Institutio Oratoria
Quintilian
Quintilian. Institutio Oratoria, Volume 1-4. Butler, Harold Edgeworth, translator. Cambridge, Mass; London: Harvard University Press, William Heinemann Ltd., 1920-1922.
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 [*](Georg. iii. 79–83. ) describes a colt, the words
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,
- Nor fears he empty noises,
Above all, ambiguity must be avoided,
- Then, if tile sound of arms be heard afar,
- How to stand still he knows not.
and by ambiguity I mean not merely the kind of which I have already spoken, where the sense is uncertain, as in the clause Chremetem audivi percussisse Demean, [*](See VII. ix. 10.)
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.
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 [*]( Perhaps in his letter to his son, for which see II. v. 20. ) that there was one, a teacher, who instructed his pupils to make all they said obscure, using the Greek word σκότισον (
darken it.) It was this same habit that gave rise to the famous words of praise,
So much the better: even I could not understand you.
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
Worst of all are the phrases which the Greeks call ἀδιανόητα, 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 cum ductus est caecus secundam viam stare, or where the man, who is supposed in the scholastic theme to have torn his own limbs with his teeth, is said to have lain upon himself [*](Like a wild beast devouring his prey.)
Such expressions are regarded as ingenious, daring and eloquent, simply because of their ambiguity, and quite a number of persons have become infected by the belief that a passage which requires a commentator must for that very reason be a masterpiece of elegance. Nay, there is even a class of hearer who find a special pleasure in such passages; for the fact that they can provide an answer to the riddle fills them with an ecstasy of self-congratulation, as if they had not merely heard the phrase, but invented it.
For my own part, I regard clearness as the first essential of a good style: there must be propriety in our words, their order must be straightforward, the conclusion of the period must not be long postponed, there must be nothing lacking and nothing superfluous. Thus our language will be approved by the learned and clear to the uneducated. I am speaking solely of clearness in style, as I have already dealt with clearness in the presentation of facts in the rules I laid down for the statement of the case.
But the general method is the same in both. For if what we say is not less nor more than is required, and is clear and systematically arranged, the whole matter will be plain and obvious even to a not too attentive audience. For we must