<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-eng2:6.2.35-6.3.13</requestUrn>
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                <urn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:6.2.35-6.3.13</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="6" type="textpart" subtype="book"><div n="2" type="textpart" subtype="section"><div n="35" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> I have often seen actors, both in tragedy and comedy, leave the theatre
                            still drowned in tears after concluding the performance of some moving
                            role. But if the mere delivery of words written by another has the power
                            to set our souls on fire with fictitious emotions, what will the orator
                            do whose duty it is to picture to himself the facts and who has it in
                            his power to feel the same emotion as his client whose interests are at
                            stake? </p></div><div n="36" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Even in the schools it is desirable that the student should be moved by
                            his theme, and should imagine it to be true; indeed, it is all the more
                            desirable then, since, as a rule in scholastic <pb n="v4-6 p.439"/>
                            declamations, the speaker more often appears as the actual litigant than
                            as his advocate. Suppose we are impersonating an orphan, a shipwrecked
                            man, or one in grave peril. What profit is there in assuming such a rôle
                            unless we also assume the emotions which it involves? I have thought it
                            necessary not to conceal these considerations from my reader, since they
                            have contributed to the acquisition of such reputation for talent as I
                            possess or once possessed. I have frequently been so much moved while
                            speaking, that I have not merely been wrought upon to tears, but have
                            turned pale and shown all the symptoms of genuine grief. </p></div></div><div n="3" type="textpart" subtype="chapter"><div n="1" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> I now turn to a very different talent, namely that which dispels the
                            graver emotions of the judge by exciting his laughter, frequently
                            diverts his attention from the facts of the case, and sometimes even
                            refreshes him and revives him when he has begun to be bored or wearied
                            by the case. How hard it is to attain success in this connexion is shown
                            by the cases of the two great masters of Greek and Roman oratory. </p></div><div n="2" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> For many think that Demosthenes was deficient in this faculty, and that
                            Cicero used it without discrimination. Indeed, it is impossible to
                            suppose that Demosthenes deliberately avoided all display of humour,
                            since his few jests are so unworthy of his other excellences that they
                            clearly show that he lacked the power, not merely that he disliked to
                            use it. </p></div><div n="3" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Cicero, on the other hand, was regarded as being unduly addicted to
                            jests, not merely outside the courts, but in his actual speeches as
                            well. Personally (though whether I am right in this view, or have been
                            led astray by an exaggerated admiration for the prince of orators, I
                            cannot say), <pb n="v4-6 p.441"/> I regard him as being the possessor of
                            a remarkable turn of wit. For his daily speech was full of humour, </p></div><div n="4" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> while in his disputes in court and in his examination of witnesses he
                            produced more good jests than any other, while the somewhat insipid
                            jokes which he launches against Verres are always attributed by him to
                            others and produced as evidence: wherefore, the more vulgar they are,
                            the more probable is it that they are not the invention of the orator,
                            but were current as public property. I wish, however, </p></div><div n="5" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> that Tiro, or whoever it may have been that published the three books of
                            Cicero's jests, had restricted their number and had shown more judgment
                            in selecting than zeal in collecting them. For he would then have been
                            less exposed to the censure of his calumniators, although the latter
                            will, in any case, as in regard to all the manifestations of his genius,
                            find it easier to detect superfluities than deficiencies. </p></div><div n="6" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The chief difficulty which confronts the orator in this connexion lies
                            in the fact that sayings designed to raise a laugh are generally untrue
                            (and falsehood always involves a certain meanness), and are often
                            deliberately distorted, and, further, never complimentary: while the
                            judgments formed by the audience on such jests will necessarily vary,
                            since the effect of a jest depends not on the reason, but on an emotion
                            which it is difficult, if not impossible, to describe. </p></div><div n="7" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> For I do not think that anybody can give an adequate explanation, though
                            many have attempted to do so, of the cause of laughter, which is excited
                            not merely by words or deeds, but sometimes even by touch. Moreover,
                            there is great variety in the things which raise a laugh, since we laugh
                            not merely at those words or actions which are smart or witty, but also
                                <pb n="v4-6 p.443"/> at those which reveal folly, anger or fear.
                            Consequently, the cause of laughter is uncertain, since laughter is
                            never far removed from derision. </p></div><div n="8" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> For, as Cicero <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">De Or.</hi> II. lviii. 236. Where? <hi rend="italic">De Or.</hi> II. Iviii. 236. </note> says,
                                <quote>Laughter has its basis in some kind or other of deformity or
                                ugliness,</quote> and whereas, when we point to such a blemish in
                            others, the result is known as wit, it is called folly when the same
                            jest is turned against ourselves. Now, though laughter may be regarded
                            as a trivial matter, and an emotion frequently awakened by buffoons,
                            actors or fools, it has a certain imperious force of its own which it is
                            very hard to resist. </p></div><div n="9" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> It often breaks out against our will and extorts confession of its
                            power, not merely from our face and voice, but convulses the whole body
                            as well. Again, it frequently turns the scale in matters of great
                            importance, as I have already observed: <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">Where?</note> for instance, it often dispels
                            hatred or anger. </p></div><div n="10" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> A proof of this is given by the story of the young men of Tarentum, who
                            had made a number of scurrilous criticisms of Pyrrhus over the dinner
                            table: they were called upon to answer for their statements, and, since
                            the charge was one that admitted neither of denial nor of excuse, they
                            succeeded in escaping, thanks to a happy jest which made the king laugh:
                            for one of the accused said, <quote>Yes, and if the bottle hadn't been
                                empty, we should have killed you!</quote> a jest which succeeded in
                            dissipating the animosity which the charge had aroused. </p></div><div n="11" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Still, whatever the essence of humour may be, and although I would not
                            venture to assert that it is altogether independent of art (for it
                            involves a certain power of observation, and rules for its employment
                            have been laid down by writers both of Greece and <pb n="v4-6 p.445"/>
                            Rome), I will insist on this much, that it depends mainly on nature and
                            opportunity. </p></div><div n="12" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The influence of nature consists not merely in the fact that one man is
                            quicker or cleverer than another in the invention of jests (for such a
                            power can be increased by teaching), but also in the possession of some
                            peculiar charm of look or manner, the effect of which is such that the
                            same remarks would be less entertaining if uttered by another. </p></div><div n="13" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Opportunity, on the other hand, is dependent on circumstances, and is of
                            such importance that with its assistance not merely the unlearned, but
                            even mere country bumpkins are capable of producing effective
                            witticisms: while much again may depend on some previous remark made by
                            another which will provide opportunity for repartee. For wit always
                            appears to greater advantage in reply than in attack. </p></div></div></div></div></body></text></TEI>
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