PUBLIC SPEAKING AND READING 
 
 A TREATISE ON DELIVERY 
 
 ACCORDING TO THE PRINCIPLES OF THE NE\V 
 ELOCUTION 
 
 BY 
 
 E. N. KIRBY, A.B. 
 
 FORMERLY INSTRUCTOR IN ELOCUTION IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY AND PROFESSOR 
 OF ELOCUTION AND ORATORY IN BOSTON UNIVERSITY 
 
 BOSTON 
 LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 
 
fwl 
 
 \_- 
 COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY LBB AND SHBPARD 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 TYPOGRAPHY BY C. J. PKTBRS * SON, BOSTON. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 THE principles of this treatise are in accord with what 
 may reasonably be called the " New Elocution." The terra 
 " New Elocution " describes, in the first place, the style of 
 delivery in vogue among the representative speakers of to- 
 day, and in the second place, the method employed by the 
 best teachers of the subject. The style of delivery, espe- 
 cially since the oratory of Wendell Phillips and Henry Ward 
 Beecher, has been conversational at basis; that is, it has 
 been simple, direct, varied, and spontaneous. The new 
 method of teaching lays stress mainly upon mental condi- 
 tions. It recognizes more fully that man is mind as well 
 as body ; and it aims at making the speaker skilful, by at- 
 tending to the mental, as well as the physical and vocal 
 conditions. 
 
 Again, contrary to the usual methods, I have taken up 
 Delivery from the rhetorician's point of view, and have 
 developed it according to the principles of accepted psy- 
 chology ; while from the beginning to the end the practical 
 requirements of the subject have been kept in view. These 
 features, together with the doctrine of the conversational 
 basis, make the method pre-eminently a natural one. 
 
 Without attempting to give a full account in this place of 
 the distinguishing features of the book, the author calls 
 special attention to Book II., Chapter i., on "The Mental 
 Content of Language." 
 
 While the book will greatly benefit any student, it by no 
 means supplants the teacher ; for without thorough practice 
 and study, very few persons are able to accurately inspect 
 
 844345 
 
8 PREFACE 
 
 their own effort. Then, too, the ability to diagnose one's 
 own or another's needs is comparable to the physician's 
 skill, and is gained only by prolonged practice in teaching. 
 Moreover, to secure the best results, a teacher to illustrate 
 and exemplify the principles will be necessary. 
 
 This treatise is adapted to the laboratory method of 
 instruction. The student is taught the principles of the 
 art, the instruments and elements are named, the problems 
 are set, and he is required to experiment for himself under 
 the eye and ear of the teacher; he is then shown wherein 
 he fails or succeeds. Only as the individual is reached 
 can instruction be made effective; and each teacher as 
 well as student will, soon or late, find out how farcical, with- 
 out supplementary practice given to the individual, is the 
 attempt to treat large classes. 
 
 While presenting the principles, training for physical and 
 vocal development should be given from the start. Each 
 teacher must determine for himself, however, the pedagogi- 
 cal order of the instruction. 
 
 This book is the result of much study, and considerable 
 experience in teaching in High Schools, in Harvard Uni- 
 versity, and in Boston University. 
 
 The author sends it out in the belief that it will help 
 many teachers, and will aid in the promotion of good speak- 
 ing. It will be found best adapted to colleges and prepara- 
 tory schools. 
 
 Although there is very little in this book directly attribu- 
 table to my former teachers, with pleasure I acknowledge 
 my indebtedness to the late Dean Monroe as a leader in 
 the New Elocution, and as the first teacher to show me the 
 importance of affecting the mental conditions. Wherever 
 due, I have given special credit in the body of the book. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, June 7, 1895. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 PAG* 
 
 PREFACE 3 
 
 INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 Speaking Distinguished from Reading 14 
 
 Public Speaking is Conversational at Basis 16 
 
 Predominant and Subordinate Processes 17 
 
 The Main Problem 17 
 
 The Lesser Problem 20 
 
 Individuality 21 
 
 PART I 
 
 Principles of Public Speaking 
 
 BOOK I 
 ESSENTIALS OF PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 ER 
 
 I. Clearness 27 
 
 Force 28 
 
 Elegance 29 
 
 BOOK II 
 SOURCES OF THE ESSENTIALS OF PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 I. Mental Content of Language 34 
 
 SEC. I. ATTENTION 37 
 
 II. ANALYSIS 38 
 
 1. Meaning as a whole 39 
 
 2. Logical Relations 40 
 
 3. Meaning of the Words 41 
 
 4. New Idea 41 
 
 5. Ellipses 42 
 
 6. Imagination 43 
 
 7. Associated Ideas ... 44 
 
 8. Emotions 45 
 
 9 
 
10 TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 II. Earnestness 50 
 
 III. Physical Vitality 54 
 
 IV. Control 56 
 
 V. Reserved Force 62 
 
 Specialization of Function 63 
 
 VI. Conversational Basis 65 
 
 VII. The Audience 68 
 
 1. Communicative Attitude 70 
 
 2. Deferential Attitude 71 
 
 VIII. Good- Will 72 
 
 IX. Variety 74 
 
 BOOK III 
 ELEMENTS OF THE ESSENTIALS OF PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 I. Elements of Clearness 76 
 
 SEC. I. ENUNCIATION 76 
 
 1. Syllabication 76 
 
 2. Accent 77 
 
 3. Vowel Moulding 77 
 
 4. English Vowels 78 
 
 5. English Consonants 79 
 
 II. EMPHASIS 80 
 
 III. PHRASING, ok GROUPING . 82 
 
 IV. TRANSITION 83 
 
 II. Elements of Force 86 
 
 SEC. I. A GOOD VOICE 86 
 
 1. Strength 86 
 
 2. Flexibility 87 
 
 3. Purity of Tone 87 
 
 4. Range of Pitch 87 
 
 5. Resonance 88 
 
 6. Vocal Defects 91 
 
 7. Vocal Development 92 
 
 SBC. II. KINDS OF VOICE 99 
 
 1. Voice of Pure Tone 99 
 
 2. Full Voice 100 
 
 3. Aspirate Voice 100 
 
 4. Guttural Voice 100 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS II 
 
 PTER FAGM 
 
 II. Elements of Force Continued 
 
 KINDS CLASSIFIED 100 
 
 1. Intellective Voice 100 
 
 2. Vital Voice 101 
 
 3. Affectional Voice . 101 
 
 . . III. INFLECTION 103 
 
 IV. RHYTHM 106 
 
 V. MELODY OF SPEECH no 
 
 VI. STRESS 112 
 
 . . VII. LOUDNESS 113 
 
 VIII. TIME OR RATE 113 
 
 IX. CLIMAX 114 
 
 X. IMITATIVE MODULATION 115 
 
 XI. GESTURE 116 
 
 Subjective Gesture 118 
 
 Picture-Making Gesture 119 
 
 Laws of Gesture 119 
 
 Praxis 121 
 
 Criteria 124-130 
 
 III. Elements of Elegance 131 
 
 SEC. I. HARMONY OF FUNCTION 131 
 
 II. PRONUNCIATION 132 
 
 III. AGREEABLE VOICE . 135 
 
 IV. STRONG AND GRACEFUL MOVEMENTS .... 135 
 
 i. Physical Development 135 
 
 PART II 
 Praxis in Delivery 
 
 ANALYSIS OF A SPEECH 140 
 
 TYPES OF DELIVERY 145 
 
 INDEX TO SELECTIONS 
 
 Antony's Oration Shakespeare .... 140 
 
 White Horse Hill Thomas Hughes ... 146 
 
 The May Pole of Merry Mount . . . Nathaniel Hawthorne . 148 
 
12 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Await the Issue Thos. Carlyle .... 150 
 
 National Bankruptcy Mirabeau 151 
 
 Brutus and Cassius Shakespeare .... 153 
 
 Brutus, Cassius, and Casca .... Shakespeare . . . . 155 
 
 Paul Revere's Ride Longfellow 158 
 
 An Order for a Picture Alice Gary 161 
 
 Skill and Beauty in Art John Ritskin .... 165 
 
 The Boston Massacre Geo. Bancroft .... 166 
 
 Rip Van Winkle, Part I Washington Irving . . 170 
 
 Part II " " . . 172 
 
 Tom Pinch's Journey to London . . . Charles Dickens ... 177 
 
 The Cloud P. B. Shelley .... 179 
 
 Public Dishonesty H. IV. Beecher ... 182 
 
 Eloquence Daniel Webster ... 184 
 
 The Orator's Art John Quincy Adams . . 185 
 
 From Henry V Shakespeare .... 186 
 
 Herv6 Riel, Part I Robert Browning . . . 186 
 
 " " Part II " " ... 189 
 
 Hamlet's Advice to the Players . . . Shakespeare .... 191 
 
 Othello's Defence Shakespeare .... 192 
 
 The Scholar in a Republic .... Wendell Phillips . . . 194 
 
 The Problem of the New South . . . H. W. Grady . . . 197 
 
 The Scholar in Politics G. W. Curtis . . . . 200 
 
 Hyder Ali's Revenge Burke 201 
 
 Havelock's Highlanders W. Brock 204 
 
PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 PUBLIC SPEAKING is the art of efficient public communica- 
 tion by spoken and gesticular language. 1 Reading and reci- 
 tation, in short, all kinds of delivery, before few or many, are 
 included under this term. The subject includes all that is 
 now taught as rhetoric and delivery. Anciently, as is indi- 
 cated by the Greek word pTJrwp, meaning speaker, Rhetoric 
 was identical with Public Speaking. " Aristotle," says Pro- 
 fessor Hill, " makes the very essence of rhetoric to lie in 
 the distinct recognition of an audience." 
 
 This treatise deals with the fundamental processes of 
 Public Speaking, and especially with those involved in the 
 act of Delivery. It assumes familiarity with the technique 
 of what is now taught as rhetoric. Those who lack this 
 assumed familiarity are referred to books on rhetoric for 
 such topics as the Choice and Use of Words, the Doctrine 
 of the Sentence and the Paragraph, Figures of Speech, Dif- 
 ferent kinds of Composition, Style, and other topics con- 
 nected with Composition. 
 
 Extensive Knowledge, a Reliable Memory, Logical Skill, 
 and Tact, utilizing common-sense and a knowledge of hu- 
 man nature by means of which the speaker adapts the 
 speech and its delivery to a particular audience, are among 
 the sources of power in Public Speaking. 
 
 But as these topics belong more to the preparation than to 
 the delivery of the speech, they are dismissed from consid- 
 eration in this book. 
 
 i See Principles of Rhetoric, by A. S. Hill, p. i. 
 13 
 
14 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The related sciences of Grammar, Logic, ^Esthetics, and 
 Ethics- contribute their laws to the art. Hence the confu- 
 sion of those 'who speak of the subject as a science. 
 
 As the subject is an art, it has skill as its aim ; and from 
 the beginning to the end, in this attempt to methodize in- 
 struction in Public Speaking, this aim is kept before the 
 student; and a distinct effort made to render him skilful 
 in commanding the principles to which, consciously or un- 
 consciously, effective speaking must always conform. Ac- 
 cordingly, instead of the hopeless method of prescribing 
 innumerable rules impossible of application, this treatise 
 aims to thoroughly analyze the sources and elements of the 
 essentials of the art, and to exhibit the leading excellences 
 that must be cultivated in contrast with the faults that are 
 to be corrected. 
 
 The art of making a speech involves, usually, the process 
 of reproducing a set of ideas upon some subject. If there 
 has been previous reflection upon a subject, whether the 
 discourse has been written or not, it is, in its delivery, a re- 
 production. But effective reproduction is creative, and not 
 mechanical. Moreover, discourse created or re-created at 
 the point of delivery is extemporaneous. Hence, in the 
 praxis of written or printed selections, since creation or 
 recreation as a central and essential idea is strenuously 
 insisted on, the discipline of this work qualifies for the 
 delivery of either written or unwritten matter. 
 
 SPEAKING DISTINGUISHED FROM READING. 
 
 To further distinguish the properties of delivery, it is 
 important to recognize the wide difference between reading 
 and speaking. Listening to the delivery of a person who is 
 out of sight, you can ordinarily determine whether he is 
 reading (that is, delivering from manuscript or the printed 
 page) or speaking (that is, composing in the act of delivery). 
 
INTRODUCTION 15 
 
 Without being able to analyze the difference, any one can 
 also distinguish between the delivery in the ordinary reading 
 of a newspaper or book, and that of ordinary conversation ; 
 this, too, when the style of the composition does not betray 
 the difference ; for it can be determined by the tones, even 
 when the words and sentences are not distinguishable. 
 What, then, constitutes the difference between these two 
 styles of delivery? 
 
 In reading, the delivery is more uniform. The pitch, 
 the degree of force, the length and place of the pauses, 
 vary but little. It is popularly called " monotonous," " inex- 
 pressive ; " and where great force or loudness is employed 
 this delivery is characterized as " declamatory," " heavy," 
 "noisy," as "spouting," "preaching." A single word, 
 then, variety, describes the distinguishing characteristic of 
 conversational or speaking delivery. In speaking, the pitch, 
 the kind of voice, the rate, the pause, and all other elements 
 of delivery, are continually changing. It has the variability 
 of life. 
 
 The ground of this variability is the way the mind acts. 
 In reading, there is little differentiation of the thoughts : 
 the emotion is unvaried. It is indeed, mainly, the emotion 
 connected with a kind of chant, and closely associated with 
 the sense of rhythm. In this form of expression the mind 
 is less alert, and it runs along " the line of the least resist- 
 ance." 
 
 On the other hand, in conversation we have the original 
 function, and also the very essence of all language. As 
 spoken language precedes written language, so also the 
 delivery of the unwritten word precedes the delivery of 
 the written word. Moreover, the function of language is a 
 social one, and hence presupposes one mind communicating 
 with another, indeed, one person thinking with another ; 
 for in real conversation, thought and word are one. In 
 conversation, the expression is more spontaneous, more 
 
l6 INTRODUCTION 
 
 direct. The sub-processes (that is, the processes producing 
 voice and gesture) are held in their subordinate places. 
 Mind appears to act more immediately upon mind without 
 being conscious of the media of communication. The 
 thought and feeling are created in the act of delivery. 
 
 With that other use of the word " reading," meaning the 
 expressional delivery of what another has composed, we 
 are not at present concerned. Our purpose is rather to con- 
 trast reading with speaking; and to show that the former is 
 mechanical, and the latter creative, or expressive, delivery. 
 
 This distinction between reading and speaking is the 
 popular one. The majority of people dislike sermons that 
 are read in contrast to those that are spoken. In this 
 treatise, "speaking" includes the delivery of all forms of 
 written or unwritten matter that creates the thought in 
 the act of delivery. 
 
 " Reading " (that is, word-delivery or statistical represen- 
 tation of facts), requires only distinct enunciation of words, 
 and, hence, expressional discipline is unnecessary. The 
 purpose of all elocutionary practice aims at speaking as its 
 legitimate goal. 
 
 PUBLIC SPEAKING is CONVERSATIONAL AT BASIS. 
 
 According to this analysis, speaking, conversation, and 
 extemporaneous delivery, are essentially the same. Each 
 has the same property of variety. In each the mind acts 
 with the same spontaneity and directness. Each, too, 
 creates or re-creates the ideas at the point of delivery. As 
 distinguished from these, Public Speaking, according to the 
 most approved delivery, may be further characterized as 
 the heightened conversational. At basis it is simple, direct, 
 spontaneous, varied, creative ; but heightened in pitch, force, 
 and in the other elements, as determined by the emotional 
 content of the discourse. Corresponding to this, it is to 
 be observed that " declamatory," or " orotund," delivery is 
 
INTRODUCTION I/ 
 
 heightened reading. This form of reading-delivery also is 
 to be avoided. 
 
 PREDOMINANT AND SUBORDINATE PROCESSES. 
 
 One of the difficulties in Public Speaking arises from the 
 great number and variety of the processes. Some of these 
 processes are predominant, and others are subordinate. 
 Now, in all speaking, good or bad, the predominant pro- 
 cesses are the ones that express themselves. Hence the 
 importance of making the ideas to be communicated the 
 predominant processes, and the means to this end the sub- 
 ordinate ones. Frequently, however, through lack of skill, 
 the processes that should be subordinate become predomi- 
 nant ones. The speaker obviously puzzles over the gram- 
 mar, the rhetoric, or the gesture of his address. At one time 
 the speaker gives his main effort to discerning the words of 
 his manuscript ; at another (as in memoriter delivery) he is 
 absorbed in the labor of recalling the language. Instead, 
 all of those operations of mind and body that may be 
 regarded as means, are to be held in their places as sub- 
 processes. The thought and feeling, together with the 
 volitional attitude which the speaker intends to produce in 
 the mind of the hearer, are always to be regarded as the 
 predominant process ; and hence should form the leading 
 content of the speaker's mind. 
 
 THE MAIN PROBLEM. 
 
 The main problem before the student is to secure the 
 right mental action. When this is done, the body responds. 
 
 First, the thought and feeling intended as the predominant 
 process, and constituting the speech proper, or the matter of 
 the address, is clearly, from beginning to end, the result of 
 mental activity. This mastery of the ideas of the discourse 
 constitutes the primary aspect of the Main Problem. 
 
 In the second place, voice and its various modifications, 
 
1 8 INTRODUCTION 
 
 gesture in short, the use of all of the instruments or 
 means of communication constituting the subordinate pro- 
 cesses, or the manner of the address, vaguely regarded by 
 some as physical changes, are also the result of mental 
 activity. We mean to say, in brief, that no one can produce 
 a sound, or change a pitch, or make a gesture, without the 
 action of the mind. The proper use of the voice and other 
 agents of expression depends, therefore, upon right mental 
 action, as fully as does the mastery of the ideas. Such 
 proper use of the means constitutes the secondary aspect of 
 the Main Problem. 
 
 For the solution of this Main Problem, both the subjective 
 and the objective treatment are employed. The subjective 
 treatment deals directly with the content of the mind ; that 
 is, with the thought and feeling. 
 
 The thought and feeling are analyzed and dwelt upon. 
 Related ideas are brought forward ; and thus, by dealing 
 with the factors of the mind directly, we seek to promote 
 right mental action with reference to the subject-matter and 
 its expression. This treatment is more fully developed 
 under the chapter on "The Content of Language." 
 
 In the objective treatment, however, we call attention to 
 the agents (the chest, the mouth, the hands, etc.), and to the 
 elements (emphasis, pitch, etc.), expressive of the thought 
 and feeling. 
 
 The objective treatment is based upon the fact that bodily 
 states affect mental states ; hence, by assuming the physical 
 attitude, the corresponding mental state is initiated and pro- 
 moted. We not only entreat the angry man not be angry, 
 but also coax him to sit down and not speak so loudly ; that 
 is, to assume the act and attitude of composure. Practically, 
 an emotion and its expression are one and the same thing. 
 The emotion of the sublime, for instance, is developed by 
 assuming the low pitch, measured time, and approximate 
 monotone expressive of this emotion, This treatment, 
 
INTRODUCTION IQ 
 
 reaching the mind by calling attention to the physical states, 
 is the shorthand method of every-day life. Just as the 
 child is told to " quit whining," and to " straighten out " his 
 face, so also, in elocutionary training, we say, " Speak 
 louder," " Pause more frequently," " Speak on a lower 
 pitch." 
 
 The objective treatment, therefore, promotes not only the 
 proper use of the agents and elements of expression, but 
 also a mastery of the subject-matter, or the ideas in process 
 of delivery. For instance, the intention to lift the voice to 
 a higher pitch with increased ictus, as a means of rendering 
 it emphatic, makes that word prominent, and hence em- 
 phatic in the mind. The mind, in turn, reacts upon the 
 voice, and promotes that intention. The effect is reciprocal. 
 Thus it is seen that the subjective and objective treatment 
 are the two ways of promoting right mental action. 
 
 The discipline here recommended develops the power to 
 think at the point of delivery, or to think through delivery, 
 and also to master the technique or to use the instruments 
 of Expression. 
 
 At the risk of being tedious to some, we will further illus- 
 trate the subjective and objective treatment. 
 
 "The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof; the 
 world, and they that dwell therein." 
 
 The subjective treatment of this sentence requires that 
 the student understand the history of the psalm of which it 
 forms a part, the occasion and method of its use as an an- 
 tiphonal psalm in the temple service ; dwell upon each word ; 
 analyze the thought ; especially, develop the emotional con- 
 tent of the sentence. The feeling is one of majesty, of tri- 
 umph, and splendidly sublime. Notice, according to the 
 method of Hebrew poetry, that the second clause repeats 
 the idea of the first, and hence is not differentiated as a 
 new thought. In short, apply the method of the chapter 
 on "The Content of Language." 
 
2O INTRODUCTION 
 
 In reading this psalm, if the student find himself delivering 
 it on a high pitch, with metallic ring and rapid rate, the 
 objective treatment orders him to use a lower pitch, to slow 
 rate, full tone, full major slides, and with due observance 
 of the rhythm. 
 
 A too exclusive use of the objective treatment is a feature 
 of the old elocution, and runs into the mechanical. 
 
 THE LESSER PROBLEM. 
 
 The lesser problem before the student is to modify or 
 remove bodily limitations. Obviously, some limitations are 
 only partially, and others not at all removable. It is as- 
 sumed, however, that the most important organs are modi- 
 fiable, and that especially their functions may be rendered 
 more full, economic, and accurate. Faulty breathing may 
 be corrected, the chest capacity developed, vocal quality 
 improved, the bearing and movement rendered strong, grace- 
 ful, and free in short, all the organs of speech and gesture 
 may be developed, and the channels cleared for the prompt, 
 accurate, and full expression of the mental states. 
 
 In exercises for physical and vocal development, the 
 organs, as such, are dealt with. Even in such exercise, how- 
 ever, the feelings and imagination are utilized ; and as bodily 
 limitations are oftenest functional, the main and the lesser 
 problems nearly merge into the one problem of disciplining 
 the mind's action. Moreover, in this technical training on 
 special non-expressive exercises for physical and vocal de- 
 velopment, from the very beginning, the expressional use of 
 the organs is anticipated. 
 
 The principles of Public Speaking can be realized only in 
 use ; and to point out the specific excellences and faults of 
 any delivery requires the skill of an experienced practitioner. 
 Hence the teacher becomes a trainer, enabling the pupil to 
 accomplish what, in all probability, he never would accom- 
 plish alone. 
 
INTRODUCTION 21 
 
 INDIVIDUALITY. 
 
 In the practical pursuit of the subject, the question of in- 
 dividuality, or personality, arises. The method here offered, 
 dealing as it does with general principles, and directing the 
 main effort to realize the thought in the act of delivery, in- 
 stead of prescribing absolute and arbitrary forms, ought to 
 be a sufficient guarantee that individuality, or personality, 
 will have all the freedom it can reasonably claim. 
 
 It is to be conceded that all good speakers do not speak 
 alike. On the other hand, every one needs to remove, as far 
 as possible, vocal and bodily limitations to suppress glaring 
 mannerisms ; to develop versatility and responsiveness to 
 thought and feeling outside of the individual habits. Moods 
 of the individual that impede the realization of the thought 
 and feeling of the subject must be subordinated or practi- 
 cally eliminated, and a broader capacity developed. To 
 mention a specific and marked case, a person of an over- 
 serious mood must develop the possibility of other moods. 
 Again, a speaker who conceives an idea merely as fact must 
 also realize it as an emotion. 
 
 Development in expressional power is always in the direc- 
 tion of emotional mastery. That which is narrow, accidental, 
 and limited, must give place to the varied and universal. 
 The difference among speakers is attributable to the different 
 ways of realizing the thought, or what amounts to the same 
 thing, the different way the thought affects each emotionally. 
 Take the following sentence for an illustration : 
 
 " All in the valley of death 
 Rode the six hundred." 
 
 This may be conceived merely as a fact : there were six 
 hundred men in this charge here described. There may 
 have been a few more or less, or possibly just six hundred. 
 They all without exception rode forward at the command. 
 
22 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The enemy were in front, to right and left a valley; and, 
 as we know, it was death to most of them. 
 
 Again, this may be conceived as fact that affects the 
 speaker emotionally. The leading emotion may be that of 
 horror at the thought of these soldiers, because of a blunder, 
 marching to almost inevitable death. In this conception 
 the word " all " has more than statistical value. It shows 
 the extent of the doom. " Valley of Death " now takes on 
 a more sombre color. It is not merely a historic fact, but 
 a present reality. Imagination reproduces the scene. The 
 "valley" and "riders," with "cannon in front," "to right" 
 and " left," volleying and thundering, are in sight. 
 
 Still another conception may arouse feelings of admiration 
 and heroism as we see the splendid discipline and bravery 
 of these men. This conception will emotionally affect all of 
 the subordinate ideas. The words, " all," " valley of death," 
 and so all the rest, which have much in common, are changed 
 from the first conception. These, and possibly other con- 
 ceptions, may be combined. Moreover, in any conception 
 that intends to reproduce the thought of another, the variety 
 of lights and shades and crossings of emotions are almost 
 endless. 
 
 Again, the character, the culture of the individual, not 
 to mention his peculiarities, will contribute an important 
 element. No two minds reproduce the same thought in 
 the same way. No speaker reproduces his own ideas in the 
 same way. 
 
 It is just this difference in conception that gives largest 
 opportunity to individuality or personality. Not only men- 
 tal quality, but the nervous system and physical conditions, 
 are a part of the matter. I have found frequently that some 
 mannerism, which was the result of nervous conditions, or 
 which was capriciously or possibly accidentally adopted, was 
 as tenaciously held to as the most sacred attribute of person- 
 ality. We must distinguish between peculiarity and per- 
 
INTRODUCTION 23 
 
 sonality. Things of habit, good or bad, are dear to us. 
 The student of speaking should be sane. In fact, the 
 nervous state and dominating moods frequently render it 
 impossible for the speaker to fully realize other emotions. 
 To such an one it must be said, " Ye must be born again ! " 
 All, to some extent, need such regeneration. Like all 
 educational growth, it is a process, and hence requires dis- 
 cipline under intelligent direction. Elocution treated on 
 this basis is of the highest value as a means of culture. 
 In spite, however, of the rational and practical method 
 of treatment, the teacher frequently appears to invade the 
 personality of the speaker; hence, in drill, it will require 
 care on the part of the teacher, and patience on the part 
 of the student. 
 
PART I 
 PRINCIPLES OF PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
BOOK I 
 
 ESSENTIALS OF PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 CLEARNESS, FORCE, AND ELEGANCE 
 
 WHILE listening to speakers for the purpose of determin- 
 ing their respective effectiveness, judges find it necessary to 
 consider the delivery with reference to at least three things, 
 intelligibility, or ease, with which the speaker makes 
 himself understood; the ability of the speaker to interest 
 and move the listener; and the ease and gracefulness of 
 the delivery, especially with reference to the bearing and 
 gesture. Although not always so clearly analyzed by every 
 one, these are the qualities that make speaking effective 
 to all listeners. 
 
 These three groups of properties, under the names of 
 Clearness, Force, and Elegance, are regarded by teachers of 
 rhetoric as the essential properties of style ; and in keep- 
 ing with the rhetorical spirit, these terms are used to repre- 
 sent the essential properties of delivery. 
 
 Clearness. One of the principal aims of public speak- 
 ing is to give information. This aim addresses the under- 
 standing and satisfies the demand of the intellect. The 
 group of properties by means of which information is com- 
 municated is called " clearness." Professor Bain describes 
 it as "opposed to obscurity, vagueness, ambiguity, or ill- 
 
 27 
 
28 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 defined boundaries." 1 Prof. A. S. Hill says, "It is not 
 enough to use language that may be understood, he [a 
 writer or speaker] should use language that must be under- 
 stood," and quotes Quintilian and Emerson to the same 
 effect. 2 
 
 In Public Speaking, clearness means more than the 
 choice of words and sentences for this purpose. The 
 clearest style of a Newman may be rendered obscure in 
 the delivery. 
 
 By the use of proper enunciation, varied pitch, pause, em- 
 phasis, and other elements of speech, the speaker must ren- 
 der the thought so clear to the ear that the listener cannot 
 fail to understand at once the purposed idea. 
 
 If, for purposes of information, a speaker aims only at the 
 bare statement of facts, as in rendering judicial opinions, in 
 the technical treatment of scientific subjects, and in reading 
 news items, the speaking, if it is clear, answers every de- 
 mand. 8 It is seldom, however, that a speech is limited to 
 this single purpose. 
 
 Force. The second of the leading aims of speaking, 
 and especially of oratory, is persuasion. Persuasion affects 
 the will principally through the emotions. The group of 
 qualities, by means of which the emotions are stirred and 
 the will affected, is variously called "vivacity," "energy," 
 "strength," "force." The term "force," as we have seen, 
 is now more generally used. 
 
 While the tendency is toward a factive simplicity in Public 
 Speaking, and especially toward a suppression of excessive 
 emotion and sentimental adornment, so long as man is 
 capable of poetry, and is susceptible of aesthetic influences, 
 a speech must have certain emotional qualities. Conditions 
 may modify the emotions, but can never obliterate them. 
 
 1 English Composition and Rhetoric. Bain, p. 48. 
 
 2 Principles of Rhetoric, by A. S. Hill, p. 65. 
 8 A. S. Hill's Rhetoric, p. 84. 
 
CLEARNESS, FORCE, AND ELEGANCE 2Q 
 
 Force satisfies this demand of the emotions; and while 
 the listener does not consciously attend to the emotional 
 states nor seek to promote them as he does an understand- 
 ing of the speech, yet if a speaker lacks force, he is, in 
 popular language, called "dull," "dry," "lifeless," "inex- 
 pressive," " without force" 
 
 But declamation and noise should not be mistaken for 
 Force. A blind struggle for this property leads to just this 
 mistake. The softest tone, the gentlest whisper, may be 
 more forceful than the strongest declamation. 
 
 Silence is often forceful. A natural manner, a vivacious, 
 but subdued and dignified delivery, is the most impressive 
 delivery, and is Forceful in the sense used in this book. 
 
 By means of Force in the Delivery, the speaker first of 
 all holds the attention of the audience ; the listener " awakes 
 the senses," is alert and anticipative. Beyond this, other emo- 
 tions, indeed, the whole range of emotions, may be affected. 
 
 Elegance. Public speaking, in the next place, aims to 
 please. To give pleasure is a motive leading in poetry, 
 prominent in the essay, and not neglected in oratory; for 
 speech can persuade only as it pleases. 
 
 The group of qualities that renders the discourse agreea- 
 ble, and that gives the charm of language that pleases, is, 
 as we have already said, called by the rhetoricians, "ele- 
 gance." It corresponds to the feelings, and satisfies the 
 demand of the aesthetic nature. 
 
 Besides the usual rhetorical elements that appeal to taste 
 and imagination, and upon which the pleasing quality of the 
 speech is primarily based, elegance in delivery demands also 
 an agreeable voice, strong, easy bearing, graceful gesture, 
 harmony of function, and correct pronunciation. 
 
 A WORKING SCHEME. 
 
 In practice, the student still finds it difficult to hold before 
 the subconscious attention the leading processes involved 
 
3<D PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 in good speaking. He frequently says, " I lost sight of this 
 while attending to the other." " I find it difficult to attend 
 to so many things." Hence some scheme of summarizing 
 the various sources and elements, especially for beginners, 
 is important 
 
 Clearness, Force, and Elegance, besides adequately sum- 
 marizing the properties of public address, also serve as a 
 scheme to carry into practice the various elements to which 
 effective speaking must conform. The student should ac- 
 custom himself to associate under these heads the group of 
 qualities belonging to each, so that they at once schematize 
 the complex functions, and suggest all that is to be done. 
 
 Especially should the five sources of effective delivery 
 be continually held before the student. This positive treat- 
 ment may be alternated with criticism of special faults. 
 Criticism should be both general and specific. This will 
 involve the elements as well as the sources. The student 
 and the speaker soon become accustomed to these cate- 
 gories. The value of a teacher is in proportion to his 
 ability to diagnose the student's needs and to prescribe a 
 remedy. 
 
 The student should thoroughly commit each item of the 
 scheme. Its value will be fully appreciated only after a thor- 
 ough study of the whole treatise and after much practice. 
 
 The attempt, however, to make the speaking forceful by 
 thinking too exclusively of force, results in what is opprobri- 
 ously called "dramatic," "stagy," "bombastic" delivery; 
 while the attempt to secure elegance by thinking too ex- 
 clusively of this property results in affectation. These 
 faults are seen in a great many professional and amateur 
 "readers." 
 
 It is otherwise with regard to Clearness. If the speaker 
 give the appearance of consciously attending to this qual- 
 ity, it does not so seriously detract from the effort. If the 
 audience find it difficult to understand the thought, then a 
 
CLEARNESS, FORCE, AND ELEGANCE $1 
 
 statement, description, or illustration from a different point 
 of view is welcomed ; and if the voice is not clearly audible, 
 it seems to be allowable in deliberative assemblies to de- 
 mand that the speaker " speak louder." 
 
 THE SCHEME. 
 
 A. SOURCES OF CLEARNESS, 
 FORCE, AND ELEGANCE. 
 
 I. Physical Vitality and Ear- 
 ncstness. 
 
 II . Control and Reserved Force . 
 
 III. The Audience (Attention of 
 Communication); and 
 Good-will (Sympathy). 
 
 IV. Mental Content, Thought 
 and Feeling (Attention). 
 
 V. Variety in Unity , Differ- 
 entiation. 
 
 B. ELEMENTS OF CLEARNESS, 
 FORCE, AND ELEGANCE. 
 
 I. Of Clearness. 
 
 1. Enunciation (Syllables, 
 
 Vowels, Consonants). 
 
 2. Emphasis. 
 
 3. Phrasing or grouping. 
 
 4. Transition. 
 
 II. Of Force. 
 
 1 . Strong, pure, flexible tones. 
 
 2. Appropriate voice. 
 
 3. Inflection (Slides). 
 
 4. Melody of speech. 
 
 5. Rhythm. 
 
 6. Loudness. 
 
 7. Stress. 
 
 8. Rate. 
 
 9. Climax. 
 
 10. Imitative modulation, 
 n. Gesture. 
 
 III. Of Elegance. 
 
 1. Harmony of parts. 
 
 2. Pronunciation. 
 
 The main dependence, however, in each essential, is in 
 clearly conceiving the thought, and in fully realizing the 
 emotions of the subject. 
 
 The student who hopes to make elocution compensate for 
 brains, and his thought to pass for more than its intrinsic 
 
32 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 worth, and who hopes to substitute a good voice and grace- 
 ful gesture the externals of speech for real thought and 
 heartfelt emotion, will be disappointed, as he ought to be. 
 
 " With the art of all men . . . that of language, the chief 
 vices of education have arisen from the one great fallacy 
 of supposing that noble language is a communicable trick of 
 grammar and accent, instead of simply the careful expres- 
 sion of right thought. All the virtues of language are, in 
 their roots, moral ; it becomes accurate if the speaker de- 
 sires to be true ; clear, if he speaks with sympathy and a 
 desire to be intelligible ; powerful, if he has earnestness ; 
 pleasant, if he has sense of rhythm and order. 
 
 "There are no other virtues of language producible by 
 art than these ; but let me mark more deeply for an instant 
 the significance of one of them. Language, I said, is only 
 clear when it is sympathetic. You can, in truth, under- 
 stand a man's word only by understanding his temper. 
 Your own word is also as of an unknown tongue to him 
 unless he understands yours. And it is this which makes 
 the art of language, if any one is to be chosen separately 
 from the rest, that which is fittest for the instrument of a 
 gentleman's education. 
 
 " To teach the meaning of a word thoroughly, is to teach 
 the nature of the spirit that coined it ; the secret of lan- 
 guage is the secret of sympathy, and its full charm is possi- 
 ble only to the gentle. And thus the principles of beautiful 
 speech have all been fixed by sincere and kindly speech. 
 
 " On the laws which have been determined by sincerity, 
 false speech, apparently beautiful, may afterward be con- 
 structed ; but all such utterance, whether in oration or 
 poetry, is not only without permanent power, but it is 
 destructive of the principles it has usurped. So long as no 
 words are uttered but in faithfulness, so long the art of lan- 
 guage goes on exalting itself ; but the moment it is shaped 
 and chiselled on external principles, it falls into frivolity 
 
CLEARNESS, FORCE, AND ELEGANCE 33 
 
 and perishes. . . . No noble nor right style was ever yet 
 founded but out of a sincere heart. 
 
 " No man is worth reading to form your style who does 
 not mean what he says ; nor was any great style ever 
 invented but by some man who meant what he said. . . . 
 
 " And of yet greater importance is it deeply to know that 
 every beauty possessed by the language of a nation is sig- 
 nificant of the innermost laws of its being. Keep the tem- 
 per of the people stern and manly ; make their associations 
 grave, courteous, and for worthy objects ; occupy them in 
 just deeds, and their tongue must needs be a grand one. 
 Nor is it possible, therefore, . . . that any tongue should be 
 a noble one, of which the words are not so many trumpet 
 calls to action. All great languages invariably utter great 
 things and command them ; they cannot be mimicked but 
 by obedience ; the breath of them is inspiration, because it 
 is not only vocal but vital ; and you can only learn to speak 
 as these men spoke by becoming what these men were." 1 
 
 The principles of Delivery will be further treated, (i) as 
 the SOURCES, and (2) as the ELEMENTS, of Clearness, Force, 
 and Elegance the essentials of Public Speaking. So far 
 as I know, Professor Mcllvain, in his excellent book on 
 "Elocution," was the first to apply the terms "sources and 
 elements " to these two aspects of Public Speaking. The 
 former deals more with the fundamental powers of mind and 
 body, the latter more with the manifestive forms of Delivery; 
 the former are more subjective, the latter, more objective. 
 
 l Ruskin. Relation of Art to Morals, in Crown of Wild Olives. 
 
BOOK II 
 
 SOURCES OF THE ESSENTIALS OF PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MENTAL CONTENT OF LANGUAGE 
 
 IT was stated in the Introduction that the main problem 
 in the art of Public Speaking is to induce right mental 
 action, and that the first part of this problem is to achieve 
 the purposed thought and emotion, the mental content of 
 the language. To this first part of the problem this chapter 
 is devoted. 
 
 Any notion that agreeable sounds and graceful gestures 
 are in themselves effective in Public Speaking is to entirely 
 misconceive the function of language and the purpose of 
 speaking. Yet such misconceptions are frequent. The sub- 
 ject of delivery should be approached with the distinct 
 understanding that there is no substitute for thought and 
 feeling. Nor can superficial attainments be polished suffi- 
 ciently to compete with thorough culture. Indeed, to the 
 serious and patient student, nothing is so self-revelatory of 
 one's mental and linguistic poverty as a thorough consider- 
 ation and application of the principles of Public Speaking. 
 The student has not done well unless the subject has been 
 suggestive, not only in the particulars specifically treated, 
 but also in all that constitutes man. 
 
 Something more, however, than a general suggestion to 
 deal with the thought of the speech is needed to arouse 
 mental activity and accuracy. It seems to me that, as a 
 
 34 
 
MENTAL CONTENT OF LANGUAGE 35 
 
 discipline, nothing can surpass the conscious attention to 
 the processes that unconsciously take place, more or less 
 effectively, in all thinking and speaking. This, an original 
 contribution to elocutionary study, is the method of this 
 chapter. 
 
 Words have no absolute meaning. In speaking, they may 
 be used as so much breath or sound, without any relation 
 to the mental content. Obviously, a speaker may learn to 
 pronounce any language, and utter pages, say of Greek or 
 Latin, without getting or giving a single idea. This is also 
 true of the use of words of unknown meaning in the mother- 
 tongue. Suppose I ask the average person to speak the 
 following sentence, composed of words taken from our 
 familiar English Bible : " The abjects pill the chapman of 
 collops, fitches, habergons and brigandines" The words may 
 be correctly pronounced without the speaker having any 
 idea of the content of the language. This is true, not only 
 in the use of words of unknown meaning, but is also pos- 
 sible in the use of language commonly intelligible. Through 
 inattention, or other cause, the mind reacts upon the words 
 only as signs of sounds, and not as symbols of ideas. This 
 use of words without content is common, too, in speech 
 disorder, known as aphasia. 
 
 More common instances in which the student of speaking 
 is interested are the cases of poorly instructed children 
 learning to read. The word, to the struggling child, is the 
 sign of a sound, and so he reads the sentence, " I see the 
 horse on the hill," in that characteristic high-pitched, mo- 
 notonous, over-loud, and empty voice. Mark the contrast 
 as he, without book, in a flexible, life-like voice, expresses 
 spontaneously the idea out of his own mind. 
 
 A similar use of words, as sound, is heard in most manu- 
 script delivery. The writer deals with subject as ideas when 
 in the act of writing, but in delivery reads the manuscript as 
 a matter of words, without rethinking or feeling again the 
 ideas of the language. 
 
36 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 The mental processes involved in writing differ from those 
 involved in speaking. Some persons are able to think only 
 at the end of the pen, while others can adequately express 
 their ideas only in oral delivery. There are marked in- 
 stances of each of these classes. The difference is attribut- 
 able to natural aptitude and to previous training. Hence 
 the necessity of oral practice by those who speak from man- 
 uscript. The time devoted to writing should be balanced 
 by equal time given to preparation by practice in oral de- 
 livery. 
 
 Usually, too, delivery from the printed page is without 
 the legitimate and full content of the language. In short, 
 inattention, lack of concentration, failure to appreciate the 
 sentiments when using another's composition, or the case of 
 giving leading attention to the means of expression (the sub- 
 ordinate processes), always results in the insufficient mental 
 content. 
 
 Of course, the matter of content is a relative one. It 
 ranges from the zero of pronouncing in an unknown tongue, 
 to the content of an ideally perfect knower and revealer. 
 Consequently, the statement in any given case, that the de- 
 livery is without content, must be in this relative sense. The 
 content, moreover, from the nature of mind, must vary in 
 each repetition of a discourse. But the clearness, force, and 
 elegance of the speaking is always in proportion to the clear- 
 ness and fulness of the mental content. 
 
 When criticised, the student sometimes objects, "Why, I 
 am sure I understood what I delivered." But as Hume 
 says, " Thought is quick ; " and one must distinguish between 
 thinking the thought and feeling the emotions at the instant 
 of delivery, and the recollection of the ideas, as an act of 
 memory, a moment later. In the latter case, the words are 
 carried in memory, and the ideas subsequently read into 
 them. Again, the ideational process is frequently retro- 
 spective, and thinking, in point of time, is behind the voice. 
 
MENTAL CONTENT OF LANGUAGE 37 
 
 The voice is distinctly in advance of the thought. This 
 phenomenon is a matter of common observation. Besides, 
 the matter, as we have said, is relative, and the speaker may 
 achieve the topic and some of the leading ideas without 
 dealing with the full content. 
 
 The student must also distinguish between dealing with 
 language for the purpose of getting the idea, and of the use 
 of it for communication. The speaker may spend practi- 
 cally all of his effort in acquiring the thought, and still keep 
 on vocalizing. He must communicate as well as acquire. 
 
 This fault of mere word-utterance is not unknown in what 
 is usually called extemporaneous delivery, though it is less 
 common. Verbal fluency, wordiness, is the form in which 
 the fault is recognized in this kind of delivery. But the 
 vigor, the directness, the spontaneity, and naturalness, char- 
 acteristic of extemporaneous speaking, are due mainly to the 
 fact that in this kind of delivery the speaker deals primarily 
 with ideas and only secondarily with words. How, then, 
 can this ability to deal primarily with ideas be cultivated ? 
 This whole treatise is mainly an answer to this question. 
 The direct way of dealing with the problem is the method of 
 the remainder of this chapter. 
 
 SEC. I. Attention. The first condition necessary to 
 the achievement of Content is an effective functioning of 
 attention. This is sometimes called "concentration of at- 
 tention." 
 
 Confusion of utterance, as in fright, uneasiness of mind, 
 anger, etc., arises, not as some suppose, from having noth- 
 ing to say, but from having too many ideas flitting through 
 the mind. So also in speaking, from one cause or another, 
 excess of ideas insufficiently focused in the attention hin- 
 ders the achievement of the proposed content. 
 
 While the speaker goes on uttering the " words, words, 
 words " of his discourse, " wandering thoughts " straggle 
 into the consciousness, and, indeed, at times side trains of 
 
38 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 thought, foreign to the purpose of the speech, preoccupy 
 the mind. Ideas contained in the speech, ideas about its 
 success, about the audience, reputation, and many other 
 things, capriciously present themselves. 
 
 Now, in voluntary attention, sometimes called forced atten- 
 tion, we choose to attend to certain objects and ideas to the 
 exclusion of others. It is a matter of accepted psychology 
 and of common experience, that ideas are brought by atten- 
 tion from the obscurer into the more distinct fields of con- 
 sciousness. Attention, moreover, involves not only selection, 
 but the adjustment of ideas in a certain order of sequence 
 in order to fulfil the purpose of the mind. The activity of 
 the mind may become more and more efficient. Larger and 
 still larger content may be apprehended ; and while con- 
 sciousness may be narrowed down and rendered more defi- 
 nite and precise, at the same time a larger number of details 
 are projected into this unity. Effective speaking depends 
 upon rapid analysis, and this in turn depends upon the 
 power of voluntary attention. 
 
 Attention is controlled, first of all, by interest. We be- 
 come absorbed only in that which interests us. Again, 
 attention is controlled by inhibition. Inhibition is an ac- 
 tivity of mind that enters into the very nature of attention. 
 We promote attention to the purposed ideas by voluntarily 
 inhibiting ideas to which we do not wish to attend. The 
 practical value of cultivating the attention is obvious. 
 
 A suggestion about another aspect of attention will be 
 given under the chapter on " Audience." We shall now 
 proceed to discuss analysis. 
 
 SEC. II. Analysis. Sustained practice in logical an- 
 alysis, and its application to the act of speaking, is of prime 
 importance. Attention is involved in a most thorough-going 
 way. The thought process is one of comparison. Only that 
 which has connection with other elements has meaning. An 
 idea to be significant must point to something beyond itself. 
 
MENTAL CONTENT OF LANGUAGE 39 
 
 That which is isolated and separated is not capable of being 
 thought The process involves (i) identification or recogni- 
 tion, (2) discrimination or differentiation, (3) construction. 
 
 The main thing it is hoped to accomplish in this some- 
 what meagre account of the process of thinking is to im- 
 press upon the mind of the student, first, the fact of the 
 connection of ideas in the sentence, and secondly, the differ- 
 entiation of parts as determined by the thought process. In 
 teaching, no suggestion is oftener needed than to " discrim- 
 inate ! discriminate ! " 
 
 Analysis may be conducted independent of speaking, and 
 form no connection with it. In this case it is wholly sub- 
 jective, and consequently the utterance must be feeble. 
 Persons accustomed to write their thought analyze best by 
 writing. This fact accounts for the ability of some persons 
 to think best with pen in hand, and the inability of some 
 good writers to speak. It is the first business of the stu- 
 dent of speaking to train himself to relate the analysis to 
 the delivery. Impose the thinking on the speaking. Think- 
 ing through the voice is a characteristic of spontaneous 
 or conversational delivery. Finally, speak the thought. 
 Thought grows in the act of speaking. 
 
 i. First, grasp the purpose or meaning of the address, selec- 
 tion, or speech as a whole. The editorial title is a convenient 
 name for identifying the selection or address, but it is not 
 to be relied upon for purposes of the analysis. The pur- 
 pose of the address gives you the theme or subject. Unite 
 the various ideas of the address, if possible, under a single 
 proposition in the categorical or declaratory form. For 
 instance, the funeral oration of Mark Antony, in "Julius 
 Caesar," might be put in this form as follows : " Brutus and 
 his associates are cruel assassins." This proposition held 
 fairly in mind inspires and unifies the speech, and illumi- 
 nates its plan. To conceal the subject to the close, and 
 sometimes to suppress its plain statement altogether, is 
 
4O PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 a method frequently employed in orations. The treatment 
 given the speech as a whole should be applied to each 
 division or paragraph of the address. 
 
 2. Analyze the sentence to determine its logical relations. 
 
 (1) Every sentence consists of two principal elements. 
 The first element is that of which something is stated ; the 
 second is that which is stated of the something. The first 
 is the subject; the second is the predicate. 
 
 The student should clearly distinguish the subject from 
 the predicate, and group with each its respective modifiers. 
 
 (2) Reduce to the proper place parenthetical and other 
 subordinate matter. 
 
 (3) To state anything of a subject involves an act of 
 judgment. This is the essential function of the proposition, 
 and is the typical act of thinking. The judgment is the unit 
 of thought ; hence the value of analyzing the matter of dis- 
 course for the judgments. The method is illustrated in the 
 treatment of the following paragraph from Macaulay's esti- 
 mate of the character of Charles the First : 
 
 " The advocates of Charles, like the advocates of other 
 malefactors against whom overwhelming evidence is pro- 
 duced, generally decline all controversy about the facts, 
 and content themselves with calling testimony to character. 
 He had so many private virtues ! And had James the Sec- 
 ond no private virtues ? " 
 
 The judgments are : Charles's advocates are like advo- 
 cates of malefactors against-whom-overwhelming-evidence 
 is produced. Advocates of malefactors decline all fact- 
 controversy. Advocates of malefactors content themselves- 
 with-calling-testimony to character. The next sentence in 
 the paragraph is exclamatory ; but it has the force of a 
 declaration. Charles had many private virtues. Con- 
 demned James the Second had private virtues. So, also, all 
 the statements expressed and inferred in this and other 
 selections may be put in the form of judgments. 
 
MENTAL CONTENT OF LANGUAGE 4! 
 
 3. Dwell on the meaning of each word. Every clear 
 speaker defines the meaning of his words in order to 
 determine their significance. 
 
 In the case of nouns, take more than the simple definition 
 of the dictionary. Let it include some of what the logicians 
 call the attributes or qualities. I am sure rather smart 
 people will frequently find how imperfect is their knowledge 
 of words. Giving the qualities of the word reveals, more- 
 over, the animus of its use. Attend only to those attri- 
 butes in which the speaker is interested. Take that of 
 " advocates," for instance, in the paragraph already used. 
 Advocates are men ; advocates are men with special quali- 
 fications; advocates are men engaged to defend their 
 clients ; advocates are men prejudiced in favor of their 
 clients ; advocates are dependent and partial men. Other 
 attributes may be added. Treat in a similar way " male- 
 factors " and other words. 
 
 4. Analyze the sentence to determine the new idea. We have 
 seen that, to be significant, the idea must point to some- 
 thing beyond itself. This fact is utilized in attending to 
 the relations of one sentence to another. In delivering 
 a succession of sentences, since the old idea has a hold 
 already upon the thought, the new idea should be made 
 most easily apprehensible by giving it greater prominence. 
 Hence, the old as related to the new must be clearly thought. 
 In the second sentence of the previous quotation, the pro- 
 noun He [Charles] is the old idea, for it is contained 
 in the preceding sentence. It relates the new idea of the 
 second sentence to the old idea of the preceding sentence. 
 " Private virtues " is this new idea of the second sentence. 
 In the third sentence, " And had James the Second no private 
 virtues ? " virtues [the old idea] is the term relating the 
 third to the second sentence. James the Second is the new 
 idea. So each sentence of the composition has something 
 new, but at the same time something old, that points to 
 
42 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 other sentences. In this manner the sentences of well- 
 constructed discourses form a chain. To determine the 
 new idea is of prime importance, and well worth the stu- 
 dent's most careful and prolonged attention. It contributes 
 equally to clearness and force. Upon it correct emphasis 
 and all movement depend. 
 
 5. Analyze the speech in order to supply the ellipses. All 
 language is more or less elliptical; that is, it omits words 
 necessary to a full and complete expression of the ideas. 
 In good composition only obvious ideas are omitted ; these 
 are suggested by the form of the language, including punc- 
 tuation, by the context, and by logical relation of the parts 
 expressed. Ellipses are sometimes of a logical, and at other 
 times of a grammatical nature ; but whether of one or 
 the other, elliptical expression economizes effort. It is 
 the shorthand, the direct method of speech. The unex- 
 pressed ideas, that is, the ideas between the lines, are fre- 
 quently the most important in connection with the emo- 
 tional content of the speech. The time, pause, and pitch 
 element of delivery are immediately regulated by mentally 
 supplying the ellipses. Treating the same selection for 
 purposes of this analysis, the ellipses may be supplied in 
 brackets. "The advocates of Charles [the First are, or 
 being] like the advocates of other malefactors, against 
 whom overwhelming evidence is produced, generally decline 
 all controversy about the facts, and [although obviously 
 unfair, they complacently] content themselves with calling 
 testimony to character. [They say that] He had so many 
 private virtues ! [Marvellous, indeed ! ] And had James 
 the Second [whom you condemn] no private virtues ? [You 
 answer, yes.] Was Oliver Cromwell [whom you execrate], 
 his bitterest enemies themselves [and not impartial men] 
 being judges, destitute of private virtues? [You answer, 
 no.]" The second paragraph is richer still in ellipses. 
 Observe, that, in delivery, pauses occupy the place of the 
 ellipses or omitted words. 
 
MENTAL CONTENT OF LANGUAGE 43 
 
 6. Fill out the content through the imagination. Through 
 the imagination we realize and make specific the idea. 
 Charles the First is individualized, possibly pictured to the 
 mind. " Advocates " is no longer a general term, but a 
 specific and localized set of men, possibly individualized. 
 
 In the process, imagination uses the visual and aural 
 memory; that is, the memory of things as we have seen 
 them and sounds as we have heard them. At times the 
 memory of other sense-perceptions also is used. Fre- 
 quently there is very little constructive activity of the im- 
 agination, and the mind simply reproduces the sight, sound, 
 or other sense-perception through memory. At other times 
 the mind acts more constructively; this is properly called 
 imagination. Delivery that is graphic, that brings the 
 events before the mind of the listener in clear and specific 
 form, makes splendid use of the imagination or the percep- 
 tive memory. For this purpose take the following stanzas 
 from Longfellow's " Paul Revere's Ride " : 
 
 " He said to his friend, ' If the British march 
 By land or sea from the town to-night, 
 Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch 
 Of the North Church tower as a signal light, 
 One, if by land, and two, if by sea; 
 And I on the opposite shore will be, 
 Ready to ride and spread the alarm 
 Through every Middlesex village and farm, 
 For the country folk to be up and to arm.' " 
 
 Picture the two men standing in the street in secret coun- 
 sel. See the lofty tower; see the signal light one, two; 
 see the opposite shore ; the rider upon his horse ; see the 
 Middlesex villages and farms wrapped in midnight slumbers ; 
 again, see them stirring with life. The scene becomes defi- 
 nite and vivid, first to speaker, then to listener. 
 
 When these objects are reproduced in the mind, motor 
 reactions result, and the eye and arms act in gesture just 
 
44 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 as though the real objects were before the mind. By this 
 means the story is illustrated, and thus made real to the eye 
 of the auditor. 
 
 In a similar way reproduce the sounds imaginatively. 
 
 " Till in the silence around him he hears 
 The muster of men at the barrack-door, 
 The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, 
 And the measured tread of the grenadiers 
 Marching down to their boats on the shore." 
 
 The speaker imaginatively hearing these sounds realizes 
 more fully the idea, and through his voice and gestures, the 
 mind of the listener becomes similarly affected. 
 
 The objects of the imagination are to be regarded as a 
 series of illustrations, and not as a bird's-eye view of things ; 
 hence the same object may be made to appear in different 
 directions at different times. The speaker should control 
 the location, and place the object where it can best be used. 
 
 7. Analyze the language in order to call up the associated 
 ideas. It is a matter of common knowledge that according 
 to certain laws of the mind, whenever certain ideas present 
 themselves in consciousness, certain others are suggested. 
 The principal associations are as follows: (i) Contiguity. 
 Ideas that occur close together in time or space suggest one 
 another; (2) ideas of similarity and contrast; and (3) ideas 
 of cause and effect. 
 
 In the stanza last quoted, " silence " suggests " hears " 
 [the muster] ; " muster," " men ; " " men," " barrack ; " " bar- 
 rack," "door." "Hears" further suggests "sounds" [of 
 arms], "tramp" [of feet], "measured tread;" "tread," 
 "grenadiers," etc. 
 
 The ability to look from the printed page or manuscript, 
 an ability seldom well mastered, is due, not simply to a 
 sharpening of the eye gained by practice, but also to the 
 confidence with which the mind utilizes the associational 
 
MENTAL CONTENT OF LANGUAGE 4$ 
 
 process. One word suggesting another, the eye more 
 readily seizes it. The process applies also to clauses and 
 phrases. 
 
 By means of association the mind successively antici- 
 pates the words and phrases of the discourse, and so keeps 
 the thought ahead of the voice. These associated ideas 
 suggested by the leading idea, especially enrich the emo- 
 tional content, and, again, help the mind to realize its 
 thought. The extent and clearness of these ideas will de- 
 pend upon the mental ability, discipline, knowledge, and 
 experience of the individual. To the child, the sentence, 
 " The discovery of microbes is an important event in sci- 
 ence," means little or nothing. To the scientist it suggests, 
 possibly, a range of ideas from the creation down to the last 
 surgical operation in which he was interested. Such words 
 as " flag," " home," " mother," are especially, rich in associa- 
 tion. 
 
 The ideas associated with those of the previously quoted 
 stanza may be those of patriotism, self-sacrifice, heroism. 
 They suggest the mutual confidence, personal daring, the 
 good sense, the secrecy and caution of the two men, and a 
 whole train of other ideas that grow out of the time, place, 
 and other relations. 
 
 A study of the times and circumstances out of which a 
 speech grows, meditations upon kindred themes, indeed, any 
 broad study of related matter, puts the student in the spirit 
 or " atmosphere " of the speech, and aids him in a more 
 comprehensive and accurate understanding of it. This 
 fuller use of the associational process employed by success- 
 ful speakers is of obvious value. Such methods make the 
 "full man," out of which the best speaking comes. 
 
 8. Analyze the speech to find its emotion. The content may 
 be further filled out by developing the emotions. Attend- 
 ing to the things of the imagination and to the associated 
 ideas, aids at once in realizing the emotions; but the fol- 
 
46 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 lowing treatment will be found still further helpful ; for in 
 proportion as we realize the idea, we develop its subjective 
 or emotional side. 
 
 An idea not only gives information concerning an event 
 or thing, but it is also the individual's experience of that 
 fact or event. Feeling is the subjective side of the idea. 
 For instance, the emotion of indignation arises in connec- 
 tion with the idea of an act of injustice. 
 
 (1) It is of first importance to remember that emotions 
 are the result of ideational activity. A great deal of feeble, 
 extravagant, and insincere elocution is the result of an at- 
 tempt to express emotions that do not grow out of ideas ; or, 
 which amounts to the same thing, the attempt to express 
 emotions that are not felt. Yet it is just this extravagance 
 that is often condemned as "emotional." Emotional de- 
 livery is to be condemned only when it is excessive, hol- 
 low, or "theatric." The most chaste and simple delivery 
 is emotional as truly as is bombast. The orator's power 
 is primarily an emotional one; there can be no effective 
 speaking without it. It is only a question as to what emo- 
 tions shall be expressed, and the avoidance of the falsities 
 and excesses already indicated. 
 
 (2) Again, emotions grow. They gradually develop, 
 reach their height, and then subside. Even when the same 
 idea that gives rise to an emotion continues, the emotion 
 periodically grows and then subsides again. Grief is an 
 instance of this. Feelings or sense impressions, on the 
 other hand, are instantaneous, even when reproduced in 
 the imagination. The emotion of anger, for example, de- 
 velops through the ideas that give rise to it; while the 
 startling effect of an unexpected sound or sight, real or 
 imaginary, is instantaneous. The practical outcome of 
 this demands that the speaker hold the idea till the emotions 
 are made real, and that reproduced sensations be real and vivid 
 by concentrated attention. 
 
MENTAL CONTENT OF LANGUAGE 47 
 
 No thoroughly satisfactory classification of the emotions 
 has yet been made. Possibly Wundt's classification into 
 (i) Excitant and (2) Inhibitory, corresponding to what 
 Professor Bain calls affection of the active or plus side, 
 and the passive or minus side of the mental states, is as 
 serviceable as any. 
 
 It will not do to insist too rigorously upon all emotions 
 coming under this classification, nor is the list to be re- 
 garded as exhaustive. 
 
 Among the following words, those coming after " Arro- 
 gance " and "Anxiety " are not found in Wundt's list. 
 
 I. EXCITANT OR ACTIVE. II. INHIBITORY OR PASSIVE. 
 
 Pleasurable Surprise, Painful surprise, 
 
 Joy, Perplexity, 
 
 Anger, Sorrow, 
 
 Jollity, Sadness, 
 
 Frolicsomeness, Apprehension, 
 
 Rapture, Depression, 
 
 Courage, Timidity, 
 
 Rage, Shame, 
 
 Vexation, Anguish, 
 
 Admiration, Terror, 
 
 Enthusiasm, Horror, 
 
 Ecstasy, Repugnance, 
 
 Beauty, Despair, 
 
 Love, Sublimity, 
 
 Arrogance, Hatred, 
 
 Ridicule, Anxiety, 
 
 Esteem, Reverence, 
 
 Pity, Submission, 
 
 Tenderness, Wonder, 
 
 Reproach, Humility. 
 Pride, 
 Defiance, 
 Surprise (objective). 
 
 Class I. quickens the ideation, the action of the heart, 
 mimetic and pantomimic movements. The result of Class 
 
48 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 II. is the reverse. Consequently the effect of Class I. on 
 the voice is to increase the rate, heighten the pitch, and 
 brighten the tone ; while the effect of Class II. is to slow 
 down the rate, lower the pitch, and dull the tone. 
 
 The mind is usually occupied with a complex of emo- 
 tions. This fact must be kept in mind in any attempt to 
 describe the emotional condition arising from any set of 
 ideas. Moods are more lasting emotional states. Emotion 
 heightened by urgent desires is called passion. 
 
 A summary of hints may be given as follows : 
 
 (1) Determine the prevailing emotion, sometimes called 
 the " spirit," the " atmosphere ' ' of the speech ; that is, 
 whether it is joyous, patriotic, or dominated by some other 
 emotion. 
 
 (2) Note each separate emotion, naming it fear, per- 
 plexity, or otherwise as the case may be. 
 
 (3) Observe that the emotions are often complex. 
 
 (4) Let the emotion grow out of the idea, and wait till 
 it matures. 
 
 (5) Notice whether it is of the excitant or inhibitory 
 class. 
 
 What has in this analysis been treated in this successive 
 and lengthy way takes place simultaneously and instantly. 
 This fact is a temptation to the student. In practice, he will 
 be tempted to use this complete process, rather than first 
 analyzing the several aspects of thinking as a foundation for 
 the developed and full content. The result will be the usual 
 vague and undifferentiated way of dealing with the thoughts. 
 In live thinking there is the variety so necessary to hold 
 attention and induce alertness. But variety results only 
 from thought differentiation. And this is distinctly the 
 feature attended to in the foregoing treatment. Indeed, 
 
MENTAL CONTENT OF LANGUAGE 49 
 
 variety is one of the objects that the speaker must keep con- 
 stantly before his mind, and if the changes are to be any- 
 thing but capricious they must grow out of the thought. 
 
 If the method of analysis here recommended for the pur- 
 pose of developing the attention and quickening the thought- 
 activity may appear laborious, it is to be borne in mind 
 that learning to speak is, at best, laborious, and requires 
 much painstaking effort. 
 
 Again, some special aspects of the process may be but 
 little developed in the student. The thought may be dealt 
 with too exclusively as matter of fact. In this case, analy- 
 sis enables the student to pay larger attention to the emo- 
 tional content. Imagination may be lacking ; in that case 
 it may be emphasized in the treatment recommended. So 
 the thought may be filled out, limited only by the ability 
 and industry of the student. Long selections should be 
 taken up and carefully analyzed according to these eight 
 aspects of the thought process. Once again the suggestion 
 is given to deal with this analysis from the communicative 
 attitude of mind. 
 
 It is clear that this analysis is the method applied in the 
 production as well as in the reproduction of a speech ; that is, 
 for the writing or the preparation as well as for the delivery. 
 It is the method, consciously or otherwise, of all effective 
 readers or speakers. Conscious methodical preparation, 
 however, is rare. The books have not taught it. But is not 
 methodical and definite work better than haphazard effort ? 
 
 In concluding the chapter, I wish to emphasize the fact 
 that the preparation of a selection or discourse is a growth, 
 just as is the writing of an effective book, sermon, or oration. 
 The brooding process is necessary. I recently asked a dis- 
 tinguished reader how long it took him to prepare an hour's 
 reading. He answered, "A year!" Perfect fruit requires 
 time in ripening. The student of speaking must have the 
 patience to repeat and wait. 
 
50 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 EARNESTNESS 
 
 THE picture of a slow, timid speaker giving the impression 
 that he really does not feel what he says, or that he is too 
 indolent, or physically too feeble to enforce his ideas, shows 
 by contrast the importance of earnestness in Public Speak- 
 ing. From such a speaker the hearer turns listlessly away. 
 The listener demands such an alertness and energy in the 
 delivery, such a quickening of all the agents of expres- 
 sion, as is indicative of vigorous mental and emotional 
 activity. A logical appreciation of the idea is insufficient. 
 The speaker must realize the idea emotionally. The lis- 
 tener demands also that the speaker mean what he says, 
 that he be morally in earnest, and speak out of conviction. 
 How fatal to have it said, " He is speaking for effect ; " or to 
 charge that his utterance is that of a mere partisan ! It is 
 still worse to say that his is the voice of a hireling. The 
 true speaker comes " that they might have life." I suppose 
 it is this that has led writers upon oratory, from the time of 
 Quintilian to the present, to insist that oratory is essentially 
 moral, and that "only the good man can be a perfect 
 orator." 
 
 Oratory involves the processes of convincing and persuad- 
 ing. But how can the speaker convince another when he is 
 not himself stirred by conviction ? or how can he persuade in 
 that to which he gives only half-hearted allegiance ? 
 
 By earnestness, then, something more is meant than ener- 
 getic vocalization and forceful gesture. Earnestness is sin- 
 cerity all aglow. Its roots are moral. A speech is a kind of 
 personality. Certainly it is expressive of personality ; hence 
 
EARNESTNESS 5 1 
 
 the necessity of right motive and legitimate method. This 
 is the earnestness described by Webster as " The clear con- 
 ception outrunning the deductions of logic, the high pur- 
 pose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the 
 tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and 
 urging the whole man onward, right onward to his subject." 
 To give direction how to secure this compelling earnest- 
 ness belongs to the teacher of ethics and of religion. One 
 or two aspects of the subject may be profitably considered. 
 
 1. The speaker must be thoroughly in liking with the 
 work of his profession or calling. The feeling of inadapta- 
 bility is fatal to success. A genuine interest is indispensa- 
 ble. Who would prefer the statesman, the lawyer, or the 
 preacher whose heart is not in his work? The advocate 
 may feel in earnest in behalf of his client because his repu- 
 tation is at stake, the politician may be spurred by the de- 
 sire for advancement, and the preacher show an earnestness 
 because his success and fame are being weighed in the bal- 
 ance ; but the fire of their earnestness is uncertain and 
 feeble beside that which grows out of a peculiar liking and 
 adaptability to the work of the chosen profession. He who 
 would promote the social, political, and religious interests of 
 the world by means of speaking must be thoroughly imbued 
 with these interests. 
 
 2. Again, the speaker must have, not only this general 
 interest in the work, but must feel the importance of the 
 special subject and occasion. The purpose of the speech 
 must be clearly defined and fully indorsed. In order to do 
 this it will frequently be found desirable and even necessary 
 to link the special occasion to some larger interest. The 
 case of petty larceny must be discouraging to the advocate 
 except as he relates the case to justice. If the preacher is 
 to show a real interest in speaking to the small audience 
 and to degraded men, he frequently must realize the impor- 
 tance of the individual, and think of what they are capable 
 of becoming. 
 
52 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 3. All who are disciplining themselves in speaking should 
 guard against the tendency to trust too much to the in- 
 spiration of the audience. The influence of the audience 
 in stimulating mental and physical earnestness cannot be 
 denied ; but it does not wholly compensate for the lack of 
 stimulus that should come from the subject. 
 
 4. In practising for skill, the student frequently finds him- 
 self unable to enter into the spirit of the subject composed 
 by another. Indeed, he frequently finds himself incapable 
 of delivering with effective earnestness his own composition 
 before a teacher or to a class. He compares this with the 
 greater sense of freedom and efficiency in addressing a real 
 audience for other than disciplinary purposes. But this 
 sense of freedom, or having a " good time," frequently ac- 
 companies extravagances, and generally means simply let- 
 ting bad habits have free course. It is always easy to 
 speak according to habit, whether the habit be good or bad. 
 It is the observation of the author and of others, that the 
 faults that show themselves in the class-room are the ones 
 that are prominent in delivery elsewhere. That the student 
 should feel his restraint under drill is not surprising. Un- 
 der such circumstances, the voice and gesture are likely 
 to occupy a large part of the field of consciousness ; the 
 speaker is self conscious, and in some cases the sense of the 
 incongruous is overmastering. A thorough control, how- 
 ever, overcomes the difficulties of the situation, and enables 
 the speaker to use the thoughts of others with spontaneous 
 earnestness. 
 
 As to the incongruous, it, in fact, does not exist. Just as 
 the writer composes for an imaginary audience, so the sol- 
 itary speaker addresses an imaginary audience; but there 
 is nothing incongruous in either case. The class or the 
 teacher may be regarded as the audience ; or in their pres- 
 ence the speaker may still have an imaginary audience 
 beyond them. 
 
EARNESTNESS. 53 
 
 According to the author's observation, a person with the 
 gift of speaking, or who has long disciplined himself in 
 delivery, is little disturbed by the drill-room atmosphere. 
 
 The ability to enter heartily into the delivery of another's 
 speech depends on dramatic power. This power is always a 
 valuable source of earnestness. Proper discipline calls up 
 the latent dramatic faculty, and enables the student to throw 
 himself heartily into the delivery of another's composition. 
 It does not postpone earnestness for the audience and the 
 live occasion ; that which is written by another becomes the 
 speaker's own. Every room is imaginatively peopled, and 
 every occasion is made a live one. 
 
54 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 PHYSICAL VITALITY 
 
 THE importance of physical vitality as a source of the 
 essentials of Public Speaking, is seen, first of all, from the 
 nature of the subject. Speaking is a physical as well as a 
 mental act. Strong and erect carriage and free movements, 
 the ability to endure the strains of thoroughly alive speak- 
 ing, are possible in the most effective degree only in con- 
 nection with large vitality. Proper breathing and vocal 
 control are secured through the same source ; so also is 
 life and the feeling of power. Proper nerve-functioning, so 
 essential to successful speaking, and other features of con- 
 trol, are favorably conditioned by vitality. Reserved force, 
 " grasp of the audience," in short, those various elements, 
 the sum of which is sometimes vaguely called magnetism, 
 reside largely in the same source. 
 
 Again, it is observed that distinguished speakers, in 
 general, have been men of more than ordinary vitality. 
 Even size seems to have its advantage. In the estimation 
 of many, Henry Ward Beecher represents the highest in 
 American pulpit oratory. Dr. Bartol, in a sermon on the 
 death of Mr. Beecher, said that " an examiner of his bumps 
 and body pronounced him a splendid animal." No one 
 can doubt that this splendid physical power made possible 
 his splendid oratory. This unusual physical endowment is 
 matched by that of America's greatest political orator. 
 Carlyle said of Webster, " He looks like a walking cathe- 
 dral." 
 
 Every student of the subject should develop his physical 
 powers to the limit of his ability. Some who enter upon a 
 
PHYSICAL VITALITY 55 
 
 study of the subject would properly first go to a physician, 
 and adopt such a course of life as would build them up 
 physically. The physical training usually practised in con- 
 nection with the subject, as now usually taught, is found 
 promotive of vital development. The development of erect 
 carriage and chest capacity is the result of even a minimum 
 amount of work in physical training. Instruction and a 
 list of exercises for physical development may be found at 
 the end of this treatise. 
 
 Every one who is to speak to an audience should so 
 order his time and work as to come to the speaking fresh 
 and vigorous. The feeling of physical vigor and buoyancy 
 favorably affects, not only the bearing and voice, but also 
 the mental action. For those who compose at the time of 
 delivery, this feeling is indispensable. A few physical 
 and vocal exercises preceding the speaking, is of decided 
 advantage, provided one does not tire himself. Just before 
 speaking the first sentence, to close the mouth and delib- 
 erately fill the lungs by breathing through the nostrils, 
 immediately gives the speaker the sense of vigor. This, 
 together with the erect attitude and " active " (lifted) chest, 
 is a good preparation for the start. 
 
$6 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 CONTROL 
 
 THE first serious difficulty that besets almost every one 
 when first addressing an audience is that of nervousness. 
 It is most serious in the case of the inexperienced ; but is 
 never entirely overcome by the person of oratoric tempera- 
 ment. The unusual environment of the speaker, the seri- 
 ousness of addressing people on important matters, the 
 attitude of a person facing a silent and attentive audience 
 with the assumption that it is worth their while to listen, 
 the consciousness that what is said may be challenged 
 and the way of saying it criticised, may well disturb any 
 one but the most stolid. 
 
 Again, the necessarily quickened thought, the aroused 
 emotions, effective earnestness, may easily run into extrava- 
 gance. Sudden emotions that sweep upon the speaker, 
 unexpected happenings, interruptions in debate, will be 
 among the occasions for self-control. 
 
 By control, however, something more is meant than the 
 mere negative activity involved in overcoming nervousness 
 or "stage -fright," or the prevention of some unpurposed 
 emotion running away with the speaker. It means the 
 ability to command all the powers of mind and body in 
 the complex process of oral delivery, such a use of the 
 powers of impression and expression as shall make the 
 speaker skilful in the clear, forceful, and elegant presenta- 
 tion of the things of the mind. Hence, not only the main 
 features of speaking, but the simplest act of articulation, 
 involves control. 
 
 In general, practice and familiarity in the sphere of Pub- 
 
CONTROL 57 
 
 lie Speaking is the means of cultivating control, and espe- 
 cially the means of cultivating self-control. The only way 
 to learn speaking is to speak. But a knowledge of the prob- 
 lem and some practical suggestions will promote this aim. 
 
 The psychology of control involves a discussion of control 
 through the feelings and the will. 
 
 i. Control through the Feelings. Conscious guid- 
 ance of the complex movements involved in the simplest 
 vocal or other act would be impossible. It is accomplished 
 in nature through intuition or the guidance of feeling. 
 
 Neither sensations nor ideas come to the mind isolated 
 from one another, but in larger unities or trains. When 
 one of the factors is recalled, it starts up the others. This 
 is true of the most minute and complex elements in any 
 association, the details of which the mind may not be 
 able to bring into consciousness. The slightest initiation 
 through memory is sufficient to set off the whole train. 
 
 Every change in the ordinary movements, and also in 
 vocal and gesticular action, is accompanied by a feeling 
 peculiar to itself. This sensation becomes a sign or sym- 
 bol of the movement. The sensation at one stage of change 
 becomes a guide to the sensation at the succeeding stage of 
 change, according to the law of association. And so in the 
 repetition of any movement, feeling guides in its accom- 
 plishment. Otherwise it is purely reflex and uncontrolled. 
 
 The motions of infants are at first extremely impulsive, 
 vague, and numerous. They next become purposeful, but 
 lacking in control. For instance, with the successful effort 
 to locate an object there is, doubtless, a muscular sense of 
 the proper adjustment in reaching for it. These recog- 
 nized feelings of proper adjustment with increasing cer- 
 tainty, guide to similar movements. Learning to talk is 
 accomplished in a similar manner. This is obviously the 
 way adults learn the pronunciation of the strange sounds of 
 a new language; say English-speaking persons learning the 
 
58 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 German "6" or "ii," or the German learning the English 
 "th." The sound is at first vague and inexact. The ad- 
 justments for the utterance of the sound are at first pains- 
 takingly made, with slight satisfaction as to results. Next, 
 the adjustments are more promptly and accurately accom- 
 plished. There is the accompanying feeling of successful 
 adjustment. This feeling is at last the guide, without any 
 conscious effort, for adjusting the organs for the pronuncia- 
 tion of these elements. So also in all the acts of speak- 
 ing, there is the feeling that the vocal organs are illy or 
 well adjusted to produce the best tone, and to insure the 
 most effective vocal control; the feeling that the force and 
 direction of the voice are illy or well adapted to the size 
 of the room and audience ; that the speech and speaker are 
 fitted to the audience, or otherwise. The feeling of adjust- 
 ment applies not only to these general features, but to 
 each detail of vocal, gesticular, and mental movement. 
 The co-ordinations must be effected, the acts made specific 
 and accurate, and repeated till they organize themselves in 
 the mind. Feeling is the bond of this organization. 
 
 What is true of these features particularized is true also 
 of every fellure in the technique of vocal and gesticular 
 movements. The student, practising till these feelings of 
 specific adjustment organize themselves in the mind, can 
 detect a mal-adjustment in speech as readily as he detects 
 that he has put on another person's hat by the way it fits 
 or feels. 
 
 Tone. One of the characteristics of feeling is that of 
 Tone. By tone, psychologists mean that every feeling is 
 either agreeable or painful. The feelings connected with 
 Public Speaking are usually very marked in their tone. 
 The agreeable or painful may be connected with the voice 
 as it is used properly or otherwise, with the ease or diffi- 
 culty of enunciation, with the freedom or hindrance of the 
 co-ordinations, with the feeling of success or failure, and 
 
CONTROL 59 
 
 in connection with the other aspects of the complex func- 
 tions of Public Speaking. All normal speaking, adapted 
 to its end, is promotive of agreeable feelings; hence, it 
 appears that the tone of the feeling becomes at once a 
 guide to the speaker. 
 
 It is not to be supposed, however, that the tone of the 
 feelings will unerringly guide the student into proper con- 
 trol at once and without attention. If the student has been 
 in the habit of flattening the chest and stooping, it is, at 
 first, anything but comfortable to stand erect and with 
 "active" chest. But when the erect attitude is taken, it 
 soon feels right; and finally it is the only attitude that 
 the tone of the feelings approves. Again, the teacher 
 directs the student to the proper use of the voice or the 
 proper form of gesture. The end or purpose soon becomes 
 definite ; and a failure to reach the end results in the feel- 
 ing of discomfort, while the accomplishment of the end 
 results in the feeling of pleasure. The feeling of proper 
 adjustment is closely related to or identical with the feel- 
 ing of satisfaction. 
 
 A few general suggestions should receive the student's 
 attention : Take advantage of the consciousness of being 
 prepared on the subject-matter of the speech, as the feel- 
 ing of composure and adjustment growing out of this is 
 of incalculable advantage in every respect. Do not be 
 painfully conscious and attentive as to the details of the 
 effort; but, instead, the speaker should feel his way to the 
 comfort of effective performance. Before beginning, he 
 should get his bearings as to audience, and adjust him- 
 self to the general aims and temper of his speech, and 
 take time for the right impulses to assert themselves. The 
 feeling that the speech is moving along easily should be 
 fostered. 
 
 Moods. Moods are those habitual feelings that pre- 
 occupy the mind, those fixed sets of feelings that hinder the 
 
6O PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 person from realizing new ones. Each temperament, trade, 
 and profession (this is especially true of the ministry) gives 
 rise to a set of feelings peculiar to itself. These feelings 
 are of narrow range, and are frequently so pronounced as 
 to dominate the speaker. Some students require a recon- 
 struction of their emotional character amounting to a new 
 birth. Dominant sets of feelings must be guarded against, 
 and a combination of temperaments cultivated. 
 
 The student of speaking must submit to the unaccus- 
 tomed. New ways of speaking, new ways of acting, are 
 possible only to those who can welcome new feelings. The 
 greater ease with which youth and those in early manhood 
 can take up that which produces new feelings, indicates this 
 period as the most hopeful one for the study and practice of 
 the Elements of Public Speaking. 
 
 2. Control through the Will. The faults of the stu- 
 dent of Public Speaking may be clearly pointed out. He 
 soon learns to recognize his main faults for himself. He 
 squeezes the voice in the throat ; he speaks too rapidly or too 
 slowly ; he reads in monotone, and without reference to com- 
 municating to the audience. Now, these and other faults 
 may be affected by direct effort of the will. Inhibit by act 
 of will all unpurposed movements of the mind and body. 
 Possibly, inhibition is never purely negative, but includes 
 the substitution of a purposed idea or act for one that is not 
 purposed. For instance, anger is controlled by filling the 
 mind with some other idea, say of pleasure or pity. Inhibi- 
 tion of rapid delivery is accompanied by a substitution of 
 the idea of orderly and deliberate movement. In ordinary 
 control, however, the negative feature of inhibition is dwelt 
 upon more fully than substitutionary activity, and practi- 
 cally amounts to the same in result. 
 
 " In an adult of pretty complete volitional control, almost all 
 movements, whether of recreation or of business, are connected 
 together through their reference to some unity, some final purpose 
 
CONTROL 6l 
 
 which the man intends. There is involved first a process of inhi- 
 bition^ by which all movements not calculated to reach the end are 
 suppressed ; second, co-ordination, by which the remaining move- 
 ments are brought into harmonious relations with each other ; and 
 third, accommodation, by which they are all adjusted to the end 
 present in consciousness. 
 
 " There is also a deepening of the control. The movements 
 become organized, as it were, into the very structure of the body. 
 The body becomes a tool more and more under command, a mech- 
 anism better fitted for its end, and also more responsive to the 
 touch. Isolated acts become capacity for action. That which has 
 been laboriously acquired becomes spontaneous function. There 
 result a number of abilities to act in this way or that abilities to 
 walk, to talk, to read, to write, to labor at the trade. Acquisition 
 becomes function ; control becomes skill. These capacities are 
 also tendencies. They constitute not only a machine capable of 
 action in a given way at direction, but an automatic machine 
 which, when consciousness does not put an end before it, acts for 
 itself. It is this deepening of control which constitutes what we 
 
 1 Dewey's Psychology, p. 382. 
 
62 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 RESERVED FORCE 
 
 As the credit of a person is good, not by what he spends, 
 but by what he holds, so also the strength of a speaker is 
 great, not by what he uses, but by what he keeps in reserve. 
 The tear in the eye stirs more than the tear on the cheek, 
 and the suppressed groan is more affecting than the loud 
 lament. While the audience demands vigor and earnest- 
 ness, it also demands a control that shall master and direct 
 that earnestness. The impression that great force is used 
 upon small matters, and that the speaker's limitations are 
 obvious, is fatal to success. 
 
 Reserved force, however, is not suppressive of earnest- 
 ness. The dull speaker may never be excessive nor extrava- 
 gant in physical or emotional energy, but it cannot be said 
 that he is governed by reserved force. He is, instead, 
 lacking in force, since one can reserve only what he has. 
 The speaker with the control of reserve, it is safe to say, 
 feels more than others. He gives the impression that he 
 has sources of power upon which he does not find it neces- 
 sary to draw. His store of information is not exhausted; 
 his physical strength could well endure more; his vocal 
 force is within the range of easy delivery; his emotions are 
 chastened within appropriate manifestation. 
 
 Many speakers start out with an abrupt force that shocks 
 the audience, and then allow the force gradually to dimin- 
 ish. Consequently, at the climaxes there is insufficient 
 force to make them effective, and finally the close is feeble. 
 The process of good speaking has been reversed. Some- 
 times excessive force continues uniform from beginning to 
 
RESERVED FORCE 63 
 
 end ; and at other times there is unnecessary and excessive, 
 sometimes periodic, application of force. Other violations 
 of this principle are excessive bodily action, pacing the 
 platform, swinging the arms ; the lungs are allowed to 
 become exhausted, the tone is breathy, .excessive loudness 
 is obvious. 
 
 Specialization of Function. As specialization econ- 
 omizes effort, it is to be regarded as an aspect of reserved 
 force. By specialization of function is meant that in the 
 accomplishment of any purpose only those agents, organs, 
 or muscles are used that are necessary to the achievement 
 of the specific aim. It implies also the successive instead 
 of the simultaneous use of the several parts. The awkward 
 walker, for example, exerts the whole body, while the 
 graceful walker uses only the organs and muscles of loco- 
 motion. Again, contrast the excessive muscular exertion 
 of the person learning to ride the bicycle with the ease and 
 localized effort of the skilful rider. 
 
 In Public Speaking, there is a tendency to use too many 
 parts, and to use the necessary parts simultaneously in any 
 special act. At times, physical energy is substituted for 
 vocal discrimination, noise for emphasis. In physical 
 carriage, the body should be erect, free ; and in movements, 
 only the organs of locomotion should be used. In voice, 
 only the kind and force adapted to the special demand 
 should be allowed. Excessive and laborious use should be 
 guarded against. In enunciation, only the tip of the tongue 
 should be active, if the proper sound demand it alone. In 
 gesture, the whole body should not be thrown with the 
 movements of the arms; and the fingers should distinguish 
 their function from that of the hand. 
 
 These examples will serve to show the application of the 
 principle of specialization in delivery. 
 
 As might be supposed, specialization is realized by 
 inhibiting the reflex participation of unrelated functions, 
 
64 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 and by educating the special functions to depend on their 
 own office. For example, where emphasis is called for, 
 train the voice to use emphasis instead of loudness. Again, 
 when the hand and arm only are needed in gesture, compel 
 the body to remain passive. To the audience, specializa- 
 tion gives the impression of ease and elegance, and so sat- 
 isfies the aesthetic demand of eye and ear. 
 
 Reserved force manifests itself in the following ways: 
 
 1. In the physical bearing. It is strong, and every move- 
 ment has a purpose, and is without excess. It is closely 
 identified with physical control; the co-ordinations are 
 accurate and timely. It suggests culture and good char- 
 acter. 
 
 2. In the use of the voice. The breath is all converted 
 into tone. The chest is active, the lungs are well filled. 
 Breathing is never labored nor obtrusive. There is an ab- 
 sence of noisiness. 
 
 3. In suppressed emotion. In reserved force, there is the 
 impression given of strong and vital thought and feeling. 
 The speaker seems to express less emotion than he feels. 
 Intensity and dynamic effort, rather than noise, are the man- 
 ifestations of such force. 
 
 4. In a masterful hold upon the audience. The speaker 
 seems to hold the audience by direct effort of will. This 
 hold upon the audience seems to reflect its power upon the 
 speaker, and he in turn is restrained or held by the audi- 
 ence. Poise and purpose are controlling. Mentally, 
 emotionally, vocally, the audience is in the grasp of the 
 speaker. The total impression upon the audience is that of 
 vigor with ease. 
 
 5. In specialized effort. This gives the impression of ease 
 and grace. 
 
THE CONVERSATIONAL BASIS 65 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE CONVERSATIONAL BASIS 
 
 THE conversational style of delivery is the next source 
 of clearness, force, and elegance in Public Speaking. The 
 communicative attitude of mind, direct address, is closely 
 related to the conversational style. This style is the basis 
 of all effective delivery. It is simple, direct, varied. 
 
 The conversational is not to be confused with the feeble 
 and indifferent manner of speaking. It demands anima- 
 tion, energy, and is consistent with loudness. 
 
 The main characteristic of the conversational is that of 
 variety ; and in this respect is identical with our characteri- 
 zation of speaking as opposed to reading. In the delivery 
 of strongly emotional, oratoric, and forensic discourse, the 
 delivery heightens with the emotion. Increased intensity, 
 loudness, and dynamic effort will be demanded; but then 
 the words containing the leading thought will be differenti- 
 ated by change of pitch and increased ictus (emphasis), and 
 by use of the characteristic long slides belonging to the 
 conversational style. 
 
 After each emotional heightening, there must be a return 
 to the composure and discrimination of the conversational. 
 Without this return the style becomes "declamatory," 
 "speech-making," "noisy," "grandiloquent." This kind 
 of delivery is loud, labored, and heavy, and is sometimes 
 called monotonous. It deals with a single emotion; and 
 even this does not grow out of the ideas involved, but is, 
 rather, that vague feeling arising out of the notion that 
 something important is being attempted. The emotion 
 may be the prevailing emotion of the speech or composi- 
 
66 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 tion, without any of the varied emotions, the lights and 
 shades, of the piece; but even in this case the speaker is 
 blindly swept along. 
 
 Transition. An important aspect of the differentiating 
 process of the conversational style is that of transition. The 
 separation of the parts of the sentences, of one sentence 
 from another, and the change from one paragraph to an- 
 other, are clearly marked by pause, change of pitch, kind 
 of voice, etc. The delivery changes with the varied 
 thoughts and emotions. At the main divisions, there is 
 a lull not unlike that of well-ordered conversation when 
 the subject is spontaneously changed. The speaker then 
 starts out with much of the composure and deliberation of 
 a new beginning. 
 
 Another aspect of the conversational delivery, closely 
 allied to that of transition, is that of time-taking, or deliber- 
 ation. 
 
 In beginning, the speaker should be deliberate; for the 
 persons of the audience are thinking of many things other 
 than the speech. If he speak rapidly, they will become 
 bewildered and be left behind. The speaker should be 
 sure that the listeners are with him before the pace is 
 greatly quickened. The same conditions are to be observed 
 in the transitions of the main divisions. 
 
 Time-taking is not to be confused with lazy, tardy, 
 drawling delivery. In the heat of the emotion, the time 
 may be unusually rapid: so also may the utterance of 
 slurred phrases in all kinds of delivery; but even in rapid 
 delivery some parts are retarded, and pauses made at ap- 
 propriate places. 
 
 Silence. The hesitance and thoughtfulness, at times 
 characteristic of the purely colloquial, should be allowed 
 as a feature of the conversational style. Normal silence, 
 arising from a transition of ideas, is an important factor 
 in delivery. The mind of the speaker, however, at this 
 
THE CONVERSATIONAL BASIS 67 
 
 point must be active, as the silence resulting from mental 
 vacuity is quite another matter. The silence resulting from 
 waiting on the idea, or from adjusting one's self to a new 
 trend of ideas, is full of significance. It points to the past, 
 and anticipates the future. At such pauses the listener is 
 active, adjusting himself to the conditions; hence, no dis- 
 appointment is felt, no time is lost. Contrast the short 
 silence occasioned by a misplaced page of manuscript. 
 
 The inexperienced speaker regards silence as ominous. 
 To him it seems to suggest inefficiency and to presage fail- 
 ure. He must hear his voice constantly sounding. Ex- 
 cept in the case of natural drawlers and stolid folks, the art 
 of time-taking in delivery must be acquired. 
 
 The Start. Select persons (possibly an individual is 
 better) in the farthest part of the audience, and direct your 
 talk to them. To insure a proper start, Col. T. W. Hig- 
 ginson recommends the speaker to say, when occasion 
 admits, as in after-dinner speaking, "I was just saying to 
 my friend here." This induces the conversational attitude. 
 A favorable start is the best assurance of a good time 
 speaking. To recover from a faulty beginning as to key, 
 force, and time, is difficult, if not impossible. Think of 
 good speaking as simply strong talk. 
 
68 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 A 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE AUDIENCE 
 
 THE next source of the essentials of Public Speaking is 
 that of the audience. The speaker is conditioned by the 
 audience as truly as the audience is affected by the speaker. 
 A speech is, in fact, the joint product of speaker and audi- 
 ence. The audience reflects the thought and feeling of the 
 speaker ; and the speaker, in turn, reflects the mind of the 
 audience. He intuitively realizes the sympathy of the audi- 
 ence, and is quick to feel when a false chord is struck. He 
 realizes when an unwelcome or unharmonious idea is felt 
 by the audience. The stimulus of attention and sympathy 
 is, at times, exhilarating in the highest degree. In the 
 highest flights of oratory, so unobserved are the symbols of 
 communication, that the minds of the speaker and listener 
 seem to affect each other immediately. Antagonism may 
 overcome a feeble speaker ; but he who is confident of the 
 right and assured of his strength finds it a stimulus. He 
 arouses his energies, determined to win. 
 
 Speaking, in which there is not conscious communication, 
 is destructive of everything that might be called eloquence. 
 A response of some kind is essential to the welfare of 
 speaking. Frequently the speaker is unconscious of this 
 lack of grasp on the audience, because he is having a good 
 time all alone, or is occupied with the subordinate pro- 
 cesses of the speech. At other times, the conscious lack 
 of grasp is realized in an overwhelming way. In order to 
 communicate, the speaker must first of all gain, and then 
 hold the attention of his audience. 
 
 Attention. "He held the attention of the audience 
 
THE AUDIENCE 69 
 
 from the beginning to the close," is often heard in proof of 
 a successful effort. The ability to do this is one of the 
 commonest tests of effective speaking. It is the safest one, 
 too, if the speaker is sure that the attention given is spon- 
 taneous. Spontaneous attention is the attention that the 
 person must give because he cannot, under the circum- 
 stances, avoid it. 
 
 Frequently, however, the attention is voluntary or 
 " forced," and is the result, not of the speaker's power, but 
 of the good manners of the audience. The listener compels 
 himself to attend. It requires effort, and involves purpose. 
 
 A speaker with marked ability to hold the attention and 
 to exert a masterful control over an audience is called 
 magnetic. No description of a speaker's power is more 
 common than this, and yet none is more vague. Sometimes 
 it is used as a literal description of what takes place. The 
 speaker is said to magnetize the audience with "animal 
 magnetism." In describing the power of a certain speaker, 
 a minister of more than ordinary culture once said to me, 
 " I could almost see the fluid pass to the audience." With 
 imagination a little more vivid, the cautious "almost" 
 would have been turned into an absolute statement. 
 
 What are the most striking effects produced by the " mag- 
 netic " speaker? Rapt attention, that makes the listener 
 oblivious to all else but the speech. The listener enters 
 thoroughly into the thoughts, emotions, and volitions of 
 the speaker. For the time he loses his independence ; he 
 is susceptible to the slightest suggestion ; he involuntarily 
 applauds, laughs, cries, is pitiful, burns with indignation, 
 becomes angry, as swayed by the thought of the speaker. 
 The stir of the audience and the sigh of relief are the most 
 common reaction from this kind of attention. The listener 
 " comes to himself," somewhat as if waking out of a dream. 
 Sometimes the issue is in action, as when the audience of 
 Demosthenes cry out, "Let us march against Philip!" 
 
7O PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 In rapt attention the members of an audience have been 
 known to rise to their feet, sometimes to applaud, at other 
 times to stand with fixed gaze and open mouth. 
 
 Do not these manifestations suggest hypnotic states ? 
 Certainly these results are not due to any occult power of 
 mind or any mysterious "fluid." They are perfectly nor- 
 mal, and are explicable as phenomena of spontaneous atten- 
 tion. And as recent psychology gives up the theory of a 
 " mesmeric fluid " and " animal magnetism," and accepts 
 the phenomena of attention and suggestion purely psychic 
 processes as an explanation of the hypnotic state, so, also, 
 in analyzing the power of magnetic speaking, crude notions 
 of a peculiar fluid must be abandoned. 
 
 The matter of the speech and the manner of the delivery 
 adapted to secure the spontaneous attention of the listener, 
 that is, to lead the attentive mind on step by step in the 
 thought, feelings, volitions, and aims of the speaker, is 
 the only mystery involved. To secure, in some measure, this 
 involuntary attention of the listener, even though genius is 
 lacking, is the legitimate aim of every modest student of 
 speaking. 
 
 i. Communicative Attitude. To secure attention and 
 get a response, the speaker must, first of all, be in the com- 
 municative attitude of mind. This is the attitude of direct 
 address. As language is social in its function, it is impos- 
 sible to a solitary mind. We may, indeed, have sounds and 
 symbols without having language, for language always pre- 
 supposes a real or imaginary mind addressed. In Public 
 Speaking, the mind of the audience is directly communi- 
 cated with by means of the voice and action. 
 
 (1) The communicative attitude of mind speaks to, and 
 not before, an audience. 
 
 (2) It is essentially the vocative attitude. The speaker at 
 his best spontaneously says, " My friends," " My neigh- 
 bors," " My countrymen," "Fellow-citizens," "My brethren." 
 
THE AUDIENCE J\ 
 
 These are, in their best use, by no means mere comen- 
 tions of speech. When the words are not used, the speaker 
 should, from time to time, mentally supply the vocative. 
 
 (3) The communicative attitude manifests itself in facing 
 the audience. 
 
 The speaker should not merely " appear before the audi- 
 ence," but should look at it. The eye is not only expres- 
 sive, but controlling. It first challenges attention, and 
 leads in all expression by gesture. Gesture while looking 
 intently at the manuscript, or above and beyond the audi- 
 ence, is provokingly ineffective. In every description that 
 necessarily takes the eye away from the audience, the eye 
 starts from the audience and returns to it. Playing back 
 and forth, the eye, together with the movement, says, " Do 
 you see it?" The speaker should localize individuals or 
 groups, and study the effect of the effort upon them. To 
 give proper pitch and direction to the voice, select a person 
 in the farther part of the room, and speak to him as collo- 
 quially as possible. In speaking to individuals of the audi- 
 ence, however, do not " catch their eye," that is, to recognize 
 them. Speaking then becomes personal, and is liable to 
 give offence. 
 
 (4) Communication objectifies the thought. The subjective 
 or soliloquizing attitude of mind is to be avoided. " Objec- 
 tify," must be frequently urged upon the student. "Talk 
 it out ; " but not noisily or fussily. 
 
 2. Deferential Attitude. The deferential attitude of 
 mind and manner quickens the sympathies of both speaker 
 and audience. The arrogant, boastful attitude repels, while 
 the simple and frank manner wins sympathy and attention. 
 But deference to the audience has its sources in good-will. 
 
 In these ways, if the matter is adapted to the purpose, 
 the listener is interested, foreign thoughts excluded, and, 
 by the laws of association, the mind is led on step by step 
 in the thoughts and emotions, and to the purposes of the 
 speaker. 
 
72 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 GOOD-WILL 
 
 WE have already, in several places in this treatise, come 
 upon the idea that effective speech is in its roots moral. 
 We face the same conception again. No one who, from 
 the pulpit, at the bar, on the rostrum or platform, speaks 
 upon serious matters, has any right to demand a hearing 
 unless he intends the good of those addressed. The good 
 of man is the most comprehensive aim of the speaker, as 
 it is of all human effort. If one speak merely for entertain- 
 ment, he must, in order to get into the best frame of mind 
 for the purpose, even in this, will the temporary good of 
 those addressed. If effective speech is essentially moral, 
 it must be because of its aims. The aim of true speech 
 is not victory, but the welfare of the individual and the 
 race. 
 
 Good-will toward those with whom we communicate has 
 an inherent force that defies analysis. Some aspects of it, 
 however, may be brought under our attention. 
 
 1. The speaker inspired by good-will recognizes the rights 
 and worth of man, and assumes the attitude of deference 
 when speaking to men. This opens the door to their emo- 
 tions through their sympathies. This right to civil and fair 
 treatment is specifically recognized in the conventional com- 
 pliments of Public Speaking. Though known to be con- 
 ventional, they still have value, and are ineffective only 
 when compliments degenerate into flattery. Compliment is 
 all the more effective if genuinely sincere. 
 
 2. Again, good- will is a fertile source of sympathy. Sym- 
 pathy is one of the most practical demands of good speaking. 
 
GOOD-WILL 73 
 
 By means of it the speaker reaches the listeners' point of 
 view, feels what they feel, and is guided accordingly. It is 
 the force of the "one mind." Interests are identical, the 
 feelings are in accord, and the speaker is heard gladly. 
 
 3. The confidential attitude is an important aspect of sym- 
 pathy. In consequence of it the speaker is sincere, frank, 
 takes the audience into his thoughts and motives. Open- 
 ing the channels for free communication, and bringing the 
 mind into close touch, he reaches toward the audience and 
 talks to its individuals. 
 
 The confidential attitude is profitably attended to in con- 
 nection with the voice and bearing. Vocal direction and 
 modulation are immediately affected by it, as is also the 
 physical bearing. The aspirate or half-whispered tone, care- 
 fully directed to the individual, is the intense form of the 
 confidential voice. But in speaking, other elements neces- 
 sarily modify this form. Nothing, however, so develops the 
 agreeable voice as the sympathetic emotions. 
 
74 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 VARIETY 
 
 AN adequate utilization of the principles already discussed 
 will foster that variety which is indispensable to effective 
 speaking. It should, however, be definitely held before the 
 speaking-aim as a point to be realized. The demand for 
 variety is fundamental in the human mind. Nature, with her 
 infinite forms and colors, with her changes, is adapted to 
 satisfy this demand for variety, which in its aspects of change 
 and difference is fundamental in all thinking. Sensation is 
 realized only through change or difference. For instance, 
 the foul odor of a room is not detected by the occupant long 
 accustomed to it. A person coming from out-of-doors, by 
 contrast, at once forcibly appreciates the condition. We 
 have already treated the importance of differentiation in the 
 thinking process. This differentiation manifests itself ob- 
 jectively as variety. 
 
 Variety in the aspect of novelty is interesting to the lis- 
 tener. It is a means of keeping the mind alert and atten- 
 tive, and so reduces the effort of hearing. The mind says, 
 " What next ? " and is constantly expectant. The soporific 
 influence of uninteresting discourse, or of monotonous, uni- 
 form delivery, is too familiar to most audiences. People 
 sleep well the senses are dormant under even loud noises 
 when they are uniform. A lull in the delivery or actual 
 pause is more arousing than uniformly loud tones. 
 
 Variety must not be capricious. Changes of force, of rate, 
 or of other elements, must grow out of the thought and feel- 
 ing of the speech. The practice of a prominent preacher, 
 formerly of Boston, well illustrated faulty change. He, in a 
 
VARIETY 75 
 
 most arbitrary fashion, would suddenly change the pitch. It 
 was done to rest the voice. The change, and hence all its 
 benefits, might have been secured by letting it be expressive 
 of the variety in the thought and feeling. 
 
 As in all art, so here, variety must, however, recognize 
 the claims of Unity. The leading thought of the speech and 
 principal aim must unify all the parts. The lesser unities 
 of paragraphs, and even sentences, must not be overlooked. 
 Moreover, each speech or selection has its own atmosphere 
 or prevailing emotion underlying all the variety of its parts. 
 It gives the ideational, and especially the emotional unity of 
 speech. All the parts must harmonize with this unity. The 
 atmosphere of tragedy differs from that of comedy. That 
 of the funeral sermon differs from that of the cheerful essay. 
 Each part of a discourse is colored emotionally by each im- 
 mediately adjacent part. With the ideal differentiation the 
 relation with reference to unity must also be observed. The 
 anger of one part colors the tenderest sentiment of the adja- 
 cent part. Words introducing a quotation are colored by 
 the emotion of the quotation. 
 
 But, possibly, variety is more difficult to realize than unity, 
 and leading attention must be given to it. To secure vari- 
 ety in the delivery, the speaker must first of all realize the 
 content of the language. Again, by attending to the objec- 
 tive aspects of delivery, controlling the kinds of voice, rate, 
 pitch, and other features of delivery, one may more readily 
 master this source of effective speaking. 
 
BOOK III 
 
 ELEMENTS OF THE ESSENTIALS OF PUBLIC 
 SPEAKING 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ELEMENTS OF CLEARNESS 
 
 SEC. I. Enunciation. Enunciation refers to the deliv- 
 ery of words as such. It involves purity of tone (to be dis- 
 cussed under voice), syllabication, vowel moulding, and 
 consonantal articulation. The distinct enunciation of words, 
 including as it does the clear-cut coinage of syllables, is 
 the leading element in the intelligibility or clearness of 
 delivery. 
 
 The mistake of supposing that distinct utterance depends 
 upon loudness is common. I have found that persons of 
 meagre training, speaking for the first time in a large hall, 
 must almost invariably be restrained from excess of vocal 
 effort. Noise is the result of such effort, but the words are 
 unintelligible. Aiming at distinctness by means of loud 
 and strained vocal effort leads to a clumsy formation of 
 the vowels and consonants, and so defeats its purpose. 
 
 Mr. A. M. Bell says that the Rev. Mr. Spurgeon, address- 
 ing an audience of twenty-five thousand people in Agricul- 
 tural Hall, in London, was, because of his accurate and 
 vigorous enunciation, distinctly heard by all. 
 
 For distinctness, the speaker should aim at pure rather 
 than loud tone, and depend mainly upon effective enuncia- 
 tion. 
 
 Syllabication. Although the syllable strikes the ear 
 as a single impulse, it is usually composed of more than 
 
 76 
 
ELEMENTS OF CLEARNESS 77 
 
 one element. The word "man *' has three, while " strands " 
 has seven elements ; but they are uttered so quickly that 
 they strike the ear as one sound. To do this well requires 
 a quick, as well as an accurate action of the organs. At- 
 tention should be centred rather upon syllables than upon 
 words. 
 
 Enunciation is frequently bad, because insufficient time 
 is given to each word. The speaker attempts to give long 
 words, and words difficult to utter, in the time of short 
 words, and words easy of utterance. This results in a 
 tumbling or skipping of syllables. Taking care, then, of 
 the syllables remedies this feature of faulty enunciation. 
 Such words as "uninterrupted," ''indivisibility" must be 
 given time, so also difficult combinations, especially a suc- 
 cession of sounds of the same order. Try the following 
 sentence from Carlyle: "In this world with its wild whirl- 
 ing eddies and mad foam oceans . . . dost thou think that 
 there is therefore no justice? " 
 
 Accent. Each accented syllable requires a separate 
 and decided vocal impulse or ictus, while the unaccented 
 syllable may be given with remission of the effort. For 
 instance, in " king, king," and in " boy-hood" each syllable 
 requires a separate impulse ; but in " kingly " and " boy- 
 ish," the unaccented syllables are given with the vocal 
 remission. It is evident, then, that neglect of the accent 
 lessens the vigor of enunciation. 
 
 Vowel Moulding. Shaping the mouth for the vowel 
 formation may most accurately be called moulding the 
 vowel. The student should appreciate this characteristic 
 of vowel formation. A fuller understanding of the nature 
 of both vowels and consonants must prove helpful in their 
 utterance. A vowel is the result of vocalization with a 
 definite, fixed position of the organs of enunciation. It is 
 syllabic, and in its formation the breath is not obstructed. 
 
 A consonant is the result of vocalization with a definite, 
 
78 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 fixed position of the organs of enunciation. It is non- 
 syllabic; and in its formation the breath or voice is ob- 
 structed by two articulating parts ; as, for instance, the tip 
 of the tongue and hard palate in " t." Consonants are artic- 
 ulated, while vowels are moulded. In current enunciation 
 the obstruction is but momentary ; but it is sharp and accu- 
 rate. Vowels form the sensuous, and consonants the intel- 
 lectual elements of speech. The use of the latter is the 
 prerogative of man alone. Women articulate better than 
 men; the cultivated, better than the uncultivated. Clear- 
 cut enunciation is one of the signs of intellectuality and 
 refinement. 
 
 The student should accustom himself to an elementary, 
 that is, separate utterance of the vowels and consonants. 
 
 English Vowels. The following is Mr. A. M. Bell's 
 list of vowels : 
 
 1. Eve 7. orange 13. do 
 
 2. fll 8. ah 14. cure 
 
 3. ale 9. err 15. pole 
 
 4. care 10. up 16. ore 
 
 5. met II. ice 17. all 
 
 6. at 12. far 18. on 
 
 I=i-f-e; a = a + ee; o = o -f oo. 
 
 A (far), 66 (pool), and e (feel), may be regarded, so far 
 as the position of tongue, lips, and vocal cords are involved, 
 as typical vowels. 
 
 In "a," the lower jaw drops, the upper lip is lifted and 
 arched, showing the central upper teeth, the aperture con- 
 forming in a general way to the outline of a triangle, 
 whose base is the lower lip. The tongue is flattened and 
 hollowed. 
 
 In a general way, the position for " e " is the reverse of 
 this. The mouth is extended from side to side. The posi- 
 tion is a more nearly closed one, and the organs are brought 
 nearer together. It is the " smiling " position of the mouth. 
 
 In " oo " the lips are rounded. 
 
ELEMENTS OF CLEARNESS 79 
 
 English Consonants. The following is Mr. A. M. 
 Bell's list of consonants : 
 
 With BREATH only. With VOICE. With nasal VOICE. 
 
 M in man. 
 N in nun. 
 Ng in song. 
 
 Th 
 
 in 
 
 thin. 
 
 B 
 
 in 
 
 ban. 
 
 Wh 
 
 in 
 
 whey. 
 
 V 
 
 in 
 
 voice. 
 
 F 
 
 in 
 
 fell. 
 
 W 
 
 in 
 
 will. 
 
 8 
 
 in 
 
 sin. 
 
 D 
 
 in 
 
 do. 
 
 Sh 
 
 in 
 
 shun. 
 
 Th 
 
 in 
 
 this. 
 
 T 
 
 in 
 
 tin. 
 
 L 
 
 in 
 
 lo. 
 
 H 
 
 in 
 
 how. 
 
 B 
 
 in 
 
 ray. 
 
 K 
 
 in 
 
 king. 
 
 z 
 
 in 
 
 zinc. 
 
 Q 
 
 in 
 
 queen. 
 
 Zh 
 
 in 
 
 vision. 
 
 P 
 
 in 
 
 pin. 
 
 Y 
 
 in 
 
 yes. 
 
 C 
 
 in church. 
 
 Q 
 
 in 
 
 go- 
 
 
 
 
 J 
 
 in 
 
 judge. 
 
 Exercise. From the nature of vowels and consonants, 
 it must appear that skill in enunciation is secured by means 
 of the accuracy, promptness, and vigor of their utterance. 
 Practice to this end must be elementary. Supplementary 
 attention moreover, while in the act of speaking, may be 
 given to enunciation. 
 
 Practice. (i) Fronting the tone. (To be discussed 
 under the section on voice.) 
 
 (2) Sounding the separate vowels and consonants of the 
 tables. 
 
 (3) Shaping the mouth for lip-mobility: with voice, and 
 again without voice, round the lips on do, rapidly change to 
 ah, and then to e. Thus : 55, ah, e, etc. 
 
 (4) Spelling words phonetically. 
 
 (5) Exercising the tip of the tongue. Practice do, do, 
 etc., rapidly ; change to to, to, etc. ; now repeat " fa, la, si, 
 do." 
 
 (6) Speaking with exaggerated movements of the tongue 
 and lips, as though talking to the deaf, generously opening 
 the mouth teeth as well as lips. 
 
8O PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 (7) Carefully and patiently pronouncing each separate 
 word of any selection to be delivered. 
 
 (8) Enouncing difficult combinations : fifth, eighth, this, 
 then, should'st, would'st, sixty-sixth, cloud-capt, ing, ness, 
 lovedst. 
 
 " 'Twas a wild, mad kind of a night, as black as the bottomless pit, 
 The wind was howling away like a Bedlamite in a fit, 
 Tearing the ash boughs off, and mowing the poplars down, 
 In the meadows beyond the old flour-mill where you turn to go off to the 
 town." 
 
 " Nothing could stop old Lightning Bess but the broad breast of the 
 sea." 
 
 " Lovely art thou, O Peace, and lovely are thy children, and lovely sure 
 thy footsteps in the green valleys." 
 
 wzld whirling copies. . . . 
 
 (9) In speaking, (i) avoid forcing the voice ; (2) centre 
 the attention upon syllables ; (3) attend to the final syllable 
 of each word ; (4) project the tone, making the consonants 
 fricative, and giving the vowels due quantity. 
 
 SEC. II. Emphasis. The intelligibility, or clearness, 
 of the delivery depends in the next place upon Emphasis. 
 By change of emphasis, as many different ideas may be 
 conveyed as the sentence contains words. It follows from 
 this, that an emphasis not sharply given may blur, and 
 one placed at random may defeat the intended meaning. 
 Hence it is of practical importance to know how to empha- 
 size a word. The intention to emphasize a word makes the 
 thought of that word stand out prominently in the mind. 
 
 A word is made emphatic by making it stand out promi- 
 nently from among the rest of the sentence. For intellec- 
 tive emphasis this is done by placing the word on a higher 
 pitch, and uttering it with increased ictus. This stress must, 
 of course, be upon the accented syllable. The accented 
 
ELEMENTS OF CLEARNESS 8 1 
 
 syllable bears the same relation to its word as the emphatic 
 word bears to its sentence. 
 
 "The feudalism of Capital is not a whit less formidable 
 than the feudalism of Force" 1 The words " capital " and 
 " force " are rendered emphatic by being lifted on a higher 
 pitch than the rest of the words, and by increased ictus. 
 Change the emphasis to other words and the meaning is 
 changed. 
 
 There is another order of emphasis, mainly emotional, 
 given by pausing before or after a word or phrase, and the 
 use of a different kind of voice. 
 
 "Up the English come too late." 
 
 Pausing before the phrase " too late " illustrates this kind 
 of emphasis. Ordinarily emphasis means the treatment of 
 the word as first described. It is by far the most impor- 
 tant feature of emphasis, and the latter order is mentioned 
 mainly for completeness of treatment. 
 
 Sometimes the idea to be emphasized is contained in a 
 phrase. In this case the phrase is to be regarded as a long 
 compound word. 
 
 In applying emphasis, it is of primary importance to know 
 what word to emphasize. To determine the proper word to 
 emphasize, main reliance must be placed upon the analysis 
 of the language-content. Sometimes, however, the meaning 
 that best suits the mind's purpose is found out by trying 
 different emphases, and so allowing the ear to guide. The 
 clearer the style of the composition, the easier it is to 
 select the right emphasis. Since the thought process is one 
 of comparison, the word containing the new idea or anti- 
 thetic idea must always receive the leading emphasis. Be- 
 yond the primary and secondary emphasis the objective 
 treatment cannot profitably go. 
 
 1 Horace Mann. 
 
 2 Browning: Herv6 Kiel 
 
82 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 Faults. The more common faults to be guarded against 
 are, briefly, these : 
 
 1. Emphasizing too many words. Where all are generals, 
 there can be no privates. 
 
 2. Emphasizing words at regular intervals. 
 
 3. Emphasizing unimportant words. 
 
 4. Emphasizing words at random. 
 
 As already stated, the main dependence for correctly pla- 
 cing emphasis is in clear thinking. 
 
 SEC. III. Phrasing, or Grouping. In the analysis 
 under the chapter on " Content of Language," we have found 
 that a sentence contains, (i) that of which something is 
 stated, and (2) that which is stated of the something. Now, 
 these leading parts of the idea are restricted, extended, 
 and otherwise modified by subordinate ideas. Some of 
 them affect the subject, others the predicate. In some sen- 
 tences additional ideas of co-ordinate value, in others 
 parenthetical or explanatory ideas, are introduced. Clear- 
 ness, then, in delivery, requires that these relations be ex- 
 pressed. This is done by vocal punctuation and other 
 modifications called phrasing, or grouping. The principal 
 means of phrasing are, pause, pitch, and rate ; and although 
 inflection is primarily expressive of emotional states, it also 
 plays an important part in grouping, since, in this, the 
 falling slide closes the thought, while the rising slide in- 
 dicates an incomplete idea. 
 
 Ideas are discriminated by pausing between them. The 
 degree of their separation determines the length of the 
 pause. Ideas of equal value assume, in the main, the same 
 pitch. Parenthetical and other subordinate ideas are slurred 
 by the use of more rapid utterance. Such a phrase, when in- 
 troducing an important explanation, becomes a leading idea, 
 and is treated accordingly; that is, it is given in slower time. 
 
 Elliptical ideas are accounted for by means of pauses. 
 A single sentence may illustrate grouping. 
 
ELEMENTS OF CLEARNESS 83 
 
 " It may, in the next place, be asked, perhaps, supposing 
 all this to be true, what can we do ? " 1 The group, " in the 
 next place," is formed by pausing before the word "in" and 
 after "place," and by giving the group on a lower pitch, 
 with slightly increased rate; "be asked" returns to the pitch 
 of "it may," and slows down slightly. The group, "per- 
 haps, " receives a pause before and after, and is rendered 
 on a lower pitch. The ellipsis, or omitted part, after "per- 
 haps" is "be asked," hence, pause as long as would be 
 required to say these words. The group, " supposing . . . 
 true," is separated by pause, and still lower pitch and 
 faster time. The group, " what . . . do ? " is separated by 
 pause, and returns to the pitch of the first two words of the 
 sentence. 
 
 SEC. IV. Transition. Transition may be regarded as 
 an accompaniment, if not an aspect, of phrasing and group- 
 ing. More exactly, it describes the changes that take place 
 in passing from one group to another. As we have already 
 shown, some of these groups are within the sentence. But 
 there are larger groups or unities that must be attended to 
 in delivery. Each completed idea, usually indicated by 
 the sentence, must be clearly separated from its fellows. 
 A transition from a literal statement to an illustration, from 
 one part of a description to another, must be distinctly made. 
 
 The passage from one paragraph to another, from one 
 stanza to another, being among the larger groups, requires 
 transition of wider intervals. 
 
 While transition primarily marks the thought-groups of 
 the speech, it is also expressive of the emotional changes 
 of the group. The ebb and flow of any emotion, and the 
 change from one emotion to another, are among the occa- 
 sions for transition. These emotional changes may be as 
 widely divergent as the grave and the gay, or so delicate 
 as to be difficult to analyze. 
 
 1 Daniel Webster : Public Opinion. 
 
84 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 Transition from group to group is effected, first of all, by 
 pausing between groups, and then by change of rate, of 
 pitchy and of kinds of voice within the group. 
 
 While no attempt is made to illustrate the fine shades of 
 grouping and transition, it is thought worth the while, on a 
 single sentence, to give the main features of the grouping, 
 with special reference to the emotion. 
 
 "'Tis true this god did shake; his coward lips did from 
 their color fly." The group, "'tis true," reaffirms with 
 slight irony. The transition to the group "this god," is 
 marked with intense irony. Transition to "did shake," 
 less ironical, strongly affirmatory of a suppository denial of 
 shaking. The groups, "'Tis . . . shake," are given with 
 irony, high pitch, deliberation, circumflex. The transi- 
 tion or change to the second member is marked. A tinge 
 of irony remains. But Cassius attempts to be rather more 
 indifferent, and to make, mainly, a statement of fact, lower 
 pitch, more rapid rate, major slides. 
 
 How, then, may the speaker become skilful in the use 
 of Transition ? In this, as in other aspects of speaking, 
 the main dependence should be in mental activity. Some 
 common hindrances, however, may be noted, and a few 
 hints be given from the objective point of view. 
 
 The following are the more common faults : 
 
 1. I have frequently found pupils grouping by mechani- 
 cally following the punctuation. Punctuation only in a 
 general way indicates the pauses of delivery, and does not 
 reach at all changes of rate and pitch. Sometimes the 
 pause is as long at a comma as it is at other times at a 
 period. 
 
 2. Another common fault is the habit of running on 
 without change as long as the breath allows, and, in the 
 main, pausing only to supply the lungs. Akin to this 
 is the fault of capricious pausing without reference to 
 sense. 
 
ELEMENTS OF CLEARNESS 8$ 
 
 3. The fault of falling into a melodic swing, and paus- 
 ing at regular intervals, is to be guarded against. 
 
 4. Probably no fault under this head is more common 
 than that of hurriedly pouring out words, with little or no 
 recognition of differentiated parts. Such delivery is fluent, 
 but fluency is not eloquence. 
 
 As restlessness and anxiety precipitate the speaker into 
 false pausing and pitch, he should direct his attention to 
 ease and time-taking, and by effort of will apply pause, 
 pitch, and rate according to the requirements of transition. 
 Always distinctly aim at making the thought clear. 
 
86 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ELEMENTS OF FORCE 
 
 SEC. I. A Good Voice. A voice may be clear, ring- 
 ing, and easily heard at a distance, and still not be a 
 good voice. For a voice may have those qualities, and at 
 the same time be harsh, throaty, strident, and be limited in 
 range of pitch, and, most serious of all, deficient in musi- 
 cal quality. To be good, a voice must be, not only an 
 organ of clear enunciation, but be capable also of ex- 
 pressing all shades and complexities of emotions. This 
 capability is due, in the main, to its musical quality. A 
 voice of this kind contributes primarily to force; but in- 
 asmuch as a musical voice is agreeable in itself, it also 
 satisfies the aesthetic demands. 
 
 A good voice is characterized by Strength, Flexibility, 
 Purity, Range of Pitch, and Resonance. 
 
 i. Strength refers to those qualities that render the voice 
 capable of sustained effort, and to its capacity for loudness. 
 Its further and most satisfactory manifestation is a well- 
 supported tone that gives the impression of solidity. 
 Strength is favorably affected by a healthy condition of 
 the lungs, and of the muscles and membrane of the vocai 
 passage; but it is secured principally by the strength and 
 proper use of the muscles of respiration. If the diaphrag- 
 matic and other muscles of respiration fail to act strongly 
 and accurately, a feeble, relaxed tone, lacking in the power 
 of projection, results. While it is true that a strong 
 resilience of the lungs aids in strength of tones, vocal 
 strength does not, as popularly supposed, depend mainly 
 upon "strong lungs," but upon the strength and upon the 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 8? 
 
 sustained resistance of the inspiratory, against the expiratory 
 act of breathing. 
 
 In ordinary breathing, the rather long act of inspiration 
 is followed by a sudden relaxation of the inspiratory mus- 
 cles, and quick expulsion of the breath. This process, 
 although normal in ordinary breathing, is reversed in the 
 production of voice. Hence, in speaking, the tendency 
 is still to sudden expulsion of breath, and consequent 
 feeble tone. This must give place to strong and sustained 
 muscular action, resulting in slow and firm dealing out of 
 the breath. 
 
 2. Flexibility. By flexibility of voice is meant the 
 ability to change easily from pitch to pitch, on successive 
 syllables, either by sliding, or by a distinct change from 
 one pitch to another. It includes also the "vanish" or 
 slide of the voice on the single vowel. For instance, "a" 
 is properly a compound tone composed of a -f- e. As or- 
 dinarily pronounced by a good voice, the latter part (e) of 
 the sound glides to a lower pitch. Harsh tones result in 
 part from a lack of this "vanishing," or gliding. From 
 these considerations it is at once evident that the music of 
 the tone is enriched by flexibility. 
 
 3. Purity of tone. To be most effective, a voice must be 
 composed of pure tones ; that is, tones free from waste of 
 breath. Upon this quality the carrying power of the voice 
 primarily depends. It is also one of the conditions of rich 
 resonance. Vocalizing while panting and purring after vio- 
 lent exercise gives an exaggerated exhibition of breathy 
 voice. But sudden collapse, running too long on one breath, 
 and faulty adjustment of the vocal cords, are the more 
 common causes of impure tones. 
 
 4. Range of pitch. That many speakers use a limited 
 range of pitch, usually too high or too low, is a matter of 
 common observation. The use of the medium pitch, ranging 
 above and below according to the emotional demands, is 
 
88 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 quite as necessary in speech as in music. The nature and 
 power of this use hardly need extended treatment. 
 
 5. Resonance. Even persons unskilled in vocal analy- 
 sis call one voice " harsh ; " another, " thick ; " another, 
 " throaty ; " and so on ; and, on the other hand, they say 
 another is " ringing ; " another, " rich and full ; " and still 
 another is called " pleasant," or " musical." The last term 
 is not only a popular, but also an accurate description of a 
 voice rich in resonance. This property of voice variously 
 called " timbre," " klang," " color," " quality," is that which 
 gives individuality to voice, or which distinguishes one voice 
 from another ; for each voice has its own way of combining 
 its partial with its fundamental tones, and it can be distin- 
 guished from another, just as we distinguish a flute from a 
 violin or an organ, by the characteristics of its resonance. 
 The meaning of fundamental and partial tones, and the part 
 they play in resonance, may be made clear by a brief dis- 
 cussion of the physical basis of voice. 
 
 Sound. Physical acoustics is a section of the theory of elastic 
 bodies. Elastic bodies vibrating, set the air in vibration, pro- 
 ducing wave-like "motions that reach to distant points. These 
 wave-like motions radiate in all directions, and are similar to the 
 agitation produced by throwing a stone into a placid sheet of 
 water. The air vibrations, if sufficiently rapid, striking upon the 
 ear, produce the sensation of sound. 
 
 Sounds are distinguished as (a) musical tones and as () 
 noises. Musical tones result from rapid periodic vibrations of 
 sonorous bodies. Noises result from non-periodic vibrations. 
 
 Musical tones are distinguished as to 
 
 1. Force or loudness. 
 
 2. Pitch or relative height. 
 
 3. Quality. 
 
 Vibrations of sonorous bodies producing sound may be seen 
 by the naked eye ; felt, as in touching a tuning-fork ; and by mechan- 
 ical contrivances their amplitude, form, and rapidity may be deter- 
 mined. 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 89 
 
 Force, or loudness of sound, depends upon amplitude of vibra- 
 tion. The wider the vibration, the louder the sound. 
 
 Pitch, or place in the scale, depends upon the rapidity or rate of 
 vibration. The greater the number of vibrations in a second, the 
 higher the pitch. The highest audible number of vibrations is 
 38,000 per second ; the lowest, 20 per second ; from 40 to 4,000 (7 
 octaves) only are valuable for music or speech. The number of 
 vibrations is very accurately determined by means of an instru- 
 ment called the siren, consisting of a perforated disk in rapid 
 revolution. 
 
 Quality is that peculiarity which distinguishes the musical tones 
 of a flute from a violin, or that distinguishes different voices, and 
 depends upon inform of vibration. 
 
 A string or resonant body is found to vibrate not only the entire 
 length, but at the same time in sections which are aliquot parts of 
 the whole. 
 
 The sounds of these sectional vibrations, combined with the 
 sound of the whole or prime vibration, give a compound tone that 
 ordinarily reaches the ear as one tone. The tones of these sec- 
 tional vibrations are called overtones, or partials, and mingling with 
 the tone of the prime vibration, give the quality of tone. The 
 prime tone is generally the loudest and lowest, and names the pitch 
 of the compound. The "upper partial tones" are harmonics of 
 the prime. 
 
 Compound Tones. The most important of the series of these 
 upper partial tones are as follows : 
 
 The first upper partial is an octave above the prime, and makes 
 double the number of vibrations in the same time. 
 
 The second upper partial is a twelfth above the prime, making 
 three times the number of vibrations in the same time as the 
 prime. 
 
 The third upper partial is two octaves above the prime, with four 
 times as many vibrations. 
 
 The fourth upper partial is two octaves and a major third above 
 the prime, with five times as many vibrations. 
 
 The fifth upper partial tone is two octaves and a major fifth 
 above the prime, with six times as many vibrations. 
 
 The sixth upper partial is two octaves and a sub-minor seventh 
 above the prime, with seven times as many vibrations. 
 
gO PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 The seventh upper partial is three octaves above the prime, with 
 eight times the number of vibrations. 
 
 Many other partials occur in some compound tones, but always 
 in the same relative position. 
 
 "Simple tones have a very soft, pleasant sound, free from all 
 roughness, but wanting in power, and dull at low pitches." 
 
 " Musical tones, which are accompanied by a moderately loud 
 series of the lower upper partial tones up to about the sixth par- 
 tial, are more harmonious and musical. Compared with simple 
 tones they are rich and splendid, while they are at the same time 
 perfectly sweet and soft if the higher upper partials are absent." 
 
 "If only the uneven partials are present, the quality of tone 
 is hollow ; and when a large number of such partials are present, it is 
 nasal. When the prime tone predominates, the quality of the tone 
 is rich or full ; but when the prime tone is not sufficiently superior 
 in strength to the upper partials, the quality of the tone is poor or 
 empty. 
 
 "When partial tones higher than the sixth or seventh are very 
 distinct, the quality of the tone is cutting and rough. The degree 
 of harshness may be very different. When their force is inconsid- 
 erable, the higher upper partials do not essentially detract from the 
 musical applicability of the compound tones ; on the contrary, they 
 are useful in giving character and expression to the music." 
 
 " Tuning-forks are the most difficult to set in sympathetic vibra- 
 tion. To effect this they must be fastened on sounding-boxes 
 which have been exactly tuned to their tone. If we have two such 
 forks of exactly the same pitch, and excite one by a violin bow, the 
 other will begin to vibrate in sympathy, even if placed at the 
 farther end of the room, and it will continue to sound when the first 
 is damped. The astonishing nature of such a case of sympathetic 
 vibration will appear, if we merely compare the heavy and powerful 
 mass of steel set in motion with the light, yielding mass of air, 
 which produces effect by such small motive power that it could not 
 stir the lightest spring which was not in tune with the fork. With 
 such forks the time required to set them in full swing by sympa- 
 thetic action is also of sensible duration, and the slightest disagree- 
 ment in pitch is sufficient to produce a sensible diminution in the 
 sympathetic effect. By sticking a piece of wax to one prong of 
 the second fork, sufficient to make it vibrate once in a second less 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 9! 
 
 than the first, a difference of pitch scarcely sensible to the finest 
 ear, the sympathetic vibration will be wholly destroyed. 1 ' 1 
 
 Thus sympathetically the chambers of the pharnyx, ventricles, 
 nares, mouth the entire vocal passage, chest, and head re-en- 
 force the tones of the vocal bands. 
 
 Vowel-resonance. One vowel sound is distinguished from 
 another, though both have the same pitch and intensity. This 
 fact was long a question of inquiry. Sir C Wheatstone first stated 
 the true theory, which was afterwards subjected to exhaustive 
 study by Helmholtz. " The vibrations of the vocal bands associ- 
 ate with the vibrations of the resonant cavity of the mouth, which 
 can so alter its shape as to resound at will either the fundamental 
 tones of the vocal cords or any of their overtones. With the aid 
 of the mouth, therefore, we can mix together the fundamental tone 
 and the overtones of the voice in different combinations." Helm- 
 holtz was able to imitate those tones by tuning-forks, and by com- 
 bining them appropriately to produce the sounds of the vowels. 
 
 I once had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Alexander Graham Bell 
 exhibit the fact that vocal pitch may be determined by the shape 
 of the mouth cavity. Closing the mouth, and moving the tongue 
 to alter the shape of the cavity to suit, the pitches of the scale were 
 distinctly produced by snapping a lead-pencil placed against the 
 windpipe. 
 
 For practical purposes we distinguish the chest from the 
 head resonance. The former is brilliant, clear, and ringing ; 
 the latter is full and mellow. Chest resonance is due to the 
 actual sympathetic vibrations of the chest; while the head 
 resonance is due to the resonance of the face and head. Some 
 voices use more of one than of the other, while some com- 
 bine the two for the ordinary voice. The varied use of res- 
 onance is determined by the kind of emotion to be expressed. 
 
 Vocal Defects. Besides defects resulting from natural 
 limitations and disease, there are others due to a lack of 
 skill in the use of the organs. The latter are removable, 
 and the accomplishment of this forms an important part 
 
 1 Sensation of Tone. Helmholtz. 
 
92 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 of the minor problem of Public Speaking. They may be 
 described as follows : 
 
 1. Squeezed-back voice. This is the guttural voice, and re- 
 sults from an attempt to manage the voice by means of the 
 throat muscles, rather than by use of the deep respiratory 
 muscles. 
 
 2. Fall-back voice. This results from a failure to contin- 
 uously support the voice. Instead, it allows it to fall back in 
 the throat ; and it is slightly squeezed, especially at pauses. 
 
 3. Back-back voice. This is the voice improperly "fo- 
 cused." It is held far back in the pharynx. It lacks sup- 
 port and projection, and sounds muffled, feeble, and far off. 
 An over-cautious use of the voice in case of a sore throat 
 generally exhibits this quality. 
 
 4. Nasality, resulting from lowering the soft palate and 
 uvula, and allowing the voice to beat against them instead 
 of freely passing to the front part of the mouth, is a most 
 common fault. 
 
 5. Thick or mouthful voice, resulting from carrying the 
 tongue too high, and attempting to articulate with the top 
 instead of with the tip of the tongue. 
 
 6. Huskiness, resulting from thickened vocal cords, and 
 from allowing non-vocalized breath to escape because of a 
 faulty adjustment of the vocal cords. 
 
 Besides the causes assigned to the several faults named, 
 the habit of running too long on one breath is the frequent 
 accompaniment of husky, feeble, and squeezed voice. 
 
 Vocal Development. In analyzing the leading faults 
 of voice, it will be found that they are due either to a failure 
 to support and control the voice by means of the diaphrag- 
 matic and other deep respiratory muscles, or to an improper 
 obstruction of the vocal passage at some point, or to both. 
 It will be found, moreover, that the qualities of good voice 
 depend upon the reverse ; that is, upon a deep support and 
 control, and a relaxed and/r^ condition of the vocal pas- 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 93 
 
 sage. A recognition of these two facts renders simpler 
 our understanding of the main features of vocal develop- 
 ment. 
 
 Vocal support and control involve deep breathing. The 
 more obvious signs of deep breathing are as follows : While 
 avoiding the sudden lifting of the shoulders and upper part 
 of the chest, and directing the inspired breath to the lower 
 part of the chest or upper part of the abdomen, it will be 
 observed that this part of the body, together with the sides, 
 will be pressed out, and then followed by a slight falling 
 in of the same, and an enlargement of the whole chest. 
 Leading attention, however, is to be given to the deep 
 distention. The following description of respiration, the 
 facts and quotations of which are from Dr. Martin's " The 
 Human Body," may aid in an understanding of the breath- 
 ing process : 
 
 i. The Enlargement of the Thorax for Inspiration. (i) The 
 
 diaphragm is a strong, sheet-like muscle, arching up dome-like, 
 separating the chest and the abdominal cavities. Its muscular 
 fibres radiate from the dome downwards and outwards, and are 
 attached to the breastbone, the lower ribs, and the vertebral 
 column. By contraction the diaphragm sinks to a horizontal 
 position, thus greatly increasing the size of the thorax vertically. 
 
 (2) The ribs slope downwards from the vertebral column to 
 the breastbone. " The scalene muscles, three on each side, arise 
 from the cervical vertebrae, and are inserted into the upper ribs. 
 The external intercostal lie between the ribs, and extend from the 
 vertebral column to the costal cartilages ; the fibres slope down- 
 wards and forwards." 
 
 " During inspiration the scalenes contract, and fix the upper ribs 
 firmly ; then the external intercostal shorten, and each raises the 
 rib below it." Thus the ribs are elevated, the breastbone shoved 
 out from the spine, and the capacity of the thorax enlarged from 
 front back. Other muscles are employed, but chiefly in offering 
 points of resistance to those already described. These are the 
 principal ways of enlarging the chest, and require considerable 
 muscular effort. 
 
94 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 Now, when the chest is enlarged, the space between the lungs 
 and sides of the chest forms a cavity which contains no air. The 
 external air, with a pressure of 14.5 pounds to the square inch, 
 rushes in when the glottis of the air-box is open, distends the 
 lungs, just as an elastic bag suspended in a bottle may be made 
 to distend and touch the sides of the bottle from which the air 
 has been exhausted. 
 
 2. Expiration. In expiration very little muscular effort is 
 required. After inspiration, the muscles relax, and the sternum 
 and ribs fall to their former position. The elastic abdominal wall 
 presses the contained viscera against the under side of the dia- 
 phragm, arching it up. Thus the air is sent out in passive breathing 
 most largely by the elasticity of the parts stretched in inspiration, 
 rather than by special expiratory muscles. 
 
 In the forced breathing of vocal effort, the muscles of expiration 
 assist in the expulsion of air. " The main expiratory muscles are 
 the internal intercostal, which lie beneath the external, between 
 each pair of ribs, and have an opposite direction, their fibres run- 
 ning upwards and forwards." The internal intercostal, contract- 
 ing, pull down the upper ribs and sternum, and so diminish the 
 size of the thorax from front back. 
 
 At the same time the lower ribs and breastbone are pulled down 
 by a muscle running in the abdominal wall from the pelvis to them. 
 " At the same time, also, the abdominal muscles contract and press 
 the walls of that cavity against the viscera, force the diaphragm to 
 arch up, and lessen the cavity from up down." 
 
 In moknt inspiration many extra muscles are called into play, 
 chiefly as points of firm resistance, or otherwise assisting the usual 
 muscles of inspiration. 
 
 In violent expiration, also, many other muscles may co-operate 
 with the usual muscles, tending to diminish the thoracic cavity. 
 
 3. Kinds of Breathing. The breathing that brings the upper 
 part of the chest into the greatest action, and lifts the clavicles or 
 collar bones excessively, is called " clavicular breathing." It is 
 readily seen that the lungs in this kind of breathing can only be 
 partially filled, as the lower part of the chest is still contracted. 
 
 When breathing is carried on by action of the ribs, it is then 
 called "costal," or "chest-breathing." This, like "clavicular 
 breathing," does not admit of the lungs being fully distended. 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 95 
 
 That breathing which brings the diaphragm into action, which 
 is indicated by the external movement of the upper part of the 
 abdomen outward, is called "diaphragmatic," "abdominal," or 
 " deep breathing." This fills the lungs completely, and is evi- 
 dently the normal breathing. Many physiologists have taught, 
 and still teach, that while men and children breathe abdominally, 
 women breathe with the chest. 
 
 Dr. Martin, among the leaders of scientific specialists, 
 says : " In both cases the diaphragmatic breathing is the 
 most important. Women are again warned of the danger 
 and folly of tight lacing, which prevents natural breathing." 
 
 " Diaphragmatic " breathing, with the " chest " breathing, 
 is known as " compound " breathing. This gives the great- 
 est lung capacity, and at the same time makes possible the 
 use of the muscles of expiration in the forced breathing of 
 vocal effort. Very clearly, then, diaphragmatic or abdom- 
 inal breathing, aside from its relation to health, is indis- 
 pensably necessary to the speaker. Without it, he will 
 frequently " run out " of breath, and find it impossible to 
 project strong tone. 
 
 Exercises. The following are the exercises prescribed for 
 deep vocal support and control : 
 
 SERIES I. i. Breathe while lying upon the back. In 
 this position it is hardly possible to breathe other than 
 deeply. 
 
 2. (i) Stand erect with lifted chest, place the fingers of 
 both hands (palms toward the body) against the upper part 
 of the abdomen. Slowly expel the breath from behind the 
 fingers ; now breathe against the fingers. 
 
 (2) Take the same position, breathe in suddenly, avoid 
 lifting the shoulders, breathe out slowly. 
 
 3. Practise frequently while sitting, walking, and stand- 
 ing, prompt or instantaneous filling of the lungs, holding the 
 breath for an instant, then as slowly as possible letting the 
 breath out. 
 
9O PUBLIC SPEAKINQ 
 
 In breathing to support life, and especially during sleep, 
 inspiration is slow and expiration is sudden ; but in forced 
 breathing, for speaking purposes, inspiration is sudden and 
 expiration is slow; hence the value of practice in slow or 
 controlled expiration. 
 
 4. Take the second exercise under number 2, and 
 slightly vocalize the vowel a (far) while breathing out. 
 
 5. Take an erect attitude, with hands passive at the side, 
 and with more voice and with more force chant the sen- 
 tence, "Breathe, breathe out all." 
 
 " An all-pervading voice." 
 
 Break, break, break, 
 On thy cold grey stones, O sea ! " 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 6. Take the same position, chant in measured mono- 
 tone, moderate force : 
 
 "The ocean old, centuries old, 
 
 Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, 
 
 Paces restless to and fro 
 
 Up and down the sands of gold." 
 
 LONGFELLOW. 
 
 An essential of the exercises given in Series I. is the rec- 
 ognition of the fact that the deep respiratory muscles are the 
 active, and the throat muscles the relatively passive agents. 
 
 All feeling of tension and discomfort of the throat and 
 neck muscles must be avoided ; and instead, the feeling of 
 relaxation and of the open vocal passage should be main- 
 tained. The tones are made to " float out." 
 
 Again, the same vocal exercises should be given with 
 special attention to lifting the uvula and the soft palate. 
 Determine this by looking in a glass. Afterward be guided 
 by the feeling of the lifted position. A slight gaping effort 
 also lifts the soft palate. 
 
 Before proceeding to Series II., the student should acquire 
 some skill in Series I. 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 97 
 
 SERIES II. In this series, the form of the tone is explo- 
 sive or dynamic, instead of diffusive. The general observa- 
 tions under Series I. are applicable here. 
 
 1. Stand erect, with lifted chest, fingers on the upper 
 part of the abdomen, gentle force, diaphragmatic stroke, 
 vocalize, ha (far). 
 
 2. The same exercise with slightly increased force: 
 
 " Up drawbridge, groom, 
 What, warder, ho!" 
 
 WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 The same exercise with increased force : 
 
 " Forward, the light brigade, 
 Charge for the guns, he said." 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 For variety, the student or teacher, keeping in mind the 
 leading object, may add other exercises. After some skill 
 in Series I. and II. is achieved, practice should be directed 
 to the following slightly different aspect of vocal develop- 
 ment. 
 
 Placing the Voice. The most casual observer unhesi- 
 tatingly describes one voice as "throaty," and another as 
 " nasal. " It is obvious that all such descriptions are taken 
 from the locations that determine the vocal quality. All 
 may not agree as to the location of the most satisfactory 
 voice. It seems, however, to possess the entire vocal 
 apparatus. At one time the head tones and at another time 
 the chest tones predominate. It is certain that a proper 
 enlargement and shaping of the pharynx and mouth, 
 together with a suitable fronting of the tone, is indispen- 
 sable to the good voice. This gives the condition for sym- 
 pathetic vibration, hence for developing that most pleasing 
 quality of effective voice, full resonance. 
 
 3. Exercise for shaping the pharynx and mouth. 
 
 (i) Stand erect, with lower jaw relaxed and falling 
 (mouth open), slight gaping, diaphragmatic impulse, 
 
98 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 slightly prolong the syllable, "huh." The result is a full, 
 unobstructed resonance. 
 
 (2) Eliminating the technical exaggeration, but retain- 
 ing the typical form and resonance, gradually transfer the 
 same to any ordinary selection. 
 
 4. Stroke of the glottis. The sluggish, thick, and sliding 
 action of the vocal cords must be overcome by practice in 
 their prompt action. Giving a stroke of the glottis on the 
 syllable, "ung," well answers this purpose. This exercise 
 is an excellent preparative to the use of the syllable, "huh." 
 
 5. Fronting the voice. The proper placing of the voice, 
 as has been shown, involves fronting the tone. If the 
 pharynx and mouth cavity are properly shaped, the tone is 
 deflected to the front of the mouth-cavity, and hence is 
 more skilfully converted into the different vowels and con- 
 sonants. Another consequence of fronting, is the develop- 
 ment of the facial or bright resonance of the voice. It 
 favors also distinct enunciation. For fronting the tone, 
 hum, "ing," "ng," "le," "me," "M," "ge." Explode 
 "bim, bim," etc. 
 
 " By thirty hills I hurry down, 
 
 Or slip between the ridges, 
 By twenty thorps, a little town, 
 And half a hundred bridges." 
 
 TENNYSON'S Brook. 
 
 In practice for vocal development, especially for relaxed 
 or unobstructed vocal passage, the student should utilize 
 the emotions which naturally contribute to this end. 
 Emotions of the sublime, of tenderness and sympathy, 
 favorably affect vocal development. I have found that the 
 semi-confidential and sympathetic attitude toward the audi- 
 ence has a decidedly good effect in overcoming the vocal 
 defects enumerated. 
 
 6. Purity of tone. For Purity of Tone, the several exer- 
 cises for support, for the stroke of the glottis and for 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 99 
 
 fronting are directly beneficial. Carefully avoid all blowing 
 and puffing, and convert all of the breath into tone. To hold 
 a candle-flame in front of the mouth, and avoid blowing it 
 while speaking, is a certain proof of pure tone. Practise 
 selections of cheerful, ringing tones as, "Ye bells in the 
 steeple," etc. 
 
 7. For flexibility. Practise the intervals of the musical 
 scale ; the word " char-coal," " cuck-oo," slowly at first, then 
 rapidly, changing the pitch on each syllable. Slide, or slur, 
 up, down, on syllables as, " a," " a," etc. Any pitch out of 
 the range of the individual's habitual pitches is repugnant 
 to the ear, and care must be taken not to allow the ear to 
 dominate and restrain the voice. 
 
 8. For strength. Practise projecting the tone to a distant 
 auditor. In this, sustain the voice as in calling, "Boat, 
 ahoy ! " and other distant calls. Practise dynamic tones, 
 striking with radical stress, and at the same time avoid sym- 
 pathetically squeezing the throat. 
 
 In work for vocal development the student must con- 
 stantly keep in mind that the voice may be coaxed into 
 proper conduct, but not driven, and that strength must not 
 be urged beyond other qualities. But few persons, accord- 
 ing to my observation, are disposed to give the necessary 
 patience and time to secure the best results in vocal de- 
 velopment. 
 
 SEC. II. Kinds of Voice. Each emotion, and the 
 sets of feelings called moods, unless inhibited by volition, 
 and this can be done only to a limited extent, express them- 
 selves in corresponding vocal forms. The more pronounced 
 of these forms we have called kinds of voice. They are 
 as follows : 
 
 i. Voice of pure tone. First, may be distinguished the 
 voice in which pure tones are used. It especially utilizes 
 the facial or brilliant resonance. It is a normal voice, and 
 is expressive of plain thought and the emotions of the 
 
IOO PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 intellect. Joy, cheerful and agreeable sentiments, well rep- 
 resent this type. This tone is distinctly analytic. 
 
 2. Full voice. What is here called the full voice, also 
 variously called the " orotund," the " pulmonic," and the 
 " chest " voice, is the deep, full, strong voice. It calls into 
 use the deep or chest resonance. It, too, is a normal voice, 
 and is expressive of strength, vastness, grandeur, sublimity. 
 It is not analytic, but is manifestive of great masses of 
 feelings. 
 
 3. Aspirate voice. This kind of voice, as a habit, is ab- 
 normal. It is the voice that does not use up all of the breath, 
 and it has been condemned as a vicious quality. The whis- 
 per is its exaggerated form. It is expressive of undesirable 
 conditions of mind, of secrecy, vagueness, fear, darkness, 
 moral impurity. 
 
 4. Guttural voice. This is an abnormal, throaty voice. 
 It is expressive of the malevolent feelings, of passions 
 that produce the snarl, the growl, and disgust. 
 
 Besides the kinds of voice already given, the late Profes- 
 sor Monroe, after the Delsarte method, further analyzed it 
 into a threefold division. Somewhat modified, these divis- 
 ions are the intellective, the vital, and the affectional voice. 
 
 i. Intellective voice. The intellective type is charac- 
 terized by high pitch, clear, hard, non-flexible tones. It uses 
 head resonance. Every word is distinct and penetrative. 
 
 This is the didactic voice. It is primarily cold and 
 factive. 
 
 The mind is discriminative ; the ideas, ultra-objective ; 
 the mood, intense. 
 
 The teacher, uninfluenced by other emotions, falls into 
 the habit of this voice, and must guard against its exclusive 
 use. To dull pupils, he, with all the characteristics of 
 this voice heightened, says, "I will explain this point 
 again, and I trust that you may understand it this time." 
 The argumentative quarreller, insisting upon his own against 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE IOI 
 
 his opponent's facts, uses this voice. This type of voice is 
 primarily expressive of thought, and is adapted to convince. 
 
 It is not forgotten that both anger ancl joy , sometimes 
 express themselves on the high pitch witfo '<iftgtng voice. 
 But the mental state is never exclusively intellective* ; npr 
 emotional ; so in expression, the forms 'are never etelvsivtly 
 appropriated to any type. It is true, however, of the in- 
 tellective type that it expresses itself as we have said. It is 
 characteristic. Although joy and anger may sometimes ex- 
 press themselves in the high-pitched, ringing voice, it is not 
 the characteristic form for all emotions. Indeed, emotions 
 that so express themselves may have a large intellective 
 element. Certainly this is true of the anger that employs 
 this tone. It grows out of an urgency of my fact against 
 your fact, as in quarrelling, or a clear differentiation of 
 things that are the cause of the anger. 
 
 2. Vital voice. The vital voice, as a type, is the oppo- 
 site of the intellective voice. It is low in pitch, strong and 
 full. It uses the chest resonance, and may be degraded 
 into the throaty voice. 
 
 It is recognized as the brute voice; it is the voice of the 
 groan. Its lowest stratum is represented by the swag- 
 gering bully. Notwithstanding these uncomplimentary de- 
 scriptions of this type of voice, in certain forms it has a 
 legitimate use. It is expressive of ideas of power, of 
 strong passion, and sublime sentiments. Energy and the 
 urgency of weighty matter suitably employ this voice. It is 
 hortatory rather than didactic. // is expressive of strong and 
 urgent passion, and is adapted to move the listener. 
 
 In this characteristic voice the orator Mirabeau urges: 
 " I exhort you, then, most earnestly to vote these extraordi- 
 nary supplies, and God grant they may be sufficient. Vote 
 then at once." 
 
 3. Affectional Voice. The affectional voice is char- 
 acterized by medium pitch, soft, smooth, flexible tones. 
 
102 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 This voice is expressive of the aesthetic feelings. Senti- 
 ments of kindness, sympathy, affection, and of the milder 
 poetic moods, maftifest themselves by its use, as do also 
 plain and umrr.passioned thought. The affectional voice is 
 aJap-ted to persuade. \ 
 
 The-use-of the three types of voice maybe illustrated as 
 follows: A father warning his youthful son against the 
 folly of certain conduct, concludes with some irritation : 
 " Now, the reasons for changing your conduct are as clear 
 as noonday; and I trust that you will be governed accord- 
 ingly, and never repeat the folly." After a repetition of the 
 offence, the father, now angry, concludes an interview by 
 saying, " I have argued the matter, now I warn you, James, 
 that I will flog you if you do so again! " 
 
 But James is still incorrigible. The case is desperate. 
 Arguments and threats have alike failed. The father tries 
 the experiment of kinder methods. "Now, look here, my 
 boy, you know how dearly we love you ; unless you change 
 your conduct you will break our hearts. Let me persuade 
 you to do as I wish ! " 
 
 To express the mental states of the first interview the 
 father would naturally use the intellective voice; at the 
 second, the vital ; and at the third, the affectional. 
 
 The content of scientific text-books and similar matter is 
 distinctly, but not exclusively, intellective ; and is suitably 
 expressed by the corresponding voice. In the same way, 
 passionate orations are mainly vital, and the greater part 
 of poetic sentiments affectional. As intellective, emo- 
 tional, and volitional activity are always present in the 
 mental content of any discourse, no hard and fast classi- 
 fication of speeches according to types is possible. In 
 no speech is the intellective, vital, or affectional type ex- 
 clusively present. One or the other of the types may pre- 
 dominate ; but all will be more or less present, and in best 
 literature blend in richest variety. When it comes to the 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE IO3 
 
 divisions of the discourse, one part may be vital ; another, 
 mental ; and still another, affectional. 
 
 To determine the type of any speech, as a whole or in 
 part, confirm your analysis by applying each of the types 
 in succession. 
 
 To make the type clear, try the delivery of Mirabeau's 
 Speech before the Senate in the affectional, intellective 
 voice. Again, attempt the delivery of Alice Gary's "Order 
 for a Picture" in the intellective or the vital voice. We do 
 not assert that emotional expression never uses the high 
 and ringing pitch, nor that kind and gentle sentiments 
 never use low pitch. But that the analysis is true for the 
 type is easy of verification. 
 
 Faults. The use of the intellective (/active delivery) for 
 all matter, and also the use of the vital voice in a similar 
 way, are common. 
 
 The affectional voice is oftener needed. All should aim 
 to make it the habitual voice, rising to the intellectual, and 
 broadening and strengthening to the vital when necessary. 
 
 SEC. III. Inflection. By inflection is meant the slide 
 of the voice from one pitch to another. It includes slides 
 and circumflexes. When the tone slides from a lower to 
 a higher pitch, it is called a rising slide ; when from a 
 higher to a lower, it is called a falling slide. The distance 
 of the slide may be a semitone, or any number of tones to 
 the limit of the individual's range of pitch. Besides the 
 simple up and down slides, the tone may, without any 
 break, slide up and then down, or the reverse. In the 
 former case it is known as a falling, and in the latter as 
 a rising circumflex. 
 
 Monotone, or the absence of slides, is an aspect of 
 inflection. 
 
 Inflection is expressive of emotion. As inflection is prima- 
 rily expressive of emotion, it is consequently an element 
 of force. It manifests the feeling that accompanies the 
 
IO4 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 thought. " It was not what he said, but the way he said 
 it," is a frequent tribute to the power of inflection. 
 
 Principles of Inflection. I. The rising slide is pro- 
 spective. While the emotions are on-going, that is, while 
 there is the feeling of incomplete idea, the rising slide 
 is used. 
 
 1. Rising tones appeal: 
 
 (1) To bespeak attention to something that follows, as 
 completing a statement. 
 
 (2) For solution of doubt. 
 
 (3) For the expression of the hearer's will, as in response 
 to a proposition. 
 
 (4) To question the possibilities of an assertion, as in 
 surprise. 
 
 (5) Rising tones are deferential. 
 
 II. The falling slide is retrospective. When the emotions 
 have rested, that is, when there is the feeling of the com- 
 pleted idea, the falling slide is used. 
 
 2. Falling tones assert : 
 
 (1) To express completion of statement. 
 
 (2) To express conviction. 
 
 (3) To express the speaker's will, as in command, refusal, 
 or contradiction. 
 
 (4) To express impossibility of denial. 
 
 (5) Falling tones are peremptory. 
 
 III. The circumflexes are compound in their meaning, 
 partaking of the character of the rising and falling, or of the 
 falling and rising tone ; these, then, are querulous-assertive 
 or assertive-querulous. 
 
 Circumflexes, partaking of the nature both of the rising 
 and falling slide, are used : 
 
 (1) When the emotions are unsettled, as in mental 
 perplexity. 
 
 (2) In double meanings, as in sarcasm, scorn, etc. 
 
 (3) In conscious insincerity, as when a man of trade 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE IO$ 
 
 recommends for purchase some article with concealed 
 defect. His conscience and will opposing each other puts 
 the circumflex in the voice. 
 
 (4) In wheedling and flattery ; there is insincerity, too, 
 in this; in complimentary, comfort-making, and coaxing 
 moods. 
 
 IV. Monotone is reflective. It is expressive of the sub- 
 lime and allied sentiments of grandeur, awfulness, rever- 
 ence, etc. The mind is not discriminative. 
 
 V. Semitone is expressive of the plaintive emotions. It is 
 used in grief, sorrow, etc. 
 
 VI. The length of a slide is determined by the strength 
 and intensity of the feeling. 
 
 A chart of the various slides corresponding to their emo- 
 tions is impossible ; and were it possible, I do not see 
 how it could be of practical value. The slides, and all that 
 constitute the tune of the speech, are even more elusive 
 than the feelings of which they are expressive. 
 
 Faults. I have noted the following faults as more or 
 less common. 
 
 (1) Habitual rising slides. These keep the audience in 
 continual suspense, and . give no rest. We have heard 
 ministers who closed almost all positively constructed sen- 
 tences with the upward slide. 
 
 (2) Habitual downward slides. These are tiresome ; for 
 the listening mind instinctively rests at the downward slide, 
 when lo ! it must up and on, for the thought is not com- 
 pleted. Such delivery is humdrum and tiresome, and heavy 
 in the extreme. 
 
 (3) Habitual circumflex. This inflection lacks force and 
 dignity. 
 
 (4) Habitual semitones or minors. 
 
 (5) Beginning the rising inflection too high, the falling 
 too low. 
 
 Practice. (i) Use the exercises as given under " Flex- 
 ibility of voice." 
 
IO6 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 (2) Train the ear to detect the various inflections. In 
 many persons the ear resists any effort to depart from ha- 
 bitual inflections. 
 
 (3) Cultivate the ability to mechanically give the inflec- 
 tions at will. 
 
 (4) These faulty habits are due generally to the moods 
 of the speaker. Of course, then, it is of fundamental im- 
 portance to attack the moods. Only those who have had 
 the fault, or who have taught Public Speaking, know how 
 persistent is the minor or circumflex habit. It is hardly 
 necessary to add that only by means of the emotions, real- 
 ized through the ideas, can the various slides be suitably 
 given. 
 
 SEC. IV. Rhythm. The alternate pulsation and re- 
 mission with its attendant flow, well marked in pleasing 
 delivery both of prose and verse, are due to the rhythm of 
 speech. In other words, rhythm in speech refers to the 
 periodic recurrence of groups of sounds. 
 
 It is the nature of the mind, in listening to a series of 
 sounds, even when of uniform loudness and length, to reduce 
 them to groups. A familiar instance of this is the alternate 
 loud and soft sounds attributed to the ticking clock. If one 
 sound of a series be actually louder or longer, and regularly 
 recurrent, the tendency to grasp sounds into groups is pro- 
 moted, and the gratification of rhythm fully realized. This 
 grouping is actually done in English speech-rhythms, and 
 is mainly accomplished by means of increased loudness or 
 accent at approximately regular intervals ; 1 but the accent, 
 as Poe long since pointed out, lengthens the sound of the 
 syllables, so that the rhythm-groups in English are usually 
 doubly marked off, by accent and by length of sound. 
 
 Moreover, the periodicity of the recurrent group is main- 
 tained when silence takes up a part of the group. 
 
 1 See Rhythm, by J. B. Mayor. 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE IO? 
 
 Nursery rhymes, as Mr. Sidney Lanier has well shown, 
 furnish familiar instances of this. The first line of the 
 following quotation from Tennyson sufficiently illustrates 
 the fact: 
 
 Break, | break, | break | 
 
 On thy cold, | grey stones, | oh sea | 
 And I would | that my tongue | could utter j 
 
 The thoughts | that arise in me. j 
 
 Pausing after "break," each group or bar is co-ordinated 
 with every other group. 
 
 In the Journal of Psychology for January, 1894, Mr. T. 
 L. Bolton describes some elaborate psychological experi- 
 ments made in the study of rhythm, from which among 
 others he deduced the following general principles: 
 
 " Rhythmic effects when applied to poetry demand that the 
 accents in a line shall recur at regular intervals ; they also require 
 that the succeeding feet in a line shall be of precisely the same 
 character. The introduction of a three-syllable foot into iambic 
 (two-syllable) verse is allowable on this condition only, that the 
 three-syllable foot can be read in the same time as the two-syl- 
 lable, so that there shall be no disturbance in the temporal 
 sequence of the accents." 
 
 English rhythms are not chanted, but conform to the 
 idiomatic, spoken form of the language. They are spon- 
 taneous and free. Hence, any attempt to give direction for 
 the scansion of English rhythm must be based, not upon the 
 appearance of the printed page, but upon the sound as 
 heard. 1 Theories that demand a pause where no pause is 
 logically or emotionally required, that demand an accent 
 on words that are not accented in ordinary speech, and 
 that require that an accented syllable be treated as though 
 
 1 See On Rhythm in English Verse, in Papers of Fleming Jenkins : Long- 
 mans, Green, & Co., 1887. 
 
IO8 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 it were not accented, wholly misapprehend the nature of 
 English rhythm. 
 
 For applying the principles involved in English rhythm, 
 the following hints are given : 
 
 1. Read according to the idioms of spoken English. 
 Avoid changing the accent to accommodate the meter, or 
 pausing to mark the separated foot. 
 
 2. Run through the selection to find out the prevailing 
 foot-group. These groups will co-ordinate with one an- 
 other. 
 
 3. Note exceptional foot-groups that may not be of the 
 prevailing type. To illustrate, trochees, dactyls, and other 
 feet will often be found among groups that are typically 
 iambic. 
 
 4. The time of the exceptional foot-group must con- 
 form to the time of the prevailing or typical foot-group of 
 the line. If, for instance, it is an anapaest, it must be 
 read in the time given to the iambic, if this is the prevail- 
 ing foot. 
 
 5. The so-called extra syllable at the beginning or end 
 of the line is to be regarded as part of a foot-group of 
 which a pause forms the remaining part. If the extra syl- 
 lable is accented, pause forms the unaccented part of the 
 group. If the extra syllable, however, is unaccented, the 
 mind attributes accents to the pause in much the same 
 way that it attributes the alternate loud or accented sound 
 to the ticking clock. Filling out the group by means of 
 pause takes place also often in other parts of the line. 
 This frequently gives an extra group to the line. Again, 
 sometimes the sound of a syllable is prolonged to fill out 
 the time of the group. 
 
 6. The essential fact is the co-ordination of group with 
 group ; this requires that the group have one and only one 
 accent. The beat or stroke must be firmly placed on the 
 accented syllable. 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 
 
 7. Observe that for ordinary ears slight variations do 
 not destroy the effect of rhythm, and that the introduction 
 of exceptional feet gives an agreeable variety, and in this 
 way furthers poetic expression. Variability within certain 
 limits obtains also in the line-group or verse. 
 
 Verses or Lines. Rhythmical delivery requires the 
 co-ordination of line with line; that is, that the line be 
 given the same time as that with which it corresponds. 
 The time length, and not the number of syllables, is the 
 determining factor. The rhyming words also aid in mark- 
 ing off the line-group. The rhythmical ear, however, is 
 the main reliance. 
 
 In spite of all theories, the pausing in the delivery of 
 verse must be according to the logical requirements, and not 
 the exigencies of the line. Run-on lines are to be spoken 
 as such. If the poet has not composed his lines so as to 
 require the middle and final pause, it does violence to lan- 
 guage to force it. A speaker, however, will pause without 
 doing violence to the -thought, when the dull-eared, con- 
 trolled only by the logical relations, will not. Reading 
 run-on lines without pause at the end of the line amounts 
 to this: it introduces a line-group of exceptional length. 
 This feature is agreeable rather than otherwise. 
 
 Many persons are deficient in the rhythmical sense. To 
 cultivate this sense it will be found decidedly helpful to 
 scan verse according to the principles here laid down. For 
 practice, while omitting any decided effort to read for ex- 
 pression, and still speaking the phrase idiomatically, exag- 
 gerate the rhythmical flow. In this practice the reader need 
 not be afraid of "sing-song," for " sing-song " is a matter 
 of melody and not rhythm. 
 
 Rhythmical Prose. Because of the allowable irregu- 
 larities of blank verse, it is difficult to distinguish it from 
 prose. The difference is one of degree only. Mr. Lanier 
 calls prose " a wild variety of verse." To make but one 
 
IIO PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 quotation, the co-ordinations and rhythmical character of 
 the following sentence from Ruskin is obvious to the aver- 
 age ear : 
 
 "There is a saying 
 which is in all good men's mouths 
 
 namely, 
 that they are stewards, 
 
 or ministers, 
 of whatever talents are entrusted to them." 
 
 SEC. V. Melody of Speech. In impressions of 
 Rhythm, we simply regard the succession of sounds in 
 time, without regard to change of pitch. In Melody, or 
 tune, however, we are impressed by a set of successive 
 tones varying in pitch. 
 
 Every language and dialect has its own tunes, that are as 
 fundamental and expressive as its words and grammatical 
 forms. The part that tune plays as revelatory of thought, 
 is most marked in the Chinese language, but is not un- 
 known in English. For example, some soldiers are said 
 to have killed some badly wounded ^prisoners by cutting 
 off their heads. It was said afterward, that " if they had 
 not they would have died." Read with a rising circum- 
 flex on ** not" and the falling circumflex on " died," and 
 the sentence implies that the prisoners lives were saved 
 by cutting off their heads. Now read with a downward 
 slide on " not " and also on "died," and the sentence 
 means that death, was inevitable anyway. 
 
 When we ask a question, using the words, " Who did you 
 say he was? " the rising slide is used; but when we say, 
 " Who is he? " the falling slide is used. The melody of 
 the two otherwise differs. Compare the Irish dialectic way 
 of asking the question. 
 
 Melody or tunes are, however, primarily expressive of 
 feelings. Every emotion has its own melody. There is 
 the melody of joy, of sorrow, of interrogation, of affir- 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE III 
 
 mation; and so on through the whole range of feelings. 
 Melody of speech is elusive. We feel its force, and say, 
 " It was not what he said, but the way he said it; " 1 but 
 cannot reproduce the impression. No symbols can ever 
 adequately reproduce a melody of emotion. Melody is 
 the life of speech. It is expressive of the speaker's indi- 
 viduality. It is intuitive, subtle, irresistible. 
 
 Mr. Lanier maintained that the impossibility of repro- 
 ducing melodies of speech is owing to the limitation of the 
 musical scale. The least interval of the scale is a half-tone, 
 whereas speech tones involve shades of a tenth of a tone, or 
 finer. However this may be, trustworthy musicians say 
 that no two trained persons read in just the same way what 
 purports to be written melodies of speech. 
 
 Intuition and imitation, it seems to me, are the main 
 reliance in reproducing speech-melodies. Some general 
 characteristics may be given. 
 
 Unsuppressed joy expresses itself in high pitch and widely 
 varying, pure tones. Pity uses minor tones. The sublime 
 and awful incline to the low pitch and monotone. Malevo- 
 lence and anger use staccato. Tenderness employs gentle 
 force medium to low pitch, sustained tones. Bombast 
 expresses itself in full, slow tones, circumflexed ; gravity, 
 in slow, moderate force, simple slides. 
 
 Key. Melody involves the key, or central tone. Each 
 emotion has it own key. 
 
 Faults of Melody. i. The recurrent melody. This is 
 identified as "sing-song." This is a very common fault. 
 
 2. The habitual use of the minor slide. This is the pa- 
 thetic tone. 
 
 3. The circumflex fault. This lacks the manly, clear-cut 
 tone. 
 
 1 " Using cadence in an unusually extended sense, as comprehending all 
 modifications of the voice, we may say that cadence is the commentary of the 
 emotions upon the propositions of the intellect." HERBERT SPENCER'S 
 Origin and Function of Music, p. 379. 
 
112 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 4. The monotone. 
 
 5. The "drift" of one emotion. In this, the speaker falls 
 into a certain heavy swing, and, ignoring the variety of 
 thought and feeling, "drifts " along on certain uniformities. 
 Akin to this is a more pauseful, but still heavy, delivery. 
 
 6. Light or flippant melody. 
 
 7. Key on too high a pitch, and again on too low a pitch. 
 The former involves a high, nervous strain; the latter 
 induces throatiness and indistinctness. 
 
 In order to eliminate faulty melody, the student and 
 teacher must rely mainly upon the subjective treatment, 
 that is, upon a mastery of the content. It will usually 
 require a teacher to locate the fault. 
 
 Narrow, emotional states, habitual to the speaker, must 
 be broken up; and the mind be made susceptible of new 
 emotions. The mind must be aroused, and made attentive 
 and discriminating. 
 
 SEC. VI. Stress. Stress is the way force is applied to 
 the tone. 
 
 If applied abruptly it is called radical stress, as in ex- 
 ploding "Arm! " "arm!" This is a serviceable stress in 
 prompt and strong utterance, and should be clearly recog- 
 nized and mastered. 
 
 Medium Stress opens with moderate force, swells to more 
 force, and then diminishes. It corresponds to the swell in 
 music. 
 
 This stress makes use of the long quantity of the vowel. 
 It produces smooth and flexible tones. It is the second 
 most serviceable stress. "O precious word! " 
 
 Terminal stress is the opposite of radical. It is the growl. 
 "Here I stand and scoff you." 
 
 Thorough stress continues the force equally from beginning 
 to close. It is used in placing the voice off to a distant 
 point, and in calling, as in "Boat, ahoy! " It is a feature 
 of the declamatory style. 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 113 
 
 Intermittent Stress corresponds to tremolo in music. Fre- 
 quently speakers try to speak impressively by the use of 
 this stress. Its proper use is very limited. 
 
 SEC. VII. Loudness. This term explains itself. Its 
 uses are rather obvious, and little need be said upon it. 
 The speaker should avoid the extremes of feeble force on 
 the one hand, and of noisiness on the other. This is a point 
 at which reserved force may well be looked after. Always 
 feel competent to speak with loud force, but restrain the 
 effort and modify the degree to the emotions involved. 
 Vociferation and declamation is as empty as it is loud. 
 The degrees range from gentle and moderate to loud and very 
 loud. In their use " let your own discretion be your tutor." 
 
 SEC. VIII. Time or Rate. Time refers to the rapidity 
 or slowness of the delivery. It is primarily determined by 
 the feelings, hence is first of all an element of force. Four 
 degrees of rate are noted : (i) Quick rate, expressive of rapid 
 movements, lightness, slurred matter, cheerfulness, joy, etc. 
 (2) Moderate rate, used in simple narrative, etc. (3) Slow 
 rate, expressive of slow movements, weighty matters, sor- 
 rowful sentiments, obscure ideas, profound feelings, etc. 
 (4) Very slow rate, expressive of ponderous, labored move- 
 ments, of very solemn, weighty matter, of grave sentiments, 
 of sublime emotions, etc. 
 
 THE BEGINNING REQUIRES SLOW TIME. 
 
 AT the beginning of the speech, the listener is preoccupied 
 with other ideas ; hence the speaker must be distinct, and by 
 slowness give time to change the train of thought. Then, 
 too, the speaker himself is more or less preoccupied with 
 thoughts about the audience, about himself, and many other 
 things. He requires time to collect himself in order to 
 fully concentrate his mind upon the proposed ideas. Then, 
 too, the enunciatory and other functions are dormant, and 
 must be quickened. 
 
114 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 Once again, as the emotional parts of the content prima- 
 rily determine the rate of utterance, these must have time 
 to mature, and so to quicken the rate. The emotion must 
 wait upon the idea; and this requires time. For similar 
 reasons, after each transition the rate must be slower; and 
 the more divergent the succeeding groups, the slower the 
 rate after each change. 
 
 Faults. Most beginners speak too rapidly, but slow 
 down with experience. Rate is relative to the individual as 
 well as to the matter. It is conceded that some persons can 
 well speak more rapidly than others ; but every beginner 
 may suspect himself of trying to speak too fast. Since de- 
 livery, when too rapid, mars the enunciation, and confuses 
 the phrasing or grouping, it seriously interferes with the in- 
 telligibility of the speech. While prompt and ready utter- 
 ance suggests a certain kind of mastery, it must not be for- 
 gotten that word-fluency is not eloquence. 
 
 On the other hand, dull, slow, dragging utterance, and 
 that over-pauseful delivery, holding on to the final syllable, 
 and sometimes ending with an " ugh," though not so com- 
 mon, is equally bad. 
 
 In overcoming both hasty and tardy utterance, main de- 
 pendence is to be placed in the will. This ability, however, 
 is not commanded at a moment's notice, but is the result of 
 discipline. 
 
 Variability of rate follows, of course, the emotional move- 
 ments of the content. 
 
 SEC. IX. Climax. Climax refers to a heightening of 
 the delivery. The most obvious elements of this heighten- 
 ing are ascending pitch, increased loudness and rate, cul- 
 minating, generally, with the radical stress. As climax is 
 expressive of emotional growth, it is plainly another element 
 of force. 
 
 Growth is a well-defined characteristic of all emotion. 
 For instance, the angry man grows more angry as he dwells 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 115 
 
 upon the idea calling it forth; and one grows more tender 
 by dwelling upon its idea. The same law of growth applies 
 to groups of emotions as contained in the paragraph or 
 other unities of the speech, and to the composition as a 
 whole. The emotions connected with these several groups, 
 and with the whole, gradually mature, or are more and more 
 realized by the speaker, till they reach this highest point, 
 and then subside. Climax expresses this growth. The 
 counterpart of this growth is the ascending importance of 
 the ideas. Climax in delivery follows the rhetorical climax 
 of the composition. 
 
 Faults. The faults of climax readily suggest themselves, 
 as climaxing too soon, too late, or not at all. Every speaker 
 should guard against the dead level of one emotional drift. 
 The emotions and their growth must be realized. 
 
 The sentence usually, but not invariably, begins on a lower, 
 proceeds to a higher, and then returns to a lower pitch. Some 
 sentences give exceptional opportunity for climax. To 
 illustrate, begin the following sentence on a very low pitch, 
 and gradually rise till the word "devil" reaches a very 
 high pitch, and gradually descend from this word. 
 
 " O, you and I have heard our fathers say 
 There was a Brutus once that would have brooked 
 Th' eternal devil to keep his state in Rome, 
 As easily as a king." SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 SEC. X. Imitative Modulation. According to the 
 onomata-poetic organ of language, imitation of the appear- 
 ances and sound of objects lies at the beginning of all 
 speech. With the theory we have nothing to do here. It 
 is obvious, however, that we now reproduce the idea, and 
 make it more varied by imitating the sound. For instance, 
 the roar of the ocean, the boom of cannon, the hiss of the 
 snake, the rushing wind, if only slightly imitated, aid in 
 recalling the idea. So, also, vocally, the hugeness and 
 
Il6 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 littleness of objects, the rapidity or slowness of a move- 
 ment, may be represented. 
 
 A conservative use of this element adds force to the 
 delivery; but overdone, it "out-Herods Herod." 
 
 SEC. XI. Gesture. Although gesture is subordinate to 
 voice as a mode of expression, it still has a value; and even 
 conservatives may well attend to its development and use. 
 As indicating its universality and naturalness, Sir Charles 
 Bell says, '* Man does not depend upon articulate language 
 alone ; there is the language of expression, a mode of com- 
 munication understood equally by all mankind all over the 
 globe, not conventional or confined to nations, but used by 
 infants before speech, and by untutored savages. " 1 
 
 Moreover, the effectiveness of gestures is enhanced by the 
 fact that they are directly and instantaneously expressive, 
 as compared with speech, which is analytic and successive, 
 spoken by letters, syllables, words, phrases, sentences. A 
 motion toward the door shows the indignation, and gives 
 the order to go more forcibly than any number of words 
 that could be spoken. 
 
 Gesture, in this treatise, includes all significant move- 
 ments of the body, including facial expression. 
 
 Why is the body expressive in the way in which we find 
 it ? The psychologists have not yet agreed upon an answer 
 to this question; and although it is mainly a speculative 
 one, it is worth the while to look at some of the more rep- 
 utable theories. 
 
 Darwin, after an extensive study, treats the subject in his 
 volume on the "Expression of Emotion in Man and Ani- 
 mals," and deduces three principles. 
 
 i. Serviceable Associated Habit. Certain actions are ori- 
 ginated because of their serviceableness ; for instance, in 
 accordance with his evolutionary hypothesis, in extreme 
 rage the upper lip is drawn up exposing the canine teeth. 
 
 1 Anatomy and Physiology of Expression. 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 117 
 
 This originated when it was serviceable to the animal while 
 biting its antagonist. The spasmodic movement of the 
 fingers in anger is a relic of the beast clutching and claw- 
 ing at its prey. 
 
 "Whenever the same state of mind is induced, however 
 feebly, there is a tendency, through the force of habit and 
 association, for the same movements to be performed, 
 whether or not of service in each particular case." 
 
 2. Antithetic action. Certain acts, as has been shown, 
 are serviceable. 
 
 " Now, when a directly opposite state of mind is induced, 
 there is a strong and involuntary tendency to the perform- 
 ance of movements of a directly opposite nature, though 
 these are of no use ; and such movements are, in some cases, 
 highly expressive." The angry dog enlarges his size to 
 appear formidable ; the whipped, humbled dog reduces his 
 size, and skulks. 
 
 3. Action resulting from the constitution of the nervous sys- 
 tem, independent of the will, and to a certain extent in- 
 dependent of habit, as trembling, loss of color, etc. When 
 the brain is excited strongly, nerve force is generated in 
 excess, and is transmitted in certain definite directions ; for 
 instance, reddening of the face in rage, and perspiration in 
 grief and pain. 
 
 Sir Charles Bell holds that the expression of the body 
 exhibits the design of the Creator. He has shown how 
 intimately the vital organs, the heart and lungs especially, 
 are united to each other and to the muscles of the neck, 
 face, and chest, by a system of nerves. He has also shown 
 how they are affected by the emotions of the mind, and says, 
 " Thus the frame of the body, constituted for the support of 
 the vital functions, becomes the instrument of expression; 
 and an extensive class of passions, by influencing the heart, 
 by affecting that sensibility which governs the muscles of 
 respiration, calls them into operation, so that they become 
 
Il8 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 an undeviating mark of certain states or conditions of the 
 mind. They are the organs of expression." 
 
 The following principles given by Wundt are more sug- 
 gestive, and more available in expressional practice. 
 
 1. Principles of analagous associated feelings. Feelings of a 
 similar emotional tone are easily connected; and when con- 
 nected, the expression of one is transferred to the other. 
 One expression, for instance, follows the tasting of sweet, 
 and another of sour, and another of bitter substances. Now, 
 all experiences, however ideal in their nature, possess a 
 tone analagous to that of sweet taste, etc. ; and hence they 
 naturally express themselves by the same external sign. 
 
 2. Principles of the relation of movements to sense ideas. 
 When we speak of persons or objects that are present, we 
 point to them; when absent, in their direction; then we un- 
 consciously imitate their shape, and measure their size by 
 movements of the hand. 
 
 The Nature of Gesture. Gestures are mainly expres- 
 sive of emotion, and hence contribute primarily to force. 
 They are physical movements or reactions against both real 
 and imaginary objects. Gestures that seem to be the most 
 subjective can generally be traced ultimately to emotional 
 reactions against things that have affected the senses. 
 Some of the gestures that come under Mr. Darwin's third 
 principle are exceptions. If a person points to an imagi- 
 nary spire, it is because he is moved by a feeling of its 
 loftiness or of its distance. 
 
 Gestures of anger are reactions that arise with reference 
 to some imaginary object of the anger. Gestures of aver- 
 sion, of endearment, of resignation, of pride, of arrogance, 
 and so on, arise in the same way. 
 
 Subjective Gestures. Most gestures are expressive 
 of subjective conditions, and are made without special 
 intention toward the audience. They represent moods, 
 dispositions, and passing emotions. They grow out of the 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE I IQ 
 
 feelings, and are less purposeful than other gestures. Ges- 
 tures, representative of personal states (joy, fear, sadness), 
 and also many dramatic gestures, may be placed under this 
 head. 
 
 Picture-making Gestures. In a secondary way, ges- 
 tures grow out of a desire to make the ideas or objects of 
 the mind plain to the auditor. They are illustrative, just 
 as the pictures and maps of the book or daily newspaper are 
 illustrative. Gestures of this objective type, and pictures, 
 have a common motive. Under picture-making gesture 
 two distinct classes are formed. 
 
 1. Gestures of location. The function of this gesture is 
 to point out the place of the imaginary object in space and 
 in time. Objects in space are represented as far or near, 
 high or low. Objects in time are referred to the present, 
 past, or future. They point out the direction of absent 
 persons or things. 
 
 2. Descriptive gestures. Akin to the locative is another 
 illustrative use of gesture, giving rise to what are called 
 Plastic or Descriptive gestures. In this use, some salient 
 feature or features of the object are represented. Its 
 length, height, weight, or some other feature, is suggested. 
 
 This class includes also gestures reproducing \h& physical 
 acts of another, and gestures representing motions both as to 
 direction and rate. 
 
 Laws of Gesture. The following general principles 
 in one form or another are usually attributed to the so- 
 called Delsarte system. 
 
 i. The attitude or bearing indicates the total self. The erect 
 attitude, with easily lifted chest, free, easy carriage, well- 
 poised bearing, is expressive of strength, culture, grace, 
 preparation, and favorably affects vitality and control. 
 The bent form, and shambling or awkward movement, sug- 
 gest feebleness, lack of control, lack of preparedness. The 
 attitude and bearing are of primary importance in all gesture. 
 
I2O PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 2. Chest-centre. This law, an aspect of the preceding one, 
 makes the chest the centre of action. It utilizes the space 
 in front of the body, and avoids side movements of the arm. 
 
 3. Buoyancy. The law of elasticity or strength demands 
 that the gesture be made on a higher plane, instead of al- 
 lowing gravity to drag down the body and arms. 
 
 4. Economy. According to the law of economy, every 
 movement of the speaker should be purposeful and signifi- 
 cant. Economy prevents habitual movements, pacing to 
 and fro, wild swinging of the arms, and other movements 
 that are meaningless for the purpose at hand. This law 
 is a particular aspect of the specialization of function. 
 
 5. Grace. Curved movements are graceful. The prin- 
 ciple of succession contributing to grace, means that the 
 gesture flows from the centre. Gestures, of the arms espe- 
 cially, are all related to the chest. In referring to the 
 spire of a church, for instance, to stiffen the arm, or to 
 lift all of it simultaneously, violates this principle of 
 grace. Instead, when properly done, the hand is brought 
 in front near the chest; the arm gradually unfolds till the 
 hand points to the spire, palm down. In this, the move- 
 ment is flexible, and without muscular tension. 
 
 6. Evolution. The expression centres in the eye, first 
 manifests itself there, and then radiates to the extremities 
 of the body. The pugilist watches his antagonist's eyes 
 instead of his fists; for the purpose and direction of the 
 blow first manifests itself there. 
 
 7. Symbolization. According to this principle, one can 
 treat ideas as he treats material objects. In this case, 
 ideas are symbolized. A cube of wood may be employed. 
 The hand beneath it, palm up, supports the block; but on 
 the top it crushes it down ; edged in front, it protects it ; at 
 the side, limits or defines ; removed from beneath, refuses 
 support, and it falls; a movement against it overthrows it. 
 The hand, in the same positions or movements, not only 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 121 
 
 appropriately, but naturally, expresses the same attitude 
 or action toward ideas. 
 
 8. Sequence. Gesture precedes or accompanies the spoken 
 word. "My Lord Northumberland, we license your depar- 
 ture with your son." Just before or while uttering the 
 word "departure" make a strong and rapid movement or 
 wafture of the hand toward the door, signifying, depart 
 immediately. Make the same gesture while or after pro- 
 nouncing the word "son," and mark the difference. 
 
 9. Velocity. The rapidity of a movement is inversely 
 proportionate to the mass moved. A trifling matter is 
 tossed off with a quick movement; but, "up the high hill 
 he heaves a huge round stone," is labored and slow. 
 Gesture, representing motion, corresponds to the rate of the 
 motion represented. 
 
 10. Opposition. In making a movement of two parts of 
 the body in gesture, each part should move in an opposite 
 direction, or else a parallelism is perpetrated. To illus- 
 trate: If in salutation, the hand be lifted near the face, 
 and the arm, body, and all together, be moved forward in 
 bowing, we have a parallelism. If, however, while inclin- 
 ing the head and body, we lift the hands, the movements 
 between these parts are in opposition; then, moving the 
 head back to the erect position, we toss the hand out and 
 down in opposition. 
 
 11. Suavity and Vehemence. Tender, kind emotions ex- 
 press themselves in curved movements. Over-excitement, 
 "nervousness," and malevolent emotions express them- 
 selves in angular gestures. Romeo's gestures are curved; 
 Shylock's are angular. 
 
 Faults. The faults of gesture are the violations of the 
 principles already given. 
 
 Praxis. I fear that a disproportionate amount of time 
 is frequently given to gesture. I am convinced, also, that 
 the best results follow a restriction of the work to a few 
 
122 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 leading features. First, take suitable exercises for breaking 
 up the tension or rigidity of the muscles. Secondly, prac- 
 tise a few typical gestures of the objective type; and thirdly, 
 let the gestures come in connection with the speaking, and 
 then criticise them. The aim of all practice is to secure 
 spontaneous, graceful, and significant gesture. 
 
 Preparatory Relaxing Exercises. The first effort 
 of the student in this connection should be directed to free 
 the arms, in short, the whole body, from all rigidity; to 
 destroy habitual movements by counteracting exercises and 
 general development. Then the body is prepared to respond 
 to the action of the mind. Only the parts involved at the 
 time should be used. The passive or elastic condition 
 should be the prevailing one. 
 
 1. Dangle the hands, and shake the arms freely from the 
 shoulder, up and down, whirling in, then out ; now rotate 
 the body on the hip-joints, letting the arms and hands fly 
 whither they may, while rotating the body. 
 
 2. Lift the main arm until the elbow is level with the 
 shoulder. Shake it back and forth, letting the forearm 
 dangle to the very finger-tips. 
 
 3. (i) Slowly lift the arm extended forward up as high 
 as the level of the head, then down, the back of the wrist 
 leading while moving up, the face of the wrist leading down, 
 while the fingers trail. Take care to make the movements 
 from the shoulder easy and flowing. 
 
 (2) Make this same movement; hands level with the 
 shoulders in bringing them near together in front ; then 
 out till extended from the sides. Continue these; first (i), 
 then (2). 
 
 In these movements, command a steady body, and feel 
 balanced with the "sea-poise," as though buoyed up by a 
 surrounding element. 
 
 4. Practise any exercise that will give suppleness to the 
 limbs. 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 123 
 
 In all these movements avoid muscular rigidity. Let 
 the mind be easy, else the mental constraint will sympa- 
 thetically affect the muscles. 
 
 5. Combination movement. Slowly lift the arm extended 
 in front, the fingers dangling or trailing; when the hand is 
 level with the eye, hold and sight over the thumb to an 
 object on the wall ; hold in this position, and depress the 
 wrist ; the open palm is now from you, imagine a ball 
 against the palm, turn the hand out around this imaginary 
 ball, now the fingers are depressed and palm up and out ; 
 fold the fingers on the palm, beginning with the little 
 finger. We now have the half fist (thumb unfolded). Fold 
 this half fist upon the forearm, the forearm on the main 
 arm. Let the half fist dip in and down, the elbow moving 
 up in opposition. Now unfold the arm, palm down, ex- 
 tending with a final thrust, fingers straightened. 
 
 This movement educates the movement of the hand and 
 arm in preparing for a gesture, and also combines move- 
 ments found in many gestures. It also educates the muscles 
 to nicety and precision of action. 
 
 In this combination, there are at least eight distinct move- 
 ments. These may be resolved into three general move- 
 ments, the preparation in lifting, the folding in, and the 
 folding out. The latter is spiral. 
 
 All the above exercises should be practised, first by the 
 right, then by the left arm and hand, and then by both. 
 
 Cultivate muscular consciousness. When the hands are 
 passive by the sides, we feel their weight. 
 
 The criteria in the series to follow will give opportunity 
 to carry out this same principle of freeing the body, and 
 educating the muscles to perform the most commonly used 
 expressions. 
 
 As the corresponding emotions are associated with their 
 appropriate expression, these criteria will have the additional 
 advantage of the constructive element in their practice. 
 
124 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 First Series. i. Presentation or Revelation. In this ges- 
 ture, the hand is at first partially closed, easily held in front 
 as high as the waist, and is then extended front, slightly 
 oblique. One or both hands may be used. " Let us look at 
 this," illustrates the type of which this gesture is expressive. 
 
 2. Extensive, or Universal reference. Arm, or arms, start- 
 ing in front of chest, extended level with the shoulder, palm 
 up, slightly oblique. "As wide as the world," "From one 
 extreme to the other," give examples of extensive reference. 
 
 3. Definition. Both hands brought in front, palms facing 
 each other, separated from one to two feet. " We are shut 
 up to this," illustrates this type. 
 
 4. Near reference. Arm easily thrown forward, half oblique, 
 palm exposed. " There it is before you in plain sight," gives 
 this type. 
 
 5. Far reference. Hand extended level with the shoulder, 
 side oblique, palm down, fingers straightened. " And I on 
 the opposite shore will be," affords an example. 
 
 6. Distant future. Arm extended front, level with the 
 shoulder, palm of hand down. 
 
 7. Distant past. Arm extended to the rear, oblique, level 
 with shoulders, palm of hand down. " The opportunity is 
 gone forever." 
 
 8. Far reference, lofty. Arm extended, angle about forty- 
 five degrees, palm of hand down, index finger prominent. 
 Type : " Hang a lantern aloft." 
 
 9. Aspiration, or elevated affirmation. In this, the hands 
 are thrown up, nearly overhead, palms to speaker. " Let us 
 look up full of hope and courage," illustrates this type. 
 
 All of these gestures suggest, if they do not fully reach, 
 the chest as their starting-point. These and the succeed- 
 ing series should be practised till they become spontaneous. 
 
 Second Series. The following series is mainly oratori- 
 cal in character. 
 
 i. Repulsion. In repulsion, the hand is lifted, palm out, 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE 125 
 
 thumb near the ear. It is then shoved out straight in front, 
 while the head moves back in opposition. " Avaunt, and 
 quit my sight ! " 
 
 2. Attraction is the opposite of repulsion. " Hark ! " 
 
 3. Supplication. In supplication, the arm is lifted to 
 heaven, the hand open, and held half horizontal. Do not 
 hold the arm immediately in front. " Our Father." 
 
 4. Appellation. In appellation, the forearm is lifted per- 
 pendicular, the palm of the hand out. Voting gesture : 
 " Aye." 
 
 5. Affirmation. In this gesture the hand is thrown down 
 in front, the palm out. [He] " would have brooked the eter- 
 nal devil." 
 
 6. Salutation. The hand is raised gracefully, the head 
 inclining to meet it ; after they have approached near each 
 other, the hand is thrown gently forward, the head moving in 
 opposition. The hand is lifted in proportion to the amount 
 of deference or respect expressed. Common salutation of 
 men who are equals is frequently made by a wafture of the 
 hand from the lower part of the chest. " Good-morning." 
 
 7. Negation. The arm is thrown across the space in front 
 of the student toward the back, the palm down. " This can 
 never be." 
 
 8. Declaration. This is the same movement, with the palm 
 of the hand half up. "The North answers the South." 
 
 9. Rejection. This is the same as negation, with the 
 thumb down. " Sweep away all opposition." 
 
 Third Series. The gestures in the third series are 
 mainly dramatic ; but as they give added variety, their prac- 
 tice is helpful in oratory. 
 
 1. Calm repose. This is the natural, easy position with 
 arms quiet by the side. 
 
 2. Resigned appeal to heaven. In this action the arm 
 without lifting is turned face out, the hand is turned palm 
 slightly up; the face is turned in opposition, and uplifted 
 to heaven. 
 
126 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 3. Accusation. In accusation, the arm is stiffened at the 
 side; the eye first accuses and centres upon the object, then 
 the stiffened arm and hand are lifted till the eye sees the 
 object down the arm. 
 
 4. Imprecation. The arm is elevated overhead. The 
 hand is formed into a claw, ready as a bird of prey to 
 pounce upon its victim. 
 
 5. Remorse. The hand grasps the back of the head, 
 forearm pressing against the face. 
 
 6. Grief or shame. The face is hidden by spreading 
 the hand over it. 
 
 7. Tender reproach. Hand slightly closed, drawn across 
 the chest away from the object, while the face is turned 
 upon it in reproach. 
 
 8. Pathetic repulsion. To express this emotion, the hand 
 moves toward the object from the seventh position, while 
 the head moves in the opposite direction. 
 
 9. Benediction. In benediction, the hands are lifted, 
 the backs up, extended front. 
 
 10. Petition. Excepting that the palms are turned up, 
 the positions in petition are the same as in benediction. 
 
 The Chest in Expression. i. In excitement, courage, the 
 sense of vigor, the chest is expanded. In timidity, anxiety, pain, 
 conscious weakness, the chest is contracted. In repose, the chest is 
 erect and normal. 
 
 2. In reflection, the chest bends forward. 
 
 3. In sublimity, the chest is broadened and lifted. 
 
 4. In attack, or vehemence, the chest is expanded, broadened, 
 and brought forward. 
 
 5. In despair, the chest is flattened. 
 
 6. The body leaning directly before an object indicates defer- 
 ence. 
 
 7. The body leaning obliquely toward object indicates reverence. 
 
 8. The body leaning back shows pride. 
 
 9. The body leaning sidewise is the attitude of wickedness ; it 
 is fox-like. 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE I2/ 
 
 Positions. In physical and moral weakness, the gravity of the 
 earth beneath draws the body down. The gestures are made on a 
 lower plane. 
 
 In spiritual or moral exaltation the body is lifted, and gesture is 
 made on a higher plane. 
 
 The Feet and Legs in Expression. Conscious weakness as- 
 sumes strong position, as in the case of the aged, infirm, and in 
 children, placing their feet far apart in standing and walking. 
 Conscious strength assumes weak positions, as in the case of ath- 
 letes and other strong persons keeping their feet nearer together. 
 
 Gravities. Three centres of gravity are to be distinguished. 
 The weight upon the heels indicates the subjective state of mind ; 
 the weight upon the balls of the feet indicates the objective state 
 of mind a reaching out to the auditor; the weight upon the 
 centre indicates hesitance and balance. 
 
 First attitude. In this attitude, the weight is upon both feet, 
 separated by a few inches, and the toes turned out at an angle of 
 75. This is a weak attitude. It characterizes respect. If the 
 feet be far separated, the expression is physical weakness, inso- 
 lence, familiar ease, vulgar repose, intoxication. 
 
 Second attitude. *' In this attitude, the strong leg is back- 
 ward, the free one forward." This is the attitude of reflection, 
 of concentration, of the strong man. It indicates the absence of 
 passion. It has something of intelligence. It is neither the 
 position of the child nor of the uncultured man. It indicates 
 calmness, strength, independence. 
 
 Third attitude. In this attitude the strong leg is forward, the 
 free leg backward. This is the attitude of vehemence, of ener- 
 getic action, of intense objectivity, of urging the speaker's will 
 upon the audience. 
 
 Fourth attitude. In this attitude the leg holding most of the 
 weight is behind, but rather widely separated from the advanced 
 leg, and bent at the knee. It is expressive of weakness following 
 terror, fear, recoil. 
 
 The Hand in Expression. " By representing the hands dis- 
 posed in conformity with the attitude of the figures, the old masters 
 have been able to express every different kind of sentiment in their 
 compositions. Who, for example, has not been sensible to the 
 expression of reverence in the hands of the Magdalens by Guide, 
 
128 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 to the eloquence of those in the cartoons of Raphael, or the signifi- 
 cant force in those of the Last Supper by Da Vinci. In these 
 great works may be seen all that Quintillian says the hand is capa- 
 ble of expressing : ' For other parts of the body assist the speaker ; 
 but these, I may say, speak themselves. By them we ask, we 
 promise, we invoke, we dismiss, we threaten, we entreat, we depre- 
 cate ; we express fear, joy, grief, our doubts, our assent, our peni- 
 tence ; we show moderation, profusion; we mark number and 
 time.'" 1 
 
 The part of the hand exposed to the auditor is the expressive part. 
 
 1. The palm of the hand is revelatory. Exposed to the auditor, 
 it opens up the subject to plain sight. The back of the hand ex- 
 presses secrecy, indefiniteness, doubt, and darkness. The edge 
 of the hand is definitive in expression. 
 
 2. Primary position. In the primary position of the hand, the 
 fingers are differentiated ; the first finger quite straight and most 
 separated; the second and third but little separated, and more 
 bent ; the fourth more separated from the third, and more straight. 
 Straighten the thumb, and separate from the first finger. Avoid 
 woodenness, which results from keeping the fingers close together 
 and straightened out. Avoid spreading the hand, and also all 
 convulsive attitudes of it. Leave them entirely alone except when 
 gesturing, or raised in preparation before the body. This attitude 
 should be mastered as the habitual one ; it expresses calm repose. 
 
 3. The fist expresses firmness, conflict, strength, concentra- 
 tion of force. 
 
 4. The fingers bent at first joint is expressive of convulsion 
 malevolence. 
 
 5. The thumb falling into the middle of the hand expresses life- 
 lessness, lack of energy, and when carried to extreme, drunken- 
 ness, and imbecility. This faulty position is frequently seen in 
 speakers. 
 
 6. The fingers and thumb opened, and the hand thrown up, 
 expresses exultation, earnestness, animated attention. 
 
 7. The same position, with the fingers stiffened straight and 
 separated to the utmost, expresses exasperation. 
 
 8. The hand closed, with the index finger straight, defines, 
 
 1 The Hand, by Sir Charles Bell. 
 
ELEMENTS OF FORCE I2Q 
 
 points out the way ; when the finger is shaken, it is discriminative 
 and threatening. 
 
 9. The hand tossed from side to side expresses impatience. 
 
 The Shoulders in expression. i. Normal condition indicates 
 calm repose. The shoulders elevated, indicate passion. The 
 shoulders depressed, indicate feebleness. The shoulders brought 
 forward, indicate pain. "The patient shrug" of the shoulders 
 indicates helplessness, resignation. 
 
 "The face is the mirror of the soul" because it is the most 
 impressive part of the body, and less under the control of the will, 
 and consequently the most faithful agent in rendering the states 
 of the soul. 
 
 Not only may momentary emotions be read in the face, but the con- 
 formation of the features of the face reveals the aptitude of the indi- 
 vidual, his temperament and character, always, of course, allowing 
 for the freedom of man to will and live above his natural appetences. 
 
 Every emotion of the soul writes itself upon the countenance, 
 and persistency will fix it there. 
 
 We have characteristically sad, joyful, thoughtful, stupid, vicious 
 faces. 
 
 We have seen the same face undergo marked and sometimes 
 remarkable changes, as the individual has changed his life. The 
 face gives the hand more significance in gesture. 
 
 The Eyes. The eyes and ears are called the organs of the 
 spiritual sense. The other organs of sense must come in contact 
 with the object, in order to know of its qualities or character. 
 
 With the ear we can hear sounds produced afar off; and with 
 the eye we can see the object that impresses us, though many 
 leagues in the distance. The eye, then, is the highest as an agent 
 of expression. It has long been characterized as the "window of 
 the soul." 
 
 1. The normal eye indicates calm repose; the eyes partially 
 closed, firmness; the eyelids closed indicate stupor; the eyelids 
 dilated, and the brows raised, indicate astonishment; the brows 
 held normal, and the lids dilated, indicate disdain; the brows and 
 lids contracted indicate perplexity. 
 
 The Head in Expression. i . The head easily erect is expressive 
 of calm repose. 
 
 2. Head inclined from object, sidewise to self, is expressive of 
 cunning, envy, hate, suspicion. 
 
I3O PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 3. Head turned away from the object and thrown back is ex- 
 pressive of pride, arrogance. 
 
 4. Head inclined before the object is expressive of contempla- 
 tion. 
 
 5. Head thrown back is expressive of vehemence, exaltation, 
 abandonment of self. 
 
 6. Head inclined obliquely toward object is expressive of vener- 
 ation, reverence. 
 
 7. Head inclined away from object, nonchalance, confidence. 
 
 8. Head thrown directly and easily back, with uplifted face, is 
 expressive of spiritual exaltation. 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 
 
 THE elements that gratify the aesthetic nature are varied, 
 and in most instances subtle things, upon which it is 
 difficult, if not impossible, to put the finger. The princi- 
 pal ones are those that give charm to the literary style of 
 the speaker. A few elements may be specially but briefly 
 considered : 
 
 SEC. I. Harmony of Function. Delivery, to be effec- 
 tive for its purpose must harmonize the various elements, 
 so that each feature shall be timely, accurate, and complete. 
 It should be without hitch or friction. Everything that jars 
 upon the feelings calls attention from the thought to the 
 agent. Not to speak of such co-ordinations as those in- 
 volved in the simplest alphabetic element, the principal 
 relations involved in speaking may be consciously directed. 
 In brief, the idea must be co-ordinated with the word, as 
 imaginatively seen or heard ; the word with the adjustment 
 of the organs of enunciation (the breathing, breath control, 
 pronunciation, etc.); the gesture with the spoken word; 
 and all related to the audience. In manuscript or book 
 delivery, the idea is read out of the page, and the identical 
 language of the page selected in turn for the expression of 
 that idea. A failure to co-ordinate any of these parts dis- 
 turbs the expression. Harmony effectively suits the word 
 to the action, and the action to the word. Among other 
 things it means graceful bearing. 
 
 Another aspect of harmony is the proper relating of the 
 various ideas of the discourse. It involves the harmony of 
 each part to the other and of each to the whole. 
 
132 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 Each speech or selection has its own atmosphere or pre- 
 vailing emotion underlying all the variety of parts. It 
 gives the ideal and especially the emotional unity of speech, 
 and all the parts must harmonize with this unity. The 
 atmosphere of tragedy differs from that of comedy, and that 
 of the funeral sermon differs from that of the cheerful 
 essay. 
 
 Each part of discourse is colored emotionally by each 
 immediately adjacent part. With the ideal differentiation, 
 the unity must also be observed. The anger of one part 
 colors the tenderest sentiment of the adjacent part. Words 
 introducing a quotation are colored by the emotion of the 
 quotation. 
 
 Violation of the principle of harmony manifests itself 
 in delivering all types of composition in the same mood. 
 Fits and starts of emotions are most unexpectedly intro- 
 duced, and the delivery is fragmentary. It is capriciously 
 loud or soft, slow or rapid; the delivery is unsuited to 
 the mental content. 
 
 SEC. II. Pronunciation. The word pronunciation is 
 used in the ordinary modern sense. Elegance demands 
 that a word be pronounced according to best usage, so far as 
 that can be determined. Pronunciation that suggests pro- 
 vincialism, or lack of ordinary culture, offends the taste, 
 and calls attention away from the ideas of the discourse; 
 it also weakens confidence as to the qualifications of the 
 speaker, in proportion to the obviousness and seriousness 
 of the blunder. One should avoid calling attention to the 
 pronunciation as such. 
 
 Absolute uniformity in pronunciation among all those 
 who use the English language is quite impossible; for each 
 individual has his personal equation. Besides, large sec- 
 tions, equally creditable as authority, differ from one 
 another; and colloquial pronunciation allowably differs from 
 that of formal discourse. The maker of each important 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 133 
 
 dictionary has found it necessary to give a long list of 
 words variously pronounced. The pronunciation of lan- 
 guage, too, is constantly changing. The pronunciation of 
 Chaucer's English is a forcible reminder of this fact. Ac- 
 cording to Sweet, the pronunciation of the London of to-day 
 differs widely from that of a century ago. A. J. Ellis holds 
 that there are three generations of pronunciation at any one 
 instant, each succeeding one modifying the other. 
 
 A changed pronunciation practised by any considerable 
 number of educated speakers is first noted as a "tendency," 
 and finally recorded as the accepted pronunciation of good 
 usage. For instance, there has long been a tendency to 
 change the long " u " sound into " 6 " (oo) sound, in situa- 
 tions unfavorable to its pronunciation. The use of " 6 " 
 (oo) instead of "u" after "r" is fully established and 
 accepted by all recent authorities. There is no question 
 about "true," "prune," "ferrule." Usage is still divided 
 as to the treatment of "u" after "1." Is it "lute," "flue," 
 "plume," or otherwise. After "t," "d," "u," and "s," 
 usage is not uniform. There is a tendency in all these 
 cases to change "u" into "6" (oo). After "t," in such 
 words as "tune," "tube," "Tuesday," "66" contends with 
 "u." After "d" (duty, duly, during, dude, duke), after 
 "n" (news, nude), and after "s" (suit, insulate, sewer, 
 capsule), there is a tendency to change "u" into "oo." 
 
 Usage is undecided as to the treatment of "t," "d," "s," 
 " z," with the " i " or " y " sound after it before another vowel. 
 Are they fused into "ch," " j," and "sh," "zh,"ornot? The 
 struggle is between " na/ure " and " nature, " between " grad- 
 ual " and "gra/ual," " jure " and "^ure," " visual and "vizh- 
 ual. But we say vision, not vision ; assure, not asure. Ac- 
 cording to the Century Dictionary, there is a tendency to 
 change "o" in lot into "o" in song; also to omit "r" in 
 many situations. Sweet ("A Primer of Spoken English") 
 recorded "suh" for "sir," "haad" for "hard," "haat" for 
 
134 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 "heart," "staa" for "star," "pooa" for" poor, "etc., as the 
 pronunciation of "educated spoken English." Such omis- 
 sion of the " r " is not unknown in America. Murray, as 
 the editor of the greatest English dictionary ever projected, 
 says, " From the composite character of the English vocabu- 
 lary, the pronunciation also, of many words is in a very 
 unsettled state." He instances that he heard the word 
 "gaseous" pronounced in six different ways on one occa- 
 sion, by as many different men eminent in science. 
 
 What, then, is to guide the student in pronunciation ? 
 Obviously good usage. But what is good usage ? Is it the 
 usage of London, of Boston, of New York, of Chicago ? 
 Can any section rightly claim precedence ? What guides 
 do the guides follow ? Boswell once asked Dr. Johnson 
 why he did not indicate the pronunciation of words in his 
 dictionary, urging that he understood Mr. Sheridan had 
 done so; and Johnson replied, "What entitles Sheridan to 
 fix English pronunciation? He is an Irishman! He says 
 the example of the best educated ; but they differ among 
 themselves. I remember an instance. Lord Chesterfield 
 once told me that 'great ' must rhyme with ' state; ' Sir Wil- 
 liam Yonge said with ' seat. ' One is the best speaker of the 
 House of Lords, and the other of the House of Commons." 
 The specialist, A. J. Ellis, ridicules any high claim to a 
 standard of pronunciation. When appealed to, he replies, 
 " I pronounce the word so and so ; but I have heard others 
 pronounce it so and so. I have no means of determining 
 which is the correct way." Henry Sweet and other distin- 
 guished phoneticians teach that there is no absolute stand- 
 ard, and that there may be many correct ways of pronoun- 
 cing any word. Any notion, then, that any one man can 
 determine the pronunciation of a word, or that any one 
 dictionary decides the matter, shows a reverence for au- 
 thority more submissive than intelligent, and totally fails to 
 appreciate how language is made. On the other hand, those 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 135 
 
 who claim that "language is a life," and not mechanically 
 fixed, are likely, it seems to me, to exercise too great free- 
 dom in matters of pronunciation. 
 
 No student must conclude, however, that pronunciation 
 is a matter of indifference. Many now in the schools must 
 guard against the faulty pronunciation of their early sur- 
 roundings; elementary defects and narrow provincialisms 
 are inexcusable. The pronunciation of any important dic- 
 tionary, in all likelihood, represents some considerable 
 number of persons, and for practical purposes is entitled to 
 be regarded as authority. To the student, then, any lead- 
 ing dictionary is a sufficient guide. He may feel reasona- 
 bly secure, also, if he be sure he follows the usage of a 
 considerable number of the educated people of his section 
 in any tendency to a changed pronunciation, whether it has 
 found the way into a dictionary or not; and as usage, and 
 not a priori principles, governs, consistency does not re- 
 quire the student to conform to any one book exclusively. 
 
 SEC. III. Agreeable Voice. Voices that are rich 
 and resonant give pleasure to the listener. This is due to 
 the musical qualities already discussed. Such a voice is 
 not only pleasing to the ear, but suggests refinement and 
 culture, and hence is an element of elegance. 
 
 SEC. IV. Strong and Graceful Movements. As the 
 advantages of strong and easy bearing and movement have 
 already been shown, but slight reference to them is neces- 
 sary at this point. Strong and graceful movements, also, 
 suggest strength, character, culture, and at once please the 
 eye, as an agreeable voice does the ear. 
 
 PHYSICAL DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 AT this point, not for one only, but for all the purposes 
 of Public Speaking, Physical Development may properly 
 receive consideration. It is not our intention, however, to 
 present an elaborate system of gymnastics, but to briefly 
 
136 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 treat the leading principles, and to give a sufficient num- 
 ber and variety of exercises adapted to classes where only 
 limited attention can be given to the subject. They will be 
 found adequate for ordinary practical purposes. 
 
 Principles and Aims of Physical Development. 
 The ends of exercise are the development of vital capacity and 
 strength^ and the acquisition of correct habit. The former is 
 hygienic, and the latter educational. 
 
 Dr. E. M. Hartwell, of Johns Hopkins University, distin- 
 guishes between the fundamental and the Accessory mechan- 
 ism of the body. In the former class, is the mechanism of 
 respiration, of the heart, of locomotion, etc. In the latter, 
 is the muscular mechanism for maintaining the erect posi- 
 tion, for the action of the hand, for the vocal organs, etc. 
 
 The development of the Fundamental mechanism means 
 increased vitality and strength, while the development of 
 the Accessory mechanism means skill and grace. 
 
 Dr. J. Enebuske, representing the Swedish system, states 
 the object of educational gymnastics to be "the harmonious 
 relation of mind and body." 
 
 These principles and aims of physical exercises are no- 
 where more serviceable than in exercises taken for purposes 
 of Public Speaking. 
 
 The aims of exercises, that is, exercises for increased 
 strength and vitality, and for the development of right 
 habit, depend for their realization upon the following 
 conditions : 
 
 1. The accuracy with which any given exercise is taken. 
 
 2. The alternate tension and relaxation of the muscles; 
 momentary rest alternating with action. 
 
 3. The repetition or frequency of the exercise. Two 
 hours of vigorous exercise taken once a month may do 
 more harm than good. 
 
 4. The rhythmical character or ease of the movements. 
 Rigid restraint, constant tension, make hard work, and 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 137 
 
 prevent the development desired. Count during the move- 
 ment. Be deliberate. 
 
 Cultivate the sense of control in all movements. 
 
 The vigorous and rapid movements, breaking down old 
 tissue and renewing it more rapidly, should alternate with 
 slower movements for the purpose of gesticular control. 
 
 It seems to me that the free-hand movements of the 
 Swedish system, especially promotive of grace and con- 
 trol, may well alternate with the exercise with weights, as 
 advocated by Dr. Sargent of Harvard. Free-hand move- 
 ments are, moreover, more practicable under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 Avoid exercise immediately before or after a full meal. 
 Exercise in pure air. After long periods of rest, approach 
 the exercise gradually, so as to prevent unnecessary lame- 
 ness. Stop before becoming fatigued. 
 
 EXERCISES. First Series. i. Stand, inhale, hands 
 on chest, elbows level with the shoulder; tap chest with 
 light percussive blows. 
 
 2. Stand, both hands in front of face, palm to face, 
 separate, pull back and down; count two. 
 
 3. Stand, toss both hands front, palm down, turn over, 
 clasp fists, draw in, elbows at sides, fists below the waist 
 level, slightly out; count three. 
 
 4. Stand, arms extended stiff by the sides, fists, bring 
 straight up, stretch, rotate. 
 
 5. Hands extended over head, bend forward, reach with 
 tips of fingers, drop the hands, erect, bend back, flex to 
 right, to left, arms dangling. 
 
 6. Hands on hips, bend forward, rotate clear around, 
 now in opposite direction. 
 
 7. Clasp hands back of head, rotate as in Exercise 6. 
 
 8. Drop the head forward, rotate clear around. 
 
 9. Bend back, face to ceiling, arms stretched up, palm to 
 palm, separate, extended sidewise, level with shoulders, fist. 
 
138 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 10. Stand, fingers of open hand on each shoulder, sud- 
 denly thrust the hands straight up. 
 
 11. Stand, suddenly thrust both hands down by the sides, 
 extended fingers, then straight up over head. 
 
 12. Stand, arms extended in front, clasp hands, rotate 
 body to left, to right. 
 
 13. Stand firm on right foot, swing the free leg; change 
 to opposite. 
 
 14. Stand, rise on tiptoe. 
 
 15. Knead the chest by putting the hands as far up under 
 the armpits as possible, and then squeezing the chest. 
 This loosens the articulations at the sternum and vertebrae, 
 allowing the ribs at the same time to elevate themselves 
 more at a right angle, thus giving greater chest capacity. 
 
 1 6. Diaphragmatic resistance. 
 
 (1) Place the hands circling the region just below the 
 floating ribs, thumbs toward the back, deep breath, make a 
 continuous muscular effort, hold breath, resisting the hands, 
 hold sides firm. 
 
 (2) Place the hands in front, the fingers pressing on the 
 region of the diaphgram, make muscular resistance. 
 
 (3.) Place the half -fist on the region midway; muscular 
 resistance as above. Practise i, 2, and 3 with continuous 
 breathing, also with sudden breathing. 
 
 17. Left fist well up on the chest, half back, right hand 
 fingers on right clavical, breathe, pressing against each hand. 
 
 Additional special exercises for "setting up," or for the 
 erect attitude. 
 
 1. Stand, both arms level with shoulder, extended side- 
 wise, palms up, turn head to right, look in palm. To left, 
 etc. 
 
 2. Hold spinal column straight, stoop, hands on the 
 thigh, turn head slowly, looking right, left, etc. 
 
 3. Hold spinal column straight, stoop, hands on knees, 
 turn head looking right, left, slowly. 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 139 
 
 4. Standing and walking make the back of the neck 
 touch the collar. 
 
 Second Series. With this series, light dumb-bells, 
 say of one pound each, are to be used. Lifted chest. Re- 
 peat each exercise according to circumstances. 
 
 1. Arms extended from the sides, level with the shoulder, 
 rotate slightly. 
 
 2. Over head, in a similar way. 
 
 3. Beginning with a bell on each shoulder, thrust up 
 over head. 
 
 4. Beginning the same as in 3, open the arms out side- 
 wise. 
 
 5. (a) Both feet together, weight on left, step forward 
 with right; bring both arms up, bent back, closing with 
 forearm vertical; bring back to starting-point. 
 
 (b) Change to right. 
 
 (c) Same movement, stepping back. 
 
 (d) Change. 
 
 6. Pull bell up to each armpit; rise on toes. 
 
 7. Bend right and left, hands hanging down. 
 
 8. Stand on right foot, swing the left ; change. 
 
 9. Rise on toes, stoop, strike end of bell on floor. 
 
 10. Feet firm, stoop, strike bells together under the legs. 
 
 11. Grasp both bells together, arms extended front, 
 rotate right, left. 
 
 12. Both feet together, grasp bells together with both 
 hands, swing over head, bend back, swing between legs, 
 bending forward. 
 
 13. Right foot advanced, swing as in 12, oblique ; 
 change, left advanced. 
 
 14. Bend back, face to ceiling, bells in front, bring 
 down level with shoulder. 
 
 The exercises given in Series I. and II. are all that 
 classes generally, and persons primarily interested in de- 
 livery, will care to use. 
 
PART II 
 
 PRAXIS IN DELIVERY 
 
 ANALYSIS OF 'A SPEECH 
 
 The Subjective Treatment. The analytic method 
 of the book is applied in the preparation of the following 
 selection. The attempt is not intended to be exhaustive, 
 but rather to further illustrate the method. 
 
 ANTONY'S SPEECH OVER CESAR'S BODY. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 1. I COME to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 
 
 2. The evil that men do lives after them ; 
 
 3. The good is oft interred with their bones; 
 
 4. So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus 
 
 5. Hath told you Caesar was ambitious; 
 
 6. If it were so, it was a grievous fault, 
 
 7. And grievously hath Caesar answer 'd it. 
 
 8. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest 
 
 9. (For Brutus is an honorable man; 
 
 10. So are they all, all honorable men) 
 
 11. Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 
 
 12. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: 
 
 13. But Brutus says he was ambitious; 
 
 14. And Brutus is an honorable man. 
 
 15. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
 
 16. Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: 
 
 17. Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? 
 
 18. When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: 
 
 19. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff : 
 
 20. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 
 140 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE I4J 
 
 21. And Brutus is an honorable man. 
 
 22. You all did see that on the Lupercal 
 
 23. I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
 
 24. Which he did thrice refuse : was this ambition? 
 
 25. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 
 
 26. And, sure, he is an honorable man. 
 
 27. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 
 
 28. But here I am to speak what I do know. 
 
 29. You all did love him once, not without cause : 
 
 30. What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him? 
 
 31. O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
 
 32. And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; 
 
 33. My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, 
 
 34. And I must pause till it come back to me. 
 
 1. The Subject and purpose of the address. Brutus and his con- 
 federates are assassins, enemies of Rome, and deserve death. The 
 speaker's purpose is to excite the populace to violence. 
 
 2. The atmosphere or mood. The prevailing emotion or mood 
 is that of pity and simulated humility. 
 
 3. Definition of words. Even when the meaning of words is 
 familiar, it is well worth the while to define them, and to name 
 their special qualities. Observe how difficult it is to define familiar 
 words. The attempt will frequently be like Justice Shallow's at- 
 tempt to define " accommodated." " Come " = approach, be pres- 
 ent ; here, manifestive of purpose. " To bury " = to inter a corpse, 
 to hide in the ground, to entomb. " Caesar " a conqueror, a 
 wise ruler, a friend to many, the assassinated. " Praise " = to 
 commend for virtues or worthy actions, to glorify. " Evil " = in- 
 jurious qualities, bad qualities, wrong deeds. " Lives" = abides, 
 continues. "The good " = right deeds, virtuous conduct, helpful 
 qualities. " Oft " = often, sometimes. " Interred " = buried, put 
 under the ground. " Bones "== (here) body; literally, a sub- 
 stance composing the skeleton. " Noble " = great, elevated, 
 honorable reputation. " Brutus " noble Roman, a conspirator, 
 a participant in the death of Caesar. " Ambitious "== desirous of 
 power. * Honorable " = of distinguished rank ; illustrious, noble. 
 
 4. Logical Relations. "I" is the subject of "come." "To 
 bury Caesar," predicate; "I," understood, subject, and [come] 
 " not to praise him," predicate. The latter is antithetic, but sub- 
 ordinate to the first clause. "The Evil" is the subject; "lives 
 
142 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 after them," the predicate. " That men do," modifying " evil," is 
 subordinate. The first and last clauses are co-ordinate. " The 
 good is oft interred with their bones" is the leading statement. 
 " So let it be with Caesar" is less analytic, and is conclusive. The 
 thought and feeling repose for a while after this sentence. It is 
 subordinate to the preceding member of the sentence. "The 
 . . . ambitious" continually heightens to the word "ambitious." 
 "If it were so" is subordinate to the next clause. '* It . . . 
 fault," is made strikingly prominent; the hypothetical "if" is 
 kept rather out of sight, since he does not wish to question, at 
 this point, Brutus's opinion. 
 
 5. Elipscs. The elipses will be supplied in brackets. 
 
 I come to bury Caesar ; [but I do] not [come] to praise him. 
 
 The noble Brutus hath told you [but has given no proof that] 
 Caesar was ambitious ; 
 
 If it were so, [but it is not], it was a grievous fault ; 
 
 Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? [Obviously, not.] 
 
 Yet Brutus says, [is he to be believed? that] he was ambitious; 
 
 And Brutus is an honorable [is he not honorable?] man 
 
 I thrice presented him a kingly crown [which shows he was not 
 ambitious]. 
 
 6. The New Idea. " Not praise " is the new idea. " Him," 
 old idea, previously given in the word, " Caesar." " Evil," new 
 idea. " Men " is a new idea, but subordinate. " Lives " is a new 
 idea, and is significant from what follows. "Good" contains a 
 new idea. "Interred" and "bones" are each old ideas, previ- 
 ously given in "bury" and "Caesar." "So" is a new idea. 
 " Brutus" is a new idea. " Ambitions," new. " Grievous fault," 
 new. "Answered," new. "To speak," new. "Friend," new. 
 " Faithful," " just," " me," each contains a new idea. " Ambitious," 
 new. 
 
 The style of this speech is rather laconic ; and being broken up, 
 and without oratorical continuity, it does not so well illustrate the 
 relation of new and old as many other selections. 
 
 7. Imagination. Picture the noisy, bustling rabble; imagine 
 the difficulties of the situation ; see Antony with bowed head, defer- 
 ential and silent before the crowd, and in the presence of the body 
 prepared for burial. All of the scene and occasion emotionally 
 affects the mind of the speaker, and hence, also, the mind of the 
 person who reproduces it. In the first line, the reader looks at 
 the imaginary body. One naturally imagines the evil deeds re- 
 peated from generation to generation. 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 143 
 
 The next picture awakened is that of mouldering bones ; then 
 the physical appearance of Brutus, rather tall, erect, strong, digni- 
 fied, dark complexioned. A little further along, imaginatively, 
 Caesar is pictured triumphantly entering Rome, followed by a 
 captive train ; the gold of their ransom is seen ; next, in contrast, 
 Caesar, weeping ; then Antony, presenting him a crown ; his wav- 
 ing it aside. A few other pictures present themselves. The selec- 
 tion, however, is not rich in things of the imagination. 
 
 8. Associated Ideas. (i) ".I come" suggests "bury;" 
 " bury," " Caesar, " also, " praise." The next line is rather discon- 
 nected. " Evil " suggests "men;" "men," "do," "lives," and 
 " good ; " " the good," suggests " interred ; " " interred," " bones." 
 The second and third lines are introduced for the purpose of at- 
 tributing them to Caesar. "So" summarizes and suggests the 
 two preceding lines and also "Caesar." (2) " Praise" suggests 
 *' blame ; " the blame others have placed on Caesar. To the average 
 mind, it suggests some sympathy with Brutus. " Evil " suggests 
 possibly the evil of Caesar. The listener connects the association. 
 It is the evil of men. " The good " is forgotten. By association, 
 "good" is a quality of Caesar. The orator says let the evil of 
 Caesar live and the good die. This by implication seems to side 
 with Brutus. "Bones" suggests powerlessness Caesar's condi- 
 tion; hence he should not excite resentment. " Noble," being a 
 complimentary term, suggests approval of Brutus's course. " Brutus 
 hath told" suggests what he told of Caesar's ambition ; this, more- 
 over, suggests agreement with what Antony is telling. Caesar's 
 ambition was a fault. " J/ n adroitly slipped in the first note of 
 dissent ; but not dwelt upon. " Grievously answered it," suggests 
 forgiveness and pity. The situation requires great caution. The 
 orator breaks in upon the ideas last introduced, and again refers 
 to the superior power and place of " Brutus and the rest." Pauses 
 to call them "honorable." Repeats it twice at short intervals. 
 That word, "honorable," is the key-word to the most important 
 association in the oration. By repetition and concurrent notions, 
 its opposite is suggested and attributed, not by the speaker (no 
 need of that), but by the listener to the conspirators. The 
 eleventh line repeats the first. " Friend," " faithful," and "just," 
 awaken ideas of approval ; " to me," added at last, allays all ques- 
 tioning. "But" suggests an antithetic idea; "ambitious" is 
 smuggled in as that idea. They have approved " friend," " faith- 
 ful," and "just;" hence disapprove of "ambitious." The next 
 
144 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 line is thrown in to show agreement and to further impress 
 "honorable" on the listener. "Many captives" suggests power, 
 riches the material for ambition. "General coffers fill" sug- 
 gests generosity, unselfishness. This, together with " Caesar 
 wept," " Crown thrice refuse," suggests absence of ambition. 
 
 9. Emotions. The whole speech is given with conversational 
 simplicity and directness. The speaker, however, is thoroughly 
 alert and intense. Grief and assumed humility are the prevailing 
 emotions. Very meekly, he says, " I come to bury Caesar." The 
 feeling of positiveness or affirmation repeats itself. "So let it be 
 with Cesar," given with feelings of tenderness and yet positive- 
 ness. From " the " to " fault," inclusive, given with lighter touch, 
 and the next line with increased positiveness. The next three (8-10) 
 lines given with feeling of simple statement ; the eleventh line, the 
 positiveness of completed statement. The eighteenth line is given 
 with imitative (slight) tenderness ; nineteenth changes to feelings 
 of sternness ; twentieth and twenty-first, the feelings accompany- 
 ing simple statement. . . . "O judgment" . . . " reason," given 
 with regretful and censorious feeling. "Bear . . . me," given 
 with a sudden break of overwhelming grief. 
 
 The various changes of emotion are so slight that they are not 
 so easily described as in many selections. 
 
 The oration as a whole, viewed as a means to an end, is a master- 
 piece. From the ethical point of view, it is not defensible. Almost 
 from beginning to end it is a tissue of false statements. The ethics 
 of speech-making is an important subject. We can take space to 
 say only that an element of the new oratory is honesty and direct- 
 ness. 
 
 The Objective Treatment. As the purpose in analyz- 
 ing this speech is to make clear the method of this book 
 rather than to aid in its special preparation, and as the 
 instruction upon the Elements is already full, and more or 
 less familiar as a method of treatment, it is hardly neces- 
 sary to illustrate their application in this selection. 
 
 In dealing with the Elements, always remember that they 
 are the counterpart of subjective conditions. In determin- 
 ing emphasis, stress, inflection, gesture, etc., apply the 
 principles involved. Do not settle capriciously upon an 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 145 
 
 emphasis or slide, but give the reason for its selection. 
 Never allow any stereotyped form to interfere with mental 
 freedom and spontaneity. In preparing a selection, pro- 
 vide for growth. This involves change. The objective 
 treatment will be especially valuable in difficult places. 
 Try a certain kind of voice, inflection, pause, or other ele- 
 ment, and then judge of it. In every instance apply the 
 committed "Scheme." 
 
 PRAXIS IN DELIVERY. 
 
 The leading types of Composition DESCRIPTIVE and 
 NARRATIVE, ORATORICAL and DRAMATIC combine elements 
 peculiar to each, and afford opportunity for concentrated 
 effort in practice. For practical purposes, HIGHLY IMAGINA- 
 TIVE and METRICAL SELECTIONS may also be regarded as 
 types affording distinct opportunities. 
 
 While carrying into practice all of the sources and ele- 
 ments according to the "Scheme," the student will find it 
 advantageous to recognize the leading feature or features of 
 any selection, and practise at first with special reference to 
 these features. 
 
 I. DESCRIPTION AND NARRATION. 
 
 Descriptive and narrative selections emphasize the con- 
 versational. As the conversational is the basis of all effec- 
 tive speaking, and as it is naturally the least difficult type, it 
 may well be selected for beginning elocutionary discipline. 
 The purpose of description and narration is to give infor- 
 mation in an interesting way. Its essential feature is move- 
 ment. 
 
 Descriptive and narrative delivery, while drawing upon all 
 of the sources, and employing all of the elements of effective 
 speaking, is simple, direct, and distinctly clear. Variety with 
 its differentiation is a marked feature. 
 
146 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 The two following selections will serve to indicate the 
 type: 
 
 I. WHITE HORSE HILL. 
 
 THOMAS HUGHES. 
 
 This selection is taken from " Tom Brown's School Days," Chapter I. This and 
 other selections may best be studied in connection with the chapter or whole of 
 which it is a part. 
 
 And then what a hill is the White Horse Hill ! There it stands 
 right up above all the rest, nine hundred feet above the sea, and 
 the boldest, bravest shape for a chalk hill that you ever saw. Let 
 us go up to the top of him, and see what is to be found there. Ay, 
 you may well wonder and think it odd you never heard of this be- 
 fore ; but wonder or not, as you please, there are hundreds of such 
 things lying about England, which wiser folk than you know noth- 
 ing of, and care nothing for. Yes, it's a magnificent Roman camp, 
 and no mistake, with gates, and ditch, and mounds, all as complete 
 as it was twenty years after the strong old rogues left it. Here, 
 right up on the highest point, from which they say you can see 
 eleven counties, they trenched round all the tableland, some twelve 
 or fourteen acres, as was their custom, for they couldn't bear any- 
 body to overlook them, and made their eyrie. The ground falls 
 away rapidly on all sides. Was there ever such turf in the whole 
 world ? You sink up to your ankles at every step, and yet the 
 spring of it is delicious. There is always a breeze in the " camp," 
 as it is called ; and here it lies just as the Romans left it, except 
 that cairn on the east side left by her Majesty's corps of sappers and 
 miners the other day, when they and the engineer officer had fin- 
 ished their sojourn there, and their surveys for the ordnance map 
 of Berkshire. It is altogether a place that you won't forget a 
 place to open a man's soul and make him prophesy, as he looks 
 down on the great vale spread out as the garden of the Lord before 
 him, and wave on wave of the mysterious downs behind; and to 
 the right and left the chalk hills running away into the distance, 
 along which he can trace for miles the old Roman road, " the 
 Ridgeway" (" the Rudge," as the country folk call it) keeping 
 straight along the highest back of the hills ; such a place as Balak 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 147 
 
 brought Balaam to, and told him to prophesy against the people in 
 the valley beneath. And he would not ; neither shall you, for they 
 are a people of the Lord who abide there. 
 
 And now we leave the camp, and descend toward the west, and 
 are on the Ashdown. s We are treading on heroes. It is sacred 
 ground for Englishmen, more sacred than all but one or two fields 
 where their bones lie whitening. For this is the actual place where 
 our Alfred won his great battle, the battle of Ashdown ('* &scen- 
 dum" in the chroniclers), which broke the Danish power, and 
 made England a Christian land. The Danes held the camp and 
 the slope where we are standing the whole crown of the hill, in 
 fact. " The heathen had beforehand seized the higher ground," 
 as old Asser says, having wasted everything behind them from 
 London, and being just ready to burst down on the fair vale, 
 Alfred's own birthplace and heritage. And up the heights came 
 the Saxons, as they did at the Alma. The Christians led up their 
 line from the lower ground. There stood also on that same spot a 
 single thorn-tree, marvellous stumpy (which we ourselves with our 
 very own eyes have seen) ." Bless the old chronicler ! Does he 
 think nobody ever saw a " single thorn-tree " but himself? Why, 
 there it stands to this very day, just on the edge of the slope, and 
 I saw it not three weeks since ; an old single thorn-tree, " mar- 
 vellous stumpy." At least, if it isn't the same tree, it ought to have 
 been, for it's just in the place where the battle must have been won 
 or lost * around which, as I was saying, the two lines of foemen 
 came together in battle with a huge shout." And in this place, one 
 of the two kings of the heathen and five of his earls fell down and 
 died, and many thousands of the heathen side in the same place. 
 After which crowning mercy, the pious king, that there might never 
 be wanting a sign and a memorial to the country-side, carved out 
 on the northern side of the chalk hill under the camp, where it is 
 almost precipitous, the 'great Saxon white horse, which he who will 
 may see from the railway, and which gives its name to the vale, 
 over which it has looked these thousand years and more. 
 
14$ PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 II. THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT. 
 
 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNS. 
 This selection is taken from "Twice Told Tales." 
 
 Bright were the days at Merry Mount, when the Maypole was 
 the banner staff of that gay colony. They who reared it, should 
 their banner be triumphant, were to pour sunshine over New Eng- 
 land's rugged hills, and scatter flower-seeds throughout the soil. 
 Jollity and gloom were contending for an empire. Midsummer 
 eve had come, bringing deep verdure to the forest, and roses in her 
 lap of a more vivid hue than the tender buds of spring. But May, 
 or her mirthful spirit, dwelt all the year round at Merry Mount, 
 sporting with the summer months, and revelling with autumn, and 
 basking in the glow of winter's fireside. Through a world of toil 
 and care she flitted with a dream-like smile, and came hither to 
 find a home among the lightsome hearts of Merry Mount. 
 
 Never had the Maypole been so gayly decked as at sunset on 
 Midsummer Eve. This venerated emblem was a pine-tree, which 
 had preserved the slender grace of youth, while it equalled the 
 loftiest height of the old wood monarchs. From its top streamed 
 a silken banner, colored like the rainbow. Down nearly to the 
 ground, the pole was dressed with birchen boughs, and others of 
 the liveliest green, and some with silvery leaves, fastened by rib- 
 bons that fluttered in fantastic knots of twenty different colors, 
 but no sad ones. Garden flowers and blossoms of the wilderness 
 laughed gladly forth amid the verdure, so fresh and dewy, that 
 they must have grown by magic on thiat happy pine-tree. Where 
 this green and flowery splendor terminated, the shaft of the May- 
 pole was stained with the seven brilliant hues of the banner at its 
 top. On the lowest green bough, hung an abundant wreath of 
 roses, some that had been gathered in the sunniest spots of its 
 forest, and others, of still richer flush, which the colonists had 
 reared from English seed. Oh, people of the Golden Age, the chief 
 of your husbandry was to raise flowers. 
 
 But what was the wild throng that stood hand in hand about 
 the Maypole ? It could not be that the fairies and nymphs, when 
 driven from their classic groves and homes of ancient fable, had 
 sought refuge, as all the persecuted did, in the fresh woods of the 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 149 
 
 West. These were Gothic monsters, though perhaps of Grecian 
 ancestry. On the shoulders of a comely youth, up rose the head 
 and branching antlers of a stag; a second, human in all other 
 points, had the grim visage of a wolf; a third, still with the trunk 
 and limbs of a mortal man, showed the beard and horns of a vener- 
 able he-goat. There was a likeness of a bear erect, brute in all 
 but his hind legs, which were adorned with pink silk stockings. 
 And here again, almost as wondrous, stood a real bear of the dark 
 forest, lending each of his forepaws to the grasp of a human hand, 
 and as ready for the dance as any in that circle. His inferior 
 nature rose half-way to meet his companions as they stooped. 
 Other faces wore the similitude of man or woman, but distorted 
 or extravagant, with red noses, pendulous before their mouths, 
 which seemed of awful depth, and stretched from ear to ear in 
 an eternal fit of laughter. Here might be seen the Salvage Man, 
 well known in heraldry, hairy as a baboon, and girdled with green 
 leaves. By his side, a nobler figure, but still a counterfeit, ap- 
 peared an Indian hunter, with feathery crest and wampum belt. 
 Many of this strange company wore foolscaps, and had little bells 
 appended to their garments, tinkling with a silvery sound, respon- 
 sive to the inaudible music of their gleesome spirits. Some youths 
 and maidens were of soberer garb, yet well maintained their places 
 in the irregular throng, by the expression of wild revelry upon their 
 features. Such were the colonists of Merry Mount, as they stood 
 in the broad smile of sunset, round their venerated Maypole. 
 
 Had a wanderer, bewildered in the melancholy forest, heard 
 their mirth, and stolen a half-affrighted glance, he might have fan- 
 cied them the crew of Comfls, some already transformed to brutes, 
 some midway between man and beast, and the others rioting in the 
 flow of tipsy jollity, that foreran the change. But a band of Puri- 
 tans, who watched the scene, invisible themselves, compared the 
 masques to those devils and ruined souls with whom their supersti- 
 tion peopled the black wilderness. 
 
 II. ORATORIO (HORTATORY). 
 
 The purely Oratorio is distinctly dynamic, especially in 
 its hortatory form, and is characterized by great energy. It 
 affords excellent opportunity to practise the more forceful 
 
I5O PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 elements, the radical stress, staccato movement, strong 
 force, reserved force. The following additional suggestion 
 is made: Deliver the two following selections in the sim- 
 plest conversational way; then deliver them exaggerating 
 the intense form (reserved force) ; in the next place deliver 
 them dynamically, radical stress and marked staccato move- 
 ment; lastly combine all of these elements in the full and 
 finished form of the type. 
 
 I. AWAIT THE ISSUE. 
 
 THOMAS CARLYLB. 
 This selection is taken from " Past and Present." 
 
 1. IN this God's world, with its wild, whirling eddies and 
 mad, foam oceans, where men and nations perish as if without law, 
 and judgment for an unjust thing is sternly delayed, dost thou think 
 that there is therefore no justice ? It is what the fool hath said in 
 his heart. It is what the wise, in all times, were wise because they 
 denied, and knew forever not to be. I tell thee again, there is 
 nothing else but justice. One strong thing I find here below : the 
 just thing, and true thing. 
 
 2. My friend, if thou hadst all the artillery of Woolwich trun- 
 dling at thy back in support of an unjust thing, and infinite bonfires 
 visibly waiting ahead of thee to blaze centuries long for thy victory 
 on behalf of it, I would advise thee to call halt, to fling down thy 
 baton, and say, ** In Heaven's name, no ! " 
 
 3. Thy " success " ? Poor devil, what will thy success amount 
 to? If the thing is unjust, thou hast not succeeded ; no, not though 
 bonfires blazed from north to south, and bells rang, and editors 
 wrote leading articles, and the just things lay trampled out of 
 sight, to all mortal eyes an abolished and annihilated thing. . . . 
 
 4. For it is the right and noble alone that will have victory in 
 this struggle ; the rest is wholly an obstruction, a postponement, 
 and fearful imperilment of the victory. Towards an eternal centre 
 of right and nobleness, and of that only, is all confusion tending. 
 We already know whither it is all tending ; what will have victory, 
 what will have none ! The heaviest will reach the centre. The 
 heaviest has its deflections ; its obstructions ; nay, at times its re- 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE I$l 
 
 boundings, its resiliences, whereupon some blockhead shall be heard 
 jubilating, " See, your heaviest ascends ! " but at all moments it is 
 moving centreward, fast as is convenient for it ; sinking, sinking ; 
 and, by laws older than the world, old as the Maker's first plan 
 of the world, it has to arrive there. 
 
 5. Await the issue. In all battles, if you await the issue, each 
 fighter has prospered according to his right. His right and his 
 might, at the close of the account, were one and the same. He 
 has fought with all his might, and in exact proportion to all his 
 right he has prevailed. His very death is no victory over him. 
 He dies indeed ; but his work lives, very truly lives. 
 
 6. A heroic Wallace, quartered on the scaffold, cannot hinder 
 that his Scotland become, one day, a part of England ; but he does 
 hinder that it become, on tyrannous, unfair terms, a part of it; 
 commands still, as with a god's voice, from his old Valhalla and 
 Temple of the Brave, that there be a just, real union as of brother 
 and brother, not a false and merely semblant one as of slave and 
 master. If the union with England be in fact one of Scotland's 
 chief blessings, we thank Wallace withal that it was not the chief 
 curse. Scotland is not Ireland : no, because brave men rose there 
 and said, " Behold, ye must not tread us down like slaves ; and ye 
 shall not, and cannot ! " 
 
 7. Fight on, thou brave, true, heart, and falter not, through dark 
 fortune and through bright. The cause thou fightest for, so far as 
 it is true, no further, yet precisely so far, is very sure of victory. 
 The falsehood alone of it will be conquered, will be abolished, as it 
 ought to be ; but the truth of it is part of Nature's own laws, co- 
 operates with the world's eternal tendencies, and cannot be con- 
 quered. 
 
 II. NATIONAL BANKRUPTCY. 
 
 MlRABEAU. 
 
 From a speech before the National Convention of France, 1789. 
 
 I. I HEAR much said of patriotism, appeals to patriotism, trans- 
 ports of patriotism. Gentlemen, why prostitute this noble word? 
 Is it so very magnanimous to give up a part of your income in order 
 to save your whole property? This is very simple arithmetic; and 
 he that hesitates deserves contempt rather than indignation. 
 
152 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 2. Yes, gentlemen, it is to your immediate self-interest, to your 
 most familiar notions of prudence and policy, that I now appeal. 
 I say not to you now as heretofore, beware how you give the world 
 the first example of an assembled nation untrue to the public faith. 
 I ask you not, as heretofore, what right you have to freedom, or 
 what means of maintaining it, if, at your first step in administra- 
 tion, you outdo in baseness all the old and corrupt governments. I 
 tell you, that unless you prevent this catastrophe, you will all be 
 involved in the general ruin; and that you are yourselves the per- 
 sons most deeply interested in making the sacrifices which the gov- 
 ernment demands of you. 
 
 3. I exhort you, then, most earnestly, to vote these extraordi- 
 nary supplies ; and God grant that they may prove sufficient ! Vote 
 them, I beseech you ; for, even if you doubt the expediency of the 
 means, you know perfectly well that the supplies are necessary, and 
 that you are incapable of raising them in any other way. Vote 
 them at once, for the crisis does not admit of delay ; and, if it oc- 
 curs, we must be responsible for the consequences. 
 
 4. Beware of asking for time. Misfortune accords it never. 
 While you are lingering, the evil day will come upon you. Why, 
 gentlemen, it is but a few days since that upon occasion of some 
 foolish bustle in the Palais Royal, some ridiculous insurrection that 
 existed nowhere but in the heads of a few weak or designing in- 
 dividuals, we were told with emphasis, " Catiline is at .the gates of 
 Rome, and yet we deliberate." You know, gentlemen, that this 
 was all imagination. We are far from being at Rome ; nor is there 
 any Catiline at the gates of Paris. But now are we threatened with 
 a real danger ; bankruptcy, national bankruptcy, is before you ; it 
 threatens to swallow up your persons, your property, your honor, 
 and yet you deliberate. 
 
 III. DRAMATIC TYPE. 
 
 The Dramatic is the third type of composition. It affords 
 splendid discir^ine in frequent and radical changes of emo- 
 tion, in control, and in broadening the moods and tempera- 
 ment of the speaker. The practice of dramatic selections 
 is an excellent means for developing oratoric power. The 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 1 53 
 
 interpretation of great pieces of literature as found in the 
 drama is a legitimate aim, and though achieved in a high 
 degree only by genius, is well worthy the aim of all for 
 its cultural value. The two following selections are as 
 simple as any that may be chosen for this purpose. 
 
 I. BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 This selection is taken from " Julius Caesar," Act I. Sc. ii. The student should 
 read the whole play, and form a definite estimate of the two men, etc. 
 
 Brutus. What means this shouting ? I do fear, the people 
 Choose Caesar for their king. 
 
 Cassms. Ay, do you fear it? 
 
 Then must I think you would not have it so. 
 
 Brutus. I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well. 
 
 But wherefore do you hold me here so long ? 
 What is it that you would impart to me ? 
 If it be aught toward the general good, 
 Set honor in one eye, and death i' the other, 
 And I will look on both indifferently, 
 For let the gods so speed me as I love 
 The name of honor more than I fear death. 
 
 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 Cassar ; 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 Tyber chafing with her shores, 
 Caesar said to me, Dar'st thou, Cassms, now 
 Leap in 'with me into this angry flood, 
 
154 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 And swim to yonder point ? Upon the word, 
 
 Accoutred as I was, I plunged 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 propos'd, 
 
 Caesar cried, Help me, Cassius, or I sink I 
 
 I, as yEneas, our great ancestor, 
 
 Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 
 
 The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tyber 
 
 Did I the tired 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 lustre. 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 and 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. 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 155 
 
 Brutus and Cezsar : what should be in that Ccesar f 
 
 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 them, 
 
 Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Ccesar. 
 
 Now, in the name of all the gods at once, 
 
 Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, 
 
 That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shanVd 
 
 Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods ! 
 
 When went there by an age, since the great flood, 
 
 But it was fam'd with more than one man ? 
 
 When could they say, till now, that talk'd 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 brook'd 
 
 Th 1 eternal Devil to keep his state in Rome, 
 
 As easily as a king ! 
 
 II. BRUTUS, CASSIUS, AND CASCA. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 This selection, like the preceding, is from " Julius Caesar," ACT I. Sc. ii. 
 
 Casca. You puird me by the cloak : would you speak with me? 
 
 Bru. Ay, Casca ; tell us what hath chanc'd to-day, that Caesar 
 looks so sad. 
 
 Casca. Why, you were with him, were you not? 
 
 Bru. I should not, then, ask Casca what had chanc'd. 
 
 Casca. Why, there was a crown offer'd him ; and being offer'd 
 him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus ; and then the 
 people fell a-shouting. 
 
 Bru. What was the second noise for? 
 
 Casca. Why for that too. 
 
 Cass. They shouted thrice : what was the last cry for ? 
 
 Casca. Why, for that too. 
 
 Bru. Was the crown offer'd him thrice? 
 
156 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 Casca. Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every time 
 gentler than other ; and at every putting-by mine honest neighbors 
 shouted. 
 
 Cass. Who offer'd him the crown? 
 
 Casca. Why, Antony. 
 
 Bru. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. 
 
 Casca. I can as well be hang'd, as tell the manner of it : it was 
 mere foolery ; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a 
 crown; yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these coro- 
 nets ; and, as I told you, he put it by once : but, for all that, to my 
 thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him 
 again ; then he put it by again : but, to my thinking, he was very 
 loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time ; 
 he put it the third time by ; and still, as he refus'd it, the rabble- 
 ment shouted, and clapp'd their chapp'd hands, and threw up their 
 sweaty nightcaps, and Caesar swooned, and fell down at it. 
 
 Cass. But, soft, I pray you: what, did Caesar swoon? 
 
 Casca. He fell down in the market-place, and foam'd at mouth, 
 and was speechless. 
 
 Bru. 'Tis very like ; he hath the falling-sickness. 
 
 Cass. No, Caesar hath it not ; but you and I, 
 
 And honest Casca, we have the falling-sickness. 
 
 Casca. I know not what you mean by that ; but I am sure 
 Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss 
 him, according as he pleas'd and displeas'd them, as they used to 
 do the players in the theatre, I am no true man. 
 
 Bru. What said he when he came unto himself ? 
 
 Casca. Marry, before he fell down, when he perceiv'd the com- 
 mon herd was glad he refus'd the crown, he pluck'd me ope his 
 doublet, and offer'd them his throat to cut : an I had been a man 
 of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would 
 I might go down among the rogues: and so he fell. When he 
 came to himself again he said, if he had done or said anything amiss, 
 he desir'd their worships to think it was his infirmity. 
 
 Bru. And, after that, he came thus sad away? 
 
 Casca. Ay. 
 
 Cass. Did Cicero say anything? 
 
 Casca. Ay, he spoke Greek. 
 
 Cass. To what effect? 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 157 
 
 Casca. Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' the face 
 again : but those that understood him srail'd at one another and 
 shook their heads ; but, for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I 
 could tell you more news too : Marullus and Flavius, for pulling 
 scarfs off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fare you well. 
 There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it. 
 Cass. Will you sup with me to-night, Casca? 
 Casca. No, I am promis'd forth. 
 Cass. Will you dine with me to-morrow ? 
 
 Casca. Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your dinner 
 worth the eating. 
 
 Cass. Good ; I will expect you. 
 
 Casca. Do so : farewell both. \Exit CASCA. 
 
 Bru. What a blunt fellow is this grown to be ! He was quick 
 mettle when he went to school. 
 Cass. So is he now, in execution 
 
 Of any bold or noble enterprise, 
 However he puts on this tardy form. 
 This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, 
 Which gives men stomach to digest his words 
 With better appetite. 
 
 IV. IMAGINATION AND RHYTHM. 
 
 Selections of prose or poetry, introducing the imagination 
 in a prominent way, give excellent opportunity for the 
 special cultivation of this faculty upon which depends so 
 largely the essential of force in delivery. Without imagina- 
 tion, no considerable power in delivery is possible. The 
 two following selections well answer this purpose. After 
 using these two selections for the development of the im- 
 agination and emotion, they may be further used for special 
 attention to rhythm. 
 
158 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 I. PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. 
 
 H. W. LONGFKLLOW. 
 
 This selection is from Fireside Tales. 
 
 I. 
 
 LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear 
 Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 
 On the eighteenth of April, in seventy-five : 
 Hardly a man is now alive 
 Who remembers that famous day and year. 
 
 n. 
 
 He said to his friend, " If the British march 
 By land or sea from the town to-night, 
 Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch 
 Of the North Church tower, as a signal light, 
 One,^f by land, and two, if by sea ; 
 And I on the opposite shore will be 
 Ready to ride and spread the alarm 
 Through every Middlesex village and farm, 
 For the country-folk to be up and to arm." 
 
 in. 
 
 Then he said, " Good-night!" and with muffled oar 
 Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, 
 Just as the moon rose over the bay, 
 Where, swinging wide at her moorings, lay 
 The " Somerset," British man-of-war: 
 A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 
 Across the moon, like a prison bar, 
 And a huge, black hulk, that was magnified 
 By its own reflection in the tide. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Meanwhile his friend, through alley and street 
 Wanders and watches with eager ears, 
 Till, in the silence around him, he hears 
 The muster of men at the barrack door, 
 The sound of arms and the tramp of feet, 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 159 
 
 And the measured tread of the grenadiers 
 Marching down to their boats on the shore. 
 
 v. 
 
 Then he climbed to the tower of the church, 
 Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, 
 To the belfry chamber overhead, 
 And startled the pigeons from their perch 
 On the sombre rafters, that round him made 
 Masses and moving shapes of shade, 
 Up the trembling ladder, steep and tall, 
 To the highest window in the wall, 
 Where he paused to listen, and look down 
 A moment on the roofs of the town, 
 And the moonlight flowing over all. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Beneath in the church-yard lay the dead 
 In their night encampment on the hill, 
 Wrapped in silence so deep and still 
 That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, 
 The watchful night-wind, as it went 
 Creeping along from tent to tent, 
 And seeming to whisper, " All is well ! " 
 
 VII. 
 
 A moment only he feels the spell 
 Of the place and the hour, the secret dread 
 Of the lonely belfry and the dead ; 
 For suddenly all his thoughts are bent 
 On a shadowy something far away, 
 Where the river widens to meet the bay, 
 A line of black that bends and floats 
 On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, 
 Booted and spurred with a heavy stride 
 On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. 
 Now he patted his horse's side, 
 
I6O PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 Now gazed at the landscape far and near, 
 Then impetuous, stamped the earth, 
 And turned and tightened his saddle-girth ; 
 But mostly he watched with eager search 
 The belfry tower of the Old North Church, 
 As it rose above the graves on the hill, 
 Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry^s height 
 A glimmer, and then a gleam of light ! 
 He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, 
 But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 
 A second lamp in the belfry burns ! 
 
 x. 
 
 A hurry of hoofs in a village street, 
 
 A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 
 
 And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 
 
 Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet : 
 
 That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the light. 
 
 The fate of a nation was riding that night ; 
 
 And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, 
 
 Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 
 
 XI. 
 
 You know the rest. In the books you have read 
 How the British regulars fired and fled, 
 How the farmers gave them ball for ball, 
 From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, 
 Chasing the redcoats down the lane, 
 Then crossing the fields to emerge again 
 Under the trees at the turn of the road, 
 And only pausing to fire and load. 
 
 XII. 
 
 So through the night rode Paul Revere ; 
 And so through the night went his cry of alarm 
 To every Middlesex village and farm, 
 A cry of defiance and not of fear, 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE l6l 
 
 A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, 
 And a word that shall echo forevermore ! 
 For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 
 Through all our history, to the last, 
 In the hour of darkness and peril and need, 
 The people will waken and listen to hear 
 The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, 
 And the midnight message of Paul Revere. 
 
 II. AN ORDER FOR A PICTURE. 
 
 ALICB GARY. 
 Light touch. Emotional content a leading feature. 
 
 O GOOD painter, tell me true, 
 
 Has your hand the cunning to draw 
 Shapes of things you never saw ? 
 
 Ay? Well, here is an order for you. 
 
 Woods and cornfields, a little brown, 
 The picture must not be over-bright, 
 Yet all in the golden and gracious light 
 
 Of a cloud, when the summer sun is down. 
 Alway and alway, night and morn, 
 Woods upon woods, with fields of corn 
 Lying between them, not quite sere, 
 
 And not in the full, thick, leafy bloom, 
 
 When the wind can hardly find breathing-room 
 Under their tassels, cattle near, 
 
 Biting shorter the short green grass, 
 And a hedge of sumach and sassafras, 
 With bluebirds twittering all around, 
 (Ah, good painter, you Can't paint sound ! ) 
 These, and the house where I was born, 
 Low and little, and black and old, 
 With children, many as it can hold, 
 All at the windows, open wide, 
 Heads and shoulders clear outside, 
 
162 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
 And fair young faces all ablush : 
 
 Perhaps you may have seen, some day, 
 Roses crowding the self-same way, 
 
 Out of a wilding, wayside bush 
 
 Listen closer. When you have done 
 With woods and cornfields and grazing herds, 
 
 A lady, the loveliest ever the sun 
 Looked down upon, you must paint for me ; 
 Oh, if I only could make you see 
 
 The clear blue eyes, the tender smile, 
 The sovereign sweetness, the gentle grace, 
 The woman's soul, and the angel's face, 
 
 That are beaming on me all the while, 
 
 I need not speak these foolish words : 
 
 Yet one word tells you all I would say, 
 She is my mother : you will agree 
 
 That all the rest may be thrown away. 
 
 Two little urchins at her knee 
 You must paint, sir ; one like me, 
 The other with a clearer brow, 
 
 And the light of his adventurous eyes 
 
 Flashing with boldest enterprise : 
 At ten years old he went to sea, 
 God knoweth if he be living now ; 
 
 He sailed in the good ship "Commodore," 
 Nobody ever crossed her track 
 To bring us news, and she never came back. 
 
 Ah, 'tis twenty long years and more 
 Since that old ship went out of the bay 
 
 With my great-hearted brother on her deck : 
 
 I watched him till he shrank to a speck, 
 And his face was towards me all the way. 
 Bright his hair was, a golden brown, 
 
 The time we stood at our mother's knee : 
 That beauteous head, if it did go down, 
 
 Carried sunshine into the sea ! 
 
 Out in the fields one summer night 
 We were together, half afraid 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELEGANCE 163 
 
 Of the corn-leaves' rustling, and of the shade 
 
 Of the high hills, stretching so still and far, 
 Loitering till after the low little light 
 
 Of the candle shone through the open door. 
 
 Afraid to go home, sir ; for one of us bore 
 A nest full of speckled and thin-shelled eggs ; 
 The other, a bird, held fast by the legs, 
 Not so big as a straw of wheat : 
 The berries we gave her she wouldn't eat, 
 But cried and cried, till we held her bill, 
 So slim and shining, to keep her still. 
 
 At last we stood at our mother's knee. 
 
 Do you think, sir, if you try, 
 
 You could paint the look of a lie ? 
 
 If you can, pray have the grace 
 
 To put it solely in the face 
 Of the urchin that is likest me : 
 
 I think 'twas solely mine, indeed : 
 But that's no matter, paint it so ; 
 
 The eyes of my mother (take good heed) 
 Looking not on the nestful of eggs, 
 Nor the fluttering bird held so fast by the legs, 
 But straight through our faces down to our lies, 
 And oh, with such injured, reproachful surprise ! 
 
 I felt my heart bleed where that glance went, as though 
 
 A sharp blade struck through it. 
 
 You, sir, know 
 
 That you on the canvas are to repeat 
 Things that are fairest, things most sweet, 
 Woods and cornfields and mulberry -tree, 
 The mother, the lads, with their bird, at her knee: 
 
 But, oh, that look of reproachful woe ! 
 High as the heavens your name I'll shout, 
 If you paint me the picture, and leave that out. 
 
SELECTIONS 
 
 SKILL AND BEAUTY IN ART. 
 
 JOHN RUSKIN. 
 From The Relation of Use to Art in " The Crown of Wild Olive." 
 
 Now, I pray you to observe for though I have said this often 
 before, I have never yet said it clearly enough every good piece 
 of art . . . involves first essentially the evidence of human skill, 
 and the formation of an actually beautiful thing by it. 
 
 Skill and beauty always, then ; and, beyond these, the formative 
 arts have always been one or other of the two objects which I have 
 just defined to you truth, or serviceableness ; and without these 
 aims neither the skill nor their beauty will avail ; only by these can 
 either legitimately reign. All the graphic arts begin in keeping the 
 outline of shadow that we have loved, and they end in giving to it 
 the aspect of life ; and all the architectural arts begin in the shap- 
 ing of the cup and the platter, and they end in a glorified roof. 
 
 Therefore, you see, in the graphic arts you have skill, beauty, 
 and likeness ; and in the architectural arts, skill, beauty, and use ; 
 and you must have the three in each group, balanced and co-ordi- 
 nate ; and all the chief errors of art consist in losing or exaggerat- 
 ing one of these elements. 
 
 For instance, almost the whole system and hope of modern life 
 are founded on the notion that you may substitute mechanism for 
 skill, photograph for picture, cast-iron for sculpture. That is your 
 main nineteenth-century faith, or infidelity. You think you can get 
 everything by grinding music, literature, and painting. You will 
 
 165 
 
1 66 SELECTIONS 
 
 find it grievously not so; you can get nothing but dust by mere 
 grinding. Even to have the barley-meal out of it, you must have 
 the barley first ; and that comes by growth, not grinding. But 
 essentially, we have lost our delight in skill ; in that majesty of it 
 which I was trying to make clear to you in my last address, and 
 which long ago I tried to express, under the head of ideas of power. 
 The entire sense of that we have lost, because we ourselves do not 
 take pains enough to do right, and have no conception of what the 
 right costs ; so that all the joy and reverence we ought to feel in 
 looking at a strong man's work, have ceased in us. We keep them 
 yet a little in looking at a honeycomb or a bird's nest ; we under- 
 stand that these differ, by divinity of skill, from a lump of wax or a 
 cluster of sticks. But a picture, which is a much more wonderful 
 thing than a honeycomb or a bird's nest have we not known 
 people, and sensible people too, who expected to be taught to pro- 
 duce that in six lessons ? 
 
 THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 
 
 BANCROFT. 
 
 1. ON Friday the 2d of March, 1770, a British soldier of the 
 Twenty-ninth Regiment asked to be employed at Gray's rope- 
 walk, and was repulsed in the coarsest words. He then defied the 
 rope-makers to a boxing match ; and one of them accepting his 
 challenge, he was beaten off. Returning with several of his com- 
 panions, they too were driven away. A larger number came down 
 to renew the fight with clubs and cutlasses, and in their turn 
 encountered defeat. 
 
 2. There was an end to the affair at the rope- walk, but not at 
 the barracks, where the soldiers inflamed each other's passions, as 
 if the honor of the regiment had been tarnished. 
 
 3. On Saturday they prepared bludgeons ; and being resolved to 
 
THE BOSTON MASSACRE 1 67 
 
 brave the citizens on Monday night, they forewarned their partic- 
 ular acquaintances not to be abroad. 
 
 4. Evening came on. The young moon was shining in a cloud- 
 less winter sky, and its light was increased by a new-fallen snow. 
 Parties of soldiers were driving about the streets, making a parade 
 of valor, challenging resistance, and striking the inhabitants indis- 
 criminately with sticks or sheathed cutlasses. 
 
 5. A band which rushed out from the barracks in Brattle Street, 
 armed with clubs, cutlasses, and bayonets, provoked resistance; 
 and an affray ensued. An ensign at the gate of the barrack-yard 
 cried to the soldiers, "Turn out, and I will stand by you; kill 
 them ; stick them ; knock them down ; run your bayonets through 
 them ! " And one soldier after another levelled a firelock, and 
 threatened to "make a lane" through the crowd. 
 
 6. Just before nine, as an officer crossed King Street, a barber's 
 lad cried after him, " There goes a mean fellow who hath not paid 
 my master for dressing his hair ; " on which a sentinel left his post, 
 and with his musket gave the boy a stroke on the head which made 
 him stagger and cry for pain. 
 
 7. The street soon became clear, and nobody troubled the sen- 
 try, when a party of soldiers issued violently from the main guard, 
 their arms glittering in the moonlight, and passed on hallooing, 
 "Where are they? where are they? let them come!" 
 
 8. " Pray, soldiers, spare my life !" cried a boy of twelve, whom 
 they met. * No, no ; we will kill you all ! " answered one of them, 
 and knocked him down with his cutlass. They abused and insulted 
 several persons at their doors, and others in the street, running 
 about like madmen in a fury, crying, " Fire ! " which seemed their 
 watchword, and, "Where are they? knock them down!" Their 
 outrageous behavior occasioned the ringing of the bell at the head 
 of King Street. 
 
 9. The citizens whom the alarm set in motion came out with 
 canes and clubs ; a body of soldiers also came up, crying, * Where 
 
1 68 SELECTIONS 
 
 are the cowards ? " and brandishing their arms. From ten to 
 twenty boys came after them, asking, " Where are they? where 
 are they?" " There is the soldier who knocked me down," said 
 the barber's boy ; and they began pushing one another towards the 
 sentinel. He primed and loaded his musket. 
 
 10. "The lobster is going to fire," cried a boy. Waving his 
 piece about, the sentinel pulled the trigger. " If you fire, you 
 must die for it," said one who was passing by. ** I don't care," 
 replied the sentry; "if they touch me, I will fire." "Fire away!" 
 shouted the boys, persuaded he could not do it without leave from 
 a civil officer; and a young fellow spoke out, " We will knock him 
 down for snapping," while they whistled through their fingers and 
 huzzaed. 
 
 11. "Stand off," said the sentry, and shouted aloud, "Turn 
 out, main guard!" "They are killing the sentinel," reported a 
 servant, running to the main guard. "Turn out; why don't you 
 turn out?" cried Preston, who was captain of the day to the guard. 
 A party of six formed with a corporal in front, and Preston follow- 
 ing. With bayonets fixed, they haughtily rushed through the 
 people, upon the trot, cursing them, and pushing them as they 
 went along. 
 
 12. They found about ten persons round the sentry, while about 
 fifty or sixty came down with them. " For God's sake," said a 
 citizen, holding Preston by the coat, "take your men back again; 
 if they fire, your life must answer for the consequences." " I knew 
 what I am about," said he hastily, and much agitated. 
 
 13. None pressed on them or provoked them till they began 
 loading ; when a party about twelve in number, with sticks in their 
 hands, moved from the middle of the street, where they had been 
 standing, gave three cheers, and passed along in front of the sol- 
 diers, whose muskets some of them struck as they went by. " You 
 are cowardly rascals," said they, " for bringing arms against naked 
 men. Lay aside your guns, and we are ready for you. Come on, 
 
THE BOSTON MASSACRE 169 
 
 you lobster scoundrels ; fire, if you dare ; we know you dare 
 not." 
 
 14. Just then one of the soldiers received a blow from a stick 
 thrown, which hit his musket ; and the word " Fire ! " being given, 
 he stepped a little on one side, and shot a mulatto, who at the time 
 was quietly leaning on a long stick. 
 
 15. The people immediately began to move off. The rest fired 
 slowly and in succession on the people who were dispersing. One 
 aimed deliberately at a boy who was running for safety. Three per- 
 sons were killed ; eight were wounded, two of them mortally. Of 
 all the eleven, not more than one had any share in the disturbance. 
 
 1 6. So infuriated were the soldiers that, when the men returned 
 to take up the dead, they prepared to fire again, but were checked 
 by Preston; while the Twenty-ninth Regiment appeared under 
 arms in King Street, as if bent on a further massacre. " This is 
 our time," cried the soldiers ; and dogs were never seen more 
 greedy for their prey. 
 
 17. The bells rung in all the churches ; the town drums beat. 
 "To arms! to arms!" was the cry. And now was to be tested 
 the true character of Boston. All its sons came forth, excited almost 
 to madness ; many were absolutely distracted by the sight of the 
 dead bodies and of the blood, which ran plentifully in the streets, 
 and was imprinted in all directions by the foot-tracks on the snow. 
 
 1 8. '* Our hearts," says Warren, " beat to arms, almost re- 
 solved by one stroke to avenge the death of our slaughtered breth- 
 ren." But they stood self-possessed and irresistible, demanding 
 justice according to law. 
 
 19. The people would not be pacified till the regiment was con- 
 fined to the guard-room and the barracks ; and the governor himself 
 gave assurance that instant inquiries should be made by the county 
 magistrates. A warrant was issued against Preston, who surren- 
 dered himself to the sheriff; and the soldiers who composed the 
 party were delivered up and committed to prison. 
 
I/O SELECTIONS 
 
 RIP VAN WINKLE'S AWAKENING. 
 
 IRVING. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 1 . ON waking, Rip found himself on the green knoll overlooking 
 the glen. He rubbed his eyes it was a bright sunny morning. 
 The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and the 
 eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure mountain breeze. 
 " Surely," thought Rip, " I have not slept here all night." 
 
 2. He recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep the 
 mountain ravine the party at nine-pins the flagon. " Oh ! that 
 wicked flagon ! " thought Rip ; " what excuse shall I make to 
 Dame Van Winkle?" 
 
 3. He looked round for his gun ; but, in place of the clean, well- 
 oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel 
 incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, the stock worm-eaten. He 
 now suspected that the grave roisters of the mountain had put a 
 trick upon him, and, having dosed him with liquor, robbed him of 
 his gun. 
 
 4. Wolf, too, had disappeared ; but he might have strayed away 
 after a squirrel or a partridge. He whistled after him, and shouted 
 his name, but all in vain; the echoes repeated his whistle and 
 shout, but no dog was to be seen. 
 
 5. He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's gam- 
 bol, and, if he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and 
 gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself stiff in the joints, and 
 wanting in his usual activity. "These mountain beds do not 
 agree with me," thought Rip; * and if this frolic should lay me up 
 with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with 
 Dame Van Winkle." 
 
 6. With some difficulty he got down Into the glen. He found the 
 gully up which he had ascended the preceding evening ; but to his 
 astonishment a mountain stream was now foaming down it, leaping 
 from rock to rock, and filling the glen with babbling murmurs. 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE'S AWAKENING 171 
 
 7. He, however, made shift to scramble up its sides, working 
 his toilsome way through thickets of birch, sassafras, and witch- 
 hazel ; and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the wild grape- 
 vines that twisted their coils and tendrils from tree to tree, and 
 spread a kind of network in his path. 
 
 8. Here poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again called and 
 whistled after his dog ; he was answered only by the cawing of a 
 flock of idle crows, which were sporting high in air about a withered 
 tree that overhung a sunny precipice, and which, secure in their 
 elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man's per- 
 plexities. 
 
 9. What was to be done? The morning was passing away, and 
 Rip felt famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give up 
 his dog and gun ; he dreaded to meet his wife ; but it would not do 
 to starve among the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered 
 the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full of trouble and anxiety, 
 turned his steps homeward. 
 
 10. As he approached the village he met a number of people, 
 but none whom he knew ; which somewhat surprised him, for he 
 had thought himself acquainted with every one in the country round. 
 Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from that to which he 
 was accustomed. 
 
 1 1 . They all stared at him with equal marks of surprise ; and, 
 whenever they cast eyes upon him, invariably stroked their chins. 
 The constant recurrence of this gesture induced Rip involuntarily 
 to do the same, when, to his astonishment, he found his beard had 
 grown a foot long ! 
 
 12. He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of 
 strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing 
 at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized 
 for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very 
 village was altered ; it was larger and more populous. 
 
 13. There were rows of houses which he had never seen before ;. 
 
1 72 SELECTIONS 
 
 and those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. 
 Strange names were over the doors ; strange faces at the windows ; 
 everything was strange. His mind now misgave him ; he began 
 to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not be- 
 witched. 
 
 14. Surely this was his native village, which he had left but a 
 day before. There stood the Catskill Mountains ; there ran the 
 silver Hudson at a distance ; there was every hill and dale precisely 
 as it had always been. Rip was sorely perplexed. " That flagon 
 last night," thought he, " has addled my poor head sadly ! " 
 
 15. It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own 
 house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every mo- 
 ment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the 
 house gone to decay ; the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, 
 and the doors off the hinges. 
 
 1 6. A half-starved dog, that looked like Wolf, was skulking 
 about it. Rip called him by name ; but the cur snarled, showed his 
 teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed. '* My very 
 dog," sighed poor Rip, " has forgotten me ! " 
 
 17. He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van 
 Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and 
 apparently abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his con- 
 nubial fears. He called loudly for his wife and children. The 
 lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then all 
 again was silence. 
 
 RIP VAN WINKLE'S AWAKENING. 
 PART II 
 
 18. HE now hurried forth and hastened to his old resort, the 
 village inn ; but it, too, was gone. A large, rickety wooden building 
 stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of them 
 
RIP VAN WINKLES AWAKENING 173 
 
 broken, and mended with old hats and petticoats; and over the 
 door was painted, ** The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." 
 
 19. Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little 
 Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall, naked pole, with 
 something on the top that looked like a red night-cap ; and from it 
 was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of stars 
 and stripes. All this was strange and incomprehensible. 
 
 20. He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King 
 George, under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe ; but 
 even this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was 
 changed for one of blue and buff; a sword was held in the hand 
 instead of a sceptre ; the head was decorated with a cocked 
 hat; and underneath was painted in large characters, GENERAL 
 WASHINGTON. 
 
 21. There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but 
 none that Rip recollected. The very character of the people 
 seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone 
 about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. 
 He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad 
 face, double chin, and fair, long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco 
 smoke instead of idle speeches ; or Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, 
 doling forth the contents of an ancient newspaper. 
 
 22. In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking fellow, with his 
 pockets full of hand-bills, was haranguing vehemently about rights 
 of citizens election members of Congress liberty Bunker's 
 Hill heroes of seventy-six and other words that were a perfect 
 jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle. 
 
 23. The appearance of Rip with his long, grizzled beard, his 
 rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and the army of women and 
 children that had gathered at his heels, soon attracted the attention 
 of the tavern politicians. 
 
 24. They crowded round him, eying him from head to foot 
 with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and drawing 
 
SELECTIONS 
 
 him partly aside, inquired "on which side he voted." Rip started 
 in vacant stupidity. 
 
 25. Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm, 
 and rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear whether he was Federal or 
 Democrat. 
 
 26. Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend this question ; when 
 a knowing, self-important old gentleman in a sharp cocked hat 
 made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and the 
 left with his elbows as he passed ; and planting himself before Van 
 Winkle, with one arm a-kimbo, the other resting on his cane, his 
 keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating as it were into his very soul, 
 demanded, in an austere tone, what brought him to the election 
 with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and whether 
 he meant to breed a riot in the village. 
 
 27. " Alas ! gentlemen," cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, " I am 
 a poor, quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the 
 king, God bless him ! " 
 
 28. Here a general shout burst from the by-standers, " A tory ! 
 a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away with him ! " It was 
 with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat 
 restored order ; and having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, 
 demanded again of the unknown culprit what he came there for, 
 and whom he was seeking. 
 
 29. The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, 
 but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors who used 
 to keep about the tavern. 
 
 30. " Well, who are they? Name them." Rip bethought him- 
 self a moment, and inquired, " Where is Nicholas Vedder?" 
 
 31. There was silence for a little while, when an old man replied, 
 in a thin, piping voice, " Nicholas Vedder? why he is dead and 
 gone these eighteen years ! There was a wooden tombstone in the 
 church-yard that used to tell about him, but that is rotten and gone 
 too." 
 
RIP VAN WINKLES AWAKENING 175 
 
 32. "Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?" "He went 
 off to the wars, was a great militia general, and is now in Con- 
 gress." 
 
 33. Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his 
 home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. 
 Every answer puzzled him, too, by treating of such enormous 
 lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand. 
 War Congress ! he had no courage to ask after any more of 
 his friends, but cried out in despair, * Does nobody here know 
 Rip Van Winkle?" 
 
 34. "Oh, Rip Van Winkle! " exclaimed two or three, "oh, to 
 be sure ! that is Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree." 
 
 35. Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as he 
 went up to the mountain ; apparently as lazy, and certainly as 
 ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He 
 doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another 
 man. In the midst of his bewilderment the man in the cocked 
 hat demanded who he was, and what was his name. 
 
 36. "God knows!" exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm not 
 myself I'm somebody else that's me yonder no that's 
 somebody else, got into my shoes I was myself last night, but I 
 fell asleep on the mountain, and they've changed my gun, and 
 everything's changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my 
 name, or who I am ! " 
 
 37. The by-standers now began to look at each other, nod, wink 
 significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There 
 was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old 
 fellow from doing mischief; at the very suggestion of which the self- 
 important man with the cocked hat retired with some precipitation. 
 
 38. At this critical moment, a fresh, comely woman passed 
 through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She 
 had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, 
 began to cry. " Hush, Rip," cried she ; " hush, you little fool ; the 
 
SELECTIONS 
 
 old man will not hurt you." The name of the child, the air of the 
 mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections 
 in his mind. 
 
 39. "What is your name, my good woman?" asked he. 
 "Judith Gardener." " And your father's name ? " 
 
 40. " Ah, poor man, his name was Rip Van Winkle. It is twenty 
 years since he went away from home with his gun, and never has 
 been heard of since. His dog came home without him ; but whether 
 he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, nobody can 
 tell. I was then but a little girl." 
 
 41 . Rip had but one question more to ask, but he put it with a 
 faltering voice: " Where is your mother?" " Oh, she, too, had 
 died but a short time since; she broke a blood-vessel in a fit of 
 passion at a New England pedler." 
 
 42. There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. 
 The honest man could contain himself no longer. He caught his 
 daughter and her child in his arms. " I am your father ! " cried he ; 
 " young Rip Van Winkle once old Rip Van Winkle now ! Does 
 nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle? " 
 
 43. All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from 
 among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and, peering under it 
 in his face for a moment, exclaimed, " Sure enough ! it is Rip Van 
 Winkle it is himself. Welcome home again, old neighbor. 
 Why, where have you been these twenty long years ? " 
 
 44. Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had 
 been to him but as one night. The neighbors stared when they 
 heard it; some were seen to wink at each other, and put their 
 tongues in their cheeks ; and the self-important man in the cocked 
 hat, who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the field, 
 screwed down the corners of his mouth, and shook his head ; upon 
 which there was a general shaking of the heads throughout the 
 assemblage. 
 
TOM PINCH S JOURNEY TO LONDON I// 
 
 TOM PINCH'S JOURNEY TO LONDON. 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 1. IT might have confused a less modest man than Tom Pinch 
 to find himself sitting next that coachman ; for, of all the swells 
 that ever flourished a whip professionally, he might have been 
 elected emperor. He did not handle his gloves like another man, 
 but put them on even when he was standing on the pavement, 
 quite detached from the coach as if the four grays were, some- 
 how or other, at the ends of his fingers. 
 
 2. It was the same with his hat. He did things with his hat 
 which nothing but an unlimited knowledge of horses, and the 
 wildest freedom of the road, could ever have made him perfect in. 
 Valuable little parcels were brought to him with particular instruc- 
 tions, and he pitched them into his hat, and stuck it on again, as 
 if the laws of gravity did not admit of such an event as its being 
 knocked off or blown off, and nothing like an accident could befall it. 
 
 3. The guard, too ! Seventy breezy miles a day were written in 
 his very whiskers. His manners were a canter ; his conversation a 
 round trot. He was a fast coach upon a down-hill turnpike-road; 
 he was all pace. A wagon could not have moved slowly with that 
 guard and his key-bugle upon the top of it. 
 
 4. These were all foreshadowings of London, Tom thought, as 
 he sat upon the box and looked about him. Such a coachman and 
 such a guard never could have existed between Salisbury and any 
 other place. The coach was none of your steady-going coaches, 
 but a swaggering, dissipated London coach ; up all night, and lying 
 by all day. 
 
 5. It cared no more for Salisbury than if it had been a hamlet. 
 It rattled noisily through the best streets, defied the cathedral, took 
 the worst corners sharpest, went cutting in everywhere, making 
 everything get out of its way, and spun along the open country 
 
SELECTIONS 
 
 road, blowing a lively defiance out of its key-bugle, as its last part- 
 ing legacy. 
 
 6. It was a charming evening, mild and bright. Tom could not 
 resist the captivating sense of rapid motion through the pleasant 
 air. The four grays skimmed along as if they liked it quite as well 
 as Tom did ; the bugle was in as high spirits as the grays ; the 
 coachman chimed in sometimes with his voice ; the wheels hummed 
 cheerfully in unison ; the brass work on the harness was an orches- 
 tra of little bells ; and thus as they went clinking, jingling, rattling 
 smoothly on, the whole concern, from the buckles of the leaders' 
 coupling-reins to the handle of the hind boot, was one great instru- 
 ment of music. 
 
 7. Yoho ! past hedges, gates, and trees ; past cottages and barns 
 and people going home from work. Yoho! past donkey-chaises 
 drawn aside into the ditch, and empty carts with rampant horses, 
 whipped up at a bound upon the little water-course, and held by 
 struggling carters close to the five-barred gate, until the coach had 
 passed the narrow turning in the road. 
 
 8. Yoho ! by churches dropped down by themselves in quiet 
 nooks, with rustic burying-grounds about them, where the graves 
 are green, and daisies sleep for it is evening on the bosom of 
 the dead. 
 
 9. Yoho ! past streams in which the cattle cool their feet, and 
 where the rushes grow ; past paddock-fences, farms, and rick-yards ; 
 past last year's stacks, cut slice by slice away, and showing in the 
 waning light like ruined gables, old and brown. Yoho ! down the 
 pebbly dip and through the merry water-splash ; and up at a canter 
 to the level road again. 
 
 10. Away with four fresh horses from the Bald-faced Stag, where 
 topers congregate about the door admiring ; and the last team, with 
 traces hanging loose, go roaming off toward the pond, until ob- 
 served and shouted after by a dozen throats, while volunteering 
 boys pursue them. Now, with a clattering of hoofs and striking 
 
THE CLOUD 179 
 
 out of fiery sparks, across the old stone bridge, and down again 
 into the shadowy road, and through the open gate, and far away, 
 away into the wold. Yoho ! 
 
 u. See the bright moon ! High up before we know it ; making 
 the earth reflect the objects on its breast like water. Hedges, 
 trees, low cottages, church-steeples, blighted stumps, and flourish- 
 ing young slips have all grown vain upon the sudden, and mean to 
 contemplate their own fair images till morning. The poplars yon- 
 der rustle, that their quivering leaves may see themselves upon 
 the ground. Not so the oak; trembling does not become him; 
 and he watches himself in his stout old burly steadfastness, with- 
 out the motion of a twig. 
 
 12. The beauty of the night is hardly felt when day comes leap- 
 ing up. Yoho ! past market-gardens, rows of houses, villas, ter- 
 races, and squares ; past wagons, coaches, and carts ; past early 
 workmen, late stragglers, drunken men, and sober carriers of loads ; 
 past brick and mortar in its every shape, and in among the rattling 
 pavements, where a jaunty seat upon a coach is not so easy to pre- 
 serve. Yoho ! down countless turnings, until an old inn yard is 
 gained; and Tom Pinch, getting down quite stunned and giddy, is 
 in London. 
 
 THE CLOUD. 
 
 PERCY B. SHBLLKY. 
 
 I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 
 
 From the seas and the streams ; 
 
 I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 
 
 In their noonday dreams. 
 
 From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 
 
 The sweet buds every one, 
 
 When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, 
 
 As she dances about the sun. 
 
ISO SELECTIONS 
 
 I wield the flail of the lashing hail, 
 And whiten the green plains under ; 
 And then again I dissolve it in rain, 
 And laugh as I pass in thunder. 
 
 I sift the snow on the mountains below, 
 
 And their great pines groan aghast ; 
 
 And all the night 'tis my pillow white, 
 
 While I sleep in the arms of the blast. 
 
 Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers, 
 
 Lightning, my pilot, sits ; 
 
 In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, 
 
 It struggles and howls at fits ; 
 
 Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, 
 
 This pilot is guiding me, 
 
 Lured by the love of the genii that move 
 
 In the depths of the purple sea ; 
 
 Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, 
 
 Over the lakes and the plains, 
 
 Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, 
 
 The Spirit he loves remains ; 
 
 And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, 
 
 Whilst he is dissolving in rains. 
 
 The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, 
 
 And his burning plumes outspread, 
 
 Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, 
 
 When the morning star shines dead, 
 
 As on the jag of a mountain crag, 
 
 Which an earthquake rocks and swings, 
 
 An eagle alit one moment may sit 
 
 In the light of its golden wings. 
 
 And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, 
 
 Its ardors of rest and of love, 
 
 And the crimson pall of eve may fall 
 
 From the depth of heaven above, 
 
 With wings folded I rest on mine airy nest, 
 
 As still as a brooding dove. 
 
THE CLOUD . l8l 
 
 That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, 
 
 Whom mortals call the moon, 
 
 Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, 
 
 By the midnight breezes strewn ; 
 
 And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, 
 
 Which only the angels hear, 
 
 May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, 
 
 The stars peep behind her and peer. 
 
 And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, 
 
 Like a swarm of golden bees, 
 
 When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, 
 
 Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, 
 
 Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, 
 
 Are each paved with the moon and these. 
 
 I find the sun's throne with a burning zone, 
 
 And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ; 
 
 The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, 
 
 When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl, 
 
 From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, 
 
 Over a torrent sea, 
 
 Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof, 
 
 The mountains its columns be. 
 
 The triumphal arch through which I march, 
 
 With hurricane, fire, and snow, 
 
 When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, 
 
 Is the million-colored bow ; 
 
 The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove, 
 
 While the moist earth was laughing below. 
 
 I am the daughter of earth and water, 
 
 And the nursling of the sky ; 
 
 I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; 
 
 I change, but I cannot die. 
 
 For after the rain, when with never a stain 
 
 The pavilion of heaven is bare, 
 
 And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams 
 
 Build up the blue dome of air, 
 
1 82 % SELECTIONS 
 
 I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, 
 
 And out of the caverns of rain, 
 
 Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, 
 
 I arise and unbuild it again. 
 
 PUBLIC DISHONESTY. 
 
 HBNRY WARD BHECHER. 
 
 A CORRUPT public sentiment produces dishonesty. A public sen- 
 timent in which dishonesty is not disgraceful, in which bad men are 
 respectable, are trusted, are honored, are exalted, is a curse to the 
 young. The fever of speculation, the universal derangement of 
 business, the growing laxness of morals, is, to an alarming extent, 
 introducing such a state of things. 
 
 If the shocking stupidity of the public mind to atrocious dis- 
 honesties is not aroused ; if good men do not bestir themselves to 
 drag the young from this foul sorcery; if the relaxed bands of 
 honesty are not tightened, and conscience tutored to a severer 
 morality, our night is at hand, our midnight not far off. Woe 
 to that guilty people who sit down upon broken laws, and wealth 
 saved by injustice ! Woe to a generation fed by the bread of fraud, 
 whose children's inheritance shall be a perpetual memento of their 
 fathers' unrighteousness ; to whom dishonesty shall be made pleas- 
 ant by association with the revered memories of father, brother, 
 and friend ! 
 
 But when a wnole people, united by a common disregard of jus- 
 tice, conspire to defraud public creditors ; and States vie with 
 States in an infamous repudiation of just debts, by open or sinister 
 methods ; and nations exert their sovereignty to protect and dignify 
 the knavery of the Commonwealth ; then the confusion of domestic 
 affairs has bred a fiend, before whose flight honor fades away, and 
 under whose feet the sanctity of truth and the religion of solemn 
 compacts are stamped down and ground into the dirt. Need we 
 
PUBLIC DISHONESTY 13 
 
 ask the cause of growing dishonesty among the young, the increas- 
 ing untrustworthiness of all agents, when States are seen clothed 
 with the panoply of dishonesty, and nations put on fraud for their 
 garments ? 
 
 Absconding agents, swindling schemes, and defalcations, occur- 
 ring in such melancholy abundance, have at length ceased to be 
 wonders, and rank with the common accidents of fire and flood. 
 The budget of each week is incomplete without its mob and run- 
 away cashier, its duel and defaulter ; and as waves which roll to 
 the shore are lost in those which follow on, so the villanies of each 
 week obliterate the record of the last. 
 
 Men of notorious immorality, whose dishonesty is flagrant, 
 whose private habits would disgrace the ditch, are powerful and 
 popular. I have seen a man stained with every sin, except those 
 which required courage ; into whose head I do not think a pure 
 thought has entered for forty years ; into whose heart an honorable 
 feeling would droop for very loneliness ; in evil he was ripe and 
 rotten ; hoary and depraved in deed, in word, in his present life, 
 and in all his past ; evil when by himself, and viler among men ; 
 corrupting to the young ; to domestic fidelity, a recreant ; to com- 
 mon honor, a traitor ; to honesty, an outlaw ; to religion, a hypo- 
 crite ; base in all that is worthy of man, and accomplished in 
 whatever is disgraceful ; and yet this wretch could go where he 
 would ; enter good men's dwellings, and purloin their votes. Men 
 would curse him, yet obey him ; hate him, and assist him ; warn 
 their sons against him, and lead them to the polls for him. A 
 public sentiment which produces ignominious knaves cannot breed 
 honest men. 
 
 We have not yet emerged from a period in which debts are in- 
 secure ; the debtor legally protected against the rights of the credi- 
 tor ; taxes laid, not by the requirements of justice, but for political 
 effect, and lowered to a dishonest inefficiency; and when thus 
 diminished, not collected ; the citizens resisting their own officers ; 
 
184 SELECTIONS 
 
 officers resigning at the bidding of the electors ; the laws of prop- 
 erty paralyzed ; bankrupt laws built up ; and stay-laws unconstitu- 
 tionally enacted, upon which the courts look with aversion, yet 
 fear to deny them, lest the wildness of popular opinion should roll 
 back disdainfully upon the bench, to despoil its dignity, and pros- 
 trate its power. General suffering has made us tolerant of general 
 dishonesty ; and the gloom of our commercial disaster threatens 
 to become the pall of our morals. 
 
 ELOQUENCE. 
 
 WEBSTEK. 
 
 WHEN public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occa- 
 sions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, 
 nothing is valuable in speech further than it is connected with high 
 intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force, and earnest- 
 ness are the qualities which produce conviction. True eloquence, 
 indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from 
 afar. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. 
 Words and phrases may be marshalled in every way, but they can- 
 not compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in 
 the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of 
 declamation, all may aspire after it; they cannot reach it. It 
 comes, if it comes at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the 
 earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, 
 original, native force. The graces taught in the schools, the costly 
 ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust 
 men, when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their chil- 
 dren, and their country, hang on the decision of the hour. Then 
 words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate ora- 
 tory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and sub- 
 dued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism is 
 eloquent; then self-devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, 
 
s 
 
 outrunning the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm re- 
 solve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from 
 the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, 
 right onward to his object, this, this is Eloquence, or rather it is 
 something greater and higher than all eloquence, it is Action, 
 noble, sublime, God-like Action. 
 
 THE ORATOR'S ART. 
 
 J. Q. ADAMS. 
 
 THE eloquence of the college is like the discipline of a review. 
 The art of war, we are all sensible, does not consist in manoeuvres 
 on a training-day ; nor the steadfastness of the soldier in the hour 
 of battle, in the drilling of his orderly sergeant. Yet the superior 
 excellence of the veteran army is exemplified in nothing more for- 
 cibly than in the perfection of its discipline. It is in the heat of 
 action, upon the field of blood, that the fortune of the day may be 
 decided by the exactness of manual exercise ; and the art of display- 
 ing a column, or directing a charge, may turn the balance of vic- 
 tory, and change the history of the world. The application of these 
 observations is as direct to the art of oratory as to that of war. 
 The exercises to which you are here accustomed are not intended 
 merely for the display of the talents you have acquired. They are 
 instruments put into your hands for future use. Their object is not 
 barely to prepare you for the composition and delivery of an ora- 
 tion to amuse an idle hour on some public anniversary. It is to 
 give you a clew for the labyrinth of legislation in the public coun- 
 cils ; a spear for the conflict of judicial war in the public tribunals ; 
 a sword for the field of religious and moral victory in the pulpit. 
 
1 86 SELECTIONS 
 
 FROM HENRY V. 
 
 SHAKXSPBARB. 
 
 ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; 
 
 Or close the wall up with our English dead. 
 
 In peace there's nothing so becomes a man 
 
 As modest stillness, and humility ; 
 
 But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
 
 Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
 
 Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
 
 Disguise fair nature with hard-favor'd rage : 
 
 Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 
 
 Let it pry through the portage of the head 
 
 Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it 
 
 As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
 
 O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 
 
 SwilTd with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
 
 Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, 
 
 Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
 
 To his full height. 
 
 HERVE RIEL. 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 i. 
 
 ON the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two, 
 
 Did the English fight the French woe to France ! 
 And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue, 
 Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, 
 Came crowding ship on ship to St. Mal6 on the Ranee, 
 With the English fleet in view. 
 
 n. 
 
 'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase. 
 First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville ; 
 
HERVE KIEL 187 
 
 Close on him fled, great and small, 
 Twenty-two good ships in all ; 
 And they signalled to the place, 
 " Help the winners of a race ! 
 
 Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick or, quicker still 
 Here's the English can and will ! " 
 
 in. 
 
 Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leaped on board ; 
 "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" 
 
 laughed they ; 
 " Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and 
 
 scored, 
 Shall the ' Formidable ' here, with her twelve and eighty guns, 
 
 Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, 
 Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, 
 And with flow at full beside ? 
 Now 't is slackest ebb of tide. 
 Reach the mooring? Rather say, 
 While rock stands or water runs, 
 Not a ship will leave the bay ! " 
 
 rv. 
 
 Then was called a council straight ; 
 Brief and bitter the debate ; 
 
 " Here's the English at our heels ; would you have them take in tow 
 All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, 
 For a prize to Plymouth sound? 
 Better run the ships aground ! " 
 
 (Ended Damfreville his speech,) 
 " Not a minute more to wait ! 
 
 Let the captains all and each 
 
 Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach ! 
 France must undergo her fate." 
 
 v. 
 
 " Give the word ! " But no such word 
 Was ever spoke or heard ; 
 
 For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these 
 A captain? A lieutenant? A mate first, second, third? 
 
1 88 SELECTIONS 
 
 No such man of mark, and meet 
 With his betters to compete ? 
 
 But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet 
 A poor coasting pilot he, Herve Kiel, the Croisickese. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And " What mockery or malice have we here ?" cries Herv6 Kiel ; 
 "Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or 
 
 rogues ? 
 
 Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell 
 On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell, 
 
 'Twixt the offing here and Greve, where the river disembogues ? 
 Are you bought by English gold? Is it loVe the lying's for? 
 Morn and eve, night and day, 
 Have I piloted your bay, 
 Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. 
 
 Burn the fleet, and ruin France? That were worse than fifty 
 
 Hogues ! 
 
 Sirs, they know I speak the truth ! Sirs, believe me there's a 
 way! 
 
 VTI. 
 
 " Only let me lead the line, 
 Have the biggest ship to steer, 
 Get this ' Formidable ' clear, 
 Make the others follow mine, 
 
 And I lead them most and least by a passage I know well, 
 Right to Solidor, past Greve, 
 
 And there lay them safe and sound ; 
 And if one ship misbehave 
 
 Keel so much as grate the ground 
 Why, I've nothing but my life ; here's my head ! " cries Hervd Kiel. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Not a minute more to wait ! 
 " Steer us in, then, small and great ! 
 
 Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron ! " cried its chief. 
 " Captains, give the sailor place ! 
 He is admiral, in brief." 
 
HERVE KIEL 189 
 
 Still the north wind, by God's grace ; 
 See the noble fellow's face 
 As the big ship, with a bound, 
 Clears the entry like a hound, 
 Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wiae seas profound ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 See, safe through shoal and rock, 
 How they follow in a flock ! 
 Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, 
 
 Not a spar that comes to grief! 
 The peril, see, is past, 
 All are harbored to the last, 
 
 And just as Herve' Kiel hollas, " Anchor! " sure as fate, 
 Up the English come, too late. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 So the storm subsides to calm ; 
 
 They see the green trees wave 
 
 On the heights o'erlooking Greve ; 
 Hearts that bled are stanched with balm, 
 " Just our rapture to enhance, 
 
 Let the English rake the bay, 
 Gnash their teeth and glare askance 
 
 As they cannonade away ! 
 
 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Ranee ! " 
 Now hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 Outburst all with one accord, 
 " This is Paradise for hell ! 
 Let France, let France's king, 
 Thank the man that did the thing ! " 
 What a shout, and all one word, 
 Kiel!" 
 
SELECTIONS 
 
 As he stepped in front once more, 
 
 Not a symptom of surprise 
 
 In the frank blue Breton eyes 
 Just the same man as before. 
 
 ill. 
 
 Then said Damfreville : " My friend, 
 I must speak out at the end, 
 
 Though I find the speaking hard ; 
 Praise is deeper than the lips ; 
 You have saved the king his ships, 
 
 You must name your own reward. 
 Faith, our sun was near eclipse ! 
 Demand whate'er you will, 
 France remains your debtor still. 
 Ask to heart's content, and have ! or my name's not Damfreville." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then a beam of fun outbroke 
 On the bearded mouth that spoke, 
 As the honest heart laughed through 
 Those frank eyes of Breton blue : 
 " Since I needs must say my say, 
 Since on board the duty's done, 
 
 And from Mal6 Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run? 
 Since 'tis ask and have, I may 
 
 Since the others go ashore 
 Come ! A good old holiday ! 
 
 Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore ! " 
 That he asked ; and that he got nothing more- 
 
 v. 
 
 Name and deed alike are lost ; 
 Not a pillar nor a post 
 
 In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell ; 
 Not a head in white and black 
 On a single fishing-smack, 
 
 In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack 
 All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the 
 bell. 
 
HAMLET'S ADVICE TO THE PLAYERS 191 
 
 VI. 
 
 Go to Paris ; rank on rank 
 
 Search the heroes flung pell-mell 
 On the Louvre, face and flank ; 
 
 You shall look long enough ere you come to Herve Kiel. 
 So, for better and for worse, 
 Herve Kiel, accept my verse ! 
 In my verse, Herve Riel, do thou once more 
 Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore ! 
 
 HAMLET'S ADVICE TO THE PLAYERS. 
 
 SHAKBSPKARX. 
 
 SPEAK the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trip- 
 pingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our players 
 do, I had as lief the town-crier had spoken my lines. And do not 
 saw the air too much with your hands, but use all gently ; for, in 
 the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your 
 passion, you must beget a temperance that will give it smoothness. 
 Oh ! it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious, periwig-pated 
 fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the 
 groundlings ; who (for the most part) are capable of nothing but 
 inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. Pray you avoid it. 
 
 Be not too tame, either ; but let your own discretion be your 
 tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with 
 this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of 
 nature ; for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing ; 
 whose end is, to hold, as it were, the mirror up to nature ; to show 
 virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and 
 body of the times, their form and pressure. Now, this overdone, 
 or come tardy oif, though it may make the unskilful laugh, cannot 
 but make the judicious grieve ; the censure of one of which must, 
 in your allowance, overweigh a whole theatre of others. Oh ! there 
 are players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that, 
 
SELECTIONS 
 
 highly, not to speak it profanely, who, having neither the ac- 
 cent of Christian, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have 
 so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's jour- 
 neymen had made men, and not made them well ; they imitated 
 humanity so abominably. 
 
 OTHELLO'S DEFENCE. 
 
 SHAKBSFXARX. 
 I. 
 
 MOST potent, grave, and reverend signiors, 
 My very noble and approved 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. 
 
 n. 
 
 Rude am I in speech, 
 
 And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace : 
 For since these arms of mine hath 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 unvarnish'd tale deliver, 
 Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms, 
 What conjuration and what mighty magic, 
 For such proceedings I am charged withal, 
 I won his daughter with. 
 
 Her father loved me ; oft invited me ; 
 Still question'd me the story of my life, 
 From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, 
 That I have pass'd. 
 
OTHELLO S DEFENCE 
 
 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 with it all my travels' history. 
 
 IV. 
 
 These things to hear 
 Would Desdemona seriously incline : 
 But still the house-affairs would draw her thence : 
 Which ever as she could with haste despatch, 
 She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
 Devour up my discourse : which I observing, 
 Took once a pliant hour, and found good means 
 To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart 
 That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, 
 Whereof by parcels she had something heard, 
 But not intentively. 
 
 v. 
 
 I did consent, 
 
 And often did beguile her of her tears, 
 When I did speak of some distressful stroke 
 That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, 
 She gave me for my pains a world of sighs : 
 She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange, 
 'T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful : 
 She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd 
 That heaven had made her such a man : 
 
 VI. 
 
 She thank'd me, 
 
 And bade me if I had a friend that loved her, 
 I should but teach him how to tell my story, 
 And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake : 
 She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, 
 And I loved her that she did pity them. 
 This only is the witchcraft I have used. . 
 
194 SELECTIONS 
 
 THE SCHOLAR IN A REPUBLIC. 
 
 WBNDKLL PHILLIPS. 
 
 This extract is taken from the oration before the Phi Beta Kappa of Harvard 
 
 ^College. 
 
 STANDING on Saxon foundations, and inspired, perhaps, in some 
 degree, by Latin example, we have done what no race, no nation, 
 no age, had before dared even to try. We have founded a republic 
 on the unlimited suffrage of the millions. We have actually worked 
 out the problem that man, as God created him, may be trusted with 
 self-government. We have shown the world that a church with- 
 out a bishop, and a state without a king, is an actual, real, everyday 
 possibility. . . . 
 
 We have not only established a new measure of the possibilities 
 of the race : we have laid on strength, wisdom, and skill, a new re- 
 sponsibility. Grant that each man's relations to God and his 
 n eighbor are exclusively his own concern, and that he is entitled 
 to all the aid that will make him the best judge of these relations ; 
 that the people are the source of all power, and their measureless 
 capacity the lever of all progress ; their sense of right the court of 
 final appeal in civil affairs ; the institutions they create the only 
 ones any power has a right to impose ; that the attempt of one class 
 to prescribe the law, the religion, the morals, or the trade of an- 
 other is both unjust and harmful, and the Wycliffe and Jefferson 
 of history mean this if they mean anything, then, when, in 1867, 
 Parliament doubled the English franchise, Robert Lowe was right 
 in affirming, amid the cheers of the House, " Now the first interest 
 and duty of every Englishman is to educate the masses our 
 masters." Then, whoever sees farther than his neighbor is that 
 neighbor's servant to lift him to such higher level. Then, power, 
 ability, influence, character, virtue, are only trusts with which to 
 serve our time. 
 We all agree in the duty of scholars to help those less favored 
 
THE SCHOLAR IN A REPUBLIC IQ5 
 
 in life, and that this duty of scholars to educate the mass is still 
 more imperative in a republic, since a republic trusts the State 
 wholly to the intelligence and moral sense of the people. The 
 experience of the last forty years shows every man that law has no 
 atom of strength, either in Boston or New Orleans, unless, and 
 only so far as, public opinion endorses it ; and that your life, goods, 
 and good name rest on the moral sense, self-respect, and law-abid- 
 ing mood of the men that walk the streets, and hardly a whit on 
 the provisions of the statute book. Come, any one of you, out- 
 side of the ranks of popular men, and you will not fail to find it so. 
 Easy men dream that we live under a government of law. Absurd 
 mistake ! We live under a government of men and newspapers. 
 Your first attempt to stem dominant and keenly cherished opinions 
 will reveal this to you. 
 
 But what is education? Of course it is not book-learning. 
 Book-learning does not make five per cent of that mass of common 
 sense that "runs" the world, transacts its business, secures its 
 progress, trebles its power over nature, works out in the long run 
 a rough, average justice, wears away the world's restraints, and 
 lifts off its burdens. The ideal Yankee, who " has more brains in 
 his hand than others have in their skulls," is not a scholar ; and 
 two thirds of the inventions that enable France to double the 
 world's sunshine, and make Old and New England the workshops 
 of the world, did not come from colleges or from minds trained in 
 the schools of science, but struggled up, forcing their way against 
 giant obstacles, from the irrepressible instinct of untrained natural 
 power. Her workshops, not her colleges, made England, for a 
 while, the mistress of the world ; and the hardest job her workman 
 had was to make Oxford willing he should work his wonders. . . . 
 
 I urge on college-bred men, that, as a class, they fail in republi- 
 can duty when they allow others to lead in the agitation of the 
 great social questions which stir and educate the age. Agitation is 
 an old word with a new meaning. Sir Robert Peel, the first Eng- 
 
196 SELECTIONS 
 
 lish leader who felt himself its tool, defined it to be " marshalling 
 the conscience of a nation to mould its laws." Its means are 
 reason and argument, no appeal to arms. Wait patiently for the 
 growth of public opinion. That secured, then every step taken is 
 taken forever. An abuse once removed never reappears in history. 
 The freer a nation becomes, the more utterly democratic in its form, 
 the more need of this outside agitation. Parties and sects laden 
 with the burden of securing their own success cannot afford to risk 
 new ideas. " Predominant opinions," said Disraeli, *' are the 
 opinions of a class that is vanishing." The agitator must stand 
 outside of organizations, with no bread to earn, no candidate to 
 elect, no party to save, no object but truth, to tear a question 
 open, and riddle it with light. . . . 
 
 Let us inaugurate a new departure, recognize that we are afloat 
 on the current of Niagara, eternal vigilance the condition of our 
 safety, that we are irrevocably pledged to the world not to go 
 back to bolts and bars, could not if we would, and would not if 
 we could. Never again be ours the fastidious scholarship that 
 shrinks from rude contact with the masses. Very pleasant it is to 
 sit high up in the world's theatre and criticise the ungraceful strug- 
 gles of the gladiators, shrug one's shoulders at the actor's harsh 
 cries, and let every one know that but for " this villainous saltpetre 
 you would yourself have been a soldier." But Bacon says, "In the 
 theatre of man's life, God and his angels only should be lookers- 
 on." Sin is not taken out of man as Eve was out of Adam, by put- 
 ting him to sleep. " Very beautiful," says Richter, " is the eagle 
 when he floats with outstretched wings aloft in the clear blue ; but 
 sublime when he plunges down through the tempest to his eyrie 
 on the cliff, where his unfledged young ones dwell and are star- 
 ving." If the Alps, piled in cold and silence, be the emblem of 
 despotism, we joyfully take the ever-restless ocean for ours, 
 only pure because never still. . . . 
 
 To be as good as our fathers, we must be better. They silenced 
 
THE PROBLEM OF THE NEW SOUTH 197 
 
 their fears and subdued their prejudices, inaugurating free speech 
 and equality with no precedent on the file. Europe shouted, 
 "Madmen! "and gave us forty years for the shipwreck. With 
 serene faith they persevered. Let us rise to their level. Crush 
 appetite and prohibit temptation if it rots great cities. Intrench 
 labor in sufficient bulwarks against that wealth, which, without the 
 tenfold strength of modern incorporation, wrecked the Grecian and 
 Roman States ; and, with a sterner effort still, summon women into 
 civil life as re-enforcement to our laboring ranks in the effort to 
 make our civilization a success. 
 
 THE PROBLEM OF THE NEW SOUTH. 
 
 H. W. GRADY. 
 
 This extract is taken from Mr. Grady's speech before the Merchants' Association 
 of Boston, December, 1889. (By permission of Cassell Pub. Co., N.Y.) 
 
 MY people, your brothers in the South brothers in blood, in 
 destiny, in all that is best in our past and future are so beset 
 with this problem that their very existence depends upon the right 
 solution. Nor are they wholly to blame for its presence. The 
 slave-ships of the Republic sailed from your ports the slaves 
 worked in our fields. You will not defend the traffic, nor I the 
 institution. But I do hereby declare that in its wise and humane 
 administration in lifting the slave to heights of which he had not 
 dreamed in savage home, and giving him a happiness he had not 
 found in freedom, our fathers left their sons an excellent heritage. 
 In the stress of war, this institution was lost. I thank God as 
 heartily as you do that human slavery is gone forever from Ameri- 
 can soil. But the freedman remains with him, a problem with- 
 out precedent or parallel. Note the appalling conditions. Two 
 utterly dissimilar races on the same soil, with equal political rights, 
 almost equal in numbers, but terribly unequal in intellect and re- 
 sponsibility ; each pledged against fusion one for a century in 
 
198 SELECTIONS 
 
 servitude to the other, and freed at last by a destructive war ; the 
 experiment sought by neither, but approached by both with doubt 
 these are the conditions. Under these, adverse at every point, 
 we are requested to carry these two races in peace and honor to the 
 end. 
 
 Never, sir, has such a task been given to mortal stewardship. 
 Never before in this Republic has the white race divided on the 
 rights of an alien race. The red man was cut down as a weed, 
 because he hindered the way of the American citizen. The yellow 
 man was shut out of this Republic because he was an alien and 
 inferior. The red man was owner of the land, the yellow man 
 highly civilized and assimilable ; but they hindered both sections, 
 and they are gone. But the black man, affecting but one section, 
 is clothed with every privilege of government, and pinned to the 
 soil, and my people commanded to make good at any hazard, and 
 at any cost, his full and equal heirship of American privilege and 
 prosperity. 
 
 It matters not that every other race has been routed, or ex- 
 cluded, without rhyme or reason. It matters not that wherever the 
 whites and blacks have touched in any era or in any clime, there 
 has been irreconcilable violence. It matters not that no two races, 
 however similar, have lived anywhere at any time on the same soil 
 with equal right in peace ! In spite of these things, we are com- 
 manded to make this change of American policy, which has not, 
 perhaps, changed American prejudice. . . . We do not shrink from 
 this trial. . . . The love we feel for that race, you can't measure 
 nor comprehend. As I attest it here, the spirit of my old black 
 mammy from her home up there looks down to bless ; and through 
 the tumult of this night steals the sweet music of her croonings, as 
 thirty years ago she held me in her black arms and led me smiling 
 into sleep. This scene vanishes as I speak, and I catch the vision 
 of an old Southern home with its lofty pillars and its white pigeons 
 fluttering down through the golden sunshine. I see a woman with 
 
THE PROBLEM OF THE NEW SOUTH 199 
 
 strained and anxious face, and children alert, yet helpless. I see 
 night come down with its dangers and its apprehensions ; and in a 
 big homely room, I feel on my tired head the touch of loving 
 hands now worn and wrinkled, but fairer to me yet than hands of 
 mortal woman, and stronger yet to lead than hand of man as 
 they lay a mother's blessing there while at her knees the truest 
 altar I yet have found. I thank God she is safe in her sanctuary ; 
 because her slaves, sentinel in the silent cabin, or guard at her 
 chamber door, put a black man's loyalty between her and danger. 
 I catch another vision the cries of battle, a soldier struck, 
 staggering, fallen. I see a slave scuffling through the smoke, wind- 
 ing his black arms about the fallen form, reckless of the hurtling 
 death ; bending his trusty face to catch the words that tremble on 
 the stricken lips ; so wrestling meantime with agony that he would 
 lay down his life in his master's stead. I see him by the weary 
 bedside ministering with uncomplaining patience, praying with all 
 his humble heart that God will lift his master up, until death comes 
 in mercy and in honor to still the soldier's agony and seal the 
 soldier's life. I see him by the open grave, mute, motionless, un- 
 covered, suffering for the death of him who in life fought against 
 freedom. I see him when the mound is heaped, and the great 
 drama of his life is closed, turn away; and with downcast eyes and 
 uncertain step, start out into new and strange fields, faltering, sigh- 
 ing, but moving on until his shambling figure is lost in the light 
 of this brighter and better day. And from the grave comes a 
 voice, saying, " Follow him ! Put your arms about him in his 
 need, even as he put his arm about me. Be his friend as he was 
 mine ! " And out into the new world, strange to me as to him, 
 dazzled, bewildered both I follow. And may God forget my 
 people when they forget these ! 
 
2OO SELECTIONS 
 
 THE SCHOLAR IN POLITICS. 
 
 GEORGH WILLIAM CURTIS. 
 Inserted by permission of Harper Bros., N. Y. 
 
 EVERY educated man is aware ofr a profound popular distrust of 
 the courage and sagacity of the educated class. " Franklin and 
 Lincoln are good enough for us," exclaims this jealous scepticism ; 
 as if Franklin and Lincoln did not laboriously repair by vigorous 
 study the want of early opportunity. The scholar is denounced 
 as a coward. Humanity falls among thieves, we are told ; and the 
 college Levite, the educated Pharisee, passes by on the other side. 
 
 Gentlemen, is this humiliating arraignment true? does the edu- 
 cated class of America deserve this condemnation? Here in 
 America, undoubtedly New England has inspired and moulded our 
 national life. But if New England has led the Union, what has 
 led New England? Her scholarly class. Her educated men. And 
 our Roger Williams gave the keynote. ** He has broached and 
 divulged new and dangerous opinions against the authority of 
 magistrates," said Massachusetts, as she banished him. A century 
 later his dangerous opinions had captured Massachusetts. Young 
 Sam Adams, taking his Master's degree at Cambridge, argued that it 
 was lawful to resist the supreme magistrate, if the State could not 
 otherwise be preserved. Seven years afterwards, Jonathan May hew 
 preached in Boston the famous sermon which Thornton called the 
 morning gun of the Revolution, applying to the political situation 
 the principles of Roger Williams. The New England pulpit echoed 
 and re-echoed that morning gun; and twenty-five years later its 
 warning broke into the rattle of musketry at Lexington and Con- 
 cord and the glorious thunder of Bunker Hill. 
 
 It was a son of Harvard, James Otis, who proposed the assem- 
 bly of an American Congress, without asking the King's leave. It 
 was a son of Yale, John Morin Scott, who declared that if taxa- 
 
THE SCHOLAR IN POLITICS 2OI 
 
 tion without representation were to be enforced, the Colonies ought 
 to separate from England. I do not forget the Virginian tongue- 
 of-flame, Patrick Henry, or the minute-men at Concord. But 
 everywhere they were educated men, who, in the pulpit, on the 
 platform, and through the press, conducted the mighty preliminary 
 argument of the Revolution, and defended liberty, until at last the 
 King surrendered to the people, and educated America had saved 
 constitutional liberty. 
 
 Daily the educated class is denounced as impracticable and 
 visionary. But the Constitution of the United States is the work of 
 American scholars ; for of the fifty-five members of the Constitu- 
 tional Convention, thirty-three were graduates. And the eight 
 leaders of the great debate were all college men. 
 
 For nearly a century after, the supreme question of the govern- 
 ment was the one which Jefferson had raised : "Is the Union a 
 league or a nation ? " That was a debate which devoured every 
 other ; and in the tremendous contention, as in the war that fol- 
 lowed, was the American scholar recreant and dumb? I do not ask 
 whether the educated or any other class alone maintained the fight. 
 I make no exclusive claim. But was the great battle fought while 
 we and our guild stood passive and hostile by? 
 
 The slavery agitation began with the moral appeal ; and as in 
 the dawn of the Revolution, educated America spoke in the bugle- 
 note of James Otis, so in the anti-slavery agitation, rings out the 
 clear voice of a son of Otis's college, Wendell Phillips. In Con- 
 gress, the commanding voice for freedom was that of the most 
 learned, experienced, and courageous of American statesmen, the 
 voice of a scholar and an old college professor, John Quincy 
 Adams. The burning words of Whittier scattered the sacred fire ; 
 Longfellow and Lowell mingled their songs with his : and Emerson 
 gave to the cause the loftiest scholarly heart in the Union. When 
 the national debate was angriest, while others bowed and bent 
 and broke around him, the form of Charles Sumner stood erect. 
 
2O2 SELECTIONS 
 
 " I am only six weeks behind you," said Abraham Lincoln, the 
 Western frontiersman to the New England scholar; and along 
 the path that the scholar blazed in the wild wilderness of civil war, 
 the path of emancipation and the constitutional equality of all citi- 
 zens, his country followed fast to union, peace, and prosperity. 
 
 It would indeed be a sorrowful confession for this day and this 
 assembly to own that experience proves the air of the college to 
 be suffocating to generous thought and heroic action. It is the 
 educated voice of the country which teaches patience in politics, 
 and strengthens the conscience of the individual citizen, by show- 
 ing that servility to a majority is as degrading as servility to a 
 sultan. 
 
 Brethren, here on the old altar of fervid faith and boundless anti- 
 cipation, let us pledge ourselves once more, that as the courage 
 and energy of educated men fired the morning gun, and led the 
 contest of the Revolution, founded and framed the Union, and 
 purifying it as with fire, have maintained the national life to this 
 hour, so, day by day, we will do our part to lift America above the 
 slough of mercenary politics and the cunning snares of trade, 
 steadily forward toward the shining heights, which the hopes of 
 its nativity foretold. 
 
 HYDER ALPS REVENGE. 
 
 BURKE. 
 
 I. WHEN at length Hyder AH found that he had to do with 
 men who either would sign no convention, or whom no treaty and 
 no signature could bind, and who were the determined enemies of 
 human intercourse itself, he decreed to make the country, pos- 
 sessed by these incorrigible and predestinated criminals, a memor- 
 able example to mankind. He resolved, in the gloomy recesses of 
 a mind capacious of such things, to leave the whole Carnatic an 
 everlasting monument of vengeance, and to put perpetual desola- 
 
HYDER ALI S REVENGE 20$ 
 
 tion, as a barrier between him and those against whom the faith 
 which holds the moral elements of the world together was no pro- 
 tection. 
 
 2. He became at length so confident of his force, so collected in 
 his might, that he made no secret whatsoever of his dreadful reso- 
 lution. Having terminated his disputes with every enemy and 
 every rival, who buried their mutual animosities in their common 
 detestation against the creditors of the Nabob of Arcot, he drew 
 from every quarter whatever a savage ferocity could add to his 
 new rudiments in the art of destruction ; and compounding' all the 
 materials of fury, havoc, and desolation into one black cloud, he 
 hung for a while on the declivities of the mountains. Whilst the 
 authors of all these evils were idly and stupidly gazing on this 
 menacing meteor, which blackened all their horizon, it suddenly 
 burst, and poured down the whole of its contents upon the plains 
 of the Carnatic. 
 
 3. Then ensued a scene of woe, the like of which no eye had 
 seen, no heart conceived, and of which no tongue can adequately 
 tell. All the horrors of war before known or heard of were mercy 
 to that new havoc. A storm of universal fire blasted every field, 
 consumed every house, destroyed every temple. The miserable 
 inhabitants, flying from their flaming villages, in part were slaugh- 
 tered ; others, without regard to sex, to age, to the respect of rank 
 or sacredness of function, fathers torn from children, husbands 
 from wives, enveloped in a whirlwind of cavalry, and amidst the 
 goading spears of drivers, and the trampling of pursuing horses, 
 were swept into captivity in an unknown and hostile land. Those 
 who were able to evade this tempest fled to the walled cities ; but 
 escaping from fire, sword, and exile, they fell into the jaws of 
 famine. For eighteen months, without intermission, this destruc- 
 tion raged from the gates of Madras to the gates of Tanjore ; and 
 so completely did these masters of their art, Hyder Ali and his 
 more ferocious son, absolve themselves of their impious vow, that, 
 
2O4 SELECTIONS 
 
 when the British armies traversed, as they did, the Carnatic for 
 hundreds of miles in all directions, through the whole line of their 
 march they did not see one man, not one woman, not one child, 
 not one four-footed beast of any description whatever. One dead, 
 uniform silence reigned over the whole region. 
 
 HAVELOCK'S HIGHLANDERS. 
 
 W. BROCK. 
 
 THE Highlanders had never fought in that quarter of India 
 before, and their character was unknown to the foe. Their ad- 
 vance has been described by spectators as a beautiful illustration 
 of the power of discipline. With sloped arms and rapid tread, 
 through the broken and heavy lands, and through the well-directed 
 fire of artillery and musketry, linked in their unfaltering lines, they 
 followed their mounted leaders, the mark for many rifles. They 
 did not pause to fire ; did not even cheer. No sound from them was 
 heard as that living wall came on and on, to conquer or to die. 
 Now they are near the village; but the enemies occupy every house, 
 and from every point a galling fire is poured on them from the heavy 
 guns. The men lie down till the iron storm passes over. It was 
 but for a moment. The general gave the word, "Rise up! Ad- 
 vance ! " and wild cheers rang out from those brave lines, wilder 
 even than their fatal fire within a hundred yards; and the pipes 
 sounded the martial pibroch, heard so often as earth's latest music 
 by dying men. The men sprung up the hill covered by the smoke 
 of their crushing volley, almost with the speed of their own bullets ; 
 over, and through all obstacles, the gleaming bayonets advanced. 
 And then followed those moments of personal struggle, not often 
 protracted, when the Mahratta learned, too late for life, the power 
 of the Northern arm. The position was theirs. All that stood 
 between them and the guns fled the field or was cut down. Gen- 
 
HAVELOCK S HIGHLANDERS 
 
 eral Havelock was with his men. Excited by the scene, some 
 letter-writers say he exclaimed, " Well done, Seventy-eight ! You 
 shall be my own regiment. Another charge like that will win the 
 day." 
 
INDEX 
 
 Accent, 77. 
 
 -(Esthetic, 29, 131. 
 
 Alphabetic, 77. 
 
 Analysis, 38, 83, 140. 
 
 Aphasia, 35. 
 
 Associated ideas, 44, 45. 
 
 Attention, 28, 37, 38, 68, 69. 
 
 Atmosphere, 45, 48, 141 ; drill-room, 53. 
 
 Audience, 52, 64, 68. 
 
 Bain, Alex., 27. 
 Beecher, H. W., 3. 
 Bell, Sir Chas., 117. 
 Bolton, T. L., 107. 
 
 Breathing, kinds of, 94; diaphragmatic, 
 95 ; controlled, 96. 
 
 Chest, enlargement, 93 ; in expression, 126. 
 
 Clearness, 27, 31. 
 
 Climax, 114. 
 
 Communication, 37, 70, 71. 
 
 Confidential attitude, 73. 
 
 Content, of language, 34, 49. 
 
 Conversational delivery, 15, 16, 45, 65. 
 
 Consonants, 77, 79. 
 
 Control, 56, 60. 
 
 Convincing, 50, 101. 
 
 Creation, 14, 16, 21, 22. 
 
 Darwin, 116. 
 
 Declamatory, 15, 29, 65. 
 
 Deference, 71. 
 
 Deliberation, 66. 
 
 DELIVERY, Principles of, 13 ; extempora- 
 neous, 14 ; matter of, manner of, 
 17 ; essentials of, 27 ; elements of, 
 31; sources of, 31; word delivery, 
 35; manuscript, 35; fluency, 37; dra- 
 matic power in, 53 ; praxis in, 140. 
 
 Delsarte, 100, 119. 
 
 Description, 145. 
 
 Dialectic tunes, no. 
 
 Diaphragm, 93, 95. 
 
 Differentiation, 39. 
 
 Dramatic, 30. 
 
 Drift, 112. 
 
 Earnestness, 50, 62. 
 
 Ease, 56, 62, 65, 122, 131. 
 
 Elegance, 29, 31, 131. 
 
 Ellipsis, 42, 142. 
 
 Ellis, A. J., 133, 134. 
 
 EMOTIONS, mastery of, 21 ; growth of, 46; 
 Wundt's classification of, 47; moods, 
 48; passions, 48; emotional atmos- 
 phere, 48, 141 ; emotional movement, 
 101; inflection, 103; expression of 
 (Darwin), 116. 
 
 Emphasis, 80. 
 
 Enebuske, 136. 
 
 Enunciation, 76, 79. 
 
 ESSENTIALS OF PUBLIC SPEAKING, 27. 
 
 Expression, 15, 18, 21, 35; the chest in, 
 126; the eye in, 71 ; the feet and legs 
 in, 127 ; the head in, 129 ; the shoulder 
 in, 129. 
 
 Feelings, control of, 58. 
 Feelings, tone of, 59. 
 Foot-groups, 108. 
 Force, 28, 31. 
 Fronting the voice, 79, 98. 
 
 GESTURE, Darwin's principles of, 116; 
 Sir Charles Bell's, 117; Wundt's, 118; 
 subjective, 118; laws of, 119; faults 
 of, 12 1 ; relaxing for, 122; first series 
 of, 124; second series of, 121;; the 
 chest in, 126; the feet and legs in, 
 127; thehand in, 127; the shoulder 
 in, 129 ; the head in, 129. 
 
 Glottis, stroke of, 98. 
 Good- will, 72. 
 Grace, 34, 131. 
 Grouping or phrasing, 82. 
 
 Habit, 61. 
 
 Harmony of function, 131. 
 
 Hartwell, 136. 
 
 Hill, A. S., 28. 
 
 Hortatory, 149. 
 
 Hypnotism, 70. 
 
 207 
 
268 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Ideas, 37, 41, 44. 
 Imagination, 22, 43, 157. 
 Imitative modulation, 115. 
 Individuality, 21, 22. 
 Inflection, 103. 
 
 Judgment, 40. 
 Key, 112. 
 
 Language, 32, 33 ; social function of, 15. 
 
 Lanier, S., 107. 
 
 Loudness, 113. 
 
 Logical relations, 40, 141. 
 
 Macaulay, 40. 
 Magnetism, 69. 
 Mcllvain, 33. 
 Meaning, 35, 41. 
 Melody of speech, no, ru. 
 Mental content, 34. 
 Minor tones, 105, in. 
 Misconceptions, 34. 
 Modulation, 115. 
 Monotone, 103, 105, 112. 
 Monroe, Dean L. 6., 4. 
 Moods, 21, 59. 
 Movement, 145. 
 
 Narration, 145. 
 NEW ELOCUTION, 3. 
 Newman, J. H., 28. 
 New idea, 142. 
 Noise, 64, 88. 
 
 Objective treatment, n, 144. 
 Oratory, 28, 50, 149. 
 
 Parentheses, 40. 
 
 Pause, 28, 42, 66, 81, 82, 84, 106, 114. 
 
 Personality, 22. 
 
 Persuasion, 28, 50, 102. 
 
 Pharynx, shaping, 97. 
 
 Phillips, Wendell, 3- 
 
 Phrasing, 82. 
 
 Physical development, 136. 
 
 Pitch, 80, 82, 100, 103, no. 
 
 Placing the voice, 97. 
 
 Praxis, 145. 
 
 Problems, 17, 20. 
 
 Process, predominant and subordinate, 
 
 17; complex, 29. 
 Pronunciation, 132. 
 Psychology, 3, 107, 116. 
 Public speaking, 13, 16, 20. 
 Punctuation, 84. 
 
 Quintilian, 28. 
 
 Rate, 113. 
 
 Reading, distinguished, 13, 14, 16. 
 
 Regeneration, 23. 
 
 Reserved force, 62. 
 
 Rhetoric, 13. 
 
 Rhythm, 14, 106, 157. 
 
 Rhythmical prose, 108. 
 
 Rusk in, John, 33. 
 
 Scansion, 107. 
 
 SCHEME, 29, 31. 
 
 Self -consciousness, 52. 
 
 Semitone, 105. 
 
 Silence, 44, 66, 106. 
 
 Slides, 104. 
 
 Soliloquy, 71. 
 
 Sound, 88. 
 
 SOURCES OF ORATORY, 31, 33. 
 
 Speaking, 14. 
 
 Specialization of Function, 63. 
 
 Spontaneity, 37. 
 
 Stress, 112. 
 
 Strong talk, 57. 
 
 Stage fright, 56; " Stagy," 30. 
 
 Subordinate processes, 17, 20. 
 
 Subjective treatment, 18, 19, 140. 
 
 Sweet, H., 133. 
 
 Syllabication, 76. 
 
 Sympathy, 72. 
 
 Time, 113. 
 
 Tones, compound, 89 ; musical, 90; pure, 
 
 98; front, 98. 
 Transition, 66, 83, 142. 
 Types for praxis, 146, 149, 152, 157. 
 
 Unity, 75, 131. 
 
 Variety, 15, 65, 74. 
 
 Verse, 109. 
 
 Vitality, physical, 54. 
 
 Voice, good qualities of, 86 ; defects, 91 ; 
 development, 92 ; support, 93 ; pla- 
 cing, 97; fronting, 98; kinds of t 99; 
 types, 101 ; agreeable, 135. 
 
 Vowel, moulding, 77 ; list of, 78. 
 
 Will, in control, 60. 
 Word utterance, 35. 
 Writing, process of, 35. 
 Wundt, 118. 
 
INDEX TO SELECTIONS IN SHAKESPEARE 
 
 I. Hotspur and Vernon. Henry IV., Part I., Act IV., scene i., 
 lines 86-136. 
 
 II. The Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius. Julius Caesar, Act IV., 
 scene iii., lines 1-124. 
 
 III. Hamlet's Reflections over Yorick's Skull. Hamlet, Act. V., 
 
 scene i., lines 174-206. 
 
 IV. Brutus's Oration. Julius Ccesar, Act III., scene ii., lines 12-48. 
 V. Antony's Oration. Julius Ccesar, Act III., scene ii., lines 68- 
 
 236. 
 
 VI. Hamlet to his Mother. Hamlet, Act III., scene iv., lines 53-88. 
 VII. Macbeth anticipating the Murder of Duncan. Macbeth, Act I., 
 
 scene vii., lines 1-28. 
 VIII. Falstaff's Description of the Soldiers. Henry IV., Part I., Act 
 
 IV., scene ii., lines 12-54. 
 IX. Polonius's Counsel to Laertes. Hamlet, Act I., scene iii., lines 
 
 56-82. 
 X. Observation on Music. Merchant of Venice, Act V., scene i., 
 
 lines 54-89. 
 XI. York on Bolingbroke's Reception. King Richard II., Act V., 
 
 scene ii., lines 8-40. 
 XII. Hotspur to the King. King Henry IV., Part I., Act I., scene 
 
 iii., lines 29-69. 
 XIII. Cordelia's Gratitude to Kent. King Lear, Act IV., scene vii., 
 
 lines 1-99. 
 XIV. Court Scene. Merchant of Venice, Act IV., scene i., lines 
 
 168-262. 
 XV. The Shepherdess' Welcome. The Winter's Tale, Act IV., 
 
 scene iv., lines 73-128 and 136-151. 
 
 XVI. Hamlet's Grief. Hamlet, Act I., scene ii., lines 129-159. 
 
 209 
 
210 
 
 INDEX 
 
 XVII. The Ghost's Revelation. Hamlet ', Act I., scene v., lines 49-92. 
 XVIII. Hamlet's Description of Man. Hamlet, Act II., scene ii., lines 
 
 289-304. 
 
 XIX. Hamlet's Soliloquy. Hamlet, Act III., scene i., lines 56-90. 
 XX. Hamlet on his Hesitancy. Hamlet, Act IV., scene iv., lines 
 
 31-66. 
 
 XXI. lago on lago. Othello, Act I., scene i., lines 42-66. 
 XXII. Othello's Welcome to Desdemona. Othello, Act II., scene i., 
 lines 179-189. 
 
 XXIII. Othello's Resolution. Othello, Act III., scene iii., lines 175- 
 
 192. 
 
 XXIV. Othello's Reasons for the Murder of Desdemona. Othello, Act 
 
 V., scene ii., lines 1-22. 
 
 XXV. Othello's Defence. Othello, Act V., scene ii., lines 338-355. 
 XXVI. Horatio, Hamlet, and Bernardo. Hamlet, Act I., scene ii., 
 
 lines 159-212. 
 
 XXVII. Hotspur's Anger. King Henry IV., Part I., Act I., scene iii., 
 lines 118-188. 
 
 INDEX TO BIBLE SELECTIONS 
 
 I. Christ's Sermon on the Mount . . 
 
 II. Christ's Testimony concerning John 
 
 III. Christ reproves the Pharisees . . 
 IV. 
 
 Matt, v., vi., vii. 
 
 Matt. xi. 
 
 Matt, xxiii. 13-39. 
 
 Mary's Hymn of Praise Luke i. 46-55. 
 
 V. The Prophecy of Zacharias Luke i. 68-80 
 
 VI. The Parable of the Prodigal Son . . . Luke xv. 1 1-32. 
 
 VII. Christ and the Woman at Jacob's Well . John iv. 
 
 VIII. Paul on Mars' Hill Acts xvii. 22-31. 
 
 IX. Paul before Agrippa Acts xxvi. 
 
 X. Exhortations Rom. xii. 
 
 XI. Exhortation to Faith Heb. xi. 
 
INDEX 
 
 211 
 
 XII. The Book with Seven Seals .... Rev. v. 
 
 XIII. The Destruction of Babylon .... Rev. xix. 
 
 XIV. Jacob's Blessing to his Sons .... Gen. xlix. 
 XV. The Song of Moses Ex. xv. 1-21. 
 
 XVI. The Ten Commandments Ex. xx. 
 
 XVII. The Majesty of God Deut. xxxiii. 
 
 XVIII. David's Lamentation of Saul and Jona- 
 than 2 Sam. i. 17-27. 
 
 XIX. The Frailty of Life Job xiv. 
 
 XX. The Mighty Works of God . ... Job xxxviii. 
 
 XXI. The Reward of Righteousness . . . Psalm i. 
 
 XXII. David's Trust in God Psalm xviii. 
 
 XXIII. David's Confidence in God's Favor . Psalm xxiii. 
 
 XXIV. God's Lordship in the World . . . Psalm xxiv. 
 XXV. The Majesty of God Psalm \. 1-15. 
 
 XXVI. The Frailty of Human Life .... Psalm xc. 
 
 XXVII. Exhortation to fear God Psalm civ. 
 
 XXVIII. Psalm of Prayer and Praise .... Psalm cxix. 
 
 XXIX. David praiseth God for his Providence, Psalm cxxxix. 1-18. 
 
 XXX. Comfort to Jerusalem Isaiah xl. 
 
 XXXI. Christ's Suffering Isaiah liii. 
 
 XXXII. The Call to Faith Isaiah Iv. 
 
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