Over against all the masses, messes, and missiles of today, persuasion does remain worthwhile to think about. Perhaps by commemorative thought, freely given, some of the possibilities of persuasive words can still be redeemed, even as oblivion threatens many things upon which one often did rely, in actuality and/or in hope.
Both the powers and the limits of words that persuade ought to be demarcated more fully. In the storehouse of antiquity, there is an episode which might answer to this aim, or it could begin to. At least some insights, perhaps even a lesson, may spring forth from a comparison of its retellings, for readers meet with the anecdote twice, if with judicious impartiality one turns to and juxtaposes them.
Themistocles, wrote Herodotus,* messaged to Andros during the war against the invading Persians and their allies, an island which sought to remain neutral, requesting a monetary contribution to Hellas’ cause. After the Andrians denied him it, the general spoke of two divinities honoured in Athens, Persuasion (πειθώ) and Necessity (ἀνάγκη), under whose auspices his delegation had come, and stated that the islanders, one way or another, would pay what he asked. To this they, themselves not lacking in wit, remarked how wonderfully his city was served by those deities who superintended its great prosperity, but as for their island, they lived within its narrow confines thanks to another set who definitely enjoyed residing there: Poverty (πενία) and Helplessness (ἀμηχανία). Hence his demand, the Andrians said, was assistance they could not render. So the Athenian’s appeal had failed as “persuasion” – nor did it even describe a “necessity” of the sort to which people might bow with a modicum of grace, for the really pressing one under which they subsisted was itself so much the greater.
* History, bk. viii, 111
The historian, right before, had told of another persuasive stratagem. At Andros a council was held of commanders from the Greek cities, and during it, the Persian fleet now routed and in flight, the Athenian general said the moment had come to destroy the boat-bridges at the Hellespont, trapping the King’s armies on hostile territory, that soon enough they would be ground down. One counterpart of his then insisted that precisely this was what the Greeks should not do. Backing the enemies’ land forces into a corner, he observed, might inspire them with despair at their situation, rendering them all the more formidable and capable of victories; better it would be to leave untouched their route of escape back to Persia, and later if the occasion arose take the war there. This proposal won the generals’ assent, though not the Athenian delegation’s, which instead was of a mind to go alone to the Hellespont and destroy the bridges. At this juncture, in order to mollify the angry dissent and gratify the desire that the credit mainly accrue to Athens, its general turned around and offered to his fellows as his own recommendation the proposal just adopted – dressed up by him in terms calculated to persuade them, magnifying the semblance of glory by deft tones of flattery (and rendering praise implicitly to himself). The victory was not merely the Athenians’ own, he told them: rather, a bit of good fortune (εὕρημα) had come their way, not without reason, for in this war the gods and the immortal heroes (ἥρωες) were interceding, that a single man, the King of Persia, not aggrandise his impious lordship farther. Taking that intervention into account, with politic foresight Athens should permit the Persian armies to retreat to their homeland; once the damage to their city was repaired, the next year the Athenians could attend to the matter of the Hellespont bridges, to prevent further incursions via them.* – By their general’s crafty speech diverted away from (διαβάλλειν) their partiality for immediate naval action, and because he showed once more how true was his reputation as a man very wise or shrewd (σοφός), the Athenians were persuaded to accept the proposal. Then, the pieces of his gambit in place, he sent word secretly to the King, informing him of the respect shown his office by the general’s having ensured the Persian forces might return home in an orderly manner, saving face for the defeated monarch: and this strategic gesture of confidence in which his whole plan culminated, also illustrates the skilled touch of the persuasion one equal can exert upon another.**
* On this point the historian credits the general with politic foresight also on his own behalf: by the recommendation in effect he held open a back-bridge to Persia as a locale of exile for himself, should he ever require one after an ostracism by the Athenians, a turnabout which indeed did occur later.
** 108-10
In these relations with the King, the Athenian general showed he understood the role a carefully fostered semblance can play in bringing an opponent to vacate the field opportunely with his amour-propre if not also all of his reputation intact, thus ending the conflict on the terms most advantageous for one’s own side, avoiding the unpredictable turnings which its prolongation might bring. The prudence of using persuasive stratagems to this end, is an apt lesson for any time and place. (Yet this part of the history evinces a special brisance currently, in 2024, due to the world-profile of the Iranian régime along with the brute fact of its proxies in other countries. The topic was addressed briefly in a previous essay. At a future moment there may be cause to inquire into it again, though I should prefer not to have to.)
Speech utilised in this type of stratagem, displays a curious mixture of intentions; amongst them one may note a balance of the polemic and the irenic. Semblances artfully upheld, contribute not a little to the persuasive effect of whatever is said towards such an end. Simply that the general appeared to pay little heed to this aspect, may suffice by way of clarifying why his démarche to Andros was repulsed.
Over against the Andrians, did his own hauteur get the better of the general’s usual politic acumen? That seems rather likely. However: could there not be something about the concept of πειθώ which also might have conduced to his posturing?
Etymology may offer some clarification on this point. (And even beyond that, it’s often pleasant, though the yield may not be especially persuasive, to pluck some fruits from the old branches of language. Especially when, as now, sworn enemies of grammar do seem as though they are bent on chopping the tree to pieces.)
In one standard work of reference, underneath the set of words which includes “πειθώ,” a root-term “bheidh-” is given. There it and its offspring are glossed as follows (for accuracy’s sake I print the whole entry, excising only a few variants).
,jemandem zureden, zwingen‘, med. ,sich einreden lassen, vertrauen‘.
Gr. πείθομαι ,lasse mich überreden, folge‘ (Aor. ἐπιθόμην, hom. πεπιθεῖν, πιθέσθαι; Perf. πέποιθα ,vertraue‘), Akt. (sek.) πείθω, Aor. ἔπεισα ,überrede, überzeuge‘, πειθώ, -οῦς ,Überredung‘, πιστός (für *φιστος) ,zuverlässig, treu, vertrauend‘, πίστις, -ιος, -εως ,Treue, Vertrauen‘, hom. ἐν πείσῃ ,in Beschwichtigung‘ (*πειθ-σ-);
alb. bē f. ,Eid, Schwur‘ (*bhoidhā = aksl. běda ,Not‘), ostgeg. per-bej ,verfluche‘ (dazu Neubildung besë f. ,Glaube, Vertrag, Treue‘);
lat. fīdō, -ere, fīsus sum ,traue, vertraue‘ (fīsus ist to-Partiz.), fīdus ,zuverlässig‘; foedus (*bhoidhos), bei Ennius fīdus (*bheidhos) n. ,Bündnis‘, fidēs ,Zutrauen, Glaube‘, Dius Fidius ,Schwurgott‘ […];
got. baidjan ,zwingen‘, aisl. beiđa, ags. bædan, ahd. beitten ,drängen, fordern‘ = abg. Kausativ běždǫ, běditi ,zwingen‘, poběditi ,besiegen‘, běda f. ,Not‘; hierher wohl auch got. beidan ,warten‘, aisl. bīđa, ags. bīdan, ahd. bītan ds., schweiz. beite = ahd. beitten, aber in der Bedeutung ,warten‘. Grundbed. ,harren‘ aus ,vertrauen‘ oder ,sich zwingen‘.*
* Julius Pokorny, Indogermanisches etymologisches Wörterbuch, s. v. “1. bheidh-”
To summarise: the root-term “bheidh-” signifies to address someone or to compel, and more specifically, in the Median group of languages, to let oneself be persuaded, to trust. Amongst other Greek words, notable is “πίστις,” faith, loyalty, trust, while the Albanian “bē” designates a sworn oath. As for the Latin “fides” and the words related to it, they overlap with “πίστις” and its fellows, though “foedus,” league or treaty, does stand apart. Lastly, in Gothic, “baidjan,” to compel, hews closely to the root-term, while from the original there may have sprung another Gothic verb, “beidan,” to wait, to express a state of being made to persevere by dint of trust.
Note the Homeric phrase “ἐν πείσῃ,” in appeasement: the words do not command, but admonish. Thus did, in two memorable lines, a clever man address his own heart with tact, which then let itself be persuaded and was pacified* – persevering in trust, an etymologist might infer. So, the opting for persuasion may answer to an irenic aim, especially in affairs where spirit far from peaceful is often called forth.
* Odyssey, bk. xx, ll. 23-24
Nonetheless, though persuasive speech unfurls in brilliance – may thanks for this be given! – even so, it hints of bitterness. Of such words’ not-quite-hidden roots in the rough ground of compulsion the better Greeks themselves were never unaware (much less the etymologists). How could one ever mistake the conditional logic of the concept? Πειθώ when spoken finely suggests an awful If not . . . , and implicitly refers to, knows itself succoured by another power. For, much like the invocation of an ἀνάγκη, the more subtle acceptance of its ideal counterpart does allow an addressee to save face over against an eventuality to which in any case he would finally have to submit. Granted, then the persuasion under which one succumbs, represents no more than a cruder sort, as manifest at Andros; but still it is πειθώ!
Yet the circumstances of hostility amidst which this aspect of πειθώ was revealed, should not be forgotten. Persuasive speech, when delivered without a wink, could resound and shine in a rather different manner, back within the walls of the city, at least during its best intervals. Often in its heyday, Athens saved itself from the στάσεις which eagerly (permissible personification!) awaited the time when they might rage, and safeguarded itself also against the wielding of their outbreak as a threat in the present. During such periods, shoring itself up to check the several modalities of coercion, the city made room for that pinnacle of the βίος πολιτικός, pure persuasiveness – albeit fleetingly – set beyond intimidation, violence, war.
Difficult though some may find it to acknowledge, the walls of the city could make all the difference, as regards a clear separation of the polemic and the irenic. Those who deny this, seriously or otherwise, may actually be stating their preference for erasing the vital distinction itself. A momentous step: one should think the matter over at least twice. (Alas, many who now declare their indifference on this point, evidently have not reckoned with the consequences even once.) – But how might someone be persuaded of this, that he desist?
Perhaps in this connection a further remark about the Greek city par excellence, offered in the vein of a hypothesis, will seem plausible.
Within the peaceful zones of speech whose possibility is guarded by the city walls, πειθώ could come into its own, far remote from the acts of compulsion some of the word’s relatives elsewhere expressed – and, of greater import, did distinguish itself from the ἀνάγκη by which many things in its vicinity were justified or explained away. These separations should not be slighted! Without them, speaking freely, one of the greatest of civic goods, could not have been actualised nearly as well, nor with as few conditions attached to its exercise, during the heyday of Athens.
To concretise this hypothesis somewhat, let me now turn to the second telling of the anecdote of the Athenian general on Andros, in the biography by Plutarch.
There he cites his predecessor’s account, but in an abbreviated manner, and then not exactly. How did Themistocles underscore the démarche he addressed to the islanders? That he came not alone, but attended by two divinities, honoured in the Greek text by capitalisation, Persuasion (Πειθώ) and – Violence (Βία). Whatever the touch of pragmatic subtlety with which “necessity” had been invoked centuries before as the worse alternative to “persuasion,” here it was foregone; and in reply to the exaction of monies, the Andrians said that their own gods, likewise graced with capital letters, Poverty (Πενία) and Difficulty (Ἀπορία), would prevent them from donating any. (Perhaps the second of this pair of deifications also expressed their puzzlement at the sheer crudeness of his demand.)*
* Life of Themistocles, xxi, 1
By the time the anecdote was retold, Athens had long since become a city devoted to higher education, and then a protectorate of Rome; perhaps these changes made it easier for an author to imply that “ἀνάγκη” all along had been a euphemism. For that seems to be what Plutarch did, by his variation upon Herodotus. After all (how not to foresee it?), libraries in the urban centres would encourage the many curious readers to compare the two works, which, given their obvious importance then and later, never ran much risk of vanishing under the criticisms of the mice.
Βία, violence, always stands behind alleged necessity – this a reader might take as an implicit comment upon the realities of human life at any time, and especially in the years of Rome’s imperial rule. By no means is this hint simply philological.
Πειθώ, meanwhile, had largely exchanged the city square for the realm of literate pursuits. Already the first contact between an author and those who might read his work, not least other authors, would have to be persuasive. More particularly, the records which a historian consulted, needed at the outset to persuade him of their relevance, were he to apply himself to their study and analysis, and then weave some of the threads through his own text. And quite specifically in the case of this writer of biographies, that his readers attend at length to the parallels and their significance – for otherwise what would be the point of it? To win them for the effort, requires of these works a continuous persuasion. Actively indeed they must appeal to those who consider what they have to say, so further meanings may be plumbed, other insights obtained by dint of their perseverance. Yes, this rapport of writer and reader seems at times almost uniquely conjoint, and thus of sheer persuasiveness there may be no better exemplar in literature than Plutarch.
Persuasion, the further one ponders it, seems ever more replete with inward turns. The general’s life, as the writer tells it, opens a window onto this interior labyrinth.
Themistocles early on, in the course of his education, showed disdain for the one liberal pursuit which perhaps most of all does flourish on its own account, as an activity done for the sake only of itself: music. Rather, he was entranced by the endeavour of politics, conceived in an instrumental manner, as a means for the amassing of glory, power, and wealth to the city – and to himself at its head.*
* ii, 3
No surprise, then, to read of his schooling by one of the sophists.* A number of the subjects or skills he learned there would have well served an ambition like his. If, that is, he was capable of receiving the instruction: but the capacity he never really quite developed, a point he himself would grant at times, later on, acknowledging an unbridled streak in his nature.**
* ii, 4 ** 5
Plutarch trusted that what he wrote would suffice to prompt better readers to a further thought: here literary tact of this sort is evident. (His perhaps unmatched persuasiveness, a deftness of touch also augments.) What would the brief remarks have moved them to recall? Just this: the sophists were known for their lessons in the practical matter of taking care of oneself, the care for the self (ἐπιμέλεια ἑαυτοῦ) which also became a topic of more serious reflection, then and thereafter, yet on neither of these planes, remarkably, was concern for it shown by Themistocles.
At this point it is but a step to one of the arrière-pensées these writings abound in (if their readers are stirred to conceive them). For the general’s case, just because of his evident disinterest in anything of the kind, could prompt a reader to ask what role persuasion (πειθώ) might have in initiating l’action intérieure when someone does aver of his self that it “concerns me” (μέλει μοὶ) and then proceed accordingly.
Persuasion, one might even surmise, plays several roles in it – this is a complicated matter! Without delving very far into the question, does it not seem plausible that someone who seeks to take care of his self, would first have to persuade himself or otherwise be persuaded that the effort is worthwhile? Then he has the persuading of his self to worry about! Meanwhile, that self, unless it accepts life simply as an avid slave, will have to let itself be persuaded, and prior to that, on its side there is a similar preliminary to complete. – These interior relations become labyrinth-like.
Il y aurait comme un secret musical, un secret de l’appel musical dans cette notion du souci.
— Michel Foucault, Le Courage de la vérité, February 22, 1984, first hour
When these problems of selfhood are considered under the aspect of πειθώ, one might hear what would otherwise be muffled and hidden within the ἐπιμέλεια ἑαυτοῦ – the refrain of its μέλος.
“Μέλος” has various meanings: more generally, limb, member (in music), phrase, and specifically, melody, song, strain, tune, are attested.* “Mel-,” the root-term as it appears throughout the Indo-European family, also varies, with eight senses noted, of which the musical comprises only one, while it is from quite another that Greek draws words such as “ἐπιμέλεια.”** Melodiousness or qualities like it, accordingly, would not echo through the expression “μέλει μοὶ,” and to typify the “concern” it speaks of in any such way, does ultimately seem very doubtful (très douteux).***
* Henry George Liddell and Robert Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, vol. ii, s. v. “μέλος”
** Pokorny, Indogermanisches etymologisches Wörterbuch, s. vv. “3. mel-” and “5. mel-”
*** Pierre Chantraine, Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque, vol. iii, s. v. “μέλος”
Possibly, however, these hesitations are a bit overstated, even etymologically.
If the horizon of inquiry widens to include the root of the English word “care,”* semantic linkages (not mere associations of ideas) amongst sonic terms stemming from “ĝā̌r-” do begin to strike one’s ear. (Tracing out this and a few related English etymologies was one aim in another text, which I shall not revisit.) Ears now more keen, the inkling of an affiliation, as regards words rooted in “mel-” that have been distanced from one another in etymological researches, commences to ring rather – persuasively.
* Ernest Klein, A Comprehensive Etymological Dictionary of the English Language, s. v. “care,”
and Pokorny, Indogermanisches etymologisches Wörterbuch, s. v. “ĝā̌r-”
– But in that case, of what or to what does it persuade you?
– Well, any concern of mine, pertaining to my own self, an alter ego I love, or some matter out in the world, may address or appeal to me, not imperatively, but in the mode of an admonition or signal, with something like a song, by singing. And this not solely in extremis, or out of ἀνάγκη, but very often, for πειθώ’s sweet delight.
– Oh, does this mean that anyone might entreat himself as did the clever fellow you referred to before?
– Yes, yes, so it does. Or, at least, let’s not rule out the idea without first thinking how we might test it. Of course, at times there’s neither singing, but merely sighing, nor sweetness, but just things bittersweet. Persuasion has more keys than one, if ears are unlocked. The clear pause or silence itself can be a quite persuasive retort.
Themistocles’ crude invocation of πειθώ, one infers, was not exactly a fluke; it is tied to his disparagement of music and the free pursuit thereof. To adopt this idea a reader may find himself persuaded while mulling over the account by Plutarch.
There is much in the biography that calls for listening, in repeated readings. A few items it will suffice to mention.
While he was still a youth, his father sought to temper the burgeoning desire for eminence in the city’s life: to the son he pointed out the shipwrecks just offshore, as illustrative of the treatment by the multitude (ὁ πολύς) of the leaders once they no longer are of service to it.*
* Life of Themistocles, ii, 6
The hint availed little. After the battle of Marathon, the son gave himself over to the expectations of glory, and became an ambitious lover of great deeds (παράφορος πρὸς δόξαν εἶναι καὶ πράξεων μεγάλων ὑπὸ φιλοτιμίας ἐραστής).* Another writer later amplified the point: henceforth he stopped carousing to fall in love with something else – his city’s politics (ἤρα δὲ ἔρωτα ἕτερον τὸν τῆς πολιτείας τῶν Ἀθηναίων).**
* iii, 3 ** Aelian, Historical Miscellany, bk. 2, 12
His new affair worked a change in his habits, even in his physique. Others queried him about it, in a philosophical vein, for astonishment had been aroused in them regarding the transformation of his manner of living (περὶ τὸν βίον μεταβολήν).* Had they sensed that a larger alteration in the city itself was augured? The heightening of some trait previously less patent in the relations amongst the citizens? Namely, the foresight that amorous jealousy can foster, for better or for worse – would it more loudly assert itself within political life and claim the last word in Athens’ decisions? Such may have been the presentiment, even then.
* Life of Themistocles, iii, 4
Criticisms of the changes wrought in the city’s character by the general’s policies, were not very long in coming. Somewhat later on, perhaps the most incisive hailed from the quarters of philosophy. This was the objection: the choice for naval power above a land army, relegating the fixed routines of the latter to second place, did redound upon the polity itself and abet its inner tendency towards strife, thereby turning its advance towards dissolution, both politically and morally speaking, into a less tractable problem than had been posed before.* Centuries afterwards, when he cited it the historian remained unpersuaded, not even on points of fact. Despite the philosopher’s claim that subsequent triumphs at sea snatched away that which would have been a real victory, namely, the betterment of their constitutions, from the Greeks who had just routed the enemy at Marathon and thus commenced the salvation of Greece (ἄρξαι τῆς σωτηρίας τοῖς Ἕλλησι),** in the historian’s judgement it was the maritime hostilities, not those on land, whose outcome did so, and this he said freely.*** For it should be the task of written history to offer an impartial assessment, especially as regards an event where the epochs that followed hinged upon the very issue under consideration.
* Plato, Laws, bk. iv, 706a-d ** 707c
*** Life of Themistocles, iv, 3
The objection, with no little irony, was sent back to the philosophers to deliberate on and adjudicate, therefore. Evincing a higher impartiality, the historian affirmed that to the Greeks salvation (σωτηρία) indeed came from the sea.*
* 4
Themistocles’ profile when back in Athens, his factionalising (καταστασιάζειν) against his rivals,* his prudence in sacrificing his own ambition when it counted, on behalf of the higher good of all Greece, whose salvation (σωτηρία) thus was owed to him,** his prowess in stratagems and the manipulation of signs (σημεῖα) in particular,*** or his exceptional cleverness (δεινότης)**** – all this should be noted in passing.
* v, 5 ** vii, 3 *** x, 1 **** xv, 2
Apt is his image for the role he took in his city: a great tree under whose branches the Athenians take shelter during the storms, though plucking at it whenever the weather is fair, or even cutting it down in size.*
* xviii, 3
As for the most consequential of his policies, it is probably the fostering of Athens’ naval eminence. Thus was the city brought to the sea and not the sea to the city, as had mistakenly been averred,* which turned the focus of the citizens outward,** by this contributing greatly, one may infer, to broaden their horizons; while at the same time bolstering the democratic element in its constitution, and encouraging the common people (δῆμος) to assert itself against the ranks of the well-born.***
* Aristophanes, Knights, l. 815
** Life of Themistocles, xix, 3 *** 4
After the victories he helped Athens to win, the general’s career there approached its end, and as one might expect, in the biography at least the closure recurs to the beginning, though implicitly. The early wordless admonition by the shore comes back to a reader’s mind even without being mentioned again, as success aroused the people’s annoyance. Whether it sprang from envy, or bespoke antipathy more like jealousy, with undertones of rivalry, who can say? In any event, slanders were voiced.* Then came ostracism.** An anabasis led him to the earlier adversary.***
* xxii, 1 ** 3 *** xxvii, 1
There followed an exile in Persia, and during it he enjoyed the confidence of the King, addressing him with remarkable frankness (παρρησία).* Perhaps the political innovations introduced at the time did stem from their conversations, which could have touched also on matters beyond the Hellenic.**
* xxix, 2 ** 4
The last act is worth thinking on. When the struggle between the powers flamed up again, and the King requested the exile’s assistance over against the Greeks, he was put before a difficult choice. (Perhaps a parallel from his own life sprang back to mind.) That the glory he had accrued to his city and to himself not be tarnished – even if the Athenians whose ingratitude sullied it all would have themselves to blame in the event of a requital – so that shame not outlive him, he resolved upon an ultimate form for his life, and dispatched himself. The magnanimity of it made the King, when word of the deed reached him, marvel at (θαυμάσαι) the man even more, and those he left behind were treated well.*
* xxxi, 4-5
In Athens, decades later, an allusion to this episode and its aftermath was made, again from the side of philosophy. Socrates, one is told, noticed a reversal in the citizens’ views of men such as Themistocles. Whereas earlier their own hands imposed the ostracism, lately one heard objections when any like him who took a leading role in the city’s life (πολιτικοί) were treated as he had been. This is unjust, they protest – he remarked. Their motives did not concern him; the posture itself amounts to deceit (ψεῦδος), he said. On the contrary: by dint of the very relation of the ruler or overlord (προστάτης) to the city, there will be no injustice if the latter turns against and casts the former into ruin (ἀπόλοιτο). For, to expound this node of Socratic or Platonic thought, the relation itself should improve the character of those who are ruled: the reason for its existence being tutelary, when the intended beneficiaries rise up, their action offers the best of proofs that the benefactors have patently failed at the task, and hence, if the upheaval is strictly speaking a question of justice at all, which could well be doubted, they will deserve what befalls them. In this whole situation one might even discern an implicit humour – but be that as it may; the case, he went on, resembles the impudence of the sophists (σοφισταί) who deem themselves able to impart the virtues to their students, thus altering the latter’s character for the better, and yet whenever the course of instruction finishes without full payment for it being received, fervently denounce them as villains!*
* Plato, Gorgias, 519b-c
Amongst the recent civic breed of objectors there was a strand of play-acting and pretence for philosophy in its turn to object to, certainly – but, also worthy of note, in so doing it seemed to assume that relations amongst citizens bore the character of ruling or ruling over (προστατεῖν), a trait which would sooner or later affect the whole life of Athens. Of the rapport of peers typical of πειθώ at its best, not a word. (At least in this passage.)
Although some philosophers then and later may indeed have relished the prospect, it is dismal, as if persuasive speech were giving way to the modalities of language fit for warfare, utterances which must be imperative though not in every instance nasty, brutish, and short, in retreat before factions (στάσεις) on one side, tyranny (τυραννίς) on another, and deliberating with itself where it might find a harbour.
Commands as a mode of speech within the city, not so long afterwards would also make their debut in Rome, within the framework of that city’s great invention, law. The office of dictator as it was instituted, attests to this; his instruments were edicts, and though there is great distance between the weapons of war and such written declarations, still the earlier limited resort to them, equipped with an ultima ratio, did acknowledge how peace had vanished even within the city walls. – Under the Empire, one Greek historian gave an account of this office’s origins in Rome; he glossed the Latin word as an absolute authority (αὐτοκράτωρ) and transliterated it and its implements, edicts (δικτάτωρ, ἠδίκτα). Moreover, the Romans’ dictatorship (δικτατορία) he typified as an elective tyranny (αἱρετή τυραννίς), and held that they had adopted it from the Greeks, who did deploy the power at their convenience during emergencies (καιροί).*
* Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities, bk. v, ch. lxxiii
Themistocles, in a lighter mood, had invoked an arboreal image for his stature in Athens. Happily, the tree was never uprooted from the pages of Greek literature. – Later the whole corpus passed over to Rome, where it was reverently kept alive, if not quite in its original state, then certainly as an inheritance to be treated with a very considerable horticultural care. In those environs πειθώ was preserved from the dictates of necessity, violence, and war; while the proximity to its Latin relative, persuadere, may even have brought both the thing and the word to flourish anew, unfolding a quality not so evident until then.
Thus did episodes of Greek history come to Rome. Taken as antecedents, by the effort of memory wherewith cautionary tales and exempla were fetched from the historical storehouse, the Romans could perhaps aspire to be (although often they were not) wise in a mode of which Greece in its youth could never have conceived.
The greatest Roman orator, when he lauded the literary practice of πειθώ, invoked the sweetness inherent in the very notion of his own tongue’s “persuadere.”* How delightful to notice a significant occurrence of what is usually so trite at the base of this Latin verb! Here one might even wonder whether, were the activity to which the word refers not intrinsically sweet, would one have ever been or let oneself be persuaded to begin with that persuasion itself can be a most worthwhile pursuit?
* Cicero, Brutus, xv, 58-59
Sweetness one usually takes for an end-state. Would it not be better as a beginning?
Well, as the term conjectured behind the Latin, “su̯ād-,” has been glossed –
,süß; an etwas Geschmack, Freude finden‘
– it signified either the quality of sweetness, or the fact of finding something to be to one’s taste and taking delight and joy in it. Not altogether a surprise, then, though welcome, is an attestation of a linkage of “su̯ād-” to the idea of pleasure conveyed notably by the Greek “ἡδονή” –
3. su̯ādonom, -ā: ai. svā́danam, gr. ἡδονή f. ,Lust‘.*
One day perhaps a chance will come to approach the nexus of πειθώ and ἡδονή, but for now I won’t stray from my topic, the sweet pleasure of persuasive speech.
* Pokorny, Indogermanisches etymologisches Wörterbuch, s. v. “su̯ād-”
Persuasion in its highest expression, averred the Roman orator, pleases not least by sweetness of speech (suaviloquentia). And the things which he found amongst the sweetest? Blossoms and flowers, singly and in the plural (flos, flores). A language should seek to cultivate all those it already has and strive to seed itself with others – to this resolution his encomium with a studied artlessness persuades the reader. Eloquence flourishes when they are grown and gathered by better gardeners in these fields, otherwise called poets. Hence the figures of speech do resemble the fruits whose existence is delicately bound to the enjoyments of human use – the selective action Latin so fittingly terms “frui.”
Again looking into the etymology, the basic root in the Indo-European family is “bhrūg-.” The following entry elucidates it (I omit only a few variants).
,Frucht; genießen, gebrauchen‘, vielleicht ältest ,sich Früchte zum Genusse abbrechen oder abstreifen‘ und dann zu *bhreu- ,schneiden‘ (vgl. dort zur Bed. ai. bhárvati ,kaut, verzehrt‘, auch bsl. *bhreu-q-, -k̑- ,darüberstreifen, abbröckeln‘).
Lat. frūx, -gis f. ,Frucht‘ […], lat. frūgī (Dat. *,zum Gebrauche‘ =) ,tauglich‘, fruor, -i, frūctus und fruitus sum ,genieße‘ (aus *frūgu̯or, das für *frūgor eingetreten ist?), frūniscor ,genieße‘ (*frūg-nīscor), frūmentum ,Getreide‘ […].
Got. brūkjan, ahd. brūhhan, as. brūkan, ags. brūcan ,brauchen‘, got. brūks, ahd. brūhhi, ags. brȳce ,brauchbar‘.*
* Indogermanisches etymologisches Wörterbuch, s. v. “bhrūg-”
Summarising these findings, from this root, it appears, a noun for fruit as well as verbs for enjoying and utilising were designated. The inner logic which allowed for these several meanings, perhaps stemmed from the elementary awareness that to be consumed, fruits had first to be broken off or plucked from trees or plants. And, in support of this idea, between “bhrūg-” and a yet more conjectural term “bhreu-” that signified to cut (think of the English “break” or the German “brechen”), the etymologist’s ears surmised a close derivation.
Whereas the sense of usage predominates in the Gothic words and their offspring in the Germanic languages, the Latin terms do describe both utilising and enjoying: neither of the activities is conceived without the other.* Co-posited from early on, their conjunction does testify to a considerable fund of agricultural experience and its own “fruit,” an enduring cognisance that were the fields not replenished they would soon cease to produce anything usable or enjoyable for the cultivators. (That their lives unfurl in a metabolism with nature they are never unaware.)
* vide Michiel de Vaan, Etymological Dictionary of Latin and the Other Italic Languages, s. v. “fruor, fruī”
Cultivation, understood as a process along these lines, continuously discloses some sweetness – though it always also requires hard work – the human quality which can come into its own thanks to persuasive speech. Then it may become a humane principle, a fructifying counter-power above and against all that now is exhausted.
All of this, and more besides, might be noted in that seemingly simple verb, “frui.”
Most Romance languages, however, have not accepted this significant bequest from their parent. The verbs “jouir,” “godere,” and “gaudir” stand in the place of versions of “frui,” in French, Italian, and Catalan, respectively. The old Langue d’oc, it is true, did inherit the Latin word, in the shape of “fruir,” but this term referred only to the action of enjoyment, not to the conjoint usage.* Moreover, there was “fruchar,” a verb which seems to have meant to fructify, but whether in addition it did convey the fuller meaning of “frui” is disputed by the scholars. The etymologist affirmed it had,** while, a bit more recently, another linguist insisted there was no evidence at all for the claim.*** – Yet this question does not concern me here.
* François Raynouard, Lexique roman, vol. iii, s. v. “Frug,” vide “9. Fruir”
** vide “4. Fruchar” (also “14. Afruchar”)
*** Emil Levy, Provenzalisches Supplement-Wörterbuch, vol. iii, s. v. “Fruchar”
More interesting is the fact, fortunately, that “frui” with its delicate complexity of usage and enjoyment has not died out: one meets it daily in the Iberian languages, in the shape of the words “disfrutar,” in Spanish, and “desfrutar,” in Portuguese. The latter occurred in the thirteenth century in the orthography “defruytar,”* and the former already in the version “defrutare” in the year 1076 and “desfrutar” in 1222, adopting the current spelling in or after 1765.** – Each prefix says of all the “produce” one does use and enjoy: May its many fructive sources never be bled dry.
* Antônio Geraldo da Cunha, Dicionário etimológico da língua portuguesa, s. v. “fruto”
** Joan Corominas, Breve diccionario etimológico de la lengua castellana, s. v. “Fruto”
Deep appeals such as these verbs emit with subtle care, are themselves like songs, their quality intrinsically sweet, their character inherently persuasive. Whether anything of this will be heeded or even heard at all, however, is another matter.
Persuasion’s suavity, as in this instance, is an inheritance which a single word alone can embody! The very long history behind it, brings me, not too circuitously and by way of conclusion, back to the biographer’s account of Themistocles.
These written lives persuade not least by virtue of the parallels their author drew, between the Greeks on one side and the Romans on the other, the men but also the cities themselves and their ways of life. Most often he dedicated a separate text to the comparison of the two, but not in this case; so there is a question of the Roman with whom this Greek should be paired. The man whose biography then follows, one scholar contends,* was proposed implicitly as the counterpart: Camillus.
* Timothy E. Duff, “Plutarch’s Themistocles and Camillus”
Parallels between them tend to clarify the Roman environs of persuasion.
Factions in Rome, on at least one occasion, he alleviated by making war abroad. The practice was not unknown, after all; the biographer for his part commended it as a prophylactic remedy (φάρμακον) to avert the strife (στάσις) brewing within the city: thus the onset of a vexatious humour (πάθη) would occur beyond the walls, turned around despite itself to contribute to their safety.* – Assent to such a prescription was needful: what would be persuasive speech’s share in winning it?
* Life of Camillus, ix, 2
Στάσις was always a conundrum. The city could neither live with it nor without it: as the historian remarked elsewhere, stormy and placid seas are both troublesome (καὶ χειμὼν καὶ γαλήνη θαλάσσης ἀργαλέον).* – Ships have been wrecked by each.
* viii, 4
Camillus’ gifts of speech did not shield him later from falling a victim to faction. It burst out when soldiers, back from the battlefield, denounced him because they came home without the loot which they otherwise would enjoy, a despoliation the enemy had evaded, by becoming in the meantime an ally and tributary of Rome. Then his public reply, marked by its boldness of utterance (παρρησία), did move the multitude to vote not as it planned, rejecting a proposed law concerning the spoils of war which had once more been brought (on an earlier occasion it failed): but with the triumph its rage also increased. Against it voices of persuasion more potent than his would likely have faltered; soon charges were levelled at him, and prior to the verdict, in anger he resolved to leave Rome. Halting at the city gate, he addressed a prayer to the Capitol, that the citizens might undergo a change of heart (μετανοεῖν) for the injustice they had done, and seek his return from exile. Then he departed, and the legal proceedings were decided by default. Almost immediately the requital for the treatment it had shown him, as the historian says it must have seemed to the Romans, struck the city with great force.*
* xi–xiii
After a stretch of disasters, the Romans did indeed beseech him to return. He was appointed dictator (δικτάτωρ),* and proved able to rescue the city. Later his term in that office was extended longer, though the people’s apprehensions had to be appeased, which the Senators sought to do by words of persuasion, though their efforts achieved little.** Then he summoned a council to deliberate on the best course for Rome as a whole.*** As though in response to this persuasive gesture, there came a marvellous change (θαυμαστή μεταβολή) in the popular mood, and the Roman people also embraced the task of building the city anew, its walls (τείχη) included, accomplishing it within a year, albeit in architectural irregularity, with haste and speed (σπουδή καί τάχος).**** – Some time thereafter, further dangers then impinging upon the city from without, he again was appointed dictator.*****
* xxv, 4 ** xxxi, 3 *** xxxii, 1 **** 3 ***** xxxiii, 2
Other appointments to the office did follow; strife did not finally vanish from the city’s political existence. Towards the end of his active life, however, he addressed the great problem: by a promise which brought some inner peace to the SPQR.*
* xlii, 3-4
All were persuaded: there should be built a temple to Concord (Ὁμονοίας ἱερόν).