39 Perhaps what I am going to
say will be thought trifling and ridiculous; but I will say it even to be
laughed at. What contempt (so I think at least) has been brought on eloquence
by those little overcoats into which we squeeze, and, so to say, box ourselves
up, when we chat with the judges! How much force may we suppose has been taken
from our speeches by the little rooms and offices in which nearly all cases
have to be set forth. Just as a spacious course tests a fine horse, so the
orator has his field, and unless he can move in it freely and at ease, his
eloquence grows feeble and breaks down. Nay more; we find the pains and labour of
careful composition out of place, for the judge keeps asking when you are going
to open the case, and you must begin from his question. Frequently he imposes
silence on the advocate to hear proofs and witnesses. Meanwhile only one or two
persons stand by you as you are speaking and the whole business is transacted
almost in solitude. But the orator wants shouts and applause, and something
like a theatre, all which and the like were the every day lot of the orators of
antiquity, when both numbers and nobility pressed into the forum, when
gatherings of clients and the people in their tribes and deputations from the
towns and indeed a great part of Italy stood by the accused in his peril, and
Rome’s citizens felt in a multitude of trials that they themselves had an
interest in the decision. We know that there was a universal rush of the people
to hear the accusation and the defence of Cornelius, Scaurus, Milo, Bestia, and
Vatinius, so that even the coldest speaker might have been stirred and kindled
by the mere enthusiasm of the citizens in their strife. And therefore indeed
such pleadings are still extant, and thus the men too who pleaded, owe their
fame to no other speeches more than these.
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