It is again objected that “Every art proposes to itself an end; but rhetoric has no end, or does not put into execution the end it proposes to itself.”  This is false, as is shown from what already has been said concerning the end of rhetoric and in what it consists.  The orator will never fail to obtain this end, for he always will speak well.  This objection, therefore, can affect only those who make persuasion the end of rhetoric; but our orator, and our definition of art, are not restricted to events.  An orator, indeed, strives to gain his cause; but suppose he loses it, as long as he has pleaded well he fulfils the injunctions of his art.  A pilot desires to come safe into port, but if a storm sweeps away his ship, is he, on that account, a less experienced pilot?  His keeping constantly to the helm is sufficient proof that he was not neglecting his duty.  A physician tries to cure a sick person, but if his remedies are hindered in their operation by either the violence of the disease, the intemperance of the patient, or some unforeseen accident, he is not to be blamed, because he has satisfied all the directions of his art.  So it is with the orator, whose end is to speak well; for it is in the act, and not in the effect, that art consists, as I shall soon make clear.  Therefore, it is false to say that “Art knows when it has obtained its end, but rhetoric knows nothing of the matter,” as if an orator could be ignorant of his speaking well and to the purpose.

But it is said, further, that rhetoric, contrary to the custom of all other arts, adopts vice, because it countenances falsehood and moves the passions.  Neither of these are bad practises, and consequently not vicious, when grounded on substantial reasons.  To disguise truth is sometimes allowable even in the sage, and if a judge can not be brought to do justice except by means of the passions, the orator must necessarily have recourse to them.  Very often the judges appointed to decide are ignorant, and there is necessity for changing their wrongly conceived opinions, to keep them from error.  Should there be a bench, a tribunal, an assembly of wise and learned judges whose hearts are inaccessible to hatred, envy, hope, fear, prejudice, and the impositions of false witnesses, there would be little occasion for the exertions of eloquence and all that might seem requisite would be only to amuse the ear with the harmony of cadence.  But if the orator has to deal with light, inconstant, prejudiced, and corrupt judges, and if many embarrassments must be removed in order to throw light upon truth, then artful stratagem must fight the battle, and set all its engines to work, for he who is beaten out of the straight road can not get into it again except by another turnabout.

ELOQUENCE ACQUIRED BY STUDY AND PRACTISE