and to the main or climactic points of the whole speech, the principles
for emphasis in the sentence are applied in a larger way. And the way
to make the point is, first of all, to think hard on what that point
is, what is the end or purpose to be attained. If this does not bring
the result--and very often it does not--then the mechanical means of
producing emphasis should be studied and consciously applied--the
increase, or perhaps the diminution, of force, the lengthening or
shortening of tones on the words; a change in the general level of
pitch; the use of the emphatic pause; and a lengthening of the emphatic
inflection. A more impressive general effect must, in some way, be
given to the parts of greater importance.
INDICATING VALUES AND RELATIONS
Perhaps the most commonly criticized fault among beginners in speaking
is that of monotony. Monotony that arises from lack of inflection of
voice or from lack of pointed-ness or emphasis in a sentence, will
presumably be corrected in the earlier exercises. The monotony that is
caused by giving to all sentences an equal value, saying all sentences,
or a whole speech, in about the same force, rate, and general pitch, is
one that may be considered from another point of view. One fault in the
delivery of sentences--perhaps the most frequent one--is that of
running them all off in about the same modulation. By modulation we
mean the wavelike rise and fall of the voice that always occurs in some
degree in speech,--sometimes called melody--and the change of key, or
general pitch, in passing from one sentence, or part of a speech, to
another. Frequently, novices in speaking and in reading, will swing the
voice upward in the first part of every sentence, give it perhaps
another rise or two as the sentence proceeds, and swing it down, always
in precisely the same way, at the end. The effect of this regular
rising at the beginning, and this giving of a similar concluding
cadence at the end, is to make it appear that each sentence stands
quite independent of the others, that each is a detached statement; and
when, besides, each sentence is given with about the same force and
rate of speed, they all seem to be of about equal importance, all
principal or none principal, but as much alike as Rosalind's halfpence.
Sentences that have a close sequence as to thought should be so
rendered that one seems to flow out from the other, without the regular
marked rise at the beginning or the concluding cadence at the end.
Sentences, and parts of sentences, which are of less importance than
others with which they are associated, should be made less prominent in
delivery. Often students are helped by the suggestion that a sentence,
or a part of a sentence, or a group of sentences, it may be, be dropped
into an undertone, or said as an aside, or rapidly passed over, or in
some way put in the background--said, so to speak, parenthetically.
Other portions of the speech, or the sentence, the important ones,
should, on the same principle, be made to stand out with marked effect.
Notice, in the following quotation, how the first and the last parts
arc held together by the pitch or key and the modulation of the voice,
and the middle part, the group of examples, is held together in a
different key by being set in the background, as being illustrative or
probative. "Why, all these Irish bulls are Greek,--every one of them.
Take the Irishman carrying around a brick as a specimen of the house he
had to sell; take the Irishman who shut his eyes, and looked into the
glass to see how he would look when he was dead; take the Irishman that
bought a crow, alleging that crows were reported to live two hundred
years, and he meant to set out and try it. Well, those are all Greek. A
score or more of them, of the parallel character, come from Athens."
The speaker should cultivate a quick sensitiveness as to close unity
and slight diversity, as to what is principal and what is subordinate,
as to what is in the direct, main line of thought, and what is by the
way, casual, or merely a connecting link. This sense of proportion, of
close or remote relation, of directness and indirectness, the feeling
for perspective, so-called, can be acquired only by continued practice,
for sharpening the faculty of apprehension and appreciation. It is
usually the last attainment in the student's work, but the neglect of
it may result in a confirmed habit of monotony. The term transition is
commonly used to denote a passing from one to another of the main
divisions of the discourse. The making of this transition, though often
neglected, is not difficult. The finishing of one part and the making
of a new beginning on the next, usually with some change of standing
position, as well as of voice, has an obvious method. The slighter
transition, or variation, within a main division, and the avoidance of
the slight transition where none should be made, require the keener,
quicker insight.
Sentences will have many other kinds of variation in delivery according
to the nature and value of the thought. Some will flow on with high
successive waves; some will be run almost straight on as in a monotone.
Some will be on a higher average tone, or in a higher key; others will
be lower. Some will have lengthened vowel sound, and will be more
continuous or sustained, so that groups of successive words seem to run
on one unbroken tone; others will be abrupt and irregular. Some will be
rapid, some slow; some light, others weighty; some affected by long
pauses, others by no pause, and some will be done in a dry, matter-of-
fact, or precise, or commonplace, or familiar manner, others will be
touched with feeling, colored by imagination, glowing with persuasive
warmth, elevated, dignified, or profound. A repetition of the
selections to be learned, with full expression by voice and action,
repetition again, and again, and again, until the sentiment of them
becomes a living reality to the speaker, is the only way to acquire the
ability to indicate to others the true proportions, the relative
values, and the distinctive character, of what is to be said.
EXPRESSING THE FEELING
We are in the habit of distinguishing between what proceeds from mere
thinking, what is, as we say, purely intellectual, and what arises more
especially from feeling, what we call emotional. We mean, of course,
that one or the other element predominates; and the distinction is a
convenient one. The subject, the occasion, to a great extent the man,
determine whether a speech is in the main dispassionate or impassioned,
whether it is plain or ornate in statement, whether it is urgent or
aggressive, or calm and rather impassive. It would be beyond our
purpose to consider many of the variations and complexities of feeling
that enter into vocal expression. We call attention to only a few of
the simpler and more common vocal manifestations of feeling,
counselling the student who is to deliver a selected speech, to adapt
his speaking to the style of that speech. In so doing he will get a
varied training, and at length will find his own most effective style.
The speech which is matter-of-fact and commonplace only, has
characteristically much short, sharp inflection of voice, with the
rapidly varying intervals of pitch that we notice in one's everyday
talking. As the utterance takes on force, it is likely to go in a more
direct line of average pitch, with stronger inflection on specially
emphatic words. As it rises to sentiment, the inflections are less
marked, and in the case of a strain of high, nobler feeling, the voice
moves on with some approach to the monotone. According as feeling is
stronger and firmer, as in the expression of courage, determination,
firm resolve, resistance, intense devotion, the voice is kept
sustained, with pauses rather abrupt and decisive; if the feeling,
though of high sentiment, is tranquil, without aggressiveness, the
voice has more of the wavelike rise and fall, and at the pausing places
the tone is gradually diminished, rather than abruptly broken off. In
the case of quickly impulsive, passionate feeling, the speech is likely
to be much varied in pitch, broken by frequent abrupt stops, and
decisive inflections. In the case of the expression of tenderness or
pathos, there is a lingering tone, with the quality and inflection of
plaintiveness, qualified, in public speech, by such dignity and
strength as is fitting. In all cases the quality of voice is of course
the main thing, and this, not being technical or mechanical, must
depend on the speaker's entering into the spirit of the piece and
giving color, warmth, and depth to his tones. The spirit of gladness or
triumph has usually the higher, brighter, ringing tone; that of
gravity, solemnity, awe, the lower, darker, and less varied tone.
In the case of the expression of irony, sarcasm, scorn, contempt, and
kindred feelings, the circumflex inflection is the principal feature.
This is the curious quirk or double turn in the voice, that is heard
when one says, for example, "You're a _fine_ fellow," meaning,
"You are anything but a fine fellow." In the earlier part of Webster's
reply to Hayne are some of the finest examples of irony, grim or
caustic humor, sarcasm, and lofty contempt. They need significant turns
and plays of voice, but are often spoiled by being treated as high
declamation.
In the expression of the various kinds and degrees of feeling there may
be a fully expressed force or a suppressed or restrained force. Often
the latter is the more natural and effective. This is intense, but not
loud, though at times it may break through its restraint. It is most
fitting when the hearers are near at hand, as in the case of a jury or
judge in court, when the din of loudness would offend.
The climax is a gradually increasing expression of feeling. It may be
by a gradual raising of the voice in pitch; it may be by any sort of
increasing effectiveness or moving power. It is rather difficult to
manage, and may lead to some strained effort. The speaker should keep a
steady, controlled movement, without too much haste, but rather a
retarded and broadened utterance as the emphatic point is approached;
and always the speaker should keep well within his powers, maintaining
always some vocal reserve.
The practice of emotional expression gives warmth, mellowness, sympathy
and expansiveness to the voice, and must have considerable cultural
value.
SHOWING THE PICTURE
A difficult attainment in speaking is that of vividness. The student
may see the picture in his own mind's eye, but his mode of expression
does not reveal the fact to others. Imagination in writing he may have,
with no suggestion of it in the voice. Too often it is erroneously
taken for granted that the human voice, because it is human, will at
any call, respond to all promptings of the mind. It will no more do so,
of course, than the hand or the eye. It must be trained. Often it is a
case not merely of vocal response, but of mental awakening as well, and
in that case the student must, if he can, learn to see visions and
dream dreams.
A way to begin the suiting of speech to imaginative ideas is to
imitate; to make the voice sound like the thing to be suggested. Some
things are fast, some slow, some heavy, some light, some dark and
dismal, some bright and joyous; some things are noisy, some still; some
rattle, others roar; the sea is hoarse; the waves wash; the winds blow;
the ocean is level, or it dashes high and breaks; happy things sing,
and sad things mourn. All life and nature speak just as we speak. How
easy it ought to be for us to speak just as nature speaks. And when our
abstract notions are put in concrete expression, or presented as a
picture, how easy it would seem, by these simple variations of voice,
to speak the language of that picture, telling the length, breadth,
action, color, values, spirit of it. That it is a task makes it worth
while. It affords infinite variety, and endless delight.
One necessary element in so-called word-painting is that of time. When
a speaker expresses himself in pictures for the imagination he must
give his hearers time to see these pictures, and to sufficiently see
and appreciate the parts, or lines of them, and the significance of
them. It is a common fault to hasten over the language of imagination
as over the commonplace words. The speaker or reader had better be sure
to see the image himself before, and indeed after, he speaks it. Others
will then be with him. Although among most young speakers the tone of
imagination is lacking, yet often young persons who become proficient
vocally are fain greatly to overdo it, till the sound that is suited to
the sense becomes sound for its own sake, and thereby obscures the
sense. Regard for proportion and fitness, in relation to the central
idea or purpose, should control the feeling for color in the detail.
EXPRESSION BY ACTION
It should always be borne in mind that gesture means the bearing or the
action of the whole man. It does not mean simply movement of the arm
and hand. The practice of gesture should be governed by this
understanding of the term. A thought, an emotion, something that moves
the man from within, will cause a change, it may be slight, or it may
be very marked, in eye, face, body. This is gesture. This change or
movement may, from the strength of the feeling that prompts it, extend
to the arm and hand. But this latter movement, in arm and hand, is only
the fuller manifestation of one's thought or feeling--the completion of
the gesture, not the gesture itself. Arm movement, when not preceded or
supplemented by body movement, or body pose, is obtrusive action; it
brings a member of the body into noticeable prominence, attracting the
auditor's eye and taking his mind from the speaker's thought. Better
have no gesture than gesture of this kind. The student, then, should
first learn to appreciate the force of ideas, to see and feel the full
significance of what he would say, and indicate by some general
movement of body and expression of face, the changing moods of mind.
Then the arm and hand may come--in not too conspicuous a way--to the
aid of the body. When Wendell Phillips pointed to the portraits in
Faneuil Hall and exclaimed: "I thought those pictured lips would have
broken into voice to rebuke the recreant American,--the slanderer of
the dead," it was not, we may be sure, the uplifted arm alone, but the
pose of the man, the something about his whole being, which bespoke the
spirit within him, and which was really the gesture. In less positive
or striking degrees of action, the body movement will, of course, be
very slight, at times almost imperceptible, but the principle always
holds, and should be from the first taught. In gesture, the bodily man
acts as a unit.
The amount of gesture is, of course, determined by the temperament of
the speaker, the nature of the speech, the character of the audience,
and the occasion of the address. One speaker will, under certain
conditions, gesticulate nearly all the time; another will, under the
same conditions, seem seldom to move in any way. The two may be equally
effective. A speech that is charged with lively emotion will usually be
accompanied by action; a speech expressive of the profound feeling that
subdues to gravity, or resignation, would be comparatively without
action. The funeral oration by Mark Antony is full of action because it
is really intended to excite the will of his audience; in a funeral
address simply expressive of sorrow and appreciation, gesture would, as
a rule, be out of place. A sharply contested debate may need action
that punctuates and enforces; the pleasantry of after-dinner talk may
need only the voice. So, one audience, not quick in grasping ideas, may
need, both in language and action, much clear, sharp indication of the
point by illustration, much stirring up by physical attack, so to
speak, while another audience would be displeased by this unnecessary
effort to be clear and expressive. Yet again, given a certain speaker
and a certain subject and a certain audience, it is obvious that the
occasion will determine largely how the speaker will bear himself. The
atmosphere of a college commencement will be different from that of a
barbecue, and the speaker would, within the limits set by his own
personality and his own dignity, adapt himself to the one or the other.
The general law of appropriateness and good taste must determine the
amount of gesture.
For the purposes of this work there is probably very little, if any,
value in a strict classification of gestures. It may, at times, be
convenient to speak of one gesture as merely for emphasis, of another
as indicating location, of another as giving illustration, of one as
more subjective, expressing a thought that reflects back upon the
speaker, or is said more in the way of self-communion, of another as
objective, concerned only with outer objects or with ideas more apart
from the person or the inward feeling of the speaker. But it can easily
be shown that one idea, or one dominant feeling, may be expressed by
many kinds of action, in fact, so far at least as prescribed movements
are concerned, in directly opposite kinds, and gesture is so largely a
matter of the individual, and is governed so much by mixed motive and
varying circumstance, that the general public speaker will profit
little by searching for its philosophic basis, and trying to practice
according to any elaborated system. The observing of life, with the
exercise of instinct, taste, sense, above all of honest purpose--these,
with of course the help of competent criticism, will serve as
sufficient practical guides in the cultivation of expressive action.
Some observations, or perhaps general principles, may be offered as
helpful. When a speaker is concerned with driving ideas straight home
to his audience, as in putting bare fact in a debate, his action will
be more direct; it will move in straighter lines and be turned, like
his thought, more directly upon his audience. As his statement is more
exactly to a point, so his gesture becomes more pointed and definite.
When the speaker is not talking to or at his audience, to move them to
his will, but is rather voicing the ideas and feelings already
possessed by them, and is in a non-aggressive mood, he is likely to use
less of the direct and emphasis-giving gesture, and to employ
principally the gesture that is merely illustrative of his ideas, more
reposeful, less direct, less tense.
To consider more in detail the principle that the man, and not the arm,
is the gesture, a man should look what he is to speak. The eye should
always have a relation to gesture. The look may be in the direction of
the arm movement or in another direction. No practical rule can be
given. It can only be said that the eye must play its part. Observing
actions in real life, we see that when one person points out an object
to another, he looks now at the object, now at the person, as if to
guide that person's look. When he hears a sound he may glance in the
direction of it, but then look away to listen. Often a suspended
action, with a fixed look of the face, will serve to arrest the
attention of auditors and fix it upon an idea. One should cultivate
first the look, then the supporting or completing action.
As to the movement of the arm and the form of the hand, one should be
careful not to become stiff and precise by following exact rules. In
general, it may be said that the beginning of the arm movement, being
from the body, is in the upper arm; the finish of it is at the tips of
the fingers, with the forefinger leading, or bringing the gesture to a
point. There is generally a slightly flexible, rythmical movement of
the arm and hand. This should not, as a rule, be very marked, and in
specially energetic action is hardly observable. In this arm action
there is an early preparatory movement, which indicates or suggests,
what is coming. Often a moment of suspense in the preparation enhances
the effect of the finish, or stroke, of the gesture, which corresponds
usually to the vocal emphasis. At the final pointing of the action, the
hand is, for a moment or for moments, fixed, as the mind and the man
are fixed, for the purpose of holding the attention of the auditor;
then follows the recovery, so-called, from the gesture, or it may be,
the passing to another gesture. And all the while, let it again be
said, slight changes of bodily pose with proper adjustments of the
feet, will make the harmonious, unified action. It should be remembered
that, as in viewing a house or a picture we should be impressed by the
main body and the general effect, rather than by any one feature, so on
the same principle, no striking feature of a man's action should
attract attention to itself. On the same principle, no part of the hand
should be made conspicuous--the thumb or forefinger should not be too
much stuck out, nor the other fingers, except in pointing, be very much
curved in. Generally, except in precise pointing, there is a graduated
curving, not too nice, from the bent little finger to the straighter
forefinger. As the gesture is concerned with thought more delicate, the
action of the hand is lighter and tends more to the tips of the
fingers; as it is more rugged and strong, the hand is held heavier. It
is bad to carry the arm very far back, causing a strained look; to
stretch the arms too straight out, or to confine the elbow to the side.
The elbow is kept somewhat away even in the smallest gesture. While
action should have nerve, it should not become nervous, that is, over-
tense and rigid. It should be free and controlled, with good poise in
the whole man.
Before leaving this subject, in its physical aspect, let us consider
somewhat the matter of standing and moving on the platform. Among
imperfections as regards position, that kind of imperfection which
takes the form of perfectly fixed feet, strictly upright figure, hands
at the side, head erect, and eyes straight-of all bad kinds, this kind
is the worst. This is often referred to as school declamation, or the
speaking of a piece. We have discarded many old ideas of restriction in
education. Let us discard the strait-jacket in platform speaking.
Nobody else ever speaks as students are often compelled to speak. Let
them speak like boys--not like men even--much less like machines. There
is of course a good and a bad way of standing and moving, but much is
due to youth, to individuality, and to earnest intention, and a student
should have free play in a large degree.
In walking, the step should neither be too fast nor too slow, too long
nor too short, too much on the heel or too much on the toe. A simple,
straightforward way of getting there is all that is wanted. The arms
are left to swing easily, but not too much; nor should one arm swing
more than the other. The head, it will be noted, may occasionally rise
and fall as one goes up or down steps or walks the platform. Before
beginning to speak, one should not obviously take a position and
prepare. He should easily stop at his place, and, looking at his
auditors, begin simply to say something to them. As to the feet, they
will, of course, be variously placed or adjusted according to the pose
of the body in the varying moods of the speech. In general, the body
will rest more on one foot than on the other. In a position of ease, as
usually at the beginning of a speech, one foot will bear most of the
weight. In this case, this foot will normally be pointed nearly to the
front; the other foot will be only very slightly in advance of this and
will be turned more outward. The feet will not be close together; nor
noticeably far apart. They need not--they had better not--as it is
sometimes pictured in books, be so set that a line passing lengthwise
through the freer foot will pass through the heel of the other foot. As
a man becomes earnest in speaking, his posture will vary, and often he
will stand almost equally on his two feet. In changing one's position,
it is best to acquire the habit of moving the freer foot, the one
lighter on the floor, first, thus avoiding a swaying, or toppling look
of the body.