CHAPTER IV.Imagination.
Nothing adds more to the brilliancy and effectiveness of oratory than the royal faculty of imagination. This weird and glorious power deals with truth as well as fiction and gives to its fortunate possessor the creative, life-breathing spirit of poetry.
Listen to the description of natural scenery by a person of imagination, and afterward by another destitute of that faculty! Each may be perfectly accurate and refer to the same objects, even enumerating the same particulars in the same order; but the one gives a catalogue, the other a picture. In relating a story or enforcing an argument, the same difference in the vividness of impression is apparent.
It is said of Henry Ward Beecher, who possesses a strong imagination, that the people would listen with delighted attention if he only described the mode in which a potato grew! He would see a thousand beauties in its budding and blossoming, and paint the picture so vividly as to command universal attention.
The Bible, which is the most popular of all books, is pre-eminently a book of imagination. Nowhere is loftier or more beautiful imagery employed, or wrought intomore exquisite forms. A few short and simple words paint pictures that the world looks upon with astonishment from age to age. Paradise Lost, the most sublime imaginative poem in the language of man, drew much of its inspiration from a few passages in Genesis. Job and Isaiah are without rivals in the power of picturing by means of words, sublime objects beyond the grasp of mortal vision.
While illustrations and comparisons flow principally from the reasoning faculties, their beauty and sparkle come from imagination. Without its influence these may explain and simplify, but they have no power to interest the hearer or elevate the tenor of discourse.
How may imagination be cultivated? It is said that “Poets are born, not made,” but the foundation of every other faculty also is in nature, while all are useless, unless improved, and applied. Imagination will increase in vigor and activity by proper use. Its function is to form complete mental images from the detached materials furnished by the senses. It gathers from all sources and mixes and mingles until a picture is produced. The proper way to cultivate it lies in forming abundance of just such pictures and in finishing them with all possible care. Let the orator, on the canvas of the mind, paint in full size and perfect coloring, every part of his speech which relates to material or visible things. Illustrations also can usually be represented inpicturesque form. We do not now speak of outward representation, but of viewing all objects in clear distinctness, through the eye of the mind. It is not enough for the speaker, if he would reach the highest success, to gather all the facts he wishes to use, to arrange them in the best order, or even to premeditate the very form of words. Instead of the latter process, he may more profitably strive to embrace all that can be pictured in one mental view. If he can summon before him in the moment of description the very scenes and events about which he is discoursing, and behold them vividly as in a waking dream, it is probable that his auditors will see them in the same manner. A large part of all discourses may thus be made pictorial. InIvanhoe, one of the characters looks out through a castle window and describes to a wounded knight within the events of the assault which was being made upon the castle. Any person could describe the most stirring scene vividly and well in the moment of witnessing it. A strong imagination enables a speaker or poet to see those things he speaks of almost as accurately and impressively as if passing before his bodily eyes, and often with far more brightness of color. To make the effort to see what we write or read will have a powerful effect in improving the imaginative faculty.
Reading and carefully pondering the works of those who have imagination in high degree will also be helpful. The time devoted to the enjoyment of great poemsis not lost to the orator. They give richness and tone to his mind, introduce him into scenes of ideal beauty, and furnish him with many a striking thought and glowing image.
Most of the sciences give as full scope to imagination in its best workings as poetry itself. Astronomy and geology are pre-eminent in this particular. Everything about them is grand. They deal with immense periods of time, vast magnitudes, and sublime histories. Each science requires the formation of mental images and thus gives the advantages we have already pointed out. It is possible for a scientific man to deal exclusively with the shell rather than the substance of science, with its technical names and definitions rather than its grand truths; but in this case the fault is with himself rather than with his subject. The dryness of scientific and even mathematical studies relates only to the preliminary departments. A philosopher once said that success in science and in poetry depended upon the same faculties. He was very nearly right. The poet is a creator who forms new worlds of his own. The greatest of their number thus describes the process by which imagination performs its magic.
“The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;And, as imagination bodies forthThe forms of things unknown, the poet’s penTurns them to shapes and gives to airy nothingA local habitation and a name.Such tricks hath strong imagination.”
“The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;And, as imagination bodies forthThe forms of things unknown, the poet’s penTurns them to shapes and gives to airy nothingA local habitation and a name.Such tricks hath strong imagination.”
“The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;And, as imagination bodies forthThe forms of things unknown, the poet’s penTurns them to shapes and gives to airy nothingA local habitation and a name.Such tricks hath strong imagination.”
“The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination.”
Almost the same result must be reached in many departments of science, with the aid of only a few scattered facts for a basis. The geologist has some broken bones, withered leaves, and fragments of rock, from which to reconstruct the primitive world. From the half-dozen facts observed through his telescope, the astronomer pictures the physical condition of distant planets. In every science the same need exists for imagination in its highest, most truthful function, and the same opportunity is, therefore, afforded for its cultivation.
An eminent elocutionist frequently urged his classes to employ all pauses in mentally picturing the idea contained in the coming sentence. He declared that by this means the expression of the voice was rendered more rich and true. In uttering our own words this process is at once more easy and more fruitful in varied advantages.
CHAPTER V.Voice and Gesture.
Voice and gesture form the immediate link between the speaker and his audience. The value of good quality in both is sometimes over-estimated, though it is always considerable. A good voice, well managed, gives powerful and vivid expression to thought, but cannot supply the absence of it. Neither is such a voice indispensable. Many instances of high success against vocal disadvantages might be mentioned; but these only prove that other excellencies may atone for a single defect. We can never be indifferent to the charms of a good voice, that modulates with every emotion and responds to the finest shades of feeling. It has much of the pleasing quality of music.
But this harmony cannot be evoked by merely mechanical training. To teach the pupil just what note on the musical scale he must strike to express a particular emotion, how much of an inflection must be used to express joy or sorrow, and how many notes down the scale mark a complete suspension of sense, is absurd: speech can never be set to music.
But let it not be inferred from this that voice cultivation is useless. The more perfect the instrument for theexpression of thought can be made, the better it will be fitted for its high office. An orator may profitably spend a little time daily for years in training the voice, for it is a faculty he must continually employ, and none is more susceptible of improvement. The passion evoked in animated speech will demand for its adequate expression almost every note and key within the compass of the voice; and unless it has previously been trained into strength on each of these, it will fail or grow weary. The proper kind of preparation operates by exploring the range of the voice, testing its capabilities, and improving each tone. This work is not imitative or slavish. It is only like putting an instrument in tune before beginning a musical performance.
To give full elocutionary instruction here would be aside from our purpose; but a few useful modes of practice may be pointed out.
Good articulation is of prime importance. Nothing will contribute more to secure this valuable quality than the separation of words into their elements of sound and continued practice on each element as thus isolated. Phonetic shorthand affords a good means for making such analysis, or the same purpose may be accomplished by means of the marks of pronunciation found in any dictionary. As we practice these elements of sound we will discover the exact nature of any defect of articulation we may suffer from, and can drill upon the sounds thatare difficult until they become easy. When we have thus learned to pronounce these few elements—not much above forty in number—and can follow them into all their combinations, we have mastered the alphabet of utterance. It will also contribute greatly to strengthen the voice and make it pliable, if we continue the same practice on these elements at different degrees of elevation on the musical scale until we can utter each one in full, round distinctness, at any pitch from the deepest bass to the shrillest note ever used in speech. This will bring all varieties of modulation within easy reach.
Practice on these elements is also a very effective mode of strengthening weak voices. By pronouncing them one by one, with gradually increasing force, the degree of loudness we can attain at any pitch, will be greatly extended. The amount of improvement that may be made would be incredible if it were not so often exemplified. Every teacher of elocution can testify of students, the power of whose voices has thus been multiplied many fold; and almost equal advantages may be reaped in persevering private practice.
Following on the same line, we may learn to enunciate the elements, and especially the short vowels, in a quick, sharp tone, more rapidly than the ticking of a watch, and with the clearness of a bell. This will enable the speaker to avoid drawling, and be very fast when desirable, without falling into indistinctness. Then, by anopposite process, other sounds, especially the long vowels, may be prolonged with every degree of force from the faintest to the fullest. Perseverance in these two exercises will so improve the voice that no hall will be too large for its compass.
The differing extension of sounds, as well as their pitch and variations in force, constitute theperspectiveof speech and give it an agreeable variety, like the mingling of light and shade in a well-executed picture. The opposite of this, a dull, dead uniformity, with each word uttered in the same key, with the same force, and at the same degree of speed, becomes well-nigh unbearable; while perpetual modulation, reflecting in each rise and fall, each storm and calm of sound, the living thought within, is the perfection of nature, which the best art can only copy.
All vocal exercises are of an essentially preparatory character. In the moment of speech details may safely be left to the impulse of nature. Supply the capability by previous discipline, and then allow passion to clothe itself in the most natural forms. There is such a vital connection between emotion and the tones of voice, that emphasis and inflection will be as spontaneous, on the part of the disciplined speaker, as breathing. Rules remembered in the act of speaking tend to destroy all life and freshness of utterance.
When bad habits have been corrected, the voice madesupple and strong, confidence attained, and deep feeling evoked in the speaker’s breast, there will be little need to care for the minutiæ of elocution. The child that is burnt needs no instruction in the mode of crying out. Let nature have her way, untrammeled by art, and all feelings will dominate the voice and cause every hearer to recognize their nature and participate in them. In this way we may not attain the brilliancy of theatric clap-trap, but we will be able to give “the touch of nature that makes the whole world kin.”
If carefully guarded, the faculty of imitation may be of great service in the management of the voice. The sounds that express sympathy and passion are heard everywhere, forming a medium of communication more subtle and widespread than any language of earth. From the example of great orators we may learn what true excellence is, and become able to reproduce some, at least, of their effects. It would be hurtful to confine our attention too long to one model, for true excellence is many-sided, and if we continually view only one of its phases we are apt to fall into slavish imitation—one of the greatest of all vices. By having many examples to look upon, and using them only to elevate our own ideal, we will escape this danger. The models before us will urge us to greater exertions and the whole level of our attainments be raised.
There are abundant faults to mar the freedom andnaturalness of delivery, and the speaker who would be truly natural must watch diligently for them and exterminate them without mercy. The sing-song tone, the scream, the lisp, the guttural and tremulous tones, the rhythmical emphasis which falls like a trip-hammer at measured intervals, are specimens of common, bad habits that should be weeded out as fast as they push through the soil; and if the speaker’s egotism is too great to see them, or his taste not pure enough, some friend should point them out. Even the advice of an enemy conveyed in the unpleasant form of sarcasm and ridicule may be profitably used for the purpose of reform and improvement.
Should a conversational tone be employed in speaking? This question has often been asked, and much difference of opinion evoked, but it may be satisfactorily answered. The language of conversation is the language of nature in its most unfettered form, and it should, therefore, be thebasisof all speech. The same variety and character of intonations used in it should be employed in every variety of oratory. But conversation itself varies widely with varying circumstances. The man talking with a friend across a river will speak less rapidly but more loudly than if he held that friend by the hand. In speaking to a number at once, the orator must, in order to be heard, speak more forcibly and distinctly than in addressing one only. With this explanation, it may be laid down as a safe rule that aspeech shouldbeginin a conversational manner. But should it continue in the same way? A deep, full tone—the orotund of the elocutionist—will make a stronger impression than a shrill, feeble utterance. And as conversation becomes earnest even between two persons, there is the tendency to stronger and more impressive tones. This same tendency will be a sufficient guide in speech. A trained man giving utterance to a well-prepared speech, upon a theme which appeals to his own emotions, will adopt those oratorical tones which form a proper medium for eloquence, without a single thought given to that subject during the moment of delivery. Begin as a man who is talking to a number of his friends upon an interesting subject; then, as the interest deepens, let go all restraint. As passion rises like an inflowing tide, the voice will be so fully possessed by it and so filled out and strengthened as to produce all the effect of which its compass is capable. It will deepen into the thunder roll when that is needed, and at the right time will grow soft and pathetic.
But above almost every other error that the speaker can commit, beware of thinking that you must be loud in order to be impressive. Nothing is more disgusting than that interminable roar, beginning with a shout, and continuing to split the speaker’s throat and the hearer’s ears all through the discourse. This fault is not uncommon in the pulpit, especially among those who desire areputation for extraordinary fervor and earnestness. But it is the worst kind of monotony. The loudness of tone, that applied at the right place would be overpowering, loses all power except to disgust and weary an audience. It expresses no more thought or sentiment than the lashing of ocean waves conveys to the storm-tossed mariner. Have something to say; keep the fires of passion burning in your own soul; learn the real strength there is in the reserve of power; and the cultivated voice will not fail in its only legitimate office—that of making the clear and adequate impression of your thoughts and emotions upon the souls of others.
Elocutionary manuals properly devote much space to the consideration of gesture, for the eye should be addressed and pleased as well as the ear. But we doubt whether the marking out of special gestures to be imitated can do much good. A few broad principles like those formulated by the celebrated French teacher, Delsarte, may be profitably studied and made familiar by practice upon a few simple selections. After that the principal use of training is to give confidence so that the speaker may be in the full possession and instinctive use of all his powers. Fear often freezes the speaker into ice-like rigidity; and hearers are apt to feel the same deadly chill when listening to some one whose dominating sentiment is the fear that he may do something ridiculous, or fail to win their favor.
The secondary use of training in gesture is to discard awkward and repulsive movements. Timidity and fear may be overcome by a firm resolution, and the object is well worth the effort. Bad or ungraceful actions are far better in the case of a beginner than no action at all. The saying of Demosthenes, that the first, the second, and the third need of an orator is “ACTION,” does not fully apply to the modern speaker. He needs many things more urgently than action, even when that word is taken in its widest sense. But action is important, and when graceful and expressive, it does powerfully tend to arrest attention, and even to help the processes of thought on the part of the speaker himself. We have heard several eloquent men who scarcely moved during the delivery of an address, but never without feeling that good gesticulation would have been a great addition to their power. It is unnatural to speak for any considerable period of time without moving. None but a lazy, sick, or bashful man will do it. Let the laziness be shaken off, the sickness cured, and the bashfulness reserved for a more fitting occasion! A man who is too bashful and diffident to move hand, head, or foot in the presence of an audience should in consistency refuse to monopolize their time at all!
Practice will usually overcome this fault. When a man has stood a great many times before an audience without receiving any serious injury, and has a goodpurpose in thus claiming their attention, and something which he thinks they ought to hear, he will forget his fears and allow his mind to be engrossed, as that of a true speaker should be, with the subject he has in hand. Then all his gestures will have at least the grace of unconscious and spontaneous origination.
But when fear has been overcome so that the speaker is not afraid to use his hands, he needs to enter upon a determined and comprehensive campaign against bad habits. If anything is truly natural—that is, true to the higher or universal nature—it will be beautiful; but early examples are so often wrong and corrupting that it is hard to say what nature is: Nature may be a bad nature—the reflection of all that is low and sordid as well as that which is high and ennobling. That nature which is in harmony with the sum of all things, which is the image of the Creator’s perfectness, must be right and good; but we must not too hastily conclude that any habits of our own have this high and unquestionable source. Hardly a speaker lives who does not at some time fall into unsightly or ridiculous habits. The difference between men in this respect is that some steadily accumulate all the faults they ever have contracted, until the result is most repulsive; while others, from the warnings of friends or their own observation, discover their errors and cast them off.
A mode by which the solitary student may becomeacquainted with his faults, and from which he should not be driven by foolish ridicule, is by declaiming in as natural and forcible a manner as possible before a large mirror. Thus we may “see ourselves as others see us.” Repeated practice in this manner will enable you to keep the necessary watch upon your motions, without so much distracting attention as to make the exercise before the glass no trustworthy specimen of ordinary habits. In speaking, you hear your own voice and thus become sensible of audible errors, but the glass is required to show improper movements that may have been unconsciously contracted. It is not advised that each speech, before delivery, should be practiced in front of the mirror. It is doubtful if such practice would not cherish a self-consciousness worse than all the errors it corrected. But the same objection would not apply to occasional declamations made for the very purpose of self-criticism.
By these two processes—pressing out into action as freely as possible under the impulse of deep feeling, and by lopping off everything that is not graceful and effective—we may soon attain a good style of gesture. When the habit of suiting the action to the word is once fully formed, all anxiety on that subject may be dismissed. The best gesticulation is entirely unconscious.
CHAPTER VI.Confidence.
How may that boldness and confidence which is indispensable to an orator best be acquired? On your success in this direction, hinges all other kinds of improvement. So long as a nervous dread hangs about you, it will make the practice of extemporaneous speech painful and repulsive, paralyzing all your faculties in the moment of utterance.
You must acquire confidence in your own powers and be willing to trust to their guidance.
But it is not necessary that you should exhibit or even feel this confidence at the beginning of a speech, for it may then appear like boastfulness or egotism. It is enough if you then have confidence in your subject, and in the fullness of your preparation. You may then without injury wish that some one, that you imagine more worthy, stood in your place. But if this feeling continues all through the address, failure is inevitable. Many a man begins while trembling in every limb, especially if the occasion be of unusual character, but soon becomes inspired with his theme and forgets all anxiety. If your fear be greater and more persistent, keeping you in perpetual terror, it will destroy all liberty and eloquence.When laboring under such an influence, you lose self-possession, become confused, all interest evaporates from your most carefully prepared thoughts, and you sit down at length, convinced that you have failed. It is but little consolation to believe that you had all the time in your brain the necessary power and material to achieve splendid success, if you had but possessed the courage to use it aright.
There is no remedy for fear more effectual than to do all our work under the immediate inspiration of duty. This feeling is not the privilege of the minister alone, but of each one who is conscious that he occupies the place where he stands because it is his right to be there, because he has some information to give, some cause to advocate, or some important task to do. With such consciousness we can speak our best, and finish with the satisfaction of having done our work as truly as if we had performed duty placed upon us in any other department of labor. But if we aim simply at making an exhibition of self and of showing our own skill and eloquence, then the smiles and frowns of the audience becomes a matter of overwhelming importance, and if we fail we are deeply mortified and bewail our foolishness in exposing ourselves to such needless risk.
The lack of proper confidence is the great reason for using manuscript in the moment of speech. The speaker makes one effort to extemporize and fails. This is notwonderful, for the path to success usually lies through failure from the time that we master the wonderful art of walking through many failures; but instead of copying the school-boy motto, “try, try again,” and reaping wisdom and experience from past efforts, he loses all hope—concludes that he is disqualified for that kind of work, and thus sinks to mediocrity and tameness, when he might have been brilliant in the fields of true oratory.
The exhibition of confidence and resolution by the speaker is a draft drawn on the respect of an audience which is nearly always honored, while the opposite qualities hide the possession of real talent. Hearers readily pardon timidity at the beginning of an address, for then attention is fixed upon the speaker himself, and his shrinking seems a graceful exhibition of modesty. But when he has fully placed his subject before them they associate him with it. If he is dignified and assured, they listen in pleased attention and acknowledge the weight of his words. These qualities are very different from bluster and bravado, which injure the cause advocated and excite disgust toward the speaker. The first appears to arise from a sense of the dignity of the subject; the second, from an assumption of personal superiority—an opinion no speaker has a right to entertain, for in the very act of addressing an audience he constitutes them his judges.
An orator needs confidence in his own powers in orderto avail himself fully of the suggestions of the moment. Some of the best thoughts he will ever think flash upon him while speaking, and are out of the line of his preparation. There is no time to carefully weigh them. He must reject them immediately or begin to follow, not knowing whither they lead, and this in audible words, with the risk that he may be landed in some absurdity. He cannot pause for a moment, as the least hesitation breaks the spell he has woven around his hearers, while if he rejects the offered idea he may lose a genuine inspiration. One searching glance that will not allow time for his own feelings or those of his auditors to cool, and then—decision to reject, or to follow the new track with the same assurance as if the end were clearly in view—this is all that is possible. It requires some boldness to pursue the latter course, and yet every speaker knows that his highest efforts—efforts that have seemed beyond his normal power, and which have done more in a minute to gain the object for which he spoke than all the remainder of the discourse—have been of this character.
It also requires a good degree of confidence to firmly begin a sentence, even when the general idea is plain, without knowing just how it will end. This difficulty is experienced sometimes even by the most fluent. A man may learn to cast sentences very rapidly, but it will take a little time to pass them through his mind, andwhen one is finished, the next may not yet have fully condensed itself into words. To begin to utter a partially constructed sentence, uncertain how it will end, and press on without letting the people see any hesitation, demands no small confidence in one’s power of commanding words and framing sentences. Yet a bold and confident speaker need feel no uneasiness. He may prolong a pause while he is thinking of a needed word, or throw in something extraneous to fill up the time till the right term and construction are found. Yet the perfect remedy for these dangers is to learn the difficult art of standing before an audience with nothing to say and making the pause as effective as any phase of speech. This can be done, dangerous as it seems. It does require far more of courage to face an audience when the mouth is empty than when we are talking; the mettle of troops is never so severely tried as when their cartridge-boxes are empty; but all the resources of eloquence are not at command until this test can be calmly and successfully endured. An eminent speaker once said to a friend after a very successful effort, “What part of the address you have been praising most impressed you?” “It was not anything yousaid,” was the reply, “but the thrillingpauseyou made of nearly half a minute after a bold assertion, as if you were challenging any one to rise and deny what you had asserted.” “Oh! I remember,” returned the other; “I could not get the next sentence fixed quite right, and wasfully determined not to say it at all unless it came into the proper shape.”
This necessary confidence can be cultivated by striving to exercise it, and by assuming its appearance where the reality is not. The raw recruit is transformed into a veteran soldier by meeting and overcoming danger. All the drill in the world will not supply the want of actual experience on the battle-field. So the extempore speaker must make up his mind to accept all the risk, and patiently endure all the failures and perils that result. If he fully decides that the reward is worthy of the effort he will be greatly aided in the attempt, as he will thus avoid the wavering and shrinking and questioning that would otherwise distress him and paralyze his powers. A failure will but lead to stronger and more persistent effort, made with added experience. Success will be an argument for future confidence, and thus any result will forward him on his course.
In regard to the difficulty of framing sentences in the moment of utterance, the experienced speaker will become so expert, having found his way through so many difficulties of that kind, that the greatest danger experienced will be that of carelessly allowing his words to flow on without unity or polish. It does require a determined effort, not merely toexpressmeaning, but to pack andcompressthe greatest possible amount into striking and crystalline words. Experience also giveshim such a knowledge of the working of his own thoughts that he will be able to decide at the first suggestion what unbidden ideas should be accepted and what ones should be rejected. If these new thoughts, however far outside of his preparation, seem worthy, he will give them instant expression; if not, he will dismiss them and continue unchecked along his intended route.
It is hoped that the reading of this treatise will increase the confidence of extempore speakers in two ways; first, by producing in the mind of each one perfect conviction that for him the better way is to adopt unwritten speech without reserve; and second, by pointing out a mode of preparation which will give as good ground for confidence as a fully written manuscript could possibly supply. To gain confidence which is not warranted by the event would only provoke a hurtful reaction; but confidence which is justified by experience grows ever stronger.
We have thus glanced at a few of the qualities which need to be cultivated and strengthened for the purposes of public speech. The survey does not cover the whole field of desirable qualities, for this would be to give a treatise on general education. Perfect speech requires every faculty of the mind to be brought to the highest state of efficiency. There is no mental power which will not contribute to success. The whole limits of possible education are comprised in the two branches already mentionedas concerning the orator—those relating to thereceptionof knowledge and those to itscommunication. The harmonious combination and perfect development of these two is the ideal of excellence—an ideal so high that it can only be approached. All knowledge is of use to the orator. He may not have occasion to employ it in a particular speech, but it contributes to give certainty, breadth, and scope to his views, and assures him that what he does put into his speeches is the best that can be selected. If he is ignorant, he is obliged to use for a discourse on any subject not that material which is the best in itself, but simply the best that may happen to be known to him, and he cannot be sure that something far more suitable is not overlooked.
The communicating faculties are, if possible, still more important. A great part of the value even of a diamond depends upon its polish and setting, and the richest and wisest thoughts fail to reach the heart or captivate the intellect unless they are cast into the proper form, and given external beauty.
Let the speaker, then, have no fear of knowing too much. Neither need he despair if he does not now know a great deal. He cannot be perfect at once, but must build for future years. If he wishes a sudden and local celebrity that will never widen, but will probably molder away even in his own lifetime, he may possibly gain it in another way. Let him learn a few of the externals of elocution,and then, with great care, or by the free use of the materials of others, prepare a few finely worded discourses, and recite or declaim them over and over again as often as he can find a new audience. He may not gain as much applause as he desires by this method, but it will be sufficiently evanescent. He will not grow up to the measure of real greatness, but become daily more dwarfed and stereotyped in intellect.
The following quotation contains a good example of the seductive but misleading methods sometimes held up before the young orator: “They talk,” said Tom Marshall to an intimate friend, “of my astonishing bursts of eloquence, and doubtless imagine it is my genius bubbling over. It is nothing of the sort. I’ll tell you how I do it: I select a subject and study it from the ground up. When I have mastered it fully, I write a speech on it. Then I take a walk and come back, and revise and correct. In a few days I subject it to another pruning, and then recopy it. Next I add the finishing touches, round it off with graceful periods, and commit it to memory. Then I speak it in the fields, in my father’s lawn, and before my mirror, until gesture and delivery are perfect. It sometimes takes me six weeks or two months to get up a speech. When I am prepared I come to town. I generally select a court day, when there is sure to be a crowd. I am called on for a speech, and am permitted to select my own subject. I speak mypiece. It astonishes the people, as I intended it should, and they go away marveling at my power of oratory. They call it genius, but it is the hardest kind of work.”
No objection is made to the quantity of work thus described, but might not the same amount be expended in more profitable directions? A speech thus prepared was a mere trick intended to astonish the people. Sometimes the great Daniel Webster took equal pains in the verbal expression of some worthy thought, which was afterward held in the grasp of a powerful memory until a fitting place was found for it in some masterly speech. The difference between the two processes is greater than seems at first glance. Marshall’s plan was like a beautiful garment thrown over a clothes dummy in a shop window; Webster’s, like the same garment, worn for comfort and ornament by a living man.
It is better that the speaker should “intermeddle with all knowledge,” and make the means of communicating his thoughts as perfect as possible. Then out of the fullness of his treasure, let him talk to the people with an adequate purpose in view, and if no sudden acclaim greets him, he will be weighty and influential from the first, and each passing year will add to his power.
CHAPTER VII.Peculiarities Belonging to the Various Fields of Oratory.
The laws which govern extemporaneous speech are so generally applicable to all forms of address that only a few things which are peculiar to each need be considered before pointing out the best modes of planning and delivering a speech.
Probably a sermon differs from the common type of speech more than any other form of address. Some of the distinctions usually made are purely conventional, and not a few are more honored in the breach than in the observance. A certain slowness and stiffness of manner is supposed to characterize the pulpit, and also the selection of grave and solemn tones. All these, so far as they tend to constitute ministers a class apart from other men, with manners and modes of speech peculiar to themselves, are a mere survival of ancient superstition. The preacher’s tone and address should be just such as any other competent speaker would employ in treating the same themes. Of course, when the preacher makes a solemn appeal, voice and action should all correspond in solemnity. But when he denounces sin, or holds vice up to ridicule, there should be an equal correspondence. Insome denominations, a peculiar dress is given to the preacher as the garb of his office; and it may be that a peculiar manner will be grateful to those who love all things that have the flavor of antiquity. But all such mannerisms belong to another realm than that of eloquence. From the orator’s standpoint they can only be condemned. Let the preacher speak and act like any other educated gentleman, under like circumstances, and his power over his audiences will be the greater.
But the sermon possesses some real distinctions of importance. The custom of taking a text furnishes a point of departure to the preacher and greatly simplifies the work of introduction. The opening services in the church—the prayers and the music—put his audience into a mood to receive his words. They are calm and quiet when he begins to speak—indeed, this may easily go too far. Another peculiarity is that he has the whole field to himself: neither he nor his auditors expect a word or gesture of dissent from any position he may assume: all the criticisms of his hearers will be mental, or reserved to another occasion. In this, his position is diametrically opposed to that of the lawyer, and the politician, who expect all they say to be contradicted, as a matter of course, and are apt to acquire the fault of uttering self-evident truths in a combative manner, as if they expected the other side to deny even that the whole is greater than any of its parts, or that things eachequal to another thing, are equal to each other. The preacher, on the other hand, is liable to utter propositions, which to many of his hearers are very doubtful, as if they were axioms.
The preacher should select a text which fairly covers the subject of his discourse or contributes to advance the object he has in view. The text should always be employed in its true sense. It partakes of the nature of a quotation by which the speaker fortifies his position, and all quotations should bear the meaning intended by their authors, as far as that meaning can be ascertained. This is required by common fairness, and the Bible is surely entitled to fair treatment as much as any other book. Generally the text should be read and treated as a part of the introduction, although some fine sermons have been constructed on the opposite principle of beginning far from the text and so leading up to it, that its perfect illustration or application only appears in the conclusion. No fault can be found with this method if conscientiously adopted and consistently carried out.
The great aim of preaching is persuasion, and this must largely influence its whole character. It is from this cause that emotion—ever the most valuable agent in persuasion—is so highly valued in the pulpit. The hearers are to be persuaded, first to embrace a religious life, and then to cultivate all those virtues and avoid all those evils incident to such a life. It may be proper todevote some time and attention to mere instruction, but that instruction derives all its value from its bearing upon action: it should be given as the means of rendering persuasion more effective. Warning, reproof, exhortation, consolation, promise—the whole field of motives and inducements—is very wide; but the great object is to make men better, and only incidentally to make them wiser or happier.
This peculiar character of preaching renders adherence to extemporaneous speech in the pulpit at once more important and more difficult than anywhere else. The quiet of the church, its solemnity, the fact that the preacher must speak at a given time and has thus the opportunity to write, and that a good sermon dealing with truths always applicable may, when once written, be read to many successive congregations, even after an interval of years;—the fear of jarring upon the associations of the church with any rude sentence or unpolished paragraph thrown off in the hurry of speech:—all these considerations powerfully plead for the manuscript. Yet in hardly any other form of address is the manuscript so hurtful. Extemporaneous speech is pre-eminently the persuasive form of address, and persuasion is the great object of the sermon. If the preacher ceases to be persuasive he may as well cease to preach, so far as the accomplishment of the true function of his office is concerned. The mode pointed out in the following partof this work will, it is believed, enable the extemporaneous preacher to utilize all the persuasiveness that belongs to his character, and at the same time escape all the dangers which have driven so many preachers to manuscript.
The conditions under which lawyers speak are very different. They are tempted by the surroundings of the court-room to set too low a value upon the graces of oratory, while the accomplishment of an immediate purpose engrosses their attention. The judge and jury are before them—a client is to be made victorious, or a criminal to be punished. Keen interest and emotion are supplied by the occasion itself. The law must be explained, the facts elicited and weighed, and the jury persuaded. There is also the great advantage of having the case decided at a definite time. No disposition exists on the part of the jury to postponement. If the lawyer once convinces them that law and evidence are on his side, the verdict follows as a matter of course. But when the preacher gets that far he has scarcely begun. His hearers may admit the truth of every word he speaks and the goodness of the course he advises, but they can comply with his advice at any time, and in that feeling they may postpone their action for years, if not permanently. But the lawyer can press his case on to a decision, which may be resisted for a time by one of the parties, but not by the jury to whom he addresses his arguments, and seldom by the judge.
Lawyers have but little temptation to indulge in written speeches: the exigencies of the trial make formal preparation of little service. The great talent for a lawyer’s purpose is that favored by extemporaneous speech—the power of a clear, orderly statement of facts that are often exceedingly complex. This generally proves more effective than any argument. To grasp all the evidence that has been brought forward, and, putting it into the very simplest form it will bear, to show on that statement to judge and jury that he is entitled to the verdict—this is the great art of the advocate. But his statement must include or account for all the facts; otherwise, he lays himself open to an easy and damaging reply. The method usually adopted is to make a note of each fact elicited, each argument used by the opposite attorney, and each salient point of the case. Then these are reduced to the simplest form, an appropriate introduction sought, and either a strong argument, or an effective summing up, reserved for the conclusion. With this much of preparation the lawyer finds it easy to provide suitable words for the expression of the whole speech.
The speech of the judge in summing up or charging the jury differs only from that of the advocate in the greater impartiality by which it is marked. The most fair-minded attorney will be biased, more or less unconsciously, by the greater care which he bestows upon his own side of the case.
Anniversary, platform, and lyceum lectures have much in common. Entertainment being the prominent object in them all, illustration and embellishment are greatly sought for. Humor is also in most cases highly enjoyed. The same address may be repeated many times and comes to have the finish of a work of art. The great camp-meeting sermons at seaside resorts, at anniversaries, and similar occasions, properly belong to this class rather than to that of sermons. This is the field in which memoriter addresses are usually supposed to be superior to all others. It may be conceded that whenever form rises into more prominence than matter, writing and memorizing will have increasing claims. A speaker who wishes to repeat one speech without substantial variation to a hundred audiences will not find it a great task to write it in full and memorize it. But if he is really a master in spontaneous utterance he need not depart from his usual course. He can fully prepare his materials and then speak the words of the moment, without the least fear of suffering in comparison with the reciter.
Instructive addresses by teachers and professors are nearly always given extempore, with the exception of those written lectures in the higher institutions which are supposed to sum up the results of knowledge in their respective departments. Even then the practice is not uniform, as many professors prefer talking to theirpupils rather than reading to them. The practice of reading in such cases is really a survival from the days when books were scarce and high-priced, and the student found it easier to write notes from the lips of some master than to purchase the volumes containing the same knowledge, even when it had been published at all. But the tendency now is to find the statement of the facts of science, art, and literature in books, and depend upon the living teacher only to give vividness, life, and illustration to them. All this can be best done by the extemporaneous method.
Other modes of speech will naturally suggest themselves, but they present nothing peculiar in form. All that can be said about them may be compressed as profitably into the general topics of subject and object, thought-gathering, arrangement, and use of the plan, etc., which occupy the following pages.