Book 1
Chapter 1
Rhetoric is the counterpart of dialectic. Both deal with matters that are, to some extent, familiar to everyone and belong to no particular field of knowledge. Everyone therefore makes some use of both. To some extent, everyone tries to examine and defend statements, to defend themselves, and to attack others. Ordinary people do this either spontaneously or through practice and acquired habit. Since both methods are possible, the subject can plainly be treated systematically. We can investigate why some speakers succeed through practice and others spontaneously, and everyone will agree at once that such an investigation is the work of an art.
The authors of current treatises on rhetoric, however, have developed only a small part of that art. The means of persuasion are the only true constituents of the art; everything else is merely accessory. Yet these writers say nothing about enthymemes, which are the substance of rhetorical persuasion, and deal chiefly with matters that are not essential. Stirring up prejudice, pity, anger, and similar emotions has nothing to do with the essential facts. It is merely a personal appeal to the person judging the case.
Consequently, if the rules for trials now established in some states, especially well-governed states, were applied everywhere, these writers would have nothing to say. Everyone no doubt thinks that the laws should establish such rules, but some states put that belief into practice. In the court of the Areopagus, for example, discussion of nonessential matters is forbidden. This is a sound law and custom. It is wrong to distort a judge by moving him to anger, envy, or pity. One might as well warp a carpenter’s rule before using it.
Furthermore, a litigant clearly has nothing to do except show that an alleged fact is or is not so, or that it has or has not happened. Whether a thing is important or unimportant, just or unjust, is something the judge must refuse to learn from the litigants. He must decide for himself every point that the legislator has not already defined for him.
It is therefore extremely important that well-designed laws should define every point they possibly can and leave as few as possible for judges to decide. There are several reasons for this. First, it is easier to find one person, or a few people, who have good judgment and are capable of legislating and administering justice than to find a great number of them. Second, laws are made after long consideration, while court decisions must be made at short notice. This makes it difficult for those trying a case to satisfy the demands of justice and expediency.
The most important reason is that a legislator’s decision is prospective and general rather than concerned with a particular case. Members of an assembly and jurors, by contrast, must decide definite cases brought before them. They will often have allowed friendship, hatred, or self-interest to influence them so strongly that they lose any clear view of the truth, and their judgment becomes clouded by considerations of personal pleasure or pain.
In general, then, we maintain that a judge should be allowed to decide as few things as possible. But questions about whether something has or has not happened, will or will not happen, or is or is not the case must necessarily be left to the judge, since the legislator cannot foresee them.
If this is so, anyone who lays down rules about other matters, such as what an introduction, a narration, or any other division of a speech must contain, is theorizing about nonessential matters as though they belonged to the art. The only question these writers address is how to put the judge into a particular state of mind. They have nothing to tell us about the speaker’s proper means of persuasion, which means that they tell us nothing about how to acquire skill in enthymemes.
This explains why, although the same systematic principles apply to political and forensic oratory, and although political oratory is a nobler activity and more fitting for a citizen than one concerned with relations between private individuals, these authors say nothing about political oratory. Instead, they all try to write treatises on pleading in court.
The reason is that political oratory offers less incentive to speak about nonessential matters. It is less open to unscrupulous practices than forensic oratory because it deals with broader issues. In a political debate, the person forming a judgment is deciding about his own vital interests. There is therefore no need to prove anything except that the facts are as the supporter of a measure claims they are.
In forensic oratory, this is not enough. There it pays to win over the listener. Other people’s affairs are being decided, so judges who are intent on their own satisfaction and listen with partiality surrender themselves to the disputants instead of judging between them. This is why, as we have already said, irrelevant speech is forbidden in many law courts. In a public assembly, those who must form a judgment are quite able to guard against it themselves.
It is clear, then, that the systematic study of rhetoric, strictly understood, is concerned with the means of persuasion. Persuasion is plainly a kind of demonstration, since we are most fully persuaded when we consider something to have been demonstrated. The speaker’s demonstration is an enthymeme, and the enthymeme is generally the most effective means of persuasion.
An enthymeme is a kind of syllogism. The study of every kind of syllogism, without distinction, belongs to dialectic, either as a whole or to one of its branches. It plainly follows that the person best able to see how a syllogism is produced and from what elements will also be the most skillful in using enthymemes, provided that he also learns what subjects enthymemes concern and how they differ from the syllogisms of strict logic.
The same faculty apprehends both truth and approximate truth. It may also be observed that human beings have a sufficient natural instinct for the truth and usually do arrive at it. A person who guesses well at the truth is therefore likely to guess well at probabilities.
We have now shown that ordinary writers on rhetoric deal with nonessential matters. We have also shown why they have been more inclined toward forensic oratory.
Rhetoric is useful for four reasons. (1) Truth and justice have a natural tendency to prevail over their opposites. If judges reach the wrong decisions, the defeat must therefore be due to the speakers themselves, who deserve blame for it.
Moreover, (2) when addressing some audiences, even the most exact knowledge will not make it easy for our words to produce conviction. An argument based on knowledge requires instruction, and some people cannot be instructed. In such cases, we must base our means of persuasion and argument on ideas possessed by everyone, as we observed in the Topics when discussing how to address a general audience.
Further, (3) we must be able to argue persuasively on opposite sides of a question, just as strict reasoning can be used on opposite sides. We should not do this so that we may actually persuade people in both directions, since we must not make people believe what is wrong. We should do it so that we may see the facts clearly and be able to refute another person if he argues unfairly.
No other arts draw opposite conclusions. Dialectic and rhetoric alone do so, and both draw opposite conclusions impartially. Nevertheless, the underlying facts do not support contrary views equally well. On the contrary, things that are true and things that are better are by their nature almost always easier to prove and easier to believe.
Again, (4) it is absurd to maintain that a person should be ashamed of being unable to defend himself with his limbs but not ashamed of being unable to defend himself with speech and reason, since the use of rational speech is more distinctive of a human being than the use of his limbs.
It may be objected that someone who used such power of speech unjustly could do great harm. But the same charge can be made against every good thing except virtue, and especially against the most useful things, such as strength, health, wealth, and military command. By using these rightly, a person can confer the greatest benefits; by using them wrongly, he can inflict the greatest injuries.
It is clear, then, that rhetoric is not confined to any single definite class of subjects but is as universal as dialectic. It is also clear that rhetoric is useful. Its function is not simply to succeed in persuading, but to discover the means of coming as close to such success as the circumstances of each particular case permit. In this respect, it resembles every other art.
For example, the function of medicine is not simply to make a person completely healthy, but to bring him as far as possible along the road to health. Excellent treatment can be given even to those who can never enjoy sound health.
Furthermore, it is plainly the function of one and the same art to discern both real and apparent means of persuasion, just as dialectic discerns both real and apparent syllogisms. What makes a person a sophist is not his ability but his moral purpose. In rhetoric, however, the term “rhetorician” may describe either the speaker’s knowledge of the art or his moral purpose. In dialectic it is different: a person is a sophist because of a particular moral purpose, but a dialectician because of his ability rather than his moral purpose.
Let us now try to explain the systematic principles of rhetoric itself, including the right method and means of accomplishing the object before us. We must make a fresh start, as it were, and define rhetoric before proceeding further.
Chapter 2
Rhetoric may be defined as the faculty of observing, in any given case, the available means of persuasion. This is not the function of any other art. Every other art can instruct or persuade about its own particular subject matter. Medicine, for example, deals with what is healthy and unhealthy; geometry with the properties of magnitudes; arithmetic with numbers; and the same is true of the other arts and sciences.
Rhetoric, however, is the power of observing the means of persuasion available in almost any subject presented to us. That is why we say that, considered as an art, it is not concerned with any special or definite class of subjects.
Some means of persuasion belong strictly to the art of rhetoric, while others do not. By those that do not, I mean things that the speaker does not supply but that already exist at the outset, such as witnesses, evidence obtained under torture, written contracts, and so forth. By those belonging to the art, I mean the means of persuasion that we can construct ourselves by applying the principles of rhetoric. The first kind need only be used; the second must be invented.
There are three kinds of persuasion furnished by the spoken word. The first depends on the speaker’s personal character; the second on putting the audience into a particular state of mind; and the third on the proof, or apparent proof, supplied by the words of the speech itself.
Persuasion is achieved through the speaker’s character when the speech is delivered in such a way that we consider him credible. We believe people of good character more fully and readily than others. This is generally true whatever the question may be, and it is absolutely true when exact certainty is impossible and opinions are divided.
Like the other means of persuasion, this one should be produced by what the speaker says, not by what people think of his character before he begins speaking. Some authors of rhetorical treatises assume that the personal goodness revealed by a speaker contributes nothing to his power of persuasion. This is untrue. On the contrary, his character may almost be called the most effective means of persuasion he possesses.
Second, persuasion may come through the hearers when the speech stirs their emotions. Our judgments are not the same when we are pleased and friendly as when we are distressed and hostile. As we have maintained, present-day writers on rhetoric direct all their efforts toward producing these effects. We will treat this subject in detail when we discuss the emotions.
Third, persuasion is produced through the speech itself when we prove a truth, or an apparent truth, by means of persuasive arguments suited to the case in question.
These, then, are the three means of producing persuasion. Anyone who is to command them must clearly be able (1) to reason logically, (2) to understand the various forms of human character and goodness, and (3) to understand the emotions, which means being able to name and describe them and to know both their causes and the ways in which they are aroused.
Rhetoric therefore appears to be an offshoot of dialectic and also of ethical studies. Ethical studies may fairly be called political. For this reason, rhetoric disguises itself as political science, while its teachers disguise themselves as political experts, sometimes through lack of education, sometimes through ostentation, and sometimes because of other human failings.
In fact, as we said at the outset, rhetoric is a branch of dialectic and is similar to it. Neither rhetoric nor dialectic is the scientific study of any single, separate subject. Both are faculties for supplying arguments. This is perhaps a sufficient account of their scope and their relation to one another.
We turn now to persuasion achieved through proof or apparent proof. In dialectic, there is induction on the one hand and syllogism, or apparent syllogism, on the other. The same is true in rhetoric. The example is an induction; the enthymeme is a syllogism; and the apparent enthymeme is an apparent syllogism. I call the enthymeme a rhetorical syllogism and the example a rhetorical induction.
Everyone who produces persuasion through proof in fact uses either enthymemes or examples. There is no other method. And since everyone who proves anything at all must use either syllogisms or inductions, as is clear to us from the Analytics, it follows that enthymemes are syllogisms and examples are inductions.
The difference between an example and an enthymeme is made clear by the passages in the Topics where induction and syllogism have already been discussed. When we establish a proposition from a number of similar cases, the process is called induction in dialectic and example in rhetoric. When it is shown that, because certain propositions are true, a further and distinct proposition must also be true as a consequence, either invariably or usually, the process is called syllogism in dialectic and enthymeme in rhetoric.
Each of these types of oratory plainly has its advantages. I say types of oratory because what was said in the Methodics applies equally here. In some styles of oratory, examples predominate; in others, enthymemes do. Likewise, some speakers are better at using examples and others at using enthymemes. Speeches that rely on examples are just as persuasive as the other kind, but those relying on enthymemes receive louder applause.
We will discuss the sources of examples and enthymemes, and their proper uses, later. Our next step is to define the processes themselves more clearly.
A statement is persuasive and credible either because it is directly self-evident or because it appears to have been proved from other statements that are self-evident. In either case, it is persuasive because there is someone whom it persuades.
None of the arts, however, develops theories about individual cases. Medicine, for example, does not theorize about what will cure Socrates or Callias, but only about what will cure any or all members of a particular class of patients. This alone is its proper business. Individual cases vary infinitely, so no systematic knowledge of them is possible.
In the same way, the theory of rhetoric is concerned not with what seems probable to a particular individual, such as Socrates or Hippias, but with what seems probable to people of a particular type. The same is true of dialectic. Dialectic does not construct its syllogisms from arbitrary materials, such as the fantasies of insane people, but from materials that invite discussion. Rhetoric likewise draws on the ordinary subjects of debate.
The duty of rhetoric is to deal with matters about which we deliberate without arts or systematic bodies of knowledge to guide us. It addresses people who cannot grasp a complicated argument at a glance or follow a long chain of reasoning. The subjects on which we deliberate are those that appear to offer alternative possibilities. No one who believes that something could not have been, cannot now be, and cannot in the future be otherwise than it is wastes time deliberating about it.
It is possible to form syllogisms and draw conclusions from the results of earlier syllogisms. It is also possible to reason from premises that have not been proved in this way and that are so little accepted that they themselves require proof. Reasoning of the first kind will necessarily be difficult to follow because of its length, since we are assuming an audience of untrained thinkers. Reasoning of the second kind will fail to gain assent because it is based on premises that are not generally accepted or believed.
The enthymeme and the example must therefore deal chiefly with contingent matters. The example is an induction about such matters, and the enthymeme is a syllogism about them. An enthymeme must consist of few propositions, often fewer than those making up a normal syllogism. If one of these propositions is a familiar fact, it need not even be stated, since the hearer supplies it himself.
For example, to show that Dorieus has won a contest whose prize is a crown, it is enough to say, “He has won at the Olympic Games.” There is no need to add, “The prize at the Olympic Games is a crown,” since everyone knows that fact.
Few facts of the necessary kind can form the basis of rhetorical syllogisms. Most matters about which we make decisions, and which we therefore investigate, offer alternative possibilities. We deliberate and inquire about our actions, and all our actions are contingent. Hardly any of them are determined by necessity.
Furthermore, conclusions stating what is merely usual or possible must be drawn from premises that are also usual or possible, just as necessary conclusions must be drawn from necessary premises. This too is clear from the Analytics. It is evident, therefore, that although some propositions forming the basis of enthymemes may be necessary, most of them will be true only as a rule.
The materials of enthymemes are probabilities and signs. These must correspond respectively to propositions that are generally true and those that are necessarily true.
A probability is something that usually happens. It is not, as some definitions suggest, simply anything whatever that usually happens. It must belong to the class of contingent or variable things. It is related to that in respect of which it is probable as the universal is related to the particular.
There are two kinds of signs. One is related to the proposition it supports as the particular is related to the universal; the other is related to it as the universal is related to the particular. The infallible kind is a “complete proof” (τεκμήριον). The fallible kind has no specific name.
By infallible signs, I mean those on which proper syllogisms can be based. This explains why this kind of sign is called a “complete proof.” When people believe that what they have said cannot be refuted, they believe they have presented a complete proof, meaning that the matter has now been demonstrated and completed (πεπερασμένον). In the ancient language, the word πέρας, meaning “end” or “boundary,” has the same meaning as τέκμαρ.
The kind of sign related to the proposition it supports as the particular is related to the universal may be illustrated in this way: “The fact that Socrates was wise and just is a sign that wise people are just.” Here we certainly have a sign. But even if the proposition is true, the argument can be refuted because it does not form a syllogism.
Suppose, on the other hand, someone says, “The fact that he has a fever is a sign that he is ill,” or, “The fact that she is producing milk is a sign that she has recently borne a child.” Here we have the infallible kind of sign, the only kind that constitutes a complete proof. If the particular statement is true, this is the only kind that cannot be refuted.
The other kind of sign, which is related to the proposition it supports as the universal is related to the particular, might be illustrated by the statement, “The fact that he is breathing rapidly is a sign that he has a fever.” This argument too can be refuted, even if the statement about his rapid breathing is true, since a person may breathe hard without having a fever.
We have now stated the nature of a probability, a sign, and a complete proof, as well as the differences among them. A more explicit account of these points has been given in the Analytics, where it is shown why some of these arguments can be expressed as syllogisms and others cannot.
The example has already been described as a kind of induction, and we have also stated the special nature of the subject matter that distinguishes it from other kinds of induction. Its relation to the proposition it supports is not that of part to whole, whole to part, or whole to whole, but that of part to part, or like to like. When two statements belong to the same order, but one is more familiar than the other, the more familiar one is an example.
One might argue, for instance, that Dionysius, in requesting a bodyguard, is plotting to make himself a despot. In the past, Peisistratus repeatedly requested a bodyguard in order to carry out such a plan, and he made himself a despot as soon as he obtained it. Theagenes did the same at Megara. In the same way, all other cases known to the speaker are used as examples to show what is not yet known, namely, that Dionysius has the same purpose in making the same request. All these are instances of one general principle: a person who requests a bodyguard is plotting to make himself a despot.
We have now described the sources of those means of persuasion that are popularly regarded as demonstrative.
There is an important distinction between two kinds of enthymemes that almost everyone has completely overlooked. The same distinction exists between the syllogisms treated in dialectic. One kind of enthymeme properly belongs to rhetoric, just as one kind of syllogism properly belongs to dialectic. The other kind properly belongs to other arts and faculties, whether those we already possess or those we have not yet acquired.
Because people miss this distinction, they fail to notice that the more correctly they handle their particular subject, the further they move away from pure rhetoric or dialectic. This statement will become clearer if it is explained more fully.
The proper subjects of dialectical and rhetorical syllogisms are those addressed by what we call regular or universal lines of argument. These are lines of argument that apply equally to questions of right conduct, natural science, politics, and many other subjects that have nothing to do with one another.
Consider, for example, the line of argument concerned with “the more or less.” It is equally easy to base a syllogism or enthymeme on this line of argument when speaking about any number of essentially unrelated subjects, such as right conduct, natural science, or anything else.
But there are also special lines of argument based on propositions that apply only to particular groups or classes of things. There are, for example, propositions concerning natural science on which no enthymeme or syllogism about ethics can be based, and propositions concerning ethics on which nothing can be based about natural science. The same principle applies throughout.
General lines of argument have no special subject matter and therefore do not increase our understanding of any particular class of things. On the other hand, the better a person becomes at selecting propositions suited to special lines of argument, the closer he comes, without realizing it, to establishing a science distinct from dialectic and rhetoric. He may succeed in stating the necessary principles, but his science will no longer be dialectic or rhetoric. It will be the particular science to which the principles he has discovered belong.
Most enthymemes are in fact based on these particular or special lines of argument; comparatively few are based on the common or general kind. Therefore, as in the Topics, we must distinguish in this work between the special and general lines of argument on which enthymemes are founded. By special lines of argument, I mean propositions peculiar to each particular class of things; by general lines, I mean those common to every class alike.
We may begin with the special lines of argument. First, however, we must classify rhetoric into its varieties. Once we have distinguished them, we can consider them one by one and try to discover the elements of which each is composed and the propositions each must employ.
Chapter 3
Rhetoric has three divisions, determined by the three kinds of listeners to speeches. A speech has three elements: the speaker, the subject, and the person addressed. It is the last of these, the listener, who determines the speech’s end and purpose. The listener must be either a judge deciding about past or future events, or an observer. A member of an assembly decides about future events, and a juror about past events, while those who merely judge the orator’s skill are observers. It follows that there are three divisions of oratory: political, forensic, and ceremonial oratory for display.
Political speaking urges us either to do something or not to do it. Private counselors and speakers addressing public assemblies always take one of these two courses. Forensic speaking either accuses or defends someone. The parties in a case must always do one or the other. Ceremonial oratory either praises or censures someone.
These three kinds of rhetoric concern three different times. The political orator is concerned with the future, since the advice for or against a course of action concerns what is to be done afterward. A party in a legal case is concerned with the past: one person accuses another, and the other defends himself, with reference to things already done. Strictly speaking, the ceremonial orator is concerned with the present, since everyone praises or blames in view of the existing state of things, though such speakers often also find it useful to recall the past and make guesses about the future.
Rhetoric has three distinct ends, one for each of its three kinds. The political orator aims to establish whether a proposed course of action is expedient or harmful. If he urges its acceptance, he does so on the ground that it will do good; if he urges its rejection, he does so on the ground that it will do harm. He introduces all other considerations, such as whether the proposal is just or unjust, honorable or dishonorable, as subordinate and relative to this main concern.
The parties in a legal case aim to establish the justice or injustice of some action, and they too introduce all other considerations as subordinate and relative to this one. Those who praise or attack someone aim to prove that person worthy of honor or the reverse, and they likewise treat every other consideration in relation to this purpose.
That the three kinds of rhetoric respectively aim at the three ends just mentioned is shown by the fact that speakers will sometimes make no effort to establish anything else. A litigant, for example, will sometimes not deny that something happened or that he caused harm. But he will never admit that he is guilty of injustice, since otherwise there would be no need for a trial.
Similarly, political orators will often concede anything except that they are recommending an inexpedient course or discouraging an expedient one. They are often entirely unconcerned with the question whether it is unjust for a city to enslave its innocent neighbors. In the same way, those who praise or censure someone do not consider whether his actions were expedient. They often make it a reason for actual praise that he neglected his own interests to do what was honorable. Thus they praise Achilles because he championed his fallen friend Patroclus, although he knew this would mean his own death and that otherwise he need not die. For him, such a death was the nobler course, though the expedient course was to remain alive.
It is evident from what has been said that these three subjects, more than any others, are the ones for which the orator must have propositions at his command. The propositions of rhetoric are complete proofs, probabilities, and signs. Every kind of syllogism is composed of propositions, and the enthymeme is a particular kind of syllogism composed of the propositions just mentioned.
Only possible actions, not impossible ones, can ever have been performed in the past or present. Likewise, things that have not occurred, or will not occur, cannot have been done or be going to be done. Political, forensic, and ceremonial speakers must therefore all have at their command propositions about what is possible or impossible, about whether something has or has not occurred, and about whether it will or will not occur.
Furthermore, when people praise or blame, urge us to accept or reject proposals for action, accuse others, or defend themselves, they try not only to prove the points already mentioned. They also try to show that the good or harm, honor or disgrace, justice or injustice, is great or small, either absolutely or in relation to something else. It is therefore clear that we must also have at our command both universal and particular propositions about greatness and smallness, and about the greater and the lesser. We must, for example, be able to say which is the greater or lesser good, or the greater or lesser act of justice or injustice, and so on.
These, then, are the subjects whose relevant propositions we must necessarily master. We must now discuss each particular class of these subjects in turn: those treated in political oratory, then in ceremonial oratory, and finally in legal oratory.
Chapter 4
First, we must determine what kinds of good or bad things the political orator advises about. He does not deal with everything, but only with things that may or may not happen. No advice can be given about things that exist or will exist inevitably, or about things that cannot possibly exist or happen.
Nor can advice be given about the entire class of things that may or may not happen. That class includes some good things that occur naturally and others that occur by accident, and it is useless to offer advice about these. Clearly, advice can be given only about matters on which people deliberate, namely, matters that ultimately depend on us and that we have the power to set in motion. We consider a thing in our minds until we reach the point of seeing whether we can do it or not.
We must not attempt here to enumerate and classify precisely the customary subjects of public business, or to frame definitions of them that are as true as possible. That task belongs not to the art of rhetoric but to a more instructive art and a more substantial field of knowledge. Even as it is, rhetoric has been assigned a far wider subject matter than properly belongs to it.
The truth, as we have already said, is that rhetoric combines the science of logic with the ethical branch of politics. It partly resembles dialectic and partly resembles sophistical reasoning. But the more we try to turn either dialectic or rhetoric from what it really is, a practical faculty, into a science, the more we will inadvertently destroy its true nature. We will be refashioning it and moving into the realm of sciences concerned with definite subjects, rather than simply with words and forms of reasoning. Even here, however, we will mention the distinctions that are practically important, leaving their fuller treatment, as is natural, to political science.
The principal matters on which everyone deliberates and political speakers make speeches are five in number: ways and means, war and peace, national defense, imports and exports, and legislation.
With regard to ways and means, a prospective speaker must know the number and extent of the country’s sources of revenue. Then, if any source is being overlooked, it may be added, and if any is inadequate, it may be increased. He should also know all the country’s expenditures, so that any superfluous expense may be abolished and any excessive one reduced. People grow richer not only by increasing their existing wealth but also by reducing their expenses. A comprehensive view of these questions cannot be gained solely through experience of domestic affairs. To advise on such matters, a person must take a keen interest in the methods developed in other countries.
With regard to peace and war, the speaker must know the extent of his country’s military strength, both actual and potential, as well as the nature of that actual and potential strength. He must also know what wars his country has fought and how it fought them.
He must know these facts not only about his own country but also about neighboring countries and about countries with which war is likely. This knowledge will help preserve peace with countries stronger than his own and give his country the power to choose whether to wage war against weaker ones. He should also know whether another country’s military power is like or unlike that of his own, since this may affect their relative strength. With the same purpose in view, he must study the wars of other countries as well as those of his own and learn how they ended, since similar causes are likely to produce similar results.
With regard to national defense, he ought to know everything about the methods of defense actually in use, including the strength and character of the defensive force and the positions of the forts. The last requirement means that he must know the terrain of the country well. He can then increase a garrison if it is too small, remove it if it is unnecessary, and ensure that strategic points are guarded with particular care.
With regard to the food supply, he must know what expenditure will meet his country’s needs, what kinds of food are produced domestically and what kinds are imported, and which articles must be exported or imported. He needs this last knowledge so that agreements and commercial treaties can be made with the countries concerned. There are two kinds of states that he must ensure his countrymen do not offend: states stronger than his own and states with which trade is advantageous.
