EMOTION
Teaching children to read with feeling is one of the most difficult
tasks falling to the lot of the teacher, and yet it is one that
has, if successfully accomplished, far-reaching results. For, apart
from the legitimate development of emotion, it enlarges their
sympathy and lays the foundation for a genuine love of literature.
We must confess that emotional expression is rarely found in our
public schools. It would avail little to discuss the causes of this
condition in detail. In this chapter we shall try to discover a
remedy. Emotion in reading comes largely through the imagination.
Unless the mind conceives the thought, how can the nerves thrill
and tingle? It is for this that we need teachers who are themselves
lovers of the beautiful, sublime, tender, in order that they may
impart their appreciation and feeling to their classes. Emotion
is catching, and so is the absence of it! Time, time, time, is
here the great need. It takes time to think; time for the picture
to come forth in its fulness out of subconsciousness. Is not
imagination the basis of literary interpretation, of historical
study, yes, even of mathematics and science? The time spent on the
development of imagination and emotion in the reading lesson will
show its results in every other study.
If, then, the teacher would get the right emotion, he must see to
it that the child has the proper and adequate stimulus. Appeal to
his everyday experience and make that serve as an introduction to
the new experience of the poem.
Let us suppose we are speaking to the children:
If your class were to have a contest with another class, let us
say in spelling, and your class were to come out victorious,
you would, no doubt, feel very joyful over the result. Now, let
us suppose that after the victory one of the members of the
class should get up on his seat and wave his hand above his
head, crying: “Three cheers for our class!” Would there be any
difference between the way in which he spoke those words and
the way in which he would read the same words if they came in a
sentence like this: “If we win I shall give three cheers for our
class”?
Of course, you will see at once that there would be a great deal
of difference. In the first place, he would be very joyful, and
perhaps excited, and this joy and excitement would get into his
voice, and he would call out, “Three cheers for our class,” with
a great deal of feeling, or emotion; and everybody would see
at once just how exultant he was. Now, what is it that causes
that feeling, or emotion? I do not think that there will be much
difficulty in answering this question. He was very much excited
before the spelling contest came off, and now that it has been
decided in your favor there is a feeling of great joy that comes
over the whole body, and it is almost impossible to keep back
the expression of that joy. In other words, he has been strongly
moved.
I want to impress now upon you that as you go on with your study
of reading, you will find that there is a great deal of emotion
in many of the passages you will be called upon to read, and the
only way to discover what the emotion is, must be by getting
a very clear picture. But remember that the picture itself is
not very likely to move you unless you enter into the spirit of
the picture just as you entered into the spirit of the spelling
contest. Do you see my meaning? One might say the words, “Three
cheers for our class,” and not express very much emotion. One
might even have a very clear picture of the whole spelling match,
and yet not be very much moved. But if you will close your eyes
and let the picture get hold of you, I think there will be no
trouble about the emotion. Let me see whether I can make clear to
you what I mean by letting the picture get hold of you.
Suppose we take this line from a well-known speech, “Wolsey on
His Fall:”--“Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness!” Who
speaks those words? is the first question. The answer is: An
old man who has been for many years one of the leading men in
the court of Henry VIII. He has used every effort to gain great
power, and has forgotten his God, and now at last the king has
cast him off. Just after Wolsey has been informed of his loss
of power, he utters the words quoted above. Just think how much
these words mean to this poor man. Think how much he must suffer,
and then try to feel as much as you can what it would mean to
you if everything you had hoped for and struggled for were to be
taken away from you. Of course, I know that you have not been so
ambitious as Wolsey, but yet I think you will have no trouble in
imagining just how you would feel if everything you cared for
were to be taken away from you. Well, this is all that you need
feel in order to read with emotion the lines of Wolsey. Just
think this over for a few minutes, and then see how much regret
you can feel as you utter these words. Be sure that you get
the meaning of the words; be sure you get hold of the picture;
try to imagine just how you would feel if you were very deeply
disappointed, and then utter the words of Wolsey.
This, then, is what I mean by telling you to let the picture
get hold of you. When you were exultant over the result of the
spelling contest, joy possessed you. When Wolsey learned of his
fall, sorrow and remorse possessed him. So with all emotions.
You must think over the whole story; you must think over all the
events connected with it until you really feel somewhat as the
speaker felt whose words you are reading. Then there will be no
trouble about the expression.
The teacher will observe that the two illustrations are chosen from
two distinct fields: one near to the child’s experience, the other
far removed from it. It is further observed that both are direct
discourse rather than description.
It seems the best plan to begin the definite study of emotional
expression by using extracts in which the pupil uses direct rather
than indirect discourse. The reason for this is that it is far
more difficult to read, with expression, a passage of description
in which the pupil would be expected to put emotion, than a piece
of direct quotation. For instance, is it not easier for a child to
enter into the spirit of the first of the following stanzas than
into that of the second, granting even that it is difficult to
conceive the anguish of the father?
The father came on deck. He gasped,
“O God! thy will be done!”
Then suddenly a rifle grasped,
And aimed it at his son:
“Jump--far-out, boy, into the wave!
Jump, or I fire!” he said;
“That only chance your life can save!
Jump! jump! boy!” He obeyed.
He sank--he rose--he lived--he moved,
And for the ship struck out:
On board we hailed the lad beloved,
With many a manly shout.
His father drew, in silent joy,
Those wet arms round his neck,
And folded to his heart his boy--
Then fainted on the deck.
In the second place, the reason for choosing selections in which
the emotion is akin to those of the child’s own experience must be
clear. How many pupils ten or eleven years old can be expected to
enter into the spirit of Whittier’s _The Barefoot Boy_?
Blessings on thee, little man--
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still,
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,
Through thy torn brim’s jaunty grace;
From my heart I give thee joy!
I was once a barefoot boy!
It is only to discourage him, to ask him to feel like an adult who
looks back upon the joys of boyhood. One hears this selection
read in an affected voice and manner, where it is clear that the
child is simply trying to imitate his teacher. But such experiences
simply go to prove the contention that children should not be
called upon to represent emotions far removed from their own
experience.
But how shall we get our pupils to express emotions beyond their
experience? The answer is: the teacher should strive to find those
experiences in the child’s life that are similar to those of the
selection to be read. We have shown how this might be done in
the line from Wolsey’s speech. The child has experienced regret;
let us make use of this experience to get him to feel something
of Wolsey’s feeling. Again (and this applies largely to advanced
classes), it is by no means necessary that the pupil should ever
have come into contact with the picture that stirs the writer, in
order to represent the latter’s feelings. It is the joy that the
lover of nature feels that finds expression in these lines:
How the robin feeds her young,
How the oriole’s nest is hung;
Where the whitest lilies blow,
Where the freshest berries grow,
Where the ground-nut trails its vine;
Where the wood-grape’s clusters shine;
Of the black wasp’s cunning way,
Mason of his walls of clay.
--_The Barefoot Boy._ WHITTIER.
But how can we get the true expression from one who knows nothing
of the joy we take in contemplating the pictures of this stanza?
By reminding him that our joy is not far different from his when
rejoicing in a beautiful book, a lucky hit at baseball, or a pretty
Christmas gift. Let us remember that it is not enough that he shall
get the pictures: he must get the joy. And if he cannot get the joy
from the pictures of the poet, he must get it from the memory of
his own past joy, no matter under what circumstances. It is simply
a question of transferring his own past emotion to the present
moment.
Summarized, our points are:
First, choose emotions near to the child’s experience.
Second, transfer his past experiences and emotions to the
particular poem or stanza to be read.
Third, use direct discourse, in drill work, as far as possible.
Perhaps it would not be advisable to use selections in our
reading lessons that call for an extremely difficult exercise of
imagination on the part of the child, but since these selections
are found in our reading books it is well to know how to do the
best possible under the circumstances.
The most important point of all is that children must be brought
into contact with nature. We cannot expect them to delight in a
description of a sunset, or a robin’s nest, or a bunch of pansies,
when they have never delighted in sunsets, or robins’ nests or
pansies. When their early training is wise they will not need
to transfer their emotions from another realm to read with true
expression.
We are now to enter the more complex realm of expression, in which
the emotion is more intense, and instead of being a single emotion
is a blending of many. Take, for example, the trial scene from _The
Merchant of Venice_. There are many speeches of Shylock that might
illustrate our point, and we shall take the first that presents
itself. The Duke of Venice has been urging Shylock to abandon his
suit, whereupon the latter replies:
I have possessed your grace of what I purpose;
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn,
To have the due and forfeit of my bond.
What emotions does Shylock portray? There is the emotion of hatred
of Antonio and the feeling of obstinacy; and there is, further,
the sense of wrong that has been heaped upon his race in general,
and himself in particular. It would be useless to discuss how
far each of these elements is an emotion. It is sufficient for
our purpose to have shown that these three mental conditions are
present virtually at one time in the brain of the speaker. Now, if
any one of these elements (to say nothing of others that might be
mentioned) is omitted, the characterization will lack truthfulness.
There is another element in complexity of expression that needs a
moment’s attention. The emotion itself may be a simple one, but
the character we aim to represent may be so far removed from our
own that one must assume or take on many attributes. For instance,
if one were portraying old Adam in _As You Like It_, he would be
compelled to manifest the weakness of old age in body and voice.
Now, when the old man says, “Dear master, I can go no further; O,
I die for food,” it is not sufficient for the reader to portray
simply the pathos of the line, but his expression becomes more
complex in so far as it must manifest both the pathos and the
weakness.
In preparing to present the emotions in the following extracts
it is well for the student to study carefully the nature of the
thought, the emotion, and the character separately, and conceive
each of the simpler emotional elements by itself. If he is
representing, let us say, pathos and dignity, let him hold dignity
before his mind until the whole being responds; then let him
conceive pathos by itself; and, finally, let him conceive pathos
_and_ dignity, and endeavor to present them. This process will not
be necessary in all cases; for there are those who can conceive
these more complex conditions with one effort, as it were. But
unless the student has this ability, the preceding process should
be followed. And even when a student has the necessary ability to
conceive the complete expression at once, he is very likely to
lose some of what might be called the ingredients of a composite
emotion. For instance, in representing the strong language of
one who might be said never to lose his anger, the student who
is particularly choleric by nature is very likely to forget the
dignity of the character. He may be reminded of his error by
recalling dignity to his mind, and at once the natural temperament
of the speaker will be modified by the new stimulus.
It might also be well to consider here another reason for the
practice of these illustrations. Many students are temperamentally
restricted and shy, and others have become so through training and
environment. Before these can hope to become effective readers
there must be a certain amount of genuine abandon. Hence, even if a
student may never have any use for the ability to impersonate, the
practice here recommended will prove to be one of the best, surest,
and quickest methods of bringing him out of himself. The abandon
thus gained will stand him in good stead in any effort he may be
called upon to make as a public speaker.
Let it be remembered that niceties of form are not to be expected
for a long time. If the student’s abandon is developed, that is all
that should be expected.
In the following speech the student must never forget that Othello
is a warrior, one accustomed to command, and of large heart. His
dignity, therefore, must be manifest throughout the address:
Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approv’d good masters,--
That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her;
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little bless’d with the soft phrase of peace;
For, since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,
And therefore little shall I grace my cause
In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnished tale deliver
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magic,
(For such proceeding I am charg’d withal,)
I won his daughter with.
Her father lov’d me; oft invited me;
Still question’d me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have passed.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it:
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field,
Of hair-breadth ’scapes i’ the imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And portance in my travel’s history.--
--_Othello_, Act i., Sc. 3.
Another excellent extract for practice is the following speech of
Cassius from the first act of _Julius Caesar_. Note the dignity,
the sarcasm, the ridicule, the contempt, and the sense of triumph:
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born as free as Caesar; so were you:
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the winter’s cold as well as he:
For once upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
Caesar said to me, “Darest thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plungèd in,
And bade him follow; so indeed he did.
The torrent roared, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy;
But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
Caesar cried, “Help me, Cassius, or I sink!”
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber
Did I the tirèd Caesar. And this man
Is now become a god, and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.
--_Julius Caesar_, Act i., Sc. 2.
These speeches of Cassio in _Othello_ show remorse, self-contempt,
with anger and regret:
CASSIO. Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh! I have lost my
reputation. I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what
remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!
IAGO. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some
bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation.
Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without
merit, and lost without deserving: you have lost no reputation at
all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man! there
are ways to recover the general again: you are but now cast in
his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice; even so
as one would beat his offenseless dog, to affright an imperious
lion. Sue to him again, and he’s yours.
CASSIO. I will rather sue to be despised, than to deceive so good
a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an
officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear,
and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow? O thou invisible
spirit of wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call
thee devil.
IAGO. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he
done to you?
CASSIO. I know not.
IAGO. Is’t possible?
CASSIO. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly;
a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put
an enemy in their mouths, to steal away their brains! that we
should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform
ourselves into beasts!
IAGO. Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus
recovered?
CASSIO. It has pleased the devil drunkenness, to give place to
the devil wrath: one unperfectness shows me another, to make me
frankly despise myself.
IAGO. Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place,
and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish
this had not befallen; but, since it is as it is, mend it for
your own good.
CASSIO. I will ask him for my place again: he shall tell me, I am
a drunkard. Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would
stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by-and-by a fool, and
presently a beast! O, strange! Every inordinate cup is unblessed,
and the ingredient is a devil.--_Othello_, Act ii., Sc. 3.
In conclusion, begin with simple emotions. Do not ask the younger
pupils to represent intense pathos, great solemnity, and the like.
Reserve these for the upper grades of the high school. Again,
avoid the baser emotions, such as anger, hate, jealousy. Time does
not permit us to enlarge on this, but the whole trend of the best
psychology is in favor of this admonition. Select extracts in which
the characters manifest simple, noble, inspiring, and uplifting
feeling. Patriotism, self-sacrifice, love of nature, these are the
themes with which the imagination of the pupils should come into
contact.
The teacher is heartily advised to gather a dozen or more extracts
and speeches (from this book and elsewhere) under three or four
significant heads, such as patriotism, love of nature, etc.,
and to keep the class at each phase until definite results are
attained. There is no hesitation in deprecating the method that
compels teachers to teach any lesson simply because it follows,
numerically, the preceding lesson. The proper method is hinted at
elsewhere. A few words are now added to justify that method. In
many readers there may be two patriotic selections; one at the
beginning, one at the end. Probably a year will intervene between
these two. Is it not good pedagogy to take up these lessons in
succession? To keep the pupils in a patriotic mood for five
consecutive days must be certainly productive of better results
than can be obtained by the other method of Lesson I, Lesson II,
Lesson III. So also with other emotions. When a certain emotion is
present in only one or two paragraphs of a selection, only those
paragraphs need, of course, to be prepared.