Examples in which various maxims falling under the super-тахіт "Be perspicuous" are flouted

Ambiguity. We must remember that we are concerned only with ambiguity that is deliberate, and that the speaker intends or expects to be recognized by his hearer. The problem the hearer has to solve is why a speaker should, when still playing the conversational game, go out of his way to choose an ambiguous utterance. There are two types of cases:

(a) Examples in which there is no difference, or no striking differ-ence, between two interpretations of an utterance with respect to straightforwardness; neither interpretation is notably more sophisti-cated, less standard, more recondite or more far-fetched than the other. We might consider Blake's lines: "Never seck to tell thy love, Love that never told can be." To avoid the complications introduced by the presence of the imperative mood, I shall consider the related sentence, I sought to tell my love, love that never told can be. There may be a double ambiguity here. My love may refer to either a state of emotion or an object of emotion, and love that never told can be may mean either "Love that cannot be told" or "love that if told cannot continue to exist." Partly because of the sophistication of the poet and partly because of internal evidence (that the ambiguity is kept up), there seems to be no alternative to supposing that the ambiguities are deliberate and that the poet is conveying both what he would be saying if one interpretation were intended rather than the other, and vice versa; though no doubt the poet is not explicitly say. ing any one of these things but only conveying or suggesting them (cf.

"Since she [nature] pricked thee out for women's pleasure, mine be thy love, and thy love's use their treasure").

(b) Examples in which one interpretation is notably less straightforward than another. Take the complex example of the British General who captured the province of Sind and sent back the message Peccavi. The ambiguity involved ("I have Sind"/"I have sinned") is phonemic, not morphemic; and the expression actually used is un-ambiguous, but since it is in a language foreign to speaker and hearer, translation is called for, and the ambiguity resides in the standard translation into native English.

Whether or not the straightforward interpretant ("I have sinned") is being conveyed, it seems that the nonstraightforward interpretant must be. There might be stylistic reasons for conveying by a sentence merely its nonstraightforward interpretant, but it would be pointless, and perhaps also stylistically objectionable, to go to the trouble of finding an expression that nonstraightforwardly conveys that p, thus imposing on an audience the effort involved in finding this interpre-tant, if this interpretant were otiose so far as communication was concerned. Whether the straightforward interpretant is also being conveyed seems to depend on whether such a supposition would conflict with other conversational requirements, for example, would it be relevant, would it be something the speaker could be supposed to accept, and so on. If such requirements are not satisfied, then the straightforward interpretant is not being conveyed. If they are, it is. If the author of Peccavi could naturally be supposed to think that he had committed some kind of transgression, for example, had disobeyed his orders in capturing Sind, and if reference to such a transgression would be relevant to the presumed interests of the au-dience, then he would have been conveying both interpretants: otherwise he would be conveying only the nonstraightforward one.

 But Napier is most famous for a single word issued after the fall of Sindh. Under the title ‘Foreign Affairs' Punch magazine reported in May, 1844:

“It is a common idea that the most laconic military despatch ever issued was that sent by Caesar to the Horse-Guards at Rome, containing the three memorable words ‘Veni, vidi, vici,’ [I came, I saw, I conquered] and, perhaps, until our own day, no like instance of brevity has been found. 

"The despatch of Sir Charles Napier, after the capture of Sindh, both for brevity and truth, is, however, far beyond it. The despatch consisted of one emphatic [Latin] word – ‘Peccavi,’ ‘I have Sindh,’ (sinned).”

Brilliant! – but, unfortunately, not true. After reading about Napier’s exploits a schoolgirl, Catherine Winkworth, said to her teacher that his despatch after capturing Sindh should have been ‘Peccavi’ (Latin for 'I have sinned'). Catherine was so pleased with her pun that she sent it to the new humorous magazine, Punch. Inexplicably, the editor printed it as a factual report.

 The explicit reference to Julius Caesar used by Punch magazine to contextualize the famous "Peccavi" ("I have Sindh") pun was printed in May 1844 under the section "Foreign Affairs." [1]

The editorial opening directly contrasts the brevity of Sir Charles Napier’s dispatch with Caesar's legendary report to the Roman Senate: [1, 2]

Punch described "Veni, vidi, vici" as a famously brief dispatch, but argued that Sir Charles Napier’s single-word message—"Peccavi" ("I have Sindh")—was superior in both brevity and truth.[1]

Key Details of the Reference

• The Satirical Twist: Punch humorously transposed the "Horse-Guards" (London headquarters of the British Army) onto ancient Rome, comparing Caesar's famous line to Napier's pun to highlight the absurdity of military reports. [1, 2]
• The Real Author: While framed as an editorial, Punch actually published the submission from a 16-year-old girl named Catherine Winkworth. [1]

If you are researching the geopolitical context of this era, I can provide more details on how the British public reacted to the annexation of Sindh or the biography of Catherine Winkworth. Which would you prefer?

 The phrase containing the word detraxit is not from Livy.

Instead, detraxit stems from the legal definitions and vocabulary compiled by Roman grammarians and legal antiquarians—most notably Marcus Terentius Varro, whose work was later summarized by Verrius Flaccusand preserved by Festus. They defined the spolia optima fundamentally as the spoils “quae dux populi Romani duci hostium detraxit” (which a Roman leader stripped from an enemy leader). [1, 2]

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1. Livy's Actual Version (Ab Urbe Condita, 1.10.6)

In his History of Rome, Livy writes the dedicating speech of Romulus using purely first-person verbs. He does not mention himself in the third person or use detraxit.

Here is the exact Latin from Livy (1.10.6):

“Iuppiter Feretri, ego rex Romulus victor regia arma fero, templumque his regionibus quas modo animo metatus sum dedico…” [1]

Translation:

"Jupiter Feretrius, I, King Romulus, as victor, bring these royal arms, and I dedicate a temple in these grounds which I have just now marked out in my mind..."

2. Is Illeism in Livy?

Yes, illeism (the practice of referring to oneself in the third person) absolutely exists in Livy, though it behaves differently depending on the context:

• In Speeches (Historical Characters): Livy's generals and kings frequently use their own names or third-person pronouns (ille, ipse) to emphasize their authority, majesty, or historic burden. In the quote above, Romulus saying "ego rex Romulus" is a classic example of explicit self-naming for monumental, ritualistic weight. [1]
• The "Dux Duci Detraxit" Debate: Interestingly, the exact phrase dux duci detraxit appears later in Livy (Book 4.20.6) when he records Emperor Augustus physically entering the ruined Temple of Jupiter Feretrius. Livy writes that Augustus read the ancient linen corselet inscription and used it to clarify a historical legal definition. [1, 2]

Summary of the Switch

The detraxit variation you initially encountered is a hybrid modern conflation of:

1. Livy's theatrical speech ("rex Romulus... fero")
2. Varro/Festus's antiquarian legal definition ("quae... duci hostium detraxit"). [1, 2]

Would you like to explore how Augustus used this specific inscription to block a political rival, Marcus Licinius Crassus, from claiming these very spoils? Let me know if you want to dig into that historical scandal.[1]