Cicero, Orations Vol. 1

...perceived in the minds of the listeners, is understood. Nor indeed can it be said that Demosthenes did not accomplish much by speaking. I would be insane if I were to attempt to detract anything from the greatest praises attributed to him by the consensus of all the most excellent men. Especially since Cicero himself puts him far ahead of everyone, and affirms that whenever he was about to speak, crowds from all over Greece were accustomed to gather to hear him. But yet, when Demosthenes was at his most flourishing, we read that Demades was preferred even to him; and Phocion’s piercing power of speech, or perhaps the integrity of his life known to the people, so often thwarted him that he himself was accustomed to call him the "axe" of his words. In the age of Cicero, although it never produced more or better orators, yet no one was found with an equal faculty of speaking, nor was there such proven sanctity of life in anyone that men were moved more by it than by his oratory. Terrified by the vehemence of this accusation, Hortensius withdrew from the defense of Verres, even though he greatly wished him to be defended and was believed to be able to attain anything through speaking. Cicero always eluded that most grave authority and severity of speech of Marcus Cato—than whom no man was ever more excellent in every virtue—whenever he stood against him, with an abundance of oratory and a certain festive courtesy. And lest I seem too ambitious in gathering everything together—to pass over how often he moved the judges, how often the senate, how often the people; to keep silent about how he suppressed the audacity of Catiline and aroused the entire state against Antonius—how great the power of his oratory was and how easily he drew men to those things which he desired, that alone can be proof to us: because, when having immediately entered upon his illustrious consulship, and seeing that great disturbances were being stirred up in the Republic by the agrarian law proposed by the seditious tribunes of the plebs, he did not hesitate to call the tribunes to an assembly and, with the people themselves as judge—whose interests he was thought to be opposing—to argue against them. And he spoke here in such a way, and omitted nothing of what was necessary to win over the minds of men, that no one ever persuaded the people to anything with such great will as he did in overturning a law most grateful and pleasant to the people. Not undeservedly, therefore, while he lived he was called the master of the courts, and after his death, down to this very day, his name flourishes so much among all nations, and grows so much day by day, that no oblivion seems capable of ever obscuring it, and no eternity capable of bringing an end to his praises. He alone of all orators expressed that very ideal of perfect eloquence which he himself seeks in his Orator, which we scarcely intuit with our minds, and which Antonius had seen in no one. The more similar anyone is to him, the more eloquent he ought to be considered. To his writings, we cannot even imagine anything more ornate. If only all those things of his, which perished due to the injury of time or the constant devastation of Italy by so many wars, could have reached our hands! The Roman tongue would be far wealthier, and the store of Latin eloquence far better equipped. But although many things have been intercepted, it turned out well that of these orations which he wrote, in which all the power of speaking and all the ornament of eloquence are explained, we regret the loss of very few. Although even in these we can complain of this: that those which neither the proscription of Antonius, nor the fury of war, nor the span of so many years could snatch from us, have been so fouled by the ignorance of the following centuries, like some kind of rust, that it seems to be an immense labor to restore them to their own luster. As for us, as far as was in our power, and as much as old copies could assist us, we have attempted to bring whatever help we could; nor did we think that anything could be done by us that would be more beneficial to those who are held by the study of eloquence than if these very orations of Cicero—that is, the very fountains of eloquence from which they could drink abundantly—had been thoroughly purified by us. In which matter, however, we are so far from wishing to claim that nothing has been omitted that we think that we have merely laid the foundations, and that the work itself, if many should apply themselves to it with equal study and labor following this example, could then perhaps eventually be completed. And indeed, we wished these orations to go forth under your name, Pope Leo, especially for this reason—to omit all other things—that although you are placed in such greatness that no mortal touches closer to God, and it is necessary that you always be occupied with the greatest matters, we hear that you are nonetheless most delighted by these things and never interrupt the study of letters, and that no one is valued by you more than one who excels others in any kind of the finest arts. And of this matter, there could be proof to everyone from the very beginning of this your most ample dignity: that you wished to have at your side Peter Bembo and Jacopo Sadoleto, men as closely united by the highest mutual benevolence as they are, both in character and in every kind of literature, most similar and most ornate of all men of our age. Already then, a great hope was offered to me that all the liberal arts would revive with your help, since you thought those who excelled in them should be joined to you and honored with every dignity. But our understanding of your mind in this matter has not been perceived through this one thing alone; it reveals itself daily through many other signs. And as the parent of the most illustrious talents, Rome always provides you with many men excelling in every kind of learning; and not inferior to these, many flow in from all parts of the world, as if to a common fatherland of all nations and the entire globe. Indeed, Rome was born with this destiny from the very beginning, that it should receive whatever excellent thing had arisen anywhere in the world. You embrace all these, and you pursue them with such benevolence, that you live most willingly with no other class of men; to none are the entrances to you easier, to none is your liberality more open. From these things, and from the many virtues which shine in you, I have been led to the opinion that you were both given to the world by God, the Best and Greatest, and set over the entire Christian Republic for this reason: that you might be the one under whose leadership Rome is restored to that ancient greatness of empire, of all virtues, and of the liberal arts. But this must surely be done by you first, for we are pressed by it more, and if it is not met, it can be a great calamity for us. With excessive audacity, the enemies of the Christian name are now being emboldened; too wantonly they insult us, while we have tolerated all their injuries for many years now; we have come into the greatest contempt, nor is there anything that they do not think is permitted to them against us. What regions, what fields have they not ravaged many times over these years? What gulfs have they not penetrated? From what shores have they not carried off spoils? What ignominy have they not branded upon us? Indeed—(an abominable crime, O immortal gods!)—they have occupied that most flourishing Greece, the parent of letters and of all virtues, while we were silent and, indeed, almost handing it over. We have allowed our allies and most friendly kings to be oppressed and stripped of their kingdoms almost before our eyes. Was our own state, forsooth, not at stake then? Did the calamity of these things pertain nothing to us? Was it enough for each one to defend his own borders? Was nothing else to be cared for? Surely, it has come about by this negligence of ours that great strength has been added to them in a short time, and great help has been withdrawn from us. They have grown not by their own strength, but by our sloth. We, I say, we have nourished them against ourselves; we have increased them so much that many things may now be justly feared from them, unless provision is made. But provision must surely be made, and we ought no longer to endure anything that will be disgraceful to us. Everyone thinks that this is your duty, that this burden rests upon you. Nor is it demanded of you (although not even this could anyone else do besides you) that you merely ward them off from our borders, that you repress those who are exulting and rashly rushing upon us. There is something greater which seems to be owed to your greatness by you. Unless, with war voluntarily brought upon them, both all the stain previously incurred by us is washed away by their blood, and they are utterly destroyed so that they can never at any time rise up to our destruction, the great expectation of all concerning you cannot in any way be satisfied. Nor indeed will it be the most difficult thing to do, if with you as the leader...