CLIMAXES
In Genung’s _Practical Rhetoric_ we find the following definition
of Climax: “This figure, which depends upon the law that a thought
must have _progress_, is the ordering of thought and expression so
that there shall be uniform and evident increase in significance,
or interest, or intensity.”
An excellent illustration of increase in Significance is found in
the following speech from Regulus:
The artisan had forsaken his shop, the judge his tribunal, the
priest the sanctuary, and even the stern stoic had come forth
from his retirement.
Here the author desires to show that the return of Regulus had
thrown all Carthage into a state of intense excitement. The
artisan, who could ill afford to lose his day’s labor, had left his
shop to join the throng that was taking its way to the great square
of the city. The judge, whose duty it was to administer justice,
could not refrain from joining the crowd. The priest, whose sacred
office was to tend the altars of the gods, he too, for once, was
neglecting his duty. And even the stern stoic, whose philosophy
taught him to remain unmoved under any and all conditions of
life, even he, perforce, must mix with the multitude thronging
the Carthaginian streets. Each succeeding clause presents to us a
more unusual disturbance of the normal condition of Carthaginian
affairs; and the climax is reached when even the man whose whole
philosophy teaches him never to be moved, is impelled to do
violence to his life-long convictions.
In the following lines from Lord Chatham’s speech we have an
illustration of the climax of Intensity:
If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign
troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms!
Never! Never! Never!
The verbal expression does not progress; and yet the emotion
increasing in force, as the mind dwells upon the thought, finds
vent in increasing intensity of vocal expression. It may be well
to note that by increasing the intensity is not necessarily
meant greater loudness or higher pitch; but greater intensity of
feeling, which may result in greater loudness or higher pitch, or,
on the other hand, in deeper, more controlled, or more dignified
expression.
We have thus far been considering simple and palpable forms of
climaxes. Let us turn now to the examination of the more difficult
and complex. The following speech is uttered by Marullus, one
of the tribunes, in the first scene of the first act of _Julius
Caesar_. We recall the fact that Marullus appears to be greatly
surprised that the citizens of Rome should dress themselves in
holiday garb and make holiday to celebrate the return of the
victorious Caesar. He inquires of them what is their purpose in
thus celebrating; and, after considerable bantering, one of the
crowd remarks that they make holiday to see Caesar, and to rejoice
in his triumph, whereupon Marullus speaks:
Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climb’d up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The livelong day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds
Made in her concave shores?
And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey’s blood?
Be gone!
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this ingratitude.
The first three ideas are arranged in order of climax. It may be
termed a climax of Significance. But we must not lose sight of
the fact that, throughout the speech, as the emotion of Marullus
increases, we shall have a climax in Intensity. In line 4, we have
another climax, reaching its height on the word “worse.” Then,
with “many a time and oft,” begins another climax, which, with
occasional diminutions, continues to “shores.” In the next four
lines we have a climax which is intensified by contrast. The word
“now” is full of reproof and condemnation; and by the time the
speaker utters the words “over Pompey’s blood” he is so overcome
with the enormity of the crime that, with the utmost fervor, he
urges the mob to run to their houses and pray to the gods to
refrain from visiting upon their heads the rightful punishment of
their ingratitude.
This cursory analysis of the speech has shown us that while there
is a steady increase in intensity from the first word to the last,
there are, besides, many smaller climaxes in Significance. We find
these in lines 1 to 3, line 4, lines 6 to 16, lines 17 to 20,
lines 22 to 24. It may be said in passing, that the climax in lines
17 to 20 forms a very interesting study. “Best attire,” “holiday,”
“strew flowers in his way,” are plainly arranged in order of
climax, while the three “now’s” are evidently an anti-climax. The
first “now” is most significant, while the last is of very little
importance. On the other hand, the fact of strewing flowers in
Caesar’s way is clearly a very much more striking mark of their
ingratitude than that of merely putting on their best attire.
Just as in the long paragraph that we have analyzed we find a
climax, so in a drama or in a poem we find this steady progression.
That scene which is the climax of the action is gradually led up
to by successive steps, each one more significant and intense than
the preceding. The artist is careful not to destroy his effect by
anti-climax, for to do so would be to lessen the interest of the
audience, and consequently defeat the very purpose of the drama or
story. The play of _The Merchant of Venice_ illustrates this. Each
scene manifestly increases the intensity which finally culminates
in the trial scene, after which the play, being a comedy, descends
to a restful close at the end of the fifth act.
In recitation the ordinary climax of Significance presents no
great difficulty for the reader. As soon as he appreciates the
fact of the growth in significance, he will manifest that increase
in greater loudness or intensity, or increase of passion. It may
be well to repeat that the increase need not be in loudness, nor
is it necessary that the pitch of the voice be raised; but there
will unquestionably be some form of climax in the expression. The
difficulty begins when the climax is made up of smaller climaxes,
as in the example from _Julius Caesar_, or when a climax is, so to
speak, one of considerable length. In the latter case, the utmost
care must be used to husband one’s resources, that when the moment
of intensest feeling is reached, there shall be sufficient power
to produce the required result. One of the most striking defects
in oratory, recitation, and acting, is the inability to present
climaxes artistically. Either from a failure to perceive their
literary value, or from lack of control, or other limitations
of technique, the effect is often spoiled, with most disastrous
results. The student, then, is advised to determine carefully that
point of a passage or story where the strongest effect is to be
made, and then to be careful to subordinate all else to this.
GRADATION
This feature of literary art may appropriately be considered in
connection with Climax. The law of gradation demands that the
progress from the smaller to the greater be gradual and regular.
In the musical and elocutionary arts this is by no means an easy
task, and great care must be taken to reserve the strongest effects
for the culmination of the climax. This is not difficult when the
climax is short, but in the longer examples one requires all the
art at his command.
To assist in rendering a climax artistically, let the reader bear
in mind the end from the beginning. Then the temptation to overdo
the less important details will be reduced.
ANTONY. O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever livèd in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue,--
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife,
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use,
And dreadful objects so familiar,
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quartered with the hands of war,
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds;
And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Até by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice
Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men groaning for burial.
--_Julius Caesar_, Act iii., Sc. 1.
CASSIUS. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favor.
Well, honor is the subject of my story.--
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 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.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,
And when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: ’tis true, this god did shake:
His coward lips did from their color fly;
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,
Did lose his luster. I did hear him groan;
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas it cried, “Give me some drink, Titinius,”
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the palm alone. [_Shout. Flourish._
BRUTUS. Another general shout!
I do believe that these applauses are
For some new honors that are heaped on Caesar.
CASSIUS. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world,
Like a Colossus; and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus, and Caesar: what should be in that Caesar?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, it is as heavy;--conjure with ’em,
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was famed with more than with one man?
When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,
That her wide walls encompassed but one man?
Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,
When there is in it but one only man.
O, you and I have heard our fathers say,
There was a Brutus once that would have brooked
The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
As easily as a king.
--_Julius Caesar_, Act i., Sc. 2.
In the preceding illustration it must be remembered that the
description of the rescue of Caesar from the Tiber is only the
beginning of Cassius’ plan; and that his object is to cite the
illustrations of Caesar’s weakness, and finally to lead up to that
subtle flattery with which the “Instigation” speech closes.
It is an outrage to bind a Roman citizen; to scourge him is an
atrocious crime; to put him to death is almost parricide; but to
crucify him--what shall I call it?
I know it, I concede it, I confess it, I proclaim it.
When a wind from the lands they had ruin’d awoke from sleep,
And the water began to heave and the weather to moan.
If there be one among you who can say that ever, in public fight
or private brawl, my actions did belie my tongue, let him stand
forth and say it. If there be three in all your company dare face
me on the bloody sands, let them come on.
O comrades, warriors, Thracians,--if we must fight, let us fight
for _ourselves_! If we must slaughter, let us slaughter our
_oppressors_! If we must die, let it be under the clear sky, by
the bright water, in noble, honorable battle!
Next morning, waking with the day’s first beam,
He said within himself, “It was a dream!”
But the straw rustled as he turned his head,
There were the cap and bells beside his bed;
Around him rose the bare, discolored walls,
Close by, the steeds were champing in their stalls,
And in the corner, a revolting shape,
Shivering and chattering, sat the wretched ape.
It was no dream; the world he loved so much
Had turned to dust and ashes at his touch!
Have I not, since first my youthful arms could wield a spear,
conquered your armies, fired your towns, and dragged your
generals at my chariot wheels?
Remember that Greece had her Alexander, Rome her Caesar, England
her Cromwell, France her Bonaparte, and that, if we would escape
on the rock on which they split, we must avoid their errors.
“But, Mr. Speaker, we have a right to tax America.” Oh,
inestimable right! Oh, wonderful, transcendent right! the
assertion of which has cost this country thirteen provinces, six
islands, one hundred thousand lives, and seventy millions of
money.
This last example is a peculiar one. Under ordinary circumstances
thirteen provinces would be more valuable than six islands, and
surely one hundred thousand lives are more valuable than seventy
millions of money. On the other hand, the figures in the last three
phrases certainly rise to a climax. On the whole, I think it better
to regard this as an oratorical climax, understanding Burke not
to have had in mind anything more than to present the losses of
England, as each occurred to him, while his emotion and indignation
rise with each enumeration.
The climax is a very important feature in reading. It stimulates
the imagination and feelings, and, through them, the voice. It
should be remembered that no definite method of expressing a
climax vocally can be laid down. In one case the pitch may rise;
in another it may fall. Sometimes the force increases; at other
times it diminishes. Hence, the admonition so often given must be
repeated: Do not tell the pupil to raise his voice, or to speak
louder. Work at his imagination. If there be a climax there, it
will come out in his expression.
Frequent drills in climax will do much to give flexibility, power,
and range to the voice. And that, too, in a far more rational way
than through any mechanical exercises in pitch and force.
The following plan of presenting climaxes to classes has been found
extremely helpful:
Read the following sentence carefully to yourself. Notice each
clause, and try to discover if there is not something here that
we have not had before. I want to ask you not to read more than
that sentence until you have studied over it for some time. “It
is an outrage to bind a Roman citizen; to scourge him is an
atrocious crime; to put him to death is almost parricide; but to
crucify him--what shall I call it?”
We have here another method used by writers and speakers for
making an idea more striking. In this case, the speaker is
condemning one who has caused the crucifixion of a Roman. The
orator desires to impress upon the judges the seriousness of the
offense. How does he do it? Instead of speaking at once about the
crucifying of the victim, he begins by showing that a far less
serious punishment was a grave offense against the Roman law. He
says, “It is an outrage to bind a Roman citizen.” Then he goes
another step, saying: “To scourge him is an atrocious crime.”
Worse still: “To put him to death” (by any means) “is almost
parricide.” And now, having shown that less extreme methods
of punishment were great crimes, the orator is ready for his
final statement: “But to crucify him--what shall I call it?” In
other words, the speaker seems to have exhausted his vocabulary
in giving names to lower crimes; when he comes to a name with
which to describe the crime of crucifying a Roman, he finds his
vocabulary does not have one strong enough. Do you not see how
powerful an effect such an arrangement of clauses must have? It
is much stronger than if the speaker had said merely, “I know no
word to describe the crime of crucifying a Roman citizen.”
Analyze the following sentence, and explain how the thought is
made more striking by this kind of arrangement. “I know it, I
concede it, I confess it, I proclaim it.”
This method of increasing the effect is called climax. Whenever,
for any reason, a speaker or writer keeps on adding thought to
thought, making each succeeding idea stronger than the preceding,
we have a climax. Although you may never have called it by this
name you have used it many times. If you were determined to do a
certain thing you might say, “I can do it, I will do it, I must
do it.” Well, that is a climax. Or you might say, “You can’t have
it for ten dollars, for fifty dollars, for a hundred dollars.”
That is another climax.
Note this example: “If I were an American, as I am an Englishman,
while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay
down my arms! never! never! never!” This, too, is a climax, each
of the last three “never’s” being stronger than the preceding. If
you will put yourself in the position of the speaker, you will
soon feel that each “never” after the first is the result of
stronger, more intense feeling. If you will think of it in this
way you will notice the effect in your expression.
We shall close this lesson with two illustrations. Your teacher
will tell you the story from which these extracts are taken, and
then you will prepare them very carefully, taking particular
pains to note the climax in each.
When a wind from the lands they had ruin’d awoke from sleep,
And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,
And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,
And a wave like a wave that is raised by an earthquake grew,
Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts
and their flags,
And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter’d navy
of Spain,
And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags,
To be lost evermore in the main.
--_The Revenge._ TENNYSON.
And thro’ the centuries let a people’s voice
In full acclaim,
A people’s voice,
The proof and echo of all human fame,
A people’s voice, when they rejoice
At civic revel and pomp and game,
Attest their great commander’s claim
With honor, honor, honor, honor to him,
Eternal honor to his name.
--_Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington._ TENNYSON.