LANGUAGE.
The preceding chapter dealt with those faculties which provide the
materials of speech, and in one sense was scarcely appropriate to a
treatise designed to show the best modes of communicating knowledge. Yet
it was difficult to approach the subject intelligibly in any other way.
So much has been said about the natural power of oratory that it was
necessary to define its character and to show how it might be
supplemented by cultivation. But it is more directly our task to point
out the mode of improving the communicative faculties.
First in importance among these stands language. Without its assistance
thought could not be consecutively imparted. Some vague and intangible
conceptions might arise within our own minds, but even these could not
be given to other minds without the medium of words. The power of
language is distinct from general intellectual ability. It by no means
follows that a man who possesses important thoughts and deep emotions
will be able to communicate them well; but a very moderate endowment of
the word-faculty may be so cultivated as to fulfill every requirement.
Diligent practice in the methods advised below will enable the great
majority of men to express their thoughts with fullness and accuracy.
There are certain laws in every language made binding by custom, which
cannot be transgressed without exposing the offender to the severe
penalty of ridicule and contempt. These laws form the basis of grammar,
and must be thoroughly learned. If a man has been under the influence of
good models from childhood, correctness will be a matter almost of
instinct; but the reverse of this is frequently the case. Even then
there is but little difficulty experienced by any one who will take the
necessary pains, in learning to write in accordance with the rules of
speech, and when this power has been attained there is a standard formed
by which to judge our spoken words. But it is not enough for the
extempore speaker to be able to reduce his sentences to correctness by
recasting, pruning, or adding to them. They should be required to
present themselves at first in correct form and in rounded completeness.
He has no time to think of right or wrong constructions, and the only
safe way, therefore, is to make the right so habitual that the wrong
will not once be thought of. In other words, we must not only be able to
express ourselves correctly by tongue and pen, but the very current of
unspoken words that flows in our brains must be shaped in full
conformity to the laws of language. When we exercise the power of
continuous grammatical _thinking_, there will be no difficulty in
avoiding the ridiculous blunders which are supposed to be inseparable
from extempore speech.
Correctness in pronunciation is also of importance. Usage has given each
word its authorized sound, which no person can frequently mistake
without rendering himself liable to the easiest and most damaging of all
criticisms. Bad pronunciation produces another and extremely hurtful
effect upon extempore speech. The mental effort necessary to
discriminate between two modes of pronouncing a word, neither of which
is known to be right, diverts the mind from the subject and produces
embarrassment and hesitation. Accuracy in the use of words, which is a
charm in spoken no less than written language, may also be impaired from
the same cause; for if two terms that may be used for the same idea are
thought of, only one of which can be pronounced with certainty, that one
will be preferred, even if the other be the more suitable. The
extemporizer ought to be so familiar with the sound of all common words
that none but the right pronunciation and accent will ever enter his
mind.
_Fluency_ and _accuracy_ in the use of words are two qualities that have
often been confounded, though perfectly distinct. To the speaker they
are of equal importance, while the writer has far more need of the
latter. All words have their own peculiar shades of meaning. They have
been builded up into their present shape through long ages. By strange
turns and with many a curious history have they glided into the
significations they now bear; and each one is imbedded in the minds of
the people as the representative of certain definite ideas. Words are
delicate paints that, to the untutored eye, may seem of one color, but
each has its own place in the picture painted by the hand of genius, and
can be supplanted by no other. Many methods have been suggested for
learning these fine shades of meaning. The study of Greek and Latin has
been urged as the best and almost the only way: such study may be very
useful for discipline, and will give much elementary knowledge of the
laws of language: but the man who knows no other tongue than his own
need not consider himself debarred from the very highest place as a
master of words. The careful study of a good etymological dictionary
will, in time, give him about all the valuable information bearing upon
this subject that he could obtain from the study of many languages. In
general reading, let him mark every word he does not perfectly
understand, and from the dictionary find its origin, the meaning of its
roots, and its varied significations at the present day. This will make
the word as familiar as an old acquaintance, and when he meets it again
he will notice if the author uses it correctly. The student may not be
able to examine every word in the language, but by this mode he will be
led to think of the meaning of each one he sees; and from this silent
practice he will learn the beauty and power of English as fully as if he
sought it through the literatures of Greece and Rome. If this habit is
long continued it will cause words to be used correctly in thinking as
well as in speaking. To read a dictionary consecutively and carefully
(ignoring the old story about its frequent change of subject) will also
be found very profitable.
Translating from any language, ancient or modern, will have just the
same tendency to teach accurate expression as careful original
composition. In either case the improvement comes from the search for
words that exactly convey certain ideas, and it matters not what the
source of the ideas may be. The use of a good thesaurus, or storehouse
of words, may also be serviceable by showing in one view all the words
that relate to any subject.
But none of these methods will greatly increase _fluency_. There is a
practical difference between merely knowing a term and that easy use of
it which only habit can give. Elihu Burritt, with his knowledge of fifty
languages, has often been surpassed in fluency, force, and variety of
expression by an unlettered farmer, because the few words the latter
knew were always ready. There is no way to increase this easy and fluent
use of language without much practice in utterance. Where and how can
such practice be obtained?
Conversation affords an excellent means for this kind of improvement. We
do not mean the running fire of question and answer, glancing so rapidly
back and forth as to allow no time for premeditating or explaining
anything, but real and rational talk—an exchange of thoughts and ideas
clearly and intelligibly expressed. The man who engages much in this
kind of conversation can scarcely fail to become an adept in the art of
expressing his thoughts in appropriate language. Talk much; express your
ideas in the best manner possible; if difficult at first, persevere, and
it will become easier. Thus you will learn eloquence in the best and
most pleasing school. The common conversational style—that in which man
deals directly with his fellow man—is the germ of true oratory. It may
be amplified and systematized; but talking bears to eloquence the same
relation that the soil does to the tree that springs out of its bosom.
But the best thoughts of men and the noblest expressions are seldom
found floating on the sea of common talk. To drink the deepest
inspiration, our minds must often come in loving communion with the wise
and mighty of all ages. In the masterpieces of literature we will find
“thought knit close to thought,” and, what is still more to our present
purpose, words so applied as to breathe and live. These passages should
be read until their spirit sinks into our hearts and their melody rings
like a blissful song in our ears. To memorize many such passages will be
a profitable employment. The words of which such masterpieces are
composed, with the meanings they bear in their several places, will thus
be fixed in our minds ready to drop on our tongues when needed. This
conning of beautiful passages is not now recommended for the purpose of
quotation, although they may often be used in that manner to good
advantage, but simply to print the individual words with their
signification more deeply in memory.
This may be effected, also, by memorizing selections from our own best
writings. What is thus used should be highly polished, and yet preserve,
as far as possible, the natural form of expression. Carried to a
moderate extent, this exercise tends to elevate the character of our
extemporaneous efforts by erecting a standard that is our own, and
therefore suited to our tastes and capacities; but if made habitual, it
will induce a reliance upon the memory rather than on the power of
spontaneous production, and thus destroy the faculty it was designed to
cultivate.
But no means of cultivating fluency in language can rival extempore
speech itself. The only difficulty is to find a sufficient number of
occasions to speak. Long intervals of preparation have great advantages
as far as the gathering of material for discourse is concerned; but they
have disadvantages, also, which can only be overcome by more diligent
effort in other directions.
Clear and definite ideas greatly increase the power of language. When a
thought is fully understood it falls into words as naturally as a summer
cloud, riven by the lightning, dissolves into rain. So easy is it to
express a series of ideas, completely mastered, that a successful
speaker once said, “It is a man’s own fault if he ever fails. Let him
prepare as he ought, and there is no danger.” The assertion was too
strong, for failure may come from other causes than a want of
preparation. Yet the continuance of careful drill, in connection with
frequent speaking and close preparation, will give very great ease and
certainty of expression. The “blind but eloquent” preacher, Milburn,
says that he gave four years of his life—the time spent as chaplain at
Washington—to acquire the power of speaking correctly and easily without
the previous use of the pen, and he declares that he considers the time
well spent. His style is diffuse, sparkling, rhetorical, the most
difficult to acquire, though not by any means the most valuable. An
earnest, nervous, and yet elegant style may be formed by those who have
the necessary qualifications in much shorter time.