A Dialogue Concerning Oratory, Or The Causes Of Corrupt Eloquence by Cornelius Tacitus

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In the present age, the tenets of philosophy and the precepts of
rhetoric are no longer a secret. The lowest of our popular assemblies
are now, I will not say fully instructed, but certainly acquainted
with the elements of literature. The orator, by consequence, finds
himself obliged to seek new avenues to the heart, and new graces to
embellish his discourse, that he may not offend fastidious ears,
especially before a tribunal where the judge is no longer bound by
precedent, but determines according to his will and pleasure; not, as
formerly, observing the measure of time allowed to the advocate, but
taking upon himself to prescribe the limits. Nor is this all: the
judge, at present, will not condescend to wait till the orator, in his
own way, opens his case; but, of his own authority, reminds him of the
point in question, and, if he wanders, calls him back from his
digression, not without a hint that the court wishes to dispatch.

XX. Who, at this time, would bear to hear an advocate introducing
himself with a tedious preface about the infirmities of his
constitution? Yet that is the threadbare exordium of Corvinus. We have
five books against Verres [a]. Who can endure that vast redundance?
Who can listen to those endless arguments upon points of form, and
cavilling exceptions [b], which we find in the orations of the same
celebrated advocate for Marcus Tullius [c] and Aulus Caecina? Our
modern judges are able to anticipate the argument. Their quickness
goes before the speaker. If not struck with the vivacity of his
manner, the elegance of his sentiments, and the glowing colours of his
descriptions, they soon grow weary of the flat insipid discourse. Even
in the lowest class of life, there is now a relish for rich and
splendid ornament. Their taste requires the gay, the florid, and the
brilliant. The unpolished style of antiquity would now succeed as ill
at the bar, as the modern actor who should attempt to copy the
deportment of Roscius [d], or Ambivius Turpio. Even the young men who
are preparing for the career of eloquence, and, for that purpose,
attend the forum and the tribunals of justice, have now a nice
discriminating taste. They expect to have their imaginations pleased.
They wish to carry home some bright illustration, some splendid
passage, that deserves to be remembered. What has struck their fancy,
they communicate to each other: and in their letters, the glittering
thought, given with sententious brevity, the poetical allusion that
enlivened the discourse, and the dazzling imagery, are sure to be
transmitted to their respective colonies and provinces. The ornaments
of poetic diction are now required, not, indeed, copied from the rude
obsolete style of Accius [e] and Pacuvius, but embellished with the
graces of Horace, Virgil, and [f] Lucan. The public judgement has
raised a demand for harmonious periods, and, in compliance with the
taste of the age, our orators grow every day more polished and
adorned. Let it not be said that what we gain in refinement, we lose
in strength. Are the temples, raised by our modern architects, of a
weaker structure, because they are not formed with shapeless stones,
but with the magnificence of polished marble, and decorations of the
richest gilding?

XXI. Shall I fairly own to you the impression which I generally
receive from the ancient orators? They make me laugh, or lull me to
sleep. Nor is this the case only, when I read the orations of Canutus
[a], Arrius, Furnius, Toranius and others of the same school, or
rather, the same infirmary [b]; an emaciated sickly race of orators;
without sinew, colour, or proportion. But what shall be said of your
admired Calvus [c]? He, I think, has left no less than one and twenty
volumes: in the whole collection, there is not more than one or two
short orations, that can pretend to perfection in the kind. Upon this
point there is no difference of opinion. Who now reads his
declamations against Asitius or Drusus? His speeches against Vatinius
are in the hands of the curious, particularly the second, which must
be allowed to be a masterpiece. The language is elegant; the
sentiments are striking, and the ear is satisfied with the roundness
of the periods. In this specimen we see that he had an idea of just
composition, but his genius was not equal to his judgement. The
orations of Caelius, though upon the whole defective, are not without
their beauties. Some passages are highly finished. In those we
acknowledge, the nice touches of modern elegance. In general, however,
the coarse expression, the halting period, and the vulgarity of the
sentiments, have too much of the leaven of antiquity.

If Caelius [d] is still admired, it is not, I believe, in any of those
parts that bear the mark of a rude illiterate age. With regard to
Julius Caesar [e], engaged as he was in projects of vast ambition, we
may forgive him the want of that perfection which might, otherwise, be
expected from so sublime a genius. Brutus, in like manner, may be
excused on account of his philosophical speculations. Both he and
Caesar, in their oratorical attempts, fell short of themselves. Their
warmest admirers acknowledge the fact, nor is there an instance to the
contrary, unless we except Caesar's speech for Decius the Samnite [f],
and that of Brutus for king [g] Dejotarus. But are those performances,
and some others of the same lukewarm temper, to be received as works
of genius? He who admires those productions, may be left to admire
their verses also. For verses they both made, and sent them into the
world, I will not say, with more success than Cicero, but certainly
more to their advantage; for their poetry had the good fortune to be
little known.

Asinius lived near our own times [h]. He, seems to have studied in the
old school of Menenius and Appius. He composed tragedies as well as
orations, but in a style so harsh and ragged, that one would think him
the disciple of Accius and Pacuvius. He mistook the nature of
eloquence, which may then be said to have attained its true beauty,
when the parts unite with smoothness, strength, and proportion. As in
the human body the veins should not swell too high, nor the bones and
sinews appear too prominent; but its form is then most graceful, when
a pure and temperate blood gives animation [i] to the whole frame;
when the muscles have their proper play, and the colour of health is
diffused over the several parts. I am not willing to disturb the
memory of Corvinus Messala [k]. If he did not reach the graces of
modern composition, the defect does not seem to have sprung from
choice. The vigour of his genius was not equal to his judgement.

XXII. I now proceed to Cicero, who, we find, had often upon his hands
the very controversy, that engages us at present. It was the fashion
with his contemporaries to admire the ancients, while he, on the
contrary, contended for the eloquence of his own time. Were I to
mention the quality that placed him at the head of his rivals I should
say it was the solidity of his judgement. It was he that first shewed
a taste for polished and graceful oratory. He was happy in his choice
of words, and he had the art of giving weight and harmony to his
composition. We find in many passages a warm imagination, and luminous
sentences. In his later speeches, he has lively sallies of wit and
fancy. Experience had then matured his judgement, and after long
practice, he found the true oratorical style. In his earlier
productions we see the rough cast of antiquity. The exordium is
tedious; the narration is drawn into length; luxuriant passages are
not retouched with care; he is not easily affected, and he rarely
takes fire; his sentiments are not always happily expressed [a], nor
are the periods closed with energy. There is nothing so highly
finished, as to tempt you to avail yourself of a borrowed beauty. In
short, his speeches are like a rude building, which is strong and
durable, but wants that grace and consonance of parts which give
symmetry and perfection to the whole.

In oratory, as in architecture, I require ornament as well as use.
From the man of ample fortune, who undertakes to build, we expect
elegance and proportion. It is not enough that his house will keep out
the wind and the rain; it must strike the eye, and present a pleasing
object. Nor will it suffice that the furniture may answer all domestic
purposes; it should be rich, fashionable, elegant; it should have gold
and gems so curiously wrought, that they will bear examination, often
viewed, and always admired. The common utensils, which are either mean
or sordid, should be carefully removed out of sight. In like manner,
the true orator should avoid the trite and vulgar. Let him reject the
antiquated phrase, and whatever is covered with the rust of time; let
his sentiments be expressed with spirit, not in careless,
ill-constructed, languid periods, like a dull writer of annals; let
him banish low scurrility, and, in short, let him know how to
diversify his style, that he may not fatigue the ear with a monotony,
ending for ever with the same unvaried cadence [b].

XXIII. I shall say nothing of the false wit, and insipid play upon
words, which we find in Cicero's orations. His pleasant conceits about
the _wheel of fortune_ [a], and the arch raillery on the equivocal
meaning of the word _verres_ [b], do not merit a moment's attention. I
omit the perpetual recurrence of the phrase, _esse videatur_ [c],
which chimes in our ears at the close of so many sentences, sounding
big, but signifying nothing. These are petty blemishes; I mention them
with reluctance. I say nothing of other defects equally improper: and
yet those very defects are the delight of such as affect to call
themselves ancient orators. I need not single them out by name: the
men are sufficiently known; it is enough to allude, in general terms,
to the whole class.

We all are sensible that there is a set of critics now existing, who
prefer Lucilius [d] to Horace, and Lucretius [e] to Virgil; who
despise the eloquence of Aufidius Bassus [f] and Servilius Nonianus,
and yet admire Varro and [g] Sisenna. By these pretenders to taste,
the works of our modern rhetoricians are thrown by with neglect, and
even fastidious disdain; while those of Calvus are held in the highest
esteem. We see these men prosing in their ancient style before the
judges; but we see them left without an audience, deserted by the
people, and hardly endured by their clients. The truth is, their cold
and spiritless manner has no attraction. They call it sound oratory,
but it is want of vigour; like that precarious state of health which
weak constitutions preserve by abstinence. What physician will
pronounce that a strong habit of body, which requires constant care
and anxiety of mind? To say barely, that we are not ill, is surely not
enough. True health consists in vigour, a generous warmth, and a
certain alacrity in the whole frame. He who is only not indisposed, is
little distant from actual illness.

With you, my friends, the case is different: proceed, as you well can,
and in fact, as you do, to adorn our age with all the grace and
splendour of true oratory. It is with pleasure, Messala, that I see
you selecting for imitation the liveliest models of the ancient
school. You too, Maternus, and you, my friend, Secundus [h], you both
possess the happy art of adding to weight of sentiment all the dignity
of language. To a copious invention you unite the judgement that knows
how to distinguish the specific qualities of different authors. The
beauty of order is yours. When the occasion demands it, you can expand
and amplify with strength and majesty; and you know when to be concise
with energy. Your periods flow with ease, and your composition has
every grace of style and sentiment. You command the passions with
resistless sway, while in yourselves you beget a temperance so truly
dignified, that, though, perhaps, envy and the malignity of the times
may be unwilling to proclaim your merit, posterity will do you ample
justice [i].

XXIV. As soon as Aper concluded, You see, said Maternus, the zeal and
ardour of our friend: in the cause of the moderns, what a torrent of
eloquence! against the ancients, what a fund of invective! With great
spirit, and a vast compass of learning, he has employed against his
masters the arts for which he is indebted to them. And yet all this
vehemence must not deter you, Messala, from the performance of your
promise. A formal defence of the ancients is by no means necessary. We
do not presume to vie with that illustrious race. We have been praised
by Aper, but we know our inferiority. He himself is aware of it,
though, in imitation of the ancient manner [a], he has thought proper,
for the sake of a philosophical debate, to take the wrong side of the
question. In answer to his argument, we do not desire you to expatiate
in praise of the ancients: their fame wants no addition. What we
request is, an investigation of the causes which have produced so
rapid a decline from the flourishing state of genuine eloquence. I
call it rapid, since, according to Aper's own chronology, the period
from the death of Cicero does not exceed one hundred and twenty years
[b].

XXV. I am willing, said Messala, to pursue the plan which you have
recommended. The question, whether the men who flourished above one
hundred years ago, are to be accounted ancients, has been started by
my friend Aper, and, I believe, it is of the first impression. But it
is a mere dispute about words. The discussion of it is of no moment,
provided it be granted, whether we call them ancients, or our
predecessors, or give them any other appellation, that the eloquence
of those times was superior to that of the present age. When Aper
tells us, that different periods of time have produced new modes of
oratory, I see nothing to object; nor shall I deny, that in one and
the same period the style and manners have greatly varied. But this I
assume, that among the orators of Greece, Demosthenes holds the first
rank, and after him [a] AEschynes, Hyperides, Lysias, and Lycurgus, in
regular succession. That age, by common consent, is allowed to be the
flourishing period of Attic eloquence.

In like manner, Cicero stands at the head of our Roman orators, while
Calvus, Asinius, and Caesar, Caelius and Brutus, follow him at a
distance; all of them superior, not only to every former age, but to
the whole race that came after them. Nor is it material that they
differ in the mode, since they all agree in the kind. Calvus is close
and nervous; Asinius more open and harmonious; Caesar is distinguished
[b] by the splendour of his diction; Caelius by a caustic severity; and
gravity is the characteristic of Brutus. Cicero is more luxuriant in
amplification, and he has strength and vehemence. They all, however,
agree in this: their eloquence is manly, sound, and vigorous. Examine
their works, and you will see the energy of congenial minds, a
family-likeness in their genius, however it may take a distinct colour
from the specific qualities of the men. True, they detracted from each
other's merit. In their letters, which are still extant, we find some
strokes of mutual hostility. But this littleness does not impeach
their eloquence: their jealousy was the infirmity of human nature.
Calvus, Asinius, and Cicero, might have their fits of animosity, and,
no doubt, were liable to envy, malice, and other degrading passions:
they were great orators, but they were men.

Brutus is the only one of the set, who may be thought superior to
petty contentions. He spoke his mind with freedom, and, I believe,
without a tincture of malice. He did not envy Caesar himself, and can
it be imagined that he envied Cicero? As to Galba [c], Laelius, and
others of a remote period, against whom we have heard Aper's
declamation, I need not undertake their defence, since I am willing to
acknowledge, that in their style and manner we perceive those defects
and blemishes which it is natural to expect, while art, as yet in its
infancy, has made no advances towards perfection.

XXVI. After all, if the best form of eloquence must be abandoned, and
some, new-fangled style must grow into fashion, give me the rapidity
of Gracchus [a], or the more solemn manner of Crassus [b], with all
their imperfections, rather than the effeminate delicacy of [c]
Maecenas, or the tinkling cymbal [d] of Gallio. The most homely dress
is preferable to gawdy colours and meretricious ornaments. The style
in vogue at present, is an innovation, against every thing just and
natural; it is not even manly. The luxuriant phrase, the inanity of
tuneful periods, and the wanton levity of the whole composition, are
fit for nothing but the histrionic art, as if they were written for
the stage. To the disgrace of the age (however astonishing it may
appear), it is the boast, the pride, the glory of our present orators,
that their periods are musical enough either for the dancer's heel
[e], or the warbler's throat. Hence it is, that by a frequent, but
preposterous, metaphor, the orator is said to speak in melodious
cadence, and the dancer to move with expression. In this view of
things, even [f] Cassius Severus (the only modern whom Aper has
ventured to name), if we compare him with the race that followed, may
be fairly pronounced a legitimate orator, though it must be
acknowledged, that in what remains of his compositing, he is clumsy
without strength, and violent without spirit. He was the first that
deviated from the great masters of his art. He despised all method and
regular arrangement; indelicate in his choice of words, he paid no
regard to decency; eager to attack, he left himself unguarded; he
brandished his weapons without skill or address; and, to speak
plainly, he wrangled, but did not argue. And yet, notwithstanding
these defects, he was, as I have already said, superior to all that
came after him, whether we regard the variety of his learning, the
urbanity of his wit, or the vigour of his mind. I expected that Aper,
after naming this orator, would have drawn up the rest of his forces
in regular order. He has fallen, indeed, upon Asinius, Caelius, and
Calvus; but where are his champions to enter the lists with them? I
imagined that he had a phalanx in reserve, and that we should have
seen them man by man giving battle to Cicero, Caesar, and the rest in
succession. He has singled out some of the ancients, but has brought
none of his moderns into the field. He thought it enough to give them
a good character in their absence. In this, perhaps, he acted with
prudence: he was afraid, if he selected a few, that the rest of the
tribe would take offence. For among the rhetoricians of the present
day, is there one to be found, who does not, in his own opinion, tower
above Cicero, though he has the modesty to yield to Gabinianus [g]?

XXVII. What Aper has omitted, I intend to perform. I shall produce his
moderns by name, to the end that, by placing the example before our
eyes, we may be able, more distinctly, to trace the steps by which the
vigour of ancient eloquence has fallen to decay. Maternus interrupted
him. I wish, he said, that you would come at once to the point: we
claim your promise. The superiority of the ancients is not in
question. We want no proof of it. Upon that point my opinion is
decided. But the causes of our rapid decline from ancient excellence
remain to be unfolded. We know that you have turned your thoughts to
this subject, and we expected from you a calm disquisition, had not
the violent attack which Aper made upon your favourite orators, roused
your spirit, and, perhaps, given you some offence. Far from it,
replied Messala; he has given me no offence; nor must you, my friends,
take umbrage, if at any time a word should fall from me, not quite
agreeable to your way of thinking. We are engaged in a free enquiry,
and you know, that, in this kind of debate, the established law allows
every man to speak his mind without reserve. That is the law, replied
Maternus; you may proceed in perfect security. When you speak of the
ancients, speak of them with ancient freedom, which, I fear, is at a
lower ebb than even the genius of those eminent men.

XXVIII. Messala resumed his discourse: The causes of the decay of
eloquence are by no means difficult to be traced. They are, I believe,
well known to you, Maternus, and also to Secundus, not excepting my
friend Aper. It seems, however, that I am now, at your request, to
unravel the business. But there is no mystery in it. We know that
eloquence, with the rest of the polite arts, has lost its former
lustre: and yet, it is not a dearth of men, or a decay of talents,
that has produced this fatal effect. The true causes are, the
dissipation of our young men, the inattention of parents, the
ignorance of those who pretend to give instruction, and the total
neglect of ancient discipline. The mischief began at Rome, it has
over-run all Italy, and is now, with rapid strides, spreading through
the provinces. The effects, however, are more visible at home, and
therefore I shall confine myself to the reigning vices of the capital;
vices that wither every virtue in the bud, and continue their baleful
influence through every season of life.

But before I enter on the subject, it will not be useless to look back
to the system of education that prevailed in former times, and to the
strict discipline of our ancestors, in a point of so much moment as
the formation of youth. In the times to which I now refer, the son of
every family was the legitimate offspring of a virtuous mother. The
infant, as soon as born, was not consigned to the mean dwelling of a
hireling nurse [a], but was reared and cherished in the bosom of a
tender parent. To regulate all household affairs, and attend to her
infant race, was, at that time, the glory of the female character. A
matron, related to the family, and distinguished by the purity of her
life, was chosen to watch the progress of the tender mind. In her
presence not one indecent word was uttered; nothing was done against
propriety and good manners. The hours of study and serious employment
were settled by her direction; and not only so, but even the
diversions of the children were conducted with modest reserve and
sanctity of manners. Thus it was that Cornelia [b], the mother of the
Gracchi, superintended the education of her illustrious issue. It was
thus that Aurelia [c] trained up Julius Caesar; and thus Atia [d]
formed the mind of Augustus. The consequence of this regular
discipline was, that the young mind grew up in innocence, unstained by
vice, unwarped by irregular passions, and, under that culture,
received the seeds of science. Whatever was the peculiar bias, whether
to the military art, the study of the laws, or the profession of
eloquence, that engrossed the whole attention, and the youth, thus
directed, embraced the entire compass of one favourite science.

XXIX. In the present age, what is our practice? The infant is
committed to a Greek chambermaid, and a slave or two, chosen for the
purpose, generally the worst of the whole household train; all utter
strangers to every liberal notion. In that worshipful society [a] the
youth grows up, imbibing folly and vulgar error. Throughout the house,
not one servant cares what he says or does [b] in the presence of his
young master: and indeed how should it be otherwise? The parents
themselves are the first to give their children the worst examples of
vice and luxury. The stripling consequently loses all sense of shame,
and soon forgets the respect he owes to others as well as to himself.
A passion for horses, players, and gladiators [c], seems to be the
epidemic folly of the times. The child receives it in his mother's
womb; he brings it with him into the world; and in a mind so
possessed, what room for science, or any generous purpose?

In our houses, at our tables, sports and interludes are the topics of
conversation. Enter the places of academical lectures, and who talks
of any other subject? The preceptors themselves have caught the
contagion. Nor can this be wondered at. To establish a strict and
regular discipline, and to succeed by giving proofs of their genius,
is not the plan of our modern rhetoricians. They pay their court to
the great, and, by servile adulation, increase the number of their
pupils. Need I mention the manner of conveying the first elements of
school learning? No care is taken to give the student a taste for the
best authors [d]; the page of history lies neglected; the study of men
and manners is no part of their system; and every branch of useful
knowledge is left uncultivated. A preceptor is called in, and
education is then thought to be in a fair way. But I shall have
occasion hereafter to speak more fully of that class of men, called
rhetoricians. It will then be seen, at what period that profession
first made its appearance at Rome, and what reception it met with from
our ancestors.

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