<GetPassage xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0" xmlns="http://chs.harvard.edu/xmlns/cts">
            <request>
                <requestName>GetPassage</requestName>
                <requestUrn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:8.2.1-8.2.20</requestUrn>
            </request>
            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:8.2.1-8.2.20</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="8" type="textpart" subtype="book"><div n="2" type="textpart" subtype="chapter"><div n="1" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Clearness results above all from <hi rend="italic">propriety</hi> in the
                            use of words. But <hi rend="italic">propriety</hi> is capable of more
                            than one interpretation. In its primary sense it means calling things by
                            their right names, and is consequently sometimes to be avoided, for our
                            language must not be obscene, unseemly or mean. </p></div><div n="2" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Language may be described as mean when it is beneath the dignity of the
                            subject or the rank of the speaker. Some orators fall into serious error
                            in their eagerness to avoid this fault, and are afraid of all words that
                            are in ordinary use, even although they may be absolutely necessary for
                            their purpose. There was, for example, the man who in the course of a
                            speech spoke of <quote>Iberian grass,</quote> a meaningless phrase
                            intelligible only to himself. Cassius Severus, however, by way of
                            deriding his affectation, explained that he meant Spanish broom. </p></div><div n="3" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Nor do I see why a certain distinguished orator thought <quote> fishes
                                    <pb n="v7-9 p.199"/> conserved in brine </quote> a more elegant
                            phrase than the word which he avoided. <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">Probably salsamenta.</note> But while there is
                            no special merit in the form of <hi rend="italic">propriety</hi> which
                            consists in calling things by their real names, it is a fault to fly to
                            the opposite extreme. This fault we call <hi rend="italic">impropriety,</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="4" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> while the Greeks call it <foreign xml:lang="grc">ἄκυρον</foreign> As
                            examples I may cite the Virgilian, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Aen.</hi> IV. 419.
                                </note>
                        <quote>Never could I have hoped for such great woe,</quote>
                            or the phrase, which I noted had been corrected by Cicero in a speech of
                            Dolabella's, <quote>To bring death,</quote> or again, phrases of a kind
                            that win praise from some of our contemporaries, such as, <quote>His
                                words fell from the cross.</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Presumably in the sense, <quote>He spoke like
                                    one in bodily pain.</quote>
                        </note> On the other hand, everything
                            that lacks appropriateness will not necessarily suffer from the fault of
                            positive <hi rend="italic">impropriety,</hi> because there are, in the
                            first place, many things which have no proper term either in Greek or
                            Latin. </p></div><div n="5" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> For example, the verb <hi rend="italic">iaculari</hi> is specially used
                            in the sense of <quote>to throw a javelin,</quote> whereas there is no
                            special verb appropriated to the throwing of a ball or a stake. So, too,
                            while <hi rend="italic">lapidare</hi> has the obvious meaning of
                                <quote>to stone,</quote> there is no special word to describe the
                            throwing of clods or potsherds. </p></div><div n="6" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Hence abuse or <hi rend="italic">catachresis</hi> of words becomes
                            necessary, while metaphor, also, which is the supreme ornament of
                            oratory, applies words to things with which they have strictly no
                            connexion. Consequently <hi rend="italic">propriety</hi> turns not on
                            the actual term, but on the meaning of the term, and must be tested by
                            the touchstone of the understanding, not of the ear. </p></div><div n="7" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The second sense in which the word <hi rend="italic">propriety</hi> is
                            used occurs when there are a number of things all called by the same
                            name: in this case the original term from which the others are derived
                            is styled the <hi rend="italic">proper</hi> term. <pb n="v7-9 p.201"/>
                            For example, the word <hi rend="italic">vertex</hi> means a whirl of
                            water, or of anything else that is whirled in a like manner: then, owing
                            to the fashion of coiling the hair, it comes to mean the top of the
                            head, while finally, from this sense it derives the meaning of the
                            highest point of a mountain. All these things may correctly be called
                                <hi rend="italic">vertices,</hi> but the <hi rend="italic">proper</hi> use of the term is the first. So, too, <hi rend="italic">solea</hi> and <hi rend="italic">tuidus</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="8" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> are employed as names of fish, to mention no other cases. <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Lit. i. e. in the <hi rend="italic">proper</hi> sense <hi rend="italic">the sole of
                                    the foot and a thrush.</hi>
                        </note> The third kind of <hi rend="italic">propriety</hi> is found in the case where a thing
                            which serves a number of purposes has a special name in some one
                            particular context; for example, the proper term for a funeral <hi rend="italic">song</hi> is <hi rend="italic">naenia,</hi> and for
                            the general's <hi rend="italic">tent augurale.</hi> Again, a term which
                            is common to a number of things may be applied in a <hi rend="italic">proper</hi> or special sense to some one of them. Thus we use <hi rend="italic">urbs</hi> in the special sense of Rome, <hi rend="italic">venales</hi> in the special sense of newly-purchased
                            slaves, and <hi rend="italic">Corinthia</hi> in the special sense of
                            bronzes, although there are other cities besides Rome, and many other
                            things which may be styled <hi rend="italic">venales</hi> besides
                            slaves, and gold and silver are found at Corinth as well as bronze. But
                            the use of such terms implies no special excellence in an orator. </p></div><div n="9" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> There is, however, a form of <hi rend="italic">propriety</hi> of speech
                            which deserves the highest praise, that is to say, the employment of
                            words with the maximum of significance, as, for instance, when Cato
                                <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Suet.
                                    Caes.</hi> 53. </note> said that <quote>Caesar was thoroughly
                                sober when he undertook the task of overthrowing the
                                constitution,</quote> or as Virgil <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Ecl.</hi> vi. 5. </note> spoke
                            of a <quote>thin-drawn strain,</quote> and Horace <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Odes</hi> I. xii. 1, and III.
                                vi. 36. </note> of the <quote>shrill pipe,</quote> and <quote>dread
                                Hannibal.</quote>
                     </p></div><div n="10" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Some also include under this head that form of <hi rend="italic">propriety</hi>
                        <pb n="v7-9 p.203"/> which is derived from
                            characteristic epithets, such as in the Virgilian <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Georg.</hi> i. 295 and <hi rend="italic">Aen.</hi> xi. 681. </note> phrases, <quote>sweet
                                unfermented wine,</quote> or <quote>with white teeth.</quote> But of
                            this sort of propriety I shall have to speak elsewhere. <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">SC.</hi> ch.
                                vi. </note>
                     </p></div><div n="11" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p><hi rend="italic">Propriety is</hi> also made to include the appropriate
                            use of words in metaphor, while at times the salient characteristic of
                            an individual comes to be attached to him as a <hi rend="italic">proper</hi> name: thus Fabius was called <quote>Cunctator,</quote>
                            the Delayer, on account of the most remarkable of his many military
                            virtues. Some, perhaps, may think that words which mean more than they
                            actually say deserve mention in connexion with clearness, since they
                            assist the understanding. I, however, prefer to place <hi rend="italic">emphasis</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">See IX. ii.
                                64.</note> among the ornaments of oratory, since it does not make a
                            thing intelligible, but merely more intelligible. </p></div><div n="12" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Obscurity, on the other hand, results from the employment of obsolete
                            words, as, for instance, if an author should search the records of the
                            priests, the earliest treaties and the works of long-forgotten writers
                            with the deliberate design of collecting words that no man living
                            understands. For there are persons who seek to gain a reputation for
                            erudition by such means as this, in order that they may be regarded as
                            the sole depositories of certain forms of knowledge. </p></div><div n="13" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Obscurity may also be produced by the use of words which are more
                            familiar in certain districts than in others, or which are of a
                            technical character, such as the wind called
                                <quote>Atabalus,</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">
                                An Apulian term for the Scirocco. What is the peculiarity of a <hi rend="italic">sack-ship</hi> is unknown. It is possible that
                                with Haupt we should read <hi rend="italic">stlataria,</hi> "a
                                broad-beamed merchant-vessel. </note> or a <quote>sack-ship,</quote>
                            or <hi rend="italic">in malo cosanum.</hi> Such expressions should be
                            avoided if we are pleading before a judge who is ignorant of their
                            meaning, or, if used, should be explained, as may have to be done in the
                            case of what are called homonyms. For <pb n="v7-9 p.205"/> example, the
                            word <hi rend="italic">taurus</hi> may be unintelligible unless we make
                            it clear whether we are speaking of a bull, or a mountain, or a
                            constellation, or the name of a man, or the root of a tree. <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">Reference unknown.</note>
                     </p></div><div n="14" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> A greater source of obscurity is, however, to be found in the
                            construction and combination of words, and the ways in which this may
                            occur are still more numerous. Therefore, a sentence should never be so
                            long that it is impossible to follow its drift, nor should its
                            conclusion be unduly postponed by transposition or an excessive use of
                                <hi rend="italic">hyperbaton.</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">See viii. vi. 62.</note> Still worse is the
                            result when the order of the words is confused as in the line <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Aen.</hi> i.
                                109. The awkwardness of the order cannot be brought out in English.
                                </note>
                        <quote rend="blockquote"><quote><l part="F">In the midmost
                                        sea</l><l part="N">Rocks are there by Italians altars
                                        called.</l></quote></quote> Again, </p></div><div n="15" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> parenthesis, so often employed by orators and historians, and consisting
                            in the insertion of one sentence in the midst of another, may seriously
                            hinder the understanding of a passage, unless the insertion is short.
                            For example, in the passage where Vergil <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Georg.</hi> iii. 79–83.
                            </note> describes a colt, the words <quote rend="blockquote"><quote><l part="N">Nor fears he empty noises,</l></quote></quote> are
                            followed by a number of remarks of a totally different form, and it is
                            only four lines later that the poet returns to the point and says,
                                <quote rend="blockquote"><quote><l part="N">Then, if tile sound of
                                        arms be heard afar,</l><l part="N">How to stand still he
                                        knows not.</l></quote></quote> Above all, ambiguity must be
                            avoided, </p></div><div n="16" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> and by ambiguity I mean not merely the kind of which I have already
                            spoken, where the sense is uncertain, as in the clause <hi rend="italic">Chremetem audivi percussisse Demean,</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">See VII. ix. 10.</note>
                        <pb n="v7-9 p.207"/> but
                            also that form of ambiguity which, although it does not actually result
                            in obscuring the sense, falls into the same verbal error as if a man
                            should say <hi rend="italic">visum a se hominem librum scribentem</hi>
                            (that he had seen a man writing a book). For although it is clear that
                            the book was being written by the man, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">i.e.</hi> and not the man by
                                the book! </note> the sentence is badly put together, and its author
                            has made it as ambiguous as he could. </p></div><div n="17" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Again, some writers introduce a whole host of useless words; for, in
                            their eagerness to avoid ordinary methods of expression, and allured by
                            false ideals of beauty they wrap up everything in a multitude of words
                            simply and solely because they are unwilling to make a direct and simple
                            statement of the facts: and then they link up and involve one of those
                            long-winded clauses with others like it, and extend their periods to a
                            length beyond the compass of mortal breath. </p></div><div n="18" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Some even expend an infinity of toil to acquire this vice, which, by the
                            way, is nothing new: for I learn from the pages of Livy <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Perhaps in his letter to his
                                son, for which see II. v. 20. </note> that there was one, a teacher,
                            who instructed his pupils to make all they said obscure, using the Greek
                            word <foreign xml:lang="grc">σκότισον</foreign> ( <quote>darken
                                it.</quote> ) It was this same habit that gave rise to the famous
                            words of praise, <quote>So much the better: even I could not understand
                                you.</quote>
                     </p></div><div n="19" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Others are consumed with a passion for brevity and omit words which are
                            actually necessary to the sense, regarding it as a matter of complete
                            indifference whether their meaning is intelligible to others, so long as
                            they know what they mean themselves. For my own part, I regard as
                            useless words which make such a demand upon the ingenuity of the hearer.
                            Others, again, succeed in committing the same fault by a <pb n="v7-9 p.209"/> perverse misuse of figures. </p></div><div n="20" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Worst of all are the phrases which the Greeks call <foreign xml:lang="grc">ἀδιανόητα,</foreign> that is to say, expressions
                            which, though their meaning is obvious enough on the surface, have a
                            secret meaning, as for example in the phrase <hi rend="italic">cum
                                ductus est caecus secundam viam stare,</hi> or where the man, who is
                            supposed in the scholastic theme to have torn his own limbs with his
                            teeth, is said to have <hi rend="italic">lain upon himself</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">Like a wild beast devouring his
                                prey.</note>
                     </p></div></div></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
            </reply>
            </GetPassage>