Letter 7017: Every author has his own reasons for giving recitals; mine, as I have often said before, is that I may discover any...
Pliny the Younger→Celer, senator|c. 107 AD|Pliny the Younger|Human translated
education books
To Celer.
Every author has his own reasons for giving recitals; mine, as I have often said before, is that I may discover any slip I may have made, and I certainly do make them. So I am surprised when you say that some people have found fault with me for giving recitals of speeches at all, unless, indeed, they think that speeches are the only kind of composition which requires no emendations. I should be very glad if they were to tell me why they allow - if they do allow it - that history is a proper subject for recitation, seeing that history is written not for display but in the interests of strict truth, or why they should consider a tragedy a fit subject, seeing that it requires not an audience room but a stage and actors, or lyric verses, which need not a reader but the accompaniment of a chorus and a lyre. Perhaps they will say that long established custom sanctions the practice. Then is the originator of it to be blamed ? Besides, not only our own countrymen but the Greeks as well have constantly read speeches. But, they say, it is a waste of time to give a reading of a speech which has already been delivered. So it would be if the speech remained identically the same, and you read it to the same audience and immediately after its delivery; but if you make a number of additions, if you recast numerous passages, if you have a new audience, or if the audience be the same and yet a considerable time has elapsed, why should one hesitate more about giving a reading of an already delivered speech than about publishing it ? It may be argued that it is difficult to make a speech convincing when it is read. True, but that is a point connected with the difficulty of reciting, and has no bearing on the argument that a speech should not be read at all.
For my own part I desire applause, not when I am reciting but when other people are reading my book, and that is why I let no opportunity of emending a passage escape me. In the first place, I go carefully over what I have written again and again; then I read it to two or three friends; subsequently I pass it on to others to make marginal criticisms, and, if I am in doubt, I once more call in a friend or two to help me in weighing their value. Last of all, I read it to a large audience, and it is then, if you can credit the statement, that I make the severest corrections, because the greater my anxiety to please, the more diligent I am in application. But the best judges of all are modesty, respect, and awe. Consider the matter in this light. If you are going to enter into conversation with some one person, however learned he may be, are you not less flurried than you would be if you were entering into conversation with a number of people or with persons who know nothing ? Is not your diffidence the greatest just at the moment when you rise to plead, and is it not then that you wish not only a large part of your speech but the whole of it were cast in a different mould ? Especially is this the case if the scene of the encounter is a spacious one and there is a dense ring of spectators, for we feel nervous even of the meanest and commonest folk who crowd there. If you think your opening points are badly received, does it not weaken your nerve and make you feel like collapse? I fancy so, the reason being that there exists a considerable weight of sound opinion in mere numbers simply, and though, if you take them individually, their judgment is worth next to nothing, taken collectively, it is worth a great deal.
Hence it was that Pomponius Secundus, who used to write tragedies, was in the habit of exclaiming, " I appeal to the people," whenever he thought that a passage should be retained, which some one of his intimate friends considered had better be expunged, and so he either stuck to his own opinion or followed that of his friend, according as the people received the passage in silence or greeted it with applause. Such was the high estimate he formed of the popular judgment; whether rightly or wrongly does not affect me. For my custom is to call in, not the people, but a few carefully selected friends, whose judgment I respect and have confidence in, and whose faces I can watch individually, yet who are numerous enough collectively to put me in some awe. For I think that although Marcus Cicero says, "Composition is the keenest critic in the world," * this applies even more to the fear of speaking in public. The very fact that we keep thinking we are going to give a reading sharpens our critical taste, so too does our entry into the audience-hall, so too do our pale looks, anxious tremors, and our glances from side to side. Hence I am far from repenting of my practice, which I find of the greatest value to me, and so far am I from being deterred by the idle talk of my critics that I beg of you to point out to me some additional method of criticism in addition to those I have enumerated. For though I take great pains I never seem to take enough. I keep thinking what a serious matter it is to place anything in the hands of the public for them to read, nor can I persuade myself that' any work of mine, which you are always anxious should get a welcome everywhere, does not stand in need of constant revision by myself and a number of my friends. Farewell.
[Note: Cicero, De Oratore, i. (33)150.]
L To Celer.
Every author has his own reasons for giving recitals; mine, as I have often said before, is that I may discover any slip I may have made, and I certainly do make them. So I am surprised when you say that some people have found fault with me for giving recitals of speeches at all, unless, indeed, they think that speeches are the only kind of composition which requires no emendations. I should be very glad if they were to tell me why they allow - if they do allow it - that history is a proper subject for recitation, seeing that history is written not for display but in the interests of strict truth, or why they should consider a tragedy a fit subject, seeing that it requires not an audience room but a stage and actors, or lyric verses, which need not a reader but the accompaniment of a chorus and a lyre. Perhaps they will say that long established custom sanctions the practice. Then is the originator of it to be blamed ? Besides, not only our own countrymen but the Greeks as well have constantly read speeches. But, they say, it is a waste of time to give a reading of a speech which has already been delivered. So it would be if the speech remained identically the same, and you read it to the same audience and immediately after its delivery; but if you make a number of additions, if you recast numerous passages, if you have a new audience, or if the audience be the same and yet a considerable time has elapsed, why should one hesitate more about giving a reading of an already delivered speech than about publishing it ? It may be argued that it is difficult to make a speech convincing when it is read. True, but that is a point connected with the difficulty of reciting, and has no bearing on the argument that a speech should not be read at all.
For my own part I desire applause, not when I am reciting but when other people are reading my book, and that is why I let no opportunity of emending a passage escape me. In the first place, I go carefully over what I have written again and again; then I read it to two or three friends; subsequently I pass it on to others to make marginal criticisms, and, if I am in doubt, I once more call in a friend or two to help me in weighing their value. Last of all, I read it to a large audience, and it is then, if you can credit the statement, that I make the severest corrections, because the greater my anxiety to please, the more diligent I am in application. But the best judges of all are modesty, respect, and awe. Consider the matter in this light. If you are going to enter into conversation with some one person, however learned he may be, are you not less flurried than you would be if you were entering into conversation with a number of people or with persons who know nothing ? Is not your diffidence the greatest just at the moment when you rise to plead, and is it not then that you wish not only a large part of your speech but the whole of it were cast in a different mould ? Especially is this the case if the scene of the encounter is a spacious one and there is a dense ring of spectators, for we feel nervous even of the meanest and commonest folk who crowd there. If you think your opening points are badly received, does it not weaken your nerve and make you feel like collapse? I fancy so, the reason being that there exists a considerable weight of sound opinion in mere numbers simply, and though, if you take them individually, their judgment is worth next to nothing, taken collectively, it is worth a great deal.
Hence it was that Pomponius Secundus, who used to write tragedies, was in the habit of exclaiming, " I appeal to the people," whenever he thought that a passage should be retained, which some one of his intimate friends considered had better be expunged, and so he either stuck to his own opinion or followed that of his friend, according as the people received the passage in silence or greeted it with applause. Such was the high estimate he formed of the popular judgment; whether rightly or wrongly does not affect me. For my custom is to call in, not the people, but a few carefully selected friends, whose judgment I respect and have confidence in, and whose faces I can watch individually, yet who are numerous enough collectively to put me in some awe. For I think that although Marcus Cicero says, "Composition is the keenest critic in the world," * this applies even more to the fear of speaking in public. The very fact that we keep thinking we are going to give a reading sharpens our critical taste, so too does our entry into the audience-hall, so too do our pale looks, anxious tremors, and our glances from side to side. Hence I am far from repenting of my practice, which I find of the greatest value to me, and so far am I from being deterred by the idle talk of my critics that I beg of you to point out to me some additional method of criticism in addition to those I have enumerated. For though I take great pains I never seem to take enough. I keep thinking what a serious matter it is to place anything in the hands of the public for them to read, nor can I persuade myself that' any work of mine, which you are always anxious should get a welcome everywhere, does not stand in need of constant revision by myself and a number of my friends. Farewell.
(*) Cicero, De Oratore, i. (33)150.
C. PLINIUS CELERI SUO S.
Sua cuique ratio recitandi; mihi quod saepe iam dixi, ut si quid me fugit — ut certe fugit — admonear. Quo magis miror, quod scribis fuisse quosdam qui reprehenderent quod orationes omnino recitarem; nisi vero has solas non putant emendandas. A quibus libenter requisierim, cur concedant — si concedunt tamen — historiam debere recitari, quae non ostentationi sed fidei veritatique componitur; cur tragoediam, quae non auditorium sed scaenam et actores; cur lyrica, quae non lectorem sed chorum et lyram poscunt. At horum recitatio usu iam recepta est. Num ergo culpandus est ille qui coepit? Quamquam orationes quoque et nostri quidam et Graeci lectitaverunt. Supervacuum tamen est recitare quae dixeris. Etiam, si eadem omnia, si isdem omnibus, si statim recites; si vero multa inseras multa commutes, si quosdam novos quosdam eosdem sed post tempus assumas, cur minus probabilis sit causa recitandi quae dixeris quam edendi? Sed difficile est ut oratio dum recitatur satisfaciat. Iam hoc ad laborem recitantis pertinet, non ad rationem non recitandi. Nec vero ego dum recito laudari, sed dum legor cupio. Itaque nullum emendandi genus omitto. Ac primum quae scripsi mecum ipse pertracto; deinde duobus aut tribus lego; mox aliis trado adnotanda, notasque eorum, si dubito, cum uno rursus aut altero pensito; novissime pluribus recito, ac si quid mihi credis tunc acerrime emendo; nam tanto diligentius quanto sollicitius intendo. Optime autem reverentia pudor metus iudicant, idque adeo sic habe: Nonne si locuturus es cum aliquo quamlibet docto, uno tamen, minus commoveris quam si cum multis vel indoctis? Nonne cum surgis ad agendum, tunc maxime tibi ipse diffidis, tunc commutata non dico plurima sed omnia cupis? utique si latior scaena et corona diffusior; nam illos quoque sordidos pullatosque reveremur. Nonne si prima quaeque improbari putas, debilitaris et concidis? Opinor, quia in numero ipso est quoddam magnum collatumque consilium, quibusque singulis iudicii parum, omnibus plurimum. Itaque Pomponius Secundus — hic scriptor tragoediarum -, si quid forte familiarior amicus tollendum, ipse retinendum arbitraretur, dicere solebat: 'Ad populum provoco', atque ita ex populi vel silentio vel assensu aut suam aut amici sententiam sequebatur. Tantum ille populo dabat; recte an secus, nihil ad me. Ego enim non populum advocare sed certos electosque soleo, quos intuear quibus credam, quos denique et tamquam singulos observem et tamquam non singulos timeam. Nam, quod M. Cicero de stilo, ego de metu sentio: timor est, timor emendator asperrimus. Hoc ipsum quod nos recitaturos cogitamus emendat; quod auditorium ingredimur emendat; quod pallemus horrescimus circumspicimus emendat. Proinde non paenitet me consuetudinis meae quam utilissimam experior, adeoque non deterreor sermunculis istorum, ut ultro te rogem monstres aliquid quod his addam. Nihil enim curae meae satis est. Cogito quam sit magnum dare aliquid in manus hominum, nec persuadere mihi possum non et cum multis et saepe tractandum, quod placere et semper et omnibus cupias. Vale.
◆
To Celer.
Every author has his own reasons for giving recitals; mine, as I have often said before, is that I may discover any slip I may have made, and I certainly do make them. So I am surprised when you say that some people have found fault with me for giving recitals of speeches at all, unless, indeed, they think that speeches are the only kind of composition which requires no emendations. I should be very glad if they were to tell me why they allow - if they do allow it - that history is a proper subject for recitation, seeing that history is written not for display but in the interests of strict truth, or why they should consider a tragedy a fit subject, seeing that it requires not an audience room but a stage and actors, or lyric verses, which need not a reader but the accompaniment of a chorus and a lyre. Perhaps they will say that long established custom sanctions the practice. Then is the originator of it to be blamed ? Besides, not only our own countrymen but the Greeks as well have constantly read speeches. But, they say, it is a waste of time to give a reading of a speech which has already been delivered. So it would be if the speech remained identically the same, and you read it to the same audience and immediately after its delivery; but if you make a number of additions, if you recast numerous passages, if you have a new audience, or if the audience be the same and yet a considerable time has elapsed, why should one hesitate more about giving a reading of an already delivered speech than about publishing it ? It may be argued that it is difficult to make a speech convincing when it is read. True, but that is a point connected with the difficulty of reciting, and has no bearing on the argument that a speech should not be read at all.
For my own part I desire applause, not when I am reciting but when other people are reading my book, and that is why I let no opportunity of emending a passage escape me. In the first place, I go carefully over what I have written again and again; then I read it to two or three friends; subsequently I pass it on to others to make marginal criticisms, and, if I am in doubt, I once more call in a friend or two to help me in weighing their value. Last of all, I read it to a large audience, and it is then, if you can credit the statement, that I make the severest corrections, because the greater my anxiety to please, the more diligent I am in application. But the best judges of all are modesty, respect, and awe. Consider the matter in this light. If you are going to enter into conversation with some one person, however learned he may be, are you not less flurried than you would be if you were entering into conversation with a number of people or with persons who know nothing ? Is not your diffidence the greatest just at the moment when you rise to plead, and is it not then that you wish not only a large part of your speech but the whole of it were cast in a different mould ? Especially is this the case if the scene of the encounter is a spacious one and there is a dense ring of spectators, for we feel nervous even of the meanest and commonest folk who crowd there. If you think your opening points are badly received, does it not weaken your nerve and make you feel like collapse? I fancy so, the reason being that there exists a considerable weight of sound opinion in mere numbers simply, and though, if you take them individually, their judgment is worth next to nothing, taken collectively, it is worth a great deal.
Hence it was that Pomponius Secundus, who used to write tragedies, was in the habit of exclaiming, " I appeal to the people," whenever he thought that a passage should be retained, which some one of his intimate friends considered had better be expunged, and so he either stuck to his own opinion or followed that of his friend, according as the people received the passage in silence or greeted it with applause. Such was the high estimate he formed of the popular judgment; whether rightly or wrongly does not affect me. For my custom is to call in, not the people, but a few carefully selected friends, whose judgment I respect and have confidence in, and whose faces I can watch individually, yet who are numerous enough collectively to put me in some awe. For I think that although Marcus Cicero says, "Composition is the keenest critic in the world," * this applies even more to the fear of speaking in public. The very fact that we keep thinking we are going to give a reading sharpens our critical taste, so too does our entry into the audience-hall, so too do our pale looks, anxious tremors, and our glances from side to side. Hence I am far from repenting of my practice, which I find of the greatest value to me, and so far am I from being deterred by the idle talk of my critics that I beg of you to point out to me some additional method of criticism in addition to those I have enumerated. For though I take great pains I never seem to take enough. I keep thinking what a serious matter it is to place anything in the hands of the public for them to read, nor can I persuade myself that' any work of mine, which you are always anxious should get a welcome everywhere, does not stand in need of constant revision by myself and a number of my friends. Farewell.
[Note: Cicero, De Oratore, i. (33)150.]
Human translation — Attalus.org
Latin / Greek Original
C. PLINIUS CELERI SUO S.
Sua cuique ratio recitandi; mihi quod saepe iam dixi, ut si quid me fugit — ut certe fugit — admonear. Quo magis miror, quod scribis fuisse quosdam qui reprehenderent quod orationes omnino recitarem; nisi vero has solas non putant emendandas. A quibus libenter requisierim, cur concedant — si concedunt tamen — historiam debere recitari, quae non ostentationi sed fidei veritatique componitur; cur tragoediam, quae non auditorium sed scaenam et actores; cur lyrica, quae non lectorem sed chorum et lyram poscunt. At horum recitatio usu iam recepta est. Num ergo culpandus est ille qui coepit? Quamquam orationes quoque et nostri quidam et Graeci lectitaverunt. Supervacuum tamen est recitare quae dixeris. Etiam, si eadem omnia, si isdem omnibus, si statim recites; si vero multa inseras multa commutes, si quosdam novos quosdam eosdem sed post tempus assumas, cur minus probabilis sit causa recitandi quae dixeris quam edendi? Sed difficile est ut oratio dum recitatur satisfaciat. Iam hoc ad laborem recitantis pertinet, non ad rationem non recitandi. Nec vero ego dum recito laudari, sed dum legor cupio. Itaque nullum emendandi genus omitto. Ac primum quae scripsi mecum ipse pertracto; deinde duobus aut tribus lego; mox aliis trado adnotanda, notasque eorum, si dubito, cum uno rursus aut altero pensito; novissime pluribus recito, ac si quid mihi credis tunc acerrime emendo; nam tanto diligentius quanto sollicitius intendo. Optime autem reverentia pudor metus iudicant, idque adeo sic habe: Nonne si locuturus es cum aliquo quamlibet docto, uno tamen, minus commoveris quam si cum multis vel indoctis? Nonne cum surgis ad agendum, tunc maxime tibi ipse diffidis, tunc commutata non dico plurima sed omnia cupis? utique si latior scaena et corona diffusior; nam illos quoque sordidos pullatosque reveremur. Nonne si prima quaeque improbari putas, debilitaris et concidis? Opinor, quia in numero ipso est quoddam magnum collatumque consilium, quibusque singulis iudicii parum, omnibus plurimum. Itaque Pomponius Secundus — hic scriptor tragoediarum -, si quid forte familiarior amicus tollendum, ipse retinendum arbitraretur, dicere solebat: 'Ad populum provoco', atque ita ex populi vel silentio vel assensu aut suam aut amici sententiam sequebatur. Tantum ille populo dabat; recte an secus, nihil ad me. Ego enim non populum advocare sed certos electosque soleo, quos intuear quibus credam, quos denique et tamquam singulos observem et tamquam non singulos timeam. Nam, quod M. Cicero de stilo, ego de metu sentio: timor est, timor emendator asperrimus. Hoc ipsum quod nos recitaturos cogitamus emendat; quod auditorium ingredimur emendat; quod pallemus horrescimus circumspicimus emendat. Proinde non paenitet me consuetudinis meae quam utilissimam experior, adeoque non deterreor sermunculis istorum, ut ultro te rogem monstres aliquid quod his addam. Nihil enim curae meae satis est. Cogito quam sit magnum dare aliquid in manus hominum, nec persuadere mihi possum non et cum multis et saepe tractandum, quod placere et semper et omnibus cupias. Vale.