<GetPassage xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0" xmlns="http://chs.harvard.edu/xmlns/cts">
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                <requestUrn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:11.1.14-11.1.26</requestUrn>
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                <urn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:11.1.14-11.1.26</urn>
                <passage>
                    <TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><text xml:lang="eng"><body><div n="urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2" type="translation" xml:lang="eng"><div n="11" type="textpart" subtype="book"><div n="1" type="textpart" subtype="chapter"><div n="14" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> However, it is but rarely that this distinction, such as it is, is
                            called into play. As I have said, the expedient and the becoming will,
                            as a rule, be identical in every kind of case. Still, there are two
                            things which will be becoming to all men at all times and in all places,
                            namely, to act and speak as befits a man of honour, and it will never at
                            any time beseem any man to speak or act dishonourably. On the other
                            hand, things of minor importance and occupying something like a middle
                            position between the two are generally of such a nature that they may be
                            conceded to some, but not to others, while it will depend on the
                            character of the speaker and the circumstances of time, place and motive
                            whether we regard them as more or less excusable or reprehensible. </p></div><div n="15" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> When, however, we are speaking of our own affairs or those of others, we
                            must distinguish between the expedient and the becoming, while
                            recognising that the majority of the points which we have to consider
                            will fall under neither head. In the first place, then, all kinds of
                            boasting are a mistake, above all, it is an error for an orator to
                            praise his own eloquence, and, further, not merely wearies, but in the
                            majority of cases disgusts the audience. </p></div><div n="16" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> For there is ever in the mind of man a certain element of lofty and
                            unbending pride that will not brook superiority: and for this reason we
                            take delight in raising the humble and submissive to their feet, since
                            such an act gives us a consciousness of our <pb n="v10-12 p.165"/>
                            superiority, and as soon as all sense of rivalry disappears, its place
                            is taken by a feeling of humanity. But the man who exalts himself beyond
                            reason is looked upon as depreciating and showing a contempt for others
                            and as making them seem small rather than himself seem great. </p></div><div n="17" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> As a result, those who are beneath him feel a grudge against him (for
                            those who are unwilling to yield and yet have not the strength to hold
                            their own are always liable to this failing), while his superiors laugh
                            at him and the good disapprove. Indeed, as a rule, you will find that
                            arrogance implies a false self-esteem, whereas those who possess true
                            merit find satisfaction enough in the consciousness of possession.
                            Cicero has been severely censured in this connexion, although he was far
                            more given to boasting of his political achievements than of his
                            eloquence, at any rate, in his speeches. </p></div><div n="18" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> And as a rule he had some sound reason for his self-praise. For he was
                            either defending those who had assisted him to crush the conspiracy of
                            Catiline, or was replying to attacks made upon him by those who envied
                            his position; attacks which he was so far unable to withstand that he
                            suffered exile as the penalty for having saved his country.
                            Consequently, we may regard his frequent reference to the deeds
                            accomplished in his consulship as being due quite as much to the
                            necessities of defence as to the promptings of vainglory. </p></div><div n="19" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> As regards his own eloquence, he never made immoderate claims for it in
                            his pleading, while he always paid a handsome tribute to the eloquence
                            of the advocate, who opposed him. For example, there are passages such
                            as the following: <quote> If there be aught of talent in me, and I am
                                only too conscious <pb n="v10-12 p.167"/> how little it is,
                                </quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Pro Arch.</hi> i. I. </note> and, <quote>In default of talent,
                                I turned to industry for aid.</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Pro Quint.</hi> i. 4.
                            </note>
                     </p></div><div n="20" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Again, in his speech against Caecilius on the selection of an accuser
                            for Verres, despite the fact that the question as to which was the most
                            capable pleader, was a factor of great importance, he rather depreciated
                            his opponent's eloquence than exalted his own, and asserted that he had
                            done all in his power to make himself an orator, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Div. in Caec.</hi> xii. 40.
                            </note> though he knew he had not succeeded. </p></div><div n="21" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> In his letters to intimate friends, it is true, and occasionally in his
                            dialogues, he tells the truth of his own eloquence, though in the latter
                            case he is careful always to place the remarks in question in the mouth
                            of some other character. And yet I am not sure that open boasting is not
                            more tolerable, owing to its sheer straightforwardness, than that
                            perverted form of self-praise, which makes the millionaire say that he
                            is not a poor man, the man of mark describe himself as obscure, the
                            powerful pose as weak, and the eloquent as unskilled and even
                            inarticulate. </p></div><div n="22" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> But the most ostentatious kind of boasting takes the form of actual
                            self-derision. Let us therefore leave it to others to praise us. For it
                            beseems us, as Demosthenes says, to blush even when we are praised by
                            others. I do not mean to deny that there are occasions when an orator
                            may speak of his own achievements, as Demosthenes himself does in his
                            defence of Ctesiphon. <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">De Cor.</hi> 128. </note> But on that occasion he
                            qualified his statements in such a way as to show that he was compelled
                            by necessity to do so, and to throw the odium attaching to such a
                            proceeding on the man who had forced him to it. </p></div><div n="23" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Again, Cicero often speaks of his suppression of the Catilinarian
                            conspiracy, but either attributes his success to the <pb n="v10-12 p.169"/> courage shown by the senate or to the providence of the immortal
                            gods. If he puts forward stronger claims to merit, it is generally when
                            speaking against his enemies and detractors; for he was bound to defend
                            his actions when they were denounced as discreditable. </p></div><div n="24" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> One could only wish that he had shown greater restraint in his poems,
                            which those who love him not are never weary of criticising. I refer to
                            passages such as: <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">From the
                                poem on his consulship.</note>
                        <quote rend="blockquote"><quote><l part="N">Let arms before the peaceful toga yield,</l><l part="N">Laurels to eloquence resign the
                                field,</l></quote></quote> or <quote rend="blockquote"><l part="N"><quote>O happy Rome, born in my
                                consulship!</quote></l></quote> together with that <quote>Jupiter,
                                by whom he is summoned to the assembly of the gods,</quote> and the
                                <quote>Minerva that taught him her accomplishments</quote> ;
                            extravagances which he permitted himself in imitation of certain
                            precedents in Greek literature. </p></div><div n="25" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> But while it is unseemly to make a boast of one's eloquence, it is,
                            however, at times permissible to express confidence in it. Who, for
                            instance, can blame the following? <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Phil.</hi><milestone n="2" unit="chapter"/><milestone n="1" unit="section"/> i. 2.
                                </note>
                        <quote> What, then, am I to think? That I am held in
                                contempt? I see nothing either in my past life, or my position, or
                                such poor talents as I may possess, that Antony can afford to
                                despise. </quote> And a little later he speaks yet more openly: </p></div><div n="26" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p><quote> Or did he wish to challenge me to a contest of eloquence? I could
                                wish for nothing better. For what ampler or richer theme could I
                                hope to find than to speak at once for myself and against Antony?
                            </quote></p></div></div></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
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