CHAPTER VII

EFFICIENCY THROUGH INFLECTION

How soft the music of those village bells,

Falling at intervals upon the ear

In cadence sweet; now dying all away,

Now pealing loud again, and louder still,

Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!

With easy force it opens all the cells

Where Memory slept.

--WILLIAM COWPER, _The Task_.

Herbert Spencer remarked that "Cadence"--by which he meant the

modulation of the tones of the voice in speaking--"is the running

commentary of the emotions upon the propositions of the intellect." How

true this is will appear when we reflect that the little upward and

downward shadings of the voice tell more truly what we mean than our

words. The expressiveness of language is literally multiplied by this

subtle power to shade the vocal tones, and this voice-shading we call

_inflection_.

The change of pitch _within_ a word is even more important, because more

delicate, than the change of pitch from phrase to phrase. Indeed, one

cannot be practised without the other. The bare words are only so many

bricks--inflection will make of them a pavement, a garage, or a

cathedral. It is the power of inflection to change the meaning of words

that gave birth to the old saying: "It is not so much what you say, as

how you say it."

Mrs. Jameson, the Shakespearean commentator, has given us a penetrating

example of the effect of inflection; "In her impersonation of the part

of Lady Macbeth, Mrs. Siddons adopted successively three different

intonations in giving the words 'We fail.' At first a quick contemptuous

interrogation--'We fail?' Afterwards, with the note of admiration--'We

fail,' an accent of indignant astonishment laying the principal emphasis

on the word 'we'--'_we_ fail.' Lastly, she fixed on what I am convinced

is the true reading--_We fail_--with the simple period, modulating the

voice to a deep, low, resolute tone which settles the issue at once as

though she had said: 'If we fail, why then we fail, and all is over.'"

This most expressive element of our speech is the last to be mastered in

attaining to naturalness in speaking a foreign language, and its correct

use is the main element in a natural, flexible utterance of our native

tongue. Without varied inflections speech becomes wooden and monotonous.

There are but two kinds of inflection, the rising and the falling, yet

these two may be so shaded or so combined that they are capable of

producing as many varieties of modulation as maybe illustrated by either

one or two lines, straight or curved, thus:

[Illustration of each line]

Sharp rising

Long rising

Level

Long falling

Sharp falling

Sharp rising and falling

Sharp falling and rising

Hesitating

These may be varied indefinitely, and serve merely to illustrate what

wide varieties of combination may be effected by these two simple

inflections of the voice.

It is impossible to tabulate the various inflections which serve to

express various shades of thought and feeling. A few suggestions are

offered here, together with abundant exercises for practise, but the

only real way to master inflection is to observe, experiment, and

practise.

For example, take the common sentence, "Oh, he's all right." Note how a

rising inflection may be made to express faint praise, or polite doubt,

or uncertainty of opinion. Then note how the same words, spoken with a

generally falling inflection may denote certainty, or good-natured

approval, or enthusiastic praise, and so on.

In general, then, we find that a bending upward of the voice will

suggest doubt and uncertainty, while a decided falling inflection will

suggest that you are certain of your ground.

Students dislike to be told that their speeches are "not so bad," spoken

with a rising inflection. To enunciate these words with a long falling

inflection would indorse the speech rather heartily.

Say good-bye to an imaginary person whom you expect to see again

tomorrow; then to a dear friend you never expect to meet again. Note the

difference in inflection.

"I have had a delightful time," when spoken at the termination of a

formal tea by a frivolous woman takes altogether different inflection

than the same words spoken between lovers who have enjoyed themselves.

Mimic the two characters in repeating this and observe the difference.

Note how light and short the inflections are in the following brief

quotation from "Anthony the Absolute," by Samuel Mervin.

_At Sea--March 28th_.

This evening I told Sir Robert What's His Name he was a fool.

I was quite right in this. He is.

Every evening since the ship left Vancouver he has presided over

the round table in the middle of the smoking-room. There he sips

his coffee and liqueur, and holds forth on every subject known

to the mind of man. Each subject is _his_ subject. He is an

elderly person, with a bad face and a drooping left eyelid.

They tell me that he is in the British Service--a judge

somewhere down in Malaysia, where they drink more than is good

for them.

Deliver the two following selections with great earnestness, and note

how the inflections differ from the foregoing. Then reread these

selections in a light, superficial manner, noting that the change of

attitude is expressed through a change of inflection.

When I read a sublime fact in Plutarch, or an unselfish deed in

a line of poetry, or thrill beneath some heroic legend, it is no

longer fairyland--I have seen it matched.

--WENDELL PHILLIPS.

Thought is deeper than all speech,

Feeling deeper than all thought;

Souls to souls can never teach

What unto themselves was taught.

--CRANCH

It must be made perfectly clear that inflection deals mostly in subtle,

delicate shading _within single words_, and is not by any means

accomplished by a general rise or fall in the voice in speaking a

sentence. Yet certain sentences may be effectively delivered with just

such inflection. Try this sentence in several ways, making no

modulation until you come to the last two syllables, as indicated,

And yet I told him dis-

__________________________

(high) | tinctly.

|___________

(low)

tinctly.

____________

And yet I told him dis- | (high)

_________________________|

(low)

Now try this sentence by inflecting the important words so as to bring

out various shades of meaning. The first forms, illustrated above, show

change of pitch _within a single word_; the forms you will work out for

yourself should show a number of such inflections throughout the

sentence.

One of the chief means of securing emphasis is to employ a long falling

inflection on the emphatic words--that is, to let the voice fall to a

lower pitch on an _interior_ vowel sound in a word. Try it on the words

"every," "eleemosynary," and "destroy."

Use long falling inflections on the italicized words in the following

selection, noting their emphatic power. Are there any other words here

that long falling inflections would help to make expressive?

_ADDRESS IN THE DARTMOUTH COLLEGE CASE_

This, sir, is my case. It is the case not merely of that humble

institution; it is the case of _every_ college in our land. It

is _more_; it is the case of _every eleemosynary_ institution

throughout our country--of _all_ those great charities founded

by the piety of our ancestors to alleviate human misery and

scatter blessings along the pathway of life. Sir, you may

_destroy_ this little institution--it is _weak_, it is in your

hands. I know it is one of the lesser lights in the literary

horizon of our country. You may put it out. But if you do you

must carry through your work; you must extinguish, one after

another, _all_ those great lights of science which, for more

than a century, have thrown their radiance over our land!

It is, sir, as I have said, a small college, and yet--there are

those who _love_ it!

Sir, I know not how others may feel, but as for myself when I

see my alma mater surrounded, like Cæsar in the senate house,

by those who are reiterating _stab_ after _stab_, I would not

for this right hand have her turn to me and say, And _thou,

too_, my son!

--DANIEL WEBSTER.

Be careful not to over-inflect. Too much modulation produces an

unpleasant effect of artificiality, like a mature matron trying to be

kittenish. It is a short step between true expression and unintentional

burlesque. Scrutinize your own tones. Take a single expression like "Oh,

no!" or "Oh, I see," or "Indeed," and by patient self-examination see

how many shades of meaning may be expressed by inflection. This sort of

common-sense practise will do you more good than a book of rules. _But

don't forget to listen to your own voice._

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES

1. In your own words define (a) cadence, (b) modulation, (c) inflection,

(d) emphasis.

2. Name five ways of destroying monotony and gaining effectiveness in

speech.

3. What states of mind does falling inflection signify? Make as full a

list as you can.

4. Do the same for the rising inflection.

5. How does the voice bend in expressing (_a_) surprise? (_b_) shame?

(_c_) hate? (_d_) formality? (_e_) excitement?

6. Reread some sentence several times and by using different inflections

change the meaning with each reading.

7. Note the inflections employed in some speech or conversation. Were

they the best that could be used to bring out the meaning? Criticise and

illustrate.

8. Render the following passages:

Has the gentleman done? Has he completely done?

And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

9. Invent an indirect question and show how it would naturally be

inflected.

10. Does a direct question always require a rising inflection?

Illustrate.

11. Illustrate how the complete ending of an expression or of a speech

is indicated by inflection.

12. Do the same for incompleteness of idea.

13. Illustrate (_a_) trembling, (_b_) hesitation, and (_c_) doubt by

means of inflection.

14. Show how contrast may be expressed.

15. Try the effects of both rising and falling inflections on the

italicized words in the following sentences. State your preference.

Gentlemen, I am _persuaded_, nay, I am _resolved_ to speak.

It is sown a _natural_ body; it is raised a _spiritual_ body.

SELECTIONS FOR PRACTISE

In the following selections secure emphasis by means of long falling

inflections rather than loudness.

Repeat these selections, attempting to put into practise all the

technical principles that we have thus far had; emphasizing important

words, subordinating unimportant words, variety of pitch, changing

tempo, pause, and inflection. If these principles are applied you will

have no trouble with monotony.

Constant practise will give great facility in the use of inflection and

will render the voice itself flexible.

_CHARLES I_

We charge him with having broken his coronation oath; and we are

told that he kept his marriage vow! We accuse him of having

given up his people to the merciless inflictions of the most

hot-headed and hard-hearted of prelates; and the defence is,

that he took his little son on his knee and kissed him! We

censure him for having violated the articles of the Petition of

Right, after having, for good and valuable consideration,

promised to observe them; and we are informed that he was

accustomed to hear prayers at six o'clock in the morning! It is

to such considerations as these, together with his Vandyke

dress, his handsome face, and his peaked beard, that he owes, we

verily believe, most of his popularity with the present

generation.

--T.B. MACAULAY.

_ABRAHAM LINCOLN_

We needed not that he should put on paper that he believed in

slavery, who, with treason, with murder, with cruelty infernal,

hovered around that majestic man to destroy his life. He was

himself but the long sting with which slavery struck at liberty;

and he carried the poison that belonged to slavery. As long as

this nation lasts, it will never be forgotten that we have one

martyred President--never! Never, while time lasts, while

heaven lasts, while hell rocks and groans, will it be forgotten

that slavery, by its minions, slew him, and in slaying him made

manifest its whole nature and tendency.

But another thing for us to remember is that this blow was aimed

at the life of the government and of the nation. Lincoln was

slain; America was meant. The man was cast down; the government

was smitten at. It was the President who was killed. It was

national life, breathing freedom and meaning beneficence, that

was sought. He, the man of Illinois, the private man, divested

of robes and the insignia of authority, representing nothing but

his personal self, might have been hated; but that would not

have called forth the murderer's blow. It was because he stood

in the place of government, representing government and a

government that represented right and liberty, that he was

singled out.

This, then, is a crime against universal government. It is not a

blow at the foundations of our government, more than at the

foundations of the English government, of the French government,

of every compact and well-organized government. It was a crime

against mankind. The whole world will repudiate and stigmatize

it as a deed without a shade of redeeming light....

The blow, however, has signally failed. The cause is not

stricken; it is strengthened. This nation has dissolved,--but in

tears only. It stands, four-square, more solid, to-day, than any

pyramid in Egypt. This people are neither wasted, nor daunted,

nor disordered. Men hate slavery and love liberty with stronger

hate and love to-day than ever before. The Government is not

weakened, it is made stronger....

And now the martyr is moving in triumphal march, mightier than

when alive. The nation rises up at every stage of his coming.

Cities and states are his pall-bearers, and the cannon beats the

hours with solemn progression. Dead--dead--dead--he yet

speaketh! Is Washington dead? Is Hampden dead? Is David dead? Is

any man dead that ever was fit to live? Disenthralled of flesh,

and risen to the unobstructed sphere where passion never comes,

he begins his illimitable work. His life now is grafted upon the

Infinite, and will be fruitful as no earthly life can be. Pass

on, thou that hast overcome! Your sorrows O people, are his

peace! Your bells, and bands, and muffled drums sound triumph in

his ear. Wail and weep here; God makes it echo joy and triumph

there. Pass on, victor!

Four years ago, O Illinois, we took from your midst an untried

man, and from among the people; we return him to you a mighty

conqueror. Not thine any more, but the nation's; not ours, but

the world's. Give him place, ye prairies! In the midst of this

great Continent his dust shall rest, a sacred treasure to

myriads who shall make pilgrimage to that shrine to kindle anew

their zeal and patriotism. Ye winds, that move over the mighty

places of the West, chant his requiem! Ye people, behold a

martyr, whose blood, as so many inarticulate words, pleads for

fidelity, for law, for liberty!

--HENRY WARD BEECHER.

_THE HISTORY OF LIBERTY_

The event which we commemorate is all-important, not merely in

our own annals, but in those of the world. The sententious

English poet has declared that "the proper study of mankind is

man," and of all inquiries of a temporal nature, the history of

our fellow-beings is unquestionably among the most interesting.

But not all the chapters of human history are alike important.

The annals of our race have been filled up with incidents which

concern not, or at least ought not to concern, the great company

of mankind. History, as it has often been written, is the

genealogy of princes, the field-book of conquerors; and the

fortunes of our fellow-men have been treated only so far as they

have been affected by the influence of the great masters and

destroyers of our race. Such history is, I will not say a

worthless study, for it is necessary for us to know the dark

side as well as the bright side of our condition. But it is a

melancholy study which fills the bosom of the philanthropist and

the friend of liberty with sorrow.

But the history of liberty--the history of men struggling to be

free--the history of men who have acquired and are exercising

their freedom--the history of those great movements in the

world, by which liberty has been established and perpetuated,

forms a subject which we cannot contemplate too closely. This is

the real history of man, of the human family, of rational

immortal beings....

The trial of adversity was theirs; the trial of prosperity is

ours. Let us meet it as men who know their duty and prize their

blessings. Our position is the most enviable, the most

responsible, which men can fill. If this generation does its

duty, the cause of constitutional freedom is safe. If we

fail--if we fail--not only do we defraud our children of the

inheritance which we received from our fathers, but we blast the

hopes of the friends of liberty throughout our continent,

throughout Europe, throughout the world, to the end of time.

History is not without her examples of hard-fought fields, where

the banner of liberty has floated triumphantly on the wildest

storm of battle. She is without her examples of a people by whom

the dear-bought treasure has been wisely employed and safely

handed down. The eyes of the world are turned for that example

to us....

Let us, then, as we assemble on the birthday of the nation, as

we gather upon the green turf, once wet with precious blood--let

us devote ourselves to the sacred cause of constitutional

liberty! Let us abjure the interests and passions which divide

the great family of American freemen! Let the rage of party

spirit sleep to-day! Let us resolve that our children shall have

cause to bless the memory of their fathers, as we have cause to

bless the memory of ours!

--EDWARD EVERETT.

CHAPTER VIII

CONCENTRATION IN DELIVERY

Attention is the microscope of the mental eye. Its power may be

high or low; its field of view narrow or broad. When high power

is used attention is confined within very circumscribed limits,

but its action is exceedingly intense and absorbing. It sees but

few things, but these few are observed "through and through" ...

Mental energy and activity, whether of perception or of thought,

thus concentrated, act like the sun's rays concentrated by the

burning glass. The object is illumined, heated, set on fire.

Impressions are so deep that they can never be effaced.

Attention of this sort is the prime condition of the most

productive mental labor.

--DANIEL PUTNAM, _Psychology_.

Try to rub the top of your head forward and backward at the same time

that you are patting your chest. Unless your powers of coördination are

well developed you will find it confusing, if not impossible. The brain

needs special training before it can do two or more things efficiently

at the same instant. It may seem like splitting a hair between its north

and northwest corner, but some psychologists argue that _no_ brain can

think two distinct thoughts, absolutely simultaneously--that what seems

to be simultaneous is really very rapid rotation from the first thought

to the second and back again, just as in the above-cited experiment the

attention must shift from one hand to the other until one or the other

movement becomes partly or wholly automatic.

Whatever is the psychological truth of this contention it is undeniable

that the mind measurably loses grip on one idea the moment the attention

is projected decidedly ahead to a second or a third idea.

A fault in public speakers that is as pernicious as it is common is that

they try to think of the succeeding sentence while still uttering the

former, and in this way their concentration trails off; in consequence,

they start their sentences strongly and end them weakly. In a

well-prepared written speech the emphatic word usually comes at one end

of the sentence. But an emphatic word needs emphatic expression, and

this is precisely what it does not get when concentration flags by

leaping too soon to that which is next to be uttered. Concentrate all

your mental energies on the present sentence. Remember that the mind of

your audience follows yours very closely, and if you withdraw your

attention from what you are saying to what you are going to say, your

audience will also withdraw theirs. They may not do so consciously and

deliberately, but they will surely cease to give importance to the

things that you yourself slight. It is fatal to either the actor or the

speaker to cross his bridges too soon.

Of course, all this is not to say that in the natural pauses of your

speech you are not to take swift forward surveys--they are as important

as the forward look in driving a motor car; the caution is of quite

another sort: _while speaking one sentence do not think of the sentence

to follow_. Let it come from its proper source--within yourself. You

cannot deliver a broadside without concentrated force--that is what

produces the explosion. In preparation you store and concentrate thought

and feeling; in the pauses during delivery you swiftly look ahead and

gather yourself for effective attack; during the moments of actual

speech, _SPEAK--DON'T ANTICIPATE_. Divide your attention and you divide

your power.

This matter of the effect of the inner man upon the outer needs a

further word here, particularly as touching concentration.

"What do you read, my lord?" Hamlet replied, "Words. Words. Words." That

is a world-old trouble. The mechanical calling of words is not

expression, by a long stretch. Did you ever notice how hollow a

memorized speech usually sounds? You have listened to the ranting,

mechanical cadence of inefficient actors, lawyers and preachers. Their

trouble is a mental one--they are not concentratedly thinking thoughts

that cause words to issue with sincerity and conviction, but are merely

enunciating word-sounds mechanically. Painful experience alike to

audience and to speaker! A parrot is equally eloquent. Again let

Shakespeare instruct us, this tune in the insincere prayer of the King,

Hamlet's uncle. He laments thus pointedly:

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:

Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

The truth is, that as a speaker your words must be born again every time

they are spoken, then they will not suffer in their utterance, even

though perforce committed to memory and repeated, like Dr. Russell

Conwell's lecture, "Acres of Diamonds," five thousand times. Such

speeches lose nothing by repetition for the perfectly patent reason

that they arise from concentrated thought and feeling and not a mere

necessity for saying something--which usually means anything, and that,

in turn, is tantamount to nothing. If the thought beneath your words is

warm, fresh, spontaneous, a part of your _self_, your utterance will

have breath and life. Words are only a result. Do not try to get the

result without stimulating the cause.

Do you ask _how_ to concentrate? Think of the word itself, and of its

philological brother, _concentric_. Think of how a lens gathers and

concenters the rays of light within a given circle. It centers them by a

process of withdrawal. It may seem like a harsh saying, but the man who

cannot concentrate is either weak of will, a nervous wreck, or has never

learned what will-power is good for.

You must concentrate by resolutely withdrawing your attention from

everything else. If you concentrate your thought on a pain which may be

afflicting you, that pain will grow more intense. "Count your blessings"

and they will multiply. Center your thought on your strokes and your

tennis play will gradually improve. To concentrate is simply to attend

to one thing, and attend to nothing else. If you find that you cannot do

that, there is something wrong--attend to that first. Remove the cause

and the symptom will disappear. Read the chapter on "Will Power."

Cultivate your will by willing and then doing, at all costs.

Concentrate--and you will win.

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES

1. Select from any source several sentences suitable for speaking aloud;

deliver them first in the manner condemned in this chapter, and second

with due regard for emphasis toward the close of each sentence.

2. Put into about one hundred words your impression of the effect

produced.

3. Tell of any peculiar methods you may have observed or heard of by

which speakers have sought to aid their powers of concentration, such as

looking fixedly at a blank spot in the ceiling, or twisting a watch

charm.

4. What effect do such habits have on the audience?

5. What relation does pause bear to concentration?

6. Tell why concentration naturally helps a speaker to change pitch,

tempo, and emphasis.

7. Read the following selection through to get its meaning and spirit

clearly in your mind. Then read it aloud, concentrating solely on the

thought that you are expressing--do not trouble about the sentence or

thought that is coming. Half the troubles of mankind arise from

anticipating trials that never occur. Avoid this in speaking. Make the

end of your sentences just as strong as the beginning. _CONCENTRATE._

_WAR!_

The last of the savage instincts is war. The cave man's club

made law and procured food. Might decreed right. Warriors were

saviours.

In Nazareth a carpenter laid down the saw and preached the

brotherhood of man. Twelve centuries afterwards his followers

marched to the Holy Land to destroy all who differed with them

in the worship of the God of Love. Triumphantly they wrote "In

Solomon's Porch and in his temple our men rode in the blood of

the Saracens up to the knees of their horses."

History is an appalling tale of war. In the seventeenth century

Germany, France, Sweden, and Spain warred for thirty years. At

Magdeburg 30,000 out of 36,000 were killed regardless of sex or

age. In Germany schools were closed for a third of a century,

homes burned, women outraged, towns demolished, and the untilled

land became a wilderness.

Two-thirds of Germany's property was destroyed and 18,000,000 of

her citizens were killed, because men quarrelled about the way

to glorify "The Prince of Peace." Marching through rain and

snow, sleeping on the ground, eating stale food or starving,

contracting diseases and facing guns that fire six hundred times

a minute, for fifty cents a day--this is the soldier's life.

At the window sits the widowed mother crying. Little children

with tearful faces pressed against the pane watch and wait.

Their means of livelihood, their home, their happiness is gone.

Fatherless children, broken-hearted women, sick, disabled and

dead men--this is the wage of war.

We spend more money preparing men to kill each other than we do

in teaching them to live. We spend more money building one

battleship than in the annual maintenance of all our state

universities. The financial loss resulting from destroying one

another's homes in the civil war would have built 15,000,000

houses, each costing $2,000. We pray for love but prepare for

hate. We preach peace but equip for war.

Were half the power that fills the world with terror,

Were half the wealth bestowed on camp and court

Given to redeem this world from error,

There would be no need of arsenal and fort.

War only defers a question. No issue will ever really be settled

until it is settled rightly. Like rival "gun gangs" in a back

alley, the nations of the world, through the bloody ages, have

fought over their differences. Denver cannot fight Chicago and

Iowa cannot fight Ohio. Why should Germany be permitted to fight

France, or Bulgaria fight Turkey?

When mankind rises above creeds, colors and countries, when we

are citizens, not of a nation, but of the world, the armies and

navies of the earth will constitute an international police

force to preserve the peace and the dove will take the eagle's

place.

Our differences will be settled by an international court with

the power to enforce its mandates. In times of peace prepare for

peace. The wages of war are the wages of sin, and the "wages of

sin is death."

--_Editorial by D.C., Leslie's Weekly; used by permission._

CHAPTER IX

FORCE

However, 'tis expedient to be wary:

Indifference, certes, don't produce distress;

And rash enthusiasm in good society

Were nothing but a moral inebriety.

--BYRON, _Don Juan_.

You have attended plays that seemed fair, yet they did not move you,

grip you. In theatrical parlance, they failed to "get over," which means

that their message did not get over the foot-lights to the audience.

There was no punch, no jab to them--they had no force.

Of course, all this spells disaster, in big letters, not only in a stage

production but in any platform effort. Every such presentation exists

solely for the audience, and if it fails to hit them--and the expression

is a good one--it has no excuse for living; nor will it live long.

_What is Force?_

Some of our most obvious words open up secret meanings under scrutiny,

and this is one of them.

To begin with, we must recognize the distinction between inner and outer

force. The one is cause, the other effect. The one is spiritual, the

other physical. In this important particular, animate force differs from

inanimate force--the power of man, coming from within and expressing

itself outwardly, is of another sort from the force of Shimose powder,

which awaits some influence from without to explode it. However

susceptive to outside stimuli, the true source of power in man lies

within himself. This may seem like "mere psychology," but it has an

intensely practical bearing on public speaking, as will appear.

Not only must we discern the difference between human force and mere

physical force, but we must not confuse its real essence with some of

the things that may--and may not--accompany it. For example, loudness is

not force, though force at times may be attended by noise. Mere roaring

never made a good speech, yet there are moments--moments, mind you, not

minutes--when big voice power may be used with tremendous effect.

Nor is violent motion force--yet force may result in violent motion.

Hamlet counseled the players:

Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use

all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say)

whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a

temperance, that may give it smoothness. Oh, it offends me to

the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a

passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the

groundlings[2]; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing

but inexplicable dumb show, and noise. I would have such a

fellow whipped for o'er-doing Termagant; it out-herods Herod.

Pray you avoid it.

Be not too tame, neither, but let your discretion be your tutor:

suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this

special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature;

for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose

end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to hold, as

'twere, the mirror up to Nature, to show Virtue her own feature,

Scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his

form and pressure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy off, though

it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious

grieve; the censure of the which one must, in your allowance,

o'erweigh a whole theater of others. Oh, there be players that I

have seen play--and heard others praise, and that highly--not to

speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of

Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, or man, have so

strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's

journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated

humanity so abominably.[3]

Force is both a cause and an effect. Inner force, which must precede

outer force, is a combination of four elements, acting progressively.

First of all, _force arises from conviction_. You must be convinced of

the truth, or the importance, or the meaning, of what you are about to

say before you can give it forceful delivery. It must lay strong hold

upon your convictions before it can grip your audience. Conviction

convinces.

_The Saturday Evening Post_ in an article on "England's T.R."--Winston

Spencer Churchill--attributed much of Churchill's and Roosevelt's public

platform success to their forceful delivery. No matter what is in hand,

these men make themselves believe for the time being that that one thing

is the most important on earth. Hence they speak to their audiences in a

Do-this-or-you-_PERISH_ manner.

That kind of speaking wins, and it is that virile, strenuous, aggressive

attitude which both distinguishes and maintains the platform careers of

our greatest leaders.

But let us look a little closer at the origins of inner force. How does

conviction affect the man who feels it? We have answered the inquiry in

the very question itself--he _feels_ it: _Conviction produces emotional

tension_. Study the pictures of Theodore Roosevelt and of Billy Sunday

in action--_action_ is the word. Note the tension of their jaw muscles,

the taut lines of sinews in their entire bodies when reaching a climax

of force. Moral and physical force are alike in being both preceded and

accompanied by in-_tens_-ity--tension--tightness of the cords of power.

It is this tautness of the bow-string, this knotting of the muscles,

this contraction before the spring, that makes an audience

_feel_--almost see--the reserve power in a speaker. In some really

wonderful way it is more what a speaker does _not_ say and do that

reveals the dynamo within. _Anything_ may come from such stored-up force

once it is let loose; and that keeps an audience alert, hanging on the

lips of a speaker for his next word. After all, it is all a question of

manhood, for a stuffed doll has neither convictions nor emotional

tension. If you are upholstered with sawdust, keep off the platform, for

your own speech will puncture you.

Growing out of this conviction-tension comes _resolve to make the

audience share that conviction-tension_. Purpose is the backbone of

force; without it speech is flabby--it may glitter, but it is the

iridescence of the spineless jellyfish. You must hold fast to your

resolve if you would hold fast to your audience.

Finally, all this conviction-tension-purpose is lifeless and useless

unless it results in _propulsion_. You remember how Young in his

wonderful "Night Thoughts" delineates the man who

Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve,

Resolves, and re-resolves, and dies the same.

Let not your force "die a-borning,"--bring it to full life in its

conviction, emotional tension, resolve, and propulsive power.

_Can Force be Acquired?_

Yes, if the acquirer has any such capacities as we have just outlined.

How to acquire this vital factor is suggested in its very analysis: Live

with your subject until you are convinced of its importance.

If your message does not of itself arouse you to tension, _PULL_

yourself together. When a man faces the necessity of leaping across a

crevasse he does not wait for inspiration, he _wills_ his muscles into

tensity for the spring--it is not without purpose that our English

language uses the same word to depict a mighty though delicate steel

contrivance and a quick leap through the air. Then resolve--and let it

all end in actual _punch_.

This truth is worth reiteration: The man within is the final factor. He

must supply the fuel. The audience, or even the man himself, may add the

match--it matters little which, only so that there be fire. However

skillfully your engine is constructed, however well it works, you will

have no force if the fire has gone out under the boiler. It matters

little how well you have mastered poise, pause, modulation, and tempo,

if your speech lacks fire it is dead. Neither a dead engine nor a dead

speech will move anybody.

Four factors of force are measurably within your control, and in that

far may be acquired: _ideas_, _feeling about the subject_, _wording_, and

_delivery_. Each of these is more or less fully discussed in this

volume, except wording, which really requires a fuller rhetorical study

than can here be ventured. It is, however, of the utmost importance that

you should be aware of precisely how wording bears upon force in a

sentence. Study "The Working Principles of Rhetoric," by John Franklin

Genung, or the rhetorical treatises of Adams Sherman Hill, of Charles

Sears Baldwin, or any others whose names may easily be learned from any

teacher.

Here are a few suggestions on the use of words to attain force:

_Choice of Words_

PLAIN words are more forceful than words less commonly used--_juggle_

has more vigor than _prestidigitate_.

SHORT words are stronger than long words--_end_ has more directness than

_terminate_.

SAXON words are usually more forceful than Latinistic words--for force,

use _wars against_ rather than _militate against_.

SPECIFIC words are stronger than general words--_pressman_ is more

definite than _printer_.

CONNOTATIVE words, those that suggest more than they say, have more

power than ordinary words--"She _let_ herself be married" expresses more

than "She _married_."

EPITHETS, figuratively descriptive words, are more effective than direct

names--"Go tell that _old fox_," has more "punch" than "Go tell that

_sly fellow_." ONOMATOPOETIC words, words that convey the sense by the

sound, are more powerful than other words--_crash_ is more effective

than _cataclysm_.

_Arrangement of words_

Cut out modifiers.

Cut out connectives.

Begin with words that demand attention.

"End with words that deserve distinction," says Prof. Barrett Wendell.

Set strong ideas over against weaker ones, so as to gain strength by the

contrast.

Avoid elaborate sentence structure--short sentences are stronger than

long ones.

Cut out every useless word, so as to give prominence to the really

important ones.

Let each sentence be a condensed battering ram, swinging to its final

blow on the attention.

A familiar, homely idiom, if not worn by much use, is more effective

than a highly formal, scholarly expression.

Consider well the relative value of different positions in the sentence

so that you may give the prominent place to ideas you wish to emphasize.

"But," says someone, "is it not more honest to depend the inherent

interest in a subject, its native truth, clearness and sincerity of

presentation, and beauty of utterance, to win your audience? Why not

charm men instead of capturing them by assault?"

_Why Use Force?_

There is much truth in such an appeal, but not all the truth.

Clearness, persuasion, beauty, simple statement of truth, are all

essential--indeed, they are all definite parts of a forceful

presentment of a subject, without being the only parts. Strong

meat may not be as attractive as ices, but all depends on the

appetite and the stage of the meal.

You can not deliver an aggressive message with caressing little strokes.

No! Jab it in with hard, swift solar plexus punches. You cannot strike

fire from flint or from an audience with love taps. Say to a crowded

theatre in a lackadaisical manner: "It seems to me that the house is on

fire," and your announcement may be greeted with a laugh. If you flash

out the words: "The house's on fire!" they will crush one another in

getting to the exits.

The spirit and the language of force are definite with conviction. No

immortal speech in literature contains such expressions as "it seems to

me," "I should judge," "in my opinion," "I suppose," "perhaps it is

true." The speeches that will live have been delivered by men ablaze

with the courage of their convictions, who uttered their words as

eternal truth. Of Jesus it was said that "the common people heard Him

gladly." Why? "He taught them as one having _AUTHORITY_." An audience

will never be moved by what "seems" to you to be truth or what in your

"humble opinion" may be so. If you honestly can, assert convictions as

your conclusions. Be sure you are right before you speak your speech,

then utter your thoughts as though they were a Gibraltar of

unimpeachable _truth_. Deliver them with the iron hand and confidence of

a Cromwell. Assert them with the fire of _authority_. Pronounce them as

an _ultimatum_. If you cannot speak with conviction, be silent.

What force did that young minister have who, fearing to be too dogmatic,

thus exhorted his hearers: "My friends--as I assume that you are--it

appears to be my duty to tell you that if you do not repent, so to

speak, forsake your sins, as it were, and turn to righteousness, if I

may so express it, you will be lost, in a measure"?

Effective speech must reflect the era. This is not a rose water age, and

a tepid, half-hearted speech will not win. This is the century of trip

hammers, of overland expresses that dash under cities and through

mountain tunnels, and you must instill this spirit into your speech if

you would move a popular audience. From a front seat listen to a

first-class company present a modern Broadway drama--not a comedy, but a

gripping, thrilling drama. Do not become absorbed in the story; reserve

all your attention for the technique and the force of the acting. There

is a kick and a crash as well as an infinitely subtle intensity in the

big, climax-speeches that suggest this lesson: the same well-calculated,

restrained, delicately shaded force would simply _rivet_ your ideas in

the minds of your audience. An air-gun will rattle bird-shot against a

window pane--it takes a rifle to wing a bullet through plate glass and

the oaken walls beyond.

_When to Use Force_

An audience is unlike the kingdom of heaven--the violent do not always

take it by force. There are times when beauty and serenity should be the

only bells in your chime. Force is only one of the great extremes of

contrast--use neither it nor quiet utterance to the exclusion of other

tones: be various, and in variety find even greater force than you could

attain by attempting its constant use. If you are reading an essay on

the beauties of the dawn, talking about the dainty bloom of a

honey-suckle, or explaining the mechanism of a gas engine, a vigorous

style of delivery is entirely out of place. But when you are appealing

to wills and consciences for immediate action, forceful delivery wins.

In such cases, consider the minds of your audience as so many safes that

have been locked and the keys lost. Do not try to figure out the

combinations. Pour a little nitro glycerine into the cracks and light

the fuse. As these lines are being written a contractor down the street

is clearing away the rocks with dynamite to lay the foundations for a

great building. When you want to get action, do not fear to use

dynamite.

The final argument for the effectiveness of force in public speech is

the fact that everything must be enlarged for the purposes of the

platform--that is why so few speeches read well in the reports on the

morning after: statements appear crude and exaggerated because they are

unaccompanied by the forceful delivery of a glowing speaker before an

audience heated to attentive enthusiasm. So in preparing your speech you

must not err on the side of mild statement--your audience will

inevitably tone down your words in the cold grey of afterthought. When

Phidias was criticised for the rough, bold outlines of a figure he had

submitted in competition, he smiled and asked that his statue and the

one wrought by his rival should be set upon the column for which the

sculpture was destined. When this was done all the exaggerations and

crudities, toned by distances, melted into exquisite grace of line and

form. Each speech must be a special study in suitability and proportion.

Omit the thunder of delivery, if you will, but like Wendell Phillips put

"silent lightning" into your speech. Make your thoughts breathe and your

words burn. Birrell said: "Emerson writes like an electrical cat

emitting sparks and shocks in every sentence." Go thou and speak

likewise. Get the "big stick" into your delivery--be forceful.

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES

1. Illustrate, by repeating a sentence from memory, what is meant by

employing force in speaking.

2. Which in your opinion is the most important of the technical

principles of speaking that you have studied so far? Why?

3. What is the effect of too much force in a speech? Too little?

4. Note some uninteresting conversation or ineffective speech, and tell

why it failed.

5. Suggest how it might be improved.

6. Why do speeches have to be spoken with more force than do

conversations?

7. Read aloud the selection on page 84, using the technical principles

outlined in chapters III to VIII, but neglect to put any force behind

the interpretation. What is the result?

8. Reread several times, doing your best to achieve force.

9. Which parts of the selection on page 84 require the most force?

10. Write a five-minute speech not only discussing the errors of those

who exaggerate and those who minimize the use of force, but by imitation

show their weaknesses. Do not burlesque, but closely imitate.

11. Give a list of ten themes for public addresses, saying which seem

most likely to require the frequent use of force in delivery.

12. In your own opinion, do speakers usually err from the use of too

much or too little force?

13. Define (a) bombast; (b) bathos; (c) sentimentality; (d) squeamish.

14. Say how the foregoing words describe weaknesses in public speech.

15. Recast in twentieth-century English "Hamlet's Directions to the

Players," page 88.

16. Memorize the following extracts from Wendell Phillips' speeches, and

deliver them with the of Wendell Phillips' "silent lightning" delivery.

We are for a revolution! We say in behalf of these hunted

lyings, whom God created, and who law-abiding Webster and

Winthrop have sworn shall not find shelter in Massachusetts,--we

say that they may make their little motions, and pass their

little laws in Washington, but that Faneuil Hall repeals them in

the name of humanity and the old Bay State!

* * * * *

My advice to workingmen is this:

If you want power in this country; if you want to make

yourselves felt; if you do not want your children to wait long

years before they have the bread on the table they ought to

have, the leisure in their lives they ought to have, the

opportunities in life they ought to have; if you don't want to

wait yourselves,--write on your banner, so that every political

trimmer can read it, so that every politician, no matter how

short-sighted he may be, can read it, "_WE NEVER FORGET!_ If you

launch the arrow of sarcasm at labor, _WE NEVER FORGET!_ If

there is a division in Congress, and you throw your vote in the

wrong scale, _WE NEVER FORGET!_ You may go down on your knees,

and say, 'I am sorry I did the act'--but we will say '_IT WILL

AVAIL YOU IN HEAVEN TO BE SORRY, BUT ON THIS SIDE OF THE GRAVE,

NEVER!_'" So that a man in taking up the labor question will

know he is dealing with a hair-trigger pistol, and will say, "I

am to be true to justice and to man; otherwise I am a dead

duck."

* * * * *

In Russia there is no press, no debate, no explanation of what

government does, no remonstrance allowed, no agitation of public

issues. Dead silence, like that which reigns at the summit of

Mont Blanc, freezes the whole empire, long ago described as "a

despotism tempered by assassination." Meanwhile, such despotism

has unsettled the brains of the ruling family, as unbridled

power doubtless made some of the twelve Cæsars insane; a madman,

sporting with the lives and comfort of a hundred millions of

men. The young girl whispers in her mother's ear, under a ceiled

roof, her pity for a brother knouted and dragged half dead into

exile for his opinions. The next week she is stripped naked and

flogged to death in the public square. No inquiry, no

explanation, no trial, no protest, one dead uniform silence, the

law of the tyrant. Where is there ground for any hope of

peaceful change? No, no! in such a land dynamite and the dagger

are the necessary and proper substitutes for Faneuil Hall.

Anything that will make the madman quake in his bedchamber, and

rouse his victims into reckless and desperate resistance. This

is the only view an American, the child of 1620 and 1776, can

take of Nihilism. Any other unsettles and perplexes the ethics

of our civilization.

Born within sight of Bunker Hill--son of Harvard, whose first

pledge was "Truth," citizen of a republic based on the claim

that no government is rightful unless resting on the consent of

the people, and which assumes to lead in asserting the rights of

humanity--I at least can say nothing else and nothing less--no

not if every tile on Cambridge roofs were a devil hooting my

words!

For practise on forceful selections, use "The Irrepressible Conflict,"

page 67; "Abraham Lincoln," page 76, "Pass Prosperity Around," page 470;

"A Plea for Cuba," page 50.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 2: Those who sat in the pit or the parquet.]

[Footnote 3: _Hamlet_, Act III, Scene 2.]

CHAPTER X

FEELING AND ENTHUSIASM

Enthusiasm is that secret and harmonious spirit that hovers over

the production of genius.

--ISAAC DISRAELI, _Literary Character_.

If you are addressing a body of scientists on such a subject as the

veins in a butterfly's wings, or on road structure, naturally your theme

will not arouse much feeling in either you or your audience. These are

purely mental subjects. But if you want men to vote for a measure that

will abolish child labor, or if you would inspire them to take up arms

for freedom, you must strike straight at their feelings. We lie on soft

beds, sit near the radiator on a cold day, eat cherry pie, and devote

our attention to one of the opposite sex, not because we have reasoned

out that it is the right thing to do, but because it feels right. No one

but a dyspeptic chooses his diet from a chart. Our feelings dictate what

we shall eat and generally how we shall act. Man is a feeling animal,

hence the public speaker's ability to arouse men to action depends

almost wholly on his ability to touch their emotions.

Negro mothers on the auction-block seeing their children sold away from

them into slavery have flamed out some of America's most stirring

speeches. True, the mother did not have any knowledge of the technique

of speaking, but she had something greater than all technique, more

effective than reason: feeling. The great speeches of the world have

not been delivered on tariff reductions or post-office appropriations.

The speeches that will live have been charged with emotional force.

Prosperity and peace are poor developers of eloquence. When great wrongs

are to be righted, when the public heart is flaming with passion, that

is the occasion for memorable speaking. Patrick Henry made an immortal

address, for in an epochal crisis he pleaded for liberty. He had roused

himself to the point where he could honestly and passionately exclaim,

"Give me liberty or give me death." His fame would have been different

had he lived to-day and argued for the recall of judges.

_The Power of Enthusiasm_

Political parties hire bands, and pay for applause--they argue that, for

vote-getting, to stir up enthusiasm is more effective than reasoning.

How far they are right depends on the hearers, but there can be no doubt

about the contagious nature of enthusiasm. A watch manufacturer in New

York tried out two series of watch advertisements; one argued the

superior construction, workmanship, durability, and guarantee offered

with the watch; the other was headed, "A Watch to be Proud of," and

dwelt upon the pleasure and pride of ownership. The latter series sold

twice as many as the former. A salesman for a locomotive works informed

the writer that in selling railroad engines emotional appeal was

stronger than an argument based on mechanical excellence.

Illustrations without number might be cited to show that in all our

actions we are emotional beings. The speaker who would speak efficiently

must develop the power to arouse feeling.

Webster, great debater that he was, knew that the real secret of a

speaker's power was an emotional one. He eloquently says of eloquence:

"Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation,

all may aspire after it; they cannot reach it. It comes, if it

come at all, like the outbreak of a fountain from the earth, or

the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous,

original, native force.

"The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and

studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when

their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children,

and their country hang on the decision of the hour. Then words

have lost their power, rhetoric is in vain, and all elaborate

oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and

subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism

is eloquent, then self-devotion is eloquent. The clear

conception outrunning the deductions of logic, the high purpose,

the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue,

beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the

whole man onward, right onward to his subject--this, this is

eloquence; or rather, it is something greater and higher than

all eloquence; it is action, noble, sublime, godlike action."

When traveling through the Northwest some time ago, one of the present

writers strolled up a village street after dinner and noticed a crowd

listening to a "faker" speaking on a corner from a goods-box.

Remembering Emerson's advice about learning something from every man we

meet, the observer stopped to listen to this speaker's appeal. He was

selling a hair tonic, which he claimed to have discovered in Arizona. He

removed his hat to show what this remedy had done for him, washed his

face in it to demonstrate that it was as harmless as water, and enlarged

on its merits in such an enthusiastic manner that the half-dollars

poured in on him in a silver flood. When he had supplied the audience

with hair tonic, he asked why a greater proportion of men than women

were bald. No one knew. He explained that it was because women wore

thinner-soled shoes, and so made a good electrical connection with

mother earth, while men wore thick, dry-soled shoes that did not

transmit the earth's electricity to the body. Men's hair, not having a

proper amount of electrical food, died and fell out. Of course he had a

remedy--a little copper plate that should be nailed on the bottom of the

shoe. He pictured in enthusiastic and vivid terms the desirability of

escaping baldness--and paid tributes to his copper plates. Strange as it

may seem when the story is told in cold print, the speaker's enthusiasm

had swept his audience with him, and they crushed around his stand with

outstretched "quarters" in their anxiety to be the possessors of these

magical plates!

Emerson's suggestion had been well taken--the observer had seen again

the wonderful, persuasive power of enthusiasm!

Enthusiasm sent millions crusading into the Holy Land to redeem it from

the Saracens. Enthusiasm plunged Europe into a thirty years' war over

religion. Enthusiasm sent three small ships plying the unknown sea to

the shores of a new world. When Napoleon's army were worn out and

discouraged in their ascent of the Alps, the Little Corporal stopped

them and ordered the bands to play the Marseillaise. Under its

soul-stirring strains there were no Alps.

Listen! Emerson said: "Nothing great was ever achieved without

enthusiasm." Carlyle declared that "Every great movement in the annals

of history has been the triumph of enthusiasm." It is as contagious as

measles. Eloquence is half inspiration. Sweep your audience with you in

a pulsation of enthusiasm. Let yourself go. "A man," said Oliver

Cromwell, "never rises so high as when he knows not whither he is

going."

_How are We to Acquire and Develop Enthusiasm?_

It is not to be slipped on like a smoking jacket. A book cannot furnish

you with it. It is a growth--an effect. But an effect of what? Let us

see.

Emerson wrote: "A painter told me that nobody could draw a tree without

in some sort becoming a tree; or draw a child by studying the outlines

of his form merely,--but, by watching for a time his motion and plays,

the painter enters his nature, and then can draw him at will in every

attitude. So Roos 'entered into the inmost nature of his sheep.' I knew

a draughtsman employed in a public survey, who found that he could not

sketch the rocks until their geological structure was first explained to

him."

When Sarah Bernhardt plays a difficult role she frequently will speak to

no one from four o'clock in the afternoon until after the performance.

From the hour of four she lives her character. Booth, it is reported,

would not permit anyone to speak to him between the acts of his

Shakesperean rôles, for he was Macbeth then--not Booth. Dante, exiled

from his beloved Florence, condemned to death, lived in caves, half

starved; then Dante wrote out his heart in "The Divine Comedy." Bunyan

entered into the spirit of his "Pilgrim's Progress" so thoroughly that

he fell down on the floor of Bedford jail and wept for joy. Turner, who

lived in a garret, arose before daybreak and walked over the hills nine

miles to see the sun rise on the ocean, that he might catch the spirit

of its wonderful beauty. Wendell Phillips' sentences were full of

"silent lightning" because he bore in his heart the sorrow of five

million slaves.

There is only one way to get feeling into your speaking--and whatever

else you forget, forget not this: _You must actually ENTER INTO_ the

character you impersonate, the cause you advocate, the case you

argue--enter into it so deeply that it clothes you, enthralls you,

possesses you wholly. Then you are, in the true meaning of the word, in

_sympathy_ with your subject, for its feeling is your feeling, you "feel

with" it, and therefore your enthusiasm is both genuine and contagious.

The Carpenter who spoke as "never man spake" uttered words born out of a

passion of love for humanity--he had entered into humanity, and thus

became Man.

But we must not look upon the foregoing words as a facile prescription

for decocting a feeling which may then be ladled out to a complacent

audience in quantities to suit the need of the moment. Genuine feeling

in a speech is bone and blood of the speech itself and not something

that may be added to it or substracted at will. In the ideal address

theme, speaker and audience become one, fused by the emotion and thought

of the hour.

_The Need of Sympathy for Humanity_

It is impossible to lay too much stress on the necessity for the

speaker's having a broad and deep tenderness for human nature. One of

Victor Hugo's biographers attributes his power as an orator and writer

to his wide sympathies and profound religious feelings. Recently we

heard the editor of _Collier's Weekly_ speak on short-story writing, and

he so often emphasized the necessity for this broad love for humanity,

this truly religious feeling, that he apologized twice for delivering a

sermon. Few if any of the immortal speeches were ever delivered for a

selfish or a narrow cause--they were born out of a passionate desire to

help humanity; instances, Paul's address to the Athenians on Mars Hill,

Lincoln's Gettysburg speech, The Sermon on the Mount, Henry's address

before the Virginia Convention of Delegates.

The seal and sign of greatness is a desire to serve others.

Self-preservation is the first law of life, but self-abnegation is the

first law of greatness--and of art. Selfishness is the fundamental cause

of all sin, it is the thing that all great religions, all worthy

philosophies, have struck at. Out of a heart of real sympathy and love

come the speeches that move humanity.

Former United States Senator Albert J. Beveridge in an introduction to

one of the volumes of "Modern Eloquence," says: "The profoundest feeling

among the masses, the most influential element in their character, is

the religious element. It is as instinctive and elemental as the law of

self-preservation. It informs the whole intellect and personality of the

people. And he who would greatly influence the people by uttering their

unformed thoughts must have this great and unanalyzable bond of sympathy

with them."

When the men of Ulster armed themselves to oppose the passage of the

Home Rule Act, one of the present writers assigned to a hundred men

"Home Rule" as the topic for an address to be prepared by each. Among

this group were some brilliant speakers, several of them experienced

lawyers and political campaigners. Some of their addresses showed a

remarkable knowledge and grasp of the subject; others were clothed in

the most attractive phrases. But a clerk, without a great deal of

education and experience, arose and told how he spent his boyhood days

in Ulster, how his mother while holding him on her lap had pictured to

him Ulster's deeds of valor. He spoke of a picture in his uncle's home

that showed the men of Ulster conquering a tyrant and marching on to

victory. His voice quivered, and with a hand pointing upward he declared

that if the men of Ulster went to war they would not go alone--a great

God would go with them.

The speech thrilled and electrified the audience. It thrills yet as we

recall it. The high-sounding phrases, the historical knowledge, the

philosophical treatment, of the other speakers largely failed to arouse

any deep interest, while the genuine conviction and feeling of the

modest clerk, speaking on a subject that lay deep in his heart, not

only electrified his audience but won their personal sympathy for the

cause he advocated.

As Webster said, it is of no use to try to pretend to sympathy or

feelings. It cannot be done successfully. "Nature is forever putting a

premium on reality." What is false is soon detected as such. The

thoughts and feelings that create and mould the speech in the study must

be born again when the speech is delivered from the platform. Do not let

your words say one thing, and your voice and attitude another. There is

no room here for half-hearted, nonchalant methods of delivery. Sincerity

is the very soul of eloquence. Carlyle was right: "No Mirabeau,

Napoleon, Burns, Cromwell, no man adequate to do anything, but is first

of all in right earnest about it; what I call a sincere man. I should

say sincerity, a great, deep, genuine sincerity, is the first

characteristic of all men in any way heroic. Not the sincerity that

calls itself sincere; ah no, that is a very poor matter indeed; a

shallow braggart, conscious sincerity, oftenest self-conceit mainly. The

great man's sincerity is of the kind he cannot speak of--is not

conscious of."

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES

It is one thing to convince the would-be speaker that he ought to put

feeling into his speeches; often it is quite another thing for him to do

it. The average speaker is afraid to let himself go, and continually

suppresses his emotions. When you put enough feeling into your speeches

they will sound overdone to you, unless you are an experienced speaker.

They will sound too strong, if you are not used to enlarging for

platform or stage, for the delineation of the emotions must be enlarged

for public delivery.

1. Study the following speech, going back in your imagination to the

time and circumstances that brought it forth. Make it not a memorized

historical document, but feel the emotions that gave it birth. The

speech is only an effect; live over in your own heart the causes that

produced it and try to deliver it at white heat. It is not possible for

you to put too much real feeling into it, though of course it would be

quite easy to rant and fill it with false emotion. This speech,

according to Thomas Jefferson, started the ball of the Revolution

rolling. Men were then willing to go out and die for liberty.

_PATRICK HENRY'S SPEECH_

BEFORE THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION OF DELEGATES

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions

of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth,

and listen to the song of that siren, till she transforms us to

beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and

arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the

number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear

not, the things which so nearly concern our temporal salvation?

For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am

willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to

provide for it.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the

lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future

but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what

there has been in the conduct of the British Ministry for the

last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have

been pleased to solace themselves and the House? Is it that

insidious smile with which our petition has been lately

received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your

feet. Suffer not yourselves to be "betrayed with a kiss"! Ask

yourselves, how this gracious reception of our petition comports

with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and

darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of

love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to

be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our

love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the

implements of war and subjugation, the last "arguments" to which

kings resort.

I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its

purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign

any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in

this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of

navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us;

they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and

to rivet upon us those chains which the British Ministry have

been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall

we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten

years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing.

We have held the subject up in every light of which it is

capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to

entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which

have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir,

deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that

could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We

have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated, we

have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored

its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the Ministry

and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our

remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our

supplications have been disregarded, and we have been spurned

with contempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these

things, may we indulge in the fond hope of peace and

reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish

to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable

privileges for which we have been so long contending; if we mean

not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been

so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to

abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be

obtained, we must fight; I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An

appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak--"unable to cope with so

formidable an adversary"! But when shall we be stronger? Will it

be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are

totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in

every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and

inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by

lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of

hope, until our enemies have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are

not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God

of Nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people,

armed in the holy cause of Liberty, and in such a country as

that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our

enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our

battles alone. There is a just Power who presides over the

destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our

battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it

is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have

no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too

late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat, but in

submission and slavery. Our chains are forged. Their clanking

may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable; and

let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come! It is in vain, sir,

to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry "Peace, peace!" but

there is no peace! The war is actually begun! The next gale that

sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of

resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why

stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would

they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be

purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it,

Almighty Powers!--I know not what course others may take; but as

for me, give me liberty or give me death!

2. Live over in your imagination all the solemnity and sorrow that

Lincoln felt at the Gettysburg cemetery. The feeling in this speech is

very deep, but it is quieter and more subdued than the preceding one.

The purpose of Henry's address was to get action; Lincoln's speech was

meant only to dedicate the last resting place of those who had acted.

Read it over and over (see page 50) until it burns in your soul. Then

commit it and repeat it for emotional expression.

3. Beecher's speech on Lincoln, page 76; Thurston's speech on "A Plea

for Cuba," page 50; and the following selection, are recommended for

practise in developing feeling in delivery.

A living force that brings to itself all the resources of

imagination, all the inspirations of feeling, all that is

influential in body, in voice, in eye, in gesture, in posture,

in the whole animated man, is in strict analogy with the divine

thought and the divine arrangement; and there is no

misconstruction more utterly untrue and fatal than this: that

oratory is an artificial thing, which deals with baubles and

trifles, for the sake of making bubbles of pleasure for

transient effect on mercurial audiences. So far from that, it is

the consecration of the whole man to the noblest purposes to

which one can address himself--the education and inspiration of

his fellow men by all that there is in learning, by all that

there is in thought, by all that there is in feeling, by all

that there is in all of them, sent home through the channels of

taste and of beauty.

--HENRY WARD BEECHER.

4. What in your opinion are the relative values of thought and feeling

in a speech?

5. Could we dispense with either?

6. What kinds of selections or occasions require much feeling and

enthusiasm? Which require little?

7. Invent a list of ten subjects for speeches, saying which would give

most room for pure thought and which for feeling.

8. Prepare and deliver a ten-minute speech denouncing the (imaginary)

unfeeling plea of an attorney; he may be either the counsel for the

defense or the prosecuting attorney, and the accused may be assumed to

be either guilty or innocent, at your option.

9. Is feeling more important than the technical principles expounded in

chapters III to VII? Why?

10. Analyze the secret of some effective speech or speaker. To what is

the success due?

11. Give an example from your own observation of the effect of feeling

and enthusiasm on listeners.

12. Memorize Carlyle's and Emerson's remarks on enthusiasm.

13. Deliver Patrick Henry's address, page 110, and Thurston's speech,

page 50, without show of feeling or enthusiasm. What is the result?

14. Repeat, with all the feeling these selections demand. What is the

result?

15. What steps do you intend to take to develop the power of enthusiasm

and feeling in speaking?

16. Write and deliver a five-minute speech ridiculing a speaker who uses

bombast, pomposity and over-enthusiasm. Imitate him.

CHAPTER XI

FLUENCY THROUGH PREPARATION

Animis opibusque parati--Ready in mind and resources.

--_Motto of South Carolina_.

In omnibus negotiis prius quam aggrediare, adhibenda est

præparatio diligens--In all matters before beginning a diligent

preparation should be made.

--CICERO, _De Officiis_.

Take your dictionary and look up the words that contain the Latin stem

_flu_--the results will be suggestive.

At first blush it would seem that fluency consists in a ready, easy use

of words. Not so--the flowing quality of speech is much more, for it is

a composite effect, with each of its prior conditions deserving of

careful notice.

_The Sources of Fluency_

Speaking broadly, fluency is almost entirely a matter of preparation.

Certainly, native gifts figure largely here, as in every art, but even

natural facility is dependent on the very same laws of preparation that

hold good for the man of supposedly small native endowment. Let this

encourage you if, like Moses, you are prone to complain that you are not

a ready speaker.

Have you ever stopped to analyze that expression, "a ready speaker?"

Readiness, in its prime sense, is preparedness, and they are most ready

who are best prepared. Quick firing depends more on the alert finger

than on the hair trigger. Your fluency will be in direct ratio to two

important conditions: your knowledge of what you are going to say, and

your being accustomed to telling what you know to an audience. This

gives us the second great element of fluency--to preparation must be

added the ease that arises from practise; of which more presently.

_Knowledge is Essential_

Mr. Bryan is a most fluent speaker when he speaks on political problems,

tendencies of the time, and questions of morals. It is to be supposed,

however, that he would not be so fluent in speaking on the bird life of

the Florida Everglades. Mr. John Burroughs might be at his best on this

last subject, yet entirely lost in talking about international law. Do

not expect to speak fluently on a subject that you know little or

nothing about. Ctesiphon boasted that he could speak all day (a sin in

itself) on any subject that an audience would suggest. He was banished

by the Spartans.

But preparation goes beyond the getting of the facts in the case you are

to present: it includes also the ability to think and arrange your

thoughts, a full and precise vocabulary, an easy manner of speech and

breathing, absence of self-consciousness, and the several other

characteristics of efficient delivery that have deserved special

attention in other parts of this book rather than in this chapter.

Preparation may be either general or specific; usually it should be

both. A life-time of reading, of companionship with stirring thoughts,

of wrestling with the problems of life--this constitutes a general

preparation of inestimable worth. Out of a well-stored mind, and--richer

still--a broad experience, and--best of all--a warmly sympathetic heart,

the speaker will have to draw much material that no _immediate_ study

could provide. General preparation consists of all that a man has put

into himself, all that heredity and environment have instilled into him,

and--that other rich source of preparedness for speech--the friendship

of wise companions. When Schiller returned home after a visit with

Goethe a friend remarked: "I am amazed by the progress Schiller can make

within a single fortnight." It was the progressive influence of a new

friendship. Proper friendships form one of the best means for the

formation of ideas and ideals, for they enable one to practise in giving

expression to thought. The speaker who would speak fluently before an

audience should learn to speak fluently and entertainingly with a

friend. Clarify your ideas by putting them in words; the talker gains as

much from his conversation as the listener. You sometimes begin to

converse on a subject thinking you have very little to say, but one idea

gives birth to another, and you are surprised to learn that the more you

give the more you have to give. This give-and-take of friendly

conversation develops mentality, and fluency in expression. Longfellow

said: "A single conversation across the table with a wise man is better

than ten years' study of books," and Holmes whimsically yet none the

less truthfully declared that half the time he talked to find out what

he thought. But that method must not be applied on the platform!

After all this enrichment of life by storage, must come the special

preparation for the particular speech. This is of so definite a sort

that it warrants separate chapter-treatment later.

_Practise_

But preparation must also be of another sort than the gathering,

organizing, and shaping of materials--it must include _practise_, which,

like mental preparation, must be both general and special.

Do not feel surprised or discouraged if practise on the principles of

delivery herein laid down seems to retard your fluency. For a time, this

will be inevitable. While you are working for proper inflection, for

instance, inflection will be demanding your first thoughts, and the flow

of your speech, for the time being, will be secondary. This warning,

however, is strictly for the closet, for your practise at home. Do not

carry any thoughts of inflection with you to the platform. There you

must _think_ only of your subject. There is an absolute telepathy

between the audience and the speaker. If your thought goes to your

gesture, their thought will too. If your interest goes to the quality of

your voice, they will be regarding that instead of what your voice is

uttering.

You have doubtless been adjured to "forget everything but your subject."

This advice says either too much or too little. The truth is that while

on the platform you must not _forget_ a great many things that are not

in your subject, but you must not _think_ of them. Your attention must

consciously go only to your message, but subconsciously you will be

attending to the points of technique which have become more or less

_habitual by practise_.

A nice balance between these two kinds of attention is important.

You can no more escape this law than you can live without air: Your

platform gestures, your voice, your inflection, will all be just as good

as your _habit_ of gesture, voice, and inflection makes them--no better.

Even the thought of whether you are speaking fluently or not will have

the effect of marring your flow of speech.

Return to the opening chapter, on self-confidence, and again lay its

precepts to heart. Learn by rules to speak without thinking of rules. It

is not--or ought not to be--necessary for you to stop to think how to

say the alphabet correctly, as a matter of fact it is slightly more

difficult for you to repeat Z, Y, X than it is to say X, Y, Z--habit has

established the order. Just so you must master the laws of efficiency in

speaking until it is a second nature for you to speak correctly rather

than otherwise. A beginner at the piano has a great deal of trouble with

the mechanics of playing, but as time goes on his fingers become trained

and almost instinctively wander over the keys correctly. As an

inexperienced speaker you will find a great deal of difficulty at first

in putting principles into practise, for you will be scared, like the

young swimmer, and make some crude strokes, but if you persevere you

will "win out."

Thus, to sum up, the vocabulary you have enlarged by study,[4] the ease

in speaking you have developed by practise, the economy of your

well-studied emphasis all will subconsciously come to your aid on the

platform. Then the habits you have formed will be earning you a splendid

dividend. The fluency of your speech will be at the speed of flow your

practise has made habitual.

But this means work. What good habit does not? No philosopher's stone

that will act as a substitute for laborious practise has ever been

found. If it were, it would be thrown away, because it would kill our

greatest joy--the delight of acquisition. If public-speaking means to

you a fuller life, you will know no greater happiness than a well-spoken

speech. The time you have spent in gathering ideas and in private

practise of speaking you will find amply rewarded.

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES

1. What advantages has the fluent speaker over the hesitating talker?

2. What influences, within and without the man himself, work against

fluency?

3. Select from the daily paper some topic for an address and make a

three-minute address on it. Do your words come freely and your sentences

flow out rhythmically? Practise _on the same topic_ until they do.

4. Select some subject with which you are familiar and test your fluency

by speaking extemporaneously.

5. Take one of the sentiments given below and, following the advice

given on pages 118-119, construct a short speech beginning with the last

word in the sentence.

Machinery has created a new economic world.

The Socialist Party is a strenuous worker for peace.

He was a crushed and broken man when he left prison.

War must ultimately give way to world-wide arbitration.

The labor unions demand a more equal distribution of the wealth

that labor creates.

6. Put the sentiments of Mr. Bryan's "Prince of Peace," on page 448,

into your own words. Honestly criticise your own effort.

7. Take any of the following quotations and make a five-minute speech on

it without pausing to prepare. The first efforts may be very lame, but

if you want speed on a typewriter, a record for a hundred-yard dash, or

facility in speaking, you must practise, _practise_, _PRACTISE_.

There lives more faith in honest doubt,

Believe me, than in half the creeds.

--TENNYSON, _In Memoriam_.

Howe'er it be, it seems to me,

'Tis only noble to be good.

Kind hearts are more than coronets,

And simple faith than Norman blood.

--TENNYSON, _Lady Clara Vere de Vere_.

'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view

And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

--CAMPBELL, _Pleasures of Hope_.

His best companions, innocence and health,

And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

--GOLDSMITH, _The Deserted Village_.

Beware of desperate steps! The darkest day,

Live till tomorrow, will have passed away.

--COWPER, _Needless Alarm_.

My country is the world, and my religion is to do good.

--PAINE, _Rights of Man_.

Trade it may help, society extend,

But lures the pirate, and corrupts the friend:

It raises armies in a nation's aid,

But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd.

--POPE, _Moral Essays_.[5]

O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal

away their brains!

--SHAKESPEARE, _Othello_.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishment the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

--HENLEY, _Invictus_.

The world is so full of a number of things,

I am sure we should all be happy as kings.

--STEVENSON, _A Child's Garden of Verses_.

If your morals are dreary, depend upon it they are wrong.

--STEVENSON, _Essays_.

Every advantage has its tax. I learn to be content.

--EMERSON, _Essays_.

8. Make a two-minute speech on any of the following general subjects,

but you will find that your ideas will come more readily if you narrow

your subject by taking some specific phase of it. For instance, instead

of trying to speak on "Law" in general, take the proposition, "The Poor

Man Cannot Afford to Prosecute;" or instead of dwelling on "Leisure,"

show how modern speed is creating more leisure. In this way you may

expand this subject list indefinitely.

_GENERAL THEMES_

Law.

Politics.

Woman's Suffrage.

Initiative and Referendum.

A Larger Navy.

War.

Peace.

Foreign Immigration.

The Liquor Traffic.

Labor Unions.

Strikes.

Socialism.

Single Tax.

Tariff.

Honesty.

Courage.

Hope.

Love.

Mercy.

Kindness.

Justice.

Progress.

Machinery.

Invention.

Wealth.

Poverty.

Agriculture.

Science.

Surgery.

Haste.

Leisure.

Happiness.

Health.

Business.

America.

The Far East.

Mobs.

Colleges.

Sports.

Matrimony.

Divorce.

Child Labor.

Education.

Books.

The Theater.

Literature.

Electricity.

Achievement.

Failure.

Public Speaking.

Ideals.

Conversation.

The Most Dramatic Moment of My Life.

My Happiest Days.

Things Worth While.

What I Hope to Achieve.

My Greatest Desire.

What I Would Do with a Million Dollars.

Is Mankind Progressing?

Our Greatest Need.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 4: See chapter on "Increasing the Vocabulary."]

[Footnote 5: Money.]

CHAPTER XII

THE VOICE

Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches

The innermost recesses of my spirit!

--LONGFELLOW, _Christus_.

The dramatic critic of The London _Times_ once declared that acting is

nine-tenths voice work. Leaving the message aside, the same may justly

be said of public speaking. A rich, correctly-used voice is the greatest

physical factor of persuasiveness and power, often over-topping the

effects of reason.

But a good voice, well handled, is not only an effective possession for

the professional speaker, it is a mark of personal culture as well, and

even a distinct commercial asset. Gladstone, himself the possessor of a

deep, musical voice, has said: "Ninety men in every hundred in the

crowded professions will probably never rise above mediocrity because

the training of the voice is entirely neglected and considered of no

importance." These are words worth pondering.

There are three fundamental requisites for a good voice:

_1. Ease_

Signor Bonci of the Metropolitan Opera Company says that the secret of

good voice is relaxation; and this is true, for relaxation is the basis

of ease. The air waves that produce voice result in a different kind of

tone when striking against relaxed muscles than when striking

constricted muscles. Try this for yourself. Contract the muscles of your

face and throat as you do in hate, and flame out "I hate you!" Now relax

as you do when thinking gentle, tender thoughts, and say, "I love you."

How different the voice sounds.

In practising voice exercises, and in speaking, never force your tones.

Ease must be your watchword. The voice is a delicate instrument, and you

must not handle it with hammer and tongs. Don't _make_ your voice

go--_let_ it go. Don't work. Let the yoke of speech be easy and its

burden light.

Your throat should be free from strain during speech, therefore it is

necessary to avoid muscular contraction. The throat must act as a sort

of chimney or funnel for the voice, hence any unnatural constriction

will not only harm its tones but injure its health.

Nervousness and mental strain are common sources of mouth and throat

constriction, so make the battle for poise and self-confidence for which

we pleaded in the opening chapter.

But _how_ can I relax? you ask. By simply _willing_ to relax. Hold your

arm out straight from your shoulder. Now--withdraw all power and let it

fall. Practise relaxation of the muscles of the throat by letting your

neck and head fall forward. Roll the upper part of your body around,

with the waist line acting as a pivot. Let your head fall and roll

around as you shift the torso to different positions. Do not force your

head around--simply relax your neck and let gravity pull it around as

your body moves.

Again, let your head fall forward on your breast; raise your head,

letting your jaw hang. Relax until your jaw feels heavy, as though it

were a weight hung to your face. Remember, you must relax the jaw to

obtain command of it. It must be free and flexible for the moulding of

tone, and to let the tone pass out unobstructed.

The lips also must be made flexible, to aid in the moulding of clear and

beautiful tones. For flexibility of lips repeat the syllables,

_mo_--_me_. In saying _mo_, bring the lips up to resemble the shape of

the letter O. In repeating _me_ draw them back as you do in a grin.

Repeat this exercise rapidly, giving the lips as much exercise as

possible.

Try the following exercise in the same manner:

Mo--E--O--E--OO--Ah.

After this exercise has been mastered, the following will also be found

excellent for flexibility of lips:

Memorize these _sounds_ indicated (not the _expressions_) so that you

can repeat them rapidly.

| A as in May. | E as in Met. | U as in Use.

| A " Ah. | I " Ice. | Oi " Oil.

| A " At. | I " It. | Ou " Our.

| O " No. | O " No. | OO " Ooze.

| A " All. | OO " Foot. | A " Ah.

| E " Eat. | OO " Ooze. | E " Eat.

All the activity of breathing must be centered, not in the throat, but

in the middle of the body--you must breathe from the diaphragm. Note the

way you breathe when lying flat on the back, undressed in bed. You will

observe that all the activity then centers around the diaphragm. This is

the natural and correct method of breathing. By constant watchfulness

make this your habitual manner, for it will enable you to relax more

perfectly the muscles of the throat.

The next fundamental requisite for good voice is

_2. Openness_

If the muscles of the throat are constricted, the tone passage partially

closed, and the mouth kept half-shut, how can you expect the tone to

come out bright and clear, or even to come out at all? Sound is a series

of waves, and if you make a prison of your mouth, holding the jaws and

lips rigidly, it will be very difficult for the tone to squeeze through,

and even when it does escape it will lack force and carrying power. Open

your mouth wide, relax all the organs of speech, and let the tone flow

out easily.

Start to yawn, but instead of yawning, speak while your throat is open.

Make this open-feeling habitual when speaking--we say _make_ because it

is a matter of resolution and of practise, if your vocal organs are

healthy. Your tone passages may be partly closed by enlarged tonsils,

adenoids, or enlarged turbinate bones of the nose. If so, a skilled

physician should be consulted.

The nose is an important tone passage and should be kept open and free

for perfect tones. What we call "talking through the nose" is not

talking through the nose, as you can easily demonstrate by holding your

nose as you talk. If you are bothered with nasal tones caused by

growths or swellings in the nasal passages, a slight, painless operation

will remove the obstruction. This is quite important, aside from voice,

for the general health will be much lowered if the lungs are continually

starved for air.

The final fundamental requisite for good voice is

_3. Forwardness_

A voice that is pitched back in the throat is dark, sombre, and

unattractive. The tone must be pitched forward, but do not _force_ it

forward. You will recall that our first principle was ease. _Think_ the

tone forward and out. Believe it is going forward, and allow it to flow

easily. You can tell whether you are placing your tone forward or not by

inhaling a deep breath and singing _ah_ with the mouth wide open, trying

to feel the little delicate sound waves strike the bony arch of the

mouth just above the front teeth. The sensation is so slight that you

will probably not be able to detect it at once, but persevere in your

practise, always thinking the tone forward, and you will be rewarded by

feeling your voice strike the roof of your mouth. A correct

forward-placing of the tone will do away with the dark, throaty tones

that are so unpleasant, inefficient, and harmful to the throat.

Close the lips, humming _ng_, _im_, or _an_. Think the tone forward. Do

you feel it strike the lips?

Hold the palm of your hand in front of your face and say vigorously

_crash, dash, whirl, buzz_. Can you feel the forward tones strike

against your hand? Practise until you can. Remember, the only way to

get your voice forward is to _put_ it forward.

_How to Develop the Carrying Power of the Voice_

It is not necessary to speak loudly in order to be heard at a distance.

It is necessary only to speak correctly. Edith Wynne Matthison's voice

will carry in a whisper throughout a large theater. A paper rustling on

the stage of a large auditorium can be heard distinctly in the

furthermost seat in the gallery. If you will only use your voice

correctly, you will not have much difficulty in being heard. Of course

it is always well to address your speech to your furthest auditors; if

they get it, those nearer will have no trouble, but aside from this

obvious suggestion, you must observe these laws of voice production:

Remember to apply the principles of ease, openness and forwardness--they

are the prime factors in enabling your voice to be heard at a distance.

Do not gaze at the floor as you talk. This habit not only gives the

speaker an amateurish appearance but if the head is hung forward the

voice will be directed towards the ground instead of floating out over

the audience.

Voice is a series of air vibrations. To strengthen it two things are

necessary: more air or breath, and more vibration.

Breath is the very basis of voice. As a bullet with little powder behind

it will not have force and carrying power, so the voice that has little

breath behind it will be weak. Not only will deep breathing--breathing

from the diaphragm--give the voice a better support, but it will give

it a stronger resonance by improving the general health.

Usually, ill health means a weak voice, while abundant physical vitality

is shown through a strong, vibrant voice. Therefore anything that

improves the general vitality is an excellent voice strengthener,

provided you _use_ the voice properly. Authorities differ on most of the

rules of hygiene but on one point they all agree: vitality and longevity

are increased by deep breathing. Practise this until it becomes second

nature. Whenever you are speaking, take in deep breaths, but in such a

manner that the inhalations will be silent.

Do not try to speak too long without renewing your breath. Nature cares

for this pretty well unconsciously in conversation, and she will do the

same for you in platform speaking if you do not interfere with her

premonitions.

A certain very successful speaker developed voice carrying power by

running across country, practising his speeches as he went. The vigorous

exercise forced him to take deep breaths, and developed lung power. A

hard-fought basketball or tennis game is an efficient way of practising

deep breathing. When these methods are not convenient, we recommend the

following:

Place your hands at your sides, on the waist line.

By trying to encompass your waist with your fingers and thumbs, force

all the air out of the lungs.

Take a deep breath. Remember, all the activity is to be centered in the

_middle_ of the body; do not raise the shoulders. As the breath is taken

your hands will be forced out.

Repeat the exercise, placing your hands on the small of the back and

forcing them out as you inhale.

Many methods for deep breathing have been given by various authorities.

Get the air into your lungs--that is the important thing.

The body acts as a sounding board for the voice just as the body of the

violin acts as a sounding board for its tones. You can increase its

vibrations by practise.

Place your finger on your lip and hum the musical scale, thinking and

placing the voice forward on the lips. Do you feel the lips vibrate?

After a little practise they will vibrate, giving a tickling sensation.

Repeat this exercise, throwing the humming sound into the nose. Hold the

upper part of the nose between the thumb and forefinger. Can you feel

the nose vibrate?

Placing the palm of your hand on top of your head, repeat this humming

exercise. Think the voice there as you hum in head tones. Can you feel

the vibration there?

Now place the palm of your hand on the back of your head, repeating the

foregoing process. Then try it on the chest. Always remember to think

your tone where you desire to feel the vibrations. The mere act of

thinking about any portion of your body will tend to make it vibrate.

Repeat the following, after a deep inhalation, endeavoring to feel all

portions of your body vibrate at the same time. When you have attained

this you will find that it is a pleasant sensation.

What ho, my jovial mates. Come on! We will frolic it like

fairies, frisking in the merry moonshine.

_Purity of Voice_

This quality is sometimes destroyed by wasting the breath. Carefully

control the breath, using only as much as is necessary for the

production of tone. Utilize all that you give out. Failure to do this

results in a breathy tone. Take in breath like a prodigal; in speaking,

give it out like a miser.

_Voice Suggestions_

Never attempt to force your voice when hoarse.

Do not drink cold water when speaking. The sudden shock to the heated

organs of speech will injure the voice.

Avoid pitching your voice too high--it will make it raspy. This is a

common fault. When you find your voice in too high a range, lower it. Do

not wait until you get to the platform to try this. Practise it in your

daily conversation. Repeat the alphabet, beginning A on the lowest scale

possible and going up a note on each succeeding letter, for the

development of range. A wide range will give you facility in making

numerous changes of pitch.

Do not form the habit of listening to your voice when speaking. You will

need your brain to think of what you are saying--reserve your

observation for private practise.

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES

1. What are the prime requisites for good voice?

2. Tell why each one is necessary for good voice production.

3. Give some exercises for development of these conditions.

4. Why is range of voice desirable?

5. Tell how range of voice may be cultivated.

6. How much daily practise do you consider necessary for the proper

development of your voice?

7. How can resonance and carrying power be developed?

8. What are your voice faults?

9. How are you trying to correct them?

CHAPTER XIII

VOICE CHARM

A cheerful temper joined with innocence will make beauty

attractive, knowledge delightful, and wit good-natured.

--JOSEPH ADDISON, _The Tattler_.

Poe said that "the tone of beauty is sadness," but he was evidently

thinking from cause to effect, not contrariwise, for sadness is rarely a

producer of beauty--that is peculiarly the province of joy.

The exquisite beauty of a sunset is not exhilarating but tends to a sort

of melancholy that is not far from delight The haunting beauty of deep,

quiet music holds more than a tinge of sadness. The lovely minor

cadences of bird song at twilight are almost depressing.

The reason we are affected to sadness by certain forms of placid beauty

is twofold: movement is stimulating and joy-producing, while quietude

leads to reflection, and reflection in turn often brings out the tone of

regretful longing for that which is past; secondly, quiet beauty

produces a vague aspiration for the relatively unattainable, yet does

not stimulate to the tremendous effort necessary to make the dimly

desired state or object ours.

We must distinguish, for these reasons, between the sadness of beauty

and the joy of beauty. True, joy is a deep, inner thing and takes in

much more than the idea of bounding, sanguine spirits, for it includes a

certain active contentedness of heart. In this chapter, however the

word will have its optimistic, exuberant connotation--we are thinking

now of vivid, bright-eyed, laughing joy.

Musical, joyous tones constitute voice charm, a subtle magnetism that is

delightfully contagious. Now it might seem to the desultory reader that

to take the lancet and cut into this alluring voice quality would be to

dissect a butterfly wing and so destroy its charm. Yet how can we induce

an effect if we are not certain as to the cause?

_Nasal Resonance Produces the Bell-tones of the Voice_

The tone passages of the nose must be kept entirely free for the bright

tones of voice--and after our warning in the preceding chapter you will

not confuse what is popularly and erroneously called a "nasal" tone with

the true nasal quality, which is so well illustrated by the voice work

of trained French singers and speakers.

To develop nasal resonance sing the following, dwelling as long as

possible on the _ng_ sounds. Pitch the voice in the nasal cavity.

Practise both in high and low registers, and develop range--_with

brightness_.

Sing-song. Ding-dong. Hong-kong. Long-thong.

Practise in the falsetto voice develops a bright quality in the normal

speaking-voice. Try the following, and any other selections you choose,

in a falsetto voice. A man's falsetto voice is extremely high and

womanish, so men should not practise in falsetto after the exercise

becomes tiresome.

She perfectly scorned the best of his clan, and declared the

ninth of any man, a perfectly vulgar fraction.

The actress Mary Anderson asked the poet Longfellow what she could do to

improve her voice. He replied, "Read aloud daily, joyous, lyric poetry."

The joyous tones are the bright tones. Develop them by exercise.

Practise your voice exercises in an attitude of joy. Under the influence

of pleasure the body expands, the tone passages open, the action of

heart and lungs is accelerated, and all the primary conditions for good

tone are established.

More songs float out from the broken windows of the negro cabins in the

South than from the palatial homes on Fifth Avenue. Henry Ward Beecher

said the happiest days of his life were not when he had become an

international character, but when he was an unknown minister out in

Lawrenceville, Ohio, sweeping his own church, and working as a carpenter

to help pay the grocer. Happiness is largely an attitude of mind, of

viewing life from the right angle. The optimistic attitude can be

cultivated, and it will express itself in voice charm. A telephone

company recently placarded this motto in their booths: "The Voice with

the Smile Wins." It does. Try it.

Reading joyous prose, or lyric poetry, will help put smile and joy of

soul into your voice. The following selections are excellent for

practise.

_REMEMBER_ that when you first practise these classics you are to give

sole attention to two things: a joyous attitude of heart and body, and

bright tones of voice. After these ends have been attained to your

satisfaction, carefully review the principles of public speaking laid

down in the preceding chapters and put them into practise as you read

these passages again and again. _It would be better to commit each

selection to memory._

SELECTIONS FOR PRACTISE

_FROM MILTON'S "L'ALLEGRO"_

Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee

Jest, and youthful Jollity,

Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles,

Nods and Becks, and wreathèd Smiles,

Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,

And love to live in dimple sleek,--

Sport that wrinkled Care derides,

And Laughter holding both his sides.

Come, and trip it as ye go

On the light fantastic toe;

And in thy right hand lead with thee

The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty:

And, if I give thee honor due,

Mirth, admit me of thy crew,

To live with her, and live with thee,

In unreprovèd pleasures free;

To hear the lark begin his flight,

And singing, startle the dull Night

From his watch-tower in the skies,

Till the dappled Dawn doth rise;

Then to come in spite of sorrow,

And at my window bid good-morrow

Through the sweetbrier, or the vine,

Or the twisted eglantine;

While the cock with lively din

Scatters the rear of darkness thin,

And to the stack, or the barn-door,

Stoutly struts his dames before;

Oft listening how the hounds and horn

Cheerly rouse the slumbering Morn,

From the side of some hoar hill,

Through the high wood echoing shrill;

Sometime walking, not unseen,

By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,

Right against the eastern gate,

Where the great Sun begins his state,

Robed in flames and amber light,

The clouds in thousand liveries dight,

While the plowman near at hand

Whistles o'er the furrowed land,

And the milkmaid singing blithe,

And the mower whets his scythe,

And every shepherd tells his tale,

Under the hawthorn in the dale.

_THE SEA_

The sea, the sea, the open sea,

The blue, the fresh, the fever free;

Without a mark, without a bound,

It runneth the earth's wide regions round;

It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies,

Or like a cradled creature lies.

I'm on the sea, I'm on the sea,

I am where I would ever be,

With the blue above and the blue below,

And silence wheresoe'er I go.

If a storm should come and awake the deep,

What matter? I shall ride and sleep.

I love, oh! how I love to ride

On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,

Where every mad wave drowns the moon,

And whistles aloft its tempest tune,

And tells how goeth the world below,

And why the southwest wind doth blow!

I never was on the dull, tame shore

But I loved the great sea more and more,

And backward flew to her billowy breast,

Like a bird that seeketh her mother's nest,--

And a mother she was and is to me,

For I was born on the open sea.

The waves were white, and red the morn,

In the noisy hour when I was born;

The whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled,

And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;

And never was heard such an outcry wild,

As welcomed to life the ocean child.

I have lived, since then, in calm and strife,

Full fifty summers a rover's life,

With wealth to spend, and a power to range,

But never have sought or sighed for change:

And death, whenever he comes to me,

Shall come on the wide, unbounded sea!

--BARRY CORNWALL.

The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the

wide world's joy. The lonely pine upon the mountain-top waves

its sombre boughs, and cries, "Thou art my sun." And the little

meadow violet lifts its cup of blue, and whispers with its

perfumed breath, "Thou art my sun." And the grain in a thousand

fields rustles in the wind, and makes answer, "Thou art my sun."

And so God sits effulgent in Heaven, not for a favored few, but

for the universe of life; and there is no creature so poor or so

low that he may not look up with child-like confidence and say,

"My Father! Thou art mine."

--HENRY WARD BEECHER.

_THE LARK_

Bird of the wilderness,

Blithesome and cumberless,

Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!

Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place:

Oh, to abide in the desert with thee!