<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-eng2:8.5.4-8.5.25</requestUrn>
            </request>
            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:8.5.4-8.5.25</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="5" type="textpart" subtype="section"><div n="4" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Some have called this form of <hi rend="italic">reflexion</hi> a part of
                            the <hi rend="italic">enthymeme,</hi> others the major premise or
                            conclusion of the <hi rend="italic">epichireme,</hi> as it sometimes,
                            though not invariably, is. More correct is the statement that at times
                            it is simple, as in the example just quoted, while at other times a
                            reason for the statement may be added, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> The premises of the enthymeme are simple, while
                                those of the epichireme are supported by a <hi rend="italic">reason.</hi> See v. xiv. </note> such as the following: <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Sall.
                                    Jug.</hi> 10. </note>
                        <quote> For in every struggle, the stronger
                                seems not to suffer wrong, even when this is actually the case, but
                                to inflict it, simply in virtue of his superior power. </quote>
                            Sometimes, again, it may be double, as in the statement that <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">Complaisance wins us friends, truth
                                            enmity.</l></quote><bibl default="false"><hi rend="italic">Ter. Andr.</hi> I. i.
                                        41. </bibl></cit></quote> There are some even who classify them under ten <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">##</note> heads, though the
                            principle on which they make this division is such that it would justify
                            a still larger number: they class them as based on interrogation,
                            comparison, denial, similarity, admiration, and the like, for they can
                            be treated under every <pb n="v7-9 p.285"/> kind of figure. A striking
                            type is that which is produced by opposition: <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">Death is not bitter, but the approach to
                                            death.</l></quote><bibl default="false">Author unknown.</bibl></cit></quote> Others are cast in a form of a direct statement, </p></div><div n="6" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> such as <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="F">The miser lacks</l><l part="N"> That which he
                                            has no less than what he has <lb/> not. </l></quote><bibl default="false"> Publil. <hi rend="italic">Syr. Sent.</hi>
                                        486. </bibl></cit></quote> But they acquire greater force by a change in the <hi rend="italic">figure</hi> employed, as in the following: <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">Is it so bitter, then, to die?</l></quote><bibl default="false"><hi rend="italic">Aen.</hi> xii. 646.
                                    </bibl></cit></quote> For this is more vigorous than the simple statement,
                                <quote>Death is not bitter.</quote> A similar effect may be produced
                            by transference of' the statement from the general to the particular.
                            For example, although the direct statement would be, <quote>To hurt is
                                easy, but to do good is hard.</quote> Ovid <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">In his lost tragedy, the Medea.</note> gives
                            this reflexion increased force when lie makes Medea say, <quote rend="blockquote"><quote><l part="N">I had the power to save, and
                                        ask you then</l><l part="I">If I have power to
                                    ruin?</l></quote></quote>
                     </p></div><div n="7" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Cicero <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">' Pro
                                    Lig.</hi> xii. 38. </note> again gives the general statement a
                            personal turn when he says: <quote> Caesar, the splendour of your
                                present fortune confers on you nothing greater than the power and
                                nothing better than the will to save as many of your fellow-citizens
                                as possible. </quote> For here he attributes to Caesar what was
                            really attributable to the circumstances of his power. In this class of
                                <hi rend="italic">reflexion</hi> we must be careful, as always, not
                            to employ them too frequently, nor at random, nor place them in the
                            mouth of every kind of person, <pb n="v7-9 p.287"/> while we must make
                            certain that they are not untrue, as is so often the case with those
                            speakers who style them <hi rend="italic">reflexions of universal
                                application and</hi> recklessly employ whatever seems to support
                            their case as though its truth were beyond question. </p></div><div n="8" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Such reflexions are best suited to those speakers whose authority is
                            such that their character itself will lend weight to their words. For
                            who would tolerate a boy, or a youth, or even a man of low birth who
                            presumed to speak with all the authority of a judge and to thrust his
                            precepts down our throats? </p></div><div n="9" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The term <hi rend="italic">enthymeme</hi> may be applied to any concept
                            of the mind, but in its strict sense means a <hi rend="italic">reflexion</hi> drawn from contraries. Consequently, it has a
                            supremacy among <hi rend="italic">reflexions</hi> which we may compare
                            to that of Homer among poets and Rome among cities. </p></div><div n="10" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> I have already said enough on this topic in dealing with arguments.
                                <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> See v. x. 2, and again,
                                for greater detail, v. xiv. 1 (note at end), where an example of
                                this type of <hi rend="italic">sententia</hi> is given from the <hi rend="italic">pro Milone</hi> (ch. 29) <quote> You are sitting
                                    to avenge the death of one whom you would be unwilling to
                                    restore to life even if you thought it was in your power to
                                    restore it! </quote>
                        </note> But the use of the enthymeme is not
                            confined to proof, it may sometimes be employed for the purpose of
                            ornament, as in the following instance: <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Pro Lig.</hi> iv. 10.
                                </note>
                        <quote> Caesar, shall the language of those whom it is your
                                glory to have spared goad you to imitate their own cruelty? </quote>
                            Cicero's motive in saying this is not that it introduces any fresh
                            reason for clemency, but because he has already demonstrated by other
                            arguments how unjust such conduct would be, </p></div><div n="11" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> while he adds it at the period's close as an <hi rend="italic">epiphonema,</hi> not by way of proof, but as a crowning insult to
                            his opponents. For an <hi rend="italic">epiphonema</hi> is an
                            exclamation attached to the close of a statement or a proof by way of
                            climax. Here are two examples: <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">Such toil it was to found the Roman
                                        race!</l></quote><bibl default="false"><hi rend="italic">Aen.</hi> i. 33. </bibl></cit></quote> and <quote> The virtuous youth preferred to risk his
                                life <pb n="v7-9 p.289"/> by slaying him to suffering such
                                dishonour. </quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Cic.
                                    <hi rend="italic">pro Mil.</hi> iv. 9, <hi rend="italic">cp.</hi> V. xi. 13. </note>
                     </p></div><div n="12" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> There is also what our modern rhetoricians call the <hi rend="italic">noema,</hi> a term which may be taken to mean every kind of <hi rend="italic">conception,</hi> but is employed by them in the
                            special sense of things which they wish to be understood, though they
                            are not actually said, as in the declamation where the sister defends
                            herself against the brother whom she had often bought out from the
                            gladiatorial school, when he brought an action against her demanding the
                            infliction of a similar mutilation because she had cut off his thumb
                            while he slept: <quote>You deserved,</quote> she cries, <quote>to have
                                all your fingers,</quote> meaning thereby, <quote>You deserved to be
                                a gladiator all your days.</quote>
                     </p></div><div n="13" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> There is also what is called a <hi rend="italic">clausula.</hi> If this
                            merely means a <hi rend="italic">conclusion,</hi> it is a perfectly
                            correct and sometimes a necessary device, as in the following case:
                                <quote> You must, therefore, first confess your own offence before
                                you accuse Ligarius of anything. </quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Pro Lig. i. 2.</hi> It is a
                                conclusion in the logical sense. But <hi rend="italic">clausula</hi>
                                more commonly means <quote>close, conclusion, cadence</quote> of a
                                period. <hi rend="italic">Cp.</hi> what follows. </note> But to-day
                            something more is meant, for our rhetoricians want every passage, every
                            sentence to strike the ear by an impressive close. </p></div><div n="14" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> In fact, they think it a disgrace, nay, almost a crime, to pause to
                            breathe except at the end of a passage that is designed to call forth
                            applause. The result is a number of tiny epigrams, affected, irrelevant
                            and disjointed. For there are not enough striking reflexions in the
                            world to provide a close to every period. </p></div><div n="15" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The following forms of reflexion are even more modern. There is the type
                            which depends on surprise for its effect, as, for example, when Vibius
                            Crispus, in denouncing the man who wore a breastplate when strolling in
                            the forum and alleged that he did so because he feared for his life,
                            cried, <quote> Who <pb n="v7-9 p.291"/> gave you leave to be such a
                                coward? </quote> Another instance is the striking remark made by
                            Africanus to Nero with reference to the death of Agrippina:
                                <quote>Caesar, your provinces of Gaul entreat you to bear your good
                                fortune with courage.</quote>
                     </p></div><div n="16" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Others are of an allusive type: for example, Domitius Afer, in his
                            defence of Cloatilla, whom Claudius had pardoned when she was accused of
                            having buried her husband, who had been one of the rebels, addressed her
                            sons in his peroration with the words: <quote>Nonetheless, it is your
                                duty, boys, to give your mother burial.</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> The point is uncertain. Possibly, as Gesner
                                suggests, the sons were accusing their mother. </note> Some, again,
                        </p></div><div n="17" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> depend on the fact that they are transferred from one context to another
                            Crispus, in his defence of Spatale, whose lover had made her his heir
                            and then proceeded to die at the age of eighteen, remarked: <quote>What
                                a marvellous fellow to gratify his passion thus!</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">sibi
                                    indulsit</hi> would seen to mean his appointing S. his heir and
                                then being kind enough to die so soon! But the point is uncertain.
                            </note>
                     </p></div><div n="18" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Another type of reflexion may be produced by the doubling of a phrase,
                            as in the letter written by Seneca for Nero to be sent to the senate on
                            the occasion of his mother's death, with a view to creating the
                            impression that he had been in serious danger:— <quote>As yet I cannot
                                believe or rejoice that I am safe.</quote> Better, however, is the
                            type which relies for its effect on contrast of opposites, as <quote>I
                                know from whom to fly, but whom to follow I know not;</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Cic. <hi rend="italic">ad
                                    Att.</hi> VIII. vii. 2. </note> or, <quote> What of the fact
                                that the poor wretch, though he could not speak, <milestone n="19" unit="section"/> could not keep silence? </quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Probably from the lost <hi rend="italic">in Pisonem,</hi> since St. Jerome in a letter to
                                Oceanus says <hi rend="italic">postea vero Pisoniano vitio, cum
                                    loqui non post, tacere non poterat.</hi> But here again the
                                point is obscure. </note> But to produce the most striking effect
                            this type should be given point by the introduction of a comparison,
                            such as is made by Trachalus in his speech against Spatale, where he
                            says: <quote> Is it your pleasure, then, ye laws, the faithful guardians
                                of chastity, that wives should receive a title <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> By the <hi rend="italic">lex Julia et Papia
                                        Poppaea</hi> childless wives were only entitled to a tenth
                                    of their husband's estate. </note> and harlots a quarter?
                                </quote>
                        <pb n="v7-9 p.293"/> In these instances, however, the
                            reflexion may equally well be good or bad. </p></div><div n="20" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> On the other hand, there are some which will always be bad, such as
                            those which turn on play upon words, as in the following case: <quote>
                                Conscript fathers, for I must address you thus that you may remember
                                the duty owed to fathers. </quote> Worse still, as being more unreal
                            and far-fetched, is the remark made by the gladiator mentioned above in
                            his prosecution of his sister: <quote>I have fought to the last
                                finger.</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> The exact
                                meaning is uncertain. The allusion may be to the turning up of the
                                thumb as a sign of defeat. See sect. 12. </note>
                     </p></div><div n="21" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> There is another similar type, which is perhaps the worst of all, where
                            the play upon words is combined with a false comparison. When I was a
                            young man I heard a distinguished pleader, after handing a mother some
                            splinters of bone taken from the head of her son (which he did merely to
                            provide an occasion for his epigram), cry: <quote>Unhappiest of women,
                                your son is not yet dead and yet you have gathered up his
                                bones!</quote>
                     </p></div><div n="22" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Moreover, most of our orators delight in devices of the pettiest kind,
                            which seriously considered are merely ludicrous, but at the moment of
                            their production flatter their authors by a superficial semblance of
                            wit. Take, for instance, the exclamation from the scholastic theme,
                            where a man, after being ruined by the barrenness of his land, is
                            shipwrecked and hangs himself: <quote>Let him whom neither earth nor sea
                                receives, hang in mid air.</quote>
                     </p></div><div n="23" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> A similar absurdity is to be found in the declamation, to which I have
                            already referred, in which a father poisons his son who insists on
                            tearing his flesh with his teeth: <quote>The man who eats such flesh,
                                deserves such drink.</quote> Or again, take this passage from the
                            theme of the luxurious man who is alleged to have pretended to starve
                            himself to death: <quote> Tie a noose <pb n="v7-9 p.295"/> for yourself:
                                you have good reason to be angry with your throat. 'rake poison: it
                                is fit that a luxurious man should die of drink! </quote>
                     </p></div><div n="24" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Others are merely fatuous, such as the remark of the declaimer who urges
                            the courtiers of Alexander to provide him with a tomb by burning down
                            Babylon. <quote>I am burying Alexander. Shall any man watch such a
                                burial from his housetop?</quote> As if this were the climax of
                            indignities! Others fail from sheer extravagance. For example, I once
                            heard a rhetorician who was declaiming about the Germans, say: <quote>I
                                know not where they carry their heads,</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Is this a suggestion that the Germans are
                                monsters <quote>whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders</quote>
                                or that they are so tall that their heads are lost in the clouds?
                            </note> and again when belauding a hero, <quote>He beats back whole wars
                                with the boss of his shield.</quote>
                     </p></div><div n="25" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> However, I shall never come to an end if I try to describe every
                            possible form of this kind of absurdity. I will therefore turn to
                            discuss a point of more importance. Rhetoricians are divided in opinion
                            on this subject: some devote practically all their efforts to the
                            elaboration of <hi rend="italic">reflexions,</hi> while others condemn
                            their employment altogether. I cannot agree entirely with either view.
                        </p></div></div></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
            </reply>
            </GetPassage>