Letter 40

[1] I am grateful that you write to me so often; for in this you show yourself to me in the one way you can. I never receive a letter of yours without our being together at once. If the portraits of absent friends are a delight to us, since they renew the memory and relieve the longing of their absence with a false and empty consolation, how much more delightful are letters, which bring us the true tracks, the true marks, of an absent friend? For that which is sweetest in seeing him face to face, the friend's own hand stamped upon the letter supplies: recognition. [2] You write that you have heard the philosopher Serapio, when he had put in at your part of the world: "He is accustomed to tear up his words at great speed, words that he does not pour out from below but drives and presses forward; for more come than a single voice can supply." This I do not approve of in a philosopher, whose delivery too, like his life, ought to be well ordered; but nothing is well ordered that rushes headlong and hurries. And so in Homer that vehement style of speech, descending without interruption like falling snow, is given to the young man, while from the old man it flows gently, sweeter than honey. [3] So hold to this view: that rapid and overflowing power of speaking is more fitting for a peddler at a street corner than for one who is handling a great and serious matter and teaching it. I am as unwilling that he should drip out his words as that he should race; let him neither stretch the ears nor overwhelm them. For that meagerness and thinness too holds the hearer less intent, through weariness at its broken slowness; yet what is waited for sinks in more easily than what flies past. In fact, men are said to "hand down" precepts to their pupils: what flees away is not handed down. [4] Add now that speech which devotes itself to truth ought to be unadorned and simple: this popular style has nothing true in it. It wishes to move the crowd and to sweep along unconsidering ears by its onrush; it does not offer itself to be handled, it is carried off. But how can that govern others which cannot itself be governed? Consider too that this speech, which is applied to healing minds, ought to descend into us: remedies do no good unless they linger. [5] Besides, it has much that is hollow and empty; it sounds more than it has strength. The things that terrify me must be soothed, the things that provoke me must be checked, the things that deceive me must be dispelled, extravagance must be restrained, greed must be rebuked: which of these can be done in a rush? What physician cures the sick in passing? Consider too that such a din of words rushing along without selection has not even any pleasure in it? [6] But just as it is enough to have once come to know most things that you would not believe could happen, so with those who have made a practice of mere words it is more than enough to have heard them once. For what would anyone wish to learn, what would he wish to imitate? What is he to judge of the minds of those whose speech is disordered and let loose and cannot be reined in? [7] Just as those who run down a slope cannot halt their steps where they meant to, but are at the mercy of the driving weight of the body and are carried farther than they wished, so that swiftness of speaking is neither within its own control nor sufficiently becoming to philosophy, which ought to set its words down, not fling them out, and to advance step by step. [8] "What then? Will it never even rise to a higher pitch?" Of course it will, but with the dignity of its character preserved, which that violent and excessive force strips away. Let it have great strength, but strength under control; let it be a perennial stream, not a torrent. I would scarcely allow even to an orator such velocity of speaking, irrecoverable and proceeding without rule: for how will a juror, who is sometimes even inexperienced and untrained, be able to keep up? Even then, when either ostentation or an emotion that has lost mastery of itself carries him away, let him hasten and pile on only as much as the ears can bear. [9] You will therefore do rightly if you do not listen to those men who ask how much they say, not how they say it, and if you yourself, should it be necessary, would rather speak even like Publius Vinicius, who... [the text is corrupt here]. When it was asked how Publius Vinicius spoke, Asellius said, "Slowly, drawing it out." For Geminus Varius says, "How you can call that man eloquent I do not know: he cannot string three words together." Why should you not prefer to speak as Vinicius does? [10] Suppose some fellow as tasteless turns up as the one who said to Vinicius, while he was plucking out his words one by one, as though dictating rather than speaking, "Say it—are you ever going to say it?" For the headlong pace of Quintus Haterius, the most celebrated orator in his own day, I want kept far from a sane man: he never hesitated, never paused; he began only once, and he stopped only once. [11] Yet I think that some things suit nations more or less. Among the Greeks you would tolerate this license: we, even when we write, have grown accustomed to punctuate. Our own Cicero too, from whom Roman eloquence leapt forth, was a measured pacer. The Roman tongue looks about itself more, takes its own measure, and offers itself to be measured. [12] Fabianus, a man outstanding in his life and his learning and—what comes after these—in his eloquence too, used to argue with readiness rather than with rapidity, so that you could call it fluency, not speed. This I accept in a wise man; I do not require it; I prefer that his speech come forth without obstacle, yet be brought out deliberately rather than gush forth. [13] But I deter you from that disease all the more because this thing cannot fall to your lot in any other way than if you have ceased to feel shame: you must harden your brow and not listen to your own self; for that unwatched torrent will carry along many things that you would wish to censure. [14] It cannot, I say, fall to your lot with your modesty intact. Besides, daily practice is needed, and your study must be transferred from matters to words. But these, even if they are at hand and able to run on without any effort of yours, must nevertheless be tempered; for just as a more restrained gait suits a wise man, so does speech that is controlled, not bold. The sum of sums, then, will be this: I bid you be slow of speech. Farewell.

I thank you for writing to me so often; for you are revealing your real self to me in the only way you can. I never receive a letter from you without being in your company forthwith. If the pictures of our absent friends are pleasing to us, though they only refresh the memory and lighten our longing by a solace that is unreal and unsubstantial, how much more pleasant is a letter, which brings us real traces, real evidences, of an absent friend! For that which is sweetest when we meet face to face is afforded by the impress of a friend’s hand upon his letter,—recognition. You write me that you heard a lecture by the philosopher Serapio, when he landed at your present place of residence. “He is wont,” you say, “to wrench up his words with a mighty rush, and he does not let them flow forth one by one, but makes them crowd and dash upon each other. For the words come in such quantity that a single voice is inadequate to utter them.” I do not approve of this in a philosopher; his speech, like his life, should be composed; and nothing that rushes headlong and is hurried is well ordered. That is why, in Homer, the rapid style, which sweeps down without a break like a snow-squall, is assigned to the younger speaker; from the old man eloquence flows gently, sweeter than honey. Therefore, mark my words; that forceful manner of speech, rapid and copious, is more suited to a mountebank than to a man who is discussing and teaching an important and serious subject. But I object just as strongly that he should drip out his words as that he should go at top speed; he should neither keep the ear on the stretch, nor deafen it. For that poverty-stricken and thin-spun style also makes the audience less attentive because they are weary of its stammering slowness; nevertheless, the word which has been long awaited sinks in more easily than the word which flits past us on the wing. Finally, people speak of “handing down” precepts to their pupils; but one is not “handing down” that which eludes the grasp. Besides, speech that deals with the truth should be unadorned and plain. This popular style has nothing to do with the truth; its aim is to impress the common herd, to ravish heedless ears by its speed; it does not offer itself for discussion, but snatches itself away from discussion. But how can that speech govern others which cannot itself be governed? May I not also remark that all speech which is employed for the purpose of healing our minds, ought to sink into us? Remedies do not avail unless they remain in the system. Besides, this sort of speech contains a great deal of sheer emptiness; it has more sound than power. My terrors should be quieted, my irritations soothed, my illusions shaken off, my indulgences checked, my greed rebuked. And which of these cures can be brought about in a hurry? What physician can heal his patient on a flying visit? May I add that such a jargon of confused and ill-chosen words cannot afford pleasure, either? No; but just as you are well satisfied, in the majority of cases, to have seen through tricks which you did not think could possibly be done, so in the case of these word-gymnasts,—to have heard them once is amply sufficient. For what can a man desire to learn or to imitate in them? What is he to think of their souls, when their speech is sent into the charge in utter disorder, and cannot be kept in hand? Just as, when you run down hill, you cannot stop at the point where you had decided to stop, but your steps are carried along by the momentum of your body and are borne beyond the place where you wished to halt; so this speed of speech has no control over itself, nor is it seemly for philosophy; since philosophy should carefully place her words, not fling them out, and should proceed step by step. “What then?” you say; “should not philosophy sometimes take a loftier tone?” Of course she should; but dignity of character should be preserved, and this is stripped away by such violent and excessive force. Let philosophy possess great forces, but kept well under control; let her stream flow unceasingly, but never become a torrent. And I should hardly allow even to an orator a rapidity of speech like this, which cannot be called back, which goes lawlessly ahead; for how could it be followed by jurors, who are often inexperienced and untrained? Even when the orator is carried away by his desire to show off his powers, or by uncontrollable emotion, even then he should not quicken his pace and heap up words to an extent greater than the ear can endure. You will be acting rightly, therefore, if you do not regard those men who seek how much they may say, rather than how they shall say it, and if for yourself you choose, provided a choice must be made, to speak as Publius Vinicius the stammerer does. When Asellius was asked how Vinicius spoke, he replied: “Gradually” ! (It was a remark of Geminus Varius, by the way: “I don’t see how you can call that man ‘eloquent’; why, he can’t get out three words together.”) Why, then, should you not choose to speak as Vinicius does? Though of course some wag may cross your path, like the person who said, when Vinicius was dragging out his words one by one, as if he were dictating and not speaking. “Say, haven’t you anything to say?” And yet that were the better choice, for the rapidity of Quintus Haterius, the most famous orator of his age, is, in my opinion, to be avoided by a man of sense. Haterius never hesitated, never paused; he made only one start, and only one stop. However, I suppose that certain styles of speech are more or less suitable to nations also; in a Greek you can put up with the unrestrained style, but we Romans, even when writing, have become accustomed to separate our words. And our compatriot Cicero, with whom Roman oratory sprang into prominence, was also a slow pacer. The Roman language is more inclined to take stock of itself, to weigh, and to offer something worth weighing. Fabianus, a man noteworthy because of his life, his knowledge, and, less important than either of these, his eloquence also, used to discuss a subject with dispatch rather than with haste; hence you might call it ease rather than speed. I approve this quality in the wise man; but I do not demand it; only let his speech proceed unhampered, though I prefer that it should be deliberately uttered rather than spouted. However, I have this further reason for frightening you away from the latter malady, namely, that you could only be successful in practising this style by losing your sense of modesty; you would have to rub all shame from your countenance, and refuse to hear yourself speak. For that heedless flow will carry with it many expressions which you would wish to criticize. And, I repeat, you could not attain it and at the same time preserve your sense of shame. Moreover, you would need to practise every day, and transfer your attention from subject matter to words. But words, even if they came to you readily and flowed without any exertion on your part, yet would have to be kept under control. For just as a less ostentatious gait becomes a philosopher, so does a restrained style of speech, far removed from boldness. Therefore, the ultimate kernel of my remarks is this: I bid you be slow of speech. Farewell.

[1] Quod frequenter mihi scribis gratias ago; nam quo uno modo potes te mihi ostendis. Numquam epistulam tuam accipio ut non protinus una simus. Si imagines nobis amicorum absentium iucundae sunt, quae memoriam renovant et desiderium [absentiae] falso atque inani solacio levant, quanto iucundiores sunt litterae, quae vera amici absentis vestigia, veras notas afferunt? Nam quod in conspectu dulcissimum est, id amici manus epistulae impressa praestat, agnoscere. [2] Audisse te scribis Serapionem philosophum, cum istuc applicuisset: 'solet magno cursu verba convellere, quae non effundit +ima+ sed premit et urguet; plura enim veniunt quam quibus vox una sufficiat'. Hoc non probo in philosopho, cuius pronuntiatio quoque, sicut vita, debet esse composita; nihil autem ordinatum est quod praecipitatur et properat. Itaque oratio illa apud Homerum concitata et sine intermissione in morem nivis superveniens oratori data est, lenis et melle dulcior seni profluit. [3] Sic itaque habe: [ut] istam vim dicendi rapidam atque abundantem aptiorem esse circulanti quam agenti rem magnam ac seriam docentique. Aeque stillare illum nolo quam currere; nec extendat aures nec obruat. Nam illa quoque inopia et exilitas minus intentum auditorem habet taedio interruptae tarditatis; facilius tamen insidit quod exspectatur quam quod praetervolat. Venique tradere homines discipulis praecepta dicuntur: non traditur quod fugit. [4] Adice nunc quod quae veritati operam dat oratio incomposita esse debet et simplex: haec popularis nihil habet veri. Movere vult turbam et inconsultas aures impetu rapere, tractandam se non praebet, aufertur: quomodo autem regere potest quae regi non potest? Quid quod haec oratio quae sanandis mentibus adhibetur descendere in nos debet? remedia non prosunt nisi immorantur. [5] Multum praeterea habet inanitatis et vani, plus sonat quam valet. Lenienda sunt quae me exterrent, compescenda quae irritant, discutienda quae fallunt, inhibenda luxuria, corripienda avaritia: quid horum raptim potest fieri? quis medicus aegros in transitu curat? Quid quod ne voluptatem quidem ullam habet talis verborum sine dilectu ruentium strepitus? [6] Sed ut pleraque quae fieri posse non crederes cognovisse satis est, ita istos qui verba exercuerunt abunde est semel audisse. Quid enim quis discere, quid imitari velit? quid de eorum animo iudicet quorum oratio perturbata et immissa est nec potest reprimi? [7] Quemadmodum per proclive currentium non ubi visum est gradus sistitur, sed incitato corporis ponderi servit ac longius quam voluit effertur, sic ista dicendi celeritas nec in sua potestate est nec satis decora philosophiae, quae ponere debet verba, non proicere, et pedetemptim procedere. [8] 'Quid ergo? non aliquando et insurget?' Quidni? sed salva dignitate morum, quam violenta ista et nimia vis exuit. Habeat vires magnas, moderatas tamen; perennis sit unda, non torrens. Vix oratori permiserim talem dicendi velocitatem inrevocabilem ac sine lege vadentem: quemadmodum enim iudex subsequi poterit aliquando etiam imperitus et rudis? Tum quoque, cum illum aut ostentatio abstulerit aut affectus impotens sui, tantum festinet atque ingerat quantum aures pati possunt. [9] Recte ergo facies si non audieris istos qui quantum dicant, non quemadmodum quaerunt, et ipse malueris, si necesse est, +vel P. Vinicium dicere qui itaque+. Cum quaereretur quomodo P. Vinicius diceret, Asellius ait 'tractim'. Nam Geminus Varius ait, 'quomodo istum disertum dicatis nescio: tria verba non potest iungere'. Quidni malis tu sic dicere quomodo Vinicius? [10] Aliquis tam insulsus intervenerit quam qui illi singula verba vellenti, tamquam dictaret, non diceret, ait 'dic, +numquam dicas+?' Nam Q. Hateri cursum, suis temporibus oratoris celeberrimi, longe abesse ab homine sano volo: numquam dubitavit, numquam intermisit; semel incipiebat, semel desinebat. [11] Quaedam tamen et nationibus puto magis aut minus convenire. In Graecis hanc licentiam tuleris: nos etiam cum scribimus interpungere assuevimus. Cicero quoque noster, a quo Romana eloquentia exsiluit, gradarius fuit. Romanus sermo magis se circumspicit et aestimat praebetque aestimandum. [12] Fabianus, vir egregius et vita et scientia et, quod post ista est, eloquentia quoque, disputabat expedite magis quam concitate, ut posses dicere facilitatem esse illam, non celeritatem. Hanc ego in viro sapiente recipio, non exigo; ut oratio eius sine impedimento exeat, proferatur tamen malo quam profluat. [13] Eo autem magis te deterreo ab isto morbo quod non potest tibi ista res contingere aliter quam si te pudere desierit: perfrices frontem oportet et te ipse non audias; multa enim inobservatus ille cursus feret quae reprendere velis. [14] Non potest, inquam, tibi contingere res ista salva verecundia. Praeterea exercitatione opus est cotidiana et a rebus studium transferendum est ad verba. Haec autem etiam si aderunt et poterunt sine ullo tuo labore decurrere, tamen temperanda sunt; nam quemadmodum sapienti viro incessus modestior convenit, ita oratio pressa, non audax. Summa ergo summarum haec erit: tardilocum esse te iubeo. Vale.