THOUGHT AND EMOTION.
Two kinds of preparation contribute to the production of eloquence. One
is the preparation of the speaker, the other of the speech. The first is
fully as important as the second. In ordinary cases both are
indispensable. Some “born orators” speak well without appearing to pay
any attention to the improvement of their faculties. Others are
occasionally eloquent on a topic without special preparation. Yet these
cases when closely examined will be found apparent rather than real
exceptions to the rule above stated. The man who seems never to have
cultivated the power of speech, and is yet able to blaze into fervid
eloquence at will, has usually concealed his preparation or carried it
on in such uncommon methods that they have not been recognized as
preparations. On the other hand, a man who speaks well without a
moment’s warning can do so only when the subject is thoroughly familiar
to him. A ready and self-possessed speaker may grasp thoughts which have
been long maturing in his mind, and give them forth to an audience in
obedience to an unexpected summons, but if he is called upon when he
knows nothing whatever of his subject, failure is inevitable, though he
may possibly veil it more or less in a stream of platitudes. Ask a man
at a moment’s warning to give an astronomical lecture. If he is
perfectly familiar with the subject in general, and is also a practical
orator, he may succeed well without preparing a special speech. But if
he is ignorant of Astronomy, what kind of an address can he make? If he
is the most eloquent man in the nation that faculty will avail him
nothing, for he cannot extemporize the names of the planets, the laws
which govern their motions, or any of the facts out of which his lecture
must be woven. Precisely the same necessity of adequate information
exists in every other field of intelligence. The ignorant man cannot
possibly tell that which he does not know, although he may make a great
show of knowledge out of small material; but even to do that with
certainty requires careful premeditation and arrangement.
In this and following chapters we wish to treat of the kind of
cultivation which makes a man ready to speak. The field is here very
wide and some general considerations must be introduced, but we hope
also to give valuable practical directions, especially to those who are
yet at the beginning of their career.
In considering man as a speaker, we may classify his faculties into two
broad divisions; those which furnish the _materials_ of communication
with his fellows; and those which furnish the _means_ of such
communication. The first class gives rise to thoughts and emotions in
man’s own breast; the second enables him to arouse similar thoughts and
emotions in the breasts of others. Our course, therefore, will be to
consider, first, thought and emotion, and afterward those powers of body
and mind by which we express, that is, _press out_ from ourselves toward
the receptive faculties of our fellow beings.
_Thought_, in the broad sense here given, embraces the knowledge of all
facts, and all the reasoning that may be based upon those facts.
_Emotion_ is the mental feeling or response to knowledge, and comprises
love, hate, joy, fear, sorrow, and hope. These two elements are the
broad basis of all eloquence. Keen, profound, far-reaching thought—in
other words, thought raised to its highest terms—and quick, sensitive,
powerful emotion, are necessary to the highest eloquence. Compared with
them, mere verbal fluency is less than dust in the balance. But such a
combination—the highest degree of both thought and emotion—is rare, and
many degrees less than the highest of either is available for genuine
eloquence. To increase either or both, if it can be done without any
corresponding sacrifice, is to increase eloquence in precisely the same
proportion.
Education in the popular sense is the cultivation of thought with the
added faculty of language. But we prefer to consider the latter power
separately as one among the means of communicating thought.
How, then, shall thought-power be increased? There is no royal road.
Every one of the faculties by which knowledge is accumulated and
arranged or digested into new forms grows stronger by being employed
upon its own appropriate objects. Exercise is then the means by which
the material of knowledge is gathered, and all faculties strengthened
for future gathering. Each fact gained adds to the treasury of thought.
A broad and liberal education is of exceeding advantage. This may or may
not be of the schools. Indeed, they too often substitute a knowledge of
words for a knowledge of things. That fault is very serious to the
orator, for the only way by which even language can be effectively
taught, is by giving terms to objects, the nature of which has been
previously learned.
But many persons need to speak who cannot obtain an education in the
usual sense of the words—that is, college or seminary training. Must
they keep their lips forever closed on that account? By no means.
A thousand examples, some of them the most eminent speakers the world
has produced, encourage them to hope. Let such persons learn all they
can. Wide, well-selected, and systematic reading will do wonders in
supplying the necessary thought-material. Every book of history,
biography, travels, popular science, which is carefully read, and its
contents fixed in the mind, will be available for the purposes of
oratory. Here a word of advice may be offered, which, if heeded, will be
worth many months of technical education at the best colleges in the
land; it is this: have always at hand some work that in its own sphere
possesses real and permanent merit, and read it daily until completed.
If notes are made of its contents, and the book itself kept on hand for
reference, so much the better. If some friend can be found who will hear
you relate in your own words what you have read, this also will be of
great value. Many persons, especially in our own country, spend time
enough in reading the minute details of the daily papers to make them
thoroughly acquainted in ten years with forty volumes of the most useful
books in the world. Think of it! This number may include nearly all the
literary masterpieces. Which mode of spending the time will produce the
best results? One newspaper read daily would amount to more than three
hundred in a year, and allowing each paper to be equal to ten ordinary
book pages, the result would be three thousand pages annually, or six
volumes of five hundred pages each. In ten years this would reach
_sixty_ volumes! This number, comprising the world’s best books in
history, poetry, science, and general literature, might be read slowly,
with meditation and diligent note-taking, by the most busy man who was
willing to employ his leisure in that way. Libraries and books are now
brought within the reach of all, and the mass of what man knows can be
learned in outline by any student who thirsts for knowledge. While thus
engaged the student is on the direct road toward oratorical efficiency,
though such knowledge will not in itself constitute eloquence. It is but
one of its elements. Neither will the speaker have to wait until any
definite quantity of reading has been accomplished before it becomes
serviceable to him. All that he learns will be immediately available,
and, with proper effort, the facility of speech and the material for
speaking will keep pace with each other.
But personal observation of life and nature are just as necessary as
reading. The world of books is very extensive, but it yields its
treasures only to persons who bring to its study some independent
knowledge of their own. We cannot hope to add much to the world’s stock
of knowledge by what we see with our own eyes, but what we do see and
hear will interpret for us what we learn from the far wider world of
books. Gibbon tells us that his militia service, though of no great
advantage in itself, was afterward very useful to the historian of the
Roman Empire. What we behold of the landscape around us lays the
foundation for understanding what poets and travelers tell us of other
landscapes we may never see. Book knowledge will become real and vivid
just in proportion as it is brought into comparison with the observation
of our own senses. To the orator, this is far more important than to the
ordinary student, for it adds greatly to the royal faculty of
imagination. A description from the lips of a speaker who beholds at the
moment a mental picture, accurate as a photograph, and bright with
color, will be very different from another description built up only of
words, however well chosen and melodious the latter may be. A little
dabbling in natural science, a few experiments tried, an occasional peep
through telescope or microscope at the worlds they open, and all other
means of bringing knowledge under the scrutiny of our own senses, will
greatly contribute to the power of the orator.
The reasoning faculties must also be trained by exercise upon their own
objects. The knowledge which has been gathered from personal observation
or from the testimony of others in books will furnish material, but will
not enable us to reason. Logic and mathematics have considerable utility
as guides, but they cannot supply the want of continuous application of
the processes of argument and deduction. No man becomes a reasoner from
merely learning the mode in which the reason operates. Of two persons,
one of whom understands every mood of the syllogism and the source of
every fallacy, while the other has no technical knowledge of logic, but
has been engaged in careful reasoning, discussion, and argument, all his
life, it may easily happen that the latter will be the better reasoner
of the two—just as a man might learn from the books all the rules of the
game of croquet, and yet be beaten by another who continually handled
the mallet, but had never read a single rule. Practice makes perfect.
Essay writing, constructing arguments, tracing effects back to their
causes, making careful comparison of all things that can be compared, in
short, bringing our judgment to bear upon all facts, forming our own
opinions of every event, and being always ready to give a reason to
those who ask,—these modes of exercise will make the faculty of reason
grow continually stronger. It is not pretended that these or any other
modes of cultivation can make all minds equal, but they will improve any
one—the lowest as surely as the most active—though the interval after
both have been thus exercised will remain as great as before.
Extempore speech itself, when practiced upon carefully arranged plans or
models as recommended hereafter, is one of the most powerful modes of
cultivating the logical faculty. To construct plans, so that all
thoughts accumulated upon a given subject may be unfolded in a natural
and orderly manner, cannot fail to exercise the reasoning faculties, and
impart corresponding strength to them.
But how shall emotion be cultivated? The wisest speech, if deep feeling
neither throbs in the words nor is manifested in delivery, cannot be
eloquent. The orator can only speak forth from an aroused and excited
nature. There is a kind of intellectual excitation kindled by the
presentation of truth which is sufficiently effective when instruction
is the only object. But to persuade and move men—the usual aim of the
orator—requires passion. No pretense will avail the extempore speaker.
He will infallibly be detected if counterfeiting, and to succeed in
exhibiting feeling he must really feel. There are but two things which
can arouse feeling—care for a cause or for persons. Many a man is
eloquent when “riding his hobby,” though at no other time. He has
thought so much upon that special subject, and has so thoroughly
identified himself with it, that everything relating to it becomes
invested with personal interest. Any cause which can thus be made
personal will be apt to arouse feeling. It would be wise, therefore, for
an orator to identify himself as closely as possible with all manner of
good causes which come within his reach. Then such well-springs of
emotion will gush out easily and frequently.
This mode of excitation is largely intellectual in its character. The
next to be described has more to do with the affections. The clergyman
wants to secure the welfare of his congregation, and the better he is
acquainted with them individually the stronger will be this wish. The
lawyer is but a poor attorney if he does not so identify himself with
his client as to feel more than a professional interest in the latter’s
success. The politician needs no exhortation to rouse his enthusiasm for
his party and his chief. All these are instances of that care for
persons which adds so greatly to the powers of effective speech. The
plain inference, therefore, is that the speaker will gain largely by
identifying himself as closely as possible with the interests of men,
and by cultivating love for them. A cynical or indifferent spirit makes
a fearful discount from the possibilities of eloquence. Only the
greatest qualities in other directions can prevent it from proving
fatal.
The power and sensitiveness of emotions founded upon intimate knowledge
and partnership of interest go far to explain the wonderful eloquence of
the old Greeks. Their country was the native land of eloquence. This
arose not so much from the character of that gifted race as from the
fact that each speaker personally knew his audience and had an intimate,
material interest in the affairs he discussed. They regarded their
opponents as terribly bad men. Their own lives and the lives of many of
their friends were not unfrequently involved in the questions they
discussed. The States were so small, and the personal element so
important, that strongly aroused feeling became inevitable. The
discussion of war or peace before an audience who knew that if they
voted war their town might be besieged by the enemy within a fortnight,
was sure to be eagerly listened to. No platitudes would be tolerated.
The orators spoke before their neighbors, some of them friendly, others
bitter enemies who were seeking in each word they uttered an occasion
for their ruin. Much of the wonderful power of Demosthenes arose from
the deep solicitude felt by himself and excited in his hearers as they
watched the swiftly coming ruin of their common country.
It is also a law of human nature that we feel deeply for that which has
cost us great labor. The collector of old china or of entomological
specimens learns to greatly value the ugly dishes and bugs he gathers,
though others may despise them. The more of real work we do in the
world, the deeper the hold our hearts take upon it. This is one of the
secrets of the power of goodness as an element of oratory. It was long
ago declared that a good man, other things being equal, will be a better
speaker than a bad man. His affections are called forth by a greater
variety of objects. Yet hate can make a man eloquent as well as love,
and some of the most eloquent orations ever uttered partook largely of
this baleful inspiration. But the occasions on which noble feelings may
rise into eloquence are far more numerous and important.
Why should not a man train himself to take a deep interest in all that
is brought familiarly to his notice? This wide range of sympathy is one
of the marks which distinguishes a great from a small mind. It has been
said that “lunar politics” can have no possible interests for the
inhabitants of this globe. But who can be sure of this, if there be such
a thing as “lunar politics”? The wider our knowledge the more we
recognize the possibility of interests which we had not before dreamed
of. If there are inhabitants on the moon, and if we have an immortal
existence, it is far from impossible that we might some time be brought
into the closest connection with them. No man can tell the bearing of a
new fact upon human welfare, more than he can write the history of a
new-born babe. At any rate, every fact is a part of the great system of
truth which lies all about us, and which is adapted to the needs of our
intellect. Let it also be remembered that all men are kindred, and that
we should make common cause with them. When this comes to be the
habitual attitude of the mind, not as a mere sentiment, but as a strong
and steady impulse, impassioned speech on any great theme affecting the
interests of nations or individual men will be easy.
Emotion cannot be feigned, neither can it be directly roused by an
effort of the will. We cannot say, “Now I will be in a furious passion,”
or, “Now I will be inflamed with wrath against this great wrong,” for
the mere sake of speaking better upon the subject in hand. But we can
gaze upon a great wrong, and meditate upon the evil it involves, until
the tides of indignant emotion arise in our breast. Many a well-prepared
speech has failed of effect, because the orator was so anxious about the
form of his address and his own popularity as to lose interest in the
subject itself. Sometimes speeches read or recited fail from an opposite
cause. The interest has once been aroused, and having burned during the
protracted period of composition, it cools and cannot be recalled. No
energy, declamation, or elegance of diction can redeem this capital
defect.
To tell a man in general terms how he may widen his sympathies and enter
into the closest bonds with his fellows is difficult. It is much easier
to tell him what not to do. The hermits of the desert took exactly the
wrong course. They lost the power of eloquence except upon some theme
which could be wedded to their solitary musings. Peter the Hermit was
roused to fury by the tales of wrongs to pilgrims in the Holy
City—almost the only thing that could have made him eloquent. But on
that one topic he spoke like a man inspired and was able to call all
Europe to arms. Whatever separates from the common interests of humanity
must diminish the power or at least the range of genuine emotion. To
know a great many men, to understand their business affairs, to enter
into their joy and fear, to watch the feelings that rise and fall in
their hearts, is sure to deepen our own feelings by unconscious
imitation and sympathy. Each new friend is an added power of noblest
emotion—a new point at which the world takes hold of our hearts. How
many persons are eloquent for a cause only! On the other hand, some men
care nothing for general principles, but will throw their whole soul
into a conflict for friends.
That man is well furnished for eloquence who knows a great deal, who can
mentally combine, arrange, and reason correctly upon what he knows, who
feels a personal interest in every fact with which his memory is stored,
and every principle which can be deduced from those facts, and who has
so great an interest in his fellows that all deeds which affect them
awaken the same response in his heart as if done to himself. He will
then possess all the necessary treasures of thought, and will himself be
warmed by the fires of emotion. The only remaining problem will be to
find the manner of communicating his thought and emotion in undiminished
force to others through the medium of speech.
The mode of cultivating the powers necessary to this end will next
engage our attention.