Institutio Oratoria

But we must exercise our breathing capacity to make it as great as possible. To produce this result Demosthenes used to recite as many successive lines as

Sometimes the breath, although capable of sustained effort and sufficiently full and clear, lacks firmness when exerted, had for that reason is liable to become tremulous, like bodies which, although to all appearances sound, receive insufficient support from the sinews. This the Greeks call βρασμός. [*](βράγχος is generally read, but the word is used in the sense of hotrseness, which is not what Quintilian describes. I would read βρασμός, a word meaning effervescence, shaking, shivering. Here = tremolo. ) There are some too who, owing to the loss of teeth, do not draw in the breath naturally, but suck it in with a hissing sound. There are others who pant incessantly and so loudly that it is perfectly audible within them: they remind one of heavily-laden beasts of burden straining against the yoke.

Some indeed actually affect this mannerism, as though to suggest that they are struggling with the host of ideas that crowd themselves upon them and oppressed by a greater flood of eloquence than their throats are capable of uttering. Others, again, find a difficulty in opening their mouths, and seem to struggle with their words; and, further, although they are not actually faults of the voice, yet since they arise out of the use of the voice, I think this is the most appropriate place for referring to the habit of coughing and spitting with frequency while speaking, of hawking up phlegm from the depths of the lungs, like water from a well, [*](trochea is a windlass used for raising water from a well. ) sprinkling the nearest of the bystanders with saliva, and expelling the greater portion of the breath through the nostrils.

But any of these faults are tolerable compared with the practice of chanting instead of speaking, which is the worst feature of our modern oratory, whether in the courts or in the

What can be more fatal to any emotional appeal than that the speaker should, when the situation calls for grief, anger, indignation or pity, not merely avoid the expression of those emotions which require to be kindled in the judge, but outrage the dignity of the courts with noises such as are dear to the Lycians and Carians? For Cicero [*](Or. xviii. 57. ) has told us that the rhetoricians of Lycia and Caria come near to singing in their perorations. But, as a matter of tact, we have somewhat overstepped the limits imposed by the more restrained style of singing.

I ask you, does anyone sing, I will not say when his theme is murder, sacrilege or parricide, but at any rate when he deals with figures or accounts, or, to cut a long story short, when he is pleading in any kind of lawsuit whatever? And if such a form of intonation is to be permitted at all, there is really no reason why the modulations of the voice should not be accompanied by harps and flutes, or even by cymbals, which would be more appropriate to the revolting exhibitions of which I am speaking.

And yet we show no reluctance in indulging this vicious practice. For no one thinks his own singing hideous, and it involves less trouble than genuine pleading. There are, moreover, some persons who, in thorough conformity with their other vices, are possessed with a perpetual passion for hearing something that will soothe their ears. But, it may be urged, does not

But it is now high time for me to explain what I mean by appropriate delivery. Such appropriateness obviously lies in the adaptation of the delivery to the subjects on which we are speaking. This quality is, in the main, supplied by the emotions themselves, and the voice will ring as passion strikes its chords. But there is a difference between true emotion on the one hand, and false and fictitious emotion on the other. The former breaks out naturally, as in the case of grief, anger or indignation, but lacks art, and therefore requires to be formed by methodical training.

The latter, on the other hand, does imply art, but lacks the sincerity of nature: consequently in such cases the main thing is to excite the appropriate feeling in oneself, to form a mental picture of the facts, and to exhibit an emotion that cannot be distinguished from the truth. The voice, which is the intermediary between ourselves and our hearers, will then produce precisely the same emotion in the judge that we have put into it. For it is the index of the mind, and is capable of expressing all its varieties of feeling.

Therefore when we deal with a lively theme, the flow of the voice is characterised by fullness, simplicity and cheerfulness; but when it is roused to battle, it puts forth all its strength and strains every nerve. In anger

If we advise, warn, promise or console, it will be grave and dignified, modest if we express fear or shame, bold in exhortation, precise in argument, full of modulations, suggestive of tears and designedly muffled in appeals for pity, whereas in digression it will be full and flowing, and will have all the resonance that is characteristic of confidence; in exposition of facts or conversations it will be even and pitched half-way betwixt high and low.

But it will be raised to express violent emotion, and sink when our words are of a calmer nature, rising and falling according to the demands of its theme. However, for the moment I will defer speaking of the variations in tone required by different topics, and will proceed first to the discussion of gesture which conforms to the voice, and like it, obeys the impulse of the mind. Its importance in oratory is sufficiently clear from the fact that there are many things which it can express without the assistance of words.

For we can indicate our will not merely by a gesture of the hands, but also with a nod from the head: signs take the place of language in the dumb, and the movements of the dance are frequently full of meaning, and appeal to the emotions without any aid from words. The temper of the mind can be inferred from the glance and gait,