<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-eng2:6.3.5-6.3.24</requestUrn>
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            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:6.3.5-6.3.24</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="3" type="textpart" subtype="chapter"><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 n="14" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> We are also confronted by the additional difficulty that there are no
                            specific exercises for the development of humour nor professors to teach
                            it. Consequently, while convivial gatherings and conversation give rise
                            to frequent displays of wit, since daily practice develops the faculty,
                            oratorical wit is rare, for it has no fixed rules to guide it, but must
                            adapt itself to the ways of the world. </p></div><div n="15" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> There has, however, never been anything to prevent the composition of
                            themes such as will afford scope for humour, so that our controversial
                            declamations may have an admixture of jests, while special topics may be
                            set which will give the young student practice in the play of wit. </p></div><div n="16" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Nay, even those pleasantries in which we indulge on certain occasions of
                            festive licence (and to which we give the name of <hi rend="italic">mots,</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> The meaning of
                                this passage is not clear, and no satisfactory explanation or
                                correction has been suggested. </note> as, indeed, they are), if
                            only a little more good sense were employed in their <pb n="v4-6 p.447"/> invention, and they were seasoned by a slight admixture of
                            seriousness, might afford a most useful training. As it is, they serve
                            merely to divert the young and merrymakers. </p></div><div n="17" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> There are various names by which we describe wit, but we have only to
                            consider them separately to perceive their specific meaning. First,
                            there is <hi rend="italic">urbanitas,</hi> which I observe denotes
                            language with a smack of the city in its words, accent and idiom, and
                            further suggests a certain tincture of learning derived from associating
                            with well-educated men; in a word, it represents the opposite of
                            rusticity. The meaning of <hi rend="italic">venustus</hi> is obvious;
                        </p></div><div n="18" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> it means that which is said with grace and charm. <hi rend="italic">Salsus</hi> is, as a rule, applied only to what is laughable: but
                            this is not its natural application, although whatever is laughable
                            should have the salt of wit in it. For Cicero, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Orat.</hi> xxvi. 90. </note>
                            when he says that whatever has the salt of wit is Attic, does not say
                            this because persons of the Attic school are specially given to
                            laughter; and again when Catullus says— <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">In all her body not a grain of
                                        salt!</l></quote><bibl default="false"><hi rend="italic">Cat.</hi> lxxxvi. 4.
                                    </bibl></cit></quote> he does not mean that there is nothing in her body to
                            give cause for laughter. </p></div><div n="19" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> When, therefore, we speak of the salt of wit, we refer to wit about
                            which there is nothing insipid, wit, that is to say, which serves as a
                            simple seasoning of language, a condiment which is silently appreciated
                            by our judgment, as food is appreciated by the palate, with the result
                            that it stimulates our taste and saves a speech from becoming tedious.
                            But just as salt, if sprinkled freely over food, gives a special relish
                            of its own, so long as it is not used to excess, so in the case of those
                            who have the salt of wit there is something about <pb n="v4-6 p.449"/>
                            their language which arouses in us a thirst to hear. Again, I do not
                            regard the epithet <hi rend="italic">facelus</hi> as applicable solely
                            to that which raises a laugh. </p></div><div n="20" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> If that were so Horace <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Sat.</hi> I. <hi rend="italic">x.</hi> 44. molle
                                atque facetum/Vergilio adnuerunt gaudentes rure Camenae. </note>
                            would never have said that nature had granted Vergil the gift of being
                                <hi rend="italic">facetus</hi> in song. I think that the term is
                            rather applied to a certain grace and polished elegance. This is the
                            meaning which it bears in Cicero's letters, where he quotes the words of
                            Brutus, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">This letter is
                                lost.</note>
                        <quote>In truth her feet are graceful and soft as she
                                goes delicately on her way.</quote> This meaning suits the passage
                            in Horace, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Sat.</hi> I. <hi rend="italic">x.</hi> 44. molle atque
                                facetum/Vergilio adnuerunt gaudentes rure Camenae. </note> to which
                            I have already made reference, <quote>To Vergil gave a soft and graceful
                                wit.</quote>
                     </p></div><div n="21" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p><hi rend="italic">locus</hi> is usually taken to mean the opposite of
                            seriousness. This view is, however, somewhat too narrow. For to feign,
                            to terrify, or to promise, are all at times forms of jesting. <hi rend="italic">Dicacitas</hi> is no doubt derived from <hi rend="italic">dico,</hi> and is therefore common to all forms of
                            wit, but is specially applied to the language of banter, which is a
                            humorous form of attack. Therefore, while the critics allow that
                            Demosthenes was <hi rend="italic">urbanus,</hi> they deny that he was
                                <hi rend="italic">dicax.</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="22" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The essence, however, of the subject which we are now discussing is the
                            excitement of laughter, and consequently the whole of this topic is
                            entitled <foreign xml:lang="grc">περὶ γελοίου</foreign> by the Greeks.
                            It has the same primary division as other departments of oratory, that
                            is to say, it is concerned with things and words. </p></div><div n="23" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The application of humour to oratory may be divided into three heads:
                            for there are three things out of which we may seek to raise a laugh, to
                            wit, others, ourselves, or things intermediate. In the first case we
                            either reprove or refute or make light of or retort or deride the
                            arguments of others. In the <pb n="v4-6 p.451"/> second we speak of
                            things which concern ourselves in a humorous manner and, to quote the
                            words of Cicero, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">de Or.</hi> II. lxxi. 289. </note> say things
                            which have a suggestion of absurdity. For there are certain sayings
                            which are regarded as folly if they slip from us unawares, but as witty
                            if uttered ironically. </p></div><div n="24" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The third kind consists, as Cicero also tells us, in cheating
                            expectations, in taking words in a different sense from what was
                            intended, and in other things which affect neither party to the suit,
                            and which I have, therefore, styled intermediate. </p></div></div></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
            </reply>
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