Works 1 part 1/3

Whoever, I pray, desires to learn the ways of civic life, let him read these precepts which this book contains. King Charles, amid the cares of the court, wrote these things, and Albinus together with him: the one provided them, the other approves. One work of both, but the purpose of the two unequal: the one is the father of the world, the other a needy dweller within it. Do not despise the book, reader, for its small size: in a very small body the bee carries honey to you. Since God, venerable master Albinus, has brought you here and led you back, I ask that it be permitted me to question you a little concerning the precepts of the rhetorical art; for I remember that you once said that the whole force of that art is engaged in civil questions.

But, as you know very well, on account of the affairs of the kingdom and the cares of the palace we are wont to be constantly engaged in questions of this kind, and it seems ridiculous not to have known the precepts of that art with whose practice one must daily be involved. Indeed, ever since by a few of your responses you partly opened to me the doors of the rhetorical art and the bars of dialectical subtlety, you made me very intent upon those studies, especially because the other day you shrewdly led me into the storerooms of the discipline of arithmetic and illumined me with the splendor of astronomy. (A.)

God, my lord King Charles, has illumined you with every light of wisdom and adorned you with the brilliance of knowledge, so that you can not only readily follow the talents of masters, but even in many things swiftly outrun them; and although the spark of my small wit can add nothing to the flame-spewing light of your wisdom, nevertheless, lest any should brand me as disobedient, I answer your questions all too readily — and would that I might do so as shrewdly as obediently. (Ch.) First, master, lay open to me the beginning of this art or study. (A.) I shall lay it open, according to the authority of the ancients. For there was, as it is said, a certain time when men wandered here and there in the fields after the manner of beasts, and managed nothing by the reason of the mind, but did most things by the strength of the body.

Not yet was the order of divine religion or of human duty cultivated, but blind and reckless desire, ruling as mistress, abused the strength of the body to satisfy itself. At which time a certain man, great indeed and wise, recognized what material and how great an opportunity for the greatest things lay within the minds of men, if anyone could draw it forth and, by instructing it, render it better. He, by a certain reasoning, gathered into one place the men scattered in the fields and hidden in woodland shelters, and brought them together; and leading them on to each useful and honorable thing, though at first they protested on account of its unfamiliarity, then, as they listened more eagerly because of his reason and his eloquence, he rendered them from wild and savage into gentle and meek.

And to me indeed it seems, my lord king, that a wisdom neither silent nor lacking in eloquence could have accomplished this, namely, to turn men suddenly away from their habit and lead them over to the various rational ways of life. (Ch.) Whence is rhetoric so called? (A.) From 'apo tou retoreuein,' that is, from abundance of speaking. (Ch.) To what end does it look? (A.) To the science of speaking well. (Ch.) In what matters is it engaged? (A.) In civil, that is, in learned questions, which can be conceived by the natural ingenuity of the mind. For just as it is natural to all to defend themselves and to strike another, even if they have not learned by arms and training, so it is almost natural to all to accuse others and to clear themselves, even if they have not learned by practice.

But those use speech more usefully and more readily who are instructed in the disciplines and exercised by practice; for it is natural to all to speak, yet he greatly surpasses others who speaks by the rule of grammar. (Ch.) You speak well, master; indeed our whole life advances by the disciplines and is strengthened by use; therefore lay open to us the rules of this rhetorical discipline: now the daily necessity of our occupations compels us to be exercised in them. And first tell how many are the parts of that art. (A.) The parts of the rhetorical art are five: invention, arrangement, expression, memory, delivery. Invention is the devising of true or probable things which render the cause plausible. Arrangement is the distribution into order of the things invented.

Expression is the fitting of suitable words to the invention. Memory is the firm perception by the mind of the matters and words belonging to the invention. Delivery is the regulation of voice and body in accordance with the dignity of the matters and words. For first one must invent what to say, then arrange what one has invented, then unfold in words what one has arranged, fourthly grasp by memory what one has invented and arranged and clothed in speech, and lastly and supremely deliver what one has grasped by memory. (Ch.) If rhetoric is engaged in civil causes and questions, it is necessary, as it seems to me, that the causes themselves have definite kinds, which I would have wished to know and to have shown me by examples. (A.)

The rhetorical art is engaged in three kinds, that is, the demonstrative, the deliberative, and the judicial. The demonstrative kind is that which is assigned to the praise or blame of some particular person, as is read in Genesis concerning Abel and Cain: 'The Lord looked upon Abel and upon his gifts, but upon Cain and his gifts he looked not.' The deliberative is in persuasion and dissuasion, as is read in Kings, how Achitophel persuaded that David be destroyed more swiftly, and how Chushai dissuaded his counsel, that he might save the king.

The judicial is that in which there is accusation and defense, as we read in the Acts of the Apostles, how the Jews, together with a certain orator Tertullus, accused Paul before the governor Felix, and how Paul defended himself before the same governor. For in judicial cases it is more often asked what is just; in the demonstrative it is understood what is honorable; in the deliberative it is considered what is honorable and useful. (Ch.) How many circumstances has a cause? (A.) A complete cause has seven circumstances: person, deed, time, place, manner, occasion, means.

In the person it is asked who did it; in the deed, what he did; in the time, when he did it; in the place, where it was done; in the manner, how it could have been done; in the occasion, why he willed to do it; in the means, whether the power of doing was available to him. For by these a cause can be both confirmed and weakened. For in vain do you ask in controversies what was done, if the person of the doer is lacking; and again in vain do you point out the person, if the deed is not attached to the person. Likewise, such a thing could not be done at such a time or in such a place; likewise it could not have been done in the manner you assert; nor for that reason did he wish to do it; nor did such a man have such power that he could have done this. (Ch.) How many are the topics of controversies? (A.)

The topics of controversies, which the rhetoricians call the 'states' of causes — that is, where the question stands and where the parties first fail to agree — are either rational or legal. (Ch.) How many are the rational ones? (A.) Four, that is, of fact, or of name, or of quality, or of transference. (Ch.) Bring forth examples of each. (A.) The first is the controversy of the fact itself, as: 'You did it'; 'I did not do it.' And this first controversy, which consists in the fact, is called the conjectural constitution, because the matter is to be explored by conjectures, whether he did it or not. Or, when the litigants agree about the fact, then they often introduce a controversy of name, because the accuser strives to magnify the crime from its name, and the defender to diminish it.

For example, if someone has stolen a sacred thing from a private place, whether he is to be named a thief or a sacrilegious person. The defender wishes him to be a thief, because a thief pays fourfold; the accuser, a sacrilegious person, because a sacrilegious person is punished with death. And this constitution is called definitive, because what a thief is and what a sacrilegious person is must be defined by reason, and it must be seen into whose definition he falls who has stolen a sacred thing from a private place. But if accuser and defender agree about the fact and about the name of the fact, then the estimation of the fact must be sought, that is, of what sort the deed is — just or unjust, useful or useless. And this constitution is called general, of which the example is:

A certain Roman general, when he was besieged by his enemies and could in no way escape, made a pact with the foe that he would hand over his arms; but when the arms had been handed over, he led out his army safe. He is accused by certain persons of being guilty of treason. Here both parties agree about the fact and about the name of the fact, but it is asked of what sort the deed is, in this way: whether it were better to lose the soldiers or to come to this most shameful condition. Of this constitution there are several parts, of which we shall speak afterward. In the fourth constitution, which we name translative, it is asked whether he who did the thing ought to do it, or at that time, or in that manner, or in that place, or with those with whom he did it: as if Orestes were accused of having killed his mother Clytemnestra —

that the son did not justly kill the mother, although she had killed Agamemnon his father, king of the Greeks. Here it must be asked by transference whether he had acted justly or not. (Ch.) Once the state of the cause has been found, how is the state itself then to be considered? (A.) When the constitution of the cause has been discovered, it at once seems good to consider whether the question of the cause is simple or joined. A simple question is one which contains within itself a single question, in this way: 'Shall we declare war on the Corinthians or not?' A joined question is one which consists of several questions, in this fashion: 'Whether Carthage should be destroyed, or restored to the Carthaginians, or a colony settled there.' (Ch.) But now confirm the legal constitutions with examples. (A.)

It must be considered, as I have already said, whether the controversy is in reason or in writing. For the controversy of writing is that which arises from a written law, in this way: A law: 'Those who in an adverse storm abandon the ship shall lose everything, and the cargo and the ship shall belong to those who remain in it.' Two men, when they were sailing on the deep — the ship belonging to one and the cargo to the other — moved by mercy, took up into the ship a certain shipwrecked man who was swimming.

Afterward the storm began to toss them too somewhat more violently, to such a degree that the owner of the ship, who was also the helmsman, fled into the small boat which was tied fast to the ship (and from there helped the ship as much as he could); but he whose merchandise it was fell upon his sword there in the ship; and the shipwrecked man went to the rudder and steered the ship. With the storm calmed, the ship is brought into harbor. He who had fallen upon his sword, being lightly wounded, recovered from his wound. Each man claimed the ship with the cargo of these three as his own, according to the written law. And here a question arises from the writing — whose the ship is — once definitions are applied: what it is to abandon the ship, and what it is to remain in the ship.

Likewise ambiguity in a written law often produces a question, in this way: 'Let no prostitute possess a crown; if she possesses one, let it be confiscated.' Here there is ambiguity in the writing — whether the prostitute or the crown is to be confiscated. From contrary laws too a question often arises, when concerning one matter one law provides one way and another otherwise. A law: 'Whoever shall kill a tyrant, let him ask of the magistrate whatever thing he wills in place of a reward, and he shall receive it.' Another: 'When a tyrant has been killed, let the magistrate also put to death five of his nearest kinsmen.' Thebe, his own wife, by night killed Alexander, who had seized the tyranny in Thessaly. She demands for herself, in place of a reward, her son whom she had by the tyrant. There are some who say that the boy ought by law to be killed;

there are some who say he ought to be given back to his mother in place of a reward. The matter is in court. And here it must be considered which law pertains to the greater utility, and which was written first, and what legislators each had. A controversy arises from the writing and the intention, when one party uses the very words which are written, the other adds every interpretation to that which he will say the writer intended; as: a law forbids opening the gates by night. A certain man opens them and receives friends into the town, lest they be overwhelmed by the enemy if they remained outside. The accuser presses the letter alone; the defender, the intention: that the writer of the law had ordered the gates of the town to be closed against enemies, not against friends.

Questions arise through reasoning or through the definition of a law, when one party strives to interpret the writing by one reasoning, the other by another, or if they attempt to define the writer's intention in a different manner; and questions of this kind, as I have said, arise from the writing. (Ch.) Once the topic of the controversy has been examined according to what you have said — whether it be in reason or in writing — whither is the mind then to be directed? (A.) One must see what the question, what the reason, what the judication, and what the foundation of the cause is. (Ch.) Speak of each of these. (A.) The question is the constitution in which the disputation of the cause consists, in this way: 'You did not act lawfully'; 'I acted lawfully.'

The reason is that which the accused uses to show why he acted lawfully; as Orestes, if he were accused of matricide, has no defense unless he says this: 'I acted lawfully, for she had killed my father.' The judication is the sum drawn from the reason, of this kind: whether it were right that the mother be killed by Orestes, when she had killed Orestes' father. The foundation is the firmest argument of the defender; as if Orestes should wish to say that the mind of his mother toward his father, toward himself, toward the kingdom, and toward his whole race was such that her own children above all ought to have exacted punishment from her. (Ch.) Of the general constitution you said before that it had several parts: those I ask that you lay open to me, master, and confirm by examples through each one, while I keep silent and approve.

(A.) I shall do so; for that controversy which asks of what sort that deed is which is charged against the accused is called the general constitution, and it has two parts, the juridical and the negotial. The negotial is that in which it is considered what is lawful according to civil custom and equity — over whose careful handling the judges preside — and it has involved within it a controversy of civil law, in this way: A certain man, while he had no son, made a ward his heir. But the ward died before the inheritance had come into his power. A controversy arises from the second heirs of the father: 'The possession is ours.' The claim of the ward's kinsmen is: 'The money is ours, concerning which our kinsman did not make a testament.' The rebuttal is:

'Nay, it is ours, who are heirs by the father's testament.' The question is, whose it is. The reason: 'For the father wrote the testament for the ward, wherefore the things that are his must of necessity become ours.' The weakening of the reason: 'Nay, the father wrote a second heir for himself, not for the ward; wherefore the inheritance cannot be yours by the testament of the ward.' The judication: whether anyone can make a testament concerning the property of a ward who is a son; or whether the second heirs of the head of the family himself, and not also of his son the ward, are heirs. The juridical is that in which the reckoning of the just and the unjust, and of reward or punishment, is sought. Of this there are two parts, the absolute and the assumptive: the absolute, which contains within itself the question of right and wrong, in this way.

When the Thebans had overcome the Lacedaemonians in war, and it was nearly the custom among the Greeks, when they had waged war among themselves, that those who had conquered should set up some trophy on the borders — merely for the sake of declaring the victory at the present time, not that the memory of the war should remain forever — they set up a trophy of bronze. They are accused before the common council of Greece. The claim is: 'It was not fitting.' The rebuttal is: 'It was fitting.' The question is: 'Was it fitting?' The reason is: 'For that glory we won from the war by our valor; that its eternal emblems might be left to our descendants, we set up the trophy.' The weakening is: 'But nevertheless Greeks ought not to set up against Greeks an eternal monument of enmities.' The judication is:

when Greeks, for the sake of celebrating the highest valor, set up against Greeks an eternal monument of enmities, did they act rightly or not? The assumptive is when the deed itself cannot be proved, but is defended by some argument assumed from without. Of this there are four parts: comparison, transference of the crime, removal of the crime, and concession. Comparison is when some other deed, right or useful, is contended for — that, in order that it might be done, the thing which is charged is said to have been committed; as in that example which we set forth a little before. When a Roman general was besieged by the enemy, and could in no way escape unless he made a pact to give the enemy his arms: with the arms given, he preserved the soldiers, but afterward is accused of treason.

The claim is: 'It was not fitting to give up the arms.' The rebuttal is: 'It was fitting.' The question is: 'Was it fitting?' The reason is: 'For all the soldiers would have perished if I had not done this.' The weakening is: 'You did not do it on that account.' From which the judication is: would they have perished, and did he do it on that account? Comparison: whether it were better to come to this most shameful condition, or for the soldiers to perish. Transference of the crime is when the accused, having confessed the thing which is charged, shows that, induced by another's sin, he acted lawfully. It is of this kind. Horatius, after the three Curiatii were slain and two of his brothers lost, returned home a victor. He noticed that his sister was not grieving over the death of the brothers, but repeatedly calling upon the name of Curiatius her betrothed with groaning and lamentation.

Taking it ill, he killed the maiden; he is accused. The claim is: 'You unjustly killed your sister.' The rebuttal: 'I justly killed her.' The question is: 'Did he kill her justly?' The reason is: 'For she mourned the death of the enemy, neglected that of her brothers, and was grieved that I and the Roman people had conquered.' The weakening is: 'Nevertheless, the sister ought not to have been put to death by her brother uncondemned.' From which the judication arises: when Horatia neglected the death of her brothers, mourned that of the enemy, and did not rejoice at the victory of her brother and of the commonwealth, ought she to have been killed by her brother uncondemned? Removal of the crime is when the intention of the deed, which is brought by the adversary, is shifted onto another person or onto another crime. This is done in two ways: for now the cause, now the thing itself is removed.

Let this serve us as an example of the removal of the cause: The Rhodians sent certain men as envoys to Athens; to the envoys the quaestors had not given the expense money which ought to have been given; the envoys did not set out, and are accused. The claim is: 'It was fitting to set out.' The rebuttal is: 'It was not fitting.' The question is: 'Was it fitting?' The reason is: 'For the expense money, which is wont to be given from the public treasury, was not given to these men by the quaestor.' The weakening is: 'Yet you ought to have accomplished that which had been given to you as public business.' The judication is: when, to those who were envoys, the expense money owed from the public treasury was not given, ought they nonetheless to have accomplished the embassy?

But the removal of the thing itself takes place when the accused denies that what is laid to his charge pertained either to himself or to his office, nor, if there be any fault in it, that it ought to be attributed to him. That kind of cause is of this sort: In that treaty which was once made with the Samnites, a certain noble youth held the pig at the command of the commander; but when the treaty was disapproved by the senate and the commander was handed over to the Samnites, a certain man in the senate says that he too, who had held the pig, ought to be handed over. The claim is: he ought to be handed over. The rebuttal is: 'He ought not.' The question is: 'Ought he?'

The reason: 'For it was not my office nor my power, since I was not of that age and was a private person, and with the highest authority and power the commander gave the command, he who was to see to it that a treaty honorable enough should be struck.' The weakening is: 'But indeed, since you became a participant in a most shameful treaty of the highest religious solemnity, it is fitting that you be handed over.' The judication is: when he who had no power took part, at the commander's command, in a treaty and in so great a religious solemnity, whether he ought to be handed over to the enemy or not. This kind of cause differs from the previous one in that, in that case, the accused concedes that he ought to have done what the accuser says ought to have been done, but attributes that cause to some thing or person which was a hindrance to his own will;

but in this case he ought not to accuse another, nor transfer the blame onto another, but to show that the matter pertained nothing to himself, nor to his power, nor to his office, nor pertains. Concession is that through which the deed itself is not justified by the accused, but it is asked that he be pardoned. Of this there are two parts, purgation and deprecation. Purgation is that through which, of him who is accused, not the deed itself but the will is defended. It has three parts: imprudence, chance, and necessity. Imprudence is when it is denied that he who is charged had known something; as: Among certain people there was a law that no one should sacrifice a calf to Diana.

Certain sailors, when they were being tossed on the deep by an adverse storm, vowed that, if they should gain possession of the harbor which they could see, they would sacrifice a calf to the god who was there. By chance there was in that harbor a shrine of that very Diana, to whom it was not permitted to sacrifice a calf. Being unaware of the law, when they had disembarked, they sacrificed a calf; they are accused. The claim is: 'You sacrificed a calf to that god to whom it was not permitted.' The rebuttal is deposited in the concession. The reason is: 'I did not know it was not permitted.' The weakening is: 'Yet, since you did what was not permitted by law, you are worthy of punishment.' The judication is: when he did what he ought not to have done, and did not know that it ought not to be done, is he worthy of punishment?

But chance is brought into the concession when it is shown that some force of fortune stood in the way of the will, as in this case: When the Lacedaemonians had a law that, unless a contractor furnished victims for a certain sacrifice, it should be a capital offense, he who had contracted to furnish the victims, when the day of the sacrifice was at hand, began to drive the victims into the city from the country; when suddenly the river Eurotas, which flows past Lacedaemon, stirred up by great storms, became so great and violent that the victims could in no way be brought across it. The contractor, in order to show his own willingness, stationed all the victims on the shore, so that those who were across the river could see them.

Although all knew, through his zeal, that the sudden swelling of the river had been a hindrance, nevertheless certain men summoned him on a capital charge. The claim is: 'The victims which you owed were not at hand for the sacrifice.' The rebuttal: concession. The reason: 'For the river suddenly rose, and on that account they could not be brought across.' The weakening: 'Yet, since what the law commands was not done, you are worthy of punishment.' The judication is: when in this matter the contractor did something contrary to the law, in which matter the sudden greatness of the river stood in the way of his zeal, is he worthy of punishment? But necessity is brought in when the accused is defended on the ground that he did what he did by some force, in this way. There is a law among the Rhodians that, if any beaked ship be caught in the harbor, it should be confiscated.

When a great storm was raging on the high sea, the force of the winds drove the ship into the harbour of the Rhodians against the will of the sailors. The quaestor declares the ship to be public property; the owner of the ship denies that it ought to be confiscated. The point at issue is: 'a beaked warship was seized in the harbour.' The defence is by way of admission; the plea is: 'we were driven into the harbour by force and necessity.' The rebuttal is: 'nevertheless, by the law the ship ought to belong to the state.' The question for judgement is: since the law has confiscated any beaked warship seized in a harbour, and since this ship was cast into the harbour against the sailors' will by the force of the storm, ought it to be confiscated?

There is the plea for mercy (deprecatio), when the accused confesses both that he has done wrong and that he did wrong deliberately, yet asks nonetheless to be pardoned. This kind of case can very rarely arise, for in it there is contained not a defence of the deed but a request for pardon. This kind can scarcely be sustained in court, for the reason that, once the offence has been granted, it is difficult to obtain pardon from him whose duty it is to punish offences. Behold, you now have an account of the topics of questions, of the status of cases, and of the parts of instruction, all of which you recognize from daily practice as nature reveals it. Charlemagne: I shall recognize them, if the Creator of natures helps me; and yet I still have something to ask of you. Alcuin: Ask what you please; I shall go wherever you lead me. Charlemagne: How many persons are commonly involved in trials? Alcuin: Four:

the accuser of the case, the defender of the case, the witnesses, and the judge. Charlemagne: What function does each of them perform? Alcuin: The judge employs equity, the witnesses truth, the accuser the charge in order to enlarge the case, the defender extenuation in order to lessen the case — unless perchance the case happens to be one of praise or of a petition for reward: then, with the order reversed, the accuser must use extenuation and the defender amplification. Charlemagne: In how many ways is the amplifying or extenuating of a case accomplished? Alcuin: In two: by impulse (inpulsio) or by deliberation (ratiocinatio).

Impulse is that which, without reflection, urges a man to do something through some affection of the mind — such as love, anger, grief, drunkenness, and altogether all states in which the mind appears so affected that it could not examine the matter with counsel and care, and did what it did rather by a certain rush of feeling than by deliberation. Deliberation is a careful and considered weighing of whether to do something or not to do it.

Deliberation will be said to have been present whenever the mind appears, for a definite reason, to have avoided or pursued the doing or not doing of something: if something is said to have been done for the sake of friendship, or for taking vengeance on an enemy, or out of fear, or for glory, or for money — in short, to embrace all cases by their kinds, for the sake of retaining, increasing, or obtaining some advantage, or on the contrary for the sake of rejecting, diminishing, or avoiding some disadvantage. Charlemagne: In what manner ought the accuser or the defender to make use of impulse or deliberation? Alcuin:

Therefore, when the accuser asserts that something was done through impulse, he must, by words and sentences, magnify that rush and a certain agitation and affection of the mind, and show how great is the power of love, how great a disturbance of the mind arises from anger or from any one of those causes by which he says the man was impelled to do the deed — so that it may seem no wonder if a mind stirred by such a disturbance proceeded to some crime; and he must confirm it by examples of past deeds, where others under a like impulse committed something similar. But when he asserts that someone committed a thing not by impulse but by deliberation, he must show what advantage he pursued or what disadvantage he fled, and magnify this as much as possible, so that: