An English professor wrote on the blackboard in his laboratory,
"Professor Blank informs his students that he has this day been
appointed honorary physician to his Majesty, King George."
During the morning he had some occasion to leave the room, and found on
his return that some student wag had added the words,
"God save the King!"
Henry W. Grady was a facile story-teller. One of his best stories was as
follows:
"There was an old preacher once who told some boys of the Bible lesson
he was going to read in the morning. The boys, finding the place, glued
together the connecting pages. The next morning he read on the bottom of
one page: 'When Noah was one hundred and twenty years old he took unto
himself a wife, who was'--then turning the page--'one hundred and forty
cubits long, forty cubits wide, built of gopherwood, and covered with
pitch inside and out.' He was naturally puzzled at this. He read it
again, verified it, and then said: 'My friends, this is the first time
I ever met this in the Bible, but I accept it as an evidence of the
assertion that we are fearfully and wonderfully made.'"
Personalities based upon sarcasm or invective are always attended with
danger, but good-humored bantering may be used upon occasion with most
happy results. As an instance of this, there is a story of an annual
dinner at which Mr. Choate was set down for the toast, "The Navy," and
Mr. Depew was to respond to "The Army." Mr. Depew began by saying, "It's
well to have a specialist: that's why Choate is here to speak about the
Navy. We met at the wharf once and I did not see him again till we
reached Liverpool. When I asked how he felt he said he thought he would
have enjoyed the trip over if he had had any ocean air. Yes, you want to
hear Choate on the Navy." When it was Mr. Choate's turn to speak, he
said: "I've heard Depew hailed as the greatest after-dinner speaker. If
after-dinner speaking, as I have heard it described and as I believe it
to be, is the art of saying nothing at all, then Mr. Depew is the most
marvelous speaker in the universe."
The medical profession can be assailed with impunity, since they have
long since grown accustomed to it. There is a story of a young laborer
who, on his way to his day's work, called at the registrar's office to
register his father's death. When the official asked the date of the
event, the son replied, "He ain't dead yet, but he'll be dead before
night, so I thought it would save me another journey if you would put it
down now." "Oh, that won't do at all," said the registrar; "perhaps your
father will live till tomorrow." "Well, I don't think so, sir; the
doctor says as he won't, and he knows what he has given him."
While stories should be used sparingly, there is probably nothing more
effective before a popular audience than the telling of a story in which
the joke is on the speaker himself. Thus:
The last time I made a speech, I went next day to the editor of our
local newspaper, and said,
"I thought your paper was friendly to me?"
The editor said, "So it is. What's the matter?"
"Well," I said, "I made a speech last night, and you didn't print a
single line of it this morning."
"Well," said the editor, "what further proof do you want?"
Many of the best and most effective stories are serious in character.
One that has been used successfully is this: Some gentlemen from the
West were excited and troubled about the commissions or omissions of the
administration. President Lincoln heard them patiently, and then
replied: "Gentlemen, suppose all the property you were worth was in
gold, and you had put it in the hands of Blondin to carry across the
Niagara River on a rope; would you shake the cable, or keep shouting out
to him--'Blondin, stand up a little straighter--Blondin, stoop a little
more--go a little faster--lean a little more to the north--lean a little
more to the south?' No, you would hold your breath as well as your
tongue, and keep your hands off until he was safe over. The Government
is carrying an immense weight. Untold treasures are in our hands. We are
doing the very best we can. Don't badger us. Keep silence, and we'll get
you safe across."
Punning is of course out of fashion. The best pun in the English
language is Tom Hood's:
"He went and told the sexton,
And the sexton tolled the bell."
Dr. Johnson said that the pun was the lowest order of wit. Newspapers
formerly indulged in it freely. One editor would say: "We don't care a
straw what Shakespeare said--a rose by any other name would not smell as
wheat." Then another paper would answer: "Such puns are barley
tolerable, they amaize us, they arouse our righteous corn, and they turn
the public taste a-rye."
But punning, when it is unusually clever and spontaneous, may be
thoroughly enjoyable, as in the following:
Chief Justice Story attended a public dinner in Boston at which Edward
Everett was present. Desiring to pay a delicate compliment to the
latter, the learned judge proposed as a volunteer toast:
"Fame follows merit where Everett goes."
The brilliant scholar arose and responded:
"To whatever heights judicial learning may attain in this country, it
will never get above one Story."
Story-telling may attain the character of a disease, in one who has a
retentive memory and a voluble vocabulary. The form of humor known as
repartee, however, is one that requires rare discrimination. It should
be used sparingly, and not at all if it is likely to give offence.
Beau Brummell was guilty in this respect, when he was once asked by a
lady if he would "take a cup of tea." "Thank you," said he, "I never
_take_ anything but physic." "I beg your pardon," said the hostess, "you
also take liberties."
There is a story that Henry Luttrell had sat long in the Irish
Parliament, but no one knew his precise age. Lady Holland, without
regard to considerations of courtesy, one day said to him point-blank,
"Now, we are all dying to know how old you are. Just tell me." Luttrell
answered very gravely, "It is an odd question, but as you, Lady Holland,
ask it, I don't mind telling you. If I live till next year, I shall
be--devilish old!"
The art of story-telling is not taught specifically, hence there are
comparatively few people who can tell a story without violating some of
the rules which experience recommends. But the right use of
story-telling should be encouraged as an ornament of conversation, and a
valuable auxiliary to effective public address. Many people might excel
as story-tellers if they would devote a little time to suggestions such
as are offered here. It is not a difficult art, but like every other
subject requires study and application.
The best counsel for public speakers in the matter of story-telling may
be summed up as follows: Know your story thoroughly; test your story by
telling it to some one in advance; adapt your story to the special
circumstances; be concise, omitting non-essentials; have ready more
stories than you intend to use, because if you should speak at the end
of the list you may find that your best story has been told by a
previous speaker; and, finally, always stop when you have made a hit.
TALKING IN SALESMANSHIP
The salesman depends for his success primarily upon his talking ability.
Obviously, what he offers for sale must have intrinsic merit, and he
should possess a thorough knowledge of his wares. But in order to secure
the best results from his efforts, he must know how to talk well.
All the general requirements for good conversation apply equally to the
needs of the salesman. He should have a pleasant speaking voice and an
agreeable manner, a vocabulary of useful and appropriate words, and the
ability to put things clearly and convincingly.
It should be a golden rule of the salesman never to argue with the
customer. He may explain and reason, and use all the persuasive
phraseology at his command, but he must not permit himself for a single
instant to engage in controversy. To argue is fatal to successful
salesmanship.
There is nothing that can be substituted for a winning personality in
the salesman. What constitutes such a personality? Chiefly a good voice,
affability of manner, straightforward speech, manly bearing, the desire
to serve and please, proper attire, and cleanliness of person. These
qualifications come within the reach of anyone who aspires to success in
salesmanship.
Every salesman has unexpected problems to solve. A sensitive or touchy
customer may become unreasonably angry or offended. What is the salesman
to do? He should here be particularly on his guard not to show the
slightest resentment. Though he may be wholly guiltless, he cannot
afford to contradict the customer, nor to challenge him to a vocal duel.
If he talks at all, he should talk quietly and reasonably, and always
with the object of bringing the customer around to a favorable point of
view.
The successful salesman must have tact and discrimination. He must know
when and how to check in himself the word or phrase which is trying to
force its way out into expression, but which would in the end prove
inadvisable. He must train himself to choose quickly the right and best
course under difficult circumstances.
The salesman should give his undivided attention to the customer. If the
salesman is speaking, he should speak clearly, directly, concisely, and
understandingly; if he is listening, he should listen interestedly and
thoroughly, with all his powers alive and receptive.
The salesman should know when to speak and when to be silent. Some
customers wish to be told much, others prefer to think for themselves.
He is a wise salesman who knows when to be mute. Loquacity has often
killed what otherwise might have been a good sale.
There is a certain tone of voice which the salesman should aim to
acquire. It is neither high nor low in pitch. It is agreeable to the
listening ear, and is almost sufficient in itself to win the favorable
attention of the prospective buyer. Every salesman should cultivate a
musical and well-modulated voice as one of the chief assets in
salesmanship.
The salesman should cultivate dignity of speech and manner. People
generally dislike familiarity, joking, and horse-play. It is well to
assume that the customer is serious-minded, that he means business and
nothing else. Needless to say, the telling of long stories, or personal
experiences, has no legitimate place in the business of salesmanship.
There is a proper time and place for short story-telling. Like
everything else it is all right in its appropriate setting. Lincoln used
it to advantage, but once said: "I believe I have the popular reputation
of being a story-teller, but I do not deserve the name in its general
sense; for it is not the story itself, but its purpose, or effect, that
interests me. I often avoid a long and useless discussion by others, or
a laborious explanation on my part, by a short story that illustrates my
point of view."
The salesman should resolve not to lose his poise and agreeableness
under any circumstances. Irritability never attracts business. To say
the right thing in the right place is desirable, but it is quite as
important, though more difficult, to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the
moment of temptation.
It is not the legitimate business of the salesman to force upon a
customer what is really not wanted, but many times the customer does
not know what he wants nor what he might be able to use. Hence the
competent salesman should know how to influence the customer towards a
favorable decision, using all honorable and approved means to bring
about such a result.
The customer's unfavorable answer is not to be accepted always as final.
He may not clearly understand the merits or uses of the article offered.
He may need the explanations and suggestions of the salesman in order to
reach a right conclusion. Here it is that the salesman may fulfill one
of his most important duties.
There is a wide difference between self-reliance and obtrusiveness.
Every man should have a full degree of self-confidence. It is needed in
every walk in life. But the salesman, more than most men, must have an
exceptional degree of faith in himself and in what he has to sell.
This self-confidence, however, is a very different thing from boldness
or obtrusiveness. Courtesy and considerateness are cardinal qualities of
the well-equipped salesman, but boastfulness, glibness, egotism,
loudness, and self-assertion, are as distasteful as they are
undesirable.
The eloquence and persuasiveness of silence is nowhere better
exemplified than in the art of salesmanship. One man says much, and
sells little; another says little, and sells much. The reason for the
superior success of one over the other is mainly due to the fact that he
knows best how to present the merits of what he offers for sale, knows
how to say it concisely and effectively, knows how to ingratiate
himself, largely through his personality, into the good graces of the
prospective buyer, and knows when to stop talking.
Modern salesmanship is based primarily upon common sense. A man with
brains, though possibly lacking in other desirable qualifications, may
easily outdistance the more experienced salesman. It is a valuable thing
in any man to be able to think accurately, reason deeply, and size up a
situation promptly.
The salesman should at all times be on his best talking behavior. It is
not advisable for him to have two standards of speech, and to use an
inferior one excepting for special occasions. He should cultivate as a
regular daily habit discrimination in the use of voice, enunciation,
expression, and language. This should be the constant aim not only of
the salesman, but of every man ambitious to achieve success and
distinction in the world.
MEN AND MANNERISMS
There is a story of a politician who had acquired a mannerism of
fingering a button on his coat while talking to an audience. On one
occasion some friends surreptitiously cut the particular button off, and
the result was that the speaker when he stood up to address the audience
lost the thread of his discourse.
Gladstone had a mannerism of striking the palm of his left hand with the
clenched fist of his other hand, so that often the emphatic word was
lost in the noise of percussion. A common habit of the distinguished
statesman was to reach out his right hand at full arm's length, and then
to bend it back at the elbow and lightly scratch the top of his head
with his thumb-nail.
Balfour, while speaking, used to take hold of the lapels of his coat by
both hands as if he were in mortal fear of running away before he had
finished.
Goshen, at the beginning of a speech, would sound his chest and sides
with his hands, and apparently finding that his ribs were in good order,
would proceed to wash his hands with invisible soap.
The strange thing about mannerisms is that the speakers are usually
unconscious of them, and would be the first to condemn them in others.
The remedy for such defects lies in thorough and severe self-examination
and self-criticism. However eminent a speaker may be with objectionable
mannerisms, he would be still greater without them.
Every public speaker has certain characteristics of voice and manner
that distinguish him from other men. In so far as this individuality
gives increased power and effectiveness to the speaking style, it is
desirable and should be encouraged. When, however, it is carried to
excess, or in any sense offends good taste, it is merely mannerism, and
should be discouraged.
There is an objectionable mannerism of the voice, known as "pulpit
tone," that has come to be associated with some preachers. It takes
various forms, such as an unduly elevated key, a drawling monotone, a
sudden transition from one extreme of pitch to another, or a tone of
condescension. It is also heard in a plaintive minor inflection,
imparting a quality of extreme sadness to a speaker's style. These are
all departures from the natural, earnest, sincere, and direct delivery
that belongs to the high office of preaching.
Still another undesirable mannerism of the voice is that of giving a
rising inflection at the close of successive sentences that are
obviously complete. Here the speaker's thought is left suspended in the
air, the hearer feels a sense of disappointment or doubt, and possibly
the entire meaning is perverted. Thoughts delivered in such a manner,
unless they distinctly require a rising inflection, lack the emphasis
and force of persuasive speaking.
Artificiality, affectation, pomposity, mouthing, undue vehemence,
monotony, intoning, and everything that detracts from the simplicity and
genuine fervor of the speech should be avoided. Too much emphasis may
drive a thought beyond the mark, and a conscious determination to make a
"great speech" may keep the speaker in a state of anxiety throughout
its entire delivery.
A clear and correct enunciation is essential, but it should not be
pedantic, nor should it attract attention to itself. "What you are
prevents me from hearing what you say," might also be applied to the
manner of the speaker. Exaggerated opening of the mouth, audible
smacking of the lips, holding tenaciously to final consonants, prolonged
hissing of sibilants, are all to be condemned. Hesitation, stumbling
over difficult combinations, obscuring final syllables, coalescing the
last sound of one word with the first sound of the following word, are
inexcusable in a trained speaker.
When the same modulation of the voice is repeated too often, it becomes
a mannerism, a kind of monotony of variety. It reminds one of a
street-piano set to but one tune, and is quite as distressing to a
sensitive ear. This is not the style that is expected from a public man.
What should the speaker do with his hands? Do nothing with them unless
they are specifically needed for the more complete expression of a
thought. Let them drop at the sides in their natural relaxed position,
ready for instant use. To press the fist in the hollow of the back in
order to "support" the speaker, to clutch the lapels of the coat, to
slap the hands audibly together, to place the hands on the hips in the
attitude of "vulgar ease," to put the hands into the pockets, to wring
the hands as if "washing them with invisible soap," or to violently
pound the pulpit--these belong to the list of undesirable mannerisms.
At the beginning of a speech it may give the appearance of ease to place
the hands behind the back, but this position lacks force and action and
should not be long sustained. To cross the arms upon the desk is to put
them out of commission for the time being. Leaning or lounging of any
kind, bending at the knee, or other evidence of weakness or weariness,
may belong to the repose of the easy chair, but are hardly appropriate
in a wide-awake speaker seeking to convince men.
Rocking the body to and fro, rising on the toes to emphasize, crouching,
stamping the foot, springing from side to side, over-acting and
impersonation, and violence and extravagance of every description may
well be omitted in public speaking. Beware of extremes. Avoid a
statue-like attitude on the one hand and a constant restlessness on the
other. Dignity is desirable, but one should not forget the words of the
Reverend Sam Jones, "There is nothing more dignified than a corpse!"
Gestures that are too frequent and alike soon lose their significance.
If they are attempted at all they should be varied and complete,
suggesting freedom and spontaneity. When only half made they are likely
to call attention to the discrepancy, and to this extent will obscure
rather than help the thought. The continuous use of gesture is
displeasing to the eye, and gives the impression of lack of poise.
The young speaker particularly should be warned not to imitate the
speaking style of others. What is perfectly natural to one may appear
ridiculous in another. Cardinal Newman spoke with extreme
deliberateness, enunciating every syllable with care and precision;
Phillips Brooks sent forth an avalanche of words at the rate of two
hundred a minute; but it would be dangerous for the average speaker to
emulate either of these examples.
There is a peculiarity in a certain type of speaking, which, while not
strictly a mannerism, is detrimental to the highest effect. It manifests
itself in physical weakness. The speaker is uniformly tired, and his
speaking has a half-hearted tone. The lifelessness in voice and manner
communicates itself to the audience, and prevents all possibility of
deep and enduring impression. Joseph Parker said that when Sunday came
he felt like a racehorse, and could hardly wait for the time to come for
him to go into the pulpit. He longed to speak.
The well-equipped speaker is one who has a superior culture of voice and
body. All the instruments of expression must be made his obedient
servants, but as master of them he should see to it that they perform
their work naturally and spontaneously. He should be able while speaking
to abandon himself wholly to his subject, confident that as a result of
conscientious training his delivery may be left largely to take care of
itself.
HOW TO SPEAK IN PUBLIC
There are two essential qualifications for making an effective public
speech.
First, having something worth-while to say.
Second, knowing how to say it.
The first qualification implies a judicious choice of subject and the
most thorough preparation. It means that the speaker has carefully
gathered together the best available material, and has so familiarized
himself with his subject that he knows more about it than anyone else in
his audience.
It is in this requirement of thorough preparation that many public
speakers are deficient. They do not realize the need for this
painstaking preliminary work, and hence they frequently stand before an
audience with little information of value to impart to their hearers.
Their poverty of thought can not be long disguised in flamboyant
rhetoric and sesquipedalian words, and hence they fail to carry
conviction to serious-minded men.
I would remind you that having something worth-while to say involves
more than thorough preparation of the particular subject which the
speaker is to present to an audience. The speaker should have a
well-furnished mind. You have had the experience of listening to a
public speaker who commanded your closest attention not only because of
what he said, but also because of what he was. He inspired confidence in
you because of his personality and reserve power.
It is often what a man has within himself, rather than what he actually
expresses, that carries greatest conviction to your mind. As you listen
to such a man speak, you feel that he is worthy of your confidence
because he draws upon broad experience and knowledge. He speaks out of
the fulness of a well-furnished mind.
It is important, therefore, that there should be mental culture in a
broad way,--sound judgment, a sense of proportion and perspective, a
fund of useful ideas, facts, arguments, and illustrations, and a large
stock of common sense.
Every man who essays to speak in public should cultivate a judicial
mind, or the habit of weighing and estimating facts and arguments. Such
a mind is supposedly free from prejudice and seeks the truth at any
cost. Such a mind does not want this or that to be necessarily true, but
wants to recognize as true only that which is true.
In these days of multiplied publications and books of all kinds, when
printed matter of every description is soliciting our time and
attention, it is particularly desirable that we should cultivate a
discriminating taste in our choice of books. The highest purpose of
reading is for the acquisition of useful knowledge and personal culture,
and we should keep these two aims constantly before us. It is noteworthy
that men who have achieved enduring greatness in the world have always
had a good book at their ready command.