Augustine in His Own Words (continued)
because of any concern for beauty, but because of the sheer force of the subject matter. It is good enough for its purpose that words are fitted to pursuing the fire in the speaker's chest; they need not be chosen by some laborious word search. . . .
(22.51) No one should think that it is against the rules to blend these styles. On the contrary, a speech should be varied and draw on all [three] styles insofar as this can be accomplished gracefully. When a speech is long and drawn out in just one style, it does not hold listeners' attention. But when a [well-timed] transition from one style to another is done, the speech proceeds more effectively, even if it continues on longer. Yet in the mouth of eloquent speakers, each style has its own varieties, which do not permit listeners' feelings to cool off or grow lukewarm. Even so, the subdued style by itself can be more easily tolerated for a good length of time than the grand style by itself. Indeed, the more profoundly listeners' spirits need to be stirred up that we may win their assent, the less time they can be held at that [high] pitch, once they have been sufficiently aroused. For this reason, we must be careful when we are trying to arouse to a higher pitch what is already high, that it not fall from the emotional heights to which it has been carried. But after inserting things said in a more subdued style, we can effectively return to what has to be spoken in the grand style so that the vehemence of our speech ebbs and flows like the waves of the sea. As a result, if the grand style of eloquence must be maintained for a rather long time, it should be varied by introducing the other styles. . . .
(24.53) If a speaker is applauded repeatedly and eagerly, we should not, for that reason, believe that he is speaking in the grand style. Keenness of intellect in the subdued style and the rhetorical embellishments of the moderate style also have this effect. The grand style, by its weight, is able not only to make voices hush, but also to make tears gush.33 Once, I was at Caesarea in Mauretania, trying to dissuade people from civil war, or worse than civil war—something they called caterva—for not only fellow-citizens, but even relatives, brothers, yes, parents and children, divided into two factions, and, according to custom, fought one another with stones for several successive days at a certain time of the year, and they each killed whomever they could.34 I pleaded in the grand style as powerfully as I could that I might root out and banish by my speech such a barbarous and deep-rooted evil from their hearts
33. "Voices hush . . . tears gush" (voces premit, sed lacrimas exprimit). I have drawn this felicitous rhyme from Edmund Hill's translation (WSA I/11:234).
34. Caterva: literally "a mob" or "band." This sounds as though it was some sort of ritual combat or ritual gang-war. Odd behavior, perhaps, but think of cities today that have venerable, long-standing traditions that allow raucous or violent behavior (e.g., Mardi Gras in New Orleans; the running of the bulls in Pamplona). On this incident, see Lancel, Saint Augustine, 350–51.
The Preacher 139 and customs. It was not when I heard them applauding, but when I saw them weeping, that I realized I had accomplished anything. Their applause showed that they were being taught and being entertained. It was by their tears they showed they were being persuaded. When I saw these, I believed (even before they demonstrated it in fact) that the frightful custom handed down from their fathers and grandfathers and from their far-off ancestors—something which had been besieging their hearts like an enemy, or rather had taken possession of them—had been completely conquered. As soon as my speech was finished, I directed their hearts and lips to thank God. And, look, thanks to Christ's good favor, for nearly eight years or more, nothing like that has been attempted there. There are many other experiences as well which have taught me the effects of a wise speaker's grand style: It is not the roar of applause, but rather people's groans, and sometimes even their tears, and ultimately a change in their lives. . . .
(25.55) The moderate style with its aim—that is, to give pleasure by its very eloquence—must not be exercised for its own sake, but rather it is to be used either to draw in listeners, because of the pleasure it offers, to agree a little more readily, or it is to be used to help make things that are discussed usefully and properly stick [in the memory] a little more firmly. This presumes, of course, that listeners are both informed and sympathetic and do not need a style that instructs or persuades. For it is the universal task of eloquence, in whichever of the three styles, to speak in a way geared to persuading, and, since the end you are aiming at is to persuade by your eloquence, the eloquent speaker certainly speaks in a way geared to persuading in any of these three styles. For unless the speaker persuades, he does not achieve the goal of eloquence. Now in the subdued style, he persuades us that what he says is true; in the grand style, he persuades us to do what we know should be done but are not doing. But in the moderate style, he persuades us that he is speaking beautifully and elegantly. What use is this aim for us? Let those who glory in their tongues aim for it, those who pride themselves on panegyrics and other such things, where the audience does not need to be taught or moved to action. Let us refer this aim to another purpose: . . . that we use even the rhetorical embellishments of the moderate style, not for mere show, but discreetly, not satisfied with merely entertaining listeners, but working instead for this goal: that by reason of their being delighted, listeners may be helped even to doing the good which we are anxious to persuade them of. . . .
(26.56) It often happens that a speech in the subdued style, when it solves very difficult questions and demonstrates things with unexpected clarity, or when it elicits and displays highly acute insights from sources from