DOBD Collected Works of Erasmus: Literary and Educational Writings, 3 and 4 9781442676701

Table of contents :
Contents
Introduction
On the Writing of Letters / De conscribendis epistolis
A Formula for the Composition of Letters / Conficiendarum epistolarum formula
On Good Manners for Boys / De civilitate morum puerilium
A Declamation on the Subject of Early Liberal Education for Children / De pueris statim ac liberaliter instituendis declamatio
The Right Way of Speaking Latin and Greek: A Dialogue / De recta latini graecique sermonis pronuntiatione dialogus
Notes
Works Frequently Cited
Short-Title Forms for Erasmus' Works
Table of Contents of De conscribendis epistolis
Table of Contents of Conficiendarum epistolarum formula
Table of Contents of De civilitate
Index of Vernacular Words in De pronuntiatione
Index of Pronunciations in De pronuntiatione
Index of Classical and Christian Sources
General Index

Citation preview

COLLECTED WORKS OF ERASMUS V O L U M E 25

Erasmus Portrait by Quentin Metsys, 1517, known as the Barberini portrait Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Antica, Rome

COLLECTED WORKS OF

ERASMUS L I T E R A R Y AND E D U C A T I O N A L W R I T I N G S 3 DE C O N S C R I B E N D I S E P I S T O L I S F O R M U L A / DE C I V I L I T A T E

edited by J.K. Sowards

University of Toronto Press Toronto / Buffalo / London

The research and publication costs of the Collected Works of Erasmus are supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (and previously by the Canada Council). The publication costs are also assisted by University of Toronto Press.

www.utppublishing.com

© University of Toronto Press 1985 Toronto / Buffalo / London Printed in Canada ISBN 0-8020-5521-4 Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data Erasmus, Desiderius, d. 1536. [Works] Collected works of Erasmus Partial contents: v. 25. Literary and educational writings, 3. De conscribendis epistolis. Conficiendarum epistolarum formula. De civilitate. - v. 26. Literary and educational writings, 4. De pueris. De recta pronuntiatione. Notes. Indexes. ISBN 0-8020-5521-4 (v. 25-26) 1. Erasmus, Desiderius, d. 1536. I. Title. II. Title: Collected works of Erasmus. PA85OO 1974

876'.04

C73-6326-X rev.

Collected Works of Erasmus The aim of the Collected Works of Erasmus is to make available an accurate, readable English text of Erasmus' correspondence and his other principal writings. The edition is planned and directed by an Editorial Board, an Executive Committee, and an Advisory Committee.

EDITORIAL

BOARD

Peter G. Bietenholz, University of Saskatchewan Alexander Dalzell, University of Toronto Anthony T. Grafton, Princeton University Paul F. Grendler, University of Toronto James K. McConica, University of Toronto, Chairman Erika Rummel, Executive Assistant Robert D. Sider, Dickinson College J.K. Sowards, Wichita State University G.M. Story, Memorial University of Newfoundland Craig R. Thompson, University of Pennsylvania

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE

Peter G. Bietenholz, University of Saskatchewan Harald Bohne, University of Toronto Press Alexander Dalzell, University of Toronto Anthony T. Grafton, Princeton University Paul F. Grendler, University of Toronto James K. McConica, University of Toronto Ian Montagnes, University of Toronto Press R.J. Schoeck, University of Colorado R.M. Schoeffel, University of Toronto Press, Chairman Robert D. Sider, Dickinson College J.K. Sowards, Wichita State University G.M. Story, Memorial University of Newfoundland Craig R. Thompson, University of Pennsylvania Prudence Tracy, University of Toronto Press

ADVISORY COMMITTEE

Danilo Aguzzi-Barbagli, University of British Columbia C.M. Bruehl, Koninklijke Nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschappen Maria Cytowska, University of Warsaw O.B. Hardison jr, Folger Shakespeare Library Otto Herding, Universität Freiburg Jozef IJsewijn, Katholieke Universiteit Leuven Robert M. Kingdon, University of Wisconsin Paul Oskar Kristeller, Columbia University Maurice Lebel, Université Laval Jean-Claude Margolin, Centre d'études supérieures de la Renaissance de Tours Bruce M. Metzger, Princeton Theological Seminary Clarence H. Miller, Yale University Heiko A. Oberman, Universität Tubingen Margaret Mann Phillips, University of London John Rowlands, British Museum J.S.G. Simmons, Oxford University John Tedeschi, University of Wisconsin J.B. Trapp, Warburg Institute

Contents

V O L U M E 25

Introduction by J.K. Sowards ix On the Writing of Letters / De conscribendis epistolis translated and annotated by Charles Fantazzi 1 A Formula for the Composition of Letters Conficiendarum epistolarum formula translated and annotated by Charles Fantazzi introductory note by R.A.B. Mynors 255 On Good Manners for Boys / De civilitate morum puerilium translated and annotated by Brian McGregor 269 VOLUME 26 A Declamation on the Subject of Early Liberal Education for Children De pueris statim ac liberaliter instituendis declamatio translated and annotated by Beert C. Verstraete 291 The Right Way of Speaking Latin and Greek: A Dialogue De recta latini graecique sermonis pronuntiatione dialogus translated and annotated by Maurice Pope 347 Notes 477

Works Frequently Cited 629 Short-Title Forms for Erasmus' Works 631 Table of Contents of De conscribendis epistolis 635 Table of Contents of Conficiendarum epistolarum formula 638 Table of Contents of De civilitate 639 Index of Vernacular Words in De pronuntiatione 640 Index of Pronunciations in De pronuntiatione 642 Index of Classical and Christian Sources 645 General Index 655

Introduction

In the famous catalogue of his works which Erasmus appended to a letter to his old friend the Scotsman Hector Boece in the spring of 1530,1 and which updated the earlier catalogue addressed to another friend, Johann von Botzheim, in 1523,2 Erasmus prescribed that the four works included in these two volumes of CWE be published in any eventual edition of his works in the first category (ordo) of works 'that concern literature and education.' They were thus arranged in the Basel Opera omnia of 1540 and in LB, and we follow the same practice in this second set of the works volumes of CWE devoted to Erasmus' literary and educational writings. De conscribendis epistolis appeared in 1522, De recta latini graecique sermonis pronuntiatione dialogus in 1528, De pueris statim ac liberaliter instituendis declamatio in 1529, and De civilitate morum puerilium in 1530. All four of these works, then, were either completed, revised for publication, or written entirely in the decade of the 1520s. It is eloquent testimony to the importance Erasmus attached to education and to literature that he should have found time for these works - and two of them are of monumental size and complexity - in this decade, the busiest and most tumultuous period of his life. The acrimonious controversy over the Moria still continued. Some monks - Erasmus calls them pseudomonachi - were pressing their attack undaunted,3 as were his old enemies the Dominicans.4 Other religious conservatives also continued to attack what they considered the mocking, 'paganizing' tone of the book. And worse, in 1527 it was condemned by the theologians at Paris as detrimental to faith and morals.5 At about this same time Erasmus was becoming involved in a more purely literary controversy which, like the controversy over the Moria, had religious ramifications, and which led to the publication of his Ciceronianus in 1528. In the meantime Erasmus had been accused of writing the Julius exclusus (which he probably had) and the Epistolae obscurorum virorum (which he certainly had not), amid another storm of controversy. The same critics who

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were offended by these works, as well as by the Moria, were equally offended by the Colloquia which appeared in ever-expanded editions through the 15203. As early as 1522 the inquisitor of Louvain objected to the Colloquia on the grounds of their 'Lutheran' tendencies. In 1526 Erasmus' enemies at the Sorbonne gained an official censure by that influential faculty against sixty-nine passages in the Colloquia and in others of his writings as 'erroneous, scandalous, or impious/ and the book was forbidden to be used for instruction 'lest under the pretext of instructing [students] it corrupt their morals.'6 These were serious attacks by serious, dedicated opponents to which Erasmus had to respond. His letters are full of his preoccupation with his defence, and in the next edition of the Colloquia - within a month of their condemnation - he wrote a full-dress defence, De utilitate colloquiorum.7 But no matter how reasonable, ingenious, persuasive, even irenic Erasmus' arguments were, the attacks continued and inevitably merged with the even more bitter attacks that his New Testament and its related works of biblical scholarship had provoked. There were those who still objected to contaminating the revered Vulgate - which contains 'no admixture of falsehood or mistake'8 - with resort to the Greek sources. There were others who objected that Erasmus was at best a grammarian meddling in theology where he had no business,9 at worst a Lucianic scoffer whose irresponsible criticisms held up the church and its centuries-old traditions to the ridicule of the vulgar. And their objections were not without foundation for, in his notes to both the New Testament and to St Jerome, Erasmus frequently went beyond textual commentary to attack the corruption of the clergy, the ignorance of theologians, clerical vestments, empty ceremonies, vows, penance, relics, and, of course, monasticism - the familiar targets of the Moria, Julius exclusus, and the Colloquia. There were still others who questioned the substance of Erasmus' biblical scholarship. Nor did the storm lessen with later editions of Erasmus' New Testament, differing even more substantially from the Vulgate. Even as successive editions of the New Testament and Erasmus' Latin translation appeared, his popular paraphrases were also being published in the 1520s. Some of the Epistles had already been published, Romans in 1517, Galatians and Corinthians in 1519. These were followed by Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, Thessalonians, Timothy, Titus, and Philemon in 1520, and Hebrews in 1521. In 1522 the paraphrase of Matthew was published, those of the other three Gospels in 1523, each dedicated to one of the great contemporary kings, Matthew to Charles v, John to Charles' brother Ferdinand, Mark to Francis I, and Luke to Henry VIII. The paraphrase of the Acts of the Apostles was published in 1524 and dedicated

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to Pope Clement VII. The popularity of the paraphrases made them seem particularly dangerous to Erasmus' critics, for thereby his theological liberalism was more effectively spread. His enemies compiled lists of 'errors' in his works. The Spanish theologian Diego López de Zúniga (Stunica) collected 165 of them in a savage book directed against the 'blasphemies and errors' of Erasmus, and the Spanish inquisitor general was authorized to make formal inquiry into charges of Lutheran doctrine in Erasmus' writings.10 Erasmus was attacked from Germany by the Dominican controversialist Johann Meier von Eck and in Italy and France by the Catholic publicist Alberto Pio.11 The theological faculty of the University of Paris, led by Noel Beda and Jacques Cousturier, condemned his translation, as did the theological faculty at Louvain.12 To all these attacks Erasmus wrote elaborate, detailed responses and apologiae so extensive that they take up two complete volumes of LB (ix and x). As early as the Botzheim catalogue of 1523-4 he wrote: 'Let the eighth volume be occupied by the Defences. These too (alack the day!) will make a whole volume. Their titles are as follows, and I pray there may be nothing to add.'13 This was, however, not to be the case. The increasingly hysterical tone of Erasmus' critics is to be explained in large part not so much by the dangerous popularity of his writings or even by the scholarly controversy over their contents and Erasmus' interpretations as by the fact that through the same decade of the 1520s the Lutheran question was becoming an issue across Europe, from Luther's defiance of Pope Leo's bull Exsurge Domine in 1520, through the dramatic confrontation with the young Emperor Charles v at the Diet of Worms in 1521, to the development in the mid-i52os of a well-defined Lutheran party in Germany and an equally well-defined Lutheran doctrine that had begun to spill over into the main intellectual-theological stream of European thought. Many, if not most, of Erasmus' more liberal ideas had been embraced by the Lutherans and by other more radical individuals and sects that were already beginning to appear. It seemed to religious conservatives and to many concerned moderates that Erasmus had done more than a little to bring up the storm. And it was becoming distressingly clear that he had to take a definitive stand on the Lutheran question. That stand was finally taken on as narrow a theological base as Erasmus could find, but one which he regarded as fundamental to the differences between himself and Luther, the issue of free will and predestination. In 1524 he published a small, modest tract, De libero arbitrio. It quickly elicited a furious counterblast from Luther, a heavy volume De servo arbitrio, which then involved Erasmus in responding to the response in the form of a long and complex tract, fully as intemperate as Luther's. Erasmus' Hyperaspistes

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was published in two parts in 1526 and 1527.14 Erasmus' stand against Luther, of course, infuriated Luther's supporters, whose suspicions that Erasmus had encouraged Luther and then betrayed him were now confirmed.15 Erasmus' stand, moreover, did little to restore his credit with Catholic conservatives. Some considered his position evasive; others held that he had attacked Luther on a quibble rather than launching a full-scale frontal assault. Some credibility was lent to their criticisms by the fact that Erasmus had continued to assert that there were things to be admired in Luther's doctrines, as there were things to be abhorred in many doctrines, as in many practices, of the established church. He had failed to assert papal supremacy. He refused to sanction the categorical condemnation of Luther. He refused to defend the full doctrine of penance. And he refused to condemn justification by faith. It mattered very little to most of his critics on either side of the theological battle-line that Erasmus was trying to maintain a position independent of the militancy of the Protestant left or the Catholic right. There was simply no escape for him from the fury of the Reformation. By the end of the decade of the 1520s it had come even to his beloved Basel. The leading spirit of Protestantism in Basel was Johannes Oecolampadius, who had been a friend of Erasmus and one of the editors associated with him in the work on the New Testament. But Oecolampadius was now one of the city pastors and the chief spokesman for religious change. Even as Erasmus was at work on his educational tract De pueris instituendis, the University of Basel was closed down by violence and there were riots in the city. The great Münster as well as other churches were stormed by mobs and their images and windows smashed, their treasures looted. The intimidated town council agreed to the abolition of the mass along with the rest of the old religion, and evangelical services were made compulsory for all citizens. By the spring of 1529 Erasmus had accepted the invitation of King Ferdinand to settle in nearby Catholic Freiburg. De pueris instituendis was completed and De civilitate written there in the refuge Erasmus had finally been compelled to seek. II

Inevitably the literary and educational works that are our principal concern in these two volumes of CWE were touched by the tumult and controversy of the decade in which they appeared. De pronuntiatione, for example, is very close in spirit and form to the Ciceronianus, and many of that work's arguments are recapitulated in it. Indeed, the early editions of these works were usually printed together. Many of the educational ideas that are

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expressed in De pronuntiatione and De pueris instituendis and even in De civilitate are also to be found in such colloquies as De lusu, Confabulatio pia, Euntes in ludum litterarium, and Monita paedagogica, all in the 1522 edition, Puerpera in 1526, and Synodus grammaticorum and Ars notoria, both in the 1529 edition, the latter written especially for Erasmus' godson and namesake Erasmius Froben. In De conscribendis epistolis, as an example of the persuasive letter, there is a complete little tract on the advantages of marriage which is, at the same time, an attack on clerical celibacy. This parallels in considerable detail the sentiments expressed in the group of colloquies sometimes called 'the marriage colloquies' - Virgo /ucroya/uog (1523, Virgo poenitens (1523), Prod et puellae (1523), and 'Aya/uo? ya/ao? sive coniugium impar (1529). These sentiments were further elaborated in the Institutio christiani matrimonii (1526) and the Vidua Christiana (1529) and reflect Erasmus' conviction that virtuous Christian marriage was to be preferred to clerical celibacy for which, among many other such liberal theological views, Erasmus was charged with Lutheran sympathies, as we have seen. But to a much greater extent these educational and rhetorical writings of the 15205 reflect less the day-to-day alarms and strident controversies of their decade than they do the principles of education that Erasmus had begun to develop as early as his student days at Paris. These principles first found expression in the early colloquies prepared as aids for his tutorial pupils and finally published many years later as Familiarum colloquiorum formulae. They were implicit in the Adagia and the Parabolae. They were elaborated in De copia and especially De ratione studii, the most systematic of Erasmus' early educational writings. And they continue to form a bundle of common themes that run through the educational and rhetorical works with which we are here concerned, themes which may be summarized under the headings of 'Curriculum,' The teacher, 'Setting and method, 'The pupil,' and 'Aims and purposes.' CURRICULUM The following exchange is the most succinct statement of Erasmus' view about the proper subjects of study to be found anywhere in his educational writings. It comes from De pronuntiatione. The conceit of this work is a conversation between Bear and Lion in which Lion asks Bear to advise him on the best way to educate his newly born cub. Bear asks Lion: What are the principles on which you want your child educated? Lion The first thing for him to learn will be correct pronunciation. Then reading fluency. After that neat handwriting. Finally the choice of a tutor to mould his intellectual and moral principles, and the choice also of friends of

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upright character for him to associate with. I shall make my economies elsewhere, not on these things. Latin and Greek, too, must be acquired while he is still young. Enough dialectic to have some acquaintance with it, but not to be tortured with all the ridiculous skills of hair-splitting which exist only for the sake of being shown off. Rhetoric, within limits, must be studied with care, but it must not become a fetish: the point of it is to help in writing and speaking, not to instil an anxious obedience to teachers' rules. Geography should come before it, and be thoroughly mastered. Arithmetic, music, and astronomy need only be sampled. Medicine will only be included to the extent that knowledge of it helps preserve health. Some taste of physics will be provided - not so much the high-flying disputations of theoretical physics about first causes, primary matter, and infinity, but practical physics as it concerns the nature of things, that is to say the subjects dealt with in the books on the soul, celestial bodies, animals, and plants. Bear No ethics? Lion Ethics will be taught by means of aphorisms, especially aphorisms that refer to the Christian religion and to one's duties toward society. Bear You propose loading all these subjects on a child's shoulders? Lion I shall have them all learnt in play, and before the age of eighteen. (CWE 26

387)

It is clear that this statement, as indeed every other statement Erasmus made about the proper objects of study, which he always characterized by such value-laden phrases as litterae humaniores and bonae litterae, derived almost exclusively from the languages and literature of his beloved Ancients, 'the approved authors.'16 Craig R. Thompson has observed that Erasmus had an 'immutable commitment to the best writings of the best classical authors as the choicest literature.'17 And Erasmus himself maintained in De conscribendis epistolis that 'no word found in the works of an elegant and refined writer should sound unfamiliar' (16 below). Throughout his writings, in formal tracts, in commentaries and prefaces, in letters, in apologiae, we find him listing strings of classical authors. In the spring of 1489 he wrote to his monastic friend Cornelis Gerard: 'I have my own guides to follow; if you perchance have others, I shall lose no sleep over the fact. My authorities in poetry are Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Juvenal, Statius, Martial, Claudian, Persius, Lucan, Tibullus, and Propertius; in prose, Cicero, Quintilian, Sallust, and Terence.'18 In his De ratione studii, as models of style and diction, among the Greek prose writers, he says I would assign first place to Lucian, second to Demosthenes, and third to Herodotus; again, among the poets, first place to Aristophanes, second to

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Homer, third to Euripides. For Menander, to whom I would have given even the first place, is not extant. Again, among Latin writers who is more valuable as a standard of language than Terence? He is pure, concise, and closest to everyday speech and then, by the very nature of his subject-matter, is also congenial to the young. Should someone think that a few, selected comedies of Plautus, free from impropriety, should be added to the above, I would personally not demur. Second place will go to Virgil, third to Horace, fourth to Cicero, and fifth to Caesar. If someone thinks that Sallust should be included, I would not offer much objection. These, then, I believe to be sufficient for a knowledge of each language.19

While in De pueris instituendis he says that 'A young child, I agree, is not ready for Cicero's De officiis, Aristotle's Ethics, any of Seneca's or Plutarch's moral treatises' (CWE 26 318), in De conscribendis epistolis, written for more mature students, he advocates practice in short epistolary themes chosen from the poets and historians, from the love letters of Ovid first of all, then Lucian, or the plots of comedies, and there follows a long and varied list of examples. The list of such lists is nearly endless. There is scarcely a page of these treatises that does not refer specifically to one or another of the ancient writers. There are, for example, over five hundred references to Cicero in De conscribendis epistolis and one hundred fifty to Pliny. In the same work there are some eighty references to Quintilian and there are more than fifty references to him in De pronuntiatione. Thompson has called Erasmus a conservative for this persistent resort ad origines.20 Whether he was more truly a conservative in this respect or a radical renovator is arguable, but in one related respect he was clearly conservative: his educational curriculum is modelled almost entirely and in detail upon the standard educational writings of classical antiquity. Plutarch was probably Erasmus' own favourite Greek author after Lucian, and Plutarch's tract On the Education of Children from the Moralia is taken over almost entirely into De pueris instituendis, De pronuntiatione, and De civilitate.21 Erasmus is even more specifically indebted to the more comprehensive and detailed educational prescriptions of Quintilian's Institutio oratoria, especially to books i and 2, virtually every item appearing somewhere in Erasmus' own educational writings. Even the more formal principles of oratory that are dealt with later in the work are taken over, again sometimes almost verbatim, and applied to the rules of letterwriting in De conscribendis epistolis.22 And, of course, Erasmus is broadly indebted to the more general and scattered educational recommendations of Cicero in such works as the Brutus, Orator, De oratore, De inventione, and the Topica.

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This massive replication of the classical curriculum dwarfs the Christian dimension of Erasmus' educational scheme. But that dimension is still very much a part of the scheme, even if more by implication than by specific prescription.23 Not only does he point out in De pronuntiatione that 'it is important for scholars to confine themselves to those languages that have almost exclusively been used in learned writing' (CWE 26 390), but in De conscribendis epistolis he asks rhetorically: do you think it right that the learned should allow the Roman tongue, to which so many excellent branches of learning and the Christian religion itself have been entrusted, to die out in order not to give offence to the ignorant conceit of these individuals [the opponents of his proposals]? Surely you do not think it fair that Cyprian, Jerome, and Augustine - not to mention Cicero, Quintilian, and others like them - should be condemned to oblivion so that in their place the Catholicon, Holcot, Bricot, and Gorra may be read? Will the nightingale exchange its melodies with the cuckoo just because in the ass's judgment the cuckoo's song is clearer and more intelligible? (17 below)

In the passage in De pueris instituendis where Erasmus argues that a young child is not ready for Cicero, Aristotle, Seneca, or Plutarch, he argues also that it is not ready for St Paul. In De pronuntiatione he says that 'the Book of Psalms may be more holy than the Odes of Horace, but for all that Horace is the better to learn Latin from' (CWE 26 386). And in this tart little aphorism is the nut of Erasmus' conviction about school curriculum and Christian education. It is the end of the curriculum that is Christian, not its content. Philosophy - indeed the philosophy of Christ - may be the aim of education but the method, now as always, is grammar. In a passing criticism of monastic colleges and universities in De pronuntiatione Erasmus observes that 'were they to insist on a proper knowledge of grammar as a qualification for admission and if they were to concentrate their own teaching on philosophy, then their standards could be higher and their problems fewer' (CWE 26 380). These are the same arguments that first appeared so passionately stated in the Antibarbari. But in the 1520s we find no such passionate defence of the classics as Erasmus and his fellow spirits felt compelled to make at the turn of the century. There is still an occasional blast, but it sounds more like ritual than substance, and more often than not the object of attack is a rhetorical straw man. There were still educational conservatives, as there were religious conservatives, and the battle for the classical curriculum was not entirely won. But Erasmus' true opinion is revealed in an interesting passage from De conscribendis epistolis: 'We see how much progress has been made in a few years. Where do we hear the name of Michael Modista now in

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the schools? Where do we find quoted the glosses of James, the Catholicon, Brachiloquus, or Mammetrectus, which the libraries of the monks once guarded like a rare treasure written in letters of gold?' (54-5 below).24 THE TEACHER

There is no educational theme to which Erasmus returns more often than the need for a well-trained, well-paid, competent, compassionate, and yet inventive teacher - not only in these educational and rhetorical writings but throughout his works. As early as 1497, in a warm and affectionate letter to his former pupil Christian Northoff, advising him about continuing his education, Erasmus writes, 'Your first endeavour should be to choose the most learned teacher you can find, for it is impossible that one who is himself no scholar should make a scholar of anyone else.' He further advises the young man to cultivate a close personal friendship with his teacher, indeed to strive for a relationship like that of a son to his father, 'since we are no less indebted to those from whom we have acquired the rules of right living than to those from whom we acquired life itself.'25 The correspondence with Colet over the furnishing and staffing of St Paul's school is full of such sentiments. For example, Erasmus reports to Colet a conversation he had recently had with a group of Cambridge academics in which he had brought up the matter of Colet's search for an undermaster. One of them smiled and said, 'who would bear to spend his life in that school, among children, if he could make some sort of a living anywhere else?' Erasmus replied that not only was such work honourable but 'Christ himself did not despise the very young, and that no age of man was a better investment for generous help and nowhere could a richer harvest be anticipated, since the young are the growing crop and material of the commonwealth.' The other responded that if someone wished to serve Christ truly he should enter a monastery. '"Lo," said he, "we have left all; there lies perfection." That man has not left all, said I, who, when he could help very many by his labours, refuses to undertake a duty because it is regarded as humble.'26 Then, says Erasmus, he broke off the conversation to avoid starting a quarrel. A few years later there is a passage in a letter to a discouraged schoolmaster of Selestat, Johannes Sapidus, that conveys precisely these same arguments: 'In fact,'writes Erasmus, your lot is, I agree, laborious; that it is tragic, as you call it , or pitiable, I absolutely deny. To be a schoolmaster is an office second in importance to a king. Do you think it a mean task to take your fellow-citizens in their earliest years, to instil into them from the beginning sound learning and Christ himself,

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and to return them to your country as so many honourable upright men? Fools may think this is a humble office; in reality it is very splendid. For if even among the Gentiles it was always an excellent and noble thing to deserve well of one's country, I will not mince my words: no one does more for it than the man who shapes its unformed young people, provided he himself is learned and honourable - and you are both, so equally that I do not know in which of them you surpass yourself.27

The figure of this ideal 'learned and honourable' teacher is further fleshed out in Erasmus' educational and rhetorical works of the 15205. He wants a man of mature years - preferably a layman, even one with children of his own28 - industrious and reliable, of good family, and with as much experience as possible, ideally one who has spent the greater part of his life in literary pursuits. But inquire 'how his previous pupils have turned out,' he shrewdly advises in De pronuntiatione (CWE 26 374). In the same book Erasmus points out that integrity and learning, even experience, are not enough. A teacher must also have 'a certain friendliness and flexibility'; he must 'make allowances for what the child does not know' (CWE 26 378). In De pueris instituendis Erasmus stresses the need for the teacher to encourage by a kind and charming manner and not alienate by harshness. The teacher, he says, in guiding the intellectual development of his pupils, should follow the same principles parents and nurses do in encouraging physical growth by introducing food and drink slowly and often, and in small quantities, so that 'young minds exposed to a congenial programme of studies that is assimilated in gradual stages and intermingled with play will soon adapt themselves to a more substantial course of learning' (CWE 26 288, 335)Such teachers, Erasmus admits, are not easily come by. I must confess,' he says, 'that it is much easier to specify the qualities of the ideal schoolmaster than to find any who actually correspond to that ideal' (CWE 26 333). But to try to approxiamate the ideal is a serious obligation that should be undertaken even by civil and ecclesiastical authorities. In the dialogue De pronuntiatione Lion is made to say: 'But you look as though you are going to spend a great deal of trouble on a matter of no great importance, appointing a schoolteacher as if you were appointing a bishop.' To which Bear promptly replies that their functions are really the same except that teachers instruct young people and bishops adults. Again he compares the teacher even with a king (CWE 26 374). Yet, as a practical matter, the responsibility for securing a good teacher is more a private than a public or an ecclesiastical charge and it lies with parents, not with magistrates or clerics. Indeed, it is best if parents oversee the education of their own children on the example of Erasmus' friend

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Thomas More or the ancient examples of Pliny the Younger or Aemilius Paulus. But in most cases parents lack the skill and learning required and must normally seek a professional teacher. Unfortunately, more often than not, it is precisely at this point that the whole process breaks down. Some parents let their choice of a teacher be dictated by friends and an incompetent is hired only because of someone's casual recommendation. We seek competent professionals and scrutinize credentials in almost every other situation. 'If your horse is sick, would you hire a doctor solely on the basis of a friend's recommendation rather than on the basis of his medical skill?' (CWE 26 314). Yet in the choice of a teacher one's own children are at stake, along with the future of one's family, even of society at large. More often still the choice of a teacher is a matter of simple niggardliness. Parents 'are willing to pay their groom better than their son's teacher/ observes Erasmus in De pueris instituendis, and cites the classical example of Aristippus' reply to the man who asked him what his fee would be for instructing his son. Aristippus replied fifty drachmas. "That is a large sum of money you are asking for; one could buy a slave for that." To which Aristippus replied "Yes, but you will have two servants at your disposal instead of one: a son who can perform his duties, and a philosopher to teach him"' (CWE 26 313-14).29 In De conscribendis epistolis Erasmus observes that in a typical great household 'flute-players and trumpeters by the dozen are maintained with huge salaries, yet no one more rightly deserves a large and attractive salary than a learned schoolmaster' (23 below).30 Erasmus is, however, equally averse to the notion of a teacher's salary as a sinecure, for all the importance he attaches to his function. His salary should not be fixed or the man himself tenured lest incompetence be attracted. In the letter of 1516 to Sapidus, quoted above, Erasmus wrote: 'An upright man who is above all temptations is what that office needed, a man devoted to his duties even if he is paid nothing. A big salary and the prospect of high social standing might attract every criminal to the post.'31 Rather cool comfort for Sapidus, we must imagine, whose own salary had just been cut and who was seeking solace. But Erasmus is at least consistent, if not comforting. The teacher, he argues throughout his educational writings of the 15205, should be paid according to his accomplishments in a continuous process of encouragement and reward.32 As a result, in part, of neglect, meanness and ignorance, society has largely not only failed to find and reward good teachers, it has encouraged bad ones. There is no theme to which Erasmus returns more often nor with more passion than this. In De pronuntiatione he laments: 'But today what form of injustice is there to which we do not expose childhood? No degree of misery, ineptitude, insensitivity, irrationality, or ignorance is thought bad

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enough to disqualify a man from being given charge of boys' (CWE 26 383). And in De pueris instituendis he asserts that 'no useless, disreputable scoundrel nowadays is disqualified by general opinion from running a school' (CWE 26 325).33 Many otherwise well-intentioned parents are deluded into thinking that a severe, morose, unsmiling demeanour is part of the equipment of a proper teacher, even that such a forbidding exterior covers a saintly nature.34 Not so, says Erasmus: more often it covers a brutal and sadistic nature and such people teach by terror and fear. He shrewdly observes that ignorance and incompetence usually produce brutality.35 'So schools have become torture-chambers; you hear nothing but the thudding of the stick, the swishing of the rod, howling and moaning, and shouts of brutal abuse' (CWE 26 325). No wonder children come to hate learning! And that hatred can stay with them forever. Erasmus will not be put off by such hoary maxims as spare the rod, spoil the child. They really do not apply, he says. 'Our rod should be kind words of guidance; words of reproof are sometimes needed, but these should be filled with gentleness/ 'Such an approach represents a rod of correction more worthy of Christians and followers of the gentle Jesus' (CWE 26 332).36 If a pupil is truly incorrigible, then he should not be punished but sent home, even, he says, if it diminishes the teacher's fees.37 But more is involved in the brutality of the common schoolmaster than simply brutality on the one side and the humaneness on the other. Brutality actually harms the pupil and impedes his learning. In De conscribendis epistolis Erasmus excoriates the brutal and ignorant teacher who 'flogs and tortures the poor creatures, and deafens them with shouting and abuse, so that these best years have been wasted without profit' (41 below). In the De pronuntiatione he says this is why, after staying with such teachers in such schools until they are almost old men, our children come home to us 'hardly able to give the correct name of a single tree or fish or plant' (CWE 26 371). In De pueris instituendis he writes: 'I maintain that nothing is more damaging to young children than constant exposure to beatings. When corporal punishment is applied too harshly, the more spirited children are driven to rebellion while the more apathetic ones are numbed into despair' (CWE 26 331). Neither rebellion nor despair is quite what we expect as the product of an educational system. Erasmus' models for his descriptions of both the good and the bad teacher are Plutarch and especially Quintilian.38 On the bad and brutal teacher Erasmus writes in De conscribendis epistolis:'Are we to believe that Quintilian, a wise and learned man of great moral rectitude, was unjustified in being so offended by this practice of dealing out blows? Yet what a pagan rejected as harsh and detrimental, we Christians willingly accept' (41

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below). The model may be Quintilian but the substance and the passion are Erasmian. SETTING AND

METHOD

The matter of the setting in which the good teacher is to teach is, of course, closely related to that of the teacher himself and his qualifications. There are two choices available, the private tutor and the formal school, and in his preference for one over the other Erasmus tends to be of two minds. At one point in the dialogue De pronuntiatione Lion asks, 'You disapprove of schools?' And Bear replies: No. Like Quintilian I am all in favour of them, provided that they avoid the mistakes that Quintilian, whose intelligence was as sound as his scholarship, pointed out as mistakes. What I do not approve of is masters nobody has heard of collecting together boys in establishments nobody has heard of, and then being free to teach them whatever they feel like teaching them. (CWE 26 384)39

Nor did Erasmus approve the common practice of lumping all students together; he suggested instead that they be sorted out 'into different classes' with 'suitably qualified experts' in charge of each class (CWE 26 380) - a practice which Colet adopted for St Paul's School. While Erasmus admired and was 'in favour of Colet's school, he found it very nearly unique, and his observations of both monastery schools and those such as the Brethren Houses provided - as well as of most so-called public schools - were far from reassuring (CWE 26 325). They tended, in his experience, to be 'dirtier than pigsties,' dreary, and nondescript (CWE 26 383). But, most of all, they tended to be run in far too many cases by those very incompetent, ill-trained, and brutal schoolmasters whom he so abhorred. 'It is much easier/ he observed in De pueris instituendis, 'for one schoolmaster to frighten a whole class into submission than to instruct one pupil according to liberal principles' (CWE 26 325). Thus, more by default than by design, Erasmus tends to come down on the side of private tutorial instruction. It is not a comfortable choice for him. He is bothered by such obvious things as the fact that instruction is often better - and certainly more pleasant - if it is shared by a group of students, that students play their ideas off against one another, that they profit from a teacher's criticism of other students' work, and that the game-playing he so often advocates as a method of instruction is essentially a group activity. He is bothered by the equally obvious aristocratic flavour of tutorial instruction. He does, after all, see education in broad societal terms. And if this is the case, how is he to make provision for the education of bright children from poor families? At one

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point in De pueris instituendis, when addressing this point, he begs the question - and somewhat testily. 'I offer only a superior theory of education/ he writes, 'but not the means to put it into practice/ He does add, a little weakly, that 'the rich ought to be generous and come to the aid of gifted children who, because of their family's poverty, are unable to develop their natural talents' (CWE 26 333). Nor is he entirely consistent as he deals with the educational experience and methods of teaching. Sometimes he is clearly visualizing individual instruction, sometimes, equally clearly, a school setting. It is a problem to which he never finds an entirely satisfactory solution. And in this regard he follows Quintilian who found himself in the same dilemma. On the subject of methodology we find, as in so many other areas, that what Erasmus recommends is a blend of classical practice with his own application, experience, and preference. His insistence upon game-playing as a method of instruction is a good example. It is implicit in his Familiarium colloquiorum formulae, dating from the 14905. In his letter to Christian Northoff of 1497 he writes that 'a constant element of enjoyment must be mingled with our studies so that we think of learning as a game rather than a form of drudgery, for no activity can be continued for long if it does not to some extent afford pleasure to the participant/40 He advocates it again, in passing, in De ratione studii in 1511,41 and in the De pronuntiatione of 1528, where he talks of giving 'children by way of a present letter-shapes to hold or to pin on their clothes. Looking at them, handling them, guessing their right names will all be fun. At that age they enjoy recognizing the picture of a man or an animal or anything else and telling its name' (CWE 26 400). But the most detailed statement of the method is contained in De pueris instituendis (1529): One encounters children who toil and sweat endlessly before they can recognize and combine into words the letters of the alphabet and learn even the bare rudiments of grammar, yet who can readily grasp the higher forms of knowledge. As the ancients have demonstrated, there are artful means to overcome this slowness. Teachers of antiquity, for instance, would bake cookies of the sort that children like into the shape of letters, so that their pupils might, so to speak, hungrily eat their letters; for any student who could correctly identify a letter would be rewarded with it. Other teachers would carve ivory in the shape of letters as toys for their pupils, or would resort to any other devices which would readily capture the attention of the young. The English are very partial to archery, which is the first thing they teach their children. One clever father, therefore, seeing how fond his son was of the game, had a beautiful set of bow and arrows made, decorated all over with the

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letters of the alphabet. As targets he used the shapes of letters of the Greek and Latin alphabets (starting with the Greek); when the boy hit a target and pronounced the letter correctly he would be applauded and be rewarded in addition with a cherry or something else that children like. I might add that even better results are obtained with this game if there are two or three well-matched contestants competing with each other, the reason being that hope of victory and fear of disgrace will make each of them more alert and enthusiastic. It was by means of this stratagem that the boy in question learnt in a few days of fun and play to identify and pronounce his letters - something which the majority of teachers, with all their beatings, threatenings, and insults, could scarcely have accomplished in three years. (CWE 26 339)

Some of the foregoing devices are purely classical in origin, as Erasmus admits. The idea of baking cookies in the shape of letters is, for example, from Horace, that of using carved ivory letters from Quintilian.42 His other illustrations seem to be purely Erasmian. But the concept itself is clearly classical in origin, and most obviously indebted to Quintilian.43 Beyond such specific examples and concepts we discover in Erasmus' writings of the 1520s an entire regimen of instruction. Many of its elements had long been visible - in De ratione studii, for example. But it is only with the works that we are concerned with here that this regimen appears in its completed form. In a passage in De pueris instituendis Erasmus asserts that, 'there are elementary principles in acquiring knowledge just as there are in developing virtue; and the process of education, too, goes through the phases of childhood, adolescence, and adulthood' (CWE 26 317). There are two rather interesting ideas here: not only the idea of a cycle of education to fit the cycle of human maturation, but the idea that the process of acquiring knowledge is parallel to the process of acquiring, or developing, virtue. The two processes are, as we shall see, linked together in Erasmus' thought from beginning to end. Erasmus' concern for education begins with the conception of the child - with the character and temperament of the parents, their mood and the state of their minds and souls at the time of conception, and with the care of the mother during her pregnancy. Erasmus advocates the most intimate parental involvement with the baby from early infancy, the closest supervision in the choice of nurses and attendants, and as much control as possible of the little world of environment in which very young children first begin to learn about the larger world.44 If a child misbehaves at the dinner table, he says, he is corrected and should be expected to behave properly thereafter. He is taught how to behave in church. And such principles of good

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behaviour and devotion stay with children all their lives.45 Erasmus is a thoroughgoing believer in good habits. This is the burden of the work De civilitate. It deals essentially with the formation of the habits of decent social and personal behaviour in young children that must be the base on which education itself rests, for, as he writes in De pueris instituendis, 'any physical or mental harm that is inflicted on a child during the earliest stages of his life will continue to affect him well into his adult years' (CWE 26 315). As to the regimen of formal education, Erasmus advocates starting it at a much earlier point than was usual in his time. This is the burden of the work De pueris statim ac libemliter instituendis. In that work he asks, rhetorically, 'What type of learning is suitable for a young mind and can be instilled into small children?' (CWE 26 335). The clue to this answer is the adverb liberaliter in his title - they are to be 'liberally' educated and this, of course, means classically educated. Education begins with the classical languages, first speaking, then reading and writing. Children are to be drilled and practised to teach them care and accuracy in grammar and vocabulary. There is a natural urge in children to imitate, and it is as easy for them to imitate the proper use of the classical languages as anything else.46 Erasmus stresses over and over again the importance of vocabulary - the names of things, not only the usual terms of formal intellectual discourse, but artisans' terms, the names of household items, terms from nature, plants, animals, birds, real and mythical. As we noted earlier, it was his aim that 'no word found in the work of an elegant and refined writer should sound unfamiliar.'47 He had dealt with much of this material earlier in De copia and De ratione studii; he deals with it again and at greater length in De pueris instituendis and De pronuntiatione. The classics themselves should be the vehicles of instruction, starting with ancient fables, which are inherently interesting and at the same time models of both good grammar and practical morality. Next students should be exposed to brief, pointed aphorisms, proverbs, and the sayings of famous men - again not only as linguistic models but for their moral truths. Moreover, says Erasmus, students learn more readily if such maxims and fables are displayed before their eyes - even written or painted on the walls, doors, window-frames, beams, and ceilings, so that they are quite literally displayed before their eyes.48 Teachers should, in the course of their instruction, observe the individual inclination of students for mathematics, geography, music, and other subjects and encourage them. But, with whatever subject, the teacher must be careful that the material he puts before his students be agreeable, relevant, and attractive. For - to return to Erasmus' earlier theme - if usefulness combines with pleasure and integrity with enjoyment, children acquire a whole range of beneficial learning quickly, readily, and without boredom:

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The teacher who gives the kind of instruction we have been discussing should not be harsh and demanding; he should be conscientious and persistent rather than disposed to taking extreme measures. When such persistence is applied with moderation and attractively seasoned with variety, when, in short, the teaching takes such a shape that any impression of drudgery is avoided and the pupils come to see everything as part of a game, then it will win their acceptance. (CWE 26 338~9)49

Although there is considerable overlap with the other works, it is essentially in De conscribendis epistolis that Erasmus goes on to deal with the subject of educating more mature students. Years before, in De ratione studii, he had noted that Quintilian 'has left a very thorough treatment of these matters, so that it would seem the height of impertinence to write about a subject he has already dealt with.'50 Nevertheless, in De conscribendis epistolis Erasmus overcomes his reluctance to be impertinent and substantially recapitulates Quintilian, perhaps justifying himself because he is applying what Quintilian prescribes as the method for training the orator to the training of the writer of letters. But as Quintilian's Institutio oratoria went well beyond matters of oratorical instruction, so Erasmus in the prescriptions of De conscribendis epistolis goes far beyond the skills required simply for a writer of letters. In addition to being the most comprehensive of Renaissance manuals of epistolography, the work becomes a treatise on the mastery of literary form.51 Before setting out the form of a practice letter, Erasmus tells us, the teacher should explain the story in as much detail as necessary, specifying its main turning-points, the distinctive characteristics of the persons involved, and the like. He must be sure that sources are available from which the students may draw topics or supporting proofs and guide them to the passages in the classical authors where these topics are treated, at the same time pointing out the wealth of classical commonplaces - proverbs, sayings, maxims, similes, or metaphors - that would be apt for the subject. But he warns that the teacher should not give so exhaustive a treatment of the subject that he leaves nothing for the students to do. He should point out the type of theme, explain the divisions generally belonging to the particular type, review the main arguments, and point the moral. He should then show some methods of composing the exordium, various types of openings that may be used, and propositions that can be employed in building the argumentation. And for all these 'the instructor will provide his pupils with a varied store of subject-matter' (33-4 below) - reminding us of the stunning demonstrations of De copia. Also, as in De copia, Erasmus advocates the use of recantations, 'arguing against what they have just proposed' (43 below). At

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times, 'to sharpen their wits [the teacher] should propose disagreeable subjects. One might be asked, for instance, to defend poverty, exile, ingratitude, illness, contempt of study, neglect of language, or tyranny, or to argue that an old man should marry an old woman or bring home a lewd wife. For nothing is so inherently good that it cannot be made to seem bad by a gifted speaker. By such practice both fluency and readiness in speaking on any topic will be acquired' (145-6 below). In every stage of the pupils' work their assignments must be painstakingly corrected, not only for obvious mistakes but for ungainly, vulgar, or wooden words, inelegant figures of speech, defective rhythms, and weak passages. Yet teachers should not censure everything at once but different things at different times so as not to discourage students or make them hate study. Things that cannot be tolerated should be corrected gently but scrupulously; defects that can somehow be tolerated must either be ignored for the time being or, with a word of praise for the student's ability, changed for the better' (39 below). The good teacher should single out individual students for approval of what is cleverly stated or handled, and explain the basis for his approval. At other times he might have one pupil read his exercise aloud while the rest take note of the criticisms he makes. But students should always be praised for whatever attributes they have. 'Such apportioning of praise and blame will ensure that no one give up hope in himself or looks down on someone else; in addition, a sense of rivalry is stirred up among them' (40 below). Some will need private help and encouragement and all will respond to small prizes suitable for children. At all cost they should be discouraged from rote memorization and encouraged rather to look for general meaning. They should also be encouraged to keep notebooks for vocabulary, apt illustrations, quotations, and points of grammar. And the teacher should constantly take them back over work already done to note points of vocabulary, grammar, phrasing, rhetorical embellishment, and harmony. In these ways the effect of rote memory will be achieved but the material will be more usefully fixed in their minds.52 THE PUPIL Although Erasmus consistently advocated starting the education of children at a very early age, he never quite specifies the age - which is itself consistent with his advocacy of a highly personalized education. He asserts in one place that even at the time of conception 'parents should begin to think seriously of their child's education rather than wait until he is nine or even, as many do, until he is sixteen years old' (CWE 26 315); in another that 'we can never begin too soon with something that can never be finished' (CWE 26 343). In yet another passage he cites the example of ancient times when

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'boys were sent from their nurse to school' (34 below).53 The principle for Erasmus is that instruction should begin at the earliest point at which a child can benefit from it: ideally 'as soon as a child is born, he is ready for instruction in right conduct and, as soon as he is able to speak, he is ready for learning his letters' (CWE 26 319). The precise age is not important; what is important is that instruction begin 'while his mind is still uncorrupted and free from distractions, while he is in his most formative and impressionable years, and while his spirit is still open to each and every influence and at the same time highly retentive of what it has grasped' (CWE 26 297). To those who would object that 'they are only children'(CWE 26 309) or that they are too weak to bear the rigours of study or that, in any case, the advantages of education in early childhood are negligible, Erasmus replies that the gains may indeed be small but that it is better for children to learn something than nothing54 - indeed, worse than nothing, for they may certainly learn indolence, gluttony, and self-indulgence from the pampering of well-meaning mothers and nurses and be corrupted by indecent servants.55 As to their weakness, it is not our intention to produce athletes, he says, but rather statesmen and philosophers: even if it were true that early exposure to learning has some detrimental effect, it will be outweighed by the great intellectual benefits that the child will receive.56 There is a related kind of objection that Erasmus deals with also - the argument that children are inherently evil. He notes that it was even talked about by the pagan writers with some perplexity, but 'it was left to Christian theology to teach the truth that since Adam, the first man of the human race, a disposition to evil has been deeply engrained in us. While this is indisputably man's condition, however, we cannot deny that the greater portion of this evil stems from corrupting relationships and a misguided education, especially as they affect our early and most impressionable years' (CWE 26 321). It is we, he says in a parallel passage, who corrupt young minds with evil before we expose them to good, and 'it is universally recognized that the unteaching of bad habits not only has to precede the teaching of good habits, but is also far more difficult' (CWE 26 312-13). There is here a fundamental view of Erasmus, not rejecting the doctrine of original sin, but playing it down. Human beings - even children - are the products not of nature but of habit, not of instinct but of training. Children are not the vessels of original sin; rather they are 'the temples of the Holy Spirit. They are the seed-beds from which will appear senators, magistrates, doctors, abbots, bishops, popes, and emperors. According to the teaching of St Paul, the younger their age the greater the respect due to them. Finally, they are the little ones, offenders against the least of whom Christ wished to see punished with the greatest possible severity' (CWE 26 383).

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It is the universal plaint of both pagan57 and Christian writers certainly of Erasmus - that parents ignore to their peril and the peril of society the education of their children. And in some of the most splendidly ironic passages of his educational writings, sounding one of their most familiar themes,58 Erasmus rails against those who spend endless time and money in the training of dogs, horses, servants, and in the amassing of estates, but for those who will inherit those estates, carry on their line, and assume their positions in society fail to provide an adequate education. 'It is a serious mistake/ he writes, 'to think that the character we are born with is all-determining. And it is an equally serious mistake to believe that we can become wise through practical experience, without the benefit of education' (CWE 26 311).59 'Education is that special task which has been entrusted to us' (CWE 26 301). Nature has given other qualities to other creatures swiftness, strength, keen eyesight. Man's great gift is the educability of his children. AIM AND PURPOSE

Erasmus aimed to present a system and a philosophy of education that would produce the kind of mature, sophisticated, classically educated person who had long been the ideal of humanist pedagogic theorizing. Equally, the person so educated was to have been educated for the service of God and of man. In De pronuntiatione/What greater service,' he asks, 'can you offer to Christianity' than the work of the teacher; 'what sacrifice could you offer more acceptable to God?' (CWE 26 377). In the opening passage of De civilitate he ranks the purposes of education: The task of fashioning the young is made up of many parts, the first and consequently the most important of which consists of implanting the seeds of piety in the tender heart; the second in instilling a love for, and thorough knowledge of, the liberal arts; the third in giving instruction in the duties of life; the fourth in training in good manners right from the very earliest years. (273 below)

Except for such statements of principle or priority and an occasional reference to scripture or Christian tradition the specifically Christian purpose of education is implicit rather than detailed in Erasmus' writings. The greater emphasis may seem at first to be upon training in the pagan classics, the stuff of humanism - so much emphasis indeed it seems an end in itself. Yet in terms of the higher purpose the classical training, for all its inherent importance, is actually presented as the linguistic, cultural, and ethical base for Christian understanding. In the Enchiridion Erasmus had

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written that 'literature shapes and invigorates the youthful character and prepares one marvellously well for understanding Holy Scripture.'60 Holy Scripture yes, but ultimately, through the understanding of Scripture, the understanding of Christ. Such understanding was often referred to by Erasmus in his famous phrase philosophia Christi, the philosophy of Christ. The complex of ideas associated with this deceptively simple phrase is very close to the centre of Erasmus' thought. Although, as we have noted above, he was constrained to accept the doctrine of original sin as a theological given, he refused to accept the corollary proposition of the total depravity of human nature. It was on this point that he had finally taken his public stand against Luther. Man's nature, in the view of Erasmus, was certainly flawed and corrupted from its pristine state, but not totally so. Man was still able to co-operate with God in the work of his own salvation. Such co-operation with God, however, was not to be through piety and inwardness alone. Rather it was to be a rational co-operation. If this was so, then the rational faculty in man had to be cultivated. And that faculty could only be cultivated through education. It was Erasmus' conviction that education had to be based upon the ancient classics because they represented the best examples of man's rational cultivation. But, more than that, they represented a part of God's plan worked out by the operative spirit of Christ for the Christian society that his Incarnation was to inaugurate. In the Antibarbari, one of Erasmus' earliest books, he wrote: 'Everything in the pagan world that was valiantly done, brilliantly said, ingeniously thought, diligently transmitted, had been prepared by Christ for his society. He it was who supplied the intellect, who added the zest for inquiry, and it was through him alone that they found what they sought/61 And a bit further on: 'None of the liberal disciplines is Christian, because they neither treat of Christ nor were invented by Christians; but they all concern Christ.'62 Margaret Mann Phillips, in the introductory note to her translation of the work for CWE 23, points out with her usual cogency that this 'belief that all that is good comes from God, and that the pre-Christian ages were inspired by the Holy Spirit for his own purposes, is the basis of Christian humanism and it was a sine qua non in the whole of Erasmus' work; here at the outset it is stated clearly.'63 From that early clear statement it becomes an informing leitmotiv of all his work and the essential element of the philosophia Christi. The philosophy of Christ was, for Erasmus, not so much revealed as acquired: and it was acquired, like any other philosophy, by study. 'Good books make good men!' By good books he meant not only Scripture but the bonae litterae of the classics; by good men he meant men not only illuminated by the truth of Christ but trained in the moral truth of his beloved ancients.

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Erasmus' debt to the ancient educational authorities is clear on virtually every page of his own educational writings. His debt to the great humanist educational authorities of the fifteenth century is less clear - certainly less explicit - but none the less real. He proudly tells us in the Compendium vitae that when his father Gerard was a young man studying and working as a humanist-copyist in Rome he had heard Guarino lecture.64 Erasmus himself as a student in Deventer was deeply impressed by Alexander Hegius, the rector of St Lebwin's school, who, along with Jan Synthen (again according to the Compendium vitae}, 'had begun to introduce something of a higher standard as literature.'65 The source of that higher standard was Italy and came into Hegius' school by way of the influence of his friend and teacher, the great Rodolphus Agricola.66 By the early years at Steyn Erasmus was thoroughly acquainted with the works of the leading Italian humanists. In one of the letters to his friend Cornelis Gerard he writes: 'And to pass to Italians, could anyone be a more devoted follower of the ancient style than Lorenzo Valla, or Filelfo? Or can Aeneas Silvius, Agostino Dati, Guarino, Poggio, and Gasparino be rivalled for eloquence? And nobody disputes that all these writers have survived almost to our own day.'67 After leaving his monastery Erasmus became more closely acquainted both with Italian humanists like Fausto Andrelini in Paris and his devoted friend Andrea Ammonio in London and with a host of Italianate French and English scholars. Then from the autumn of 1506 to the summer of 1509 he was himself in Italy, 'where the very walls are more scholarly and articulate than human beings are with us.'68 While he was later to amend somewhat this enthusiastic appraisal of Italy, he nevertheless made important and lasting friendships in Bologna, in Padua, in Venice among the circle of scholars of Aldus' household,69 and among the scholars and patrons of the papal court in Rome. By the decade of the 15205, his celebrity in the world of learning universally acknowledged, his acquaintances, both friends and enemies, supporters and detractors, included not only the leading literary spirits of the north but those of Italy as well. Of the Italian humanist educators Erasmus was especially fond of Valla; probably as early as 1489 he made an epitome of Valla's Elegantiae latinae linguae for some unknown schoolmaster to whom he had recommended it as the best source from which to teach Latin. Later in Paris he made a fuller paraphrase, and much later a still further version was printed.70 In 1516, for much the same reason, he translated and prepared a critical edition of the Greek grammar of Theodorus Gaza, who had been a student and colleague

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of Vittorino da Feltre at Mantua. Erasmus had already lectured on Gaza's grammar at Cambridge/1 and in De ratione studii had written that 'among the Greek grammarians everyone assigns first place to Theodorus Gaza.'72 Closer to his own time, Erasmus was an unabashed admirer of the Florentine humanist Angelo Poliziano. In the famous name list of the Ciceronianus he found no fault with him; on the contrary, he expressed the opinion 'that Angelo had a truly angelic intellect, that he was a rare miracle of nature, that he was capable of writing in whatever genre he chose/73 Indeed, in De conscribendis epistolis Poliziano is the only 'modern' author whose letters are substantially used as examples with those of Cicero and Pliny; Erasmus asks rhetorically, 'Why should we not compare [him] with any of the ancients?' (44 below). But Erasmus' admiration for Poliziano, as for Valla and Theodorus Gaza, is clearly exceptional. Much more typical is the sentiment he expresses following a listing of examples of 'modern' authorities in De ratione studii: 'But just as I admit that examples of the above sort are necessary, so I should like them to be very few, provided that they are of the best.'74'Even in the passage in De conscribendis epistolis where he compares Poliziano favourably 'with any of the ancients,' he nevertheless finds, in general, that 'thebest' are the ancients. The instructor, he says, 'must always begin with the most perfect. Therefore I should prefer that [students] be exposed to Pliny at once rather than to Francesco Negro, Giammario Filelfo (even if his father deserves some credit in his letters), Enea Silvio, Gasparino, Campano' (44 below). The pages of Erasmus' educational works, as of his letters, are dotted with the great names from the Italian humanist tradition - Petrarch, Boccaccio, Flavio Biondo, Poggio, Filelfo, and Ermolao Barbaro, Ficino and Pico and Constantinus Lascaris, even Chrysoloras. But there are some curious slights and omissions of the principal Italian Renaissance educational authorities and theorists. Vittorino da Feltre is not mentioned at all, nor are Maffeo Vegio or Pier Paolo Vergerio.75 Guarino da Verona, Leonardo Bruni, and Aeneas Silvius appear as general models of style with no specific reference to their important contributions to educational literature. It would be unsafe, however, to conclude from this that Erasmus was not familiar with their works. It is much safer and probably more accurate to conclude that the precepts and practices of the great humanist educators had passed into a general tradition of humanist education that was part of the intellectual heritage of Erasmus and his generation. To this conclusion must be added, of course, the fact that the earlier humanist educators based their theories and practices on precisely the same cluster of classical sources as did Erasmus: the common source was part of the common humanist educational tradition. Thus, while, as J.-C. Margolin has observed, 'il est difficile, et meme un peu

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vain, de determiner la part qui revient a chacun des ces auteurs ... qu'ils soient ou non cites par Erasme/76 it is clear that Erasmus was in the mainstream of Renaissance educational theory and was at one with it in a number of important respects. He shared totally, for example, the general humanist estimate that the end of education was action and its purpose to prepare children for their ultimate responsibilities to society. He also shared the essentially aristocratic bias that was built into the humanist educational tradition. Even the stress he laid upon the religious purpose of education can be attached to the tradition of pietas litterata that flowed down from the church Fathers through Vittorino, Ficino, Vergerio, and Barbaro.77 Erasmus shared as well the more immediate humanist educational aim of the mastery of eloquence, based upon a close study of the ancient orators and the theoreticians of oratory such as Quintilian and Cicero. He shared most of the earlier humanists' educational notions about nurture and habit formation and method, particularly those notions deriving from the standard ancient sources. He shared also their common advocacy of starting the schooling of children at as early an age as possible. He shared their predilection for moral philosophy over metaphysics as he did their preference for teaching it from aphorisms, the sayings of famous men, and the texts of such standard classical moralists as Plutarch, Cicero, and Seneca. On the matters of the qualifications of the teacher and the role of parents in the selection of the teacher - and the frequent parental abdication of that responsibility - the correspondence between Erasmus' prescriptions and those of his Italian predecessors is so exact that they had clearly become commonplaces. Erasmus echoes the same words and phrases, uses the same examples - Philip of Macedonia choosing Aristotle to be Alexander's tutor, Pliny and Aemilius Paulus overseeing the work of the classroom - criticizes parents who pay their grooms or jesters or trumpeters more handsomely than their children's teacher, and joins the nearly universal opposition to corporal punishment of school children.78 The earlier Italians were as indecisive as Erasmus was whether private tuition or communal schools were to be preferred. While on the foregoing matters and others Erasmus was in agreement with the humanist educational tradition, in other important areas he dissented from it. One of the sharpest points of disagreement was over the question of physical training as a part of formal education. The earlier Italian writers had almost without exception advocated not only regular physical exercise for school children but organized physical education, and for older children systematic military exercise and drill. Italian educational tracts had to some extent been an outgrowth of earlier tracts on courtly life and chivalry, which

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included the noble profession of arms. This tradition culminated in Castiglione's The Courtier. But even the Italian humanists did not shake free of it: some, like Guarino, Vittorino, and Aeneas Silvius, wrote specifically for the sons of rulers; other civic humanists like Bruni and Alberti added the concept of the citizen's responsibility for the armed defence of his city. Erasmus, of course, rejected the entire chivalric tradition, and his deeply ingrained pacifism made him reject any version of the profession of arms. Even though he too posited a societal aim for his philosophy of education, he drew the line at military training, even at organized physical exercise. It was the business of education, and of educators and parents, to ensure the health and physical well-being of children, even to encourage play and games; but it was likewise the business of education to make statesmen and philosophers, not athletes, and certainly not warriors. The difference between Erasmus and his Italian predecessors on this point is conveniently expressed in two otherwise remarkably parallel passages. Vergerio, in his De ingenuis moribus, advises: 'so soon as [a boy] be able to use his limbs let him be trained to arms; so soon as he can rightly speak let him be trained to letters';79 Erasmus, in De pueris instituendis, recommends: 'as soon as a child is born, he is ready for instruction in right conduct, and as soon as he is able to speak, he is ready for learning his letters.'80 Erasmus also rejected or ignored the other trappings of courtly life that so often appeared in the works of the Italian educators - the cultivation of gracefulness and courtesy as opposed simply to civil manners, the cult of the hunt, even music, which played so prominent a role in the Italian treatises.81 A related point is of some interest. The Italian humanist educators had all tended to stress the importance of history - to them as to Erasmus, of course, classical history was meant. The Italians saw history not only as a source of moral lessons but as a source of political wisdom and example, and as a school of government. Erasmus professed the same admiration for history. In a passage from De ratione studii, for example, in which he is discussing the explication of the ancient poets, he writes: The nature and essence of everything must be grasped, especially since it is from this source that they are accustomed to draw their similes, epithets, comparisons, images, metaphors, and other rhetorical devices of that kind. Above all, however, history must be grasped. Its application is very widespread and not confined to the poets.'82 In fact, while he did not confine its application to the poets, he did confine it almost entirely to moral philosophy. He was content to regard the great classical historians simply as further instances of the treasures of ancient literature and to mine them for examples either of style or, more often, of philosophy teaching morality by example.

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To a much greater extent than the received tradition of the earlier Renaissance writers on education Erasmus' educational theory and programme were formed by his own experience of education and his acute observation of the social and educational practices of his own time. Indeed, personal experience and personal observation may be said to constitute a more formative influence on Erasmus' educational thought than anything except the authority of the ancients. As we have noted, Erasmus was proud of the fact that his father, Gerard, had heard Guarino lecture in Italy. He tells us that Gerard had a good knowledge of both Greek and Latin, that he had studied law, and that he had copied all the classical authors with his own hand.83 The learned young priest of Gouda was also solicitous of his son's liberal education and when Erasmus was scarcely more than four years old sent him to a grammar school where, as he tells us, he made little progress. Part of the fault may well have lain with the incompetent schoolmaster, Pieter Winckel.84 When Erasmus was seven or eight, Gerard secured a place for him in the famous cathedral choir school at Utrecht. But this opportunity came to nothing, for what reason we do not know.85 Then, when Erasmus was nine, he and his brother Pieter were enrolled at the cathedral school of St Lebwin's in Deventer. He tells us 'his mother went with him as guardian and guide of his tender years.'86 When he was fourteen or fifteen, his mother died in Deventer of the plague. His father died shortly afterwards in Gouda, and Erasmus' Tliad of woes'87 began. But in the meantime his education had also begun. When years later in De pueris instituendis and De pronuntiatione Erasmus wrote of the responsibility of parents, especially fathers, for the oversight of their sons' education and of the example they should set of learning and right conduct, it is not unlikely he was thinking, in part, of his own father, who was clearly a role model for him, whether Erasmus was quite aware of it or not. In the Catalogus lucubrationum (1523-4) he said that as a boy he was 'carried away by some secret natural impulse to good letters/88 It is much more likely that this powerful impulse was the imitation of his father's learning. It is likely too that the glimpse we get of his mother's care for him in accompanying the young brothers to their school in Deventer and setting up a home for them there is part of the model of parental love and nurture he always advocated so strongly as the essential precondition for good education. But, with all his parents' best efforts, Erasmus, in his own estimation, received only an indifferent education; indeed, on occasion he refers to his

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early experiences at Gouda and Deventer and later at 's-Hertogenbosch as specific examples of bad education. He recalled, in De concribendis epistolis, 'that when as a boy of fourteen I wrote to one of my tutors, who had taught me when I was even younger, and included some quotations from books that I had read, the impudent rogue, whose arrogance matched his ignorance, wrote in reply that if I intended to send such letters in the future I should include a commentary. He said that it had always been his habit to write clearly and "punctiliously"' (16 below).89 The man was probably Pieter Winckel, who had been Erasmus' teacher in the grammar school at Gouda, and his ignorance and insensitivity mark him as a model for Erasmus' many scathing denunciations of such teachers. His school may well have been one of those 'torture chambers' Erasmus so often condemned. In fact, his selfadmitted poor progress in the school may have been due as much to the brutality of the setting as to the incompetence of the teacher. 'No wonder children come to hate learning!' But the incident that confirmed Erasmus in his lifelong hatred of school punishments occurred some years later at the Brethren School at 's-Hertogenbosch, where he and Pieter had been sent by their guardians - one of whom was Pieter Winckel - following their parents' deaths. The school there was poor, the grade level was below that which Erasmus at least had attained at Deventer, and what instruction he did get was probably only occasional tutorial help from the house repetitor. There was, however, one tutor 'who was much struck by the boy's gifts' and who encouraged him.90 But this man, as Erasmus recalled in De pueris instituendis, 'wishing to ascertain for himself how well I could stand up to the rod,' ... 'charged me with an offence I had never even dreamed of committing and then flogged me. This incident destroyed all love of study within me and flung my young mind into such a deep depression that I nearly wasted away with heart-break.' When the man came to his senses for Erasmus admits that he was neither insensitive, ignorant, nor usually malicious - he realized the mistake he had made and confided to his friends: 'I almost destroyed his character before I had learned to understand it' (CWE 26 326). Erasmus never forgot this incident and never ceased to inveigh against such barbarities. Indeed, there is no topic in all his educational writings that has more of Erasmus himself in it. He is virtually obsessed with it. It is the main theme, for example, of the illustrations of rhetorical dilation in De pueris instituendis, where the account of the incident at 's-Hertogenbosch just cited is followed by a fuller description of an incident that occurred some years later. It involved an otherwise unidentified professor of theology whose conviction it was that the whip 'was the only way to humble high spirits and check youthful waywardness' and who never dined without having 'one or

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two boys brought forward to be flogged/ In the particular case Erasmus himself observed that when 'I was once sitting beside him/ the boy chosen for punishment was only ten years old and had just entered the school. He was accused altogether falsely of 'wanton misbehaviour' and turned over to the prefect, who beat the child until he was 'almost on the point of fainting' so that he might be humbled, 'yes, "humbled" was the word he used' (CWE 26 327). The report of the third incident is much longer and more elaborate. It is a shocking little vignette of sadistic terrorism which Erasmus says he himself would never have believed had he not known personally 'both the young victim and the perpetrator of the outrage/ Again the victim is a child, a twelve-year-old boy, who had filth forced down his throat until he was compelled to swallow it, then was strung up by ropes under his arms as thieves are in Germany and 'savagely beaten on all sides until he nearly died/ Erasmus provides, in the same passage, an almost equally terrifying sketch of the schoolmaster in a frenzy of hatred and anger, like a very 'demon from hell/ Nor, Erasmus tells us, was this the only such incident. 'As long as the boy lived at the schoolmaster's house, no day would go by but that he would be beaten at least once or twice/ The reason for this savage treatment, Erasmus further explains, was the master's belief that the boy was guilty of a series of malicious pranks actually committed by his own nephew, a fact that came to light much later. In the meantime the tormented victim's father 'had been led to believe that his son was spending his time with a pious and conscientious teacher' (CWE 26 329-30). Flogging schoolmasters are not the only targets of Erasmus' hatred for the abuse of children. In De pronuntiatione, in speaking of the Brethren Schools, he accuses their teachers of being primarily interested in recruiting boys, especially talented or well-to-do boys, for their own and other religious orders, pressing them, prodding them, constantly buffeting them 'with alternate blandishments, threats, bugbears, appeals, and horror stories/ Lion asks, 'Do such things really happen?' to which Bear replies, 'I am not imagining them. I have been describing my own experiences/ Erasmus continues, in the guise of Lion, to tell how he himself as a boy of fourteen was subjected to such pressures, even to the threat of exorcism.91 In a passage in De pueris instituendis he deplores the savage practices of hazing for beginning students in public schools, which he characterizes as 'initiation ceremonies fit for executioners, torturers, pimps, thieving Carians, or galley-slaves/ but not for students. And he deplores the countenancing of such practices by school authorities in the name of custom, 'as though an evil custom were not simply a deeply embedded error, which ought to be stamped out more energetically the more widely it prevails' (CWE 26 331). In the Institutio christiani matrimonii he tells of a widowed young

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mother drilling her daughter, not yet five years old, in the artificial forms of courtly address and response and repeatedly striking her down senseless. 'I have seen this child nearly suffocate trying to choke back her sobs and check her tears in the face of her mothers's threat/ The violence of the sort that shone out of this little girl's eyes is like those who have been terrified by a ghost, their tears congealed and a look of madness on their faces.'92 This theme is never far from Erasmus' mind in his criticisms of current educational practices as he observed them, both in society at large and in institutions of learning. But to return to Erasmus' own experience, his schooling at St Lebwin's in Deventer was, at best, only a respectable beginning of instruction in Latin, which was little if any improved at 's-Hertogenbosch. More than half a century later his friend Beatus Rhenanus would write of him that 'except for the rudiments, he may clearly be called "self-taught" in letters,'93 This seems very likely to have been precisely the case. The process was still going on through his years at Steyn, as is evident from the surviving letters, and even later at the University of Paris. But in Paris, especially from 1496 to 1499, Erasmus was compelled to become concerned not only with teaching himself but, for the first time, with teaching others. At Steyn he had enjoyed the pose of educational adviser to his fellow monks of literary bent and continued to play the role with such friends as Cornelis Gerard and Jacob Batt. But after his return to Paris in 1496, following his severing relations with the College de Montaigu, Erasmus was forced to take private, tutorial pupils to supplement his meagre income - the brothers Christian and Heinrich Northoff of Liibeck, the Englishmen Thomas Grey, Robert Fisher, William Blount Lord Mount]oy, and probably others as well. He had to come to grips with the practical problems of pedagogy. He came to realize what poor stuff was available as texts and student handbooks and, as a substitute, he searched back into his own experience of self-instruction and began to formalize it. This process was of extraordinary importance in the development of his educational thought.94 Many of his later educational writings began to be formulated, proposed, or mentioned during this time. The first edition of the Adagia, which almost certainly was suggested by his own practice of note-taking, he dedicated to Lord Mount]oy in 1500, and it was intended as an aid for him or some of Erasmus' other pupils in 'searching for greater elegance and more refined style/95 The earliest form of the Colloquia was 'a few daily conversational sentences such as we use on meeting each other at table'96 which Erasmus prepared for the use of the Northoff brothers, little dialogues as samples of good spoken Latin. The original version of De conscribendis epistolis was dedicated to Robert Fisher in 1498. Erasmus was at work revising it, proposing to dedicate it to Jacob Batt's pupil

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Adolph van Veere the following year, and later that year he sent a copy of this revised version to Mountjoy.97 It was the same with the earliest version of De copia, which he was proposing to dedicate to Batt and Adolph jointlh the spring of 1499 but was still working on a year later.98 The 'ordered course of study7 that was later published as De ratione studii was written for Thomas Grey in 1497," as was the briefer programme laid out in a letter to Christian Northoff which appeared as an example of the letter of advice in the final version of De conscribendis epistolis.100 All of Erasmus' pupils at this time were regular students at the University of Paris at various stages in various curricula. Heinrich Northoff appears to have had a BA from some university before coming to Paris and received his MA there in 1497.101 Fisher must also have been an advanced student since he left for Italy in 1498 to pursue a doctorate in law.102 And Mountjoy had apparently attended Cambridge before coming to Paris.103 All of them were young, none out of their teens. The Northoff brothers were boarding students with Augustinus Vincentius. Both Grey and Fisher were still under the supervision of a guardian. And even Mountjoy, who was nineteen when Erasmus met him, was accompanied by a preceptor, the Cambridge Fellow Richard Whitford. There is no evidence that any of his students sought tutorial help from Erasmus with their regular university courses or that he was concerned to provide it. They were interested rather in improving their command of colloquial humanistic Latin, not only to tap the leading intellectual fashion of the time, but in order to get along better in the academic or the professional world. All this worked to focus Erasmus' attention upon the pre- and non-university education in practical eloquence and 'good letters' - especially for teenagers. It was a focus Erasmus never lost in his later educational writings. He was not interested in university teaching. Though he moved constantly through the fringes of the European academic community - Paris, Oxford, Cambridge, Bologna, Padua, Basel, Louvain - he held institutional academic appointments only twice, a loose affiliation with the University of Louvain in 1504 and a Cambridge lectureship from 1511 to 1514. Both were taken under some duress, and the years at Cambridge especially were filled with grumbling about his colleagues and his duties. It was not so much a matter of hostility to university programmes, although he was certainly critical enough of them; it was rather that he considered university studies professional in nature, to be entered upon ideally after the kind of secondary schooling or tutorial instruction he advocated. 'After foundations like this have been laid for [the student]/ he says in De pronuntiatione, 'and he has reached the age of sixteen or seventeen, he will choose his own line of study and interest for himself, the one he feels best suited to his own nature' (CWE 26 388). Thus, instead of

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pushing his interest forward to a concern about university education and curriculum, Erasmus pushed it steadily backward even to a concern, as in De pueris instituendis and elsewhere, for the education of the very young, beginning students. But the centre of all his educational writings was to be the adolescent years and what we would today call upper primary and secondary education. This interest was greatly furthered by another set of personal involvements, Erasmus' association with John Colet's school. Colet had been appointed dean of St Paul's in 1504, and in 1510, as part of his effort to reform the chapter, he used his own sizeable family fortune to re-endow the cathedral school. He and Erasmus must have talked often of their common ideas about education and about Colet's plans. It is evident that Erasmus' ideas on the subject had had their effect upon Colet. Writing in the autumn of 1511 to Erasmus, who was at Cambridge, and acknowledging the receipt of a letter-draft of De ratione studii,104 Colet says, 'When I came to the passage at the end of your epistle where you claim the ability to bring youths to a reasonable command of expression, in both Latin and Greek, in fewer years than the conventional pedagogue requires to teach them to mangle the language, then how I longed to have you, Erasmus, as a teacher in my school!' It was a subject Colet had obviously broached before: and Erasmus had declined. In the next passage in the same letter Colet, accepting that he could not have Erasmus as a teacher, nevertheless remains hopeful 'that you may lend me some assistance, if only in training my teachers.'105 This was a more congenial task and one upon which Erasmus, indeed, had already entered with considerable enthusiasm. As he preferred to be the theologian's theologian, he preferred to be the teacher's teacher. One teacher had already been chosen, the humanist William Lily, and he was shortly made high master. Erasmus had been asked by Colet to look for a surmaster for the school and was making inquiries.106 Colet, perhaps on Erasmus' advice, had already rejected a grammar prepared for the school by the distinguished English humanist scholar Thomas Linacre.107 Lily then, at Colet's request, prepared another grammar which Colet pressed Erasmus to 'correct/ The correction resulted in such a complete revision that Lily refused to claim the work and Erasmus was too embarrassed to do so. It appeared 'without an author, recommended only by Colet in a short preface.'108 De ratione studii, which Erasmus sent Colet in manuscript, was just such a manual for training teachers as Colet had requested of him. To the same end Erasmus was intending to include a version oj De pueris instituendis in De copia, which he had in hand once more. For some reason - perhaps it was growing too long De pueris was not included, but the massive De copia was finished specifically as a textbook, dedicated to Colet in a warm and affectionate letter in the

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spring of 1512, and printed by Bade in Paris that summer.109 In the same edition were reprinted five short poems, the Carmina scholaria, which had been written specifically for St Paul's school and printed by Robert de Keysere in 1511. They may even have been reproduced on the walls of the classrooms in conjunction with a statue of the child Jesus. Of the same sort was the devotional piece Concio de puero lesu a puero in schola Coletica nuper Londini instituta pronuncianda.110 Colet, even more than Erasmus, was convinced that the end purpose of education was piety and the service of God. The ideas about education which had first clustered in Erasmus' thought in the late 14905 and then in his enthusiasm about Colet's school between 1510 and 1514 ran straight through to his educational works of the 1520s. And personal anecdote and example continued to enliven those writings. As an illustration of the importance of a sound knowledge of classical form, Erasmus relates in De conscribendis epistolis how on one occasion he wrote a letter to Thomas Linacre 'in trochaic tetrameters, but with their arrangement so contrived that a casual reader might not suspect that it was verse.' Linacre did not suspect this donnish trick until Erasmus pointed it out to him (16 below). Later in the same work, in illustrating the point that teachers must allow students to stretch their capabilities, Erasmus tells how, when he was tutor of rhetoric in Italy to Alexander Stuart, 'he asked me to point out only the chief propositions and leave the rest of the invention to him.' Erasmus complied, he says, but 'later, when I pointed out how many things had eluded him or were out of place, he swallowed his pride and acknowledged how far he still was from the goal' (43 below). In a passage in De pueris instituendis where he charges many parents with ignoring the education, even the well-being, of their children and with thinking that they do enough 'to bring [them] into the world and to shower them with riches,' he says, 'I know eminent citizens of whose numerous children scarcely one has escaped unscathed: one child, for instance, is being consumed by the horrible affliction euphemistically called the "French pox," and drags himself about as a living corpse; another burst his bowels during a drinking bout; and a third, while on a nocturnal prowl for prostitutes, his face hidden by a mask, was ignominiously stabbed to death' (CWE 26 307). De conscribendis epistolis contains a completely gratuitous little epistola iocosa concerning life at court and the kind of behaviour advisable for the would-be courtier, for, Erasmus says, 'let it be known that from boyhood right up to my fiftieth year I have served in the courts of princes/ The advice that follows is on a par with the irony of the Moria. 'Do not imagine anyone to be your true friend/ he writes, 'and do not yourself be anyone's true friend/ 'Be very lavish of those services which cost you

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nothing. Give unctuous greetings and embraces, step aside, bare your head, repeat continually honorific and endearing titles, bestow abundant praise, make generous promises.' These are the rudiments of courtly philosophy, for which no one will be fitted unless he has first wiped away all sense of shame, and leaving his natural expression behind at home, has put on a mask, as it were/ 'Flatter even buffoons/ he continues, who are in the good graces of your master: outdo others in praising him - the word will get back to him. 'Always be your own best friend. When it is a question of property, you must cheat even your father/ So much for the vita au/z'ca.111 V

Such personal allusions, illustrations, and anecdotes gave an intriguing verisimilitude to Erasmus' educational works that caught the interest of harried masters and laggard schoolboys alike. His gracefulness of style and variety of rhetorical invention were models of the very ends most desired by his readers, and his easy mastery of the ancient authorities made an instant appeal to an increasingly broad segment of society to whom such mastery was tantamount to education itself. Whether or not Erasmus is to be considered, as R.R. Bolgar flatly claims, 'the greatest man we come across in the history of education,'112 by the decade of the 15205 he had become the leading spokesman for the cause of humanistic education in Europe. In his lifetime that cause was won in the north of Europe, as earlier it had been in Italy. And Erasmus was the leading figure in the victory. His life had spanned the coming of Renaissance humanism to the north from the time of Agricola and Hegius in his youth to his own acclamation as the prince of humanists some fifty years later. It was a generation of chaotic growth and change, in education as in society generally. In the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, as never before, education was opening the way to preferment for ambitious people.113 One of the topoi that recurs in Erasmus' educational writings is that of the mature man pestering a teacher, even threatening him, to make him learned quickly by some arcane method. There were even advocates of such methods, and Erasmus is scornful of them in the colloquy Ars notoria and elsewhere: throughout his educational writings he stresses that there is no easy way.114 But the old and the young crowded every institution of learning, at every level. Traditional universities were nearly swamped as greater numbers of ever younger and often less well prepared students sought and gained admission.115 The colleges, most of them founded for the professional religious, were crowded with lay boarders, and advanced students in the professional courses were pressed into service for tutorial help - as was Erasmus at Paris in the late 1490s - even

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sometimes as teachers in the arts course. There were reforms, controversies, and conflicts between secular and religious purposes, traditional and humanistic programmes. There was the same explosion of demand for education in grammar schools, monastic and cathedral schools, lay religious schools, and municipal schools. Demand created supply, and schools of every sort were opened, often by those with little or no qualification - one of the themes that runs through Erasmus' educational works. There were good schools, of course, older establishments such as Hegius' school at Deventer where Erasmus himself had been a student, the school of Selestat presided over by Sapidus, or the Strasbourg school that prospered under the influence of Jakob Wimpfeling; there were new and innovative schools such as the Collegium Trilingue which Erasmus helped establish in Louvain,"6 the newly founded grammar school attached to Magdalen College, Oxford, Corpus Christi College, or Colet's school at St Paul's. But whether good or bad, old or new, schools were crowded. Even Colet's school provided for 153 students to be taught by only three masters the chaplain being pressed into service for the most elementary instruction, in addition to the high master and surmaster.117 Instruction - mainly oral instruction - for all three classes was carried on in a single, large, round room with tiered seats, the classrooms consisting of quadrants of the circle, separated only by curtains that might be drawn or not. The din must have been fearful and the wear and tear on scholars and masters alike nearly paralysing. In good schools, such as St Paul's, efforts were made to curb the roughness and disorderliness of students and to bring an end to such practices as cock-fighting and rowdy processions. Students were, however, almost universally regarded as a social problem - like unruly apprentices and a source of concern to law-abiding folk. There were growing demands for stricter regulation and more effective discipline. The one demand produced the statutes of reform in college after college and in countless schools; the other produced a sharp increase in corporal punishment, usually flogging - poena scholastica as it was euphemistically termed.118 We have already noted Erasmus' horror at this practice. And, although the enlightened humaneness of his views on school discipline was not to become universally adopted, his views on the screening of teachers, curriculum reform, and methodology were. He lived to see his notions of curriculum, as well as his ideas about the qualifications of teachers, widely accepted. By the end of the sixteenth century both the separation of classes and the gradation of subject-matter had become normal practice.More and better reference works and textbooks (Erasmus' own included) and the practices of in-

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dividual study and silent reading had their effect upon the noisy chaos of the typical classroom. Even in spite of the bitter division produced by the Reformation and the condemnation of Erasmus by both Protestant and Catholic zealots, the influence of his educational ideas continued to be predominant in the schools and in the educational theories of both camps, and, of course, among the purely humanistic thinkers who continued to be concerned with matters of education.119 In his beloved Basel, following the death of the zealous Protestant leader Oecolampadius, Erasmus' friend the lawyer and humanist Bonifacius Amberbach was appointed rector of the university and instituted a programme of essentially Erasmian reform there to make Basel the premier university of Switzerland through the sixteenth century and beyond.120 Erasmus' influence at Oxford and Cambridge continued to be felt, especially in the formal study of Greek and through the influence of Fisher and More. More's protege John Clement was the first lecturer in Greek at Corpus Christi. Erasmus' sometime friend and the one-time pupil of Colet, Thomas Lupset, was the first lecturer there in 'humanity.' The second was Erasmus' admiring young friend, the Spanish humanist Juan Luis Vives. Vives, himself a powerfully original educational theorist, was deeply influenced by Erasmus' views. This was the case also with Erasmus' slightly younger contemporary, Sir Thomas Elyot, the great English popularizer of humanistic education, who reproduced the matter of Erasmus'De ratione studii and De pueris instituendis 'almost without change in book i of The Governour/*21 Such borrowing was still going on in Elizabethan times in such works as Roger Ascham's The Scholemaster, in which Ascham calls Erasmus 'the honor of learning of all our time.'122 In France even the great Hellenist Guillaume Bude, Te plus grand Grec de 1'Europe,'123 could not entirely escape the influence of Erasmus upon his educational ideas. We catch Erasmian echoes in such works as his dialogue De philologia (1530), his De transitu hellenismi ad Christianismum (1534), his vernacular De I'institution du prince (1547), and in his role in persuading Francis i to found the Corporation of the Royal Readers that was to become the College de France.124 Erasmus was more directly influential in the educational reforms of Claude Baduel at Nimes in 1540 and still more so in the educational writings of the itinerant humanist schoolmaster Maturin Cordier,125 though both Baduel and Cordier owed much also to the educational reforms going on in Protestant Germany and Strasbourg. Those educational reforms, in their turn, owed much to Erasmus. In the early years of the Reformation in Germany Luther was not much concerned with matters of formal education. His own experience led him to dislike

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traditional schools, and he hoped that 'the word of God' preached from Lutheran pulpits and pious home training in reformed Lutheran households would suffice to inform people of his new dispensation. But this did not occur, and Luther, along with other Lutheran leaders such as Bugenhagen, had to become more directly concerned with a Lutheran education. The leading figure in this effort was to be Luther's friend and associate Philippus Melanchthon, who would be justly called 'the preceptor of Germany.' In 1524 Melanchthon was invited to draw up a plan of school reform for the city of Nurnberg. In 1525 he supervised the organization of a Latin school in Luther's home town of Eisleben. In 1527 he visited the schools of Thuringia. In the following year he headed a visitation of Saxony and on the basis of his findings published a school plan that was enacted into law.126 For the next thirty years he continued his work of reforming Lutheran education, from the common day-school to the university, in Lutheran states and cities and in country villages. By the end of the century there were more than a hundred Schulordnungen in effect in Lutheran Germany, nearly all of them based on the work of Melanchthon.127 Lutheran educational reform came down solidly on the side of public schools, authorized, funded, supervised, and controlled by the state. In 1529 Luther himself wrote, in his preface to a work by Justus Menius on domestic economy: 'No, my dear fellow. If you have a child fit to be trained, don't imagine that you are free to raise him as you please, nor to set him on any path of life that happens to suit you. Your task is to help God in his benevolent effort to advance his [spiritual and secular] realms.'128 In the following year, in 'A Sermon Arguing that Children Should Go to School/ he spoke of 'schools where children are trained in the liberal arts, in Christian discipline, and in the performance of faithful service to God, and where ... [they] are raised to become responsible men and women who can govern churches, countries, people, households, children, and servants.'129 Almost an exact reprise of the purposes Erasmus set out for education intellectual, religious, and societal. What was changed were not the purposes but the terms of the discourse and the emphasis. The state to be served was, of course, the new Lutheran magisterial state which had become institutionalized by the late 15203; the God whose service was enjoined was the God defined by the now almost completed Lutheran theology. The emphasis was most changed of all. For what Luther and Melanchthon proposed and then carried into effect was less a system of education such as Erasmus advocated than a system of indoctrination that would use education to instil a sectarian religious system. Indeed this was the most powerful impetus in the whole Lutheran educational reform. As Gerald Strauss puts it: Tied to the academic curriculum on the one hand and the divine service -

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preaching, confession, catechism practice - on the other, religious instruction took up a considerable portion of the pupils' day. Quantitatively it came to a major portion, and qualitatively it constituted the heart, of the Latin and vernacular curricula.' 13° From the village day school to the university primary emphasis was placed upon specifically religious training. The orthodoxy of teachers became as important a consideration as their academic competence. Both the orthodoxy of teachers and their academic competence, as well as the progress of their students, were constantly under review by a process of state supervision, regular visitation, and quarterly examinations by official inspectors, all enshrined in voluminous and carefully maintained official reports. These visitors inspected school facilities, attendance records, student progress - with an eye to particularly good students who might be sent on to higher studies - the teacher's beliefs and behaviour, even rumour or gossip about him and his family, and about the families of students. Such stifling repression was clearly not humanistic and certainly not Erasmian in model or origin. As to the lesser and more purely educational purposes of education, however, this was by no means the case. The reformers turned to the received tradition of humanistic educational thought and practice and to Erasmus, who exemplified that tradition for Lutheran and non-Lutheran alike. Melanchthon was a humanist who remained a humanist even as he became a reformer. He had been and remained, moreover, a staunch admirer of Erasmus/31 and, despite the contretemps of the mid-i52os between Luther and Erasmus on the question of free will, despite even the continuing Lutheran vilification of Erasmus on other grounds, Erasmus' educational ideas and works remained an important influence in the Lutheran educational model. Such of Melanchthon's educational writings as De artibus liberalibus (1517), De corrigendis adolescentiae studiis (1518), and In laudem novae scholae (1526) clearly owed as much to Erasmus as to Luther.132 Several of Erasmus' books were included in the prescribed reading lists, including De civilitate, De conscribendis epistolis, and even some of the simpler colloquies which students 'will find conducive to their improvement and discipline.'133 Most of the standard ancient authors recommended by Erasmus were also recommended by Melanchthon who was as partial to Terence, for example, as Erasmus was. In a prefatory letter to an edition of Terence in 1545 he argued in a quite Erasmian manner that reading of both tragedies and comedies was useful to young people in inculcating morality, demonstrating the uses of eloquence, even teaching political lessons.134 For beginning students Melanchthon recommended the Disticha Catonis - perhaps in Erasmus' edition, though it is not specified and for more advanced students such Erasmian favourites as the Elegantiae of Valla and the letters of Poliziano.

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While the rigour and system of Lutheran education went well beyond Erasmus' conception, many of his specific assumptions and prescriptions were taken over. The argument, made most explicitly in De pueris instituendis, that the education of children should begin as early as possible was enthusiastically endorsed by the Lutheran educators: the usual age for commencing primary school was six or seven. The corollary idea of rudis massa, the notion that the unformed matter of the child's intellect can be formed by training into whatever is desired, was a powerfully attractive idea and accorded extraordinarily well with the reformers' concept of education as indoctrination.135 In terms of actual pedagogical practice the Lutherans adopted the Erasmian ideas of the grouping of students by ability, the desirability of competition among student peers, the technique of constant practice and repetition with its companion notion of careful and detailed explication of texts by the teachers, the idea of learning by game playing and the employment of all sorts of ingenious devices, along with the notion of reinforcement by reward rather than punishment. For the Lutheran theorists were as firmly against corporal punishment as Erasmus was. Nearly all Schulordnungen had explicit rules against it, and, although in practice the birch and the rod were likely to occupy their old place in the classroom, they were no longer sanctioned by theory. Many of Erasmus' ideas about teachers were also adopted, ideas about their training, credentials, selection, and support. Nevertheless, while there were some teachers who were famous and well paid, the great mass of them continued to live in poverty, figures of ridicule and contempt, cheated by grasping parents and unsupported by local boards, looking bleakly to comfortless old age. Lutheran governments struggled continually with this problem but with only indifferent success. Strauss quotes a woebegone local schoolmaster complaining to the duke of Wurtemberg that he was unable to afford more than a half measure of wine with his Sunday meal: Ts there a stable groom in Your Grace's duchy who doesn't have his daily cup of wine?'136 Erasmus had made this same unhappy comparison time after time in his educational writings. In some areas, such as physical training and exercise, the Lutheran school theorists were even less concerned than Erasmus, in others more so, as, for example, in the emphasis upon regular musical training at every level of instruction, hymn-singing in particular. It is likely, by the way, that the Lutheran hymns were among the most effective of all devices, even including daily drill in catechism, for introducing religious teachings. In other Protestant centres outside Lutheran Germany the line of Erasmian influence was somewhat more direct. In Zurich in 1523 Zwingli like Melanchthon a great admirer of Erasmus - wrote his principal tract on education, Quo pacto ingenui adolescentes formandi sint, which was little more

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than a compendium of Erasmian ideas. In the same year, as part of his effort to force down the roots of his doctrine, he reformed the school attached to the Zurich great Munster along fairly common humanistic lines, although the upper school, which he called the Theological College, was less humanistic and more evangelical in its programme.137 Shortly afterwards in Strasbourg Martin Bucer, also a great admirer of Erasmus and more dedicated to traditional Christian humanism than either Zwingli or Melanchthon, took the lead in persuading the city magistrates to commit themselves to a concept of free public education to be overseen by a college of school supervisors, the Scholarchen. Although this organization smacks somewhat of Melanchthon's system of visitations, Bucer had already declared that the first purpose of his reorganization was the preservation of humanistic studies, the second the diffusion of religious truth.138 Somewhat later still, and somewhat disturbed by the lack of progress and organization in public education, Bucer again took the lead, with the support of the reforming burgomaster Jakob Sturm, in inviting Johann Sturm to leave Paris and come to Strasbourg. In January of 1537 he arrived and the work of one of the most influential schoolmasters of the sixteenth century began. The influence of Erasmus and his educational ideas was more than implicit in Sturm's background as well as in his reforms. His early studies had been at the College St Jerome in Liege, a school founded and operated by the same congregation of the Brethren from 's-Hertogenbosch with whom Erasmus had earlier studied so unhappily. But the College St Jerome was a much better school than the parent institution, large, well organized, and well reputed. In many ways it was to become the model for Sturm's later reform at Strasbourg. He went on from Liege to the Collegium Trilingue in Louvain, in the founding and nurture of which Erasmus had played so important a role. Sturm studied here under Conradus Goclenius, Erasmus' friend and former famulus. Sturm then went on to Paris where he was associated with Bude's Corporation of Royal Readers, with the academic community of Paris, and with a coterie of Swiss and German intellectuals, merchants, booksellers, and students. He also became an established lecturer on humanist rhetoric and an authority on school organization. In the religious tumult of the mid-i53os in Paris Sturm was converted to Protestantism, as was Calvin, whom he knew. Not the least influence in Sturm's conversion had been some of the writings of Bucer. Thus, when he was invited to come to Strasbourg, he accepted. In less than a year, and after much consultation with Bucer, whose house guest he was at the beginning, Sturm proposed a plan for integrating all the Latin schools of the city into a single unified Protestant gymnasium.

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He was named its first rector and retained the position for the next forty-three years. Although in its form and organization Sturm's school was more Protestant than Erasmian, in its purposes and programme it owed much more to traditional Christian humanism and specifically to Erasmus. Its threefold aim of inculcating piety, knowledge, and eloquence and its intended clientele, the sons of gentlemen and nobles, were thoroughly Erasmian. Sturm shared Erasmus' lack of interest in either professional theological instruction or the training of pastors: his goal was the instruction of 'the Christian, the honest man.' Sturm, again on the model of Erasmus, consistently preferred rhetoric over dialetic as a method. He adopted the Erasmian preference for classical commonplaces as the matter of instruction and advocated the same list of standard classical authorities that we find throughout Erasmus' writings. He also advocated Erasmus' preferred method of careful exposition of classical texts by the teacher, close and constant note-taking, and spoken Latin: 'to memorize, repeat, analyse, recompose, and imitate - therein lies the whole secret of teaching.'139 And he preferred kindness to cruelty in matters of discipline. While Sturm inculcated so many of Erasmus' pedagogical principles, he did not make much use of Erasmus' own pedagogical writings, preferring simpler and more structured aids. Sturm's gymnasium became the model grammar school for Protestant Europe in the second half of the sixteenth century, and to the extent that it was itself modelled upon Erasmian principles tended to extend the reach of those principles.140 With the second generation of reforming schoolmasters and theorists Erasmus' ideas themselves had become educational commonplaces almost impossible to identify positively, and his influence more generalized and attenuated and less and less specific. This was true with Protestant as with Catholic educators. In the decades of the 15403 and 15503 the centre of European Protestantism shifted to Calvin's Geneva and to some extent the centre of Protestant education did too. Calvin was himself a trained humanist, and even after 'God, by a sudden conversion subdued and brought my mind to a teachable frame,'141 he remained, like Melanchthon, committed to the traditional humanities.142 In the Articles on Church Government that Calvin and Farel presented to the Geneva city magistrates in 1537 they called for elementary religious education for the city's children. In the following year the people of Geneva expelled Calvin and Farel, and for the next three years Calvin lived in Strasbourg. He served as pastor to a refugee French-speaking congregation and as a lecturer in theology in the professional upper school attached to Sturm's gymnasium. He was greatly impressed with Sturm's work and, when he was returned to Geneva in 1541, among the Ecclesiastical

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Ordinances he proposed that same year was one calling for the establishment of a full-fledged college. But Calvin was frustrated in his plan for a college until 1559. Theodore Beza, his friend and successor and first biographer, as well as the first headmaster of the college, noted in his Life of Calvin that the founding of the school coincided with the peace of Cateau-Cambresis and the gathering of political forces on the continent threatening to Calvin's reforms. 'But Geneva/ he writes, by the singular providence of God, as if the Lord were again and again causing the purest light to arise out of the thickest darkness, felt so confident in these times (the thing is scarcely credible,) that in the very year, and almost at the very instant, when these powerful princes were conspiring her destruction, it gave orders, on the suggestion of Calvin, for the erection of a magnificient building for a school, provided with eight teachers of youth, and public professors of Hebrew, Greek, Philosophy, and Theology. The dedication to Almighty God took place in due form in a full assembly of the people in the principal church, wherein for the first time, were read and established those laws which related to the appropriation and perpetual maintenance of this most useful and sacred institution.143

The 'magnificent building' itself was not completed until barely a year before Calvin's death, but the institution had taken shape. It was clearly modelled on Sturm's school in Strasbourg with a primary grammar school (schola privata) and an upper school or academy (schola publica) for advanced studies. But unlike Sturm's school, Calvin's was strongly professional, serving virtually as a seminary for his reformed church. It was thus linked more directly to the clerical professionalism of the other reformers than to the general education of the humanists in the Erasmian tradition. It can be argued that, particularly in the lower school, the traditional subjects were handled in rather traditional humanistic fashion. But the influence of Erasmus in Calvin's educational scheme was minimal144 and at an even greater remove than in Sturm's school. Calvin simply did not care for Erasmus. And Beza cared for him even less.145 Nevertheless, through the influence of Sturm's example and through Calvin's own revered teacher Maturin Cordier, who spent his last years in Geneva, the indirect effect of Erasmus' educational ideas may have been more important than either Calvin or Beza intended. But whatever its spiritual and intellectual antecedents, the school of Geneva, under Beza's direction, became one of the premier schools of Protestant Europe in the later sixteenth century and exerted a profound influence on education wherever reformed Protestantism flourished.146

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An equally profound influence upon education in the Catholic Europe of the later sixteenth century was that of Ignatius Loyola and the Jesuit order. The traditional view of Loyola makes him as hostile to Erasmus as Calvin was. But John C. Olin has shown, rather convincingly, that this was not entirely the case, that in the early stages of his career Loyola was not unreceptive to Erasmus.147 For our purposes this is of considerable importance since these were the years during which the Jesuit educational enterprise was taking form. As late as 1554 we find Loyola writing to a young Jesuit teacher advising him to persist in the practice of closely correcting his students' papers as a method 'excellent in itself and exact' and 'recommended also by Erasmus.'148 And in the following year Father Jerome Nadal, the headmaster of the Jesuit College of Messina, had sequestered the works of a number of suspected authors, including Erasmus, pending a decision by Loyola on them that had not yet been rendered.149 Indeed the books and the educational ideas of Erasmus had been much in evidence in the preceding fifteen years as Loyola's order had moved increasingly into the work of education, the founding of schools and colleges, the formulation of method and curriculum - and they continued to be. We find Erasmus' De constructione, De conscribendis epistolis, and De copia in routine use in the College of Messina in 1551. In 1553 in the regulations governing all Jesuit colleges we find De constructione and De copia recommended, along with humanistic letter-writing, though De conscribendis epistolis is not specifically recommended. In 1563 Father Nadal in Instructio brevis quonam scilicet ratione de rebus theologicis his temporibus loquendum sit observes that even in theology the methods of the grammarians and those versed in the more humane letters ought to be followed, in a passage that can be glossed to Erasmus' Enchiridion. Both De copia and De conscribendis epistolis are still being praised for their value (though not specifically recommended for use) in the constitutions for the Jesuit University of Ghent in 1565, as in those for the Roman College in 1564-5 which recommend the Adagia as well. Father Ledesma lists De ratione conscribendi epistolas in 1566 along with the Adagia and De copia. Father Nadal in 1567, in a commission report, recommends that Erasmus' De conscribendis epistolis and Adagia be used in edited form. But in 1572 De conscribendis epistolis, apparently unedited, is still recommended at the College of Toulouse. And in the catalogue of the College of Ingolstadt in 1568 De civilitate is listed as a text for the third class.150 By 1580 the Jesuit order had 155 colleges, and a serious effort to draw up a uniform plan of studies was already under way. The effort was given greater urgency by Father Claude Aquaviva who upon his election as general of the order in the following year appointed a broadly representative committee to get on with the work. By 1586 it had completed the first full form

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of the Ratio clique institutio studiorum. After much consultation and refinement the Ratio was printed in 1591, and in 1599, at long last, it was approved by Rome and adopted for all Jesuits schools. Like the earlier programmes, constitutions, and curricula of individual Jesuit schools, indeed like such systematic Protestant plans as those of Sturm and Melanchthon, the Ratio studiorum shows an indebtedness to the influence of Erasmus. Rene Hubert calls Erasmus 'le lointain ancetre de 1'education jesuitique/151 His influence is particularly clear in the stipulations regarding the work of the lower schools, the studia inferiora, which were the chief vehicles for literary study. In the spirit of Erasmus the Ratio studiorum advocated the command of both Greek and Latin, based upon the standard ancient authorities. One of the chief methods of study was the praelectio, the explanation of the grammatical and substantive matter of a literary text by the teacher, precisely as Erasmus had laid it out. The Ratio advocated healthy play and exercise but without a regimen of physical training, as had Erasmus. Even Erasmus' strictures on corporal punishment were followed, although supervision of students was close and continuous. There are distinctly Erasmian echoes in such notions as the responsibility of the teacher for the moral as well as the intellectual instruction of students; constant repetition, review, recitation, and memory work; competition and reward as student incentives; and a solid liberal as well as Christian education as the necessary basis for later professional study.152 In his own persona, in the works and schemes of reformers like Melanchthon and Sturm, and in the powerful current of Jesuit education, the influence of Erasmus thus passed into the mainstream of western educational theory and practice. VI

As we have already seen, all the works that appear in these two volumes of CWE deal in one way or another with education. All of them indeed, at some time or another, were used as school texts. But only one, De conscribendis epistolis, was actually written as a textbook. The book was first conceived as a study aid for Erasmus' tutorial pupils in Paris, Robert Fisher and Mount] oy, and for Batt's pupil Adolph van Veere. But it was put aside with the distraction of other works and other concerns. The idea of its being further revised for publication was suggested in a letter to Erasmus from Beatus Rhenanus in Basel in April 1515,153 a letter full of news of other Erasmian works in progress at the Froben press. But the work was still unfinished. Then in 1520 there appeared in print Conficiendarum epistolarum formula, a sketchy and unsatisfactory work based on some of Erasmus' own early

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notes, followed the next year by another unauthorized version by the Cambridge printer John Siberch, also based on an earlier draft and also unsatisfactory to Erasmus. Pushed by the appearance of these works - and perhaps by their sales - Erasmus revised and completed his own version of the work and De conscribendis epistolis was printed by Froben in the following year, 1522. It was an extremely successful book. It was used, as we have seen, in Lutheran and Jesuit schools, recommended by both Melanchthon and Nadal, and prescribed in dozens of English grammar schools for students of the upper forms, 'the elder sort/ as the statutes of Rivington School say, to be exercised in devising and writing sundry epistles to sundry persons, of sundry matters, as of chiding, exhorting, comforting, counselling, praying, lamenting, some to friends, some to foes, some to strangers; of weighty matters or merry, as shooting, hunting, etc., of adversity, of prosperity, of war and peace, divine and profane, of all sciences and occupations, some long and some short.154

The success of the work by commercial standards is attested by its publication history.155 In the Bibliotheca Emsmiana Vander Haeghen lists twenty-eight editions in Erasmus' lifetime, from Cracow to Antwerp - and this list does not include the Froben edition of 1534, which Erasmus revised himself and which became the basis for the version printed in the 1540 Opera omnia. For the rest of the century Vander Haeghen lists some sixty further editions, and Margolin speculated that even this is far from representing their actual number.156 In addition the Conficiendarum epistolarum formula continued to have a life of its own, going through twenty-five editions between 1520 and 1579.157 This publication history, as well as that of almost countless other works by other authors in the form of epitomes, anthologized and abbreviated versions, complete or partial translations, and still other works based directly on it, makes De conscribendis epistolis one of Erasmus' most widely distributed and widely used books. The bulk of De conscribendis epistolis is rather obviously textbook material, on the whole rather conventional. The form of the letter-writing manual for the use of advanced students of rhetoric had been firmly fixed in the late fifteenth century by such Italian humanist writers as Francesco Negro, Giammario Filelfo, Giovanni Sulpizio, and Niccolo Perotti - with long lists of sample letters from Cicero and Pliny and Horace, many of them the same examples that Erasmus uses. Even the organization of the types of letters under the rubrics of the classical rhetorical divisions was conventional: and Erasmus followed this convention too, with all its needless complexity, arbitrariness, and artificiality. Despite this sort of deference to

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tradition and convention Erasmus was not entirely satisfied with either the form or its practitioners. As early as 1499, in a letter to Mountjoy sent along with one of the early versions of De conscribendis epistolis, Erasmus categoric ally states that 'none of the many authors who have hitherto given instructions for letter-writing has done justice to this great theme.' He faults Negro for his pedantry and ignorance of the standard rhetoricians and characterizes Filelfo's work as 'muddled and disorderly' and defective both in scholarship and in suitability.158 For these reasons, then, while remaining within the framework of the conventional form, Erasmus departed significantly from convention. Where his predecessors had been content to list the kinds of standard letters and treat their standard parts in an impersonal and formulaic way, Erasmus made a discrete study of each category of letters, and for each category he commented upon such things as the style, the arrangement, and the tone of the letter in a crisp and sensible way.159 He used examples of his own devising, sylvae meae, or lifted from his own letters. The long letter to his former pupil Christian Northoff on the furtherance of his education became an example of the letter of advice (192-4 below); an even longer letter on the advantages of marriage written for Lord Mountjoy when he was Erasmus' pupil, and subsequently published as the Encomium matrimonii (1518),l6° served as an example of the persuasive letter (129-45 below); and a letter written for a friend, Antoon Sucket, who had lost a son (also published separately as the Declamatio de morte) appeared as an example of the letter of consolation (156-64 below). In addition to such sober and improving treatises there are examples that recall the vivid little playlets of the Colloquia: as an example of the accusatory letter, the tale of an ungrateful guest saved from a shipwreck and then robbing his benefactor, debauching his maidservant, and corrupting his daughter (207-10 below); or, as an example of the letter of reproof, one directed to an intractable and now ungrateful old man who had contracted Erasmus as a tutor (219-20 below). In addition the book is dotted with shorter anecdotes and glimpses of contemporary life and people. Erasmus had taken a tiresome and outworn form and made within it a lively book. And he did so, in large part, because the subject of letter-writing was, as he had said to Mountjoy, 'a great theme/ and to Erasmus a congenial one and one that he took quite seriously. The very length and amplitude of De conscribendis epistolis is proof enough of this. But there is further proof of it in the long and carefully prepared prefatory essay, chapters 1-12, which not only deals with such topics as euphony and style, simplicity, clarity, and refinement in letter-writing, but becomes as well both a teachers' manual - Erasmus says, near its end, 'my remarks have been intended more for the teachers than for

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the pupils' (38 below) - and one of his most substantial tracts on the principles of education.161 De pronuntiatione, like De conscribendis epistolis, is a long and highly technical book. But unlike De conscribendis epistolis, its technicalities do not have to do, at least directly, with academic instruction. De pronuntiatione wa not conceived as a school text. It was a tract directed to the learned community of Europe, calling for reform in the pronunciation of the classical languages. The need for such reform was clear, certainly to Erasmus, who made it clear to the reader of De pronuntiatione in the form of an anecdote. He describes how 'not long ago I happened to be present when the emperor Maximilian was listening to some speeches of welcome.' One of the speakers was a Frenchman but, although his speech was correct and well-enough composed, he spoke it with such a strong French accent that 'some learned Italians present ... thought he must be speaking French.' In the ensuing laughter a learned German doctor was pushed forward to respond. But his speech was so Germanic in pronunciation that 'nobody could have sounded more German if he had been speaking in the vernacular.' Amid more laughter he was followed by a Dane and he by a Zeelander and 'you would have sworn that neither was speaking Latin.'162 A ridiculous situation, yes. But also a critical one for a society in which serious discourse was carried on entirely in Latin. Erasmus was not the first, as Maurice Pope points out in his introduction to the work, to be concerned with the problem: indeed there was a considerable corpus of work on the question reaching back to the late fifteenth-century writings of the Spanish humanist Elio Antonio de Nebrija.163 Although Erasmus makes only passing reference to these earlier works, it is likely he was very well aware of the tradition/64 His resort was rather to antiquity itself and to the ancient authors and grammarians, for the object of his reform was to recover and restore the standard of ancient pronunciation. Long before De pronuntiatione Erasmus had begun to express his concern for the problem. In the first edition of the New Testament, in his annotation to John 14:26, he was critical of the current mispronunciation of Greek words and Greek loan-words in Latin. In the 1519 edition these comments were greatly increased, and by the fourth edition of 1527 the note on pronunciation had almost doubled in length and, as John J. Bateman has pointed out, 'forms virtually a table of contents for the Dialogue on Pronunciation which will appear in print exactly one year later.' In the controversy with Stunica in 1521 over the New Testament Erasmus had made some of the same points he makes in the dialogue, as he had, to an extent, in Lingua (i525).165 But it is perhaps with the complex history of the Ciceronianus that De

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pronuntiatione has the most important ties. The two works had been written at the same time and were printed together in the earliest editions. Bateman doubts that this was purely a matter of 'the negligence of the printers/ as Erasmus wrote a friend a few weeks after the first edition appeared.166 The two books were really about the same thing. There are echoes of the Ciceronianus throughout De pronuntiatione including near the end a brief rehearsal of that work's leading argument, that is, that Cicero is undeniably the best model of style, but not the only source nor in all cases the best although there are those 'who hold their noses when they sniff a phrase not in Cicero' (CWE 26 471). And the subtitle of the Ciceronianus was De optimo genere dicendi. Pope argues in his introduction that this is precisely what Erasmus means in De pronuntiatione, that his subject is 'not just how to make the sounds of the ancient languages but how to speak them' (CWE 26 348). The great French Erasmian scholar Augustin Renaudet argues that the essential concern of De pronuntiatione is less that of the linguist than of the passionate reformer of education, and that this work, like the Ciceronianus is connected to the vast and generous programme of Erasmian pedagogic reform. Erasmus knew, he continues, that a superficial grasp of grammar and defective literary training hampered the professional studies of university students all over Europe and that the traditional academic commitment to dialectic - as opposed to grammar - as a method condemned them to lose years in abstract disputes and the grotesqueries of formal logic, the 'initiation vaine a une theologie aussi vaine.'167 What Pope calls 'the educational prologue' to De pronuntiatione is so long and so complete that it can almost be considered a book within a book. It constitutes nearly a third of the entire work and deals with precisely the same topics as De conscribendis epistolis, De pueris instituendis, and De ratione studii: indeed, as Pope also observes, in De pronuntiatione the Erasmian programme of education is presented 'with as much firmness and clarity... as in anything else he ever wrote' (CWE 26 358). The tie between the two main sections of the work is obvious - eloquence. The ability to speak the ancient languages, Latin especially, was the primary concern of Erasmus' whole educational programme, the ability to speak them well its primary functional purpose. If the languages were not capable of being spoken in accordance with a defensible standard of pronunciation, then not only eloquence but communication itself would shortly become impossible. Thus, although De pronuntiatione is not specifically a school-book, it was addressed most urgently to that segment of the learned community that touched the learning process most immediately, the schoolmasters. For it was they who had to implement the reforms of pronunciation Erasmus proposed if they were to be accomplished, and it was because of their current methods that the problem

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itself was most acute. Things were so bad/ writes Pope, 'both with Latin and Greek, that scarcely anything of what a learner was told about pronunciation conformed to what he actually heard pronounced' (CWE 26 354)Since Erasmus' intention was to persuade schoolmasters, and the learned generally, to adopt his proposals, he needed to gain and keep their attention through the course of a long and recondite book. Pope observes that, in all likelihood, it was this that commended to Erasmus the choice of the dialogue form. The use of the dialogue in pedagogical writing was well established, as Marcelle Derwa has shown,168 and it was a favourite form of Erasmus if we recall his translations of Lucian, the Moria, the Colloquia, the Antibarbari, even the Ciceronianus. And in De pronuntiatione it was the use of dialogue and the light, bantering tone of the speakers that brought the subject to life and permitted the diverse topics of the discourse to arise naturally out of their conversation, thus making of the book 'a work of literature' (CWE 26 358) rather than a shelf-bound reference work. Of all Erasmus' educational writings De pueris instituendis is the most broad-gauged and comprehensive. Like De pronuntiatione it is a persuasive work, a classical dedamatio. But it was directed not so much to schoolmasters - who tend to fare rather badly in it - nor even to the learned community, as De pronuntiatione was, but to the even larger community of those who might be expected to have ambitions for their children's education, the well-to-do, merchants, businessmen, professional men, bureaucrats, and civil servants, the aristocracy great and small who made up the dominant social class of sixteenth-century Europe, and the widest audience Erasmus addressed in any of his educational works. To that end it is his most complete tract on education. Margolin, in the introduction to his edition of the Latin text of De pueris instituendis for ASD, calls it 'une synthese et un bilan ... de toutes les idees pedagogiques' of Erasmus/69 De pueris instituendis, like De ratione studii, is purely a treatise on education. But rather than being a ratio or methodus it takes the form of a dedamatio. Intended originally as a demonstration piece and appendix for De copia, it was written in some form and left with a copyist in Rome, along with several other items, when Erasmus left Italy for England in the summer of 1509. The work was finally returned to him by way of his English friends More and Lupset, apparently largely in the original draft, for More says, it is 'in your writing' but a first draft only, 'nothing really complete.'170 It was still incomplete in 1523,1?1 and there are no further references to it until it appeared in its first published form in 1529. There is no trace of the original work nor do we know the extent of the revisions Erasmus made in it: Erasmus himself says he made no use of the original at all.172 The finished

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work, however, does retain the structure of the declamation - the presentation of a summary argument which is then, as Beert C. Verstraete points out in his introduction, repeated, much amplified and embellished, the very exemplar of the 'rhetorical principle of copia' (CWE 26 292). The work was published more often than De pronuntiatione, less often than De conscribendis epistolis, with its many text editions. For a comprehensive review of the publication history of De pueris instituendis interested readers are referred both to the introduction to the work by Margolin in ASD and to Margolin's definitive critical edition of it, complete with an excellent French translation.173 In contrast, there is no critical edition of De civilitate and the translated text that appears in these volumes of CWE is the first complete modern version of the work in any form.174 The translation is based upon the second Froben edition of August 1530, the edition used for both the 1540 Opera omnia and LB. But beyond this the publication history of the work presents serious difficulties, most of which stem from its enormous popularity. The Bibliotheca Erasmiana, which in this instance is quite incomplete, lists thirty editions in Erasmus' lifetime, fifty-seven more to the end of the sixteenth century, and twenty-three more in the seventeenth. But where Vander Haeghen lists only seven editions for 1530 - one with the impossible date of 1526 - Bierlaire has found twelve.175 There is at least one additional 1533 edition and a German translation printed in Frankfurt as early as 1531 (Wolfenbiittel). Margolin lists three hitherto unknown editions, two sixteenth-century Hungarian editions and one seventeenth-century Polish edition.176 There were numerous editions in the later sixteenth century, especially in Catholic regions, published without Erasmus' name and often with slight variations in title. There were sanitized editions, for example, with substitutions for 'Romish' passages for Protestant users. There were many translations, often anonymous, like the 1583 La Civilite honneste pour I'instruction des enfans.177 The work was so popular that it gave its name to a type-face, 'caracteres de civilite,' first used by the Parisian printer Robert Granjon in 1558 and designed 'in imitation of the gothic running hand customary in France at the time' and the style of handwriting schoolchildren were taught to use.178 It is possible that entire editions of the book have disappeared completely, given the way in which it was used. For it was a drill-book for students in the lower grades, often the third class, 'the one in which children who read perfectly were admitted and who knew fairly well the declensions and conjugations/179 These children would first translate the text; then be led through a grammatical analysis of it for syntax, morphology, construction; then go through it and make note of idiomatic expressions, proverbial expressions, figures of speech; and then go through it again for analysis of style - all in

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much the same way Erasmus advocated using a school text in his other educational writings. Even in schools where it was not specified for literary study it was frequently used as a 'work of moral benefit/180 And it was ideal for both purposes: the language was dry and repetitive, as Brian McGregor observes in his introduction, and yet with enough variation to make it useful as a source of vocabulary and synonyms; the sentence structure was simple, clear, and straightforward; and, as for the content, it dealt with virtually every situation - at church, at meals, at play, and in private - in which a well-born and well-bred young boy was likely to find himself; and it maintained a uniformly high moral tone throughout, of which schoolmasters have always most approved. Of all Erasmus' works on education it is the one most clearly directed to the child who might use it. Yet, curiously, this most popular of all Erasmus' school texts was not originally intended as a text at all. Rather it was dedicated specifically to the young nobleman Henry of Burgundy and intended to 'give instruction in manners appropriate to boys' (273 below). Erasmus did not even find it necessary to qualify this statement to the effect that it was not intended for all boys but for the sons of the same dominant social class to whom he had addressed De pueris instituendis. And it was attached not to the tradition of classroom instruction but to the much more complex tradition of the literature of courtesy, a tradition reaching back into the Middle Ages and including all sorts of tracts and treatises, from those dealing with the Ars amandi, through books of moral instruction like the Disticha Catonis, to simple little books of table manners and hygiene like The babees'book. Philippe Aries maintains that 'this complex and abundant medieval literature changed in the sixteenth century and became much simpler. The result was two genres, similar in nature but different in form' - the 'courtiers' or treatises on the art of succeeding in life that culminated in Castiglione's The Courtier, and the 'civilities' or manuals of etiquette. He goes on to argue that 'the first manual of etiquette was that by Erasmus, which founded the genre. All the later manuals, and there were a great many of them, were inspired by Erasmus or slavishly copied him/181 What was new about Erasmus' De civilitate and what was so important was that it addressed the needs of the new and vastly expanded dominant class of sixteenth-century Europe. In the complicated life of such great households as More's outside London or Froben's in Basel - with the bustle of business and patronage, the constant coming and going of guests of every sort and station, the armies of servants and retainers - the boys of the household had to learn their place.182 Erasmus' little book became the principal vehicle for teaching them. Erasmus may well have known some of the previous books of manners and courtesy: he acknowledges that 'others

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lix

as well as I have written at great length' on the subject (273 below). Certainly many of their precepts are to be found in De civilitate. But they may equally well represent another commonplace tradition the particular sources of which are totally obscure. It is more important to realize, as Norbert Elias points out, that Erasmus' De civilitate is 'a collection of observations from the life of his society/183 of which, as many others have noted, Erasmus was a most acute observer. He had been a familiar of the 'great houses' and a participant in the life that went on in them for more than thirty years when he wrote De civilitate. Erasmus had often dealt with the material of De civilitate. Bits of it are scattered through De pronuntiatione, De conscribendis epistolis, De pueris instituendis, and De copia, and it is the specific subject of such colloquies as Confabulatio pia and Monita paedagogica. Even though he says in the opening passage of De civilitate that his subject is only 'a very crude part of philosophy' (273 below), it is clear that this denigration is purely figurative and strictly relative. He firmly believed that the base on which all further moral and intellectual education rested was sound home training and good habit formation. In no other work does he deal more fully or more successfully with this than in De civilitate. And for this reason we must regard this little work as a fundamental part of Erasmus' programme of education. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The editor wishes to thank Professors R. A.B. Mynors, James K. McConica, Craig R. Thompson, Paul F. Grendler, and other members of the Editorial Board, who read and commented so helpfully on successive drafts of the works in these two volumes, and the staff of University of Toronto Press, especially R.M. Schoeffel, Chairman of the Executive Committee of CWE. He likewise acknowledges the invaluable aid of Thoburn Taggart, Jr, InterLibrary Loan Librarian, Wichita State University Library. He is most grateful to Lloyd M. Benningfield, Dean of the Graduate School, Frederick Sudermann, Director of Research and Sponsored Programs, and the Wichita State University Research Committee for their financial support, as he is to the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada for its ongoing support for theCollected Works of Erasmus. JKS

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ON THE W R I T I N G OF LETTERS De conscribendis epistolis

translated and annotated by CHARLES F A N T A Z Z I

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The essay on letter-writing, like most of Erasmus' early pedagogical works, had a long history of misadventures. The first authorized version appeared in 1522, and in the prefatory letter to it Erasmus bestows legitimacy on the piece only reluctantly, protesting that he was forced to take the work up again because of the appearance of a spurious edition in England. He informs us that the first draft was begun in Paris some thirty years previously and hastily reworked some time later at the request of a friend of dubious loyalty, a patent reference to his pupil of those days Robert Fisher, who was setting out for Italy and wished to take the work with him as an aid to his studies. It was Erasmus' original and only copy, but fortunately Erasmus' fellow-tutor Augustinus Vincentius had made a copy of it that was later retrieved.1 But the history of De conscribendis epistolis is more complicated than the prefatory letter suggests. The book is 'on the anvil again/ we learn from a letter of 2 May 1499 to Jacob Batt, to whom Erasmus promises a copy to be dedicated to his friend's pupil, Adolph of Burgundy, heer van Veere, son of the rich heiress Anna van Borssele.2 In November 1499, in a letter sent to his own pupil Lord Mount] oy to accompany a copy of 'an enlarged and improved' version of the work, Erasmus compares his treatise on letterwriting with those of several of his Italian predecessors, whom he criticizes quite severely.3 This is probably the revision referred to as done at the insistence of some friends in the dedicatory letter of the 1522 edition.4 Writing to Jacob Batt from Orleans in September 1500, Erasmus speaks of further revisions of the work.5 In another letter written a few months later, he asks Batt for materials pertinent to the writing, which were to be included in a bundle from England, and he once again mentions Adolph as the possible recipient of the dedication.6 In January 1501, writing to Adolph's mother, Anna van Borssele, Erasmus again promises the book for her son, but no longer with any mention of a dedication.7 Obviously nothing came of all this, for by the end of the year 1511 the treatise was still unpublished, and a weary and depressed Erasmus writes his English friend Roger Wentford, headmaster of St Anthony's School in London, that to help pass the time he has resumed work on De conscribendis epistolis and will soon return to 'polishing up the Copia.'8 The next mention of the treatise comes in a letter of 30 April 1515 from Beatus Rhenanus, who, in the interests of the Froben press in Basel, urges Erasmus to give some thought to finishing his essay .9 A few months later, in a preface to the revision of a manual of Latin syntax originally composed by William Lily, Erasmus expresses his annoyance that someone had freely quoted from a few rough drafts of his on the art of letter-writing.I0 Further, in 1520 three separate editions of a compendious essay entitled Conficiendarum

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epistolarum formula appeared in Erfurt, Leipzig, and Mainz.11 This sketchy, unprepossessing piece of work was based on notes written by Erasmus, as he begrudgingly acknowledges in an epilogue he wrote for it in 1536.12 A much more significant stage in the history of the text of De conscribendis epistolis is represented by a pirated edition of an unfinished draft of the work, which was published in England in October 1521. The printer Johann Lair of Siegburg, or John Siberch, as he was known, at one time an agent for Cologne and Antwerp booksellers in London, had recently set up shop in Cambridge and had as his most active patron Henry Bullock, Fellow of Queens' College and future chancellor of the university, who had studied Greek with Erasmus in 1511. Siberch's book is remarkable as an example of the short-lived primavera of humanism that prevailed in Cambridge at this time. It displays a handsome compartment on the title-page with the royal arms, and is set in a generous roman type of a German fashion, perhaps designed and cut by Peter Schoffer the younger of Mainz. In general appearance it bears an extraordinary resemblance to the Froben edition of De conscribendis epistolis which was to appear in 1522.13 The version of the text used for Siberch's edition is probably the one that was prepared for Lord Mountjoy in November 1499. References to the subjugation of the Scots and to the death of Charles vm, which occurred on 7 April 1498, corroborate this hypothesis. In an effort to lend some respectability to his enterprise and to appease Erasmus, Siberch dedicated the book to Bishop John Fisher of Rochester, a relative of the young pupil for whom the work was originally intended, and Erasmus' own dear friend and benefactor. The rather tactless dedication is written in extremely halting and ungrammatical Latin: J.-C. Margolin describes it as a 'melange de naivete et de rouerie assez inextricable.'14 The naivety is very evident, together with a certain gaucherie in the wooing of the bishop's patronage. Siberch begins by stating that the book was given to him by a friend (perhaps Bullock himself) who claimed to have copied it from an autograph of Erasmus. He adds that this same friend had persuaded him that publishing the work would be an excellent way of commending himself to the friendship of the great man, whom he would never dream of offending. Nevertheless, he confesses to his uneasiness, remembering how displeased Erasmus was at the clandestine publishing of the Colloquia by a certain 'Hollander,' an inaccurate reference to the disreputable Hollonius whom Erasmus later mentions in the letter to Berault. To allay these doubts Siberch proclaims that the book would never have been published without the 'godlike intervention' of his patron, whose fame, integrity, and wide learning would have such great influence with Erasmus. He also expresses the hope that his temerity will be pardoned if by his efforts Erasmus may be

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induced to apply the finishing touches to the work. Then, rather awkwardly, the printer insinuates that if this goal were to be realised it would redound to the glory of the bishop's virtue and learning, which, great though it was, would thus attain to yet greater splendour. In addition, Siberch attests to the popular approval of his publishing venture, describing how eagerly the edition was being bought up and fondly kissed by its buyers, and how all hailed his patron as a great Maecenas and restorer of learning. Finally he makes explicit reference to the bishop's kinsman and begs him once more to intercede with Erasmus on his behalf. After his apologetic preface the diffident editor asks the indulgence of the reader for the many printing errors, which he imputes not only to his inexperience but also to the corrupt state of the manuscript that he had before him and to his inability to consult with either Erasmus or any other scholar in his place. A lengthy list of errata follows, and in a final conciliatory gesture the editor of the volume exhumes a letter that Erasmus had written twenty-three years earlier to accompany the original draft entrusted to Robert Fisher.15 Despite, or rather because of, all these failings the Siberch edition is a very interesting example of early, unedited Erasmus. It is filled with personal touches and ingenuous remarks that were later suppressed. Occasionally Erasmus allowed himself a bit of private humour with his student in brief asides like "Dutchmen are drunkards, but no one is more abstemious than Erasmus' (folio 14). At other times he introduced autobiographical elements and clear references to contemporary persons and events into the model letters. Thus the disgusting old man obliquely referred to in the final version as Sogdianus (236: ni below) is openly identified in Siberch's edition as the redoubtable Scottish guardian, so vividly described in Ep 61, of Erasmus' pupils in Paris, Thomas Grey and Robert Fisher. In matters of style and organization of material the Siberch edition gives some signs of hasty composition, but it is easily recognizable as genuine Erasmus. The first eight folios give us interesting insights into Erasmus' method of composition and the evolution of the complete work. The first folio concerns itself with the style proper to a letter, with exhortations to avoid theatrical apparatus and grandiloquence in favour of intimacy and simplicity. A letter should be like soft whisperings with a friend in some quiet nook, rather than something declaimed on stage. One should imagine the recipient present to him as he writes, and everything should be moulded to suit his temperament. These interesting comments do not appear in the later version, although similar sentiments are expressed in a letter written in Paris in the spring of 1500 to an unnamed person, conjectured to be Adolph of Burgundy.l6 Many of the stylistic qualities insisted upon at some length in

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the authorized version are only adumbrated in Siberch's printing. Brevity is singled out as one of the virtues essential to the letter, especially in the salutation, where, Erasmus humorously admonishes, one must be careful not to wear out the reader before he ever gets to the main argument. The section on titles and epithets is again much shorter in the earlier version, and Erasmus warns against the excesses of flattery, advising that the salutation should not become an extended eulogy of the addressee. The example of the mixed letter in the Siberch edition (folio 4) is a first draft of the much longer one composed for the later edition (67-71 below) and reflects the different circumstances of Erasmus' life at the time. Reference is made in the earlier, version to the peace obtained by Philip of Burgundy and the subjugation of the Scots, whereas in the later example the historical references are to events in Italy. The letter in Siberch's edition is addressed to Robert Fisher, but Erasmus does not represent himself as the sender, using instead an imaginary third person who expresses his satisfaction that Erasmus speaks well of him. The longer version in the 1522 edition is more frankly autobiographical, despite the fictitious names employed, and reflects Erasmus' experiences in England; it is much more chatty and desultory than the original draft. The discussion of the kinds of letters is much shorter in the earlier version, which does not have the long list of subdivisions derived from the Greek epistolographers found in the definitive edition. The epistola suasoria in praise of marriage (Siberch folios 31-43) is almost an exact reproduction of the 1518 Encomium matrimonii,*7 although several minor points of difference would seem to preclude its having been copied directly from that text. It also differs in some particulars from the 1522 edition. The epistola consolatoria (156-64 below), identical with the Dedamatio de movie, is not contained in Siberch, nor are the other supporting examples from Cicero and Pliny nor those of Erasmus' own invention. The example of a jocose consolation in Siberch (folio 52) reveals the master letter-writer in a lighter vein. The supposed consolation is offered to a tippler who has been out late and has fallen victim to a barmaid, Hercules brought low by Omphale! His fellow-drinkers, assembled in a nocturnal session of their goliardic senate, clamour for his return, promising him the chance to redeem himself. Obviously the subject-matter of this composition was considered too frivolous to be included in the authorized edition. The letter to Christian Northoff (192-4 below and Ep 56) and the 'method of going over a lesson' (194-5 below) are not contained in Siberch. With some substantial gaps and much briefer exposition, the next section in Siberch's edition parallels quite closely the order of the 1522 edition. If the model letter on courtly life included in the latter version seems

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outspoken, its antecedent (folios 71-2) is even more candid. It is in the form of a fable about a starving wolf who, coming upon a well-fed fox, inquires of him where he had found food in the deep snow. The fox leads him to the lair of a she-monkey where he had feasted splendidly, and he throws out some scraps to the wolf, who devours them eagerly. The fox confides to his perplexed companion that the only thing necessary for the winning of such favours is the art of lying. The wolf, emboldened by these words, enters the cave, but when his nostrils are assailed by the heavy odour, he sputters, 'What is this terrible stench?' Then, catching sight of the ugly animal and its uncomely brood, he exclaims, 'I never saw anything so ugly!' With this the monkeys set upon him and he is lucky to escape with his skin. Later the fox explains how, by contrast, at his first entrance into the cave he asked its denizens whether he had perchance wandered into a perfume-shop and greeted the she-monkey as a queen of unparalleled beauty. Another narrative epistle follows (folio 73), but this time the fabulous is exchanged for the very recent past. The letter refers to the death of a king at the hands of the treacherous Italians, and from the circumstances it is evident that the king is Charles vm, who died on 7 April 1498. Such open references to contemporary events were suppressed in the definitive version. The Siberch printing ends with another short example of a jocose letter not contained in the later edition. The 1522 text of De conscribendis epistolis remained fundamentally unchanged through numerous later editions save for some corrections introduced into a Venice reprint of 1524 done by Gregorio de' Gregori. The editor mentions that he borrowed the text from Fridericus Nausea/8 a German churchman trained in Italy (Nausea is a Latinization of Grau), who had the only copy in the whole of Italy at that time. Many of these corrections and some additional ones are found in an Antwerp edition published by Michael Hillen in September 1525.19 Erasmus made a few further revisions, most of them in the text of the epistola suasoria in praise of marriage, in a Froben edition of the work published in 1534, ex postrema auctoris recognitione. This text was reproduced in the 1540 edition of the Opera omnia, minus the letter of consolation to Antoon Sucket, which was published separately as the Declamatio de morte. That Erasmus should have expended such energies in the writing and rewriting of De conscribendis illustrates the importance of letter-writing at this time. As Cecil Clough remarks, 'by the turn of the fifteenth century the letter was replacing the oration as the prime means by which scholars, and particularly those devoted to the cult of Antiquity, disseminated their ideas and made their case in scholarly controversy.'20 Such interest in the letter

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form resulted in the writing of technical manuals for the mastery of the art, whose precepts of style differed greatly from those of preceding centuries. The medieval manuals of epistolography, known as artes dictaminis, evolving out of the chancellery style of the late Roman empire and grounded on the precepts of Ciceronian rhetoric, had imposed rigid, formalistic prescriptions upon the epistolary genre. They were chiefly intended for students of law for whom they provided models for the composition of legal and notarial documents. The five parts of the classical oration were easily adapted to the exigencies of the letter, yielding the following canonical format: the salutatio, or greeting; the captatio benevolentiae, or exordium, designed to capture the good will of the recipient; the narmtio, the body of the letter; the petitio, or specific request; and the condusio. Of these five parts the first two were particularly cultivated by medieval writers, which led to the creation of highly artificial modes of address and formulas of exaggerated politeness.21 At their worst these manuals were nothing more than readymade formularies of various types with only the name and the titles of the addressee and the specific request to be filled in by the writer. The methods and forms of dictamen as taught in the studium of Bologna and later in the French cathedral schools were heavily dependent upon two works from antiquity, Cicero's youthful treatise De inventione, a highly schematized compilation of mostly Greek rhetorical doctrine, and Ad Herennium, a detailed compendium of rhetoric accepted as a genuine work of Cicero until the fifteenth century.22 After Poggio's recovery of the complete Quintilian in 1416 and the discovery of a complete manuscript of Cicero's De oratore, Brutus, and Orator in 1421, the art of letter-writing became even more indebted to the rules of oratory, especially in the matter of stylistic adornment. Italian masters of rhetoric and style produced a series of handbooks outlining rather severe prescriptive norms for the various kinds of letters. Erasmus' scorn for them is expressed in the letter to Lord Mountjoy that probably accompanied an early draft of De conscribendis epistolis and in the work itself. In the letter Erasmus takes to task Francesco Negro and Giammario Filelfo,23 but is more indulgent towards Giovanni Sulpizio of Veroli and Niccolo Perotti.24 He objects to the pedantically petty rules of elegance propounded by Negro and considers Filelfo's mechanical listing of rhetorical figures and styles a waste of time when they could be studied much better in the works of Cicero and Quintilian. Erasmus was no doubt exposed to these teachings during his formative years in Deventer and Steyn, where he also must have been introduced to another bete noire of his, the textbook of Charles Menniken, containing 337 letters for every occasion (see 24: ni6 below), which is known to have been

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NOTE

0

used in the schools of the Brethren of the Common Life. One may likewise assume that Erasmus would have become familiar with other Italian manuals and methods of teaching through such Italian friends as Andrelini and Balbi in Paris or, more probably, during his sojourn in Italy. Many of these treatises must have been circulated in manuscript, like De ratione scribendi libri tres of Aurelio Brandolini,25 an exhaustive and authoritative treatment of the subject. The letters of Cicero on which Erasmus draws so heavily in his own method had long been part of the curriculum in Italian humanistic schools. Guarino Guarini inaugurated a course in Adfamiliares in Verona as early as 1419,26 and between 1467 and 1501 there were more than fifty-two printings of the collection, and an estimated five thousand copies in circulation at any given time within that period. Erasmus' essay on the subject is much more elaborate than anything that preceded it. The first eight chapters provide a rather discursive treatment of the nature and style of a letter in which Erasmus expresses his more liberalizing and practical concepts of style. Before the infinite variety of the epistolary genre Erasmus does not attempt to confine the writer within narrow limits, but counsels good judgment and adaptation of style to subject matter and person addressed. The chief virtues of the letter should be clarity, simplicity, and naturalness. The idea of utility is uppermost, 'the more appropriate rather than the more scholarly/ as Erasmus promised in his letter to Robert Fisher.27 After this exposition of general principles the writing takes a thoroughly pragmatic turn. Unlike other contemporary manuals, that of Erasmus is a true methodology, which prepares the teacher to present the subject-matter to his students in the most attractive manner possible. In certain technical matters, like the sources of argument or minute points of logic, rather than give elaborate rules Erasmus refers the reader to the standard works of rhetoric or repeats perfunctorily material gleaned from Ad Herennium or De inventione. One section of the treatise (110-29 below), which Erasmus says was patched on by someone else (no below), has to do with the various kinds of proof used in forensic oratory and seems rather ill adapted to the purposes of letter-writing. In the subdivisions of the kinds of letters, eleven deliberative, nine judicial, and nine familiar are recorded with summary definitions of each and suggestions concerning the style and tone to be employed. Instruction is imparted more by example than by precept through long lists of excerpts from Cicero and Pliny, with some also from Poliziano, to illustrate the various types of letters. These examples are very well chosen, illustrating the best of Latinity. Erasmus supplemented these with sylvae or miscellanies of his own composition in the Ciceronian mould. This translation uses the ASD text, based on the editio princeps of 1522,

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9

save in some instances in which I follow the Leyden edition (LB) or the 1540 Froben Opera omnia (F), in each case citing the preferred reading in the notes. I also call attention to significant divergences in Siberch. In the epistola suasoria I have translated the additions from the 1534 text and identified them in the notes. CF

D E D I C A T O R Y LETTER

E R A S M U S OF R O T T E R D A M TO N I C O L A S B E R A U L T , 1 G R E E T I N G 2

1O

Once that man Hollonius was no more in the land of the living, dear Berault, my most learned friend, I supposed I had no one else to fear who might publish to the world the trifles I had written as a young man either to practise my pen or to comply with my friends' wishes, with publication as the last thing I intended. Lo and behold, a second Hollonius3 has suddenly appeared in England, who has printed a book on the art of letter-writing which I began to write in Paris about thirty years ago for the benefit of a friend4 of dubious loyalty, whom I wished to please with a present on his own level - like lips, like lettuce,5 as the proverb has it. The necessary reading and the writing of it together cost me less than three weeks, and so far was I at that time from any intention to make a finished work of it that I gave the original to the man to carry away (for he was making preparations to set out on a long journey) and kept no copy by me. Some time after that, certain friends, who by some chance had lighted on this trifling piece and copied it, obliged me by their importunity to finish the work I had roughed out; for it was not only rough but incomplete and mutilated. So I sat down to it; but as I revised I still did not care for it and rejected it entirely, never suspecting that anyone would be shameless enough to publish my draft notes while I was still alive to protest. But printers, I perceive, have lost all sense of shame. Now that they have discovered that nothing is more eagerly bought than the most trifling rubbish, they leave the classics and authors of repute on one side till further notice, put a bold face on it, and follow the satirist's advice: 'Profit smells sweet,6 whate'er the source of it.' And so, though I was so much put out that I now realized for the first time the full force of the feelings that made Horace write 'Long as the night... '7 (you remember how it goes on), I laid aside my labours of a more or less religious kind, which are now more suitable to a man of my years and much more agreeable to my present state of mind, and wasted some days on the revision of what had already appeared. How great the loss to scholarship, I do not know; to me at least the tedium was very great. To prevent too many repetitions of this I urge you most seriously, my dear Berault, to contrive somehow that this young man, who has it seems an excessive devotion to me, should take his book, which you say he has bought at a high price from some knowledgeable dealer, and either destroy it or at the least hand it over to you to be sent on to me, so that I can pronounce on it in complete freedom. As for the printers, what fate can I invoke for them except that they may be given better judgment? In any case, I would gladly warn the young who wish to advance their education to waste as little time as possible on this sort of rubbish. I perceive, and the sight is torment to me, that this war between the

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Germans and the French8 gets more and more bitter every day. What a calamity for the whole of Christendom that the two most powerful monarchs in the world should contend like this in such disastrous conflict! It would be a lesser evil if the question could be decided by single combat between those whose interests are at stake. But what have citizens and country folk done to deserve this, who are robbed of their livelihoods, driven from their homes, dragged off into captivity, slaughtered and torn in pieces? The spirit of princes must be hard as iron if they consider this and let it be, stupid if they do not understand it, idle indeed if they do not think it worth a thought. I had some hopes of our new pontiff, 9 in the first place because he is a theologian, and then because his high character has been obvious all his life; but somehow or other papal authority carries more weight in stirring up war between princes than in bringing it to an end. But these upheavals do not breach alliances knit together by the Muses, nor can this intercourse between us be broken off by the laws of war. There is no agreement between the emperor's supporters and the French, but comrades in honourable studies agree together very well. Farewell, therefore, most civilized of men, and at the same time, given the opportunity, please convey my warmest greetings to Bude, Deloynes,10 Brie,11 and all my other friends. Basel, 25 May 1522

ON THE W R I T I N G OF L E T T E R S i / The form of a letter To expect all letters to conform to a single type, or to teach that they should, as I notice even learned men sometimes do, is in my view at least to impose a narrow and inflexible definition on what is by nature diverse and capable of almost infinite variation. Indeed I find this attitude no less absurd than that of a cobbler who would insist on stitching a shoe of the same shape for every foot, or a painter who tried to depict every animal with the same colours and outline, or a tailor set on making identical clothes fit both a midget and a giant. These men consider a letter unacceptable unless it keeps to the plainest manner of writing, has a free and easy flow without the intensity of impassioned utterance,1 is composed solely of words taken from common usage, and finally qualifies as a letter rather than a book2 by its very brevity. If anyone prefers to adopt this style of composition for his own purposes, since it often happens that different styles appeal to different writers according to the diversity of individual temperaments, I have no objection whatever. As far as I am concerned, everyone may think his own style beautiful,3 but he must not prescribe this to us as if it were the best or only form of writing. For if the varieties of subject-matter are as innumerable as the worlds of Democritus,4 and no topic is excluded from the letter form, and if, in addition, the mode of expression must never be at variance with the nature of the subject, how, I ask you, can a single style be devised for such an infinitely varied content? Though the style you choose may be the best possible in most cases, it cannot be the best in every one; in my opinion the best form of expression is that which is most appropriate to the context, and the worst is the confusion of styles illustrated by the old Greek proverb 'perfume on the lentils/5 These remarks will suffice as a brief introduction for the wellinstructed. However, in the case of those petty elementary schoolmasters who demand more the less informed they are, we must satisfy them with a duller Minerva,6 as they say, and in easy stages. Even if it is impossible to content them (foTr they are a stubborn lot), it is good that they should be refuted for the sake of the pupils, who might otherwise be taken in by the authority of their masters and learn and imbibe things at this tender age which as adults they would be ashamed or reluctant or simply unable to unlearn,7 even with the best of good will. Yet this untaught race of experts, this illiterate horde of literates, has the upper hand in our primary schools nowadays, and exercises the rule of Phalaris8 in its tyrannical sway.

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At this point some blabbering idiot is sure to take up the censor's rod9 and repeat to me as if it were a law of Solon10 the old nonsense about no letter over twelve lines long, as this is the limit prescribed for the epistolary form. On these principles of criticism we would have to eliminate the greater part of the letters of Plato,11 Cicero, Pliny, Seneca, and St Jerome as jumping the boundaries12 and, in defiance of these limitations, stretching to a full-length book. But if a varied and far-ranging topic presents itself, will you still confine me, forbidding me to go outside that magic circle of yours? Agesilaus13 used to say that a man who fitted a big shoe to a small foot could not be considered a good cobbler. But how much more outrageous is the man who cramps and tortures a big foot into too narrow a shoe?14 Quintilian15 rightly declares that it would be absurd to assign Hercules' mask and buskins to a child, yet it is much sillier to try to fit a child's leggings and sandals on Hercules. Compression of a broad subject can be a far more serious fault than overexpansion of a narrow subject, because while superfluous material may be boring to read, essentials cannot be omitted without great loss to both writer and recipient. If we really would like to humour those delicate spirits who find every letter long, then we should prescribe that nothing be written at all. In saying this I do not mean to lend approval to those who in their absurd pursuit of the abundant style stuff16 a letter with begged and borrowed phrases and patchworks of ill-assorted aphorisms, and, though quite unable to write, can never make an end of their writing. There is no one more verbose than one who is inarticulate. For the sake of the pupils I wish to expose the folly of those charlatans who cloak their inability to speak with the word 'laconic'17 though all the while they do not know what the words 'brevity' and 'abundance' really mean; yet both qualities belong to one and the same writer. For just as in Plato18 Socrates concludes that the best forger of lies is also the best teller of the truth, similarly no one will earn credit for brevity who cannot also express himself in a more ample style. What in fact do we mean by brevity? Surely the ability to concentrate a great amount of material into the fewest words possible, not merely to write few words, which for that matter the most ignorant and indolent person could do with great facility. So you must have a mental store of words necessary for expressing yourself fully if you wish to win praise for laconism, that is, brevity of speech. But it must be adapted to the subject-matter and must be used according to the time at the disposal of the writer and prospective reader, provided justice is done to the subject. The truly brief letter is that from which nothing can be subtracted without detriment to the content, and which is so well written that even after several readings it does not cloy; at the same time, even a letter kept within the limit of twelve lines

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may be so lacking in brevity that it seems longer than the Iliad.19 And yet in this poem, despite its great length, not a single line of so many thousands is superfluous, while of those eleven lines of yours, seven can be pruned and, even after the pruning, the remaining lines, if badly expressed, will still convey the same tedium as if they rambled on endlessly. If anyone enjoys being laconic in a letter, he is free to do so, provided that he measures brevity by the limits of the subject-matter and the time available, and not by the size of the paper or the number of lines. But out of these very few words there should be none that is superfluous; rather it should appear that the writer has chosen the best portions of a rich store of material. In all of this we must remember that there is an important difference between a book and a letter, in that the latter must be adapted as far as possible to the immediate occasion, and to contemporary topics and individuals, whereas a book, intended as it is for general consumption, must be contrived to please all men of learning and good will. 2 / The unelaborated letter There are some who will not tolerate a letter unless it is free from elaboration. They do not want it to contain figures of speech lest it be said that it reeks of the lamp if it gives any evidence of ornament or artifice. Yet I should sooner put up with a letter reeking of the lamp than one that reeks of drink, or of a scent-bottle, or of a goat. Further, is there any critic so prejudiced that he would not judge that the best letters of the ancients were those which were elaborated with the greatest care and skill? What did Cicero ever write with more meticulous care than the lengthy letter to Lentulus,1 or the one in which he commends Milo2 to Curio, or many of those addressed to Marcus Varro,3 or, above all, the letter in which he tries to persuade Lucceius4 to commit his achievements to writing? Cicero himself urges Atticus to read this letter as a model of careful and felicitous5 composition. Or is the reader to prefer the notes he wrote to Terentia,6 his son Marcus, Tiro,7 or Acilius?8 When Pliny wrote to his friend Arrianus about the proceedings in the case of Marius Priscus,9 or described his villa at Laurentum to Callus,10 or informed Minicianus11 about his actions in the province of Baetica, or provided Apollinaris12 with a sketch of his estate in Tuscany, surely he did not restrict himself to ten lines.13 Why he himself testifies14 that in collecting his letters he chose the ones he had composed most carefully as being truly worthy of posterity. At the same time one must consider the recipient. Some interpret a casual and unelaborated letter as a mark of contempt. Broadly speaking, just as there is no kind of ornament and elevation of style that is not proper to a

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letter, depending upon the recipient's personality and the content, so as a rule a certain simplicity of expression, provided it be elegant, is appropriate. I do not demand trappings, but at the same time I cannot tolerate rags. I do not require curling-irons, provided there is elegance. Reject adornment if you will, but make sure there is nothing shabby. I do not insist on painstaking and finicky care, but on the other hand I do not want an untidy jumble.15 Lastly, write on the spur of the moment if you wish, write whatever comes into your head,16 as long as it is the way Cicero wrote to Atticus. 3 / The dignity of a letter Those who would never have the diction of a letter rise above the commonplace, but maintain that it should stay close to everyday speech,1 will easily be confuted by a single letter of Cicero: I mean, of course, the letter he wrote to Octavian,2 which, far from creeping along the ground,3 rises to storms of oratory and even ends on a note of tragedy.4 In my opinion the most offensive part5 of that letter has been excised by those who thought this was in the better interests of Octavian or Cicero. For consider these words:6 'When asked how fares the republic, what will the next of us to depart for that eternal home say in reply? From whom will those heroes of old,7 men like Africanus, Maximus, Paulus, and Scipio, hear of their posterity? What will they have heard about their country, which they adorned with spoils and triumphs?' and so forth. Surely this does not seem any less emotional to you than the famous invocation8 of the Alban Hills, which Quintilian9 considers to be the most impassioned utterance to be found in any speech. Thus a letter will work itself up into a tragic outburst and will make use of 'bombast and sesquipedalian words'10 when the topic so requires. One will not adopt the same style when addressing learned and important persons on issues of war and peace as he would in giving instructions to a servant about sousing salt fish or cooking vegetables. In a letter on ordinary subjects (unless there is a good reason for special treatment) atticism11 will be quite satisfactory. I shall not expect here the thunder and lightning12 of Pericles as long as the language flows along like the clear water of a spring with a pleasant, gentle murmur, and does not seem dead and sluggish like fen water, devoid of all emotion. 4 / The clarity of a letter Note that the majority of those who claim the right, as the prerogative of age and social position, to be critics of literature - of which they know nothing also demand clarity1 of us with great vehemence. They loudly proclaim that it

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is a serious offence to include in a letter any word that makes the reader pause even for a moment. I remember that when as a boy of fourteen I wrote to one of my tutors,2 who had taught me when I was even younger, and included some quotations from books that I had read, the impudent rogue, whose arrogance matched his ignorance, wrote in reply that if I intended to send such letters in the future I should include a commentary.3 He said that it had always been his habit to write clearly and 'punctiliously/ (He was fond of such 'choice expressions/) This is not to deny that in all forms of language clarity is of the utmost importance. For of what use is language that is not understood? Yet just as in certain circumstances clearness and simplicity of style is not only to be commended but is indeed necessary - for example in making a serious request of a half-educated, difficult, or extremely busy person - it is also true that no other genre admits so freely of obscurity, as when one scholar fences with another in literary witticisms that he does not want everyone to understand. For instance, I myself once played such a game with the learned scholar Thomas Linacre.4 I wrote him a letter in trochaic tetrameters, but with their arrangement so contrived that a casual reader might not suspect that it was verse. I had warned him in the opening of the letter to be on his guard, as it was my intention to trick him in this letter, and at the end I added that, unless I was deceived myself, I had already succeeded in deceiving him. The good man did not notice the deception until I pointed it out to him. I am rather fond of the saying of Augustus:5 'One should avoid an unusual word in speech as he would a reef at sea/ And in our own times certain imitators of Apuleius6 who use archaic affectations are rightly ridiculed. Speech made up of familiar words7 has a unique charm, but I should like to ask the proponents of this idea what words they consider 'familiar/ Surely not words taken from the highways and byways. That is all right if one has to write in French or German; but if in Greek or Latin, what could be less appropriate than to seek elegance from those authors in whom there is nothing but sheer dross? At one time popular usage had the right to reject8 some terms and to confer the charm of novelty upon others. Yet even then the learned did not approve all the expressions commonly bandied about in assemblies, theatres, or the military camp, and there were things in the books of the learned which would confuse the ordinary reader. Nowadays, however, correct Latin usage is not to be found in the public squares or meeting-places of the common people, but in the approved authors. Consequently, no word found in the works of an elegant and refined writer should sound unfamiliar. What is clearer or more straightforward than the language of Cicero? Yet to some he seems wrapped in Cimmerian9 darkness. What is more lucid than the language of Terence?10

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Yet many do not understand him even with the aid of commentaries. When one who is used to less elegant authors chances upon Quintilian, he protests that it all seems Greek or Arabic to him. We must take pains to be clear, yes, but clear to the educated. No one should be upset by a charge of obscurity if he shares it with Cicero or Livy. You repeatedly protest that Horace's diction is abstruse, but for the educated his learned clarity is what is most admired. I think you will conclude that the darkness exists in you, not in the author. It does not matter which writers you encounter of those I have just cited, you carry that cloud of darkness around with you. You protest loudly that a book is thorny, but the thorns are in your own feet, not in the text. You grope blindly in the sunlight, and to your owl's eyes light itself seems like darkness. The style must be amended, you say, but no matter how it comes out, still it is not understood. Yet how much more logical it would be, and more advantageous to yourself as well, to amend your own defects than to make all educated men adapt their speech to your deficiencies. There are a thousand ways of speaking barbarously, and new ones are continually cropping up. Hence it would be far simpler and easier for everyone to learn a single mode of correct speech than for each of us to learn the multiple varieties of idiom which barbarism permits. Or do you think it right that the learned should allow the Roman tongue, to which so many excellent branches of learning and the Christian religion itself have been entrusted, to die out in order not to give offence to the ignorant conceit of these individuals? Surely you do not think it fair that Cyprian,11 Jerome, and Augustine - not to mention Cicero, Quintilian, and others like them - should be condemned to oblivion so that in their place the Catholicon,12 Holcot,13 Bricot,14 and Gorra15 may be read? Will the nightingale exchange its melodies with the cuckoo just because in the ass's judgment the cuckoo's song is clearer and more intelligible? But it would be even more unfair if the educated were forced to unlearn correct speech so that they could babble away incoherently with this motley crowd, especially since the latter have it in their power, and indeed have every reason, to learn what they now, to their own great disadvantage, hold in contempt. I myself am always eager to learn, and I am not bothered even by those who unearth old words that Cicero himself did not use. Perhaps if all that he wrote were still extant we should discover that Cicero used them too. I do not resent being confronted with something that I do not understand; rather I am pleased to have the opportunity to learn something new. You, on the contrary, prefer to criticize someone else's learning rather than modestly acknowledge your own ignorance or wisely correct it. You prefer to bring charges against the sun rather than have your blear eyes16 treated by Licinus the barber. Just reflect for a moment how deliberately unfair you are towards us; you who

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cram your own writings with atrocious examples of the most corrupt speech claim to be perfectly clear and accuse others of obscurity, although you are truly impenetrable even to readers with clear vision. The contest is not fair; if you are unable to find fault with your own eyes,at least you could have overlooked our supposed faults, since you even desire to be praised for your own very real and hideous defects. In your wisdom you do not deign to learn the Latin tongue so that you might be able to understand St Jerome, to name but one among many, and yet you want us to become experts in your low, kitchen jargon so that we may understand the ravings and pathetic mumblings of you and your confreres? Good reader, I do not dwell on this at such length because I look down upon learned simplicity of speech, which in my view frequently has more artistry than the most elaborate syntax, but to draw the line between true clarity and true obscurity. One must defer to the ear, but to the learned ear, at least in works that we wish to be read by the learned. What one man finds obscure is perfectly intelligible to another; but while the former has poor sight, the latter is clear-eyed. Yet there are some things that are clear of their own nature, to perceive which the eyes must be cleansed. Besides - to return to the theme - though obscurity is always harmful and must always be avoided by a speaker or a writer, I am inclined to believe that letter-writing is the one genre in which it is most permissible, provided the obscurity is not unlearned. With Cicero as precedent one may occasionally mingle Greek and Latin, and make use of obscure allusion^, ambiguities, hidden connotations, proverbs, enigmas, and abrupt endings. One must but take into account the subject and recipient of the letter. One can break rules, but not the bounds of good sense within which art must everywhere be confined. 5/Euphony I am not particularly surprised at those who condemn euphony1 in this genre, since I know a great many people who have objected to it even in orations. My concern at the moment, however, is with novices who are ignorant of the nature of euphony in formal language. Experts can choose whether to introduce metrical effects on a particular occasion or to forego them; I am happy to leave the matter to the writer's judgment. Nevertheless I would have a young man who is still at the stage when writing is only a stylistic exercise devote time to the development of prose rhythm. Thus when the subject calls for cadences he will be able to manage them, and when it calls for a casual style he will not collapse into chaos like an untied broom,2 as Cicero puts it.

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6 / The style of the letter There was once a great diversity of opinion among the learned about the style of speech to be preferred, Attic, Rhodian, or Asiatic.1 Quintilian,2 however, considers the best style to be that which is most suited to the topic, the place, the occasion, and the character of the listeners, and consequently that it is foolish to bind utterance to fixed laws. In the same way I judge the best letter to be that which is most removed from a hackneyed and ignorant kind of writing: it should consist of carefully considered thoughts and well-chosen, appropriate words; it should be adapted as much as possible to the subject, the place, the occasion, and the person; when dealing with great matters it should be dignified; in matters of less importance, unpretentious; in matters of little importance, elegant and amusing; in pleasantries it should give delight with subtlety and wit; in eulogies it should have a degree of pomp; it should be powerful and spirited in exhortations; soothing and friendly in consolation; effective and pithy in persuasion; clear and vivid in description; modest in making requests; conscientious in recommendation; in success congratulatory; in distress grave. Finally, not to pursue an endless list, it should be flexible, and, as the polyp3 adapts itself to every condition of its surroundings, so a letter should adapt itself to every kind of subject and circumstance. A letter's style will not only conform to the topic, but, as befits any good go-between (for a letter performs the function of a messenger), it will take account of times and persons: it will not speak of the same subject on all occasions or to all persons alike; it will present itself in one guise to the old, in another to the young; its aspect will vary according as the person addressed is stern and forbidding, or of a more jovial nature; a courtier or a philosopher; an intimate acquaintance or a total stranger; a man of leisure or one engaged in active pursuits; a faithful companion or a false friend and ill-wisher. At the same time the style will also keep in mind the writer and not merely the recipient or the purpose for which it was sent. Therefore it will play the part of a Mercury,4 as it were, transforming itself into every shape required by the topic at hand, yet in such a way that amid great variety it retains one feature unaltered, namely that of being always refined, learned, and sane. So long as there has been no departure from these requirements, there is no other failing in a letter which cannot readily be excused. If it is somewhat verbose, we shall say that it was written either for an inquisitive person or a man of leisure; if it is a bit elaborate and reeks of the lamp,5 then it was written for a scholar; if it is technical, this kind of letter befits an expert; if uncomplicated in style, it will be regarded as being written for one who liked simplicity or for one who is uninitiated; if it is laconic, it is the letter of one

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busy person to another; if rather artificial and embroidered, let us say it was written for a man of fastidious tastes; if couched in an archaic style, it will have been destined for an antiquarian; if it is too effusive, for a friend; if too familiar, for a close acquaintance; if too harsh, for a scoundrel; if too flattering, for a social climber. In short, whatever would not have escaped criticism in other forms of writing can be defended here either in consideration of the topic, or the person of the writer, or the character, condition, or age of the recipient. In fact, variation and unevenness of style and subject-matter which would merit condemnation elsewhere here have a peculiar charm. In Gellius' Noctes6 and other miscellanies one can pardon constant changes of subject, but not a repeatedly shifting style, whereas in letters it is delightful to see how much a young man's language differs from that of an old man, and to note what age has added or taken away from the style. So those who try to impose a single form and style on this branch of writing are taking on a task that is both fruitless and absurd. 7 / The distinguishing characteristics of a letter Some critics may exclude certain letters from the general category, for example, letters composed for practice or to show off one's virtuosity, like those of Phalaris,1 attributed by scholars to Lucian, and the amatory letters of Philostratus,2 which are indeed very elegant (if only they were as chaste!); to these may be added the Heroides of Ovid, and others of that sort, -1 should have no objection to calling them short declamations, as some prefer. There are those which might more properly be called books, such as some letters of Plato, all of Seneca's,3 most of those by Jerome, Cyprian, and Augustine, and a few by Tertullian.4 There are some that might better be called 'speeche refer to those lengthy epistles addressed to princes or magistrates on difficult and abstruse matters. In that case the letter plays the part not of a speaker or messenger but of an advocate. Even if the name 'letter' be restricted to interchanges between friends on private matters, it would still not be possible to settle on any fixed form. Nevertheless, if there is something that can be said to be characteristic of this genre, I think that I cannot define it more concisely than by saying that the wording of a letter should resemble a conversation between friends. For a letter, as the comic poet Turpilius5 skilfully put it, is a mutual conversation between absent friends, which should be neither unpolished, rough, or artificial, nor confined to a single topic, nor tediously long. Thus the epistolary form favours simplicity, frankness, humour, and wit. Therefore we shall strive after gracefulness of expression, except when the topics or persons require otherwise. We shall not persist too long on the

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same theme, and, as in conversing with our friends, we shall combine various and sundry matters as it suits us. Atticism is best suited to this genre, and a rather low style, closer to comedy than tragedy, or even lower than comic diction, provided that it is a learned simplicity. We must be mindful that it takes no less ability to creep along the ground, as it were, in a manner deserving of praise than to soar through the air with Daedalus,6 or to hug the shore with furled sails than to sail on the open sea with yards raised. Brevity is congenial to this genre, especially if the points treated are many or detailed, or if either the writer or the recipient is a busy man. The means for achieving brevity have been pointed out in my book De copia.7 As far as my present purpose is concerned, we shall achieve brevity of speech if, as in the case of comedy, we enter at once into the middle of the subject, dispense with needless prefaces, use the most telling words, narrate the outcome of a story in such a way that one may infer what went before, and avoid reviewing the substance of the letter to which we are replying (a procedure that sometimes takes up the better part of a letter). But I leave this to be inferred from the following example: 'What's this you tell me? Antonius a bishop? The sheep8 to the wolf! as they say. Times like these could have used Aurelius9 rather than him. He's nothing but a great big good-for-nothing lout.10 You painted a perfect picture of him in a few words. You were worried about your brother's health, but I'll soon tell you in hard facts how much I owe a worthy doctor. My wife's fertility would be more welcome if my means increased along with my offspring. As for that slandering madman Lawrence, I think it would be better not to get involved in a law suit with him. You will only be stirring up a hornets' nest11 or something even worse.' From these brief phrases the reader will gather what was previously written to elicit such a response. There are some who give a virtually complete summary of another's letter at almost greater length than the original. If the circumstances require that the subject be reiterated, it should be done with suitable brevity. Poliziano,12 a great master of the art, used to do this in many of his letters - for the benefit of the reader, of course, who would thus not miss anything if the letters to which the replies were made were no longer available, or were of such a nature that one would not want to read them anyway. 8 / Refinement It seems hardly worth while to recommend that a letter should be free from defects of language, although the rhetoricians prescribe this in their teachings. For it is not so much a question of issuing a precaution against

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such an occurrence as eradicating what has become a widespread habit in our time. Nothing takes less time to teach than that a letter should show good taste/ but nothing takes more trouble to learn, and nowhere do worse mistakes occur more often. This defect is rendered insufferable by an infelicitous striving after effect. For what is so unnatural as language that without being elegant wishes to seem ornate, and without being correct strives to appear beautiful, garishly painting over its blemishes; like the person these days who prefers to say 'I divine your intention' instead of 'I see what you mean/ Refinement of language is only attained through much reading, many precepts, careful study of the authors, and much practice in writing and speaking. This then will be the first and chief task, assuming that the writer has a clear style and a sound mind. Art is not absolutely necessary in a letter, but if it is lacking, the affectation of art will provoke ridicule. 9 / Practice and imitation Nor shall we allow a certain class of men, of whom I have met a great number, to continue in their ignorant belief that the ability to write correctly can be conferred by three or four little precepts, as if they were magic formulas. If only I had not once humoured this sort of foolishness! For it was to oblige such a man1 that I sketched this work twenty-five years ago, not so much of my own inclination as from kindness, wishing to accommodate his incessant demands. But I soon found him to be both an ungrateful pupil and a false friend. He had wasted the better and greater part of his life in the courts2 of princes but now, endowed with rich benefices,3 he began too late to be wise4 and to give thought to learning, which does not come with one's purse. I have come upon many such men who, once they have turned their minds from mundane matters and sordid worries about the amassing of wealth to the acquisition of learning, pester me for a set of abridged rules5 for correct writing, which they want to be short enough to fill less than three full pages and of such efficacy that in less than a month they can turn a dumb brute into a fluent speaker. They need every available short cut, they say, and this is because, first, they are too lazy to expend even the slightest effort in worthwhile pursuits; secondly, they have already wasted the greater part of their lives in matters of no consequence; and lastly, since they are in a hurry to return to those same mean occupations, they are anxious to pick up learning in passing, as it were. If I felt like making fun of them, I should tell them to drink one draught from the Muses' spring6 and dream upon Parnassus so that we might see them transformed instantaneously from asses into nightingales. Yet others for whom there is some ray of hope must be counselled lest

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they go astray. I do not wish the rules we devise to encourage the efforts of studious young men to contribute to the foolishness of others, which would be the case if anyone were to exaggerate their importance or guarantee that they could confer the ability to write correctly without broad learning, assiduous study, and much practice. As for those self-indulgent, unteachable old men, who care more about money than literature, who for so many years have had time to fill their coffers with cash but no time to fill their minds with decent learning, let us send them, as I said, to Parnassus, so that when they have dreamt there for a single night with Ennius,7 they will suddenly return as Ciceros instead of the Midases8 they were, to everyone's great astonishment. Or at the very least let us entrust them to an instructor like the teacher of rhetoric described by Lucian.9 On the other hand, we shall incite energetic young men of promising intellectual abilities to sleepless vigils and assiduous practice. That this is of the first importance, here as in every other art, has been said by authorities10 too important to leave room for doubt, and has been repeated too often to require any further admonition. Still I shall not deny that a great part of the toil can be eliminated by the aptitude of the teacher. He should be not only persistent and tireless but learned as well, lest he be unable to practise what he preaches, and in the words of the proverb, 'one pig11 teaches another.' But if it is not easy to find someone who excels in exact learning, because of these unhappy times of ours,then we will have to be satisfied with a lesser scholar, as long as he is not one of those who, inflated by a false conviction of their own knowledge, 'teach their own stupidity with great aplomb,'12 to quote Quintilian, too illiterate to teach others, and too exalted to allow themselves to be taught by others. Public magistrates everywhere would have public menaces of this kind banished far from their cities if they were aware of their proper responsibilities, or had any care at all for their country. Flute-players and trumpeters by the dozen are maintained with huge salaries, yet no one more rightly deserves a large and attractive salary than a learned schoolmaster. But I should not want this salary to be fixed and tenured, lest the size of the remuneration be a temptation for the ignorant and the incompetent, who always have less shame and more audacity than the learned. The salary should be agreed upon beforehand at the discretion of men of learning and recognized good faith to match the qualifications of the man appointed, and there should also be provision that it be increased or diminished according as his teaching and industry either surpass or fall below expectation. Otherwise there is danger that the same abuses will ensue that we observe in high priestly offices, where the more lucrative the position, the more unworthy the one who occupies it. There are available, so please the Muses, some good-sized volumes on

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letter-writing/3 with examples of each type but, dear God, of what quality! Yet their incredible barbarity must be attributed to an age when all sound learning was extinguished, when ignorance reigned supreme in public and in private alike, when the Mammetrectus14 was an important and eloquent authority and the Catholicon*5 a rich horn of plenty. And even after sound learning had begun to be revived in Italy, at Louvain great acclaim was accorded the letters of a man named Charles/6 who for many years had been director of Lily College/7 though now no one thinks them worth looking at. In Holland a certain Engelbert18 was held to be the light of the world, although all he taught his pupils by his trifling, little letters was how to write badly. Yet unless my intuition deceives me, there will soon come a time when there will be no need to warn the world against them, and when the young will not require any instructions from me either. In the meantime, however, in order that my efforts may be of some help to any schoolmaster who is moderately well versed in literature, I should exhort him, after he has briefly summed up the rules of the art of rhetoric for his pupils, to be sure to give them frequent practice in short epistolary themes. He will choose this material carefully, in order to present those topics in particular that will attract and interest boys of that age. For the more enjoyable these exercises, the more useful they will prove, and this aim will be accomplished if the themes are novel, or amusing, or otherwise congenial to boys' minds. One should seek them out in the stories of the poets or the historians, unless, as may well happen, some novelty is provided by contemporary events. For things often happen even in our own times that deserve the attention of future ages. In the first category are the love letters of Ovid/9 which perhaps are not to be recommended as classroom exercises for those of tender years. On the other hand they are comparatively innocent, and there is nothing to prevent a chaste and seemly treatment even in this kind of letter - for instance, a suitor20 seeking a girl in marriage with cajoling letters, or Helen restraining Paris from an illicit love. Penelope's letter to Ulysses is perfectly chaste, as is that of Acontius to Cydippe. Similarly one may compose a letter from a wife to her husband who is tarrying abroad, telling him to hasten home; or a letter from the aged and eloquent Nestor21 urging Achilles to bear nobly Agamemnon's seizure of Briseis, showing that even a wicked king must be obeyed, that the common good must take precedence over private grief, and finally that it is utterly unbecoming of Achilles' high birth, noble spirit, and brilliant career that he should forget his valour for the love of a foreign slave girl. This topic gives a splendid opportunity to attack disreputable pleasure, and also to dwell on the immortal glory to be won by exceptional heroism. We could have a letter from Phoenix22 to the same Achilles advising him to make peace with

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Agamemnon23 and to rescue the Greeks in their peril; or a letter from Antenor24 persuading Priam not to hesitate to restore the abducted Helen to her husband Menelaus, arguing that this would be just in itself, and that it would be the mark of a very stupid king to allow so many brave heroes to enter the fray and to expose the lives and fortunes of so many peoples to extreme peril for the sake of the shameful passion of Paris, a dissolute youth hardly past the threshold of manhood. We might have Agamemnon urging his brother Menelaus to forget about Helen rather than risk the lives of so many thousands of princes for a mere woman not deserving of life to reclaim at the price of a world-wide upheaval a woman who should not be taken back, even if she returned of her own will. We could represent Linus25 exhorting Hercules,26 uncertain about which of the two goddesses he should follow, to despise pleasure and embrace virtue; or Menelaus charging Paris with abusing his hospitality; Amphion27 encouraging his brother towards the study of music; and him in turn inviting Amphion to his own calling. Many of the Greeks exercised their ingenuity successfully in this genre, but none more so than Lucian. Yet from this wealth of material I think we should prefer what is of social value to what is not. Lucian's dialogue about Jupiter becoming pregnant28 in his brain and begging Vulcan for his axe is of no value; nor is the one about Neptune,29 who was denied entrance by Mercury when Jupiter had just brought forth Pallas Athene from his brain. For although such things are amusing and give proof of a fertile talent, they are of little benefit to society. Themes from the plots of comedy are more serviceable in this regard. An example of this would be a letter from a friend of Phaedria30 urging him to shake off his love for Thais, stop acting foolishly and return to the settled life he used to lead, especially since keeping her involved great loss of wealth and reputation, while she did not truly love him from the heart nor did she restrict her favours to him alone. Another imaginary letter might be written to the rich man31 in Plautus' Aulularia, advising him to choose Euclio, a poor but upright man, as his son-in-law rather than the rich suitor, or, from the opposite viewpoint, urging him to give his daughter in marriage to a rich man rather than a poor one. Again, Demea might invite his brother to his own way of life, that is from town to country life, from celibacy to marriage, from an indulgent rearing of children to a stricter one; and, conversely, Micio32 might encourage Demea toward his kind of life. These are topics that pupils would enjoy. Topics taken from the historians come closer to the truth, and so confer more profit without any great diminution of pleasure. Such might be a letter from Horatius,33 condemned on a capital charge, begging his father's aid and lamenting his sudden change of fortune; from Cicero encouraging Milo34 to bear exile with a brave heart; a letter discouraging Cato35 from the study of

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Greek, to which he aspired in his old age; or persuading or dissuading36 Cicero37 as to the three paths open to him - to commit suicide, to flee to safety, or to burn his Philippics33 and ransom his life from Antony. One could congratulate Quintus Curtius39 on his brave and conscientious spirit in setting the safety of his country before his own survival; write a letter advising the priests at Delphi to accept the bull of Phalaris;40 or a letter dissuading the violated Lucretia41 from taking her life; compose a letter from Jonathan, Saul's son, comforting his friend David,42 a fugitive in hiding for fear of the king, bidding him sustain his spirit amid such tribulations in the expectation of divinely promised kingship;43 or from Plato44 exhorting the tyrant Dionysius to the study of philosophy; then some other historical figure could discourage him from this pursuit. Again, one could represent the Roman republic appealing to the heroism of Camillus45 in exile to ward off the Gauls' last desperate attempt on Rome; or write a letter from Aristotle to Callisthenes46 as he set out for the court of Alexander the Great, prescribing the manner in which he should conduct himself in the company of a king, instructing him that with kings one should speak either very rarely or in the most agreeable manner possible,47 in this way ensuring one's own safety by silence or the royal favour by speech. Then one could compose a reply of Callisthenes to Aristotle, stating that his counsel would have been more worthy of a philosopher if he had advised him not to set out for such a prince's court, where a philosopher had to choose between slavish silence and base flattery, adding that honour was of more concern to him than profit or safety. Further examples might include Alcibiades48 advising Socrates to turn a quarrelsome and impudent wife out of his home; Callicratidas49 advising Socrates to abandon his unrelenting study of philosophy and turn to generally accepted moral customs and the admiration of the state; Crito50 advising Socrates to give thought to his own safety and escape from prison. An abundant supply of such material is ready at hand without the tedium of investigation in Valerius Maximus51 and other writers, who have extracted memorable topics from the books of the historians. In fact from any single account, such as the life of Cato, or Antony, or Julius Caesar, several themes can be drawn. Therefore I shall not pursue a subject that is limitless in its scope and easily accessible to everyone. It is advisable that young men should have varied and thorough practice in this branch of study because, in addition to the stylistic advantages, they will unconsciously assimilate ancient tales worth remembering and fix them deep in their memory, and will become familiar with the names of persons and places. Above all, they will learn the meaning of decorum and the nature of moral integrity,52 which are important elements of rhetorical narration. Thus it will be the function of the teacher, before setting

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out the form of the letter to be written, to explain the story to the pupils, going back as far as is necessary and with as much detail as is deemed suitable, specifying also the main turning-points of the story, the distinct characteristics of the personages involved, and the other circumstances, so that they do not stray from propriety in their writing, or say what is inappropriate. Next he must see that sources are available from which they may draw topics or supporting proofs, for which purpose familiarity with the particular details of the case is essential; then he will point out several passages where these topics are treated in the classical authors, so that the pupils may collect a store of words and maxims or may imitate them with similar expressions. One may also invent topics like those found in historical narratives; there are many set speeches like Lucian's dialogue53 about the disinherited doctor or that of Aulus Gellius about the pregnant woman whom Favorinus54 persuades to nurse her child55 with her own milk; I shall return to this type of speech later. But there is also another, shorter kind of exercise more suited to the abilities of the pupils: this is to elaborate on commonplaces made up for the occasion or taken from the classical authors. The commonplace can be taken either from well-known sayings of the ancients, or from proverbs, fables, similes, or metaphors. The theme of a letter can be put together from any of these. To give an example of a saying: when Socrates was about to drink the hemlock, he replied to his wife Xanthippe as she cried out that he was going to die innocent: 'What do you want, woman? Surely you would not prefer me to die guilty?' This example would be suitable for a letter of consolation: 'If you were simply an ordinary person, you would have good reason to be grieved at your exile, which was totally unmerited; but since I know you to be a man of good judgment, exceptionally well trained in philosophy, you must bear your fortune calmly for the very reason that it is undeserved. Misfortune is only bitter and heavy when it befalls one who has fully deserved it. In your case this blow of fortune only serves to shed lustre on your integrity and your services to your country.' At this point the story I have just related about Socrates would be most apposite. The following is an example of a proverb: Tf you will listen to me, you will cease contending with so many conspirators. You are not Hercules, and this dispute is not one involving heroism. Yet if we are to believe the words of the proverb, "even Hercules56 was no match for two" - are you going to take on so many crabs and hydras57 all by yourself?' As an example of a fable, if we are to warn someone not to get involved in a dangerous enterprise without having first carefully considered how he will finish what he has begun, we may use the fable about the goat58 suffering from thirst that was enticed by a fox into a well from which there

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was no way out. Similarly, in a letter to a friend advising him not to depend upon the good offices of persons who make fine promises, but to conduct his own affairs in person, we can make proper use of the story of the crested lark59 related by Aulus Gellius60 in the Noctes Atticae. And as an example of a parable: in admonishing someone not to persist obstinately in what he judges to be the best course of action per se but to adapt himself to present circumstances we shall make use of the parable of the wise helmsman,61 who does not always steer his ship straight to where he wants to go, but often goes with the tide and the winds, and turns his sails, making not for the harbour to which he has set his course, but for the one which weather conditions allow him to reach. These exercises seem to me to be more conducive to the acquiring of the ability to speak than some of the rules passed on in the Progymnasmata of Aphthonius.62 What I said about fables will hold good for the stories of the poets which were either invented for a serious purpose or later so adapted. If for instance you were trying to dissuade someone from undertaking a task beyond his powers, you would make allusion to the fate of Icarus63 or Phaethon.64 If you were eager to deter someone from the desire to amass money, the story of Tantalus65 would be appropriate. Boys of tender age should have preliminary practice with themes of this kind, so that, as Quintilian66 is at pains to advise, minds still young may be gently nurtured as if in the care of nurses, and may be nourished with the rich food and milk of a congenial method of teaching. But when they are more mature they must be guided gradually to subjects closer to real life. The instructor will either present topics drawn from some other source, or he will devise varied and copious themes himself from every type of situation. Otherwise it will turn out that the pupils learn nothing except how to write badly, if, as happens in so many schools, an ignorant schoolmaster presents as a theme the idle dream of his own foolish brain, in which there is neither sense, nor coherence, nor even attractiveness of language. Furthermore, in the correction of errors they indicate only the most glaring grammatical faults, like 'I warn to you' instead of 'I warn you/ while important errors go unnoticed. One will grow out of the former; the latter, if neglected, persist all through one's lifetime. 10 / The presentation of the subject-matter The teacher should give neither an exhaustive presentation of the subject, leaving nothing for the students to contribute of their own, nor merely a bare outline, but one defined in some detail, so that they may grow used to aiming their arrows at a definite target, as it were, and may invent wise sayings, arguments, proofs of arguments, amplifications, and other figures. For

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example, in persuading a woman who has just had a child to nurse the baby herself,1 he would specify that the mother is a mere girl, the child a fine baby and very much like its father - although you will hardly find another argument more removed from the circumstances. In the letter in which he tries to reconcile a daughter to her mother (he virtually admits that he had invented it as a rhetorical exercise), St Jerome2 does not simply state that the daughter was disgracefully separated from her mother; he adds that the mother was a widow, the daughter unmarried, and her brother a monk; that the daughter was very young and spirited; that she had abandoned her mother, repudiated her brother, and had gone to cohabit with a goodlooking young monk in no way related to her, with whom she was living in close intimacy; that she had given as her sole reason the difficult character of her mother. Her kinsfolk, especially her brother, were profoundly disturbed by the suspected intimacy, but the girl could not be persuaded to be reconciled with her mother. The rejected brother then went to Jerome and told him the whole story from beginning to end. That is how Jerome presents it, and in doing so he has at the same time provided most of the material for an oration. One could make up many situations of the same type; for example: There were two young men, Lucius and Antonius; the one had only modest means, the other was the son of well-to-do parents. From their earliest years they had been as fond of one another as brothers. They were comrades and accomplices, one to the other, in gambling, parties, drinking bouts, love affairs, and the other pleasures and vices that usually make that time of life unsettled. Lucius, the elder of the two, after squandering his means and becoming weary of the notorious reputation he had acquired and dejected by an unhappy love affair, secretly left the country. In Paris he ran by chance into one of his father's friends and with his help and encouragement conceived as much ardour for serious study as he had previously expended in his passionate affairs with harlots. Thereupon, writing to his friend Antonius, who had stayed behind at Bruges, he congratulates himself on his happy change of heart and attempts to attract his old friend from his wasted life to the study of letters.' This will serve as the exposition of the entire theme together with the circumstances. Then the teacher will point out the type of theme, which in this case is a suasoria.3 Next, after explaining the divisions which generally belong to this type, as they are transmitted by the writers on the art of rhetoric, he will indicate which ones are peculiar to this topic. He will point out that the main argument of the letter consists in Lucius' detailed account of the disgrace, dishonour, risks, and disadvantages of his wasted former life, a stressing of its horrors, and the vivid portrayal of them to Antonius.

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Then he should review and enlarge upon the advantages of a blameless life and honourable studies, the enhancement and comfort they bring in good fortune or bad, how they alone confer an everlasting name and the imperishable glory of an honourable reputation. Next he should show by adducing comparisons that these are the only true riches, the only true pleasures of life, and the source of all true honour. This will be the sketch, roughed out, as it were, in charcoal, of the letter to be written. Next he will add to each section a rich store of reasons, proofs, similes, examples, and maxims. He will show at what point commonplaces could be effective and how they can be employed. This may serve as a commonplace: Travel often reforms the habits of those spoiled by the comforts of their own country/ A second: 'No better fortune can befall a man than sincere and friendly advice/ Then he will expound some methods of composing the exordium. The writer will recall with satisfaction the memory of the pleasant life they spent together. He will say that his affection for his old friend has in no way cooled because of the interruption of their close association, but that it is his fervent prayer that the love which had been nurtured in the foolish pleasures of childhood may be secured by adamantine bonds4 and made more true and lasting, and that this would come about if they were able to achieve the same fellowship and unanimity in the pursuit of honourable learning as they had once enjoyed in foolish pleasures. Here a commonplace about true and false and strong and weak friendships suggests itself immediately. He will say that his good fortune in coming back to his senses and his enjoyment of honourable learning in place of base luxuries will not be complete until he has seen his other self rescued from like evils and sharing in his happiness; that this would not be difficult if Antonius would only listen with the same attention to his friend's words regarding their common salvation, as he did so often in the past to his childish talk about his scandalous escapades; that this is no trivial matter to be given only slight attention, but one that should penetrate to the depths of the heart. Or the following type of opening can be suggested, if there is some reason for employing a more indirect approach. The writer will pretend that he has no doubt that Antonius, too, has totally reformed, and congratulate him out of true affection on his change to a better life, declaring that this is exactly what he would have desired of him. Then he can effect a kind of transition5 to the persuasive part of the letter. Lucius will say that his friend Antonius should not be surprised if what he is now writing is greatly at variance with his former life; on the contrary, if when they were both in error he used to congratulate him on his enjoyment of false blessings and real evils, now at last there is every reason for congratulations when he has turned from foolish and pernicious pleasures to the serene love of learning.

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Then, outlining the parts of his discourse, Lucius will explain: 'My letter has a twofold purpose, first to persuade you that there is much reason to rejoice in that I have escaped such great evils and attained such a degree of happiness; and secondly, to urge you to devote yourself wholeheartedly to these same studies, now that you have abandoned the frivolities that have taken up too much of your life. Then at last I, who have already escaped, can welcome my Pirithous,7 brought back, as it were, from the underworld/ This will serve as a prelude to the argumentation. Immediately after this the teacher will point out the premises of the argumentation, the foundations, as it were, of the whole question. The thinking out of these, though by far the most difficult step of all, is highly essential, so much so that, unless they are determined upon, all the rest will be useless. Nothing else so eludes technical definition. On this point Quintilian has passed on some particular comments in describing the dispute between Thebes and Thessaly,8 and I myself in my treatise De copia have given a rough, if not a learned, account of the argument. In the present discussion it will be possible to establish general propositions of this kind: 'Nothing is finer than liberal studies' - this premise is taken from the category of the honourable; 'Nothing is more illustrious' - this is taken from the category of the praiseworthy,9 which is not essentially distinct from the honourable, but is treated separately for purposes of persuasion; 'Nothing is more agreeable' - this comes from the category of the pleasant.10 To this first general statement secondary propositions of the following sort will be subordinated: 'Above all else it is in accordance with man's nature to know, and therefore those ignorant of learning do not deserve the name of man. Moreover, even if learning contributed nothing of importance towards an honourable reputation, pleasantness of life, or the gaining of wealth or esteem, it would still be desirable for its own sake.' As a second example: 'Learning is the only guide to perfect virtue. Just as the seeds of virtue spring from nature, so its perfection is sought from learning. From it is derived the knowledge of what should be sought or avoided; it heals spiritual ills and brings peace to the minds of mortals. It restrains arrogance in prosperity; in distress we look to it for solace and strength.' In support of the former proposition he will add by way of proof the fact that even as children it is a natural thing for us to be pleased if we grasp the meaning of a riddle that is put to us, or come to learn something new. Conversely, we are upset if it eludes us. 'Philosophers assign the faculty of reason to man as his distinctive mark; but this does not apply to one who does not use his reason at all, but is led by his feelings and habits like the brute beasts. Some say that man does not differ from other animals in the form of reasoning, but only in degree: so it is possible that with the gradual increase of ignorance and folly

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man is brought down to the level of the beasts. Nature created man upright and implanted in him the desire to know in order that he might contemplate God's creation and at the same time meditate upon God as the maker of all things, and upon himself and the whole fabric of the universe.' To amplify this one can add what Platonic philosophers11 and others have written concerning man's condition: about the statue made of clay by Prometheus/2 in which it is imagined that tiny heavenly fire was placed; about the clay to which God, the supreme potter, gave life with his breath; about the particle of divinity13 which according to some was added to human bodies. For some have thought that the soul is nothing but a spark of fire or a tiny ray of that divine light, or have sought the origins of the mind14 in the stars, or at all events in some divine repository. Here it will be relevant to mention Plato's conception15 of souls descending to earth whose knowledge here is nothing but a kind of dreamlike memory16 of what they once saw, free from their bodies, in the presence of God.17 These and many other things proclaim a degree of divine nature in the mind. It is proclaimed too by the fact that a single mind, shut up in a small body, embraces so many and such varied and difficult subjects in its understanding and retains them in its memory. It will seem miraculous, if one considers it, that the man who has learned only one language knows so many names of men and things, and far more miraculous that Mithridates18 had a knowledge of twenty-one languages. Yet memory is the smallest part of the human mind. One must add what Plato19 refused to admit, that the body forms part of man's nature, that it is the instrument, habitation,20 or vehicle of the soul, and that the soul is the whole of what we call man. Also, as Seneca21 said, unless I am mistaken, 'Life without learning is the death and burial of a living man.' What is less man than a man's corpse? For a body is not a body but a tomb, which holds back the mind itself from its natural vigour, and for this reason the philosophers think the body was called crw/Lta, similar to crrj/jia,22 that is, a tomb. Plato23 had this in mind when he wrote that philosophy is nothing but a meditation on death. For if death is the withdrawal of the spirit from the body, and philosophy withdraws the mind from physical and coarse things to those that are eternal and intelligible, then the mind begins to live only at the moment when it bursts forth from this tomb. From history we can cite the story of Diogenes,24 how he lit a lamp at midday, and when asked what he was doing replied that he was looking for a man. And again how he called together a meeting of the people, crying out, 'Hear ye, men, hear ye, men!' and when a sufficiently large crowd had gathered and they asked him what he wished to say, he replied that it was men he had called together, not those who bore no resemblance to men. One could also use the saying of a certain wag about a man who was rough and

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ignorant: 'A great big bad good-for-nothing fish/25 He called him 'good-fornothing' because he was of no account, 'big' because he was weighed down by a fat body and made sluggish by his big paunch, 'bad' because he had no virtue, a 'fish' because he was dumb and inarticulate. This is also the reason why in sayings bandied about by the common people the name of man is denied to the dull and the ignorant. Why do you think they call a stupid and ignorant person a 'statue'26 except that he is not a man, but the mere likeness of a man? They also call such a person 'an ass with a lyre/27 'a pig/ 'a Boeotian pig,'28 'an Antronian ass/29 'just like an elephant/30 'a sheep/31 'a brute,' 'a beast,' 'a mushroom/32 'a log,' 'a lump of wood,' 'a hunk of lead/ 'a nightmare of a man/ 'a monster of a man.' You can bring in a comparison: just as when the oat degenerates into tares through the deficiency of the soil or when wheat goes into spelt it loses the name of its genus, so a man begins to be a brute when he neglects good learning and begins to care only for his appetite and his lusts. Again, another comparison: just as the material suitable for carving a statue will not be called a statue unless the form is added by the diligence of the artist, so birth does not create a man, but only something capable of having man's nature. What is born is the raw material, so to speak; education gives it shape. A third example: just as it is quite natural for an implanted graft to retain the taste of the tree from which it was taken, so the mind of man, which has a heavenly origin, should not degenerate from its kind. And as it is natural for fire to make its way upwards, drawn to its origin by an inborn force, so the inborn nature of man, though immersed in these corporeal vapours, still cannot forget its beginnings. Then another analogy: just as a bear would not be a bear if a man's mind were hidden beneath the form of the bear, and just as Apuleius33 was not really an ass since his mind remained intact, although he was carrying around the shape of an ass, so also he would not be called a man if the mind of a beast animated the shape of a man. Likewise, if a statue portraying man's shape in every detail, like those attributed to Daedalus,34 will not be called a man because it lacks a mind, then surely it is not the shape that makes a man, but knowledge. This is why the ancient poets, who were, of course, men of great wisdom, related in no idle tales that those who did not bother to cultivate their intellects but gave themselves up entirely to bestial pleasures passed into the nature of wild beasts, while on the other hand those who surpassed others in wisdom, being descended from the gods, returned after death into fellowship with the gods. They say that the daemons, whom they consider to be lesser gods,35 were so called because they were dayiJiovss,36 that is, learned or knowing. Horace37 too calls an ignorant man 'a body without a heart.' The instructor will provide his pupils with a varied store of subject-

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matter of this kind. For the meantime it is enough for me to have pointed out the method to those who teach. What I have attempted to do in amplifying one proposition he will do in individual examples, and in each part that can be developed; not that every pupil should undertake each one, but that from a wide selection each pupil may seize upon topics suited to his own talent, and from what he has been taught may become accustomed to inventing similar points. But now I seem to hear some voices of protest against my little set of rules. 'Look here/ they say, 'this is really hard advice you are giving, beset with difficulties; besides, it is beyond the comprehension and mental abilities of young boys/ But I made it clear from the start that I was not writing for an ass but for a qualified instructor, and not for an uneducated one or one who shuns work. For if he is unlearned, how does he have the temerity to assume the name and position of a teacher? If he is indolent, why does he attempt such a laborious occupation? This is the profession of the elementary teacher; this is the play he has undertaken to put on. No one undertakes the cultivation of a vineyard without preparing himself steadfastly for what Virgil38 calls 'the endless and unbroken round of toil/ As for the pupils, what can they hear that is more pleasant or more profitable? From these exercises they will go on to preach fluently in churches, to guide the senate with wise eloquence, to serve with credit on missions of public importance, and lastly to be competent on any matter both in judgment and in speech. 'But at that age/ they say, 'they do not have the intelligence for such things/ The fault is yours, from whom, in place of good authors, they have learnt modes of signification39 and other such jargon as senseless as it is verbose. In ancient times boys were sent from their nurse to school, and entered at once upon the study of literature taken from the best authors;40 they were not kept back ten years learning nonsense they would only have to unlearn later. I beg you, you band of nuisances, to allow them to learn as young men what you should have taught them as boys; allow them to drink in from their earliest years what will always be worth remembering. Let the new jar41 absorb the purest liquid so that it may long retain its flavour. They should learn to have these things at their fingertips and to fit them to varied uses as the occasion demands. For the chief aim42 of teaching boys is that they should not have to be taught again as young men. If you are going to communicate the best learning to them at some time or other, why not do it immediately? If at no time, why do you go on teaching? Or is it your aim that you should always be teaching and they should always have to be taught? A good man who wishes to earn the gratitude of his country, even for no reward but thanks, should not shrink from the task as I have outlined it, a crucial one for those who learn, and not sterile or unrewarding even for those who teach.

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Finally, after the teacher has provided this kind of model and a repertory of examples for the topic, he will suggest the right emotional colouring and the conclusion. Then he will demonstrate how the same subject can be treated in different ways. To keep to our chosen example, he may teach that, just as the recommendation of learning can be supported by comparisons, so can the denunciation of ignorance. The following may serve as an example of this kind of proposition: 'Among all the things that men so much admire and pursue through thick and thin, there is nothing that can be compared with learning. For those honours, sought after with great peril and possessed with greater, on which human ambition has set its goals, are not true honours at all, in that they often fall to the lot of the least deserving, and even if true, are not continuous or enduring; for such is the caprice of fortune, that as it sometimes throws honours in the path of those who had no hope of them, so it frequently takes them away from the unsuspecting. Learning, on the other hand, is acquired at one's leisure, is possessed in great tranquility, comes only by one's own effort, and brings true and undying renown.' This first field of discussion is replete with attractive commonplaces, and rich in a great variety of examples and similes. Next a second topic should be broached: 'A great part of mankind is engaged in the search for gold, silver, precious stones, and other wealth of this kind through rocks and through fire, at great risk to life and limb, although these goods do not belong to us; they fall to the lot even of the indolent, and are awarded indiscriminately by blind fortune to the undeserving and taken from the deserving. Furthermore, they are extraneous to man, and are not under his control; they may be lost through innumerable misfortunes - shipwreck, fire, war, theft, rot, decay - and if by none of these they are certainly consumed by use. But if one does not use them, they have no inherent beauty that would make them desirable. In addition, even if they are bestowed in abundance, they do not satisfy man's mind but only rouse wretched cupidity. Finally, they cannot heal43 the infirmities of mind or body, but rather provide a seed-bed for all the ills of both parts of man's nature, and far from being honourable in themselves, are a chief obstacle to virtue. Generosity depletes them, frugality makes them moulder; they are amassed with great toil; preserved, once amassed, with still greater anxiety; and when we must part with them, lost with untold suffering.' In learning the situation is just the opposite. I shall omit the second part of the comparison, partly not to be too lengthy, partly to leave something for others to devise. Here a second subject presents itself which is very wide-ranging, diversified, and appealing. Then in the third place the teacher will propose: the gift of beauty seems to be a matter of great consequence and a desirable object of every

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prayer, but no one can claim credit for this good fortune, just as no one is to blame for its denial. For we deserve neither praise nor blame for what nature has given us, nor are we even certain, if we are gifted with a fair appearance, whether it is given by nature in kindness or in wrath, for conspicuous physical beauty has been the ruin of many, both of those who possess it and of those who behold it. To the one who possesses it good looks bring nothing but anxiety, fear, suspicion, unfavourable reputation, the potential for sin, incitement44 to lust, and the opportunity for satisfying it. If a man so endowed wishes to be chaste, he suffers from the very fact of being handsome. He leads many women to their ruin, and is importuned by innumerable others. This is why we read that some men have disfigured their faces with scars, because they felt that their beauty endangered others. But if a man of exceptional good looks is immoral, the sole consequence of this blessing is that he comes to a quicker and more desperate end. Thus no modest person finds pleasure in his own beauty,45 and to love it in another is lustful. Then the teacher may add that, though this is a great blessing, it belongs only to the body, is fleeting and perishable, and can waste away suddenly through fever, emaciation, or some other misfortune; with advancing age it is certain to lose its bloom, and at death it must certainly perish. It is altogether different with learning, that is, the blessings of the mind. You see that here too a remarkably rich field is opened up if one were to attempt to treat this part of the development of the theme in all its aspects. His fourth proposition will be that a great part of mankind is amazingly addicted to bodily pleasures as if they were the chief blessing of life; but these are fits of madness, falsely attractive, not pleasures at all, but merely sardonic laughter.46 For why should you attribute the good of pleasure to one who lacks all self-perception? In addition, these are obscene, bestial pleasures, altogether unworthy of man, which make wild animals of us; they are impure as well, containing more bitterness47 than sweetness. They are very costly to both wealth and reputation, tainted with disgust, accompanied by remorse, the 'bait of all evils/48 the enemies of virtue and esteem; treacherous to those who come to love them, deserting them in the end even if they are not deserted themselves; they exhaust the purse, besmirch the reputation, waste away bodily health, drain the sap of life, hasten old age, bring on every manner of disease, exact their own just vengeance, and end by plunging the whole man into hell. Far more pleasant delights derive from honourable studies, nobler as the mind is nobler than the body, and as man surpasses the beasts; as much more honourable as the glory of virtue outshines moral baseness; they are happily acquired and more happily retained; they do not remove us from ourselves, but restore us to ourselves, and do not change us from men into

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wild animals, but from men into gods. Moreover, they are pure, unspoiled by fermentation; if there is any residue of bitterness in the mind, they sweeten it; they become sweeter and more enjoyable with each taste; they know no envy and are the pleasanter the more they are shared; they stay with us until death; through the years when everything else wastes and wears away they flourish; they know no sickness, surfeit, or remorse; they ensure that we give pleasure not to a mere few, but to both sexes and to every age, even to ourselves; they even make old age less irksome; they accompany us to every country, in every change of fortune; in fine, they please that part of man that makes us truly human. However, I shall refrain from pursuing this any further- not that I have exhausted all there is to say, for there are countless ways in which this could be developed. For the moment I am only pointing the way. This topic could also be treated with another rhetorical colour, namely, that we should prefer learning to other kinds of blessings. Wealth is a glorious thing and men strive after it with untiring ambition; how much more reasonable to direct their energies with even keener enthusiasm towards honourable learning, by which the mind is enriched? In like manner one could develop the other aspects I have mentioned, or others like them such as youth, strength, nobility, or anything else eagerly sought after in the lives of men. They could even be handled by means of a supposition,49 such as, education is a fine and splendid thing of itself, so much so that, even if it should bring no profit in this life, it ought to be sought for its own sake, a point that I touched upon at the start. For who would not desire perfect knowledge of everything, even if he were never going to live among men? But the fact is that these skills are a means to assist the state and one's friends in private life, so that even if we could live happily ourselves without learning, nevertheless, since a good man is not born only for himself,50 education should be acquired in order to be of help to others. Yet in a serious letter I should not like these divisions to be too conspicuous, just as in speeches it is sometimes useful to conceal them. It will be best for some things to be covered over by a kind of epistolary facade, and at times intentionally mixed up, but in general this system will assist the mind in amassing a great store of words and topics from which one may choose the best examples if the passage requires brevity. In this way the brevity will not be insipid. In this regard it could also be added that letters exchanged between young men, boon companions, and lovers should be framed in a more winning manner. In this way the person persuading will inspire more confidence by frankly avowing and condemning his own mistake, and he will evoke the memory of past sensual pleasures in such a way as to reveal that his mind shrinks from the mere recollection. He will take advantage of the age of his correspondent. If this is greater than his own, he will say that it

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is proper for the one superior in years to have more wisdom; that it would be absurd if the one who should have led the way in this course of action should now be a reluctant follower in it. But if it is less, he will say that no time of life is more suitable for instruction; that while the blood is still warm, the mind is more vigorous, and what is absorbed in early years is more firmly fixed; hence he should hasten all the more lest the best part of his life slip away in vain. He can argue from the person's appearance also; if this is particularly imposing, he will say that it is not right for a deformed mind to dwell in a beautiful body; if it is not, he will say that the mind must be cultivated all the more by good learning in order to compensate for the appearance of the body. Arguing from descent, if this is assumed to be illustrious, he will say that it was once true that none applied themselves more diligently to liberal studies than those of famous lineage; that in others learning may remain unnoticed or disregarded or may be concealed by meanness of fortune, but in the well-born it has a special distinction; also, that the learning of a man of humble origin, lacking the support of fortune, is of advantage to very few; whereas, since as a rule the nobility are called to civil offices or positions in the church, they either contribute great ruin to the state if they enter public office without learning or, conversely, confer great benefit both in public and in private. But if a man is of obscure descent, he must be encouraged to acquire nobility by his own efforts, a truer nobility by far than that which commonly makes men of good birth swell with pride. From the standpoint of wealth, if he has ample private resources, it will be pointed out to him that he must exert himself the more in honourable learning so that, when fortune has provided everything else, he may not seem to have failed to do his part; that wealth is of great assistance in the pursuit of liberal studies, but it only confers lustre and advantage if the owner knows how to use it, and this knowledge is provided by learning; that many others endowed with excellent intellects but restricted in private means pursue liberal studies in vain, whereas he, thanks to his comfortable circumstances, will never lack the leisure or the provision of books or the opportunity of procuring the best instructors. But if the recipient of the letter has a meagre fortune, then he must devote himself with all the greater energy to the acquisition of learning, which produces both wealth and reputation, provided that it is exceptional learning; as for the wealthy, they can get by with even less than mediocre education. I have spoken about this subject rather extensively and verbosely, but it is so essential that I fear even this amount of detail may not be sufficient for many. I admit that for teaching purposes it is very scanty, but for an instructor who is neither lazy nor ignorant I think it will be enough to point out the method and way of proceeding, for my remarks have been intended more for the teachers than for the pupils.

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ii / Correction1 The most painstaking care must be taken in correcting the boys' assignments. The teacher should not be content to criticize obvious linguistic errors, but he will mark, correct, and change any word that is inappropriate, ungainly, vain, or wooden, any figure of speech that departs from the practice of the ancients, or anything that is rhythmically awkward or harsh or forms a hiatus; likewise he will note words used in one place that suit another better, insertions that are not coherent, something passed over that should have been included; insignificant, worthless, forced, or otherwise defective subject matter; a graceless attempt at embellishment, a feeble joke,2 a weak passage, an expression that lacks intensity when it should have been more forceful, departure from propriety, lack of discrimination in the choice of rhetorical colour, verbose treatment of what should have been brief, or excessive compression of what should have been given fuller treatment. The instructor will not censure everything at once but different things at different times, so that the pupils will not be discouraged. Inexcusable errors must not be severely criticized on the spot with abusive language3 and with words and looks that convey the impression that one hates the pupil. Such conduct leads young minds to conceive a strong dislike of study and as a result they hate learning before they know what it is all about. Things that cannot be tolerated should be corrected gently but scrupulously; defects that can somehow be tolerated must either be ignored for the time being or, with a word of praise for the student's ability, changed for the better. On the other hand the teacher will single out individuals for approval of what he thinks has been cleverly thought and handled, and will give reasons for his approval. At other times he will ask everyone to listen attentively while someone reads his exercise aloud, and to take careful note of anything they find worthy of criticism or imitation. Quintilian4 gives sound advice when he says that the pupils themselves should be spurred on by questions to discover possible errors in the reading and to suggest ways of remedying them, and to see how the writer successfully achieved his purpose. This is more satisfactory than merely having the teacher himself point out what he approves or criticizes without putting their judgment to the test. These are some of the advantages to be gained by this kind of questioning: first, as Quintilian says, the hearers will lose their indifference,5 and what is being said will not just go in one ear and out the other; at the same time they will be directed towards the object of the exercise, which is that eventually they may be able to devise these arguments without any guidance and understand them on their own. There are certain faults6 that instructors should tolerate in the young, such as a high-flown style and a floridly profuse diction; such a tendency

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gives promise of excellence in mature years. I think that in the case of our students other defects should also be put up with temporarily, for instance, phrases and cadences taken from the ancient authors, verses of poetry or half-lines interspersed here and there, too much freedom in the use of figures, too obvious a striving for artistry, arrangement that is studiously metrical7 and close to the rhythm of verse. All of these, though faults in a mature writer, are inevitable in those who are learning proficiency. Furthermore, in the awarding of praise or blame, restraint and discretion must be used. In some pupils the power of invention should be commended, in others the subtlety in argumentation; in some correctness of diction, in others dignity; in some gracefulness, in others variety; in some artistic arrangement, in others judgment, according as each seems to approximate these individual virtues. Such apportioning of praise and blame will ensure that no one gives up hope in himself or looks down on someone else; in addition, a sense of rivalry is stirred up among them, and when everyone is stimulated to vie with one another to win praise it is astonishing how much incentive will be added to study. Some with disagreeable manners and rustic bashfulness will need private help and encouragement. It will also be advantageous to offer small prizes8 suitable for children for those who win first place, to praise the winners, and to encourage the losers to try harder, convincing them that they were surpassed in effort, not in talent. Here again I raise a laugh from some elementary schoolmaster from the ranks of those who lecture their pupils on Michael Modista,9 who will proclaim that I am turning the school into a theatre. But since he turns his school into a torture-chamber,10 he must not deny me my ambition to revive the practice of the ancients, among whom it was customary for young men to be exercised at school in competitions of this kind, as St Augustine himself bears witness. For in his Confessions*1 he tells how he was often applauded when he had represented better than others words and moods of Virgil's Juno as she vented her spleen against the Trojans. You admit that the theatrical word 'applause'12 was accepted in the grammar schools of Rome, yet you think that the only things fit for a school these days are beatings and screaming. Quintilian/3 a respected authority on the formation of the young, admonishes more than once that the young should not be frightened away from study by excessive sternness, but that studies should be sustained and stimulated by reassuring applause and moderate praise; and he wishes the teacher to assume the role of a parent, and the pupils in turn not to be terrified by their instructor as if he were an executioner but to look up to him as a parent. Horace's words on the subject are well known: 'Sometimes cajoling masters14 give their pupils / Cookies15 to help them learn their ABCs/

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By contrast, some Arcadian ass, dressed up in a lion's skin,16 too ignorant to hold the boys' attention by winning their admiration and too disagreeable either to be loved by anyone or to love anyone himself, wastes the months in a riotous scene of carnage, torturing these poor, innocent boys. He is able to improve neither their morals, because of his own stupidity and lack of principle, nor their knowledge, because he is completely without education himself. In the meantime he flogs and tortures the poor creatures, and deafens them with shouting and abuse, so that when these best years have been wasted without profit he may receive a handsome recompense for his cruelty. You sacrilegious rogue - for the name of 'barbarian' is too mild and diluted -1 only wish that someday you may be allotted a reward fitted to your deeds: that you be compelled to exchange that cap of yours, which you neither appreciate nor deserve, for a hood, and be given a coarse mantle17 or a jerkin for that fringed gown, crude boots for slippers and sandals, a hoe or a whip for a cane; then, clothed in that attire, may you be driven out of the schools, where you are like a dog in a bath-house/8 into the country, where you will either be tied to the plough-handle for which you were born, or (preferably) will dig ditches in chains, or, if you cannot live without giving orders, will terrorize oxen and asses with that horrendous voice of yours. You apish brute, to use the words of Plautus,19 do you dare hold the office of educator when you yourself have never learned anything? You dull-witted blackguard, do you dare to flog well-born and well-brought-up boys whom you would sooner kill than teach? In the place that the Greeks call schola from the word for leisure and the Latins Indus from the word for play, do you dare practise a tyranny worse than that of Phalaris?20 You monstrosity, do you demand a fee - by all that is holy! - from those whom you have treated even worse than the wicked teacher of the Faliscans21 did the youth of his city? For if he did wrong by treachery, you openly and audaciously ruin boys of good promise. He handed over his pupils as hostages for peace to a merciful foe, who sent them back unharmed. You betray them to the most cruel and deadly foe, namely, ignorance, from which hardly anyone escapes once he has come under its sway. But I see that I am being excessively carried away by my indignation, which though righteous is not all that beneficial. You may see this whip-cracking and untaught breed of elementary schoolmasters22 in power everywhere nowadays, and the caverns where they babble away reverberate on all sides with piteous howling like the realm of the Furies. Are we to believe that Quintilian,23 a wise and learned man of great moral rectitude, was unjustified in being so offended by this practice of dealing out blows? Yet what a pagan rejected as harsh and detrimental we Christians willingly accept, venting our rage not only on young boys but also on those

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who are on the threshold of manhood. If the ruffian has had too much to drink, then the very lives of the boys are in peril. This would be a laughing matter were it not that in our time there are many examples of unfortunate victims who have been beaten to death by their teachers in a fit of drunken violence. We choose suitable keepers for our horses, but we entrust our children to any old ass. Moreover, they blame this obsession with beating and cruelty on the character of their pupils, as if, like the sons of the Phrygians,24 they could not be corrected unless they were beaten. Yet I beg you to tell me, you brute, by what effrontery do you expect the duty of a pupil from the boys by dint of floggings when you yourself do not fulfil the duty of a teacher? Make your flock deservedly fond of you, so that they may respect first their studies, then you for the sake of the studies, and finally both, each for the sake of the other. But if you cannot win affection, stupid and brutal as you are, and if this trivial, not to say kitchen learning, or rather ignorance, does not win admiration, why do you still sit shamelessly enthroned in the classroom? But if you condemn the old way in your teaching, bring forward those rare specialists of yours and see if you, the modern schoolmaster, have so trained them that they can compete with even the humblest of the old ones. If there are boys who are unteachable, it is better to send them away to the country and give them back to their parents. But meanwhile the teacher's income dwindles,25 and for that reason whoever undertakes to educate the young must be a good man. But the method of these bunglers is no different from that of tyrannical princes, who prefer to retain their subjects by force rather than by fairness, not because the first alternative is better, but because the latter is more difficult. It is high time for my discourse to return to its purpose, and that there be an end of quarrelling with these Boeotian swine!26 The qualified instructor, who bears no resemblance to this tribe, after indicating what he likes and dislikes in the pupils' written work, will then put before them, or even dictate, a model for imitation which he has carefully worked out himself and will take pains to note in the margin the plan he has followed. He will point out the sequence of ideas, a suitable transition, a particularly attractive figure of speech, and any novel treatment of a topic, so that they can see as in a mirror what they have missed, what they have failed to attain, where they were dozing or groping in the dark. Otherwise if one were to present them with a defective form of a letter, as our schoolmasters do, it would simply be teaching them to write incorrectly. Their mentors will reply: 'How few there are who have style.' Shoe-making is taught only by a shoemaker,27 no one but a cook trains a cook, no one but a ship's captain imparts the method of steering a ship, and yet you wonder that you cannot teach literature, when

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you are ignorant of it yourself? What can the schoolmaster teach if he does not know how to speak? It will be useful at times to put forward a plain topic and leave the whole burden of invention to the students' intelligence, so that they can make trial of their own abilities - things that we have produced by our own wits are more gratifying - but that should be done only rarely. When I was once tutor of rhetoric in Siena to Alexander,28 titular archbishop of St Andrews, son of James, king of the Scots, he asked me to point out only the chief propositions and leave the rest of the invention to him, for he felt he had made some progress in the subject. Since he was a young man of talent and extraordinary promise, I complied. He tried with all his might, hoping perhaps that, even if he were outdone in copiousness of language, by sheer force of intelligence he would not fall too far behind me. At first I praised his industry and allowed him to indulge his complacency for a while. Later, when I pointed out how many things had eluded him or were out of place, he swallowed his pride and acknowledged how far he still was from the goal. The teacher will remember in general to proceed according to each one's intellectual powers. For beginners the entire letter will have to be shaped beforehand; for those who have made some progress an introductory outline will be sufficient; for advanced students it will suffice to indicate the bare subject-matter, so that in this aspect too the teacher imitates the care of parents: first they put premasticated29 food into the mouths of infants; then they think it enough to put it into their hands; next they merely set them down at the table; and in the end they even turn them out of the house so that they may become used to fending for themselves by their own efforts and swim without cork,30 as the saying goes. It will also be useful to present the same subject a second and a third time to those who have made moderate progress, to be treated in different words and with another form of expression. This procedure will greatly help them to acquire fluency and facility of speech, especially in treating short topics. In this connection we read that Cicero used to compete with the comic actor Roscius31 to see whether his friend could represent the same thought with a greater variation of gestures than he himself could by a change of words. The progymnasmata of Virgil32 in this sphere still survive also, as for instance those on dawn and on the seasons of the year, but I have spoken of this more appositely and at greater length in my book De copia,33 The students' skill in invention will be improved if they practise recantations,34 arguing against what they have just proposed; what you have previously lauded to the skies, you dash down to the depths with violent denunciation; or first advocate something, then urge its avoidance. Carneades35 is said to have been most adept at this art. These exercises are

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very similar to what the rhetoricians call commonplaces, for instance in support of love, as Socrates and many others argue in Plato's dialogue,36 and against love, as does Lysias37 in the same author; for and against learning, wealth, the monastic life, languages, matrimony, and monarchy. Similar to these are themes handled by comparison or contrast. Which life is superior, the active life which the Greeks call practical, or the contemplative, which they call theoretical?38 Is celibacy better, or wedlock? Does art or natural ability contribute more to speaking? Is the modern kind of theology superior to the older one? Is military service or the study of literature more useful for the acquiring of reputation? Is jurisprudence or the study of medicine39 more profitable for the securing of wealth? The same exercise can be used with historical personages. Who was the better general, Hannibal or Scipio? Was Plato a more outstanding philosopher than Aristotle? Which poet was more learned, Virgil or Hesiod? Who was more remarkable for his eloquence, Demosthenes or Cicero? Such topics will be considered according to general principles. But when it is debated whether a fortune is more readily amassed at Rome or in one's own country, whether one should go to Italy or Paris for the study of literature, or whether it is a good thing to direct boys at once40 to the study of letters or to be lenient toward their tender age until they have acquired some strength by the passage of time, he will draw many arguments from the special circumstances in addition to those used in the commonplaces. It is not always necessary for the instructor to exhaust himself devising themes. As I have mentioned, he will be able to obtain them from history, or from the letters of learned men if the boys have not yet read them, as for instance the letters of Cicero, Pliny,41 Symmachus,42 Apollonius,43 and Angelo Poliziano.44 For in this field why should we not compare the latter with any of the ancients? Yet in the case of Symmachus, I should prefer that they take the content rather than the diction. A ready supply of this material will be provided by various letters of the Greeks. After sampling all of them the instructor will select the best, for he must always begin with the most perfect. Therefore I should prefer that they be exposed to Pliny at once rather than to Francesco Negro,45 Giammario Filelfo46 (even if his father47 deserves some credit in his letters), Enea Silvio,48 Gasparino,49 Campano,50 and still less Charles Viruli51 of Louvain, whose writings soon went out of favour. Not because I deny that there is anything worthy of imitation in them, but because I should rather have the outstanding examples preferred to the mediocre and merely ordinary. However, it is not the concern of this essay to discuss further who deserves the palm in this art. If, leaving aside the Greek writers, I may be permitted to state my preferences in the genre under discussion, I should be inclined to assign the first place to Cicero, Pliny, and Poliziano; but on this matter everyone is entitled to his own opinion.

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12 / The practice of addressing a single person in the plural As for that absurd practice, curiously in vogue now for several centuries, of addressing a single person in the plural, young men should not so much be untaught this vice as encouraged to scorn it altogether, at least in dealing with those with whom there is no risk involved. In my lifetime, at least, this folly has now largely fallen into disuse with the gradual coming of age of sound learning. Yet even today a good many users of the vos form of address, who not only hang on tenaciously to what they wrongly learnt as boys but also require it of others are still with us. They consider it an unforgiveable insult if someone greets them in the singular; indeed, they deem it deserving of an action for damages and punishable by law! Thou judge in thine own wisdom what is best/ Immediately he responds, bawling in tragic tones over a matter of no importance: 'Why are you thouing me? Thou your servants. I am better than thee and all thy lineage/ Look here, you abomination, do you disdain to be addressed as parasites once addressed their patrons, as freedmen or ordinary labourers once spoke to the greatest monarchs of the earth? And then, how do you yourself call upon almighty1 God? Why should I not address you as one person when I see only one, even if you were bigger than Polyphemus? Or am I to call Mt Athos2 'mountains' instead of 'mountain' because it is so huge? or the sea 'Ocean' because of its vast expanse? Is it not enough for those who hardly deserve the name of man at all to be counted as a single man? We say to Caesar, ruler of the whole world, 'May the gods prosper thy deeds, O Caesar/ But this curious individual is insulted unless you say 'Success to the deeds of your lordships,'3 as if we were addressing not a single person but a triform Hecate,4 or Hermes Trismegistus,5 or threebodied Geryon.6 This might be more tolerable perhaps in the case of a pregnant woman, or even, if you wish, of a breeding sow. Why have grammarians drawn distinctions among the numbers, singular, dual, and plural, except that we make use of them? He replies: 'We use them honoris causa.' 'Misuse'7 is the proper term. It is clearly misuse - like putting both shoes on the same foot. But who gave you this right? Do you think it just that out of deference to you men should speak barbarously and contrary to the practice of the ancients? But if you are seizing tyrannical control over a new language of your own invention, why are you not at least consistent? If a change of number denotes respect, why, by the same token, does it not seem respectful to address several people in the singular? Why does this not hold true in the third person? It is a mark of honour if one says to Marcolf8 'I congratulate ye'; why is it less honorific to say 'Greet them' when you are sending greetings to a single person, but one worthy of respect? Why is this respect confined only

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to the pronouns? 'I greet ye, my lord bishop' is respectful; why not 'I greet ye, my lord bishops'? 'I saw ye walking' is respectful; why not 'I saw ye walkings' when speaking to a single person, but one worthy of respect? No doubt the greater the plurality, the more the honour. In the celebration of the mass why does the server not reply to the celebrant 'And with your (plural) spirit'? Why does the priest when addressing God dare to say 'Do thou grant,9 we beseech thee, almighty God'? Why are we poor mortals unabashed to say to him'Forgive thou our debts' and 'do not thou lead us,' if so much respect is attributed to the misuse of number? Undoubtedly God deserves the greatest respect. Why do we cheat him of so much respect and prefer a mere mortal to him? What answer will they give to this? Will they charge me with alteration?10 Very well, but correct speakers do not use this plural except in the first person to express modesty or wit or for reasons of euphony; never in the second person except when we mean a class rather than a person, as in this phrase of Ovid:11 'Such is your (plural) lust,' for he is censuring a whole class of mankind, as if one should say to a harlot 'You (plural) are the ruin of young men,' not blaming one woman, but the whole profession. A similar example in the third person is To wives in bed, they suddenly grow old.'12 How is it that what once betokened modesty or was meant to be injurious has suddenly become a mark of respect? 'You servile herd13 of imitators / How oft your antics roused my bile or else my scorn.' They failed to notice, I imagine, that among the ancients it was only one who held public office who wrote 'We deliberated, we reported, we decided/ since he shared public office with his colleagues, and wished to escape the odium attached to power. After this pattern, unless I am mistaken, kings and bishops also began14 to write 'We, John, bishop of Cambrai,' 'We, Charles, king of the French.' There is no doubt too that those who first began this did so through feelings of restraint, obviously to avoid the semblance of tyranny. For it seemed tyrannical to hold power without sharing it with anyone. But as soon as this manner of writing began to be thought of as a royal prerogative, it was usurped by these imposters in a spirit of emulation for honorific uses. This is quite ridiculous, for if there is commendable modesty in writing 'We, John' for 'I, John, bishop/ one who says 'Ye, John' for Thou, John' is simply rude. For to abase oneself is a virtue, but to despise and belittle another is the mark of a spiteful and envious person if it is done in the other's absence, and if in his presence, insolent and insulting. The Roman pontiff in his official documents sometimes adds This see of Peter which we, unworthy, hold.' But who would accept the use of this same formula for addressing the Roman pontiff: 'We have taken refuge in that see of Peter which you, unworthy, hold'?

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But if this foolish way of speaking has been devised by the stupid ambition of idiots who disdain to share speech in common with others, why do educated men give their assent to this silly and womanish nonsense? I know that respect is owed to magistrates, parents, and instructors; but respect that depends on bad grammar is absurd. But let us admit for the moment that the practice has had a great vogue. I am aware that among the letters of the tenth15 book that Aldus added in his edition of Pliny one reads time and again language like this: 'As soon as your (plural) kindness, my lord, promoted me/16 Yet even here one could avoid the issue by saying that those letters are not by Pliny; or that the usage occurs so rarely that it seems to be a mistake; or that in using the plural 'your' he wished to associate the senate's authority with Caesar's will, as he knew this was pleasing to an emperor known for his moderation. But leaving evasion aside, let us allow them what they want. Let it be a sign of politeness to flatter one's betters with this form of respect, and let it be the mark of an uncouth and impolite person not to pay this respect. Surely it is unheard of arrogance not to be satisfied if a person steps out of the way, bares his head, and bows his knee, but to require also that he speak absurdly as a sign of respect. Someone may have written to Trajan: 'Your (plural) kindness,' but the same emperor is not offended when 'thy sense of duty'17 is so often repeated instead of 'your sense of duty.' Finally, Pliny does not speak to him in this way when as consul he proclaims his praises, a speech18 which should have been particularly respectful. These people demand this unusual respect of us shouting abuse and cracking their whips. The emperor Domitian/9 a man of incredible arrogance, was in the habit of calling himself Lord and God in his letters of state, and he decreed that he should be so addressed in the documents of others. But he was never angry with anyone who addressed him in the singular. One could put up with this behaviour if they were content with only a single solecism, but even when it is doubled, their ambition is not satisfied. For T pray you (plural)' was a single mistake, which their insolence now rejects and scorns as too common and plebeian. 'I pray your kindness' will constitute a mistake and a half, but it is still only ordinary respect. 'I pray your most reverend kindnesses' is a nice double defect, a moderate and passable respect. Add a third solecism and you will win full favour: 'I pray your most reverend fatherhoods, most excellent lord.' Should you wish to win overwhelming favour, perpetrate a quartet of errors like this: 'I ask your most reverend fatherhoods, excellent lord, lord prelate.' Bravo! Now at last the language is truly respectful, and suitable for approaching revered prelates and mighty monarchs. Even more absurd is changing the person as a mark of respect, saying 'His reverence had ordered me' instead of 'your' or

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'thy/ If anyone does not see the absurdity of this language, he must be completely illiterate; if he hears it and does not repudiate it, he must be very long-suffering; if he drinks in such ridiculous flattery with willing ears, he must be the victim of vainglory. Would the ears of any prince put up with such hideous expressions? Not only are there those who put up with them, but pillars of Christian moderation demand them: men of great authority are gravely incensed with those who do not conform, so much so that I know that proceedings have been brought against some individuals, not for the proverbial ass's shadow20 but for the offence of not using bad grammar. Only recently there was a notorious example21 of this, of one who avenged an insult of this kind in the following way. The friends of a man of approved character and outstanding learning were pleading with a certain bishop to appoint him to a benefice which happened to have become vacant through death. The watchful shepherd replied that benefices should not be casually assigned to the untried. He ordered the recommended man to be summoned, so that he could test his knowledge and wisdom. The man presented himself. He was well versed in ancient literature, to be sure, but open and forthright, not yet acquainted with these latest flowers of eloquence, and furthermore of the conviction that all prelates were men of learning. He greeted him in the singular: 'Greetings, reverend prelate.' He had hardly uttered his greeting when the prelate turned and left, as indignant as if someone had spat in his face. Puzzled, those who had recommended the giver of the greeting asked the reason for this reception, to which the prelate replied that he did not grant his company and conversation to those by whom he was so openly affronted. In vain some tried to clear up the matter, but it was like preaching to deaf ears.22 In anger he passed on the benefice to a more eloquent man, who with a quadruple solecism greeted him as 'the most merciful reverences of lord lord,' and who beheld one man in many and many in one. How much more wittily23 they could get back at us if, when addressed in the singular, they would in turn address two or three of us together in the singular! For if it is honorific to use a plural appellation for a single individual, as if to one 'worth many others/24 how glaring an insult it would be to address several persons with words in the singular: 'To thee, Paul, we the abbot, say/ as though several individuals combined would hardly amount to a man of any worth. In that way they could render tit for tat! You will say, my good reader, 'You laugh25 and curl your nostrils over much/ What else am I to do in such a ridiculous matter? For if they openly contend that there is a connotation of respect in the improper use of number, why do we often call single worthless objects by a plural name, such as trifles, odds and ends, and leavings? Why do we call a single implement26 for sweeping

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the floor by a plural word? Respect that is shared with sweepings and brooms certainly does not inspire envy. There is this difference, however, that no one can correctly greet a broom except in the plural, while in their case we humour them by a studied barbarousness, to the despair of all grammarians and sons of grammarians. Then too, through force of habit, no doubt, we sometimes utter abuse in the plural, but not without some risk. What if someone who is cross-eyed and half-blind uttered abuse against a single individual in a large group, using the plural number? Since it would not be clear at whom he was directing his remarks, would there not be some risk that each one might apply it to himself as if it were a personal insult, and instead of the one person all of them would hurl back abuse against the poor, cross-eyed wretch. There would be even greater risk in the case of a blind man. So I advise that this kind of language should be especially avoided by those with this defect so that it may not be thought that they see many for one because of some visual impairment. Just recently someone openly made fun of one of those strange greeters in a gruff, rather than polite manner, but perhaps it may be what he deserved, because a hard knot27 needs a hard wedge. It happened that he was in a room by himself and was addressed with much pluralization by a cross-eyed person. After looking around repeatedly he replied that the others had gone and that he was alone, and that if his interlocutor wanted anything, he should come back at a more suitable time when they were present. The other said that he was the very person he was looking for. Whereupon the latter asked him how many couches he saw. When the other replied, 'Only one/ he said, Then what on earth is ailing you? You must have had one too many in some tavern that I should appear to you as more than one.' Some even try to defend such an absurd position with what they claim is philosophical reasoning. They say that if Aristotle28 wrote that as a king stands out from the people in other respects, so he should differ from them also in speech, then likewise it is right that men set apart by status, dignity, wealth, dress, and honours should also be set apart in speech, and therefore there is no better way to distinguish a magistrate from a private person than by the misuse of number, because the latter is one of many, while the former has more than one role to play. Splendid! I accept this fabrication, though it will be easier in Greek with its three distinctions in number. Therefore to one who holds a twin see, or whose see has been doubled by a rich abbacy we shall say: 'Greetings to you both!'29 But if there are three sees, or two plus an abbacy making that sacred mystical group of three,30 we shall address him in the plural, x«tpeTe! 'Greetings to all of you!' By this rule, if they go beyond a tetrad or a heptad in the number of their bishoprics, they must be indulgent with us if their excesses upset our capacity to mark distinctions. I see no

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reason why a person with several bishoprics or abbacies should not be permitted to speak in this fashion: 'We bishops, or we abbots/ Yet you may well have begun to wonder whether they are more foolish in refusing to be disabused of such a ridiculous notion, or I in spending so much time on such trivial nonsense. I may merely say in my defence that several considerations prompted me to do this, but two in particular, namely, that by being exposed to ridicule, these charlatans might some day feel ashamed of their stupidity, and also that young men, partly inspired by the example of the ancients, and partly roused by my words, would not hesitate to despise those who had put off all shame in their currying of favour. It will cease to be offensive when it ceases to be arrogant, and in time the preferences of the educated will be commonly accepted. 13 / On the salutation1 To return now to rules relevant to our discussion. But first let us give a little advice on what should be avoided in the salutation with which we usually begin a letter, or like a poor helmsman, we shall run aground right in the harbour,2 as the saying goes. For this is as it were the frontispiece of a letter, in which one who falls short incurs not only disgrace for his ignorance, but punishment for breach of piety. We find that the ancients observed the superstition of taking an omen3 of the conversation to come from the first words of those whom they happened to encounter. Therefore those who had a chance encounter or who came together to deal with some matter of common concern would wish each other good health so that their meeting might be attended by good fortune and that their conversation might be well-omened and turn out happily for both. And whenever a priest came before the people, he would wish them good health and receive the same greeting in return. This generally used custom among men was extended to the letter, which, as I have said, is a conversation between absent friends.4 The ancients always began a letter with the expression of a greeting. We note that in both Greek and Latin this was habitually done in the third person, whether usage, the arbiter of speech, was responsible for this change of person, or whether there was an intentional courtesy affected by the syntactical change, or whether at one time the greeting was not joined to the letter, but added on the back like a title, to be read out by the bearer: 'Marcus Cicero sends greetings to General Trebatius/5 The Greeks use a similar expression. 'Plato6 bids Dio fare well.' To the Greeks these words do not mean, as some think, that we bid those to whom we give such a greeting to live well, but that we are praying for their good fortune. For those whose affairs are fortunate are said by the Greeks to fare well. Some people for sv

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Trparreiv 'fare well' say x«tpew, which means 'rejoice.' Horace7 used both in a single line: Tell Celsus to rejoice and fare well.' In Latin the greeting goes somewhat like this: 'Marcus Tullius Cicero to Marcus Varro greeting!' Pliny habitually adds 'his/ I presume because he writes only to friends: 'Pliny to his Sabinus,8 greeting!' The Hebrews in accordance with a common practice of their race wish for peace in their greeting, whether because they feel that war and strife are the epitome of all evils, or whether by peace they mean the height of prosperity, when there is nothing to interfere with one's peace of mind. The elder Pliny9 is our authority for stating that in ancient times it was a matter of religious scruple to give a greeting by name, presumably so that vaguely expressed good wishes might not be diverted to someone else, just as in imprecations10 the name was added as if the curse would be ineffective unless the true name of the city or people was included. Therefore, in order that a letter may not hold a dread omen, the names of both persons must be mentioned at the very outset, first that of the sender, and secondly, that of the recipient, even if the person to whom it is written is of far higher rank than the writer. Change in the order of names by way of paying respect seems childish to me unless we prefer that well-known greeting of Gnatho: 'A wealth of greetings11 to his Parmeno / His friend Gnatho imparts.' Or unless in a phrase like 'The same horse was ridden by Caesar and Augusta' we should judge the speaker liable for treason because more respect was paid to the horse than to Caesar and his wife. Yet, all joking aside, I approve the simplicity of the ancients; I only wish that we could emulate it everywhere amid the corrupt practices of our age, so that we might greet one another by the mere mention of names, as in: 'Pliny gives his Calvus12 greeting!' What could be truer or simpler? When you hear a man's name pronounced you hear all his good qualities in a nutshell. Moreover, there is something particularly attractive in being called by one's proper name, the hearing of which seems to please even dumb animals. So I am all the more surprised at those who act as if it were a terrible insult when they hear the name given to them at baptism. It is even more foolish that some courtiers cannot stand their own children calling their father by the name of 'father' or their mother by that of 'mother'; they dislike sharing anything with the common people to such an extent that they prefer to be called 'master' and 'mistress/ although nothing is more respectful or more charged with emotion than those first words. Further, by the term 'names' we include forenames, surnames and additional names. As a rule we borrow forenames from our ancestors, like 'Marcus Tullius.' Surnames are mostly family names, like 'Bruno Amerbach/13 Additional names usually are added from some happening, like 'Scipio Africanus/14 'Cato Uticensis.'15 Today surnames are either family

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names, as among the Italians, 'Medici/ 'Battista/16 'Balbo/17 or are derived from places, 'Angelo Poliziano/18 There is a departure from the practice of the ancients by those who add the father's name instead of a surname, as when Anthony, son of Dionysius, is called 'Anthony Dionysius.' Yet those who add the father's name in the genitive case are recalling the Hebrew rather than the Roman custom: 'James the son of Alphaeus/ 'John the son of Zebedee/ 'Peter the son of Simon.' Foreign names and uncouth-sounding names of men, places, or families should be rendered by Latin or Greek words or conveniently altered to a Latin form, so that the name may be known and recognized even by the ignorant, as when for 'Barbier/19 which in the vernacular sounds like 'barber/ we say 'Barbirius/ for 'Busleyden/20 'Buslidius/ or for 'Lang/21 'Langius.' The educated allow themselves the same freedom in Greek and Hebrew words; for instance they say 'elephantus' for 'elephas/ 'Adamus' for 'Adam/ 'Abrahamus' for 'Abraham/ Some have a superstitious dread of changing surnames. But some names are so uncouth they are more like harsh sounds than names, especially some of the German ones consisting of monosyllables packed with five consonants, which people unversed in that language sometimes cannot even pronounce. If such names cannot be softened, they should be changed into Greek or Latin.22 To surnames derived from the place of origin or of domain some awkwardly add a preposition: Picus23 de Mirandula. Picus Mirandulanus would be better Latin; Picus a Mirandula is considered more acceptable. Perhaps it is possible to find one or two examples in the classical authors where de is added, but the pupils should first become accustomed to imitating what is best. It is no departure from the practice of the ancients occasionally to append a name deriving from office, profession, or relationship by birth, or even by marriage, although this is contrary to the custom of more recent writers who out of respect put the names of rank first: To the most blessed pope, Alexander vi.' The ancients on the other hand said: Trebatius to Marcus Tullius Cicero, commander-in-chief/ 'Jerome to Damasus,24 pope/ 'Bude to Cop,25 royal physician/ 'Erasmus to John Colet, theologian/ 'Marcus Cato to Portia, his wife/ I should wish, if it were possible, that no flattery be added to titles. You are wrong if you esteem it praise to be addressed in writing as 'bishop' or 'theologian'; these are names of a profession, not terms of honour. True praise would be given if one were to call you 'good bishop' or 'learned theologian.' It will be excusable to call a wife 'dearest' or children 'darlings' or a father 'excellent.' Further, whenever the learned include too much respectfulness in titles, they are not following their own inclinations but deferring to someone else's. No modest person, I believe, will put up with those who stuff their greeting with monstrous flatteries; they think their

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greeting is marvellously rhetorical when, sometimes leaving out the man's actual name, they call one 'the sun/ another 'the moon/ one 'morning star/ another 'cynosure' or 'burning lamp/ 'spotless mirror' 'fragrant censer/ 'vessel of ointment/ 'golden candlestick/ 'shrine of virtues/ 'treasure-house of learning/ 'treasure of all that is knowable/ 'phoenix/ 'eagle/ Vine/ 'garden/ 'river/ 'spring/ 'ocean/ 'peak/ 'summit/ 'flower/ 'jewel/ 'ray of light/ 'thunderbolt/ 'paradise/ finally 'cornucopia of all things deserving of praise.' Why not? In this way the novel giver of greetings, according to the writer of comedies,26 effects a charming opening upon his entrance. Then, in order not to fall short in their role of parasite, just as they exalt others to excess, so with equal charm they debase and belittle themselves, calling themselves the lackeys and meanest slaves of the one to whom they are writing. Here is an example of this kind of greeting, if you need one to lift your spirits: To the most perspicacious lord, golden candlestick of the seven liberal arts, shining peak of theologians, ever-gleaming lantern of religion, morning star of the Dominican order, treasury of both Testaments, hammer of heresiarchs, brightest mirror of all virtues heroic and unheroic, my most worthy lord, lord preceptor, the most humble pupil and most worthless servant of his lordship kisses your feet in greeting.' Does the example amuse you? Rightly so, but not only do they use such formulas,27 they also teach them to young men in published books. This novel charm of greeting, unknown to the ancients, was born at the moment when tongues had been corrupted and good authors, whom they call poetical, driven out, and in the elementary schools Michael Modista28 was used for the teaching of grammar and similar rubbish for rhetoric. For what Gnatho29 or Colax30 or Gelasimus31 was ever so shameless or so hungry that he dared to utter such words to his patron's face? Those who suffered blows, had soup poured over them, were hit by a bone, and pissed on, would never deign to use such greetings as we Christians use to flatter persons of importance. When did Plautus, with all his free-spoken and extravagant portrayal of parasites, ever venture to introduce such a character in a play? If we choose not to observe Christian simplicity, let us follow the example of the pagans and be at least a little less shameless. Paul wrote, 'Outdo one another32 in showing honour/ they say. Yes, but there the apostle is speaking not about greetings but about charitable assistance, which is what he usually means by honour. But if we cannot avoid using ingratiating language towards the one to whom we are writing, there is a more modest way of expressing flattery. There are figurative expressions of praise, with which one may fill a letter of any length. But who, I ask, could bear such a shameless 'Gnathonism'33 straightway in the greeting itself unless he were more stupid than Midas,34 or more boastful than Thraso?35 Similarly, in letters to princes it is reprehensible to spin out the titles of

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the recipient or the writer in a long string of hundreds of surnames for as long as ten lines: 'Emperor Justinian,36 Caesar, Flavius, Alemanicus, Gothicus, Francicus, Germanicus, Anticus, Slavicus, Vandalicus, Africanus, pious, fortunate, renowned, victor and conquerer, ever august/ Will the weary reader not be tempted to throw the letter away before he ever reaches the letter proper, if the endless flourish of titles is not finally cut short by 'et cetera'? One must smile too at that ineptly contrived salutation which seems to have been especially pleasing to Charles37 of Louvain, in which in lieu of a greeting we make various invocations: 'Wealth of Midas/ instead of a greeting, or 'Most humble respects/ instead of a greeting, or 'Willing servitude with due reverence' instead of a greeting. I mention these excesses reluctantly, but otherwise I could not convince you to unlearn them. It is especially urgent that they be unlearned, not only because they encumber the greeting with unnecessary words and spoil its purity and simplicity, but also because it seems the height of stupidity to substitute something for a greeting when nothing is better than the greeting itself. To the same folly belongs, 'As many as the stars in the sky or drops of water in the ocean are the greetings I send you/ Even if at times men renowned for their piety have used formulas of salutation different from those we teach, it would be perverse of us to ignore the best qualities of those whom we should take as models of life, not of speech, and keep only the worst before us. If on occasion St Jerome, St Augustine, and St Gregory38 bowed to the custom of their times, we should not introduce that usage into the elementary school now, particularly in these times when literature has absolutely nothing in common with the people. Finally, what is more absurd than imitating nothing in the great authors except what has to be condoned in consideration of their other virtues? After insisting upon Jerome's other qualities we shall pardon the strangeness of his greeting. But if you cannot do this, do not use as a pretext what he conceded to his times rather than his judgment. 'But we shall give offence/ they say, 'if we obey your instructions. For who will not take this greeting: "Pierre Tartaret39 sends greeting to Henri Beda,4° theologian" as an insult rather than a greeting'? But my purpose in undertaking this task was not to teach you how to accommodate speech to the ears and sentiments of the foolish, but to transmit a method of correct writing. Still I do not consider that this age of ours is so beyond hope that the error introduced by the corruption of morals and ignorance cannot be uprooted by the authority and practice of good and learned men. We see how much progress has been made in a few years. Where do we hear the name of Michael Modista now in the schools? Where do we find quoted the glosses of James,41 the Catholicon,42 the Brachiloquus,43 or the

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Mammetrectus,44 which the libraries of the monks once guarded like rare treasures written in letters of gold? Certainly we will always have to strive for the best. If mistakes made by this person or that in the field of learning are immediately sanctified and become inalterable,45 and it is not permitted to restore what has been corrupted, to what depth will not learning fall? Finally, if these obtuse individuals are allowed to reject the example of the learned men of antiquity, may we in turn not discard their unteachable ignorance as useless? But if a departure from the practice of the ancients is desirable, if some concession must be made to the feelings of the recipient or to current practice, it is permissible as long as the imperfections are not too obtrusive, that is, the greeting should not be tiresomely long-winded, or parasitically flattering, or pedantically affected. In fact, as we have said, it is a bad omen for the whole letter if it begins faultily right from the start. 14 / Some formulas of simple greeting Formulas of greeting that contain nothing but the address go like this: Tope Pius i1 to Louis xi, king of the French, sends greetings'; Tiberius Caesar to the Roman senate sends greetings'; The senate and people of Rome send greeting to commander Maccabaeus2 and their Jewish allies'; 'Horace, military tribune, sends greeting to General Brutus'; 'Henry, king of England, sends greeting to Emperor Maximilian'; 'Demetrius, Roman knight, sends greeting to Titus Lucius, appointed judge.' The names of offices of this kind often give the learned some pause, partly because it is not certain how the ancient designations correspond to modern ones, partly because many have now adopted strange and foreign titles. For instance, the officer once called the city prefect is now called in some places the marquis, and elsewhere the lieutenant; it is now thought that the tribune of the people should be called the burgomaster. The former quaestor of the treasury is now called the revenue officer or the receiver. The former treasurers are now, I believe, named financial officers, and the former capital judges are now sheriffs. The former staff-bearers are now heralds, and the former senators or appointed judges3 are called today lords of parliament. Admiral, now used for the coastal commander or the commander at sea, is a word of uncertain origin.4 Other words of this kind are marshall, seneschal, and baron, which seem to have come in with barbarian rule. So one must either use these, or put in the old name that corresponds to the new one. This will be made easier if you first study the titles and duties of each rank in the ancient historians, in Varro,5 in Cicero's De legibus,6 in the writings of the jurists7 and the book of Fenestella8 written expressly for this purpose entitled On Magistrates; you should also study the words used to

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describe present-day offices and their proper concerns. It is important to use the same care with the names of corresponding offices in Greek and Latin. For the Greeks call the consul wra-ros, that is, 'highest/ the proconsul avOvTraTos, and the dictator or general avroKparup,9 (or sometimes jSatrtXev?),10 but this subject is too involved to be treated casually here; it is a topic that requires a book to itself. I shall only point out the means by which a familiar office can be designated by a circumlocution. One in charge of copying letters, usually called a secretary, will be named 'the letter clerk'; those who draw up legal documents and are called notaries, 'petition clerks'; the man in charge of the treasury, 'the treasurer'; of rooms, 'the room steward,' also called 'the keeper of the bedchamber,' or 'chamberlain'; the cupbearer, 'the butler'; the keeper of the archives, 'the archivist.' Those who note down and read out legal proceedings in court are called 'court officials' or 'keepers of the record,' and similarly with the others. 15 / New formulas of greeting Not until Pliny's time, it seems, did the practice originate of using 'his' in greeting intimate friends, indicating by this more endearing pronoun a very close relationship: 'Pliny sends greeting to his Calpurnia.'1 'Ebutius sends greetings to his Hispala/2 But if we allow ourselves to deviate from the practice of the ancients, there can be as many modes of greeting3 in letters as there are meetings of persons: 'Greetings, best of fathers!' 'Greetings, best of mothers!' 'Greetings, darling children!' 'Greetings, my dearest Terentia!'4 'Much greetings!' 'Full many a greeting!' 'Greetings again and again!' 'Greetings as you deserve!' 'Greetings proportionate to your deserts!' 'Antonius wishes the best of health for his Licentius,' 'A very warm greeting/ 'A lasting greeting!' I should not venture to say 'very many greetings'5 or 'countless greetings' unless I feel they have been given by several persons. 'Poliziano prays from his heart for the abundant well-being of his Marsilio.'6 'Erasmus wishes his Faustus much good fortune.'7 'Andreas wishes his comrade Egidius much happiness.'8 'Antonius Laurentius wishes his dearest brother Marcus uninterrupted freedom from harm.' 'Greetings thrice and four times over, my protector!' 'Your Ludovicus wishes you well. Though not well himself, he wishes you well/ 'I wish you the well-being that I myself long for.' 'One who has utterly perished sends you greetings/ 'She sends you wishes of well-being, which she herself will not have unless you grant it/ 'Greetings, my good father-in-law!' 'Hail, noble teacher!' These and similar forms, though somewhat different from the practice of the ancients, should not be totally condemned, in my opinion, if appropriately used. I do not approve of the type: 'God save your excellence, your reverence, your nobility, your lordship.'

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16 / Greeting at second hand or return greetings Further, it frequently happens in letters that we greet one person through the intermediacy of another. Among the learned it is done in this manner: 'Give our friend Atticus a warm greeting from me/ 'Give my greetings to your wife and all your dear children.' 'You will oblige me by greeting my son-in-law on my behalf/ To all my friends give a general greeting from me/ 'Be sure to give a greeting for me to your excellent father/ 'See that you deliver a greeting in my name to our mutual friends/ 'Please convey my words of greeting to your entire household/ 'I had not the leisure to write to everyone, but give all of them a warm greeting for me/ 'Be my deputy in passing on my greetings to all my friends/ 'Tell everyone for me that I pray that they have every happiness/ 'Your son-in-law has asked me to send you his warm greetings in my letter/ 'Wish your mother-in-law good health on my behalf/ 'In greeting my friends, since for the present there has been no time to write, see that you take the place of your friend Erasmus with all diligence/ 'Give warmest greetings to Antonius in my name/ 'I should have written myself to greet the abbot, but you will take the place of a letter from me/ 'It will be no great burden for you, I am certain, to bear greetings in my name to my mother-in-law/ 'I beg you to give a greeting for me to our whole circle of friends/ 17 / Return greetings by a third person 'Attica1 was pleased to receive the greeting that I gave her on your behalf, and has bidden me to greet you in return in my letter/ 'Attica was pleased to have your greeting, and returns her own/ 'Ambrose repays in similar terms the greeting I delivered to him on your behalf/ 'Your friends, whom I made sure to greet in your name, entrusted me with the duty of returning the greeting in their name/ 'I gave my son-in-law your greeting by letter as he was away, and he asked me to return a warm greeting to you from him/ 'My father-in-law, who received your greeting through me, sends you greeting in return through me/ 'Convey my return greetings to all those who sent me greetings through you/ 18 / Epithets and adoptive names Sometimes it is a matter of politeness and courtesy to add honorary or adoptive names. An example of the latter is calling an old man to whom we are indebted 'father/ a young man who is dear to us 'son/ a step-mother 'mother/ a sister's husband 'brother/ To these we may add epithets, which Quintilian1 called apposites. The ancients joined these to titles only

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sparingly, even if modern practice has gone in a different direction. But there will be more use for these in the middle of a letter. In this regard it should particularly be noted that if they are to be used, they should be in keeping with the persons and the subject-matter under discussion. For positions in the church the following are usually fitting: 'most blessed pope/ 'highest pontiff/ 'supreme pontiff/ 'distinguished father/ 'most holy prelate/ 'most watchful shepherd/ 'most sacred father/ Venerable/ 'esteemed/ 'respected/ 'honourable/ 'most devout father.' 19 / Epithets of princes 'August Caesar/ 'invincible king/ 'valiant general/ 'most illustrious leader/ 'most merciful prince/ 'most noble, powerful, honoured, distinguished, renowned, best, and greatest/1 This last epithet was taken from Jupiter, and transferred by some to Christ, to whom it is more properly suited than to Jupiter. Some even apply it to great rulers. To call kings 'divine' or 'gods' is a mark of pagan servility. It is barbarous to call them 'lords' even if the Roman tongue began to tolerate2 this title after men's spirits were able to support the tyrants' yoke; later the leaders of the church, to be different from the profane, wished to be called domni instead of domini.3 20 / Epithets of civil magistrates 'Vigilant consul/ 'most distinguished senator/ 'respected censor/ 'eminent aedile/ 'most righteous judge/ 'most upright praetor/ Of those who prof ess learning we shall call theologians 'grave/ 'pure/ 'accomplished/ 'sacred/ and 'divine'; teachers of rhetoric 'eloquent/ 'of pleasant speech/ 'fluent'; poets 'inspired/ 'divine/ 'famous/ 'noble/ 'celebrated'; lawyers 'learned in both branches1 of law/ 'well-versed in the statutes and equally skilled in the law'; logicians 'penetrating/ 'intelligent/ 'invincible'; physicians 'experienced/ 'trustworthy/ 'outstanding'; those with varied learning 'universally learned/ 21 / The usual epithets of kindred and relatives 'Best of fathers/ 'most gracious mother/ 'dearest brother/ 'esteemed uncle/ 'dearest sister/ 'sweet wife/ 'darling grandson/ 'dear son-in-law, relative, comrade, fellow-soldier/ Of the rest, who are distinguished by no clear indication, we shall call wealthy and influential men 'estimable/ 'eminent/ 'in the first rank/ 'illustrious/ 'respected/ 'most respected'; those endowed with virtue or outstanding in learning 'esteemed/ 'honourable/ 'commendable/ 'accomplished/ 'excellent/ 'surpassing/ 'wise/ 'estimable/ 'respect-

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able/ 'clear-sighted/ 'prudent'; married women 'noble/ 'distinguished/ 'best/ 'blameless/ 'virtuous/ 'modest'; girls 'pretty/ 'beautiful/ 'lovable/ 'well-mannered/ 'chaste/ 'charming/ 'sweet'; young men 'talented/ 'virtuous/ 'restrained/ 'promising/ 'of outstanding character/ 'of noble character'; soldiers 'valiant/ 'well-tried'; workmen 'hard-working/ 'clever/ 'skilled/ 'expert/ 'painstaking.' From the examples I have given each will discover the rest for himself. But here caution is needed, not only against transferring what suits one group to another, such as calling a girl 'venerable/ an old man 'charming/ a king 'modest/ and a matron 'invincible/ but also against attributing obviously false qualities to anyone. Thus you should call an ill-taught theologian 'eminent' rather than 'learned/ or a stupid and indolent prelate anything but 'alert/ and a conspicuously miserly king 'merciful' rather than 'generous.' For each of them is inwardly aware of his own qualities and would take this as an insult, just as if you were to call a deformed old man 'a handsome youth' or a dwarf 'an outstanding hero/ 22 / When and how epithets may best be used As I have said, I should like epithets to be used sparingly in greetings. But there will sometimes be a place for them in the middle of a letter when the subject-matter is being discussed, though even here not merely at random and indiscriminately. For just as it is the mark of a good general to post each soldier where he can be of most use, likewise the good orator places each word where it will be most effective. For instance, in writing to a prince whom one is thanking for a gift received or from whom one wishes to win some favour, it is more appropriate to call him 'generous' or 'kind' than 'valiant' or 'invincible.' Apposite use of epithets may be illustrated from the following examples: 'You will pardon this first error, most gentle leader.' 'Suffer my entreaty, merciful Caesar.' 'Drive back the violence of the Turks from the shoulders of the Christians, invincible king/ 'Succour the church in its moment of peril, devout prince/ 'Restore those oppressed by false charges, most just praetor.' 'It is not for me to give you counsel, sagacious sir.' 'Help us with your counsel, wise sir.' In these expressions the epithets are not otiose, but have the force of proof. For in order to show that it is not your place to give him counsel, you will make the point that being a man of great sagacity, he has counsel of his own, and has no need of borrowing. 23 / The transformation of epithets These adjectival terms are at times transformed neatly into substantives, and so take the place of pronouns: 'I beseech you, dutiful father; I beseech your

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sense of duty, father/ 'I congratulate you, valiant sir; I congratulate you on your valour.' Tardon this lapse of mine, merciful sir; may your mercy pardon this lapse of mine/ 'Be our defence in our folly, I beg you, wise sir; may your wisdom be our defence in our folly/ 'Restrain the boldness of the wicked, righteous sir; may your righteousness restrain the boldness of the wicked/ The misfortune of your people appeals to you, merciful prince; the misfortune of your people appeals to your mercy, excellent prince/ 'Aid the Christian religion, pious Caesar; may your piety, best and greatest Caesar, aid the tottering Christian religion/ 'It is not for an inexperienced man to give counsel to a man of great wisdom; it is not fitting for my inexperience to give counsel to your wisdom/ T am speaking to you, you impudent cur; I am speaking to your impudence, I say/ Sometimes for emphasis we say a thing twice, but with a change of words: 'May your generosity aid me, magnanimous Maecenas/ 'Everyone curses you, cowardly knave; all curse your cowardice, fearful wretch/ 'I am surprised at you, you senseless idiot; I am astonished at your perversity, you madman/ Therefore if we use epithets with moderation and in the proper place, we shall make language more emphatic by amplification,1 reinforce meaning with proof, and enliven our discourse with pleasing variation. For generally in writings of this kind there is no restraint and no concern for timeliness. Thus we find everywhere: 'We have received a letter from your lordship/ 'Your most reverend excellency informed me by letter/ 'Your highness will greet his wife on my behalf/ T reply briefly to your grace/ 'My insignificance pays thanks to your worthy paternity/ It is foolish to avoid the name of the person as if it were forbidden to use it. Yet I admit that it is sometimes pleasing to substitute an attribute for the person. 'May your wisdom be the defence of my folly!' 'May your generosity relieve my poverty!' 'May your plenty support my need!' 24 / Adoptive names To return to the matter that I previously1 touched on, names of adoption are effective in the same contexts, as when we call the powerful, by whose influence we are supported and by whose kindness assisted, 'patrons/ 'fathers/ and 'instructors'; the women 'patronesses' and 'mothers'; our close friends 'brothers and sisters'; our companions in the same study or professors of the same subject 'fellow-soldiers'; young men 'sons'; pupils 'nurslings/2 25 / The superstition of epithets One must avoid the unhappy plight of those who bind themselves by certain words which through some kind of magic superstition they think it a

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sacrilege to change or to utter in reversed order, as if they were calling upon Jupiter in a set formula, or summoning up evil spirits. For unless you address them in due form and set terms, you will be in danger of your life. The Roman pontiff is addressed as 'Most blessed father'; if you write 'Father most blessed/ the document is torn up. He is called 'Most holy father'; if anyone should write: 'Father most holy/ the meaning is changed. He is called 'Most holy lord of ours'; if one does not add 'of ours/ or if one changes the order and says 'Our most holy lord/ it will be thought that a great crime has been committed. By a similar superstition it is an accepted usage that we assign only to cardinals the title of Very reverend lordships/ and call archbishops 'very reverend/ bishops and abbots 'reverend/ priors 'venerable/ deacons 'honourable.' The king of the French alone is called 'most Christian/ the king of Spain alone 'Catholic/ the king of England 'most serene/ the emperor alone 'ever august/ dukes 'most illustrious/ other members of the lesser nobility merely 'illustrious/ and others 'most noble.' Who introduced this superstition about titles into the world? Doubtless that pharisaical race of men who by other ceremonies and by the deception of false teaching and false religion have long tricked the gullible human race. By the constant repetition of phrases like 'most reverend lordships/ 'Catholic majesties/1 and 'magnificent fatherhoods' we fill up a large part of a letter, and ruin the gracefulness of the Latin tongue. I pardon those who use them against their will; I do not pardon those who devise them, or who insist upon them as a serious matter. What if I were to speak of a king who exposes his life to danger for his country's safety as 'father of his country' instead of 'Catholic' or 'most Christian'; pray, will foul-mouthed Calpurnius2 laugh at me? Suppose I refer to the pontiff of Rome, one who does not covet ambition, gain, pleasures, and tyranny, but serves Christ's glory and the well-being of the Christian flock, with the appellation 'evangelical shepherd'; would not that be more fitting than if I said 'most blessed father/ since the epithet 'blessed' is equally appropriate for a man of wealth? If the pontiff is really such as I have described him, I have given him a worthy title; if he is not, I have given him a subtle reminder of what he should be. Yet these people think that there is a difference between 'lord Peter' and 'Peter lord/ and that lay persons should be given the honorary title of 'lord' a single time, but churchmen 'lord lord/3 and abbots or bishops the plural 'lords.' If, however, the doubling of the name 'lord' serves to define the rank, how many times shall we call those 'lords' who are laden with more than twenty benefices? Over such trifles men of the highest learning, if you please, engage in heated arguments, although either choice is equally outlandish. 'Lord' is the name of a position, not of an honour; it is tyrannical, not honorific; barbaric, not Roman. For example, one would be correct in using the name lord for a

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pander who has slaves. In the same way if you say 'our master/ they understand by this a theologian, especially at Paris and Louvain, although shoemakers' apprentices, talking among themselves about their employer, refer to him by the words 'our master/ as for instance when they say: 'Where is our master hanging out?' or 'Our master is off drunk somewhere/ or 'I wish our master would never come back home/ And if she-goats could speak, they would say to their herdsman: 'Our master.' So slight is the difference between the meanest ignorant goatherd on the one hand and the most holy interpreter of the divine mind on the other. They will say: 'What shall I do if someone calls me "our master" out of respect?' Laugh, shake your head, and they will stop honouring you in this way when they have sensed that your ears take no pleasure in silly titles. 26 / How one says farewell Just as we begin a letter with a greeting, so we close it by saying 'Farewell/ except that in Greek x«tpet^ 'rejoice' is used in both places, although less frequently at the end. The same is true of the Latin salve 'Hello!' Vale 'Farewell' is only used in the conclusion, as is the Greek e'ppaxro 'be strong.' There is this difference, that the greeting is sometimes expressed as if pronounced by the letter-carrier: 'Cicero gives greetings to Trebatius/ whereas 'Farewell' is always atributed to the person of the writer: 'Farewell, my Terentia.' No one writes 'Cicero bids his Terentia farewell/ as he does 'Cicero gives greetings to Terentia/ 27 / Some methods of saying 'Farewell' 'Farewell!' 'Keep in perfect health!' 'Keep well!' 'See that you keep quite well!' 'Once again see that you keep well.' 'Take care to keep in the best of health!' 'See that you look with care after your general well-being.' 'If you are quite well, we continue to be well.' 'See that you look after your own state of health if you wish us to be well!' 'Strive to keep as well as possible!' 'My dear Tiro,1 take care of your health.' 'If you are fond of us, you will keep well, my dear Cicero, and return our affection/ 'See that you look after your health with the utmost care.' 'Fare thee well!' 'I will write at more length another time; in the mean time do keep well for my sake!' 'I'll be there on the first of May; in the meantime see that you keep well!' 'See to it that you keep in excellent health!' Take care of your health.' If there is anything that we wish to remain in the mind of the recipient, it is usually inserted after the 'farewell/ 'Farewell, and love us, as ever/ 'Farewell, my dear Peter, and keep this one thing in mind, that you are living in a poisonous atmosphere/

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'Farewell now! You will indeed fare well, if you embrace philosophy/ 'Farewell, and whatever happens, bear in mind that you are mortal!' 'Farewell, and remember me!' 'Farewell, and strive with all your might for the immortality of your name.' 'Farewell, my pride and joy, and see that what I have told you about my brother's affairs does not pass your lips.' At times after 'Farewell!' we insert what has escaped us, or what we pretend has escaped us, so that it will remain more firmly fixed in the mind of the recipient. 'Farewell, my good More! Oh! I almost overlooked something that I should have said in the first place.' 'Farewell! I was just getting ready to seal the letter, but since I have a little unexpected free time at my disposal, I'd like to chat with you a little longer.' 'Farewell! But as I was at the point of sealing the letter, this very opportunely came to mind.' 'Farewell! But wait a moment! What I should have said in the first place has just now occurred to me.' 'Farewell! But how forgetful I am! The affair of your father-in-law almost came into my mind too late.' 'Farewell! I was just putting my ring to the wax. Dear me! How near I came to forgetting what I particularly wanted you to know!' 'You will fare well, but only if I warn you first to stay clear of false friends.' 'Farewell! There now! Oh yes! About the book, it occurs to me only now that you should not entrust it to anyone unless he has a note in my handwriting.' 'Farewell again and again! I really cannot stop; it is so pleasant conversing with a dear friend.' 'Farewell now for the third time! But before I seal the letter I shall add this one item.' 'Farewell! I had already folded the letter when your son-in-law arrived and asked me to send his best wishes.' 'I had already sealed the letter when the courier brought me a second letter of yours. So I have unsealed it again, and am replying at the same time to both of your letters.' Figures of this type have charm not only in this context, but elsewhere also, if we may believe Quintilian.2 For they remove any suspicion of pretence and artificiality, and arouse the drowsy reader to something new, as it were. Among Christian writers one finds methods of saying farewell different from these, which are in my view not wholly to be condemned. 'May Jesus, greatest and best, long keep you safe for us!' 'May Christ, the author of all salvation, bring it to pass that you enjoy long-lasting and excellent health!' 'May it be the will of the Lord Jesus that you be kept safe for us and our country!' If anyone devises suitable formulas of this kind, I do not think he should be criticized. However I will not put up with superfluous and clumsily elaborated endings: 'Farewell in the name of him who girds the vast world with the waves of ocean.' '"May he who governs3 sea and land and sky / With varying seasons" keep you well!' For what has the earth girded by the sea to do with your health? Or the year divided into four parts? This

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would have been more elegant: 'May he who alone cures all sickness grant you the best of health!' 28 / What comes after the 'Farewell' Immediately after 'Farewell' the ancients add the place and date. The place is given in various ways, such as: 'Dispatched at Rome' or 'from Rome.' 'Written at Mantua' or 'from Mantua.' Or with the omission of the participle: 'At Carthage/ 'At Paris/ 'At Athens.' 'From my castle.' 'From my father's country house.' 'From my villa at Formiae.' 'From Caesar's camp.' 'From the court of England/ 'From my study.' 'On board ship/ 'From the inn/ For at times it is useful to know where the friend was who is writing to us. The place and the time sometimes provide an excuse for a rather carelessly written letter. An informal reference to time is given somewhat like this: 'In the country late at night/ 'At daybreak in Puteoli/ 'From my gardens in the suburbs/ 'Over dinner' or 'shortly after dinner/ 'From my father's house at sunset/ 'From the sea-shore by moonlight/ 'From Caesar's palace at bedtime/ 'At night/ 'late at night/ 'in the depth of the night/ 'far on in the night/ Very late at night/ 'at dead of night/ 'close upon cock-crow/ 'From the baths in the afternoon/ The official time is expressed by these formulas: 'In the fifteen-hundredth year from the birth of Christ/ 'In the fivehundredth year past the thousandth since the birthday of Jesus Christ.' 'In the thirteen hundred and ninth year from the Virgin's giving birth/ 'In the five-hundredth year after a thousandth from the redemption of the world.' Tn the sixty-sixth year after Christ's Passion.' 'In the year after the redemption of the human race.' 'In the year of man's salvation/ Some begin the year from Christ's birthday, some from the first of January, some from Easter day, some from the feast of the Annunciation.1 As a result of this peculiarity those who are not attentive enough are often deceived; it would be well to remove this variation from human affairs. Ancient peoples reckoned from the foundation of the world.2 The Greeks counted the Olympiads,3 as others did the Indictions.4 The Romans at first counted from the foundation of the city;5 later they indicated the year by the consuls, as that was an annual office. The month and the day of the month are also noted: 'At Rome on the January calends'6 or 'calends of January/ 'At the calends of January' or 'the January calends/ 'On the March nones'7 or 'the nones of March/ 'On the June ides'8 or 'ides of June/ 'At the ides of June/ 'On the preceding day of the calends of January' or 'on the day preceding the calends of January/ the latter being more common in good authors. 'On the day following the October calends' or 'on the following day of the October calends/ 'On the third day9 before the August calends' or 'of August' or 'three days before the August calends/

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It is only recently that some reckon from the beginning of the month: 'On the twenty-eighth of July.' Those who believe that the addition of the preposition adw always makes the time indefinite are in error. For Cicero frequently adds the date in the form 'ad xv Cal. Feb.' [on the fifteenth day before the calends of February, that is, 18 January], and surely he was not so drunk that he did not know on what day he was writing. In fact, this form of expression was taken from the Greeks,11 who say 'about four' to mean 'four.' However, if the writer is in any doubt about the date, he may express it in this way: 'In about the ninetieth past the thousandth year.' 'In more or less the five-hundredth year.' 'Up to about ninety years.' 'For almost ninety years.' The day immediately preceding that of the calends or nones or ides is to be denoted simply by the adverb pridie 'on the day before': 'On the day before the January calends/ which is the last day of the month of December. The day that immediately follows can be noted in two ways: 'On the day after the June nones' or 'On the eighth day before the June ides.' It is not inappropriate that some denote the days by our religious feast days: 'On the birthday of Christ.' 'On the birthday of the Virgin mother.' 'On the eve of the birthday of St Ambrose.' 'On the feast of Easter.' 'On the third day after the birthday of John the Baptist.' In written documents where an error in giving the date may entail some risk it will be advantageous to denote the same day or year by different indications: 'In the year 1500 from the birth of Christ, in the tenth year of the pontificate of Pope Alexander.' 'On the nones of April, the day after Easter.' For if through the writer's mistake one number happens to be wrong, it can be corrected from the other. 29 / The order of a letter One may seek order in letters either from nature or from art, but less frequently from art. For if in legal pleading most of the arrangement1 is derived from judgment rather than from rules, this should apply much more in a letter, which is read, not heard, and read by a learned person, not by the common people; and in the end it is better for letters which seem at times to have no order at all, even when they are in fact carefully constructed, to conceal rather than reveal their order. So it is a superstitious practice to restrict the freedom of a letter by fixed divisions and to hold it in the kind of bondage that Quintilian2 does not recommend even for orations. On straightforward subjects we should follow the order dictated to us by our judgment, not by petty rules. In mixed letters in which a mass of almost countless topics is assembled, we shall either pour forth whatever comes into our heads, or devise some order from the occasion, the place, the persons, or the subjects, briefly indicating each change of subject by frequent short transitions.

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These will be formed from things that are similar or dissimilar, like or unlike, opposite, separate, or related, in this way: 'I have told you about his inhuman attitude; now hear about a body worthy of such a mind/ 'You know about my services to him; now listen to how he has repaid me/ 'So far I have told you about his escapades as a boy; now I shall tell you what he perpetrated as a young man/ 'But these are merits you share with many; that other matter is to your own personal credit/ This is insignificant; what follows is intolerable/ 'But he admits that these are ignoble actions of his; let us come to his brilliant accomplishments/ That is the way he acquired his bishopric; now hear how he used it/ That is the way he acquired office; now I will tell you how he managed his bishopric/ 'Up to now what we have said is an old story; the following is something novel and unusual/ 'So far we have been joking; let us get on to serious matters/ 'But let us pass over the sad aspects and return to something more cheerful/ 'You know of the tragedy of the trip to Britain; now hear about the comedies in Gaul/ 'I have opened a wound; I shall now offer a cure/ That has nothing to do with us; what follows is of great interest to me/ 'So much for your first letter; now I will reply to the others.' 'I have replied to your very brief letter; I come now to the longer one/ This is enough for your earlier letter; now I'll get ready to answer the second/ 'You have heard of the happenings here; now to your letters in order/ 'Your first piece of news gives me great pleasure; but I am sorry to hear of that other matter/ 'You know the reason for my distress; now hear why I am alarmed/ 'But that was no more than an expectation; what I shall now refer to was already within our grasp/ 'I have pointed out the magnitude of your undertaking; now hear how you must accomplish it/ 'You are informed now about your own affairs; ours are in this state/ 'I have replied, I think, to your earlier letter; I shall now prepare to answer the later one/ 'I have given you the political news; now hear about my family affairs/ 'You know about matters in the country; now learn about those in the city/ 'You have learnt about your affairs in detail; now hear about mine in turn/ That is enough now about the republic; I shall come to personal matters/ These things we learnt merely by report; those other events we saw with our own eyes/ 'I have spoken of him as a general; now I shall write of him as a ruler in peace-time/ This can be corrected; that cannot be remedied by any skill/ 'You have heard very disgraceful things; now hear even worse/ 'What could be more unpleasant? But now hear things that are even more unpleasant/ 'I have brought you up to date on everything; but I shall add this one thing/ 'I have given you the reason for my strategy; now I shall show you what I want you to do/ 'But that is more than enough about foreign affairs; I will tell you a little about our own/ 'Good news about the birth! About the divorce I am distressed/ 'Your news about the new marriage

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connection is very pleasant; but it is distressing indeed to learn of Cassius' end/ If short transitions like these are properly devised, then topics which do not naturally fit together can be connected by links, so to speak, and as a result the letter will not ramble on in a disorderly fashion, but will be read with greater pleasure, understood more easily, and remembered longer. So it is advisable to make frequent use of short and suitable connections, not only in this kind of letter, but also in more straightforward subjects, so that we may break up what is naturally continuous, and periodically recapture the reader's interest. 30 / An example of a mixed letter1 Though there are many examples of the mixed letter in Cicero, particularly among those that he wrote to Atticus and to his brother, Quintus,2 I shall include one of my own, so that young students may find my services nowhere lacking. 'Domitius greets his friend Lucius. You write that ages have gone by without a single word from me, though this is a shameless exaggeration, since the "ages" you refer to have hardly lasted three months. Yet, while upset at your accusing me unjustifiably, I am the more pleased that you have missed me. I have just returned at last to the Muses after the wanderings of a Ulysses, and they are not yet quite placated. They still protest and complain of my lack of regard for them, because I abandoned the untroubled peace of learning and thrust myself out upon such huge waves. Your lucubrations, printed in such elegant form, have lately appeared in public - with good auspices,3 unless I am mistaken, for they are being snatched up everywhere by merchants and studious young men. Yet there are always some Momuses4 around to criticize Venus' sandal,5 people who must find something to censure even in work of great perfection. They make some petty accusations against the novelty of the style - that is to say, its antiquity - which I consider to be the highest praise. Take this in good part, then, so that Virgil,6 whose godlike learning was not able to escape Momuses of this kind, may not be envious of you. I too have put my dialogue7 back on the anvil and given it a thorough polishing; now it is in the booksellers' workshops, awaiting the gamble of publication. Recently, however, I have deserted Aristotle,8 whose banners I followed since boyhood, and from the Lyceum and its promenades I have passed over into the household of Plato. And far from repenting of this defection, my dear Lucius, I shall not cease urging you too to come to my Academy, until I have prevailed upon you. But about schools some other time; now to politics. Here there is a great

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clamour of applause and rejoicing. Milan has been recaptured9 and the duke10 carried off to France by the victor. The French, encouraged by the success of their victory, have grandiose plans,11 and are now threatening Italy. I shall come now to family matters. Everything is going well, except that your little grandson has had a touch of fever for a month now; but the doctor tells us to have good hopes. We are sparing neither the money nor means to take care of his health. I have spoken on your behalf several times to your debtor, Ambrose, but the fellow is insolent, so I think you must either write off the debt, or hale him forcibly into court, though I am afraid you would be wasting your time and trouble.12 Like Proteus he will elude you somehow; but you must make your own decision about this. That is how things stand at home. Now for your letter. About my trip to Britain you write that you wonder very much what put it into my head, and this, I think, is because it did not turn out very well. What was I to do? The invitation came from someone13 whom I could not refuse, and I should have had to remain idle in France for the summer months. I considered it an opportunity to oblige a great friend and at the same time to visit an island renowned for the learning of its many scholars.14 Lastly, I admit, I was somewhat spurred on by the hope of fame and reward. You have learnt my intentions, now hear how it turned out. Right up to my return all went well. The way down to Avernus15 is easy; To retrace one's steps, and reach the upper airs, That is the task, and that the toil.

Before we boarded ship my entire small sum of money suffered shipwreck16 on shore. We reached Boulogne, however, after a very calm crossing. Here the customs officer searched every corner of my purse again, and cursed the officer at Dover, who had stolen his plunder in advance. "What a wicked, unsettled shore!" you will say. No! A friendly and kindly one! For if Britain had not sent me back penniless, it would have been the end of me, since in France I met with the knives of bandits,17 from whom my destitute state alone saved me. For against this kind of enemy there is no better weapon of defence than poverty.18 When I finally got back to Paris I had an attack of very high fever,19 which brought me both financial and physical exhaustion. You know now the very bad ending of a not badly conceived plan. As for your heartfelt congratulations on my new honour, you are still true to your old habit of being almost more pleased at the successes of a dear friend than at your own. About the death of Cassius you certainly bring me grievous news. As for your repressing the impudence of that wicked

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scoundrel, Varus,20 well done! What is this about Petronius setting upon you like a gladiator and accusing you in so offensive a manner? Can it be that fate has destined this too as a sign of your virtue? There is nothing new in your telling me that Antonius shows great devotion to me in his words and attitude. The fact that Zoilus21 should strongly attack my book gives me immense pleasure, as I know how much he dislikes me. I am truly happy that by your efforts your brothers have dropped their unseemly quarrel and have made up. Take care that what is patched up does not split open again. I am slightly annoyed that you anxiously recommend your nephew to me so often. Forgive me, but I shall not concede that with all your affection for him your love is any greater than mine. As for your coming into an inheritance, you would neither wish me to congratulate you, nor do I think it proper to do so. For who would not prefer the friendship of such a man to the wealth even of Croesus?221 am delighted to know that your sister has had a little son and you a little nephew. I hope the gods will give their blessing to this event. I am glad that you like your son-in-law. But you are too severe with your son. Do please remember that he is human and but a child,23 and that you were once the same as he is. Do you want him to be an old man right from birth? Come now, pass over this wrongdoing, I beg you, and let me be responsible. I guarantee that from now on he will behave more correctly. Heavens! what amusement your news gives me! Sabellius drinking so much and running off! He has left behind a big sum - of debts. You must at least admit that I am a good prophet. How long ago did I foresee and foretell this flight! I do not approve at all of your plan to go by sea. The winter months terrify me, that bay is notorious for its shipwrecks, and your own health is not yet robust. But you will see for yourself; if you were to take my advice, however, you certainly would not do it. Are you in your right senses about sending the child away? Do postpone it until my return. As for your thoughts about your daughter's marriage, I strongly support your views. That deals with all the points in your letter. But wait! one thing has escaped me. If your farm is as you say, I am immensely pleased. Then about the building, good! How cleverly you have arranged it! I am just longing to fly back there, so that in our little Academy, removed from all the bustle of the town, we may philosophize together, and dispute whether I should bring you over to the side of the Academics, or you should recall me, the deserter, to the household of the Peripatetics. Think about this while I am on the way. With regard to the building, though you are such a fine architect, I shall remind you of this one thing, that the dining-room should be lit with many windows. In the gardens24 there should be a plane tree with wide, spreading branches, and near it a small fountain with a trickle of cold water, so that we can also summon the Muses when we wish.

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I have replied to all your points; learn now what the situation is here. The heat is oppressive, but we are left out in the cold. That pontiff of mine promises mountains of gold, 25 but they are mere promises, and he sends nothing. Yet in hope I surpass the wealth of Crassus.26 However things turn out, I shall certainly make the best of it. Work whole-heartedly, my dear Lucius, as you are doing on your own initiative, for an undying name. Almost the whole world now awaits with great expectancy the affirmation of your talents, confident that something divine will come of your excellent qualities. Things have progressed so far that it would be shameful to desist now. I am fervently engaged in spreading your fame here. I do not recommend my young grandsons to you since I know that they commend themselves to you most highly. I wrote this late at night, and was going to send it next day, but lo! Lucilius is here unexpectedly before daylight, and I had hardly returned his greeting when I asked whether he brought any letter from you. He said he had nothing in writing, but he gave me a great deal of news in your message; first that you had changed your plan to go by sea, about which I am very pleased for both our sakes. That Caminius'27 feigned friendliness has at last burst into open hostility upsets me very little; indeed I even congratulate you. A counterfeit friend could do harm; but what damage can an open enemy inflict? Since you have undertaken such a struggle for my reputation with such envious individuals, I shall not thank you as if it were a fresh service, seeing that you never stop doing so. As for your consulting me about making a matrimonial alliance with Demetrius, though you yourself have more than sufficient discretion, still I think you should postpone the matter until I return. It will be better to discuss it in person. I should have liked to chat longer with you, for nothing gives me greater pleasure, but the lettercarrier is ready and asking for the letter. Therefore fare well yourself, and tell all our friends from me to do the same. Sent from Orleans, 5 December' 31 / Kinds of letters The kind of letter I have just illustrated, made up of various topics, is often used by friends in writing to each other. Now I shall set forth the classes of letters on single topics. For the present it is not my intention to run through all the forms a letter can take, which I think would be as endless a task as counting the sands of Libya. For when Cicero,1 writing to Curio, mentions three kinds of letters, it was not his intention to identify the single kinds of letters, but to give a brief summary. Certainly a division based on general characteristics of style rather than on variety of subjects seems to me quite unsuitable for teaching. But if we calculate the number of forms from the

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number of different subjects, of which there is an endless variety, where shall we set a limit? For what subject cannot be committed to a letter? In them we feel joy, pain, hope, and fear. In them we give vent to anger, protest, flatter, complain, quarrel, declare war, are reconciled, console, consult, deter, threaten, provoke, restrain, relate, describe, praise, and blame. In them we feel hatred, love, and wonder; we discuss, bargain, revel, quibble, dream, and, in short, what do we not do? To them as to well-tried servants we entrust all our moods; to them we confide public, private, and domestic affairs. So in a subject that is of itself boundless we shall choose a middle path, neither limiting ourselves solely to the chief classes nor pursuing the most minute subdivisions broken down into tiny segments. In the one case the treatment would be too sparse to be of help to the student; in the other by going into excessive detail2 we might seem to have said too much without having said everything, as Quintilian3 says. 32 / The three sources of all the kinds The majority of rhetoricians have approved of three classes1 of subject: persuasive, encomiastic, and judicial. To these as to their sources most forms of letters are assigned, so that under the heading of 'persuasive'2 one usually places these subdivisions: conciliation, reconciliation, encouragement, discouragement, persuasion, dissuasion, consolation, petition, recommendation, admonition, and the amatory letter. In the demonstrative3 category belong accounts of persons, regions, estates, castles, springs, gardens, mountains, prodigies, storms, journeys, banquets, buildings, and processions. The judicial4 class usually comprises accusation, complaint, defence, protest, justification, reproach, threat, invective, and entreaty. To these three it will be possible to add a fourth class which, if you please, we shall call the familiar. It may include the following types: narrative, when we describe for those at a distance an event that has taken place near us; informative, when we announce a piece of news, whether of a public, private, or domestic nature; congratulatory, when we are pleased at our friends' happiness; mournful, when we bewail either our own troubles or those of our acquaintances; mandatory, when we entrust to another a piece of business to be carried out on our behalf. There is also the type which contains the giving of thanks, when we show our gratitude for the action of a benefactor; the laudatory letter, when we praise a child or someone under our authority for doing his duty; the obliging letter, (this is the term I have devised for it) when we voluntarily promise a friend our support and interest; and the humorous one, when we entertain someone's spirit with amusing wit. But about these latter I shall keep judicious silence, because just as

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sorcerers have certain definitive forms of incantation, so too rhetoricians have certain forms laid down, so that they believe not even a stroke5 can be altered without great peril to things human and divine. By my instructions I am aiding the efforts of those who strive after the best kind of writing, not those who through the most arrant superstition defend what they have once grasped as being the best, or in their avidity for the most contemptible gain, prefer to follow the worst rather than the best. For what can you teach those who consider the best letter to be the one that is most profitable? To this list you may add the disputatory, the investigatory, and the doctrinal letter, among which theological and ethical6 letters may be included. I am well aware that among the Greeks there is an authority7 who divides up the classes of letters in the following way: 'friendly' is the name given to the letter in which one friend writes to another; 'introductory' when we recommend someone to another; 'chiding' when someone is remiss in duty towards us; 'reproachful' when we charge someone with ingratitude; 'consolatory' when we comfort those in adversity; 'critical' when we chide someone who has erred; 'admonitory' when we give outspoken advice about what should be done and what should not; 'threatening' when we threaten anyone and inspire fear; 'censorious' when we charge someone with moral depravity; 'laudatory' when we praise someone who has done his duty; 'deliberative' when we consider the best course of action; 'supplicatory' when as intercessors we intercede for someone who has done wrong; 'interrogatory' when we enquire or ask of another what we want to know; 'declaratory' when we reply to an enquirer; 'allegorical' when in veiled words we give a message to someone that we wish to be understood only by the person to whom we are writing; 'explanatory' when we give the reasons why something has not happened or is not going to happen; 'accusatory' when we find fault with someone; 'apologetic' when we exculpate ourselves; 'gratulatory' when we congratulate a friend on his happiness; 'ironical' when we write otherwise than we feel; 'grateful' when we give thanks for a service rendered to us. These forms of letters are simply listed with an example under each heading but there is no indication of how each class should be handled. Yet even if this were adequately done, the distribution into classes does not itself seem to have any rational basis. For what they call 'friendly' is not derived from the subject, but from the person. Besides, we also give advice, reproof, and encouragement to our close friends, and we joke or dispute with them. There is extant as well the preface of Philostratus8 about the nature of the letter, admonishing us that a letter should be neither too Attic nor completely devoid of atticism; that it is figurative for the very reason that it has no figures; that even if it is formal it should not lack a certain humanity;

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that in short letters it is possible to round off the discussion, but not in long ones, except at the end or in the epilogue or in a conclusion;9 that clarity is particularly fitting in a letter. Although he expressed this in a lively manner in Greek, I do not see how it can help the young to write correctly. Therefore, in my anxiety to give guidance to the energies of the young, I have preferred to follow a different distribution of classes. But then as I was hurrying off in another direction, I am called back from my flight, as it were, and have my ear tweaked10 by a band of secretaries who are charged with the correspondence of princes. 'What about us/ they say, 'not worthy of mention, like the Megarians?'11 The truth is that itwould be difficult to give any direction to those whose pen is not free. Just as Martial12 directs that a cook should have his master's palate, so they are compelled to defer to the whims of princes. I shall only give them this passing advice, to pursue on all occasions a learned readiness and clarity of speech and particularly to keep decorum in mind. This will have to be measured not according to their own inclination, but by the fortune and character of those in whose name they write. So far then I have identified four classes of letters, and have added the forms for each class. Now I shall give instructions about each form in turn. 33 / The difference between encouragement and persuasion First of all, encouragement and persuasion are closely related to one another, though for the sake of our discussion I have kept them apart. I am not without precedent or lacking in discernment in doing this, because some of the ancients also separated the encouraging class from the deliberative in the art of speaking, and I myself have noted a certain distinction. The two types do not have the same goal nor do they follow the same path, for the concern of persuasion is to incite the will, that of encouragement to give the courage to act. Persuasion teaches by proofs; encouragement goads by incentives. The persuader changes a way of thinking; the encourager adds confidence. We persuade those who are in error or are uncertain; we encourage those who are dallying or even already running.1 Thus, to come to the heart of the matter, encouragement will be that part of a persuasive letter, namely the epilogue, which is made up of emotions,2 not proofs. One who persuades will not think it enough to have pointed out the best course of action without also adding incentives, lest, put off by difficulty or danger or slowed down by faint-heartedness, we fail to pursue3 what we have seen to be best. Yet just as persuasion almost always involves encouragement, so in the latter there will often be an opportunity to use persuasion. Each of them is a beneficial kind of letter whose use is very widespread in matters of

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great or small importance, which I shall have to treat with greater care and detail. 34 / The beginning of a letter I shall give this one preliminary piece of general advice to young students, that when they are going to write a letter they should not at once have recourse to rules nor take refuge in books from which they may borrow elegant little words and sententious expressions. Rather, they should first consider very carefully the topics on which they have decided to write, then be well acquainted with the nature, character, and moods of the person to whom the letter is being written and their own standing with him in favour, influence, or services rendered. From the accurate examination of all these things they should derive, so to speak, the living model of the letter. After that has been determined I shall allow them to search out passages in the authors from which they can borrow a plentiful supply of the best words and sentiments. All of these must be adapted with appropriate changes to suit the topic at hand so that the theft is not given away by the very fact that they are so ill assorted, like a bit of bad patching or faulty soldering. In borrowing foreign material let us imitate Virgil's skill, so that it appears not to have been borrowed from other sources, but to be original with ourselves. About the beginning of a letter I shall state that as a general rule the method of beginning in this genre is less difficult than in a speech, because in the latter the orator cannot fully know the inclination and character of the judge, and when proceedings take place before several magistrates there is the added difficulty that what wins over one person may put off another because their dispositions differ. On the other hand, one who sends a letter to a specific individual can easily have certain knowledge of the things that usually influence him; even if, as is often the case, there is no close friendship between them, he may find out by diligent inquiry. So in addition to what is taught in the writings of the rhetoricians about gaining good will, attention, and responsiveness and concerning the emotions of the mind, the individual character of each person learned through close acquaintance or by careful observation will also provide appropriate subject matter for the opening. Yet if one must write to someone of whom he has very little knowledge, the position of the orator will be more advantageous than that of the letter-writer, in that by observing the expression of the judges he can make changes on the spot. If he sees that something is not being construed as he expected he can correct this as he speaks, or if he has sensed it beforehand he can change his approach; while a letter, once delivered, cannot adjust to the

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mood of the reader, and a person who is offended by something in writing usually becomes more incensed on a further reading - a risk one should very carefully try to avoid. But when the correspondents know each other, it is not difficult to decide on a beginning, which can have many variations. In legal pleading one can make numerous errors in the exordium, which may be too long, general, commonplace, figurative, or abstruse. But the freedom of a letter is such that one can take anything at all as one's starting-point as long as it is of such a nature as to prepare the recipient for what you have in mind. For instance, if one is going to ask for a loan of money, right at the beginning of his letter he should give some news about someone that the reader will be most eager to hear because of his fondness, particular enmity, or bitter hatred of that person; or if you should be recounting an anecdote dressed up in a very charming style to a friend who you know derives immense pleasure from a carefully written letter, and then in the course of the letter should suddenly slip in a word about borrowing in such a way that it could never have been suspected from what preceded, you will have made a very adroit use of a completely irrelevant beginning, a ruse which would never be tolerated in a delivered speech. For here there is charm even in the pretence, when we pretend that we are deviating from our chartered course, or being carried further away by love than we had originally planned. Sometimes we should begin without preamble or reverse the order entirely, provided that in our simulation we do not forget ourselves and waver in our intent. By the use of clever rhetorical colouring we shall turn a supposed error to our own advantage. We shall say that this aberration follows from the incredible extent of our love, which knows neither limit nor regularity, that our feelings run away with our pen, and that we are beginning again at the very point at which we should have broken off, because as we write we seem to be carrying on a conversation with the dearest of friends in his very presence. The indirect kind of introduction which the Greeks called e^oSo?,1 the Latins 'insinuation,' is confined to three situations in judicial proceedings: when the ugly nature of the case has strongly prejudiced the judge against us, when the previous speaker has been extremely convincing, or when by an excessively long speech he has wearied the minds of the hearers. In a letter, however, an indirect introduction may be used whenever it seems desirable. It may be taken from anywhere at all, and the beginning of a letter may seem as unrelated to the rest as one likes, as long as it somehow leads to the point. This device will not be considered a fault in a letter, as it is in a speech, because in the latter case the hearer expects one particular thing, and since he is impatient to hear that alone, he is inevitably annoyed by what seems to lead elsewhere. But in a letter, since the opposite is true, the

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introduction of a subject by artful dissimulation will not seem a faulty approach but a separate part of the letter. A proper beginning is determined according to precisely those principles which writers on rhetoric have handed down concerning the judicial class, but these teachings, which they correctly applied to speeches in the courtroom, should be modified to suit the peculiar characteristics of a letter. Otherwise there would be little point or profit in repeating in the same or in an inferior way what so many of the ancient writers have written with such precision and excellence; and yet all those who have dealt with letter-writing have done exactly that. They take from Cicero2 the proper form of introduction,3 the kinds of narration,4 the divisions5 in the arrangement of a debate, the way in which a case should be opened in the narration, the arguments for supporting our own case and refuting that of our opponents, the various form of conclusion,6 and finally what is to be adopted or avoided in composition, in elegant expression, and in rhetorical embellishment.7 Yet in heaven's name, how are these things relevant to a letter? Or if they absolutely must be learnt, as they should be, how much more correctly will they be learnt from Cicero or Quintilian, the fountain-heads of eloquence, than from the adulterated sources of the writers of manuals! I shall pass over for the moment the fact that certain instructions are given there which cannot apply to a letter at all, for instance the personality of the litigant and the pleader, the character of the spectators, the substitution of the subject for the person, or vice versa, and the determining of the matter at issue. Perhaps some of these points may be applicable to a letter of accusation; but even so, they will be applied differently. So then whenever the subject obliges us to win over the good will8 of the person to whom we are writing if his loyalty is uncertain, or to regain it if he has been offended, or strengthen it if our message is somewhat unpleasant, or revive it because of a rather long interval in our acquaintance, we shall attempt to capture his favour through the argument from persons, as follows. We may say that there was the deepest affection and the closest intimacy between our ancestors and his, and that very many services were rendered on both sides; that this good will has been handed on to us in a hereditary succession and has never been neglected; that true affection, which we imbibed with our nurse's milk,9 as it were, has increased with the years, and that what was ordained more by fate than by human wisdom has now been so firmly established through close association and numerous favours that absolutely no mischance can eradicate it. Furthermore, we shall remind the recipient of the great affection his father or uncle or mother had for us, or our relatives for him, and what respectful and attentive regard was mutually demonstrated. But if it is not possible to recall the friendship of a

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father or a grandfather because it did not exist, we shall say that it is those linked by no ties of friendship who like to recall the close bonds that existed between their ancestors, in the same way as those who have accomplished nothing memorable themselves talk of the deeds of their forebears; that this bond did not come about casually through some chance of heredity, but was born and nurtured in us, at first when similarity of abilities and interests brought young minds together in a unique atmosphere of warmth and affection, then through close comradeship and mutual kindnesses, until finally through admiration of each other's good qualities it took root, grew strong, and matured, so that now nothing could be added to the store of benefits or the measure of affection attained. Then we can recall in detail where and how and in what mutual pursuits we passed our boyhood and even early manhood, what pleasures, hardships, and dangers we experienced together - all of these we shall renew in pleasant recollection. For when we are grown up it gives us immense satisfaction to share the memory of such things, and feelings of good will that began in boyhood often persist with great pleasure to advanced old age. Further, if there is any relationship by birth or by marriage between the correspondents, we shall say that although nature has linked us closely, yet we are far more closely linked by fondness for each other. If there is no such relationship, we shall maintain that there are no ties of kinship capable of linking our minds more firmly, more closely, or more agreeably than those of friendship; that without these bonds, even relationship by birth or marriage can be troublesome; that when ties of friendship exist, those others are not required; that there is no intimacy nobler and more lasting than that which takes rise from virtue and lofty ideals; that marriage ties are broken off by divorce, the attachment of kinf oik rent by jealousies; that good will born of services rendered is apt to turn to hatred through the ingratitude of one or the other party; that love affairs rashly entered upon quickly come to nothing; that only the link forged by the admiration of virtue is as undying as virtue itself. It will be advantageous also to magnify greatly our correspondent's services to us, together with an expression of our gratitude, and to refer to our return favours to him very modestly and allusively. We shall also mention how often we speak of him, how deeply his memory is fixed in us, how much pleasure we experience in his letters so that we feel more heartfelt joy over his successes and fame than over our own, that we feel his hardships no less than our own. We shall emphasize how much care and energy we have expended for his honour and esteem, and what a fierce struggle we must sustain against the malice of his ill-wishers. Finally we should praise any learning or virtue he may possess, while making but

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modest mention of any attainments of our own. We shall gain good will by the use of compassion if we give a tearful account of our own misfortune or that of those whom we are recommending. We shall derive some advantage even from the person of his enemies, by relating the threats, insults, or abuse we have undergone for our friend's sake from those who harbour ill feeling towards him and also towards us as his friends. In turn we shall tell of our defiant or contemptuous words or hostile actions towards them. But this will be dealt with in its proper place. From the subject-matter itself we shall render him more receptive if we say that what we are going to write has very little to do with us, but is of great importance to him; that we have nothing to sow or to reap10 except that we are touched by the successes of a dear friend as if they were our own; furthermore we should rouse him by the gravity of the matter, its risk, novelty, antiquity, usefulness, pleasantness, necessity, or any recommendation of this kind; we should bid him to give the matter his careful attention since it is much more important than it appears, and explain that it is a matter of great concern and significance to ourselves and to those for whom we know he cares. But if the subject itself seems rather touchy, we shall first soothe him by flattery; we shall testify to his good sense, confident that with his usual sense of understanding he will take in good part what we are about to tell him out of the most genuine solicitude and devotion. We shall say that the matter is not what it appears to be at first blush; then if it seems very difficult, we shall remind him that a great profit makes up for a little unpleasantness. But since such considerations are not peculiar to the beginning and cannot conveniently form part of a general discussion, I shall defer the examination of each to its proper place. I do not object entirely to the practice, which I see has found excessive favour with modern writers, of beginning a letter with some venerable ancient tag or memorable deed, such as: 1 know that Horace did not idly write these words: "Be careful whom you praise and scrutinize him well, / Or be accused of foibles not your own."11 Nevertheless, I have in so many ways tested this young man's intellectual abilities that I do not hesitate to commend him to you even at my own risk/ Likewise: 'Hercules, who habitually lends his aid to others, was once compelled himself to ask the aid of another when he was about to join battle with the Lernaean Hydra12 and the crab. What am I to do, then, as I fight so many monsters single-handed, with new ones13 arising at every moment?' 35 / The abrupt beginning of a letter The satirical, abrupt kind of opening is extremely suitable in facetious and friendly letters, as Cicero's: 'So no one has come to see you except your

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litigants?'1 and: 'In heaven's name what is this I hear?'2 'It is, I tell you, as you say in your letter.'3 'Is this the way you abandon your poor old friend?' 'Well then, we will change our views since you feel this so strongly.' 'Why should I not congratulate you?' 'Why do you not come hastening back here if things are as you write?' 'My word! Who would have thought you such a hero?' 'Come now, what are you saying, I beseech you?' 'Is Zoilus becoming hostile?' 'You certainly bring me a good piece of news!' With figures of this kind we achieve the effect not of replying to a letter with a mute letter, but of continuing a live conversation. Since letters sent and received suppose an unheard conversation between the correspondents, it would be desirable to convey this impression as appositely as we can. Furthermore those customary recommendations, which are now usually tacked on at the beginning, should be omitted altogether or moved to the end of the letter. Yet no matter where we place such phrases it still seems awkward to commend ourselves to others. It is preferable simply to offer and pledge our services. We commend, that is, praise others in order that they may seem deserving of favour. 36 / The letter of encouragement Since the exhortatory letter, which the Greeks call TraprnvsriKov,1 originates in the emotions, which according to the view of many philosophers nature has given us as incentives and guides to perfect virtue, we must observe and explore the nature of man's mind, the variety of temperaments, the emotions generated by various circumstances, and the things by which people are attracted or repelled. In this sphere the orator should be especially skilled. But all this must be imbibed from the teachings of the rhetoricians. I shall only touch upon it briefly, as much as I think sufficient for composing this kind of letter. So from the following sources in particular I shall seek the means of stimulating the mind: praise, hope, fear, hatred, love, pity, rivalry, expectation, example, and entreaty. FROM PRAISE

We shall give encouragement from praise in two ways, sometimes praising the subject, sometimes the person. We shall give motivation by praising the subject if we call it honourable, splendid, famous, unusual, novel, difficult, or hitherto untried. A more exhaustive treatment of this subject will be given under the heading of persuasion. Warm praise of the person is very effective in giving encouragement. For honour is a unique stimulant and begetter of virtue. Nature has formed the minds of mortals in such a way that hardly anyone is so deeply depressed that he cannot be uplifted by being praised. Thus with our promptings of encouragement we shall mingle a good deal of

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praise, as Cicero does on many occasions, and states that he did so, in order to indicate that praise was an instrument of encouragement. Thus we shall rouse the person by enlarging upon his previous achievements with cunning praise, now alluding to the way, now to the place and time, now to the person and the difficulty of the situation, by comparison and invention and by other means of amplification. I shall have more to say later2 about these devices, which are most important in all kinds of letters, but are particularly and especially relevant in this one. If we say that a person's previous accomplishments are lauded to the skies by all, we shall encourage him to pursue with similar or even greater nobility of mind what has been undertaken with such success and energy. We shall assure him that only the final touch is lacking for his undying fame/and that this is not so much a difficult or arduous task as a necessary one for preserving the fame already secured by his virtue, so that after leaving all others behind, he may like a good craftsman surpass even himself in this final act. If we extol the distinction of his lineage, the lustre of his good fortune, his noble birth, position, prestige, intellect, strength, wisdom, virtue, age, and experience, then we shall admonish him not to do anything unworthy of these achievements. So we shall measure the imposing nature of the task, as we have exalted it, by the extent of his abilities, and we shall say that his godlike qualities alone are equal to such a splendid assignment. Amplification of a subject involves very little risk, but the manner of praising a person is a matter of some delicacy. There are some rather empty-headed people who readily acknowledge praise even when it is quite obvious. Another person may have a more peevish nature: 'Rub him the wrong way3 and kicks will fly on every side.' So the former needs fuller, the latter more allusive praise. Much depends on personal character. The time of life makes a difference too. For youth, puffed up through the usual weakness and lack of experience of that time of life, carries its head high4 at open praise and loud applause, and decrepit senility is glad to receive praise because of the feebleness of its declining years. But since virile maturity trusts more in its own strength and is far removed from either the foolishness of youth or the ravings of old age, it must be praised in a more disguised and less theatrical manner. So with men of sterner nature it will be wise to conceal the emptiness of praise in figurative language, so that we either dissemble praise by the figure of 'concealment'5 or, using the opposite turn of speech, by affecting censure we give praise that is more worthy of belief; or we may transfer the praise to some other person. In a word let us use every device to avoid transparent 'Gnathonism.'6 FROM HOPE AND FEAR

There are two things that provide a very sharp stimulus to rouse and sustain

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men's spirits so that they are not overwhelmed by the magnitude of human events, namely hope of rewards and fear of adversities; it is the proper role of the first to encourage and of the second to deter. Both are widely used in the deliberative genre where they are turned to account in a persuasive epilogue to set out briefly and yet not without some amplification a compendium of advantages and disadvantages: on the one side immortality, happiness, fame, glory, honours, wealth, pleasures, tranquility, or any other reward; and on the other, hell, everlasting torment, disgrace, dishonour, need, pain, and tumult. But if we use both motivations in one class of letter, as frequently happens, we must antithetically match the magnified advantages with equally exaggerated disadvantages. When we have perceived what affects each person, we shall put these things constantly before him, amplifying them deliberately: honours, for instance, for the ambitious man, reward for the greedy, a peaceful existence for an old man, and likewise for the rest; conversely, whatever we have found to be most despised must be put forward brutally and insistently. Then by understatement we shall have to play down the toil by which such great gains are sought or losses avoided, and then set them off against each other. FROM LOVE, HATRED, AND PITY

We shall provide strong incitement and enhance our argument if we call to mind the dearness of those for whose sake perils are undergone, mentioning the loyalty owed to country, parents, and children that is instilled in us by nature, love towards benefactors, the ties of friendship, respect for men of conspicuous virtue, and conversely, if we magnify to the fullest degree hatred and animosity towards those who oppose us. For it is not only true that nothing is difficult for the lover,7 as the old saying goes; the same is true of hatred. So we shall apply both spurs, and make a forceful contrast between the good will of our friends on the one side and the inhumanity of our foes on the other: contrasting for example, the most holy religion of Christ with the foul superstition of the Turks, wives and children with loathsome parricides, trusty allies with cruel enemies, a very dear and honourable friend with a slanderous sycophant. The invocation of pity will have the same effect, according to the same principles, if we cite the loneliness, need, grief, and misery of our friends, and the power, fierceness, impudence, and audacity of our enemies. But the method of rousing these emotions and intensifying them once roused is laid down fully by Quintilian8 in his instructions about beginnings and endings. The only advice I shall give is that the deepest emotions will be stirred if one gives a vivid picture of the consequences: how much success will ensue if the affair is managed well, how much woe if it is not. It is useful to employ personification9 to give utterance even to things, such as country, religion, temples, buildings,

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tombs, and ancestral spirits conjured up from the grave, and to provide10 suitable and appropriate emotions and language for them. FROM RIVALRY

The emotion considered under this heading stems from envy, not the ignoble and detestable kind that without producing anything noble itself chafes at the virtues of others, but the honourable kind11 implanted in our minds by wise nature, so that through the desire to excel our rivals we might be incited as by a sharp goad to act vigorously; it is that impulse toward emulation by which we are convinced that it is a noble thing and worth attaining whatever the cost to surpass all whom we can, and that on the contrary it is disgraceful and to be avoided at any price to take second place in such a contest. But the technique of giving encouragement through the instigation of rivalry has more than one aspect. For minds will take courage from both directions if by the use of amplification we set before them the valour, fame, eagerness, enterprise, resources, and unscrupulousness of rivals. Yet we must be careful not to magnify the praise of rivals to such an extent that we throw into despair the mind of the person we are trying to encourage. Thus it will be desirable to invent some fiction or other, suggesting that his rivals have gained some advantage over him by an accident of fortune or by his own apathy, not on their merits; and that he must strive all the more to repair by his own efforts whatever loss has been incurred through a blow of fortune and to overcome by diligent activity the disgrace he has brought upon himself by negligence. Or if we use exaggeration in presenting the idleness, ignorance, weakness, or indigence of his rivals, it must be with such moderation that we do not induce the person whom we are encouraging to carelessness and indifference. By the first method he will be heartened to know that his victory will be the more glorious because his opponents are men of outstanding virtue and renown, since even defeat by men of worth is not usually held to be dishonourable. By the second method we shall show that the victory, although easy, is not such that we think it should be treated casually, because the outcome of human affairs is uncertain, and further, that it is utterly shameful to be beaten by worthless rivals. We shall also urge him to consider that the contest now is no longer with those whom he has left far behind, but with himself. FROM TWOFOLD

EXPECTATION

Expectation has a twofold stimulus, for we shall inspire no slight inducement if we show what great expectations all a person's friends and well-wishers have of his ability, both publicly and privately, mentioning by name those whose judgment and authority he seems to value most highly, and for whose

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benefit all his future actions will be undertaken. We shall point out that it is important not only for himself, but for all those associated with him and all his descendants to whom that fame must be transmitted. We shall make the expectation most plausible by referring to his noble birth, his publicly esteemed character, his education, the fame of the locality, his former deeds and words, omens, dreams, prophecies, and other similar considerations. FROM THE ENEMY'S EXPECTATION We shall violently exaggerate the expectation and perverse interests of the envious and the malignant. It will be most effective in this connection to mention by name those whom we know to be above all others a person's most hated and implacable opponents, and to relate each one's spiteful words or unfriendly actions. We shall set before him with vivid description how insolent will be the joy of those who are now galled by his present fame, how contemptuous their behaviour towards his well-wishers, what taunts, ridicule, and arrogance await him if, as they hardly dare promise themselves, his affairs do not turn out successfully. Thus he must bear in mind that his prowess has been exposed to full view before a lofty, crowded amphitheatre, from which he must either take his bow amid the greatest congratulations and applause from his well-wishers, or be hissed and hooted off the stage by his bitterest enemies to the great disgrace of ourselves and those near us. FROM EXAMPLES

Nothing inflames us so intensely towards the acquisition of virtue as illustrious examples of those whom we admire, whether from sources of great antiquity or close at hand. Authority commends the former and emotion the latter, because everyone likes to hear about the good qualities of the ancients and admires them intensely because they are far removed from envy; while it comes about naturally that everyone is very strongly affected by examples close at hand, like those of our ancestors, relatives, teachers, and those with whom we have country, rank, or profession in common. 37 / The handling of examples

There is certainly great advantage in using examples, but much study and care will be required in applying them. First we shall mention the names of those whom we propose for imitation, with some immediate praise and a laudatory introduction, in this way: 'Socrates, a good man, was judged to be wise by divine testimony.' 'Plato, the father of philosophy, perceived this clearly.' Thocion,1 by far the most upright of the Greeks, was an outstanding example.' The great Alexander of Macedon, a hero born for fame, saw

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this.' 'David, whose fame as a king vies with his holiness as a prophet.' 'Camillas,2 a man of exceptional courage.' 'Scipio,3 a born general and conqueror.' 'Aemilius,4 never given his due praise.' Yet short prefaces of this kind must be suited to the subject, for even if any kind of praise supports the authority of the example, only a clumsy writer would use an inappropriate expression, as if one were to use the adjectives 'wealthy' or 'studious' of one who had been chosen as a model of forthright speech. NEGATIVE EXAMPLES

The opposite procedure should be adopted in negative examples,5 for instance: 'What future age will not curse the name of Dionysius,6 the impious tyrant?' 'Nero, renowned for his cruelty/ 'Sardanapalus,7 a man more corrupt than any woman.' 'Cleopatra, the harlot queen.'8 'Catiline,9 the impious betrayer of his country.' 'Sulla,10 blessed by good fortune himself, but ruinous to his country.' Examples of this kind are often used not merely for discouragement, but also for encouragement. Just as we are attracted by the representation of virtue, so we are incited by the portrayal of vices towards the love of what is honourable. In practice it of tens happens that encouragement and discouragement are used together, as one who encourages participation in the affairs of state also dissuades his hearers from a life of private leisure. EXAMPLES BASED ON DISSIMILARITY

There is a great variety in the types of examples, some being partly, others completely, like or unlike, some opposite, and some greater, less, or equal in scale. Of these Cicero11 in his Topica shows that the unequal ones are more effective for encouragement, which I interpret to mean that encouragement always moves down from the greater to the lesser. For even if the person or the thing seems to be of less importance, still the association of circumstances and words makes the subject seem greater. For example: 'If cities have been overthrown because of violated marriages, how should we treat an adulterer?'12 Quintilian correctly considers this as an example of going from the greater to the lesser. To illustrate the opposite procedure he cites this example: 'When the flute-players withdrew from the city, they were recalled by public demand; all the more should leading men of the state, who have served their country well, be brought back from exile, to which they were driven by envy.'13 Now here, although the status of flute-players is inferior to that of leading citizens, still the fact that the flute-players were brought back by public demand is greater because of the association14 than if leading citizens were to be brought back from exile.15 But if this interpretation, which in my opinion seems most valid, is not

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satisfactory, let us observe the rules of negation16 as the modern logicians prescribe for us at every moment. But this dissimilarity must be revealed by a comparison, which is usually appended to examples. It would be an endless task to relate the sources of this inequality, for they are derived not from any one set of circumstances, but from various differences. All of them, however, are based on the person or the subject. From the person in this way: 'If the ant, a tiny insect devoid of intelligence, an insignificant member of the animal kingdom, takes thought during the summer for its winter survival, will a human being not provide for old age during his youth?' 'A woman dared to do this; what should you, a man, do?' 'A small girl understood this; what should an old woman like you be expected to know?' 'He is a pagan, you a Christian.' 'He is a foreigner, you a Roman.' 'He is a layman, you an ordained priest.' 'He is a private citizen, you a magistrate.' 'He is merely an army officer, you a consul.' 'He is a tyrant, you a philosopher.' 'He is of humble origin, you a patrician.' 'He is a stranger, you an uncle.' 'He has had no training, you have been trained from boyhood in the best principles of philosophy.' 'He is a novice, you have been taught by much experience/ Or we can argue from the subject in this way: 'He despised his life, will you not despise pleasure?' 'For the health of the body, you will bear the knife and cautery; to be sound in mind will you not bear salutary reproof?' The search for perishable and dishonest wealth goes on amid great dangers, can any obstacle deter you from wisdom?' 'He is only one; shall we, who are many, not do the same?' 'He is unarmed and unprepared, you are equipped.' 'He hoped for a kingdom; certain immortality is promised to you.' 'He did it so often, you but once.' 'His affairs are so involved, for you everything is easy.' Or we can proceed from the person and the subject alike: 'A girl esteemed her life of no account, will you, a man, and a learned one, not be able to despise mere pleasures?' It will take art to make unequal in words what is naturally equal, and by skilful comparison to magnify one set of things and de-emphasize the other. THE VARIETY AND ORDER OF EXAMPLES

Although the proper use of the term 'example' is confined to a historical incident or one treated as historical, for the purpose of encouragement the important sayings of famous men, the paradoxes of the philosophers, the conceits of the poets, passages from famous writers, commonly accepted proverbs, allegories, comparisons, in short whatever borders upon analogy has the force of an example, and is classified by Quintilian17 under this heading. The first class that I have mentioned is not uniform. For some examples are taken from inanimate creation, such as: The sun shone18 as Christ died; what should man do?' 'His death could make stones split

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asunder;19 will it not soften the mind of man?' The heavenly spheres by their perpetual turning obey God, their commander, and no constellation among so many thousands of stars leaves the ranks or is slow in its duty; what then should mortals do?' EXAMPLES FROM DUMB CREATURES 20

'The tiger rushes furiously against a robber for the sake of its cubs; then what should a brave man do for the sake of his dear wife and children?' 'The lion21 does not rage against the beaten and downcast; will a general not act likewise?' The bee,22 a tiny insect with no power of speech, toils for the common good; will men neglect their country?' The elephant23 recognizes the presence of divinity; will mortals reject it?' Examples taken from lifeless and dumb things are usually unequal; they are put forward as similar, not as equal, as is also the case with those derived from spiritual things, such as: 'Evil spirits believe and shudder; the more ought man to fear divine power.' Those heavenly and immortal intelligences, guardians of our lives by day and night, constantly walk with us; with what zeal ought we ourselves to keep watch over our own safety?' 'God himself, who has the freedom to unfashion at his pleasure what he created by his own choice, is very slow to punish the guilty and always ready to pardon; then how should a mortal king behave?' As for examples transferred from one man to another, I have shown that these are unequal in three ways, depending on the person, the matter at hand, or both. Therefore, in order that we may have an abundance of examples of the first kind [inanimate creation], we should compile descriptions of the extraordinary forces and marvels of nature both from written sources and through our own observation. We should have a stock of similes24 taken from springs, rivers, seas, mountains, precious stones, trees, plants, and flowers, and be ready to produce them whenever they are needed. We will already have amassed a rich supply of the second type [dumb creatures] if we always keep in readiness in our memory a vast store of all that the learned curiosity of the ancients set down concerning the nature of winged creatures, quadrupeds, wild beasts, snakes, insects, and fishes and what has been observed in the daily experience of mankind, especially the miraculous events recorded by certain authors. Of this kind are the incident in Aulus Gellius25 of the loving dolphin and the boy whom he loved, and the serpent26 that saved the man who reared it as he was about to be murdered by brigands in a forest, and the lion27 that thanked its host for removing a bone by bringing him game, and the story about Arion28 and the dolphin. Numerous tales of this kind are recorded by Pliny,29 and some use can be

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made of them even in dealing with inanimate things. Yet since these narratives come close to the form of fables, their authority will have to be supported by seriousness and quantity as well as by suitable expression, and strengthened by short introductions. Further, we will have to assemble a goodly supply and a great variety of examples derived from human experience, some from old accounts and records, some from chronicles of events almost within our memory, and since this supply is readily available and close to hand we must learn by heart or practise beforehand a number of examples concerning each virtue and vice and each important topic. These should not come from a single historian or a single people, but from all the Greek, Latin, and Hebrew authors, concerning notable events that took place among the Egyptians, Spartans, Lucanians, Athenians, Syrians, Persians, Romans, Gauls, Britons, Jews, and Scythians. For each race has its own marvels, ceremonies, and institutions. Even today sailors and traders, who rush across land and sea in their eagerness to acquire wealth, tell of wonders no less extraordinary than those antiquity is thought to have invented. We can devise a twofold arrangement of all these, so that the series may gradually build up in effectiveness, an arrangement that is more practical than customary; we may either start with ancient and remote civilizations and advance by stages to our own country and very recent events, passing from Egyptian and Phrygian to Persian, from Persian and Syrian to Greek, from Greek to Hebrew and thence to Roman, from Roman to barbarian, from Gentile to Christian, from foreign to those of our own country; or we may move from old to more recent occurrences, and progressively to those within our own memory, until we reach the events of our own nation and finally our own home. EXAMPLES FROM LEGEND

Closely allied to this kind of example are the legends from the ancient poets and the allegories of the prophets. But legends will be of use to us only if we deny that they are mere tales, saying that in ancient times there were many things more incredible even than these, which were none the less committed to writing by most reliable authors; or, prefacing our remarks with praise of the poet, we shall reveal in a convincing manner what men of great learning and wisdom meant by such conceits, in this way: 'No doubt the idea in the divine mind of Homer, the father not only of poetry but of all philosophy, when in the Iliad he involved Ulysses in many exploits of war, and in the Odyssey caused him to be tossed about for another ten years in so many misfortunes, was that the path to virtue is difficult and lies through the hardest toil. Certainly it was not without purpose or in the manner of an old

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wives' tale that learned antiquity told how Hercules, after enduring so many labours, suffered his body to be consumed by fire,30 and was carried off into the company of the gods. For it was the practice of those ancient sages to cloak the holiest mysteries of philosophy in learned stories of this kind so that they would not be divulged. Now the meaning was that immortality was only the lot of those who had spent their whole life in honourable labours and unquenchable ardour for virtue, and had waged war tirelessly upon the monstrous apparitions of all vices/ Under this heading we include both the mystical rites of ancient cults, and the superstitious ceremonies of earlier peoples, and in particular the mysteries of Hebrew writings,31 in the interpretation of which I wish we were as cautious as we are assiduous and audacious. For I shall be surprised that anyone will prove to be an expert interpreter of those texts if he is ignorant of all antiquity, as is usually the case with those who concern themselves with the dead letter and thorny little questions. We should include in the same class, since they have the same use, what we take from characters in tragedy and comedy, and from the personages of dialogues and histories that have been composed not to give a truthful report of events but for our emulation. Quintilian32 states that Aesop's fables and the tales that he calls \6yoi /AvfliKoi,33 that is, mythical tales, also belong here. For he says that the minds of men, especially the simple and inexperienced, are strongly attracted by them, since the famous story of Menenius Agrippa34 about the limbs conspiring against the belly was so effective that it reconciled the furiously enraged plebeians to the patricians. Again, if you were persuading someone not to compete with a more powerful person, the fable in Horace35 about the frog puffing itself up would be very useful. Sometimes the words of famous men no less than their deeds lend a strong impulse, like some of those collected by Plutarch,36 and the paradoxes of the ancient philosophers, like 'One who fears nothing is like a king/37 In the poets too and in celebrated writers there are famous sayings, like Ennius' 'Fortune favours the brave/38 or Virgil's 'Goddess-born,39 where'er the fates may lead us, / forward or back, we follow after. / What e'er betides, we master fate by fortitude/ Or there are sayings in common use which are called adages. We must also compose stirring ones ourselves, full of spirit, like: 'It is the role of the hero to die bravely or to gain the victory/ 'He who meets death for his country dies not/ 'Just as the palm tree thrusts against the weight put upon it, so a man's mind should be lifted against the hardship of fortune and rise up of its own/40 'Virtue is nourished, not broken, by hard toil/ 'He is not a man who prefers any pleasure to honourable toil/ But the Socratic inductions,41 called euraycoym',42 have not so much the effect of inciting as of

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persuading, even though they are quite effective for both purposes. We shall make a collection of all these so that our writing may have more variety. 38 / Solemn entreaty I have set forth almost all the commonplaces or sources of encouragement, but if a hortatory epilogue is required, entreaty may suitably be used. We shall entreat and plead with the person to whom we are writing to have ideals and courage worthy of himself in this way: by the famous portraits of his ancestors, to whom he has brought more lustre than he received; by the outstanding honours of his family on which by his good qualities he has shed great renown; by the glory gained through great achievements; by the outstanding deeds in which he daily outdoes himself; by his undying name, the lasting foundations of which have already been laid; by his fortunate disposition; by his talent destined for immortality and great success; by his incredible wisdom, his exceptional good sense, his rare learning, his almost divine greatness of soul, his perfect virtue for which nothing is too difficult either to be undertaken or to be expected of him by all; by the shades of his ancestors who rejoice to see themselves surpassed by their posterity in fame of achievements; by his duty towards his children and grandchildren, to whom this honour will pass in inheritance, along with their patrimony; by the prayers of his friends and well-wishers, by the prejudices of the envious; by the accursed hatred of those who wish him ill, upon whom in the end he will avenge himself best by dazzling and overwhelming their envious eyes and ears with the brilliance of his virtues and the splendour of his reputation. 39 / Toning down the encouragement Yet if we ever suspect that strong and perhaps untimely encouragement may give offence because it contains an element of advice and instruction or even mistrust (for there are some temperaments so proud and self-assured that they do not tolerate advice), then we shall tone down the harshness of our encouragement by several methods. We may say that we are not aiming by this speech to stir a languishing heart, but to spur on a willing horse, and that we do not mean to spur him on to accomplish what he has already long been doing of his own accord, but to congratulate him on his accomplishment through our exceptional devotion to him; and we shall ask him to pardon our importunity, which stems solely from our ardent anxiety for his reputation. We will assert that there is no enterprise so great as not to be fully encompassed by his ability; nevertheless, though spectators at a

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contest know full well that there is no need, they still cannot refrain from applauding enthusiastically those whom they favour; and although the contestant, justly conscious of his ability, is unconcerned, still the partisan cannot be unconcerned until he sees victory as certain. Otherwise we shall pretend that our intention was far different, but that contrary to our intentions our pen lapsed into this aberration, as our extreme devotion led us to give encouragement to one who needs a bridle rather than spurs. We shall end by praying for every success for his ability. 40 / The style particularly suited to the letter of encouragement Of the many kinds of style,1 the majestic, impetuous, fiery, and rapid are particularly suitable for encouragement. The flowery, elegant, and witty have charm elsewhere, but here the style should be masculine and, if I may say so, robust, impressive, and vigorous. Quintilian uses the Greek term SetVwcri?2 'exaggeration' to describe this style, and he places it among the chief excellences of speech. The most effective means of rousing the emotions seem to be subject-matter, choice of words, amplification, figures, and composition. In subj ect-matter we shall achieve solemnity by making use of inspiring thoughts taken from noble, respected, and celebrated authors of antiquity, and carefully chosen ancient, illustrious, and extraordinary examples. We shall heighten solemnity in our diction by choosing terms that are resounding, grand, sublimely figurative, and expressive; resounding, like 'By valour nigh divine thou hast despatched the tumult of war'; grand: The course of centuries shall never obliterate the undying memorials of thy virtues';3 expressive: 'Brother, forsake not thy brother,'4 or 'Fine praise indeed5 and rich the spoils, / A single woman by two gods undone.' This quality of speech Quintilian6 calls 'energy/ which we can interpret as 'action' or 'efficacy/ It guarantees that no word in the whole utterance is idle, as in this couplet of Virgil: 'Street-corner bard7 / Murdering a wretched tune upon a squeaking straw/ In the second line each word adds new emphasis. We shall win praise for solemnity if we cram the composition from start to finish with proofs and amplifications, and concentrate them in single words. The style is also enhanced by epithets, that is, adjectives, and especially by figurative expressions, such as: 'By the blood-stained hands of the most holy gods/8 Yet Quintilian9 sets a limit on this, and idle phrases which poets use for pleasure rather than for profit must be avoided. 41 / Amplification1 In stirring up emotions the chief- indeed almost the only- dominating factor is amplification, which consists entirely in heightening and lowering. It is

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taken from the same circumstances from which proofs also are drawn. One can use amplification in the following ways. First of all there can be a change of expression, as when we call a person who has been beaten 'slain' or call a dishonest man a 'robber'; if something annoys us we say it 'worries us to death' or 'I'm at the end of my rope.' Conversely, one who has beaten a man will be said to have 'laid hands on him,' one who has inflicted a wound to have 'offended him/ an immodest woman will be called a 'harlot/ and a rather forward person a 'gladiator.' The second method is no different from the first, except that in the previous instance only the amplifying words are stated, while here the proper terms are also mentioned in comparison, so that the amplification may stand out more and have more intensity. Such are Cicero's words against Verres: 'For it is not merely a thief, but a plunderer; not an adulter, but an assaulter of modesty itself; not a sacrilegious man, but an enemy of all holy rites and worship; not a murderer, but a cruel butcher of citizens and allies that we have brought before you to judge.'2 The third method of amplification is called 'buildup/ when we do not immediately set down the most atrocious aspects, but by several degrees or even in one step reach the climax or even go beyond it, so to speak. Thus Cicero's words build up: 'It is an offence to bind a Roman citizen, a crime to flog him, murder to kill him, what shall I say of lifting him on the cross?'3 Here we have gone beyond the highest point. 'You killed your mother. What more can I say? You killed her/4 would be an example of merely going up to the highest point. Expression is heightened when things follow one another in sequence without any pause, becoming gradually more and more serious, as in 'money, office, kingship, finally life itself he despised for love of his country/ and the description of Antony vomiting 'in the very assembly of the Roman people, in the performance of a public function, as Master of the Horse.'5 There is also the kind of development in which, as if by a supposition, we magnify lesser things so that they seem greater, as follows: 'If this fair request were made to you by any stranger whatsoever, though he were a stranger you should not have refused it. But it is your father who makes it, and so deserving a father'; 'If you had not repaid thanks for such great services, you would have been most ungrateful. In the present case, in repayment for the greatest benefaction you have returned the greatest injury'; 'If it had been necessary merely to defend the safety of wives and children, every risk would have been taken; but men are taking up arms for the safety and honour of the whole of Christendom.' Related to this is the situation in which we magnify what has been presented by way of example, and so demonstrate that it is something greater, as Cicero6 enlarges upon a woman's misdeed in procuring an abortion by means of drugs, saying she was deservedly condemned on a capital charge because she had 'destroyed the father's hope, the memory of

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his name, the family's support, the heir designate of the household and future citizen of the state/ Then he magnifies by comparison the guilt of Opianicus, whose offense seemed equal to hers, in this way: 'For the same offence Opianicus deserves greater punishment. She in doing violence to her own body inflicted punishment upon herself; he brought about the same result through the violence and suffering inflicted on another's body.' This kind of comparison produces a more emphatic heightening when there is detailed comparison of several points, as in Cicero's words against Catiline:7 'If Publius Scipio, pre-eminent citizen and chief pontiff, but holding no other public office, put to death Tiberius Gracchus, who posed only a slight threat to the stability of the state, shall we, the consuls, tolerate Catiline, who is bent on ravaging the whole world with fire and sword?' Here Catiline is compared with Gracchus, a dissipated youth with a man of great distinction, the stability of the state with that of the whole world, a slight disorder with bloodshed, fires, and destruction, and a private citizen retired from public office with consuls. We amplify by means of influence when amplification is used in one place but has its effect in another. This is achieved by clever arrangement, for consequences are amplified from what has preceded and antecedent matters by what follows. An example of the former will be: 'He turned his spear8 against the mountainside / and winds rush forth in close array / Where opening is made!' Through the amplification of these particulars it becomes clear how great a storm is to follow. We can even increase the dread of the Christian last judgment by magnifying those portents which are supposed to precede it. An example of the latter kind [antecedent matters amplified by subsequent happenings] is Cicero's account9 of Antony's vomiting, who, he says, 'had drunk so much wine at Hippia's wedding that the next day he had to vomit in the sight of the Roman people and cover the benches with morsels of food that he had eaten.' Cicero cleverly suggested the excesses of Antony's guzzling by specifying that he vomited in that place neither accidently nor willingly, but by necessity; and that it was not, as is usually the case, freshly eaten food that was brought up, but what was still present from the previous day. There is another variety of amplification, that is, when we either purposely tone down what is of itself of great importance in order to give prominence to what follows, or heighten the importance of something else in order to intensify the matter at hand. An example of the former will be the passage from the speech against Verres:10 'In the case of this defendant these are trivial matters. That the naval commander of a famous state paid money to free himself of the fear of being flogged is only human. That another gave money so that he should not be executed is common practice.' By making

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light of what cannot fail to seem very serious, some atrocious deed must be inferred and expected. In this way Hegio in Terence11 uses amplification when after complaining to Demea about the violation of the girl he makes light of this misdeed as something ordinary and human, and asks him to listen to something still worse, though the father thought that nothing worse than this could be said or done. An example of the latter kind is when Virgil increases the prowess of Aeneas by amplifying the valour of Turnus,12 or when Scipio's courage13 is augmented through the praise of Hannibal's prowess in warfare, or when the bravery of the Germans or Gauls and the fierceness of the Cimbri is magnified, so that the fame of the conqueror may be the greater. But the forms of amplification by reference to something else are innumerable, as when one magnifies the disasters14 suffered by the Greeks and Trojans to set off the extraordinary beauty of Helen, for which the wisest of men did not mind suffering so many evils; and as in Plato's Symposium15 the unusual sexual restraint of Socrates is inferred from the beauty of Alcibiades and the frequency of the occasions presented. There remains a final kind of amplification which is called crvvaQpoicrjLto?, that is 'accumulation,'16 when we say the same thing in different words. But repetition will be faulty unless it is done with a great deal of variation, as in Cicero's speech for Ligarius: Tubero, what was that drawn sword of yours doing in the battle line at Pharsalus? At whose breast was that point aimed? What was the purpose of those weapons? What was your intent, what was the meaning of your fierce gaze, your menacing right hand, your ardour for the fight? What were your dreams, your desires?'17 But more solemnity is achieved when the list contains a gradual crescendo, as in: 'Standing by was the keeper of the prison, the praetor's executioner, the death and terror of the allies and of all Roman citizens, the lictor Sextius/18 Now the methods of understatement19 are the same as those of amplifying and they have an equivalent use. An excellent example of understatement comes from comedy: 'One tiny little tear,20 and false, by God! / Squeezed out by force of piteous rubbing / Will nullify these words.' In this figure it would have been quite wrong for the speech to move from graver things to more trivial, as in: 'I should not hesitate to squander life, blood, and money for you.' The language gains much in effectiveness when exaggerated and underplayed elements are set side by side. 42 / Figures that contribute to solemnity

Under this heading we shall pursue in particular those figures1 or tropes that make speech vivid and spirited. Among the verbal figures are included clauses,2 phrases,3 isocola,4 repetitions,5 antitheses, questions, hesitations,6

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metaphors, personifications/ apostrophe,8 and vivid presentations,9 which put an exaggerated version of the matter before the eyes of the reader. Affirmations10 have the same effect, if you wish to count these among figures, and also epiphonemata,11 which might be accurately translated as 'exclamations.' It does not pertain to this treatise to deal at great length with each of these, as I am not teaching rhetoric, but merely to point out what concerns the writer of letters. One can gather an abundant store of material for this entire subject from other writers, however, particularly from the historians, in whom one may find frequent speeches made by a leader to his army, or by one soldier to another, or by a magistrate to the people exhorting them to act courageously. It will also be helpful to remember what philosophers and eloquent writers have recorded about the nature of bravery. But in the mean time, to give a graphic demonstration of what I am teaching our youth, I shall put forward a single example. AN E X A M P L E OF A LETTER OF E N C O U R A G E M E N T

'My dear grandson, it is impossible to say how much pleasure was afforded me and all your relatives from the very favourable report that has recently arisen here concerning your brave exploits. The excellent foundations of your undying name have already been laid. Why then should I begin my letter urging you to complete the inspired purpose you have begun, since you were born with that kind of disposition which never finds satisfaction in mean or paltry ambitions, so that I am led to believe that it is not so much spurs you need as a bridle? Yet because of my tremendous affection for you I am compelled, as the proverb says, to spur on a willing horse. "Go, good fellow, where your valour calls you, / Go with lucky step";12 complete what you have begun with the greatest credit. Show yourself worthy of your lineage (the most illustrious this city has ever seen), of your distinguishe father, of your abilities, your training, and your intellect. Put the finishing touch13 to the undying memorials from whose completion you are not far removed; the greatest and most difficult part you have already accomplished, and what remains to be done involves more glory than effort. You have rivalled the images of your ancestors, on whom you have cast more lustre by your own bravery than you have received. You have excelled beyond your years, for although you are but a youth, yet there is nothing that you have done or plan to do that is not befitting a brave and mature man. You have outstripped your ancestors in the greatness of your qualities; you have surpassed thus far both the expectation of your partisans and the envy of your rivals. But after you have prevailed in everything, imagine that one struggle remains, namely to emulate yourself and to endeavour to be like yourself. You must strive to outdo yourself, for to be vanquished by yourself

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would be as shameful as it would be admirable to have surpassed all others. So if you always press hard on yourself, you will never lack anyone with whom to compete. Bear in mind that you have been brought by the hand of fortune itself into a position where you must either complete the play amid great applause or lose heart with great disgrace. Steep and difficult is the path to virtue, but keep before your eyes the magnificent rewards. Glory, immortality, power, wealth, reputation, and happiness are within your grasp if you persist. But if you become wearied (God forbid!), not only will you plunge your former reputation into darkness, but you will also cut yourself off from all hope of honour in the future. The toil is neither long nor great; the rewards offered are permanent and very great. Much of it is now finished; you have to hold out for only a year, in which time see to it that in the ending and, so to speak, the final act of your public function you will seem to have been most accomplished and successful. See that the finest achievements of the ancient heroes are constantly before your eyes. Take great Hercules, by far the foremost hero of all of Greece - by how many labours did he open up for himself a path to heaven, how many monsters did he overcome? and he even, so we read, made his way to the underworld itself. If these tales about him seem to you to be mere fiction, I do not dispute it; still, they were devised under divine inspiration by very wise and learned men to lay before us the perfect pattern of heroic valour, and to point out the path to an immortal name. When Homer, to whom the great consensus of learned men attribute a godlike excellence, presented to us, as the image of a wise hero, Ulysses tossed about by unending toils, was it not his intention to show that this was the only path to secure everlasting glory for one's name with future ages? By this path Epaminondas14 and Alcibiades/5 those celebrated generals of Greece, acquired undying praise from their descendants. What else do you think motivated Alexander the Great when he exposed himself to such great perils? What labour do you think the famous Decii16 would ever have refused, one of whom, to gain eternal praise for himself, sacrificed himself to the gods of the underworld, while the other threw himself headlong into the midst of the enemy? What age will not celebrate the name of the Maccabees, one of whom17 by piercing the belly of an elephant met a most glorious death, and even to the present day by this extraordinary deed gained undying renown? What is more celebrated and more worthy of applause than the memory of Judith/8 Deborah/9 and Rahab,20 who, since they surpassed their own sex and showed manly strength of soul, are celebrated not among women but among heroes? Yet why do I recall what is foreign and long past? Here at home you have those who should stir you to valour of this kind, and the more forcibly

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as they are nearer to you in kin. For it is praiseworthy to imitate distinguished men of other lineage, but you cannot be untrue to your own kin without great dishonour. The memory of that brave hero, your grandfather, is still fresh and grows with each succeeding generation. What spirit he showed right from his early years21 in his striving for an undying name! He regarded honourable toil as mere sport, and fled from pleasure and ease as from a foul plague. I remember that when I was young and he quite old I often heard him say that he wanted heaven to grant him only as many years as he could have the energy to be of use to his country, for which he said he had been born rather than for himself. I shall come to what is closer and better known to you than to me. What did your gallant and excellent father ever consider hard or difficult if he thought that it would add to his own fame or his country's profit? As a young man he served on many difficult missions with the greatest credit. How many winters he spent under canvas! From what perils he escaped through his own alertness! For what office did he not stand? When was he ever a candidate without success? What office did he achieve which he did not discharge with great credit? Those promptings of your father must be set and fixed in your heart, as I remember that when you were a very young boy, he used to kiss you and encourage you with these lines from Virgil:22 "Learn, child, from me of valour and true toil, / Of destiny from others." In my hearing he frequently used to utter the remark that in his view there was absolutely no difference between those who had never been born and those who had departed from this life in obscurity, after achieving nothing memorable. Therefore, since these are the ancestors from whom you are sprung, and this the training you have received both at home and abroad, you should be well aware of what is expected of you by your family or rather by your country itself, especially as you have added exceptional learning to your character and lineage; and you have already given some first proofs of your training. Think of how many eyes, not only those of your friends but also of your fellow-citizens, are fixed upon you alone and how all of their minds are set upon you. It will hardly seem enough for their expectations if you merely do not fall below the standard of your family's worth. They promise themselves something greater from you: and if your merit comes up to their prayers, and if it even surpasses them, how great will be the exultation of all your dear ones and the joy of your country! How much this will add to Trebonius'23 esteem and affection for you, which is already very great, as you know' But if you show negligence in your purpose (God forbid!), men of great malevolence, who up to now have envied your talents and who are

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tormented by the brilliance of your successes, will at once lift up their heads, and you and all of yours will become a mockery and a laughing-stock for envious rogues. Your friends will become dumb, your enemies will mock you, your well-wishers will be cool, your ill-wishers implacable. Will your proud heart bear all that? You know of Zoilus' hatred for you. There is no better way of taking vengeance upon that pest than by having him waste away with envy of your good name. You will assuredly drive Varus, that venomous devil, to hang himself if you come back to us in triumph. Codrus has already chosen a beam for his hanging. If your own fame and our expectations have no effect on you, it will at least be worth while for you to do away with these horrible individuals. So my dearest grandson, sole hope and glory of your race, I beg and beseech you by the most illustrious images of your ancestors, by your outstanding qualities, by the honour of the philosophy to which you have always been devoted, by the expectations of ourselves and our country, by the well-omened beginnings of your renown, that, after surpassing all others up to now, you do not allow yourself to seem bested by yourself. May the gods favour your undertakings and may you enjoy happy fortune! Farewell, our glory!' Among the letters of Jerome24 there is one of encouragement to Heliodorus, which in itself is an epitome of all the rules for this class. 43 / The letter of discouragement

I did not think it worth while to add an example of discouragement, as the method in both categories is the same, since we hardly ever give encouragement without giving discouragement at the same time. We shall first accumulate examples of those for whom things have turned out badly. Then we shall carefully assemble the elements of disgrace, shame, dishonour, loss, and inconvenience resulting from the particular event, which we shall set before the eyes of our correspondents by means of the figure that the rhetoricians call 'description/1 But these and other things I thought should be left to the industry of the students. For the moment I shall provide a kind of miscellany of words and phrases for each section of every class, taken only from the best authors,2 to which I shall add something of my own. Equipped with this store of material, those who intend to write may by the practice of imitation learn to compose pieces of a similar nature. AN E X A M P L E T A K E N F R O M C I C E R O ' S F I R S T L E T T E R T O H I S BROTHER QUINTUS

'Therefore, since you enjoy the highest power and authority in cities where, as you see, your virtues are consecrated and set among the gods, bear in

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mind in all your decisions, decrees, and acts what you owe to the high esteem and regard men have for you, and the great honours they have paid you ...3 Now if our achievements were the subject of only minor comment and discussion, I should not require anything exceptional of you, nothing beyond the routine performance of others. As things stand, however, because of the prominence and magnitude of the affairs in which we have been engaged, if we do not secure the highest praise from the administration of your province, it is very unlikely that we can escape severe criticism. Our position is such that those loyal to the republic, while lending their support, also demand and expect total diligence and virtue of us in the accomplishment of our duty, while all the disloyal elements, since we are entering into an unending state of hostility with them, are content with even the slightest pretext of criticism. Therefore, since all of Asia constitutes an amphitheatre, packed to capacity, of immense size and sophisticated discernment, and with a natural resonance so loud that its cries and demonstrations carry as far as Rome, exert yourself, I beseech you, and strive with all your strength to show not only that you were worthy of this assignment, but also that you have surpassed all expectations in your performance of it. At the same time bear this in mind also, that we are not working for a future hoped-for glory, but are fighting for what we have already won, a glory more to be defended in the present than it was sought after in the past. That which remains will be more glorious than difficult/4 He tones down his encouragement in this way: 'Now this is not said so that my words may seem to have aroused you from sleep, but rather to have spurred you on. You will never cease to act as you have done.'5 [ENCOURAGEMENT] Though you are not lacking in discretion, or, I should say, have an abundance of it, nevertheless make it your one aim and purpose ...that we hear news of some splendid exploit of yours before we could ever expect it/6 'Prompted both by your acts of kindness to me and by my own affection for you, I urge you to pursue with every care and diligence all the ideals with which you have been inflamed from boyhood, and to persevere assiduously in that generosity of spirit which I have ever admired and loved, and never to be swayed from it because of the wrong someone has done you/ 7 'My last request and exhortation to you is that like good dramatists and hard-working actors, you should exercise the greatest diligence in the last act and finale of your office and employment/8 Therefore, if your love for me is as great as I know it to be, if you are asleep, awake! if you are standing still, walk! if you are walking, run! if you are running, fly here with all speed/9

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'Let this be both business and pleasure, toil and rest, the object of your waking and sleeping hours alike. Mould and hammer out something which may be yours for all time, for your remaining possessions will fall to one master or another when you are gone; this, once it has begun, will never cease to be yours. I know what kind of mind and talent I am encouraging. You must merely strive earnestly to be convinced of your own worth as others will if you do/10 'I encourage and advise you to do the same/11 'Remember the burden of obligation owed to your ancestors, the names you bear and their greatness/12 'Then while life lasts let us make every effort that death will find hardly anything left to destroy/13 'These are called mere trifles, but sometimes these trifles earn as much fame for their authors as serious works/14 The state took refuge in your arms/15 'As I reflect upon your wisdom, it seems less surprising that you should reject or make little of those mortal and ephemeral titles. For you know where the true and lasting fame of a ruler lies, where true honours exist, against which flames, old age, and successors are powerless. Arches, statues, and temples are demolished and obscured by oblivion, neglected and maligned by posterity, but the mind that despises ambition, and subdues and harnesses the judgment of posterity, acquires freshness with age and is praised by none more than those from whom it has least need of praise/16 This I think is finer than all titles, when your name is inscribed not upon wood or stone, but upon the monuments of undying renown/17 'It will be passed on to later centuries that there existed a prince for whom, at the height of his fame and powers, only modest honours were ever decreed, and more often none at all/18 [MORE EXAMPLES OF] ENCOURAGEMENT 'But show yourself to be the man I knew from childhood, or since your nails were soft,19 as the Greeks say/20 'Public opinion of you is high, acclaim for your generosity is widespread, the memory of your consulship is vivid; surely you cannot fail to see how much more clearly defined and how much more illustrious all this will be when you gain further renown from your duties in the province and your governorship. And yet I want you to perform the duties required by your army and command in such way that you ponder one thing constantly long in advance, prepare yourself for it, meditate on it, train yourself for it - and since it has always been your hope, I am sure that you are now aware that it is within your grasp - to wit, that you can easily obtain the highest and loftiest

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position in the state; and that my encouragement may not seem pointless and unjustifiable to you ../21 'I shall encourage you to be eager for the highest praise. You already have a serious opponent in position and ready for you, namely, the incredible expectation that you have aroused. This opponent you will easily overcome by a single stratagem, if you are resolved to work hard at those skills necessary for the attainment of the renown to which you aspire/22 A letter of the ninth book, beginning Two letters of yours'23 contains passages of encouragement, and also of congratulation in the middle and at the end. I have preferred merely to point this out partly to avoid weighing down the book, partly because one's own selections are more gratifying. The letter of the tenth book beginning 'When I saw Furnius'24 has several passages of encouragement. Also: '"Be mindful of all virtue," and take every care to bring it about that we gain everyone's love and praise.'25 'In the name of your fortunes, Cicero, and your children, I beg and beseech you not to take any serious step affecting your safety and security. For I call gods and men and our friendship to witness that I told you of this beforehand and gave you reasonable warning .. ,26 So if you have any regard for yourself, for your only son, for your home, and for your hopes for the future, if your excellent son-in-law and I have any influence with you, you should not be ready to throw their fortunes into such confusion that we are compelled either to hate or abandon the cause on whose victory our safety depends, or feel a reprehensible desire to see your own safety compromised .. ,27 Ponder it again and again, Cicero, so that you may not bring utter ruin upon yourself and your whole family, and that you may not knowingly and wittingly get yourself into a situation from which you see there is no escape/28 'So what reason is there for me to encourage you to act in accordance with your position and reputation? Am I to remind you of famous men, the usual expedient of those who give encouragement? I can mention none more famous than yourself. You must imitate and compete with yourself, for after such achievements you do not have the right to fall short of your own standards. This being so, encouragement is unnecessary, congratulation rather is called for. In your case, as in no other, to my knowledge, the great severity of the punishment you imposed not only failed to cause ill feeling, but was even acceptable to the people and welcomed by all good citizens and the lowest of the mob alike. If this had befallen you by some good fortune, I should congratulate you on your luck, but it has befallen you through your greatness of spirit, combined with your ability and intelligence ...29 You should therefore understand that the state depends upon you and that you must not only protect but also honour the men by whom freedom was given a

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start. Lastly, my dear Dolabella, since you are the saviour of the state and of us all, see that you take every precaution for your own safety/30 'Now, my dear Atticus, give the matter your fullest attention, for it is of great importance/31 'So rush here, I beseech you, and deliver from doom the state which you have liberated more by your valour and greatness of soul than by the actual outcome of events. For all will flock to your side/32 'Consider that the brave and free spirit with which both as consul and now as ex-consul you have championed the freedom of the state is of no avail without steadfastness and consistency ... For nothing is great in itself unless it is accompanied by reasoned judgment, because it befits you as it does no other to love the state and be the champion of liberty in virtue of your abilities, your achievements, and popular acclaim and enthusiasm ... Rouse yourself and consider that the state which has been the scene of your greatest accomplishments will remain free and honourable solely on condition that the people have leaders to resist the designs of the wicked/33 'So see to it that you keep a stout heart and high hopes/34 'Do not be a sluggard and do not think that the motto "know thyself " was spoken merely to put down arrogance, but also so that we should be aware of our good qualities/35 'Besides, let us remember that it betokens a noble spirit to seek the reward of virtue in awareness of it rather than in popular opinion. Fame should be the result, not the objective, and if by some chance it does not materialize, a meritorious action is no less honourable on that account. Those who glorify their good deeds in words are looked upon not as vaunting them because they have done them, but as having done them in order to vaunt them. Thus what would have been a grand accomplishment if mentioned by another loses its lustre when recounted by the doer. For if men cannot destroy something, they attack boasting about it. So if one does something that would be best passed over in silence, the action itself is criticized; if something worthy of praise, then one is blamed for not being silent about it/36 Tt is far more shameful to lose a reputation than not to win one/37 Also in book 2 the whole letter38 beginning: 'What a stubborn man!' With sentiments like the following we spur on a mind eager for praise: 'One omen's best,39 defend one's native land/ Again: 'Be bold,40 that men unborn may sing your praise/ Likewise: 'Dear friends, be men,41 furious in battle/ 'Go, good fellow,42 where your valour calls you, / Go with lucky step/ 'Goddess-born,43 where'er the fates may lead us / Forward or back, let us follow after/ 'Yield not to evils44 go more boldly, on / Where fate allows/

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'Do something worthy45 of your promises.' The beautiful is difficult.'46 'In matters great47 it is enough to have willed.' 'Be blessed, Caesar, for this fame of your authority.'48 DISCOURAGEMENT

'But I, for my part, as I urge you to certain renown, so I warn you to avoid conflict, and I return to what I wrote at the beginning, that men will base their judgment of your entire action not so much on your intention as on the outcome.'49 MY OWN C O M P O S I T I O N

'A brave man, content with his own valour, should not aspire after fame, but fame follows in the train of achievements as a shadow follows the body. Exceptional valour, conscious of itself, does not thirst for praise, but true and glorious praise falls to its lot. The title "father of one's country" is a noble one, but to have deserved it is finer than to have owned it. Amid all your distinctions and those of your family this, if you put faith in my words, will be particularly glorious. After accomplishing so many deeds with such great praise, see that you add this one as your crowning achievement.50 It is a difficult deed to which I am urging you, but worthy of your lineage and your spirit. From this family, from this native ability, from these accomplishments, nothing common or ordinary is expected. You must give proof of all the highest qualities if you wish to match your ancestors' distinctions, your own former fame, and the hopes you inspire in all. Consider that you are facing a packed audience, with every eye fixed upon you; you will never satisfy them unless you complete with the greatest distinction the performance of this noble action you have now begun. Virtue is a sufficiently great reward unto itself. He who lives without fame, lives not at all. He does not perish, who in dying leaves an honourable memory of himself to posterity. Though death take all away, the glory of an honourable name returns from the pyre with greater honour. You will have set up for yourself, believe me, A monument more durable51 than bronze, Which neither all-consuming envy, Nor riotous north wind, nor countless run of years, Nor flight of seasons can destroy.

Your ancestors' images are a burden to you rather than an honour, unless you protect and sustain them by those same deeds by which they won their

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renown. To this you are called by the distinction of your family, your duty to your country, and the welfare of your fellow-citizens, which rests upon your valour. If only you exercise that truly great spirit of yours, the gods will lend their favourable presence in the aid of brave exploits. God himself aids the bold.52 In an honourable matter one's own conscience is God. Now ponder carefully whether you prefer to add this honour and final touch, as it were, to the achievements of your ancestors and your own most celebrated deeds, or to cast darkness upon your line, and to lose once and for all whatever fame has been won up to now by so many labours. No possession is obtained with greater difficulty or more slowly than that of honourable fame,-none more quickly lost. If the fame of such great exploits does not stir you, certainly you can leave no more splendid or precious possession to your children than the fame of this deed that will never pass away. Just as lions and eagles do not engage in combat with any beasts whatever but despise certain prey as being unworthy of their claws, it is your part to undertake this deed more courageously the greater and more difficult it is, as an exceptional source of glory reserved for outstanding valour. I know that it is a very difficult thing that I am urging upon you, and I am also aware of the truth of the popular phrase "It is not for every man,"53 but you have performed greater feats, and no other mind is equal to so great a task. If the palm tree refuses scornfully to give way to the load set upon it, but thrusting itself up resists even more what has been laid upon it, all the more must the courage of a brave man increase with the very difficulty of the task. I do not write this to rouse you from your hesitation, but, as the saying goes, that I may apply the spur to a willing horse. I am not so much encouraging you to act as congratulating you on your own rapid progress in the direction to which our prayers wished to summon your courage. First of all consider what becomes a German, then a Saxon, then a grandson of Albert,54 lastly a Philip. You give rise to a twofold expectation, namely, as a Philip to live up to your renowned father, Philip, and to the eminent brother you succeed. True nobility arises from no other source than outstanding deeds. It is something you can acquire for yourself. Why admire ancient genealogies? Why not earn statues for yourself? Honour that originates with you is finer than that which you inherit. How much finer it is to outshine your ancestors by your valour than to inherit someone else's praise! The disgrace lately incurred through the cowardice of certain persons should be made good by your valour and vigilance. The defeat recently suffered will be attributed by all to bad luck if you now demonstrate the worth in wartime of a leader's brave and unbroken spirit coupled with uncommon wisdom. Nothing is

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more rightly ours than the fruits of our own industry. The valour of your heart is guarantee of your bravery, your duty to your country of your willingness; the rest will be granted by the gods, who are favourable to piety and abet honourable courage. Keep on in that spirit of yours! In pursuits of that kind push on to an immortal name. Bravo for your courage! This is the path to heaven.55 Come, brave youth, do not tire, do not rest until you have set an honourable finish upon your excellent deeds. The greatest part of your course is now run; hurry to the goal the more eagerly now that you are nearer. Nothing is too arduous in human affairs for the mind to accomplish, if it convinces itself to desire it greatly. What was it that first created gods and divine beings? was it not outstanding services to the state? For what is more like a god than a lofty mind, or one intent on benefitting all of mankind? It is more splendid to have deserved the greatest honours than to have gained them. In great things56 it is great even to have willed. In famous deeds even the attempt earns great praise. Since up to now you have outstripped all others in the field of glory, now you must match yourself. If you have any nobility of spirit in you, anything of your father's character, any spark of duty to your country, any judgment, anything of a steadfast heart, of manly strength, of heroic valour, all of this you must now bring into play. You will never tire in this race for fame, if you see what rewards are set before you. Go forward as you have begun, with undaunted courage, and commend your name to immortality. True fame is not set in wealth, but in valour. That man has spent his life well who has given it to his country.57 The eyes of your fellow-citizens are upon you alone. The country's fate rests on your shoulders. They will lose heart unless you show yourself the man they always judged you to be. It will collapse if you withdraw. Reflect that toil is short-lived, but the success to which you are hurrying is lasting. The path to virtue is difficult, according to Hesiod,58 but at the summit waits an inestimable reward. Should anything seem difficult that leads to eternal happiness? Do not regard what this man or that says about you for the time being, but what all of posterity will say for all time. It truly befits a king and it is the mark of a lofty spirit to be maligned after doing good. Surmount the envy of ill-wishers with the fame of good deeds. The best kind of vengeance is to drive an enemy to suicide by one's good deeds. Ignore the barking of enemies like that of cowardly curs. Take notice rather of where the general consensus of good men summons you. It is as disgraceful to please the wicked as to be wicked yourself. Make an effort to please those who have all good men's respect. If the she-ass helps its offspring through the midst of the flames,59 will a brave man desert his country in its danger when his children

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are also involved? Small and insignificant stars60 are obscured by the rising of brighter ones, but you cannot better brighten the fame of your forbears than by obscuring theirs in the same way. Go onward, not where the world calls you, but where Christ calls you. Or can hardship delay you when heaven is promised? Or do you lose confidence when Christ is your helper and supporter? Or are you doubtful of the reward when it is God who makes the promise? Your own age will not recognize your good deed. But then, after all, this is what becomes a lofty mind. No kind of service is more worthy of heroic minds than that bequeathed to posterity. Learning is bought by sweat, but produces immortality. It is obtained by wakeful nights, but once gained is never lost. It comes late, but once it has come, it is the securest and most lasting of possessions. In other outstanding achievements a great portion of praise is assigned to fortune, and part is claimed by those through whose co-operation the task was completed; the fame of this deed will be entirely yours. You have stirred up great hopes of yourself; you must not be guilty of appearing to have betrayed them. Your family, character, wisdom, loftiness of mind, and past honours have given rise to extraordinary expectations about you among all men; to fall short of this would be most shameful; to equal it, necessary; to surpass it, glorious. If you wish to reflect on what is expected of you, perform so well in the province assigned to you that those who merited no slight praise in this position before you will lose a great part of it when pitted against you, nor will any man arise who would dare to succeed you. See that you carry out your office in such a way that you pass it on to your successor rendered more dignified through your prestige, more demanding through your integrity and concientiousness. Reflect that whatever the toil expended in gaining a knowledge of jurisprudence, it is finished in three or four years at the most; yet honour will remain with you throughout your life. Toil passes, honour remains; labour is short-lived, fame undying. Others sweat many years, rushing over land and sea to increase their family fortune;61 will you begrudge applying yourself for a few years to honourable studies to gain both wealth and esteem? Honour nurtures the arts, as Cicero62 wrote; and it should provide you with no mean incentive that we have been given a prince under whom the cultivation of virtue does not go unrewarded. Some people are spreading the memory of your name in this way, but no memorial protects a man's fame more faithfully than the inscribing of one's name in the minds of men by good deeds, that is, through the memorials of one's talents, deserving well not only of one's country, but also of all nations, not only of one's contemporaries, but also of posterity. Be always watchful that you do not slumber over this task; it is very important for your reputation to have an auspicious beginning. It is

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very expedient to gain perfect proficiency in the accomplishment by which you wish first to become known to the people. When once you have undertaken the defence of honourable learning, you must not retreat from your position.63 You see what kind of monsters we have to deal with; what we need is a man with the strength of Hercules.64 No one will fulfill this function better than you. I beseech you by our friendship, by the welfare of us both, for mine will not be certain unless you are unharmed, not to involve yourself in any risky affair. Even Aesop's tale of the he-goat65 should warn you not to throw yourself rashly into a situation from which you cannot extricate yourself at will. "To go down to Avernus is easy,66 / To retrace one's steps" is very difficult. If you hold your own life cheap, be stirred by the misfortune of your wife and children. You cannot perish without them perishing with you, as they depend entirely upon you. The sinking fortunes of the whole household fall upon you. You must prop it up with your wisdom, watchfulness, and bravery or it will fall. Follow with an unconquerable spirit the course you judge most honourable. Even the gods will grant their favour to a good cause.' MY LETTER OF E N C O U R A G E M E N T

'Consider the amount of praise and congratulation that will result from that deed of yours. To put it briefly, show yourself perfect in the whole gamut of virtues so that your enemies cannot criticize you without praising you at the same time. Consider day and night how you too can "raise yourself up67 from the ground, / And soar triumphant on the lips of men." Who would not greatly admire that outstanding talent of yours? So again and again I urge you to manifest to your descendants the spirit your ancestors manifested to you. You if anyone could belie the popular saying that our nobility have nothing beautiful in their homes but their family portraits. All your friends with one accord urge you to be of great spirit, and to hope for all that is highest. Judge that most profitable which is joined with honour.' MY LETTER OF D I S C O U R A G E M E N T

Take your rank into account, but do not forget your safety. Fame is restored only with difficulty, but it is restored all the same. Life once lost is never recovered. It is foolish to compete with a man whom you cannot equal. One who contends with a man whom he cannot beat is only stirring up a hornets' nest.68 Is it not sheer madness to struggle vainly, incurring nothing but hatred? If you strive against your own nature, you will have only been fighting with the gods,69 and you know how that affair turned out for the

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giants.70 What peril is involved in attempting feats beyond our strength is illustrated by the stories of Phaethon, Icarus,71 and the giants. The death of Adonis72 should teach us how unsafe it is to be presumptuous towards the armed and the powerful/ 44 / How to answer a message of encouragement [AN E X A M P L E OF MY OWN]

'Since I had formed this very decision, you merely spurred on a willing horse. I see how you favour my reputation. So I shall take pains to do justice not only to your judgment of me, but also to your devotion. Though the project itself had already fired my imagination, your friendly encouragement gave it more impetus. I only wish that fortune may match my enthusiasm and your devotion. You could not have discouraged me more in any other way than the way in which you tried to rouse me. You say that whatever I ordain will be taken by everyone as oracular. In a matter of such great danger I should not wish anyone to follow my lead. You pour the water liberally,1 as the saying goes, but what I really need is someone to give help rather than encouragement. Why do you not undertake yourself the task to which you are urging me? If I saw that my strength was equal to the task, there would be no need of anyone to give me encouragement. Sufficient confidence I have, if only I had the strength. You are calling a horse to the plain,2 as the saying is. With your backing there is nothing I shall not venture. Your enthusiasm with its good omens serves as an augury. As my mind wavered, your encouragement impelled me to give my total attention to this affair. Let every die be cast.3 I shall tackle the matter bravely with your good auspices. May the gods look to its outcome. As far as in me lies, I shall display a bold and unbowed spirit. Come now, let us spread our sails4 to the winds. May the gods but speed bold attempts!5 If only you could bestow as much success on the project as you give encouragement! So much do I value your authority that at your behest I should not hesitate even to dance in the middle of the forum. Who is so much of a Thersites6 that your fiery words would not make him a hero? Your urging has applied sharp spurs, but to one already running, as the proverb goes. What I was already doing of my own accord I shall do much more promptly with your encouragement. As a brave soldier gains confidence for battle at the trumpet's sound, so your urging when I was already brave and resolute has given me new enthusiasm. Just as an adviser, in Plautus' words,7 is a kind of helper, so is the man who offers encouragement, approval, and applause/

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45 / The letter of persuasion Let us come now to the persuasive class, which is not very different from the previous one. For here too, we occasionally mingle praise, hope and expectation with encouragement. This class includes various kinds of letters with which I shall deal separately. For making a request comes under persuasion as do recommending, taking counsel, advising, and consoling. Therefore we may arrange a letter of persuasion in the following way. If the subject requires it, we should seek to arouse good will1 in a few words. The rhetoricians2 have carefully demonstrated the right way to go about this. Next we shall put in the narration, in which we shall adapt everything to persuasion and scatter the seeds, as it were, of the proofs. Next if the subject itself is divided into parts we shall present them as they are divided. But if it is undivided we shall make our own division3 into parts, and under the heading of distribution,4 as we have explained,5 enumerate the main points of the arguments from which we shall be able to argue most persuasively. Next we shall deal with individual arguments in different ways and at length. If there seems to be any serious obstacle to our argument, we shall demolish it at the beginning, or else each objection will have to be refuted6 as it arises. First I shall give instruction about the invention of arguments,7 then about how they should be handled. Arguments are derived especially from these sources:8 goodness,9 profit, security, pleasantness, facility, and necessity. Goodness is divided into the right10 and the praiseworthy;11 right into deeds of virtue or obligation;12 virtue into prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance;13 prudence into understanding, recollection, and foresight; justice into nature, custom, and law; nature into religion, piety, gratitude, revenge, respect, truth, contract, equity, and precedent;14 fortitude into endurance, loftiness of mind, confidence, and perseverance; temperance into continence, clemency, and modesty. Goodness is that which should be sought for itself. Rectitude is that which is done with virtue and a sense of obligation. Virtue is a habit of mind in harmony with reason. Obligation is the application of virtue to each man's role. It is derived from his time of life, knowledge, rank, profession, and other circumstances; for example, obligation is different for a soldier, teacher, pupil, consul, praetor, noble, plebeian, person of no distinction, old man, young man, learned or unlearned,15 male or female, married or single. These obligations differ according to place, time, and state of affairs. Prudence is the recollection of many things, and the experience of many matters.16 Recollection is the means by which the mind recalls the past. Understanding is the means by which we perceive the present. Foresight is

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the means by which a future event is seen before it happens. Justice is fairness, granting what is right to each according to what he deserves.17 Nature is a right that has been implanted in us not by opinion but by a certain inborn power. Religion is an instinctive power that guides man through fear of the gods and through religious observances. Piety is obligation to parents or others who are related to us by blood. Gratitude is the recollection of services, honours, and friendships, and the requital of them. Revenge is that which wards off violence and insult by self-defence or vengeance, and punishes wrongs. Respect is that which causes a feeling of reverence for those who surpass us in age or wisdom or position. Truth moves us to speak of a matter as it is, and as we know it to be. Custom is law which without any statute18 has become accepted because of its long standing, just as if it were prescribed by law. Contract is that which is agreed upon by several parties; equity is that which is common and equal among several parties. Precedent refers to matters already determined by the formal opinion of some person or persons. Statute law is established by the will either of the people or of their rulers. Fortitude is the striving after great things and contempt for lowly ones, and the endurance of toil for the sake of advantage. Loftiness of mind is the direction of great affairs with far-seeing deliberation. Self-confidence is the assurance that the mind places in itself in great and honourable undertakings with well-founded hopes. Endurance is the voluntary and prolonged suffering of hardships and difficulties for a noble and useful end. Perseverance is steady and continuous persistence in a well considered plan. Temperance is reason's firm and moderate dominion over lust and other unseemly impulses. Continence is the controlling of desire under the direction of prudence. Clemency is the quality which by kindness reins in tempers hastily roused to hatred. Modesty is that by which honourable shame acquires clear and firm authority. These are all called honourable things, desirable for their own sake. Their opposites are called disgraceful things, and of themselves are to be shunned. Since vices are close to virtues, it will not be difficult to turn anything into praise or blame, either by distortion of the name or from some element of circumstance. These, however, are matters for the rhetoricians and to be borrowed from their teachings. Something is praiseworthy19 if it causes honourable remembrance, both present and future. It takes its origin from obligation and virtue, and is never separate from goodness. Profit lies in retaining present and gaining future advantages, and in avoiding their opposites. Of advantages, which are also called blessings, some belong to the body, such as beauty, strength, ability, and the like; some to the mind, such as aptness to learn, quickness of intellect, a faithful memory, goodness of nature and disposition; to these we may add those

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which we acquire by our own effort: learning, greatness of soul, temperance, and the other virtues. Some are the result of good fortune, such as public offices, magistracies, wealth, friends, and the like. In the material that follows20 I advise that you have recourse to the manuals of the rhetoricians, for if I were to try to treat each subject, I should run on too long. I shall merely note down the forms of argumentation that pertain to the rhetorician, for those which Aristotle divided into the three figures21 are for the most part disregarded even in the schools of the philosophers. I did not find this section in the manuscript copy that I had. On examination I discovered that it had undoubtedly been patched on by someone who had come across it in my papers, excerpted from the precepts of the rhetoricians for some other purpose. But because it might still prove useful on this subject, even if the treatment was inadequate, I did not delete it. 46 / The dilemma and other kinds of oratorical arguments

[DILEMMA] A dilemma1 occurs when you are blamed for whichever choice you make of two alternatives: 'Varus, if I have been a good teacher to you, why do you criticize your benefactor? If a bad one, why do you call me back?' 'Stop calumniating the poets. If you have learnt them yourself, why do you criticize in others what you did yourself? But if, as I am more inclined to believe, you did not learn them, why do you find fault with something of which you are ignorant?' 'Father, if you knew my husband was wicked, why did you give me to him in marriage? If virtuous, why are you separating us?'2 'I do not think that Gabinius should be reproved, for if he is virtuous, he should not be criticized; but if he is wicked, he will ignore your reproof.' 'It is awful to have a wife, for if she is pretty, you are tormented by fear; but if she is ugly, you will be miserable because she is ugly.' 'If you remember, I shall bore you; but if you have forgotten, what can I accomplish by words, when I had no effect by example?' 'It is foolish to disparage a person who is not present, for if he is a friend, why do you not rather reprove him to his face; but if he is an enemy, why do you provoke his hatred and yet do him no harm?' 'We should not be tortured by fear of the future; if it is good, our fears are groundless; but if it is unfavourable, we double our unhappiness.' A dilemma is said to be destructive when one or both of the parts can be

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turned around and directed back against the opponent, like the example in Aulus Gellius:3 'I bring suit against you. If I plead successfully that I owe nothing, I do not pay the fee because I have won my case; but it I do not succeed, I owe nothing because I have not learned the art.' Both parts are turned around like this: 'If you plead successfully that you owe nothing, you will pay up, because you have learned the art; but if you do not succeed, I shall still get the fee, because you have not won the case.' 'He should not be accused at all, for if he has a sense of shame, why do you accuse one who is upright? If he has no shame, why do you accuse one who makes little of your accusation?' Invert the first part: 'No! If he has a sense of shame, all the more reason for accusing him, so that he may be corrected/ Invert the latter part: 'No! If he has no shame, he should be accused for the very reason that he is wicked.' A dilemma made up of contradictory parts cannot be refuted, as in this example: 'I should not be accused if it has turned out otherwise than I thought.For if you knew that it would not succeed, you are the one who should be accused, because though you were present, you kept silence about what you saw was advantageous to the state; but if you did not know, I should still not be accused, since you too are guilty of the same ignorance about the future.' [ENUMERATION] Enumeration4 is a form of argument in which several possibilities are stated and when all the others have been eliminated, the remaining one must be valid, as in the following example: 'Since a misdeed is never committed without a motive, if you say my client killed him he must have killed him through fear, or hatred, or the hope of some gain, or for the sake of a friend; but you will not be able to prove that any hatred, or fear, or hope existed between them, or that his death is of concern to any friend of my client. Thus it must be concluded that my client did not kill him.' Another example: 'Since it is well known that this farm which you now occupy was once mine, either it must have passed to you by inheritance, or you seized it when it was vacant, or bought it, or made it yours by occupancy, or else it is undeniable that you turned me out of it by force. In my lifetime my property could not pass to you by inheritance. No sale is recorded. You could not take possession of vacant property that was well known to have been mine. You did not make it yours by occupancy. There remains then the conclusion that you ejected me from my own property by force/ This way of arguing can be refuted if one single argument is adduced which has been overlooked by the opponent, or if any one of the claims he made is shown to be false. For instance, if he should say that the farm had

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been given to him, which the other had overlooked in his enumeration, or if he should make known a sale which the other had denied in his enumeration. [SIMPLE CONCLUSION] A simple conclusion5 is a method of arguing in which something must follow from what has preceded, in this fashion: 'If it is agreed that this man was killed in one of the provinces, he could not have been killed by my client, who at that time was in Rome.' Also: 'He is breathing, therefore he is not dead/ 'She has had a child, therefore she had intercourse with a man/ 'She had intercourse with a man, therefore she is not a virgin/ 'He is a human being, therefore also an animal/ 'He knows the poets, therefore he has learnt them/ This way of arguing can be refuted if it is shown that the consequence does not follow consistently, as in: 'If she is a mother, she loves her son/ 'But Medea,' the opponent will say, 'killed her son/ 'He is a poet, therefore wanton.' 'But Prudentius6 led a very chaste life.' For there are some things that follow in all probability and in accordance with common sense, but not inevitably or universally: it usually happens that young men are entangled in love affairs, but one can find those possessed of very chaste morals. Or the argument can be refuted if what preceded is denied, as in the first example if the prosecutor should say that he was not at Rome, but in the province. [SUBJOINING] Subjoining7 is a way of arguing in which we examine what can be said in favour of our opponent or against ourselves. Then through repeated questions we quickly subjoin reasons by which we show that what has been said is not true, in this fashion: 'I ask, then, how from being a man of modest means he became so wealthy. Was he left a large inheritance? But his father's goods were sold. Did he receive a legacy? He was disinherited by his relatives. Did he acquire great profit from some commercial venture? But in that activity he lost anything he seemed to have. So if he did not become rich by these means, either gold produced itself for him at home, or he seized it from some improper source/ This way of arguing is also included among the ornamental figures. For in so far as we infer something, it is referred to as arguing; in so far as it confers adornment on the speech, it is considered to be an ornament. It is not merely used to draw a conclusion, since it possesses its own dignity of style, as in this example: 'What shall I do,8 poor wretch? Say nothing? / But that would only anger him. / Defend myself? 'Tis labour wasted/9 This way of arguing is refuted in the same way as enumeration, from which it does not differ greatly, either by showing that something has been left out or by invalidating one of the points enumerated.

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[OPPOSITION] Opposition10 is a form of arguing in which we move from the opposite of the proposition to the proposition itself, in this manner: 'If at the time when you say this man was killed in the provinces I was at Rome, the conclusion is that he was not killed by me.' This is the proposition, the opposite of which follows: Tor if I had been in the province at the time when you say this man was killed in the province, you could have suspected that he had been killed by me; but as it is, since I was not in the province at that time, there is no ground for your suspecting that he was killed by me/ Another example: 'Gaius Marius11 should prolong his command against the Cimbri by a new precedent. For if there were peace, with no one forcing us to make new deliberations, and we could do as we pleased, I should never speak, citizens, in favour of an innovation contrary to the precedents and practices of our ancestors. I should be content with the customs, laws, and usages handed down to us by our fathers. As things are, however, with a bitter war on our hands, while an enemy ravages Italy, pressing nearer every day and now appearing to threaten Rome itself, let C. Marius, who stands out among all the generals, by a new precedent, and contrary to the national tradition (for "laws are silent amid warfare"),12 receive the consulship and the command against the Cimbri13 again this year to guarantee our freedom. For something which we would not do if there were peace seems to be a necessary expedient now that we are at war.' Another example: 'We must keep free not only of glaring defects, but also of the slightest ones. For if we had no enemies, I should readily pardon failings which are only human and made somewhat excusable by your time of life. Now however that you have a dignified position and are observed by many envious and spiteful persons, I think that you should make every effort not to be caught in even the slightest failing!' Another example: 'It is inevitable that I feel that wrong quite deeply. For if it had been inflicted upon me by some stranger to whom I had done no kindness, I should bear it with more equanimity because I could punish my enemy and the injury would be uncompounded. As it is, since I have received this insult from one with whom I was on friendly terms and to whom I rendered greater services than to any other man, I cannot but take it very badly. For the wound is doubled, since extreme ingratitude is added to the wrong, and I cannot take vengeance on one whom I treated as a friend without incurring great disgrace.' Another example: 'It is not fair that I should lend you my assistance without recompense. For if you had no means of repayment, but your good will was apparent, I should be content with your good will. But since you are very wealthy and have an abundance of all that I lack, it is not fair that you should request my services for nothing.'

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[VIOLATIO] 14

The violatio argument, which the Greeks call fiiaiov, is one in which we show that what follows from the reasoning of our opponents is not to their advantage but to our own. This is used only in refutation. An example: 'One should not take a wife, the reason being that from marriage we may incur bereavement and grief.' 'No! This is the very reason for taking a wife, who will bear us children and dispel the grief of bereavement/ Another example: 'We should not read the poets, as they soothe and captivate the mind of the reader/ 'No! This is the very reason why they should be read, as they soothe the mind/ Another example: 'No one should attempt anything grandiose, for man's life is short/ 'No! All the more reason why something outstanding should be attempted, so that, since we cannot live long, we may leave something behind as evidence that we have lived/ Again: 'He must be condemned,15 he has killed a man/ 'No! He should be given a reward, he has killed a man who was a tyrant/ [INDUCTION] Induction16 is a form of arguing which, after the establishment of certain undisputed facts, proves something that was doubtful by demonstrating its similarity to the facts conceded to be true. Tell me, praetor, when opinions varied about fighting or not, if we had that day disagreed, whose opinion would have prevailed? "Without a doubt, the consul's," you say. But if the auspices had been different, and mine had indicated that we should fight that day and yours that we should remain idle, should we have fought because of my auspices or remained idle because of yours? You will say, of course, that mine would have had to be obeyed as I was consul. Well then, if with my auspices and my opinion the fighting went well, does it seem fair to you that credit for this exploit should be gained by one whose opinion and auspices did not effect the outcome?' Another example: Tell me, you ungrateful old man, if I had conferred no benefit upon you, surely you would not have called me unjust. "No," you will say. For it cannot seem to be an injustice if you do not do good to a person to whom you owe nothing. As it is, since I have freely done you many good turns, it is not fair for you to be angry with me for putting an end to my good deeds, because you had no right to be angry even if I had never begun to show my favour/ [INFERENCE] Inference17 is a kind of arguing that is accomplished by reasoning and embellishment. It is divided into five sections:18 proposition, reasoning,

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reinforcement of reasoning, embellishment and conclusion. In the proposition we set forth in a summary what we want to prove. Reasoning shows by one or more proofs that our proposition is true. Reinforcement of reasoning strengthens the reasoning presented. Embellishment is applied to enrich and adorn the subject. Finally the conclusion gathers up briefly the parts of the argumentation that have been stated more diffusely. An example: 1 have briefly explained, judges, the reason why Ulysses19 always wished Ajax put out of the way; now, that you may see more clearly than the light of day that he killed him, I shall demonstrate as briefly as I can that he could have easily accomplished what he wished. For when Ulysses perceived that his bitter enemy was without companions, he concluded that he could take him by surprise. When he saw that the density of the trees completely obscured the view, and that Ajax was unconscious of danger and absorbed in other thoughts, he thought the hero would not suspect any hostile intent before he came from hiding and plunged his sword into him. Thus the loneliness of the place, the poor visibility, the treacherous ambush, the solitude and unconcern of a fierce, deadly, unfearing foe gave this most vile and treacherous man the opportunity to kill a very brave hero. No one would believe this, if it were not commonly known that there was nothing more criminal and wicked than the mind of Ulysses. Of this the shameful death of Palamedes20 is very clear evidence, since, relying on guile and treachery, Ulysses hoped that even in the judgment of the populace he could outwit a man of exceptional wisdom. But if he was confident that he could prevail over a very clever man, not in the woods or in a lonely spot, but in a crowded place under the eyes of all, by the verdict of the people, he would have greater hope of stealthily killing a man who was alone, off his guard, and in hiding, especially since the unjust death of Palamedes fired him with the ambition to venture upon a greater crime. So if you have pondered well the loneliness of the wood, the fact that one man was unarmed and unsuspecting while the other had considered all factors beforehand and was prepared, do not entertain any further doubts, judges, that Ajax could have been killed by Ulysses/ Another example: 'Nothing is more senseless than conferring a benefit on a wicked man. For whoever does that makes an enemy for himself at his own trouble and expense, of one whom he need not have treated as either friend or foe. If he had not obliged him by any services, he would have had no dealings with the wicked man. Now, however, since the other feels obliged to one whom he has no desire to thank, and to whom he is ashamed to seem to owe anything, he is bound to wish such a person dead, so that, proud and thankless as he is, he may have no one to whom he feels indebted. If that seems unclear to anyone, he will be able to understand it clearly from the misfortune of Trebonius,21 a very virtuous man. He could even have had

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the old man, Varus, the most ungrateful man alive, as a friend, if he had not benefitted him at all; but instead, through his great services, he made him bitter enemy. Thus, the more one feels obliged to someone to whom in his pride he least wishes to be obliged, the more intently he works to bring about the latter's ruin. Who would judge a man to be in his right senses if he went out of his way to provide a bandit with a sword for his own murder? No more sense is shown by one who, by benefitting a wicked and ungrateful man, gives such a person reason for wishing to do away with him. So when we understand that by our good deeds we are storing up great trouble for ourselves and see how it went with our friend, we shall seem madder than Orestes22 if in the future we should wish to win the favour of a wicked person by our services.' Another example: 'It is a mark of a wise man to take far more thought for his reputation than for his money, in fact no less than for his life. For one who loses his money or even his life suffers less loss or damage than one who loses his reputation. Money that is lost can be recuperated, but reputation once lost can never be brought back to its original state. The life of the body too, since it has received fixed limits from nature, cannot be extended for any length of time. Yet a man's reputation, which is his second and more precious life, survives even beyond the pyre and the ashes. Therefore, whoever takes away life, removes something that we could not long enjoy even if no one stole it from us; but he who takes away reputation robs us of something that is everlasting and the noblest of possessions. It seems to me that the ancients understood this perfectly when they did not hesitate to squander not only money but life itself, so that they might make their name truly enduring. We read that many were convinced that were they to see themselves stripped of their reputation, there would be no reason to go on living, so much more serious did they judge the loss of reputation than the loss of life. But if we see that men are mostly concerned about those things which, though very valuable, are very easily lost and very hard to regain, we should consider no man wise who does not realise the need to care for his reputation, which once lost cannot be regained, and is a man's most prized possession, far more than his money or even his life.' Inference may be made up of only three or four parts if either the supporting arguments or the embellishment or both are left out. [SYLLOGISTIC REASONING] Syllogistic reasoning,23 which elicits the conclusion by adapting the minor premise to the major premise, is the most perfect form of argumentation. Like inference it may consist of fewer parts, but the form that is considered the most perfect consists of five: major premise, proof, minor premise, proof of the minor premise, and conclusion. The major premise is a brief statement of

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the issue from which the main force of the argument arises. The proof shows by one or more arguments that what we have stated in the major premise is true. In the minor premise we affirm the point from the major premise which relates to proving the case. In the proof of the minor premise we establish what has been premised. In the conclusion we set out what has been proved by the whole argumentation, in this way: 'All those who have a motive for committing a crime, unless their lives shrink from wrongdoing, are generally willing to commit crime. But Ulysses had a very good motive for killing Ajax, and murder was not alien to his nature. Therefore Ulysses committed the crime of killing Ajax.' This is the tripartite form of logical reasoning, leaving out the proofs. The following is an example of the use of all five parts: 'All men, judges, whose habitual way of life is not averse to wrongdoing are so stirred by hatred that they have a strong urge to satisfy their enmity by every sort of crime. For since men whose hands are always stained by wrongful bloodshed cannot renounce this inclination to vice, they are not only instigated to crime when they can gain some advantage or avoid some disadvantage by wrongdoing, but even seek out reasons for laying unjust hands upon their fellow man. Surely, if good men think they must avoid anything that would compel them to neglect their duty, it is no wonder that cruel and unjust men like these, who take continual delight in bloodshed, should seek out a reason for killing a man. Besides if good men are sometimes driven through fear or hostility from the straight path to which they have always adhered, who would not believe that wicked men are motivated by their own interests to wish to preserve their way of life? The former abandon their habitual virtue when seduced by profit; will the latter respect the duty they have never respected when they realize they can profit by wrongdoing? Obviously you are unaware, judges, of the force of anger, of the power of animosity, of the results of hatred! I need not mention here that beasts are stirred by anger and hatred to do harm to one another; I need not tell you that many very wise men, when roused by hatred or anger, were not able to control themselves; it would be better not to mention the many cities, kingdoms, and nations ruined and laid waste by hatred. So, judges, if you see that even good men are corrupted by feelings of enmity, have you any doubt that men of this kind, who from habit cannot avoid wrongdoing, would have wished from motives of hatred to murder an enemy? Now Ulysses was at variance with Ajax as his bitter enemy and was inspired by deadly hatred. You all know, so that there is no need for me to elaborate the matter more fully, what feelings he bore towards Ajax after the unfair contest for the arms. You know that this cowardly man, who had accomplished nothing by

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valour, but everything by trickery, was violently afraid of a brave man, a bitter foe, and a relentless prosecutor of his enemies when wrongly provoked. Ulysses realised that unless he eliminated his enemy, he himself could not be safe; he had grown used to attacking his opponents in whatever way possible if he could not do so openly, to which the shameful death of Palamedes bears witness. For when Ulysses saw that Palamedes surpassed all men in wisdom, you know what treachery, deceit, and hatred he used to kill him. Now from him he feared no danger; whereas he was consumed by fear of Ajax. In this instance envy, hatred, anger, and fear are combined. Against Palamedes he was stirred only by envy. So, judges, men of this kind are used to committing evil deeds even for a slight reason. He, however, was obsessed with bitter hatred and fear of Ajax. We should not listen to him if he says that he did not want to kill Ajax/ The statement of the facts of the case is devised from the main subjects of lawsuits, for example, in an issue of fact,24 by calling for witnesses: The opposing party must not be heard without witnesses/ We argue from the law in a juridical question25 in this way: 'One should not introduce anything new that is contrary to the laws/ The converse can be stated, as in: 'Witnesses should not be required in every case, for the majority of crimes are committed in secret/ and 'On this occasion one should introduce new measures contrary to the laws/ If we wish to refute what has been argued or could be argued by our opponents, we must make use of assertion, denial, counter-assertion, and explanation. Assertion is a preamble to denial. An example: 'I am not unaware of the slanders of that cunning old man/ The opponent's denial is stated: 'He claims I should not have abandoned the agreement/ Counter-assertion is the promise of explanation, such as: 'But it can easily be shown how silly it is/ We shall strengthen the explanation with supporting arguments in this way: 'It is absurd for him to allege an agreement which he was the first to break. It was agreed, I admit, that he should be taught by me for two years, but on condition that his character changed for the better. Now since he has gone from bad to worse, by which of us has the agreement been broken? By him of course/ Another example: T do not think that we should listen to the theologians who disapprove of the reading of the poets, claiming that they strongly entice the reader's mind by the elegance of their words. What can be said more in the poets' favour?26 For if, as they admit, poets please us by the extraordinary polish and charm of their diction, since this pleasure is not at all reprehensible but in fact extremely useful, they have given us a very cogent reason for reading the poets/ Further, the proofs supporting propositions are derived from circum-

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stances,27 which are usually defined as six in number: person, action, motive, place, time, and manner, to which some add a seventh, means. Person is the role of the individual which is used to support or weaken some point. Person has two aspects, one extrinsic to the case, as is the person of ancestors, other jurors, and spectators; the other inherent to the case, as is that of the accuser, the accused, the judge, and the witnesses. Person has ten divisions:28 name, nature, manner of life, fortune, habit, feeling, interests, deeds, accidents, and statements. To these one may also add purpose. A name can be peculiar to one individual, like 'Cato the Wise/ 'Aristides the Just/ 'Metellus Numidicus/ or 'Metellus the Pious/ 'Pomponius the Athenian/ 'Melanius the Contentious/ 'Peter the Fair'; or a name may be common to a whole country, nation or province like 'the treacherous Carthaginian/ 'the fickle Greek/ 'the ambitious Athenians/ 'the warlike Romans/ We often derive grounds for our argument from these, especially in the epideictic29 class, turning a name casually assigned into a false accusation, for example, 'This man called "Black" gets his name from real fact. I believe that it was not by coincidence, but by some evil portent that he got it/ Or else, we can turn the name around, as in: '"Innocent" is a misnomer, for there is no one less innocent than he.' Or: 'He is wrongly called "the Fair," for there is nothing fair about him but his name/ Or by giving the opposite sense: 'He is called "Vigilant,"30 though he deserves to be called "Somnolent/" We also make up names ourselves; but I shall speak about that in the appropriate place, for it has nothing to do with the finding of rational proofs. Nature is either divine or human and mortal. The divine is inferred from auguries, entrails, omens, prodigies, and divinely spoken oracles.31 Mortal nature is divided into sex, as male and female; race, as Greek and non-Greek; country, as Roman and Athenian; birth, as noble and commoner; age, as boy, young man, and old man; and worth, which is divided into the good and bad qualities of mind and body. We describe the quality of the mind as sharp or dull, mindful or forgetful, wise or foolish, fearful or bold; all these attributes are naturally inborn, not acquired by effort. With respect to the body we speak of strength or weakness, tallness or shortness, beauty, speed, or slowness, fairness or swarthiness; we also use the adjectives big-nosed, hairy, grey-eyed and similar expressions. Manner of life is divided into upbringing: with whom, how, and so on; employment: in what business or occupation a person is engaged, and so on; character: whether he is extravagant or thrifty, greedy or generous, and things of that sort. With regard to fortune one must consider whether a person is slave or

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free; wealthy or needy; exiled, disinherited, or otherwise; a private individual or one in public office; lucky or unlucky. Feeling is some momentary alteration of mind or body, such as a joyful or sad countenance, desire, fear, uncertainty, pallor, blushing, trembling, redness of the eyes, unusual gestures, and a quick or slow manner of walking, all of which are included among signs based on inference. Habit comprises the virtues and defects of body and mind that are not implanted by nature but acquired by effort, such as speed, strength, cleverness, memory, uprightness, learning, eloquence, and similar things. Interest is the vigorous application of the mind to some subject as by the doctor, orator, poet, theologian, soldier or horse-lover, and so on. Deeds, accidents, and statements32 are considered from three temporal aspects: in the past - what a person did, what happened to him, what he said; in the present - what he is doing, what is happening, what he is saying; in the future - what he is going to do, what will happen to him, what he himself is going to say, or his associates, fellow-citizens, elders, friends, or enemies. Purpose is a deliberate plan of action. The action33 is given in a summary of the whole case based on sure evidence, which as a rule is added at the end. Motive34 is divided into impulse and premeditation. Impulse is a thoughtless inclination of the mind to do or not to do something, such as anger, desire, violence, fear, madness, and every disturbance of the mind. Premeditation is that which prompts us to act in our own interests through a comparison of advantages and avoidance of disadvantages. It consists of securing, keeping, and increasing advantages or avoiding, rejecting, and reducing disadvantages. Motive is also twofold, principal and secondary. It is a principal motive if someone kills a man from whom he was expecting a large sum of money; secondary, if he also knows that he will thereby oblige Clodius,35 the victim's bitter enemy. The place may be suitable or unsuitable, narrow, wide, wooded, or mountainous, far or near, crowded or deserted, sacred or profane, public or private. Manner is [how an action is done], secretly or violently, openly or clandestinely, by persuasion or spontaneously, boldly or deceitfully, unwittingly or deliberately, through love or hatred. Means is [that with which a deed is done], by use of a club or sword, bow, poison, or magic spells. Now I must add examples of how proofs are derived from circumstances. 'You are a traitor to your country, Catiline/36 'Unless Cicero37 has brought forward witnesses of this he should not be listened to. I am of such

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high rank, and of such ancestry, that without witnesses you should not suspect this of me. There is all the more reason for expelling Cicero for making these accusations without witnesses, in that as a self-made man38 he has always been my enemy and hostile to the nobility. It befits your wisdom, judges, not to grant authority39 to such persons, lest they use false allegations to prosecute men of good birth unjustly. For you should not uphold the suspicion of so great a crime without witnesses, especially in this country in which laws have always been scrupulously observed. Furthermore, he must be expelled so that these self-made men may not try to attack many of us, if opportunity is given for false testimony, especially in these days, when the feelings of the commoners are roused against the nobility, and there is so much freedom of speech that everyone trumps up false accusations/ So much for circumstances which provide the basis for propositions. Now we come to the devising of proofs. All proof derives from greater or smaller, similar or opposite examples. An example: 'It is right in time of war to make some departure from precedent for the advantage of the state. This is particularly permissible for us Romans, who are accustomed to inventing new expedients for the benefit of the country. For in the interests of the republic our ancestors turned out the kings,40 allowed the decemvirs41 to carry on their rule, and appointed tribunes of the people,42 who were sacrosanct. They made Scipio43 consul before the prescribed time. If the head of a household is not afraid to depart frequently from precedent in his own interests, will the senate not venture to make some exception for the country's interests? If we are accustomed to make innovations in time of peace, we must do so in time of war when circumstances require it.' Elaboration proceeds from circumstances, from which too come proofs. Elaboration is the combination of reason and proof, as in this example: 'It is right to prolong Scipio's rule, even if it is illegal, because our ancestors for the benefit of the republic readily allowed decemvirs to prolong their rule. Moreover they did this in peacetime; what shall we do under the constraint of war? They did it for the country's honour, we shall do so to defend its liberty. They allowed a board of ten to prolong their rule; shall we not allow this to a single individual? They gave power to Appius Claudius,44 a lust-ridden, tyrannical man, as events proved; we shall be conferring power on Scipio, who at Numantia45 gave such proofs of his self-control that he was judged to be the most upright of men.' In adornments the rule about elaboration is quite different. It should be brought to the notice of the student that just as several reasons can be adduced to support one proposition, so each single reason can be strengthened

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by several proofs, and likewise various embellishments can be applied to support each one. But just as reasons are sometimes combined with propositions for the sake of brevity, so proof is interwoven with reason and embellishment with proof. In this context, therefore, one makes use of elaboration or enthymeme,46 an argument drawn from circumstances as proof, often with the use of comparison. Epenthymeme is subtle excogitatio added to an enthymeme. For example: 'What Coriolanus47 did must seem to us more than an enemy act; for it is an act of tyranny to attack one's own country. The enemy should not be attacked, for he deserved to be pursued with greater hatred than they in that they attack a foreign country, he his own. He is trying to overthrow that to which he is most indebted.' The complete statement48 develops out of the circumstances of the particular case, but proof is given by a division of the whole into Smaller or shorter parts, or by the listing of analogous cases, or by fictive reasoning, which invents something contrary to the actual facts. An example: The girl is pretending; she is not in love. If she loved anyone, I should not be accusing you of poisoning. If it were you she was in love with, I should not consider your skills suspect. If she were possessed by some other mad passion, or if she were suffering from some other ailment, I should not be accusing you/ 'A father killed his three sons all at the same time; if he had killed two, or only one, or one who was not his son, you would still find it difficult to condone/ 'Philip sent the Athenians a hundred talents in return for which Demosthenes was to be surrendered to him. Even if he paid a thousand or ten thousand talents, or offered states, peoples, provinces, and all his kingdoms together, I do not think that they would have handed over Demosthenes, who by his wisdom and eloquence protected the liberty of Greece. For this sum of talents I should not hand over even a member of the plebs or a working man or the lowliest member of the citizen body, not to speak of Hyperides49 or Aeschines/50 Another example: 'As to your sons - if indeed they should really be called yours when you have cruelly put them to death - if you had punished them with beating, or had branded them with exile and disinheritance, I should still regret that so many fine youths should be kept from their illustrious native soil or should be shamefully beaten. But since you have done away with them, not by disinheritance, or exile, or beating, but by death, all three at once, how can I refrain from protest, accusation, and indignation? If I should have cried out in protest if you had put one of them to death, shall I hold my tongue before this threefold slaying? Arguments and reasons are also drawn from topics,51 namely: genus,

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species, distinction, characteristic, definition, the whole, parts, causes, effects, practice, adjuncts, previous verdicts, likeness, the greater, the lesser, equality, analogy, opposites, substitution, chance, conjugates, and division. Genus contains species. If the genus is denied, the exclusion of the species follows, but not the converse, as in: 'Virtue does not exist, therefore justice does not exist either/ 'Animals do not exist, therefore neither does man/ If the species is excluded, the exclusion of the genus does not follow; but if the species is affirmed, the affirmation of the genus follows. To say 'Justice does not exist, therefore virtue does not,' does not follow. 'Justice exists, therefore virtue exists,' does follow. If the entire genus is denied, then the species is also denied. Likewise, if the entire genus is affirmed, then each species in it is also affirmed, as in: 'He bequeathed all his silver, therefore he bequeathed his engraved silver/ 'We are told to give our attention to all branches of learning, therefore to poetry too/ 'A prince must not disregard any virtue, thus he must not disregard mercy/ Yet a genus is of necessity excluded if one denies every form of it by an elimination of all alternatives, as in the following: 'That which is neither rational nor irrational is not an animal/ Distinction is the means of dividing genus into species. Through distinction we may equally infer or exclude the species established by it. Genus is proved, not disproved, as has been said previously about the species, as in: 'If it has feeling, it is an animal; if it lacks reason, it is not a man. It does not lack reason, therefore it is still animal. For if it does lack reason, it will not automatically not be an animal/ Characteristic is what belongs to one species alone, as laughter is proper to man. Like distinction, it infers the thing of which it is the fixed characteristic and when removed, does away with it. So that which has the ability to laugh must be man; what cannot laugh cannot in any way be called a man. It is the property of a tyrannicide52 to kill a tyrant; this man has killed a tyrant, therefore he should be given a reward/ Since this is not the exclusive characteristic of a tyrannicide, we shall refute it in this way: 'If killing a tyrant is the property of a tyrannicide, executioners to whom we hand over tyrants to be killed also kill a tyrant; therefore executioners should receive a reward/ Definition is a sentence which describes briefly and completely the properties of each individual thing. It must be interchangeable with the thing defined, as in: 'If it is a rational animal, then it is also man. What is neither animal nor rational will not be man. If it is man, then it is also a rational animal. If it is not man, then it cannot be a rational animal/ Definition is refuted if either a true characteristic or a true difference or a true

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genus has not been stated, or if anything is included or excluded in one thing which is not also included or excluded in the other, as follows: 'A man left all his money to his wife, but engraved silver is money, therefore he left her all his engraved silver. But not all engraved silver is called money. For a bowl and things of this sort are engraved silver, but they are not called money/ Definitions are also determined by accidents, and if these are of such a kind that they can be interchanged with the thing defined, the consequence is valid, as in: 'Man is a two-legged, erect animal without wings/ The parrot is a green bird with a hooked beak, a red neck, a conspicuous ring in old age, which feeds holding its food in one of its claws/ Definitions are determined too from the complete enumeration of parts, species, or forms, as in: 'A state is that which is governed by the power of one man, or of a few men, or of the people/ This genus is easily refuted if any species is added thai has been passed over in the enumeration. An example is: Injury is defined as that which either causes hurt to the body by blows or to the ears by abusive language/ This is refuted thus: 'What if someone should carry off your daughter, will that not be an injury?' Etymology is the interpretation of a name, or the explanation of its meaning, as: This man is called Chrysogonus because he produces gold wherever he goes/ For gold in Greek is called xpvcro?, and yo^o? means offspring. 'He makes poems, therefore he is a poet/53 'He discusses God, therefore he is a theologian/ 'He heals, therefore he is a doctor/ From the whole parts are inferred, not excluded, in this way: Tf the whole state is to be governed with wisdom, then so is every house and every single citizen. Yet just because the whole state must not be entrusted to chance, it does not follow that you too must not entrust yourself to chance/ 'For just because the whole house does not have to be repaired, it does not follow that a single wall needs no repair/ But if all the parts are collected together they infer the whole; if they are all excluded they take away the whole. Moreover the parts are considered in terms of time, quantity, and place, as in: Tf it is found neither in heaven nor on earth, then it cannot be found anywhere/ Cause and effect are convertible provided that the cause is of such a nature that the effect proceeds from it alone, and it alone is suitable to produce the effect. Cause54 has a fourfold division into efficient, material, formal, and final. To give some examples of efficient cause: 'When the sun has risen, it cannot but be day/ Tf she has had intercourse with a man, she is not a virgin/ Tf wisdom makes a man good, then it is also good itself/ 'A body is in the light, therefore it casts a shadow/ 'Sensual pleasure causes ill fame, therefore it is to be shunned/ 'Virtue brings honour, therefore it is to be sought/ 'He is sunburnt, therefore he has been in the sun/ 'He is covered

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with dust, therefore he has been on a journey' does not follow; there can be several causes for these things. If the material cause is removed, then the effect is also necessarily taken away, as in: 'He had no wood, therefore he could not build ships/ 'Since there is no iron, how can they forge swords?' An example from formal cause: 'The poets openly lie in saying that Daedalus55 flew, for no one can do what nature forbids.' Arguments are drawn from final cause in this way: 'Happiness must be sought, therefore virtue also must be sought/ 'To live is not evil, therefore to eat is not evil/ 'Medicine is good, for health is good/ 'Peace is good, therefore war is also useful/ This type of arguing is particularly applied in questions based on inference. Arguments can proceed from utility, as in: 'One must ride, therefore horses must be kept/ 'Sailing is a good thing, therefore it is good to fit out ships/ 'It is permissible to protect one's life, therefore it is permissible to carry a sword/ 'It is a fine thing to know the old theology, therefore it is a fine thing to have learned the poets/ Or from generation to corruption,56 as in: 'It is bad to destroy the state, therefore the state is good/ 'Concord among the citizens is excellent; why then is not the city also?' [Arguments may proceed] from associated premises,57 as in: 'It is agreed that Caesar was a very wise man who never repented of anything. Antony was foolish, since he never did anything without repenting of it afterwards/ 'He is pale, he sits deep in thought, and frequently changes his mind, therefore he is in love/ 'He turned pale, he stammered, he was nervous, therefore he had a guilty conscience/ 'If you were allowed to blacken my name, shall I not be allowed to clear it?' 'Nobody harms one whom he loves; he must have held dear the man he makes his heir/ 'He is paying attentions to a widow, therefore he is angling for a legacy/ 'If he is a poet, then he is wanton; if a logician, argumentative; if a theologian, peevish; if a doctor, greedy/ These arguments can easily be refuted, especially since they often do not follow. We may argue from wisdom or from authority, as in: 'One should learn the best things at the beginning. For Quintilian,58 the best of teachers, thought that this should be done/ One may argue from likeness, in this way: 'Just as in a storm, when sea and winds threaten great peril, the experienced captain never leaves the helm but keeps his eyes and hands59 intent on everything, so the wise man, when fortune is especially turbulent and things are in a critical state, must use his best judgment and be on his guard against all hazards/ We can refute a point taken from similarity by showing the dissimilarity of what another has said to be similar, or by adducing a more appropriate similarity, thus: 'Just as no one handles pitch without being sullied so no one can read the

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poets without being incited to lust/ We shall say that the divine science of poetry has no similarity with pitch, or we shall provide a more suitable similarity, in this way: 'On the contrary, as we see the bees culling the best part of each blossom and leaving the poison for the spider to suck out, so in the poets we shall seize the learning and sound teachings for ourselves, and leave behind any indecency that we may encounter.' 'Just as no untamed horse, however good by nature, is suitable for the useful purposes required of it, so no uneducated man, however talented, is one from whom you can draw the fruits of virtue.' 'For it is not true that as one who takes over from a runner in a race is faster, so one who takes over from a general is better at commanding an army/ 'It is not true that as with a ship, so friendship is more faithful when new/ Examples from the greater to the lesser:60 'He does not obey his father; will he listen to a stranger?' 'He takes this man's death as if he were one of the family, what will he do for me, his father?' 'If one is allowed to kill an adulterer, then one may also lash him/ From smaller to greater: 'If one may beat a thief, then one may beat a robber/ 'If one could do those things as a boy, will you not be able to do them as a man?' From equality: 'If the law condemns a patricide, then it condemns a matricide/ 'If a father has rights over his son, then he has rights over his daughter also/ 'If you give my brother his keep at home, why should you turn me out?' In the same vein, an example is like or opposite, greater or lesser. A like example is: 'Saturninus61 was rightly killed since Gracchus62 was also/ An opposite is: 'Brutus63 put his sons to death for plotting treachery; Manlius64 punished his son with death for his valour/ 'Marcellus65 gave back their works of art to the Syracusans though they were enemies; Verres66 took the same things away from them, though they were allies/ An example from the greater: 'If because of the violation of a marriage Troy was utterly destroyed, what should happen to an adulterer?' From the lesser: The flute-players67 who had withdrawn from the city were brought back at the public expense; are not the leading citizens who served their country well to be brought back from exile, to which they were driven because of unpopularity?' Similarity68 is shown in kind, nature, essence, size, number, time, place, cause, person, reputation, and method. In kind: 'When sight is removed, so is understanding/ which is refuted thus: 'But sight is a material thing, and understanding is not/ In essence: 'Youth should have some seriousness, since old men possess it/ Refutation: 'But the characteristic of youth is cheerfulness/ In size: 'If the steersman of a ship is appointed by chance, not by election, then similarly with the admiral of the fleet/ Refutation: The greater responsibility requires greater deliberation/ In number:69 'Let us decide whether these states belong to us or to the enemy,

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for thus did our ancestors act when it was a question of two states/ Refutation: 'In greater numbers there is greater danger.' In time: Tompey70 should prolong his command, as Marius71 did.' Refutation: 'Yes, but he did so when the country was in a terrible crisis, while now there is no enemy threat.' In place and cause: 'Since there is war in Italy,72 troops should not be transported to Africa, lest they suffer the same fate as the Athenians.'73 Refutation: They travelled further and into unknown regions; our destination is closer at hand and known to us. By their expedition they made other enemies for themselves; we shall drive our enemy, Hannibal, out of Italy.' From person: 'Marius should prolong his command, as Scipio did.' Refutation: 'But the latter was a man of honour, the former not equally so.' From reputation: 'One who violates a woman performing the rites of Ceres should suffer the same penalty as one who seduces a Vestal virgin/ Refutation: 'Crimes which involve greater criminal intent should receive severer punishment/ Many of these points can be used together to refute the same opponent. A topic from analogy differs from one from similarity in that in the latter case like is derived from like, while in analogy similarity and proportion are juxtaposed. From similarity the argument proceeds thus: 'Just as the steersman of a ship is chosen not by chance, but by election, so in the state magistrates should be elected/ From analogy, in this way: 'A steersman is to the ship as the magistrates are to the state. But the steersman is chosen by judgment, not by chance; thus it is right to choose the magistrates, too, by judgment, not by chance/ A topic from analogy is refuted in the same manner as a topic from similarity. A topic from opposites falls under five headings. From negative opposites like 'He is blind, therefore he will never see/ Likewise: 'It is not only one who lacks sight who is blind, for we do not hesitate to call many who have sight blind/ From denial: 'The Carthaginians have shown contempt for peace, for in Spain they are harassing our allies/ From relative opposites: 'You admit that the Carthaginians were subject to the Romans? Then it is certain that the Romans have ruled Carthage/ 'If you call me your teacher, why should I not call you my pupil?' 'If you admit that I have lent you money, you are in debt to me/ 'If you do not regard me as your son, neither will you be regarded as my father/ 'If you do not regard us as your army, we shall not consider you as our general/ From contrary opposites: 'If you are not well, it is certain that you are ill/ 'If he who does a good turn should be loved, he who does a bad turn should be hated/ 'If one who kills a tyrant deserves a reward, one who helps a tyrant should receive punishment/ In contraries that are called 'mediated' the consequence is not inevitable, as in: 'If he is not black then he is white,' for he can be green or

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red. From distinctions: things distinct in kind are those which, though classed in the same genus, are separated by various differences or separate characteristics. Yet things which are separate in kind can also be called 'distinctions' as in: 'If he is a man, then he is not an ass, or God/ and so on. 'When you have paid ten pounds of silver on deposit how can you have the nerve to claim back an equal weight of gold?' 'You have torn down a house made of marble; are you going to rebuild it in brick?' The following are examples of substitution:74 The philosopher does not feel envy since the wise man does not.' This topic differs from interpretation, since in substitution nothing is explained, but a less well-known word is inferred from a better-known word. In interpretation an explanation of the term is added, as in: The wise man does not feel envy. The philosopher is a lover of wisdom. Therefore he does not feel envy.' From conjugates:75 'If rhetoric is a virtue, the rhetorician must be a man devoted to study/ From inflectional endings: 'If ingratitude is shameful, then you behave shamefully, since you do not thank your benefactor/ From division,76 which may take place either by negation or partition. By negation, in this way: 'Either it is profitable to declare war or it is not; but it is not profitable to wage war, therefore it is profitable to be at peace/ Partition is either of genus into species, as in 'Certain animals have a share of reason, some are devoid of it/ or of the whole into parts, or of a word into its meanings, or of a subject into accidents, or of an accident into subjects, or of one accident into other accidents. This should suffice for now concerning these categories; let us return to the parts proper to the persuasive class.77 Security is that which pertains to being free of harm. Pleasantness is what brings pleasure either to the mind, or the body, or both. Facility is what can be done without risk or trouble. Necessity is what cannot be done in any other way. The rest should be sought in the teachings of the rhetoricians. No one should think that all these parts are always to be used in persuasion, for it would become too lengthy, especially in a letter. It will have sufficed to mention briefly how many subjects come under this heading and to what extent. Therefore78 when we have won the favour of the person to whom we are writing, and then, if applicable, have added the narration,79 in the third place we must present what we wish to persuade or dissuade, using amplification. Then after the division80 of the subject-matter (or the division may be omitted), a reason or several reasons must be added, and proof joined to the reasons. Sometimes a second set of proofs is appended to the first. Next we shall enrich the subject-matter with examples, authority, proverbs, wise sayings, comparisons, contrasts, and opposites. We shall combine these in such a way that we pass from reason to comparison, from comparison to example, from example back to reason, either the same one

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couched in other words or another one. For reasons sometimes originate from examples. Similarly, it is fitting to associate reasons with authority and wise sayings. I have already spoken about the variety of examples. Comparisons are derived from all kinds of things, so it will be an advantage to be well acquainted with the species and natures of as many living creatures, plants, and other things as possible as well as having a stock of impressive passages from philosophers and orators, theologians and historians. If we are skilled in combining all of these we shall never be at a loss for words, and by variety we shall easily avoid satiety. In this variety we shall make careful use of rhetorical elaboration and inference. The following will serve as an example of this brief set of rules. 47 / An example of a letter of persuasion1 'Although in your exceptional wisdom, my beloved kinsman, you are wise enough of yourself and need no counsel from others, yet I thought I owed it to our long friendship, which, beginning almost from the cradle,2 has grown through the years, and to your great kindness to me, and lastly to our very close relationship, that I should give you willing and frank advice in matters which I judged to be of great importance for the honour and welfare of you and your family, if indeed I wished to be the grateful and appreciative friend you have always considered me to be. There are times when we perceive others' interests better than our own. I have very often followed your advice in my affairs and have found out that it was as fruitful as it was friendly. Now if you in turn are willing to follow mine in your own affairs, I think that in the outcome I shall not be sorry for having given the advice nor you for having followed it. On 8 April, when I was at my house in the mountains, Antonius Baldus, who as you know has your interests very much at heart and who has from the first been intimately connected with your family, had dinner with me. It was a joyless and tearful repast. He told me to our great mutual sorrow that your mother, a woman of great virtue, had departed this life; that your sister, overcome with grief and loneliness, had joined a group of women vowed to virginity, and that consequently the hope of prolonging your line had fallen upon you alone. He also informed me that your friends were of one accord in recommending to you, with the offer of a large dowry, a girl of noble birth, exceptional beauty, and excellent character, and who was very much in love with you, but that you, whether from inability to master your grief or from religious scruples, were so set on remaining celibate that neither devotion to your family, nor desire for offspring, nor the advice, prayers, and tears of your friends could induce you to abandon your resolve. Nevertheless, perhaps on my advice you will change your mind and

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renounce the single state, a barren way of life hardly becoming to a man, and surrender yourself to holy wedlock. I do not wish in this exhortation to use to my advantage the dearness of your family, which for that matter should have prevailed over your feelings, or my own influence, but I shall show by the clearest of proofs that this alternative would be far more honourable, profitable, and pleasant for you, and, one might add, necessary even in this day and age. First of all, if you are moved by considerations of honour, which should be a matter of primary importance among men of upright life, what is more honourable than marriage, which was honoured by Christ himself, who not only thought it fit to be present at a wedding3 together with his mother, but also sanctified the wedding feast with the first fruits of his miracles? What could be holier than that which the father of all creation founded, enjoined, and sanctified, and which nature herself consecrated? What is more worthy of praise, when those who find fault with it are condemned for heresy? Marriage is as honourable as the name of heretic is infamous.4 What is more just than to return to posterity what we ourselves have received from our forebears? What is more ill-advised than in the pursuit of sanctity to shun as unholy what God himself, the source and father of all holiness, wished to be held most holy? What is more inhuman than to shrink from the laws of the human condition? What is more ungrateful than to deny to one's descendants that which you would not be able to deny if you had not received it from your ancestors? If we seek the author of marriage, we discover that it was founded and instituted not by Lycurgus,5 or Moses, or Solon,6 but by the sovereign maker of all things, and from the same it received praise, and by the same it was made honourable and holy. In the beginning, when he created man out of clay, God realized that man's life would be thoroughly unhappy and unpleasant unless he joined Eve to him as a companion. Therefore he did not bring man's wife out of the clay from which he had brought man, but out of Adam's ribs, so that we might clearly understand that nothing should be dearer to us, nothing more closely joined, nothing more tightly glued to us than a wife. After the flood, when God was reconciled to the race of mortals, he proclaimed, as we read, as his first law, not that they should embrace celibacy, but that they should "increase and multiply and replenish the earth."7 But how could they, unless they gave thought to wedlock? And without adducing the freedom of the Mosaic law or the necessity of those times as a reason, what other meaning can be attributed to the approval of Christ repeated and confirmed in the gospel writings? "For this cause," he says, "shall a man leave father and mother and cleave to his wife/'8 What is

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more holy than loyalty to one's parents? Yet conjugal fidelity is preferred to this. On whose authority? On God's authority, to be sure. At what time? Not only in the time of Judaism but also during the Christian era. Father and mother must be abandoned, and one must cleave to one's wife. A son set free begins to be his own master. A son disowned ceases to be a son. But death alone dissolves wedlock, if indeed it does dissolve it. It is only dissolved9 in the case of those who seek another marriage. As long as wedded love persists, the marriage is not considered to be dissolved. Now if the other sacraments, which are the chief support of the church of Christ, are observed with scrupulous respect, who cannot see that much reverence is due this one, which was instituted by God before all the others? The rest were instituted upon earth, but this in paradise; the rest for a remedy, this for partnership in happiness. The rest were provided for fallen nature, this alone was granted for its preservation. If we hold as sacrosanct laws passed by mortals, will not the law of wedlock have the most sanctity of all, because we have received it from the giver of life, and because it alone came into existence almost simultaneously with the human race itself? Finally, to strengthen the law by example, when Christ was invited as a young man to a marriage feast (as was mentioned above), he attended willingly with his mother; and not only did he attend, but he honoured it by an extraordinary favour,10 choosing no other occasion to inaugurate his miracles. "Why then," you will say, "did Christ himself abstain from wedlock?" As if indeed there were not very many aspects of Christ's life which should excite our wonder rather than our imitation. He was born without a father, was given birth without pain to his mother, and came forth from a sealed sepulchre. What is there in him that is not above nature? Such attributes belong to him alone. Let us who live under the law of nature look up to those things that are above nature, but emulate what is within our capacity. "But he chose to be born of a virgin." Yes, of a virgin, but a married virgin. A virgin mother befitted God; the fact that she was married signified the path we should follow. The state of virginity befitted the woman who by the inspiration of the heavenly spirit was to bear, herself immaculate, an immaculate child. Yet Joseph her spouse commends to us the laws of chaste wedlock. How could Christ have better commended the union of wedlock than through the mystery of that joining, stupendous even to angelic minds, of divine nature with a human body and soul; or in declaring his amazing and undying love for his church, what greater commendation than to call himself its husband and the church his bride? "Marriage is a great sacrament,"11 says Paul, "in Christ and the church." If there had been any holier bond in the universe, any stricter compact than wedlock, he would

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certainly have taken his illustration from that. What do we read like this concerning celibacy anywhere in the sacred writings? Wedlock is called honourable, and the marriage bed undefiled12 by the apostle Paul/3 but celibacy is never even named there. Nor is it excused except by the compensation of a greater good. In all other respects one who follows the law of nature and procreates children is to be preferred to one who perseveres in the single state simply in order to have a more independent life. We read that men who are truly chaste and virgins are praised, but celibacy in itself receives no praise.14 Now the law of Moses curses barren wedlock/5 and we read that some were excluded from the public altars on this account. For what reason then? Simply because like useless drones living for themselves they increased the race by no offspring. In Deuteronomy16 it is set forth as the greatest proof of God's blessing for the Israelites that no one among them would be barren, neither male nor female. Leah17 is said to have been despised by her lord for not bearing children. Moreover in the Psalms18 a wife's fruitfulness is included among the principal portions of blessedness. "Your wife," says the psalmist, "is like a fruitful vine, your sons are like olive shoots round your table." But if the law19 condemns and stigmatizes a barren marriage, it has condemned the unmarried much more severely. If nature is not exempt from penalty, still less will personal inclination escape it. If those whose good will has been thwarted by nature are subject to condemnation, what do those deserve who have made no efforts to avoid sterility? The laws of the Hebrews20 awarded this privilege to marriage, that one who had taken a bride would not be compelled to go to war that same year. The state is in danger unless there are those to protect it by force of arms, but its destruction is assured unless there are those who through the benefit of wedlock make up for the loss of young manhood diminished by death. Roman laws21 also inflicted a penalty22 upon those who were unmarried, and excluded them from the offices of the state.23 But those who had enriched the state with children were decreed a reward from public funds as having served it well. Proof of this is the law of three children,24 not to mention others. The early laws imposed penalties on the unmarried, which, though modified by the emperor Constantine25 in deference to the Christian religion, still prove how detrimental it was to the republic that the state either be reduced in numbers through the desire for the single life or be populated with bastards. Moreover, Augustus as censor26 took proceedings against a soldier on the grounds that he had disobeyed the laws in taking a wife, and his life would have been in danger had he not shown that he was the father of three children. The laws of the Caesars show favour towards

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the married state by the fact that they abolished the imposition of widowhood introduced by Miscella,27 and, removing all penalties, declared that agreements of this kind should be considered null and void because they had been entered into contrary to justice and equity. There is in addition the statement of Ulpian28 that dowry suits were always and everywhere awarded unique status, which would not have been so if there were no special advantages inherent in the state of matrimony. Wedlock was held in honour but fertility even more so. As soon as one acquired the name of father, he was made eligible for inheritance29 and every bequest, even one that had been rendered void,30 as is evident from the words of the satirist:31 "Through me you may become an heir / To all bequests, e'en those that fall by escheat." The three children's privilege brought more advantages, including exemption from serving on public missions. Five children32 secured exemption from personal obligations as well, such as guardianship.33 To those who had thirteen children the emperor Julian granted exemption not only from serving as decurion,34 but from any duties whatsoever. The wisest legislators make no secret of the reason for such great favour. What is more blessed than immortality? This gift, denied by nature, is bestowed artificially on the state by marriage as far as it lies in its power. Who does not wish to be remembered by posterity? No arches, pyramids, or inscriptions prolong our memory more surely than does the begetting of children. Albinus35 won his case before the emperor Hadrian with nothing else in his favour except that he had bequeathed numerous offspring to his country. For this reason the emperor, at the expense of the public treasury, allowed the children to inherit their father's property in its entirety, because he perceived that the empire received greater support from the begetting of children than from the accretion of money. Finally, other laws are not suited to all places and all times; the law of wedlock alone concerns all nations in the world for all time. Lycurgus36 passed laws that those who did not take wives should be excluded in summer from games and public shows, and in winter should go about the forum without clothing, and admit with curses upon their own heads that they were suffering a just penalty for not obeying the laws. If you now want to know the value placed on marriage by the ancients, consider the penalty for a violated marriage. The Greeks once decreed that the violation of the rights of marriage had to be vindicated by a ten years' war. In addition, not only Roman law37 but the laws of the Hebrews38 and the barbarian nations prescribed capital punishment for adulterers. A thief was penalized by a fourfold39 repayment; an adulterer's crime was expiated by execution. Among the Hebrews stoning at the hands of the people was the fate of one who violated the institution without which the people would no longer exist. Not content with this, the severity of the laws allowed for an

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adulterer caught inflagrante to be stabbed to death without trial and without legal rights, evidently according to a husband's indignation what it grants only reluctantly to a man defending his own life from danger, which shows that the taking away of a wife was viewed as a more grievous wrong than the taking of a life. Certainly wedlock must be considered an institution of the greatest sanctity if its violation must be expiated by human blood, and the avenging of it need not await laws or judgment, a right which does not exist even in the case of parricide. Yet why be concerned with written laws? This is the law of nature, not inscribed on any bronze tablets, but deeply implanted in our minds; if anyone does not obey it, he should not even be considered human, much less a good citizen. For if, as the Stoics, the most perceptive of philosophers, maintain, to live rightly is to follow the instigations of nature, what is so consistent with nature as marriage? For nothing has been so firmly implanted by nature, not only in mankind but in all living things, as the instinct in each of them to preserve its own species from destruction and render it in some way immortal by the propagation of offspring. Everyone must know that this cannot come about without the bond of wedlock. It seems all the more shameful that dumb herds should obey nature's laws, but men, like the giants, should declare war upon nature. If we look at creation with eyes that are not blinded, we shall understand that nature intended that there should be some kind of marital union in all species. I shall say nothing about trees, in which on the sure authority of Pliny40 sexual union is found with a clear distinction of sex, particularly in palm trees,41 so that unless the male tree42 rests the weight of its branches upon the female trees around it as if with the urge for intercourse these will certainly remain barren. The same writer points out that there are authorities who believe that there is a male and female sex in everything the earth produces.43 I say nothing about precious stones,44 in which the same author says sex is to be found, and he is not alone. Has not God linked all things by certain ties so that they seem to need each other? What of the heavens turning45 with continual motion? Does it not play the part of a husband as it fructifies the earth, parent of all things, beneath it, making it produce every manner of thing by the infusion of its seed? But it would take too long to run through every detail. What is the point of all this? Simply to have you understand that all things exist and are bound together in the association of wedlock; that without this they all dissolve, perish, and fall away. The tale is devised by those wise poets of antiquity, who took pains to clothe the teaching of philosophy in the wrappings of fable, that giants,46 the serpent-footed sons of earth, piled up mountains to the sky and waged war with the gods. What is the meaning of

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this story? Evidently it signifies that some monstrous, savage, and uncivilized men felt a great loathing for the harmony of wedlock, and for this were hurled down by a thunderbolt, that is, they perished utterly, since they shunned the sole means of preserving the human race. The same poets record that Orpheus, poet and lute-player, moved the hardest of stones with his singing. What did they mean? They meant to show that men as unfeeling as stone, who were living after the manner of wild beasts, were rescued from promiscuity47 by this wise and eloquent hero and initiated into the holy laws of marriage. It is clear that one who is not affected by the love of matrimony is more like a stone than a human being; he is an enemy of nature, a rebel against God who brings destruction upon himself by his own folly. For a man who plots the destruction of his race is crueler than one who plots only his own destruction.48 Come then, since we are entering into fables that have nothing of the fabulous about them, when the same Orpheus in the underworld had induced Pluto himself and the shades to allow him to carry off Eurydice, what was the poets'49 intention but to commend to us conjugal love, which even in the underworld was held to be holy and sacred? For this same reason antiquity set Jupiter Gamelius50 over the rite of marriage and named Juno Lucina,51 as divine pronuba,52 to be present with her divine assistance to those in childbirth. They erred, of course, in the names of the deities, owing to their superstitious beliefs; but they did not err in judging marriage to be a holy and worthy institution which is of concern to the gods. Rites and laws varied among peoples and nations, to be sure, but no race was ever so barbarous, so remote from all human feeling, that the name of wedlock was not regarded as holy and worthy of veneration among them. It was held sacred by Thracians, Sarmatians, Indians, Greeks, Latins, even by the "Britons who dwell at the ends of the earth,"53 or others even more remote than these, if they exist. Why is that so? Because all must share in common what was implanted by the common parent of men, so deeply implanted that this instinct is felt not only by pigeons and turtle-doves, but even by the wildest of beasts, since even lions are gentle towards their mates, and tigers fight for their cubs.54 The instinct to protect their young drives donkeys55 through fires that stand in their way. This is called the law of nature, and it is both efficacious and all-embracing. Therefore, just as a conscientious grower is not one who, content with things as they are, manages his fully grown trees with sufficient care but does not bother about propagating or grafting, with the result that within a few years his orchards, however carefully cultivated, must come to nothing; so a man must be reckoned as less than a conscientious citizen of his country who, content with the population as it is, takes no thought about adding to its number. No one has ever been held to

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be an outstanding citizen who has not made it his concern to produce children and educate them properly. Among the Hebrews and Persians it was to one's credit to have as many wives as possible, as if the country owed most to the man who had enriched it with the most numerous offspring. Surely you are not anxious to appear holier than Abraham himself? He would not have been called "the father of many generations"56 and that with God's own blessing, if he had shunned cohabitation with a wife. Surely you do not seek to be considered more scrupulous than Jacob, who did not hesitate to purchase the embraces of Rachel by such a lengthy servitude;57 or wiser than Solomon - yet what a large flock of wives58 he kept at home! Or more chaste than Socrates, who, we read, put up at home with the shrewish Xanthippe not so much, as he jokingly used to say, that he might learn tolerance at home but that he might not seem to have been delinquent in the service of nature. For the one man judged to be wise by the oracle of Apollo59 understood that he was begotten under this law, born for this law, and owed this debt to nature. For if what the ancient philosophers said was correct, if it was approved with good reason by our theologians, and if it was deservedly repeated everywhere in the form of a saying that neither God nor nature does anything without purpose, then why did nature assign us these members60 and add these incitements and this power of reproduction, if celibacy is to be considered praiseworthy? If someone gave you a splendid gift, a bow, or fine raiment, or a sword, you would seem unworthy of what you received if you were unwilling or unable to use it. Since everything else has been designed with a purpose, it hardly seems probable that in this one matter alone nature was asleep. I have no patience with those who say that sexual excitement is shameful and that venereal stimuli have their origin not in nature, but in sin. Nothing is so far from the truth. As if marriage, whose function cannot be fulfilled without these incitements, did not rise above blame. In other living creatures where do these incitements come from? From nature or from sin? From nature, of course. It must be borne in mind that in the appetites of the body there is very little difference between man and other living creatures.61 Finally, we defile by our imagination what of its own nature is fair and holy. If we were willing to evaluate things not according to the opinion of the crowd, but according to nature itself, how is it less repulsive to eat, chew, digest, evacuate, and sleep after the fashion of dumb animals, than to enjoy lawful and permitted carnal relations? "But one must obey virtue rather than nature." As if anything which is at variance with nature could be called virtue! For if it did not proceed from nature, there would be nothing that could be further perfected by training and discipline. But you are attracted by the mode of life of the apostles, who both embraced celibacy themselves and encouraged others to that kind of

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life. Indeed, let the apostles be imitated by apostolic men, who, since it is their mission to teach and instruct the populace, cannot at one and the same time satisfy both a flock and a wife. Yet it is known that some of the apostles had wives. Let us leave celibacy for bishops. Why do you observe the practice of the apostles when you are far removed from the apostolic function, being in fact a layman and a private individual? They were allowed the privilege of being free from the duties of wedlock, so that they might have more opportunity to produce a more plentiful offspring for Christ. Let that be the prerogative of priests and monks, who evidently have succeeded to the regimen of the Essenes.62 Your situation is quite different. "But Christ himself," you will say, "declared blessed those who became eunuchs63 for the kingdom of God's sake." I do not reject the authority of this statement, but I offer an interpretation of its meaning. First, I consider that this dogma of Christ pertains to those times when it was right for an ecclesiastic to be kept as free as possible from all worldly affairs. He had to run about from one country to another, threatened by persecutors on all sides. But nowadays conditions and times are such that you would not find anywhere a less defiled purity of morals than among the married.64 Let the swarms of monks and virgins exalt their own rule of life as they will, let them boast as much as they like of their liturgical functions and their acts of worship, in which they excel all others; the holiest kind of life is wedlock, purely and chastely observed. Besides, it is not only the one who lives unmarried who makes himself a eunuch, but one who in chaste and holy fashion carries out the duties of wedlock. I only wish those who conceal their vices behind the high-sounding name of castration, and under the pretence of chastity gratify worse lusts, were truly castrated. I do not think that it becomes my sense of modesty to describe the disgraceful actions which those who oppose nature often fall into. Lastly, Christ does not impose celibacy on anyone; he does, however, openly forbid divorce.65 In my view it would not be ill advised for the interests and morals of mankind if the right of wedlock were also conceded to priests and monks, if circumstances required it, especially in view of the fact that there is such a great throng of priests everywhere, so few of whom live a chaste life. How much better it would be to turn concubines into wives, so that the women they now keep dishonourably and with troubled conscience might be retained openly with honourable reputation; then they could beget children whom they could love as truly legitimate offspring and educate conscientiously, to whom they would not be a source of shame, and by whom they might be honoured in turn. And indeed, I think the representatives of the bishops would have seen to this long ago, were it not that concubines are a greater source of revenue66 than wives. "But virginity is a divine and angelic prerogative, while wedlock is

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merely human." I speak now as one man to another, as one commoner to another,67 as one weak mortal to another. Virginity is certainly worthy of praise, but on the condition that this praise is not transferred to the majority of mankind. If it were to become a general practice, what could be mentioned or imagined more destructive than virginity? Besides, if virginity were to merit special praise in all others, in your case it cannot escape censure, since the duty of preserving from extinction a family that is supremely worthy of immortality will devolve upon you alone. Finally, there is very little distinction between the praise due to virginity and that due to the man who keeps the laws of wedlock unsullied, who keeps a wife for bearing offspring, not for the purpose of lust. If a brother is bidden to raise up seed for a brother68 who has died without children, will you allow the hope of your whole line to perish, especially when it has fallen on you alone? I am not unaware that the praise of virginity has repeatedly been sung in huge volumes by the early Fathers, among whom Jerome69 admires it so much that he all but abuses marriage, and was summoned to recant by some orthodox bishops. However, let us make allowance for the fervour of those times; at the present time, I should wish that those who indiscriminately encourage to celibacy those who are not mature enough to know their own minds should direct similar efforts to presenting a picture of chaste and pure matrimony.70 The same individuals who are so pleased with virginity are not displeased with warring against the Turks,71 who outnumber us by so many; if their judgment is correct, it will follow that it should be considered especially right and honourable to strive with all one's might to produce children, and thus provide enough young men to serve in the war. Unless perhaps they think that artillery, missiles, and ships should be provided for this war, but that men are not needed. The same people approve of slaying heathen parents by the sword, so that it may be possible to baptize their children,72 who are unaware of their newly acquired religion. If that is true, how much more civilized it would be to obtain the same result by the office of wedlock! No nation73 is so barbarous that it does not execrate the killing of infants. The laws of princes punish with almost equal severity the inducing of abortion and sterility brought on by drugs. Why is that so? Because there is very little difference between the one who cuts short what has begun to be born and one who sees to it that there can be no birth. That which withers away within your body, or is destroyed at great risk to your health, or is ejected in sleep, would have been a human being if only you had been human. The literature of the Hebrews curses the man74 who, when told to consort with his dead brother's wife, spilled the seed upon the ground so that nothing would be born, and was judged unworthy of life as he had grudged life to a foetus yet to be born.

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How very little difference there is between him and those who impose perpetual sterility upon themselves! Does it not seem that they kill as many human beings as would have been born if they had attended to the begetting of children? I ask you, if anyone has a farm with naturally fertile soil that he allows to remain forever uncultivated and barren, should he not be punished by the law, as it is in the country's interests that each one should manage his property well? If a man is punished for neglecting a field that, even if fully cultivated, bears only wheat, or beans, or peas, what penalty does he deserve who refuses to cultivate a farm that when cultivated produces men? In the former case long and hard toil is required, in the latter cultivation is short, and also has the reward of pleasure as an added inducement. So if you are influenced at all by natural feelings, goodness, respect, piety, duty, and virtue, why do you shun what has been instituted by God, sanctioned by nature, prompted by reason, praised in divine and human writings alike, laid down by the law, ratified by the consensus of all peoples, and encouraged by the example of all good men? But even if many unpleasant things are to be sought after by a good man for no other reason than that they are honourable, then marriage, concerning which it is difficult to determine whether it contains more honour or pleasure, is all the more greatly to be desired. For what is sweeter than living with a woman with whom you are most intimately joined not merely by the bonds of affection but by physical union as well? If we derive much spiritual delight from the kindness of other close relatives and acquaintances, how much more pleasant to have someone with whom to share the secret feelings of the heart, with whom you may talk as if with yourself, to whose loyalty you can safely entrust yourself, who regards your fortune as her own! What happiness there is in the union of husband and wife, than which none greater nor more lasting exists in all of nature! For while we are linked with our other friends by benevolence of mind, with a wife we are joined by the greatest affection, physical union,75 the bond of the sacrament, and the common sharing of all fortunes. Moreover, how much pretence and bad faith there is in other friendships! Those whom we think to be our dearest friends fail us when fortune's breezes change, like swallows flying away at the end of the summer. At times a more recent friend displaces an old one. I have heard of few whose faithfulness persisted until life's end. The affection of a wife is not spoilt by faithlessness, is veiled by no pretence, is shattered by no change of fortune; in the end it is severed by death alone, or rather not even by death. She disregards her duties to her parents and sisters and brothers out of love for you, she looks up to you alone, she depends on you, with you she would fain die. If you have wealth, you have someone to look after it and increase it; if you have none, you have

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someone who can seek it for you. In times of prosperity, happiness is doubled; in adversity there will be someone to console and assist you, to show her devotion, to wish your misfortune hers. Do you think there is any pleasure to be compared with so close a union? If you are at home, she is there to dispel the tedium of solitude; if abroad, she can speed you on your way with a kiss, miss you when you are away, receive you gladly on your return. She is the sweetest companion of your youth, the welcome comfort of your old age. By nature any association is pleasant for man, seeing that nature begot him for kindness and friendship. Then how can this fail to be the most pleasant of all, in which there is nothing that is not shared? On the contrary, if we see that even the wild beasts dread loneliness and are pleased by companionship, in my view anyone who shuns this most honourable and joyful association should not be accounted as human. For what is more hateful than a man who, as though born for himself alone, lives for himself, looks out for himself, is sparing or lavish for himself, loves no one, and is loved by no one? Indeed, should not such a monster be thought fit to be driven away from the general fellowship of mankind into the midst of the sea along with the notorious Timon76 of Athens? I should not presume at this point to set before you those pleasures, the sweetest that nature has bestowed upon mankind, which men of great genius, for some reason or other, have chosen to ignore rather than despise. Yet, who has been born with so stern, not to say stolid, a nature as not to be attracted by pleasures of that kind, especially if they can be enjoyed without offence to God or man and without loss of reputation? Truly I should call him not a man, but a stone, even if bodily pleasure is but a small part of the benefits conferred by wedlock. Suppose, however, that you despise this as unworthy of a true man (though without it we do not deserve the name of true man); let it be set, if you wish, among the least advantages of wedlock, then what could be more lovely than chaste love, or, I should say, what more holy and more honourable? Meanwhile the pleasant throng of relatives grows larger. The number of parents, brothers, sisters, and nephews is doubled. For nature can grant only one mother and one father. By wedlock a second father and second mother are added, who cannot but attend you with unusual devotion, as one to whom they have entrusted their own flesh. Then what joy it will bring you when your beautiful wife makes you the parent of beautiful offspring; when some tiny Aeneas77 will play in your hall, who will recall your countenance and that of your wife and will call you by the name of "father" with sweet stammering? To the affection of wedlock there will be added a bond as adamant as steel which not even death can sever. "Happy those," says Horace/8 "three or more times over, / United by an unbroken bond / Whose

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love, unmarred by bitter strife / Will not release them till their dying day." You have those who will give delight to your old age, close your eyes and perform the obsequies, in whom you may seem to be born again, in whose survival you may even be thought not to have died. What you have amassed for yourself does not pass into the hands of alien heirs. Thus when one has the sense of having performed all of life's duties, not even death itself can seem harsh. Old age threatens all of us willy-nilly. In this manner nature has provided that we should grow young again in our children and grandchildren. For who would find old age a burden when he has seen in his son the very features he had as a young man? Death awaits us all.79 But in this way alone the providence of nature devises a kind of immortality, as it creates one thing from another in such a way that, just as when a shoot springs up again after a tree has been felled, one who dies leaving offspring behind him does not seem to have perished altogether. Yet I am well aware of the objections you are raising in the mean time. Wedlock is a blessed institution if all turns out favourably, but what if you end up with a difficult or shameless wife, or the children grow up to be disloyal? Cases of wedlock which brought ruin will come to mind. Magnify them as much as you will, these will prove to be faults of human nature, not of wedlock. Believe me, as a rule, only a bad husband gets a bad wife. Besides, it is within your power to choose a good one. What if she should be corrupted? A good wife can certainly be corrupted by a bad husband; a bad wife is usually reformed by a good husband. The accusations we bring against wives are false. No one, if you have faith in my words, ever had a wicked wife except through his own fault. Further, from good parents similar children are born, as a general rule. In fact, whatever their condition of birth, they turn out very much as one shapes them by education. There is no reason to be afraid of jealousy. That is the disease of those who love foolishly. Chaste and lawful love is innocent of jealousy. Why do tragic examples come to mind? This adulteress80 struck down her husband with an axe; this one got rid of hers by poison; that one through the repugnance of her character drove a man to his death. Why instead does not Cornelia,81 the wife of Tiberius Gracchus, come to mind? Why not Alcestis,82 the excellent wife of a not-so-excellent husband? Why not be put in mind of Julia,83 Pompey's wife, or Portia,84 the daughter of Cato? Why not Artemisia,85 worthy of an undying name? Why not Hypsicratea,86 wife of Mithridates, king of Pontus? Why does not the generosity of Aemilia Tertia87 come to mind? Or the faithful Turia?88 Why does Lucretia89 not present herself, and Lentula?90 Why not the famous Arria,91 celebrated by Pliny? Why not countless others whose virtue and good faith towards their spouses could not be altered even by death? You say, "An upright woman is 'a rare bird'92

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upon the earth." Make yourself worthy of a rare wife. As the wise man93 says, "A good woman is a good inheritance." Dare to hope for one worthy of your character. Much lies in the choice you make, what you make of her, and how you behave towards her. "But freedom is pleasanter," you will say. "Whoever takes a wife receives fetters that only death can shake off." But what pleasure can there be for a man who is alone? If freedom is pleasant, I think you should take a partner with whom you may be willing to share that benefit. Yet what is more free than a servitude in which each is so subject to the other that neither wishes to be set free? You are bound to one whom you admit to your friendship, but no one claims that his freedom has been taken away on this account. You are afraid that when your children are taken away by death, you may be plunged into grief in your bereavement. If you are afraid of bereavement, you should take a wife for that very reason, since she alone can guarantee your not being childless. Yet why do you inquire so thoroughly, nay, so anxiously, into all the disadvantages of marriage, as if celibacy had no disadvantages? As if there were any form of human existence not liable to all the hazards of fortune! One who wishes to suffer no ills must depart from this life. But if you are thinking of life in heaven, this mortal life must be called death, not life. If, however, you limit your considerations to the life of man, nothing is more secure, more tranquil, more pleasant, more attractive, or more blissful than wedded life. Consider94 the matter from its results. How few are there in your experience who, having once made trial of wedlock, are not eager to try it again! My friend Maurice,95 whose exceptional wisdom is well known to you, entered into matrimony with a new bride a month after the death of the wife whom he dearly loved. This was not because of his inability to resist sexual desire, but he said that life did not seem real to him without a wife to share all his fortunes. Is not our friend Jovius96 looking for a fourth wife? He was so deeply in love with them when they were alive that he seemed to admit of no consolation. Notwithstanding, when one died, he was quick to fill the loneliness of his marriage-bed, as if he had felt little love for them. But why are we discussing goodness and pleasure when not only advantage induces us, but necessity impels us to wedlock? Take away marriage, and within a very few years all of mankind must perish utterly. They say that when Xerxes,97 the famous king of the Persians, was gazing from a high place on his mighty array of men, he could not restrain his tears because sixty years from then not a single one of so many thousands would be alive. Why can we not perceive concerning the whole human race what he understood concerning his troops? If wedlock is taken away, of so many regions, provinces, kingdoms, cities, and assemblies how few will be left a century later!

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Let us go then and pay our homage to celibacy, since it is destined to visit eternal destruction on our race! What plague or pestilence sent by the gods above or below could be more pernicious? What more bitter consequences could be feared from any flood? What greater tragedy could be expected even if Phaethon's conflagration should return? In calamities of this kind much remains unharmed, but from the effects of celibacy nothing will be saved. We see what a procession of maladies, how many dangerous situations lie in wait for the meagre race of mankind night and day. How many are carried off by disease, swallowed up by the sea, or snatched away by war? I do not mention the deaths that occur every day. Death hovers all around us:98 it strikes, seizes, and hastens with all speed to end our race; and yet we admire celibacy and flee from wedlock! Or is it perhaps that the way of life of the Essenes" pleases us, or that of the Dulopolites,100 whose criminal race is being replenished by never failing numbers? Surely we are not waiting for some Jupiter to make us the same gift as he is supposed to have granted to the bees,101 of having young without intercourse, and gathering the seeds of our descendants from flowers with our mouths? Or do we expect that just as Minerva, as the poets tell, was born from the brain of Jupiter, so children will leap out of our heads? or lastly, trusting the stories of the ancients that men will be produced from the earth,102 like mice in Egypt,1C>3 or from the throwing of stones104 as in the fables,105 or from the hard trunks of trees?106 From the bosom of the earth many things are born without our cultivating them. Young shoots often sprout up beneath their parents' shade; but for man nature has willed that there should be this single method of propagation, that by the co-operation of husband and wife the race of mortals should be saved from destruction; but if men were to shun this after your example, not even what you so admire would be able to exist. Do you admire celibacy and respect virginity? But if you take away the practice of wedlock there will be neither unwedded nor virgins. Why then is virginity preferred and honoured if it involves the abolition of mankind?107 It has received praise, but in a given period of time and in few individuals. For God wished to show men a kind of picture and likeness of that life in heaven where no women marry108 or are given in marriage. But for an example a small number is suitable, a large one useless. Not every field, however fertile, is sown to sustain life; but some are neglected, others cultivated to please the eye; for the very abundance allows that in such a vast extent of arable land, a small part may be left barren. But if none were sown, who would not see that we should have to return to acorns? Similarly, amid such a great multitude of men celibacy in a few certainly merits praise, but if extended to all would deserve grievous censure. Now if in others virginity were to be esteemed a virtue, in your case it would definitely be a vice. For the others will seem to have been interested in

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leading a pure life; you will be judged the murderer of your line, because, when you were able to have offspring by honourable wedlock, you allowed it to die out through vile celibacy. It would be permissible from a large brood to consecrate a virgin to God. Countrymen offer the first fruits of their crops to the gods, but not the whole yield; you must remember that you are the sole remnant of your line. There is no difference between killing it off or refusing to preserve it, since you are the only one who could preserve it, and easily at that. But you protest that your sister's example encourages you towards celibacy. This very reason that you cite should have deterred you most of all from the state of celibacy. You are aware that the hope of your family, which previously was divided between the two of you, has now devolved entirely upon you alone. Some indulgence should be granted to her sex and her years. The girl did wrong because she was overcome with grief; at the instance of foolish women or foolish monks she threw herself into it headlong. You who are the elder must remember that you are a man. She has wished to die together with her ancestors; you will make sure that they do not die. Your sister has withdrawn from her duty; consider now that you must play the part of two. The daughters of Lot109 did not hesitate to consort with their drunken father, judging it better, even through unholy incest, to take thought for the race than to allow it to die off. Will you not, by a marriage that is honourable, holy, modest, without offence, and that promises great satisfaction, take thought for your family, which otherwise is doomed to extinction? So let us allow those to imitate the example of Hippolytus110 in the pursuit of celibacy who can be husbands, but not fathers, or whose slender means are insufficient for rearing children, or whose line can be continued through the instrumentality of others, or else is of such a kind that the country is the better for its extinction rather than its continuance, or who by some special favour of the eternal Godhead have been set apart from the general lot of mankind and marked out for some heavenly function - and their number is amazingly small.111 In your case, on the evidence of a doctor who is quite skilled and honest, you seem to give promise of a large posterity; you have means that are abundant, and an excellent and distinguished line, which cannot be blotted out without the commission of a wicked crime and without grave consequences for the country. Then too your age is sound, good looks are not wanting, and you have the opportunity to take as a wife a girl as virtuous and distinguished as your fellow-citizens have ever seen, pure, modest, respectful, divinely beautiful, with an abundant dowry. Although your friends beg you, your kinsfolk shed tears, your relatives press you, your country requests it, and the very ashes of your ancestors

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implore this of you from the tomb, do you still hesitate and still contemplate celibacy? If what was asked of you were something dishonourable or difficult, still the prayers of your kin or the affection of your family should have prevailed over your desire. How much more reasonable it is that the tears of your friends, respect for your country, and your affection for your ancestors should win from you a decision to which you are urged by laws divine and human alike, impelled by nature, led by reason, drawn by honour, attracted by so many advantages, and even compelled by necessity itself? But this is more than enough argument. I am certain that you have long since changed your mind at my prompting, and have turned your thoughts to more useful plans.' It will be of great advantage to be thoroughly practised in this persuasive class, by far the most useful and most important of all. First one must give careful thought to exactly what it is that one wishes to persuade someone to do. Next we shall carefully bring together all the advantages inherent in it and enlarge upon them; on the other hand, we shall either de-emphasize or ignore any disadvantages that might seem capable of discouraging him, mustering as many reasons, proofs of reasons, and amplifications as we can. The commonplaces included must suit the subject, *12 as in this example it wa fitting to use the theme that the instinct to propagate one's own species is present in all things; also that the human race is worn down by a thousand maladies and a thousand mischances; that nothing in this life is pleasant without a partner; that old age and death are easier to bear if one has children. Finally one must see by what forms of argumentation or with what embellishments the material that has been thought out can be presented most advantageously. 48 / The dissuasive class In dissuasion we shall gather together all the disadvantages. I shall demonstrate briefly later how these are to be discovered; they should be thought out and kept ready at hand, so to speak. The teacher should propose a cleverly contrived discussion, a summary of reasons, examples, and parallels; and if he wishes, he may point out the arrangement in a few words, leaving the rest to the pupils' ingenuity. Next he should criticize their arguments, and then tell them to write a recantation. Sometimes, to sharpen their wits, he should propose disagreeable subjects. One might be asked, for instance, to defend poverty, exile, ingratitude, illness, contempt of study, neglect of language, or tyranny, or to argue that an old man should

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marry an old woman, or bring home a lewd wife. For nothing is so inherently good that it cannot be made to seem bad by a gifted speaker. By such practice both fluency and readiness in speaking on any topic will be acquired. Just now I wrote in favour of marriage, and gathered together many advantages of that way of life, while on the contrary I enlarged upon the disadvantages of celibacy. The disadvantages of marriage, which I partly de-emphasized and partly refuted there, will have to be amplified in the recantation; the advantages, on the other hand, will have to be strongly depreciated or shown not to be advantages. How, then, shall we go about composing this recantation? Either, assuming the same circumstances, we shall turn the same argument the other way round, or we shall invent a friend who is in doubt about which life he wishes to embrace or has already made up his mind to marry. In order to acquire skill in constructing arguments from circumstances, we shall present a theme made up of definite persons, like this: Peter, youngest of several brothers, a youth of exceptional ability and already initiated into learning, is recalled from school at his mother's insistence, and is also urged by her to take a wife, a girl who is both wealthy and very beautiful. His father does not oppose either his wife or his son, but gives the boy a free choice. An intimate companion of his own age and fellow-student writes to him trying to turn him away from marriage. To show that wedlock is the most miserable of conditions, he will bring together all the hardships of that way of life, beginning with the nature of wedlock itself, showing how it is a servitude that once contracted is inescapable. For no servitude can fail to be miserable, since nature has created man with an instinct for freedom. At this point a commonplace of wide application comes to mind. 'While all servitude is miserable, that sort in which we are forced to be slaves to mere women is least becoming a true man. Worse yet, it is a mutual servitude. There is the further disadvantage that you are forced to keep and feed the woman you serve. In other forms of servitude slaves depend upon their masters, but she depends on you. Previously you went where you wished, you dined where you wished, you lived with whom you wished, and the same was true of your rovings, petty amusements, banqueting, sports, and conversations. Now you must sit at home, dine at home, sleep at home, and live in compliance with her wishes.1 If you do this, where is that sweet liberty? But if you do not, a tirade awaits you2 at home and you will have to listen to the abuse of a quarrelsome wife.' The theme can be developed by comparison. 'A slave, whether born in the household or purchased, hopes for freedom either on payment of a price or from his master's kindness; here death alone has the right to grant release. "But she is beautiful and will certainly be a source of pleasure." No! If she is

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beautiful, you cannot avoid certain misery. For if she were ugly, she would give you less pleasure, but then she would cause less anguish from fear, and would be less impudent. As it is, since she is aware of her beauty, she will be far more insolent. Then if she is not virtuous, how can your life be happy? If she is virtuous (and I question this possibility), you will be forever tortured by fear that she does not love you enough, or is being seduced, or is undergoing a change of heart. If you do not love her, it is miserable living with one whom you do not love. But if you do love her, love brings with it many disadvantages, suspicions, wrongs, quarrels, disputes, and so on. Besides it is folly to love one's fetters, though they be made of gold.3 What does it matter whether you are strangled by a rope of flax or of silk?' Then you will play down the aspect of sensual pleasure, which you will say is not worth the price of so much suffering. Tor it is thoroughly brutish, disgusting, with more of the bitter than the sweet,4 and unworthy of great minds. Is this one pleasure of such value that you should abandon others that are much more enjoyable, and incur so many miseries?' Here again there is room for another commonplace against the pleasure that comes from intercourse, which some have not ineptly called 'a form of epilepsy/ and Plato 'the bait of all evils.'5 Nothing does more to dull the mind's activity, to weaken bodily strength and to hasten old age. After this he should show that it is a very dangerous gamble. Here he will insert a passage on the hateful vices of the female sex, how few good, modest women there are to be found, how few men who do not regret that they entered upon wedlock. He will expose to view these all too common experiences, that wives are quarrelsome, impudent, shameless, and, to put it briefly, of such morals that they often drive husbands to their death; then there are the constant complaints, reproaches concerning the dowry, the tiresome haughtiness of relatives, the loose tongue of a mother-in-law that undermines another person's marriage, undutiful and profligate children, and many other topics assembled by Juvenal,6 Tertullian,7 Jerome,8 and others who have turned their powers of eloquence to the vilification of marriage. Now, going one step further, he will proceed to the unfortunate consequences attendant even on a happy marriage - greater worries about household affairs, ambition to increase one's means and attain public office, to which he is driven by his wife's fruitfulness; the illnesses of his children or his wife, death, grief, and bereavement. On the other hand what pleasure there is in learning! No one can at the same time be devoted both to his wife and to the Muses. What true worth and what happiness in virginity! Here he should enumerate by means of comparison what he is giving up and what he is taking upon himself.

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' "But without marriage the human race cannot continue in existence" as if indeed there were any lack of persons to perform that function! Leave that to others born for worldly affairs; you have been created for a divine and heavenly mission. You have brothers who can see to the propagation of your line, your part is to shed lustre upon it by learning, not by offspring. You wil gain more sons by your services than a wife can bear. Often too those whom you have acquired love you more faithfully than those you have begotten. Reckon that you have as many sons as the boys and young men whom you have brought by your teaching to honourable learning and an upright life. These do not burden a "parent" with expense, or torment him with worry about their keep, but rather sustain him.' Here a commonplace is appropriate, that he who shapes and fashions the mind9 is far more truly a father than he who begets the body. You can provide examples for all these single points and apply the various devices I suggested for adorning the language. These general indications should suffice, for I do not wish to burden the reader unduly. 49 / The letter of consolation Since the life of mortals is full of misfortunes all round and few may be found who are not dissatisfied with their lot, no obligation arises more often than that of comforting our friends with consoling words. Timely and friendly consolation is no ordinary act of kindness; for in times of distress, when it is not possible to remedy the anguish of those whom we love through deeds, it at least enables us to ease their sufferings by words. Yet we must perform this duty skilfully, lest like unskilled doctors we aggravate rather than alleviate a wound that is still raw and fresh. Accordingly, there will be a threefold method1 of giving consolation. One is open and straightforward, in which we use proofs to show that there is no reason to feel grief, since no sadness can befall a wise man except disgrace and he can be harmed by no one but himself. We shall make use of strong medicines of this kind when we have a philosopher or a man of good sense to deal with. When the spirit is too weak or the pain too fresh or too severe to be dealt with openly, or when the mind of the person we console is too noble to wish to appear in need of one to console him, an indirect approach is needed. For just as some individuals are endowed with so lofty a mind that even when seriously ill they are ashamed to call a doctor because they consider it cowardly and humiliating for a brave man to be ill, there are those who from a kind of noble shame suppress and conceal even the greatest mental anguish. With such a person we must use a very discreet approach, saying that we do not write to

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give consolation, since we have witnessed many proofs of his remarkable wisdom, and the unshakeable greatness of his soul, which is stronger than all the storms of fortune; and that even if we admit that the misfortune is so grave that it would easily cast down anyone else, yet we have no doubt that a man trained from boyhood in the teachings of true philosophy, taught by long experience, and possessed of invincible strength of character will bear courageously what cannot be avoided in the course of human events; that we wish to congratulate him on his fortitude rather than heal his sorrow. In the first case we shall give comfort in such a way as to transfer to ourselves the feelings of the person we wish to console, so adapting our language that we seem to wish rather to give in to our own grief than to assuage his sorrow. In this manner Cicero2 pretended in his pleading for Milo to shift fear to himself, so that he could remove fear from the minds of the judges. For persons plunged into grief must be treated in exactly the same way as those whose deranged state of mind leads them to believe that they have horns, or too long a nose, or are dead, or are made of clay. They dislike those who disagree with them, and like those who humour their fancy by dissembling. Hence those who are eager to cure them sometimes pretend that they themselves are victims of the same evil. Then once they have gained their good will, they easily convince them of the cure, and by this gradual approach remove the false imaginings in the end. This is how one must deal with those whose state of mind does not yet permit the hand of the healer. We shall say that we are not fit to give consolation ourselves, as we feel as much mental anguish as the person whom we ought to comfort. Then we shall also exaggerate the causes of the pain, drawing the material for this exaggeration not merely from the misfortune itself, but also from the unjust deserts of the one who is suffering, and we shall say, not without a hint of praise, that his trouble is a cause of affliction to a great many prominent men. Once this has been done, we shall apply the cure; at this point we shall carefully marshall all the arguments that may serve to soothe the pain. This will be effected if we can with some semblance of truth diminish the actual evil that has been incurred, and minimize as far as we can the good fortune that has been lost. We shall lessen the evil by showing that it will be of short duration. For we usually bear more patiently troubles that we think will soon come to an end, especially if it can be shown that there is hope that something better will follow on present misfortune. At this point we shall carefully examine all the inferences that may lend the greatest probability to that hope. The sources of conjectures are shown very clearly in the teaching of the rhetoricians about conjectural issues,3 and many letters of Cicero can serve as models, in particular the letter to Caecina,4 in which he

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seems to produce the same effect in his own witty fashion, while pretending to give instruction in the art of augury.5 In all of this we shall add a touch of flattery. But if the misfortune seems to be one that will last, we shall use other methods of alleviating it. We shall endeavour to show either that it is not really a misfortune at all, or that it is not so serious as it appears. This may be achieved by pointing out in detail, with some amplification, any possible advantages that may result from it. For there is no evil so grave that some advantage may not be reaped from it. If we say that nothing that befalls a man without his responsibility can be regarded as evil, in accordance with Aristotle's teaching6 that the remembrance of evils joined with good reason is pleasant, then we can bear more lightly hardships that are not brought on through our own fault. It is here that the reasoning of the philosophers and especially of the Stoics will be most helpful, if we show that such a calamity will either benefit his reputation, or constitutes a step taken7 in the direction of the greatest good. The greatest virtue and the greatest happiness often start out from the hardest beginnings; and we shall prove this by examples, if we say, theologizing, that favouring deities have sent such a storm, which is troublesome to the body but salutary to the soul. According to Cicero,8 nothing relieves pain so much as the remembrance of our common condition, which is like a universal law of humanity; so we shall show that our correspondent shares this suffering with the whole race of mankind, or certainly with a great many celebrated and outstanding men. At this point we shall multiply examples of famous men who fell into the same or a similar state of grief and who bore it with a courageous spirit, to their great credit. Finally we shall come to the exhortation, and we shall recall him to his former mental endurance, nobility of character, wisdom, and learning. In conclusion we shall offer all our assistance, interest, and care to himself, his children, and his relatives. In giving consolation all witticisms must be strictly avoided, unless it is only a slight misfortune, where a joke may bring some cheer. In that case, provided that the recipient of the letter is the sort of person who is amused by such things, the jesting must be very gentle, and of such a nature that we combine true consolation with the pleasantries. Moreover, we must take care not to seem to be giving advice rather than friendly consolation, unless the person to whom we write is a very close friend, and not to give orders like the healthy to the sick, or mention our own happiness or that of others, or clumsily imitate Virgil's9 Tityrus: 'Meliboeus, a god has given us this peace.' For just as companionship alleviates misery, so the mentioning of another's exemption from harm aggravates grief. Since I think I have given enough attention to the precepts, I shall add an example. Canidius, a celebrated man in his own country, driven out by the

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hatred of hostile factions and exiled to distant lands, leaving behind his wife and young children, is consoled by a friend. [AN EXAMPLE] 'I recognize that I owe you my duties of sympathy in your very sad misfortune, since I have often received the kindest comfort from you in my own grief, yet it is a source of joy to me that you have no need of it. I hear that you are bearing your exile so sensibly and courageously that we who are so grieved at your loss are more in need of the support of your consolation than you of ours. Indeed, gallant man that you are, your behaviour is not unworthy of your training. For you have prepared your mind so well from boyhood both in the excellent teachings of your ancestors and the principles of philosophy that no wind of fortune, if it be favourable, can raise you up, or if adverse, cast you down. Not that I think that you are completely insensitive to so painful a wound, for that would signify a senseless rather than a superior mind. For who is so hard-hearted that he would not be profoundly affected by such ingratitude when, as in your case, he received the most outrageous treatment in return for such great services to his country? Who has ever drunk so large a draught of forgetfulness from the famous river Lethe that he was possessed by no longing for his native land, his friends, his wife, and his children? How could the wound inflicted on you cause you no pain when it gives pain to so many good men, not only members of your family, but even strangers? So if I should tell you not to feel pain, I should seem quite devoid of human feeling. Yet I would venture to assert that there are very many reasons why you should bear your great trouble with restraint; and even if it seemed that it would be lasting, yet there would be reasons for you to take comfort. I mean particularly your virtue, learning, and awareness of your own rectitude - the truest and readiest consolation in misfortune. I confidently predict and expect that we will soon congratulate you on a most honourable return, and that everyone will judge that your rivals, who thought they were destroying your well-being, have greatly enhanced your reputation. That you may not think my prophecy to be without foundation I foresee this outcome by very certain signs, in part your own virtue and supreme services to the country, and in part the present political situation. For our country has found in you both in peace and in war such wisdom, integrity, and energy, that even if you by your greatness of spirit could easily do without your native land, it surely could endure the loss of such a citizen no longer. "Why then," you will say, "has it expelled a man who served it well?" You are acquainted with the storms of political life, and you are not

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unfamiliar with the fickle moods of the common people, who are as unstable as the heavens, and award favour or disfavour at the merest whim. Human nature is such that we cannot bear the splendour of virtue when it is with us, or the lack of it when it is gone. As Horace10 says, "We hate it in our midst / We long for it when gone." The Roman state, which in time of peace could not suffer the brilliance of the great Camillus," was compelled to recall him in time of crisis, and the country that showed such wisdom on other occasions could not understand what kind of a citizen it had possessed until it had driven him out. So after they had restored his citizenship in his absence and voted him a dictatorship that he did not seek, the supreme military command, which was being abandoned by the citizens, was defended by an exile. Socrates, the best man ever to walk the earth, was condemned to take poison by the Eleven12 on the false accusation of Anytus and Meletus;13 and when the Athenian state began to feel his loss, suddenly the attitude of everyone changed, and a public attack was made upon the accusers. Statues of Socrates were set up. They came to their senses too late to be of any use to Socrates; but you have not yet fallen so far that you cannot easily be reinstated. Already many who chafed at your brilliant prestige in the republic are distressed at losing you; members of the opposing faction, partly giving in to the entreaties of friends, partly changed through your absence or through the passing of time, have laid aside their hatred, and a number have come over to the side of your friends. There is certainly no one whose dislike has not abated. Very opportunely for our purpose, a great and dangerous war is arising against those very enemies who, as they remember, were once subdued by your valour. Since the country will be in great need of your assistance in this war, I feel justifiably confident that after being driven out by ungrateful citizens you will be called back with humble supplications, so that the bitterness of expulsion will be less than the glory of your recall. That is my prophecy; mine in a general manner of speaking, for there is not a single friend of yours who does not hope for it, not a single enemy who does not fear it. If I had even the slightest doubts in this matter, I should not use any other remedies than these, from which I see that you as a man of courage readily draw strength, and on which I myself rely every day, as I strongly suspect you do also. Philosophy is the best giver of consolation;14 for it does not relieve each trouble singly by useless palliatives, but arms the mind against all the assaults of fortune. Since from the very cradle you have been nurtured on her milk, as we might say, why do I set a sow to teach Minerva15 or carry owls to Athens?16 Yet such is your forebearance that, as the proverb goes, though already mindful, you will let yourself be reminded/7 to wit, that a man's happiness lies not in the caprice of fortune but in his mental outlook. Fortune

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can take away country, wealth, honours, and all the rest of her gifts, but can neither give nor take away a discerning mind. You should reflect that all your protection is placed in yourself; that to a philosopher nothing unpleasant can happen but disgrace; that virtue, being self-sufficient, does not depend on the mutability of chance. Committing an action that is deserving of punishment should be considered an evil, not being punished. You should clothe yourself in your own virtue. Is exile painful? You are not unhappy when you suffer what you do not deserve; far more wretched are those who have turned out a man who does not deserve it. For it is much more wretched to inflict a wrong than to suffer it. Thankless fellow-citizens have taken your country away from you; they could not and cannot take away your loftiness of mind, virtue, integrity, learning, and honourable reputation. Still, the very fact of being in exile pains you, since you deserve so well of the country you have so often saved by your valour. But that should relieve your distress all the more. When Socrates/8 a man lauded for his integrity, was about to drink the poison, he reproved his wife, who was wailing and lamenting that though innocent he was going to die: "You foolish woman," he said, "would you prefer me to die guilty?" "What comes from just deserts19 one must endure / But undeserved punishment brings pain." This is the vulgar opinion and it is very foolish. What greater consolation could there be for the philosopher than the consciousness of right conduct; when this is present, even "if the heavens20 should break and crash around him / Its ruin will strike him unafraid." "To the brave21 every land is his country." Poverty, exile, and war are not evils, but the occasion for virtue. For strength of mind thrives and is nurtured in adversity, like a holm-oak, which spreads its branches wider "the harder it is hewn22 by the rugged axe." Darius23 used to say that he became wiser through adversity. I hold that many distinguished men have become not only wiser, but also more famous through the harshness of fortune. Could Hercules' fame have spread throughout the world if Juno had not placed so many monsters in his path as the material, so to speak, of his valour? I consider that Ulysses gained an undying name not so much from his warlike deeds as from his enduring the trials by which he was buffeted for ten years. Evils themselves sometimes end happily, and are sent by favouring deities. I could mention many whose exile turned out in such a way that it seemed to have been desirable, since they had lived in obscurity or unpopularity in their own country, but attained great wealth and the highest offices in a foreign land. Driven into exile by his fellow-citizens, Claudius,24 a man of noble rank, was welcomed into Gaul. Now he is so wealthy and famous in exile that not only does he not miss his native country, but he is even sorry

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that he did not leave it earlier. Bishop Pierre d'Ailly25 was turned out by the city of Cambrai, and Rome made him a cardinal instead of an exile. Among our contemporaries many obstacles face those who strive after the glory of virtue, namely, rivalry, envy, and lastly a kind of satiety of virtue and brilliant achievements. Therefore, since you have lost none of the things you have always admired and in which you thought happiness should be placed, there is no reason for your being greatly depressed by these accidents, to which nature has intended that the whole human race should be liable. For we are all born under this condition, that we are subject to all the accidents of fortune. It has thus pleased fortune, indulging its whim in human affairs, to raise up the unworthy, to cast down the most deserving, and to mingle joys with sorrows. What can seem bitter when this is the common lot of everyone? Look back over both ancient and recent history. What king, what leader, what famous man will you find who was exempt from this harsh sport of fortune? How often has it not made the master into a slave, the king a prisoner, the consul a speech-maker, the triumphant general an exile, the saviour of the country into its enemy? Did Greece ever have a nobler or more courageous man than Alcibiades?26 Yet when he had stirred up unpopularity by his brilliant career, he was cast into exile from the country on which he had conferred the lustre of many victories. Because he was commonly given the surname of "the Just" for the unblemished integrity of his character, Aristides27 was ostracized through envy and ordered to leave his country. Who was more just than Phocion?28 Yet he was forced to drink poison. Who was more innocent than Socrates? Yet his virtue brought about his doom. What shall I say of Scipio,29 Brutus,30 Cato,31 or Cicero,32 who were constrained to suffer the loss of the country they had saved at great personal peril? Yet with what courage men of wisdom bore the wrongs inflicted by their fellow-citizens! Of course they knew that their virtue and the renown of their achievements did not remain in their ungrateful country, but accompanied them into exile. "But," you will say, "they lavished their efforts in vain upon most ungrateful fellow-citizens." Not at all! Why not? Because they had not run those risks to grow old in their own country, but to win undying fame for themselves. "Yet they were exiles." Not at all! How so? They had ceased to regard as their country a place where there was no room for men like themselves. Wherever we are well off, there is our country.33 Thus they were not possessed by any great longing for the country where they knew life would be less safe than in exile. When Metellus34 Numidicus, who had been driven out because of his great steadfastness of spirit, was handed a letter of recall as he sat in the amphitheatre, he did not

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even consider it worth opening until the end of the games. Obviously Metellus was not very concerned about being cut off from Rome, but Rome could not do without Metellus. Why not? Because those same envious fellow-citizens who were troubled by his high-mindedness when he was present missed his energy when he was absent. He for his part was not even aware that he was an exile, and did not even consider himself unhappy or cast down. Why not? Surely because he was convinced that those who commit a crime deserving of exile are wretched, but those who are in exile through envy of their virtue have not received punishment but a source of potential glory. For when things go well, maintaining high principles is no great task; but to maintain an unbroken spirit and a tranquil state of mind amid the ravages of fortune is considered a great achievement. Since you are not inferior to those great men either in experience or in loftiness of mind, and even surpass them in learning, you should imitate the alert steersman, who, in the midst of the severest storms, never abandons the tiller. For no great skill is required to hold a straight course on a calm sea with following winds; it is unfavourable weather that proves the exceptional pilot. Since the winds are not under the control of men who set out upon the sea, they have to accept with a calm spirit those that fall to them. It might be added that at times too favourable winds bring more peril than adverse ones, and sailors are forced to shorten the swelling sails35 more than is normal. For when things go better than we had wished, we are easily carried headlong to destruction; when they are against us, as we use greater caution and diligence, we are often safer. Therefore I see that men of good sense always regard the favour of fortune with suspicion, since it is particularly treacherous when most flattering. With such arguments as these I should easily have reassured you, although it is like wishing to console Hercules, were it not that sure hope of your return prevailed in the minds of all your friends. See that in this present testing ground you maintain unchanged the strength of mind of which you have given proof both at home and on the battlefield. My concern for your children's welfare is so great that even yours could not be greater. Farewell/ Now although consolation is reserved above all for cases of bereavement and exile, one may devise other themes on diverse matters that bring distress, such as bodily disease, poor or uncertain health, old age, an ill-omened marriage36 that it is useless to regret, the monastic order, the priesthood, or any other way of life of which the person committed to it is becoming weary, family misfortune, inferior social standing, irksome poverty, unpopularity, the loss of property through some mischance, services rendered to an

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ungrateful person, children who dishonour their parents by a wicked life, plague, war, and countless other things. I thought I might mention these to the prospective teacher as sources from which he might take a new subject. I shall add a second example.37 Antoon Sucket38 has lost a very promising young son. A friend consoles him. A S E C O N D E X A M P L E OF C O N S O L A T I O N

'Worthiest Antoon, I can easily surmise from my own sorrow what bitter anguish you, his father, have suffered in the death of so excellent a son. Consequently, I should be very unfeeling if I should forbid a father to mourn such a sad misfortune when I, a stranger, cannot refrain from grief. And I should rightly be deemed presumptuous if I should propose to heal your pain when I myself am in need of a healer, and if I should try to wipe away a father's tears when I myself cannot restrain my own. For although this blow of fortune was bound to wound a father's breast more deeply, yet in your exceptional wisdom you are wont to bear all human mishaps with brave, unshaken, and even cheerful spirit. Hence you must be resolved at least to check and control your heartfelt grief (though who could deny that it is perfectly justified?) if you cannot, as yet, cast if off. Yet why not cast it off? Clearly reason should obtain from a true philosopher what the interval of a few days obtains from ordinary people. What fond mother grieves so uncontrollably at the death of her son that time does not first soothe her sorrow, and then banish it completely? It is the philosopher's part never to be downcast. In these misfortunes, to which we are all, great and small alike, equally liable, to feel excessive grief seems to me the height of folly. For who is unaware (unless he is quite unthinking) that he was born under the condition that whenever God calls him he must at once depart from here? So I ask you, what is it that one laments in bewailing the death of a man but the fact of one's own mortality? Or why should one bewail death rather than birth, when both are the law of nature? It is just as if one should give thanks for having been invited to a banquet, but complain at having to leave. But if anyone looked down as from a lofty look-out39 upon the life and condition of the whole race of mankind, would he not with good reason appear self-indulgent, if amid the many examples of bereavement, the countless deaths of young and old, he should suffer greater mental torture, as if he alone were the victim of some great new disaster, and like the sole favourite of fortune,40 expected to be excluded from the general hazard?41 For this reason the wisest lawgivers, though allowing the feelings of parents some expression of grief lest they should seem to be exacting from ordinary citizens that impassibility42 which even some Stoics43 condemned,

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have nevertheless limited it within reasonable bounds. This may be because they understand that a short period of mourning is sufficient even for the faint-hearted in the misfortunes that are the common lot of every man, and are incurred in the normal course of nature rather than by a blow of fortune, since nature herself soothes the wound she has inflicted and gradually draws a scar over it. Or it may be that they considered that grief is not only useless to those for whom it is expended, but harmful to those who take it upon themselves, and difficult and troublesome to friends, relatives, and casual acquaintances. If one considers this matter correctly, does it not seem a kind of madness to pile evil upon evil unnecessarily, and, seeing that one cannot in any way repair the loss caused by fate, to invite one's own destruction? It is just as if someone44 who has been despoiled by an enemy of part of his possessions should in a fit of anger throw all the rest into the sea, and proclaim that this is his way of bewailing his ill fortune. But if we are unmoved by the words of the mime writer,45 worthy of any philosopher, "One must bear, not blame what cannot be changed," let us at least recall the beautiful example of wise king David, who, as soon as news was brought of the death of the child whom he dearly loved, hastily rose from the ground, wiped off the dust, threw off his garment of haircloth, then, washed and anointed, with a change of countenance went briskly to the feast. To his friends who expressed astonishment at this behaviour he said, "Why should I consume myself with grief? Previously there was some hope that God might be moved by my grief and spare the child, but now no tears can bring him back to us. We shall soon be hastening to him."46 Who is so senseless as to wish to prostrate himself in supplication before one who he knows with certainty is unmoved by prayers? But nothing is more unyielding than death, nothing more unfeeling, nothing more unbending. Even the most savage beasts are tamed by skill. Marble can be broken, adamant softened, but nothing can beguile death. It spares neither beauty nor wealth nor age nor power. One should bear it, therefore, with the greater calm because it is inescapable, and equally shared by all men alike. Why should I now proceed to review for you the countless examples among the pagans of those who bore the loss of their dear ones with sublime and unshaken spirit? Would it not seem most shameful to you that Christians should be surpassed by them in courage? Call to mind in the present moment the famous utterance of Telamon,47 attributed also to Anaxagoras,48 deservedly enshrined in the annals of all nations: "I knew that I had begotten a mortal." Remember Pericles, leader of the Athenians, less famous for his eloquence than for his fortitude. Bereaved in the space of four days of two splendid sons,49 he spoke before the full assembly with no visible change of

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expression, and even wore a garland on his head. Remember Xenophon,50 that worthy disciple of Socrates, who, when told of the death of his son as he was offering sacrifice, laid aside his garland for a moment, then put it on again when they told him that he had fallen bravely in battle.51 Remember Dion of Syracuse,52 who was discussing some topic or other at a gathering of friends when a sudden noise was heard in the house. On enquiring what was the matter, he learnt that his son had fallen53 from the roof and been killed. Without being at all affected, he gave orders that the dead man's body be delivered over to the women for proper burial, saying that he himself could not break off what he had begun. Following his example, Demosthenes, after losing his dearest and only daughter, came before the people on the seventh day after her death wearing a garland and dressed in white. The accusation of his enemy Aeschines54 both confirmed the veracity of this deed and rendered it famous. Remember king Antigonus,55 who, when told that his son had fallen in a skirmish, paused for a moment, then, looking at those who had brought the news, said with great courage: "You died too late, Alcynonus (for that was his son's name), since you hurled yourself so rashly against the enemy without remembering your own safety or my warnings." But if Roman examples attract you more, consider Horatius Pulvillus,56 who, when told that his son was dead as he was dedicating the temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline, did not take his hand from the doorpost, and did not turn his face from the proper observance of religious rites to private grief. Consider Aemilius Paulus,57 who, after losing two sons within seven days, appeared before the assembly and, what is more, congratulated the Roman people because by his private loss he had bought off the jealousy of fortune against the people. Consider Quintus Fabius Maximus,58 who, after losing a son who had been consul and had won fame for his great achievements, entered the assembly as consul and pronounced his son's panegyric. Reflect upon the example of Cato the censor,59 who, at the death of his oldest son, a young man of outstanding intellect and great courage and newly elected praetor, was not influenced by this tragedy to administer state affairs with less energy. Think of Marcius, surnamed Rex.6° When he had lost a son of great filial devotion and considerable promise, and, most of all, his only child, he bore his bereavement with a mind so unshaken that he went straight from his son's funeral to the senate-house and summoned the senate to pass a law. Think of Lucius Sulla,61 whose son's death did not quell his fierce courage in the face of the enemy or make him belie the name "Fortunate" by which he was called. Lucius Bibulus62 on the very next day after he heard that both his sons had been put to death appeared in public to perform his usual duties. His colleague, Julius Caesar, hearing of his

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daughter's death63 during his campaign in Britain, none the less carried out his duties as general within two days. In the war against the Parthians,64 when Marcus Crassus saw the head of his son fixed on a spear, he was so far from showing terror as the enemy drew closer to display it in mockery, aggravating the terrible tragedy by their taunts, that he suddenly rode through all the ranks shouting aloud that this was his own private woe, but that the general safety of the country lay in the preservation of its soldiers. Not to pursue a long list of examples of men like Callus, Piso, Scaevola, Metellus, Scaurus, Marcellus, and Aufidius,65 I shall mention only the emperor Claudius. When he had lost the son66 whom he had both begotten and adopted, he personally delivered his son's panegyric from the public platform with the body laid out in his sight, with only a veil separating the corpse from the pontiff's eyes, and while the Roman people wept, the father alone did not. Now, as it would be splendid to imitate these men, so it would surely be most disgraceful for men not to show the courage displayed by women. Cornelia67 saw her two sons, Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus, killed and left unburied. Yet when her friends offered their consolation and called her "unhappy," she replied: "I shall never cease to call myself fortunate for having given birth to the Gracchi." But why recall these episodes from ancient history as though our own daily life did not provide sufficient examples? Look around at your neighbours, your relatives and kinsfolk - how many you will find even among the women who bear the death of their children with restraint! There is no need of the great safeguards of philosophy to convince us of this. For if anyone has only reflected within himself how fraught with calamity our whole life is, how many dangers, diseases, accidents, cares, misfortunes, defects, and injuries threaten it, how tiny a part of it we can enjoy or even preserve from trouble, and then considers how fleeting and headlong it is, he will almost congratulate those who leave it prematurely. The shortness of the life of mortals was effectively conveyed by Euripides,68 who called it "a brief day." But Demetrius of Phaleron69 put it better when he rebuked Euripides for not calling it instead "a point of time." Pindar70 puts it best of all, calling the life of man "the dream of a shadow." He joined together two things of supreme nothingness, shadow and dream, to show how insubstantial this life is. Further, the ancient poets71 seem to have well understood how full of misfortunes life is. They judged that the race of mortals could not be better described than by the epithets fjLoxOrjpoi Kai 8eiXoi, that is, "miserable and forlorn." For the first part of life, which is thought to be best, is unconscious of itself; the middle part is too taken up with the turmoil and anxieties of

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occupations; and the last part is occupied by ailments and old age, to speak for the time being only of those who are most fortunate. Who then would not with excellent reason approve of Silenus'72 maxim that the best thing is not to be born, the next best to be done away with as quickly as possible?73 Who would not approve of the practice of the Thracians,74 who welcome those who are born with grief and lamentations, and accompany those who are departing from life with joy and festivities? But if anyone should recount to himself what Hegesias75 used to tell his hearers, he will long for his own death rather than shudder at it, and will bear the decease of his kin with great composure. Meanwhile, however, a father's distress makes loud protest: "He died before his time, he died while still a youth, a son of excellent character and remarkable sense of duty who deserved a very long life." He complains that the natural order is being reversed, in that a father survives his son and an old man outlives a young one. But in heaven's name, what do you call "before his time"? As if every single day of one's life could not also be the last! One is suffocated in the recesses of his mother's womb when he has barely assumed human shape, and ceases to exist in the very hands of nature as she is still forming him. Another is carried off as he is being born, another while wailing in the cradle. Another perishes in the very flower of his age, when he has hardly grasped the meaning of life. Of so many thousands of men, to how few is it granted to reach what Homer76 calls "the threshold of old age"! Surely it was on this condition that God set a mind in the guardpost of this poor body: that on whatever day, at whatever moment he gave orders for it to leave, it would instantly have to depart. Nor can anyone think that he has been summoned before his time, since no one has any definite date fixed, and the prescribed day in fact is whichever God, our heavenly commander, has decided should be our last. If we are wise, we shall close each as if it were our last. Since life is so short and fleeting, how much difference does it make, I ask, whether one is taken away a little sooner or later? For it does not seem to make any more difference than it does whether one is the first, the third, or the eighth to be killed among several persons being led to execution, since one must be struck down soon in any case. For what is life itself other than a continuous course towards death, save that those who are released sooner from the toilsome performance of life are given kinder treatment? However, just as it is senseless to leave camp without the general's leave, so it is foolish and ungrateful not to welcome gladly an early discharge granted by the general, especially if the one discharged leaves with some credit, and if he is called away to a reward, not to dishonour. For length of life cannot rightly be measured by the number of summers. Age must be reckoned properly by achievements, so that one is not

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thought to have lived long when he has, in Homer's words,77 trudged the earth as "a useless burden" for many years and added to its population, but when he has acted the drama of life energetically to the end, and left an honourable memory of himself to posterity. Or do you complain that God gave you from the beginning the kind of son that you would have wished him to become after many years? Besides, our beloved youth did not pass away so very prematurely. He had already reached his twentieth year, an age at which in my view it is best to die, because this is the most pleasant time of life. He had already shown himself a good citizen of his country, a dutiful son to his father, an agreeable companion to those of his own age, and had offered the gods a good and pure mind. He departed innocent of vices and ignorant of failures. Moreover, it is uncertain what a longer life would have brought him. It is certainly our experience that for the most part advancing years spoil the innocence of youth with more serious faults and mar the happiness of early manhood with many afflictions. From all of these troubles or dangers an early death has rescued him. Now at last you can safely boast that you had, or rather have, an excellent son. But you will object that you had him but have him no longer. Is it right that you should be more distressed at losing him than glad to have had such a son? Beware of ingratitude in remembering the taking back of the gift and not its bestowal. Certainly a dutiful son is a great gift, but one given to you to enjoy only for a time, not to be yours forever. As a man of great discernment, examine the matter in this light, or rather let us examine it together. If a prince lent us a painting of great value and great artistic merit, and were to ask for it back when he so desired, should we return it with serene countenance, thanking him as well, or be sad and remonstrate with him in these terms: "How cruel you are! What a precious gift you have robbed us of, what great pleasure you have taken from us, how quickly and unexpectedly you have snatched away this splendid object from us!" Would he not be perfectly entitled to answer such ungrateful complaints in this fashion: "Is this the reward I receive for my kindness? Do you really remember nothing but the fact that you have lost a very beautiful painting? Have you forgotten that I lent it to you free of charge, and of my own accord, and that for so many days through my kindness you have feasted your eyes on it and received great enjoyment from it? My giving it was an act of generosity, my asking for it back is my privilege. Anything coming from me to you was a gain; there was no loss, except that through your own fault you imagined that what was on loan belonged to you. You think that you are losing what is being asked back. No! The more valuable and pleasing the object was that I granted to you on loan, the more you are in my debt. It should not be thought of as

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reclaimed ahead of time when without the infliction of any loss it could have never been entrusted to you at all." If this reasoning could in no way be refuted, how much more reason nature would have to reprove our grief and our complaints with similiar words. With reasoning of this kind we should certainly be able to soothe our sorrow, even if death took away the whole man, and nothing of us survived after the funeral obsequies. But if we believe this at least (which Plato's Socrates never doubted), that the soul itself is man, and that this body is nothing but the soul's instrument78 or dwelling place, or more properly its tomb79 and prison, and when it has escaped from this, it is at last independent and lives much more happily than before, what reason is there for complaining of death, since one who dies, far from perishing, seems instead only then to be born for the first time? We may enjoy our soul, which we cannot see with our eyes, in exactly the same way that we are wont to enjoy absent friends in our thoughts. I rather think that this is more enjoyable than if we were to see them actually present, because physical association all too often tends to give cause for offence, and constant familiarity diminishes somewhat the pleasure of friendship. If you need an example of this, are not the apostles sufficient proof, since they only began truly to enjoy and love Christ after his bodily presence was removed from them? Similarly, friendship among good people exists through the union of souls, not of bodies. Those who love truly, love souls, not bodies. And the linking of souls can be severed by no force, no intervention of time or place. Further, it is extremely childish to suppose that a friend has perished as soon as he has ceased to be before our eyes. You may, as often as you will, bring your son into your presence in thought and conversation. He in turn remembers you, feels deeply the emotions of your heart, and at times will present himself to his father in dreams; and in certain mysterious ways the souls of both will embrace and converse together. What is to prevent your imagining that you are living with him even now, when in a short time you will be? For how insignificant is the sum total of our lives! Thus far I have availed myself of remedies which I could have employed in dealing with the simplest unbeliever. Let us now consider briefly what piety and Christian faith should demand of us. First of all, if death were a terrible thing, still we ought to take in good part what can in no way be rectified. Then again, if it put an end to man completely, it should be borne with more resignation, as putting an end to the many afflictions of this life. Further, if it releases the mind with its heavenly origin from the grim prison of the body, we ought almost to congratulate those who have departed from life and resumed once again that blessed freedom. But since we are certain that it conveys virtuous souls from the storms of this life to the haven of

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immortality, and does not destroy a single hair of man since even bodies are to be restored one day to that same immortality, is it, I ask, more fitting to mourn or to congratulate one whom an early death has transported from this troubled sea of life to that calm harbour of immortality? Come now, recall for a moment the squalor, hardships, and perils of this life (if we can call it that). Then on the other hand, put together the benefits of the life that awaits the virtuous who have been snatched away from here, and you will readily see that there is nothing more unjustified than the man who bewails the highest good, for which alone we were born and created, as if it were the greatest evil. You protest that you are now childless, when in reality you have begotten a son for heaven whose memory, like that of a heavenly being, you can revere as sacred, who looks after you from heaven and like some favourable deity can make your affairs prosper. For he is neither insensitive to the affairs of mortals, nor has he laid aside with his body his sense of duty towards his father. He is certainly alive, believe me, and here in our presence, and hears and perceives this very conversation, and perhaps laughs at and condemns this very grief of ours. If the materiality of our bodies did not stand in the way, perhaps we should also hear him reproving our tears in words like these: "Just what are you doing? Why do you consume your old age in futile, not to say senseless grief? Why do you indict fate, fortune, and death with the most unjust charges? Or do you envy me now that I am removed from the ills of that life of yours and transported to this happiness? But let us speak words of good omen. A father's devotion or the disinterestedness of real friendship feels no envy. But what else can that lamentation mean? Or do you think it deserving of tears that I have been removed from slavery to freedom, from hardships to happiness, from darkness to light, from dangers to safety, from death to life, from infirmities to immortality, from so many evils to the highest good, from things transient to those eternal, from earthly things to heavenly, and finally from the cesspool of mankind to fellowship with the angels? I appeal to your feelings of loyalty. I adjure you by your devotion to me, if it lay within your power to recall me to that life, surely you would not? What crime have I committed to deserve such hatred? If you do not wish to recall me, what is the point of these lamentations, which are not only futile, as I have said, but also lacking in piety? Further, if immortality had not by now rendered me incapable of all sorrow, I in my turn should be shedding other tears for yours, and should pity the thick darkness of your minds. But you say, 'We are lamenting our own lot.' Yet that is not a sign of affection, but of self-interest, and the consulting of one's own interests at the expense of someone else. Tell me, what loss, may I ask, has my death brought you? Is it that you cannot enjoy seeing me? Yet in the mean time you may enjoy the

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recollection of me more happily and more securely none the less. Think of me as removed from all the ills that can happen in the life of men, most of which you have experienced in your long lifetime. There is no one to show filial obedience to you, but there is in the presence of almighty God someone to act as a zealous and effective advocate of your salvation. Finally, how short a moment it is that will interrupt our close relationship. Do you strive by might and main that when life's drama has been duly completed, death may find you worthy of being brought here." If, I say, your son should say this to us, should we not rightly be ashamed of our grief? With such considerations I am accustomed to heal my own mental anguish, and have wished to share them with you, not that you were much in need of these remedies, but that I might share consolation with one stricken by the same grief. However, to compress into an epilogue what has been more amply discussed, you will control the feelings of grief that are stirred up in your mind in this way: "My son is dead"; you begot a mortal. "I have been deprived of so great a blessing"; you have given it back to him who gave it free of charge. "Bereavement is hard to bear"; what can in some way be remedied is easier to bear. "He has left his father destitute"; what is the use of weeping over what cannot be altered? Or why should you bewail with such anguish what you have in common with so many thousands? "But I cannot refrain from weeping for my son's death"; no death is too early for one who dies well. "But his life was ended before his time"; no one has a fixed time for death. "He was cut off in the very flower of life"; it is best to die when life is sweetest." "He passed away in youth"; the more the evils of life from which he was rescued. "I have lost an excellent son"; be glad that you had such a son. "He departed from life completely innocent"; no death is more to be desired or less to be lamented. "But in the meantime I may not enjoy my son's company"; but you may in spirit, and soon you may have the full enjoyment of his company. "If you know aught80 that's more correct / Confide it to me openly; / If not, give ear to my advice." And be of good health, for this is what your son wishes also.' MISCELLANY

Therefore I beg of you first of all not to be depressed or cast down, nor allow yourself to be overwhelmed by the magnitude of the task as by a huge wave, but on the contrary, to take heart and stand firm, or even go out to meet your responsibilities head on.'81 There is no sorrow which length of time does not lessen and mitigate, eventually producing a veil of indifference.'82 'Let us remember that we are mere men, born under a law that makes

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our lives subject to the shafts of fortune; and that we must not refuse to live by the conditions under which we were born, nor resent bearing those mishaps that we cannot avoid by any deliberate plan of action. Recalling to mind the experiences of others, let us reflect that nothing unusual has happened to us/83 'Men of wisdom should be troubled by disgrace, not mischance, and by their own misdeeds, not by any wrong received from others.'84 'One should remember that the consciousness of one's honourable intentions is the best consolation in adversity and that there is no greater evil than guilt.'85 'It is quite hard not to take this badly, yet it is not fitting that minds such as ours, trained in carrying out and coping with affairs of great importance, should be shaken and weakened by trouble, since men should be disturbed only by those calamities for which they are themselves to blame.'86 'See that you keep a bold and courageous spirit, and be assured that, when the attack of that petty individual has been crushed, you will regain your former position and reputation.'87 'In the great distress that I feel over your predicament, I am greatly consoled by the strong conviction that the wickedness of men will be thwarted both by the efforts of your friends, and by the mere passing of time, which weakens the designs of enemies and traitors. In the second place I readily find consolation in the memory of my own difficulties, which I see reflected in your situation.'88 In the fourth book of Cicero's Ad familiares the letter beginning '[Many inform us that] you are in a state of great anxiety.'89 In the same book, 'After I9° [was brought the news]' and the letter 'I neither venture to give you advice .../91 'It remains for me to offer consolation and to try by reasoned arguments to distract you from your woes. But you, if anyone ever did, surely possess in the highest degree the faculty of consoling yourself and others. Therefore I shall not touch on those matters which proceed from subtle philosophical reasoning, but leave that entirely to you. You will be able to see for yourself what is worthy of a brave man of sense and fortitude, what is required of you by your position, loftiness of mind, your past life, studies, and attainments, in which you have distinguished yourself from boyhood.'92 'As my last recommendation I beg and beseech you to show the greatest courage and to remember not only the lessons you have learned from other great men but also what your own intelligence and studies have taught you. If you put all these together you will have excellent hopes for everything to come and will bear wisely whatever may befall. But you know this better than I, or rather better than anyone.'93

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Therefore you should not expect a special or privileged lot for yourself, or reject that which is common to us all/94 In book 5 the whole of the letter beginning 'Though I alone of all.. /;95 in the same book: Though I myself .../96 'But just as we bore past successes with moderation, so we ought to bear with courage this present fortune, which is not merely adverse, but completely contrary. In this way amid the greatest evils we may at least derive this advantage, that in the face of death, which even in times of prosperity we would have despised since it destroys all consciousness, now, reduced to this state, we should not only despise, but openly desire it. If you have any high regard for me, enjoy your present leisure, and be persuaded that apart from error and wrongdoing, of which you have always .been and always will be innocent, nothing that can befall a man is to be dreaded or feared/97 Book 6: 'If things are so confused ,./98 'But if everything has come to rack and ruin and that end has come which the shrewd Marcus Antonius feared when he had the first intimations that such woes were threatening us, there is this consolation - a poor one, to be sure, especially for such a citizen and such a man as you are, yet a necessary one - that there is no room for personal sorrow in a time of universal affliction. If you heed, as I am sure you do, the meaning of these few words (for more could not be committed to a letter), you will certainly understand even without any letter from me ../" To live as one ought not to live is a most wretched fate, but no philosopher ever considered death a tragedy even for one who is happy. But you are in a city where even the walls seem to be able to tell you this, in more detail and more eloquently. I can assure you of this, that even if consolation that comes from the miseries of others is slight, you are in no greater jeopardy than any of those who have left or of those who have remained. The former are engaged in the fighting, the latter fear the victor. But that is small consolation. There is one more substantial, of which I hope you will avail yourself, as I certainly do, since as long as I live, I shall not be tormented by anything so long as I am free of all blame; and if I do not live, I shall be devoid of all feeling. But once again, saying this to you is to carry owls to Athens/100 Book 6 from the letter 'I have no news for you.. /101 at the place 'On this point if I seem to increase102 [your sorrow]' 'For the rest, now that your virtue and prestige have made it possible for you to return to your family, it befits your wisdom and noble nature to forget what you have lost, and to consider what you have recovered. You will live with your own people, you will live with us. You have gained more in respect than you have lost in possessions, and even these would have been more welcome to you if something survived of the republic/103

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Book 6 from the letter beginning 'I congratulate you, my dear Balbus ../;104 in the same place, "It has pleased me, my dear Balbus .../105 'Your misfortune causes me acute torment; my own troubles affect me but slightly.' 'See to it that you show the courage that you have always shown, first for the reasons I have given, secondly because your wishes and aspirations concerning the country have ever been such that you should not only hope for success, but should even, if everything were to go against you, bear whatever happens with a brave and resolute spirit in the consciousness of your own deeds and principles.'106 'Therefore see that you be of great and courageous spirit, and if you survived more troubled times with wisdom, bear more tranquil days with joy/10? 'For the rest, as I have often exhorted you by letter, so I would wish you to be assured that you have nothing to fear in the present situation except the general downfall of the whole state, and although this is very grave, nevertheless we have lived in such a fashion and have now reached a time of life when we must bear with fortitude anything that happens to us for which we are not responsible.'108 'To be free from blame is a great consolation, especially as I have two things to sustain me, knowledge of the noblest arts and the glory of great achievements, one of which will never be taken from me while I am alive, the other not even when I am dead/109 In book 9 the letter 'Your letter pleased me .../110 has passages of consolation. 'And do not be alarmed. For I know you and understand how solicitous and anxious a thing is love. But I hope the affair will end less unpleasantly than it has begun/111 'But in the face of all this there is one consolation, that we are born with the condition that we must not reject anything that can happen to us as mortals/112 From the book to Brutus the whole of the elegant letter 'I should be fulfilling my duty .../113 FROM PLINY'S LETTERS 'For these reasons you must allow me to pour out my grief at his death as though it were untimely, if indeed it is right to mourn or even to use the name of death at all for what has ended the mortal condition rather than the life of so great a man. For he is alive and will be always, and he will figure even more widely in the remembrance of men and in their conversation now that he has withdrawn from their sight. I want to write to you about many other things, but this tragic event occupies all my thoughts. I think of Verginius, I

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see Verginius, I hear, address and embrace Verginius, in empty but vivid imaginings. Perhaps we have and shall have citizens equal to him in merit, but none will equal his fame/114 'For just as a still-fresh wound shrinks from the hand of the healer, but then admits it and even desires it, so recent mental anguish rejects and repels efforts at consolation, but soon needs them and accepts them if kindly given/115 'I am deeply distressed to hear that you have lost such a promising pupil, and I realise that your studies have been interrupted by his ill health and death, since you are meticulous in all your duties and unstinting in your devotion to all those whom you esteem/116 'I now give you the same encouragement, advice, and assurance that I give myself/117 'I find joy and comfort in literature; nothing is so joyful that it cannot add to its happiness, nothing so sorrowful that it cannot render it less sorrowful/118 'Yet in great consolation there is great anxiety/119 MY OWN MATERIAL FOR

CONSOLATION

'Away with that popular opinion that when you are no longer the man you were, there is no reason why you should want to live. But if you cannot rid yourself of this thought entirely, consider not only who you were lately, but who you once were; do not dwell so much on whence you have fallen, but also on whence you have risen/ 'Far be it from a true man to heed that womanish saying, "Till fortune teach120 my vanquished heart to grieve." No! Reason should make you invincible in the face of all life's misfortunes, so that you may drive out sorrow from your mind, not acquiesce to it/ 'With you the consciousness of right conduct and the judgment of good men should count for more than talk of envious persons/ 'The discreet testimony of a few distinguished and well-tried men should assure you more than the tales of the foolish crowd/ "You will bear this more easily if you train your mind to look to what posterity will say of you rather than your own generation, from whom spitefulness removes all sense of judgment/ 'It seems to me that the wrong done by your rivals has not so much taken away from your fortune as it has added to the renown of your name/ T have taken upon myself the duty of consoling you not because I thought less highly of your great qualities of soul, but just as the best helmsman cannot overcome the fury of a storm, so the bravest heroes sometimes cannot overcome the onslaught of fortune/121

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'I am not unaware122 of the grave blow you have suffered in your wife's passing. You have lost a woman who would have stood out even if she had lived in ancient times. What reverence she showed her husband while deserving the greatest respect herself! How many outstanding qualities of every time of life and of various good women she expressed, combined in her own person. Yet it should be a great comfort to you that you had this treasure for so long, for she lived with you for forty-four years without quarrel or offence. "But it is the harder to bear because she was with me so long," you will say, since it is easier to forget the pleasures we have but tasted. Take care that you do not prove yourself ungrateful, thinking only of what you have lost and not remembering how long you were given to enjoy it. Surely your good sense will not permit reason to be denied the influence over your mind that will in any case be exercised by necessity itself, the passage of time, and satiety of grief/ 'Grief is common to us all. You have lost your grandsons, I my great-grandsons. But I hope that it will happen that other children may change this sorrow into joy, since she is saved from whom we may have this hope/ 'I differ greatly from those who think that a man in the depths of sorrow should be left alone until hurt becomes less harsh through time and admits a healing hand. But just as I believe that the most important thing is to have a mind previously fortified by the teaching of philosophy as an antidote against all the assaults of evil, I believe that the next thing is to attack the distress at once, so that it cannot become incurable like a chronic disease/ 'You say in your letter that the distress you have suffered from your wife's death not only is not alleviated by time but becomes more bitter day by day/ 'I consider that as in a chronic illness you should have recourse to whatever remedy change may offer. There are bath resorts, visits to the country, business interests, the study of literature, foreign travel, public shows, competition with rivals, and the performance of public office. Of these and similar expedients, you should try now one, now another. Perhaps you may happen on something either to cure this sickness of soul, as it were, or, to drive out one nail with another/123 MY I L L U S T R A T I O N S OF A F R I E N D L Y C O N S O L A T I O N WITH REPRIMAND

'Fancy your being in such anguish and so depressed! What is the good of tormenting yourself and wearing yourself out with tears? Is all that going to make the trouble lighter, or will it not rather make it worse? What is the good of lamenting so pitifully what cannot be changed? What has now become of

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your steadfastness of mind and your learning, by which you used to relieve the distress of others? You were able to heal others, but are of no help to yourself. You must now be your own physician. Why do you exhaust yourself with tears, and your friends with your laments, all to no avail? What is the meaning of this lack of self-control and faintness of heart? Surely you have not forgotten that you are a man. Do you take your troubles so badly, as if they happened to you alone, or as if they are so great that far worse ones have not fallen to others? What is more unworthy of your learning and intelligence than to be so afflicted, to be so broken and cast down that even a woman would not be capable of such behaviour? For I do not see any good coming from empty tears and complaints. Indeed, if you judge the trouble to be so great that a return to well-being is impossible, why do you double the misfortune by your grief? If there is hope, why do you not take strength from it, and aim to escape from your troubles as soon as possible? If you are without hope, remember that in such a predicament as yours, courage takes away half the evil. But if you feel hope, why do you keep torturing yourself as though the matter were beyond hope? I hear that your anguish is so great that your mind is wandering from grief. In God's name, what do you expect? Why do you not steel yourself instead, and prepare yourself for better things? Why do you add to the grief of your friends, give pleasure to your enemies, and weary yourself unworthily? Advance more boldly124 whither fate allows. The willing soul125 is led by fate, the unwilling dragged.

So long as your conscience, courage, virtue, learning, and memory of past achievements attend you, do not think of yourself as an exile anywhere in the world,126 under whatever sky you have to live, even if you were banished beyond the Getans.127 Why do I set a sow to teach Minerva? It is not talkativeness but benevolence that makes my letters too long. Farewell/ A JOKING AND FRIENDLY C O N S O L A T I O N

'It does not surprise me that you are exhausting yourself with weeping, seeing that you have lost a girl of not quite sixty-seven years, who has left a fairly handsome dowry to boot. I thought I should write to you so that you would not give in to the immensity of your grief, and lay violent hands upon yourself. Before you melt away in tears see that, as the proverb puts it, you take thought of the living.128 Your girl will never come back. Besides it will look as though you are bewailing the loss of your mother. I am sending you a handkerchief to wipe

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away your tears and medicinal lotion to cure the redness of your eyes brought on by weeping. Proclaim all you like that you are miserable, but that will never prevent many from envying you your misery. If you don't stop torturing yourself, I am afraid the populace will hurl this jibe at you: "You're weeping at your stepmother's grave/"129 50 / A reply to consolation

The methods for replying to someone who has written a letter of consolation will be dictated by the circumstances. As a rule, we first thank him for his kindness; then we praise his ability, saying that nothing could be offered to lighten the sorrow which he has not expressed with great eloquence; and finally we declare that his wise, learned, serious, and above all friendly discourse has either removed a good part of the sorrow from us or driven it away entirely. Or if his consolation did us no good, we shall praise his intention, devotion, and ability in that like a good and experienced doctor, he applied every rememdy, but the trouble was too great for his skill. Or else we shall make this reply to an overbearing giver of comfort: 'We all give good advice1 to others in their woes / But in my place you'd sing a different tune.' I shall omit an example, and give some scattered excerpts. [MISCELLANY] Cicero, Adfamiliares, book 4, 'I should have wished, Servius .. .'2 and book 5, 'Though the consolation itself ...'3 'I wish that I may see the day when I shall thank you for forcing me to go on living. So far I regret it exceedingly. But I beg you to come at once to see me at Vibo, whither for many reasons I have directed my journey. If you come there, I shall be able to plan my whole journey and escape. If you do not do this, I shall be surprised, but I am confident that you will.'4 'As for your urging me to have firm courage, I wish you could give me some reason for doing so.'5 'As for your wishing me to recover from my grief, you are kind as usual. But you can bear witness that I have not been delinquent in my duty, for there is nothing that has ever been written about the solacing of grief that I did not read at home. My distress, however, surpasses all consolation. I have even done what no one certainly has ever done before, consoled myself by writing, and I shall send you the book.'6 'Cease offering consolation, but do not reproach me. When you do, I feel the loss of your love and compassion, though I believe that you are so touched by my misery that you yourself are inconsolable.'7

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CONSOLATION

'Your words make me hope for what it would be wicked even to desire. Take care not to deceive me with empty hopes, so that I may not buy off my distress only to have it return with interest/ 51 / On the letter of request Commenting on the passage1 in the first book of the Aeneid in which Juno humbly entreats Aeolus to scatter Aeneas' fleet, Servius2 refers to the recommendation of teachers of rhetoric that in every request four points must be observed: 'First, that we show that our request lies within the power of the person to whom it is made; second, that we explain the justice of our request; next, that we indicate the method and manner in which our request can be fulfilled; and finally, that a reward will follow/ He shows that Virgil always observed this sequence in requests. For instance, in this passage 'He gave you power to rule the troubled waves / Or lift them as you will' demonstrates the possibility; a little farther on 'A hated race now sails the Tuscan sea' shows that the request is just, for whatever we plot against an enemy is just; then 'Strike force into the winds / And strew their limbs upon the deep' reveals the method and the manner; 'I have twice seven [nymphs]' adds the reward. What Servius says is correct and succinct. I shall discuss the subject with somewhat less subtlety. First, since the nature of the things we ask for varies, and since there is a great variety in the persons who make and receive the requests, the method of asking should vary too. For certain things we ask of a person are likely to inspire favour, such as advice; there are other things which make the asker blush with shame, as when we ask for a loan or something dishonourable. Thus in general the method of asking will be twofold in form, direct and indirect. When the motive is one that is likely to win favour, we shall openly suggest that what we request be granted; when it is otherwise, we shall use an indirect approach in making the request, first of all exaggerating the need that besets us, showing what a great weapon neediness3 is, how useless modesty is to a person in need, and that we are well aware of the shamelessness of making so large a request of a person for whom we have never done anything to deserve it. After that we shall gradually demonstrate in subtle ways that no slight hope is afforded by his singular kindness, which prompts him to give assistance even to unknown and undeserving persons because of the extraordinary goodness of his nature, which is disposed to lighten all men's miseries. This restrained manner commends the petitioner highly, just as presumption serves to estrange the other's feelings. For no one willingly grants a kindness to one

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who expects it as if it were his due and who makes a demand rather than a request. It proved advantageous to Hortensius,4 when he wanted to raise up offspring from the wife of Cato of Utica,5 that he did not ask for the woman herself but for her daughter Porcia, who was married to Bibulus,6 at the same time adducing several reasons for desiring an heir from that family. When Cato replied that he would readily agree, provided that it had the approval of his son-in-law, Hortensius finally intimated with some hesitation that he was asking for Marcia, Cato's own wife, over whom Cato had jurisdiction, as it lay within his power as her husband. Cato unwittingly had already granted the request. Thus after persuading Marcia's father, Hortensius took her as his wife. Plutarch7 is our authority for this. When such an indirect approach is not needed, we shall none the less use every means to secure the good will of the person of whom we make a difficult request. We shall argue from his own person, recalling with gratitude his kindness to ourselves and to others, and we shall say that we wish the ties that exist between us, already very strong on many accounts, to become stronger still; arguing from our own person, we shall testify to the devotion that we have always felt towards him, and the special confidence we have always placed in him, pointing out at the same time that just as there is no one to whom we would more gladly be indebted than to him, to whom we owe everything, so no one would find it easier to grant our request. This will be set out more fully in the explanation of the method. If we have rendered him any services, we shall refer to them with great discretion rather than recount them. From the person of the ancestors on both sides, we shall argue that there was a very close friendship of long standing between the parents of both families, maintained and confirmed to the present day by a series of mutual favours. In the person of rivals, we shall show that we harbour hostility for the same men with whom the one whose protection we seek is also at odds. Arguing from the issue itself, we shall show that it is dutiful, just, honourable, essential for us, and easy and commendable for him. Next we shall point out without arrogance the advantages that will accrue to him in the future. If there is an element of disadvantage which may make him less favourably inclined, we shall either resolve it, or make little of it. If necessary, we shall include appeals to those things or persons that we know to have influence over him. Finally, we shall promise to keep his favour in remembrance and not merely to feel gratitude, but to repay it with interest when the chance is given us; in return, we shall devote and offer ourselves and all our possessions to him. We shall disparage our ability, but give splendid promises of our devotion and interest. I might add that not only here, but in other matters too, a timely and apt pleasantry is sometimes

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more effective than a serious request. So much for instructions; the rest I leave for the youths or their instructor to note. AN EXAMPLE OF AN INDIRECT REQUEST

'You are not unfamiliar with my innate sense of modesty, your excellency. But to what lengths does necessity, that truly stoutest of weapons, not drive mankind? My affairs are in such a state that unless two hundred angels8 come to hand right away, your louis d'or9 will be as dead as the proverbial doornail.101 know that this favour is a large and unusual one, and I am well aware that I have rendered you no services on which I might rely in venturing to ask so great a benefaction from you, especially as I have so long been under an obligation to you in so many important matters, and have not yet in any degree repaid your kindness. Yet, unless some godsend11 presents itself from somewhere, I am utterly ruined. Just as when things are absolutely desperate sailors cast the sheet anchor,12 so after consideration of all others I take refuge in you as in some favouring deity. I should not dare to ask this favour, though need drives me to it; yet I wanted you to know the state of my affairs, so that if you judge me deserving of ruin, I may, having had your verdict, meet my end more serenely. But if your sense of duty, of which ample proof has been given in my regard in the past, considers my plight worthy of deliverance, I shall strive with all my might13 that you never regret having saved this life/ A REQUEST FOR S O M E T H I N G D I S H O N O U R A B L E

'I was not unaware what impudence it was in the worst of causes to ask the patronage of the best of men. Nor shall I attempt to excuse my action, in order not to commit a worse fault through impudence than I have committed so far through stupidity and thoughtlessness, not to say madness. My mind is appalled and shrinks from even recounting my troubles, yet the wound must be opened if I am to hope for a cure. I recently lost through gambling the considerable fortune that my father had given me to invest. This is a serious disgrace, I admit, but one that could in some way be remedied if it were the only one. Unknown to my father, I had an affair with my mother's maid. She was shrewder than I, and refused to give herself to me unless I promised to marry her. In this it was not Jupiter who, in Hesiod's words,14 took away half my mind, but Venus the whole of it. Bereft of my senses, I gave my word. Now they tell me that what was done in this way cannot in any way be rescinded. May the worst of fates fall to those who pass such inequitable laws! My father was justifiably furious, and is taking steps to disinherit me. If this happens, I see no better solution than to hang myself and end my life. For why should I want to live in the midst of such troubles? I know that there

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is nothing that you cannot obtain from my father. You are the only person who can restore me to favour. But if you have any compassion for me - I should not venture to ask this, but you see my plight -1 will see that you are never ashamed or sorry for having rescued me, to such an extent will I repair this misdeed with every kind of service. You see my tender years. Often young men have turned from worse offences to a useful life. I only wish that "what's done could be undone".15 But what cannot be changed can be compensated. This is a very great error, I admit, but it is the first. Finally, what can my father do? If he disinherits me, while not taking my wife from me, he makes himself childless; but if he pardons me, he will have a son indebted to him for life on this account. Give me word soon whether I am to be utterly ruined by my troubles, or rescued by your kindness. For there is nothing more wretched than to remain in suspense/ AN EXAMPLE OF AN HONOURABLE

REQUEST

'It will perhaps seem shameful to others, most noble prelate, once again to be plying with fresh prayers the man from whom I have obtained such benefits as I never dared even to hope for. But I consider that it is proof of a noble and not an ungrateful mind to wish to be most in debt to the person to whom one is already much indebted. For to whom would I sooner wish to credit the last part of my fortunes than the one to whom I owe the beginning and the middle? Indeed what would Lucius be, if he had not happened on you as a kind of propitious deity? When I was a boy you adopted me because of some native good qualities, and perhaps too because you thought that my learning would at some time be of use or credit to you. I only wish that I may not seem to have completely belied your judgment or expectations of me! Once you had adopted me, you never ceased to befriend, assist, and honour me. So now if it is thought that there is any virtue, sound learning, or excellence in me, I owe this entirely to your generosity. But it seems to me that two things still remain to be done in order that you may complete the task you have so excellently begun, and that I may ensure that such great kindness towards me may not seem to have gone without profit. That both of these goals be realized is something which I earnestly desire and which you have it in your power to attain. At one stroke you will have made your protege happy, and have put me in a position where I may be of use to you in many things. After lengthy toil spent, as you know, on theology, I am to be honoured on the first day of May with a degree in theology. As you are well aware, a slightly grander style of life becomes this profession. Besides, since hitherto I have been only an expense to your Eminence, it is fitting that at some time I should be a source of both profit and honour. At this very time the office of the provost of Corinth is vacant, not an important one, certainly,

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but very convenient for my plans. Moreover it is in your country, and not so very far from mine. You will have someone there to look after your interests and those of your friends as if they were his own. Besides, whatever dignity will accrue to me will simply add to your own fame since I owe whatever I am to you. It is obvious to me that I shall have powerful rivals, men who are very unworthy of this office, and very ill disposed to both of us. I am not afraid of anything provided that you, who alone more than all the rest can confer patronage, are in favour. For what would you venture to ask from the prince that he would hesitate to grant? Therefore, if it was not in vain that you adopted me, if I have ever in any degree answered to your judgment of me, if you consider me a grateful person, see that this office of provost is conferred upon me. I should implore this of you more assiduously and at greater length if I were not afraid of seeming to lack faith in your kindness, which I have always found to be most generous towards me. In return I shall strive in every way to show myself so worthy of that honour that you will not regret this new favour bestowed upon me, and will reap some profit from your former benefactions to me. Farewell/ COLLECTION OF PASSAGES ILLUSTRATING PETITION

'I should write to you at greater length if either your kindness required a fuller expression, or our friendship allowed it, or if the situation called for words and did not speak for itself. I should like you to be convinced of this, that if I learn that you have looked after my best interests, you will gain great and lasting satisfaction for your efforts/16 'But if your clemency comes to my aid, I assure you that in all matters I will be at your service/17 Book 5 of Cicero Ad familiares, the letter 'I have often tried18 in your presence .../ the whole of it. 'Considering your good will, kindness, and benevolence towards me, I gladly welcome such an attitude. But only on these terms (for I shall not forego my usual modesty in making a request) - if you do what you indicate, I shall be most grateful; if you do not, I shall forgive you, inferring that in the latter instance that you were unable to resist your fears and in the former that you could not bring yourself to deny me. For it is certainly of great importance. The right course is clear, but what is expedient is not clear; yet if we are the men we ought to be, that is, men worthy of our study and learning, we could not doubt that what is most right is also most expedient/19 Book 6, the letter 'If I did not have .../2° in its entirety. Book 9, a humorous request, Though to demand a gift ../21 'If you are as fond of me as I am sure you are, see to it that you are ready

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to come hastily to my rescue if I call on you. But I am doing all I can and shall continue in that effort to ensure that this will not be necessary/22 'What I need now is your advice, your love, and your loyalty, so wing your way here. Everything will be simpler for me if I have you here with me. Much can be done through our friend Varro, but with your encouragement things will be more secure. Much information can be elicited from Publius, much learned which could not be hidden from you; much too - but it is silly to go into details when I shall need you for everything. Be convinced of one thing: that every difficulty will be unraveled for me if I see you/ 23 Therefore if your love for me is as great as I know it to be, if you are asleep, awake! if you are standing still, walk! if you are walking, run! if you are running, fly here with all speed! You cannot believe how much I rely on your advice and wisdom, and most of all on your love and loyalty. The importance of this issue would perhaps call for a long speech; but the close bond that unites our minds is content with brevity/24 Thus, as I instructed Numestius to plead with you, so I also beg you all the more earnestly, if that is possible, to fly here; I shall breathe again once I see you/25 'I should review the matter at great length, if the facts themselves did not speak to you for me/26 'All I ask of you is that, as you have always loved me, you continue in the same love. For I have not changed. My enemies have robbed me of everything except myself. See that you keep well/27 'Help me, as you are doing, by your assistance, advice, and influence/28 'Give your support to Quintus, the best and kindest of brothers/29 'I place all hope for my good name and private possessions entirely in your well-proved kindness toward me; if you show it in these desperate and critical times, I shall bear with more courage the perils that I share with others. I beg and beseech you to do so/3° 'Again and again I beg you to safeguard all my interests, so that if my supporters are safe, I too may remain unharmed along with them and attribute my safety to your kindness/31 'Therefore I ask you emphatically again and again, more than you wish or permit me, to give your whole attention to this consideration/32 'Yet this is not a letter of advice, but of petition. Therefore, my dear Plancus, I ask and even beseech you in heaven's name, with the utmost earnestness and seriousness, to carry out, conduct, and complete this entire business, so that what we obtained without any hesitation from the consuls because of the excellence and fairness of our cause may gain your ready approval and even bring you satisfaction. You have often given proof of

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your good will to Atticus - to him personally and to me also. If you do this, you will place me, who have always been united to you by good will and hereditary friendship, under a great obligation of kindness. I strongly beseech you again and again to do this/33 'Now, my dear Capito, for I know how great your influence always is with those around you, and the more so with a man as affable and obliging as Plancus, take pains, work hard, use flattery if necessary; get Plancus, who, I hope, is very favourable to us, to become even better disposed through your efforts/34 This he will certainly do, if you apply that tenacity of yours, which I have often experienced, and that pleasant manner, in which you have no rival. I earnestly request this of you/35 'Pardon me for writing yet again on the same matter after sending you a very detailed letter about the people of Buthrotum. My reason for doing so, my dear Plancus, is not, of course, any lack of confidence in your generosity, or our friendship, but because so much is at stake financially for our friend Atticus, and now his reputation too, etc/36 'I beg and beseech you, Cicero, appealing to our friendship and your kind feelings towards me, to forget that my sister's children are Lepidus' sons, and to consider that I have taken over the role of father for them. If I obtain this from you, there is nothing, I am sure, that you will hesitate to undertake on their behalf/37 'Anxiety and vexation prevent me from writing to you at length. For if in such an important and essential matter I need words to rouse and encourage you, there is no hope that you will do what I wish and what is right. So do not expect lengthy appeals; have regard for me on my merits, as one who should obtain this request from you either through my close association with you in private life as my good friend Cicero, or putting private friendship aside, from the distinguished ex-consul you are/38 'I ask this of you with the greatest earnestness I can summon/39 'Your services to me are beyond all reckoning, at home, in the forum, in the city, in the provinces, in private affairs, in politics, in studies, and in my literary activities; you will surpass them all if you will do .../4° 'To whom shall I wish to give credit for my position rather than the person to whom I owe my well-being and all that I have?' 'You cannot believe how much reliance I place in your advice and wisdom, and most of all in your love and loyalty/41 'I wish you to be with me in forming my plans, to share my anxieties, and to join me in all my deliberations/42 'If you do that, it will be the culmination of all your former kindnesses towards me/43

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'On your advice my policy of taking action or remaining inactive will be determined/44 'What I need now is your advice, affection, and loyalty, for everything will be resolved for me when I receive your opinion/45 'On this matter we shall form our plans in accordance with your views/46 'Your return to us is both earnestly desired by all your friends, and required by the circumstances and the state of your affairs/ 'We need your influence and advice and even your personal charm. Do not allow brothers to go to law and clash in a disgraceful lawsuit/47 'But whatever individual matters I entrust to you, I commend myself totally to your love and fidelity/48 'But if you are fond of me, as you surely are, or if not, you make a very good pretence of it.. /49 'I never thought I should come to you as a suppliant, but by Hercules! I readily accept the chance afforded me of testing your affection/50 'For the rest, I ask you to point out to me with equal candour anything that you think should be added, altered, or left out/51 'I want you to be quite candid, and tell me what you are going to say to others about my book. It is not much to ask/52 Book 3, the letter 'I approach you for advice ,./53 'My decision to make some attempt or to do nothing will depend upon your advice/54 'I shall abide by your advice, which will serve me as a norm of conduct/55 'You have heard the motives underlying my plan; it remains for you to decide one way or the other. I shall appreciate your candour if you disapprove as much as your prestigious support if you approve/56 Poliziano book 8, the letter 'It would have been better ,./57 'You have my opinion and you understand my own preferences, but I shall follow your advice without any reservations. I shall adapt myself to your wishes, as it would not be proper to disagree with you. I use no flattery, for my own mental conviction, and indeed my affection for you, have such force with me that whatever is profitable to you, and whatever you wish, seem immediately proper and correct to me/58 'In this matter I shall do whatever you decide, for in this whole plan, it will be for you to take the lead, for me to follow after/ 'I not only ask you, but urge you to do this. For it will be no more pleasant for me than it will be profitable for you to harbour ill feelings towards us/59

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MY OWN C O L L E C T I O N

'You know the state of my affairs. You divine my intentions. You see what the matter itself requires. For I would not venture to ask for anything myself, lest I appear no less shameless than I am unfortunate/ 'I would seem quite shameless to importune you in the midst of your affairs with my daily requests if I were not aware that your character is such that once you have offered your patronage to anyone, you do not rest until you have confirmed him in his position.' 'On your kindness alone I depend entirely. On you alone rest all my hopes and fortunes.' 'Nothing is so difficult that I am not confident of gaining it with the help of your patronage.' 'Nothing is too great for me to dare ask it of you, or for you to be unable to grant it.' 'As it is easily within your power, so is my desire stronger.'60 'One who employs too many words in making a reasonable request of you betrays little understanding of your generosity.' 'Add this tiny pebble to the great accumulation of your kindnesses to me, and, although no further increase seems possible, yet this alone is missing for them to be heaped up to perfection/ Though your kindnesses to me are very many, still nothing would be greater or more agreeable than this one/ 'I am sure you must be surprised and even irritated that I raise the same matter with you so often/ 'I am aware that I am acting with great effrontery in venturing to ask this of you, but this shamelessness has been prompted not by my own nature but by stern necessity/ The matter is so just and honourable that a fair-minded man would not even refuse it to an enemy. Our acquaintance is so close that there is nothing so unfair that the one should not obtain it from the other/ 'If I seem shameless in demanding rather than asking so great a favour from you, you will pardon me. This boldness has been prompted not by my nature, but by your kindness, seeing that you never refuse me anything/ The matter is of such a nature that if you consider what I am asking of you, you should be asking it of me/ 'I am burdening you with requests against my will, but necessity presses upon me/ 'I know that great patrons should not be called upon for slight or ordinary assistance, but this task is such that it can be performed by you alone/

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THE R E P L Y TO A R E Q U E S T

'I wish you had represented this matter to me in person rather than by letter, for one reason. For then you could have perceived my fondness for you, not only from my words but "from my face, my eyes, and my brow," as the saying goes. I have always felt affection for you in view of your devotion to me, and later your kindness, and now in these times the country's interest has so commended you to me that I hold no one more dear. The warm and complimentary terms of your letter have so touched me that I seemed not to be conferring a favour, but receiving one, when in your request you state that you would be unwilling to protect my enemy and your close friend against my will, although you could have done this with no difficulty/61 [Pliny], book 3, the whole letter 'Your action is in keeping with your usual regard/62 'I shall do what you desire with alacrity and attention/63 'I am grateful that you remind me, but offended that you ask it of me. I ought to be reminded so that I may be made aware of it but I should not have to be asked to do what it would be disgraceful for me not to do/64 1 could refuse this even to a brother in such circumstances, but our friendship is too close to allow for any exception whenever a serious matter concerning either of us is at stake/ 52 / The letter of recommendation

Closely related to this class is the letter of recommendation, for when we recommend someone, we are really making a request in another's name; therefore it will have to be treated in the same way. In this case three persons must be taken into consideration, our own, the person of the recipient, and the person to be recommended. Finally, we shall have to consider the nature of the matter itself. As far as our own person is concerned, we shall be persuasive if we can show that the reasons that have led us to make the recommendations are sound, important, or numerous: that the person we are recommending has deserved well either of our friends or of us; or that a close relationship of long standing or ties of hospitality have existed between him and us, or between his ancestors and ours; or that he is a blood-relation, a fellow-countryman or fellow-student, a relative, or in some other way dear to us and deserving of our attention; or finally, we shall give such a description of the man that in view of his modest behaviour, uprightness, learning, integrity, culture, and nobility, he should be deemed worthy of the highest approval by all respectable citizens and particularly by the one to whom we write. If there have been any previous services

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performed for the recipient by us, the person being recommended by us, or by his ancestors we shall point them out very tactfully, in fact making little of the deeds themselves but emphasizing the intention to render a good service. It will be very helpful to the recommendation, if we say that the person being recommended entertains a very high opinion of the man to whom he is being recommended, and speaks well of him. For we cannot help being kindly disposed towards those who we realize sincerely admire us without any flattery. So Isocrates1 cleverly pointed out that an excellent overture to the forming of a friendship is to praise a person in his absence before those who we suspect will pass this on to others. If we reveal in a convincing fashion the complete confidence that both of us place in him, we can be reasonably assured of evoking his solicitude when he realizes that a man of that calibre has rested every hope on his generosity alone, and has chosen to invoke no one's help but his own. This is the way to treat the recommendation from the standpoint of the persons involved. From the issue itself, we shall make our recommendation by showing that it is easily fulfilled, at least by the person to whom we are making it, and by proving that it is just, honourable, and profitable. Next, if it is of such a nature that the patron is likely to derive some praise, popularity, reputation, or reward from it, we shall apprise him carefully of this, stating that in this one act of patronage he will place a considerable number of persons under obligation to him. Next, one may resort to entreaties. Lastly, we shall promise both in our own name and in that of the person recommended that he will be grateful and mindful, and that by the same act of kindness we ourselves shall be as permanently indebted as if it had been rendered to us. In closing, we shall offer our common service and devotion. It is generally agreed that a letter of recommendation is a mixture of two classes, the persuasive and the demonstrative. For when we give a favourable description of the person we are recommending, we are involved with the demonstrative class; when we show that the request itself is honourable, profitable, or easy, we are in the deliberative. But a recommendation should be short and not too detailed, especially if we are writing to someone to whom we ourselves have been strongly recommended, for it should have the authority of evidence rather than the appearance of a discussion. The treatment of this class of letter can be of three kinds: direct, indirect, or humorous. It is direct when we show that the person whom we recommend is worthy of the favour. It is indirect when we say that we do not wish to recommend this person, but are only suggesting that it might be useful to make his acquaintance, for while others usually thank those who have acted on a recommendation, he will be thankful that through our efforts he had the good fortune to become acquainted with a man of such

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distinction. The treatment is humorous when we realize that we shall achieve more by pleasant conversation than by serious argument. I do not consider it worth while to present examples of each kind for fear that this volume will become too bulky. I shall merely note some examples from my collection. While there are very many examples of the recommendatory class of letters in Cicero, the one beginning 'News had not yet reached me'2 sums up the whole set of rules of recommendation in itself. [AN EXAMPLE] 'Herman the theologian to Andronius Bolanus, bishop. Though the welfare of my friend Denis is almost of more concern to me than my own, most gracious prelate, not only because of my long and intimate friendship with his family, but also in view of his own admirable modesty and uprightness, still I thought that I should not recommend him to you at length, lest I seem to have little confidence either in our friendship or in his qualifications. For the exceptional closeness of our relationship seems to require that anyone whom I have considered deserving of my good will should merit your affection and commendation as well. Moreover, such is his honesty, self-effacement, and learning that, quite apart from any letter of mine, he cannot fail to gain the approval of all good men and especially of you, since you admire men of his character, unless my knowledge of either of you deceives me. Add to this the long-standing ties of hospitality which existed between you and his father, who was, as you know, one of the most charming men who ever lived. He did not, I may say, need any recommendation of mine, though he had a great wish to be recommended, and to you alone. It is incredible how much confidence he has placed in your kindness and yours alone, and how fondly he speaks and feels about you. And he is not one accustomed to saying anything contrary to what he thinks. In my view he is making no mistake. For who has any doubts concerning the extent of your influence both with our illustrious ruler and with the people? Then too he has learnt often from the laudatory remarks of his forebears and now from my words how much your generosity has favoured men of learning. Furthermore, the matter is one that will cause you little disturbance while being of great advantage to him. The Abbot Syrus, a wealthy and unscrupulous man, as you know, owes him several years' rent from some land. His predecessors paid up regularly without any quibble, but he took on, together with his mitre, an insatiable thirst for possessions, and is repudiating the debt and calling him to justice - or, I should say, injustice. I am ashamed to relate what turnabouts this Proteus contrives for that excellent young man and what cunning means of escape he pursues. You know the fellow. While this would be trouble-

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some in any circumstances because of its injustice, it is particularly disturbing at the present time for my friend Denis that the money is denied him at the very moment when he most needs it. He was intending to proceed to his doctorate next spring, so that he would be in a better position to serve his country's interests. He is extremely well prepared in both branches of law. Think how unfair it is that through the pretexts of this Midas3 a most studious young man in the middle of his course of study should be haled unjustly into court and have the honour he has earned by much toil almost torn from his grasp. You have learnt some of the particulars of the case from me, the rest you will learn from him when he speaks with you personally. Upon you alone rest the hopes of both of us. Therefore, by our mutual good will and the memory of his father's hospitality, I beg you the more urgently to be willing to defend him in a most just cause. Compel that cursed abbot to pay by stirring up unpopularity against him, either through your influence, or by use of fear, and keep him away from litigations, on which he thrives. Your services to me have been both many and great. Yet this will be so gratifying that I shall consider it the culmination of them all. You will have conferred a favour on this young man as you have never done more justifiably to anyone in the past. Farewell.' There is an ordinary and cool kind of recommendation which is used when this duty is forced upon us. If I am a nuisance to you, blame him. He was more of a nuisance to me/ 'When you have come to know him, and have learnt from the man himself what he is after, you will use your own judgment in deciding what is best to be done/4 'Hear him out for my sake if you can do so without any inconvenience to yourself; but if not, send the fellow packing anywhere rather than back to me!' There is also the humorous recommendation, which is sometimes more effective than the serious kind. There is an example in the letters of Giannantonio Campano,5 who recommends a certain tiresome monk to his cardinal; and I too have sometimes recommended in this way a certain little man, bald at the front and skinny, to my Maecenas, who had sent money by his hand and had called him 'baldy' in a letter, as in jest he used to call me 'bald' too, as my hair was thin. I recommended him somewhat in the following terms: That baldhead faithfully delivered the money to this baldhead. But if you had known what a predicament that baldhead is in, you would not be surprised that the fellow is so skinny that he hardly sticks to his bones, and that his hair is so thin that there are hardly three hairs left on his

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head. He has a long lawsuit in your court. This business is shearing him so closely and sucking the fellow so dry, that unless your kindness intervenes, he will not have a single scrap of cash anywhere, and there is danger that he will die of hunger. The case is one of duty; he is going to law for his mother's sake, and there is nothing left but the pronouncing of the final verdict. I wish the fellow well, for why shouldn't like favour like? By the one act of kindness you will put two bald and two great men under obligation to you.' It might seem trivial to make reference to such cases, if it did not serve the purpose of supplying the instructor with examples from which he may easily invent various types of themes. COLLECTION OF MATERIALS FOR RECOMMENDATIONS

The entire letter from book i of Cicero's letters to his friends beginning To Aulus Trebonius'6 belongs to this class. Take care to train our dear Lentulus, a youth of the greatest promise and highest qualities, both in those accomplishments in which you yourself have always been engaged, and in particular in the imitation of your own example. For there will be no training more excellent than this. He is particularly beloved and dear to me because he is your son, and one worthy of you, and because he is and always has been very devoted to me.'7 Book 2, 'Fadius, an excellent man ...,'8 all of it. 'I strongly recommend to you Lucius Valerius, the jurist, even if he is really no lawyer. For I wish to use more care with him than he does with others. I am very fond of the fellow; he is one of my close personal acquaintances. He is extremely grateful to you, but also writes that my letter will carry great weight with you. I earnestly beg of you not to allow him to be disappointed in this.'9 'As for Pomponius himself, I so recommend him to you that, though I am certain that you will do everything you can for his sake, yet I beg of you that if you still have any affection for me, you will give evidence of it in your managing of his affair. You can do nothing which would give me more pleasure.'10 Book 6, 'With Aulus Caecina ...,'" the whole of this elegant letter. This is the man, my dearest Caesar, whom I should have you welcome with all your customary kindness, concentrating on him alone all the favour I could induce you to show my friends. In his case I guarantee this - not using those old-fashioned expressions which you rightly ridiculed when I wrote to you about Milo, but in the good old Roman style proper to men of intelligence - that there is no one more upright, none better or wiser. I may add that he brings to bear a familiarity with civil law, and is possessed of an unusual memory and vast knowledge. I do not ask for a tribuneship or

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prefecture or any other specific rank for him, merely your good will and generosity; but I do not object, if it so pleases you, to your honouring him with these small tokens of distinction. Finally, I hand him over entirely to you, from my hand to yours,12 as the expression goes, a hand conspicuous both for victory and good faith. I am laying it on a little too much, though you do not tolerate this kind of thing; but as I see it, it will be permissible in this instance/13 'With regard to your friend Rufus, about whom this is now your second letter to me, I should assist him to the best of my ability, even if he had wronged me, seeing that you make such efforts on his behalf. Since, however, I understand and deduce from your letter and from one that he sent me, that my welfare has been of great concern to him, I cannot fail to befriend him, not only on your recommendation, which, of course, counts a great deal with me, but also from my own free will and judgment/14 Book 11, 'It matters a great deal.. .,'15 the whole letter, an elegant one. The next one also, 'Lamia, alone of all men .. / l6 Also in the same book, 'With Appius Claudius ,./17 Book 13, 'Although it was not sufficiently.. /l8 In the same book, 'Gaius Avianus ,./19 Also the next letter, 'Aulus Fusius ../20 Likewise many of the letters21 that follow are of the same kind. In the same book, 'I do not doubt .../22 The whole of this book has nothing but letters of recommendation. Book 15, 'Marcus Fadius .../23 'So in other matters you will give him as much consideration as your kindness and our friendship demands/24 'With regard to my dear Tullia I see that this is your first concern, and I ask you earnestly that it may be so.'25 'My dear Plancus, although I have no doubt that the decree of the senate, the law passed, the consuls' motion, and their letter will have great influence with you, and know that you are ready to do this for Atticus' sake, yet by virtue of our association and friendship I have taken it upon myself to make a request which your singular kindness and nature would have granted spontaneously. It is simply that as proof of your esteem for me you do willingly, cordially, and quickly what I am sure you will do anyway of your own accord. I have no dearer or more delightful friend than Atticus. Previously it was only his property that was concerned, considerable though that may be, but now his reputation is also involved, so that I am asking that what he gained by great industry and influence while Caesar was alive, he may keep, with your assistance, now that Caesar is dead. If you grant this, I should like you to think that I shall interpret your generosity as a very great favour bestowed upon myself/26

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'My dear Cicero, as a close friend, I ask you to be kind to Vetus, and wish him the greatest prosperity, for even if nothing can turn him from his purpose, still your praise and kindness will encourage him to hold and defend his belief more strongly; you will do me a great favour/ 27 'As for my daughter and yours and our young Marcus, why, my brother, should I commend them to you? Except that I am sad that their state of bereavement will cause you no less pain than it does me. But as long as you are unharmed, they will not be orphans.'28 'So I recommend him to you enthusiastically as a man distinguished in his own town and well liked outside it too. See that you make him obliged to you by your generosity. He is a military tribune in our army. You will find him grateful and respectful. I earnestly beg you to show great friendship to Trebatius.'29 Therefore welcome the young man, as you have already.'30 From the book to Brutus the whole of 'Lucius Bibulus ...'31 Also the letter 'I have recommended many persons to you ,..'32 'You should treat him in such a way in all respects that he understands that my recommendation has been no ordinary one.'33 'An example of a letter of recommendation for marriage: the whole of the letter in book i 'You ask me .. ,'34 A fine example of recommendation will be the whole of the letter in book 2 beginning 'You would eagerly seize upon any opportunities of obliging me.'35 Book 3, the letter 'What I would have done for your friends ,..'36 Book 4, 'Calvisius Nepos ,..'37 In the same book, 'If anything at all ,..'38 Again in book 6, 'Atilius Crescens ,..'39 'Do this favour for me, and do it before you hear him speak; when you have heard him, you will thank me. I guarantee that he will satisfy your anxieties, my hopes, and the demands of the case. He is a man of exceptional talents, and will soon bring others forward if in the mean time he is given our support.'40 'You will consider that it is you who have received a benefit when you have gotten to know him more intimately and see that he is equal to every office and distinction (but I do not wish to speak too grandiosely about a person of great modesty).'41 'I believe I can commend Julius Genitor to you. I have great regard for him, yet my affection for the man does not stand in the way of my judgment, but stems from it. He is a man of serious and irreproachable character, but rather brusque and severe for these permissive times. You can trust the general opinion about his ability in eloquence, as skill in speaking is evident

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and immediately recognized wherever it is displayed. The personal life of men holds deep recesses and great secrets, but in the case of Genitor I guarantee his integrity. Your son will hear nothing from him but what will be of benefit to him; he will learn nothing that it was better not to have learnt. He will be reminded as often by Genitor as by you or by me of his responsibility to his ancestors and the great name he bears. So with the favour of the gods, entrust him to a teacher from whom he will learn first good morals, then eloquence, which is not properly learnt without good morals/42 Book 5, the letter 'I see how leniently you treat your household/43 'Claudius is anxious to win your friendship, which he deserves first for desiring it, and secondly because he is fond of you. For few people expect this from another if they do not have the same sentiments. He is'besides a man of uprightness and integrity, reserved and modest almost to excess, if that were possible ...Seeing that he is so desirous of your friendship, welcome him with open arms or rather take the initiative yourself and show him your friendship as if returning gratitude to him. For in the service of friendship the one who acts first deserves to be rewarded, not put under obligation/44 MY R E C O M M E N D A T I O N S

'In conferring many benefits upon him you have put yourself under a burdensome obligation. For modern morality has ordained that after one has done many favours, men remember only what has been refused/ 'After you have begun to make a man yours by conferring benefits, one benefit must be heaped on another/ 'Generosity once set in motion cannot stop; its worth is recommended by habit itself/ 'You will cease wondering why I thought this man should be so strongly recommended to you when you have begun to know him more intimately/ 'He is convinced that you have great influence with the prince, and I with you; he is quite right about you, but I have not yet done as much as I wish to bolster his confidence in me/ 'I should demand this of you with more words, save that I was afraid that someone might think that I lacked confidence in your generosity/ 'I know that Horace had good reason to say "Be careful whom you praise and to whom/'45 But this man's integrity has been established in my eyes by so many proofs that I should not hesitate to recommend him to you even at the peril of my own life. If you welcome his friendship, I shall thank you for trusting me. But you will thank me all the more for delivering into your hands one whom you should have sent for even from a great distance/

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THE R E P L Y TO A R E C O M M E N D A T I O N

'I was pleased to admit Numerius Numestius into my friendship, and found him to be serious, intelligent, and worthy of your recommendation/46 Pliny, book 6, the letter 'You recommend to me .../47 Again, the letter 'You ask me to take on .../48 'What is this you tell me? You want to be pardoned for burdening me with a letter of recommendation of yours? No! I regard it as a tremendous favour that you have conferred on me in introducing me to such a man.' 'You will have seen my capabilities. The outcome of the matter is in the hands of fortune. I will see to it that Antonius realizes our friendship is no ordinary one.'49 'You give the man a thorough recommendation, and he seemed to me to deserve such great support from you. But the unfavourableness of the times was the reason why it was not possible to give him as much help as I wished.' 53 / The letter of advice The letter of advice has a twofold purpose, to point out skilfully any fault that we wish corrected, and to indicate a course of action to one who does not know what should be done, as if he did know. Since hardly anyone is pleased to learn of his own faults, we shall mitigate the harshness of criticism with praise. We shall say that since he has many outstanding qualities, we cannot suffer so many virtues to be darkened by the blemish of a single fault or allow for any reservations in the praise of such a good friend. Next we shall make light of the fault itself, either blaming his age or indiscretion, or showing that it has been found even in the greatest of men, or that, while it certainly needs correction, it springs from his generosity or some other virtue and can be corrected without much difficulty. We shall say that we write in this way out of special affection for him, and would not do the same for others. We shall ask him to use the same frankness towards us, unless it be the case that his affection is less than ours, saying that it is the special function of friendship that advice should be outspoken and reciprocal, and similar things to this effect. But if we are writing to a ruler or king or some other potentate, whose ears will not tolerate any criticism at all, we shall criticize him through false praise. For when we proclaim his many virtues (in which he is quite deficient) and execrate certain detestable faults in others (from which we say he is quite exempt), we are tacitly giving advice to one who is aware of what he should correct and what means he should adopt. I suspect that panegyrics1 of princes were invented for this very purpose, that under the semblance of praise they should, without offence or shame, be reminded of their faults. Otherwise what would be more repulsive than such flattery?

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When it is a question of pointing out a course of action without the use of reproof, we must establish some authority for ourselves without offending the person whom we are advising. We shall promise that we shall give thought to this matter with great devotion and fidelity, relying on our advantage in years, in which we far outstrip him, or breadth of experience, in which he cannot yet be our equal by reason of age, or long study, in which we have been engaged for very many years, while he is only now entering upon it. Finally we shall point out in dignified language what should be done and how. We shall use many sayings and examples from the approved authors, particularly those who hold most authority for the person we are advising, and we shall point out the glory or infamy that attended each example. For the first kind of admonition, in which we either coaxingly invite a friend to better resolves or frankly reprove him, according to the diversity of the persons or circumstances involved, Plutarch's book2 about distinguishing a flatterer from a friend will be of great service. For the second kind, which merely instructs without criticizing, all the letters, or rather books, of Seneca, Cyprian, Jerome, and others who recommended a pattern of life to various people will be of use, but especially Plutarch's books called the Moralia.3 In the first class of letter one will encounter subjects like the following. A rather surly friend needs advice to be more accommodating towards everyone's feelings: he should be more pleasant to his wife, more lenient to his children, more merciful towards his servants, and more gracious towards his friends. Also one who is too outspoken should be advised to speak with more discretion, as what is said is not accepted by everyone in the same spirit. Also a friend too devoted to his studies will be advised to look after his health, to divide his time between studies and necessary pursuits, and adapt himself better to the dictates of common sense. Similarly the man of a rather simple nature will be advised not to trust false friends. The gambling addict will be recalled to other amusements, the spendthrift to economy, the headstrong to restraint, the thoughtless to watchfulness, and similarly for countless other examples. This class differs very little from the persuasive class. Among the second kind one may devise subjects like the following: the course to be pursued in the study of literature, the best methods for developing a style, what is conducive to a good reputation, the devices for avoiding unpopularity, the means of cultivating friendship, what to avoid and what to seek in marriage - a subject on which Plutarch4 wrote - the methods of educating children, what is required of a schoolmaster or a would-be courtier, the duty of a good doctor, prince, or bishop, general, soldier, or good politician. From these it will be possible to invent similar themes and subject-matter.

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Often the two classes are combined, and if you would like to find the most perfect example of this, you should read Cicero's letter to his brother Quintus beginning Though I have no doubt that this letter ...'5 It will be better to practise subjects of this sort, by which good sense is developed as well as diction, rather than minor topics that are trivial and old-womanish. On so varied a subject it would not have been necessary to provide an example, yet I shall give one so that my manual will not be without one. AN E X A M P L E OF A L E T T E R OF A D V I C E

'Since on returning from Italy you have decided to live among your own people, and you will have to live in the public view and satisfy all expectations in a style suited to your learning, distinguished descent, and dignified position, you ask that I, as an older to a younger man, point out an excellent pattern of living, so that you can avoid the criticism of the spiteful, find approval in the opinion of the leading citizens, and take thought for your peace of mind and health of body. I am extremely delighted already by your mature attitude, since, though still a young man, you consider matters that we older men often neglect. "One should choose," Cicero says, "the best way of life, and habit will render it enjoyable."6 So although your singular learning and precocious nobility of mind have no need of an adviser, yet I shall set out the best rule of life for you, as far as I have been able to discern it through my years (the only thing in which I surpass you), long experience (which tends to make men wise), and many years of study. I am glad that I followed to the best of my ability what I see was the practice o men of old, and some day you also will not be sorry to have followed it. First of all hold fast, as you have always done, to the belief that nothing honourable is unpleasant or hard, and that one must not be turned aside from his duty through sentiments of fear or deluded hopes. Associate with the best people. Do not provoke the wicked. Do not boast of your own possessions or find fault with those of others. See that you are preferred to all men, but do not prefer yourself to anyone. Love a friend as though at some time you will hate him; hate an enemy as though at some time you will love him. Compete with good men in rendering services; oppose no one; show yourself pleasant to all, being cheerful at home and unruffled away from home. Entrust your secrets to no one, remembering how deceitful many people's friendship is. Readily confer a benefit, reluctantly accept one. Avoid captiousness most of all. You should remember for a long time benefits received, but readily forget wrongs suffered. If you despise fame, it will follow after you of its own; if you pursue it, it will elude your grasp. Do not seek to be praised, but do things worthy of praise. With the powerful you should either have no familiarity, or one that is cordial. Let no expense be more precious to you than that of time. Divide out the day among your

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activities. Study or write fasting; after a meal do more cheerful things; never be idle. If you follow these rules carefully, you will see to your peace of mind, and will be dear to a great number of persons, disliked by none. Exercise your body in moderate activities so that it may not grow sluggish through inactivity or be worn out by excessive exertion. Let your nourishment be moderate and taken at the proper time; eat a fairly heavy lunch and a light dinner. Take enough drink for natural needs, not for self-indulgence. Farewell/ ANOTHER EXAMPLE

'Since, Christian, my excellent friend,71 had no doubt whatsoever that your passion for letters was extraordinarily keen, I thought you needed no exhortation, but only some guidance and, as it were, signposting of the road you had entered upon. This, I thought, was my duty: to point out to you, as a person closely linked to me in many ways and highly congenial, the paths I myself have followed from boyhood onwards. If you attend to them with the degree of care I shall now devote to explaining them, I am confident that I shall not regret having given the advice, nor will you be sorry that you took it. Your first endeavour should be to choose the most learned teacher you can find, for it is impossible that one who is himself no scholar should make a scholar of anyone else. As soon as you find him, make every effort to see that he acquires the feelings of a father towards you, and you in turn those of a son towards him. Not only ought we to be prompted to this by the very principles of honour, since we are no less indebted to those from whom we have acquired the rules of right living than to those from whom we acquired life itself, but your friendship with him is of such importance as an aid to learning that it will be of no avail to you to have a literary tutor at all unless you have, by the same token, a friend. Secondly, you should give him attention and be regular in your work for him, for the talents of students are sometimes ruined by violent effort, whereas regularity in work has lasting effect just because of its temperance and produces by daily practice a greater result than you would suppose. As in all things, so in literature, nothing is worse than excess; accordingly you should from time to time abate the strenuousness of your studies and relieve them with recreation - but recreation of a civilized kind, worthy of the vocation of letters and not too far separated from it in nature. Indeed, a constant element of enj oyment must be mingled with our studies so that we think of learning as a game rather than a form of drudgery, for no activity can be continued for long if it does not to some extent afford pleasure to the participant. You must acquire the best knowledge first, and without delay; it is the

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height of madness to learn what you will later have to unlearn. Make it your rule to apply to the care of your mind the same rules that physicians generally recommend for the care of the body; do not ruin your brain with food that is harmful, or excessive in quantity, for this damages both body and brain. As for Eberhard, the Catholicon,8 the Brachiloquus,9 and others of that sort (I cannot recite them all, and it would not be worth while to do so), you should leave them to those who take delight in acquiring a barbarous style at the cost of endless pains. What matters at the outset is not how much knowledge you acquire, but how sound it is. But I shall now explain a method by which you can learn more easily as well as more accurately; for a craftsman usually obeys certain rules of his trade that make it possible for him to produce a given quantity of work, not only more accurately and quickly, but also more easily. Divide your day into tasks, as it were; this is reported to have been the practice of those universally celebrated writers, Pliny and Pope Pius.10 First of all, and this is the essential thing, listen to your teacher's explanations not only attentively but eagerly. Do not be satisfied simply to follow his discourse with an alert mind; try now and then to anticipate the direction of his thought. Remember everything he says and even write down his most important utterances, for writing is the most faithful custodian of words. On the other hand, avoid trusting it too much, like that absurd man of wealth in Seneca11 who had come to believe that he had preserved in his own memory everything that any of his servants remembered. Do not be guilty of possessing a library of learned books while lacking learning yourself. In order that what you have heard may not vanish from your mind, go over it again, privately at home or in discussion with others. And do not be satisfied with these measures alone: remember to devote a part of your time to silent thought, which St Augustine12 records as the most important of all aids to intellect and memory. In addition, the contests of minds in what we may call their wrestling ring are especially effective for exhibiting, stimulating, and enlarging the sinews of the human understanding. And do not be ashamed to ask questions if you are in doubt, or to be put right whenever you are wrong. Avoid working at night and studying at unsuitable times and seasons; these things quench the light of the mind and are very bad for the health. Aurora is the Muses' friend: daybreak is an excellent time for study. After lunch, take some recreation, or go for a walk, or enjoy light conversation; reflect that even such activities as these can afford opportunity for studying. As to food, eat only what suffices for health, and not as much as you long to eat. Take a short walk before supper, and again after it. Just before you go to sleep you should read something of exquisite quality, worth remembering; let sleep overtake you while you are musing upon it and when you awaken try to recall it to mind. Always keep fixed in your heart Pliny's

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dictum13 that all the time which one fails to devote to study is wasted, and reflect that youth is the most fleeting thing on earth, and that when once it has fled away it never returns. But now I'm beginning to offer advice, though I promised only to point the way. It is for you, my sweetest Christian, to follow this method - or a better one, if you can discover it. Farewell/ 54 / The method of going over a lesson1 'Some people's primary and almost sole anxiety is to learn things by heart, word for word. I do not approve2 of this as it involves much work and is practically useless. For what is the point of repeating parrot-fashion words that are not understood? There is a more suitable method. Review immediately a reading you have heard in such a way that you fix the general meaning a little more deeply in your mind. Then, go back over it, starting at the end and working back to the beginning, examining individual words and observing only points of grammar in the process: take note of any word that is obscure or of doubtful derivation, or belongs to a mixed conjugation,3 trace the formation of its supine and its past tense, its roots and derivatives, construction, meaning, and matters of this sort. After doing this, run through the passage completely again with particular attention to points of rhetorical technique. If any phrasing seems to have special charm, elegance, or neatness, mark it with a sign or an asterisk. Examine the arrangement of words, and the fine turns of expression. Analyse the author's purpose, why he phrased things in a certain way. When you find something particularly pleasing, take care not to be in a rush, as the saying is, and run past the house.4 Halt your steps and ask yourself the reason for being so taken by that expression and why you did not derive equal pleasure from the rest as well. You will find that you have been impressed by the incisiveness of the language, or some rhetorical embellishment, or harmonious arrangement or, not to rehearse them all, for some similar reason. But if there is some saying, maxim, old proverb, anecdote, story, apt comparison, or anything that strikes you as being phrased with brevity, point, or in some other clever way, consider it a treasure to be stored carefully in the mind for use and imitation. When you have attended to those things carefully, do not be reluctant to go over the passage a fourth time. For the writings of learned men, elaborated with great talent and much toil, continue to give us pleasure even when read over again a thousand times, and they always reveal some new wonder to their admirers. Just as you discover that in your notebook, on which you rightly set great store, there are things which you did not notice before, so in good authors this will be an even more frequent occurrence. Read it again, therefore, for the fourth time,

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seeking out what seems to relate to philosophy, especially ethics, to discover any example that may be applicable to morals. What is there from which either a model of life, or some illustration or advantage cannot be drawn? For we see in the noble deeds of others what is fitting and likewise in the base ones what is not. If you do all this, you will end up learning the reading by heart even though that was not your original purpose. Then if you like you may turn to the task of learning by heart, which by that time will either be non-existent or surely minimal. Then what? It remains for you to mingle with learned men, make your comments known in public, and listen in turn to theirs, some of which you will praise, others you will criticize; of your own views, some you will defend and others you will allow to be censured. Finally, what you have praised in others you will try to imitate in your own writings. Private studies are praised by the learned, but on condition that afterwards we come forward from our shelter into the arena and make trial of our strength; as Socrates wisely said, "Let us discover whether the offspring of our intellects is alive,5 imitating the action of midwives." So a man will make use of both kinds of study in turn if he wishes to emerge with more than a common education. Farewell.' A N O T H E R E X A M P L E : C O N C E R N I N G LIFE AT COURT6 'According to your letter you are being thrust and pushed into the prince's court by the wish of your parents, against your will and resistance. Since we cannot overcome the inevitable, the only course is to manage the situation to your own advantage and bring it about that you can extricate yourself from it at some future time with the least possible harm. For a visit to this Lais7 has not turned out badly for everyone. If my authority does not seem impressive enough for you, let it be known that from boyhood right up to my fiftieth year I served in the courts of princes. First, resolve not to confide anything to anyone, however friendly he seems to be, however much he smiles at you, embraces you, makes promises, and swears fidelity. Do not imagine anyone to be your true friend and do not yourself be anyone's true friend; yet, as though there were no one whom you did not esteem, be pleasant and affable to all. Be very lavish of those services which cost you nothing. Give unctuous greetings and embraces, step aside, bare your head, repeat continually honorific and endearing titles, bestow abundant praise, make generous promises. Arrange your facial expression beforehand at home, so that it may be ready for every part of the play and so that not even a glimmer of your true feelings may be revealed in your looks. You must plan your delivery at home, so that your speech suits your looks and your looks and the bearing of your whole body suit your feigned speech. These are the rudiments of courtly philosophy, for which no one will be

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fitted unless he has first wiped away all sense of shame, and leaving his natural expression behind at home, has put on a mask, as it were. The next step will be to detect all the factions at court, but in such a way that you do not readily associate with any of them. If you notice that some men or women have unlimited influence with the prince, see to it that you always tilt to the luckier side of the ship.8 Do not be ashamed or reluctant to flatter even buffoons who you notice are in the good graces of Jupiter. But you will court the favour of Jupiter himself with all your wiles. Whenever you are standing in his sight, you will artfully display a kind of guileless enthusiasm, as if you are overcome with joy every time you are privileged to be in his presence. After you have discovered his likes and dislikes, it will not be much trouble to find great favour with him. You will humour him obligingly, you will smile at his words; if you are not given leave to speak, you will applaud as though in admiration. If you are with others you will keep on singing his praises, pulling out all the stops,9 as the saying goes. Someone will certainly pass it on if you eulogize him up and down. You will have to win over now this man and now that one with a small gift, but make it attractive rather than expensive, so that you do not appear to be fishing with a golden hook.10 You will enhance its value by your words. Use the slenderness of your means as an excuse. You will promise mountains of gold11 when a more opulent fortune has fallen to you. If there is any smell of booty, see that no god or man is so dear to you that you defer to him. Always be your own best friend. When it is a question of property, you must cheat even your own father. Favouring breezes do not always blow at court, but when they do, the chance must be seized.12 Consider no oath so holy that you let fat plunder slip from your hands because of it. If you perceive that those who are the bitter enemies of the prince and form the opposing faction are exulting in victory, always adapt yourself to the ones with fortune on their side, but in such a way that you do not mortally offend the other faction, unless this turns out to your clear and certain advantage. For the favours of princes, like the breezes, blow in different directions at different times. To sum up, in every circumstance pursue your own advantage. Do not injure anyone openly. Do not entertain at home - the expense will drain you dry. It is far better to be the guest13 at a feast than the host. Do not calculate the expense of a dinner you give at home, but take into account how much revenue that invitation will generate in a year's time. Cultivate the acquaintance of several princes. Join their tables, but not too often with the same person. When there, be a pleasant and affable guest, merry and witty without giving offence to anyone. If some rather insulting remark is made against you, turn it into fun and a joke, even if it is a serious matter. Beware of everyone as though they were enemies. Do not trust anyone with something he can use

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to harm you. If you sense that some people are unfriendly to you, see that you conceal this extremely skilfully, and with courteous attentions play the part of a friend towards them all the more. Praise them in the presence of those who you suspect will pass on the message; by this device they will become either your friends or less bitter enemies. Only take care that you leave them no opportunity for doing you harm. In other trivial matters of courtly life be a boon companion. But refrain from gambling, as on this rock many have suffered shipwreck, barely managing to escape stripped of all they had. Take care that you are corrupted as little as possible. Be watchful everywhere to increase and strengthen your fortune. When you have become rich enough, you must devise a method of withdrawing happily from the court (though few have had this good fortune) and living a private life. Do not be constantly in the prince's presence or too long away; the former gives rise to boredom and surfeit, the latter to forgetfulness. In order to reap advantage even from your absence, seek to obtain embassies, but favourable ones involving little toil, so that you may quickly return fresh to your prince. Always be complaining and demanding, and just as skilful courtesans by various pretexts and devices always get something from their lovers, similarly let it be your endeavour always to get something from your prince. One should aim in particular at what he can bestow at no personal expense, like benefices, provostships and abbacies. If there is anything for which you are not qualified, urge others to ask in their own name, but to your advantage. This, I think, is enough for the rudiments; later, when I see that you have made some progress, I shall supply more intricate details. Farewell.' AN E X A M P L E OF A L E T T E R C O N T A I N I N G A R E B U K E

'You have been fortunate enough to possess a lineage that is particularly honourable, a suitable fortune, talent, uncommon learning, and you are not lacking in discernment. I shall come immediately to the point. You would be blessed by fortune but for the lack of one thing, if you will permit me to say so. For the writer of this wishes you well from his heart if anyone does. "What is that one thing?" you will say. My dear Saxonius, you must control your feelings! What good is learning if you do not know how to make use of it? Certainly of no more use than a lute to one who cannot play it. The purpose of learning philosophy is that nothing should de done under the influence of the emotions, but from reasoned judgment. You can procure this one thing missing to your happiness, indeed, will procure it straightway if you want it very much. What business have you with those lawsuits? To minimize for the moment the fact that you are wasting your means, losing your time, depriving yourself of peace of mind, and being less agreeable to your wife, children, and friends, as well as to yourself, you see that your

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health is often in jeopardy. As in war, so in a lawsuit the outcome is uncertain. Yet supposing that victory is assured, I ask you, do you think that whatever losses you may recover should be purchased at the cost of so many disadvantages, even at the risk of your life? I am aware that it is not of your own will that you do this, as no one is more inclined towards peace and friendship than you are. You are egged on by that blear-eyed fox, a fellow made to order for lawsuits. But I beseech you by our friendship, why do you choose to listen to this one man instead of to your worthy father and friends who are as solicitous for your well-being as they are for their own? Because of your good nature you judge others from your own charity, and I am afraid that your counsellor gives counsel for his own good, not yours. To me the fellow's very facial expression proclaims him a charlatan. I only wish that my feelings were mistaken14 about this, but I am afraid you may come to your senses too late, and say that I was a true prophet. Spurn the poisonous blandishments of a good-for-nothing. Ask the advice of your father, a man of exceptional wisdom, who loves you more than a father; even more, consult your own intelligence and learning. Settle the matter with your relative by arbitration, even on unfavourable terms. Perhaps you will suffer some diminution of your wealth. Believe me, if you calculate the cost of all the proceedings, that loss will be the greatest of gains, even if the disputed sum is completely lost! Farewell.' A C O L L E C T I O N OF M A T E R I A L S

FOR LETTERS OF ADVICE

Tor I should still be of the opinion that one should not fight against such powerful forces, or destroy the leadership of the foremost citizens, even if that were possible, or remain set in a single view when circumstances have changed and the feelings of good citizens have altered, but that one must adapt to the times. For in men who have achieved distinction in steering the ship of state it has never been deemed meritorious to remain fixed forever in a single opinion, but just as in sailing the skill lies in running before the wind even if it seems to lead you off course, because if you can make port by tacking it would be foolish to run a risk by keeping to your original course, rather than changing it and reaching the desired destination in the end; similarly in governing the state, while we should all have as our object what I have so often stated, peace with honour, we do not always have to express it in the same way, but rather always have the same goal in view/15 Though I realize that up to the present time you have pursued a policy that I do not venture to criticize - not that I do not disagree with it, but because I judge you to be possessed of such good sense that I do not prefer my own opinion to yours - still the long duration of our friendship and your

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extreme kindness to me, of which I have been aware since you were a boy, have prompted me to write things to you which I thought conducive to your personal welfare, while not being incompatible with your position/16 'But now that I have revealed my own preference you will consider the rest with your usual wisdom/17 'I shall write openly, as my own nature and our friendship demand/18 'I beg and beseech you, in the name of our long-standing association and friendship and of my great good will towards you and yours towards me, to keep yourself safe for the sake of all of us, your mother, your wife and all those to whom you are and have always been most dear, and to take thought for the safety of yourself and of those who depend on you. Put to use in the present crisis all the excellent teachings of philosophy that you have learnt and stored up in your memory and knowledge from early youth; bear at least with a courageous spirit, if not with an unruffled mind, the loss of those you loved, bound to you by the strongest ties of affection and countless services/19 'I thought that for the moment I should merely give hints, so that I might show you my affection, rather than display my wisdom/20 'For hitherto your great kindness and wisdom allowed me to say freely what I feel/21 'In book 10, the letter 'What our friend Furnius has said ,./ 22 'For as a safe voyage is the aim of the pilot, health of the physician, victory of the general, so the ideal ruler has for his aim the happiness of the citizens, so that their lives will be secure in means, rich in resources, great in fame, and honourable in virtue. I wish him to carry out this task, the greatest and noblest of human achievements/23 'I emphatically disagree with you, Brutus, and I do not admit to your clemency. A healthy sternness is preferable to an empty show of clemency. For if we wish to show clemency we shall never be without civil war.. ,24 Take this as a pronouncement by the oracle of the Pythian Apollo; nothing can be truer/25 'Now, Cicero, is the time for action, so that our joy at Antony's defeat may not have been in vain, and so that the excision of each evil as it occurs does not produce another worse than the previous one/26 'Further I give you this advice, not to put anything in writing that if it were revealed would cause us embarrassment. There are many things I would rather not know than learn if there is some risk involved/27 'Do not venture upon so long a sea and land journey in winter, unless you are quite strong, and do not set sail at all except with complete certainty/28

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'Many of those who were so eager to set out suffered shipwreck ... Sailors intent on making money are apt to be in a hurry. Do be careful, rny dear Tiro/29 'I received your letter though the writing was a bit shaky, and no wonder, considering that you are gravely ill/30 'I hear that you are mentally distressed, and that the doctor considers this to be the cause of your illness. If you love me, rouse from sleep your love of letters and cultural refinement, which makes you so dear to me. You must now be well in mind so that you may be well in body. Do this for your own sake and mine, I beg you/31 'Believe me, when I read your letter, I leaped for joy/ 32 'For what difficulty is there in controlling those over whom you are set, if you are in control of yourself? .. .33 The better a man is, the harder it is for him to suspect others of being unscrupulous/34 'Each person's real nature is covered by many wrappings of pretence, and concealed by veils, as it were. The face, the eyes, and the looks very often lie, but words most often of all/35 'For why should I give advice to one whom I recognize as being, especially on this subject, equal to me in wisdom and even superior in experience?'36 'So bring all your energies and enthusiasm to bear upon the policy you have pursued up to now, that those ../37 'And indeed Plato, that prince of intellect and learning, believed that states would only prosper when scholars or philosophers began to rule them, or when their rulers devoted all their attention to learning and philosophy/38 'What I have written above I wrote not for your instruction (for your good sense has no need of anyone's coaching), but in the course of writing I took pleasure in describing your virtues, though I have been longer in this letter than I should have wished or expected to be/39 'But I give you this advice ... to prepare yourself beforehand, and to reflect every day that you must resist anger and be particularly careful to control your tongue when your feelings are aroused. Indeed, at times I think this is as great a virtue as not to be angry at all/40 'For I should neither say anything without grounds nor maintain a calculated silence .. .4I From Xenophon we learn that those powerful rulers, Cyrus and Agesilaus, were never heard to utter a harsh word/42 'As to what you write to me about your sister, she herself will tell you of the pains I have taken to ensure that my brother's feelings towards her be what they ought to be. Thinking that he might be somewhat offended, I sent

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him a letter in which I sought to appease him as my brother, advise him as my junior and reprove him for his error/43 'Your own good judgment will tell you what is best to be done/44 'If fortune had not divested me of my own plans ,./45 'See how people are so much more prone to be afraid than to remember/46 'Money levels everyone's rank/ 47 'Now you must allow me to reprimand you/48 'For it is not so much your present wishes that I must consider as what will have your continued approval as a man of exacting standards/49 'Since you have the time, I urge you all the more when you next come to town (and I hope you come sooner on this account), to entrust yourself to him for grooming and finishing. For unlike many people, I do not grudge others the advantages that I do not have; on the contrary, I feel a certain pleasure in seeing my friends possess in abundance what is denied to me/50 'I wrote this to warn you, now that you have been allotted a province, to rely chiefly upon yourself, and not to put much trust in anyone. Next you should know that if anyone should deceive you (which I pray does not happen!), punishment awaits him. But be alert and attentive so that this will not be necessary. For the pleasure of revenge is less than the displeasure of being deceived/51 'I can state succinctly for the two of us the rule which philosophers attempt to teach in many words and many tomes, that in health we should continue to be the men we promise to be when we are ill/52 Book i, the whole letter beginning 'You consult me53 on whether I think../ 'What is the point of all this? It is that you, a young man of excellent character, should not be taken in by some persons' enormous extravagance under the guise of frugality. My affection for you prompts me to warn you beforehand by an example of what to avoid when such an occasion arises. Remember that nothing should be more strictly avoided than this novel association of extravagance and meanness. These are bad enough when separate and distinct; but worse when combined/54 Book 3, the whole of 'Since your father ,./55 In the letter of book 3, 'My consulate56 gave me the duty .../ Pliny demonstrates how princes should be encouraged to honourable actions under the guise of praise/ Also in book 7, the letter 'I am alarmed ,./57 In the same book, 'You ask me how ...,'58 on the method of study. Also in the same book, 'You discuss with me ,./59

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Also the letter 'I am indeed pleased ... /6° Also in book 8, 'My affection for you compels me not to give instructions, for you have no need of an instructor, but to remind you to hold on to what you know, and put it into practice, or know it better';61 the whole letter from beginning to end is relevant to this subject and is elegantly phrased. MY OWN A D V I C E

'My view is that one should keep quiet about a bad prince, for if you speak ill of him, there is a great risk, if well, grave infamy.' 'Let no one's authority turn you aside from rectitude. We are indeed well advised to keep close to the footsteps of our ancestors, if they led the way along the straight path. Otherwise what difference is there between this imitator and the herd following its leader wherever he goes?' 'You please me by the very fact that you are not pleased with yourself. For Pliny said most truly, "Timidity is more becoming to a man engaged in studies than self-assurance/"62 'Give some indication63 of your talents. Reveal yourself to the court and the country, and allow yourself to be assigned to fame. You know the saying "hidden culture" ... '64 'I have shown what I found missing in you, that is to say, in an exemplary human being.' 'If I had praised him without reservation, my praise would have carried no conviction, since it surpassed the merits of any mortal, and I should have been of no benefit to you. As things stand, all realize, as you do yourself, that I really do like his other qualities, since I have not concealed the things that I dislike.' 'I knew you had no need of anyone to advise you, but I wanted to advise you to do just what you are doing.' 'What is done cannot be made whole again;65 we must think out what should be done in the future.' 'It is too late now to advise you, and heartless to criticize you. I wish that I could rescue you from those troubles, or that by following my advice you had not incurred them.' 'What am I to do? Shall I reprove you for casting yourself into these misfortunes as though driven by an obstinate and accursed mind, despite frequent warnings to take precautions? But it is cruel to reprove a friend in trouble. Shall I give you advice? It is too late; I wish it were not. I know how useless it is to give you advice. Shall I bewail your bad luck? I shall only be making the wound worse. The one remaining course - if anything does remain - is that you must not let impatience with your suffering add to your

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troubles, which are themselves very serious, but should stir every fibre of mind and judgment to rid yourself of them.' 'Again and again I urge you to look after your health. Though it is winter remember that you are living at Avignon.' 'I told my friends of your discussion. They were unanimous in thinking that you should abandon the trifling of orators and poets, and dedicate yourself completely to canon law.' 'Cicero66 thought it was the essence of a letter that the recipient be informed about things that he does not know. But I am writing to you about things of which you have a better grasp than I.' 'So you must either make allowance for my affection, or refuse to consider this a letter.' THE REPLY TO A D V I C E

'I do not often get letters from you (perhaps they are not delivered), but those I receive are delightful or, like the last one I received, wise and full of advice and assistance. Although I had decided to act exactly as you suggest, nevertheless I am reassured about my plans when I feel that prudent and loyal counsellors take the same view.'67 55 / The letter of friendship Not all letters of friendship fall into the same class. For some contain a request, others a protest, or a complaint, or coaxing, or self-justification. So it is not easy to give specific rules about them. I notice that some have divided this class into two sections, honourable and dishonourable. I call the honourable kind 'conciliatory' and the other 'amatory.' The conciliatory letter is that by which we insinuate ourselves into the good graces of a person previously unknown. We shall begin it like this. First of all we shall convincingly set out the reasons that have led us to solicit his friendship. Although this is hard to do without flattery, still we shall carefully remove any suspicion of it. Next if there is anything in us which can induce him to reciprocate our affection, we shall indicate it without arrogance in this way: 'Santeramo1 to Fausto gives greeting. Your poems, which are widely read here and have won extraordinary popular acclaim, long ago aroused an ardent desire in me to be numbered among your friends. For they exhibit not only a divine power of intellect, but also honesty and restraint. Antony urged me on in my initiative, often discoursing most affectionately and eloquently about your character, and going so far as to encourage me to write

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to you. He said that you not only attentively cultivate proffered friendships but usually take the lead in encouraging others. Though I esteem all your excellent and godlike qualities, I can make no claim for myself, except that in offering my services I pledge the fidelity of one who holds you in the greatest esteem. I may perhaps be lacking in education, but I am a frank admirer and honest partisan of the learned, unversed in pretence and concealment alike, a steadfast supporter of friends, not particularly fortunate in my means, bu with a very happy outlook, free-spoken, open, and good-natured, and finally your devoted admirer. If in return you can welcome such a friend, for the simple reason that he is so inordinately fond of you, please admit him into your circle. If you do this, I shall think I have now won my case. Further, though you are my better in all other respects, I shall not be outdone by you in the intensity of my affection. In mutual friendship/ But if we are seeking to arouse feelings of mutual love in a girl, we shall make use of two main instruments of persuasion, praise and compassion. For all human beings, but girls in particular, delight in praise, especially of their beauty, on which they set the greatest store, and also of their age, character, family, refinement, and similar matters. Then, since that sex is tenderhearted and easily moved to pity, we shall strive to be as supplicating as possible. We shall extol her merits and belittle our own, or at any rate mention them with great modesty. We shall demonstrate intense love joined to deep despair. We shall try by turns moaning, flattery, and despair; at other times we shall make skilful use of self-praise and promises; we shall employ precedents of famous and honourable women who showed favour to a pure, unfeigned love and to the devotion of youths far beneath them in social condition. We shall attempt to show that our love is very honourable. As a last resort, with great show of humility we shall beg that if she can in no way deign2 to give her love in return, she will at least resign herself to being loved without prejudice to herself; we shall add that if this request is not granted, we are resolved to cut short a cruel life by whatever means possible. Examples of these precepts may be found in Ovid3 and the other poets who concern themselves with this subject. There is also a class of love letters which is free from immorality, as when an honourable youth is desirous to take an honourable and well brought up girl as his wife; although this too involves coaxing, tears, complaints, sighs, dreams, and all the rest - things that are not so much disgraceful as rather foolish, giving the appearance of immorality, and therefore of doubtful propriety for setting before young men. More difficulty and greater scope for the exercise of ingenuity is afforded in the case of a poor youth seeking marriage with a wealthy girl, one of humble birth with one nobly born, an ugly man with a beautiful girl, or finally an old man with a

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young girl. Though all these types belong to the persuasive class, there is much admixture of the demonstrative, because love is chiefly obtained by praise. In this it will be intellectually challenging to devise methods of recommending oneself without giving an appearance of arrogance or stupidity, unless it is our aim to portray exactly this kind of person. Such is Virgil's Cory don,4 or Terence's Thraso.5 COLLECTION OF MATERIALS FOR LETTERS OF FRIENDSHIP

'Listen to what I have to say in all sincerity. Upon my life, my dear Atticus, neither my house at Tusculum, which otherwise is a favourite sojourn for me, nor even the Isles of the Blest mean so much to me that I can be without you for so many days.'6 Tor, believe me, nothing is more beautiful, more fair, or more worthy to be loved than manly virtue. I have always, as you know, felt affection for Marcus Brutus for his great ability, agreeable character, and extraordinary uprightness and steadfastness; yet on the ides of March my affection was so enhanced that I was surprised that there was any room for more in my admiration, which I had long ago thought full to overflowing. Who would have thought that any addition could be made to the love I felt for you? But it has grown so much that only now I seem to love you, where previously I merely esteemed you.'7 In book 6 [of Pliny], the letter 'Never have I so complained .. .'8 Again, 'You say9 that you feel my absence ...' From Angelo Poliziano, the letter in book 9, 'When on previous days...' 10 56 / Letters of the demonstrative class The demonstrative class is rarely employed on its own, but often appears in the other classes. For example, if we are attempting to recommend someone, we must dwell on the praise of his character, which occurs also in consolation, request, encouragement, and advice, as well as in accusation, defence, invective, and similar classes. But if we are persuading someone to move to another city or country house, we set before his eyes the appearance of that place in a careful description. Whenever it is employed independently, demonstration is aimed exclusively at giving pleasure. Just as in painting, therefore, so in demonstration it will be appropriate to use variation of diction, display of vocabularly, lively embellishment, examples of paronomasia,J clauses with equality of syllables,2 antithesis,3 and poetical words. If we are describing a specific person, like a king, queen, prince, or anyone else to someone to whom that person is not known, we must not

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neglect the well-known teachings of the rhetoricians on this subject. In a letter it will be sufficient to sketch, as in a painting, his features, bearing, shape, gestures, and manner of moving, and then we shall come to the advantages of mind and fortune. I intentionally pass over what has been excellently taught by the rhetoricians and is not hard to learn. If we are describing a place, we shall, just as if we were leading someone there by the hand, first present to his imagination its general appearance seen, as it were, from a distance. We shall describe the site as if we were representing it in a painting, indicating whether its situation is lofty, low-lying, sloping, in a plain or on a mountain; wooded or not; with a river,4 sea, or lake flowing near or around it; its length, breadth, or circumference; then taking its geographical position into account, we shall describe its prospect, the cities, fields, mountains, and woods it faces in each direction. We shall describe its exposure to the sun, the prevailing winds, under what section of the heavens it lies, the type of climate, whether healthy or unhealthy, pleasant or otherwise. Then as though moving closer, we shall relate things in greater detail and describe each feature in the order in which they present themselves to the eye. If we depict a country house, or a large building, we shall begin at the entrance, describing the vestibule, giving its size, shape, and kind of stone; the number of rooms off it, the direction in which they lie, and the view in each direction. Next we shall survey the courtyard, forecourt, inner rooms, sitting-rooms, dining-rooms, in short the whole of the building, stating the precise situation of each part, so that the reader may imagine that he actually sees it before his eyes. If there is a river or a lake we shall carefully describe its size, flow, colour, source, tributaries, direction of course, and what it flows into, its windings, islands, the fields and woods watered by it, the kinds of fish, and the type of fishing and shape of the boats. If there is arable land, we shall describe its crops, the extent and nature of cultivation, the character of the tenants, the kinds of trees and the type of wine produced. If there is a mountain, we shall survey the whole of it carefully from foot to summit, including any feature that is unusual, marvellous, or otherwise notable, like the description of Mount Atlas in Pomponius Mela,5 or of Mount Etna in Pliny.6 Here belong the descriptions of amphitheatres, animals, processions, and paintings. We shall easily obtain a fund of suitable terms from the Roman writers on geography and architecture.7 This type of theme occurs frequently when in our travels we give an account of novelties encountered on the journey. If we have seen any famous place, noble prince, or strange animal, we shall describe them as I have indicated, to the great delight of the reader. Examples of place descriptions are Pliny's accounts of his villas in Tuscany8 and Laurentum,9

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the palace of Psyche in Apuleius,10 and many other descriptions in the poets and historians, such as the houses of Sleep and Rumour11 in Ovid, or Cleopatra's vessel on the Cydnus12 in Plutarch and the paintings in Philostratus.13 If we are describing a race of men, we shall begin with a description of their bodies, then we shall come to their manner of dress and their habits of mind. Lastly we shall depict their whole manner of living. In sum, in this class, whether we praise or disparage, we shall make clever use of vivid representation,14 portrayal, description, the embellishment that Cicero calls designation/5 and any other figure of graphic effect.16 This should be enough instruction in this class of writing, for it would be tedious to illustrate the details with examples, and there is an abundant supply of examples on hand from various sources. 57 / Letters of the judicial class, first the accusatory If we wish to bring an accusation against someone, the circumstances of the case, the proofs and refutations, the method of bringing proof, the means of making something probable or improbable, of amplifying and extenuating all this should have been learned from the teaching of the rhetoricians. For the same technique is used in a letter as in a speech. Yet since in a letter brevity is essential, and since it is not possible to record every single detail, we shall select what has a particular bearing on the subject and leave many things to be inferred. Thus, in a letter of accusation it is sometimes appropriate to begin apruptly, so as to indicate immediately our distress and the shocking nature of the affair. This can be done by starting off with an expression of complaint1 or quandary, with an exclamation,2 or with some figure of speech. Yet rhetoricians say that this should not be done before judges. Next we shall state the point at issue in a convincing fashion, working in proofs and elaborations of proofs to save time. Then we shall set forth our case with convincing arguments. Finally we shall add the conclusion, or something in its place. AN EXAMPLE

'Most just governor, I am ashamed, so help me God, to complain about the outrageous indignity received from my guest, your fellow-countryman. Why did I say indignity? A word for describing adequately such disgraceful conduct does not suggest itself to me, and no tragedy can be found to match this wicked deed. When you have heard this tale, in your great fairness and integrity you will both pity my plight, and be thoroughly ashamed of your fellow-countryman, that is, if rogues of this kind are to be reckoned as your fellow-countrymen. From that storm, the worst that we have ever seen or

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heard tell of, which on 14 October sank sixty merchant ships on the Adriatic laden with all kinds of merchandise, Varus Saxonius, the most ungrateful man ever to walk the earth, escaped either alone or with very few other survivors from among the thousands who perished in the shipwreck. I suppose that either Neptune was angry with me, and saved him for my undoing, or that the element of the sea recoiled in horror from such a plague, who should instead have been hurled down to hell. I took him in naked, needy, dirty, exhausted, and half dead. "Why," you will say, "did you invite such a monster into your house?'' My guardian spirit was angry, the gods were angry, and my mind accursed. I admit this, and I do not expect you to call this kindness or pity, yet when I took the fellow in, I was touched by his pitiful state, especially inasmuch as I myself was not new to such disaster. I was swayed by the recommendation of many people, and persuaded by his nationality which, though differing from mine, I have always regarded as if it were my own. I was convinced by this false rogue's impressive but fraudulent appearance of uprightness, his entreaties, tears, and even his grey hair. Even a clever man could have been deceived by such things. I need not tell of my kindness, generosity, and hospitality to him. I was fool enough to admit him to close friendship. I shared all my wealth with him, I entrusted my home and household belongings into his hands. Thus for about two months he was treated by me in the most kindly fashion. Now I have learnt the awful truth of the saying3 that there is no less danger in treating the bad well than treating the good badly. For this fine fellow of a sudden turned from a guest into a robber and from an old man into a marauder. He had a secret affair with a maidservant, and left her to me pregnant. "A disgraceful deed," you will protest, I know. But wait, you have not heard the tragedy's plot, for up to now it may sound like a comedy. When he had decided upon an ignominious escape on the sacred night of Christ's nativity (notice how cleverly the perpetrator of the crime chose the right moment!) My wife and the rest of the household were attending the vigil in church, but I had remained at home contrary to usual custom and to his expectations, because I had suddenly felt ill. At dead of night in my daughter's bedroom, which adjoined mine, I heard a rattling and then a crash, as though something was being broken open with a crowbar. I wondered what it was. I woke up a servant and told him to go and look, and he surprised the fellow. He lied, saying that he had been sent by my wife to fetch a rosary that my daughter had left behind. Shortly after he left with an even greater clamour. After about an hour my wife came running home breathless. I asked what was wrong. She said that my daughter had slipped away from her side in the crowd, and was nowhere to be found.

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A strong suspicion arose in both of us, in my case because of the noise, in my wife's for more substantial reasons, because on several earlier occasions she had found the two of them talking stealthily together, and that night she had noticed some strange whisperings between them. So many coincidences should have set me thinking too, if I had not been blinder than a bat.4 That grey-haired paramour had seemed pale to me, and his face drawn and thin. But I thought he was pale from the sea water, not from senile passion. We entered the bedroom and found the chest broken open. Tools were left behind, but all clothing, money, rings, and everything he could make off with had been taken. What was I to do, a robbed host, and worse than bereft father? The night, the winter, and the deserted city, even the solemnity of the feast were all in the plunderer's favour. It will now be easier for you to judge the anxiety in my heart than for me to relate it. With difficulty I assembled some of the citizens, and rushed out, inquiring and investigating. I heard that he had been seen together with the girl, carrying luggage and going very hurriedly along the crooked road, as it is popularly called. I realized the unhappy truth. I went to the harbour, to which that road led, and found nothing but a thole-pin on the far bank, and on the near one a belt that my daughter had dropped in her excitement. I sat down, exhausted, at the first light of by far the saddest and most fateful day that ever dawned on me. When the affair became public, complaints flared up on all sides. From some he had borrowed money, others he had tricked; one had lost something through association with him, there was no one who did not have some grievance. But what consolation was it to me to share my sufferings with others? I heard, but alas too late, that crimes of this sort were nothing new to him; that he had been practised in these tricks from boyhood, and from these early beginnings had progressed to the point that he could not control himself even as an old man. He had never found pleasure in an honourable love, and could not even keep his hands off his relatives. He held nothing sacred, but the scoundrel was always after the property of others and squandering his own, an extraordinary master of pretence and deception. Why, noble sir, should I use words to enlarge upon either my calamity or his perfidity? You see the facts. Who ever heard of anything more atrocious? He violated hospitality, treacherously broke faith, returned great malice for great kindness, ruined my family, wickedly seduced and debauched my maidservant, burgled the chests, ran off with my only daughter, a mere girl, and left me, who took him in when he said he was naked and needy, despoiled, bereft, and aged. For the future what can seem wicked to one whom neither the sanctity of hospitality, nor my great kindness towards him, nor fear of the law, nor awe of any deity, nor respect

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for age and grey hair, nor the holiness of so sacred a night could deter from such a wicked crime? If this monstrous creature ever comes into your clutches, I do not ask that your severity exact punishment of him on my account, but that it rid an excellent country of a foul pestilence, whose complete removal would be beneficial to gods and men. Farewell/ On revising this treatise, excellent reader, it was quite obvious to me that when I first wrote it to satisfy the friend5 who proved to be no friend at all, I dashed down whatever came into my head, merely to finish the book. Otherwise there would have been no difficulty in devising other subjects more suitable for letters. Someone will object: 'What have letters to do with law courts?' On the contrary, this class is often found, for instance, when we clear our own reputation or that of a friend, and defend ourselves against the false accusations of detractors, sometimes making countercharges against those who impute charges against us. When St Jerome6 averts the suspicion of intimacy with Paula that was levelled against him, does he not become completely involved in conjectural proofs and handle a subject common to judicial investigations? Yet since no class of letter receives more thorough treatment by writers on this art, and since it is not quite adapted to the education of children, for whom this work, such as it is, is especially designed, let us pass on to other subjects more suited to our purpose. 58 / The letter of complaint Complaint is often apt to arise among friends when we find them lacking in their duty. But if it is not to mar friendship, it must be softened either with praise, or humour, or dissembling, unless the person to whom we are writing is one with whom we are on very easy terms. We shall condemn the omission itself, but excuse his intention as far as possible. We shall say that we wonder what the reason was, but would rather infer anything other than that he was remiss in his duty as a friend. AN EXAMPLE

'I have already sent you hundreds of letters but you have not sent me a single reply. What am I to conclude? What surmise? Are you alive, or dead and buried? But your son-in-law recently told me that you are alive, and in fact quite well. What has become of those old feelings of friendship? Is it possible that through long absence Lucius has faded from William's memory? Could that searing flame1 burn low? Could that great fire of love be extinguished? Where has your solicitude for me gone? As for me, I cannot tell you how I am consumed with longing for you, but you, perhaps with no thought for me,

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amuse yourself with new-found friendships. Do not drag out those old excuses: "I had no time"; "There was no letter-carrier available." What on earth are those pressing affairs of yours that they do not allow you to devote half an hour's attention to your friend? At least write this much: "I am detained by business; it is not possible to write. Farewell!" Do you think that I am completely free? How many nights we spent in intimate conversations, and yet now you grudge robbing yourself of a little sleep to write one or two short lines to your friend? Has there really never been anyone available all these months to whom you could entrust a letter, particularly to a friend? Was there no one to whom you could give a message, through whom you could send me a greeting? Does everyone travel in your direction and no one ever return this way? But I hear that you have lately been promoted to a new rank, and perhaps you have become too proud for us, now that you have a little more money. If it is because of your success, I shall bear your silence with greater equanimity; but if you are silent through f orgetfulness, or if you are prevented by some misfortune, naturally I shall find it harder to bear. But I would rather make any conjecture than suppose you have been remiss in your duty. Nevertheless, whatever the situation, see that you relieve me of this anxiety as soon as possible. I should not like you to have too good a reason in this matter. I prefer to think that I have had just cause for complaint about you than that poor health has been the reason for your silence.' ANOTHER EXAMPLE

There! Entrust things to this fellow if you want them properly looked after.2 To think that you have slumbered so long over your friend's serious concerns! But I am not angry with you, only with myself for entrusting you with looking after my affairs, fully aware of your habitual carelessness in the conduct of your own.' ANOTHER EXAMPLE

'On rereading the book, my dear Scribonius,3 as I kept coming upon so many errors of the type that could not be overlooked I could not help missing in you the loyalty that our long-standing friendship, your promises, and my confidence in you deserve. You had made magnificent promises, and I was expecting something greater than you promised. I was led to entertain this hope through your modesty and your character, which has always seemed quite free of all pretence and inconstancy. I am puzzled that you were so unlike yourself in this, save that the facts themselves testify to an extraordinary negligence on your part. You cannot cast the blame on someone else, since you were put in charge of publishing the work, precisely to avoid having the book ruined by someone else's efforts. Certainly you

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could not have rendered a more crucial service for a friend. If you had undertaken the task for no salary or for one that was inadequate, still it would have been right to keep an eye open on behalf of your friend, whose reputation could be endangered by your carelessness. If the question of our friendship meant so little to you, you should still have given liberally of your services for all the students for whose benefit the work was being prepared. As it is, since the printer is revising your work at great expense, since you knew that this was of very great importance to one of your closest friends, and since you were well aware that it was incumbent on a good man to render service even gratuitously for the cause of learning and its devotees, it is inconceivable to me that you could have been so lax in such an important matter. In dealing with literature one is dealing with something that is not only public, but sacred. It can be no slight fault when so many are injured by it, and what in other matters is condemned as carelessness in this case is an act of impiety. It is unjust not to satisfy the desires of one from whom you are receiving a more than just fee. It is callous to disregard a friend's reputation, faithless not to make good your promises, and godless to be negligent in the business of the Muses. See then, my dear Scribonius, in how many ways you have been at fault. But my complaint comes too late; I merely beg by everything that you hold sacred that your thoughtless errors in this matter may be counterbalanced by care and attention in all else/ A C O L L E C T I O N OF M A T E R I A L

FOR LETTERS OF C O M P L A I N T

From Cicero's letters to his friends, book 5, 'If you are4 in good health, all is well ...' Book 5, the letter 'Your letter-carriers5 are doing things in reverse order ...' 'But I'll have you know that I have had only one letter from you, my accuser, though you had more time for writing, and more opportunity to send letters.'6 'I would like you to write to me often. If you have no news, write whatever comes into your head.'7 'Even if you have nothing to write (which I see will probably be the case), I would like you to write just that, that you had nothing to write, but not in so many words.'8 'I have given you a mental thrashing - if not a verbal one - because this is the second packet that has reached me without any letter from you. You cannot escape the penalty for this offence on your own pleading. Marcus will have to be brought in; and see whether he is able to prove your innocence with a speech elaborated in many long vigils.'9 'I cannot help accusing you of negligence for writing so briefly and carelessly on so important a subject/

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'You must either be lazy or greatly distracted to be so brief in your letter on such a complex subject.' 'You seem to have had Brutus' laconic style in mind when you wrote a letter hardly three lines long.' 'I can hardly be induced to believe the news about you which is brought by authorities who are otherwise quite reliable. For this does not correspond at all with my judgment of you nor with your former habits.' 'Is he to mock us with all this expense?'10 From Pliny, book i, the letter 'I have received11 no letters for a long time .../ the whole of it. Book 2, the letter 'I am angry ...,'12 the whole of it. Book i, an example of amused protest, the whole letter beginning 'Look here, you accept13 my invitation and then ...' From Poliziano, book 11, the letter 'From the letters14 and conversation of many people ...'; in the same book, the letter 'I had given the opportunity .../15 MY E X A M P L E OF A P R O T E S T

'Antonius is bringing an accusation against you, and is summoning a surety, for you are not fulfilling your promise to write to him often. I should also be very angry with you myself for not listening, after being repeatedly warned by us - except that it would be unkind to be angry with one who has suffered misfortune. I hear that the secret which I recently entrusted to you, as to one from whom I was in the habit of never concealing anything, has now come to light, and each day is spreading to more people. You must be the source of this rumour, since I am sure that I shared it with no other mortal but you. But if the news I have received is false, I have reason for being very happy, for I should prefer to accuse my informers of irresponsibility than to find you lacking in a friend's good faith; but if it is true, you have acted in an unworthy manner. What is so faithless as betraying the secrets of friends? It is an action worthy not so much of protest as of sharp reproof. But I have not yet lost faith in your loyalty. See that you relieve me as soon as possible of this anxiety.' 'You are too dear to me for me to be angry with you. Yet I am both very surprised and distressed that you have disregarded my reliable and sound advice, and got yourself into this muddle.' 'My affection for you is so great that it cannot be diminished by any wrong, yet I cannot help being disturbed.' 'You cannot be acquitted of such obvious guilt even with Cicero as your advocate. Where are your packets of letters, where those huge bundles which you promised me as I left you, you paragon of falsehood and deception? But as it is I have heard nothing from you.'

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'I have written this to you with some frankness, conscious of my good will and friendly services, which I entered into with full cognizance, and which I shall maintain as long as it is your wish/16 59 / Letter of apology

We use apology to rebut a complaint in such a way as to give proof that not only were we not offended by it but even greatly appreciative. Next we shall seek to repel the suspicion roused against us. Finally we must bring forward very convincing explanations in order to clear it away. Admittedly, it is difficult to settle on any precise method for this extremely varied category; it must be taken from the subject, the occasion, and the persons involved. AN EXAMPLE

'It was less upsetting to be undeservedly accused by you than it was gratifying to hear that you were in need of my services, for it is proof of excessive fondness to have unfounded suspicions about a friend. Yet you have reason to wonder at my long silence, for I have not sent you a letter for almost ten months. But may the gods avert what you write in your letter, that Lucius could ever forget William! Could Lucius ever fail to remember William? Do you think I could beguile myself with new friendships? Am I so puffed up with success that I value you less? As if any good fortune has ever been pleasant, or could be, without you! Do not imagine that I attach such importance to any activities that I would not readily postpone them, if at any time I had to write to you. "Why then," you will say, "is none of your correspondence reaching me?" I shall tell you. I sent letters twice, the firs time by your relative, Stilbo, on 15 May; then by my father-in-law, Petronius on i July. I know that the earlier letter was not delivered to you, for Stilbo said on his return that he had lost it on the journey, and on that account was afraid to face you. Although my father-in-law was planning to set out in your direction, he changed his mind at the time of departure. After them no one came my way to whom I could properly entrust a letter. I did not even receive all of yours. However, I would like you to persuade yourself again and again that there is no one alive who is fonder or more mindful of you, whether I write or not. Farewell/ As there is frequent call for this kind of letter among friends, it will be helpful to have practice in various subjects. These are some of the complaints made against friends: that they have been remiss in the duty of writing; that they have not carried out instructions or have carried them out too late or incorrectly; that they have thoughtlessly blabbered about something that would have been better kept quiet; that their letters have been too few, too

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casual, or too harsh; that on a serious matter they have not consulted their friend, who should not have been kept in ignorance of anything; that they seem to have underestimated their friend's good will since they concealed the fact that they needed help. This class comes close to the class of advice with criticism. It is related to the latter category when we complain to others about somebody. COLLECTION OF MATERIALS FOR LETTERS OF JUSTIFICATION

'If there were good faith in those who should have shown it we should not be in such difficulties/1 Book 3, the letter 'Although as far 2 as I could understand ...' 'But if this occurs less often than you expect, the reason will be that my letters are not of such a kind that I dare entrust them to anyone indiscriminately. Whenever I have access to trustworthy persons to whom I may safely give them, I shall not miss the chance.'3 'Yet there is a hint in your letter of some suspicion and hesitation on your part concerning which this is not the right time for me to make protest to you, but it is the proper moment for me to clear myself.'4 'I should be uttering complaints and protests to you if it were not that I preferred and thought it more proper in these present circumstances, as I wrote above, to clear myself with you than to accuse you. So I will say nothing about you for believing it, but a few words about myself to point out why you should not have believed it.'5 'It is not through forgetfulness of our friendship or any intermission of my usual practice that I have not sent you a letter in the past. The earlier period was one of depression and disaster for our country and for me, while more recently I was prevented from writing by your own wholly undeserved and bitter difficulties.'6 'I ask you not to think that I write less frequently than I used to through forgetfulness of you, but either because of ill health, although it seems now to have improved somewhat, or because I am away from Rome.'7 This letter is perhaps a little more wordy than you would have liked; and I shall presume you think the same unless you send me a longer one in reply. If I can straighten out a few matters, I shall see you shortly, I hope.'8 'So let our relationship to each other be what it has always been. What I can only hope for in you, I can vouch for in myself.'9 Book 2, the letter 'Though because of ...'10 Book 5, the letter 'If you and your army11 are well...,' the whole of it. Book 12, the letter 'Is that the case?12 Apart from litigants ...' Book 13, the letter 'When previously13 I was getting ...' 'But there is something for which I should like to ask your forgiveness.'14

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'I ask you to forgive me for this, and to think that it was kindness that prevented me from acting against the excellent reputation of a friend in his great trouble, when he had granted me all his support and services. But if you want to be more severe towards me, you will suspect that my candidature stood in the way. My feeling is that I should be forgiven, even if that were so, "For honour is a wondrous boon/"15 'I shall not give you reason from now on to accuse me of neglecting to write. Only make sure that with so much time at your disposal you match my energy/16 'Letters from you reach me all too seldom, although it is much easier for you to find travellers setting out for Rome than for me to find any on their way to Athens, and you are more certain of my being at Rome than I am that you are in Athens. Therefore, owing to this uncertainty of mine, this letter will be rather brief/17 'I shall be rather brief because I hope that we shall soon be able to discuss what we want in person/18 'If it happens that you receive letters less frequently from me than from others, I ask you not to ascribe this to my neglect, or even to my being busy, for although the pressure is very great it cannot be great enough to interfere with the course of our affection and my duty towards you/19 'Sol shall never regret my intention, but I do regret my plan of action. '20 From the book to Brutus, the whole of 'Clodius,21 the tribune of the people/ 'My reproofs were brimming with affection/22 'But I fear that this infection may spread further/ 23 'About the dispatch of letters your accusation is unjust/ 24 The pleasure of talking to you has made me run on too long, but now I shall close, before my letter exceeds the limit that I think is proper for a speech/25 Book 9, the letter 'It is kind of you ...,'26 the whole of it. 'Here is a letter which, considering the usual length of a letter, is as long as the books you read, but you have only yourself to blame, since you were not content with the speeches/27 From Poliziano: book i, the letter 'Because I sent you long ago ,./28 Book 3,29 the letter 'Greetings, my dear Poliziano ../3° Book 3, the letter 'I wish that the letter ...,'31 near the middle. Book 4, the letter 'Neither when I am at ease .../32 Book 5, the letter 'The more you are33 towards me .. /; in the same book the letter 'You find nothing new .. /;34 in the same book, the letter 'You call me a Hercules ,./35 Book 8, the letter T do not plead my case ,./36

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Book 11, the letter 'Your letter quite pleased me .../37 Book 12, the letter 'I noticed that you were offended ,./38 60 / My examples of justification 'I know that whatever you do is done with the best of intentions, for of what could I be more certain than your feelings towards me? Yet to express frankly what I feel, some of your actions seem, I shall not presume to say ill considered in a man of great wisdom, nor hostile in a man of sincere loyalty, but a little lacking in circumspection.' 'I do not doubt that you do this in a friendly spirit, yet I congratulate myself that my enemies do not have such talent for giving offence/ 'You say that you acted in a friendly spirit, but what difference does it make to me whether you ruin me in a friendly or unfriendly manner?' 'It is pleasant to escape from the fellowship of society into the farthest wilderness whenever one calls to mind the behaviour of those obsessively loquacious people who imagine that they were born for the sole purpose of spoiling another's innocence with their foul, deceitful tongues/ 'But if I have to clear myself in a letter every time they bring false charges against me, I shall be worn out with writing and you with reading/ 'What curse am I to call upon these abusive scoundrels, who begrudge our good will, and are always thinking up some way of annihilating or diminishing it, except that they should be struck completely dumb? 'It is the opportunity I have lacked so far, not the will, in not carrying out your instructions in accordance with your commands and my word/ 'I could not adequately express in a letter how disillusioned I am with my affairs or rather my ill fortune, because of which it has not been possible for me yet to do justice to my desire or your prayers/ 'Were not my fortune inimical to both of us, I myself should have preferred, and you eminently deserved, that I should offer you my services rather than an apology/ 'In this matter I should not hesitate to swear by the stone Jupiter1 that all you mention happened without my knowledge/ The general opinion is opposed to you, but I went so far as to maintain on oath that such an unseemly incident did not originate with you/ 'I swear it solemnly before you; believe my sworn word/ 'Credulity is more a mistake than a crime, and readily instils itself even into the minds of the best men/ 2 THE REPLY TO J U S T I F I C A T I O N

Poliziano, book 2, the letter Though for your letters ../3

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In book 12, the letter 'I have received your letter ... ';4 in the same book, the letter 'You indeed ../5 The errors of my youth have caused me so much grief and anxiety that not only does my mind recoil from the deeds themselves, but even my ears shrink from the mere mention of them.'6 Though you have offered a reasonable and proper excuse for the interruption of your correspondence,7 I ask you not to do this too often.' Therefore, since I particularly miss your letters, do not attempt to fulfill your duty to write by making excuses instead of by keeping up a steady correspondence/ MY R E P L Y TO A J U S T I F I C A T I O N

'Previously I was somewhat angry with you, but now I am very angry, and quite rightly. Your careful justification has made it appear that you do not know my temperament, or at least are not very kindly disposed towards one who is a very true friend.' 'You suppose that I was offended because you quibbled about some little word in my writings.' 'I am not so arrogant as to take badly from a friend what I should regard not as a wrong but as a favour if it came from one of my rivals.' 'You may criticize all my writings, and I shall still remain your friend.' The others whom you defend should have my approval if they have yours.' There is no cause for alarm, for I shall not be a whit less fond of you. On this matter write in your usual brotherly way.'8 To this class belong all those appeasements9 used to remove the suspicion of arrogance, hatred, harshness, or anything likely to give offence. When we reply in a reversed order, we can use the Homeric precedent of hysteron proteron,10 as Cicero did11 in writing to Atticus. 'But what am I doing? I almost forgot I was writing a letter!'12 'Where am I off? It almost slipped my mind to whom I was writing/ 61 / Letter of reproof Whereas with friends we remonstrate, with enemies and ungrateful persons we use reproof. I have instructed that the former be toned down, but I recommend that the latter be intensified. Since all reproof seems to be a departure from humane conduct, we shall say that we have been forced to use it, either because of the other's intolerable ingratitude, or his crass stupidity, or because he drove us to it by his daily slanders, or because with the shameless one must act without shame (for a tough knot1 you need a

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tough wedge). We shall remind him that this has often been done by very virtuous men. We shall adduce other arguments to the same effect, or at the very least, we shall arrive at reproof by dissimulation. We shall repeatedly call to witness the man's own conscience, and present the facts of the case by skilful narration, enlarging both on our kindness to him and on his ingratitude towards us. AN

EXAMPLE

'Will you not finally feel ashamed of yourself, you most ungrateful old man2 alive? I wanted, so help me God, both to forget the benefits I had conferred on you, and to pass over your ingratitude in silence, if only you would allow it. But your wickedness was too much for my forbearance. Do you dare, you vile creature, after experiencing so much of my kindness to you, to go about boasting as if you had deserved something from me? Do you dare to call me ungrateful when, in return for the greatest favours, you have repaid me with countless misdeeds? At this point I call upon your own conscience, yes, that conscience stained by so many crimes, which you are forced to bear within yourself as the witness and avenger of your ingratitude. Tell me, you wicked old man, does it never occur to you how you begged and besought me that somehow you might attach yourself to me so that I might impart some of my learning to you? May I be struck dead if I am not filled with loathing just to envision in my mind's eye that cleverly disguised expression of yours. To think that white-haired and wrinkled you uttered such flatteries and even shed tears! I am ashamed even to tell of it. But what is the point of recounting things to someone with a good memory? Let your conscience tell you what you did, said, promised, and swore. Of my own good will and kindness I offered what you, in other respects quite shameless, did not even dare to ask. You know what labours, what vigils I underwent for your sake after taking you in like a brother. Forgetful of my own affairs, I led an ass to the lyre.3 In trying to teach it, if you please, I was mad to waste so many months. Tell me, you most ungrateful man under the sun, who could put up with those manners of yours even for a single day? Who could have endured looking at that face at any price? Even now an immense nausea rises up in my mind, and you would feel it too, if you could see that hideous face of yours with my eyes. You sat there, pretty little boy, like an ox in the palaestra,4 and you looked at me, your teacher, from beneath your shaggy white eyebrows with those wild, furtive eyes as you dribbled into your whitening beard. Add to that your unmanageable and thorny disposition, a head harder than marble and your dull powers of perception. You know how patiently I endured, swallowed, and digested those faults of yours which even you at times found intolerable. What did I leave undone to overcome your

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slowness? Do you have the effrontery to deny this? You have reminders of my labours. Do you not become red with embarrassment whenever you look at the book I slaved over with such care and toil? Do you not shudder and shrink from yourself if ever you return to your senses, that is, if you ever recover from that mad frenzy? Can you not love and respect one who has treated you so kindly? Do you use your foul tongue to attack one who was always ready to oblige you with his eloquence? Why should I reveal you to yourself? You know what poison and filth you have spewed up from the sewer of your guilt-stained breast. All ingratitude is detestable, none more so than that towards a teacher. Even if I had failed in my duty, it was your place to cover up the faults of a teacher like those of a parent or interpret them in a favourable light. As it is, you admit that you have been so wanting that you have no equal, and for kindnesses received you ungratefully return what no enemy would do to another. When one of the officers of Philip of Macedon had demanded and obtained from him the property of a person by whom he had been kindly treated when shipwrecked, the king branded this inscription on his brow with a white-hot iron: "A thankless guest." Do you not deserve even more to have this epithet seared into your brow: "A thankless pupil"? The name of teacher is more sacred than that of host. It is a worse crime to attack a reputation than to seize an estate. You promise retribution if I return; you threaten me with more heinous things if I do not. What could be more senseless? At one moment I am hailed by you as the most learned of all men, at another the same tongue calls me the most unlearned man alive. What could be more insane? Is it not clear proof of the remarkable perversity of your mind that you knowingly and deliberately inflict great harm on one who has done you the greatest good? Do you dare to look upon the light of day after such behaviour? Do you dare to enter the assemblies of men? Do you dare to show your hands and eyes before the holy altars in the temples? Do you dare with that viper's tongue, which you have wielded so often against your greatest benefactor, to pray to the gods who punish ingratitude? Surely you do not believe that any gods exist, above or below? But I shall end my reproofs even if you make no end of your provocations. Fare as you deserve/ C O L L E C T I O N OF M A T E R I A L S FOR A LETTER OF R E P R O O F 5

Cicero's letter to Octavian beginning 'If your legions had allowed ...' will serve as an example of this class; also Jerome's letter6 to Julian, and Medea's letter7 to Jason in Ovid. From Cicero's letters to his friends, book 5, 'Although I had decided...' 8

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MY REPROOF

'At a time when I might expect a different kind of gratitude for my services to you, I am angry not with you, the most ungrateful of men, but with myself for putting an ungrateful and wicked man under obligation/ T bestowed things on you which you did not even venture to hope for/ 'I heaped services upon you when you deserved nothing; in return for such favours you load me with insults/ To those for whom there is no hope even Hippocrates refuses treatment/ 62 / The letter of invective

The technique of writing letters of invective is taken partly from the demonstrative class and partly from the judicial, for we must involve ourselves in personal vituperation and frequently resort to the formal censuring of a person's name. In addition we must both refute allegations and vigorously level counter-charges, and this belongs to the judicial class. Such things should be learnt from the rhetoricians. I thought I might merely suggest here that at the very beginning of the invective letter we should point out our opponent's intolerable stupidity, pride, rudeness, or abusiveness. We shall say that we are constrained to do this, contrary to our habit and inclinations; that we shall not emulate him in making up accusations, but, refraining from insults, merely repel the allegations. Next from a verbal portrait of the person we shall make it appear that he has invented these reports through hatred or a natural penchant for slander. We shall expose one of the allegations that can most justly be refuted. When we have carefully refuted it, we shall make a counter-charge, and say that the man's impudence and falsehood should be clear from this alone. Then we shall hurl back at him the charges he tried to use against us, and show that his transgressions were the same or worse. We shall leave many things to be inferred, either because they are so indecent that a person of modesty should not even charge his opponent with them, or because we wished only to mention a few of his many offences, since from one or two crimes the rest of his life can easily be imagined. Then when we have warmed up, as the speech proceeds, we shall ridicule the fellow with taunts, quips, and witty remarks. We shall show that he is not only offensive but absurd, that he is as deserving of contempt for his extraordinary folly as he is detestable for his incredible perversity. We shall make much use of irony. Finally, as if restraining ourselves, we shall urge him to come at last to his senses and not force us too to forget our self-control. If you wish to have a model, you may read the invectives exchanged between

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Demosthenes and Aeschines,1 Cicero and Sallust,2 Jerome and Rufinus,3 Poggio and Valla,4 and Poliziano and Scala.5 Since I have had very little practice in this genre, I am afraid that I cannot satisfy your needs in the techniques of this kind of writing. If one could only remain always unversed in it! Besides, it is not my intention here to teach skill in speaking abuse, though there is no fault in keeping a weapon in readiness for defence against rude provocation; nor is there any need at all of skill for this purpose, as almost everyone is eloquent when it comes to abusive language. COLLECTION OF INVECTIVE MATERIAL

Poliziano, book 12, the letter 'An artificial Hercules';6 also the letter 'Whether they are inconsistencies ...'7 'We have read your letter, which is very much like your edict, full of insults and threats, one which ought never to have been sent by you to us.'8 63 / The letter of entreaty

Now let us go on to the plea for mercy. * We plead for mercy when we admit obvious guilt and yet beg pardon for ourselves or for others. Here we shall take the part of suppliants, and frankly admit to guilt. As the letter proceeds, we shall minimize the deed, pleading inexperience, or tender age, or the fact that it was the first offence, or arguing from the very nature of the offence, and we shall transfer part of the blame to others. We shall say that the person in error is so overwhelmed with shame, fear, and penitence that he is deserving of pity. We shall praise and implore the mercy of the man whom we are trying to placate. We shall show that there is hope of a reform of life, and make this appear probable from the offender's natural disposition, which in itself is virtuous, and from his good actions on other occasions. This is the way in which Micio2 pleads the case of his nephew in the play of Terence. We shall interpose our influence, and act as guarantors in a reconciliation. AN EXAMPLE

'I was provoked to tears by your son, a young man not so much to be despaired of as in need of guidance. He came to me in a state of emaciation and neglect. I asked him what was the matter. At once tears welled up, and he could hardly tell me for sobbing that he was ruined, as he had lost a very good father through his own folly. I asked him what he had done wrong. He admitted that he had spent on a mistress a sum of money received for business purposes; that you were greatly displeased, and had repudiated your paternal relationship. He threw himself at my knees, wept, and promised conduct worthy of himself. In a word, he convinced me of his

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change of heart. I feel certain that this misfortune has taught him a lesson, and that from now on he will be more careful. Therefore, since he has returned to his senses, it is right for you to reassume the role of father. He has already paid a heavy enough penalty for his misdeed; he is so upset by your anger that he is intent on taking his own life unless he is received back into favour. I reprimanded him severely. In short, if you had seen him, even in your anger you could not have kept back your tears. For the rest, he can be corrected in a kindly manner; one must guard against undue severity lest a tender mind be discouraged. Do not do anything to cause yourself more regret in the future for your harshness than he now feels for his thoughtlessness. Show pardon if only because of his age. He is a child, inexperienced and led astray by bad companions; he has made a mistake, but this is the first time; he admits his fault, he asks pardon, he promises to make amends, he delivers himself for punishment. What more can a father ask from his son? Remember3 that he is a boy, and that you once were; treat him as a father should, keeping in mind that you are human and so is your son. Did you never make any mistakes when you were that age? Did you never do anything for which your father should have had cause to be angry? I am sure that you did, and perhaps worse things. The accusation is commonly brought against us, and deservedly so, that we forget what we were like once as boys, and want our sons to be born instantly as old men. We can admit freely among ourselves that many have even benefited from falling into error. Taught by this misfortune, he will be more cautious in the future. If you grant him pardon for his fault, your son will be more obliged to you. He will amply atone for his childish error by his good services. He has a singular love and respect for his father; he is of upright character and modest nature, and not at all of dull intelligence. I see many signs in him which give me the sure hope that from now on he will be what we both want him to be. So I return the young man into your hands, I take the whole of his case upon myself, and appoint myself as his guarantor; but if he incurs any further guilt, you can disown both your son and your friend. Farewell.' ANOTHER EXAMPLE FROM CICERO

'If I have done you any wrong, or rather for the wrong I have done you, forgive me. I have done graver wrong to myself.'4 'I never thought I should have to come to you as a suppliant, but in truth I readily accept the opportunity that has been afforded me of putting your love to the test... Please grant me this favour as well, forget for my sake that he was once concerned about the reputation of his friend who was your opponent. Such an act of forgiveness becomes your humane feelings.'5 'I wish that, as you are known to be the bravest of men, so you may also

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be thought of as the most merciful. It will be a great honour to you that a young man of the highest birth should be delivered by your kindness/6 AN EXAMPLE FROM PLINY'S LETTERS

'A certain man was reproving his son for spending money too lavishly on horses and dogs. When the young man had gone, I said to his father, "Look here, did you never do anything that could incur your father's blame? You did, I'm sure. And do you not sometimes do things that your son could criticize just as severely if you suddenly changed places? Isn't everyone liable to make mistakes, and does not each man indulge his own weakness?" Struck by such an example of excessive severity, I am writing this to you out of our mutual friendship, so that you may never treat your son too harshly or too severely. Remember that he is a boy now as you were once; be a father to him, keeping in mind that you are human and so is your son. Farewell.'7 64 / Collection of material for letters of entreaty 'You have overcome yourself in renouncing your personal enmities in the interests of the country; can you be induced to support the enmities of others to the detriment of the country?'1 'You more than anyone else because of our close friendship can imagine the grief I have felt and the loss I have suffered both in public and in private life at the death of my cousin Lucius. For every human comfort that anyone could receive from another's kindness and virtuous conduct I received from him. So I am quite sure that you too find this hard to bear through your sympathy for my suffering, and your personal loss of a dear and devoted relative and friend, who was attached to you both from his own feelings and through my conversations about you.'2 'I never thought that I should have to come to you as a suppliant, but by God! I readily accept the chance granted me of putting your affection to the test. You know how much esteem I have for Atticus. I beg you, grant me this too: forget for my sake that he once sought support for his friend, who was your opponent, when that person's reputation was concerned. First, such an act of forgiveness becomes your sense of humanity, for everyone must look after his own. Then in the second place, leaving Atticus out of it, please do it for the sake of your friend Cicero, for whom you always profess so much esteem. Then I may have concrete proof of what I have always believed, that you have great regard for me.'3 Bearing on the subject of reconciliation is Pliny's letter in book 8 beginning 'Do you know those ...'4 Book 9, the letter 'Your freedman .. ./5 the whole of it, a fine example of a plea for mercy.

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THE REPLY

Cicero's Adfamiliares, book 5, the letter 'If you are in good health6 all is well. But are these the kind of clients ...' '"He prays, confesses, sorrows, and repents. / Can more be asked? What's done cannot be undone." The deed does not displease you as much as it does the doer. I shall take it upon myself that he will mend his ways in the future; at my own risk I will be his guarantor. If he does wrong again, you may demand punishment of me. Just as you were rightly angry with him when he did wrong, so it is fair that you should pardon him when he repents, especially as he is a mere boy, driven into error by another's malice. I think you should consider, not what his folly, but what your forgiveness demands of you. Come now, do not be too stern a father! Do you do nothing wrong even as an old man? and do you wish to make no allowance for a boy? Do you want your sons to be old men instantly at birth? Have you quite forgotten what you were like at that age?'7 65 / Unusual classes of letters; letters of information We have so far dealt with what seemed to fall within one of the three classes of the persuasive, the demonstrative, and the judicial. We shall come now to the remaining kinds of letters, which, though they do not so much stand in need of rhetorical technique, yet occur more often than the kinds already described. Thus we will mention in particular the kind of letter in which we tell a friend of any news that he ought to know or that will bring him pleasure, whether it be of a public or a private nature. Private matters would include informing an absent person of our state of health, or our progress in our studies, of how our affairs are progressing in the country, at court, in building concerns, and in the lawcourts, or of any new undertakings of ours in other spheres right down to trivial details of parties and conversations; public news concerning peace, war, kingly exploits, treaties, plagues, floods, earthquakes, storms, and other such things. No fixed method can be laid down for this class, because of its great variety. I shall only say in general that the information should be straightforward and clear, as well as short and precise, and should sometimes include congratulation or consolation. It consists of narration, about which I shall give instruction later. AN EXAMPLE

'As you have been away from us for just about a year, I think that I should write to tell you and that you will be interested in knowing what has gone on here in the meantime. So you will hear a good deal of news from me, but not all of it pleasant. You are familiar with the law of human existence, that there is no happiness in human affairs that is not tempered by some setback. Your

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uncle is extraordinarily fond of you and extremely delighted by the fame you have won for yourself. You will say: "That is an old story." All right, listen to something which you will admit is novel. Remember your old boon companion, Nebridius? Such a gallant lover, such a refined and polished gentleman, so fond of the ladies, that compulsive gambler, invincible drinker, that spendthrift and glutton, that complete debauchee - "What has he done," you will say, "did he get married?" No. He has suddenly changed, said farewell to all that nonsense, and taken up the profession of undertaker. I know you will say I am joking, but you will find that it is true. Well then, does that seem stale news to you? Who wouldn't exclaim at this point, "Well, that's a switch!"1 Who could deny that a wolf can turn into a sheep? Here's an even more surprising tidbit. Your nemesis, Varus, is not the same old Varus any more. He is fond of you now, which he never was before. He praises you, cultivates your friends, and longs for your arrival. This great slanderer is learning to speak kindly. This unredeemed liar is beginning to tell the truth. This most treacherous villain is keeping his word. The transformations2 we read about in poetry are ludicrous compared to these sudden turnabouts. Your uncle was awarded the office of supreme pontiff on 13 January, but only after a great contention. You know of his rival's unscrupulousness and factions, yet he won. I wanted you to know this as soon as possible, so that you might write him a letter of hearty congratulations. The legacy that was almost torn from your grasp has been restored to you by my efforts. Do not thank me for this service, as I am only doing in your affairs what you used to do in mine. I have one announcement that will give you great pleasure - on 8 March your sister presented her husband with a son, a little grandson for her father and a nephew for you. Now what reward will you give me if I tell you of a much more joyful event? The gods are all on your side. In your absence, when you least expected it, a large and particularly handsome prebend was awarded you. On 9 February Cornelius, a most upright man, departed this life. During his illness, since he did not like your rivals (as he got wind of their avid interest even then), he named you as his successor. He survived for a month. Such was the tunny fortune enmeshed in your nets while you were asleep.3 It will be up to you to see to it that what has come your way does not slip out, for there is no lack of persons ready for the kill. So much for private matters; about public events I expect that rumour has anticipated my letter. On i July the anointing of the king4 was performed with lavish ceremony. On i August he himself entered Paris. On 2 September the wedding was celebrated with royal pomp. An audience was granted to the ambassadors representing many kings; no one left without splendid gifts. The British had caused some disturbance, but the matter was

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settled on fair terms. So much for public affairs. For the rest, I should not mention them, if it were not of great importance for you to know them. A plague has now been raging among us for some months. It has carried off many of our friends and also your mother-in-law, the best woman I ever set eyes on in my life. Your brother caught the same disease, but recovered. Such was the will of the one who apportions human fortunes, drawn at his discretion from the two jars. 5 One must bear with equanimity what cannot be changed. You yourself will decide what you had better do in this matter. You have learnt now pretty well what I wanted you to know, but if anything fresh turns up meanwhile, I shall let you know as soon as possible. Be sure on your part to keep me informed about your affairs. Farewell.' COLLECTION OF MATERIAL FOR AN INFORMATIVE

LETTER

'You will learn what is going on here from Pollio, who not only took part but was the chief protagonist in all the transactions/6 'I shall carry out everything very carefully, so that if anything can be secured I shall not have failed to make every exertion, and if I am not successful in securing anything I shall not seem to have suffered defeat/ 7 'On all matters that concern you - what has been done, what has been settled upon, and what Pompey has undertaken to do - you will learn best from Marcus Plaetorius, who not only participated but had a leading part in these affairs and left no service undone in your behalf which might be expected of a man of proven loyalty, prudence, and assiduity. You will also learn from him about the general state of affairs, which cannot easily be explained in a letter/8 'All your family here are well and miss you with true sentiments of loyalty, respect, and esteem. Look after your health, and do not move from there without good reason/9 Book 4, the letter Though I know it is not pleasant ../10 Book 7, 'If some pain .../:tl Book 8, the letter 'It was not so important .../12 Book 9, 'Our friend Caninius13 in your words ../ 'We hear good reports daily about Dolabella, but so far from mere rumour without source or authority/14 'I'll tell you the plain truth. I seem to be banished now that I am in my villa at Formiae/15 'Give that slave, whom I ordered to hurry back to you at once, a nice big letter, full not only of everything that has happened but also of your views/16 'This is to tell you that in this year of the consulships of Lucius Julius

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Caesar and Gaius Marcius Figulus, Terentia presented me with a baby son, and Terentia is well/17 For that matter almost all the letters to Atticus are of this kind, like the one beginning 'You ask me/18 Tlease write and tell me, as you had begun to do, how all this came about and how the situation now stands. For the truth coming from you, even if it is unpleasant, is still welcome to me/19 1 have written this to you because it is right, in view of our mutual friendship, that you should be apprised not only of all my words and deeds, but of my intentions as well.'20 Book i, the letter beginning 'You will smile,21 and indeed you may'; the entire letter is an example of an amusing informative letter. Book 3, the letter 'You are usually pleased';22 the next one23 also. Book 3, the letter 'A shocking affair'24 about a shocking affair. Book 4, the letter 'My Tuscan estate25 has been damaged by hail,' about life in the country. Book 4, the letter The trial26 these last few days,' about a court trial, and shortly afterwards the letter 'Have you heard that Valerius.'27 Book 5, the letter 'You ask,'28 all of it. 'Now you know what I have been doing for the last three days. I wanted you to know this so that you could have the same pleasure, though far away, that you would have had here, both on my account and in the name of literary pursuits.'29 'I wrote this to you because I am in the habit of telling you everything that gives me joy or sorrow as I would my own self, then because I thought it cruel to deprive you, my most devoted friend, of the pleasure I myself was enjoying. For I am not enough of a philosopher to be indifferent whether what I believe to have been an honourable action of mine receives some recognition or some reward, so to speak/30 Book 6, the letter 'You ask31 that I send .. /; again, the following one,32 and a little further on, the letter 'You say33 you were persuaded ...' Book 7, the letter 'For me to learn34 and you to teach me ...,' about a ghost. Book 6, the letter 'What a difference there is .../35 Book 8, the letter 'Have you ever seen ...,'36 about a spring. In the same book the letter 'Surely there too .. .,'37 the description of a flood. In the same book the letter To get to know which .. .,'38 the description of a mysterious lake. 'If there is anything worth writing about, do not grudge writing back.

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For men's ears delight in novelty, and we are instructed by examples in the art of living/39 Book 9, the letter 'I have come across a story .. ./4° about a dolphin that loved a boy. In the same book the letter 'You want to know how ..., '41 about what he does all day in the country. Book 4, the letter 'It is a common thing ,./ 42 Book 4, the letter 'I received your letter ,..'43 MY OWN INFORMATIVE LETTERS

'I would write to you about many things but I am afraid that my persistence may prove annoying to you or the truth unpleasant.' 'Write to me, whom you know to be inquisitive not only about what has happened or is happening where you are, but also about what you imagine is going to happen.' To this type also belongs the letter of inquiry, when we have no other aim in a letter than the desire to know what a friend is doing. An example of this is Pliny's letter in book 2, 'Are you studying or fishing ...?'44 and in book 3/ 'Is all well...?'45 When we have some amusing news to relate after the narration of some other event, this Homeric phrase46 will prove suitable: ecnrere juoi vvv Movcrou Tell me now, Muses.' For the reader's attention is caught by short transitions of this kind, and they are nicely appropriate in letters to friends. 66 / The letter of instruction The letter of instruction involves no special artifice except elegance and brevity. AN EXAMPLE

'X to his freedman. As I have warned you often and for a long time when I was there, see that you do not embark on anything without my leave. If anything new arises, you will consult me by letter. I give you permission to purchase the estate about which you write, provided that it sells for no more than three hundred ecus.1 You will hale Petronius, that shameless debtor, who has been sued time and again, into court. If he disclaims responsibility, I am sending you the bond, as the time has long since expired. You will ask Asinius in my name for the money lent him, and if he pays it back you will act as receiver. About exchanging the benefice see that you consult Stilbo, a very experienced man, as you know, and a very good friend of mine. Carry

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out what he thinks needs doing just as if the instructions came from me. Before you place a contract with the masons for building the house, get in touch with Phidias,2 and then write and tell me his views on the matter. You will see that these books and letters are delivered to my friend Trebatius with great care and expedience. You will give Strabo the fullest thanks on my behalf. You will congratulate my son-in-law on my behalf. You will give a hearty greeting to my colleague Lucius. But wait! I almost forgot what should least of all have been forgotten. See that you take my grandson away from that stupid teacher as quickly as possible and entrust him to one more learned. Do not be put off by the amount of the fee if only you can find a suitable instructor. If ever you have been careful in carrying out anything, see that in the lawsuit against Verulanus you bring all your good faith, energy, care, and talent to bear. Do nothing about repairs to our country house until you have had my opinion. Send all my clothes and rings along on 21 June. I have no further instructions. See that you carry out your duties as usual, and as is expected of you. Your attentiveness will be rewarded. Farewell/ COLLECTION FROM LETTERS OF INSTRUCTION

In Cicero's Ad familiares book 16 there are some examples of this type. Taetus, as I wrote to you previously, has given me all the books that his brother had left. This gift of his depends on your co-operation. Do please see that the books are looked after and delivered to me. Nothing could please me more. Please take special care of the Latin ones as well as the Greek. I shall count this as a small present from you.'3 'But everything as you wish. Whatever you do, I shall think it done properly and in my interests/4 'I ask you to engage as accurate a painter as you can. For if it is hard to make a likeness from reality, to make a copy from a copy is by far the most difficult of all. So I would ask you not to allow the artist you have chosen to deviate from the original even to improve on it/5 In Horace's Epistles there is an example of a humorous letter of instruction, 'I warned you often on your taking leave ../6 This class is very close to that of requests. The difference is that we give orders with authority while we make requests of those to whom we have no right to give orders. MY E X A M P L E OF A L E T T E R OF I N S T R U C T I O N

'I entrust my son, just as he is, to your tutelage. All my solicitude I transfer to you. You act as his father, and I shall behave as if I were his uncle, not his father/

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67 / The letter of commendation Commendation is the praise of a son or daughter, a soldier, slave, freedman, servant, wife, or others over whom we have authority for having done their duty. AN EXAMPLE

'I could have no more joyful news from any source than that you are comporting yourself in a manner befitting yourself and your family. Now I truly recognize you as my son when I hear that you are whole-heartedly devoted to learning, that you are avoiding the company of idlers, and making frugal use of your father's possessions, unless I am mistakenly informed. Continue in your duty, my son, and be sure that if you show yourself the sort of son I wish you to be you will find me to be an even more generous father than you would wish.' A SECOND EXAMPLE

'You make me love and commend you with good cause, as, unlike the general run of servants, you do not obstruct your master's affairs when he is away, but try to further them with all care, watchfulness, and attention. In my view the really honest and proved servant is the one who keeps to his duty in his master's absence, when he could be an idler with impunity. I have heard of your faithful and energetic fulfilment of my instructions. See that you carry out everything else in the same spirit, so that I who rightly love you may continue to do so. Discharge vigorously the task you have begun so well. If you have performed the duties of a good servant, I shall not fail to fulfil the role of a generous master. Farewell and be vigilant.' 68 / The giving of thanks We give thanks to those to whom we have no right to give commands. This class can be put under the heading of letters of request, consolation, or advice. Here the favour that we have received will have to be magnified in every way. Often a person who gives thanks properly will seem to have given a favour in return. Usually the favour can be magnified by the following methods: by saying that it has been conferred spontaneously, without hesitation or quickly (for he gives twice1 who gives promptly), at the right moment, more generously than the other dared to ask, to one who did not deserve or even expect it; that it was bestowed by one to whom we are glad to be under obligation, that is, by one whom we love sincerely; or has

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been conferred on someone for whom we sincerely wish it more than for ourselves. We shall also find scope for amplification from the nature of the favour; for instance, if someone has helped us by sound advice, we shall say that we are more indebted to one who helps us with advice than one who gives financial assistance. Not infrequently, too, one who rebukes us renders us a greater service than one who gives us a gift. On the other hand, if someone has lent financial help, we shall say that it is a common courtesy to volunteer verbal assistance, but one who readily gives his money must be considered a very staunch friend indeed. There are also other circumstances that can be used to magnify the extent of a favour, as when we are preferred to those to whom the giver was indebted through marital relationship, or if for our sake he has even disregarded the anger of influential men. By mentioning such matters we shall make it clear that we are aware of the extent of the favour. Moreover, a large part of gratitude consists in realizing the measure of our indebtedness, and acknowledging it willingly. We shall show, if possible, how many he has put under obligation by the same act of favour, and that the benefit of that favour does not pertain to one man alone, but to the welfare of the country. Next we shall promise without boasting to return either a like favour or a larger one. If there is no opportunity for repayment, we shall promise to show remembrance and gratitude, and we shall pray that the gods repay the favour abundantly to one who has deserved it, since we are prevented from doing so by our slender means. In this class the method of treatment will be twofold, direct and indirect. For there are times when we give the greatest thanks by not giving thanks, when we show that the favour is so great that it would not be proper to give thanks in words in the ordinary way, or that our friendship is too great for the one to feel obliged to thank the other. AN EXAMPLE

'Because in my need you did not allow yourself to be asked, but of your own accord offered and manifested your interest, care, and attention, I recognize your long-standing kindness towards me and my people. Your gesture is prompted not by deserts, since I have so far done nothing for you, but by your goodness, seeing that, without any services of mine to inspire you, you are so sensitive to my needs that you seem to have received rather than conferred a favour. So while your services have given me great support in my affairs, I am delighted more than I can say by your fidelity. It is quite true, as the saying goes, that it is not the size of the favour that matters, but the friendly spirit in which it is given. A service should be assessed on this scale rather than by its material value. It will be up to me to be ever mindful of what I can never repay. But why should I thank you with many words? Would you

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allow this, when you would not allow yourself even to be asked? I wish the gods would grant me some day the opportunity of making clear in deed rather than in words my deeply felt devotion to you. In the meantime if there is any occasion on which you think you could make use of my assistance in return, do not ask me, but order me as your slave, and you will find me both ready and eager. Farewell.' ANOTHER EXAMPLE

'I have received your gift, splendid in itself but far more precious and agreeable to me because it comes from you. Your beloved Ovid expressed it well: "Gifts are all the more esteemed2 / When rendered precious by the giver." Why indeed should I declare that I am under obligation to you for this, since I have long been so beholden to you? I am completely in your debt, you cannot bind me to you by tighter bonds. In worthy restitution of that gift, or rather of your benevolence towards me, which is far more pleasant than the gift itself, I have nothing but myself. If you think me of any worth, include me totally among your possessions. Believe me, you have nothing among all your possessions that you can use or misuse more exclusively for yourself than your Nicolas.' ANOTHER EXAMPLE

'Many are your services to me, but none of them was more timely or welcome than the help you gave my brother by your defence in a very difficult case. Since he is almost dearer to me than I am to myself, any gift made to him is bound to please me more than if I had been given it myself. But our friendship seems to demand that I should not give thanks more elaborately. For what you have done is nothing unusual coming from you, and I would prefer to pay back the favour in deed rather than in words.' COLLECTION OF MATERIALS

FOR GIVING THANKS

There is a great difference between suffering a loss of prestige and total despair of one's personal safety. It was through your support that I did not feel too much regret about my ill fortune. For you saw to it that more was added to the remembrance of my name than what I lost in worldly possessions.'3 'Wherever I have turned I have found signs of your devotion, as most recently in the case of Tigellius, for I observed from your letter that you had taken a good deal of trouble about it, and I am pleased at your good will.'4 'I give you undying thanks, and shall do so as long as I live, for I cannot promise that I will be able to repay you. I do not think I can make adequate requital for such services unless, as you say very forcefully and eloquently in

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your letter, you will consider my remembrance of my debt to you as a form of retribution/5 'I cannot neglect to thank you regarding your numerous services, but I do so with a sense of embarrassment, I swear it. For so close a friendship as you wish to exist between us does not seem to need any expression of thanks. Nor do I willingly acquit myself with this poor return of words for your very great benefactions; I prefer to convince you in person of my gratitude by my respect, observance, and attentiveness. But if life is spared me, I shall surpass in that respect, observance, and attentiveness all the gratitude of your friends and even your most devoted relations.'6 'I consider that my debt to you is so great that it is hard to repay it in full/7 'I can no longer thank you, for I cannot render due satisfaction in words to one whom I can scarcely repay in deeds/8 'None the less, my dear Brutus, I am duly beholden to you for your wanting me to know about that insignificant matter, such as it is; it was a great proof of your affection/9 Book 13, the letter 'Although I willingly ask you ../ I0 'Many thanks for your letter, in which you have carefully detailed everything that you thought concerned me/11 'Our friendship has engendered such feelings of mutual good will that this should have been long dispensed with/12 'Your devoted concern for my welfare afforded me no new pleasure. For it is not only habitual, but even an everyday occurrence to hear that you have said or done something loyal or complimentary regarding my reputation/13 'Nor shall I have any aim so constantly before me throughout the whole of my lifetime as that I should be daily more gratified that you have done me such great service/14 'We both vie with each other in thanking you, I for your giving her to me, she for your giving me to her, as if you had chosen us for each other/15 Book 5, the letter 'I received the very fine ...,/l6 the whole of it. 'Your numerous services have been welcome and gratifying to me, particularly your thinking that I ought to be informed that my poems were the subject of a long and full discussion at your house, and that the discussion was prolonged because of the variety of opinions/17 'I was touched by your solicitous concern for me, that when you heard I intended to go to my Tuscan estate in summer you advised me against it, as you think it unhealthy/18 'You have done right in taking back to your hearth and affection a freedman once dear to you, influenced by my conciliatory letter. You will be

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glad of this, as I am certainly glad, first that I find that you are of such a nature as to be influenced when angry, and secondly that you value me enough to defer to my authority, or give way to my entreaties. So I congratulate and thank you, and at the same time advise you for the future to show forgiveness for the faults of your household even if there is no one to intercede/19 To express gratitude for the generosity shown to one of slender means, from whom no generosity could be expected in return, Pliny's letters in book 9 beginning 'You praise to me'20 will be of use. [From Poliziano,] book i, the letter 'You, Hermolaus .. /;21 book 11, the letter 'Are you really telling... ';22 in the same book the letter 'I thank you... '23 MY OWN

EXAMPLES

'What am I to promise you? what, I ask you? Surely I am not to surrender all that I am? But it is a trivial matter to surrender myself to those without whom I myself should not be what I am.' 'It is very gratifying to learn frequently from you what is happening there, and I readily perceive your good will towards me/ 'In all else I shall allow myself to be outdone, but I shall not be inferior to you in reciprocal good will. For Pliny was right in saying: "It is a very disgraceful thing to be surpassed in affection/"24 'Hearing that you are battling there valiantly for my reputation tells me nothing new, yet the more often I hear it, the more pleasure it gives me/25 'You must blame fortune for the fact that I cannot requite you as I wished/ 'As for me, I shall show you affection, friendship, and respect/ 'Fortune was able to snatch my possessions away from me, but not myself. For it is my possessions, not myself, that fortune has taken from me/ 'Why should I encourage you to continue vying with yourself, when from day to day you even surpass yourself in kindness? Why should I thank you when you do not expect it at all?' 'So far from denying this, I shall ever remember and gladly proclaim 26 it/ 'There is no other whose kind offices have put me under such an obligation; I shall not merely confess this, but even be glad of it.'27 REPLY TO THE GIVER OF T H A N K S

'As for your writing that you are grateful for my efforts on your behalf, you do so through an excess of love, which finds reason for gratitude in those things that could not be omitted without being branded for villainy/28 'I am overjoyed that my services to Rhodo and other favours I showed

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to you and yours have inspired gratitude in you, a man with a deep sense of gratitude; be assured that the preservation of your reputation is a matter of ever greater concern to me day by day, although it has been enhanced so much by your uprightness and clemency that it seems nothing can be added to it.'29 Though I was not looking for any expression of thanks from you, since I knew you were most grateful in very fact and at heart, yet I must admit that it gave me great delight. For I saw as clearly as the eye can see that I had your affection. You will say: "What about the past?" Yes, I always thought so, but never more plainly.'30 FROM

PLINY,

THE

GIVING

OF THANKS FOR A CANDID

WARNING

'You tell me to forget your letters which, you say, were outspoken, but there are none I like better to remember. For from these most of all I sense how much you care for me, in that you treat me exactly as you did your son. I do not conceal the fact that they were all the more pleasant as I had a good case, after doing my best to prepare things as you had ordained. So again and again I ask you to reprove me always with the same frankness whenever I seem a bit negligent (I say "seem" for I shall never really be negligent). I shall understand that this stems from great affection, and you may be pleased to find that I have not deserved it.'31 69 / The letter of lamentation Among the many advantages conferred by friendship we may mention that when afflicted by grief we may pour out our feelings on a friend's bosom - a recourse that usually takes away a great part of the sorrow. This class is closely akin to the consolatory, but no skill is needed here, since sorrow is apt to make anyone eloquent. AN EXAMPLE

T cannot send you the letters we would both like, as nothing in all my affairs is turning out in accordance with my plans. But why, my dear Laurence, do I distract you with my complaints, except that it is helpful to unburden the deep anxieties of my mind to my dearest friend? I think all the gods both above and below have conspired to bring about my ruin, so true is it that when I have barely escaped from one trouble, another much worse comes along. Again and again I have lapsed, collapsed, and relapsed into illness. I had hardly recovered at great expense when that old man, Sogdianus,1 by far the foulest plague the gods in their anger have ever let loose against mankind, presented himself to me for instruction. What woes did 1 not

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behold? How much grief and how many tears I brought upon myself in return for my greatest efforts! That monster has plagued me now for two years. I am running away, for he is invincible. At first I thought that one of the gods was favourable towards me, because I had met Anthony,2 a very good-natured person, whose kindness assuaged the other's savagery. But again some deity grudged me the company of a most pleasant companion, and we were parted against our wills. So, single-handed and deserted, I tried everything and resorted to every expedient. In God's name, what turmoil and dreadful events were in store for me. Such unending trials would have overwhelmed Hercules himself, or one stronger than Hercules. Yet I hardened myself with the thought that adverse fortune, even if it were completely antagonistic, would eventually be surfeited with my troubles and would become more equitable; that it neither had been nor could be continually cruel to anyone. Then behold! In my pitiful state I was attacked anew by a mortal disease, and as it persisted for a long time, it drained my health and my purse completely. There was no one who felt pain at my pain, but there were many who were pleased. That Sogdianus was elated more than all the others at my misfortune, though I should have deserved some sympathy from him. I did not let myself despair even then, not that I had any hope, but in order not to add to the pleasure of that loathsome old man. I was saved, but the gods were angry, I think, and willed me to be saved for the enduring of further calamities. For what did I attempt afterwards in things great or small, what did I undertake with the best of plans that did not turn out disastrously? O most unfortunate victim ever to tread the earth! Was I alone of the whole multitude of mankind a Polycrates3 in reverse, for whom everything was unlucky, and nothing ever turned out as he wished? At this point, I know, you will begin to console me by reminding me of true blessings, as they say, namely, learning and intellect. Take away that hollow consolation from me. Far from giving solace, it only adds to my distress. I hate this intellect of mine, I hate learning, without which I should be less wretched, less sensitive, and less afflicted. But this is more than enough of complaints. Take care that you are well, since the gods have denied that to me.' COLLECTION

OF M A T E R I A L FOR A LETTER OF L A M E N T A T I O N

Cicero, book 5, the letter 'All your affection ...'4 'If the book had been published (since it does not matter so much in what spirit it is written as in what spirit it is taken), it would certainly have done me great harm for no good reason, especially as I am still paying the penalty of my writings. But in that respect my fate has been quite unusual. For while a mistake in writing is cured by an erasure, and stupidity is

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punished with ill repute, my mistake is being corrected by exile, although the sum total of the charge is that I spoke ill of my enemy when I had already taken the field against him.'5 'I was mourning the demise of the republic, which was dearer to me than life, for benefits conferred as well as received; and at this time, though I am consoled both by reason, which should be of great efficacy, and the passing of time, which usually cures fools of their folly, still I lament that the commonwealth has so deteriorated that there is no hope left that things will ever improve/6 Book 9, the letter 'Even at my death ...'7 Book 14, most of the letters to Terentia. 'You more than anyone else because of our close friendship can imagine the grief I have felt and the loss I have suffered both in public and in private life at the death of my cousin Lucius. For every human comfort that anyone could receive from another's kindness and virtuous conduct I received from him. So I am quite sure that you too find this hard to bear, through your sympathy for my suffering and your personal loss of a dear and devoted relative and friend, who was attached to you both from his own feelings and through my conversations about you.'8 'In calling me back to life, you achieve one result, that I refrain from laying violent hands upon myself. The second you cannot achieve, that I should not regret our decision and my continued existence. For what is there to keep me from taking my life, especially if there is no longer even that hope that accompanied us when we set out?'9 'I am weighed down with grief and with longing for all my dear ones who were always dearer to me than myself. Look after yourself!'10 'I hope that through your affection for me you regard this senseless preoccupation of mine as pitiful rather than foolish/11 'My affairs would be "precarious if times were good, fair if they were not."12 My possessions, as you know, are in a great muddle/13 'We have lost, my dear Pomponius, not only the sap and life-blood of the state, but even its hue and former appearance/14 'I have someone from whom to flee, no one to follow/15 'I feel that you are worried about your own fate and the general fate of us all, and especially about me and my distress; but this distress of mine is not only not diminished when joined to yours, but even increased. In your wisdom you understand what form of consolation can bring me most relief, for you approve of my plan, and say that under the circumstances nothing could have been better avoided/16 'You see the sum total of my situation. There is no evil that I do not bear

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or do not expect. The distress caused by these affairs is all the more burdensome because my fault is greater/17 'Yet all my misfortunes are easier to bear than the sense of my own guilt, which is deep and lasting. If I had the company of those who I thought would share the guilt with me, that would be some slight consolation. But everyone else's predicament has some way out, mine has none.'18 'So, as there is no hope of advice or consolation from you, I will not ask for them from now on; I only ask that you do not omit this accustomed duty. Continue to write to me whatever occurs to you, when you have someone by whom you can send it, and as long as there is someone to whom you can send it, which will not be for long.'19 'What else is left to me but to be wretched?' 'What a disastrous affair! What a shameful act! How unlucky I am, what is more hopeless or more dishonourable than this state of affairs? O how troubled I am!'20 'With regard to the estate stolen by false pretences I should feel deep anguish if my heart had not become hardened to new sufferings through unremitting despair.'21 'My heart has become so numb with many troubles that it has begun to lose the feeling of hurt; this in itself is more miserable than all miseries.' 'In short, nothing is more unfortunate than my situation. Yet even in the midst of these miseries, I keep a stout and undaunted heart and maintain my honour and dignity with great care.'22 'I cannot write more, my mind is so downcast and depressed.'23 'I shall refrain from recounting all the miseries into which I have fallen through the wrongs and malice not so much of my enemies as of those who envy me, so that I do not stir up my sorrow, and involve you in the same grief.'24 'I would write to you more often and at greater length, were it not that my distress has robbed me of all my wits and particularly of that ability.'25 'So while my day to day grief lacerates and exhausts me, this additional care leaves hardly any trace of life left in me ... Nor is there any misfortune which does not fall to my lot.. ,26 So when you hear that I am crushed and consumed with grief, consider that I am paying a harsher penalty for my folly in putting my trust in one whom I did not think to be wicked than all the consequences of my action/27 'It was not my enemies, but the envious who brought about my ruin/28 'As for your reproving me so often and so severely, and saying that I am faint-hearted, is there any woe, tell me, that is not part of my misfortune? Did anyone ever fall from such a high position in such a good cause, with such

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assets of talent, discretion, and popularity, and such support from all good men? Can I forget who I was, and not feel who I am? Not be conscious of what honour, fame, children, fortune, and brother I have been deprived? And as regards my brother - a new facet of my misfortune for you to consider - although I have always held him more dear than my very self, I have avoided seeing him so that I should not be witness to his grief and mourning, nor show myself to him ruined and humiliated after he had left me at the height of prosperity. I pass over other things too hard to bear, for I am prevented by my tears/29 Time, too, instead of assuaging my sorrow increases it the more. For other sorrows are lightened by long duration, but this can only continue to increase, from the sense of present misery and the recollection of my past life. For I miss not only my possessions and my friends, but also my own self. For what am I now? But I will not trouble you with my complaints, or handle my wounds too often/30 'I have more wishes than hopes/31 'As a sick man is said to have hope as long as he has breath/32 'On my life, tears prevent me from thinking or writing anything else/33 'Or who is more unlucky or more disgraced than I?34 In book i of Pliny, the entire letter beginning 'I have suffered35 the most grievous loss ../ will serve as an example of a lamentation. Again in book 3, the whole letter 'It was recently announced ,./36 Again, 'I hear that Valerius Martial ,./37 Book 5, the letter 'I am writing38 to you in great distress .../ all of it. Book 8, the letter 'All my study .../39 'The death of those who are engaged in some immortal work always seems to be bitter and untimely, for those who devote themselves to pleasure and live for the day fulfil their reasons for existence day by day; but for those who look to posterity and seek to be remembered in their works death is always unexpected as it always cuts short something that has begun/40 'It is sad to hear that Julius Valens is lying seriously ill; though not so sad if one reflects that it would be a blessing for him to be released as quickly as possible from an incurable disease. It is not merely sad but tragic that Julius Avitus died on board ship on his way back from being quaestor, far from his loving brother, his mother, and his sisters. This does not affect him now that he is dead, but it did when he was dying. It also matters to those he leaves behind, as does the fact that he was cut off while a young man in the first flowering of his talent, and that he would have risen to the top if his abilities had been given the chance to mature. What an intense love he had for his studies! How much he read and wrote also! All this dies with him, leaving no benefit for posterity. But I must not give way to my distress, for, if

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one does, everything gets out of hand. I shall put an end to this letter and to the tears it has brought to my eyes.'41 Tor there is even some pleasure in grief, if one weeps in the arms of a friend from whom you will find either praise or pardon for your tears.'42 Book 8, the letter There is joy for me ,..'43 MY OWN P A S S A G E S FOR A LETTER OF L A M E N T

'If I had fallen into this trouble through the iniquity of fortune, it would have been a more honourable blow;44 as it is, we seem to have invited through our own fault what could very well have been avoided.' 'My affairs have come to such a pass, that if you wish to be of service, you can compose an epitaph for your Lucilius.' 70 / The letter of congratulation Just as in affliction we lighten a friend's sorrow by consolation, so if some joyful event has taken place, we double a friend's pleasure by congratulation. By all of the following methods we shall magnify the heartfelt joy that we have received from a friend's success, saying that we consider all his gains and losses as our own, or that out of our boundless feelings of good will towards him we are stirred more by his fortunes than by our own. We shall extoll the rank or other honour he has obtained in various ways: because it is outstanding in itself, or has eluded many people's ambitions, or has been conferred on him without his seeking it, or has come to him through the esteem of good men and not the blind favour of fortune, or through the favour of a prince not accustomed to giving great honours to any but the most meritorious. We may also declare that whatever good has come to him is to be attributed solely to his own energy, so that fortune can claim none of the credit for it, or that it has been granted unexpectedly, for such rewards tend to be more pleasant. Then when we have expanded the material sufficiently, we shall show that although the honour granted is very exalted it is still less than he deserves, and that this is merely a step towards greater things, if only fortune is willing to respond to his abilities. Finally we shall utter favourable prophecies and prayers that what has happened may be of good omen to himself, and forever fortunate and auspicious for his friends and the republic. There is also an indirect method of giving congratulations, when we say that we are not congratulating our friend on the honour awarded him, but the honour itself on gaining such a man, as it will only appear noble and magnificient when conferred on one who by his virtues and adornments will lend more dignity to the dignity he has assumed. For just as a public office is

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debased when held by an unworthy person, it is enhanced by a man famed for his outstanding achievements. Or else we shall say that we are not going to congratulate him on his elevation in rank, which he neither seeks nor admires, since he is a wise man who knows how great a burden is attached to that honour and also a modest man who strives least of all after popularity. But we shall say that we are pleased that he has been given scope and opportunity to exercise his ability and that with this increase of authority he may benefit as many people as possible, as had always been his wish. It will be possible to apply both methods by paralepsis,1 if we tell him that we do not congratulate him on the same things that other men would choose for congratulation, but rather on those I already mentioned as being the usual components of indirect congratulation. The laudatory2 type often occurs in this genre as in the kinds of congratulations I have just reviewed; at times it does not, as when we congratulate a friend who has returned home safely from a long journey, or on the birth of a son (unless perhaps we say that it is to the country's good that the best men and the most virtuous mothers should have as many children as possible, as good sons are usually born of good parents; furthermore we may claim that the welfare of the state does not depend upon the number of its citizens but on their quality). AN EXAMPLE

'I was overjoyed in spirit when I learnt that you had been appointed cardinal3 with the fullest consensus of the princes of the church and the sacred college and with the warm approbation of the people. I rejoice that at last that of which you have always shown yourself most deserving has been conferred upon you unasked. It is not so much you that I congratulate, seeing that you are not greatly pleased with the honour bestowed upon you (though it was owed to your character and learning), as much as our country, which will have such a cardinal as it never had before. I congratulate all your friends, whom you have always honoured by your integrity of life, and on whom you will now shed lustre by the distinction of your rank and the prestige of your office. I congratulate myself that one whose fortunes I have always considered to be my own, has been promoted to the highest honours. No priestly office more honourable, or excellent, or advantageous than yours could be granted in all of Tuscany. Such is your modesty that you will say that it is a burden, not an honour that confronts you. But I believe that the gods desired the good of the country through you, and an opportunity for you to display your abilities. So I pray that this election may turn out well, first for you, then for your flock, and finally for us all. Myself, all of me, such as I am, I present to you in obedience. Farewell/

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C O L L E C T I O N OF M A T E R I A L S F O R A L E T T E R O F CONGRATULATION

Cicero, book 2, the letter 'Late congratulations ...';4 in the same book the letter 'In the first place,5 as I am bound ...' In book 3, the letter 'As if I guessed .. .'6 the whole of it. 'On this matter I congratulate you so warmly that I would have you too congratulate rather than thank me; the latter I can well dispense with, the former you offer in all sincerity.'7 'I congratulate you, my dear Balbus, and do so sincerely. I am not so foolish as to wish you to enjoy a transitory joy, then suddenly be crushed and become so dejected that nothing could ever restore you to equanimity/8 'You are wise to have left all this behind, if it was intentional; lucky, if it was by chance/9 'I congratulate you on being related by marriage to a man of exceptional worth, by heaven/10 Book 15, the letter 'For your sense of duty towards us ...,'" and many of those that follow. 'What you tell me about my son, Cicero, is pleasant news, and I wish it may turn out well/12 'Even if I was content with the glory you won, my dear Dolabella, and derived considerable joy and pleasure from it, still I cannot but admit that now my joy is complete, for popular opinion associates me in your praises/13 'For I am more eager for glory than is just, and yet it is not inconsistent with your position, just as it was honourable for Agamemnon, king of kings, to have a Nestor to advise you; while it redounds to my credit that you, a pupil of my training, should win such renown as consul while still a young man/14 Book 4, the letter 'I was delighted ,./15 Book 5, the letter 'I had left Rome16 for my native town ... / the whole of it; in the same book, the letter 'All is well with me ,./17 Book 9, the letter 'I have been very anxious ...,'18 the whole of it. Book i, 'I cannot19 give a full account ../ MY EXAMPLES OF CONGRATULATIONS

'I am extremely pleased that you have acquired Lucius as a son-in-law, and it is my hope and wish that this association will bring you pleasure and honour/ 'No bishop could be more desirable to us, and no more desirable office could have fallen to you/ 'No more desirable or pleasant news could have reached us than the announcement recently brought us about your new rank/

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'Your letter, in which you announce that you have been appointed consul, gave me pleasure equal to my unceasing affection for you/ 'How splendid! Your news is delightful. It is marvelous news. I can hardly contain myself for joy/ 'The news in your letter gives me enormous pleasure/20 'Your delightful letter, in which you tell me that you have been honoured with new distinctions, has filled me with such joy that I am not at all sure whom I should congratulate most: you, for obtaining such a position without seeking or expecting it, or our country which will have such a bishop, or our prince destined to have such a counsellor, or myself, who am as delighted by your fortunes as by my own/ 'I know that you neither wanted such honours nor delight in them and that you are firmly convinced that it is not an honour but an onus that has been placed upon you. But you are the more deserving of your distinction the less you are pleased by it, and so I congratulate you on your virtue all the more/ 'I am extremely pleased that you have been presented with a fine son and that your wife is doing well/ 'I am heartily pleased for your sake that you are safely restored to your country after a most difficult journey and a long stay abroad/ 'It is impossible for me to say how pleased I am that things have turned out for you as you wished/ 'Do not think for a moment that you received more pleasure from your good fortune than I have from the letter that informed me of your new rank/ 'I am most delighted on your promotion to new honours, on your attaining public office, on the assignment of a glorious mission, on your being awarded the degree of doctor, and that your family is increasing happily in numbers/ 'It gives me pleasure that you have come into a large legacy, but I am quite sorry that you have been deprived of such dear and faithful friends/ 'I am both sorry that you have been away from us for so long, because I was without the enjoyment of your pleasant friendship, and happy that during your absence you obtained everything with great distinction and that in all your affairs fortune corresponds to my wishes/ 'I congratulate you because you who have always been a bishop now will be one in outward appearance/ THE REPLY TO C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S

Though your congratulations are most welcome to me, as inspired by the best of feeling, yet it is far more pleasing and agreeable that among the meagre number of friends, relatives, and acquaintances who really aided in

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my restoration I sensed your loyal attachment and conspicuous kindness to me/21 MY REPLY

'What a happy day, not only for you, but for all your friends, a day to be marked with a pure white stone.'22 'If there were among my possessions anything whiter or more precious than a pearl, I would mark with this sign the day on which I was told that you had come back to us from a most perilous war, not only unharmed, but also victorious, and indeed with great glory/ 'What a day thrice and even four times happy, to be marked with more than a single pearl!' 'I pray to the gods that they may permit this joy, which they have bestowed on us all, to be lasting/ 'If chance has brought you to court, I congratulate you on your luck; if you have come deliberately, I congratulate you even more on your prudence/ 71 / The humorous letter1 In every class of letters we should include a joke whenever the subjectmatter permits. We see that Cicero was very effective in this genre, and Giannantonio Campano2 was unrestrained and almost excessive, often coming close to scurrility. Ausonius3 was too clever in his jokes. The desirable kind of joke is pointed out by Cicero in his book De oratore4 and by Quintilian5 in his chapter 'On laughter/ Examples are found in Macrobius6 and Athenaeus.7 The first consideration is that the joke should be timely, gentlemanly, and mindful of propriety. If it is skilfully used, it often carries more weight than a serious speech. But we must be careful that what happened to Aesop's donkey,8 which tried haplessly to copy the antics of a puppy, does not happen to us. COLLECTION OF JOCOSE LETTERS

Cicero, book i, the letter 'In all my letters ../9 'For about Cornelius I do not venture to say anything. Your foolishness is at his expense, since you claim to have learnt wisdom from him. Go ahead then with this chance and opportunity, as a better one will never be found.'10 In book 7, the letter T read your letter../;" in the same book the letter Tf you had not12 already left Rome ...,' the next letter, 'I wondered at the reason ...,'13 and most of the other letters to Trebatius.14 In book 9, the letter 'Aren't you an absurd fellow .. .,'15 and some of the

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following letters16 to the same man; in the same book, the letter 'I have sat down to table .../I7 'I beguile my longing for you with the hope that you will profit by your new career.'18 'I am quite rich, but do not get me wrong; I mean in the Stoic fashion, for they think that all who can enjoy earth and sky are rich.'19 Poliziano, book i, the letter 'You are certainly a fine man .. .';20 also the next one from Pico.21 Book 5, the letter 'I shall reply in such a way .../22 Also the letter 'If you are toothless .../23 In book j24 there are several short letters, partly joking, partly clever. But he is very much of an Ausonius in joking. So, too, is Guillaume Bude,25 who proves himself a Frenchman even in this. 72 / The conciliatory letter There is a class of letters, not unlike the commendatory class, which I thought should be called conciliatory. For just as in recommendations we win favour and good will for others with our friends, so when we are anxious to win over to ourselves men with whom we have had no previous acquaintance or friendship, we might be said to be recommending ourselves. This subject often arises among the learned, for though they are at times separated by whole nations, they still invite one another by an exchange of letters to a brotherhood of learning and a covenant with the Muses. In some way or other the allurement of flattery is here hardly ever absent, which we see even men of proven integrity have not been able to avoid. We must be sure to praise the man whose friendship we desire without the appearance of fawning, or fiction, or artifice, or the seeking of our own interests. Then again we must contrive praise of ourselves in such a way that we do not incur dislike instead of good will towards ourselves because of arrogance. We shall say that likeness makes for friendship; that affection for him has been kindled in us by his outstanding talents, of which we have learnt partly from frequent reports, partly from the commendation of highly esteemed men, and partly from his own books; that we, though far inferior to him in good qualities, have always made an effort to attain what we respect in him, and in the judgment of others have made some progress. Next we shall avert the suspicion of flattery. We shall appeal to his modesty to pardon our affection, which we cannot control even though we are well aware how deeply a man who is above all praise is offended by the praise of his virtues. As for ourselves we shall make little of our possessions, but much of our zeal, interest, and love for the highest values. We shall ask him to

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include us in the number of his friends. We shall promise that, although new friends, we will not be inferior to any of his friends of long standing, at least in devotion and faithfulness, however unequal in other respects. We shall place ourselves, our means, and whatever we can contribute by our efforts entirely at his disposal, and shall even promise to share our friends with him. This class could be placed under the heading of the friendly letter,1 where I did touch upon it to some extent. Occasionally too we bring others together by conciliation, and in that case the difference between recommendation and conciliation will be that recommendation asks for something, conciliation asks for no service but merely cements friendship. To this class belongs the praise of a particular person. I shall merely append a collection, for we have also mentioned this subject under the heading 'description/2 COLLECTION

OF M A T E R I A L

FOR A LETTER OF P R A I S E

'Your kindness, or rather your great wisdom, has seemed to me not merely pleasing, but also admirable. For you won back by that letter an outstanding man, who was under a strong obligation to you through your extraordinary generosity to him, despite his suspicion that you were estranged from him because some people thought him greedy.' 'Without a doubt, whatever lies within the power of men has fallen to my lot as it has to many others; real genius, however, is both difficult to achieve and beyond all hoping, as it can only be granted by the gods.'3 'I congratulate our friend Rufus, not because you asked me to do so, but because he fully deserves it. I read his book and found it was perfect in every respect, while my affection for the author added to the intrinsic pleasure of the reading. Yet I read it with a critical eye, for criticism is not confined simply to malicious-minded readers.'4 Pliny, book i, the letter beginning 'If at any time in our city ...,'5 the praise of an individual; in the same book, the letter 'I was fond of Pompey../ 6 Book 2, the letter Tt is some years ...'•/ in the same book the letter 'Great fame had preceded Isaeus .../8 Book 3, the letter T do not know9 whether any pleasanter ...'; in the same book, the letter 'I think I have observed ...71° Book 6, the letter T am one of those ...,'11 the praise of a poet. Book 9, the letter 'I especially approve .../12 Book i, the letter Tt is surprising ...,'13 praise of life in the country. Book 2, the letter 'Have a coin ready.. .,'14 the censure of an individual. Poliziano, book i, the letter 'So important to me .../15 Book 3, the letter, 'Although I see you are great.. .';l6 in the same book, 'O glory of Italy .../ the praise of a girl.17

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Book 4, the letter 'You write that Marianus...,'l8 the praise of a speaker. Book 12, the letter 'How I should have wished.. .,'19 the praise of a boy. THE REPLY TO PRAISE

Cicero, book 15, the letter 'I am pleased to be praised .../2° 'If after receiving your praise I begin to praise you, I am afraid that I may appear not so much to be offering my opinion, as paying you thanks. All the same, I think all your writings are very fine, especially those which deal with me. This comes about for one and the same reason. You write best when writing about your friends, and I find what you write about me to be best of all/21 'Am I to mix praise and thanks together? I cannot do justice to either, and, if I could, I should be afraid of seeming conceited in praising and thanking you for the same things. I shall only add this, that the more pleasant the passages were, the more they seemed worthy of praise, and the more worthy of praise they seemed, the pleasanter they were/22 Poliziano, book i, the letter 'Because in your last letter ../;23 also the letter 'Because from my success ../;24 also the letter 'I gave my Lucretius to Petreio../25 Book 2, the letter 'Pico read your letter ,./26 Again, 'You did not receive the present.. /;27in the same book the letter 'In a certain letter ,./28 Book 3, the letter 'Though I see ../;29 in the same book the letter 'Behold!30 There returns to you .. /; again, the letter 'He sent me.. /;31 in the same book, T wish that the praise .../32 Book 4, the letter 'Pardon my preoccupations ,./33 Book 5, the last letter.34 Book 7, the letter 'Robert read your letter ../;35 in the same book the letter The honourable mention ../;36 the next one also.37 MY OWN R E P L Y TO P R A I S E

T interpret the praises which you heap abundantly upon me to mean that you have not wished to describe me as I am, but to prescribe an ideal model of what I ought to be/ 'Your generous praise has had the effect of making me feel dissatisfied with myself, as I see clearly how far I fall short of your picture of perfect virtue/ 'While you were painting that picture, you were taking yourself, not me, as a model/ 'I see what you are up to. By your false praise you wanted to prod my idleness/

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'Either you are completely mistaken, or your commendation flatters me. But let it be flattering, provided that it commends my studies to me. For I know that your flattering has no other aim/ 'You attribute the highest qualities to me, not because I have attained them, but because you wish me to make my utmost effort in that direction/ The effect of your praising me is to make me wish to appear worthy of praise some day. One who can so admire a few mediocre qualities in others must possess a great store of the highest and greatest virtues himself/ 'Because you have shown more than immoderate kindness in praising me, I should not forgive you, if it were not that poets are allowed to lie, according to Homer's rule.38 For he says: "Poets tell many lies/" ' "My entrails are not made of horn,"39 as Persius says. Nor do I find it hard to believe the truth of Xenophon's words that "praise is the sweetest of songs,"40 particularly if I should deserve it. As it is, I think I am only being ridiculed. It is almost a habit among the learned to scratch each other's backs, as it were, in mutual praise; yet I do not think that these trivial flatteries are to be utterly condemned if they give rise to good will, and are an incentive to study/ 73 / The obliging letter There is also a fairly common class of letters in which we freely offer our assistance to friends, without their asking, because they are the sort of people who are ashamed to make a request when they are in need of their friends' support. It is right to invite such persons, by offering services unasked, to request a friend's aid, and for that reason I have decided to call this the obliging class. COLLECTION OF MATERIAL FOR AN OBLIGING LETTER

'In every service or rather act of loyalty towards you I satisfy everyone else, but never myself. For such is the extent of your favours to me that in reflecting how you gave yourself no rest until my needs were accomplished, I find my life unbearable because I cannot do as much for you/1 'All those here present will recognize my good faith and affection for you in your absence. If there were good faith in those who should have it in the highest degree, we should not be in such difficulties/2 T shall write and tell you of whatever is done in the other matters; and I shall devote all my care, diligence, attention, and influence to ensure that everything is done as correctly as possible/3 'I do not think I have to tell you in this letter about my own devotion or the attitude of certain people. For why should I make show of my own

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services, since even if I shed my life-blood to uphold your reputation I should not seem to have returned even a fraction of your services to me; or why should I complain of the injuries inflicted by others, which I cannot do without great pain? I cannot vouch for anything, particularly while the magistrates are so powerless, but apart from this I can affirm that you will maintain your prestige through the enthusiastic support of the senate and people of Rome.'4 'As to the business of Alexandria and the king's cause, I can only promise you that I shall fully satisfy both you, who are abroad, and your friends, here present.'5 'We shall take every care that, if there is anything to be won, we are not wanting in effort, and if we fail to make any gains, we do not give the appearance of defeat.'6 'I miss no opportunity either in thought or in deed in promoting your interests, and I rely on Quintus Selicius in everything, for there is no one else among your friends whom I judge to be wiser, more reliable, or more devoted to you.'7 'Expect from me every highest duty and service to you. I shall not disappoint your expectation.'8 'I should like you to be assured that even the most insignificant matter that affects you is dearer to me than all my own interests, and since this is how I feel, I can be satisfied with my assiduity but not with my effectiveness, because I cannot return any fraction of what I owe you either by repaying your kindness, or even conceiving that it could be repaid/9 'In all else that concerns you, even after I have exerted myself beyond all my powers, I shall still be doing less than I ought.'10 'I want there to be no limit to what you demand and expect of me; my good offices will surpass all your expectations.'11 'In this whole matter I shall do more than I dare write to you. Other things, which I know with certainty are in readiness for you in many other quarters, I have well provided for. There is nothing among my possessions that I should prefer to be mine rather than yours. I write the more sparingly on this matter and on the whole question, because I prefer that you should hope, as I am sure you do, that you will make use of your own resources.'12 'For my part, I shall give the greatest care and attention to all that I see concerns you, and I shall keep intact the memory of your assistance to me in my saddest days.'13 'However, as far as my good will towards you is concerned, I should like you to be assured that wherever I see there is need, though I know the limits of my power and prestige at this time, I shall be ready with my efforts

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and advice, certainly with my solicitude, to preserve your property, reputation, and safety.'14 Therefore you will decide for yourself how much consideration you in your judgment think is my due, and you will decide this, I hope, with my reputation in mind. I certainly profess and promise my exceptional and singular zeal in every kind of service which has to do with your honour and reputation; even if I have many rivals in this, I shall easily surpass them all in the opinion of the rest of the world and especially of your sons/15 'So I should like you to write to me on all matters, great, small, and indifferent, as to a close friend, and to tell your adherents to make such use of my industry, counsel, authority, and influence in all public, private, forensic, and domestic affairs affecting yourself or your friends, guests, and clients, so that, as far as possible, the longing for your presence may be lessened by my labours.'16 'I should like you to write to her all the same, and tell her not to think that there is anything so great that it seems too difficult or so small that it seems unworthy of me. Far from being a burden, anything I can do in the interest of your affairs will be an honour/17 'If you care to write to me about anything, I shall make sure that you won't feel that you have written in vain/18 'Whenever I see your son (and I see him almost every day) I promise him my interest and support without any reservation about the effort involved, other preoccupations, or lack of time, but I promise my influence and authority with this proviso, "to the best of my ability and power/"19 Book 6, the letter 'I am afraid of your missing.. /20 has many passages of consolation. 'It is not necessary to go into details; I offer you all my devotion and good will/21 'I am delighted on your account, and I am pleased for myself. I love you, and look after your interests. I wish to have your affection in return and wish to be informed of what you are doing and what is happening/22 'With regard to myself I should like you to be assured that, as much as I can, I shall always be ready to assist you, your welfare, and your children with all possible zeal/23 'What power I have I do not know, or rather I feel that it is all too little. Yet I promise you this, that whatever I think to be advantageous to your safety and dignity I shall do with the same zeal and conscientiousness that you have shown in your services to me. I have conveyed this good will of mine to that excellent woman your mother, who is so very fond of you. If you write anything to me, I shall do what I understand to be your wish. But if you

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do not write at all, I shall still see to everything that I judge profitable to you with the utmost zeal and care.'24 'In the mean time I should like you to be convinced that your position means a great deal to me both for the sake of our country, which I have always held most dear, and of our friendship. See that you keep well/25 'But I am not, nor shall I be found to be, lacking in my duty to your friends. Whether they appeal to me for anything or not, I shall show you my good will and loyalty/26 'For I thought myself wronged when asked/27 'What you write to me about your household affairs, and what you entrust to me, I hold as so important that I resent any reminder/28 'You will certainly learn one thing, which is that no one is dearer or more congenial to me than yourself/29 'I shall certainly see to it that by my kindness and regard and the extent of my services I shall make up for the loss of so much time when our friendship was broken off/ 30 'I shall certainly do my best to see that our country does not miss in me the loyalty of a citizen nor you that of a friend/31 'But let chance, which in such matters counts more than reason, see to that. Let us, however, care about the one thing that should lie within our power, that we bear whatever happens bravely and philosophically, remembering that we are mere mortals, and let us take much consolation from literature and not least of all from the ides of March/32 'I shall always be ready to do without hesitation and with the greatest zeal whatever I think is your wish and your concern. I should like you to be quite convinced of that/33 'I shall see with zeal and diligence to what I think is your wish and your concern. Try to keep well/34 'Nor will there ever be any matter, in which, even at the risk of my life, I shall not say and do what I think is your wish and your concern/35 From Poliziano, book 3, 'Your letter caught me ,./36 Book 10, 'Through neither fortune ,./37 From Pliny, 'My possessions, heaven knows, are not so much mine as yours are, but with this difference, that your servants give me more careful and attentive service than mine do. The same thing will perhaps happen to you if you ever stay with us, which I should like you to do, first so that you may enjoy my possessions as I do yours, and then that my servants may finally bestir themselves, since they await my orders in a careless and almost casual manner/38 Book 7, 'Calestrius Tiro39 is one of my dearest friends ../ 'You need not be afraid that he will find this troublesome, for it would

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not be too much for him to go round the world for my sake. So lay aside your excessive shyness, and consider what you want. He will be as pleased to do what I ask him as I am to do what you ask of me/40 MY PASSAGES FOR AN OBLIGING LETTER

'Nothing is more in accordance with my prayers than that my extreme gratitude should be known first to yourself, then to all the others. But the times are such that I am more willing than able to render due satisfaction to your services to me or to express the loyalty I feel towards you.' 'So long as I am safe you will suffer no harm, and if you prefer that I promise you my protection in Homer's words, "no man,41 while I have breath and eyes to see / Shall lay rough hands upon you by the hollow ships/" Tollio seems somewhat embittered towards you. When I know what importance you give this, I shall know by the same token what measures I should take.'42 'Others are apt to promise their assistance in lawful and honourable matters, and in those they can vouch for. I promise you my assistance in every matter without reservation, which you can use or misuse according to your discretion. In things that cannot be carried out, I shall see, nevertheless, that you understand that neither my interest nor my good faith have been lacking.' If it shows a sense of duty to promise help or assistance unasked, it is much more obliging to send money unasked. You will find an example of this rare subject in Pliny's book 6, the letter 'Although you yourself ,./43 There is no one more caught up in the toil of study than I, but there was nothing in my studies so dear to my heart that I could not lay it aside if I had to render a service to such a friend.' "'I am not asleep to everyone,"44 likewise I am not available to everyone. I shall never fail to be free for you, if you wish anything done through me.' 'I do not think it right to excuse myself to a friend under the pretence of literary study, since literature teaches me that very lesson, that one should not neglect the duties of friendship, than which nothing should be more revered by us or more scrupulously observed.' 'Of this one thing I should like you to convince yourself over and over again, that there is nothing so hard or dangerous for me that I should not willingly undergo it for your sake.' 'There will be nothing so hard and so distasteful that will not be pleasant for your sake.' 'I have not the means to promise you, as you are not without them.' 'This poor body and this mind such as it is, I surrender to you entirely.'

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'I give you this pledge, my dear Lucilius, that neither enthusiasm nor diligence will fail me/ 'I shall not fail in intention, interest, good will, or endurance of anything on your behalf.' 74 / Letters of discussion There is a class of letters quite common among scholars, in which they carry on a reciprocal scholarly exchange among themselves, when they wish to learn about some topic, or reply to an enquirer, or dispute some point on which they fail to agree. Of this class, as it is so varied, no set account can be given. I shall merely point out some examples. COLLECTION OF LETTERS OF DISCUSSION

From Cicero, book 7, the letter 'You were joking yesterday .../1 Book 9, the letter 'I like modesty ../2 From Pliny, book i, the letter beginning 'I frequently discuss ...,'3 the whole of it. Book 4, the letter 'I have brought you ../4 From Poliziano, book i, the letter 'It will show ...'5 Book 2, the letter 'What you dictated ...'6 From Poliziano, book 3, the letter 'You are angry with critics .../7 Book 5, the letter 'You told me .../8 Book 9, the letter 'My dear Hermolaus ...';9 also the next one. Book 12, the letter 'How fond10 you have always been of me ../

A FORMULA FOR THE COMPOSITION OF LETTERS Conficiendarum epistolarum formula

translated and annotated by CHARLES

FANTAZZI

introductory note on the first printing by R. A . B . M Y N O R S

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The person responsible for sending the Formula to the printer fortunately identified himself in a letter which he appended to it. This letter is headed 'H. to his friend Fabricius/ and addresses the recipient as 'My dear Peter'; it offers advice and encouragement to a young man who has recently abandoned philosophy, 'the madness of the sophists/ for the pursuit of literature and eloquence; and in referring to himself in the third person the writer asks, 'What in fact do you want from your Hugualdus?' This points to the Basel scholar Ulrich Hugwald,1 and it is no surprise that when he recommends two authorities in the art of rhetorical invention, they are Rodolphus Agricola and Claudius Cantiuncula, who taught in Basel, where his Topica was published in June 1520. He establishes his responsibility in his final paragraph, by saying that his object in printing the letter he wrote 'some time ago' (olim) to Petrus Fabricius is to fill several leaves at the end of the Formula which would otherwise have been white paper. He was therefore clearly in close contact with at least one of the printers who produced an edition of the Formula. We know this letter only from an edition of the Formula published as a sixteen-leaf pamphlet by Adam Petri in Basel in September 1521, of which there is a copy in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. In this Hugwald's letter does exactly what he says it was meant to do: it occupies four leaves at the end of the book (the last leaf of all is missing), which would otherwise have been blank, and our first impression might well be that we have the first edition in front of us. But this is not so, for Vander Haeghen records editions of the Formula in the previous year, 1520, at Erfurt (Mathes Maler), Leipzig (Valentin Schumann) and in September in Mainz (Johann Schoffer). These must be very rare; we have seen only Schoffer's, of which there is a copy in Rotterdam,2 and in this the Hugwald letter is absent and in its place stand two letters of the younger Pliny (1.10 and 14). Any one of these might, so far as is at present known, be the first edition;3 but there are several unexpected features. First, none of these printers would normally publish an Erasmian first edition (though of course conditions may differ for a spurious or at least unauthorized text). Schumann and Schoffer are assiduous reprinters of his less bulky successes: both of them, for instance, produced the Enchiridion in 1520,1521 and 1522, and the De constructione in 1521. Maler appears rarely in the bibliography. It would be unusual, but not of course impossible, for any of the three cities to forestall Basel. Secondly, if we are right in thinking that Hugwald was responsible, one would expect a Basel scholar to publish first in Basel. Thirdly, one cannot be certain, but in a small book intended for educational use it seems sensible to replace a long and uninteresting letter by a little-known Basel scholar with two good specimen letters from Pliny, whereas had the Pliny letters been in the original publication, no printer

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would have arranged to replace them with Hugwald's letter to Fabricius in order to avoid blank leaves. Too much cannot be made of this until we have seen the Erfurt and Leipzig prints. Meanwhile we propose the following interim solution. The Basel edition of September 1521 is a page-for-page reprint of the first edition, which was sent to the printer (probably Adam Petri) in Basel, probably late in 1519 or early in 1520, and which has now disappeared without trace, as a sixteen-leaf school-book easily could. This would then be the source of the three German printings of 1520, in which someone, we know not who, replaced the Hugwald letter with the two letters from Pliny. We suggest Adam Petri for two reasons. This page-for-page copying, very common in Erasmus' shorter works, is usually, though of course not by any means always, the work of the same printing house; and the fact that Hugwald wrote a preface for Adam Petri's Terence of 15224 may indicate that he had some connection with that particular printer. The only other place where we can trace the letter to Fabricius is a Lyons edition of unknown date, and not now known to exist, in which Erasmus, writing in February 1536 (Ep 3100), says he has recently seen this 'prolix epistle/ which he greatly disliked.5 Normally the letters of the younger Pliny take its place: at Cologne (Conrad de Keyser January 1521), Antwerp (Michael Hillen July 1521),6 Paris (Simon de Colines 1526, 1532, 1543 and Chresten Wechel 1530, 1541), Cracow (Matthias Scharffenberger 1527)7 and no doubt elsewhere. After that, the Pliny letters, which had probably been introduced a quarter of a century before to take the place of Hugwald's letter and fill out the pamphlet to a size convenient for the printer, disappear at last. But by that time the Formula has found a context in which it can survive until the ninth decade of the century - as a member of a little group of treatises on the same subject (by Christoph Hegendorf, Conrad Celtes, and others, but especially Juan Luis Vives), which is published sometimes by itself and sometimes as a sequel to the authentic De conscribendis epistolis, of which the Formula is sometimes described as an abridgment. It was not canonized by inclusion in the Basel Opera omnia of 1540-1, and so does not appear in LB, but the latest edition recorded is dated 1587. RABM

A F O R M U L A FOR THE COMPOSITION OF LETTERS The definition of a letter The letter is variously defined by Latin writers, but with essentially the same meaning. The Greek sophist Libanius1 defines the letter in this way: 'A letter is a conversation between two absent persons/ He further defines conversation to mean familiar speech, in order to have us understand that the letter differs hardly at all from the ordinary speech of everyday conversation. He cautions that it is a great error to use tragic grandiloquence in the composition of letters and to expend all one's intellectual energies in the pursuit of brilliance, profuseness of style, and ostentatious display where there is least need of it. For the style of a letter should be simple and even a bit careless, in the sense of a studied carelessness. Pliny's letters are a good example of this, being incisive, eloquent, and clear, and while they contain nothing but personal and mundane matters, succeed in expressing everything in a clean, ornate Latin; his style is controlled and elaborated with great ingenuity and refinement, yet it gives the appearance of being effortless, improvised, and extemporaneous. It is especially important to avoid the precious, archaic, and affected vocabulary, dredged up from the time of the aborigines, that many artificial and degenerate writers employ. They are eager to seek out new and unusual words in order to appear more learned without realizing that words are invented for the sake of the subject-matter, as Horace2 writes in his Ars poetica: 'Philosophical writings will provide you with the subject-matter, and when you have this well in mind, the words will flow of their own.' It would be almost superfluous to repeat this same injunction so often after the admonitions of Cicero and Quintilian, were it not that there are some 'word-fowlers' and eager hunters to be found today who are prepared to indite a letter for the sake of a single word, and when they have inserted this one little word, long and laboriously sought, into the letter, they think that they have carried off the palm of victory. But it is then, most of all, that they reveal their barbarous obscurity. On practice and style It is of primary importance, therefore, to make a skillful, orderly, and careful disposition of the material, since in the rich resources of the Latin language the proper, fitting, and suitable words will not be lacking. Practice and a

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good mastery of style is required. One must write as frequently and as diligently as possible, since 'the pen is the shaper and master of eloquence';3 as Crassus said so appositely in Cicero's dialogue: 'As deep plowing renders the soil more fruitful to produce and nourish the seed, so a style that is not merely superficial brings forth the fruit of learning more abundantly and retains it more faithfully/4 Thus one must exercise great care and diligence in writing. The ability to speak impromptu and an easy assurance in speaking, which are the ultimate and definitive fruits of study, cannot be acquired without frequent and assiduous practice in writing. Repeated exercise in composition produces richness and fulness of speech, and brings with it a marvelous fluency in speaking and writing. 'The practice of writing should be deliberate and diligent';5 through wide and varied reading of the authors 'a careful choice of subject matter and vocabulary must be made and the efficacy of individual words examined.'

6

One must not make use hastily of

the first words that come to mind and those that occur to us immediately, as some do, catching at these first suggestions and seizing upon them eagerly. The facility in which many unwisely glory and exult is suspect. We read in Quintilian7 that Sallust was very deliberate in the writing of history and that Virgil was in the habit of composing only a few verses each day. Fertile invention, apt collocation, and polished and ornate writing will never be achieved unless one has first exercised himself in writing and careful judgment. A better and more sure sense of judgment is acquired through unhurried progress; the initial ardour of improvisation cools. Those who attempt to write much very quickly are in error. Diligence is needed, first of all, and a more copious and fluent style will follow. 'Speed comes with practice/ as Quintilian says. Then, little by little, topics will suggest themselves more readily, the proper words will be found, rhythmical arrangement will follow, and everything else will fall into place as in a well-ordered household';8 but one must avoid the fastidious care of those who never cease to find fault with themselves and are never pleased with anything. 'It is not easy to say who is more at fault, the one who is pleased with everything he does or the one who is never satisfied with anything/9 Such infinite pains should be avoided and 'we should take care to write as well as possible, but to write according to our ability';10 there must be certain limits even to hard work. On imitation Since a great part of art consists of imitation, we must acquire a store of vocabulary, a diversity of rhetorical figures, and skill in the disposition of material from authors worth reading; then we must direct our attention to

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exemplars of stylistic perfection. It would be very foolish indeed, as Pliny11 said in his Epistles, not to set the best models before ourselves for imitation. Hence there is need of accurate discernment in this part of our studies. After weighing all things carefully, we must first determine which writers we should imitate. Those who have received the unanimous approval of many centuries are indisputably worthy of imitation. Cicero, the prince of Latin eloquence, is said to have more naturalness12 than art in his letters, while Pliny exhibits more art and more precision, but both are excellent models. These two are not the only ones to be read, however; others who have modelled themselves on the ancients should also be studied. Among these I think Poliziano should rightfully be included because of his brilliant style and the meticulous care that he exhibited in certain letters. According to the common opinion, Seneca13 should be read only by the educated, because although he was a man of exceptional learning, he employed an arid, terse style of writing not suitable for the talents of the young, which must be nurtured on writers of a richer vein. On the other hand, those who are widely read will easily discover that there are great virtues to be found in him, not only as far as morals are concerned, but also for literary and stylistic purposes. And we are not only to read the letters of those whom we wish to imitate, but also all other writings that contribute to the perfection of style and diction. And indeed, just as letters are not all of one kind, so the authors we choose should not be of the same kind. Those who choose only the letters of Cicero or the De officiis from the whole list of his works must not profess themselves to be disciples of Cicero; he must be read in his entirety, since he is varied and diverse according to the variety and diversity of the subject-matter. On judgment Judgment is essential to imitation; for unless this is present not only is imitation useless, but it is a dangerous obstacle. We must therefore be careful, in choosing models to imitate, not to take the most decadent instead of the best and most approved authors. Whoever takes Cicero as his model and guide will never have reason to be disappointed in eloquence, incisiveness of language, or orderly arrangement. It is a mistake, however, to think that imitation is sufficient of itself. There is much truth in what Quintilian said: Tt is the mark of a lazy intellect to be content with what others have invented. For what would have happened in those times when there were no models, if men thought that only what was already known should be done or contemplated? Obviously nothing would have been discovered/14 Thus Horace15 is right to cry out against imitators: 'O you

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servile flock of imitators, how often your antics have roused my anger and my ridicule!' And assuredly no one can equal someone else by merely treading in his footsteps; it is inevitable, again according to Quintilian,16 that one who follows must always remain behind. Besides, there are many essential qualities of literary style that cannot be imitated, like natural ability and fertility of invention. Therefore there is need first of technical training and rules, then imitation and judgment, and lastly, frequent exercise of the pen. But the question arises whether we can speak at all of an art of letter-writing. Some are satisfied with the natural form of everyday conversational Latin, saying that there is no art of writing. They laugh at our efforts, following the example of those celebrated teachers of rhetoric, one of whom, when asked about figures and conceits, replied that he did not know what they were but that, if they were necessary, they would be found in his declamation. Another who was asked whether he was a follower of Theodorus or Apollodorus17 responded, 'I am no man's disciple.'18 But who is so removed not only from learning but from common sense as to think that there is an art of building, or weaving, or drawing pots from clay, but that speech, which after reason itself is the most excellent of human achievements, has no need of rules or discipline? We must not ignore the fact, however, that there are those who are of the contrary opinion, who maintain that there should be no use of artificial rules in personal, everyday letters, but that they should be made up of common sense and ordinary language. It is useless, they say, to have recourse to art when one has to write a letter on the spur of the moment to a friend about some unforseen matter, when the subject presents itself of its own without our seeking it out. One must make use of ready improvisation, the most important element of literary style, because it lends itself to every situation. It is expedient at times, and indeed it is often appropriate, to make changes in the traditional and established practice, just as we see variation in form, countenance, or pose in statues and paintings, as the situation requires. Therefore utility is to be preferred to the precepts and recommendations of teachers, but in such a way that there is fuller and more effective application of theoretical rules. Those who divide up all letters into salutation, exordium, narration, and conclusion and think that the whole technique of letter-writing lies therein are all the more deserving of ridicule. As a matter of fact, there is no need to use all of them on every occasion or even very frequently, and as in speeches there are many variations according to the case, the times, the occasion, and necessity, so in letters this is especially true, since they treat of various subjects, and they are written to men of different origin, rank, and temperament at different times and in different places. Thus there is a need of practical wisdom, which is the partner or parent of technique. Those who attempt to say or write everything

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according to one prescription will inevitably be lacking in effectiveness. On the other hand, those who follow no rules and rush helter-skelter wherever their impulse leads them, diffuse and unbridled, pour out streams of words freely and indiscreetly. In either case moderation must be observed. And yet it must be admitted that learning takes something away from style, as the file removes something from rough surfaces, the whetstone from blunt edges, and age from wine, but it is defects that are removed; 'if there is any loss as a result of literary polish, it is in the way of improvement/19 as Quintilian said. We must not heed 'those who suppose that things that have no art have more power, thinking that it is more effective to say "force" rather than "open," "break" rather than "loosen," "drag" rather than "lead/"20 as Quintilian writes. The unlearned may seem to have greater fluency, because they rant on wildly, unchecked by any rules, following their own blind impulse, while the learned use discrimination and restraint. The result is not forcefulness of speech but violence, since they wish to appear eloquent without toil, method, or systematic training. On the three kinds of causes Since there are three kinds of causes in which the orator engages, the demonstrative, the deliberative, and the judicial, as Cicero and Quintilian inform us, all the various types of letters must be reduced to these three. This will be obvious to anyone who has ever made essay of the art that lies hidden in the letters of ancient writers or who, in aversion to the superficial manner of speaking and writing to which I have referred, prefers to seek out sure methods and principles rather than discourse aimlessly, as will be explained further later on. The demonstrative class The demonstrative class consists of praise and blame, and although it was first devised for ostentation, it was later used by the Romans for civil proceedings. For example, funeral speeches often form part of a public function and are incumbent upon magistrates by a decree of the senate. Praise of a man may derive from qualities of mind or body or from extraneous considerations, as both Aristotle and Quintilian prescribed. Letters that either praise or blame someone should be assigned to this class in the manner outlined above. To this class belongs the letter of Pliny that begins Tf ever our city/21 First Pliny praises the philosopher Euphrates for his outstanding intellectual qualities, such as his broad learning and eloquence; then for his fine physical traits, such as his height, his handsome appearance, his long

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hair, his huge white beard; lastly for extraneous reasons, mentioned only in passing without much emphasis, as when Pliny says that he was the son-in-law of Julianus Pompeius, a famous jurist and consul. Pliny's letter beginning 'You ask that your brother's daughters'22 is also of this class. Here he praises Minicius for his uprightness of character, the renown of his native city and parents, and the great integrity with which he had administered several offices; then for his noble and gentlemanly mien, the attractiveness and senatorial dignity of his whole physical appearance; and finally for the ample resources and impressive wealth of his forebears. Other letters are to be found in this same writer and in other writers composed with similar skill, from which it is easy for anyone to choose the artistic principles suitable to his letter. It would be useless to rehearse the categories of blame, which correspond exactly to those of praise. To the demonstrative class belong not only descriptions of men but of cities, villas, mountains, and places, which often occur in speeches and letters, like the description of Sicily in Cicero.23 In these instances we take natural beauty and advantages into account; one may allude to the beauty of coastland, plain, or scenic location, or the advantages of healthy and fertile regions. It should be added that there is no other class in which greater scope is given to literary ornamentation, or in which the orator carl'give fuller display of his talents. Often there is room for poetic digressions that go beyond the prescribed limits, as we see in panegyrics. But the letter has a certain character of its own. In descriptions of this sort one must use words that are ornate, as well as appropriate, and now and then more freedom is required in the use of historical or poetic allusions. To give an illustration from poetry - in describing a very beautiful villa we can say that it is the dwelling of the nymphs and the Muses, as in the famous Virgilian description24 of the port of Carthage: 'Within was fresh water and seats hewn from living rock, the abode of the nymphs.' If such liberties are not denied in a speech, should they not be allowed in a letter, which is something personal and often written even on unforseen topics by those devoted solely to literary occupations? But even if some technique is to be applied to letters, this type of writing must remain comparatively free and easy. As Quintilian says in book 9, 'there is a certain style in orations, which is connected, cohesive, and continuous, and another, freer style proper to speech and letters, except when the discussion rises above its usual nature into the realm of philosophy or politics or similar abstruse subjects.'25 The more excellent the description in the ancient author, the more zealously it should be imitated. For descriptions of places Livy is a useful source, as is also Sallust on occasion, and Pliny, especially when he describes the appearance of some region, wild animal, fish, tree, plant, flower, leaf, or

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root, delineating them as if in a painting. Pliny was very effective in this type of writing, but it is not sufficient to have examined only one example from this author. They must all be read, as far as possible, and the best examples must be chosen so that we will not only be copious but varied and versatile. The deliberative class Now let us pass to the deliberative class, which comprises many types of letters. For there are letters of persuasion and dissuasion, encouragement and discouragement, petition and advice, and love letters, which will be discussed later in their proper order. In the first place it must be observed that the deliberative class, which can also be called persuasive, is distinguished by its concern with the useful and the honourable, though we really cannot separate one from the other. Therefore in this class we must have special concern for that kind of usefulness which is joined with honour; and we cannot recommend, persuade, exhort, discourage, entreat, or admonish without aiming the shafts of our pen, so to speak, at the said target. The parts of this class are the honourable, the useful and the dvvarov, which in Latin we call the possible, an awkward expression, but the only one available, as Quintilian26 said. That these parts do not all occur in every question is too obvious to need explanation. Yet there are those who add to the number of parts, classifying as parts what are merely divisions of parts. For right, justice, equity, piety, meekness, and whatever else you wish to add to this list come under the heading of honour/27 again according to Quintilian. The pleasant is of such importance in persuasion that in certain disputes the deliberation centres solely around this notion; but it is especially important when it has some semblance of honour, or when it is actually honourable or praiseworthy. 'No one is such a slave to luxury that he would have nothing but pleasure in mind in arguing a case';28 therefore the honourable must be seasoned with the pleasant, and the pleasant fortified and supported by the honourable. 'Often we say that advantage must be sacrificed to honour, as in counselling the people of Opitergium not to surrender to the enemy even though they were doomed to perish if they did not do so; and we prefer advantage to honour, as when it is argued that slaves should be armed in the Punic war'29 although slaves were prohibited from warfare under pain of capital punishment, according to the jurist Martianus.30 'Yet even in this case we should not concede that this is dishonourable, for all men are free by nature/31 said Quintilian, and are made up of the same elements, and it can be said that perhaps these very slaves were sprung of ancient nobility. And even if they are slaves, they are still men, as Seneca32 said.

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The letter of recommendation is included by some in the deliberative class, for in commending someone to another we strive to prove that our cause is honourable, acceptable, and profitable. In praising the one whom we recommend, we show that our recommendation is honourable. In this class we begin with an introduction, winning good will through our modesty, saying, for example, that we have undertaken this trust only with diffidence, compelled by the entreaties of others and of those whom we are recommending; then by describing their character and pursuits we shall show that they are worthy either of the friendship and intimacy or the kindness and assistance of the one to whom we are writing. We shall sometimes praise them for their distinction of lineage and native origin, or, what is much more effective, for their gifts of intellect and learning, such as modesty, reliability, industry, speaking ability, or some other intellectual capacity. A very effective manner of recommendation is to mention that the candidate is a grateful person and one mindful of benefits received, since favours bestowed on ungrateful men can in a certain sense be considered wasted. Concerning the possibility of granting favour we must show that the candidate can be helped or his career advanced by the person to whom we are writing, or by others, namely the friends of the one to whom we are writing. There are many examples of this class in Cicero and Pliny,33 but one letter of Pliny may suffice for illustration, the one in the second book that begins 'You would gladly seize any opportunity to oblige me/ and the brief letter of Horace to Claudius Nero34 - for such letters may also be written in verse - in which he highly commends his friend Septimius to Claudius. In any event we must be extremely careful not to recommend undeserving candidates, for such an action invariably brings regret, as Horace35 rightly taught in his letters: 'Consider again and again whom you are commending to whom, so that another's failings will not bring shame upon you afterwards.' Monitory letters and letters of encouragement as well as discouragement make use of virtually the same methods and techniques, since the same system of rules applies to opposites. But we must always avail ourselves of ready judgment, which is the main component of art, and is of such importance that all precepts seem to take their origin from it. The formula for letters of entreaty comprises practically the same points; but in this class some prospect of reward must be included, as in Juno's speech of entreaty to Aeolus in Virgil,36 which is constructed with great skill: T have twice seven nymphs of surpassing beauty, of whom, etc/ Thus, to reduce the entire discussion to a brief compass, the honourable, the profitable, the easy, or possible belong in general to the matter of the deliberative class.

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The judicial class Now we come to the judicial class, which is many-sided and complex, and has two functions in particular; statement and rebuttal of a charge. The statement of charge we now call the accusation, the imputing of a crime to the defendant; the rebuttal consists in the defendant's repelling the charge brought against him and ridding himself of it entirely. Under this heading we place the accusatory letter, the letter of rebuke or incrimination, and the invective or vituperative letter, although this latter may also be included in the demonstrative class, since the three classes are often combined. Among the foregoing we also number the excusatory or justificatory, in all of which a very aggressive style of argument must be used. Some have added to these the reciprocal accusation which in Greek is avTLKarrjyopia37 'countercharge' and in Latin, recrimination. Quintilian distinguishes two types, one in which each party makes the same charge against the other, the other in which they make different charges. It is difficult to enunciate general rules for this class in such a multitude of cases and arguments. But it can be affirmed without controversy that accusations against others are intensified by amplification, while indictments against ourselves are nullified, refuted, or lessened by the same device. In such circumstances speech becomes so impassioned that all the emotions are poured out. In this class we express wishes, avert omens by prayer, plead, and show anxiety in accusation or defense, as in these examples; 'Would that your father would come back to life/ or 'O gods, ward off harm,' or T beseech thee now, O Jupiter, greatest and best/ and innumerable other expressions that are more suitable to a speech than to a letter, although the letter is at various times a vehicle for all the emotions. Therefore in letters of this kind we must open with a brief introduction, proceeding cautiously with art and cunning to the main question. Thus if we are accusing someone or seeking pardon for some fault, we protest that we are weak and no match for those who plead against us so that we will not appear to be overconfident and thus excite little belief in our justice and integrity. Messala38 made use of such introductions, as Quintilian tells us. Exordia of this type are suitable for winning favour, since by nature we are inclined to favour those who we see are struggling, uneasy, and uncertain of themselves. That was the reason why advocates of old dissimulated their eloquence/39 which should be free of all haughtiness, simple, and subdued. 'We must avoid seeming offensive, spiteful, proud, or abusive towards any man or any class of society.'40 To give a few examples: T am not unaware of how difficult it is to defend one's innocence against you, a man of accepted authority, whose power of speech is so great that there is nothing it is incapable of persuading. Your name is regarded with such

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favour among all ranks of society that even without words you could be unanimously absolved of the charge which you recently laid against me but that with all justice should be turned against you. I realize what a difficult role and what a difficult but necessary task I have undertaken in answering you, so meagre and of no account is our eloquence, and even if it once had some vigour, the anxiety of this defence has rendered it ineffective/ It is to be noticed how age is of great advantage in the introduction, as when we say that we are young and our opponents are veterans at the peak of their career, and by their experience alone can triumph over our learning or our innocence, however great that might be. Or conversely, we can say that our old age which should have been peaceful and unperturbed, is troubled by those who in deference to our age should have been more polite and more respectful.

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ON GOOD M A N N E R S FOR BOYS De civilitate morum puerilium

translated and annotated by BRIAN MCGREGOR

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Erasmus' De civilitate morum puerilium was written at Freiburg im Breisgau in 1530 and is, therefore, one of the last of the series of moral and educational treatises that had begun with De ratione studii in 1511. If De civilitate lacks some of the sparkle and wit of the earlier educational works we must remember the circumstances of Erasmus at the time when it was written. The triumph of the Reformation in Basel in 1529 drove him to forsake that city for the Catholic town of Freiburg. To Erasmus, now over sixty and in poor health, having to leave Basel was a psychological as well as a physical blow. Not only had that city been a most congenial home to him for eight years, but his stay there had been characterized by an intense literary output, which included his great edition of the Greek New Testament and his editions of Jerome and other leading church Fathers. From now on Erasmus' break with the reformers was complete. T have never entered their churches/ he writes in a letter of 1530, 'but I have seen them return from hearing the sermon, as if inspired by an evil spirit, the faces of all showing a curious wrath and ferocity, and there was no one except one old man who saluted me properly, when I passed in the company of some distinguished persons.'1 There are few more poignant expressions of the values inherent in the humanitas erasmiana than these words, and it is these values, with their acceptance of human limitations (especially in theological matters) and their insistence on human standards (for which the English 'civility' is a rather etiolated equivalent), which Erasmus sets forth within the framework of De civilitate. Dedicated to Henry of Burgundy, the eleven-year-old son of Adolph of Veere and grandson of Anna van Borssele, the patroness of Erasmus' youth, De civilitate encapsulates that philosophia Christi which lay at the heart of Erasmus' humanism. The opening reference in De civilitate to the ecumenicity of St Paul echoes a passage in Erasmus' letter to Servatius Rogerus, the Prior of Steyn, who had written to him on 18 April 1514 reproaching him for having abandoned the monastic life and urging him to return to the monastery. In his reply Erasmus defends the life he has chosen for himself and cites Paul and the apostles as examples of those who have carried their message into the world without incurring reproach: The apostles too, Paul especially, used to make journeys.'2 Written near the end of his life, De civilitate with its opening sentence can be regarded as a reaffirmation of his earlier apologia and a vindication of its guiding principles. In the Middle Ages the education of a nobleman such as Henry of Burgundy would have been dominated by the ideals of chivalry. These sought to produce a worthy knight, a just and wise master, and a good manager of an estate. A page in a knightly household learned a great deal from daily experience, but he also received instruction in reading and

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writing, in courtly amusements such as chess, playing the lute, singing, and dancing, in the rules and usages of courtesy, and in the knightly conception of duty. Much of what Erasmus has to say, in De civilitate, especially in the section on banquets, is very much in the tradition of such medieval manuals of curtoisie as the fifteenth-century Boke of Nurture by John Russell and the French romance Jehan et Blonde. This has been of considerable interest to social historians ever since Burckhardt pointed out how much the spirit of the Renaissance is revealed in the form of its feasts and festivals. The later humanists' theories of education reveal a shift of emphasis away from the social aspects of the medieval doctrine of courtesy towards literary and scholarly pursuits. Both Erasmus and Melanchthon, whose educational theories the schools continued for the most part to follow for over two centuries, found in the classical languages and literatures, and especially in Latin, the only essential instruments of education. Knowledge of natural facts was to be sought in the writings of antiquity rather than in nature itself. And, perhaps most important of all, even the basis of moral action and piety was to be found in the ancient literature. To this such Christian humanists as Erasmus and Melanchthon added the further purpose of the restitution of Christian piety in practical life. It is this specific sense of purpose that provides the coherence of De civilitate. For without the motivation of inner piety the variety of modes of conduct advocated becomes meaningless, just as the mass becomes mere outward form without belief in the sanctity of Christ's presence: illic adesse Christum. A characteristic feature of De civilitate is the absence of dogmatic pronouncements. Erasmus' own wanderings throughout Europe are reflected in the variety of social customs on which he draws to illustrate his theme. While the more outlandish practices of 'good manners' attract his acerbic comment, the overall impression of his remarks bears witness to his fundamental charity. The humanist strain in his thought is apparent in the frequent appeals to the sanction of antiquity in determining the acceptability or otherwise of modes of behaviour, with the appropriate classical quotation ever to hand to reinforce his point. The language of De civilitate is adapted to the youthful reader, being clear and easy to follow, although the occasional rare word taken from patristic or pagan authors does occur: magnates, obgannire, for example. Diminutives, which form so distinctive a feature of Erasmus' Latin, are to be found throughout De civilitate: excusatiuncula, precatiuncula, praeceptiuncula. Like Cicero he has a fondness for adverbs ending in -im: decussatim, sigillatim, transversim. Among technical terms borrowed by Erasmus from the Greek we may note poppysmus and catoplepa. De civilitate, however, is not one of Erasmus' more felicitous works; and

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this is something the reader should bear in mind in approaching it. The style is dry, pedantic, and somewhat repetitious. First printed by Froben at Basel in March 1530, De civilitate was an immediate success. There were at least twelve editions in 1530 alone. The first edition was brought out in some haste, without the dedication to Henry of Burgundy and referring to Jacobus Ceratinus as the early teacher of the prince.3 A second edition brought out by Froben in August 1530 incorporates the dedication to Henry of Burgundy and substitutes the name of Johannes Crucius for that of Ceratinus who had died in April 1530.4 This second edition, revised by Erasmus himself, is the one which is reproduced in LB and on which the translation that follows is based. In 1530 Gisbertus Longolius of Utrecht added marginal notes to De civilitate which led to its being reissued a further six times in 1536. The format of the work was altered in 1539 by Hadamarius, who converted it into a book of question and answer, and the catechismal element thus introduced was reinforced in 1569 by the title Leges morales given by Callus to his version of De civilitate. The persuasive influence of De civilitate may be gauged by its translation into almost every major European language: English (by Whittington) in 1532, and reprinted in 1534, 1540, 1554; German, 1536; French and Czech, 1537; nederlandsch, 1559; Swedish, 1620; Dutch, 1660; Finnish, 1670. B MCG

ON GOOD M A N N E R S FOR BOYS TO THE M O S T N O B L E H E N R Y OF B U R G U N D Y , YOUTH OF OUTSTANDING PROMISE AND SON OF A D O L P H , P R I N C E OF V E E R E

i / On the body If on three separate occasions that illustrious man St Paul1 was not averse to becoming all things to all men so that he might benefit all, how much less ought I be irked at repeatedly resuming the role of youth through a desire to help the young. And so, just as in the past I adapted myself to the early youth of your brother, Maximilian of Burgundy,2 while I was shaping the speech of the very young, so now, my dearest Henry, I adapt myself to your boyhood so that I may give instruction in manners appropriate to boys.3 You, of course, are not in any great need of these rules, having been, in the first place, brought up from infancy at court, and then having obtained in Johannes Crucius4 an outstanding teacher of the very young. Nor is everything that we shall set forth apposite to you who are born into, and destined for, the purple. My purpose is rather to encourage all boys to learn these rules more willingly because they have been dedicated to a boy of such momentous destiny and of such outstanding promise. For it will be a considerable additional spur5 to all the young to observe that children of illustrious descent are dedicated to learning right from their earliest years, and are competing in the same race as themselves. The task of fashioning the young is made up of many parts, the first and consequently the most important of which consists of implanting the seeds of piety in the tender heart; the second in instilling a love for, and thorough knowledge of, the liberal arts; the third in giving instruction in the duties of life; the fourth in training in good manners right from the very earliest years. This last I have now taken up as my special task. For others as well as I have written at great length on the other aspects I have mentioned. Now although external decorum of the body proceeds from a well-ordered mind, yet we observe that sometimes even upright and learned men lack social grace because they have not been taught properly. I do not deny that external decorum is a very crude part of philosophy, but in the present climate of opinion it is very conducive to winning good will and to commending those illustrious gifts of the intellect to the eyes of men. It is seemly for the whole man to be well ordered in mind, body, gesture, and clothing. But above all, propriety becomes all boys, and in particular those of noble birth.

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Now everyone who cultivates the mind in liberal studies must be taken to be noble. Let others paint lions,6 eagles, bulls, and leopards on their escutcheons; those who can display 'devices' of the intellect commensurate with their grasp of the liberal arts have a truer nobility. Thus, for the well-ordered mind of a boy to be universally manifested and it is most strongly manifested in the face - the eyes should be calm, respectful, and steady: not grim, which is a mark of truculence; not shameless, the hallmark of insolence; not darting and rolling, a feature of insanity; nor furtive, like those of suspects and plotters of treachery; nor gaping like those of idiots; nor should the eyes and eyelids be constantly blinking, a mark of the fickle; nor gaping as in astonishment- a characteristic observed in Socrates;7 not too narrowed, a sign of bad temper; nor bold and inquisitive, which indicates impertinence; but such as reflects a mind composed, respectful, and friendly. For it is no chance saying of the ancient sages that the seat of the soul is in the eyes.8 Old pictures9 tell us that it was once a mark of singular modesty to observe with eyes half-closed, just as among certain Spaniards to avoid looking at people is taken as a sign of politeness and friendship. In the same way we learn from pictures that it was once the case that tightly closed lips were taken as evidence of honesty. But the naturally decorous is recognized as such by everyone. Nevertheless in these matters too it is occasionally appropriate for us to play the polypus10 and adapt ourselves to the customs of the region. There are certain manners of the eyes which nature bestows differently upon different men and which do not fall within our purview, save that ill-composed gesture often destroys the character and appearance not only of the eyes but of the whole body as well. On the other hand, well-composed gestures render what is naturally decorous even more attractive: if they do not remove defects, at least they disguise and minimize them. It is bad manners to look at someone with one eye open and one shut. For what else is this than to deprive oneself of an eye? Let us leave that gesture to tunnies and smiths.11 The eyebrows12 should be smooth: not contracted; which denotes fierceness; not arched, a sign of arrogance; not pressed down over the eyes, like those of an evil schemer. The brow also should be cheerful and smooth, indicating a good conscience and an open mind: not lined with wrinkles, a sign of old age; not irresolute like a hedgehog's; not menacing like a bull's. The nostrils should be free from any filthy collection of mucus, as this is disgusting (the philosopher Socrates13 was reproached for that failing too). It is boorish to wipe one's nose on one's cap or clothing; to do so on one's sleeve or forearm is for fishmongers/4 and it is not much better to wipe it with one's hand, if you then smear the discharge on your clothing. The polite way15 is to catch the matter from the nose in a handkerchief, and this

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should be done by turning away slightly if decent people are present. If, in clearing your nose with two fingers, some matter falls on the ground, it should be immediately ground under foot. It is bad manners to breathe noisily all the time, which is the sign of furious anger. It is even worse to make a habit of snorting16 like one possessed, although we must make allowance for heavy breathers who are afflicted with asthma. It is ridiculous to trumpet with one's nose; this is for horn-blowers and elephants. Twitching the nose17 is for scoffers and buffoons. If you must sneeze while others are present, it is polite to turn away. When the attack has subsided you should cross your face, then, raising your cap and acknowledging the blessings of those who have (or you assume to have) blessed you (for sneezing, like yawning, completely mocks one's sense of hearing),18 beg pardon or give thanks. One should be scrupulous in blessing another when he sneezes.19 If older people are present and bless a high-ranking man or woman, the polite thing for a boy to do is to raise his cap. Again, to imitate or consciously repeat a sneeze - in effect to show off one's strength - is the sign of a fool. To suppress a sound which is brought on by nature is characteristic of silly people who set more store by 'good manners' than good health. A natural and wholesome modesty, not false or artificial colouring, should give the cheeks their glow. Although even that modesty should be so moderated that it is not construed as insolence and does not connote dvcrwjria 'shame' or stupidity and the fourth degree of insanity, as the proverb20 puts it. For this condition is so uncontrolled in some people that it seems very close to madness. This defect can be mitigated if a boy is accustomed to living among older people and if he is given an outlet in play-acting. Puffing out the cheeks21 is a sign of arrogance, while deflating them is a sign of mental despair: the former is the characteristic of Cain, the latter of Judas22 the betrayer. The mouth should be neither tight-set, which denotes someone afraid of inhaling someone else's breath, nor gaping open like an idiot's,23 but formed with lips lightly touching one another. Nor is it very polite to be repeatedly pursing the lips as if making a clucking sound,24 although that gesture is excusable in grown-ups of high rank as they pass through the midst of a throng; for in the case of such people all things are becoming, while we are concerned in moulding a boy. If you should feel the urge to yawn and are unable to turn aside or withdraw, you should cover your mouth with a handkerchief or with the palm of the hand and then make the sign of the cross. To laugh at every word or deed is the sign of a fool; to laugh at none the sign of a blockhead. It is quite wrong to laugh at improper words or actions. Loud laughter and the immoderate mirth that shakes the whole body and is for that reason called

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(TvyKpova-Lov25 'discord' by the Greeks, are unbecoming to any age but much more so to youth. The neighing sound that some people make when they laugh is also unseemly. And the person who opens his mouth wide in a rictus, with wrinkled cheeks and exposed teeth, is also impolite. This is a canine habit and is called a sardonic smile.26 The face should express mirth in such a way that it neither distorts the appearance of the mouth nor evinces a dissolute mind. Only fools use expressions like: T am dissolving with laughter,' T am bursting with laughter/ 1 am dying with laughter/27 If something so funny should occur that it produces uncontrolled laughter of this sort, the face should be covered with a napkin28 or with the hand. To laugh when alone or for no obvious reason is put down to either stupidity or insanity. If, however, something of that sort happens, it is good manners to explain the reason for your laughter to others, or if you do not believe that a true reason should be offered, fabricate something lest someone suspect that he is being laughed at. It is not polite to grip the lower lip with the upper teeth, for this is a threatening gesture, as is biting the upper lip with the lower teeth.29 But it is simply silly to be repeatedly licking round the edges of the lips. Their pictures tell us that it was once a sign of politeness among the Germans to pucker the lips slightly and form them as for a kiss. It is foolish to poke the tongue out to mock someone. Turn away when spitting to avoid spitting on or spraying someone. If any disgusting matter is spat onto the ground, it should, as I have said, be ground under foot lest it nauseate someone. If that is impermissible, catch up the spittle with a cloth. Reswallowing spittle is uncouth as is the practice we observe in some people of spitting after every third word, not through need but through force of habit. Some have the distressing habit of coughing slightly while speaking, again, not through need but through habit. That is a gesture of liars and of those who deceitfully contrive their words when they speak. Some have the even more disagreeable habit of belching after every third word, a practice which if developed from the earliest years stays with one even in later life. The terms in which Terence's Clitipho30 is censured by his slave are equally applicable to hawking. If you feel the need to cough see that you do not cough into someone's face and avoid the absurdity of coughing more loudly than necessity requires. Withdraw when you are going to vomit; vomiting is not shameful, but to have vomited through gluttony is disgusting. Attention must be paid to the care of the teeth, but to whiten them with fine powder is for girls,31 while brushing with salt or alum harms the gums.32 To brush them with urine is a custom of the Spaniards.33 Food particles should be removed from the teeth, not with a knife or with the nails, in the manner of dogs or cats, and not with a napkin, but with a toothpick of mastic wood, or with a feather,34 or with small bones taken from the drumsticks of

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cocks or hens. To rinse the mouth in the morning with clean water is both polite and healthy, but it is foolish to do so again and again. We shall talk about the exercise of the tongue at the appropriate point. It is boorish to go about with one's hair uncombed: it should be neat, but not as elaborate as a girl's coiffure. It should be free from infections of nits and vermin. It is not polite to be continually scratching one's head in front of others just as it is unsightly to scratch the rest of the body, especially if it is done through habit rather than necessity. The hair should neither cover the brow nor flow down over the shoulders. To be constantly tossing the hair with a flick of the head is for frolicsome horses. It is not very elegant to brush back the hair from the forehead with the left hand; it is more discreet to part it with the hand. Letting the neck droop forward and hunching one's shoulders betokens laziness, while tossing the head back from the body is a sign of haughtiness.35 It should be held gently erect, and the neck should incline neither to left or right36 (for that is the gesture of mimes) unless conversation or some such thing requires it. The shoulders should be held evenly balanced, not like sailyards, with one raised and the other lowered. If neglected in boyhood, bodily habits of this sort become ingrained and deform the natural posture of the body. Accordingly, those who through laziness have acquired the habit of hunching their bodies are ensuring for themselves a humpback which nature has not bestowed, and those who have become used to holding their heads to one side grow fixed in that habit, with the result that their efforts to alter it in later life are to no avail. Young bodies resemble young shoots, which come to maturity and acquire the fixed characteristics of whatever you determine for them with a pole or trellis. Twisting both arms behind your back makes you look like an idler and a thief; nor is it much more seemly to stand or sit with one hand resting on the groin, although to some people such a posture seems elegant and to give a soldierly bearing. But what accords with nature and reason is a ready guide to decency; the taste of fools is not. I shall deal with what remains when I come to the sections on discourse and feasts. To expose, save for natural reasons, the parts of the body which nature has invested with modesty37 ought to be far removed from the conduct of a gentleman. I will go further: when necessity compels such action, it should none the less be done with decency and modesty even if there is no observer present. For the angels, from whom derives that most welcome sense of shame that accompanies and protects the chastity of boys, are always near. Modesty requires such things be hidden from sight, much less exposed to contact with somebody else. To repress the need to urinate is injurious to health; but propriety requires it to be done in private. There are some who lay down the rule that a boy should refrain from breaking wind by

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constricting his buttocks. But it is no part of good manners to bring illness upon yourself while striving to appear 'polite/ If you may withdraw, do so in private. But if not, then in the words of the old adage, let him cover the sound with a cough.38 Besides, why do they not rule in the same way that boys should not purge their bowels, since it is more dangerous to refrain from breaking wind than it is to constrict the bowels? Sitting with knees apart or standing with legs wide apart or crossed is the hallmark of a braggart.39 The knees should be together when sitting, the feet together, or only slightly apart, when standing. Some people adopt the posture of crossing one leg over the other when sitting, while others stand with their legs crossed; the former is a sign of uneasiness, the latter of ineptness. It used to be customary for kings to sit with the right foot resting on the left thigh, but this has gone out of fashion. Among the Italians, some people out of respect press one foot on the other and almost take the weight on one leg in the manner of storks. Whether this is becoming in boys I cannot say. Likewise in bowing, standards or propriety and impropriety vary from people to people. Some bend each knee equally, and there again, some do so while keeping the body erect, others while bowing slightly. There are those who, considering this to be somewhat effeminate, maintain the erect posture of the body but bend first the right knee and then the left, a gesture which is favoured among the English for the young. The French accompany a measured turn of the body with a bow of the right knee only. In such matters, where the various techniques do not conflict with basic good taste, it will be permissible either to follow one's native fashion or comply with foreign practice (since some are much enamoured of foreign ways). The gait should be neither mincing nor headlong, the former being a sign of effeminacy, the latter of rage. Nor should it be reeling - a gait which Quintilian disapproves of.4° We should leave the foolish semihalting gait to Swiss soldiers and to those who consider it a great decoration to sport feathers in their caps.41 And yet we see that bishops pride themselves in such a bearing. Shuffling the feet while sitting is the mark of fools just as gesticulating with the hands is the sign of an unsound mind. 2 / On dress We have dealt in general terms with the body, and now we should say a few words about dress, because clothing is in a way the body's body,42 and from this too one may infer the state of a man's character. And yet, no fixed rule can be laid down on this matter, because everyone does not have the same fortune or rank and standards of what is becoming and what is not differ among nations. Finally, what pleases or displeases varies from age to age. Consequently here too, as in many other things, some allowance must be

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made, as the proverb43 has it, for custom and place and also for time, which the wise bid us take into account. Nevertheless, allowing for these variables, naturally good or bad taste does exist. Things which are useless to the function of an article of dress, for example, are in bad taste. To drag long trains after one is ridiculous in women, reprehensible in men; whether becoming in cardinals and bishops I leave for others to judge. Transparent clothing has always been strongly disapproved of both for men and for women, since the second function of clothing is to cover what gives offence to men's sight. It was once held to be somewhat effeminate not to wear a belt, but nowadays nobody is faulted for this, because with the invention of underwear, shirts, and hose, the private parts are concealed even if the tunic fly open. Furthermore, clothing too short to conceal, when one is bending over, those parts that modesty requires to be hidden is distasteful in every society. Slashed garments are for fools; embroidered and multicoloured ones for idiots and apes.44 Consequently, style of dress should be in accordance with one's means and station, one's locality and its standards, neither conspicuous by its shabbiness nor indicative of opulence, loose living, or arrogance. A degree of negligence in dress suits young men provided it does not lapse into slovenliness. Disgustingly, some people decorate the hems of their shirts and tunics with drops of urine or encrust their shirt-fronts and sleeves with a repulsive plastering, not unfortunately of plaster, but of snot and phlegm. Some wear their clothing lopsided, while others have it hitched up in back as far as the kidneys - some people even think this is elegant! Just as the entire dress of the body should be tasteful and well-ordered, so too should it harmonize with the lines of the body. If your parents have given you clothing of a superior elegance, do not swivel about to admire yourself or leap for joy and preen yourself in front of other people, for the former behaviour is for apes, the latter for peacocks. Let others admire while you yourself appear unaware that you are well turned out. The greater a man's wealth, the more agreeable is his modesty. To those of lesser means one should allow the consolation of modest self-pride. But a rich man, by flaunting the magnificence of his dress, brings home to others their own wretchedness and incites envy against himself. 3 / On behaviour in church Whenever you pass the doors of a church, bare your head and kneel modestly, facing the host, and invoke Christ and the saints. A similar pattern should also be followed at any time when the image of the cross appears, whether in the city or in the countryside. Do not pass the threshold of a church without addressing Christ in at least a short prayer with a similar

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degree of reverence, that is, with bared head and on both knees. When mass is being celebrated the entire bearing of the body should accord with the nature of the rite. Reflect on the presence there of Christ together with countless thousands of angels. If someone intended to address a king - a mortal surrounded by a throng or courtiers - without uncovering his head and bowing, he would be taken by all to be not merely uncivilized but completely mad. If this is so, what kind of behaviour would it be to have one's head covered during mass and to remain standing in the presence of the King of Kings, immortal and giver of immortality, surrounded by the venerable host of heavenly spirits. It does not matter that you do not see them; they see you, and their presence is no less certain than if you were to see them with the eyes of the body. For the eyes of the spirit perceive more clearly than those of the flesh. It is also somewhat lacking in decorum to walk up and down in church and play the peripatetic45 as some people do. Promenading is appropriate to the portico and the market-place, but not to church, which is dedicated to sermons, the sacred mysteries, and prayer. The eyes should be fixed upon the preacher, the ears should be attentive to him, the mind should be concentrated on him in total reverence, as if you were listening not to a man, but to God speaking to you through the mouth of a man. When the Gospel is being recited, rise up and try to listen reverently. During the singing of the Creed, when they come to the passage 'and was made man' fall down on your knees, even in this way lowering yourself in honour of him who for your salvation, although lord of all the heavens, came down to earth; who, although God, deigned to become a man to make you one with God. While the sacred mysteries are being enacted, with every fibre in your body striving towards the state of reverence, let your face be turned towards the altar, your mind towards Christ. Touching the ground with one knee while the other is upright supporting the left elbow is the gesture of the impious soldiers who addressed the Lord Jesus in mockery, 'Hail, King of the Jews!'46 You should kneel on both knees with the rest of the body slightly bowed in veneration. For the rest of the time either read something from the missal, whether on prayer or on the doctrine of salvation, or let the mind meditate on some aspect of the divine. At such a time, to murmur nonsense in the ear of your neighbour is for people who do not believe that Christ is present there, while to let the eyes roam hither and yon is a sign of foolishness. Consider in effect that you have entered the church to no purpose unless you leave it a better and purer man. 4 / On banquets At banquets there should be joviality but no wantonness. Never sit down without having washed and without first trimming your nails lest any dirt

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stick to them and you are called pvTTOKovdvXos47 'dirty-knuckled'; before sitting down you should have urinated in private, or defecated if need be; and if your belt happens to be too tight it is prudent to slacken the buckle a little - an action that would be inelegant at table. When wiping your hands, wipe away at the same time whatever troubles your mind, for it is bad manners to be sad at a banquet or to sadden anyone else. If bidden to say grace, compose your expression and hands as befits the solemn office, looking towards either the one first in order of precedence at the banquet or the image of Christ, if one should be there, genuflecting at the name of Jesus and the Virgin Mary. If this duty has been delegated to someone else, listen and make your responses with no less reverence. Gladly yield precedence in seating to another, and decline courteously when invited to a place of greater honour. If, however, someone in authority should make repeated and pressing demands for this, comply modestly, so that you do not, through courtesy, appear intransigent. When sitting down have both hands on the table, not clasped together, nor on the plate. It is bad manners to have one or both hands on one's lap as some do. It is permissible for the elderly and convalescent to lean one or both elbows on the table; but this, as practised by some affected courtiers who consider their every action elegant, is something to be avoided, not imitated. Meanwhile, be careful not to be a nuisance by nudging the person beside you with your elbow48 or kicking the person opposite you. Fidgeting in one's seat, shifting from side to side, gives the appearance of repeatedly breaking wind or of trying to do so. The body should, therefore, be upright and evenly balanced. If given a napkin, put it over either the left shoulder or the left forearm. When you are at table with persons of note, comb your hair and take off your cap, unless the custom of the area decrees otherwise, or one whose rank it would be impolite not to accede to requests it. It is the custom among some peoples for boys to stand bareheaded and take their food at the end of the table of their elders. In such societies a boy should not approach the table unless bidden nor should he remain until the end of the banquet, but having satisfied his hunger and removed his plate, he should bow and salute the guests, especially the most distinguished among them. The cup and small eating knife, duly cleaned, should be on the right-hand side, the bread on the left. Grasping the bread in the palm of the hand and breaking it with the fingertips is an affected practice which should be left to certain courtiers. You should cut it properly with your knife, not tearing off the crust or cutting it away from both sides as this smacks of affectation. The ancients were in the habit at every banquet of piously treating bread as something sacred and it is from this that the present custom has derived of kissing the bread if it happens to fall on the ground. To begin a meal with drinking is the hallmark of a drunkard who drinks not from need but from habit. Such a practice is not only morally degrading but

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also injurious to bodily health. One should not start drinking as soon as one has a spoonful of soup, much less so after taking some milk. For a boy to drink more than twice or at most three times in the course of a banquet is neither seemly nor healthful. He should have his first drink at some time during the second course of the meal, especially if it is a dry one; his second, towards the close of the banquet. He should take it in moderate sips, and not gurgle it down sounding like a horse. Both wine and beer (which is no less intoxicating than wine) are as injurious to a boy's health as they are harmful to his character. Water is suitable for the vigour of youth, or if the nature of the region or some other reason prevents his drinking water a boy should drink a light beer, or nonpotent wine diluted with water. Otherwise the wages of addiction to undiluted wine are decaying teeth, bloated cheeks, impaired eyesight, mental dulness - in short, premature old age. Chew your food before you drink and do not raise the cup to your lips without first wiping them with a napkin or cloth, especially if someone offers you his cup or when drinking from the common cup. It is discourteous to look askance at others while you are drinking, just as it is impolite to turn your neck round like a stork lest a drop remain at the bottom of the cup. You should courteously acknowledge someone toasting you with his cup, and touching your own cup with your lips sip a little and pretend to drink: this will satisfy a polite man simply playing the buffoon. When someone boorishly presses you to drink, promise to reply when you have grown up. Some people have scarcely seated themselves comfortably before they thrust their hands into the dishes. That is the behaviour of wolves or of those who, as the proverb49 puts it, devour meat from the pot before the sacrifices are made. Do not be the first to touch food set on the table, not only because that convicts you of greed, but because it does, on occasion, involve danger, since someone who takes a mouthful of burning hot food without first testing it is forced either to spit it out, or, if he swallows it, to scald his gulletin either event appearing both foolish and pitiful. Some degree of delay is necessary so that a boy becomes accustomed to controlling his appetite. With such an end view, Socrates50 never let himself drink from the first wine bowl of the evening even when he was an old man. If seated with his elders, a boy should be the last to reach for his plate - and only when he has been invited to do so. It is boorish to plunge your hands into sauced dishes. You should take what you want with a knife or fork; nor should you select from the entire dish as epicures do but should take whatever portion is in front of you - as you may learn from Homer51 who frequently employs this line: Oi d' STT ' ovelaB' erolfjia TrpoKeifAeva xeipas i'aAXoz' They put forth their hands to the dishes lying ready before them.' But if that portion also is extremely choice, then you should leave it for someone else and take the next piece. Just as it is,

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therefore, a sign of intemperance to thrust your hand into every part of the dish, so it is equally impolite to turn the dish so that the choicer morsels come to you. If someone else offers you a choicer portion of food, you should demur a little before accepting, but after cutting off a small portion for yourself you should offer the remainder to the giver or share it with your neighbour. What cannot be taken with the fingers should be taken on your plate. If someone offers you a piece of cake or pie take it on a spoon or plate, or take what is offered on a spoon and, placing the food on your plate, return the spoon. If what is given is rather fluid, take it on a spoon for tasting and return the spoon after wiping it on a napkin. It is equally impolite to lick greasy fingers or to wipe them on one's tunic: you should wipe them with a napkin or cloth. To consume whole pieces of food at a gulp is for storks and buffoons. If a portion is cut by someone else, it is impolite to hold out your hand or plate before the carver has offered the portion, lest you appear to be snatching what has been prepared for someone else. What is offered should be taken in three fingers or by holding out your plate. If what is offered does not agree with you be careful not to use the comic character Clitophon's words: 'I cannot, sir!'52 but rather thank him courteously. For this is the most polite form of refusal. If the person persists in urging it on you, say respectfully either that it does not agree with you or that you want nothing more. The technique of carving should be learnt from the earliest years, and not performed overelaborately as some do, but politely and properly. For the shoulder is carved in one way, the haunch in another, the neck in another, the ribs in another; a capon in one way, a pheasant in another, a partridge in another, and a duck in another; so that to teach them one by one would be time-consuming and not worth the trouble. The following can be given as a general guide: it is excessively fastidious53 to carve off from every portion what is pleasing to your palate. It is rude to offer someone what you have half eaten yourself; it is boorish to redip half-eaten bread into the soup; just as it is disgusting to spit out chewed food and put it on your plate: if you happen to have eaten something that cannot be swallowed, you should discreetly turn away and toss it somewhere. It is discourteous to pick up again half-eaten food or bones once these have been deposited on the plate. Do not throw bones or similar left-overs under the table to litter the floor, or toss them onto the table cloth, or replace them in the serving dish, but put them at the side of your plate or in the dish which some people provide as a receptacle for left-overs. To offer food from the table to other people's dogs is put down to a lack of tact; it is even more tactless to stroke them at the banquet. It is ridiculous to pick an eggshell clean with finger-nails or thumb; to do so by inserting one's tongue is even more ridiculous; the polite way is

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to use a small knife. To gnaw bones is for a dog; good manners requires them to be picked with a small knife. Three fingers thrust into the salt-cellar is, by common jest, said to be the sign of the boor. The salt you require should be taken on a small knife. If the salt-cellar is some distance away, the plate should be held out to obtain some. To lick a plate or dish to which some sugar or other sweet substance has adhered is for cats, not for people. One should first cut up one's meat into small portions on the plate and then add some bread and chew them for some time before swallowing. That is conducive not only to good manners but also to good health. Some rend rather than eat their food, just like those who, as the saying goes, are shortly to be marched off to prison. Such gorging should be left to brigands. Some stuff so much at one time into their mouth that their cheeks swell like a pair of bellows. Others open their jaws so widely in chewing that they produce a noise like pigs. Some in their voracity, breathe heavily through the nose as if they were being strangled. It is neither polite nor safe to drink or speak with one's mouth full. Continuous eating should be interrupted now and again with stories. Some people eat or drink without stopping not because they are hungry or thirsty but because they cannot otherwise moderate their gestures, unless they scratch their head, or pick their teeth, or gesticulate with their hands, or play with their dinner knife, or cough, or clear their throat, or spit. Such habits, even if originating in a sort of rustic shyness, have the appearance of insanity about them. When you have to listen to the conversations of others and you are not given an opportunity to speak, you should conceal any sign of boredom. It is impolite to sit at table rapt in thought. You may, however, observe some people so withdrawn into their private thoughts that they neither hear what others are saying nor are aware that they are eating, and if you call them by name they give the appearance of being roused from sleep - so completely absorbed are they in the dishes. It is bad manners to let your eyes roam around observing what each person is eating, and it is impolite to stare intently at one of the guests. It is even worse to look shiftily out of the corner of your eye at those on the same side of the table; and it is the worst possible form to turn your head right round to see what is happening at another table. It is bad taste for anyone, but much more so for a boy, to gossip about an indiscretion of word or deed someone has committed when in his cups. When seated with his elders a boy should never speak unless the occasion demands it or someone invites him to do so. He should laugh moderately at wittiness but never at improprieties; he should not frown, however, if the person who has uttered them is of superior rank, but so control his expression that he appears either not to have heard them or at least not to have understood them. Silence is becoming in women54 but even more so in boys.

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Some people reply before the speaker has finished what he has to say, so that their unrelated response makes them a laughing-stock and gives rise to the old proverb,55 'I was looking for sickles but they said they did not have any spades/ This is taught by the wisest of kings who makes it a sign of stupidity to answer before you hear:56 he who has not understood does not listen. If he has not fully grasped what a person is saying he should keep silent for a time until the speaker offers to repeat what he has said. Should he fail to do so and presses for a reply, the boy should politely beg his pardon and ask him to repeat what he has said. When a question has been understood he should pause for a moment and then answer briefly and agreeably. Nothing should be blurted out at a banquet that might cloud the spirit of merriment. It is wrong to defame the character of those not present; nor should one's personal sorrow be unburdened to another on such an occasion. It is impolite and shows ingratitude toward your host to find fault with what is set before you. If the banquet is being given at your expense, while it is polite to apologize for the humble quality of the fare, to praise or recall the cost of each item takes the edge off the guests' appetite at once. Finally, if someone through inexperience commit some faux pas at a banquet, it should be politely passed over rather than mocked. One should feel at ease during a party. It is a base act, as Horace57 says, to expose to the light of day something that someone lets slip at dinner without thinking. Pay no heed to what is done or said there, putting it down to the wine: JLUO-W fjn>d^ova crvfjLTTOTav58 1 detest a drinking companion who remembers all/ If the banquet goes on later than is suitable for a boy and seems to be slipping into debauchery, as soon as you fully satisfy your needs, take yourself off either surreptitiously or after begging to be excused. Those who compel boys to fast are, in my opinion, no better than those who stuff them with too much food. For fasting undermines the growth of a young body, while too much food destroys the vigour of the mind. Moderation, however, must be learnt right from the start.59 A boy's body should be replenished without being filled to satiety, through frequent rather than heavy meals. Some do not realize that they are full unless their belly is so distended that they are in danger of bursting or unless they discharge their burden by vomiting. Those who habitually allow the very young to sit at banquets that last far into the night show a complete disregard for the well-being of children. If, therefore, you have to rise from a banquet that has gone on for too long, take up your plate with its left-overs and bow to the man who seems to be the most distinguished of the guests, then to the others as a group, and take your leave, but promise to return shortly lest you appear to have left frivolously or out of impoliteness. On your return, wait to see if anything is required or sit respectfully at the table waiting to see if someone asks for something. If you

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place anything on the table or remove it make sure you do not soak someone's clothing with sauce. When you are going to snuff out a candle, first remove it from the table and immediately dip the wick in sand or stamp it with your shoe to prevent any distasteful smell assailing the nostrils. If offering or pouring something see that you do not do it with your left hand. When called to give a vote of thanks compose your expression showing that you are ready until the guests finally fall silent and the chance to speak presents itself. Meanwhile your gaze should be respectfully and firmly directed towards the master of ceremonies. 5 / On meeting people If someone comes along the road who should be respected because of his age, or revered because of his calling, or is heavy with honours, or is worthy of respect for any other reason, a boy should remember to step out of the way, respectfully bare his head, and even make a bow. By no means should he think along these lines: what have I to do with a stranger; with someone who has never done me a good turn? This mark of respect is being bestowed not on a mere man, not upon the worthy, but on God. Even so did God transmit his command through Solomon60 who decreed that one should stand up out of respect for the elderly; likewise, through Paul,61 he bade us show double respect towards our elders; in short, to show respect to everyone to whom respect is due, including even the heathen magistrate. Even if the Turk62 (heaven forbid!) should rule over us, we would be committing a sin if we were to deny to him the respect due to Caesar. I say nothing for the moment about one's parents to whom, next to God, the highest respect is due. No less respect is owing to teachers who, in forming men's minds, are in a sense their intellectual parents. Even among equals Paul's dictum63 that they should defer to one another in point of honour holds good. He who defers to an equal or inferior in point of honour does not thereby lower himself but becomes more polite and therefore more worthy of respect. With superiors one should converse respectfully and succinctly; with equals, affectionately and affably. While speaking one should hold one's cap in the left hand while the right hand rests lightly across the belly; to be even more polite, the cap held in both hands with thumbs extended should cover the private parts. It is held to be rather impolite to carry a book or cap under the arm.64 Modesty should be displayed, but modesty of the becoming sort, not that which attracts attention. The eyes should be directed at the person to whom you are speaking, but should be calm and frank, with no trace of boldness or insolence. Looking down at the ground as the catoblepas65 does gives the impression of a bad conscience. Looking

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sideways at someone gives the appearance of being an embezzler. Turning the face this way and that is a sign of inconstancy. It is unseemly to be constantly changing your expression so that at one moment you wrinkle your nose, at another scowl,66 at another raise an eyebrow, at another twist your lips,67 now open and now close your mouth; such behaviour denotes a temperament like that of Proteus.68 It is also unseemly to toss your head and shake your hair, to cough unnecessarily, to clear your throat, likewise also to scratch your head,69 to pick your ears,70 to wipe your nose,71 to stroke your face as if wiping away your shame, to rub the back of your head, to shrug your shoulders (a characteristic of some Italians). To deny by shaking the head or summon by nodding and, to cut the matter short, to 'converse' by gestures and nods,72 while appropriate on occasion for a man, is less fitting for a boy. It is ungentlemanly to toss the arms about, to gesticulate with the fingers, to reel about, in short, to converse not with the tongue but with the entire body, which is said to be like turtle-doves73 or wagtails, and almost as incongruous as the behaviour of magpies. The voice should be soft and calm, neither raucous like a farmer's nor so subdued that it does not carry to the person you are addressing. Speech should not be precipitate and outstrip its meaning, but slow and distinct. Such a practice too, if it does not completely remove a natural stutter or stammer,74 certainly reduces it to a large extent, since an overquick delivery creates in many a handicap which nature has not bestowed. When conversing it is polite regularly to employ the correct mode of address75 of the person to whom you are speaking. Nothing is more honourable or more pleasant than the name of father and mother; nothing more endearing than that of brother or sister. If particular titles escape you, then all learned people should be addressed by you as 'esteemed teachers/ all priests and monks, 'reverend fathers/ all equals, 'brothers and friends/ briefly, all men you do not know should be 'sir/ all women 'madam.' An oath76 whether made in jest or in earnest comes ill from a boy's lips. For what is more distasteful than that custom among certain peoples where even the girls make every third word an oath: 'by the bread/ 'by the wine/ 'by the candle/ 'by anything at all'? An upright boy should not employ uncouth words in his speech nor lend his ears to them. Finally, whatever causes offence when revealed to men's sight likewise offends when forced upon their hearing. If the conversation requires one to mention some private part of the body, it should be referred to by the way of polite circumlocution. Again if something should come up that might physically upset a listener, for example, if someone should mention vomiting or a latrine or a stench, he should preface it by saying, 'by your leave.' If something calls for refutation, one should be careful not to say, 'you

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are not telling the truth/ especially if he is talking to someone of more advanced years, but should beg pardon and say: 'so-and-so gave me a different version of that/ A polite boy should not provoke a quarrel with anyone, not even with his equals, but if a disagreement arises he should concede victory or appeal to arbitration. He should not set himself above anyone, or boast of his possessions, or undermine someone's resolution, or mock the character and customs of any people, or divulge a secret entrusted to him, or spread fresh rumours, or damage anyone's reputation, or hold a natural disability as a matter of reproach to anyone. For such behaviour is not only outrageous and uncivil but also foolish, tantamount to someone calling a one-eyed man one-eyed, or a bandy-legged man bandy-legged, or a cross-eyed man cross-eyed, or a bastard a bastard. By following the principles I have outlined one should win praise without envy and gain friends. It is tactless to interrupt a speaker before he has finished his story. Although a boy should not pick a quarrel with anyone and should be courteous to all, he should, nevertheless, carefully choose a handful of people for the inner circle of his friends. He should not, however, entrust to anyone's confidence what he wishes to keep quiet. It is ridiculous to expect in someone else the bond of silence you cannot fulfil in yourself, for no one is so tight-lipped as not to have someone to whom he would impart a secret. The safest course is not to confide anything that you would be ashamed to have put about.77 Do not be inquisitive about other people's affairs and if you happen to notice or overhear something, see to it that you appear ignorant of the knowledge you possess. It is impolite to glance sideways at a letter which has not been offered for your perusal. If perchance someone opens his correspondence in your presence, move away. While it is improper to glance at something, it is more so to scrutinize it. Likewise, if you sense that others' conversation is becoming rather private, withdraw unobtrusively and do not intrude upon such a conversation without being asked. 6 / On play Even proper games ought to be fun, although obstinacy, the source of quarrels, should have no place in them, and neither should trickery and dishonesty, for these lead on to more injurious faults. He who yields in a contest achieves a nobler victory than he who grasps victory at any cost. Do not protest against the judges. If you are competing against less experienced players and you can win time after time, occasionally allow yourself to be defeated in order to make the game more exciting. When playing against poorer competitors you should appear unaware of your superiority to them. It is for the spirit of the thing that one should play, not for any reward. They

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say that boys' characters are nowhere more readily apparent than in a game. If a person is prone to deceit, dishonesty, quarrelling, anger, violence, or arrogance, it is here that such flaws in his nature come to light. Consequently the boy of high principle should be true to himself in sport no less than at a banquet. 7 / On the bedroom

Silence and modesty are laudable qualities in the bedroom. Certainly noise and chatter are unbecoming there, and much more so in bed. Whether undressing or rising remember to be modest and see that you do not unveil to another's sight what custom and nature require to be covered. If you are sharing a bed with a companion, lie quietly and do not toss about and uncover yourself or be a nuisance by pulling the blankets off your companion. Before you rest your head on the pillow make the sign of the cross over your brow and chest, entrusting yourself to Christ in a short prayer. Do the same when you first get up in the morning, making a favourable start to the day with a brief prayer, for there is no more auspicious beginning to a day than this. After going to the toilet, immediately wash your face and hands and rinse your mouth before doing anything else. It is degrading for people of good family not to observe the manners of their position. Those for whom destiny has decreed an ordinary, humble, or even rustic lot should strive all the more keenly to compensate for the malignity of fate with the elegance of good manners. No one can choose his own parents or nationality, but each can mould his own talents and character for himself. I shall add by way of a postscript78 what seems to me a point of cardinal importance. The essence of good manners consists in freely pardoning the shortcomings of others although nowhere falling short of yourself: in holding a companion no less dear because his standards are less exacting. For there are some who compensate with other gifts for their roughness of manner. Nor should what I have said be taken to imply that no one can be a good person without good manners. But if a companion makes a mistake through ignorance in a matter that seems of some consequence, then the polite thing to do is to advise him courteously of it in private. Whatever benefit can be derived from all this, my dearest Henry, I wish to be imparted through you to the entire fellowship of boys, so that by this donation you may win the hearts of your fellow troops and commend to them the pursuit of good letters and morals. May the grace of Jesus honour and preserve your illustrious nature and carry you always from strength to strength. Erasmus of Rotterdam, Freiburg, March 1530

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COLLECTED WORKS OF ERASMUS V O L U M E 26

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Although it is one of Erasmus' most important treatises on education, the Dedamatio de pueris statim ac liberaliter instituendis was originally intended to serve a rhetorical as much as a pedogogical purpose. As Erasmus explains in his dedicatory letter to William, the thirteen-year-old son of the Duke of Cleves, he composed the work during his sojourn in Italy (probably in 1509 towards the end of his three-year stay in that country) as a kind of illustrative appendix to his rhetorical treatise De copia verborum ac rerum: De pueris instituendis was to demonstrate one of the main principles of De copia, namely how an argument might be expanded from a synoptic outline to a full, rhetorically developed treatment of the subject. Without going into details, Erasmus recalls that the manuscript, which he had given to a copyist in Rome, was finally returned to him in such a mutilated condition that he lost interest in it and that only after a long period of time did he allow himself to be persuaded by 'learned friends' (among whose entreaties those of Konrad Heresbach, young William's tutor, must have been prominent) to restore and complete his original treatise.1 As is indicated by its full title, De pueris instituendis was composed as a declamatio, that is, according to the canons of classical rhetoric, a literary show-piece ostensibly meant for oral and preferably public delivery but not really intended to serve any immediate practical purpose, forensic or otherwise. The literary and rhetorical procedure followed in De pueris is immediately evident: the argument is first presented in summary form and is then repeated, much amplified and embellished, as a forceful and constantly reiterated exhortation to parents to expose their children at the earliest possible age to the blessings of a liberal education. In keeping with the rhetorical principle of copia, the argument is expounded in great, often digressive detail, supported by a wealth of illustrations, anecdotes, and proverbial sayings drawn from the Greek and Roman classics, the Bible, and also contemporary life. The rhetorical cast of De pueris is typically Erasmian, eclectic rather than uniform.2 Periodic sentence structure and amplitude of expression characteristic of the high Ciceronian style are intermingled with Senecan concision and epigrammatic turn of phrase, although it should be emphasized that even when writing in his best Ciceronian manner Erasmus adheres to his usual practice of eschewing the more dazzling involutions of sentence structure. It is difficult to do justice in modern English to the variety and liveliness of the rhetorical style of De pueris; a close rendering would make the literary cast of this important Erasmian treatise on education seem oddly inconsistent, even eccentric, by the standards of modern English. I have therefore opted for a stylistically more uniform translation that prefers to let Erasmus' argument, in all its thrusts and elaborations, speak for itself.

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It is, of course, as a statement of Erasmus' ideals and principles for education, and specifically the education of the young, that De pueris interests us now. From the dedicatory letter it is clear that Erasmus' decision in 1529 finally to publish his treatise was motivated by an awareness of its significance as a document that set forth his pedogogical ideas in convenient form rather than by its usefulness as a literary illustration of the rhetorical principles expounded in De copia (although in his reference to St Augustine's commentary on the Psalms Erasmus makes it clear that he was still fully persuaded of the pedogogical and educational usefulness, if not necessity, of rhetorical copia). Erasmus' awakening to the great moral and intellectual significance of a work originally composed by him seventeen years earlier but never published may have been prompted by the increased preoccupation with the moral foundations of Christian family life that marks his literary activities during the later 15205. The concerns of De pueris blend in rather well with those of Institutio christiani matrimonii (1526) and several of the colloquies of the same period; De pueris is not simply a treatise on the right education for the young but a direct exhortation to parents to acquit themselves fully of their responsibility for the whole well-being of their children. In essence, De pueris is a Christian humanist reformulation of the classical ideal of a liberal education and, more specifically, of the recommendations made by some of the major pedogogical works of Greek and Roman antiquity on the raising and education of children; in De pueris Erasmus draws heavily on Plutarch's short treatise On the Education of Children and on the first book of Quintilian's Institutio oratoria. But Erasmus' work also has an individuality of its own: it is shot through with his keen social and psychological insight, which manifests itself in a number of major recommendations, such as an emphatic rejection of corporal punishment, a firm depreciation of mechanical rote-learning, and a lively and imaginative insistence on the educative power of play in the instruction of the young. Especially striking and highly personal is Erasmus' condemnation of physical punishment as an instrument of terror to cow children into submission and docility. He dwells on this issue at great length, whereas Quintilian deals with it in a few paragraphs.3 Personal touches such as these, generated by Erasmus' great powers of social observation and psychological understanding, give De pueris a vitality and imaginative grasp in which it is superior to its classical antecedents as well as to the other educational tracts of the Renaissance and Reformation period. Erasmus probably prepared De pueris for publication in the spring of 1529, during or just prior to his move from Basel to Freiburg in April of that

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year; he makes no mention of his work in his correspondence during this period. The declamatio was published in September 1529 by Froben in Basel. Some thirteen later editions are recorded, nine of them French, with translations into French (1537), Italian (1545) and English (1551).4 This translation is based on the text edited by J.-C. Margolin in ASD 1-2 23-78, which is that of the editio princeps of 1529.5 BCV

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TO THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE W I L L I A M , 1 DUKE OF CLEVES, J U L I C H , A N D B E R G , COUNT O F L A M A R C K A N D R A V E N S B U R G ETC, GREETINGS FROM ERASMUS OF ROTTERDAM

That most accomplished man, Konrad Heresbach,2 who, to the great benefit of your realm, became your instructor while you were still a young boy, in his letters3 has so often described your character, which has been destined from birth for learning and virtue alike, that if I had spent several months in close company with you I could not have become better acquainted with you. Inspired by his unique affection for you, which breathed through every line of his letters, he persuaded me with his persistence and arguments that I should lend, by means of some literary composition, additional impetus to the strenuous and glorious course you are running 'to give spur to a willing horse/4 as the saying goes, and that I should induce other young men distinguished by noble lineage to model themselves after your splendid example. My mind felt not the least aversion from this task, and I considered it a privilege to have received the suggestion. The reason why I postponed the dedication for some years was that I could not find a subject which seemed in any way in keeping with your greatness. For Heresbach had framed his request in such a manner that it was obvious that he would not be content with any dedication whatsoever. When I failed to come upon anything that satisfied my wishes, I began at last to regret my promise. I thought that I was not unlike those unreliable if ingenious clients who, if they owe a substantial debt which they cannot afford to repay, seek to placate their patrons with little trinkets, so that these will more readily put up with the delay while they themselves can claim they are not short of proper intentions but only of proper means. During my stay5 in Italy, when I drafted my work De copia verborum ac rerum, I took a theme by way of illustration, presented it first in brief summary form, and then developed it into a more elaborate and more detailed argument. Now the person at Rome to whom I gave the manuscript to be transcribed returned to me only a portion, hardly amounting to one-half of the original, and this surviving part was of no use to me at all. Later, after being repeatedly urged by learned friends to rekindle my interest, which seemed then to have grown cold, and to complete the work, I forced myself, although my mind was quite recalcitrant, to have a look at the outline of my argument, with its various headings or columns, and then took the task in hand again and gave it its finished form. Think of the following only as a modest present, a gift of cherries. I have added two minor works6 that have not as yet been published; again, think of them only as two quinces picked in a poor man's garden. I am not offering these humble rustic gifts, my noble young man, in the hope of meeting my obligation, but only with the

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intention of giving some evidence of my desire to do so. In our society creditors are less inclined to press a claim against their debtors if these constantly admit to their indebtedness and thus, as it were, issue a summons against themselves; those who pretend otherwise only give the impression that they are scheming to have their debts cancelled. However, it is really by Heresbach that I should have been taken to court; by virtue of our agreement he might very well have launched a suit against me. But I have preferred to deal with you; I knew that you would be fairer towards me even when your own interests were concerned than he would be in pressing an interest other than his own. After all, he has such a great affection for you, and is so zealous for your welfare, your rank, and your position that, if the occasion should ever arise, he would set aside all his natural reserve to further these goals. Therefore, my noble prince, persevere in your glorious struggle, so that your instructor may illumine your lofty position with his teaching and you may surround his learning with the radiant aura of your good fortune and position. I should not go to the trouble of commending this little book to you if it were not for the fact that this work is new and entirely my own. Also, within its brief compass it contains much instruction, and its style is eminently suited to persons of high rank. I have composed only one example; more can be found in St Augustine,7 who often gives an admirably brief summary of a psalm, which is then elaborated with a great profusion of material and expressions. Finally, my reason for dedicating this work to you is that the method of education it describes is especially appropriate for children of rulers; they, more than anyone else, need a sound education, and this need is fulfilled only by a liberal education. Farewell. From Freiburg im Breisgau, i July 1529

A D E C L A M A T I O N ON THE S U B J E C T OF EARLY LIBERAL EDUCATION FOR CHILDREN If you follow my advice, or rather, I should say, the advice of that most penetrating of philosophers, Chrysippus,1 you will see to it that your infant son makes his first acquaintance with a liberal education immediately, while his mind is still uncorrupted and free from distractions, while he is in his most formative and impressionable years, and while his spirit is still open to each and every influence and at the same time highly retentive of what it has grasped; for we remember nothing in old age as well as what we absorbed during our unformed years. Therefore do not let yourself be persuaded by those who reiterate that children at this age are not sufficiently capable of absorbing instruction and are also unequal to the physical strain of studying. For first of all, the basic elements of knowledge depend above all on the memory; and this faculty, as I have said, is very strongly developed in children. Secondly, since nature has brought us forth so that we might acquire knowledge, it can never be too early to satisfy this urge, of which the seeds, as it were, have been implanted in us by nature, the mother of all things. Furthermore, things which are also essential to an adult's store of learning, such as the alphabet, a command of languages, and morally edifying stories in prose or verse, are mastered much more quickly and easily at a tender age, thanks to some natural inclination, than at a sturdier one. Finally, why should children not be fit to be instructed in letters if they can be taught good behaviour at this age? What better occupation can there be for children once they have mastered speech? For they must turn inevitably to some activity or other. It will be so much more beneficial for them to combine play with education than to waste their time on frivolity. You may object that what is accomplished during these years is very little. But why should you slight it as being inconsequential if it serves a supremely important end? Why should you deliberately ignore this benefit, modest though it may be? After all, if you add one tiny bit to another you will in time create an impressive heap.2 Moreover, bear in mind that if a child learns the basic elements, he will be able to devote to more advanced studies those years of adolescence which otherwise would have been taken up by the fundamentals. Finally, by being occupied with his studies, a child will avoid the common pitfalls of youth - for learning is something that engages the entire person - and this is a blessing which should not be undervalued.

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It may be true that the strain of studying might have some detrimental effect on a child's physical capacities. But I am convinced that its intellectual benefits more than sufficiently outweigh the disadvantages suffered by the body; for mental vigour is stimulated by a moderate degree of exertion. Also, by taking sensible precautions we can guard against any risk to our children's health. The instructor whom you select for your young child ought to be a person who is able to encourage him by a kind and charming manner and not someone who will alienate him by a harsh demeanour. Moreover, certain forms of knowledge are so pleasant and congenial to young minds that it is more like play than work to absorb them. Children are, in fact, not such weak creatures: they do not notice the strain of exerting themselves, and for this reason they are amenable to hard work. In conclusion, therefore, remember that a man without education has no humanity at all; that man's life is a fleeting thing; that youth is an easy prey to sin; that adulthood is afflicted with numerous cares; and that old age, which few are permitted to reach, is barren and sterile. When you reflect upon this, you will not allow your child, in whom you are, as it were, reborn and destined to live on, to waste any portion of his existence during which he may gather resources that will greatly benefit his entire life and keep it from evil. The same argument fully developed For a long time there was despair whether your wife would ever bear children, but now I have learned that you have become a father and have been blessed with a son who bears the stamp of his distinguished parentage and who, as far as one may judge from early signs, shows excellent promise of nobility of character. It is your intention, therefore, that your son, as the object of so much hope, should begin a liberal education and be instructed in the most valuable subjects and moulded by the beneficial teachings of philosophy as soon as he has grown a little older. You want to be a complete father and want your child to be your true son, reflecting you not only in facial feature and physical detail but resembling you also in gifts of mind and character. I am overjoyed at my very dear friend's happiness, but even more, I express my firm approval of his wise resolution. I must offer you one piece of advice; on this point my words may be bold, but they also bear a deep affection for you. Do not follow common fashion and opinion by allowing your son's first years to pass by without the benefits of instruction and by deferring his first steps in learning to an age when his mind will already be less receptive and more subject to grave temptations (which by that time, in fact, may have entangled him completely

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in their brambles). Instead, you should straightway begin to search for a man of good character and respectable learning to whose care you may safely entrust your son to receive the proper nourishment for his mind and to imbibe, as it were, with the milk that he suckles,3 the nectar of education. Responsibility for your child should be divided equally between nurse and teacher, the former to nurture him in body, the latter in mind and character. With your insight and understanding, you ought not to pay attention to those silly women, or to men very much like women save only for their beards, who maintain out of a false spirit of tenderness and compassion that children should be left alone until early adolescence, to be pampered in the mean time by their dear mothers and spoiled by nurses, while providing the servants with a convenient outlet for indecent fun and horseplay. They actually think that children should be kept from education as though it were poison, contending that at this young age they are not as yet capable of absorbing instruction and are too weak to bear the rigours of studying; and their final argument is that the benefits derived from study at this stage are too slight to justify either the expenditures required of the parents or the disturbances created in the lives of these fragile creatures. I shall refute each of these objections, so I ask you to grant me your close attention for a while. Remember that I am writing these words as one of you closest friends, and that my subject is one that precedes all your other interests, namely your own son. Is there anything more precious than a son, especially an only son, into whom we would pour, not only all our riches but also, if it were possible, our very life? It would be absurd and grotesque for someone to lavish his utmost care on his estates, buildings, and horses and to consult knowledgeable and expert people for this purpose, and yet at the same time to attach so little importance to the upbringing and education of his children - for whose sake he is acquiring all this wealth - that he would not follow even his own judgment, let alone listen to the experts, but would instead, as though only a trifling issue were at stake, lend an ear to any ignorant woman or common nobody. It would be no less ridiculous than to expend great care on shoes but to neglect the feet or to be meticulous about clothing but to disregard one's health. I need not waste your time, my esteemed friend, with commonplaces. We are all aware of the obligations towards children that natural instinct, parental love, divine law, and custom impose upon parents. It is through their children that parents escape, in so far as this is humanly possible, their mortal condition and attain to some kind of immortality. Yet there are persons who believe they have fulfilled their parental obligations through the simple act of procreation. This, however, represents only the least aspect of parental love, which is the prerequisite for the name of father. To be a true

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father, you must take absolute control of your son's entire being; and your primary concern must be for that part of his character which distinguishes him from the animals and comes closest to reflecting the divine. An expectant mother is apprehensive that her child will be born deformed - squint-eyed, cast-eyed, wry-necked, disfigured by hanging jowls, protruding shoulder-blades, twisted legs or feet, or completely lacking in physical proportion. Mothers swaddle their children and bandage their heads, and keep a watchful eye on their eating and drinking, bathing, and exercising. The medical authors, especially Galen,4 have explained in many volumes how a fine constitution may be secured by these methods, and mothers do not postpone this attention until the sixth or seventh year, but put the child into this regime as soon as it has dropped from the protection of the womb. These mothers are indeed right: a neglected childhood means a sick and afflicted old age, if this final stage is ever reached. Even before her child is born a mother exercises constant care, avoiding inappropriate movements as well as certain types of food. If something by chance marks her face,5 she immediately plucks it away and transfers it to a hidden part of her body; long experience has shown that this is an effective means to conceal a deformity in the child which would otherwise be exposed to view. No one would call this care premature although it is expended on man's lower nature. Why then should we neglect during all these years that part of our being which marks our true humanity? Would it not be ridiculous if someone sported a fine hat, yet allowed his hair to be uncombed and encrusted with filth? Yet it is much more absurd to devote all necessary care to the mortal body but to ignore the immortal soul. When a pup or a foal showing qualities of superior breeding is born on an estate it is subjected, as a matter of course, to immediate training, for at that age the animal is more responsive to the master's will and therefore more likely to fulfil his expectations. Parrots are taught to mimic the human voice only when they are still young; for it is known that the older a bird grows, the less tractable it becomes; as the saying goes, 'An old parrot does not heed the rod.'6 But why should a bird receive all this attention, and your own son suffer neglect? Efficient farmers train seedlings when they are still tender to lose their wild nature before the process of hardening sets in. They watch that their saplings do not grow crooked or suffer any other kind of harm; in fact, even if something has already gone wrong, they act quickly to rectify the damage while the trees are still pliant and responsive to a guiding hand.7 Can any animal or plant serve our will and convenience unless our own efforts come to the aid of nature? The sooner this is done, the more successful will be the results. Nature, the mother of all things, has equipped brute animals with more

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means to fulfil the functions of their species; but to man alone she has given the faculty of reason, and so she has thrown the burden of human growth upon education. Therefore it is right to say that the beginning and the end, indeed the total sum of man's happiness, are founded upon a good upbringing and education. Demosthenes used these terms in speaking about correct pronunciation.8 He is right of course, but a sound education contributes much more to human wisdom than mere pronunciation can enrich eloquence. A proper and conscientious instruction is the well-spring of all moral goodness. By contrast, the doors are flung wide open to folly and evil when education becomes corrupted and careless. Education is that special task which has been entrusted to us. This is why to other creatures nature has given swiftness of foot or wing, keenness of sight, strength or massiveness of body, coverings of wool or fur, or the protection of scales, plates, horns, claws, or poisons, and has so enabled them to protect themselves, hunt for food, and rear their young. Man alone she has created weak, naked, and defenceless. But as compensation, she has given him a mind equipped for knowledge, for this one capacity, if properly exploited, embraces all others. Animals are less easily taught than humans, but their instincts are more highly developed. Bees, for example, do not have to be taught how to construct cells, gather nectar, or make honey. Ants are not trained to store up their winter supplies during the summer in a hole in the ground, because they are guided by instinct. But man cannot even eat, walk, or speak without instruction. Trees, as you well know, do not grow any fruit, or only inferior fruit, unless they are properly grafted, and animals are of no use to man if they are left to their own capacities. A hound is not prepared by nature for the hunt, nor a horse for the saddle, nor an ox for the plough, unless we apply our efforts to their training. So what then are we to expect of man? He will most certainly turn out to be an unproductive brute unless at once and without delay he is subjected to a process of intensive instruction. Here I do not need to remind you of the well-known anecdote told of Lycurgus,9 who produced two dogs, the first pure-bred, the other a mongrel. The pure-bred dog, however, had been poorly trained and so went straight for the food placed in front of him, whereas the mongrel, who had been well drilled, abandoned his meal and rushed after game. This story demonstrates that while nature is strong, education is more powerful still. Men will do everything to have dogs that will serve them well in the hunt or to have horses that are full of stamina for travel, and any care they devote to these ends seems to be perfectly in order. But they neglect altogether or postpone until it is too late any thought of raising a son who will be a source of pride and well-being to his parents, to whom they can safely entrust a good share of responsibility in the administration of the

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family estate, and whose affection will comfort and sustain them under the growing burden of old age, a son who will be a faithful protector of his family, a good husband to his wife, and a solid and useful citizen of his country. For whom do men plough, sow, and build? For whom do they ransack land and sea for wealth? Do they not do it all for their children? But what advantage or honour lies in these things if the beneficiaries are unable to make proper use of them? It is strange that so much energy should be expended on amassing property, while the owner as such receives no attention at all. Who would buy a lyre for an unmusical person or present an illiterate with a library? Why then all this accumulation of wealth for the benefit of someone who has not been taught how to make use of it? If you give wealth to a person who has been properly educated, you are handing him the tools for doing good; if you give the same to a person whose nature is savage and uncultivated, however, you are only providing him with the resources for living a wicked and irresponsible life. Can anything represent greater heights of madness than a father who acts in this manner? Such a father may ensure that his son suffers no physical harm and can perform his ordinary functions; yet at the same time he neglects the spirit, which is the driving force of all moral action. I hardly need to add that nothing is more conducive to wealth, social status, influence, and even good health, all blessings which parents earnestly desire their children to enjoy, than moral and intellectual excellence. Parents wish for their children to be successful in the hunt yet give them no hunting-spear to make the catch possible. You cannot bestow upon your son the supreme good, but at least you can equip him with the means to win its sublime treasures. You have surely fallen to the depths of absurdity when you possess a dog that has been carefully trained or a horse that has been painstakingly broken and schooled, but at the same time have a son who lacks moral and intellectual instruction. So it is possible that you may own land that is beautifully cultivated but a son whose culture has been shamefully neglected, or a mansion filled with exquisite works of art but a son whose soul has no beauty at all. And then there are parents, parents often widely praised for their practical wisdom, who postpone any thought of educating their child until he is already at an age when results are less easily obtained; or indeed they never entertain the thought at all. All their concern is for his material and external well-being, even before the heir to their wealth is born. So the parents take every precaution. While the woman is still with child, a reader of horoscopes10 is summoned to determine whether the infant will be male or

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female. He is also asked what the child's career will be; and so he may predict, 'He will be successful as a soldier/ and the parents will say, 'We will enter him for service at court'; or he may predict, 'He will occupy a high position in the church,' and they will say, 'We must find him a prosperous diocese or abbey somewhere and make him a provost or dean.' If this kind of foresight, which extends even into the period before birth, is not considered premature, is it too early to take thought for a child's education? Why all this early concern that your son should be a general or a magistrate, but no reflection at all on the fact that he should serve the state well in these positions? Well in advance you arrange for your son to become a bishop or abbot, but you fail to give him an upbringing that would enable him to discharge these offices well. You set him, as it were, on a chariot, but fail to teach him the art of driving; or you post him at a ship's tiller, but neglect to teach him what every captain ought to know. Thus the most precious of all your possessions, for whose sake all the rest is gathered, is the most neglected. Your lands, mansions, utensils, clothing, and furnishings gleam with prosperity; your horses have been splendidly schooled and your servants superbly trained; your son's mind alone presents a bleak picture of waste and neglect. Suppose you buy a slave, 'just off the block/11 as the saying goes, a rough and uncivilized creature. If he is still young, however, you will determine what occupation would be suitable for him and you will soon begin to train him in a particular skill such as cooking, medicine, farming, or household administration. Yet you would neglect your son as though he were born for a life of idleness. You may object that your son has the necessary means to live his life. True, but he does not have the means to live a good life. It seems to be customary that the wealthier a person is, the less he cares for the education of his children. 'What need/ our magnate says, 'do my children have of philosophy? They will have plenty of everything.' Yes, but the greater your wealth the more you need the guidance of philosophy. The larger a ship and the bulkier its cargo, the more it needs a skilful steersman. What single-mindedness marks the actions of princes, who strive to bequeath such huge domains to their sons! Yet these same persons could not care less to have their children educated in the skills which are so essential for good government. How much more does he give who gives the means for living well than he who merely gives life. Children owe little gratitude to parents who are their parents only in the physical sense of the word, but have failed to provide them with the proper upbringing. There is a well-known saying attributed to Alexander the Great: 'Were I not12 Alexander, I should want to

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be Diogenes/13 Plutarch is right to criticize Alexander for this remark: the more he expanded his empire, the more Alexander should also have wished for the wisdom of Diogenes. But it is even more disgraceful if parents not only neglect their children's education but also corrupt them into following evil habits. The famous philosopher Crates14 of Thebes saw this perversity in human character, and was fully justified in threatening that he would climb to the highest point in the city and there cry out at the top of his voice, denouncing the folly of mankind, 'What kind of insanity has beset you, wretched people? Why all this anxious care to gather wealth and possessions, while you give no attention to your children, for whom you are accumulating all these things?' Women who only give birth to their children but are not concerned to raise them are hardly even half-mothers; so also fathers who supply all their children's physical wants to the point of spoiling them but totally neglect their upbringing are not even fathers in half the sense of the word. Trees perhaps come into existence as trees once and for all, even if they turn out wild and barren; and horses are born as horses, even if they prove to be useless. But man certainly is not born, but made man. Primitive man, living a lawless, unschooled, promiscuous life in the woods, was not human, but rather a wild animal. It is reason which defines our humanity; and where everything is done at the whim of physical desire, reason does not hold its rightful place. If physical shape15 constituted man's true nature, then statues would have to be included among the human race. Aristippus16 once gave a witty answer to a wealthy but dull-witted citizen who had asked what benefits a young man would derive from education: 'Well, he will at least have this advantage, that in the theatre he won't sit down as one lump of stone upon another.' Another philosopher, Diogenes17 if I am not mistaken, showed an equally delightful sense of humour. In full daylight he used to make his way through the crowded market-place, carrying a lamp; when asked what he was looking for, he replied, T am looking for a man.' He was aware, of course, of the crowd around him, but to him it was nothing more than a herd of animals, not a gathering of human beings. Another day the same philosopher stationed himself in a prominent place and summoned a throng of people, shouting, 'Let all men come here.' A large number of people assembled but he kept on shouting, 'Let all men come here,' so that some became rather annoyed and shouted back, 'Here we are, the men you are looking for; tell us what you have to say.' To which he replied, T want men, not you; you are not human,' and he drove them away with his stick. It is beyond argument that a man who has never been instructed in philosophy or in any branch of learning is a creature quite inferior to the

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brute animals. Animals only follow their natural instincts; but man, unless he has experienced the influence of learning and philosophy, is at the mercy of impulses that are worse than those of a wild beast. There is no beast more savage and dangerous than a human being who is swept along by the passions of ambition, greed, anger, envy, extravagance, and sensuality. Therefore a father who does not arrange for his son to receive the best education at the earliest age is neither a man himself nor has any fellowship with human nature. Would a human soul imprisoned inside an animal body not be considered a hideous prodigy? We have all read the story of Circe18 who with her sorcery transformed men into lions, bears, or swine and so encased their souls inside animal bodies. Apuleius19 relates how such a fate once befell him. St Augustine,20 too, believes that men can be changed into werewolves. Who could bear to be the father of such a monstrosity? However, a bestial mind inhabiting a human body represents an even greater outrage. Yet the majority of parents, wise though they may appear to themselves and to others, are content to raise such offspring. She-bears, we are told, give birth to unrecognizable lumps, which they must patiently lick into shape;21 but no bear-cub is as raw and ill-defined a mass of material as the human mind at the time of birth. Unless you mould and shape the mind of your child, you will be the father of a monster, not of a human being. If your child were born with some physical defect, with, for instance, a cone-shaped head, a humpback, a club-foot, or six fingers on each hand, how upset you would be and how ashamed to be called the father of a freak rather than of a human being. Can you remain insensitive, then, when your child's mind is deformed? It is a heart-breaking experience for parents when their recently born child proves to be an idiot or an imbecile. It is as though they have brought a monstrosity and not a human child into the world; and were it not for the restraining force of the law, they would destroy the creature. Would you blame nature for having denied intelligence to your child, while you cause this to happen through your own negligence? In fact, an imbecile mind is better than an evil mind; or to put it differently, it is better to be a swine than to be a man who has neither culture nor moral sense. The child that nature has given you is nothing but a shapeless lump, but the material is still pliable, capable of assuming any form, and you must so mould it that it takes on the best possible character. If you are negligent, you will rear an animal; but if you apply yourself, you will fashion, if I may use such a bold term, a godlike creature. As soon as it is born, a child absorbs with great ease everything that is characteristically human. As Virgil22 expresses it, 'From their earliest years onwards, devote to them your special attention.' Press wax23 while it is

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softest; model clay while it is still moist; pour precious liquids only into a jar24 that has never been used before; and only dye wool25 that has just arrived spotlessly white from the fuller's. Antisthenes26 once made a witty allusion to this truth when he was asked by the father of one of his pupils what he needed: 'a new book, a new pen, and a fresh-writing tablet/ was his answer, meaning, of course, that he was looking for a mind that was still raw and unoccupied. You cannot preserve this quality of rawness and freshness forever; if you do not mould your child's soul to become fully human, it will of itself degenerate to a monstrous bestiality. Although this is a duty which you owe to God and nature, you should also consider, even if you expect no gain, what a great source of comfort, support, and pride to their parents children are who from their earliest years have been soundly educated; whereas children who have received an indifferent education bring nothing but disgrace and disaster upon them. I do not need to offer illustrations from ancient history; merely let your mind range at will through all the families in your city and you will be confronted with numerous examples from everywhere. I am sure you often hear parents saying, 'Oh how happy I should be if I had no children,' or 'Oh how fortunate I should be if I had never borne any children.' The education of one's children is certainly a heavy responsibility; but no one is born simply to look after himself or to live a life of idleness. You wanted to be a father; so now you must be a good father. You became a father, not only for your own benefit, but also for that of the community; or to speak in Christian terms, it was for God's sake and not just for yourself. St Paul27 writes that women shall find salvation only through childbearing and raising their children to walk in the ways of holiness. God will punish the parents for the sins of their children. Therefore if you fail to give your son an education founded on moral principles, you are above all wronging yourself; for through your own negligence you are preparing for yourself a fate which is more grim and terrible than anyone could wish upon his enemy. Dionysius,28 the story goes, lured the youthful son of the exiled Dion to his court and corrupted him with degrading pleasures, knowing full well that this would cause the father more grief than outright murder. Later when Dion returned and tried to persuade his son to go back to his former innocence, the latter committed suicide by jumping from one of the upper storeys. How true are the words of the Hebrew sage,29 'A wise son maketh a glad father; but a foolish son is the heaviness of his mother.' Indeed a wise son is not only his father's delight, but also his glory, his strength, and his whole life. On the other hand, a foolish and wicked son inflicts not only grief, but also dishonour, poverty, and a premature old age upon his parents, and makes death welcome to those to whom he owes his existence.

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Do I need to elaborate? Every day we have examples before our eyes of citizens who, because of their dissolute children, have been reduced from wealth to indigence, who are tormented and crushed by unbearable shame because their son has been led to the gallows or their daughter has turned to prostitution. I know eminent citizens of whose numerous children scarcely one has escaped unscathed: one child, for instance, is being consumed by that horrible affliction euphemistically called the Trench pox/3° and drags himself about as a living corpse; another burst his bowels31 during a drinking bout; and a third, while on a nocturnal prowl for prostitutes, his face hidden by a mask, was ignominiously stabbed to death. How could all this have happened? Well, these parents thought it was enough to bring their children into the world and to shower them with riches, but had no interest in their education. There are severe laws against people who expose their children and abandon them in some forest to be devoured by wild animals. But is there any form of exposure more cruel than to abandon to bestial impulses children whom nature intended to be raised according to upright principles to live a good life? If there existed a Thessalian witch who had the power and the desire to transform your son into a swine or a wolf, would you not think that no punishment could be too severe for her? But what you find revolting in her, you eagerly practise yourself. Lust is a hideous brute; extravagance is a devouring and insatiable monster; drunkenness is a savage beast; anger is a fearful creature; and ambition is a ghastly animal. Anyone who fails to instil into his child, from his earliest years onwards,32 a love of good and a hatred of evil is, in fact, exposing him to these cruel monsters; and what is even worse, not only does he abandon his child to these bestial forces, which is the cruelest form of exposure imaginable, he also nurtures a grim, destructive monster within his own home and to his own ruin. Abominable is that tribe of men who would destroy young bodies by witchcraft. What, then, are we to think of parents who, as it were, bewitch their children's souls through negligence and perverse upbringing? We call those who slay new-born children infanticides. But these destroy only the body. How much greater a crime is it to kill the spirit; for foolishness, ignorance, and wickedness signify the death of the spirit. Parents also cause harm to society when they, in so far at least as it lies within their power, present the community with a citizen who constitutes a real threat. They also sin against God, for God gave them children to be raised in the ways of religion. All these considerations make it abundantly clear that neglect of the first years of a child's education is more than simply a venial sin. It is an even greater crime, as I have already said in passing, not only to neglect a child's upbringing, but to go so far as to poison his young mind

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with evil principles, so that children are taught evil before they actually understand what in fact it is. How can a youngster who crawls around in fine purple grow up to practice modesty and humility? Before he can even pronounce his letters, he already knows what purple33 or scarlet cloth is and insists on getting it, and spoiled by such delicacies as wrasse and mullet34 he disdainfully pushes away more common fare. Can a child who is brought up to behave impudently be expected to turn out to be a respectful young man? Can we look for generosity in a person who as a child was constantly reminded of the importance of gold and money? Can a young man refrain from extravagant ways if during his childhood he was already quite spoiled long before any beginning had been made with his moral upbringing? The art of making clothes is continually producing new marvels nowadays, as formerly Africa35 was said to do, and we foist any novel design in clothing upon a child, who is thereby taught to be vain, and who gets angry if it is taken from him. How can anyone when he has grown older dislike drunken behaviour when as a child he had already acquired a disposition for drink? Youngsters are also exposed to filthy language that would have been scarcely permitted even to Alexandrian pleasure-boys, if I may use Quintilian's expression.36 If they repeat any of this language, they are rewarded with kisses. Of course, since their own lives have served as the model, the parents will not recognize any signs of moral corruption in their children. A child readily responds to the shameless caresses of his nursemaids and is thus handmoulded by their indecent fondling, as the saying goes. A youngster who continually sees his father intoxicated and uttering streams of profanities, who repeatedly witnesses banquets highlighted by extravagance and sensuality, and who constantly hears the house ringing with the din of mime-actors, flautists, lyre-players, and dancers, will be so accustomed to this way of life that habit will gradually pass into second nature. Among some peoples it is a practice that children who are still fresh from their mother's womb are reared in the arts of cruel warfare. They are trained to put on a savage face, to love weapons, and to deal blows. After these preliminaries, they are assigned to a teacher. We should not be surprised that these children, who have imbibed evil along with their mother's milk, are completely insensitive to good. I have heard some defend their folly by claiming that the pleasure they derive from the playful mischief of their children is a pleasant compensation for the irksome chore of bringing them up. Really, what kind of an excuse is this? Can a true father take greater pleasure in seeing his child pick up gross words and mimic shameful acts than to watch him repeat, with childish lisp, edifying sayings and imitate good deeds? Nature has given small children as a special gift the ability to imitate - but the urge to imitate evil is considerably stronger than the urge to

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imitate the good. Can an upright person find greater delight in evil than in good, especially when displayed in children? Would you wash off any dirt that might touch a child's skin, and yet pollute his mind with disgusting filth? After all, nothing clings more tenaciously than something that is poured into empty minds. What kind of maternal feeling is it that induces some women to keep their children clinging to their skirts until they are six years old and to treat them as imbeciles? If their love of play goes this far, why do they not procure for themselves a monkey or a Maltese puppy? They are only children/ they argue. Quite true, but even so, one cannot emphasize too strongly the importance of those first years for the course that a child will follow throughout his entire life. Hard and unbending before his teacher is a child that is the product of such a soft and permissive upbringing - gentleness is their word for it, but its effects are totally corruptive. Should mothers of this type not be prosecuted for maltreatment of their children? In a sense they are indeed guilty of poisoning and infanticide. It is punishable by law to bewitch children and to poison young bodies. Then what penalty should not be meted out to men who destroy with deadly poisons the most precious part of a child's being? To kill the body is a crime less serious than to kill the spirit. If a youngster is raised among stutterers or cross-eyed persons or cripples, this contact will hurt him physically; but any harmful influence upon the soul, although it may act in a less obtrusive manner, will strike more swiftly and penetrate more deeply. It was with good reason, therefore, that St Paul37 was so fond of Menander's saying, 'Bad company ruins good morals,' a moral that applies especially to young children. When asked once what the methods and principles were for raising first-class horses, Aristotle38 answered, 'Raise your horses among the pure-bred.' However, if neither affection nor reason can impress upon us the greatness of the responsibility we owe to our children during their first years, then we should at least take an example from dumb animals. Indeed, we should not be hesitant to learn from them a lesson that may be of great benefit to us in the future; for already in times long past mankind learnt from these animals many profitable things.39 We have adopted from the hippopotamus the practice of blood-letting, and from the Egyptian ibis we have learnt the use of the syringe, a medical instrument highly valued by the sons of Aesculapius. Deer have instructed us that arrows can be more easily extracted with the help of dittany,40 and the same animals have also shown us that a dish of crabs is a most effective antidote against poisonous spiders. We know from the lizard that dittany is a good remedy against snake-bites; there is an instinctive warfare between snakes and lizards, and the latter have been observed to seek healing for their wounds by turning to this herb.

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The useful properties of celandine41 have been revealed to us by the swallow [chelidon] which has also given this plant its name [chelidonia]. From the turtle we know that marjoram is a good remedy against snake-bites; and the healing properties of rue have been pointed out by the weasel. The medical uses of origan and ivy have been revealed to us by the stork and the boar respectively. Finally, from snakes we know that fennel promotes good eyesight, from vipers that lettuce prevents nausea, and from panthers that human excrement is a good antidote against wolf's bane. And we have learnt many more remedies from dumb animals. From the animals we have also acquired the arts and techniques to sustain human life. Swine, for instance, have shown us the technique of ploughing and swallows the art of building mud walls. In short, there is almost no useful art in human society for which nature has not set before us a precedent in the animal world. Even those who are without philosophy and learning are at least reminded of their duties by the animals. We also observe that each animal not only gives its young life and sustenance but also trains them to carry out their natural functions. A bird, for instance, is born to fly, and so it is raised by its parents to perform this function. We notice how a domestic cat trains and directs its kittens to hunt after mice and small birds for food; she shows them their prey while it is still alive, how to pounce on it as it runs away, and finally, how to devour it. Look at deer again; they practise their young in running as soon as they are born, showing them how to be constantly prepared for flight, and taking them to steep places in order to demonstrate how to leap and so escape the hunter's nets. An almost schoolmasterish system of rearing has been attributed to dolphins and elephants, and among nightingales a clear distinction between the roles of teacher and pupil has been observed, with the latter following the instructions and corrections of the former. A dog is born to hunt, a bird to fly, a horse to race, and an ox to plough; so also every human being is born to pursue wisdom and to live an upright life. Every living creature learns very easily how to carry out its own functions; so also every human being can be taught virtue without any great hardship. The seeds that nature has implanted in us to attain to this goal are bursting with life; the only thing that is required, in addition to this natural inclination, is the effort of a dedicated teacher. What could be more absurd than that dumb animals should know and be mindful of their duties towards their young, while human beings, endowed with reason and as such set apart from the brutes, should be ignorant of their obligations towards nature, parental love, and ultimately, God? No animal of any species expects from its offspring a reward for its care, unless we are to believe the story that storks42 take turns feeding their

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aged parents and transporting them on their backs. Among human beings, on the other hand, the ties of filial affection are not dissolved by the advance of years. What comfort, reputation, and support can a parent not expect if he provides his son with a good education? Nature has entrusted you with fallow land; uncultivated, it is true, but blessed, all the same, with fertile soil. Would you allow this to be overgrown with thorns and thistles which later, even with the greatest effort, you would hardly be able to pull out? Remember the mighty tree that lies hidden inside a tiny seed and the abundant fruit it will bear once it has burst through. But all your hopes will come to frustration unless you plant your seed in a pit you have dug and carefully tend your seedling to make it grow sturdier, or unless through grafting you curb, so to speak, its wayward inclinations. Will you be vigilant to tame the wayward growth of your plants, yet remain inactive in the case of your own son? As a general principle, human happiness depends on three prerequisites: nature, method, and practice.43 By nature I mean man's innate capacity and inclination for the good. By method I understand learning, which consists of advice and instruction. Finally, by practice I mean the exercise of a disposition which has been implanted by nature and moulded by method. Nature is realized only through method, and practice, unless it is guided by the principles of method, is open to numerous errors and pitfalls. It is a serious mistake, therefore, to think that the character we are born with is all-determining. And it is an equally serious mistake to believe that we can become wise through practical experience, without the benefit of education. Can anyone be a good runner who practises strenuously but in darkness and without any direction? Or can we expect anyone to be a good swordsman if he merely brandishes his weapon with his eyes closed? The teachings of philosophy are, as it were, the eyes of the soul, casting light on the road ahead, revealing what is the right and what is the wrong path to follow. Varied experience over a long period of time is, of course, quite useful, but only to the wise man who has been thoroughly imbued with the precepts of philosophy. Think of all the hardships and sufferings that have befallen people who have indeed, through practical experience, gained some measure of understanding, but only at the cost of great misery in their lives. You might then ask yourself whether you would have your son suffer such an unhappy experience. You might also ponder the fact that philosophy can teach more within the compass of a single year than the most diverse range of experience stretched over a period of thirty years. Moreover, the guidance of philosophy is safe, whereas the path of experience leads more often to disaster than to wisdom. The ancients were right to describe someone who was trying out something by way of test as

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setting a trial44 for himself or being tried. Suppose that someone wishes his son to become a competent physician. What would he prefer him to do? Study all the available literature, or learn by trial and error what is dangerous poison and what is good medicine? If a captain has to learn the art of navigation from repeated shipwrecks, or if a ruler has to learn the proper exercise of authority from continual wars, uprisings, and public disturbances, what an unfortunate way this is to become wise! It is fools' wisdom, bought at too high a price, to gain a belated wisdom after being struck by the blows of misfortune. Philip45 gravely admonished his son Alexander to show himself a willing pupil of Aristotle and to acquire from his tutor a thorough mastery of philosophy in order that he might avoid the many mistakes which his father was already regretting. And yet Philip has been credited with a keen intellect; we know what to expect of the common masses. Method is the quickest means of determining what is the right or wrong course of action to follow. It does not tell us belatedly after the harm has been done, This turned out badly for you; watch out from now on.' No, before we take eve the first step it cries out, 'If you do this, you will bring ruin and disgrace upon yourself.' Three strands, must be intertwined to make a complete cord: nature must be developed by method and method must find its completion in practice. Even in animal life we can observe the great ease with which each creature learns everything that is natural to its own species and is especially conducive to its well-being. To ensure this well-being, it must avoid anything that would cause harm and suffering. This instinct is found not only in animals but even in plants. Trees, for instance, when exposed to the salt sea-gales and icy blasts of the north wind contract their leaves and branches but spread their foliage luxuriantly when placed in a gentler environment. But what is man's real nature? Is it not to live according to reason?46 This is why he is called a rational being, and this is what sets him apart from the animals. And what is the most harmful influence upon man? Surely it is ignorance. Nothing will the child learn more readily than goodness, nothing will it learn to reject more than stupidity, if only parents have worked to fill the natural void from the start. Of course, we often hear extravagant complaints that children are inclined by nature to evil, and that it is very difficult to instil in them a love of the good. But these accusations against nature are unfair. The evil is largely due to ourselves; for it is we who corrupt young minds with evil before we expose them to the good. It is not surprising, therefore, that children who have already been schooled in the ways of evil should exhibit so little promise for being trained in the ways of the good; for it is universally recognized that the unteaching of bad habits

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not only has to precede the teaching of good habits, but is also far more difficult. Parents generally make three mistakes. First of all, they may neglect the education of their children entirely. Secondly, they may begin to turn their children's minds to learning when it is already too late. Or finally, they may entrust their children to unworthy teachers whose instruction leaves bad effects that later have to be overcome. The first category of parents I have already discussed, and I have shown that they do not deserve the name of parents and are indeed no different from people who abandon and expose their children; they therefore deserve to be punished by the existing laws that provide for the education of children and young people. The second class of parentsis found everywhere, and my quarrel has so far been mainly with them. Parents of the third type act partially out of ignorance and partly out of carelessness. It would be unusual and disgraceful if you did not know the person to whom you were going to entrust your horse or your estate. How much more disgraceful it is not to know the man into whose care you have committed the most precious of your possessions. Would you, in the one instance, be eager to learn and make up for your lack of knowledge by consulting the very best experts, and yet in the other, consider it of no importance into whose hands you should entrust your own son? Each of your servants has his duties carefully assigned. You watch closely to whom you should give the responsibility of looking after your farm or kitchen or whom you should make your steward. But let there be one person who is quite incapable of doing anything, a lazy scoundrel and an ignorant brute, and to him you entrust the education of your child. A task that requires a craftsman, so to speak, you assign to the meanest of your servants. Is it possible to think of a more perverse frame of mind? Some parents are deterred by sheer meanness from hiring a qualified instructor. They are willing to pay their groom better than their son's teacher, while at the same time they indulge themselves with luxurious feasting, spend days and nights on ruinous gambling, and squander money on hunting parties and entertainers. Their meanness and parsimony applies only to one activity, education, although expenditure for this purpose would be a legitimate excuse for economy in everything else. I wish there were fewer fathers who would spend more money on a stinking whore than on the upbringing of their son. As the satirist47 puts it, nothing costs a father less than his own son. It is, I suppose, not out of place to cite here from the diary which used to be attributed to Crates.48 It has the following entries: 'Allot ten minae for the cook, one drachma for the physician, five talents for the flatterer, a thank-you for the adviser, a talent for the courtesan, and three pennies for the philosopher-in-residence.' Only one thing is missing from

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this absurd account, namely the allotment of a penny for the teacher although I believe he may be mentioned here under the title of philosopher. One day a citizen with a full purse but an empty head approached the philosopher Aristippus,49 asking him how high a fee he would charge to undertake the education of his son. When Aristippus asked for five hundred drachmas, he exclaimed, That is a large sum of money you are asking for; one could buy a slave with that/ To which the other wittily replied, 'Yes, but you will have two servants at your disposal instead of one: a son who can perform his duties, and a philosopher to teach him/ Again, if someone were asked if he would want to have a hundred horses at the cost of the life of his only son, he would surely reply, if he had any grain of feeling, 'Never/ Why, then, do you value your horse more than your own son and lavish more care on the animal? Why do you lay out more money to engage an entertainer than to have your son educated? Economy has its place everywhere except in education, where it would not be thrift but sheer madness. There are also parents who are willing to exercise some judgment in their selection of a teacher for their children, but who nevertheless allow themselves to be influenced by the canvassing of their friends. So it happens that a teacher who is qualified to instruct the young is passed over, while an incompetent person is hired, for no other reason but that he bears the recommendation of a friend. Why should you be so foolish? When you wish to sail your ship, you would not let yourself be swayed by the opinions of others, but would set at the helm the man who is the most expert steersman. However, when your son's well-being is at stake - indeed the well-being of his parents, his whole family, and all of society - would you not use your judgment at all? If your horse is sick, would you hire a doctor solely on the basis of a friend's recommendation rather than on the basis of his medical skill? Is your son worth less to you than your horse? Or rather let me say, are you worth less to yourself than your horse? It would be disgraceful enough if people of modest means should act so unthinkingly; it is all the more so for persons of high rank in society. At a single banquet some may shipwreck, as it were, their entire wealth upon that most perilous reef of all, gambling, and so lose as much as thirty thousand; yet these same count it a burden to spend a thousand for the education of their children. No one can bestow natural ability, either upon himself or upon others. But even here wise parents can exert some influence. First of all, it is important that the future father choose as his wife a woman who comes from a good family, who is well educated and in good health.50 Body and soul are so closely joined together that it is inevitable that the one must influence the other, either for better or for worse. Furthermore, the husband should not

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have intercourse with his wife if he is inebriated or in a state of emotional upheaval, for any such disturbance will be passed on by a mysterious kind of contagion to the embryo. A remark once made by a sage51 illustrates this. Seeing a young man act in a rather intoxicated fashion, he made the pointed comment, 'I should be surprised if your father did not beget you in a drunken fit.' I also believe that at all times, but especially during the period of conception and pregnancy, both father and mother should have a good conscience and be unburdened by any feelings of guilt. To possess such a state of mind is the very height of joy and tranquillity. It is at this stage that parents should begin to think seriously of their child's education rather than wait until he is nine or even, as many do, until he is sixteen years old. It is also best for a child to be nursed by his own mother. However, if this is impossible, it should be done by a wet-nurse who is of sound constitution and whose milk is untainted. She must be a woman of good morals, not given to quarrelling, drinking, or indecent behaviour, for any physical or mental harm that is inflicted on a child during the earliest stages of his life will continue to affect him well into his adult years. For this reason it is said that it makes a difference with whom a child shares the breast or with whom he plays. Finally, the child should be entrusted to a teacher who has been carefully selected, has been recommended from all directions, and has been well tested by a rich variety of experience. The choice should be made carefully, and it should be permanent. 'A multitude of masters' was already condemned by Homer;52 and as the ancient saying of the Greeks has it, 'Caria53 was brought to ruin because of the large number of its leaders/ A frequent change of doctors has often proved fatal; similarly, nothing is more harmful than a constant succession of different instructors, which calls to mind Penelope's54 weaving and unravelling of her web. I have actually known youngsters who, before they were twelve years old, had already gone through more than fourteen teachers simply because of the carelessness of their parents. But responsibility does not end once the choice of teacher has been made. Parents should keep a close watch on both pupil and instructor; they cannot relinquish responsibility as they do when they present their daughter in marriage. Rather, the father should pay frequent visits to the classroom in order to see what progress is being made, being mindful of the sober wisdom of the ancient saying: 'A watchful gaze never turns its back. Nothing sleeks a horse faster than the eye of his master, and no manure is richer than the owner's footsteps in the field.'55 I am speaking here of small children. Older children should be kept out of sight now and then; such a separation is the equivalent of grafting and the best method for imparting vigour to young minds. Among the outstanding qualities recorded of

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Aemilius Paulus56 was his habit of visiting, as often as the affairs of state permitted, the classes which his sons attended. Pliny the Younger57 took upon himself the responsibility of inspecting the school where his protege, the son of one of his friends, was receiving his education. What I have said so far concerning human nature does not exhaust the subject. Each species of living creature possesses a common nature; so, for example, the nature of man consists in living according to the dictates of reason. There is also, however, a nature unique to each individual being. Thus one child may have an aptitude for mathematics, another for theology, a third for poetry and rhetoric, and again another for military life. Each individual is so strongly drawn to his own unique pursuit that he cannot be separated from it. By contrast, he may be so averse to a certain course of study that he would rather go through fire than apply himself to the hated discipline. At one time I knew very well a young man58 who was a distinguished Greek and Latin scholar and excelled also in the other liberal arts. But he had been advanced to this level by his protector, the archbishop, in order that he might begin to attend the lectures of the law professors, and against this his whole spirit rebelled. We shared a room at the time and so it was to me that he voiced his unhappiness. I urged him that since what was difficult at first would become easier later on, he should comply with his patron's wishes and devote at least some part of his time to these studies. He cited me some examples of the gross ignorance which those demigods, the professors, were passing on, with an air of vast authority, to their students. But I told him to ignore all this and simply pick out what was sound in their lectures. As I continued to press a number of arguments upon him, he exclaimed, T feel so strongly about this that whenever I turn to my studies it is as if a sword is driven through my heart/ If such is a person's nature, then I do not think he should be compelled against the will of Minerva;59 as the common saying has it, one should not drag an ox60 to the wrestling-pit or an ass61 to the lyre. It is possible that this kind of inclination in young children can be recognized even at an early stage. Some parents try to obtain predictions by means of horoscopes;62 I leave it to anyone's free judgment, however, to determine the value of these. Still, it would be advantageous to be able to detect these special signs, because we take in most easily the work for which nature has designed us. I do not believe it is merely idle speculation to define a person's character on the basis of his facial appearance and expression and of his physical bearing and presence. The great philosopher Aristotle63 did not hesitate to write a study of physiognomy, an outstanding work supported by a wealth of learning. As it is easier to sail a ship when the sea is calm and wind and tide are favourable, so it is also easier to be taught in a

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discipline that agrees with our personal inclinations. Virgil64 points out the marks by which one can recognize an ox good for the plough or detect a cow suitable for breeding: 'A good heifer/ he says, 'will glare aggressively/ The same author65 also tells how to pick out a foal that will make a good showing in the Olympic games: 'A foal of noble breed steps forthwith in the fields/ and so forth - you know the poem. It is a mistake to think that the distinguishing marks that reveal a person's basic character have not been given to us by nature; but it is a moral failing to ignore these signs once they have become clear to us. All the same, I still hold that human nature is amenable to almost any form of learning provided we subject it to instruction and practice. We can teach elephants to walk a rope, bears to dance, and donkeys to perform amusing tricks. So is there anything we could not teach a human being? Man cannot create or change his natural aptitudes, but, as I have shown, we can reinforce to some extent what nature has given us. As for method and practice, these are entirely within our control. We see every day how engineering skill and machinery can raise weights which otherwise could not have been moved by any force; this feat demonstrates the power of method. Practice also is indispensable, as is emphasized by the well-known saying of an ancient sage66 that ascribes all progress to care and forethought. Method, of course, presupposes a capacity for learning, and practice a readiness for work. Some people may object that exertion is not natural for a youngster; and they may also ask how we can expect a genuine capacity for learning in a child who is scarcely aware as yet of his own humanity. I can give a summary reply to these objections. How can anyone think children cannot learn their letters at an age when they can already be taught good behaviour? There are elementary principles in acquiring knowledge just as there are in developing virtue; and the process of education, too, goes through the phases of childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. Let me illustrate. A foal that bears all the signs of pure-bred lineage is not bridled immediately and so transformed into a cavalry horse, but rather with gentle practice is taught to anticipate combat. A bullock marked for the plough is not yoked straightway and driven onwards with a sharp goad. No, rather, as Virgil67 so charmingly describes it, 'a loose halter of light osier is first tied around its neck; then, when necks that were once free have become accustomed to bondage, matched pairs of bullocks are yoked with the same halters and made to walk step by step. And now they draw empty carts time and time again over the ground, pressing a light track in the dust. Then, finally, the beechen axle strains and groans with a heavy load, while the linked wheels are drawn by the brass-studded shaft/ Peasants take the age of their

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cattle into consideration and regulate the work according to their strength. We should apply the same consideration even more carefully to the education of our children. A young child, I agree, is not ready for Cicero's De officiis, Aristotle Ethics, any of Seneca's or Plutarch's moral treatises, or St Paul's Epistles. Nevertheless, a child who misbehaves at the dinner-table is corrected, and expected from then on to behave properly. When he is taken to church, he is told to kneel, fold his hands, uncover his head - in short, assume a pose of complete reverence; and when mass is being celebrated, he must be silent and raise his eyes to the altar. Children are taught these first beginnings of good behaviour and proper devotion before they can even speak; these principles remain with them into adulthood and thus contribute in no small way to the growth of true spirituality. Moreover a child does not at first distinguish between his parents and strangers. But he learns to recognize first his mother and then his father, and gradually learns to respect, obey, and love them. He is told by his parents to kiss another child who has stirred up his rage and is taught to free himself from angry and vindictive outbursts: He is also taught to refrain from chattering at inappropriate moments. And finally, he learns to stand up in the presence of his elders and to bare his head before a crucifix. To think that these first intimations of goodness, whatever their nature may be, are of no avail towards the child's moral progress is in my view a serious mistake. Plato68 once reprimanded a young man for playing dice. When the latter complained because he was being so severely scolded for such a minor transgression, the other replied, 'Gambling may be only a minor sin, but once it grows into a habit, it becomes a major vice.' Therefore, just as small acts of wrongdoing habitually repeated amount to a great sin, so also, small acts of goodness, habitually repeated, amount to a great virtue. It is the young who most easily acquire the good, since they possess that natural flexibility which enables them to bend in any direction, are not as yet enslaved by bad habits, and are readily inclined to imitate whatever is suggested to them. Just as children generally learn wrong before they really know what it is, they can also learn good with almost equal ease. Goodness, then, is best instilled at an early stage, for once a certain pattern of behaviour has been imprinted upon a young and receptive mind, that pattern will remain. Horace69 writes, 'You may drive out nature with a pitchfork, but she will inevitably rush back.' The poet is, of course, right, although he is referring here to fully grown trees. The shrewd farmer sets his seedlings from the beginning to take on the growth he wants to see established in the tree. What is implanted into our being at the very beginning becomes an integral part of us. Clay may sometimes be too moist to retain any impression,

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and wax may be too soft for moulding; but no human being is ever too young for learning. Seneca70 says that no age is too old for learning. I do not know whether this is true or not; but it is certainly much more difficult to learn certain skills in old age, whereas it is indisputable that no one is ever too young to learn, especially to learn those skills that are natural to mankind. As I have already pointed out, nature has equipped children with a unique urge to imitate whatever they hear or see; they do this with great enthusiasm, as though they were monkeys, and are overjoyed if they think they have been successful. This is how we are able to form our first impressions regarding our children's talents and aptitudes. As soon as a child is born, he is ready for instruction in right conduct and, as soon as he is able to speak, he is ready for learning his letters. Anything that carries the more decisive claim will be learned without delay. Learning certainly bestows innumerable benefits, but it will do more harm than good unless it is put in the service of moral conduct. Men of learning have rightly rejected the view that children should not be set to studying before they are seven years old. Hesiod is generally said to have been the first proponent of this view; however, the grammarian Aristophanes71 says that the Precepts, in which this idea is propounded, should not be attributed to Hesiod. All the same, the author in question must have been of considerable stature if he wrote a work so good that even to scholars it appeared to have been written by Hesiod. But even if it were beyond argument that the work is Hesiod's, we should not be deterred by its authority from following advice better offered by someone else. In fact, even those who accept this doctrine are not actually of the opinion that children should not have anything to do with learning, but simply feel that children should not be burdened with the more laborious aspects of being educated such as the endless tedium of memorization, repetition, and dictation. You will hardly find a mind so docile and so compliant that it will apply itself to these routines without any outside encouragement. Chrysippus72 specifies that the first three years of a child's life should be the domain of the nurse; this is not to exempt the child during these years from any form of instruction, especially in proper speech and conduct, but rather to give the nurse or the parents an opportunity to prepare the child by gentle methods for his moral and intellectual education. It does not need to be argued that the behaviour of parents or nurses has a far-reaching influence on children. The first task of education should be to teach children to speak clearly and accurately. In antiquity nurses and parents were of great assistance at this stage. This first step is of tremendous importance, for it enables a person

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to acquire not only fluency in speaking but also intellectual judgment and a mastery of all the branches of knowledge. Neglect of language has certainly led to the decline and destruction of all sciences, including even theology, medicine, and law. The Gracchi brothers73 were universally admired for thei eloquence, which, according to Cicero,74 they owed largely to their mother Cornelia; as Cicero puts it, 'they were clearly raised at the lips rather than the bosom of their mother/ Thus their first classes were held at their mother's knees. There is also Laelia, the daughter of Gaius Laelius,75 who in her manner of speech recalled the eloquence of her father. This should not surprise us, for as a young girl in her father's arms she had already been exposed to his style of speaking. Her two cousins, Mucia and Licinia,76 nieces of Gaius, are also good examples. Another Licinia,77 too, a daughter of Lucius Crassus and wife, I believe, of one of the Scipios has earned special praise for her refined speech. I might add more names: eloquence was often a family tradition and could reach as far as the third or fourth generation. The daughter of Quintus Hortensius78 carried on her father's eloquence so well that one of her speeches, delivered before the members of the triumvirate, survived in antiquity; according to Quintilian, its preservation was a tribute to merit and not just to her sex. Nurses, teachers, and playmates all make a significant contribution to the development of correct speech. Children have such a marked ability to pick up a foreign language that, for instance, a German boy could learn French in a few months quite unconsciously while absorbed in other activities. In fact, it is the youngest who are always most successful. If one can learn with such ease a language as barbarous and irregular as French,79 in which spelling does not agree with pronunciation, and which has harsh sounds and accents that hardly fall within the realm of human speech, then how much more easily should one be able to learn Greek and Latin? We know that king Mithridates80 was able to speak twenty-two languages and thus could administer justice to each of his subject peoples without the use of an interpreter. Themistocles81 learned Persian within a period of one year in order that he might converse more easily with the king of Persia. If this can be accomplished by an adult, then what can we not expect of a child? The learning of a language depends mainly on two mental faculties, memory and imitation. We have already shown that children have a natural impulse to imitate. Scholars have also credited the young with an extremely powerful memory; even if we put no trust in their authority, our own experience will abundantly bear out this fact. The visual impressions we absorbed in our childhood have been so firmly imprinted on our minds that it seems as if we received them only yesterday. On the other hand, anything that we read as adults seems unfamiliar if we read it again after two days.

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Moreover, we see very few grown persons who have successfully mastered a new language; even if some succeed, there are few, if any, who also master the native accent and pronunciation. That there are a few people who have accomplished this feat should not be invoked as a general rule. Cato the Elder,82 for instance, applied himself to literary studies in his own language when he was already in his later years and began his study of Greek when he was almost seventy; but this is not a valid reason for deferring our children's instruction in Greek and Latin until they are at least sixteen years old. After all, Cato the Younger,83 who was a much greater scholar and orator than his great-grandfather, was placed under the tutelage of Sarpedon when he was still a very young boy. For this reason we should be especially careful with our children during their first years. For at this stage their behaviour is guided by instinct more than by reason, so that they are inclined equally to good and evil- more to the latter, perhaps - and it is always easier to forget good habits than to unlearn bad ones. This truth was already known to pagan philosophers and caused them great perplexity, but their speculations were unable to penetrate to the real cause, and it was left to Christian theology to teach the truth that since Adam, the first man of the human race, a disposition to evil has been deeply engrained in us. While this is indisputably man's condition, however, we cannot deny that the greater portion of this evil stems from corrupting relationships and a misguided education, especially as they affect our early and most impressionable years. There is a story that Alexander the Great absorbed from his tutor Leonidas84 certain defects of character which he was never able to shed even as a grown man and the supreme ruler of an empire. As long as they retained their old-fashioned integrity, the Romans, according to Plutarch, were unwilling to entrust their children to a hired tutor, but preferred to assign that responsibility to the parents or to other blood-relations such as grandfathers or uncles. It was their belief that the honour of the family would be best served by a high level of learning and culture in as many of its members as possible. Most of today's aristocracy, by contrast, are distinguished only for their handsomely painted or engraved genealogies85 or for such pursuits as dancing, hunting, and gambling. According to historians, Spurius Carbilius,86 a freedman, is believed to have opened the very first school in Rome; his patron set the first example of divorce. Formerly the moral and intellectual upbringing of each member of the family was considered the most important responsibility loving parents owed to their children. But now the only concern of parents is to provide their sons with well-dowered wives; having accomplished this, they think they have fulfilled their obligations. Civilization again took a turn for the

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worse when parents, indulging their own selfishness, started to appoint domestic servants as tutors and thus began to entrust free-born children to the charge of slaves. Yet if discrimination was used in the selection, there was less hazard, not only because the teacher lived under the watchful eye of the parents, but also because he was subject to their authority if he should do any wrong. Also, the more intelligent parents in the past would either buy slaves who were already well trained and educated or would give their own slaves suitable training so that they might put them in charge of their children's education. Still, these parents would have acted more wisely if they had themselves acquired that culture and education and so passed it on to their children. Such a policy, which one might compare to that of a bishop who leads a spiritual life in order to inspire religious devotion in as many people as possible, would have benefitted both parents and children. You may object that not everyone has the leisure to do this and that it is a burdensome task. But really, my dearest friend, consider all the time we waste on gambling, drinking, theatre, and jesters; we should be ashamed to pretend that we have no time to devote ourselves to an undertaking which ought to have priority over everything else. If we employ our time carefully and sensibly, we will have enough to meet all our obligations. A day seems short only when it is mostly frittered away. Think of all the time we spend attending to our friends' interests, which are often of a frivolous nature. We cannot please everyone, and this is why our children should have the first claim to our attention. Are we not willing to endure any discomfort to ensure that our children will have a rich and well-established inheritance? Why, then, should we shun the effort of providing them with a far nobler possession, when our natural affection and the progress of our dear ones will sweeten any inconvenience? If this were not so why would mothers endure long periods of pregnancy and breast-feeding? Any father who finds it a burden to raise his son loves his son only superficially. It is also argued that the conditions of education were more favourable among the ancients, since both the educated upper classes and the ignorant masses spoke in the same language, except that the former spoke it with greater correctness and refinement as well as with more discrimination and fluency. I agree, and the intellectual gain of our society would be immense if the same situation still prevailed today. Yet even at present there are people who emulate the example of the ancients. Among the Dutch I might single out the Canter family,87 and among the Spanish I might mention Isabella,88 the wife of King Ferdinand, who comes, in fact, from a family which has produced several women who deserve our admiration both for their learning and for their spirituality. In England there is the illustrious Thomas More,89 who despite his commitments to the affairs of state did not hesitate to serve

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as a tutor to his wife, son, and daughters, beginning with their religious education and then advancing to their Greek and Latin studies. We no less ought to display such an active concern towards our children, whom we have marked out for an education. There is no danger that our children will not learn the vernacular, for this they will acquire even involuntarily through their daily association with other people. If no one in the family possesses the necessary education, then we should obtain the services of an instructor whose learning and character have been subjected to a thorough scrutiny. It would be madness to play hazard with your son (as though with a Carian,90 as the saying goes) in order that you may discover whether the teacher you are hiring has all the moral and intellectual qualifications. In other areas, perhaps, negligence would be excusable; but here you must watch with the eyes of an Argus.91 There is a saying that no second mistake is permitted in war;92 in this matter you are not allowed even one. I repeat, therefore, that the sooner a child is entrusted to a teacher, the more fruit education will bear. I know the excuse will be brought forward that the fatigue of studying might have a detrimental effect on the health of a young and delicate child. My answer is that even if something is lost in the way of physical robustness, this disadvantage is well outweighed by the great intellectual benefits that the child will receive. Our concern is not to train athletes, but philosophers and statesmen; it is enough that they should enjoy good health, which certainly does not need to be accompanied by the physique of a Milo.93 We should of course take precautions to ensure the good health of our children. Still, it is absurd to fear the effects of studying but to ignore the greater dangers of gluttony, which harms young minds no less than young bodies, or the dangers posed by certain types of food and drink that are not suitable for children of this age. It is customary for parents to take their children to protracted and elaborate feasts, often continued into the small hours of the night, and there stuff them with hot and spicy foods, often to the point of causing nausea; or to constrict or burden their young limbs with uncomfortable pieces of clothing simply for the sake of showing them off as though they were dressing up a monkey in human attire; or to corrupt their children with other excesses of luxury. Yet these same parents will express an unusual anxiety for their children's health when the issue of education, which is of such vital importance for human welfare, is raised. What I have said concerning health applies also to physical beauty and the care it requires. I agree that physical appearance is not to be entirely neglected, but it is unmanly to let it become a matter of excessive concern. We are afraid of study as something that will ruin our physical attractiveness; yet our appearance is ravaged far more by gluttony, winebibbing, lack of sleep,

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brawling, duelling, or, to crown these all, the disgraceful pox, the almost inescapable curse that lights upon every dissolute young man. One should keep one's children from these pursuits rather than from their studies if one is so pitifully anxious for their health and beauty. Of course we should still see to it that our children's studies will cost them as little fatigue as possible, for fatigue means wasted effort. Therefore we should not confront them with too great a quantity and variety of material, but select only what is good and suitable for their age, which is attracted by appealing and easily mastered material rather than by recondite studies. If a gentle method of instruction is used, the process of education will resemble play more than work. Young children do not as yet appreciate the benefits of profit, prestige, and pleasure that education will bring them; so we must resort to stratagems. A teacher can expect success in the classroom if he displays the qualities of gentleness and kindness and also possesses the skill and ingenuity to devise various means of making the studies pleasant and keeping the child from feeling any strain. Nothing is more harmful than an instructor whose conduct causes his students to take an intense dislike to their studies before they are sufficiently mature to appreciate them for their own sake. A prerequisite for learning is that the teacher must be liked. Gradually, after first enjoying learning because of their instructor, children will come to like their teacher for the sake of learning. Just as we cherish many gifts because they were given to us by those whom we consider our dearest friends, so also children who are still too young for any intellectual appreciation take pleasure in school because of their fondness for the teacher. There is a good deal of truth in Isocrates' saying94 we learn best when we have the desire to learn; and it is from those whom we like and respect that we learn most eagerly. There are teachers whose manners are so uncouth that even their wives cannot have any affection for them. Their expression is always forbidding, their speech is invariably morose, even when they are in a good humour they seem ill-tempered, they are unable to say anything in a pleasant manner, and they can hardly manage to return a smile - one might truly say that the Graces frowned upon the hour of their birth. I should scarcely think such men fit to look after my horses, let alone to see to the upbringing of helpless children who have just been weaned from their mother's breast. There are people, however, who equate a forbidding exterior with a saintly character and think these types are ideal as instructors of children. But in fact it is not safe to trust in appearances: often behind an austere mask lurks a depraved mind. One would blush to mention some of the indignities to which these monsters have subjected their students through playing on terror and fear. Even parents cannot give their children a sound upbringing which is based

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on fear alone. The first duty of the teacher is to inspire affection in his pupils, so that gradually, instead of fear, a spontaneous feeling of respect may grow for him, which is much more effective than any feeling of dread. It shows marvellous foresight, indeed, when boys who are scarcely four years old are sent to schools presided over by a master who is a complete unknown, a boor, a man of dubious morals, often mentally deranged and subject to spells of madness, or afflicted with the falling sickness or that horrible disease commonly known by us as the 'French pox.' No useless, disreputable scoundrel nowadays is disqualified by general opinion from running a school. A teacher of this sort fancies he has gained for himself a private little empire, and it is shocking to see how this illusion of absolute power will lead him to inflict acts of savagery, no, not upon wild beasts, as the author of the comic stage has it,95 but upon a young generation that should be raised with gentleness. So schools have become torture-chambers; you hear nothing but the thudding of the stick, the swishing of the rod, howling and moaning, and shouts of brutal abuse. Is it any wonder, then, that children come to hate learning? And once this hatred has been implanted in young minds, the disgust with education will remain through the years of adulthood. It is even more ridiculous that some people send their sons to an incompetent, drunken female in order to learn their reading and writing. Indeed, it is contrary to nature that a woman should rule96 over men. Nothing is more cruel than the opposite sex once its anger has been aroused; its passions are easily kindled and quietened only when the lust for revenge has been satisfied. Nowadays even monasteries and houses of the Brethren,97 as they call themselves, chase after income by providing inside their hidden recesses schooling for the young. However, these people lack sufficient learning, or rather, their learning is not sound, even though in other respects one might allow them to be decent, intelligent persons. So, while others may recommend instruction of this type, I should personally advise anyone who wishes a liberal education for his son to look elsewhere. We must choose, therefore, between a private tutor and a public school.98 A public school, of course, is the more common as well as the more economical solution; it is much easier for one schoolmaster to frighten a whole class into submission than to instruct one pupil according to liberal principles. However, while there is no great accomplishment in giving orders to cattle and donkeys, imparting a liberal education to children is a challenge that is both difficult and glorious. A tyrant controls his subjects through fear, but a true prince makes it his task to rule with benevolence, moderation, and wisdom. When Diogenes99 was put up for sale after he had

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been taken captive by the Aeginetans, he was asked by the auctioneer how he wished to be advertised to his prospective buyers. He told the man to shout, 'Who wants to buy a slave who can rule children of free men?'100 Many laughed at this incongruous claim. But one man, who had small children at home, approached the philosopher and asked whether his advertisement was really true. Diogenes replied that it was and after a brief conversation the other person realized that this was not an ordinary sort of fellow but that underneath the shabby cloak was concealed a sage of great distinction. So he bought him and took him home, where he placed him in charge of his children's education. Next to the Scots, French schoolmasters are the most inveterate floggers in the world. But if you tax them with it, they argue that only beatings will make their people mend their ways - the same thing that used to be said of the Phrygians.1011 leave it to others to decide whether this is true or not. Although I admit that each nation has its own distinctive traits, still this quality is more typically an individual characteristic. There are people you could not mend by flogging even though you beat them to death; yet, if you used kindness and persuasion, you might lead them in any direction you pleased. I must confess102 that this was my nature when I was a boy. My teacher had more affection for me than for any other pupil, and on the pretext that he had conceived the greatest hopes for me, he kept a closer watch on me than on anyone else. Finally, wishing to ascertain for himself how well I could stand up to the rod, he charged me with an offence I had never even dreamed of committing and then flogged me. This incident destroyed all love of study within me and flung my young mind into such a deep depression that I nearly wasted away with heart-break; the result was, at any rate, that I was presently seized with the quartan fever. When my teacher at last realized the mistake he had made, he expressed his regrets to his friends, saying 'I almost destroyed his character before I had learnt to understand it.' He was certainly not an insensitive, ignorant or, as far as I can imagine, a malicious person; he did recover his senses, but too late as far as I was concerned. Just think, my noble friend, how many promising minds are destroyed by these brutes, these ignorant creatures inflated with pride in their imaginary learning, these ill-tempered, brutal drunkards who flog their pupils only in order to gratify their own instincts and who obviously possess that monstrous mentality which finds pleasure in the pain of another person. Men of this sort should be butchers or executioners, not teachers of the young. A teacher who has nothing to teach is the cruelest tormentor of his pupils. What else can he do but spend the day inflicting physical blows and verbal abuse? I was acquainted rather closely with a professor of theology,103

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a man of distinguished reputation, but whose cruelty towards his students was insatiable, even though he had teachers who used the whip vigorously. It was his conviction that this was the only way to humble high spirits and check youthful waywardness. He would never enjoy his meal before his flock of students without bringing the drama to a fitting conclusion, and after dinner was over he would have one or two of the boys brought forward to be flogged. Even boys who had done no wrong would be beaten from time to time - this, no doubt, to prepare them for the blows to come. I was once sitting beside him when, as usual, he summoned a boy from his dinner. The lad was only ten years old, I believe, and had only just left his home and his mother and had entered the school. My host told me by way of introduction that the child's -mother was a most devout woman who had warmly recommended her son to him. Next, in order to have a convenient pretext for punishing the boy, he began to rail at him for some act of wanton misbehaviour, even though there was not the least evidence for this in the boy. He then signalled to the prefect of the college, whom he himself had appointed and who had the appropriate nickname of 'the lackey/ to start flogging the boy. The man threw him to the floor and began to beat away as if the child had committed an act of sacrilege. Once or twice the theologian interjected, That is enough now, that is enough/ but the prefect-executioner, fired by enthusiasm, turned a deaf ear and continued to discharge his brutal task until the boy was almost on the point of fainting. The man of the cloth then turned to me and commented, 'He did not do anything to deserve this, but he simply had to be humbled' - yes, 'humbled' was the word he used. Would anyone dream of training a slave or even a donkey in such a manner? A thoroughbred horse responds better to stroking and clicking of the tongue than to whips and spurs; if he is treated too roughly, he becomes disobedient and prone to kick, bite, and jib. An ox that is goaded too much is likely to shake off his yoke and attack his tormentor. You should handle a character of high mettle as you would a lion's whelp. Skill, not force, is what will tame an elephant. The most ferocious animal can be subdued by gentle treatment, while the tamest can be roused to anger by excessive harshness. If someone reforms his ways only out of fear of evil consequences, he has a slavish disposition. In the common usage of our language, however, we call our sons liberi, realizing that they should have a liberal education, which bears no resemblance to anything servile. In fact, wise masters treat their slaves kindly and with consideration so that they may lose the stigma of slavery;104 these masters remember that their slaves are human beings and not animals. We have wonderful examples of the devotion of slaves to their masters, who would have never enjoyed this loyalty if they had exercised their authority only by means of the lash. A slave of sound disposition will be

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better persuaded by admonitions and his own sense of decency and duty to improve himself than by any beatings. But a slave who is incorrigible is only led by these beatings to harden himself to a state of utter wickedness; he will either rob his master by running away or else by some means contrive his murder; sometimes he will even sacrifice his own life in order to take revenge upon his master's cruelty. Man is the most dangerous of all animals when he is driven by a terrible wrong to set his life at nought. I believe therefore that the burden of the popular proverb,105 'each man has as many enemies as he has slaves/ if it is indeed true, falls upon the injustice of masters towards their slaves. To rule over slaves is not so much a gift of fortune as a challenge to one's skill. Therefore, if masters of the wiser sort are careful to train slaves who will serve them in a spirit of freedom, and indeed prefer to have freedmen over slaves, then how ridiculous it is to turn free-born children into slaves. The old man in the comic play106 was right to believe that there is an immense difference between a father and a master. A master can exert his authority only through compulsion, but a father who appeals to his son's sense of decency and liberality can gradually build up in him a spontaneous capacity for moral conduct which is untainted by any motive of fear; and whether or not his father is with him, the son will remain steadfast in this principle. The old man also says that anyone who is incapable of acting thus is admitting that he cannot govern free human beings. Between a father and a master there should be a much greater difference than between a prince and a tyrant; yet we overthrow tyrants from their positions in the state but place them in charge of our children or even assume the role of tyrant ourselves. How good it would be to see the wretched concept of slavery107 cast out entirely from Christian society! St Paul108 commends Onesimus to Philemon not as a slave but as a beloved brother; and writing to the Ephesians,109 he admonishes masters to refrain from showing harshness and making threats towards their slaves, and reminds them that they are fellow-servants rather than masters, since they have a Master in heaven who will punish equally the sins of slaves and masters. The Apostle does not simply condemn the use of the lash, but also disapproves of making threats, for he does not say 'forbear flogging' but 'forbear threatening.' Would we wish our children, then, to be subjected to nothing but lashings - a cruelty which even a ship's captain or a pirate would hesitate to inflict on his rowers? But what is St Paul's teaching concerning children? Not only does he disapprove of children being beaten like slaves, but he even enjoins that there should be no harshness or bitterness in our reproofs and warnings: 'And, ye fathers,'110 he says, 'provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord/ What this 'admonition

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of the Lord' means, you will easily understand once you consider with what gentleness, patience, and affection Jesus taught, supported, and encouraged his disciples as he gradually led them onwards. Human law places restrictions on parental authority and permits even servants to take legal action against masters for maltreatment. Why then should these abuses continue to flourish among Christians? A Roman citizen of equestrian rank, by the name of Auxon,IJ1 once flogged his son so severely that he died; incensed by this brutality, the mob, both parents and children, dragged him into the forum and would have stabbed him to death without any regard for his rank had not the emperor Augustus with great difficulty rescued him. How many Auxons are there not today who injure their children's health with savage beatings, blinding, crippling, and often even killing them. Some cannot satisfy their brutal instincts with ordinary beatings; so they use the handle of the whip, box the child's ears, strike with their fists, or pick up whatever lies at hand and lash out against their victim. There is a case recorded of a shoemaker, later duly punished by law, who struck his apprentice in the face with a last and tore out an eye. And what shall we say of those who add foul insults to their brutalities? I should never be able to believe the following story if I did not know well both the young victim and the perpetrator of the outrage. The boy was hardly twelve years old. His parents were fine and upright people who had deserved well of the teacher. Yet the barbarity with which the child was treated could not have been surpassed by that of a Mezentius112 or Phalaris.113 Human excrement was squeezed into his mouth, and with such force, that he could not spit it out but had to swallow most of it. Did any tyrant in history ever commit such an outrage as this? As the Greek proverb114 has it, 'Have your fill and then assert your power'; this kind of treatment can only provoke a lust for power. The boy was next stripped and raised aloft by ropes slung underneath his arms, in imitation of that most detestable German custom of humiliating and punishing thieves. And while he hung there, he was savagely beaten on all sides until he nearly died; indeed, the more loudly he protested that he was in fact innocent, the more fiercely the torture was intensified. If you could see the tormentor, more fearsome, perhaps, than the punishment itself: with his snakelike eyes and narrow, screwed-up face, his voice shrill as a ghost, his ghastly visage and shaking head, and the stream of abuse and insults prompted by his demented fury, you would think he was a demon from hell itself. One can imagine the consequences suffered by the boy. Shortly after the punishment, he fell ill, and both his body and his mind were in great danger. His tormentor, however, anticipated any complaints from his father by writing him to take his son home as soon as possible as he himself had tried in vain

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every remedy on the boy, whose condition was now desperate. Even when the boy, thanks to medical treatment, had more or less recovered physically, his spirit remained so crushed that we were afraid that he would never regain his former mental capacities. This barbarity was not a unique incident. As long as the boy lived at the schoolmaster's house, no day would go by but that he would be beaten at least once or twice. You perhaps suspect, dear reader, that he must have committed an enormous wrong to deserve such ferocious correction. But let me briefly explain. Books belonging to the boy who was flogged as well to two other boys were found smeared with ink, and torn clothes and shoes soiled with human excrement were also discovered. The author of this prank was a boy who was a born trouble-maker, the mad teacher's nephew on his sister's side. His later acts of mischief proved that he had been responsible for the earlier ones. By this time he had already been well trained in the soldierly arts of warfare and brigandage. One day, for example, during a visit at another home, he pulled out the plug of a wine-cask so that the wine poured out all over the floor and pretending to be helpful said, 1 smell wine.' He also engaged in sword-fights with a comrade, and this in all seriousness and not as a game; one would have recognized in him the signs of a future bandit or assassin or (very much the same thing) a mercenary soldier. Our instructor had taken a great fancy to his nephew, but was always afraid that the two boys would stab each other to death. Therefore, since the other brought him a lucrative fee and he was one of those 'evangelicals'115 to whom money was the sweetest thing on earth, he sent his nephew home. As for the excellent father, he had been led to believe that his son was spending his time with a pious and conscientious teacher, whereas in fact the child was living with a foul butcher and was acting as an assistant and servant to a half-insane and chronically sick man. Since, then, the teacher was inclined to favour his own kin and the boy from whom he was reaping such a tidy profit, he let his suspicions fall upon the innocent boy and accused him of the mischievous trick of tearing and soiling his own clothes in order to divert suspicion from himself. The boy was from a good family and had never shown any signs of possessing such a low disposition; even today his character is completely untainted by any kind of cunning. With the terror behind him now, he is able to give a coherent account of all that happened to him. To instructors of this sort parents entrust their children, their most precious possession! And these are the teachers who complain that their labours are not sufficiently rewarded! The brutal scoundrel I was speaking of realized his mistake, but preferred to persist in his madness rather than acknowledge his own guilt. Yet men of this type are never prosecuted for

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maltreatment, nor are the strict penalties of the law any deterrent against their barbarities. The most furious outbursts of rage are found in persons afflicted with the falling sickness. A great many customs have crept into the lives of Christians that would have been too horrible even for Scythians or Phrygians.ll6 Without digressing too far from my argument, I may single out one of these, namely 'hazing/117 a practice inflicted upon students at the beginning of their studies at a public school. It is an ugly custom matched with an ugly name. Young men of good families sent to school to learn the liberal arts are subjected as part of their initiation to outrages that are unfit for human beings. First, their chins are doused as though to be shaved - and urine, or something even more disgusting, is the liquid used. This is then forced into their mouths, and they have no chance to spit it out. They are also painfully beaten, so that they may lose, as the pretence would have it, their novice's horns. Sometimes large quantities of salt or vinegar - or anything else that will satisfy the savage instincts of youth - are thrust into their mouths. Of course, before the foolery starts, victims are ordered to swear an oath of unconditional obedience. Then, finally, they are grabbed and lifted up from the ground, and their backs are used as battering-rams as often as it pleases their tormentors. These barbaric indignities often lead to fevers and irreparable injuries to the spine. It goes without saying that these senseless pranks are concluded with a drunken feast. Such are the opening ceremonies that mark the beginning of a liberal education! Truly, these are initiation ceremonies fit for executioners, torturers, pimps, thieving Carians, or galley-slaves, but not for boys consecrated to the sacred mysteries of the Muses and the Graces. It is shocking to see boys who are receiving a liberal education behave in such a reckless fashion; but it is more shocking that their instructors should countenance such behaviour. These reprehensible and cruel stupidities are protected under the guise of custom, as though an evil custom were not simply a deeply embedded error, which ought to be stamped out more energetically the more widely it prevails. For instance the custom of 'evening walks'118 is still observed in schools of theology. Here again a foolish custom is invested with a foolish name, and the ceremony is more worthy of buffoons than of professors of religion. Indeed, I would urge that everyone who professes the humanities should display humanity in his pleasantries as well. Returning to my main theme, I maintain that nothing is more damaging to young children than constant exposure to beatings. When corporal punishment is applied too harshly the more spirited children are driven to rebellion while the more apathetic ones are numbed into despair. If it is too frequently used, the body will gradually grow inured to beatings and the

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mind will become unresponsive to what it hears. Nor should sharp words of admonition be used too often. Any medicine wrongly administered aggravates rather than relieves the disease; or if it is taken too often it gradually loses its force and has the effect only of an unpalatable and unwholesome substance which has to be swallowed. At this point someone may din into our ears such Old Testament proverbs as, 'He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes/119 or 'Bend your son's neck in his youth, and bruise his sides while he is a child/120 Perhaps for the Jews of a long time ago this sort of discipline was appropriate, but nowadays we must interpret these sayings from the Old Testament more liberally. However, if you wish to follow Scripture literally, can you imagine a more ridiculous method for imparting the elements of language to children than to bend their necks and to bruise their sides? Would you not think that an ox was in training for the plough or an ass for the pack-saddle, but hardly that a human being was receiving instruction towards good behaviour? What is the reward promised us by these Old Testament sayings? Well, we are told that we will not have to knock on our neighbour's door.121 The sage, then, fears poverty as the greatest possible evil for his son. What a frigid kind of moral wisdom! Our rod should be kind words of guidance; words of reproof are sometimes needed, but they should be filled with gentleness rather than any bitterness. These should be our instruments of discipline; only in this way can our children be properly raised at home and attain moral wisdom, and not be forced to beg from their neighbours advice on how to conduct their lives. The philosopher Lycon122 tells us that there are two sharp spurs that will rouse a child's natural talents, shame and praise. Shame is fear of just criticism and praise is the foster-mother of all accomplishments; these must be our instruments for bringing out our children's natural abilities. As for the stick with which you are supposed to bruise your child's sides, even here I might make a suggestion, if you wish: 'Relentless toil overcomes all/ as the supreme poet Virgil123 expresses it. So let us then constantly watch, encourage, and press our children, never ceasing to repeat, order, and exhort; this must be our rod of chastisement. Our children should first of all be made to love moral goodness and sound learning and to hate crudity and ignorance. They should hear some men praised for their goodness, others condemned for their evil. They should learn numerous examples of men who, thanks to their wisdom, attained great glory, wealth, honour, and prestige, and as a contrast, also examples of men who, through their dissolute conduct and total ignorance, brought upon themselves dishonour, contempt, poverty and utter ruin; such an approach represents a rod of correction more worthy of Christians and followers of the gentle Jesus.

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But if none of these methods - warnings, entreaties, the motives of emulation, shame, and praise, or any other means - are successful, and if, as a last resort, we must turn to corporal punishment, then the punishment should be humane and restrained. The fact that he is being stripped for punishment is a disgrace by itself for a free person, especially if this is done in the presence of others. Still Quintilian124 utterly condemns as a general principle the time-honoured custom of flogging free-born children. Some may object, 'What then should be done with boys who can be driven to their studies only by flogging?' My reply is simply: 'What would you do if an ox or donkey wandered into your classroom? Would you not drive them back to the country, the one to the plough and the other to the treadmill? Well, there are boys, too, who are good only for the plough or the mill.' 'But the teacher's flock of pupils decrease then.' 'Yes, and what then?' 'Well, his earnings will too.' 'Ah, that would be a misfortune indeed: "hence those tears.'" Profit is more important to these creatures than the welfare of their students; such is the mentality of the large majority of teachers. The ancient philosophers and rhetoricians drew an ideal type of sage or orator which, I must admit, was virtually impossible to realize under any circumstances; similarly, I must confess that it is much easier to specify the qualities of the ideal schoolmaster than to find any who actually correspond to that ideal. This, however, ought to be a public responsibility entrusted to the secular magistrates and the ecclesiastical authorities. Appropriate training is provided for those who are to serve in the army or sing in church choirs; the same should be provided by the authorities for those who are to give the young people of the nation a sound education based on humane ideals. The emperor Vespasian125 set aside from his private estate annual allowances for Greek and Latin teachers of rhetoric; and Pliny the Younger126 paid out large sums from his own funds for the same purpose. But if the public authorities are neglectful, everyone should assume this responsiblity within his own home. Someone may ask, 'What about those of slender means, who can scarcely feed their children, let alone hire a tutor for them?' To this I can only reply with the comic poet,127 'We must do as we may, since we cannot do as we would.' I offer only a superior theory of education, but not the means to put it into practice. Nevertheless, the rich ought to be generous and come to the aid of gifted children who, because of their family's poverty, are unable to develop their natural talents. The instructor, I agree, must show restraint in his kindness; otherwise familiarity will breed contempt and destroy all shame and respect. He should be the type of instructor whom Cato the Younger128 is said to have enjoyed in Sarpedon. Through his kindness he won Cato's complete friendship, yet he also, thanks to his moral integrity, won the boy's respect without any resort

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to threats of punishment. How would a teacher who knew only how to inflict beatings act if he were placed in charge of the children of a king or emperor, whom he would be forbidden to touch? One may argue that children of the nobility should be exempt from the rule of corporal punishment. But, surely, children of commoners are human beings just as much as those of royal family. Should not the son of every citizen receive as much love as the child of a prince? The more humble his position is, the more a person needs the mainstay of a liberal education in order to raise himself from his lowly station. The rich man, on the other hand, also needs the instruction of philosophy so as to administer his fortune well. I must also mention those, not a few in number, who are called from a humble state to a high office, indeed sometimes to the supreme dignity of the papacy. Not all men rise to such distinction, however, but all should be educated towards that end. I will stop quarrelling with flogging schoolmasters, but I wish to add one more point: laws and governments which only rely on punishment as a deterrent but do not hold out any possibilities of reward, and which only punish crimes that have been committed but do not provide for anything to prevent these crimes, have always been condemned by wise men. In the same way, we must also condemn the large majority of teachers who will beat their pupils for any misbehaviour but do not foster within them a moral sense as a check against wrongdoing. Suppose a child is ordered to recite a lesson: if he makes a mistake, he is flogged; when this is repeated day after day, the child grows used to his punishment and the teacher thinks he has done his duty well. Surely, other methods should be used. Children should be induced to grow fond of their studies and to refrain from hurting the teacher's feelings. I may seem to have expatiated more than enough on this subject; true, perhaps, if it were not for the fact that this abuse is so widespread that no one can ever speak out sufficiently against it. It is also beneficial if the prospective teacher deliberately adopts a fatherly attitude towards his pupils; in this way his students will undertake their studies with great enthusiasm, while he himself finds less tedium in his work. Love will overcome almost any difficult challenge. The old saying has it that like rejoices in like;129 so the teacher must, as it were, become a child again and thus win the affection of his students. Of course it is foolish to entrust one's children to old, nearly decrepit men for their first education. Such men are truly children; their stammering speech is real and not pretended. I prefer a teacher who is of an age when his vigour is in its prime, an age which does not repel his pupils and allows him to assume any role. In guiding the intellectual development of his students, the instructor should abide by the same principles that are followed by parents and nurses in

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promoting physical growth. For example, when an infant is taught how to articulate words, his instructor relies on imitation and prattles baby-talk. Also, when a child is taught how to eat, he is fed porridge which consists largely of milk and which has already been chewed beforehand; only when the food has been well softened is it slowly put into his mouth. And again, when a child is being taught to walk, his instructor bends his body and accommodates his own pace to that of the other. At first, an infant is given only limited quantities of selected foods, and by gradual steps is permitted to advance to more solid nourishment as he grows older. So a very natural kind of food, not very different from milk, is what a child requires at the beginning; even this, when it is introduced in too large a quantity, will choke the infant or cause him to vomit and stain his clothes - only when it is slowly and gradually introduced will it please the child. We observe the same thing happening when a liquid is poured into a vessel that has a narrow opening: if too much is poured in, the jar will overflow; but if the liquid is introduced only very gradually, step by step, so to speak, the vessel will become filled slowly, of course, but filled all the same. Just as food and drink introduced slowly in small quantities will give the right nourishment for young bodies, so also young minds exposed to a congenial programme of studies that is assimilated in gradual stages and intermingled with play will soon adapt themselves to a more substantial course of learning. This can be done without any weariness since the slow process of accumulation is free from any sense of fatigue and thus can produce the most impressive results. We know the story, for instance, of an athlete130 who would carry a young calf for several miles every day and was still able to do it without any strain even when the animal had grown into a bull; it was because the daily small increase in weight was imperceptible that he could accomplish this feat. There are those, however, who expect boys to grow into old men within the shortest period of time, not taking into consideration the limitations to which the early years of life are subject, and without measuring the intellectual capacities of the young against their own. So they exert relentless pressure on students, demand a full load of work, and wrinkle their foreheads when a pupil does not meet their expectations; they act as if they were dealing with adults, forgetting that they too were once children. How much more understanding is the advice given by Pliny the Younger131 to a rather strict schoolmaster: 'Remember that your pupil is still only a youth and that you were once young yourself/ Indeed, many act so cruelly towards their students that one would think that they had forgotten that both they themselves and their pupils were human beings. You will now ask me to explain what type of learning is suitable for a young mind and can be instilled into small children. First of all, there must be

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training in the use of the classical languages; this is a skill which children will acquire without any effort, whereas adults will scarcely accomplish it even with the greatest application. As I have already pointed out, children are attracted to this study because of their natural urge to imitate, an instinct of which we discover traces in starlings and parrots also. Can you imagine anything more appealing than the fables of the ancient authors? Their charm casts such an enticing spell upon children's ears that even adults will derive a great deal of benefit from these stories, not only for the study of language, but also as a guide to practical thinking and as a source of good vocabulary. Is there anything a boy would rather listen to than Aesop's fables, which present serious moral lessons in the guise of humorous sketches? The stories told by other ancient authors offer similar benefits. When a child hears how Ulysses' comrades were changed by Circe's magic into swine he will find the story amusing, but he also learns one of the basic principles of philosophy, that persons who refuse to be guided by the dictates of right reason but instead allow themselves to be swept along by the whims of the passions are not truly human but are only brutes. Could a Stoic sage proclaim this truth more seriously? Yet here it is taught by a story designed to amuse. I shall not waste your time by giving many examples of so obvious a truth. But consider pastoral poetry - is there anything more graceful? Or is there anything that gives greater pleasure than comedy? The essence of comedy is portrayal of character, but it leaves an impression even on children and the uneducated; here, too, an immense amount of moral teaching is imparted by means of humour. Children should also learn the names of objects of every variety; it is incredible how many people, even those who have a reputation for learning, are completely in the dark as far as the correct names of all sorts of things are concerned. Finally, young children should be taught brief, pointed aphorisms, which include almost all proverbs and sayings of famous men, and which used to be the only means whereby moral truths were passed on to the common people. Sometimes signs of a special inclination towards certain branches of study, such as music, arithmetic, and geography, appear in very young children. I have myself known young pupils who, though decidedly backward in learning grammatical and rhetorical rules, were found to have a great propensity for other, more recondite disciplines. Each individual talent, therefore, should be helped to follow its own spontaneous inclinations. Going downhill is no effort at all, but 'nothing can be said or done against the will of Minerva.'132 I once knew a boy who could not yet speak but who would pretend he was reading while sitting before an open volume; he would spend many hours in this way and never grow bored; and no matter how bitterly he wept you could always calm him by putting a book in front of

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him. His parents naturally saw in this a promise that their son would one day be a great scholar, and the boy's name, Jerome, seemed to confirm this. I do not know how he is doing at present, I have not laid eyes on him since he has grown up. Children make good progress in learning a language if they are raised among adults who are well spoken. They also learn their stories and fables with greater enthusiasm and remember them more easily if the contents are displayed before their eyes by means of skilful illustration, and if every story is presented through pictures. This works equally well when you are teaching children about trees, plants, and animals and their names and characteristics, especially when you are speaking about animals that are very rare, like the rhinoceros, the horse-stag,133 the pelican, the Indian ass, or the elephant. For instance, one illustration might show an elephant trapped in a snake's stranglehold,134 its forefeet entwined by the other's tail. This picture arouses the interest of the pupils - so what does the teacher do? He teaches his students that this large animal is called eXe^avra (elephanta) in Greek and the same thing (elephanta) in Latin, except that we can also use the Latin inflexional forms, elephantus and elephanti. He next points out that part of the body with which the elephant picks up its food, 7rpo/3ocr/a8a (proboskida) in Greek, and manum in Latin. He also tells his students that this animal does not breathe out through the mouth as we do, but through the trunk. He calls attention to the pair of tusks protruding on each side of the trunk; these are the source of the ivory so greatly valued by the rich, he says, and produces an ivory comb to illustrate his point. He also teaches his pupils that huge snakes such as the one depicted are found in India. The word draco 'snake,' he tells them, is the same in Greek and Latin, except that in Latin we use our own declensional form when in Greek it would be 8paKovTOs (drakontos) after the pattern of Xeovro? (leontos); the feminine form of draco is dracaena, just like leaena. And amid all these details, he also impresses upon his students that between the snake and the elephant there is, instinctively and constantly, a ruthless warfare. If there is a boy who happens to be an especially ambitious scholar, he may learn other facts as well about elephants and snakes. Most children enjoy pictures of hunting scenes, and these provide the teacher with an excellent opportunity for introducing his students quite casually to a large variety of trees, plants, birds, and animals. But I shall not detain you with any further examples since in this case it is easy to form some general idea from one example. The teacher must, of course, be careful in his choice of subject-matter and put before his students only what he finds to be especially agreeable, relevant, and attractive material, which flowers, so to speak, with promise. For youth is the springtime of life, abounding with sweetly smiling flowers

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and brightly verdant fields, followed by the harvest time of full manhood when the ripened crops are gathered in. As it is foolish to search for a ripe grape in spring or a rose in autumn, so also the instructor must observe what is appropriate for each stage of life. Gaiety and charm - these are the qualities that belong to youth. In fact, dullness and harshness ought to be entirely banished from all study. The ancients, if I am not mistaken, expressed the same idea when they attributed to the Muses radiant beauty, song, and dance enjoyed amid pleasant groves, and furthermore gave them the Graces as companions; for they believed that success in study depended basically on a relationship of good will between student and master; this is why they applied the term 'humanities' to literary studies. Yet there is nothing which prevents usefulness from going hand in hand with pleasure, and integrity with enjoyment. When these qualities are combined, children acquire a whole range of beneficial learning without experiencing any boredom. What is there to hinder them from learning delightful tales, witty aphorisms, memorable incidents from history, or intelligent fables with no greater effort than that with which they pick up and absorb stupid, often vulgar ballads, ridiculous old wives' tales, and all sorts of tedious womanish gossip? Think of all the rubbish we can still remember now as grown men - dreams, inane riddles, silly nursery rhymes about phantoms, spectres, ghosts, screech-owls, vampires, bogeymen, fairies and demons; all those unedifying falsehoods taken from popular story-books, and all those crazy tales and fantasies of a risque sort - all those things we learned as children, sitting with our grandfathers or grandmothers, or with nurses and girls at their spinning, while they caressed us and played with us. Imagine the progress we would have made towards acquiring knowledge if we had absorbed at once the material I have just been suggesting instead of all this rubbish, which is more foolish than Sicilian trifles,135 as the saying goes, and not only frivolous but also harmful. 'But what scholar will condescend to simple, childish things?' you may object. Well, the great philosopher Aristotle136 accepted the task and burden of supervising the education of Alexander the Great; Chiron/37 who was succeeded by Phoenix,138 guided Achilles in his childhood, and the high priest Eli raised Samuel.139 Nowadays some people take almost greater pains to train a parrot or raven, whether for the sake of profit or their own self-satisfaction. And some people undertake long and hazardous pilgrimages or perform other almost impossible penances out of sheer religious devotion. But why does our religious devotion not lead us to our task of raising our children, which finds the greatest favour with God? The teacher who gives the kind of instruction we have been discussing should not be harsh and demanding; he

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should be conscientious and persistent rather than disposed to taking extreme measures. When such persistence is applied with moderation and attractively seasoned with variety, when, in short, the teaching takes such a shape that any impression of drudgery is avoided and the pupils come to see everything as part of a game, then it will win their acceptance. I have now come to the stage of my argument where I shall briefly explain how love of study may be instilled in children - a subject which I have already touched upon in part. As I have said, through practice we acquire painlessly the ability to speak. The art of reading and writing comes next; this involves some tedium, which can be relieved, however, by an expert teacher who spices his instruction with pleasant inducements. One encounters children who toil and sweat endlessly before they can recognize and combine into words the letters of the alphabet and learn even the bare rudiments of grammar, yet who can readily grasp the higher forms of knowledge. As the ancients have demonstrated, there are artful means to overcome this slowness. Teachers of antiquity/40 for instance, would bake cookies of the sort that children like into the shape of letters, so that their pupils might, so to speak, hungrily eat their letters; for any student who could correctly indentify a letter would be rewarded with it. Other teachers would carve ivory in the shape of letters as toys for their pupils, or would resort to any other devices which would readily capture the attention of the young. The English are very partial to archery, which is the first thing they teach their children. One clever father, therefore, seeing how fond his son was of the game, had a beautiful set of bow and arrows made, decorated all over with the letters of the alphabet. As targets he used the shapes of letters of the Greek and Latin alphabets (starting with the Greek); when the boy hit a target and pronounced the letter correctly he would be applauded and be rewarded in addition with a cherry or something else that children like. I might add that even better results are obtained with this game if there are two or three well-matched contestants competing with each other, the reason being that hope of victory and fear of disgrace will make each of them more alert and enthusiastic. It was by means of this stratagem that the boy in question learnt in a few days of fun and play to identify and pronounce his letters - something which the majority of teachers, with all their beatings, threatenings, and insults, could scarcely have accomplished in three years. I disapprove, however, of certain teachers, whose zeal in applying these methods goes too far and who add spurious colour to these methods by introducing games of chess141 or dice. Such games are beyond the capacity of children; so how can they be used to teach them? Rather than relieving the burden placed on our children's intellects, they pile up more strain. I am also critical of the use of techniques that are so complicated they actually delay

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the results that are to be achieved. Here I am thinking of certain mnemonic devices which seem to have been dreamt up only to serve personal gain or fame rather than for any useful purpose; in fact, their effect on the faculty of memory is quite harmful. The best technique for remembering anything is as follows: have a thorough grasp of your subject and arrange in order everthing you have grasped, and then go over repeatedly everything you wish to recall. The motives of victory and competition are deeply embedded in our children, and the fear of disgrace and desire for praise are also deeply rooted, especially in children who have outstanding intellectual abilities and energetic personalities. The teacher should exploit these motives to advance their education. If he cannot make headway with a certain pupil by using entreaties, flattery, or praise or by promising small rewards, he should organize a mock contest between him and his fellow-students. A lazy student should hear his comrades being praised; and a boy who is deaf to his teacher's exhortations will be stirred to action by the desire to emulate his fellows. The palm of victory should not be conferred for good and all, but hope should be held out to the loser that with concentrated effort he may make good his disgrace - this is how commanders exhort their soldiers in war. Sometimes it is right to leave a pupil in the illusion that he can win even though he does not have the capacity. In short, by alternating praise and blame, the instructor will awaken in his pupils a useful spirit of rivalry, to use Hesiod's expression.142 Perhaps some austerely disposed person may hesitate to descend to such frivolities in the company of children. Yet often the same person has no qualms about playing with a lap-dog or a monkey, chattering with a parrot or a raven, or exchanging nonsense with a jester. The playful methods I have outlined serve a serious purpose, and it is surprising that respectable people derive so little pleasure from them; after all, pursuits which by themselves are forbidding become attractive when they are attended by a spirit of dedication and hope of abundant success. I agree that the first steps of grammar are rather unappealing and are necessary rather than attractive. But even here an expert teacher can remove a great deal of the unpleasantness. At first, he ought to limit himself to teaching the most useful and simple rules. At present, children are tormented by endless obscurities and difficulties caused by the fact that they are taught the names of letters before they can identify the forms, or are compelled to memorize the inflections of nouns and verbs and the number of cases, moods, and tenses that can be denoted by the same form - for instance, the noun musae can be genitive or dative singular, 'of the muse, to the muse,' or nominative or vocative plural, 'muses'; and legeris 'you are gathered, you may have gathered, you will be

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gathered' can be derived from legor T am gathered/ legerim 'I may have gathered/ or legero 'I will be gathered/ The school rings with horrific shrieks of pain when it is time for the students to recite all this information. There are also teachers who make a practice of adding more difficulties to the subject in order to show off their erudition. This misguided approach makes every course of study, especially logic, even more complicated and unattractive at the beginning stage. But if you point out a simpler method to these people, they say that this is how they were taught and that they will not tolerate, for the benefit of today's children, anything that would mark an improvement over their own youthful experience. Any difficulty, therefore, which serves no essential purpose, or which is introduced prematurely, must be avoided. When something is done at the right time progress will be smooth. If there is indeed an unavoidable difficulty that must be confronted, then the teacher who is charged with his pupils' upbringing should follow as much as possible the example of competent and humane doctors who smear the rim of the cup with honey (as Lucretius143 puts it) whenever they have to administer a bitter potion to a young patient, so that the child, attracted by the sweet savour, will not shrink from the bitter but beneficial medicine; or else they mix the drug itself with sugar or some pleasant substance - in fact, they may disguise the medicine completely. Nausea, after all, often arises from pure imagination. If, therefore, the dose is administered gradually and progressively, rather than suddenly and all at once, resistance will be overcome. But we should not underestimate the strength of children, if it happens that a difficult task must be carried to its completion. A child's stamina does not depend on physical strength but on his tenacity and his aptitude; a child's strength should be compared to that of an ant rather than to that of a bull. Even an elephant can be overcome in certain ways by a fly. The strength of each creature lies in the aptitudes it has received from nature. Do we not see small boys constantly on the go all day, incredibly active, yet not experiencing any weariness? The great Milo144 would soon tire if he attempted to keep up a similar pace. Why are children like this? The reason is that play and childhood go naturally together, and that children think of their activity as play rather than exertion. The fact is that whenever we feel dissatisfied about something it is largely due to our imagination, which is often responsible for creating such moods even when there is nothing wrong. Since nature in her foresight has spared children these imaginations as a compensation for their lack of physical strength, it is then the teacher's task (as I have said) to prevent these feelings from taking hold and to give the course of study the appearance of a game. Even when students have reached a stage where they are confronted with higher forms of knowledge, which

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cannot be mastered without effort and application, there are still certain games which are ideal for children and which will provide occasional relaxation from the strain of studying. Here I have in mind composition, translation from Latin into Greek or vice versa, or geography. But it is most important of all that the pupil grows to like and respect his teacher, esteem and admire literary culture, fear disgrace, and strive for praise. There remains one final objection to be answered. It is frequently argued by some that the benefits obtained by a pupil over three or four years are not worth all the effort that goes into the teaching and all the expenses that are incurred. It appears to me, however, that the primary concern of these people is not to think of their children's interests but to spare the instructor and their own purse. I would deny anyone to be a true father who is so anxiously concerned about expense when the education of his son is at stake. It would be foolish indulgence on our part to let several years in a child's life go to waste in order that the teacher may spare himself some effort. It may be true, as is not denied by Quintilian,145 that more may be accomplished in a single year at a later stage than in these first three or four years; but even so, why should we slight these results, small though they may be, when we are concerned with something of supreme value? Even though the results may be trifling, still it is better for children to be engaged in learning than to learn nothing at all, or to learn something that they have to unlearn later. Is there any better way to keep children occupied once they are able to speak? We know that they must always have something to do. Even though the gains made during these early years may be quite modest, still a child who has made them his own will be able to advance to higher grades of learning at a time when otherwise he would have to cover the preliminary stages. As Quintilian says/46 'Knowledge accumulated year after year will add up to a great total, and time already gained during childhood will be a gain for the years of adolescence.' I need not repeat the fact that certain things that would later require much effort may be easily learnt during the first years. We learn best when the time is right. Granted that the first steps may be trifling, they are nevertheless of critical importance. In fact, I would say that to have acquired, if not complete proficiency in, at least a taste of Greek and Latin, and to have made a good start in acquiring a wide vocabulary and the skills of reading and writing, represents no mean step in one's intellectual development. In pursuing goals of lesser worth, we are not ashamed to grasp at any gain, no matter how small: irpo 6doi> 'progress' is, I believe, the Greek term for it. No alert businessman will disregard even a penny saved; his thinking is that although by itself the increase may be small, it will contribute towards the grand total; after all, if you add one tiny bit to another you will in time make

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an impressive heap.147 Coppersmiths rise before daylight in order to gain extra hours, and peasants perform certain tasks at home on feast-days in order to be able to do more work on ordinary days. Shall we then when our children are concerned count a loss of four years as nothing, even though time is our most valuable commodity and education is a priceless possession? We can never begin too soon with something that can never be finished; as long as we live there is always something new to be learned. In other matters, persistence can recover gains lost through negligence, but not loss of time. Once our years have flown by - and how swiftly they fly! - they cannot be recalled by any magic spell. Poets talk nonsense when they speak of a fountain from which the aged can draw, as it were, a second youth, and doctors practise deception when they promise a renewed vitality to the old through some mysterious quintessence.148 There is no remedy to restore wasted years; we must husband them, therefore, with the utmost care. Furthermore, the first years are considered our best, and so must be parcelled out with all the more care. According to Hesiod,149 it makes no sense to economize when we are at the top or bottom level of a wine-jar; for when it is full our thriftiness is premature, and when it is empty it is too late; only when we are half-way through the jar should we start to be careful. With the years of our life, however, we should be sparing right from the beginning. And if the wine half-way down the jar should be sparingly consumed because of its superior quality, then the time of our childhood should be used with special care; for this is the best part of our life if we use it properly, and it passes more swiftly than any other. No farmer who cares at all is going to let any part of his land lie fallow; rather, any field which he cannot use for growing grain he plants with young trees or converts into pasture or a market garden. Shall we, then, allow the best years of our life to pass by without bearing the fruits of a literary education? A field which has been newly ploughed must be sown with a crop or else in its fallow state it will yield a harvest of thistles; for it cannot but bring forth some crop or other. So also a young child's mind will be overgrown with moral failings unless it is exposed as early as possible to an instruction that promises fruitful results. A jar150 retains for a long time the odour of the liquid it first contained and loses it only with great difficulty; but a new and fresh vessel may be used immediately to preserve a liquid. The mind will bear good fruit if it is sown with good seeds, but if it is neglected it will be grown over with weeds that must shortly be pulled up. Not to suffer loss is a considerable gain, and to avoid evil is a large step towards virtue. Is there any need to argue further? Do you still wish to see how important it is whether one is educated or not during the early years of one's life? Think of the achievements reached by the ancients when they were still

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in the prime of their youth and compare these with the impotence of our own contemporaries, who have come to old age amid their studies. Ovid151 wrote his elegies when he was still a youth; could any man today accomplish the same in old age? Lucan's works152 are a monument to his youthful genius. You ask whence he got his talent? Well, when he was only six months old he was taken to Rome and immediately entrusted to the care of the most outstanding teachers of his day, Palaemon153 and Cornutus.154 His student companions were Bassus155 and Persius156 - the former the distinguished historian and the latter the well-known satirist. This surely explains the secret behind the youth's encyclopaedic, incredibly detailed learning and his astounding eloquence, which mark his verse as the work of a supreme orator no less than of an excellent poet. Our own age does not lack examples of eminent success achieved thanks to education, although they are more rare. They are, in fact, found in both sexes. Poliziano157 has celebrated the erudition of the young Cassandra.158 The genius of Orsini159 when he was only a boy of eleven fills us with amazement. Again, it is Poliziano who has left to posterity a record of this young genius in an elegantly composed letter. Where can one find a person today who is able to dictate two letters simultaneously to a pair of secretaries without any adverse effect on the sequence of the argument or grammatical correctness? Orsini could do this with five letters, without any preparation, as the subjects were being suggested to him extemporaneously. Several who witnessed this feat thought it was superhuman and credited the boy with magical powers. This may be so, but the magic works only when you entrust your child at a young age to a learned, virtuous, and conscientious instructor. If you allow your child to receive during his early years the best possible education from fine scholars amid scholars' company, you possess the most potent means for working miracles. It was through such magical arts that Alexander the Great was able as a young man to master rhetoric and all the philosophical disciplines; and if love of war and intoxication with power had not cut short his intellectual pursuits he might have ranked among the greatest of philosophers. The young Julius Caesar, too, was well educated in rhetoric and mathematics, as were indeed most of the emperors as well as Cicero, Virgil, and Horace: all these were distinguished during the prime of their youth by both learning and eloquence, and the reason was that from their earliest years they acquired from their parents and nurses the art of refined speech and obtained during their growing years an excellent grounding in the liberal arts and the sciences such as poetry, rhetoric, ancient and contemporary history, mathematics, geography, ethics, politics, and natural science. But what is our practice now? We keep our children at home past their

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years of puberty. Then, having corrupted them with habits of idleness, luxury, and sensuality, we finally send them off belatedly to a public school. There, if everything goes well, they will get a smattering of grammar. Then as soon as they have learned the declensions and the agreement between nouns and adjectives their study of grammar is finished, and they are introduced to the confusion of logic, where, in effect, they are forced to unlearn whatever skills of correct speech they may have previously acquired. An even more wretched state of affairs prevailed when I was a boy: students were cruelly tormented with 'modes of meaning' and petty enquiries into the 'virtue' of a word/60 and in the mean time acquired nothing but poor speaking habits. Indeed, the teachers of that time, afraid to teach anything that might seem fit only for boys, would obscure grammar with the complexities of logic and metaphysics, no doubt for the absurd purpose of making them learn their grammar when they were already advanced, after the more difficult subjects. Today we see the same in some of our more intelligent theologians, who, after winning numerous laurels and honours, must go back to consult textbooks meant for children when there is something concerning which they can no longer afford to be ignorant. Of course I do not blame them; where the fundamentals of knowledge are concerned it is better to learn late than never. Good heavens, what a time that was when, with much elaborate ado, the couplets of John of Garland/61 accompanied with laborious and prolix commentaries, were expounded to young students; when so much time was wasted in dictating, repeating, and closely studying silly verses; and when Florista162 and Floretus163 were learned by heart - Alexander Gallicus164 I would at least rank among the more tolerable authors. How much time was wasted on sophistry and the futile intricacies of logic. Finally, in short, how confused and hateful were the methods of instruction employed for all the subjects, since each teacher, simply for the sake of showing off, would cram his students from the very beginning with the most difficult and often most insignificant material. Certainly, difficulty by itself is no virtue. One might just as well try to shoot a mustard seed from a distance through the eye of a needle165 - a most exacting but futile undertaking; or try to tie and unravel a Cassiotic knot166 - a demanding but uselessly intricate task. Consider also that these subjects are taught by uneducated or (even worse) by wrongly educated men, indeed not seldom by men who are lazy, unscrupulous, and more concerned with financial profit than with the welfare of their pupils. When this is the sort of instruction that is commonly offered, we should not be surprised that so few people become really educated before reaching old age. The best years of our lives are wasted in idleness and bad habits; infected by these, we give only a small portion of

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our time to study, but squander the greater part on whoring, feasting, and gambling. And over this wretched material presides a master-craftsman who is no better, who teaches either worthless nonsense or things which have to be unlearned later. Yet, faced with these conditions, we still offer excuses: that young children are frail creatures whose minds are not ready as yet for instruction, that the gains are only meagre, and many other excuses, whereas only a misdirected education ought to be blamed for any harm that is done. I shall not weary you by prolonging my discussion. I appeal to that practical wisdom which you have always displayed in other things. I ask you to consider how dear a possession your son is; how many-sided and exacting, and yet also how glorious, is the pursuit of knowledge; consider the agility of a child's mind for absorbing every kind of teaching, and the flexibility of the human mind in general. Remember how easily anything that is good and congenial to nature may be learnt, especially when the subject is taught in the guise of play by a wise and sympathetic instructor. Remember also how easily young and receptive minds take in and retain knowledge that at a more advanced age must be acquired with greater difficulty and is also lost with much greater ease. Finally, reflect how precious time is; once spent it can never be restored. It is of the utmost importance, therefore, to make an early beginning and to do everything in season. The power of persistence is great; you will recall Hesiod's proverbial heap, rising higher and higher as more and more tiny grains are added. Above all, remember that time is fleeting, youth is always busy, and old age is beyond instruction. If you reflect upon all this, you will not allow your new-born son to lose, no, not seven years, but even three days, during which he might receive to some advantage his first grounding or instruction in knowledge.

THE R I G H T WAY OF SPEAKING LATIN AND GREEK: A DIALOGUE De recta latini graecique sermonis pronuntiatione dialogus

translated and annotated by M A U R I C E POPE

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Erasmus' dialogue De recta latini graecique sermonis pronuntiatione is one of the foundation charters of the classical education that reigned supreme in European schools from the sixteenth to the twentieth century. This is because Erasmus, though not the first Renaissance scholar to consider the ancient pronunciation of Greek and Latin, does not limit himself, as his predecessors had done, to establishing the correct values of the vowels and diphthongs and consonants, but also considers the larger units of discourse, the word, the sentence, and what in our terminology we should call the paragraph. In short his subject is, as the title implies, not just how to make the sounds of the ancient languages but how to speak them.1 It is a wide subject, and Erasmus sets it in a still wider context. He does not present the discussion as one of mere historical curiosity or its conclusions as isolated discoveries of antiquarian research. His intentions are practical. He argues that the emended pronunciation of Latin and Greek is a necessary requirement both for satisfactory education and for satisfactory communications, and the dialogue contains some fine statements of this utilitarian classicism, which is so distinctive of the spirit of the Renaissance. Finally, there is a tremendous wealth and variety of incidental content. We are treated to glimpses of Dutch painters, Parisian ladies of refined pronunciation, and guttural German professors. We visit a dining club formed to improve the speaking of Greek, and we overhear spiritual blackmail being exercised by school wardens of excessive religious zeal. The mind of John Colet when he was founding St Paul's school is opened to us. We are given Erasmus' views on violence in political change, on the principles of letter design, and on the need for an improved standard punctuation. There are ancient saws and modern instances, and for that matter a good many ancient instances too, anecdotes taken from classical authors and retold by Erasmus to illustrate a point in his argument or even to initiate the proof of one. This richness makes readable what would otherwise have been merely a work of reference. As a result the dialogue was an immediate success when it was published and for long remained a major influence in the worlds of scholarship and education. The two characters of the dialogue are Lion and Bear. The occasion is the birth of Lion's cub. In accordance with his rank he must be given the best possible education, and Lion is looking for a first-class grammarian or schoolmaster. But suitable candidates are hard to find, since the right men can flourish only in the right conditions. The problem is not simply social status and financial reward: it includes the mechanism by which grammarians are appointed to teaching posts, and also the question of what subjects are suitable and necessary for schoolboys. But the first thing, the

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foundation for all the rest, is the ability to read and write, and more basic still, to speak. The acquisition of language should not be left to chance. This was the opinion of writers on education even in antiquity. It is still more valid today when Latin and Greek are no longer universally spoken. Yet Latin and Greek must continue to be taught since they are the only languages where the standard of excellence is permanent and which are immune from change or decay. But they cannot be properly taught if their pronunciation is totally wrong. Such is the outline of the argument in the first part of the dialogue, and it is skilfully organized as an introduction to the major topic of what was the correct ancient pronunciation of Latin and Greek. The details of it, however, are by no means all Erasmus' own. Whole passages are little more than a rewriting of Quintilian, and Quintilian himself represents a tradition that goes back through Chrysippus, Aristotle, and Plato to the beginnings of literary education in fifth- and sixth-century Greece. Erasmus' debts range from lofty principles like the primacy of speech in characterizing the human species to humble hints like using carved letters of the alphabet to play games with. But it is no disparagement of an educationalist to say that he follows Quintilian.2 In any case Erasmus frequently adorns his borrowings. He adds comment from his personal experience, gives examples from his own reading, and enlarges on ideas. In particular he emphasizes the respect due to children, not merely in not boring them but also in not wasting their time or telling them untruths that they will later have to unlearn. The seed of this notion is in Quintilian, but so convincingly does Erasmus express it, both here and in other works, that it had obviously taken very deep root in his own mind (ngi below). The section on education is notable also for its clear formulation of the principles of classicism. Latin and Greek are spoken of by Erasmus in terms similar to those that an economist of the old school might apply to the virtues of the gold standard. Vernacular languages, he suggests, are satisfactory enough in the short term for everyday needs. But they are subject to multiplication - look how many more languages there are than there used to be - and each of them in itself is subject to being debased (389-90 below). A publication of permanent value is only safe in the learned languages (390 below). These are Latin and Greek, since Hebrew is insufficiently known (389 below). Latin and Greek are safe, partly because the learned can preserve standards while the general public are unable to preserve anything (390, 410, 451 below), partly because though the criterion for good language in the vernacular may be current usage, the criterion as far as Latin and Greek are concerned is the usage of good authors of the best period

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(471 below).3 The learned languages are thus protected against decay. Even if maintenance should fail, 'what once existed can be re-established' (422 below). Social engineering of this sort is possible - indeed it is by way of being a social duty, providentia (378 below). There has been success in this very field, and Greek has revived to an unbelievable extent in the schools of England and Holland (388 below). Where schools lead, society may eventually follow (473 below). One should not, however, expect an active knowledge of Greek to become universal in the west. Ancient Greek should be cultivated only as a reading language (409 below), whereas Latin should be retained and refurbished as a written and spoken method of international communication. One must add that Erasmus' position is designed for defence not onlyperhaps not even mainly - against champions of the vernacular, but also against champions of church Latin (386, 389-90 below). It is equally tenable against both classes of opponent. But of course it can only be held if the integrity of the learned languages themselves is above suspicion. Hence the cardinal importance of how they should be pronounced.4 The general discussion of the purpose and organization of teaching leads to a discussion of what subjects are to be taught. These are taken in reverse order so that the most elementary stage, that of learning to speak, with which the dialogue is primarily concerned, can be dealt with last. After a preliminary survey of speech defects (403-409 below) we come to the central proposition of the dialogue. The modern way of speaking Greek and the modern way of speaking Latin are both wrong (409 below). The problem, then, is how to recover the true ancient pronunciation, and its solution occupies the remainder of the dialogue. The fact that we know the ancient languages at all is due to the recopying throughout the Middle Ages in both the Greek east and the Latin west of the written texts of ancient authors. But writing is an imperfect guardian of speech. Its limited repetoire of signs cannot offer full cover for the unlimited variety of the human voice. Worse still, the values conventionally allotted to the letters may change over the years. It was clear that such changes had happened in Latin. The Italian who pronounced the c of Caesar with a palatalized ch and the Frenchman who pronounced it with a sibilant s could not both be pronouncing the name as Caesar himself had pronounced it. The point is illustratedd by Lion's story of the Latin speeches exchanged between members of the court of the Emperor Maximilian and the committee welcoming him, which were all but mutually incomprehensible because of the national pronunciations of the speakers (472-3 below). The moral is evident. If Latin was to remain internationally useful, a reform of Latin pronunciation was absolutely necessary.

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In the case of Greek the evidence of changed pronunciation was not so immediately obvious. Greek had become known in the west through more or less learned emigres from the collapsed Byzantine empire, and these were naturally men who had similar speech habits. In any case the regional dialects of medieval Greek did not have anything like the same pronunciation differences as did the different national styles of spoken Latin. Nevertheless contemporary Greek pronunciation did make nonsense of traditional Greek spelling. Even if the letters gh in the frequent English consonantal cluster ght were universally ignored in pronunciation by all speakers of modern English, it would not take a genius to guess that at some stage in the past they must have been sounded or they would never have got into the spelling in the first place. Similar situations exist in medieval and modern Greek. A long i [i:] can be written in six different ways and a short e [e] in two. Erasmus rightly uses this argument to show that there must be something wrong with the modern pronunciation (417 below). Various sources exist for the reconstruction of the ancient pronunciations of Latin and Greek. The most immediate is the information directly supplied by ancient writers about the sounds of their own language. This may be occasionally given by philosophers, literary critics, or others who are not primarily concerned with linguistic questions, or it may be methodically given by grammarians. Another source, and in some ways a more valuable one as it is less subject to the pollution of preconceived theory, is incidental allusion to the sound of words made by ancient authors whose purpose is to entertain or persuade, not to teach. Puns and other forms of word-play can be ranged in this category. A third source is the spelling of ancient inscriptions, especially inscriptions transliterating Latin proper names into Greek or vice versa, and of ancient papyri, especially those written by ill-educated people whose spelling mistakes may reveal the real sound of the word (as would spellings like 'nite,' 'perticlar/ and confusion between 'their' and 'there' in modern English). Erasmus had at his disposal very few ancient inscriptions compared to the wealth of them available now, and no ancient papyri. But archaic spellings and semiliterate mis-spellings are sometimes reported by ancient writers, so that Erasmus was in a position to use this kind of evidence, though the little that he had was often not first hand. Finally, the modern scholar has at his disposal the science of comparative philology, which grew from the work of Bopp and Rask in the early nineteenth century. Because of it we can now place Greek and Latin on a family tree in which they are descended, along with Sanskrit, Russian, German, Celtic, and other languages, from a common ancestor, and in which they are themselves ancestors - ancient Greek of modern Greek, and Latin of

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the romance languages spoken in Portugal, Spain, France, Italy and Romania. This perspective, together with a knowledge of many patterns of sound-shift that have been experienced within the Indo-European languages, enables the modern scholar, in most cases at least, to give an account of the history of a particular vowel or consonant sound from the beginning of classical antiquity to its end. Erasmus did not have the tools to do this. He did not have the concept of an Indo-European language family, or even of language families at all. He evidently thinks of language relationships as determined by the amount of shared vocabulary, not by grammatical structure, and his remarks in this field are likely to be more surprising to the modern reader than his remarks in any other. The French tuer 'kill' is, he says, descended from the Greek dvsiv [thyein] 'sacrifice/ the Picard iki 'here' from the Greek SKS! [ekei] 'there/ the German and Dutch words for 'fire' -feuer and vuur - from the Greek irvp [pyr\, and the Dutch for 'animal' - dier- from the Greek Qr\p [ther], while various Dutch words are said to descend from Latin, like wint from ventus 'wind/ and waken 'wake' from vacare 'be free/ as well as place-names ending in -wjick from Latin vicus (415, 440, 433, 451, 450-1 below). Erasmus offers no general theory of language diffusion into which these observations can be fitted or by which significant similarities between different languages can be distinguished from coincidences. It can thus be seen that of the four sources now available for the reconstruction of ancient pronunciation Erasmus had at his disposal only two in anything like their entirety, that is to say the corpus of ancient literature and the commentaries or analyses of ancient grammarians, and even this material was not as complete as it is now and nothing like as easy to use as it has since been made by dictionaries, concordances, and supporting literature of all kinds. Of the third source, contemporary writing on stone or coins or papyrus, Erasmus had comparatively little material in the first two kinds and none at all in the third. Of the fourth possible source, comparative philology, nothing was, or could have been, known to him. Yet despite these handicaps, Erasmus' reconstruction of ancient pronunciation is within its limits almost totally successful. Erasmus does not, however, claim personal credit for this success. He makes Bear, his main mouthpiece, modestly confess his subordinate position as a mere recounter of debates held at a meeting of grammarians that he had attended, but the identity of the participants is not defined. It is clear that they were not only ancient grammarians, for on one occasion (418 below) they appeal to the evidence of modern vernacular languages. It is also clear that they were not confined to Erasmus' contemporary humanists. In their

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quarrel over the number of parts of speech (392 below), some support two and some five. But neither of these positions had been supported by anyone since Aristotle and the Stoics. Bear's imaginary meeting must therefore have been attended by both ancients and modern grammarians. Nevertheless Bear is right to talk of them as belonging together. Ancient or modern, Greek or Latin, the grammarians were linked in a single tradition. The tributary streams went back to the fifth century BC, and perhaps beyond. The river that issued from them can be first clearly identified in the Technegrammatike of Dionysius Thrax, written in Alexandria towards the end of the second century BC. This work remained in normal use in Greek schools until the twelfth century AD. It was then replaced, but only by popularized versions of itself, cast into question-and-answer form. The grammars of the Greek revival in the west, by Chrysoloras, Gaza, Lascaris, and Chalcondyles, were taken from these debased productions. The tradition of Latin grammar is closely similar, though it may stem from contemporary Stoic sources rather than directly from Dionysius Thrax. The earliest classical Roman grammarians were Varro and Palaemon, but only five books of Varro's De lingua latino, have survived. Quintilian, said to have been a pupil of Palaemon's, included a section on grammar in his great work on education,5 but this was not intended as a technical treatise. Terentianus Maurus in the late second century AD occupied his retirement by composing a work in rather lame verse on pronunciation and metre. This is much used by Erasmus, and is indeed our earliest comprehensive treatment of the subject of Latin pronunciation, but is severely limited in scope. Our earliest full Latin grammars date from the fourth century, such as that of Diomedes, the one most used by Erasmus, and that attributed to Victorinus, but in reality (after the first thirty paragraphs) the work of Aphthonius, who lived in the previous century. Donatus and Servius were scholars of the fourth century also, but though Erasmus refers to them as if their names were synonymous with grammar he does not actually use them as often as this mark of honour would lead one to expect. The most voluminous and comprehensive Latin grammar is later still. It is that of Priscian, who taught in Constantinople, and belongs to the early sixth century. It remained the standard grammar throughout the Middle Ages, though for normal school use it was too large and learned. The popularizing grammars that were substituted for it earned Erasmus' extreme contempt (388 below). All these grammars, both Greek and Latin, repeat for the most part the same body of traditional doctrine, and their conservatism, though it must have bewildered the medieval schoolboy by assuring him, if he lived in the Latin west, that h was not a letter (since it does not occur in Greek), and, if he

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lived in the Greek east, that 0 (ph, but universally pronounced /) was mute and could not be uttered without an accompanying vowel, was of the greatest help to humanist scholars when they attempted to rediscover the ancient values of the letters. In fact the consistent classification of 0, 8, and x (ph, th, and ch) with the mutes (labial, dental, and palatal respectively) was enough to show beyond reasonable doubt that they could not have had their Byzantine pronunciations but must have been aspirated plosives. Similarly the Greek diphthongs were divided by the Greek grammarians into 'proper' and 'improper/ the stated difference being that in the former class the two component vowel sounds could be heard, in the latter not. This difference was inoperative for Byzantine Greek, where all the diphthongs had come to be pronounced as simple vowels, but must presumably have been valid in the ancient language. An equally vast discrepancy existed between what grammar described and what people said in the matter of vowel length and of word accent. In fact things were so bad, both with Latin and Greek, that scarcely anything of what a learner was told about pronunciation conformed to what he actually heard pronounced. The situation cried out for reform. Erasmus was not the first to hear the cry, and never claimed to be. That honour belongs to the Spanish humanist, Antonio de Nebrija, or Antonius Nebrissensis, to give him his Latin name. He first put forward ideas on ancient pronunciation in a Salamanca lecture given in 1486, but his full statement on the subject, De vi ac potestate litterarum, dates to 1503.6 He realized that his case was one for which he would have difficulty in winning assent. 'In this discussion about the sound of words the letter is dead, and the spirit must bring it to life. The truth, unarmed, is my only ally, and I must fight against many men, many tongues, and many nations. But though they be more numerous we shall overcome by weight of fact.'7 It was a difficult subject but a worthy one, since it dealt with the foundations of learning. The aim is to discover what sound should be accorded to what shape of letter.'8 Every other aspect of the alphabet was regularly discussed in the schools, 'but the question of the values or powers of the letters, which is the most important question and the reason why the shapes were invented in the first place, is never discussed by the grammarians at all.'9 It might be objected that even if the correct pronunciation were recovered in theory it could never be restored to use. 'But what we can believe is that when our arguments have been published and listened to, men will be forced by their awareness of the truth to agree with what at present they are so obstinately opposing. And if they once admit that our propositions are correct but cannot be put into practice because it would offend the ears, then the battle is more than half won. What the reason approves of as right will eventually come into being.'10 The first of the twenty

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chapters that follow this introductory fanfare is devoted to establishing grammar, or the science of writing, as the foundation of all trade, government, arts, science, and religion, and the remaining chapters proceed in order of diminishing generality down to the last, which is devoted to the aspirate. Points of interest on the way are Nebrija's insistence that writing is based on speech; his awareness that the possible range of sounds, both vocalic and consonantal, made by the human voice is a continuum (like the rainbow, as he puts it in his Grammatica latino.)11 and that the letters therefore represent more or less arbitrary distinctions made within it; and his recognition that even so, neither in Hebrew nor in Greek nor in Latin do the written letters achieve a one-to-one correspondence with the actual speech sounds of those languages, but that the twenty-four letters of Hebrew were made, with the help of pointing, to render twenty-eight distinct sounds, the twenty-four letters of Greek rendered twenty-two distinct sounds, and the twenty-three letters of Latin twenty-seven distinct sounds.12 The idea behind Nebrija's calculations of speech sounds, which brought him almost within grasping distance of the modern concept of the phoneme, was a remarkable insight, and most of his restored values follow from it. They are less numerous than those of Erasmus, and are established more on theoretical grounds and with less of the display of circumstantial evidence that Erasmus is able to bring to bear. None the less they represent a formidable achievement. We are told that Nebrija's essay was soon known in Italy and that it was highly regarded there.13 Among those who were influenced by it seems to have been the printer Aldus Manutius. We can date the beginning of his interest within fairly close limits. His tract on the pronunciation of Greek, which he was issuing as late as 1501, contained nothing that was not traditional.14 But when he reprinted it at the end of his Latin grammar in 1508 he added seven lines which in effect disclaim the truth of the whole. They state that in antiquity the vowels in Greek and the diphthongs in both Latin and Greek were probably pronounced in a quite different way, and that moreover the proper quantities of syllables have not been kept in modern pronunciation because of the influence of the word accent, as one can see for example in words like [kndo], Xvovs [khnous], Ovriros [thnetds], TTVSO> [pneo], yvw/xrj [gnome], x#e? [khthils], 6eipd> [phtheiro], KTT)/ZO: [ktema], T/ATJ/LIQ; [tmema], r/uaJXo? [tmolos], S^twe? [dmoes], 0\aa> [thldo], afjiapaydos [smdragdos], crfipayis [sphragis]. These words and others like them must be mastered young/73 or their pronunciation will always cause difficulty. Lion I have noticed that there are people who fail to pronounce s properly, especially if it is followed by a consonant, as in est. Bear You mean what is called lisping.174 Lion The Spaniards on the other hand have the opposite failing, just as the failing of the Eretrians was the opposite of what Demosthenes had. But the French either elide the letter or obscure it. In their vernacular they write est, but pronounce et, lengthening the vowel. The Greek term for this sort of lisping was (//eXXter/ao? [psellismos], as is shown by their proverb, The woman who lisps does not trust.'175 Bear It is not a serious failing, and it may even be purposely cultivated in the

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belief that it conveys an air of smoothness. Another defect, and one which is certainly not attractive, is the hesitancy of speech - a sort of tremor or spasm of the mouth - which makes people repeat syllables. Some do it at the beginning of words, others at the end of them. The defect is ineradicable if it continues any distance into adult life. The consonants where the trouble principally occurs are k, q, c, p, and t. For example they say KV-KV-KI>PIS

[ky-ky-kyrie] for Kvpie [kyrie] 'sir,' pe-pe-pedi for pepedi T farted/ ca-ca-cave for

cave 'look out!' Tu-tu-Tullius for Tullius, or in the other type Roma-ma for Roma. Lion I can tell you good stories about both types. Bear Let us hear them. Lion A priest who had a very obvious stammer was beginning mass and his server happened to suffer from the same handicap. When they came to the kyrie eleeson 'Lord have mercy/ which in our rite has to be spoken alternately, it was ages before they had managed to get the words out three times. At last the priest - as you know stammerers get angry very easily - said 'What's the game? Are you making a fool of me or I of you?' He then threw off his vestments and left the altar, with the congregation all laughing enormously. Bear Like frogs who never finish their ke-ke-ke-kex.*76 They must stammer too. Lion Presumably. The other case was a professor of medicine whom I heard not long ago when he was chairing a disputation in a packed hall. In every other way he was learned, clear, and far from inarticulate, but he always doubled the last syllable of every word. For Avicenna he said Avicennana, for scriptor 'writer' scriptortor, for dicitur 'it is said' diciturtur, for pharmaca 'drugs' pharmacaca. 1 imagine the Greek term for this defect was either rpavXtcr^to? [traulismos]177 or /Sarrapto-jLto? [battarismos].178 Also perhaps /tarroAoyia [battologia] - unless this means the repetition of whole sentences. For Ovid179 makes his Battus repeat sentences, saying 'In those mountains they were: they were in those mountains/ and Mercury mimic him in reply 'You have betrayed my secret to me, you traitor: you have betrayed my secret to me/ There is another defect similar to stammering, which the Greeks called /AoytXaXio: [mogilalia], and to which we have given the convenient enough name of 'slurring.'180 All these defects are accentuated by anger or embarrassment or any strong emotion. This is paradoxical. Normally, as Quintilian181 points out, passion creates eloquence. But in these cases the opposite happens and the sufferer is reduced to silence. I have even known a man who stuttered so badly whenever there was a south wind blowing182 that he could barely utter two consecutive words. Lion What causes the trouble?

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Bear Partly nature, mostly bad habit. Particularly when contracted early in life. Lion Do you know of a cure? Bear Yes, immediate and complete. Lion What? Bear Holding the tongue. Lion Stammerers find this harder than anyone. Bear Then I refer them to Demosthenes' example, and the proverb 'All things come with practice.'183 Lion Practice at what? Bear I'll tell you. Those who have trouble with k should recite the poem in praise of baldness184 in which every word begins with a k sound. Those who stumble over t should repeat the line O Tite tute Tati, tibi tanta tyranne tulisti 'Troubles tortured Titus Tatius the Tyrant' or At tuba185 terribili tonitru taratantara trusit 'Terrible thundered the trumpet taratantara.' It is easy to invent more verses like these. Another aid is to speak single words and phrases slowly and distinctly, the intervals of silence giving the tongue a chance to recover its strength. The tone of the voice employed should be that of someone intoning or singing rather than that of normal speech. I know several eminent men who stutter terribly in private conversation but who when lecturing in public speak with perfect clarity and no trace of impediment whatever. Lion Can medical knowledge do anything to help? Bear It could, I suppose, if it knew all the muscles used in voice production. Failing this, one can call on divine aid. Lion Who from? Bear The goddess Eulalia.186 Lion The gods are our final anchor, and her name is a name of good omen. Bear Grammarians may query the term, but it can perhaps be called labdacism when a man overemphasizes the pronunciation of /,l87 saying things like ellucet for lucet, or sallava for salva. Some great men have suffered from this defect, but it can nevertheless be described as acquired rather than innate. It comes from being overanxious to articulate correctly. They even do the same with their r's, pronouncing serva serava and verba veraba.133 The defect can be compared to that which the Greeks call iotacism. I have observed what I take to be iotacism in several Greeks, specifically in

Georgius Hermonymus189 who taught at Paris and must still be remembered

by a great many people, and who said that he was a Spartan. In Latin too190 you can notice people distorting their mouths and exaggerating the letter i. Some speakers go so far as to pronounce it almost like a g when it is followed by a vowel in the same syllable: gecit for iecit, egicio for dido. Admittedly

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when the Latin i precedes a vowel in the same syllable it acquires consonantal status; nevertheless its sound should still be intermediate between that of a vowel and a consonant. There are speakers who in similar contexts pronounce what is almost a z: zanua for ianua, Zesus for Jesus, zecur for iecur. Others again pronounce tMis or Virgilii in such a way that you seem to hear a; consonant before the second i of the pair, giving the effect of three letters instead of two/91 Another category of speakers says i for e, and o for a, but these will be best left till later. There is also metacism, which consists in too marked a pronunciation of m when it comes at the end of a word and the next word begins with a vowel.192 For instance plurimum audet 'maximum audacity.' Here the grammarians would like the m to disappear altogether to make plurim audet 'maxim audacity.' Consequently they would like Cicero's phrase193 Quousque tandem abutere to be pronounced tandabutere. I do not wish to dispute this, but at the same time I find it hard to believe that there should be no difference heard between when a man dies, animam agit, and when the spirit is driving him anima agit. In the former case there must exist a perceptible attempt to sound the m, and this must be why Quintilian194 says that in these contexts the m is neither pronounced nor is it not pronounced. Quintilian195 also lists among pronunciation defects what is called iVx^oTTj? [iskhnotes] in Greek and what we may term 'thinness' or 'closeness.' It may be innate, it may be the result of age or196 illness, or it may be affected. It consists in contracting the muscles of the lower trachea and speaking through half-closed lips. The opposite defect, 'thickness' or 'openness,' TrXarvacr^to? [platyasmos] in Greek, is when we have the throat too wide and the mouth too open. Where these defects are innate, Aristotle197 considered the former to be a symptom of timidity of character, the latter of insensitivity. Ordinary people in Holland produce their voice from right up by the lips; in upper Germany on the other hand they speak almost from their navels. Not only the quality of the voice, but also the quality of the features is affected, excessive narrowing and excessive widening of the mouth both being ugly. In many individuals the two faults coexist, and they also provide a handle for jokes as being characteristic of certain nationalities. Another relatively widespread defect is /coiAooro^ua [koilostomia] 'hollow-mouth.' This is when the voice echoes from the hollows of the mouth as if from a cavern. In some individuals this is an innate defect, their tongue being too closely tied at the root and the rest too wide. The result is that the voice is thrown to the side of the throat and reverberates there, as when people imitate the voice of a ghost by speaking over a clay jar.198 Some persons croak, some rattle, some pipe like old men as if they had lost their teeth. Some have thick voices. Some speak with their tongues folded back into their mouths, so that they sound somehow Jewish. Others

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never let their final syllables be heard, but gobble or swallow them. In a word they do all the time what schoolboys do out of fear when they try to hide their grammatical ignorance behind a blurred final syllable. The Greeks had a word1" for such a person, /coXo/forr?? [kolobotes] 'a stump-man.' The opposite fault, stressing every final syllable as if speaking Hebrew, also occurs. There are trumpeters who speak through their noses rather than through their mouths. Throat clearing, belches, hiccoughs, and tooth-snapping may accompany speech; wheezes and hisses, groans and hems, coughs and chuckles200 may interrupt it. Finally there are the innumerable individual errors due to mistaking the correct pronunciation (opQosTTsLot. [orthoepeia] in Greek). There will be time later on to say something about these defects. Here I have been simply concerned to give a warning. Children should be kept away from those who suffer from any of them, and if a child should happen to develop a fault in his own speech, whether it be congenital or acquired, corrective measures should be taken promptly. Every people has its characteristic speech habits, which are not easy to describe in words. For example, though speakers of Greek and Latin employ almost the same letters,201 it is possible to pick out a Greek speaking Latin; similarly a Greek can recognize a Latin speaker talking Greek. This is why Quintilian202 advises learning Greek first, but not for too long in case the foreign intonation infects a boy's Latin in later life. It would be quite wrong to sound like a foreigner in one's native tongue. Should this happen accidentally, someone is to blame for negligence. Should it be contrived, it is due to perversity. Foreign accents can be sought after as being somehow attractive or sophisticated. People back from France may speak almost unintelligible Latin, copying every French failing, letting their tongue roll about, confusing their stresses, interjecting meaningless sounds between the Latin words, and doing all they can to pass themselves off as French. But since today our sole object in learning Greek is to be able to read ancient literature, not to converse with ordinary Greeks, it follows that once our children have been taught the rudiments of the two languages their main training should be in Latin until they are older and can safely go forward with the study of both languages in equal harness. Lion Thank you, my dear Bear, for this advice too. It has not fallen on deaf ears203 either. Bear I have not yet told you what the grammarians said about the pronunciation of the individual letters. Will you find it a bore if I go on? Lion No. A pleasure. Bear It is important too. Our modern pronunciation, whether we are Greek speakers or Latin speakers, is almost totally wrong. Lion What do you mean?

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Bear Just that. Lion How can such a thing be? Bear Partly because of the processes of corruption at work in common language, partly because of the fact that the sounds of words cannot be written. And you know how nothing lasts long in the hands of the people. But I should like you to take all this on trust for the moment. I shall prove it later. First, a word about the basic sounds,204 beginning with the vowels.205 There are five vowels in Latin: a, e, i, o, u; and seven in Greek: a [a], e [e], rj [e], i [i], o [o], v [y], co [o]. In Latin all the vowels may be either short or long. In Greek two of them are short by nature - e and o - two long -19 and o> - and three may be either - a, i, and v. Of these vowels206 a is produced with the mouth fully open, the tongue straight and quite free, that is to say neither bent up to the palate above nor resting on the ridge of the lower teeth, nor brought against the side of the teeth, nor between them. The voice comes from low in the windpipe, and is thrown against the upper palate. As for why the vowels are called vowels, the grammarians have long since given the explanation. Their sound is the purest, it can exist by itself, and the other letters, that is to say the consonants, would be mute if the vowels did not come to their assistance and allow them to be voiced. The fricative and sibilant consonants form an exception to this and are therefore given the additional name of semivowels. More difficult is the question of why a comes first in the order of vowels. One school of thought would have it that Cadmus placed it first, on the ground that alpha is the Phoenician for 'ox' and that in Hesiod207 an ox is said to be the first thing after a house and a wife when one is setting up one's establishment. This seems to me an old-fashioned208 explanation. People may adopt it if they are so inclined, but I prefer a different one.209 This is that the Greeks made a head the list of vowels that can be long or short, because in syllables where a is found with i or v the a always comes first, and is never found after another vowel in the same syllable, vaco and iaceo are not exceptions since the first letter in such cases has the force of a consonant. This explanation is compatible with another explanation sometimes given, namely that a provides the easiest and most natural beginning because of the manner of its pronunciation. For the first step in talking is to open one's lips and let the voice come straight out with no interference from lips, tongue, or teeth, and this is the way children utter their first cry on being born. Lion Not unlike bleating sheep. Bear e is produced in a similar manner, except that the mouth is slightly less wide open and the voice is not thrown to the top of the mouth but on to the lower part of the tongue, which is made to rest lightly on the molars on each side, while the lips are drawn back, rj [e] in Greek is half way between the

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two. The mouth is not open as wide as in a, but it is further apart and the voice is not so firmly kept down at the bottom of the mouth as with e. The first proof of the close connection between them is that in Greek a is often changed into TJ and the other way round, for instance TrptTjTro? [priepos] for TrpiaTro? [priapos], tr/rpo? [ietros] for tarpon [iatros], and conversely rav [tan]

for ri]v [ten]. In Latin 17 is turned into a long e, as Cretes for Kpfjre? [Kretes] and

splen for cnrXriv [splen] 'spleen.' If you would like a more down-to-earth210 example ... Lion A ground-level one if you can manage it. Bear The proper a is the one made in Italian. The Germans in Westphalia make it with their mouth too wide open and too rounded, reminding one of the Ionian Greek w for a in such words as da>vfjLa [thouma] for Oav^a [thauma] 'miracle/ oivros [owfos] foravro? [awids] 'self.' Conversely others change co into a, saying TGLV VV^OLV [tan nymphan] for rwv vv^utv [ton nymphon] 'of the nymphs/ /uovcraf [mousdn] for /JLOVcrow [mousdn] 'of muses,' Trparo? [pratos] for 7rpom>