to him to be true. Many omit the less creditable
altogether. Ephorus, after saying that Themistocles knew of Pausanias'
treason and of his negotiations with the king's generals, continues: 'He
was not convinced, however, and would not join him, although Pausanias
communicated the plan to him and encouraged him to share his own
hopes.'s ThucydideS simply leaves out this story, implying that he
rejected it.
I Thuc. 7. So. 2 Ibid. 4- 28. 3 Ibid. 8. 73.
• Unknown (trag. adesp. 388 Nauck). 5 Fr. 189 Jacoby.
 TWO CRITICS OF HISTORY
(v) Where the facts are established, but the motives and intentions
obscure, it is unkind and malicious to make the worse conjecture-as the
comic poets do when they say that Pericles fanned the war because of
Aspasia or Phidias, I not out of an honourable ambition to put down the
pride of the Peloponnesians and not yield to Sparta in anything. It is
obvious that there is extreme jealousy and malice in the man who assigns
bad reasons to famous deeds and laudable actions and is led on by his
slanders to weird suspicions about unseen motives, because he cannot
find fault with the overt act. This is exemplified by those who attribute
the murder of the tyrant Alexander by Thebe to feminine jealousy and
passion rather than to a noble heart and a hatred of evil; or again by those
who say that Cato killed himself because he was afraid of a horrible death
at the hands of Caesar.2
(vi) A historical narrative also admits malice in the actual manner of the
deed, e.g. if it is said to have been done (a) for money and not for virtue's
sake, as some say of Philip, (b) without trouble or difficulty, as some say
of Alexander, (c) by luck not judgement, as some say of Timotheus, when
they paint pictures of the cities going into the trap while he was asleep.3
Writers who deny the moral worth, effort, excellence, and personal
responsibility in actions obviously detract from their greatness and
nobility.
(vii) Persons who openly abuse those, they want to attack can properly
be charged with bad temper, rashness, and madness if they show no
restraint; those who shoot their arrows of slander from under cover, as it
were, and then turn about and retreat, saying they do not believe what
they very much want us to believe, earn the reproach of meanness as well
as that of the malice they are trying to deny.
(viii) Juxtaposing praise and blame leads to the same sort of result.
Aristoxenus, for instance, after saying of Socrates that he was uneducated,
ignorant, and licentious, added, 'but there was no injustice in him'.
Malice inserts praise in advance to lend credit to its accusations in the same
way that flattery of skill and ingenuity sometimes mix some mild censure
in with all their long praises, making frankness, as it were, a sauce to
flattery.

B. HO W TO WRITE HISTORY

HolP to Write History, from which the following excerpts are taken is light in
tone and in intention; but it is one of the more illuminating extant texts on
I For such stories cf. Aristoph. Acharnians 523 If., and Plutarch, Pericles 24, 30-2.

• For Cato's heroism, see Plutarch's Life, esp. 72.

3 Cf. Plutarch, Sulla 6.
 HOW TO WRITE HISTORY 537
historiography. Written about A.D. 165, it satirizes some contemporary archa-
ists, who wrote about the Parthian wars with all the mannerisms of Herodotus
and Thucydides. Lucian clearly draws on textbooks; but his debt to Thucy-
dides Book 1 cannot be missed.-Loeb Lucian, vol. vi; Grube 336-8; text
with commentary by H. Homeyer, Munich, 1965.

1. HISTORY, POETRY, AND PANEGYRIC

(§§ 6- 13)
Advice has a double function: it teaches us to choose some courses and 6
to avoid others. Let us first explain what a historian must avoid, and
from what faults he must be free. Then we may consider what means
he should adopt to be sure of striking the right, direct path. We shall
say then what kind of beginning he needs, what order he should impose
on events, the limits of each subject, what is best passed in silence and
what deserves to be dwelt on, what should be hurried over, and how it
all ought to be put into words and the words put together. Postponing
these issues for the moment, let us deal first with the vices incident to bad
historians.
It would be a lengthy task, and not germane to the issue, to enumerate
the general faults common to all literature-faults of language, word-
order, thought, and technical inadequacy of other kinds. These are, as I 7
said, common to all literature. The faults of history you will discover to
be what I have often thought them when I have myself been listening to
historians-especially if you open your ears to them all. It will not be out
of place to mention incidentally, exempli gratia, some existing works.
The first error to consider is a serious one. It is that many writers
neglect research into facts and dwell instead on the praises of rulers and
generals. They magnify the merits of their own men, and unduly dis-
parage the enemy's. They do not see that the isthmus that divides history
from encomium is no narrow strip. There is a great wall built between
them. To use a musicians' phrase, they are two whole octaves apart.
The encomiast is concerned with one thing only-to praise and gladden
his subject by any and every means. If he has to lie to achieve his end,
it doesn't much worry him. History, on the other hand, cannot tolerate
the least fragment of untruth-any more than the windpipe, or so the
doctors tell us, tolerates objects that enter it when swallowed.
Secondly: these people seem to be ignorant of the distinction between 8
the professions and rules of poetry and poems on the one hand, and of
history on the other. Poetry enjoys unqualified freedom. Its sole law is
the poet's will. He is possessed and inspired by the Muses. Ifhe wants to
 TWO CRITICS OF HISTORY
harness a team of winged horses, or make people run on water or over the
top of the corn, nobody complains. When the poets' Zeus suspends earth
and sea from a single chain and swings it around, people aren't afraid
of the chain breaking and the universe crashing to destruction. I If they
want to praise Agamemnon, there is no one to prevent them saying his
head and eyes are like Zeus, his chest like Zeus' brother Poseidon, his
belt like Ares; the son of Atreus and Aerope, in fact, has to be a compound
of all the gods, because no one of them alone, Zeus or Poseidon or Ares,
suffices to fill the demands of his beauty. If history admits any flattery
of this sort, it becomes a sort of prose poetry. 2 Without the grandiloquence
of poetry, it presents all its monstrosities in an unmetrical form, and thus
more conspicuously. It is a great, indeed an enormous mistake not to under-
stand the distinction between poetry and history, but to try to introduce
into the latter the embellishments of the former-fable, encomia, and all
their exaggerations. It is as if one were to take some very tough, rugged
athlete, dress him up in pink, and all the gear of a high-class prostitute,
and rub red and white on his face. What a hideous and ridiculous figure
he would cut in his finery!
9 I don't say one ought never to praise anyone in history. But it must
be done in season, and within limits determined by the need to avoid
wearying readers in the future. The future, indeed, must be the guiding
consideration in these matters, as I shall demonstrate shortly.
Those who divide history into two-the element of pleasure and the
element of utility-and thereby find a home for encomium as giving the
reader pleasure and delight, are definitely on the wrong track. For one
thing, their division is unsound. History has one function and one goal-
utility; and this is achieved only by truth. It is indeed better if pleasure
is added thereto-just as it is a good thing for an athlete to possess
beauty, but ifhe doesn't-well, there will be nothing to prevent Nicostra-
tus son of Isidotus, a grand fellow and stronger than both his adversaries,
from becoming 'successor to Heracles' despite his hideous ugliness, and
despite the fact that one adversary was the beautiful Alcaeus of Miletus-
whom, they said, Nicostratus was himself in love with. Similarly history,
if she has a side-line in pleasure, will attract many lovers; but so long as
she maintains with integrity her own single special function of disclosing
the truth, she will not have to bother much about good looks.
10 There is more to be said. In history, anything really fictional does not
even give pleasure; while any element of encomium is obnoxious to the
reader, whichever way it goes-if you are thinking, that is, not of the
I Iliad 8. 19 If.
Z pezi poietike (cf. Lat. pedestris). For another view of the relation of poetry and history
see Q!iint. 10. I. 31 (above, p. 385).
 HOW TO WRITE HISTORY 539
common mob but of those who will listen judiciously or even with
malevolence. Nothing will escape these people. They see sharper than
Argus, and have eyes all over. They weigh up every sentence with the
precision of a money-changer, so as to reject the counterfeit and accept
only the true, lawful currency, with its proper mark. This is the audience
to have in your mind's eye when you write history. Never mind about the
rest, even if they burst themselves with praise. If you neglect the real
critics and season your history too highly with fables and encomia and
such flattering stuff, you will soon make it look like Heracles in Lydia.
You must have seen pictures of Heracles as Omphale's slave, got up in
a very peculiar manner. Omphale wears the lion's skin and wields the
club, pretending to be Heracles. The hero himself is in saffron and purple,
carding wool, and Omphale is beating him with her shoe. Worst of all,
the clothes hang on him loosely, and don't fit well. In fact, that masculine
deity is very thoroughly and shockingly unmanned.
Still, the majority may very well commend you for this. Only the few II

whom you despise will have a good laugh, when they see how un-
organized, unharmonious, and badly stuck together it all is. Everything
has its own appropriate beauty. Change this, and the change of use de-
stroys the beautiful effect.
I say nothing of the fact that praise pleases, at most, one person, its
subject, but is disagreeable to everyone else-especially if it is violently
exaggerated: and this is what usually happens, thanks to the common
habit of pursuing the subject's good will and dwelling on the theme until
the flattery is patent to all. They do not even know how to do it according
to the rules. They make no attempt to conceal their sycophancy; they
just fall to with a will, and produce a great mass of blatant implausi-
bilities.
Consequently, they fail to achieve their main object. The subjects of 12
their praises, especially if they are men of a spirited cast of mind, come
to dislike and despise them as flatterers. Aristobulus once composed an
account of a duel between Alexander and Porus. He made a particular
point of reading this passage aloud, because he thought he would give the
king great pleasure by inventing heroic actions for him and attributing to
him imaginary deeds far in excess of the truth. Alexander however seized
the book-they were sailing on the Hydaspes-and threw it straight into
the water. 'And that's what I ought to do to you, Aristobulus', he said,
'for the duels you fight on my behalf, and the elephants you kill with a
single spear.' It was entirely natural that Alexander should be angry.
He had no use either for the audacity of the architect who promised to
turn Mount Athos into a statue of him, and re-shape the mountain to
the likeness of the king. He recognized the man at once for the flatterer
 540 TWO CRITICS OF HISTORY
13 he was, and stopped employing him. So where is the pleasure in all this,
except for anyone foolish enough to enjoy praises which can be refuted
out of hand? Ugly men-and especially women-who tell painters to
paint them as pretty as possible are like this. They think they will actually
look better if the painter gives them more rosy colour, and mixes plenty
of white in his paints. Many historians behave like this, watching the
present moment and their own interest and the profit they expect out of
their history. They deserve dislike; so far as the present moment is
concerned, they are blatant and unskilful flatterers, while they make their
whole enterprise suspect in the eyes of posterity by their exaggerations.
And if you think pleasure an indispensable element in history-well,
there are pleasures to be found in other kinds ofliterary refinement which
are not incompatible with truth. Yet most historians neglect them in
favour of quite unsuitable insertions.

2. THE IDEAL HISTORIAN AND HIS WORK

(§§ 34-64)
34 The best historian, then, must come already equipped with two vital
qualifications: political understanding and power of expression. The
first of these is a gift of nature that comes untaught. The second he
should have acquired by long practice, continuous effort, and imitation
of the ancients. These are not matters of art, and no advice is needed from
me. My book does not claim to make people quick and intelligent if they
are not so by nature. If it could bring about such a transformation, turn
lead into gold, tin into silver, Conon into Titormus, or Leotrophides into
Milo, I it would be beyond price!
35 Then what is the use of technique and advice? Not in producing quali-
ties, but in the proper use of those there are. Iccus, Herodicus, Theon,
and the other trainers would never guarantee to take Perdiccas-if
indeed it was he, and not Antiochus the son of Seleucus, who fell in
love with his stepmother and wasted away to a skeleton 2-and turn him
into an Olympic victor or a fit rival for Theagenes of Thasos or Polydamas
of Scotussa! What they do promise is to take good materia! for gym-
nastics and make it much better by art. We do not claim to turn anyone
into a historian. We do claim to indicate to the naturally intelligent who
are well trained in literature certain correct methods-if they are judged
correct-the use of which will give a quicker and easier road to the goal.
36 Of course, the intelligent man also needs technical instruction where he is

I i.e. small, weak men into strong giants.

2 A romance of Hellenistic history: see, e.g., Plutarch, Demetrius 38.
 HOW TO WRITE HISTORY 54 I
ignorant. If he didn't, he would be able to play the lyre or the autos,!
or do anything else, without learning-whereas, in fact, he can't do any
of these things if he hasn't learnt, though if he were only shown the way
he could learn easily enough and manage quite well for himself.
What we want, then, is a pupil of good abilities in understanding and 37
expression, a sharp-eyed fellow, the sort who could manage affairs if
they were put into his hands. He should have a soldier's understanding,
as well as a civilian's, and experience in command. He ought to have
been in an army camp at some time, and observed soldiers exercise or
drill. He should be acquainted with arms and machines, and understand
what is meant by 'in column' and 'in line', how companies and cavalry
operate 2 • • • , what is meant by 'moving off' and 'moving round'. He
mustn't be a stay-at-home or the sort of man to take what he's told on
trust. Above all, he must be independent-minded, and neither fear anyone 38
nor hope for anything. If he does, he will be like a bad judge who sells
decisions out of favour or malice. He must not be upset by Philip's
having his eye shot out at Olynthus by the Amphipolitan archer, Aster;
Philip must be shown as he is. He must not be troubled either if Alexander
is bound to be angry at a straight description of his brutal murder of
Clitus at dinner. Cleon's power in the assembly and domination of the
rostrum must not deter him from saying that the man was a ruinous lunatic.
The whole Athenian nation must not deter him, if he is relating the Sicilian
disaster, the capture of Demosthenes, and the death of Nicias, with the
details of how thirsty they were, what the water they drank was like, and
how many of them were killed drinking. 3 He will realize, and rightly, that
no rational person will blame him for relating foolish or unhappy actions
as they occurred. After all, he only reports them, he doesn't cause them. If
the fleet is beaten, he didn't sink the ships. If the army is routed, he's not
the pursuer-unless he forgot to say his prayers as he should! If silence or
contradiction could have put things right, it would have been easy for
Thucydides, with a stroke of the pen, to demolish the cross-wall at
Epipolae, sink Hermocrates' trireme, send a spear through the wretched
Gylippus while he was still building the wall and digging ditches across
the roads, and finally throw the Syracusans into the quarries, while
securing all Sicily and Italy for Athens in accordance with A1cibiades'
original hopes. But of course what is once done Clotho cannot unravel
nor Atropos reverse.

I Cf. above, p. 497.

2 Text uncertain.
3 The last three examples come from Thucydides: 3.36 etc. for C1eon; 7. 57 If. for
the Sicilian disaster; 7. 84, for the drinking water (cf. 'Longinus' 38.3, above, p. 496).
 54 2 TWO CRITICS OF HISTORY
39 The one function of the historian, then, is to relate things as they
happened. He cannot do this if he is Artaxerxes' doctor I and therefore
afraid of him, or if he is hoping for a red tunic, a gold necklace, and a
Nisaean horse as the reward of his praises. Honest Xenophon won't do
that. Nor will Thucydides; even ifhe dislikes people for private reasons,
he will put the public interest far higher, and think truth more important
than his personal feud. If he has a friend, he will nevertheless not refrain
from criticism. This, as I said, is the one special feature of history. Truth
is the only goddess to whom the potential historian has to sacrifice;
he need not trouble with anything else. His single criterion, his one exact
standard, is to bear in mind not his present hearers, but his future readers.
40 Slaves of this day and age are properly counted as flatterers, and this is
something that history has rejected from the very beginning-just as
athletes reject beauticians. There is a remark attributed to Alexander
which is to the point: 'Onesicritus,' he said, 'I should have liked to come
back to life for a bit after dying, so as to find out how people are reading
this story then. Don't be surprised if they praise and welcome it now;
they imagine such an attitude will be a considerable bait to attract my
goodwill.'2 Homer, of course, writes what is for the most part fable;
but some people have been induced to believe what he says about Achilles,
simply on the ground that he was not writing about a living person;
they cannot find any reason why he should have lied.
41 This then is the historian I want-fearless, incorruptible, free, the
friend of truth and plain speaking. Let him, as the comic poet says, call a
fig a fig, a tub a tub. Let him give nothing to hatred or friendship;
unsparing, unpitying, neither ashamed nor shy, he should be an equal
judge, fair to all, but giving none more than his due. In his books, he
should be a stranger and a stateless person, independent, subject to no
ruler, not calculating what so-and-so will think, but reporting what was
done. Thucydides laid down these rules definitively, distinguishing the
42 good from the bad in history with great wisdom. He saw that Herodotus
was particularly admired-to the extent indeed that his books were called
Muses. So Thucydides describes his own writing as a possession for all
time, not an exhibition-piece for the moment. 3 He does not welcome fable,
but bequeaths to posterity a true account of events. He introduces also
an argument from utility, and defines the purpose of history in a very

I Ctesias, a Greek doctor at the court of Artaxerxes Il, who saw the revolt of Cyrus

from the other side. His work on Persian history is known from long extracts in Photius,
and was attractive and romantic.
2 Onesicritus of Astypalaea wrote a moralizing (Cynic) history of Alexander not long
after the events.
3 Thuc. 1.22.
 HOW TO WRITE HISTORY 543
sensible way: 'if the same sort of thing happens again', he saY8, 'people
will be able to handle their problems better by referring to the record of
the past.'

The style of the historian

So much for our potential historian's attitude of mind. I turn next to his 43
language and force of style.
There is no need for him to sharpen his teeth to proficiency in the
vehement, cutting style of close-packed periods and intricate arguments,
or indeed in rhetorical force (deinotes) of any kind. He needs a more
peaceful disposition. His thought should be orderly and concise, his
diction clear and business-like, calculated to express the subject with
the utmost clarity. As we proposed outspokenness and truth as the his- 44
torian's aims in terms of his outlook, so, as to his language, his one primary
aim is the clear expression and plain description of fact, not in recondite
or out-of-the-way words, nor yet in common or vulgar ones, but in such
terms as the masses will comprehend and the learned approve. Ornament
should be restricted to unobjectionable and unaffected figures. Other-
wise, the style will be a hotch-potch.
The thought must have some community and affinity with poetry, 45
which, like history, has grandeur and elevation. This is especially so
when it is involved in military confrontations, battles, and naval engage-
ments. Then we need a poetical breeze to carry the boat forward and
drive her high on the crest of the waves. The language however must
keep its feet on the ground. It will rise in keeping with the splendour and
grandeur of the story, reflecting this as closely as possible; but it will not
be outlandish or extravagant, because there would then be a great risk of
its being swept away into a sort of poetic frenzy. This is where the curb
is needed, and where you must really be careful. Literature is subject to
the staggers, like a horse, and this is a serious complaint. Better let your
thoughts ride, and your style follow on foot, catching hold of the saddle-
flap so as not to be left behind.
Word-arrangement I should be controlled and moderate: not too much 46
separation and distinctness, for that gives a rough effect, nor yet the
almost completely rhythmical continuity that many writers adopt; this
is as much a fault as the other is disagreeable.
A historian must not be careless about the collection of facts. He must 47
investigate the same matters over and over again, with pain and effort.
If he can, he should go to the site, and see with his own eyes. If this is
impossible, he must pay attention to the most impartial informants,
I Sunthesis. Cf. Dionysius' general account, above, pp. 321 If.
 544 TWO CRITICS OF HISTORY
those whom he thinks least likely to add to or subtract from the facts
out of favour or prejudice. At this stage, he has to be capable of con-
jecturing and putting together the most plausible account.
48 Having collected all or most of his material, let him first construct an
aide-memoire (hupomnema) out of it, and compos~ a text as yet un-
beautified and unarticulated. He can then add the order and the ornament,
colour it with language, give it figures and rhythm.
49 Let him make himself like Zeus in Homer, who looks one moment at
the land of the mare-milking Thracians, and the next moment at M ysia;,
similarly, the historian should one moment look at our situation, and
expound it to us as it seems to him from his lofty look-out, and the next
moment do the same for the Persians; then, if there is a battle, he should
put the two together. In the battle itself, he ought not to look exclusively
at one area or one man on horse or on foot, unless there is a Brasidas
leaping ashore, or a Demosthenes cutting away the landing gangway.2
He must first keep his eye on the generals; he must have heard their
exhortations and know the nature and intention of their dispositions.
When the armies engage, let both be in his view; he has to weigh events
50 in the balance, and join in both pursuit and flight. All this must be subject
to a limit; he mustn't go on till satiety is reached, or in a tasteless or
immature fashion. Let him leave the scene without embarrassment. If
need be, he can halt one set of events and pass to another, to return
later when required. He should always be in a hurry, and must do his
best to be in two places at once, flying from Armenia to Media, and then
with a flap of his wings to Iberia and on to Italy, so as never to miss an
SI important event.3 His mind should be like a mirror, clean, polished,
accurately centred, reproducing the shapes of things exactly as it receives
them, without any distortion or perversion of colour or form. Historians
are not like orators. What they have to say exists, and will be said,
because it has really happened. All that is needed is arrangement and
expression. Historians therefore have to consider not what to say, but
how to say it. We should conceive of them as in the same position as
artists like Phidias or Praxiteles or Alcamenes. These did not make the
gold, silver, ivory, and other materials; they were there already, provided
by Elis or Athens or Argos. The sculptors only shaped and sawed the
ivory, smoothed and glued and moulded and plated with gold. Their
art consisted in managing the material for the purposes required. Well,
that is also the historian's position. He has to organize his facts skilfully,
I Iliad 13. 4 If. • Thuc. 4. 12.
3 Lucian envisages the situation of the Parthian wars: so Iberia is probably the
Caucasian country, not Spain. Tacitus' Annals is a good illustration of the type of
history of which Lucian is thinking.
 HOW TO WRITE HISTORY 545
and express them as vividly as he can. If the hearer then imagines he
can see the events happen, and praises this, the work of our historical
Phidias has reached its consummation and won its due meed of praise.

Prooemia
His preparations complete, the historian will begin without a formal 52
prooemium, unless the subject really demands preliminary treatment in
the introduction. In effect, however, the statement of the projected subject
will amount to a prooemium. When there is a formal prologue, the his- 53
torian will have two objects in mind, not three like an orator: he will omit
the appeal to goodwill, while ensuring his readers' attention and ease of
understanding. Attention will be secured if it is made clear that the subject
is important, essential, close to home, or of practical utility. Clarity and
ease of comprehension are given by explaining causes and defining the
main heads of events. The best historians have always used this sort of 54
introduction. Herodotus' aim was 'that great and wonderful events be not
forgotten in time, revealing as they do Greek victories and barbarian
defeats'. Thucydides 'expected the war to be great and famous and more
important than any that went before'-and great indeed were the events
that befell in it.

Narrative
After the prooemium, long or short according to the subject, let there be a 55
smooth and easy transition to the narrative. All the rest of the history is a
long narrative.! So let it have narrative excellences to adorn it, advancing
smoothly and evenly, with nothing obtruding and nothing lying in the
background. A studied clarity should mark both the diction, as I said
above, and the connections of the facts. Everything should be finished
and polished. Only when the first point has been completed should it lead
on to the next, which should be, as it were, the next link of the chain.
There must be no sharp break, no multiplicity of juxtaposed narratives.
One thing should not only lie adjacent to the next, but be related to it
and overlap it at the edges.
Rapidity is always useful, especially if there is a lot of material. It is 56
secured not so much by words and phrases as by the treatment of the
subject. That is, you should pass quickly over the trivial and unnecessary,
and develop the significant points at adequate length. Much should be
I In a speech, narrative occupies a place normally between prooemium and proofs

and argumentation; Lucian treats history as a special kind of rhetorical composition

which is only prooemium and narrative.
8143591 Nn
 TWO CRITICS OF HISTORY
omitted. After all, if you are giving a dinner to your friends and every-
thing is ready, you don't put salt fish and porridge on the table in the
midst of the cakes, poultry, entrees, wild boar, hare, and choice cuts of
fish, simply because they are ready too ! You forget the cheaper articles
altogether.

Descriptions
57 Moderation is especially necessary in descriptions of mountains, forts,
and rivers. You mustn't give the impression of a tasteless display of
virtuosity or of neglecting the history to show off your own talents.
Just add a few necessary details for clarity's sake, and then pass on.
Avoid the snares of the subject, keep off the dainty fare. Homer, the
su blime, is a model for you: poet as he is, he passes quickly over Tantalos,
Ixion, Tityos, and the rest. If Parthenius or Euphorion or Callimachus
had been responsible, how many lines do you think it would have taken
to get the water to Tantalus' lips or make Ixion revolve?I Or-better-
think of the way Thucydides uses this manner for a little, and then quickly
abandons it, after describing a machine or explaining the plan of a siege,
if it's essential information-e.g. the plan of Epipolae or the harbour of
Syracuse. His narrative of the plague 2 may seem long-winded; but con-
sider the facts, and you will soon appreciate his rapidity and see how the
multifarious details grip and detain him despite his haste.

Speeches, encomia, invective, myths

58 If you have to introduce a character making a speech, let the content of
it be, first, suitable to the speaker and the situation, secondly (like the
rest of the book) as lucid as possible-though you do indeed have licence
to be rhetorical here and to demonstrate your stylistic ingenuity (deinotes).
59 Encomia and invectives should be sparing, circumspect, honest, well-
argued, rapid, and opportune. After all, your characters are not in court.
You don't want to find yourself liable to the same criticism as Theo-
pompus, who condemns most of his personages with real malice and makes
a regular business of it, acting as prosecutor rather than historian.
60 Relevant myths should be narrated, but you should not commit your-
self to the truth of them; leave that to the reader. Take no risks, come
down on neither side.

I Note the disparaging reference to the great Alexandrian poets.

2 z. 47 If., much imitated-d. Procopius, Wars z. zz If. on the plague of A.D. 54z.
 HOW TO WRITE HISTORY 547

Posterity is the historian's judge

Remember, in general, my refrain: don't write with your eyes only on 61
the present, for your contemporaries to praise and honour you; make all
eternity your goal, write for posterity, ask the future to reward your
writing, so that it can be said of you, 'He was a free man, outspoken,
there was no flattery or subservience in him, he was always for the truth.'
A wise man would rate such a testimonial above all the ephemeral
ambitions of the present. I
Remember what the Cnidian architect did? He built the tower of Pha- 6z
ros, that grandest and loveliest of buildings, to house a fire-signal for
sailors far out at sea, to save them from being wrecked on Paraetonia-a
terrible and fatal coast, they say, if you run on the reefs. And having
built it, he inscribed his own name on the stones inside, and then plastered
them over and inscribed on the outside the name of the reigning monarch.
He knew-and so it turned out-that the outside inscription would be 63
worn away with the plaster, and instead would appear the words:
Sostratus, son of Dexiphanes, of Cnidus,
to the preserving Gods,
for men who sail the seas.
He did not look only to the moment and his own brieflife, but to the now 64
and the always, as long as the tower stands and his skill abides. And so
must history also be written-with honesty and hope for the future,
not with flattery to gratify present recipients of praise. Here is your stan-
dard and rule for a proper history. If a few people judge by it, I shall be
content, and my purpose will be fulfilled.
If not-well, I shall have rolled my jar on the Kraneion. 2
I Cf. 'Longinus' 14. 3 (above, p. 476).

• When Philip's army was approaching, the Corinthians busied themselves with
defence preparations. Nobody could find any use for Diogenes; so he rolled his jar (in
which he lived) up and down the hill, not to seem the only man idle.
 14
SECON D- AND THIRD-CENTURY. TEXTS

We group in this chapter a few short texts rather later in date than the pre-
ceding, and of varying significance.

A. VIRGIL, THEOCRITUS, AND HOMER

Aulus Gellius 9. 9
For Gellius see above, pp. 370-1. Discussion ofVirgil's models and his debt to
them doubtless began earlier; it is prominent also in the Virgil commentaries of
late antiquity (Servius, Macrobius).

When striking thoughts in Greek poetry have to be translated and

imitated, they say that one shouldn't always go out of one's way to
2 ensure literal faithfulness. Many features lose their attraction if they are
3 taken over by main force, as it were kicking and struggling. Virgil,
therefore, showed skill and forethought in not translating everything
when reproducing passages of Homer, Hesiod, Apollonius, Parthenius,
Callimachus, Theocritus, and some others.
4 For instance, recently we had the Bucolics of both Theocritus and
Virgil read to us at table; and we noticed that Virgilleft out something
that is remarkably nice in the Greek but could not and should not be
5 translated. Yet what he substituted for his omission is almost more agree-
able and pretty.
Klearista pelts the herd with apples, as he
drives his goats by, and prettily pouts her lips.!
Compare
6 Galatea aims an apple at me, naughty girl,
and flees to the willows-and wants to be seen first. 2
7 Here is another intentional omission that we noticed. It's very nice
in the Greek:
Tityrus, dearly beloved, feed my goats
and drive them to the spring, Tityrus. Take care
of the yellow he-goat: he may butt. 3
I Theocr. 5. 88 f. ~ Virgil, Eel. 3. 64 f. 3 Theocr. 3. 3 ff.
 VIRGIL, THEOCRITUS, AND HOMER 549
How could Virgil get over 'dearly-beloved' ? The expression is no ordi- 8
nary one, its charm is all its own. So he left that out, and translated 9
the rest quite prettily, except that he calls caper what Theocritus called
a he-goat-though, according to Marcus Varro, Latin only uses caper of 10
a castrated goat.
Tityrus, till I come back (I'm not going far) feed my goats, II

then drive them to drink, Tityrus, and as you go

take care not to get in the way of the goat-he butts. I
And while I'm talking of translation, I recall that I heard from the 12
pupils of Valerius Probus (a learned man and a perceptive reader and
critic of old writings) that Probus used to say that Virgil made no more
unfortunate translation of Homer than his version of the delightful
lines about Nausicaa.
Just as Artemis goes over the mountain, quiver full,
over tall Taygetos or Erymanthos,
rejoicing in the boars and the fleet deer:
with her the nymphs, daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus,
sport in the fields; and Leto's heart rejoices.
She is a head taller than all of them
and easily recognized-though all are beautiful. z
Compare
Just as on the banks of Eurotas or the slopes of Cythnus 13
Diana plies her dances: a thousand Oreads follow,
swarming around her. On her shoulder
she bears a quiver, and as she paces she overtops all:
happiness touches Leto's silent heart.J
Probus (they said) thought first of all that in Homer the girl Nausicaa 14
playing among her friends in a solitary spot is rightly and aptly compared
with Diana hunting on the mountain ridges among the goddesses of the
countryside; but that Virgil had by no means made an appropriate simile.
Dido, walking in the middle of the city among the Tyrian elders, grave
in dress and walk, 'intent on her task' (as Virgil himself says) 'and on her
future kingdom', can have nothing that fits the games and hunting of
Diana. Again, Homer talks fairly and openly of Diana's enthusiasm and IS
pleasure in her hunt, while Virgil, after saying nothing about the goddess
hunting, merely makes her 'bear a quiver on her shoulder' as though it
were a burden. Probus was extremely surprised at one feature of the
I Eel. 9. 23 ff. 2 Odyssey 6. 102 ff. 3 Aeneid I. 498 ff.
 Sso SECOND- AND THIRD-CENTURY TEXTS
Virgil: Homer's Leto feels a genuine inward delight that goes to the
heart-that is the meaning of 'Leto's heart rejoices'; Virgil, wanting to
imitate this, made the joy sluggish, trivial, hesitant, and (as it were)
16 superficial: for that was how Probus took 'touches'. And besides all that,
Virgil had apparently left out the choicest part of the whole passage in
making so little of
and easily recognized-tho).1gh all are beautiful.

17 For there could be no greater or more conclusive compliment to her

beauty than to say that she alone stood out among all those beautiful
women, she alone was easily distinguished from all the rest.

B. VIRGIL AND PINDAR

Aulus Genius 17. 10

I The philosopher Favorinus, I as I recall, once discussed the poets Pindar

and Virgil when he had gone in the hot season to a friend's villa at Anzio
and I had come from Rome to see him. He said something like this:
2 'The friends and intimates of Virgil, among the impressions of his
genius and character that they recorded for posterity, remark that he used
3 to say he produced verses in a bear-like manner. The bear brings forth
its young unshaped and formless, but by licking them it contrives later
to mould its offspring and give shape to them; similarly (Virgil said)
the products of his genius, while still new, were inchoate and imperfect,
but by cultivating and working over them he gave them lines and features.
4 That this most acute of men was being frank and correct here', proceeded
S Favorinus, 'is witnessed by the facts. For what he left perfect and polished,
with the last touch supplied by taste and selectivity, is aflower with every
6 excellence of poetic beauty. What he left for revision, but could not
finish because his death intervened, is quite unworthy of the name of this
7 most elegant and tasteful of poets. Thus it was that, hard-pressed by
illness and seeing death approach, he pressingly begged his dearest
friends to burn the Aeneid, which he had not yet filed to perfection.
8 'Among the places that one thinks should have been revised and
corrected is in particular the passage about Etna. Wanting to rival old
Pindar's poem on the nature and the burning of the mountain, he amassed
material and language of such a kind that, at least here, he is more un-
natural and turgid even than Pindar, whose eloquence has been judged
too rich and gross.
1 See A. Barigazzi, Favorino di Are/ate, Firenze, 1966, 122 If.
 VIRGIL AND PINDAR 55 1
'To show you what I mean, I will recite Pindar's poem on Mount 9
Etna, as far as I remember it:
From its depths belches forth fire untouchable,
in pure fountains: by day rivers roll forth a flood of smoke,
blazing: but at night rocks are borne
by the red rolling flame to the deep sea-plain, crashing;
that monster sends up dreadful fountains
of fire: a fantastic sight to see,
a wonder for men there to hear.!
Listen now', Favorinus went on, 'to Virgil's lines, which I should be 10
right in saying that he started rather than completed:
The harbour itself lies wide, untouched by the winds'
approach: but hard by thunders Etna with dreadful crash;
sometimes bursting a dark cloud into the sky,
smoking with pitchy whirl, and incandescent ash.
It raises fire-balls, licking the stars.
Sometimes rocks, torn mountain entrails,
it lifts, belches out: groaningly rolls into daylight
liquefied stones: seethes up from lowest depths. 2
First of all,' he said, 'Pindar kept to the facts, and tells us the truth about II
what happened there, what the eye actually saw-namely that by day
Etna smoked, by night it flamed. Virgil, however, anxious to look for IZ
words that resound and crash, makes no distinction, and mixes day and
night up. Again, the Greek poet brilliantly described the fountains of 13
fire belching forth from the depths, rivers of smoke aflow, dark whirl-
ing wreaths of flame carrying (as it were) fiery snakes down to the sea-
coasts. But our poet, wanting to translate 'a flood of smoke blazing', 14
grossly and tastelessly piled up 'a dark cloud smoking with pitchy whirl
and ashes'. Again 'fire-balls' for 'fountains' is a harsh and improper meta- IS
phor. 'Licking the stars' is another empty and pointless addition. Further, 16
to speak of 'a dark cloud smoking with pitchy whirl and incandescent 17
ash' is something hardly interpretable or even intelligible. Things that 18
are incandescent do not normally smoke nor are they dark. Or else he
used 'incandescent' in a vulgar and illicit way for 'hot'-not 'fiery' or
'shining'. Of course, in fact 'incandescent' (candens) is connected with
whiteness (candor), not heat (calor). As to causing stones and rocks to be 19
belched forth and lifted up and then immediately liquefy and groan and
roll into daylight-none of this is in Pindar. No one ever heard such a
thing; it is the most monstrous of monsters.'
I Pindar, Pythian 1.21 If. 2 Aeneid 3. 570 If.
 55 2 SECOND- AND THIRD-CENTURY TEXTS

C. IMAGINATION
This is a passage from a religious work of the early third century, Philostratus'
Life of Apollonius of Tyana (6. 19: Loeb edn. by F. C. Conybeare). Apollonius
complains of the ridiculous and peculiar representations of the gods among the
Ethiopians. The sage Thespesion attempts to answer him.
'How are your statues made then?' asked Thespesion angrily.
'In the most beautiful and pious way that statues of gods can be
fashioned.'
'You must be talking of the statue of Zeus at Olympia, of Athena, of
Aphrodite of Cnidos, Heraof Argos, and all those other beautiful
figures in the full bloom of youth ?'
'Not only those. Other peoples' statuary all in all measures up to the
standards of propriety, while you, it seems, ridicule the gods and don't
really believe in them.'
'Did Phidias and Praxiteles and the rest go up to heaven, I then, and
take an impression of the gods' appearances so as to reproduce it, or was
there some other influence controlling their work ?'
'Indeed there was-something rich in wisdom.'
'What? You can't find anything other than imitation (mimesis) surely.'
'Yes; imagination (phantasia) did this work, a more cunning craftsman
than your imitation. Imitation will fashion what she has seen, imagination
also what she has not seen. She will form her conception with reference
to reality. Amazement (ekplexis) often baffies imitation; nothing baffies
imagination. She marches undismayed to her own end .. .'

D. MALE AND FEMALE STYLES

The following extract from a treatise on music is included partly as an illustration
of a kind of verbal criticism which, however unconvincing, was much practised
in antiquity, and partly for its curious philosophizing account of 'male' and
'female' styles.
Aristides Qy.intilianus-date unknown, perhaps third or fourth century
A.D.-based his work largely on Aristoxenus; he has strong Pythagorean or
Neoplatonist leanings.
Text edited by R. P. Winnington-Ingram, Leipzig, 1963; no English trans-
lation. This passage (2. 7--f) = pp. 65. 10 ff. Winnington-Ingram.
2. 7 It remains to explain what kinds of tune and rhythm will control natural
(65. 10) reactions. Part of what I am going to say has been said by some older
I Cicero, Orator 8~ (and cf. Sen. Controv. 10. s. 8) advances the view that Phidias
had a 'vision of beauty' in his mind when he made a statue of Zeus or Athena; Plotinus
(5. 8. I) expresses more clearly the concept of the artist copying from the forms. This
answer to Plato's attack on art becomes evident only late in antiquity; but it may well
have Hellenistic roots.
 MALE AND FEMALE STYLES 553
writers, but other parts are still wrapped in silence. This is not because
of any ignorance or malice on the part of their authors. It would be wicked
to make such a suggestion about philosophers who have had a musical
initiation. l But the truth is that, though they set out some things in
written form, the more secret doctrines were preserved orally. The ex-
planation of this lies in the persevering enthusiasm the men of those days
showed in their pursuit of the noblest studies. Nowadays however there
is so much-let me be careful what I say-lack of education around, that
the moderately cultivated may well be content if they can find a book
which contains some sort of clear account.
The musical educator has to aim at four objects: appropriate thought,
diction, harmony, and rhythm. Thought inevitably comes first. No decision
to choose or avoid is made without it. Diction is a representation (mimesis)
of thought, and is of primary necessity in hearing and persuading our
neighbour. With the addition of the qualities of acute and grave, and by
means of intervals, it gives rise, in its confused state, to harmony, and
when brought to order by words that accord, to rhythm.
But since music is a therapy for ills of the soul, we must first consider
how and why these ills arise, since if this is not defined the next part of
my argument will remain obscure.
When the soul is withdrawn from the world and conversing with 2. 8
higher things, it dwells, we believe, with reason, and is free from desire.
But when it leans down to this world, and tries to learn by experience
the ways of life on earth, it comes to need a body and seeks out an ap-
propriate one. It then perceives the double nature there is in bodies, the
male and the female. These of course exist not only in animate beings but
in things directed by nature alone-plants, metals, perfumes. For here
too a duality appears, one character or the other being displayed in the
tenderness, smoothness, pleasing colour, or sweet odour of the objects,
or in the opposites of these qualities. In herself, the soul is simple and
uniform; but when clothed in this human shape of ours, she conceals
her natural beauty, and is shaped, partly by her own will and partly under
compulsion, to the location and configuration of her integument. Thus
she not only desires body, but a body of a particular kind. She loves
either male or female, sometimes one or the other by itself, sometimes a
weird and extraordinary mixture of the two. And if souls fail to find a
body such as they want naturally, they bring about changes by their own
activities and assimilate the body to themselves. Then feminine looks
bloom on men, so that their life is seen to be feminine too, and masculine
looks are seen on women, whereby we can infer a similarity of character
also. There are beardless men and bearded women, males with languishing
I Pythagoreans.
 554 SECOND- AND TIIIRD-CENTUR Y TEXTS
eyes and women with militant gaze. In each case, one can detect a
character corresponding to the outward form. It is the inclination towards
male or female or both that forms the soul's emotional characteristics.
The feminine is too relaxed; the desires are in harmony with it. The mas-
culine is vigorous and active; in accord with it is the spirited or angry
element. Pain and pleasure abound in the feminine part of the soul and
the feminine kind of human being, anger and boldness in the masculine.
Again, there are combinations of these factors: pain with pleasure,
anger with boldness, boldness with pleasure and pain, anger again with
both, and other combinations of each with one or more of the others.
Hence one could invent innumerable images of emotions seen in their
complex variety.
Besides these natural differences in individuals, there are differences
of thought. One man is delighted with white, one admires black, one
finds pleasure in sweet things, another in bitter. The contraries exist,
as I said, both in emotional reactions and in the external objects by attend-
ing to which our minds are said to acquire imaginative impressions;
consequently, each of us takes pleasure in what most closely resembles our
own emotional state. In the first place, we can see the contrast in visual
objects. Colours and shapes which are pretty and tend to the dainty may
be distinguished as feminine, the grim and anxiety-provoking as masculine.
In the world of sound, we may associate the smooth and bland with the
feminine, the harsh with the masculine. I need not go into more detail.
We may say in general that all sensible objects which entice us to pleasure
and gently relax the mind are to be reckoned as feminine, while anything
that excites anxiety or activity belongs to the realm of the male. Those
(68. 4) that do neither or both should be assigned to an intermediate category ...
2. 9 Intellectual assent in ordinary life arises in the first place either from
(68.13) the felicitous understanding of the self-taught or from subsequent con-
viction. Repetition of an idea by many is just as efficacious in producing
a quality of character as is scientific doctrine. The mind contains in
itself types and images of everything, and is shaped at any given moment
by the thoughts excited by words; as a result of this habituation and exer-
cise it then imperceptibly stabilizes a happy or unhappy condition. In
general terms, there are two types of moral education. One is therapeutic,
whereby we correct vice. This has itself two subdivisions: the reductive
(meiotic), by which, being unable to convince all at once, we lead the
learner to emotional peace (apatheia) by gradual reductions; and the
destructive (anairetic), when we bring him at one move to a complete
conversion. The other main type is the beneficial; one species of this is
the conservative, which stabilizes the optimum condition and maintains
it as it is by education, and the other is the developing or prosthetic
 MALE AND FEMALE STYLES 555
which endeavours by fresh additions to raise moderate virtue to supreme
excellence.
Education by ideas involves two techniques: if what is needed for
mind-winning (psuchagogia) c:m be found expressed in the existing
material, we shall use this; if not, we shall track down what we need by
special methods. The most useful of these are: epithets, metalepsis,
metaphor, simile, synecdoche, periphrasis, allegory, etc.
Observe how Homer attempts to express the slow rising of the sun.
He needs this for what he is about to say about the burial of the heroes
in the twilight. He uses epithets which signify slowness. However, as
these would not be properly used of the swiftest of the stars, he makes
his main statement apply to the sun's light:
Then was the sun newly striking the fields,
and applies the epithets to the slow-moving element of water:
From the soft stream of the deep river Ocean
ascending heaven}
Here he gives us both the slowness of the water's movement, and the
cause of the slowness, in 'the deep river Ocean'. For any piece of
shallow water is easily moved, swirling in the hollow of the ground, but
depth is something slow and steady, dissipating its impulse through
many parts of the cavity beneath it. He also indicates the leisureliness
of the ascent; for coming up from a depth is naturally a longer process.
On another occasion, in order to express rapidity of rising, he gives the
sun an animated and impulsive movement:
Up rose the sun, and left the lovely lake. 2
Here he adds charm to the expression by using the feminine noun
limne (lake) for the ocean. Again, in giving a complete description of
sunrise, he adorns his description with features agreeable in colour
and smell, but he applies these not to the sun, but to Dawn, who is a
female personage:
Dawn with her saffron robe spread over the earth)
And:
When the first Dawn appeared, with rosy fingers. 4
In another passage, on the other hand, his object is to make us tense
with the description of military formations:
Black with shields, with lances shuddering. s
I Iliad 7. 421-3. • Odyssey 3. I. 3 Iliad 8. I.
4 e.g. Iliad I. 477. s Iliad 4. 282.
556 SECOND- AND THIRD-CENTURY TEXTS
The metaphorical language here achieves an effect which the natural use
of words could not. 'Black' is almost as effective on the ear as on the eye,
and the notion of a shudder, because of its association with fear, expresses
the anxiety of war.
To take another instance. For vividness (enargeia), Homer writes:
All the feet and heads of many-fountained Ida
were shaken. I

This transference from the naturally movable-the human body-to the

immovable intensifies our conception of confusion. Again, take two con-
trasting examples of the same subject. The story of Ares and Aphrodite 2
is told in harsh terms-'they coupled', 'secretly', 'he disgraced .• .'.
The first of these phrases expresses the impurity resulting from pleasure,
the second the blameworthiness of the deed, the third the disgraceful
wrongdoing. With Odysseus and Penelope, on the other hand, he adorns
his description with dignified words, to express an act that is lawful and
right:
rejoicing they came to the right (thesmos) of their ancient bed. 3

Finally, in the case of a union neither blameworthy by law nor commend-

able, he expresses this intermediate status by a combination of opposites
in the sense:
I never mounted the bed or slept with her, as is
the way of men and women. 4

When trope will not serve the turn, we can use simile. Homer makes us
tense with:
as when a goatherd from his look-out sees a storm-cloud,5

and relaxes us with:

and the flower is like milk. 6
There are many white things. He has chosen the one that also expresses
sweetness.
Again, in the lament of Achilles,7 he uses more words which obscure
the mind-black cloud, smoky dust, black ash-and few that are brighter.
The death ofEuphorbus,8 on the other hand, he wants to relate brilliantly,
I Iliad 20. 59. • Odyssey 8. 266 If. 3 Ibid. 23. 296.
4 Iliad 9. 133. s Ibid. 4. 275.
6 Odyssey 10. 304. 7 Iliad 18. 22 If. 8 Ibid. 17. SI If.
 MALE AND FEMALE STYLES 557
as a relief from the emotion connected with Patroclus. The brighter
words therefore predominate here: 'hair like the graces', brilliant materials
like gold and silver, flourishing olives, open ground, springs of water
gushing forth, pleasant breezes-the whole making a precious and bril-
liant piece of elegant charm (anthos).
Grandeur and distinction are produced by synecdoche in the passage:
Straight they advanced to the well-built wall with a great shouting,
holding high their dry oxen. I

Here, elevation is given to the words by the extent of the intervals;2

and because the word 'shield' is indecorous in a context of grandeur
(hadrotes) he uses the word 'ox', which stresses the size of the object;
and then, because this does not fit 'holding up', he adds 'dry'. Thus,
by means of the idea of lightness which goes with dryness, he both lends
plausibility to the action and makes the thought a present of a vivid
image that is beyond criticism.
In another passage, Homer writes:
and the great heaven trumpeted around.3

This expression raises the story of the battle to a more grandiose tone,
but, since the word is indecorous as used of the heavens, Homer tries to
recover propriety by a special procedure, magnifying the sound of the
trumpet by the epithet 'great', and making the sound come from every
part of the heavens by adding the preposition 'around'.
Humble words obviously produce simplicity: for example
setting a poor chair and a little table. 4

Observe too how the variety provided by periphrases gives vividness

to the style and charm to the words; for example, when Homer wants to
mention the characters of young heroes with the proper excellence of
each, he says 'Eteoclean might' and 'Telemachus' holy might'S-
indicating Eteocles' superiority in strength and Telemachus' dearness to
the gods because of his virtuous character.
A1leg{)fies, in which a number of words in a context are used in a
transferred sense, divert the mind to a different tone. Observe how when
Homer chooses to speak of those fallen in battle in such a way as to
I Iliad 12. 137 f.

a i.e. the hiatuses in the Greek: a1lllschomenoi ekion megalO alalito.

3 Iliad 21. 388 (cf. 'Longinus' 9. 6, above, P.469).
4 Odyssey 20. 259. 5 Iliad 4. 386, Odyssey 16. 476.
 558 SECOND- AND THIRD-CENTURY TEXTS
rouse neither emotion nor grief, he does so by the image of the gathering
of corn:
Men soon have their fill of strife;
the straw, that the bronze strews on the ground, is abundant,
(73- 6) but the harvest is little. I

E. POETRY AND PROSE

Aristides, the greatest of the second-century sophists, begins his 'Hymn to
Sarapis' (45) with a passage on the differences between prose and poetry, in
which he expands ideas he found in Isocrates (Evagoras 9-1 I). For prose hymns,
cf. Menander, below, p. 579.
Text: ed. Keil, pp. 352-6.
A. Boulanger, Aelius Aristide, Paris, 1923, 303 ff.

1 Blessed is the race of poets and exempt from all troubles. Not only may
they initiate subjects of whatever kind they wish, false, sometimes
unconvincing, with no basis at all if we look at it properly-they also
handle them as they will, with thoughts and notions some of which would
be unintelligible without what goes before and after. We understand
and accept them only because it is all said in one piece-and we feel
very pleased at having understood. Sometimes they tell the beginning
of something and leave out the rest, as though they have given it up;
sometimes they rob it of the beginning, or take out the middle, and think
2 all well: they have a despotic power over their thoughts. Again, there is
nothing they cannot venture or contrive. They suspend gods from the
machine, embark them on ships with any fellow passengers they like, and
represent them not only sitting down with human beings but drinking
3 with them and carrying lamps to give light. 2 And think of their magni-
ficence and (this is where I started!) blessedness, and how, in Homer's
words, 'in ease they live', when they are composing their hymns and paeans
to the gods! In a couple of strophes or periods the whole thing is com-
plete. First, they give us 'Delos gird led by the main', or 'Zeus who
hurls the thunder' or 'deep-roaring sea', and then straight to Heracles'
arrival among the Hyperboreans, or lamos the prophet of old, or Heracles
and Antaeus;3 then, with the addition of Minos or Rhadamanthys,
Phasis or Danube, or a declaration that poets are 'the Muses' flock'
4 and invincible in their skill, they think their hymn complete. Nor do
laymen expect more of them. Indeed we honour them and think them so
I Iliad 19. 221-3.
2 An allusion to the activities of Athena in the Odyssey (2. 270 If., 3. SI If., 19· 34).
3 cr. Pindar, Olympiatl 3. II If., 6. 43, 50, Isthmiatl 3. 70 If.
 POETRY AND PROSE 559
very holy that we have handed over to them the composition of hymns
and addresses to the gods, as though they were in truth their prophets. But
the capacity to propound an appropriate subject, the well-thought-out
arrangement of details, the preciseness (within human limits) of presenta-
tion-these are qualities we think unnecessary in regard to the gods.
For all other occasions we use prose speech (/ogos)-encomia of festivals
and heroic deeds, narratives of wars, invention of fables, contests in court.
Logos is at hand for everything-but towards the gods who gave it us we
do not think it right to use it! It is in prose that we lay down the pro-
cedures even of rituals and sacrifices, when we write laws; but hymns,
no-they are not to be composed like this. Is it that the poets need the 5
gods, but we-? Let me not say it! The poets themselves confess that
'all men have need of gods'. All men should therefore honour them accord-
ing to their several capacities. Are poets alone beloved of god? Is it from 6
them that the gods most like to receive gifts? Then why did we not make
the poets the sole priests of the gods? 'The oracular prophets of the gods 7
give instructions in metre.' No: the priestess at Delphi, the priestesses
at Dodona, Trophonios, the dreams that Asclepios and Sarapis send,
speak for the most part without metre. Indeed, it is more natural for 8
man to use prose-just as it is more natural to walk than to ride. It is not
true that metre was invented first, and then speech and conversation,
nor did poets lay down the words to use: words and prose came first,
and then, to provide a certain grace and fascination of the mind (psuch-
agogia), came poetry, for she makes such things. So in honouring nature
we should be honouring the ordinance and will of the gods; and if, as
the poets themselves say, the first and oldest is also best, we should be
doing it more honour by approaching the gods, who laid down all these
things, with addresses in this style; after all, we are not ashamed of talking
to one another un metrically.
I say this not to dishonour the poets, nor to rob them of their rank, 9
but to show, on their own admission, that we might properly add these
new sacrifices to the existing ones. And if naturalness is in everything
more acceptable to the gods, we may reasonably expect to give them
more pleasure by this kind of honour than by the other. The gods too
would honour us the more if we assigned seniority where they do.
Metre indeed gives the poets their profession's fame, but from the point
of view of utility it is much more our affair. For in poetry, metre measures 10
only the hexameter or the iambic line if it fills the verse, but in prose it
gives measure to the whole context and penetrates everything (starting with
the author's name).l It allows no excess or falling short, but makes us give

I Presumably the author's name in the title.

 560 SECOND- AND THIRD-CENTURY TEXTS
everything its due. It forbids the insertion of unnecessary words-a
ridiculous thing-for the sake of the metre; when it comes to periods,
it requires self-completeness-the most difficult measure of all. Finally,
as I said, it sees that everything is in proportion and has fulfilled the goal
proposed ... 1
13 I am aware, as I said, that it is much easier to do this in song than in
prose, and that such endeavours have been handed over to the poets.
And reasonably so. They have many advantages, and the absolute power
to do what they will. We must • . . in truth remain in measure and re-
member ourselves, like soldiers keeping formation.
I This argurnent--1llld the passage §§ I 1-12, here omitted-is difficult and sophistical:
metron means both 'metre' and 'measure'. Aristides is trying to show that the rhythmical
demands of prose are just as exacting, and more beneficial.
 15
LATER GREEK RHETORIC
A. HERMOGENES, ON TYPES

We can select only a very little from the great mass of late Greek rhetorical
writing. Hermogenes of Tarsus (born c. A.D. 160) was a brilliant young student
whom the emperor Marcus Aurelius made a detour to hear. His name is attached
to a number of treatises on rhetorical subjects. Peri ideon, On Types of Style, is
authentic, and is much the most important.
The ideai are stylistic types or qualities found in all authors. They are some-
thing like the aretai, virtues, with which Theophrastus and Dionysius had
operated, but Hermogenes distinguishes many more nuances even than Dionysius.
It is difficult to find English equivalents for these delicate discriminations. One
group of ideai is headed by sapheneia (clarity), with katharotes (purity) and
eukrineia (distinctness); a second is composed of megethos (grandeur) with its
various specialized forms: semnores, trachutes, deinotes, lamprotes, akme, peribo/e
(solemnity, asperity, vehemence, brilliance, florescence, abundance); the third
comprises the qualities roughly opposed to the 'grand' group-ethos (character-
fulness), and its concomitants apheleia, aletheia, drimutes (simplicity, truthful-
ness, sharpness) and some others. It will be seen that the first group corresponds
roughly to the necessary virtues of the earlier writers, and that the other two
represent the two sides of the basic antithesis between grandeur and emotion
on the one hand, and simplicity and 'manners' on the other (cf. Dionysius, above,
p. 33 1 ).
We excerpt passages to show Hermogenes' general principles, his attitude to
Demosthenes as the exemplar of all types,' and these general concepts of
megethos and ethos. The final passage chosen illustrates his handling of individual
authors. The translation sometimes abridges. Hermogenes is a diffuse author
and repeats himself often to make his points clear to his pupils.
Text: H. Rabe, Leipzig, 1913.
Discussion: D. Hagedorn, Zur Ideenlehre des Hermogenes, Giittingen, 1964.

I. INTRODUCTION: GENERAL CONCEPTS

Perhaps the most necessary subject for the orator to understand is p. 213 Rabe
that of the 'types' (ideai) of style: what are their characteristics and how
are they produced? Without this knowledge, one cannot know how to
judge excellence and craftsmanship, or the lack of them, in other writers,
ancient or modern; and if one wishes oneself to be a craftsman in words,
I Especially the public speeches and above all On the Crown (Oration 18)-witness

the concentration of the quotations from this minutely studied speech.

8143591 00
 562 LATER GREEK RHETORIC: HERMOGENES
fine and noble words such as the ancients used, then this branch of study
is indispensable-unless one is prepared to deviate widely from standards
of good workmanship. Imitation (mimesis) and emulation (zetos) of the
214 ancients cannot in my opinion be successful, however well-endowed the
writer, if they depend simply on experience and some sort of irrational
knack. Indeed, natural advantages rushing towards random objectives
without science or principle may well lead to greater disasters;! whereas
with a knowledge and understanding of this subject even a student of
moderate ability will not fail. Of course it is better to have natural ad-
vantages on one's side also: the success will be the greater. But failing
this, let us achieve what can be achieved by the process of learning and
teaching, which depends on nothing outside our control. Indeed, the less
well endowed may well overtake the more favoured, just by dint of exer-
cise and practice on the right lines.
The study of 'types', then, is important and necessary to the future
writer and the future critic, and even more so to one who would be both.
No wonder therefore if we find it a difficult subject, not capable of simple
treatment. Nothing good is easily obtained; and it would surprise me if
there is anything better for man, who is a logical creature, than fine and
good logoi and all the types of them. 2
Before I proceed to actual instruction on the various topics involved,
I must make one preliminary point. We are not here concerned with the
215 'type' peculiar to Plato or Demosthenes or any individual writer; that
will be discussed later. For the moment, the question before us is to
consider each quality in itself, and explain what sort of thing solemnity
(semnotes) is, and how it is produced, and similarly with asperity, sim-
plicity, and the rest. However, the reason why we need this subject is
for the study of individual famous writers. Consequently, if we put before
ourselves the author whose style possesses most variety and the most
striking combination of all the 'types', we shall find that in discussing
him we have discussed them all. If we can explain the general and the
particular features of such a writer, their origin, composition, nature and
essence, we shall have given an accurate account of every type of style.
We shall have explained how they may be combined, and how, as a result
of combinations of the same types, the whole style (logos) can become
poetical or unpoetical, panegyrical, deliberative, forensic, or what you will.
Now the man who, more than anyone else, handled language in this
way and diversified his writing continuously is, in my opinion, Demo-
sthenes. Thus in considering him and what may be found in his work,
[ Cf. 'Longinus' 2. 2, above, p. 463.
2The point depends on the range of meaning of logos, which includes both 'word'
and 'reason': cf. 'Longinus' 36. 3, above, P.495.
 ON TYPES
we shall also be considering all the 'types' of style. I would beg the
reader not to criticize this approach or this critical judgement until he 216
has heard all that I am going to say. I suspect that if attention is given
to what follows I shall earn admiration, especially for distinctness, rather
than criticism.
The main point is this. Demosthenes' mastery of political oratory is
such that, if one considers him with some sophistication, it is not very
difficult to see how he is always combining styles, not separating his
deliberative manner rigorously from the forensic or panegyrical, nor
indeed abandoning any of these styles when concentrating on one of them.
What is very difficult indeed is to discover the stylistic elements which
he uses to form his own style as he does-the elements which, in
combination with one another, compose all manners, including the
panegyrical. Nor is it less difficult to express these plainly when one
has actually uncovered them. To my knowledge, no one has yet dealt with
them with exactness; those who have touched on the subject have done
so in a muddled and diffident way, so that their accounts are thoroughly
confused. For instance, those who have some repute as exponents of
Demosthenes, because they have investigated him in detail, to the limit of
their ability, without however troubling much about general principles- 217
solemnity, simplicity, the other 'types' in themselves-may indeed prove
instructive on Demosthenes or the parts of Demosthenes they claim to
discuss, but do nothing to inform us about style and 'types' of writing in
general, in metre, poetry or prose.
Difficult as it is to discover these things and expound them distinctly,
avoiding our predecessors' failures, the attempt must nevertheless be
made by the method I have proposed. If we can enumerate and describe
the elements and first principles of Demosthenic style, and say how they
are produced and combined, and what effect various kinds of combination
have, we may find that we have given an account of style in general.
To quote the great orator himself, 'this is a large undertaking, but the
execution will answer for itself here and now; let whoso wishes be my
judge.'1 •
The factors which make up the style of Demosthenes, considered as a
unity, are the following: clarity (sapheneia), grandeur (megethos), beauty
(kallos), rapidity (gorgotes), 'character' (ethos), sincerity (aMtheia), and ve-
hemence(deinotes). By 'as a unity', I mean that all these are interwoven and 218
interpenetrating: that is what Demosthenes' style is like. Of these 'types',
some stand by themselves and exist separately, others have subordinate
'types' under them, which help to produce them; others again have one
or more parts in common. In general terms, some are genera consisting
I Demosthenes 4. 15.
 564 LATER GREEK RHETORIC: HERMOGENES
of species, some overlap other 'types' in respect of some specific difference,
though distinct in all other ways, while others remain on their own and
need no additional help. What I mean will become clearer as we proceed
to discuss each 'type' separately.
We must first state the elements of which all speech is made up, and
without which no kind of speech can exist. This will make it easier to
follow when we have before us the subordinate qualities we have men-
tioned, and have to explain their genesis.
All speech has a thought or thoughts, an approach (methodos) corres-
ponding to the thought, and diction appropriate to these. Diction has
its own characteristics; it involves figures, cola, word-arrangement,
pauses, and rhythm. Rhythm is the product of the two preceding, since
to arrange the parts of speech in a particular way and to bring speech to a
pause in a particular way will produce rhythm of a particular kind.
2I9 This may be obscure, and so I will clarify it by an example. Suppose
we aim to produce sweetness. The thoughts appropriate to sweetness
are those connected with myth or the like, and certain others, which we
will discuss in the section on sweetness. The 'approaches' consist in
handling the subject as the main theme and in narrative fashion, not
allusively or in any other manner. The appropriate diction is that which
makes much use of adjectives, has a sharp flavour, and is poetical without
being elevated or diffuse by nature. Any diction associated with purity
of style will also do. Within the sphere of diction, the figures to be recom-
mended are generally those involving straightforward expression without
interruptions. The cola should be commatic in scale or not much bigger.
The arrangement of words should be relaxed because of the character
of the diction! but not wholly without coherence, since sweetness must
achieve some of its pleasurable effect by means of rhythm; its metrical
Qasis should be anapaestic or dactylic. A full discussion of rhythm and
word-arrangement would involve syllables and letters, since these,
together with clausulae, are the elements of rhythm, as will become clear
later. The clausula appropriate to sweetness, ~orresponding to this word-
arrangement, is the firmly-based kind. Rhythm, like shape, follows
arrangement and clausulae of a certain kind, although it is separate from
all of them-just as when stones or timbers of a certain kind are put
together to make a house or a ship in a certain way and with certain
220 limits set to the operation, the shape of the house or ship is thereby
determined, though it is actually something distinct from the manner of
putting together and from the limit set to the operation.
All kinds of style, then, are to be seen under the following heads, and
depend on the following factors: thought, approach (methodos), diction,
figure, colon, word-arrangement, clausula, rhythm. I am aware that these
 ON TYPES
need further clarification, and I do not think, as some do, that they might
be clarified by proposing examples. They do indeed need exemplification,
but I do not agree that clarity would follow if we were to exemplify them
now. Indeed, the discussion would be greatly prolonged by the addition
here of e~amples of these various points, and greater confusion would
probably result. It has not been my purpose here to talk about 'sweetness'
-we shall discuss it in greater detail later-except so far as to show how
anyone type of writing may be produced in its pure state. I hope, as I
said, that we may thereby be better equipped to study the rest of the
subject. I return to the main point.
This being so, and every 'type' being produced in these ways, it is 221
difficult or impossible to find in any ancient writer a specimen of style
belonging to one type in all respects-theme, approach, diction, and the
rest. What gives every writer his particular character is the predominance
in him of qualities appropriate to a given type. I exclude Demosthenes.
Unlike the rest, he has not got an abnormal preponderance of anyone
type, though there is one part or species of one type that he does employ
more than others-abundance (peribole). (The discussion of grandeur
and abundance which is to follow is the place to explain in detail his
practice in this respect.) But the preponderance is confined to one
fraction of a single type: all the others he uses in their due place, accord-
ing due weight to each. Elevated and brilliant thoughts are scaled down
by special approaches or figures or by some other means; the delicate
or trivial is similarly roused to life and given new stature. In fact he
mixes every quality on the same principles with elements not peculiar
or particularly appropriate to it, and by thus diversifying his style makes
everything fit together and form a unity in which all the various types
interpenetrate. So all beauties merge in the one supremely beautiful
style, the Demosthenic.
Strictly speaking, then, a single style cannot be found in any ancient 222
writer. No doubt it is in principle a fault to construct one's style in a
single form without variety. But-to recapitulate-different authors ex-
ceed the norm in different features and this is how their styles come to
be characterized in one way or another. By 'exceeding the norm' I do
not mean that they use a large number of the factors that make up a type
(approach, figures, word-order, pause, etc.), although this might have
some significance, but rather that they make special use of the most vital
factors in each type. This is what most helps to produce the type, and
'exceed the norm' means 'use the most important factors' in it. It some-
times happens that an author who employs every other means, and indeed
'exceeds the norm' in them, but falls short in these, actually fails to achieve
the stylistic effort to which the means he has used are appropriate.
 566 LATER GREEK RHETORIC: HERMOGENES
We must turn now to the effect of the factors that, as we said, con-
tribute to types of style.
First, and always most important, is the thought. Second comes the
diction, third the figure-the figure of diction I mean, because the figure
oflhought, in other words the approach, is my fourth factor, though this
position in the list does not correspond to its value in 'vehemence'
223 (dcinotes) , when it may be said, as will be explained, to hold the first
place. Word-arrangement and clausula may be placed last, though
sometimes they are not least in importance, especially in poetry. One
of them without the other can indeed make little or no contribution to
style, but together, and combined with rhythm, they can do much. In
fact, the musicians may raise the point that they ought to be put before
thought. Rhythm, they will tell us, by itself, and without articulate speech,
is more effective than any type of style. Appropriate rhythms produce
pleasure in the mind more than any panegyrical speech, pain more than
any rhetorical appeal to pity, anger more than any violent and vehement
talk, and so on. We will not quarrel with the musicians for teasing us
about all these points; let rhythm come first or last or in the middle,
just as anyone likes. What I hope to show is the nature of the rhythms
appropriate to each quality, limiting myself to the extent to which it is
possible to apply rhythm to prose without making a song out of it. If
rhythm is as important in this situation as it is in music generally,
224 let it come first: if not, it shall come in its proper place. My own view is
that rhythm does sometimes contribute much to the quality of style, but
not as much as they say.

2. DIGNITY, GRANDEUR, SOLEMNITY

241 The discussion of grandeur (mcgcthos) naturally follows that of clarity,

because clarity must be accompanied by a certain grandeur, 'bulk'
(onkos), and dignity, since the commonplace (to cutelcs) is next door to
great clarity, and this is the opposite of grandeur. Demosthenes, I am
convinced, recognized this. Since it is an absolute necessity for the style
of the practical orator to be clear, he consistently used the elements that
produce clarity, but as this involved a danger of his style declining into
a rather workaday manner, he combined them with elements that produce
241. 21 grandeur, and was especially strong in the quality of 'abundance' (peri-
bole) ••.
242. 3 The qualities that produce grandeur, 'bulk', and dignity are therefore the
following; solemnity, abundance, asperity, brilliance, florescence (akme),
vehemence-though this last, as will be seen when we come to discuss it,
 ON TYPES
is not very different from asperity. Of these, solemnity and abundance
exist on their own, whereas all the others are combined (or not combined)
with others in some respect, having some areas in common and some
distinct. 1 shall therefore discuss solemnity now, and the rest later.
Abundance does indeed, as 1 said before, exist on its own, but 1 postpone
the treatment of it because Demosthenes excels in it and the reason why
he employs it to achieve 'bulk' cannot be understood until we have learned
about asperity, brilliance, florescence, and vehemence.
First, then, solemnity. Its opposite, 1 suggest, is simplicity (apheleia),
which we shall discuss in the section on 'character' (ethos).
Solemn thoughts include in the first place things said of the gods qua
gods. Things like
The son of Kronos spoke, and clasped his wife in his arms 1
are not spoken of gods qua gods: they are far removed from solemnity 243
of thought, and partake more of the nature of charm (hedone) and sweet-
ness. They are expressions of human emotion-in general terms, they are
poetical, and pleasure is the main aim of poetry. An example of something
said of gods qua gods is: 'He was good, and no good being has any envy
of anything', or: 'God wanted all things to be good and nothing bad, so
far as possible', or again: 'God took all that was visible, when it was not
at rest but moving in disharmony and disorder, and reduced it from
disorder to order, thinking this in every way better.'2 Many such thoughts
can be found in Plato (these are from the Timaeus); they are not to be
found in the orators, for Hyperides' Deliacus 3 is more poetical and mythical
-I need not here explain why. There are however in Demosthenes, and
here and there in the other orators, thoughts of a second or third order
of solemnity. The first order, as 1 said, comprises thoughts about gods
qua gods; the second are thoughts about truly divine things-e.g. an
inquiry into the nature and causes of the seasons, the nature and revolu-
tion of the universe, movements of earth or sea, thunderbolts, and so 244
on. Now if these subjects are handled only with respect to causes, they
have power only to make the writing solemn, not to give it practical
value as oratory. For where is the practical oratory in the passage of
Herodotus about 'the sun, driven away in the winter season',4 or in
Plato's 'The circular path of the universe, including all the kinds in its
ambit, compresses them in every direction, and allows no empty space;
in consequence, fire passes through everything, next comes air, the second
most subtle, and so on with the others .. .' ?s Or again, where is the rele-
vance to practical oratory of inquiries into earthquakes, the flood and
I Iliad 14. 346. 2 Plato, Timaeus 29 e, 30 a.
3 Cf. 'Longinus' 35 (above, p. 493). 4 2. 24. 5 Timaeus 58 a.
 568 LATER GREEK RHETORIC: HERMOGENES
ebb of water, the impact of thunderbolts, or any such matters? Considered
in this way, such thoughts make the context solemn without being in a
practical sense oratorical. They form therefore the second class of 'solemn'
thoughts.
If however one handles such topics not with a view to inquiry into
causes but as a description (ekphrasis), the result will be both solemn and
practical. There is an example in Aristides' speech against Callixenus, I
who had advised against granting burial to the ten generals, when they
had been executed as a result of a single vote. Aristides on their behalf
described the storm. 'It was a bolt from heaven that prevented them,
245 Callixenus, beyond description and beyond bearing. The battle had scarce
begun when the sea swelled, and a brisk Hellespontine gale got up ... '
The third group of thoughts conducive to solemnity comprises matters
which are by nature divine, but are commonly seen in human affairs-
e.g. the immortality of the soul, justice, temperance, or the like, or some
discussion oflife in general or the definition oflaw or nature. For instance:
'Law is an invention and gift of the gods', or 'Law is common, ordered,
the same for all; nature is without order, peculiar to the individual',
or 'The end of all men's life is death, even though a man should keep
himself shut up at home .. .', or 'All human life is governed by nature and
laws'.2 In brief, all universal and general statements possess in some
measure solemnity of thought, especially if the universality is consistently
maintained. If you add a special detail, the effect is changed: 'A bad thing,
men of Athens, a bad thing is an informer, a thoroughly malicious,
fault-finding creature; but this little fellow was born a trickster.'3 The
addition of the detail has changed the effect; a combination of the uni-
versal and the particular produces the style of practical oratory and of
abundance, but not necessarily that of solemnity.-
246 The fourth type of solemn effect is produced by thought concerned
with matters entirely human, but great and glorious: the battles of
Marathon or Plataea or Salamis, Athos and the Hellespont, and so forth.
The addition of a fabulous solemnity accompanied by charm, as in
Herodotus (e.g. the Iacchus story)4 makes a further difference.
So much for the thoughts appropriate to solemnity: the appropriate
approaches (methodoi) are forms of exposition involving direct statement
without hesitation. (i) When we aim at consistent solemnity we must
speak exactly and with dignity, as though we are certain, and not with
any hesitation. 'Be they gods or heroes'S is solemn in thought, but the
I An example from a second-century sophistic suasoria. This speech of Aristides is

lost: see A. Boulanger, Aelius Aristide, Paris, 1923, 157, n. I.

2 [Dem.] 25. 15-16; Dem. 18.97. 3 Dem. 18. 242.
4 Herod. 8. 65. 5 Dem. 23. 70.
 ON TYPES
expression of doubt gives it more of the character of practical oratory
and persuasion. (ii) The allegorical approach, if consistently maintained,
also produces solemnity: 'The great leader in heaven, Zeus, rides his
winged chariot .. .'1 This happens, however, only when the writer does
not choose everyday, commonplace matter for his allegory; if he does,
the result is not solemnity but writing characterized by another kind
of thought, the commonplace. (iii) Another feature of the solemn ap-
proach is the use of suggestive hints to indicate darkly, in the manner of
the mysteries and initiations, something within the sphere of solemn
thoughts. By appearing to know, but to be unable to reveal, we give an
impression of grandeur and solemnity: e.g. 'verily being' or 'he was 247
good .. .' in Plato. 2 Plato in fact in one passage expands this approach:
'To discover this is difficult, to reveal it to all on discovery, impossible.'
Such approaches are valuable in amplifying solemnity when the thoughts
concerned are by nature solemn; hints like this however do not produce
solemnity in subjects of practical concern-they have a different effect.
From the thoughts and approaches of solemnity we pass to the diction.
This includes, first, all broad sounds which make us open our mouths
wide, so as to give a pompous impression, and, as it were, force us into a
manner which some speakers deliberately cultivate: This applies especially
to words containing many long 'a's or 'o's. Thus Plato tells us how some
people call oionistike (augury) oonistike 'to make it more solemn'.3
Similarly with 'a'. Theocritus represents a man as angry with women who
speak Doric and use the a continually in their broad accent.4 Long '0'
and 'a' particularly elevate and enlarge words if they occur in the closing 248
syllables: ... hegemon en ourano Zeus (' •.. leader in heaven, Zeus').
A second class of solemn words is made up of those containing a short
'0' by itself, ending in a long syllable, as in Orontes. We must add also
words which contain a number oflong syllables or diphthongs, and those
which end in such sounds, except the diphthong 'ei'. Recurrent 'i',
however, does not make for solemnity, since it contracts the mouth in-
stead of opening it, and produces a rictus.
Thirdly: tropical expressions are solemn and grand, but their use
involves considerable risks. Moderate tropes do indeed give the desired
effect: 'putting forward good hopes's instead of 'hoping for good' is an
example, because-you see this ?-the expression is so moderate that the
trope is not even noticed. Any excess, however, produces asperity: for

I Plato, Phaedrus 246 e.

• Timaeus 28 c, 29 e, for these passages.

3 Phaedrus 244 d.
• Theocritus 15. 87 ff.: the two women are talking in a crowd in a street in Alexandria.
5 Dem. 18. 97.
 570 LATER GREEK RHETORIC: HERMOGENES
example 'the cities were sick'.' This expression needed explanation-
'the politicians accepted bribes .. .' is simply explanation of 'sick'.
Further excess makes for even greater harshness: 'hamstrung', 'sold
himself', 'robbery with violence to Greece'.2 To go further still in the
same direction produces coarseness and indeed vulgarity. One could not
find an example of this, indeed, in Demosthenes-there aren't any-but
249 our friends the bogus sophists would yield many. They call vultures
(whose attentions they deserve themselves) 'living tombs',3 and use many
other such frigid expressions. Tragedy, which contains many instances
of such things, and poets like Pindar who have a tragic style, are their
downfall. There may well be things to say in defence of the use oflanguage
in this way by these writers-Pindar and the tragedians, I mean-but
it does not belong to the present occasion, and must be postponed. For
writers who use crassitudes like this in oratory, I find no excuse.
Fourthly: nouns and nominal diction also produce solemnity. By
'nominal diction', I mean diction involving a conversion from verb to
noun, and the use of participles, pronouns, etc. In the solemn manner
one should use as few verbs as possible. Thucydides always aims at this;
he has done it most noticeably in the description of the revolution at
Corcyra. 4 Apart from the verb 'was considered', everything is nouns or in
nominal form: 'irrational daring was considered loyal courage, cautious
delay specious cowardice, discretion a cloak for unmanliness', etc. (I
am not here concerned with the element of harshness or asperity in the
250 passage.) Similar is a passage of Demosthenes,5 on the effect of which he
comments himself: 'words, he said, do not strengthen associations': then
comes the comment-'a very solemn way of putting the point'.
So much for diction: the figures appropriate to solemnity are those
which also give purity: i.e. directness and the like. 'Confirmations'
(epikriseis), whether to be regarded as thoughts or figures, are solemn:
'But to pay them in speech what honour remains is enjoined by the law,
and is our duty';6 'They were willing to give themselves up to danger for
the sake of honour and glory, and their decision was honourable and right.'7
All this sort of thing is solemn and dignified. 'Confirmations' combined
with expressions of doubt, on the other hand, are characterful (ethikai)
but not solemn: 'I am no lover of invective, but I am bound to say ... '
Any touch of doubt or hesitation lends an individual character to a
passage. A speaker who wishes to give his words dignity and solemnity
needs to be dogmatic: 'Philip had no way of putting an end to, or getting
IDem. 18.45. • Dem. 3. 31, 19.6,9.22.
3 Gorgias: cf. 'Longinus' 3. 2, above, p. 464.
4 TIlUe. 3. 82. 5 Dem. 18. 35.
6 Plato, Menexenus 236 d. 7 Dem. 18.97.
 ON TYPES 57 1
out of, his war with us.' If you say 'I imagine Philip had .. .' you produce
an effect of 'character' (ethos). On the other hand, to attribute something
of what you are going to say to your own opinion is dignified and solemn:
'What 1 want to say is this .. .' jl 'Agamemnon seems to me to have been
the most powerful ruler of the time . . .'2
'Apostrophe' and 'hypostrophe' are not appropriate to the solemn
manner or to the pure: indeed, they undermine and destroy them, because
they break the piece up by interruptions and upset the free run, making it 25 1
more ordinary and oratorical. Compare the effect of the phrase 'whether
they dwell in a great city or a small' placed in the middle of the sentence
'the whole life of men is governed by nature and by laws'.3 To arrange the
clauses in the order 1 have just given them would produce a different
effect from that given by dividing the sentence by hypostrophe and
writing 'the whole life of men, whether they dwell in a great city or a small,
is governed by nature and laws'. This last is rapid, as well as being ora-
torical, and solemn j the other would be solemn and homogeneous in a
pure manner. This therefore is the treatment to be adopted if the speech
is to remain solemn throughoutj otherwise, we should prefer the other.
As to cola: 'solemn' cola are the 'pure' cola-i.e. the shorter ones. They
should be as it were aphorisms. 'Every soul is undying, for the ever-
moving is undying'.4 'Law is the invention and gift of the gods, and the
decision of intelligent men'.5 There may however be longer cola for some
necessary reason in a context of solemnity.
As to word-arrangement: the 'solemn' types are those which are not
fussy about vowel-clashes, but are broadly speaking dactylic, anapaestic,
or paeonic, sometimes iambic, and especially spondaic. Forms based on
the epitrite thus suit the solemn manner, while trochaic and ionic rhythms 252
do not ...
[We omit some examples.]
Clausulae in the 'solemn' manner again follow the same principles as 253. 11
those in the 'pure'. The sentence must rest on one of the feet appropriate
to solemnity, and with no catalexis, so that the 'basis' does not become
trochaic, or the rhythm turn hurried instead of steady. It will be steady
if it ends in a noun or nominal expression at least three syllables long:
eis toutoni ton agona. 6
Alternatively, there may be a majority of long syllables at the clausula, 254
IDem. 9. 20. • TllUC. I. 9. 3 [Dem.] 25. IS.
4 Plato, Phaedrus 245 c.
5 [Dem.] 25. 16. 6 Dem. 18. I ('to this contest').
 572 LATER GREEK RHETORIC: HERMOGENES
so that a double spondee or any epitrite other than the fourth forms the
'basis':
liapas ho ton anthropon bios phusei kai nomois dioikeitai.'
The rhythm has a particularly solemn base if the clausula has last,
or next to last, a broad sound which forces the mouth open-a point I
made above in connection with solemn diction.
The nature of the rhythm should be clear from the above. Note
however that if the general rhythmical character is epitritic or dactylic or
the like, but the clausula fails to terminate in such a way that what follows
(?) has the kind of feet appropriate to solemnity, the rhythm is not solemn.
This principle is true of all 'types'. If a composition is formed of feet of
a certain nature, which are supposed to produce a certain type, but the
clausulae are not formed of complete feet of the same kind, but the feet
are broken up, the rhythm is changed and becomes appropriate to a
different manner from that associated with the feet of which the whole
254. 21 context was composed.

3. 'CHARACTER', SIMPLICITY

321. 19'Character' (ethos) in speech is produced by moderation (epieikeia) and

simplicity, and also by the genuineness and sincerity apparent in it.
Weightiness ,also is involved in writing in character, though it is not an
essential part of it, as simplicity, moderation, genuineness, and sincerity
all are. Nor indeed can it be seen on its own-it needs with it simpli-
322 city or moderation or some other characterful quality. This will be clearer
after a discussion of the several qualities.

Simplicity
The thoughts of simplicity are in general those of purity. Thoughts com-
mon to mankind, reaching, or believed to reach, everyman, with nothing
deep or sophisticated about them, are obviously simple and pure. 'Think
me a villain, but let him go'Z is an example. It is generally agreed, too,
that pure thoughts will necessarily be simple, and vice versa. Simple in a
more special sense are the characters who are unaffected and childish-
not to say silly-to some degree.
For example, it gives this effect to go over events or tell a story that
is unnecessary and that no one has asked for. There is much in Anacreon
I [Dem.] 2S. IS, quoted more than once already: 'the whole life of man is governed

by nature and by laws.'

z Dem. 19.8.
 ON TYPES 573
of this kind, and in Theocritus' pastorals, and in many other writers: for
example,
I'm serenading Amaryllis, while my goats graze on the mountain, 1
and the context. Now as the examples we gave under 'purity' were of a
more oratorical and contentious kind ('think me a villain, but let him go' 323
is perhaps of this sort also), and as we gave no instances of pure and simple
thoughts in other kinds of prose writing, something more must be said
now. I make no separation of 'pure' thoughts as a category distinct from
'simple', nor of 'simple' as distinct from 'pure'. What I mean is that of
these 'pure and simple' thoughts, some suit oratory better than others,
and some do not suit it at all. These last are the thoughts that are strictly
peculiar to simplicity, as I said, though at the same time perfectly 'pure'.
They are, for example, the thoughts of infants, men of infantile mind,
women, countrymen, and generally speaking simple, guileless folk of
any kind. 'How lovely grandpa is, mother!' 'They are bad men', said
Cyrus of the Assyrians, 'and they ride bad horses.'2 See how simple the
thought is! Or again:
Sweet is the murmuring, goatherd, and yonder pine .. .3
-and indeed most, if not all, bucolic poetry. There are similar passages
in Anacreon, while in Menander one could find innumerable such things,
spoken by women or young men in love or cooks or similar characters.
And in general, because the characters of all such personages (gluttons, 32 4
countrymen, etc.) fall under the head of 'character', all or most of them
must come under simplicity: they are what are strictly called 'character'
elements. It should be noted also that 'pure' thoughts in this sense,
which are also simple, are essential and useful if one is reporting what in
the narrow sense is called a 'character' personage; otherwise they have
no relevance to oratorical writing.
'Simple' also are thoughts that appear to border on the vulgar. These
are found when one speaks about vulgar or ordinary matters. For example,
in the speech against Stephanus for false witness, we have the phrase
'showered the nuts over him', and again 'strip the rose-garden'. In the
Appeal against Eubulides, we find the speaker saying that his mother used
to sell ribbons in the market. 4 This sort of thing is common in private
speeches, even commoner in Lysias. In public speeches it is rare, and is
introduced with some degree of apology: for example the phrase 'riots with-
out his mask'S is raised above the level of utter vulgarity by the addition
I Theocr. 3. I. 2 Xenophon, Cyropaedia I. 3. 2, I. 4. 19.
3 Theocr. I. I.
4 Dem. 45. 74; 57. 31,35. 5 Dem. 19.287.
 574 LATER GREEK RHETORIC: HERMOGENES
of the spontaneous 'the appalling Kyrebion' and 'in the processions'.
325 Again: ' ... how your mother made use of the daily weddings in the hut
by the Hero of the Splints, and brought you up as a lovely statue or a
supreme third-part actor'.' This is of the same general type, even if it is
introduced with vehemence, for the subject is vulgar; but it earns its
defence with the phrase 'daily weddings', the vehemence, the irony, and so
on. Again: the phrase 'squashing the brown snakes' and the whole passage
down to 'and all the other names the old women called you' is of this kind,
but it is justified by the fact that Demosthenes deprecates what is said
himself, because these were words used by old women. 2 There is another
passage which some people have-perhaps rightly-obelized and deleted
because of its extreme vulgarity. It is the one that begins: 'She wandered
around all the summer, crying baked beans .. .' This might be suitable
in a private speech, but could not possibly do in a public speech, or one
with that level of dignity, or in regard to a person or event of that kind.
Similar is the passage, obelized by some, in the speech against Neaera:
'ply her profession through three openings'. This is very vulgar, even if
it is vigorous. 3
'Simple' also are thoughts occurring in arguments drawn from irra-
tional animals. 'The ox strikes with his horn, the horse with his hoof,
326 the dog with his mouth, the boar with his tusk'.4 A very similar effect is
given by arguments from plants, though these have even more simplicity
of sentiment in them, being close to 'sweetness' and thus common in the
poets. In the poets indeed these features may possess grandeur, and this
is not surprising: for one thing, they do not use examples of this kind in
quantity, as we do in prose, but take just one, and this does not make the
whole context simple; and secondly, poets are naturally concerned with
the grand as well as the pleasant, and therefore elevate their subject by
diction or figures even if in its own nature it is simple and pleasant.
More about 'sweetness' anon. The foregoing example gains in sim-
plicity by having a number of distinct parts. Now this multiplication of
parts is a matter not of the thought appropriate to simplicity but of the
method or approach. In the expression 'Except for harvesters and others
working for hire',5 if one were to remove the indefiniteness and dwell on
the details, one would make the passage 'simple': for example 'except
for harvesters and diggers and binders and shepherds and herdsmen'.
This dwelling on details would produce great simplicity.
Simple and character-revealing in thought is also the appeal to an
oath rather than to facts. 'I call on all the gods and goddesses of the land
) Dem. 18. 129. 2 Ibid. 260.
3 These passages are not in our Demosthenes MSS.: the obelizers have prevailed.
4 Xen. Cyropaedia 2. 3. 9. 5 Dem. 18. SI.
 ON TYPES 575
of Attica, and on Apollo of Delphi.' 'First, men of Athens, I pray to all 32 7
gods and goddesses.'I There are countless such examples in Demosthenes
and all these oaths are 'in character' (ethika) and simple. So also if one
binds the audience or one's opponent by an oath; this is not a debating
move, like 'For the sake of Zeus and the gods, do not accept .. .'2 and the
like, but a matter of convincing character and persuasiveness. On the other
hand, if one were to process (methodeuein) a debating proof or something
else in such a way that it falls into the figure of an oath, this is something
different, and not simple or 'in character'. For it is then no longer an
oath, but a processed form of something else. Retaining its original force,
it acquires additional qualities through the process adopted. 'No, by
those of our ancestors who risked their lives at Marathon .. .'3 This is a
notable example and proof of the fact that it was the city's habit to fight
and take risks for the liberty of Greece, so 'processed' as to fall into an
oath; the result is thus splendour and grandeur, not simplicity and 327.21
character.

4. THE PURELY 'PANEGYRIC' MODE AND ITS EXPONENTS

It is not very easy to say anything about the purely 'panegyric',4 except 403.21
that all the elements which produce the finest, Platonic panegyric can,
by their isolated predominance, produce a kind of panegyric mode:
viz. solemnity by itself, simplicity, sweetness, purity, care, all the qualities 404
mentioned above. Those ancient writers who have the highest reputation
for panegyric evidently wrote in this manner. They form my present
subject.
But first, some remarks by way of necessary preface. The best panegyric
must possess grandeur with charm, ornament, and clarity, as well as real-
istic representation of character and all the other things discussed in our
section on the panegyrical style. Not only poetry and prose in general
(logographia) possess these qualities. History has them in abundance.
Historians must therefore definitely be placed among the panegyrists.
They do indeed belong here, for their aims are grandeur and pleasure
and all the other usual objects, even if they do not attain them in the
same way as Plato. They must therefore be discussed here. First,

I Dem. IS. 141, I. 2 Ibid. 19. 7S.

3 Ibid. IS. 20S; cf. 'Longinus' 16 (above, p. 4So).
4 An extended sense of this tenn. Of the three branches of oratory-forensic, delibera-
tive, epideictic or panegyric-the last can be regarded as in a sense covering also all non-
oratorical prose; thus Hennogenes is able to regard Plato as the great 'panegyrist', and
history also as a species of'panegyric'. The tenn here does not mean only 'encomiastic'.
 576 LATER GREEK RHETORIC: HERMOGENES
however, we must proceed to writers distinguished in panegyric in the
school of Plato, especially as some practised history as well as other sorts
of prose-writing-for example, Xenophon, with whom I begin.
Xenophon is a particularly simple writer. He is stronger on this side
than in the other aspects of the panegyric manner. He makes ample use
405 of the pleasures of simplicity, rather more sparing use of the sweetness
resulting, for example, from myths and the like. For example, in his
pleasant account of dogs, he produces his effect by intensification of
simplicity, not by anything naturally peculiar to sweetness.! On the other
hand, the character and emotion in the story of Abradates and Panthea 2
acquire their great pleasurableness from the mythical fiction: similarly
with Tigranes and his wife Armenia. 3 Such sweetnesses, as I said, he uses
sparingly; but he does use them. He often touches grandeur in thought,
but brings it down to earth and forces it into a simple mould by his
methods, diction, and everything related to diction, Xenophon is as pure
and distinct as any writer there is; he likes tartness and sharpness-
qualities we discussed in connection with sweetness and simplicity.
He shows great care and study, within the limits of a simple, unaffected
style. Indeed, his simplicity is much simpler than Plato's, because it
arises in the subject-matter, not only in the diction and accompanying
qualities. Each wrote a Symposium: Xenophon does not refuse to describe
-and with charm-entrances of dancing-girls, dance-figures, kisses, and
so on. Plato 'leaves all that to the women',4 to use his own phrase, and
406 guides the simplicity of the subject in a more solemn direction. Xenophon
maintains similar characteristics in his historical works. 'They wore
garlands of straw'; 'they talked to the slaves as though they were deaf and
dumb'; 'they had to bend over the bowl and drink like cattle'.5 The charm
of such passages is due to their surpassing simplicity, which Plato does
not match. Xenophon also excels in the representation of persons, when
he is concerned with simple, unaffected, tender, and pleasing characters,
for instance the boy Cyrus. There is nothing like this in Plato, except
what is to do with young boys-Theaetetus or some similar character-
but this is not to be compared with the boy Cyrus, the lady Armenia, or
the like. It is also a peculiarity of Xenophon to use at intervals poetical
expressions which are by nature sharply distinguished from the rest of
his diction-for example porsunein for 'to provide'.
Aeschines (the Socratic) may well come next after Xenophon. He too
is an outstanding example of the simple writer, but he uses the pure and
distinct manner even more than the simple. He is thus more delicate in
diction than Xenophon, with (once again) a fair number of more solemn
I Cynegeticus. • Cyropaedia 5.1, 6.1, 6.4, 7.3. 3 Ibid. 3. I. 36.
• Plato, Symp. !76 e. 5 Xenophon, Anabasis 4. 5. 32.
 ON TYPES 577
thoughts and a moderate use of the charms of fable and the fabulous.
You might say he excels Xenophon in delicacy as much as Xenophon's 407
simplicity excels that of Plato. He is much purer, and more careful than
Xenophon, yet still within the limits of the simple manner.
Nicostratus, I who deserves or demands mention next, is as simple as
any of these, but more delicate and pure. His style is exceptionally slight
(huperischnon), with no grandeur except in the thought. He likes fables
and their charms-indeed, he has invented many fables himself, and
not only Aesopic ones but such as could be the subject of plays.
He is extremely careful in arrangement, but without violating his
simplicity. • • 407. 18
I come next to the distinguished historians. The Olympic, Panathenaic, 4°7.21
and indeed Panegyric speeches of Isocrates and Lysias-despite their
title I-are clearly something different. They possess a certain panegyric
element, such as a deliberative or forensic speech might admit, but even 408
if they did belong to this category because (in particular) of Isocrates'
artistry in word-order, what has been said of them in the discussion of
deliberative and forensic orators still suffices. We must now discuss the
historians other than Xenophon, whose style we have already considered.
The most panegyrical of the historical panegyrists, then, is Herodotus.
This is because he abounds in charm as well as purity and distinctness.
His thoughts are almost all mythical, his language is throughout poetical.
He often displays grandeur of thought, but it is his care and the richness
of his artistry that ensures the double achievement of grandeur and charm.
Most of his rhythms in word-arrangements and clausulae are dactylic,
anapaestic, spondaic, and in general solemn. His representations of
character and emotion are among the finest and most poetical there are;
this indeed is how he achieves so much grandeur, notably in Book 7
in the conversation of Xerxes with Artabanus and the latter's reply on
human destiny.2
In approaching Thucydides, I have one preliminary point to make clear. 409
That I mention him after Herodotus and the others carries no implication
that I regard him as their inferior in literary skill and capacity. I should
certainly not put Herodotus after Nicostratus or Aeschines, nor indeed
after Xenophon, in terms of power and skill-especially as we are dis-
cussing the panegyric mode. I have simply followed the order dictated by
the sequence of the discussion of this style, placing the historians in a
separate category from the other panegyrists. I then placed Herodotus
I A sophist and philosopher of the second century A.D. None of his works survive.

The novel Lucius or the Ass has been attributed to him without solid reason (c. A. Behr,
Aelius Aristides, Amsterdam, 1968, 13, n. 34).
2 7.46 fr.

8148591 Pp
 578 LATER GREEK RHETORIC: HERMOGENES
first among the historians, because he is more panegyrical and more
charming not only than Thucydides but than any other practitioner in this
manner. Of Thucydides indeed, it might be doubted into which category
he falls; he is as much forensic and deliberative as panegyrical, in his
thought and the elaboration with which he introduces every point. Let
him however occupy his proper place, by genre and by his superiority
to some and (it may be) inferiority to others in literary capacity. I shall
merely describe him as he is.
Thucydides aims at grandeur, and he does in a sense achieve it-but
not the grandeur that I think he wanted. He aims, I fancy, at solemnity,
4 10 the proper quality of panegyrical grandeur, but he obviously goes too
far in the direction of roughness, harshness, and hence obscurity. This
is true especially of his diction, but also of his word-arrangement. He
takes great trouble over artistic adornment, but here too aims at sub-
limity and great grandeur, with the result that he overshoots the mark
in hyperbole and novel word-order~whence comes harshness, and then
obscurity. He is extremely dignified, and his thought possesses a remark-
able combination of the oratorical and the solemn. Nothing even in his
historical narrative goes unelaborated.
In his 'methods' or approaches, he is quite different. He introduces
even his elaborations with some notable piece of grandeur or the like,
and thus is almost wholly without sweetness. Where this does occur, it is
conspicuously alien to the style: for instance 'Tereus who took Procne
the daughter of Pandion from Athens as his wife' etc.! Were there no
such instances, one would have cause for surprise that his writing does
sometimes achieve charm; virtually no other individual style, that chooses
4I I and perfects some particular manner, can appear pure without making
at any rate some contact with all the other possible manners. As a historian,
Thucydides employs representation (mimesis) in his speeches and in some
dialogues,~ but he has the same characteristics here-indeed, they are
even more marked. In his actual narrative he is less harsh and rough with
many pure and distinct passages, far surpassing (in this and in much
else) his teacher Antiphon.
Hecataeus of Miletus, from whom Herodotus learned much, is pure and
lucid, and sometimes shows considerable charm. His pure, unmixed
Ionic, without the variety of that of Herodotus, makes him less poetical
in diction. Nor is he as studied or as ornamental in diction; his charms
thus are far inferior to Herodotus', despite the fact that almost his whole
subject is myth and narrative of that character. On the other hand, not
only is his subject capable of giving rise to any kind of style, but his
I Thuc. 2. 29.
2 Notably the Melian Dialogue in Book 5.
 ON TYPES 579
diction, and the features associated with diction-figures, cola, word-
order, rhythm, clausulae-are well adapted to produce charm and sweet-
ness like that of Herodotus, and indeed any other of the various kinds of
writing. Hecataeus' inferiority, it seems, is thus due to his failure to take
sufficient care about accuracy and ornament of diction.
It seemed unnecessary here to discuss Theopompus, Ephorus, Hellani- 412
cus, Philistus, and their like. For one thing, it is easy to characterize them
on the basis of the theory of types, and of our discussions of individual
authors. Secondly, their styles have, to the best of my knowledge, never
been thought worthy of imitation or rivalry by Greeks, as h~e those of
Thucydides, Herodotus, Hecataeus, Xenophon, and some others.

B. ON INVENTED HYMNS

This piece and the next come from treatises on 'epideictic' ('display') oratory
attributed to a rhetor called Menander, and probably dating from the third
century A.D. They illustrate the concern of the later rhetoric for unreal themes.
Many of the prescriptions these handbooks offer are clearly much older than the
books themselves, and afford useful parallels for the interpretation of the Greek
and Latin poetry of the Empire.
Text: L. Spengel, Rhetores Graeei, iii. The first piece deals with hymns to the
gods involving myths made up for the occasion. Spengel 340 ff.

The first point to note about 'invented' hymns is that they cannot easily
be written for the famous gods, whose origins and powers are well
known, but usually relate to minor gods or demigods; for example Eros
in Plato is at one time said to have existed before the earth, at another to
be the child of Aphrodite; later on again he is represented as born of
Poverty and Plenty, as controlling the art of medicine, and as bringing
together the halves of the original human body. I Plato invents these
hymns, which relate to the nature, power, and birth of the divinity, with
great ingenuity. Thi~ licence comes to prose-writers from the poets.
Poets invent Deimos (Terror) and Phobos (Fear) as companions of Ares,
Phuge (Flight) as a friend of Phobos, and Sleep as the brother of Death.
I myself made Logos (Reason) the brother of Zeus (? to make a sort of
summary of moral philosophy). The next thing is to explain what rules
must be observed in invented hymns. First, they should not be separate
from the whole but continuous with it and this condition will be ful-
filled if the invention is taken from the main subject ( ?) and is not remote
from it. Secondly, the fiction must be constructed in a facile, elegant, and
by no means disagreeable manner: for example the Muses as the daughters
I Symposium 178 d, 180 d, 186 b, 191 c, 203 b.
580 LATER GREEK RHETORIC: MENANDER
of Memory, or the like. For some inventions are disagreeable even to
hear, for instance that Athena sprang from the head of Zeus. This may in-
deed do very well in some other circumstances, if it is meant allegorically,
but the invention is plainly disagreeable. Thirdly, in all our fiction we
should take proofs from reality, as I have done, and as Homer often does.
Fourthly: invented hymns should be consistent with themselves and
not involve contradictory or conflicting elements, as in the_story that
Zeus came before all things and is the father of all gods, and yet married
Themis, Cronos' former wife. For if he was before all things, he was
before Themis; but if Themis was before Zeus, Zeus was not before all
things. Fifthly: excessive length and elaboration are to be avoided. Some
recent writers, having invented the new demigod Jealousy, make Envy
her head-dress, and Strife her girdle. Pausanias I has a particular inclina-
tion to this sort of elaboration. Old and new can be made one both in
poetry and more particularly in prose.
The style for such hymns should be chosen with an eye to the subject.
If you invent a human story, it should be simple and neat-by 'human
story', I mean something not terrifying or supernatural: Poverty or
Insomnia or the like. If it is something supernatural, adopt a more solemn
style. This kind of hymn, it should be noted, shows great talent and is a
sign of inventiveness.

C. PROPEMPTICA (VALEDICTIONS)

Spengel395 ff. See, in general, Oxford Classical Dictionary, s.v. Propempticon.

A valedictory speech is one which speeds its subject on his journey with
good wishes. It likes delicacy and the charm of old-world stories. There
are many varieties of valediction. The first admits advice in some part,
while other parts of the speech give opportunities for encomiastic and
amatory passages, if the speaker so wishes. Advice is in place when a
superior is sending off an inferior (e.g. a teacher his pupil), because his
own position gives him a character which makes advice appropriate. A
second type allows the expression of a loving and passionate attitude to
the departing person without the addition of advice; this is when the
reputation and position of the two parties are equal, e.g. when a friend
sends off a friend. Even if the speaker in these circumstances is superior
to his departing companion, the common title of friend and their mutual
~ffection deprive him of his advisory position. A third type gives greater
scope for encomium-indeed it consists almost entirely of this: this is
when one wants to present as a valediction what is really an encomium.
I A second-century sophist. See Philostratus, Lives o/the Sophists 2. 13.
 PROPEMPTICA
For example, we may be saying good-bye to a governor at the end of his
term of office or because he is moving to another city. In saying this, I
do not mean to deprive any of the varieties I have mentioned of the
emotions of love. The valedictory speech always rejoices in these. What
I am trying to show is that there are times for making greater use of it,
and times for making less. In the case of the governor, one can include the
desire and love of entire cities for him.

SUGGESTED DIVISION OF A VALEDICTORY SPEECH

Let us suppose a young man sending off a friend. He will complain to

Fortune or to the Loves, as though he had suffered some extraordinary
and unexpected blow, because they do not allow the bond of friendship
to hold firm, but keep injecting new desires to make the man who agreed
and consented to maintain indissoluble friendship again feel love for his
country and want to see his parents, forgetting as it were the treaty of
friendship he made with his friend. Alternatively, the speaker can ap-
proach the audience as though they were a jury, with a charge against his
friend, pretending he is making a claim in accordance with his agreement
with him; then you can proceed by urging your hearers not to allow him
to transgress, and you can support your argument by historical instances
or by parallels: as historical instances you have the inseparable friendships
between Theseus and Heracles, Diomedes and Sthenelus, Euryalus <and
Nisus).!
Parallels may be drawn from animals: one can point out that horses and
cattle associating together in herds, and birds also, find separation painful.
At a later point in the speech, you will perhaps recall the exercises, the
wrestling, the gymnastics you have shared with him.
Mter this address to the audience as jury, you may introduce, as a
third point, an encomium of the city-a plea, as it were, to stay at home.
'Love of Athens, her mysteries and ceremonies, does not even so grip
you so fast-no, nor her libraries and lecture-halls, the literary enthusiasm
of her teachers-the Areopagus, the Lyceum, the Academy, the beauties
of the acropolis, so laboriously and yet so delightfully wrought! I fear you
had no love:
What shall become of our treaties and oaths?2
How proud I was of my friends! How I thought I had fortified myself
with my friend! And now I am left as naked as Ajax without his shield;
I Text uncertain. If 'Nisus' is rightly supplied, the allusion is to the story in

Aeneid 9. It is unusual to find a Greek author referring to a Latin classic.

2 Iliad 2. 339.
S8z LATER GREEK RHETORIC: MENANDER
I shall dwell in desert places and soli tu des, I shall be called a misanthrope,
like Timon. Why form a friendship, only to be hurt when my friend breaks
the bond? Happy the wild beasts that are content with a solitary life!"
This kind of material will occupy the first part of the valedictory
speech ... When you come to the rest, you should again complain of
having failed to persuade him as you wished, and you can then conclude:
'Since the decision has been taken, and I have lost, let us run with his
wishes.' Thus you will come to the regular topics of encomia. 'Happy
parents of such offspring! Happy city for your sake ! You will gladden
your parents by your success, you will be your city's champion in courts
of law, in rhetorical competitions, on embassies, in literary rivalries.'
To give support to this, you can say you have personal experience of his
uprightness and self-control, his wisdom and courage, his excellence as a
speaker, and so have his teachers and all his friends. If possible, you should
relate episodes here to demonstrate his excellence. You can say he will
be useful to emperors when they recognize him for his outstanding quali-
ties, and may one day be head of a school-though not as Isocrates,
Isaeus, Lysias, and the like were. 2 This is appropriate if the subject of
the valedictory address is a highly educated person; it will fit him if you
praise him by saying that he may perhaps be head of a school and educate
the young. If you say anything about him which is not true, everybody
will know it, and you will lose credit, make yourself suspect for other
occasions, and thereafter have an uphill job with your audience. One
must always fall in with wh:!t is commonly agreed. In the case of such a
man, you can say also that when there were literary competitions at the
festival of the Muses, he was praised by the teachers above all his con-
temporaries. As Ephorus and Theopompus, Isocrates' pupils, won gar-
lands for being better than the others-Isocrates used to offer a garland
every month as a prize for the best of his pupils-so your friend was seen
to be the best and was thought worthy of praises no less valuable than
any garland.
Since physical beauty contributes to happiness, write also of what he
was like to look at. Describe his beard, eyes, hair, and so on. To elevate
your description and avoid the scandal which might come from admiring
his beauty, make his appearance dignified and serious, saying that he adds
to his beauty by the purity of his manners and by the fact that he does
not give himself easily to many, but lives only with the best men, the
best speeches, and the best books.
After that, you will have an opportunity of praising his native city:
I Cf. Aeneid 4.551.
2 Presumably because these all wrote speeches for others, and did not act in public
life themselves, while the young man here praised has the highest political ambitions.
 PROPEMPTICA
it is splendid and glorious, no less than the most famous cities, and he
will be seen there in his splendour in a splendid and prosperous setting.
Finally, ask him to remember old acquaintance, kindness, and friend-
ship. You should bid him ease the pain of separation by talk and memory.
If he is going by land, describe the journey and the country through
which he travels-how he will pass, maybe, through Thrace, praised
and honoured for his oratory, how he will be admired in Lydia and
Phrygia. If he is going by sea, you should call to mind the deities of the
sea, Egyptian Proteus, Glaucus of Anthedon, Nereus, who will escort him
and race beside the ship; the dolphins and whales shall rejoice, fawning
or fleeing as Poseidon escorts the ship. Let the ship go on her way 'bearing
the god-like hero', until in your speech you bring her into port; then
conclude with a prayer, asking the gods for every blessing on him.
This page intentionally left blank
 INDEXES

I. INDEX OF GREEK AND LATIN TERMS

Only words used technically in Literary Criticism are included; cross-references are to
the General Index.
abusio, see Catachresis epipistosis, 75
akme, 561, 566 esse videatur, see Clausulae
aletheia, see Truth ethos, see Character
antheron, anthos, see Flowery eukrineia, 561
aoidos, see Bard euteles, see Commonplace
apheleia, see Simplicity exodos, see s. v.
aretai, see Virtues
arthron, I I 8 facetus, 243
asteia, see Wit
athroismos, 485 n. glOssai, see Dialect words, Rare words
auxesis, see Amplification glottematika, see Rare words
gniimologiae, see Proverbs
bathos, see Frigidity gorgotes, 513
grammatici, see s. v.
charakter(es), see Words
clausulae, see s.v. hadron, hadrotes, see Grandeur
controversia, see Declamation hamartia, see Ignorance
harmonia, see Rhythm
deinos, deinotes, see Forceful hedone, see Pleasure
desis, see Complication HeI/enismos, see Correctness
deus ex machina, see s. v. hemimetra, 173
dianoia, see Intellect hexis, 380, 389
dicax,243 hieron pneuma, see Inspiration
diegesis, see Narration hupa/lage, see Metonymy
drimutes, 561 huperischnon, see Plain
hupot/elOsis, 75
eikasia, see Simile hupomnema, 544-
eikon, see Simile huponoia, see Allegory
eikota, see Probability hupsos, hupselon, see Sublime
ekphraseis, see Descriptions
ekpiexis, 552 iambizein, see Iambus
elegans, eiegantia, see Elegant style ideai, see Style
elenchos, 75 immutationes, 244-
e/ocutio, see Expression ;schnos, see Plain
enargeia, see Vividness
enthousiasmos, see Inspiration kairos, see Occasion
emhumema, see Enthymeme kakozelon, see Affected Style
epanodos, see Peroration ka/los, 563
epexelenchos, 75 katachresis, see Catachresis
epieikeia, 572 katharotes, 561
epikriseis, see Confirmations katharsis, see Catharsis
586 INDEXES
kO/on, komma, see Colon, Comma pedestris, see Prose
kommos, see Lament periboie, 561, 565 f.
komodia, see Comedy peripeteia, see s. v.
kuria, see Standard expressions pezos, see Prose
phantasia, see Visualization
lamprotis, 561 phrasis, 302. See also Expression
Latinitas, see Correctness phusis theazousa, see Inspiration
lexis, see Expression pistosis, 75
lexis eiromeni, see s. v. pnlgos, 20
loci communes, see Common places poematia, 429
logoeides, see Prose poiitis, see Poet
logographia, see Prose prooemium, see Proem
logos, logoi, see Speech propria, see Standard expressions
lusis, see Denouement pseudos, see Falsehood
psuchagogia, see Charm
mania, see Madness psuchros, see Frigidity
megaloprepeia, 507
megethos, see Grandeur sapheneia, see Clarity
men and de, 184 schemata, schematismoi, see Figures
metaboli, see Variety semnotes, see Solemnity
methodos, methodeuein, 564, 568, 575 sententiae, see Epigrams
metron, 146, 560 n. stasimon, see s. v.
mimemata, mimesis, see Imitation stasis, status, see 'Status'
suasoria, see Declamation
nomoi, see Nomic poetry subti/is, see Plain
sunkriseis, see Comparisons
Odi, see Lyrics sunthesis, see Words
onkos, see Pomp
onomata, 136 n. techne, see Art
orthotis, see Correctness tekmeria, see Arguments
lonos, 313
parabola, see Hazard trachutes, 561
paradeigma, see Example tragOdia, see Tragedy
parapsogoi, see Invective
parepainos, see Encomia urbane dicta, see Wit
parisosis, see s. v.
parodos, see s. v. zilos, see Emulation
pathos, see Emotion

11. INDEX OF PROPER NAMES

Figures in bold type denote references of major importance.
Academy (school of Plato and his succes- Acusilas (of Argos, Greek historian, 6th or
sors), 235 f., 421, 451 f. 5th cent. B.c.), 255
Accius (L., Roman tragic poet, 170-c. 90 Adimantus (brother of Glaucon: a rela-
B.C.), 250, 253 n., 271, 273, 286, 293, tion of Plato and a character in the
298, 395, 444 f. Republic), 51 fr.
Acumenus (a doctor), 76 f. Adrastus (king of Argos who led the Seven
 INDEX OF PROPER NAMES
against Thebes: traditionally 'honey- Albucius (C. Albucius Silus: orator, born
tongued', hence Plato uses his name as c. 60 B.C.), 353
a cover for some contemporary, possibly Alcaeus (Lesbian lyric poet of 7th-6th
Antiphon), 77 cent. B.C.: especially celebrated for his
Aemilius, school of (gladiatorial school in political poems), 199, 340, 389
Rome, said to be 'near the circus'), 280 Alcamenes (5th cent. B.C., sculptor), 405,
Aeschines (c. 397-c. 322 B.C., orator, the 544
great rival ofDemosthenes), 221, 238 f., Alcibiades (c. 450-404 B.C., Athenian
247, 250 fr., 314, 330, 383, 391, 407 f., statesman), 8 If., 36, 102, 220
424, 430 f., 441, 447, 481 Alcidamas (4th cent. B.C., rhetorician and
Aeschines of Sphettus (adherent of sophist: extant is a discussion of the
Socrates, writer of Socratic dialogues, relative merits of written and extem-
of which fragments survive), 164( ?), pore speeches), 140, 176, 195
204 n., 214 f., 226, 576 f. Alexander (the Great), 254, 256, 278, 305,
Aeschylus (525-456 B.C., the first of the 465, 468 n., 539
great Attic tragedians), 5, 8, 10 If., 54, Alexander (friend of Plutarch), 534
1I5, u6 n., 122, 123 n., 126 n., 276, Alexis (4th-3rd cent. B.C., comic poet),
287, 339, 390, 463, 478, 504 If., 5II 51 9
Aeseminus (M. Oaudius Marcellus, Ambivius Turpio (actor of 2nd cent. B.C.:
grandson of Asinius Pollio, declaimer performed in comedies of Terence and
and orator of time of Augustus and Caecilius),444
Tiberius), 351 Ammaeus (critic, friend of Dionysius of
Aesion (Athenian orator, said to be a con- Halicarnassus), 305
temporary of Demosthenes), 151 Ammonius (grammarian, pupil of Arist-
Aesop (the fabulist), 508, 510 archus: wrote commentaries on
Aesopus (tragic actor), 274 Homeric subjects), 476
Aetion (painter: his most famous picture Amphicrates (historian of 1st cent. B.C.),
was of the marriage of Alexander and 464 f .
Roxane in 327 B.C.), 225 Amphion (one of the sons of Antiope:
Mer (Cn. Domitius: successful orator, brought stones together by his music so
died A.D. 59), 384, 393, 398, 406, 439, as to build the walls of Thebes), 290
441 Anacharsis (Scythian prince who travelled
Mranius (born c. 150 B.C.: writer of in Greece in the 6th cent. B.C. and was
togatae, i.e. comedies of Italian life), reputed a sage), 68
273, 274 n., 395 Anacreon (ofTeos, born c. 570 B.C., lyric
Mricanus (Julius: orator of the 1st cent. poet), 174. 293 n., 340, 490, 572 f.
A.D.), 398, 406, 440 f. See also Scipio Anaxagoras (c. 500-c. 428 B.C., philo-
Agamemnon (rhetor, character in Petro- sopher), 78, 223, 234
nius' Satyricon), 361 f. Anaxandrides (4th cent. B.C., comic poet),
Agathon (Athenian tragic poet, younger 151, 154 n., 156
contemporary of Euripides: innovator Anaximenes (teacher of rhetoric in 4th
in technique: character in Plato's Sym- cent. B.C.: probably the author of the
posium), 103, u6 extant Rhetorica ad Alexandrum), 3II
Aglaitadas (character in Xenophon's Andocides (Athenian orator, involved in
Cyropaedia), 198 the Hermae alfair in 415 B.C.: several
Aglaophon (painter, father ofPolygnotus), speeches extant), 407
40 5 Androtion (4th cent. B.C., orator, pupil
Albinovanus Pedo (poet, friend of Ovid: of Isocrates: also wrote Atthis, an
wrote on Germanicus' expedition to the Athenian history), 142
north coast of Germany), 359, 393 Anser (1st cent. B.C., erotic poet), 294
Albucius (T., praetor c. 105 B.C.: orator Antigenidas (of Thebes, famous flute-
and Graecophile), 262 player of early 4th cent. B.C.), 217
588 INDEXES
Antigonus (perhaps the Hellenistic writer Archidamus (unknown), 142
on Rome, coupled with Polybius also in Archilochus (iambic and elegiac poet of
Dion. Hal. Antiq. I. 6), 326 7th cent. D.C.), 40, 95 n., 168, 173 n.,
Antimachus (epic poet of 5th cent. D.C.: 174, 281, 389, 473, 476, 493, 522
author of Thebais: much admired by Archytas (pythagorean mathematician of
Plato), 144, 218, 339, 388 4th cent. D.C.), 153
Antipater (governor of Macedonia during Arellius Fuscus (declaimer of Greek ori-
Alexander's absence), 211. See also gin: kept a popular rhetorical school at
Coelius Rome: Qvid was a pupil of his), 351 f.,
Antiphon (c. 480-411 D.C., Athenian 358 f.
orator and politician, one of the foun- Argentarius (Greek declaimer, pupil of
ders of Attic oratory: some real speeches Cestius, q.v.: probably the author of
and models survive), 114,223,311,331, some epigrams in the Greek Anthology),
339, 408, 578 35 2
Antisthenes (moralist, follower of So- Ariphrades (unknown: possibly a comic
crates, considered founder of the Cynic poet), 122
sect), 142, 235 Aristarchus (Alexandrian critic and com-
Antonius (Marcus: praetor 102 D.C., one mentator on Homer), 291, 388 f., 528
of the leading orators of his age, much Aristeas of Proconnesus, 473 n.
admired by Cicero), 217, 227 fr., 245 f., Aristides of Miletus (1St cent. D.C., author
255 f., 374. 420 of 'Milesian' tales, i.e. popular short
Antony (Marcus Antonius the triumvir), stories of erotic nature), 294 f.
349 fr., 456 Aristides (Aelius, 'sophist' and rhetor of
Apelles (of Colophon, painter of late 4th 2nd cent. A.D.), 558 if., 568
cent. D.C.), 225, 278, 405 Aristides Qyintilianus (writer on music,
Aper (Marcus: advocate of Gallic origin, ? 3rd cent. A.D.), 552 fr.
character in Tacitus' Dialogus), 432 fr. Aristippus (hedonist philosopher of 4th
Apollo, 2, 5, 43 n., 277,290,298,439,473 n. cent. D.C.), 215, 235
Apollodorus (of Pergamum, teacher of Aristobulus (of Cassandreia, contem-
rhetoric in the 1st cent. D.C.), 443 porary historian of Alexander), 539
Apollonius Rhodius (Alexandrian poet of Aristogiton (the second reference is to the
3rd cent. D.C.: Argonautica extant), man attacked in two speeches wrongly
124 n., 388,492,548 attributed to Demosthenes: the first to
Apollonius of Tyana (Neopythagorean an orator, perhaps the same man), 408,
philosopher of 1st cent. A.D., known 487 f.
mainly from the later and largely ro- Ariston (of Ceos, Peripatetic philosopher,
mantic biography by Philostratus), 552 head of the Lyceum c. 225 D.C.), 508
Appius Claudius Caecus (censor 312 D.C.: Aristophanes (the Athenian comic poet),
author of a famous speech against peace 8 if., 93, 140, 190 n., 196, 201 f., 266,
with Pyrrhus in 279/8, which was later 290 n., 390, 408 n., 414, 426, 498, 507,
regarded as the beginning of Roman 531 f.
oratory), 365, 414. 443, 445 Aristophanes (of Byzantium, critic), 388
Aratus (Alexandrian poet, author of Aristophon (of Thasos, painter of 5th
Phainomena on astronomy, a very in- cent. D.C.: brother ofPolygnotus), 514
fluential poem in Latin literature), 232, Aristode (384-322 D.C., philosopher), 9,
298, 387 f., 486 85 if., 172, 176, 179 fr., 189, 191, 194 n.,
Arbuscula (famous mime actress of 195, 200 fr., 211 f., 223, 235 fr., 244,
Ciceronian period), 272 248,279, 283 n., 284 n., 285 n., 340 f.,
Arcesilas (316-242 D.C., head of the 392, 412, 466 n., 490, 527
Academy: a sceptic), 236 Aristoxenus (musical theorist and Peri-
Archedemus (unknown: a rhetorical the- patetic philosopher of 4th cent. D.C.),
orist, perhaps a Peripatetic), 172, 180 300 , 536, 552
 INDEX OF PROPER NAMES
Arruntius, Lucius (consul 22 B.C., his- Cadmus (early historian), 302
torian of the Punic War and imitator of Caecilius (of Caleacte, 1st cent. B.C.: critic
Sallust), 366 and historian criticized by 'Longinus'),
Artemon (editor of letters of Aristode), 462, 465, 467 f., 490, 492
172,211 Caecilius Statius (died 168 B.C., Latin
Asclepius (god of healing), 39 n., 68, 78, comic poet: highly regarded by later
559 critics, but no works extant), 250, 253 n.,
Asian oratory, 224, 238 f., 251, 305 If., 274, 281, 395
361, 374. 406 if., 443 Caelius (M. Caelius Rufus, younger con-
Asinii (i.e. Asinius Pollio, q. v., and his son temporary of Cicero, wit and orator),
Asinius GaJlus), 420 227, 397. 403, 406, 424. 442 f., 445,
Astydamas (name of two 4th-cent. B.C. 448 f., 457
tragic poets, father and son), 109 Caesar (c. Julius, 100-44 B.C.), 386, 397,
Atia (mother of Augustus), 450 403, 406, 424. 442, 445. 448 If., 454.
Atta (T. Q!Unctius: writer of togatae-cf. 457
Mranius-in 1st cent. B.C.), 274 Calamis (5th cent. B.C., sculptor), 225, 405
Attic oratory, 224 f., 237-40, 243, 251 f., Calidius. M. (contemporary of Cicero and
407 f., 410, 443 alleged Atticist), 384. 406, 410
Atticus (T. Pomponius, friend of Cicero, Caligula (Gaius, emperor A.D. 37-41),
financier and chronologist), 216 If., 249 363 n.
Attius (undistinguished contemporary of Callias (5th-4th cent. B.C., Athenian
Cicero),444 aristocrat and spendthrift), 138
Augustus (63 B.C.-A.D. 14),272 If., 293 If., Callimachus (c. 305-c. 240 B.C., son of
439, 442, 450, 457 Battus: the greatest of the Alexandrian
Aurelia (Caesar's mother), 450 poets), 293 n., 298, 389, 546, 548
Callipides (late 5th cent. B.C., tragic poet),
Bacchylides (lyric poet of 5th cent. B.C.), 131
493 Callisthenes (Aristode's nephew and his-
Bassus, Aufidius (historian of mid 1st cent. torian of Alexander the Great), 256, 464
A.D.), 396, 446 Callistratus (4th cent. B.C., Athenian poli-
Bassus, Caesius (lyric poet of 1st cent. tician), 167
A.D.), 293, 395 Callon (sculptor), 405 f.
Bassus, Saleius (epic poet of 1st cent. A.D.), Calvus (C. Licinius: poet, Atticist orator
393, 434. 437· and rival of Cicero), 237 n., 270, 294.
BathyJlus (mime actor), 356 f. 397,403,406,420,442 ff., 448 f., 454,
Battus, father of Callimachus, q.v. 457
Benna, 137 n. Canachus (sculptor), 225
Bestia (L. Calpurnius: prosecuted in 56 Canutius (undistinguished contemporary
B.C. for bribery), 457 of Cicero), 444
Bibaculus, M. Furius (poet: perhaps the Carbo, Gaius (Roman politician, sup-
Furius of Catu1lus 1I and the epic porter of Tiberius Gracchus: killed
writer satirized in Horace's Ars), himself in 119 B.C. after prosecution by
270 n ·,394 Crassus), 227, 443, 454
Bion (of Borysthenes, c. 325-c. 255 B.C.: Carcinus (4th cent. B.C., tragic poet),
moralist with Cynic and hedonist con- 112 f., 165
nections), 520 Carneades (214-129 B.C., Academic philo-
Boileau, 461 sopher: went on embassy to Rome in
Brutus, M. Junius (85-42 B.C.: Roman 155), 236 f., 421 f.
statesman, orator, and philosopher, one Cascellius, Aulus (distinguished jurist of
of Caesar's murderers), 216 If., 353 f., Ciceronian period), 289
384, 399, 406, 420, 442, 44sf·, 448, 457 Cassius Etruscus (unknown poet of 1st
Bryson (sophist of 4th cent. B.C.), 139 cent. B.C.), 271
59 0 INDEXES
Cassius Sevcrus (Augustan orator, famous Chionides (early comic poet, perhaps the
for his bitter style: viewed by some as first recorded victor of the City Die-
the initiator of decadence: his works nysia, 487 B.C.), 93
were publicly burned, and he died in Choerilus (5th cent. B.C., epic poet from
exile), 353 fT., 383, 398, 406, 443, 448 Samos), 159
Castelvetro (16th-cent. commentator on Choerilus (of Iasus, epic poet who wrote
Aristotle's Poetics), 114, 116 n. on Alexander the Great: traditionally
Catiline (L. Sergius Catilina, head of the regarded as the archetypal bad poet),
conspiracy suppressed by Cicero in 63 278, 289
B.C·),456 Chrysippus (c. 280-207 B.C., the Stoic
Catius (Latin writer on Epicureanism, 1st philosopher), 248, 327, 419
cent. B.C.), 399 Cicero (106-43 B.C.), 216 fT., 344 n.,
Cato, Marcus (the Censor, 243-149 B.C., 349 ff., 356 ff., 360, 362, 366 f., 369 ff.,
statesman, orator, and historian), 224 fT., 374 f., 379, 383 ff., 392, 396 fT., 402 f.,
234, 255, 260, 281, 348, 360, 379, 406, 406 f., 410 ff., 419 f., 424, 430, 432 n.,
410 f., 417, 422, 424, 443, 508 439, 441 fT., 445 fT., 452, 454, 456 ff.,
Cato, Marcus (Uticensis, 'the younger 475,552 n.
Cato', who committed suicide at Utica Cinesias (c. 450-c. 390 B.C., dithyrambic
in 46 B.C.), 350 f., 353, 433, 438, 530 poet ridiculed by Aristophanes), 6
Cato (Valerius, 1st cent. B.C., poet and Cinna (c. Helvius, Roman poet of the
critic), 294 neoteric school, contemporary of Catul-
Catullus (? 84-54 B.C., lyric poet), 270, Ius), 294
294, 394, 428 Cleandros (son of M. Sedatius, dedicatee
Catulus (Q. Lutatius, consul 102 B.C., of Plutarch's De audiendis poetis), 508 f.
character in Cicero's De Oratore), Cleanthes (331-232 B.C., Stoic philosopher
255 ff., 262 and poet, successor to Zeno), 419
Celsus (A. Cornelius, 1st cent. A.D., en- Cleobulina (a perhaps legendary poetess
cyclopedist: only his medical works and inventor of riddles), 192 n.
survive), 384, 399 Cleon (the last three references are to the
Censorinus (not identified), 357 Athenian demagogue of the late 5th
Cephisodotus (4th cent. B.C., Athenian cent. B.C.: in the first two, the name-a
orator), 142, 151 conunon one-seems to be used simply
Cereal is (correspondent of Pliny), 426 f. as an example), 143, 146,215,220,535
Cestius Pius (of Smyrna, declaimer and Cleophon (Athenian demagogue of the
teacher of rhetoric), 35 1, 353, 357 late 5th cent. B.C.), 9, 215
Cethegus (consul 204 B.C.), 224 Cleophon (tragic poet), 92, 121, 145
Chabrias (c. 420-357 B.C., Athenian pro- Clinias (character in Plato's Laws), 82 ff.
fessional general), 152 Clisthenes (Athenian lawgiver of the late
Chaeremon (4th cent. B.C., tragic poet 6th cent. B.C.: regarded as the creator of
celebrated for his elaborate style), 91, the democracy), 220
125, 156 Clitarchus (3rd cent. B.C., historian of
Chaerephanes (painter), 513 Alexander), 222, 391, 464
Chares (4th cent. B.C., Athenian general), Coccus (alleged pupil of Isocrates), 407
151 f., 167 Coelius Antipater (L., jurist and historian
Charisius (Athenian orator contemporary of 2nd cent. B.C.: wrote on second
with Demosthenes), 390 Punic War), 255, 257 n.
Charmadas (2nd cent. B.C., pupil of Car- Coleridge, S. T., 114
neades: Academic philosopher hostile Corax (of Syracuse, traditionally one of the
to rhetoric), 229 ff. earliest teachers of rhetoric), 223, 230
Charondas (6th cent. B.C., lawgiver of Corinna (Boeotian poetess of disputed
Catana and other colonies in the West), date), 6
68 'Corinna' (in Ovid's love poems), 293
 INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 59 1
Coriolanus (Cn. Marcius, the early Roman Daedalus (legendary primitive sculptor),
hero),222 226
Cornelia (mother of the Gracchi),. 450 Delphi, 285, 392, 476, 559
Cornelius, Gaius (defended by Cicero), Demades (4th cent. B.C., Attic orator),
246 f., 424. 457 221, 243, 412
Cornelius Hispanus (declaimer), 352 Demetrius (see 172 n.), 171 ff.
Cornelius Severus (Roman poet of the Demetrius (sculptor of 4th cent. B.C.), 406
Augustan era, author of poem on con- Demetrins of Callatis (3rd cent. B.C., his-
temporary history), 393 torian and geographer), 326
Cornificius (Q., orator and poet, friend of Demetrius ofPhaleron (late 4th cent. B.C.,
Catullus and Cicero: killed in Africa, 42 Athenian orator and statesman), 172,
B.C.),294 214, 221, 243 f., 309, 385, 392
Coruncanius (consul 280 B.C.), 234, 365 Democrates (unknown), 142
Corvinus, see Messalla Democritus of Abdera (5th cent. B.C.,
Cotta (c. Aurelius, consul 75 B.C., orator), atomist philosopher: held that good
217, 227, 246 poetry was the product of inspiration),
Crantor (c. 335-c. 275 B.C., Academic 4, 234, 277, 287, 340 f.
philosopher: his book On Grief was the Democritus of Chios (5th cent. B.C., musi-
source of many later 'consolations'), 236 cian), 149
Crassus (L. Licinius, an orator whom Demosthenes (384-322 B.C., the greatest
Cicero regarded as his master: consul 95 Athenian orator), 142, 172, 176 f., 180,
B.C., and character in the De Oratore), 189,205,213,218,221,225,230,237 if.,
217 f., 227 if., 246, 255 if., 365, 374. 243, 246 f., 250 if., 307 f., 311 if., 329,
406, 443, 448, 454, 456 334, 340 f., 361 , 379, 383 f., 386, 391,
Crates (5th cent. B.C., comic poet), 96 396 f., 403, 408, 412 f., 419 f., 424,
Crates (Cynic philosopher), 204 430 f., 439, 441 f., 447, 452, 463, 473,
Cratinus (comic poet of 5th cent. B.c.), 475 r., 480 if., 490, 493 if., 497, 561 if.
266,390 Dicaearchus (3rd cent. B.C., Peripatetic
Cratylus (perhaps the Herac1itean philo- philosopher), 205
sopher, for whom see Plato's Craty/us), Dicaeogenes (5th cent. B.C., tragic poet),
164 II2
Cremutius (Cordus: historian writing Dinarchus (c. 36cH-. 290 B.C., a Corin-
under Augustus and Tiberius: his books thian who practised speech-writing in
were burnt, and he killed himself A.D. Athens: the last of the 'ten orators'), 221
25),396 Dio Chrysostom (Dio Cocceianus of
Creophylus ('friend of Homer'), 68 Prusa, c. A.D. 40-c. 115: see 504 n.),
Crispinus (prolific writer mocked by 504 if.
Horace), 266 Diodotus (Stoic, teacher of Cicero: died
Critias (5th cent. B.C., sophist and orator), c. 60 B.C.), 451
163 (?), 220 Diogenes (of Sinope, c. 40o-c. 325 B.C.,
Ctesias (4th cent. B.C., Greek historian and the Cynic philosopher), 151 n., 519 f.,
doctor at Persian court), 209 f., 331, 547 n.
542 n• Dionysius (5th cent. B.C., painter), 92
Ctesiphon (the proposer of the 'crown' for Dionysius I (tyrant of Syracuse: lived
Demosthenes in 337 B.C.), 238, 247, c. 430-367 B.C.), 192
25 0 , 254, 3 1 4 Dionysius 11 (son and successor of Dio-
Curio (orator and politician, consul 76 nysius I: later exiled to Corinth), 175,
B.C.), 218, 365. See a/so 456 192, 214, 256, 465, 535
Cynics, 235 Dionysius Chalcus ('the copper Diony-
Cyrenaics, 235 sius': Athenian elegist of 5th cent. B.C.,
Cyrus (king of Persia, hero ofXenophon's said to have proposed a copper coinage),
Cyropaed,Q), 573 139
59 2 INDEXES
Dionysius of Halicamassus (see 305 n.), Eubius (unidentified writer on abortion),
172, 305 fT., 461 294
Dionysius Longinus, see 'Longinus' Euclides (unknown parodist of Homer),
Dionysus, 8, 15 ff., 84, 138, 142 121
Dodona (famous oracle of Zeus in north- Euenos (of Paros, poet, 5th cent. B.C.), 75
west Greece), 559 Euphorion (of Chalcis, 3rd cent. B.C.,
Dolabella (Cn. Comelius Dolabella: con- Hellenistic poet), 388, 546
sul 81 B.C.), 454 Euphranor (4th cent. B.C., sculptor and
Domitian (Roman emperor 81"""96), 393 f. painter), 405 f.
Domitius Ahenobarbus (Cn., censor with Eupolis (comic poet, contemporary with
Crassus in 92 B.C.), 454 Aristophanes), 221, 266, 390, 392, 414,
Douris (of Samos, c. 340-c. 260 B.C., 425,480
historian: noted for his sensational Euripides (c. 485-c. 406 B.C., the trage-
manner), 326 dian), 8 fT., 77, 107, 109 f., 113 ff., 122,
Dryden, John, 92 n., 114 n. 128, 130, 137 f., 148 n., 152, 154 n.,
159 ff., 167, 185, 207, 282 n., 285 n.,
340, 361, 390, 439, 477 ff., 497 f., 503,
Empedocles (5th cent. B.C., philosopher- 504 fT., 512, 514, 516 ff., 521 f., 524 ff.,
poet), 91, 120, 129, 143, 291, 339, 510, 529 f.
513 Euxenus (unknown), 142
Encolpius (character in Petronius' Satyri-
con), 298 f., 361 f.
Fabianus Papirius (1st cent. A.D., philo-
Ennius (Q., born 239 B.C.: Roman epic
sopher and declaimer), 367 ff.
and dramatic poet), 226, 243, 247, 250, Fabius Justus (consul suffectus 102, ad-
253 n., 257, 259 ff., 265, 267 n., 271, dressee of Tacitus' Dia/ogus), 432
273, 281, 286, 294, 297 n., 298, 370 f., Fabius Rusticus (historian writing under
393,394 n• the Flavians about the age of Nero),
Epaminondas (Theban statesman and
general, killed at Mantinea in 362 B.C.), 396n.
Fabricius (c. Fabricius Luscinus, consul
224 282 and 278 B.C., hero of the war with
Ephorus (of Cyme, c. 405-330 B.C., his-
Pyrrhus), 234, 423
torian), 256, 340, 391, 535, 579, 582 Fannius (C., historian: consul with C.
Epicharmus (5th cent. B.C., Sicilian comic Gracchus in 122 B.C.), 266, 272
writer), 93, 178, 274 Favorinus (of ArIes, Ist-2nd cent. A.D.,
Epicureans, 235 n., 399
sophist), 550 f.
Epicurus (341-270 B.C., hedonist and Flaccus, Valerius (1st cent. A.D., epic poet:
atornist, founder of the Epicurean
Argonautica extant), 393
school), 226, 402, 452, 509 Fundanius (unknown playwright, con-
Epimenides (6th-5th cent. B.C., Cretan temporary with Horace), 271
religious teacher), 166 Fumius (undistinguished contemporary
Eprius Marcellus (orator: friend of
of Cicero), 444
Vespasian, but subsequendy forced to
suicide as conspirator in A.D. 79), 434,
43 6,440 Gabinianus (1st cent. A.D., rhetorician
Eratosthenes (of Cyrene, c. 275-194 B.C., from Gaul), 449
poet and scientist), 300 ff., 492 Gaius Caesar, see Caesar, Caligula
Eretrians (school of philosophy in 4th Galba (Servius Sulpicius, consul 144 B.C.,
cent. B.C.), 235 orator), 227, 443, 448
Erillians (school oflogicians founded by a Gallio (L. Junius, orator who adopted
pupil of Zeno), 235 elder Seneca's eldest son), 355, 448
Eryximachus (doctor, character in Plato's Gallus (Comelius: elegiac poet, friend of
Symposium), 76 Virgil), 293, 295, 298, 394
 INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 593
Gellius, Aulus (c. A.D. 130-&. 180, author Hennagoras (of Temnos, jl. 150 B.C.,
of Noctes Atticae), 370 f., 548 fr. theorist and teacher of rhetoric), 237 n.,
Gennanicus Augustus, sec Domitian 443
Glaucon (relation of Plato, character in Hennogenes (see 561 n.), 561 fr.
Republic), 66 If. Herodorus (early historian), 186 n.
Glaucon of Teos (sophist interested in Herodotus (ofHalicamassus, the 5th-cent.
Homer), 40 (?), 130, 135 B.C. historian), 102, 148 n., 164, 176 f.,
Gorgias (of Leontini, c. 483-376 B.C., 181 f., 186, 194, 205, 256, 324 f., 331,
sophist and teacher of rhetoric), 6 fr., 334, 340, 382 n., 391, 395, 466, 476,
75, 136, 140 f., 146, 159, 161, 167, 16<}, 482, 484, 487 f., 490, 496, 499, 534,
176, 179, 195, 220, 223, 226, 234, 308, 537 n., 545, 567 f., 577 If.
3 I 0, 333, 464, 509, 570 n. Hesiod (jl. 700 B.C., author of Works and
Gracchi (Tiberius and Gaius, Roman Days, Theogony, and other poems),
statesmen and orators, 2nd cent. B.C.), 2 fr., 22, 40, 52, 69, 83, 149 n., 298 n.,
227, 379, 411 , 424, 450, 458 340, 388, 469, 476, 523 If., 530, 548
Gracchus, Gaius, 365, 406, 443, 448 Hieronymus (of Cardia, contemporary
Graces, the, 392 historian of Alexander), 326(?)
Greece, compared with Rome, 274 f., Hipparchus (c. 190-c. 120 B.C., astronomer
286 f. and geographer, adversary of Erato-
Greek and Latin authors compared, 393 If. ; sthenes), 301
Greek and Latin languages compared, Hippias (of Elis, 5th cent. B.C., sophist),
409; Greek models reproduced in Latin, 76,220,226
548 If. Hippias of Thasos (unidentified), 129
Hippocrates (of Cos, 5th cent. B.C., the
greatest Greek doctor), 78, 174
Hades, descriptions of, 512 Hipponax (ofEphesus, 6th cent. B.C., iam-
Haterius (~intus: orator and declaimer, bic poet), 197
died A.D. 26, when very old), 350, Homer, If.; poverty of, 292; wrongly
367 n. cited,s; performance of, 39 If., 83;
Hecataeus (of Miletus,jl. 500 B.C., Ionian 'imitation' in, 61 f., 64 f., 67 If., 73, 93;
historian and geographer), 174, 176, metre of, 91, 94, 174, 176, 281; plot in,
302, 487, 578 f. 101 f., 123 f., 126, 580; characterization
Hegemon (of Thasos, 5th cent. B.C., in, 92, Ill, 125, 165,4°5, 542; subject-
parodist), 92 matter of, 40 f., 45 If., 281, 283, 300 If.;
Hegesianax (Hellenistic poet), 326 prologues of, 159, 283; comparison of
Hegesias (of Magnesia, 3rd cent. B.C., his- Iliad and Odyssey, 470 f.; Margites of,
torian of Alexander and orator: disliked 94 f.; style of, in general, 181, 247, 251,
by c1assicizing critics for his alfected 299, 334, 340, 387 f., 392, 546; alleged
style), 326, 405, 464 stylistic faults of, 117, 127 If., 271, 289,
Hegesippus (probable author of [Demo- 384, 492, 495; words and passages of,
sthenes] 7), 312 n. discussed or cited, 120 If., 129, 141, 150,
Helicon, 2 f., 278, 287, 292, 298 153, 155 f., 175, 178, 183 If., 189 If.,
Hellanicus (of Lesbos, historian contem- 193 f., 196 f., 201, 203, 206, 208 If., 234,
porary with Herodotus), 255, 579 320 f., 324 r., 326, 335 fr., 340, 390,
Helvidius (priscus, praetor A.D. 70: force- 430, 468 fr., 473, 477, 483, 486 If., 502,
ful Stoic critic of the principate), 435 521, 544, 549 f., 555 If.; parody of, 201;
Heraclides ofOazomenae (elected general morality of content of, 4, 52, 54, 57,
in Athens), 50 59 f., Ill, 127 r., 294, 511 f., 5141f.,
Heraclides (ponticus, 4th-3rd cent. B.C., 523 fr.; as moralist and teacher, 22, 66,
pupil of Aristode), 326( I), 508 68 f., 74, 290, 300 If., 514, 520; oratory
Heraclitus (of Ephesus, jl. 500 B.C., ob- in, 222, 224, 302, 387 f., 414, 426; poets
scure aphoristic philosopher), 144, 207 before, 226; later poets compared with,
8143591 Qq
594 INDEXES
273, 393, 476; immortality of, 297 f., Lesbia (woman celebrated in many of
439; and tragedians, 505 f. Catullus' poems, perhaps a cover-name
Homeridae (descendants of Homer who for Clodia), 294
inherited his epics), 40, 68 Licymnius (of Chios, 5th cent. B.C., poet
Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus, 65-8 B.C., and teacher of rhetoric), 76, 139, 156,
poet), 266 if., 293, 299, 384, 388 f., 394, 158
444,44 6 Linus (mythical early Greek poet), 439
Hortensius (Q. Hortensius Hortalus, 114- Livius Andronicus (early Latin poet of 3rd
50 B.C., leading orator and rival of cent. B.C.), 226, 274, 401
Cicero), 217, 246, 295, 350, 383,406 Livy (59 B.C.-A.D. 17, the historian), 369,
Hygiaenon (accuser of Euripides), 162 379, 385 f., 395 f., 442 n.
Hyperides (389-322 B.C., Attic orator), 'Longinus' (see 461 n.), 460 if.
221, 225, 243, 247, 361, 391, 408, 424, Lucan (M. Annaeus Lucanus, A.D. 3g-(i5,
439, 442, 447, 479, 493, 567 epic poet, nephew of Seneca the philo-
sopher), 393, 444
Ion of Chios (5th cent. B.C., writer of Lucian (of Samosata, born c. A.D. 120,
memoirs, tragic poet), 4 f., 493 writer of dialogues), 536 if.
Ion of Ephesus (rhapsode, principal Lucilius (C., died 102/1 B.C., the first
character in Plato's Ion), 39 If. great Roman satirist), 233, 253, 262,
Iphicrates (c. 415-353 B.C., Athenian 266 f., 269 if., 394, 446
general), 138, 151 f., 162 Lucretius (? 94-55 B.C., the poet), 294,
Isaeus (c. 420-350 B.C., Attic orator 298, 393, 446
specializing in testamentary cases), 3Il, Luculli (distinguished Roman family),
408, 582 350,45 6
Isocrates (436-338 B.C., Athenian orator Lupercus (correspondent ofPliny), 429 If.
and pamphleteer, especially important Lycoleon (4th cent. B.C., Athenian orator),
as the perfector of a developed periodic 15 2
style), 146, 151 f., 158, 166 If., 176, Lycophron (4th cent. B.C., rhetor), 140
178 f., 187, 220, 223, 234, 253, 263, Lycoris (woman celebrated in poems of
308 f., 314 if., 340 f., 391 f., 397, 408, Gallus), 295, 298
412, 465, 483, 495 f., 558, 577, 582 Lycurgus (lawgiver of early Sparta), 68,
222, 234
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 150 n. Lycurgus (4th cent. B.C., Athenian states-
man and orator: one speech survives),
Laberius (Decimus, c. Il5-43 B.C., writer 221, 408, 447
of mimes), 270 Lysias (c. 459-c. 380 B.C.: of Syracusan
Laelius (C., close friend of Scipio Aemi- origin, lived in Athens and wrote
lianus, statesman, orator, and man of speeches: the great exponent of the
letters), 227, 406, 410, 448 plain style), 78,80,196,206,221,223 if.,
Laelius, Decimus (orator notorious under 227, 239, 243, 247, 251 f., 307 f., 310,
Tiberius),384 313 f., 391 f., 407 f., 424, 439, 447,
Lampon (famous diviner of 5th-cent. B.C. 492 If., 573, 577, 582
Athens), 168 Lysippus (sculptor of 4th cent. B.C.), 227,
Latro (M. Porcius, Augustan declaimer 278,406
from Spain), 352, 357 f.
Lentulus (P. Cornelius Lentulus Spin- Macer (Aemilius Macer, of Verona,
ther, consul 57 B.C., executed in 48), Augustan didactic poet), 293, 388, 393
350. See also 456 Maecenas (C. Cilnius, Etruscan aristocrat,
Lepidus (M. Aemilius Lepidus Porcina, Roman knight, confidential friend and
consul 137 B.C., orator), 227 lieutenant of Augustus, patron ofVirgil,
Leptines (adversary of Demosthenes), Horace, Propertius, and other poets),
151, 247 272, 362 n., 363 f., 367, 448
 INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 595
Maecius (Sp. Maecius Tarpa, selector of Metrodorus (also of Lampsacus, 331-278
plays in second half of 1st cent. B.C.), B.C., Epicurean philosopher), 452
270, 289 Milo (T. Annius, defended by Cicero for
Magnes (early comic poet: won a victory murder of Clodius in 52 B.C.), 252, 350,
in 472 B.C.), 93 357,384,456 f.
Maracus, 114 n. Milton, John, 127 n.
Marcellus (M. Claudius Marcellus, consul Minerva, 289, 292, 394
51 B.C., opponent of Caesar), 350, 386 Mnasitheus (unknown singer), 131
Marcellus (declaimer), 353 Mnesarchus (2nd cent. B.C., Stoic philo-
Marius (C., c. 157-86 B.C., Roman general sopher), 229
and popular leader), 232 Moerocles (4th cent. B.C., Athenian
Maternus (Curiatius: poet and character orator), 151
in Tacitus' Djalogus), 432 ff. Mucianus (C. Licinius, adviser of Vespa-
Matris (Hellenistic encomiast), 464 sian and writer), 456
Megarians (i.e. the Megarian school of Mucius Scaevola (Q!Jintus, jurist, consul
logicians), 235 117 B.C., father-in-law of Crassus and
Melanippides (5th cent. B.C., dithyrambic character in De Oratore), 232, 236, 262
poet), 149 Mucius Scaevola (Quintus, consul 95 B.C.,
Melanthius, 517 (with n.) leading jurist and teacher of Cicero),
Melanthius (4th cent. B.C., painter), 405 218, 451
Meletus (tragic poet), 32 Musaeus (mythical poet), 22, 45
Meletus (accuser of Socrates, perhaps the Muses, I ff., 17, 32 f., 43, 45, 74 f., 82 ff.,
son of the poet), 168 217, 226, 271, 273, 281, 287 f., 290,
Memmius (C., praetor 58 B.C., patron of 292 f., 295, 306, 310, 385, 395, 439 f.,
Lucretius and himself a poet), 294 497, 509, 537, 542, 558, 579, 582
Menander (342-C. 293 B.C., leading poet of Mynniscus (tragic actor: won a prize in
New Comedy), 5 f., 92 n., 201, 207, 422 B.C.), 131
251,265,273,284 n., 298, 377 n., 390 f., Myron (5th cent. B.C., sculptor), 225 f.,
408, 515, 519, 525, 531 f., 573 40 5
Menander (rhetorician: see 579 n.), 579 fr.
Menedemus (unidentified Athenian), 229 Naevius (Gnaeus, mid 3rd cent. B.C., early
Menelaus (king of Sparta and brother of Latin poet and dramatist), 265, 273
Agamemnon: described by Homer as a Naucrates (pupil of Isocrates), 263
brief but pointed speaker), 224, 371, Nausicrates (= the fonner ?), 162
414 Neoptolemus of Parium, 279 n.
Menenius Agrippa (consul 503 B.C., said to Nestor (in Homer the old king of Pylos,
have appeased the plebeians in 494 by traditionally regarded as the exponent of
telling the fable of the Belly and the a smooth, fluent eloquence), 222, 414,
Members), 442, 445 441,471 n.
Messalla Corvinus (64 B.C.-A.D. 8, soldier, Nicander (of Colophon, Hellenistic di-
orator, and man of letters, with gram- dactic poet), 232, 388, 510
matical and purist enthusiasms), 270, Niceratus (unidentified amateur rhap-
289, 357, 383 f., 397, 406, 439, 442 ff. sode), 154
Messalla, Vipstanus (orator, character in Nicias (4th cent. B.C., painter), 188
Tacitus' Djalogus), 432 n., 440 ff. Nicochares (late 5th cent. B.C., comic
Metellus, Quintus (Numidicus, consul 109 poet), 92
B.C.), 236. See also 456 Nicomachus (4th cent. B.C., painter), 225
Metellus (unidentified), 294 Nicostratus (1st cent. A.D., athlete), 438,
Metilius Rufus (addressee of Dionysius' 53 8
On the Arrangement of Words), 322 Nicostratus (2nd cent. A.D., sophist), 577
Metrodorus (of Lampsacus, 5th cent. B.C.: Norden, Eduard, 362
allegorized Homer), 40 Numa, 274, 287
 INDEXES
Odysseus, 301 f. See also Ulysses PhiJemon (4th-3rd cent. B.C., comic poet),
Oedipus, 102 n., 106 207,39 1
Onesicritus (historian of Alexander, re- Philetas (of Cos, Hellenistic poet, born c.
puted very unreliable), 542 320 B.C.), 389
Orbilius (of Beneventum, 1st cent. B.C., PhiJip (king of Macedon, 359-336 B.C.),
teacher and grammarian), 274 175, 179, 192, 214, 3II f., 405, 479 n.,
Orpheus (mythical poet and religious 482,490, 54 1
teacher), 22, 42, 45, 290, 439 Philistus (c. 430-356 B.C., Syracusan his-
Ovid (43 B.C.-A.D. 17, the poet), 292 ff., torian), 208, 225, 227, 256, 391, 498,
358 f., 393 ff., 416, 439 535,579
Philo (c. 30 B.C.-A.D. 45, the Jewish philo-
Pacuvius (born 220 B.C., the Roman sopher of Alexandria), 461 n.
tragedian), 250, 253 n., 258, 261, 273, Philo ofLarissa (last head of the Academy,
395,444 f. died c. 80 B.C.), 451
Pammenes (1st cent. B.C., Greek rhetor), Philostratus (sophist, born c. A.D. 170), 552
246 Philoxenus of Cythera (436-380 B.C.,
Pamphilus (4th cent. B.C., painter), 405 dithyrambic poet), 92, 322 n.
Panyasis (5th cent. B.C., epic poet), 388 Philoxenus of Leucas (poet), 508
Parmenides (5th cent. B.C., philosopher), Phoenix (tutor of Achilles), 234
510 Photius (9th cent. A.D., Byzantine scholar),
Parmenio (Macedonian, contemporary 542 n.
with Alexander), 468 Phrynichus (early 5th cent. B.C., tragic
Parmeno (mimic), 514 poet), 4 f., 18, 32, 486
Parnassus, 23 Phylarchus (of Athens, 3rd cent. B.C., his-
Parrhasius (5th cent. B.C., painter), 405, torian), 326
51 3 Pictor, Fabius (late 3rd cent. B.C., Roman
Parthenius (1St cent. B.C., Hellenistic historian who wrote in Greek), 255
poet), 546, 548 Pindar (518-438 B.C., the lyric poet), 3 f.,
Passienus (Augustan orator), 356 6,306, 3I I n., 338 f., 361, 389, 397, 493,
Passienus Crispus (son of the former, 512, 518, 550 f., 570
orator), 384 Pindarus (actor), 131
Paternus (correspondent of Pliny), 428 f. Pisander (Athenian politician, one of the
Pausanias (2nd cent. A.D., sophist), 580 special commissioners or probouloi ap-
Pauson (5th cent. B.C., painter), 92 pointed after the Sicilian disaster), 169
Pedo, see Albinovanus Pisandros (of Rhodes, 7th-6th cent. B.C.,
PericJes (c. 495-429 B.C.), 77 f., 142, 151, epic poet), 388
168, 220 ff., 234, 237, 249, 408, 412, Pisistratus (tyrant of Athens, off and on,
414,425 f. between 561 and 527 B.C.), 220 ff.
Perilla (poetic cover-name), 294 Piso (L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi, consul 133
Peripatetics (i.e. followers of Aristotle), B.C., annalist), 255
205,235 f., 451 Pisones (father and two sons, addressees
Persius (A.D. 34-62, Roman satirist), 394 of Horace's Ars Poetica: identity un-
Petronius (Roman 'novelist', probably the certain), 279
courtier of Nero), 298 f., 361 f., 394 n. Pitholaus (ruler of Pherae, 4th cent. B.C.),
Phaedrus (character in Platonic dialogues), 149, 151
75 ff., 310 f. Pitholcon (unknown), 270
Phayllus (not otherwise known), 164 Pittacus (7th-6th cent. B.C., ruler of
Pherecydes (of Syros, 6th cent. B.C., Mytilene, one of the 'seven sages'), 234
cosmogonist), 255, 302 Plato (c. 429-347 B.C., philosopher), 39 ff.;
Phidias (the sculptor), 176, 405, 544 f., anecdotes on, 2I 8, 341; as orator, 356;
55 2 philosophy of, 235 f.; letters of, 2II f.;
Philemon (actor), 156 style of, generally, 181, 189, 205, 226,
 INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 597
253,307 C., 309 ff., 314 C., 341, 361, 392, Praxiteles (4th cent. B.C., the sculptor),
397,408,452,475 C., 562, 567 C., 575 f.; 406, 544, 55 2
faults of, 465 f., 489, 491 f., 494 f.; Probus, Valerius (of Berytus, 1St cent.
cited for stylistic comment, 142, r.~6, A.D., scholar), 549 f.
174. 177 f., 183 f., 205, 210, 213 f., 330, Prodicus (of Ceos, 5th cent. B.C., sophist
488 f., 491 f.; cited for content, 6, 161, much interested in the meanings of
168, 245, 509, 534, 579; and Demo- words), 68, 76, 160, 220, 226
sthenes, 230, 408, 452, 475; and Xeno- Propertius (Sextus, c. 50-before 2 B.C., the
phon, 576; and Cicero, 399 elegiac poet), 293, 295, 394
Pliny the younger (c. A.D. 61-II2, consul Protagoras (of Abdera, 5th cent. B.C.,
100, orator and letter writer), 423 fr. sophist), 68, 76, II7, 143,220, 223, 226
Plotinus (A.D. 205-'70, the Neoplatonist Proteus (versatile minor sea-god), 3II
philosopher), 552 n. Protogenes (of Caunus, 4th cent. B.C.,
Plutarch (see 507 n.), 5 f., 507 ff. painter and sculptor), 225, 405
Polemo (4th-3rd cent. B.C., Academic Proust, 137 n.
philosopher), 236 Psaon (of Plataea, 3rd cent. B.C., Helle-
Pollio, Asinius (76 B.C.-A.D. 4, politician, nistic historian), 326
writer, and friend of Ho race and Virgil), Publicola, Pedius (perhaps the quaestor of
271 f., 357, 369,383 f., 397, 402 f., 406, 41 B.C.), 270
424. 439, 441 f., 445, 448 f., 454, 457. Pyrrhonians (followers of Pyrrhon of Elis,
See a/so Asinii i.e. sceptical philosophers), 235
Polus (5th cent. B.C., early teacher of Pythagoras (of Samos and Croton, 6th
rhetoric), 76 cent. B.C., thinker), 234. 419
Polybius (c. 200-after II8 B.C., the his- Pythagoreans, 273, 300, 553 n.
torian), 304, 326, 534 Pythia (i.e. the prophetess at the Delphic
Polyclitus (of Argos, 5th cent. B.C.: the oracle), 476
sculptor of the Doryphorus), 225, 227,
405, 424, 495
Polycrates (4th cent. B.C., rhetorician, Q!iintilian (see 372 n.), 344. 372 ff.
famous for his 'Accusation of Socrates'), Q!iintilius (Augustan poet, d. 23 B.C.,
195, 3II friend of Horace and Virgil), 291
Polyeuctus (Attic orator contemporary Q!iirinus (i.e. Romulus), 270
with Demosthenes), 151
Polygnotus (5th cent. B.C., painter), 42, 92, Rabirius (Gaius, defended by Cicero for
99, 225, 405 f. treason in 63 B.C.), 246
Polyidus (otherwise unknown sophist), Rabirius (Gaius, Augustan epic poet), 393
lI2, II4
Regulus, Marcus Aquillius (orator and in-
Pompeius, Sextus (uncle of the great former of Neronian and Flavian times),
Pompey, philosopher), 232
425,441 n.
Pompeius, Sextus (son of the great Pom- Rhodian oratory, 407,458
pey, defeated by Octavian's fleet and Roscius (the most famous Roman actor,
killed 36 B.C.), 353 f. 1st cent. B.C.), 274. 444
Pompeius Silo (rhetor), 351, 356 Ruskin, John, 153 n.
Pompey (108-48 B.C., Roman general and
politician), 245, 350 if., 354, 456 f.
Pomponius Secundus (1St cent. A.D., poet Sacerdos, Nicetes (see n. in text), 441
and consular), 395, 439 Salii, 274 n.
Ponticus (epic poet), 293 Sallust (distinguished Roman historian,
Pope, Alexander, 463 n. writing after 44 B.C., terse and archaistic
Pratys (a rhapsode), 154 in style), 356, 366, 379, 385, 395 f., 402
Praxiphanes (3rd cent. B.C., Peripatetic Santra (Roman grammarian of Ciceronian
philosopher), 172, 185 period), 407
 INDEXES
Sappho (6th cent. B.C., poetess ofLesbos), 330, 340, 361 , 390, 439, 464, 478, 485,
193, 196 f., 199 f., 202 f., 293, 340, 472 493,504 ff., 510, 512, 518 f., 521 f., 529,
Sarapis (eastern god with great temple at 534
Alexandria), 558 If. Sophron (of Syracuse, 5th cent. H.C.,
Satyrs (goat-like deities of countryside), writer of mimes), 91, 196,200 If.
28 5 Sosii (Horace's booksellers), 289
Scaevola, see Mucius Sosistratus (unknown rhapsode), 131
Scipio Mricanus (Maior, 236-184 B.C., Sostratus (architect of Cnidus), 547
Roman general and Philhellene), 234, Sotades (Hellenistic poet), 206 n.
348,457 Speusippus (c. 407-339 H.C., Athenian
Scipio Aemilianus Africanus (185-129 philosopher), 236
H.C., conqueror of Carthage), 227, 395, Statius (c. A.D. 45-96, author of epics, and
410 Si/vac in dilferent metres), 395 n., 580
Secundus, Julius (1St cent. A.D., dis- Stesichorus (6th cent. H.C., lyric poet,
tinguished orator from Gaul), 398, 406, writing on epic themes), 153, 340, 389,
433,437 47 6
Sedatius (see 508 n.), 508 If. Stesimbrotus (5th cent. H.C., scholar from
Seneca (L. Annaeus, author of collection Thasos, who wrote Homeric studies),
of declamations written after A.D. 37), 40
349 ff. Sthenelus (5th cent. H.C., tragedian), 121
Seneca (M. Annaeus, son of the former, Stilo, Aelius (great Roman scholar, born
philosopher and stylist: high in power about 150 H.C.: established canon of 25
in reign ofNero, forced into suicide A.D. plays of Plautus), 395
65), 362 ff., 370 f., 399 f., 406 Stobaeus (5th cent. A.D., excerptor), 301 n.
Serranus (1St cent. A.D., epic poet), 393 Stoics (school of philosophers founded by
Servilius Nonianus (consul A.D. 35, his- Zeno about 300 H.C. and particularly
torian), 396, 446 popular in imperial Rome; Stoics dis-
Sextii (followers of an eclectic philosopher trusted emotion, limited their wants,
of period of Augustus), 399 and despised rhetoric), 235 f., 300 If.,
Silanion (4th cent. H.C., Athenian sculp- 327, 392, 399, 419, 435 n., 451 f., 526
tor), 514 Strabo (64 H.c.-after A.D. 21, geographer
Silenus (lascivious tutor and attendant of from Pontus), 300 ff.
Dionysus), 285 Stratoc1es (rhetorical historian, perhaps
Simonides (c. 556-468 H.C., lyric and ele- the same as the demagogue who prose-
giac poet of Ceos), 5, 139, 152 n., 340, cuted Demosthenes in 324 H.C.), 222
389, 479, 509 Sulla (c. 138--']8 H.C., Roman statesman,
Sisenna (praetor 78 B.c., author of notorious for savage proscriptions of his
Histories and translator of Aristides' opponents), 350, 457
obscene Milesiaca), 295,446 Sulpicius Rufus (p., orator, and popu/aris
Soclaros (son of M. Sedatius, dedicatee of tribune in 88 H.C.: speaker in Cicero's
Plutarch's De audiendis poetis), 508 De Oratore), 227, 232, 246
Socrates (5th cent. H.C., the philo- Sulpicius Rufus (Servius, consul 51 H.C.,
sopher), 10, 39 If., 161, 168, 201, noted orator), 383, 398, 406
213 If., 220, 226, 234 If., 253, 256, 288,
307,3 10,3 19 n., 356, 392, 405, 418, 465,
510, 5 13, 519 Tacitus (consul A.D. 97, the distinguished
Solon (6th cent. H.C., Athenian lawgiver historian), 432 ff.
and elegiac poet), 68, 220 f., 234 Tarpa, see Maecius
Sophoc1es (c. 496-406 H.C., the Athenian Telauges (see n. ad loc.), 204
tragedian), 4 f., 8, 77, 93, 95, 109, Terence (Roman comedian, whose plays
I I I If., 116, 126 n., 128, 132, 148, 159, were produced 166-160 H.C.), 250,
161 f., 164 f., 168 f., 194 n., 276, 298, 253 n., 265 f., 274, 293, 395
 INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 599
Terentianus, Postumius (see 461 n.), 476,484, 496, 534 f., 537, 541 f., 545 f.,
462 If. 570, 577 If.
Thales (6th cent. B.C., 'philosopher' of Tibullus (Roman elegiac poet, friend of
Miletus with wide practical interests), Horace: died 19 B.C.), 293, 295, 298, 394
68 Ticidas (1St cent. B.C., 'Neoteric' Latin
Themistocles (c. 528-462 B.C., Athenian poet), 294
orator and politician, victor of Salamis: Tigellius, Hermogenes (Roman teacher,
later ostracized, and died on Persian mocked by Horace), 268, 272
territory), 220, 222, 234 Timaeus (c. 35&-260 B.C., rhetorical his-
Theocritus (3rd cent. B.C., pastoral poet of torian much concerned with his native
Syracuse, later of Cos and Alexandria), Sicily), 224, 256, 464 f., 534 n.
388, 492, 548 f., 569, 573 Timagenes (rhetorical historian from
Theodamas (unknown), 142 Alexandria, brought to Rome in 55 B.C.),
Theodectes (4th cent. B.C., rhetorician and 39 1
tragedian), II 2, II 5 Timanthes (5th cent. B.C., painter), 225
Theodorus (celebrated tragic actor), 137 Timomachus (of Byzantium, painter con-
Theodorus (sculptor), 42 (with n.) temporary with Julius Caesar), 513
Theodorus (mimic), 514 Timotheus (c. 450-c. 360 B.C., dithyram-
Theodorus (of Byzantium, 5th cent. B.C., bic poet of Miletus), 92, 120, 520
early rhetorician), 75, 154, 223, 3II Tiro (freedman secretary and biographer
Theodorus (of Gadara, 1st cent. B.C., of Cicero), 442
rhetorician), 464 Tisias (of Syracuse, 5th cent. B.C., early
Theognis (6th cent. B.c., elegiac poet of teacher of rhetoric), 75, 80 f., 223, 230
Megara), 3, 190, 510, 520 Toranius (undistinguished contemporary
Theon (of Samos, painter), 405, 513 of Cicero), 444
Theophrastus (of Eresos, c. 37o-c. 288 Trachalus (1St cent. A.D., orator), 398, 406
B.C., pupil and successor of Aristotle; Trajan (Roman emperor, A.D. 98-II7),
his lost book on style was very influ- 427 n•
ential and apparently originated the Trophonius (Boeotian hero, patron diety
doctrine of the four virtues), II9 n., of oracle at Lebadea), 559
142 n.,172, 182, 194,204,210,221,241, Tubero (prosecutor ofLigarius in 46 B.C.),
308, 376 n., 384, 392, 490 383
Theopompus (4th cent. B.C., rhetorical Tynnichus (poet of Chalcis admired by
historian, pupil of Isocrates), 179, 212, Aeschylus), 43
225, 256, 340, 391, 490, 500, 534, 546, Tyrtaeus (7th cent. B.C., elegiac poet and
579, 582 Spartan general), 5 n., 290, 388
Theramenes (see 9 f.), 19, 220, 234 Tyrwhitt, T., 114
Thersites (low demagogue in Iliad), 426,
51 3 Ulysses (Roman name for Odysseus, q.v.),
Thespesion (naked sage in Philostratus'
Life of Apollonius), 552 222, 237, 414, 441
Thespis (first prize-winning tragedian at
Athens c. 533 B.C.), 276, 287 Varius (Augustan epic poet and tragedian),
Thrasymachus (of Chalcedon, 5th cent. 271 f., 278, 281, 395, 439
B.C., rhetorician and sophist, important Varius Geminus (Augustan declaimer),
in development of prose rhythm), 76, 353 f.
78 f., 136, 147, 154, 220, 234, 308, 314 Varro Atacinus (born 82 B.C., poet from
Thucydides (c. 455-400 B.C., the dis- Gaul, translator of Apollonius Rhodius,
tinguished historian), 178, 181 If., 186f., amatory and satirical writer), 27 I,
194, 205, 208 n., 2II, 220, 222 f., 225, 295 n., 298, 393
227,239 f., 253, 256, 307 f., 310 If., 326, Varro, M. Terentius (II6-27 B.C., en-
329, 33 1, 339, 361 , 385, 39 1, 395, 402 , cyclopedic writer on, e.g., the Latin
600 INDEXES
language and agriculture, and composer Voconius Romanus (orator and corre-
of'Menippean' satire), 394 f., 446, 549 spondent of Pliny), 427 f.
Vatinius, Publius (tribune 59 B.C., pros&-
Xenarchus (son of Sophron, himself a
cuted by Cicero and Calvus), 354. 445,
Inime writer), 91
454. 457 Xenocrates (pupil of Plato and head of the
Vatinius (favourite of Nero), 439
Verres (prosecuted by Cicero in 70 B.C. for Academy 339-314 B.C.), 235 f.
plundering Sicily during his proconsul- Xenophanes (see 4 n.), 4. 128, 513
Xenophon (428--C. 354 B.C., Athenian his-
ship), 246, 383, 424. 444. 456
torian, philosopher, and stylist), 174.
Vespasian (Roman emperor, A.D. 69-'79),
181, 189 ff., 195, 197 f., 201, 205, 208,
432, 435 n., 436 f., 442
Vibius Crispus (orator, informer, and wit 215,226,240,256,331,385,391 f., 405,
under Nero and later emperors), 398, 452, 465 ff., 482, 486, 488, 491, 501,
542, 576f•
406, 436, 440
Victorius, P., 151 n. Zeno (335-263 B.C., founder of the Stoic
Virgil (70-19 B.C., the greatest Roman school), 248, 419
poet), 124 n., 159 n., 271 f., 278, 281, Zeuxis (5th-4th cent., painter), 99, 130,
293, 296, 298 f., 356, 367 n., 370 f., 225,405
377 n., 382 n., 388, 393 f., 420, 439 f., Zoilus (4th cent. B.C., Cynic philosopher),
444. 446, 548 fT. 311 ,47 1

Ill. GENERAL INDEX

Greek and Latin equivalents are normally added only where they have been mentioned
in the body of the text; it is not to be supposed that they have been consistently
translated throughout.
Accentuation, Greek and Latin con- Anthypallage [substitution of one case for
trasted, 409 another], 185
Act-division, 284 Antithesis, 149, 151- 2, 154. 178--g, 195;
Action, off-stage, 284 criticized in Isocrates, 308, 3I 8
Actors, number of, 95; delivery of, 135, Apostrophe [direct address to audience],
155; in comedy, 373 57 1
Adjacent faults, principle of, 194, 280, Appropriateness, virtue of style, 137,
416- 17,464 145-6, 195,241,331-5, 376,378; used
. Affected style (kakozelon), 206, 464. See as criterion of judgement, 138, 140-2,
also Corrupt style 317; applied to drama, 281-4. 531; and
Ages of man, 283-4 genres, 403
Allegory (allegoria, huponoia), explained, Archaic words, 257, 308, 325, 364. 376
260; and grandeur, 192; and charm, Archaism, Roman enthusiasm for, 273-4.
201; in middle style, 244; criticized in 365, 371, 379, 4I I, 441--'7
Plato, 309, 491, 569; used to interpret Arguments (tekmeria), as part of a speech,
Homer, 52, 303, 469, 516-17, 557-8; 157, 165-7. See also Parts of a speech
used to interpret myth, 52, 580 Arrangement, of matter, 157, 280, 374,
Amplification (auxesis), how produced, 428. See also Rhythm, Style, Words
156,474; in oratory, 165-6, 169-70,414 Art (techne), and nature in oratory, 136,
Anaphora [repetition of word at beginning 219, 230, 339, 386, 396; and nature in
of successive clauses], 185-6,483 poetry, 287, 290, 298, 336; and inspira-
 GENERAL INDEX 601

tion, 41-50; and sublimity, 462-3, 495; 471; plot of, 102, 108; proexns of, 160;
concealment of, 137, 484. See also language of, 141, 196, 199, 205, 410,
Textbooks 531; charm in, 202-3; whether poetry,
Asyndeton [lack of connectives], 156, 170, 26,; Old, 266, 270, 287, 390 , 531-3;
186,207,482-3 New, 265-6, 270-1, 39D-1, 53 1-3;
Roman, 395, 410
Bard (aoitIos), in Homer, 1-2,300 Comma [sub-division of colon, q.v.],
Bathos, see Frigidity 175 n., 342, 564
Bewitchment, see Charm Commonplace, the (to euteles), 566
Brevity, and charm, 198; and forcefulness, Commonplaces (loci communes) [general
213; and obscurity, 280; and bathos, topics, often of a philosophical nature,
499; in oratory, 224. 316-18, 423-6; in inserted into speeches], invented by
satire, 270; in poetry, 280, 288 Sophists, 223; in oratory, 244- 249,
408, 451, 474-5; in declamation, 344-
Catachresis (abusio), explained, 244- 359; style of, 491
261-2, 382 (lee also 303); in poetry, 6, Comparisons (sunkristis), 504 n. See also
325, 525 Simile
Catharsis, produced by tragedy, 97, 132-3 Complication (tIesis), in tragedy, lIS
Censorship, in Plato's republic, 66, 72-4; Compound words, restrictions on in prose,
at Rome, 276; of comedy, 287 138, 140-1, 146, 19G-2, 195, 199, 207,
Character (ethos), how to represent, 561, 213,258
570-5; in tragedy, 5,97 n., 1I0-1I; in Confirmations (epikristis), 570
oratory, 145, 155, 164. 166, 168; in Connectives, 184-5. See a/so Asyndeton,
letters, 21I; in declamation, 359; and Polysyndeton
emotion (pathos), lIS, 155, 179 n., 307, 'Contamination' of plots, 265
31I, 489 n.; and charm, 489 Correctness, virtue of style (Hellinismos,
Charm, in elegant style, 196-205; in Latinitas), 142-3, 241, 250, 376; in
Homer, 557; = bewitchment (psuch- music (orthotes), 82,94; generally, 127
agogia), 79, 300, 555, 559 (see also 7)· Corrupt style, 363, 365-6, 374. 378, 399,
See also Flowery style 415-16, 448. See a/so Affected style,
Chorus, role of in tragedy, 105, 116, 284- Decline
5; in comedy, 96; in Euripides, 30-3; in Court poetry, '278-9
Philoctetes, 505 Criticism, criteria of, 83, 216-19, 252,
Clarity (saphineia), virtue of style, 135, 271-4; by professionals, 28g, 388, 549;
137, 241, 313, 376, 561; how impaired, by friends, 291, 428--g, 462
141, 143-4> 157, 280; and metaphor,
138; and persuasiveness, 210; in plain Dactyls [-v v], 146. See a/so Hexameters,
style, 207-8; in Plato, 309; in Demo- Rhythm (heroic)
sthenes, 313, 563; in Isocrates, 316 Danger, see Hazard
Oausulae [pauses in prose speech, often Declamation (controversiae, masoriae),
marked by rhythm], 262, 264, 571-2; examples of, 344-54, 568 n.; style of,
esse videatur used as cliche in, 402, 298,454; form of, 344-5, 373; utility of,
446 372-4. 378-9; and reality, 354-8, 361-2,
Colon [sub-division of period, q.v.], 372-4. 401 , 454-5; and Ovid, 358-9;
1+8-9,173-80,323,328-3°,338-9,342, and comedy, 390-1
564. 571. See a/so Isocolon, Par- Decline, of drama due to audiences, 84; of
isosis rhetoric, stopped by Rome, 305-7; of
Comedy (komodia), as a genre, 82, 92, 250; Roman oratory, 379, 392, 415-16; due
why so called, 93, 303; origin and de- to spineless youth, 359-60; due to
velopment of, 6, 95-6 (see a/so 93); as immorality, 362-7, 502-3; due to de-
'imitation', 62-3, 90; and tragedy, 281- clamation, 372, 447-55; due to lack of
2; actors of, 373; of manners in Odyssey, freedom, 455-9,501; denied, 441-7
602 INDEXES
Delivery, in oratory, II7, 135-6, 143,207, 123-5, 131-2; narration in, 62; recita-
242,251,383; in specified orators, 319, tion of, 135-6 (v. Rhapsodes); proems
355, 398; speed of, 367-8; in recitation, of, 159,283; style of, 141,317; Greek, 6,
427. See also Actors 388~;Roman, 271, 393. See also Homer
Denouement (/usis), in tragedy, II5 Epideictic (also display) speeches, style and
Descriptions (ekphraseis), 546, 568 parts of, 157~, 161, 163, 165-7; and
Deus ex machina, Ill, 284 panegyric, 373; and poetry, 384;
Dialect words (glossaj), II9, 129, 138, and emotion, 468; in Hyperides. 493.
140- I, 150, 520. See also Rare words See also Encomia
Dialects, lack of in Latin, 409 Epigrams (sententiae), in poetry, 298-9;
Dialogues, style of, 2II, 310; Socratic, 91, in declamation, 353, 358; in middle
164> 215, 307, 310; of Cicero, 396; of style, 414; lacking in Fabianus, 36~;
Seneca, 399 in Cicero, 412, 446; in first-century
Dirges, 84 oratory, 4II-12, 444, 452
Dithyrambs [choral hymns to Dionysus, Epilogue, see Peroration
often extravagant in style], 6, 43, 62, Epiphoneme [culminating epigram or ex-
84> 90-2, 95, 250; preludes of, 147, 149, clamation], 193-4
159; style of, 122, 141, 156, 188, 190, Epithets, in prose, 138-41, 144-6; and
195,199; Plato a 'dithyrambist', 310-II metaphor, 190; in Homer, 555
Drama, see Comedy, Tragedy Erotica, defended, 293--'7,428; in Alcaeus,
389
Education, see Declamation, Fables, Euphonious (also beautiful) words, 139,
Morality, Music, Myth, Orator, Poetry 204-5, 317, 324, 333, 339
Elaborate style, 307-8, 310-13 Example (paradeigma), 412
Elegant style, 181, 196-205, 212, 221; Exodos, 105
etymology played on, 242 Expression (/exis, phrasis, elocutio), 61,
Elegy, origin of, 281; Greek, 389; Latin, 136n.; in poetry, 121; in prose, 135 If.;
394; as branch of eloquence, 438 importance of, 374-6; precepts for,
Emotion (pathos), and poetry, 44> 282, 489 If. See also Style
387,473; and oratory, 145, 170, 216-17, Extempore speaking, style of, 155-6;
307, 3II , 317, 319, 404, 408, 412, 414; pleasure from, 435; of Cassius Severus,
aids to production of, 179, 482, 484-8, 355-6; false appearance of, 424, 484
490,497; and sublimity, 462 n., 467-8,
489, 503; in Livy, 396; pathos as act Fables, use of in education, 51, 53-4, 303-
involving pain (Aristotelian), 105, 108- 4,510; charm of, 202; in Homer, 301,
10, II5, 124. See also Character 542; in prose, 559; in history, 539; in
Emulation (zelos), 562. See also Imitation Nicostratus, 577. See also Myth
Encomia (also panegyric, praise), poetic, Falsehood (pseudos), uses and abuses of,
43, 74> 94> 387; prose, 559; indirect 56--'7, 60; in Homer, 4, 126, 283, 304,
(parepajnos), 75; sophistic, 161, 167, 51 I; in poetry generally, 5-6, 51-2,384,
195,223; Roman, 224, 427-8; panegyric 510-13: in encomia, 537. See also Truth
and forensic oratory, 309, 373, 563; and Fear, removed by speech, 7; purged in
emotion, 468; and history, 537~, 546; tragedy, 133. See also Emotion, Pity
panegyric, extended use of in Hermo- Figures (schemata, schematismoi), infinite
genes, 575-9; praise in propemptica, in number, 329; in grand style, 185-7;
580-2. See also Epideictic in middle style, 244, 414; in plain style,
Enthymeme (enthumema) ['rhetorical syl- 241-2; and charm, 199; in individual
logism' or argument from probabilities], authors, 225, 308~, 317-18, 388-9,
135, 179-80, 193, 412 394, 408 ; in history, 385, 543; matter
Epanalepsis [repetition], 207 for experts, 428; first-century fashion
Epic, as genre, 53, 74, 90, 250, 438; and for, 375; 'Longinus' on, 480-9; Hermo-
inspiration, 43; and tragedy, 95-6, II5, genes on, 564 If.
 GENERAL INDEX
Flowery style (antheron), 413; see a/so 557 141; in invective, 94-5, 281, 389, 394-
(anthos) 438; in tragedy, 95, 136, 286; and ordi-
Forceful style (deinon, deinotes), 175, 181, nary speech, 95, 146, 182
188,197, 199,205,212-13; see also 313, Ignorance (hamartia), in tragedy, 106-7
543,546, 561 , 563, 566 Imaginary second person, 486-7
Frigidity (a/so bathos: psuchron, psuchro- Imagination, see Visualization
tes), 462 n.; exemplified, 140-1, 464-6, Imitation (mimesis, mimemata), true
570; in Aristophanes, 531; frigid style, nature of, 66 ff. ; psychological effects of,
194-6 69-74; pleasure of, 134; and narrative,
61-2,578; and dancing, 82; and poetry,
Genres, need to keep separate, 84, 281; 62-6, 67--9, 71-4, 90 ff. passim (Aris-
rules of, 403. See also Appropriateness, totle); and art, 552; by sound of words,
and the individual genres 335-7; of previous authors, 228, 359-
Glosses, see Rare words 60,362,366,374,380,383-4,397,400-
Grammatici [elementary teachers of litera- 4,475-6,484,540, 548-50, 562; of life,
ture], 377, 450 288, 513-14., 527; of thought, 553. See
Grandeur (megethos, hadrotes, megalo- also Emulation
prepeia), 20-3, 507, 557, 561, 566-72, Immortality, afforded by poetry, 3, 297-8
578; grand style (hadron), 181--94, 205, Impossibilities, sometimes preferable to
213,244-5, 250, 413-14. See also Pomp possibilities, 126. See a/so Laughter
Greatness of thought, 468. See also Innuendo, 213-15
Grandeur 'Inside' and 'outside' the plot, Ill, 114,
126
Harmony, 90-1. See a/so Rhythm Inspiration (also enthusiasm, possession:
Hazard, in oratory (parabola), 245, 429; hieron pneuma, enthousiasmos, phusis
and sublimity, 491-2 theazousa), and poetry, 2-4, 42-4, 267,
Hexameters, as epic metre, 94, 96, 174; 299,439,537; and oratory, 146 n., 319,
converted into Sotadeans, 206. See also 477, 49 1, 497; and imitation, 476; of
Dactyls, Rhythm (heroic) Plato, 392, 408. See also Madness
Hiatus [juxtaposition of vowels], 187-8, Intellect (dianoia), in tragedy, 97 n. (and
240 ,309 passim in ch. 3. A)
History, meaning of, 102; and poetry, 102, Interrogation, 168--9
278, 385, 537, 543; and oratory, 239, Invective, 94-5, 223-4; indirect (para-
253, 325; in education of orators, 249- psogoi), 75. See also Encomia, Iambus
50, 377, 385; and panegyric, 537, 575, Irony, gentlemanly, 169; Socratic, 226-7;
577--9; malice in, 534-6; style of,S, of Hyperides, 493
543--6; some writers of, 255-6, 391, Isocolon [equality of length of balancing
395--6, 577--9; the ideal historian, 540-2. cola, q.v.], 178--9,242. See also Parisosis
See also Myth, Truth
Homoeoteleuton [similarity of ending in
Jests, 169, 203-4. See a/so Laughter
adjacent clauses], 179, 242
Humour, see Laughter Judge, posterity as, 476, 495, 542, 547.
See also Criticism
Hymns, 74, 84, 558--9; invention and
style of, 579-80. See also Paean
H yperbaton [distortion of natural word Lament, in tragedy (kommos), 105
order], 484-5 Laughter, effectiveness of, 270; un-
Hyperbole, 155, 495+6, 578; comic use of, desirable, 59-60, 73; and ugliness, 96;
196,202,49 6 and bathos, 141; and the impossible,
Hypostrophe [return to subject after 196; and charm, 203; Homeric, 59-60;
parenthesis], 571 dramatized by 'Homer', 95; in oratory,
242-3,493; in comedy, 531-3. See also
Iambus [v -], 286; iambics as genre, 43, Hyperbole, Jests, Wit
 INDEXES
Letters, style of, 211-12; in Cicero and in history, 535, 546, 578; allegorizing,
Demosthenes, 396; of alphabet, 409 580. See also Fables
Lexis eiromene [strung-together style], 147
Low words, 334, 381, 490, 499-501 Narration (diegesis), in poetry, 61-2, 64-5,
Luxury, stylistic effects of, 360, 364. See 93, 471; in prose, 559; in oratory, 75,
also Decline, Morality 377, 414, 446; in declamation, 344; in
Lyre, 31, 42, 82, 285 history, 545
Lyrics, as genre, 6, 53, 74, 281, 317, 438, Nature, and sentence structure, 221;
493; writers of, 43, 147, 389, 394-5; 'natural' eloquence, 361, 375-6, 378,
parody of Euripides', 33-5; lyrical verse 386,398,400,410-11,562; naturalness
(Ode), 303 in oratory, 137; naturalness in acting,
373; 'natural' historians, 540; 'natural-
Madness (mania), of poets, 75,113 n., 287, ism' and archaism, 41 I. See also Art
291; and sublimity, 468; in Plato, 491. Neologisms (also coined, new words), 120,
See also Inspiration 138,191-2,200,207,241,256-8,280-1,
Magniloquence,s. See also Grandeur 308 , 325, 364
'Male' and 'female' in music and litera- Nomic poetry (nomoi), 84, 91-2
ture, 552-8 Nouns, classified, 119-20
Mediocrity and genius, 492-5. See also Novelty, dangers of, 466
Nature
Me~alepsis [use of one word for another], Obscenity, see Erotica, Low words
555 Obscurity, see Brevity, Oarity
Metaphor, defined and discussed, 119-20, Occasion (kairos), 333
258-60, 490-2; misuse of, 141; and Onomatopoeia, 191, 210. See also Imita-
simile, 142; in poets, 6, 121-2, 129,325, tion, Mimicry
551; in oratory, 138-9, 241-4, 250-1, Orator, education of, 449-55 (see Declama-
309, 363-4, 375, 378, 398, 408, 4 14; tion); morality of, 417-23; the perfect,
various effects of, 144-5, 150-6, 188- in theory, 231-7, 245-6, 248-51, 401,
90, 195, 199, 207, 213, 555-6; not 404,418-21,448; the perfect, in prac-
needed, 411; much needed in Latin, tice, 221, 223, 238; officia oratoris
40 9- 10 ('duties of the orator'), 216, 250, 253;
Metonymy (hupallage), 243, 261, 309 the officia related to the three styles,
Metre and subject, 125, 281-2 41 3- 1 4
Middle style, in oratory, 243-5, 250, 314- Oratory, types of, 155-'7 (and ch. 3. C-D
15,392,413-14; in poetry, 388. See also passim), 404-17, 451; parts of, 219;
Mixed style nature of, 228-31; development of, 219-
Mimes [sub-dramatic performances, often 24, 227-8, 391-2, 396-8, 406-8; reading
farcical], 91, 201, 270, 295-6, 364 of, 377; utility and pleasures of, 434-6;
Mimicry, of natural sounds, 64, 514. See how to judge, 216-19; and history, 239,
also Imitation, Onomatopoeia 544; and philosophy, 232-7, 248-9; and
Mixed style, 308 poetry, 136, 218, 232, 292, 384-5, 411,
Monodies, 16, 19 430, 434-40, 479; and political condi-
Morality, and oratory, 417-23, 439; and tions, 223, 455-9, 501
poetry, 293n, 428-9; in education, Order of words, 183-4. See also Arrange-
554-5; relation to literature, 360, 363-'7, ment, Rhythm
502-3 Ordinllry speech, champions of, 5,410-11;
Music, in edUcation, 51, 133, 319, 553 ff.; and metaphor, 190; and poetry, 136,
in tragedy, 132-3; analogies with ora- 141, 247; and oratory, 137, 210, 240,
tory, 332, 342, 488, 497. See also 247, 307, 375. See also Iambus, Low
-Pleasure words
Myth, in poetry, 6, 282-3, 299; in educa- Ornament, as virtue of style, 241, 376;
tion, 303-4, 508; in oratory, 493, 564; accessory, 3 I 6
 GENERAL INDEX 60S
Paean, 43, 84, 558 Plot, 6, 106-10, 510. See also Comedy,
Paeon[-vvvor vvv -], 147, 181-2 'Contamination', Myth
Painting, analogy with poetry, 5, 42, 92, Poet, origin of the term (poietes), 91; the
99, Ill, 127, 134,279-80,289,296,338, true, 298-«)
510,513; analogy with oratory, IS6, 225, Poetic licence, 257
251-2,341,362,400-1,405,428,481-2 Poetry, nature of, 7; origins and develop-
Panegyric, see Encomia, Epideictic ment of, 6, 94; branches of (tragedy,
Parisosis [equality of balancing cola, q.v.], comedy, etc., qq.v.), 90, 250; subjects
150, 154. See also Isocolon of, 102, 526; audience for, 218, 304;
Parodos, 105 function and aim of, 21-3, 275, 290,
Parody, of Aeschylus and Euripides, 15- 300-5, 567; educational dangers of, 50-
38 passim; charm of, 201 66, 508-30; attack on and defence of,
Parts of a speech (proem, narration, argu- 437-40; and rhetoric, 302; and prose,
ments, peroration, qq.v.), 75, 1571f., 136-7,140- 2,144-6,190-1,194-5,257,
344-5, 377-8; sophistic sub-divisions, 302-3, 342-3, 558-60, 574, 576-7, 579·
75, 158 See also Imitation, Inspiration, Mad-
Parts of speech, 117-19, 323 ness, Morality, Ordinary speech,
Periods, periodic style 147-«), 175-80, Pleasure, Satire
183, 240, 309, 317, 323, 331, 339, 342, Polysyndeton [abundance of connectives],
445, 498. See also Colon, Comma, Lexis 186,483-4. See also Asyndeton
eiromene Pomp (onkos), 144-5, 566. See also
Peripeteia, 99, 104-5, 112, 115, 124, 134. Grandeur
See also Surprise Practice (part of triad with art, nature,
Periphrasis (also circumlocution), 409, qq.v.), 219, 230
4 11 , 488-«), 555, 557 Praise, see Encomia
Peroration (also epilogue), 158, 160, 169- Prejudice, 161-3, 165
70, 344-5, 388, 396, 475; sometimes Present tense, vivid, 486
called 'resume' (epanados), 76 Probability (eikos), 75, 80-1. See also
Persuasion, 7, 35-6, 159,425; persuasive- Impossibilities
ness, 80, 210-11 Proem (also prologue: prooemium), in
Philosophy, Greek, 392; Roman, 398-«); oratory, 75, 158-61, 163, 170, 377,387,
and oratory, 229-37, 244, 385-6, 443-4, 404, 412, 444, 446; in declamation,
451-2; and poetry, 288, 508, 510, 517; 344-5; in history, 545. See also Epic
and history, 256; audience for, 304; Prologues, in drama, 19, 25-30, 96, 105,
style of, 327, 368-']0 158-«), 265-6, 506
Pity, roused by speech, 7; by poetry, 73, Propemptica [valedictions to departing
97. 106, 108, 133, 164; by oratory, 170, travellers], 580-3
414, 493. See also Emotion, Fear Prophecy and poetry, 4
Plagiarism, 226, 476 Propriety, see Appropriateness
Plain style (ischnon, subtile), 18r, 205-8, Prose (pezon, logoeides, pedestre), 303, 392,
211-12, 221, 225, 237, 239-45, 250-2, 538 n.; style of, 134 If.; in general
307, 309, 413-14; 'slight' style (huper- (logographia), 575. See also Poetry
ischnon), 577 Proverbs (gnomai, paroimiai), 155, 175,
Pleasure (hedone), source and psychology 202, 212, 510
of, 134, 137, 303, 331-2; as criterion, Punctuation, 129, 367
82-3; given by poetry, 1,73, 132,288-
9,300,317,384,507,510,567; given by Rags, in Euripides, 23
various stylistic devices, 138, 148-50, Rare words (also glosses), 6, 257, 308, 343,
153, 411-12, 489 n.; given by history, 520-1. See also Dialect words
538, 540; given by music, 133, 263; Reading, in oratorical training, 377-86;
given by oratory, 135, 164, 216, 307, and listening, 382-3
411. See also Charm Recantation (i.e. self-correction), 200
606 INDEXES
Recitations, 267, 426-7, 437 passim (schema on p. 460); result of
Recognition, in tragedy, 104-5, 111-13 great thought, 23; in Plato, 309; Pliny
Rhapsodes, 39-50, 82-3 on, 429-31; sublime words, 378; not
Rhetores, see Declamation always to be aimed at, 428
Rhetoric, 75-81, 99, 135, 301-2; early Surprise, in tragedy, 103-4, 116. See also
development of, 220; elements of, (in- Peripeteia
vention, arrangement, diction, memory, Sweetness, 564
delivery), 219. See also Oratory, Text- Synecdoche [use of part for the whole,~t_
books sim.], 555, 557
Rhetorical questions, 482
Rhythm, in musical education, 552-3; in
.
Tastelessness, 6. See also Affected style,
poetry 6,65,135,324,343; heroic, 182; Frigidity
in prose, 135, 146-7, 181-2, 195, 205, Textbooks (also handbooks, 'arts'), 25 j of
220-1,225,240,251,262-4, 309, 365-6, rhetoric, 75, 79, 223, 230, 237, 322,
378, 406, 408, 4 14, 445, 497-9, 543, 378, 382, 388, 443, 462-3
564 ff.; rhythmical form (harmonia), in Traditional stories, in tragedy, 108-9
Dionysius, 324, 330-1, 334, 338-41 Tragedy (tragodia), as a genre, 53, 82, 250,
Riddles, 139, 153 438; origin of, 95, 287; nature of, 90-
132 passim (defined, 98); iInitation in,
Satire, function and style of, 266-72; 62-3; pleasure given by, 73; charm in,
whether poetry, 267-8; writers of, 394 203; construction of, 77; metre of, 28 I,
Satyr-plays, 95, 199, 203, 285-6, 294 286; style of, 282, 303, 493, 570; love
Sculpture (also statuary), analogy with in, 294; and truth, 317; and deceit, 509;
oratory, 225, 404-6; analogy with his- Greek, 6, 15-38, 390, 504-7; Roman,
tory, 544; and imitation, 476, 552 271, 276, 395. See also Actors, Charac-
Selectivity, and sublimity, 472-4 ter, Prologues, Plot
SiInile (also comparison: eikim, eikasia), Translation, 253, 548-50
141-2, 150, 153-5, 189-90, 200, 202, Tropes, 225, 309, 325, 491, 556. See also
2!3, 549, 55 6 Figures
SiInplicity (apheleia), 561, 567, 572-5 Truth, and pleasure, 317; in history, 222,
Sincerity, see Truth 537-8, 542; sincerity (alethria) in
Slight style, see Plain style oratory, 561, 563. See also Falsehood
Solemnity (semnotes), 561, 567-'72 Turgidity, 373, 429
Speech (logos), 7-8, 559 (logo;, SI, 61, Types, see Oratory, Style, Words
562); speeches in history, 239,391,395-
6,546 Unity (also wholeness), in tragedy, 100-3,
Standard expressions (kuria, propria), as 123; in poetry, 279-80, 472; and
opposed to metaphor, etc., 137-8, ISO, subliInity, 498
189-90, 241, 256-7, 259-61,411 Usage of words, 190,281,365,401,520
StasiInon [choral song in tragedy], 105
'Status' (stasis), 237 n. Variety (metabole), of oratorical style, 245-
Stock chaxacters in New Comedy, 265-6, 6, 415; as source of beauty in style,
270-1, 276-7, 285, 298 33 I -4, 485; in poetry, 428
Style, elements of, 33 I; types of (ideai), Vehement, see Forceful
561 ff.; three styles (grand, middle, Virtues (aretai) of style (correctness,
plain, qq.v.), 240-6, 413-15; four styles clarity, appropriateness, ornament,
(grand, elegant, plain, forceful, qq.v.: qq.v.), 142-6,241,376. See also 305 n.,
see also Affected style, Frigidity), 181; 561 n.
analogy with health, 240, 375. See also Visualization (phantasia), 405, 477-80,
Corrupt, Elaborate, Mixed styles, Ex- 552. See also Vividness
pression, Morality, SiInplicity, Virtues Vividness (enargeia), in poetry, 2, II3,
SubliIne, the (hupsos, hupselon), 462-503 132, 335-6; in history, 5, 545; tech-
 GENERAL INDEX
niques of producing, 151-2, 208-10, of (sunthesis, compositio), 205, 262, 280-
258, 483, 486-'7, 490, 556-7. See also I, 32 1-43 pa ssim (types of arrangement
Visualization [cltarakteres], viz. austere, smooth,
Vocabulary, acquisition of, 381-2. See also mixed, 313, 331, 338-41), 369, 496-9,
Words 543, 571. See also Archaic, Dialect,
Euphonious, Low, Rare, Sublime
Wit (asteiotcs, urbanitas), 150-5, 396-8. words, Neologisms, Usage, Vocabulary
See also Laughter Written and spoken speeches, 155-7,
Words, all appropriate somewhere, 334, 412- 1 3,424-5
381; choice of, 323-5, 335; arrangement