LIPKI^J ^i^^. •t*a- i»K '-'i> ^^;.^^^:^f [CHSRLK--4 MAKMERV MARS! GIFT OF Charles A. Llarsh to Mu Lambda m t-^,-. '^Ml EXTEMPORE SPEECH HOW TO ACQUIRE AND FKACTICE IT. BY WILLIAM PITTENGER AUTHOR OF " Toasts," " The Debater's Treasury," etc. .',■...- , / . . > J > > • «•• •»» > it.-' J 1 B 5VV •" f . . * •• . ■ ■ ' • . ' ' ' ' -. >\ ^ » a Philadelphia The Penn Publishing Company 1899 > ' ' ' Entered, according to Act of t 'nngress, in tlie year 1883, by the NationaIj School, of Elocution and Oratory, in tlie office of tlie Libi-arian of Congress, at Wasliiugton. ••:: ■ •'. '".: ; '■: :::..•: I ?66e f' PREFACE ^ The f()Il()wiii|j; pages are the result of eonsiderablo ubscrvatioii and experienee. Fifteen years ago th(! \ writer published a small voluuie entitled " Oratorv ; "C Saered and Seeular," in \\liieh the same general views ^ were set forth, though more slightly and erudely ex- H pressed. In this work the reeognizenl defects of that earlier effort are supplied; and it is believed that all J- persons who have natural adaptation to public speech Mdll here find all necessary directions to guide them by -^ the shortest and surest road to success. _x It is not necessary or e\('u expedient that a book t" _ ^ which teaches the modi! of elotiuence should itself lie c ^ eloquent. We may watch, admire, and describe the flight of an eai»:le while standin«' on the firm o;round ( )tli of these classes of books are vci'v useful, and teach indirectly many of the elements of true cloijiicuce. Flloeution deals with voice and gesture, which are priuie elements in oratory ; and although it is popularly supposed to be applicable only to reading and rwitation, it is e(|ually serviceable in off-hand speech. AA'orks of the second class give rules for preaching, debating, pleading at the bar, teaching, and all other professions which iuNoKc public speech. They show how various kinds oi' discourses may be con- structed, but have few practical directions about the 14 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. mode of deliverv, or that grand and noble work — the develo]5ment of the oratorical power itself. This book is written from the standpoint of tlie stndent who wishes to wield the golden sceptre of eloqnence and is willing to pnt ibrtli all reasonable efforts to that end. It will aim to gnide iiini into the right path ; show him Avhat helps are available, and what discipline is necessary; eneonrage him in oN'ercoming difficnlties, and stimulate him to seek the very highest excellence within the com- pass of his faculties. CHAPTER II. The Four Methods of Pubek; Speech — Their Advantages and Disadvantages. "What shall I do?" exclaims the young student who expects soon to face public audiences. " Shall I write out what I have to say, polish it as highly as possible, and then utter this finished product ? Or must I take the risk of being able to say nothing at all, in hope of gaining the ease and naturalness of spontaneous speecli?" It must be a(hnitted that the first course indicatetl above has many advantages, and seems in harmony with the marked tendency of civilization toward division of labor. It is hard to perform several different operations at the same moment. Look how heavily tlie extempore speaker is burdened. He must think of his subject; arrange his ideas, sentences, and words ; remember quo- tations ; originate proper tones and gestures ; and keep his attention closely fixed upon his audience. All this he must do with the utmost promptness and regularity, or nicur a fearful penalty — that of embarrassment and failure. Few men have the courage to stand long before an audience, waiting for a missing ^\•ord or idea. To avoid this danger the mind of an extempore speaker must be accustomed to work with the rapidity and pre- ' 15 16 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. cision of a i)rinting-pres.s ; otherwise, the appalling danger of failure and ridicule will constantly stare him in the lace. It is not Avonderful that such perils have made many speakers per])etual slaves of the joen. But it may be n(jted that the public reader has an equal number of things to do at the same moment. He must look on the manuscript and recognize the words — a complicated process, which practice has made easy, but which does greatly distract attention. The Avhole dis- course must be brought into mind as really as if extem- porized with the difference that now, instead of arising from Mithin, it is brought back from without — a much more difficult achievement. Tones and gestures are also increasingly difficult. The reader will usually wish to give some attention to the audience, which, with manuscript before liim, will l)e far from easy. After he has done his best his hearers will think, " This man is reading, not speaking — giving us what he thought yesterday or last week, not what he is thinking now," Possibly tliis will not diminish their pleasure, but the sentiment needs to be recognized. The resource of memorizing tlie discourse after it has been prepared relieves the eye and lessens the physical distraction, but it throws an additional and very heavy burden upon the mind, and iiitr(»(luees new embarrass- ments pi'ciiliar to itself. The advice ciifiu'cetl in tlioe pages will l)e: " Extem- FOUR METHODS OF SPEECH. 17 porize; take the risk ; fail, if necessary " though precau- tions Avill be given making faihire well nigh impossible ; "but in all cases when you speak to the people with tlie object of convincing or persuading, let it be seen that you speak directly the thoughts and feelings of that very moment." The two extremes of verbal communication between men are letters, books, or essays, on the one side, "and desultory talk on the other. In the one, the pen is everything; in the other, it is not employed at all. Neither mode of address constitutes oratory, but the whole field of this art lies between them. There are four principal methods of discourse dis- tinguished in reference to the motle of delivery, which we may name as follows : 1. Reading. 2. Recitation. 3. Extemporizing. 4. The composite method. Of these, the first two have the great advantage of allowing the speaker as much time as may be necessary for the arrangement of the spee<'h down to the minutest detail. "Words may be selected Avith the nicest care, and if the first eifort is not satisfactory the speech may be written again and again, until the writer's full power has been utilized. After delivery, the manuscript is at once available for publication or preservation. The fii-gt 18 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. method gives the orator something to lean upon. Should he become embarrassed, he can fix his attention closely upon his writing until he recovers. Should his attention be distracted, and the thread of discourse be broken, it can be taken up again at any point. In recitation more declamatory fervor is possible than in reading. Gesticnhition is less restrained. The speaker need not be confined within the narroAV limits of a circle, the centre of which is his manuscript, and the radius the distance at which he can read it. As an offset, there is the effort, in some cases very con- siderable, of memorizing ; the variable power of memory in different states of health ; and the possibility of alto- gether forgetting the ])repared words. It must also be admitted tliat few men can declaim well. Some have mastered the difficult art, and have won laurels in this way ; but their number, especially in the modern world, is comparatively small. Extemporizing does not exclude the most exhaustive study of a subject. It is easier, indeed, to write upon a subject only partially understood, than to address an audience directly upon the same topic. Neither does this method exclude the most careful pre-arrangement of the thoughts enunciated. The trained speaker Avill find it comparatively easy to make a plan at a moment's notice which will servo as a basis for discourse; but he will usually be provided with a plan long before he FOUR METHODS OF SPEECH. 19 begins to speak. He will aim to understand his subject, make the best arrangement of it in his power, select what is most fitting for his purpose, and then, face to face witli iiis audience, will giv'e them, in a manly way, the outflowing of his mind and heart. It is in thiis sense alone that the word "extempore" will bo usckI in this volume. We maintain that, so far from being the refuge of ignorance and sloth, extempore speech is often the vehicle of the widest culture and the most extensive knowledge. The increased attention j)ai-day an orator may write everything he knows about a sub- ject; to-morrow, by means of reading, conversation, or further thought, he may have more ideas to record ; aul he may thus continue to widen and record his knowledge, until his time, or the subject itself, is exhausted. Then he may revise, select what is most ai)propriate, refine; and polish his language, and finally come before an audience confident that he holds in his hand the verv l)est that he can give them. But, alas ! it is an essay, or treatise, rather than a speech ! So far as his materials are suit- able for a speech, they can be gathered and used as readily in an extempore discourse. The use of the pen as an 28 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. instrument of aocuniulation and ri'cor'l is not to be despised. But in its final form, not a line of tlie most massive and complicated speech that the mind of man can produce need be written. Enriched by o^arnered thoughts — kno\\ ing where to begin and where to close — seeing a clear outline of the whole subject in mental vision — the trained speaker may possess every faculty, and use every resource of speech, in as serene confidence as if every word was fixed in memory or on manuscript. Those who have only one speech to deliver, and that for show rather than service, will hardly credit these assertions. Graduating orations will probal)ly always be recited from memory. In such cases the matter is of lit- tle value, while the form is everything. So well is this relation of fitness understood, that in serious address it is a severe condemnation to say, "He declaims just like a school-boy," or " That is sophomoric." The line of apjjropriateness may be suggested as follows : When the sole aim is to inform or please, or when an address is submitted for criticism, those who have the needed ability may very well read or recite. But when convic- tiou or persuasion is sought, when public oj^inion or con- duct is to be influenced, the indescribable but most potent charm of sincere, earnest, spontaneous Avords \\Vi\ ever prove most effective. Xo leader of a great, pojiu- lar movement ever trusted to manuscript appeals, and but two or three of such leaders memorized their ora- FOT^R METHODS OF SPEECH. 29 tions. These nietliocls may ^vell be reserved for the oratory of ornament and shoA\'. May a Avord of advice ]>c luizarded to those -wlio, in spite of all these considerations, prefer to relv upon manuscript or memory ? Be honest about it ! Those modes of delivery have advantages AV'hen their resources are fully mastered. Do not seek credit for what v<»ii tlo not possess, Ijut stand firmly on your own ground and make the most of it. If you recit(>, memori;:e perfectly and employ the most effective elocutionary devices. Do not hesitate to study the manner of good actors, for your recitations and theirs must have much in common. If you read, put the paper, not whvve it Mill be best hidden, but where it will do you the most good, and read as well as you can. Thoronghly good reading is far more interesting and attractive than reading Avhich is a bad imitation — there are no good imitations — of spon- taneous speech. Do not mark in your manuscript " Here become pathetic •/' or at another place, " Here show surprise and indignation." Eeading is essentially quiet in its character, appealing to intellect and gentle feeling rather than stormy passion. You will thus realize all the success that is i)ossible for you in the metliod you have chosen, and escape such well-grounded sarcasm as that of Sydney Smith, mIio thus describes a Btyle of preaching common in his day : " Discourses have insensibly dwindled from speaking 30 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. to reading, a practice which is of itself sufficient to stifle every germ of eloquence. It is only by the fresh feelings of the heart that mankind can be very power- fully aifected. What can be more ludicrous than an orator delivering stale indignation, and fervor a M'eek old ; turning over whole pages of violent passions, writ- ten out in goodly text ; reading the tropes and apostro- phes into which he is hurrial by the ardor of his mind; and so affected at a preconcerted line and page that he is unable to proceed any further ?" CHAPTER III. Lessons from the Experience of Eminent Orators. Although unwritten speech is popular and has innu- merable arguments in its favor, many persons yet maintain that eloquence of the highest character cannot be reached without trusting to the memory and the pen. In vain we urge that it is more natural to find words at the moment of utterance ; that a better framework may be constructed by confining preparation to it alone ; that the hearer and speaker may thus be brought into more perfect accord ; that this, in short, is the method of nature, which permits the solid part of the tree to stand througli many winters, while its graceful robe of foliage is freshly bestowed every spring. A^'itli the emphasis of an axiom, opponents declare that the words of a great orator must be previously chosen, fitted, and polished. A speech-writer is apt to have one argument drawn from his own experience which outweighs all argument. His own most satisfactory efforts are those in Avliich nothing is left to the chance of the moment. But even experience sometimes misleads. We may be bad judges of our own performances. AVhen extemporizing, the best utterances are often immediately forgotten by the 31 32 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. speaker, whose mind is crowded with other '' thick- coming fancies." Bnt in writing we may linger lovingly over each sentence, and return to enjoy it as often as we wish. If anything is imperfect, we can correct and improve down to the moment of speech. And while in the act of reading or reciting we are in a much better position to admire our own work, than when carrial aAvay by such an impassioned torrent as to scarcely know whether we have been using words at all. If our auditors declare their preference for the latter, we can find a ready explanation in their want of taste and culture. It is not denied that great effects may be produced by memorized Mords. The popularity of the stage is sufficient proof of their power. Actors often cause uncontrollable tears to flow. If a man can write power- fully, and then recite well, he may greatly move an audience. Massillon, Bossuet, and our own John B. Gough, have each achieved great pojiidar success in that manner. But while such men will be listened to with eagerness and pleasure, they will be regarded as great performers rather than as authorities and guides. They have placed themselves on a level Avith those who deal in unreal things, and must be contented to remain there. Doubtless, it is more noble to speak in the Avords that were once appropriate to our feelings and sentiments, than to deal only in the AA'ords of others ; but the re- semblance betAveen quoting our OAvn previously prepared EXPERIENCE OF EMINENT ORATOES. 33 language and the language of other persons is felt more keenly by the people than the difference between the two processes. But even in momentary effect, deckiimers of memorized words have been surpassed by extemporizers, as numerous examples demonstrate; while in power of thought and lasting influence the superiority of the latter is so great as to make comparison almost impossible. The great examples of Demosthenes and Cicero are often quoted to prove that eloquence of the highest type must be written. Of tliese men it may be said that Demosthenes had an assemblage of great qualities that, backed by his tireless industry, would have made any method the road to brilliant success. J^nt he did not always recite, and he would uot have dreamed of using manuscript. Cicero M'as at least as great iu literature as in oratory, and his speeches are now read as literary models. Some of them were never spoken at all. li may be allowed that he ordinarily recited previous pre- parations, but some of his most brilliaut ])assages were purely extemporaneous. The outburst that overwhelmed Catiline upon the unexpected ap|)car:ni(' > of the latter in the Roman Senate was coined at wliit;- licat from the passion of the moment. Hortensius, the great rival of Cicero — perhaps his superior as an advocate — spoke in spontaneous words, as did many of the most eminent of the Roman orators, Avhose fame now is less Imlliant than 34 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. Cicero's, mainly because no effective means then existed of preserving extempore speech. As an offset to the example of Demosthenes, the great name of Pericles may be fairly adduced. He did not write his addresses, and direct comparison is therefore impossible; but his speech established a sway over the cultivated democracy of Athens in the day of their highest glory more indis- putable than Demosthenes ever attained. The case in regard to the ancient world may be thus summed up : IManuscript reading was not considered oratory at all ; all speeches were either recited or extem- porized ; the latter have inevitably perished, while some of the former have survived, and, becoming a part of school-book literature, have conferred a disproportionate fame upon their authors. An orator who was compelled to write his speech in order to preserve it had a much greater inducement to write than exists since the inven- tion of shorthand reporting. Yet some speakers of the highest eminence did not adopt that mode, and others did not confine themselves to it. In the modern world the weight of example is decis- ively on the side of unwritten speech. A few instances are all that our space will allow us to adduce. Augustine, the great Christian writer and preacher, has not left us in ignorance as to which mode of address he preferred. He enjoin.-i tlie " Christian Teacher " to make his hearers comprehend what he says — " to read EXPEEIEXCE OF EMINENT ORATORS. 35 in the eyes and countenances of his auditors whether they understand him or not, and to repeat the same thing, by giving it different terms, until he perceives it is understood, an advantage those cannot have who, by a servile dependence upon their memories, learn their sermons by heart and repeat them as so many lessons. Let not the preacher," he continues, " l)ecome the servant of words; rather let words be servants to the preacher." This advice will be equally applicable to others than^ jireachers who may possess a serious purpose. But the charity of Augustine alloAvs of reciting under certain cir- cumstances. He Avell says : " Those who are des- titute of invention, but can speak well, provided they select well-written discourses of another man, and com- mit them to memory for the instruction of their hearers, will not do badly if they take that course." No doubt he intended that due credit should be given to the real author. Of Luther it was said that " his words were half bat- tles." No man ever Avielded greater power over the hearts of the people. He was an excellent writer, and had great command of words. But he was too terribly in earnest to write his discourses. From a vast fullness of knowledge he spoke right out, and evoked tears or smiles at pleasure. His strong emotions and indomita- ble will, being given full play, bore down everything before him. 36 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. It may well be doubted whether the eloquence of Lord Chatham did not surpass, in immediate eiFect, anything recorded of Demosthenes or Cicero. His example, and that of his equally gifted son, thoroughly refute those who deny that unwritten speech may convey impressions as strong as any ever made by man upon his fellows. Some of his grandest efforts were entirely impromptu, achieving overwhelming success under circumstances which would have left the man of manuscript or of memory utterly helpless. Of William Pitt, the son of Lord Chatham, who was likewise an extempore speaker in the best sense of the word, Macaulay says : " At his first a]i]iearance in Parliament he showed himself superior to all his contemporaries in power of language. He could pour out a long succession of rounded and stately periods without ever pausing for a word, without ever repeating a word, in a voice of silver clearness and with a pronunciation so articulate that not a letter was slurred over." These two men Avere never excelled in debate. They had that great advantage peculiar to good extempore speakers of being always ready. Every advantage offered was seized at the most favorable moment. Time wasted by others in writing and memorizing special orations they used in accumulating such stores of gen- eral knowledge and in such ^vide culture that they were EXPERIENCE OF EMINENT ORATORS. 37 always prepared. They came to great intellectual con- tests with minds unfagged by the labor of previous com- position, and their words were indescribably fresh and charming, because born at the moment of utterance. The traditions of the almost supernatural eloquence of Patrick Henry are dear to the heart of every American school-boy. AVhile few specimens of his eloquence sur- vive, it is sure that he exerted wonderful power in speech, and that he contributed not a little to the estab- lishment of the American Repul^lic. He never wrote a word either before or after delivery, and his mightiest efforts were made in situations -where the use of the pen would have been impossible. The Virginia Resolutions, Avhich mark a vital point in the liistory of the Revolu- tionarv struo-y-le, were written bv him on the blank leaf of a law book while a discussion was in progress. In the whole of the terrible debate wliich followed he was ever readv, speaking repeatedly and mastering every opponent. He was a great thinker, Ijut a meager writer. History and himian character were liis favorite studies, and these contributed to fit his wonderful natural genius for coming triunq)h. Among the great English jireachors of 'the jjast cen- tury two were especially gr{>at as measured by the degree of popular influence they Avielded. We do not wish to consider Wesley and Whitefield in any other light than as effective orators. Tli(\v each did an amount 38 EXTEMPOEE SPEECH. of speaking that a manuscript reader Avoukl have found impossible, even if the latter had been hindered by no other consideration. At the begining Whitefield did memorize most of his sermons. Even afterward he treated the same subject so frequently when addressing different audiences that the words, tones, and gestures, as well as the outline of thought, became quite familiar. Yet his own testimonv is decisive as to the fact that he w^as not a memoritor preacher in the narrow sense of the term. He says that when he came to preach he had often, in his own apprehension, "not a word to say to God or man." Think of a person who has a fully memorized speech, which he is conning over in his mind, making such a declaration, and afterward thanking God for having given him words and wisdom ! Whitefield's published sermons show few traces of the pen, but bear every mark of impassioned utterance. He spoke every day, until speaking became part of his very life. Think what a command of language, and of all the resources of speech, he must thus have acquired ! Wesley wrote many sermons, and on a very fcAV occasions read them. He used the pen almost as much as the voice, but he wrote sermons, books, and letters for others to read, not as material for his own public reading. He was less impassioned and overwhelming than Whitefield but his sermons were not less effective. They were noted for the quality of exactness of state- EXPERIENCE OF EMINENT ORATOES. 39 meut. In the most easy and fluent manner he said pre- cisely what he wanted to say. He was never compelled to retract an unguarded expression into which he had been hurried by the ardor of the moment. Yet his power over his hearers was not diminished by this carefulness. Scenes of physical excitement, such as attended the preaching of Whitefield, were even more marked under his own calm words. We will refer to another deceased preacher, who pre- sents the strange preculiarity of being an extempore speaker whose great fame has been acquired since his eloquent voice became silent in death, and now rests upon his written sermons. Frederick W. Robertson labored in a comparatively narrow field and finished his career in youth, but he was truly eloquent. His exam- ple proves that extempore speet^-h may be tlie vehicle of the most profound thought and be crowned with all the graces of style. These qualities have given his sermons greater popularity in high scientific, literary, and ])liil()- sophical circles, than those of any preacher of the ])rcsent day. How could such extempore sermons be preserved ? A few were taken down by a short-hand reporter, and although Robertson refused to allow their publication in Itis life-time, thus leaving them without the benefit of his corrections, they are almost faultless in form and expression. Others were written out by his own hand after delivery, but these are more or less fragmentary. 40 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. Had it been necessary for liim to write and memorize each sermon, he could never have pursued those thorough studies, described in his letters, from which he derived so much of his poAver. The great trio of American political orators belong- ing to the generation which has just gone from the stage — Clay, Webster, and Calhoun — were extempore speakers ; Clay and Calhoun always, and Webster usually, sjieaking in tliat manner. The latter, however, was fond of elaborating some striking thouo-ht in his mind to the last degree of word-finish, and then bring- ing it forth in the rush of si)ontaneous utterance. This did not make his speech composite in the mode of delivery, for these prepared gems were short fragments, employed only for ornamental purposes. Competitors of these great men who were obliged to rely upon man- uscript or memory stood no chance of success in the fiery debates through which they passed. From hmidreds of living extemporizers we will call attention to but three, and these of the highest eminence. They are all distinguished writers and do not rely on the extempore method of discourse because of inability to succeed in other methods. These men are Henry AVard Beecher, Charles H. Spurgeon, and "William E. Gladstone. The amount and quality of work of all kinds they have accomplished would have been impos- sil)le for speech-readers or reciters. Beecher sometimes EXPERIEXCE OF EMINENT OBATOES. 41 reads a sermon or a lecture, but though he reads well, the eifect is small as comparetl with the fire and con- summate eloquence of his extempore addresses. Spurgeon has drawn together and maintains probably the largest congregation that ever regularly attended the ministry of one man, and he is purely extemporaneous. Both these men are subjected to the additional test of having their sermons written from their lips and widely pub- lished, thus showing that their popularity has otlier elements besides the personal presence and magnetism of the speakers. The wonderful power of Gladstone has been displayed unceasingly for half a century. While eager critics, hostile as well as friendly, in Parliament or at the hust- ings, are waiting to catch every word from his lips, he does not find it necessary to control his utterances through the use of the pen. Day after day, in the midst of heatetl canvasses, he discusses a wide range of compli- cated questions, and neither friend nor foe ever suggests that he could do better if his words were written out and memorized. Even in such addresses as include the details of finance and abound in statistics he uses but a few disconnected figures traced on a slip of paper. Some years ago, when his modes of sjx'cch were less known than now, the writer asked him to give a statement of his method of preparation, and any advice he might feel disposed to convey to young students of oratory. The 42 extj:mi'(ji;k speech. following courteous and Ja'ply interesting letter was received in reply, and w'ith its ^^•eighty words we may appropriately close this chapter : Haav^ardex, North Wales, \ October 12th, 1867. j Sir : — Though I fear it is beyond my power to com- ply in any useful manner with your request, I am unwill- ing to seem insensible to your wishes. I venture to remark, first, that your countrymen, so far as a very limited intercourse and experience can enable me to judge, stand very little in need of instruc- tion or advice as to public speaking from this side of the water. And further, again speaking of my own expe- rience, I think that the public men of England are bevond all others engrossed bv the multitude of cares and subjects of thought belonging to the government of a highly diversified empire, and therefore are probably less than others qualifial either to impart to others the best methods of preparing public discourses or to con- siiU'i- and adopt them for themselves. Suppose, however, I was to make the attempt, I should certaiidy found myself mainly on a double basis, comj)ounded as follows : First, of a wide and thorough general etlucation, which I think gives a suppleness and readiness as well as firmness of tissue to the mind not easily to l)c had without this form of discij)line. Stvond, of the habit of constant and searching reficction on the subject of any proposed discourse. Such reflection will naturally clothe itself in words, and of the phrases it supplies many will spontaneously rise to the lips. I will not say that no other forms of preparation can be EXPERIENCE OF EMINENT AUTHORS. 43 useful, but I know little of them, and it is on those, beycnc] all doubt, that I should advise the young princi- pally *o rely. I remain, sir, your most obedient servant, W. E. Gladstone. CHAPTER lY. Ax Embeyo Speech, with Models of Veey Simple Plans. The first extemporaneous speeches attempted should be of the simplest character. Too high an ideal formed at the outset may be very harmful by causing needless discouragement. To speak freely in any manner, how- ever rude, until confidence and the power of making every faculty available are acquired, should be the first great object. INIany persons are slaves of bad hal)its through life because they began wrong. Nothing harms an orator more than cultivating his critical taste far beyond his power of ready utterance. There is no necessary relation between the development of the two things. -To become a fine word-critic and master of an excellent written style does not imply the poAver to strilce off finely finished sentences at the speed of the tongue ; but it does tend to render the speaker dissatisfied with anything below tlie level of his written performances, and thus checks his fluency. To master the difficult art of written composition first, and strive afterward to gain a similar proficiency in spoken Avords, is a complete reversal of the natural method, and in all but a few gifted minds puts a preminm on failure. An unlettered 44 AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 45 rustic may speak with j^erfect ease, because he is not conscious of the numberless verbal blunders he falls into ; but if it Avere possible, by some j^rocess of sj)iritual infu- sion, to put him in possession of a line, critical taste, he Avoukl be instantly smitten dumb. The true metliod is to cultivate the faculty of extem- porization side by side with critical judgment. In case that is done, ease and confidence will not be for a moment disturbed. It thus appears that while an ex- tempore speaker can never knoAV too much, it is quite possible for his knowledge and cultivation to advance in the wrong order. The pen will be of perpetual use to the speaker; but his command of it must not increase so rapidly in proportion as to make him ashamed of his tongue. From this reasoning it follows that the best time to lay the foundation of excellence in speech is very early in life. Speeches made then are necessiirily flimsy and rudi- mentary, but they are not the less valuable on that account. They are to ]>o esti natcd not for their own worth, but for their results upon the mind producing them. The schoolboy's first " composition " has always been a mark f r chei;> witticism ; but the boy himself regards it with justifiable pride, as the first step in the noble work of putting thought on paper. The same pains and patience applied to tlie art of public talk- ing as to written composition will produce equal fruit. 46 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. A few directions intended to aid in overcoming some of the initial difficulties of speech, which may serve as suggestions to teachers as well as helps to solitary students, are here ap})cndcd. They are purposely made of almost ludicrous crudeness, but will not, it is trusted, be less serviceable on that account ; for it is not so important to aid the mature speaker in giving the last fine strokes of genius to a masterly oration, as it is to stimulate and guide beginners in their first stammering utterances. The simplest oration or formal address that can be constructed has three distinct parts. With these we will begin the great work of division and arrangement. They may be named as follows : 1. The Introduction. 2. The Discussion. 3. The Conclusion. On this framework a speech-plan can be constructed simple enough for any child. And it is at the same time true that even a child, with such a plan, might speak appropriately who would otherwise not be able to begin at all. We will consider tliesc three parts in their order. The introduction is at once important and embarrass- ing. First words are nearly always heard attentively, and they do much to determine the degree of attention that Avill be bestowed on the remainder of the speech. AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 47 The young speaker should select something as an intro- duction upon which his mind can fasten, instead of dwelling upon the frightful generality of the naked theme. Neither is it hard to construct a good introduc- tion if a few plain directions are heeded, which Avill be more fully given in a succeeding chapter, A II persons feel the need of some kind of a formal o])ening, and therefore often begin with an apology — tiie very worst form of an introduction, beciuise it is not interesting in itself and does not lead up to the subject. In rudimentary speech, w liicli wc are now considering, the introduction should be simple, and, above everything else, easy for the speaker to comprehend and remember. If there is anything in the whole world which he is sure he can talk about for a few moments, and which can })e made to have a moderate degree of connection with his subject, let that be chosen for an o])ening. If it is also vivid and striking in itself, and familiar to the audience, so much the better ; but this quality should not be in- sisted upon in these first attempts. When the introductory t(»i)ic is selec-ted it should be turned over in the mind until the speaker knows just what he is going to say about it. This process will have a wonderfully quieting effect upon his nerves. He has fairly mastered something, and knows that at all events he can begin his speech. It is well to make a nijte of this introduction in a few simple words which will 48 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. strongly fasten themselves in the memoiy. No effort toward elaboration should be made, for that would naturally lead to a memorized introduction, and either require the whole speech to be written, or produce a painful and difficult transition. The discussion deals directly with the subject or central idea of the discourse. Here a clear statement of at least one thought which the speaker can fully grasp should be made. The pen (or pencil) may be used in preparation without impropriety. If but one idea is thought of, let that be written in the fewest and strongest words at the student's command. While doina; this it is likely that another and related thought will spring into mind which can be treated in the same manner. With diligent students there may even be a danger of getting down too many seed-thoughts. But that contingency is provided for in the chapters on the fully developed plan, and needs no further notice at this time. When this central division is completely wrpught out, two other points claim attention. How shall the transi- tion be made from the introduction to the discussion ? A little reflection will show how to glide from one to the other, and that process should i3e conned over, without Avriting, until it is well understood. It is wonderful how many outlines of ideas tlic memory will retain without feeling burdenetl ; and this poAver of retention grows enormously through exercise. AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 49 After this, the mode of gliding from the discussion to the conclusion may be treatal in the same manner, and with equal profit. The conclusion itself is scarcely less material than the introduction ; but there is much less range of choice in the manner of closing than in that of beginning. The subject is before the audience, and any wide departure from it seems like the beginning of a new speech — something not usually well received. There is this distinction betMeeii the relative value of introduction and conclusion : a good introduction adds most to a speaker's ease, confidence, and power during the moment of speech ; but a good conclusion leaves the deepest per- manent impression upon the audience. It is usually remembered longer than any other ])art of the address. When a discourse has been prepared in this simple manner it has virtually five parts — thi'cc written and two held in memory. From such an outline it is far more easy to make an address than from the bare an- nouncement of a theme. It is true that all these parts may be formed and held in mind without ever making a pen-stroke. A practiced orator will do this, in a moment, when unexpectedly called upon ; or he may only forecast the introduction and trust to finding the plan as • fast as it is needed. But in this he is no model fi)r imi- tation by beginners. Even powerful orators sometimes spoil the whole effect of a good address by an unfor- tunate mode of closing. They may forget to close in 50 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. time — a grievous fault ! — or may finish with some weak thought or extravagant proposition, by which the whole speech is mainly judged and all its good points neu- tralized. The constructiori of even as simple a plan as here indicated would have more than double the effect of many speeches made by great men. A few simple and rude plans are annexed. No merit is sought for in any one of them beyond making plain the method recommended. PLANS OF SPEECHES. EXAMPLE FIRST. Subject. — Chinese Emigeation to America. Introduction. — The number of emigrants to our country and the nations they represent. [A totally different and more effective introduction might be the description of a group of Chinese as seen by the speaker.] Discussion. — The nature, amount, and present effect of Chinese emigration. [It is possible for the speaker m his introduction to foreshadow the position he expects to maintain in his speech ; or he may make a colorless introduction and reserve his opinion for the discussion. The material under this head is unlimited. It is only necessary from the oratorical stand-point that the speaker should deter- mine what course to take, and then carefully think out in advance or read — for history and statistics cannot be AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 51 improvised — all about that which he intends to use. When he can tell it all over easily to himself he may reasonably feel assured of his ability to tell it to others. The various arguments should be weighed and the best selected. That which most naturally connects Avith the introduction should be firmly fixal in the mind as the first, that it may form the bridge from the one part to the other.] C0NCI.US10X. — Results of policy advocated, either predictal, describetl, or shown to be probable. Mode of remedying evils that might be appre- hended from that policy. [In the conclusion the speaker may take upon himself the character of a prophet, poet, or logician. He may predict results and let tlie statement make its own impression. He may put all emphasis upon a vivid painting of the future colored by the views he advocates; or he may sum up his reasons, deduce consequences, and weigh alternatives. The choice between these different modes may be made instinctively, or it may require con- siderable mental effort, but when made, the best mode of transition wall be very easily found.] In all this process, which in the case of undisciplined speakers may extend over many days of hard work, the . pen may be used freely, making copious notes of facts and arguments. After enough has been accumulated and put in such shape that the speaker can easily look over the entire field, he is ready for another process — that of simplifying his plan. Rough and copious notes 52 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. brought with him to the platform would only be a source of embarrassment. But the germ of his ideas, which are now familiar, can be put into very small compass. Perhaps the following would recall everything in the preceding outline : The Chinese Question. 1. Experience. 2. Arguments. 3. Eesults. But it is clear that a skeleton containing only three words need not be kept in view. The whole outline of the speech will therefore be in the mind. If numerous figures or citations from authorities are employed, they mav be classified and read from books or notes, as needed. Such reading in no way detracts from the extempora- neous character of the address, though if too numerous they tend to damp oratorical fire and break the unity of discourse. One ^\•ho has had no personal experience, or who has not carefully observed the methods of other speakers, can scarcely imagine how much a simple out- line, such as here suggested, accomplishes in removing the confusion, fear, and hesitation which characterize beginners. Another specimen, not of controversial character, is subjoined. AN EMBBYO SPEECH. 53 EXAMPLE SECOND. Subject. — The Ocean. Introduction. — The vastness of the ocean. No one person has seen more than a small part of it. Power evidenced by storm and ship- wrecks. Discussion. — Five great divisions of the ocean. Use in natnre, watering and tempering the land ; in conmierce, as a highway ; in history, by dividing and nniting nations ; its mystery, etc. Conclusion. — Proof of the Creator's power and wisdom found in the ocean. The Same Plan Condensed. Subject. — The Ocean. 1. Vastness and Power. 2. Parts, Use, and Mystery. 3. Evidence. Dean Swift's Sermon. This eccentric clergyman once preached a sermon shor- ter than its own text, yet having all the three parts of which we have spoken. The text Avas Prov. xix, 20: " He that pitieth the poor lendeth to the Lord ; and that which he hath given will He pay him again." The sermon was : " Bretliren, yon hear the condition ; if you like the security, down with the dust." 54 EXTEMPOEE SPEECH. Tlie collection is said to have been nmniiicent. In this short sermon the text with the word " Breth- ren " constitutes the introduction ; the phrase, " you hear the condition," is a good transition to the discussion contained in the next member, '* if you like the security," which assumes the truth of the text, makes its general declarations present and personal, and prepares the way for the forcible and practical, if not very elegant, con- clusion, "down with the dust." Among the many speeches found in Shakesjieare, the existence of these three essential parts may easily be noted. The funeral speeches over the dead body of Julius Caesar afford an excellent example. The merit of the orations of Brutus and Antony are very unequal, but both are instructive. We will analyze tliem in turn. Brutus speaks first. He shows his want of apprecia- tion of the true nature of persuasive eloquence by declaring that this will be an advantage. His introduc- tion is also too long and elaborate for the work he has in hand. The central thought with which he opens is in substance, " I am worthy of your closest attention." This cannot be considered a fortunate beginning, and it would have been fatal for any one less highly esteemed by the peoj^le than "the well-beloved Brutus." He says: Brutus' Speech. ^^Romans, country-men, and lovers ! hear me for my AX EMBRYO SPEECH. 55 cause, and be silent that you may hear ; beUeve me for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor that you may believe ; censure me in your wisdom and awake your senses that you may the better judge." This introduction is a master-piece of Shakespeare's art, because it pictures so well the character of Brutus in his dignity and blind self-confidence ; but for Brutus it is unfortunate, because it puts him on the defensive and makes the people his judges. He must now plead well, or they will condemn him. In the discussion the thought simply is, "I was Caesar's friend, and therefore you may well believe that I would not have killed him if he had not deserved death because of his ambition." This is the whole argument, and it is weak because it does not prove the ambition of Ciesar, or show that ambition on Caesar's part waa a crime which Brutus had a right to punish with death. The antithetic sentences lack both logic and passion. As they touch neither head n(»r lieart, they can have but felight and momentary effect. Notice the discussion as an example of fine words which do not .serve their purpose. " If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Ciesar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer : Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had 56 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. you rather Ctesar were livin*;-, iuul die all slaves, lliaii that Ctesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I 4'cjoiee at it ; as he was valiant, I honor him ; hut as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition. W'iio is here so base that would Ix; a bond- man ? If any, sj)eak ; for him have I oifendetl. AVho is here so rude, that would not Ix; a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country ? If any, speak ; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply." As several citizens cry out, " None, Brutus, none," he passes to the conclusion, ^^•hich is as weak as the discus- sion. " Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar, than you shall do to Brutus. As I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death." He has gained nothing by the wdiole speech, save tlie knowledge that none of the citizens present care at that time to impeach him for liis crime; but their minds were open to other influences. Shakespeare thus shows how an able man might use all his powers in the per- fection of oratorical and rhetorical forms, without pro- ducing a great or effective speech. Antony now comes forward. Behold the contrast ! AN EMBPVn SPEECH. 57 Antony's Speech. The iiitrodiu'tion i.s like and unlike that of Brutus. The same three titles are used ; the same c-all for attention. But there is no repetition, no egotism, no elaboration. The introduetion is short, ealling attention to his osten- sible pur])()se, and prepares for a beautiful transition to the diseussion. TXTRODUCTIOX. " Friends, Romans, countr^-nien, lend me your ears. I come to bury Csesar, not to praise him," Tl>ere is not a 8Uj)erfluous word. But how can Antony glidi- into those ])raises of Ciesar, which he has disclaimed, but which are necessary to his purpose? Tlie next sentence solves the (jucstion : '* The evil that {iien do lives after them ; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Ca?sar." This leads most naturally to the thought of the dis- cussion, which is, " No event of Caesar's life shows guilty * ambition ; but many do reveal love to the people and care for the general welfare. He siiould, therei"ore, be mourned, and — the next word is not supplied by the orator, but forced from the hearts of the pe(»pl( — avenged! We quote a few only of the well-k'uowu words : 58 extempore speech. The Discussiox. " The noble Brutus Hath told you Csesar was ambitious ; If it were so, it Avere a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answered it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, (For Brutus is an honorable man, So are they all, all honorable men,) Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me; But Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honorable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransom did the general coffers fill. Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? AVhen that the poor hath cried Caesar hath wept. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious. And Brutus is an honorable man. You all did sec, that, on the Lnpercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, "Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?" The strongest argument against belief in guilty aml)ition on the part of Caesar and in favor of punishing his murderers is reserved by the subtle Antony for the last, and then he manages to have the people demand it of him. He proceeds very naturally and effectively from the rent robe and the bleeding body to the will of Caesar. This instrument gave the Romans each a large donation AX EMBRYO SPEECH. 59 in money, and bestowed upon them collectively " his walks, his private arbors, and new-planted orchards " as a public park. The argument was irresistible, and needed no elaboration. If hifs death was avenged as a nmrder, the will would l)e valid; otherwise, it Mould be set aside, and his estate confiscated by the conspirators. The people, thus fired by the strongest motives of grati- tude and interest tliemselves supply the conclusion, and IJnitus had to fly lor his life. The whole speech is worth study as an exhibition of almost perfect elocjuenee. Shakespeare meant to draw in Brutus the picture (tf a scholar coming before the ju'ople with fine woi'ds, and producing little more than a literary effect. In Antony he pictures the true orator in the ])lentitudc of his power, to whom woi'ds arc but servants in accom])lishing his purpose of ])ersuading and inflaming the peo])le. The one qieech reads as if it might have been written out in the closet and memorized ; the other gushes from the heart of the speaker as he watches the sea of ui)turned faces, adapting his words with exquisite skill to suit and swell the passions written there. CHAPTER V. Initial Fear and how to Overcome it. However numerous and varied may be the classes of those who contemplate extempore speech, they are all confronted by one common difficulty. AVhether a boy makes his maiden eifort, or a man of wide thought and ripe culture attempts for the first time to dispense with the manuscript in which he has trusted through years of successful public speech, the fear of failing looms up before each of them in a manner equally formidable. The writer well remembers his first boyish venture into this arena of jieril. A debate in a village shoe- maker's shop furnished the occasion. Two or three "speakers" were ranged on a side, and the question was that time-honored controversy of country lyceums — the comparative magnitude of the wrongs suifered by the Indians and the Negroes at the hands of the American Government. AVhich side the writer was on, or what arguments were used, has long since been forgotten, but the palpitating heart, the terrible suspense, as one after another of the preceding speakers made his remarks and brought the terrible moment of facing the audience nearer, can never cease to be remembered. When at last called out by the voice of the i)residing officer, I found 60 OITIAL FEAR. 61 my way to the end of a rude bench or counter that ran partly across the room, leaned upon it, shut my eyes, and began to talk. How hoarse and hollow the sound that followed! All that was uttered was instantly forgotten by the speaker, for one terrible thought dominatal every other — a speech was being made! My head whirled, every nerve tingled, and a confused, roaring sound filled my ears, ^vhilc I most heartily repented of allowing myself to be persuaded into such a frightful position. A great dread stared at me from the end of each sen- tence — that of finding nothing more to say and being obliged to sit down amid the ridicule of neighbors and school-fellows. When at lens:;th the ajjonv was over, and opening my eyes, I dropped into a sejit, a striking revulsion of feeling occurred. This rose to the height, of joy and triumph when I learned that " the speech " nad actually been ten minutes long. It was a grand achievement ! In all sober earnest, I estimate that this first effort was probably the most profitable of my life, because it was a beginning in the right direction. Weeks of prepara- tion preceded the momentous effort, and in some kind of a way the result had been poured upon the audience. From that time the writer was numbered among the villao-e debaters and shared in the advantaijes of the village Lyceum — a capital means of improvement. Had the first extemporaneous effort been made later in life, 62 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. the shrinking and terror ^vould j)robably have been even greater. While no way lias been discovered of altogether pre- venting the initial fear that attends extemporaneous speech by the unpracticed orator, yet it may be greatly lessened and more rapid and perfect control of it obtained by heeding a few simple suggestions. Some serviceable expedients have already been pointed out, and will here only be referred to. As simple a plan as that described in the last chapter, with lengthened meditation on each part, will give the mind of the speaker something to do aside from dwelling upon his own danger. He should also prepare far more matter than can possibly be used — so nmch that in the simplest and baldest statement it will fill a respectable period of time. He need not be careful as to how he speaks, or in how many forms he repeats the same idea. Originality, also, may safely be neglected. The object is not to talk especially well, or to utter that which has never been uttered before, but only to keep on talking until self-possession and the mastery of every faculty have been fully restored. This preparation of great quantities of material with no care as to the graces of delivery may expose the speaker in time to another peril — that of being tedious and w^eari- some ; but this is not the source of the initial fear with which we are now dealing, and ^\'hen it becomes a real evil there are effectual means of guarding against it. INITIAL FEAR. 63 A further direction is tliat the mode of introduction be very firmly fixed in the mind. This Monderfully calms the speaker. He knows that he ciin begin even if he never gets any further ; and by the time the intro- duction is passed, if the man possesses any natural apti- tude for speech, his mind will in all ordinary cases have recovered its equilibrium, and be ready to devise and direct everything that follows. The plan and the full notes which have been made should also be kept within easy reach, or even in the hand — not with the intention of using them, for that is the very thing to be avoided, but that the speaker, by knowing that they can be referred to in an emergency, may be guarded against " stage fright." He may al'so exercise self-control by not looking at them unless abso- lutely driven to it. The object of first efforts — even for the orator who is great m other modes of delivery — is not to make a great or admired speech, but only to get through the ordeal without disgrace or failure. Quality must be sought later. To get any reasonable quantity of speech at first, to satisfy yourself that you can both think and talk when on your feet, is achievement enough. One caution may be offered to the man possessing a good written style which the l)oy will not need. Do not make your preparation so minutely or verbally that the very words linger in your memory. If you do, one CI EXTEMPOEE SPEECH. of two things will probably happen : either you will recite a memorized speech, which, however fine in itself,^ will contribute nothing to the object of learning to speak extemporaneously, or the fine fragments of remembered diction that flood in your mind will be so out of harmony with the words spontaneously cvolvetl as to produce a continual series of jars and discords noticeable to every one, and to none more painfully than to yourself. The writer once listened to a speech of this mixed character, in which the orator would soar for a time on the wings of most excellent words, and then drop down to his ordi- nary and very meagre vocaI)ulary. So frequent and unexpected were these transitions that the orator's pro- gress suggested nothing so much as traveling over one of those western corduroy roads, where the wheels of the carriage first rise witl: a great effort on top of a log, and then plunge into fiithomless depths of mud ! Rather than such jolting, it is better that the experimental speeches should never rise aboNC the level of mere talk, and thus maintain a uniform progress. In due time all qualified persons can lift their extemporaneous Avords as high as the utmost reach of the pen. But first must be gained the power of standing unprotectetl by a paper wall, face to face with an audience and employing every faculty as calmly and efficiently as in the study. Practice in talking to the people Avill make this possible and easy, but nothing else will. CHAPTER VI. Utility of Debating Societies. Comparatively little attention is paid to the direet cultivation of extemporaneous oratory in seliools and colleges. Indirectly, much lielj) is given l)y teaching many things which go to furnish the orator with ideas and words, but the combination of these into that noble effort of human genius — a speech — is left to individual research or to accident. A few schools of oratory have been founded which give a large and probably dis])ro- portionate share of attention to elocution in the form of stage or dramatic reading; but even the best of these are as yet but entering upon their real work ol" cultivating thoroughly the power of persuasive public speech. AMien each college shall have a chair of extempore speech, and each academy shall give as much attention to unpre- meditated utterances in conversation and public ad(b'ess as is now bestoAved upon Greek or Latin, the oratory of pulpit, bar, platform, and legislature will l>e of a vastly higher tyj^e. Some newspaper critics have deprecated teaching the art of speech on the ground that there is already too much public talking. This view, if seriously entertained, 65 66 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. is very narrow and misleading. Not more, but better speech — an increase of quality, rather than quantity — Avould result from cultivation, and improved methods. And it may also be argued that if a great part of the work of life is found in convincing, instructing, and per- suading our fellows, an abundance of speech is absolutely required. As freedom and mental activity increase, the only practicable modes of leading and governing men, which rest upon persuasive speech, will be more urgently demanded. In a state where the will of one man is law, political speech has little place ; and in a Church where independent thought is heresy and the mass of the people accept unquestioningly the precise form of faith in which they were born, preaching will have a very narrow field. But in our own country it is our boast that we determine every subject by free discussion ; and it is clear that a man who can take no part in the oral battles that are continually waged about him is placed at a great disad- vantage. But the literary societies generally connected with schools do afford very valuable helj) in acquiring the art of oratory. ISTot only their formal exercises, but their discussion of points of order and procedure, and the management of the business and government of such societies, call out talking talent. Debating societies or lyceums give the same kind of facilities to speakers outside of educational halls. A spirited debate on some UTILITY OF DEBATING SOCIETIES. 67 topic not above the comprehension of the debaters affords one of the best possible means of acquiring the prime facukies of assurance and fluency. In sucli debates the quesiion is chosen, the sides assigned, and ample time given for that kind of preparation which can only be effectually made in the general study of tlie sul)ject. There is no great temptation to write a speech for a coming debate, as its formal sentences would fit poorly into the line of argument, the course of Mhich cannot be foreseen, even if their substance should not be anticipated by a speaker on the same side. But the more general knowledge of the subject in its entire range that can be acquired the better, so long as it does not overwhelm the sjicakcr. The opening speech may indeed be plannee is possible to one accus- tomed to depend u])on it. Many speakers will recollect occasions on which they wvvv unable to recall short memorizenergy. But his long and embarrassed pauses, together with his struggles to get Avords of some kind to express his mean- ing, constituted a trial to his^ hearers so great that no congregation would long endure his ministry. It is possible that such persons would gain some relief by writing and rejiding their discourses. Probably they could not memorize at all. Their reading, however, woidd most likely l)e marked by many of the same defects as their spoken utterances. Many of the persons who accuse themselves of a lack of words mistake the nature of their difficulty. It is easy to bring the matter to a decisive test. If you are really very deficient in the faculty of language, you cannot tell an ordinary story, a\ ith the details of which you are perfectly acquainted, in a prompt and intelligent manner. Try the experiment. Read over two or three times a newspaper account of a wreck, a murder, or some other common occurrence ; then lay down the paper and in your own way tell your friend what has happened. If you can do this easily, you need never complain of the 86 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. lack of words. Equal familiarity with anv other subject will produce the same results. Neither the preacher nor the farmer referred to could have successfully passed this test. The preacher would have told the story badly, and in an incredibly long space of time ; the farmer would not have told it at all. We have now considered the most serious disqualifica- tions for the orator's vocation. INIany things which are constantly assigned by candidates as the reasons for con- fining themselves to the use of manuscript in })ublic address have not been included, for most of these, as will appear in a subsequent chapter, are susceptible of <}asy remedy. Here we have only mentioned those which cannot be cured. If a man concludes, after due trial and consultation, that these defects, or any part of them, prevail in his own case, it will be prudent for him to select some other life-work to whicli he is better adaj^ted than he can ever hope to be for public speaking. We sum up tlie following disqualifications for oratory: incurable defects of voice, extreme timidity, feebleness of mind, certain forms of bodily disease, and great de- ficiency in the faculty of language. CHAPTER II. Thought and Emotion. Two kinds of preparation contribute to the production of eloquence. One is the ])rej)arati()n of the speaker, the other of the speech. The first is fully as important as the second. In ordinary cases both are indispensable. Some '' born orators " speak well without ap})earing to pay any attention to the improvement of tlieir faculties. Others are occasionally eloquent on a topic without special pre})aration. Yet these cases when closely ex- amined will be found apparent rather than real excep- tions to the rule above stated. The man who seems never to have cultivated tiie po\\er of speech, and is yet able to blaze into fervid eloquence at will, has usually concealed his preparation or carried it on in such uncom- mon methods that they have not been recognized as preparations. On the other hand, a man who speaks well without a moment's warning can do so only when . the subject is thoroughly familiar to him. A ready and self-possessed speaker may grasp thoughts whidi have been long maturing in his mind, and give them forth to an audience in obedience to an unexpected summons, but if he is called upon when he knows nothing whatever of his subject, failure is inevitable, though he may possibly 87 88 EXTEMPOEE SPEECH. ■\-eil it more or less in a stream of platitudes. Ask a man at a moment's warning to give an astronomical lecture. If he is perfectly familiar with the subject in general, and is also a practical orator, he may succeed well without preparing a special speech. But if he is ignorant of Astronomy, what kind of an address can he make? If he is the most eloquent man in the nation that faculty will avail him nothing, for he cannot extem- porize the names of the planets, the laws which govern their motions, or any of the facts out of which his lecture must be woven. Precisely the same necessity of adecpiate information exists in every other field of intelligence. The ignorant man cannot possibly tell that which he does not know, although he may make a great show of knowl- edge out of small material; but even to do that ^\ith certainty requires careful premeditation and arrange- ment. In this and following chapters we wish to treat of .the kind of cultivation which makes a man ready to s})eak. The field is here very wide and some general considerations must be introduced, but we hope also to give valuable practical directions, especially to those who are yet at the beginning of their career. In considering man as a speaker, we may classify his faculties into two broad divisions; those which furnish the materials of communication with his fellows; and those ^^'llich furnish the means of such communication. THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 89 The first class gives rise to thoughts and emotions in man's own breast ; the second enables him to arouse similar thoughts and emotions in the breasts of others. Our course, therefore, w ill l)c to consider, first, thought and emotion, and afterward those powers of body and mind by "which a\c express, that is, p7-ess out from our- selves toward the receptive faculties of our fellow beings. Thought, in the broad sense here given, embraces the knowledge of all facts, and all the reasoning that may be based upon those facts. Emotion is the mental feeling or response to knowletlge, and comprises love, hate, joy, ii'ar, sorrow, and hope. These two elements are the broad basis of all eloquence. Keen, profound, far-reach- ing thought — in other words, thought raised to its highest terms — and quick, sensitive, powerful emotion, are necessarv to the highest eloquence. Compared with them, mere verbal fluency is less than dust in llie l)alance. But such a combination — the highest degree of both thought and emotion — is rare, and many degrees less than the highest of either is available for genuine eloquence. To increase either or both, if it can be done without any corresponding sacrifice, is to increase eloquence in precisely the same proportion. Education in the popular sense is the cultivation of thought with the added faculty of language. But we prefer to consider the latter power separately as one among the means of conuuunicating thought. 90 EXTEMPOEE SPEECH. How, then, shall thought-power be increased ? There is no roval road. Every one of the faculties by which knowledge is accumulated and arrangetl or digested into new forms grows stronger by being employetl upon its own appropriate objects. Exercise is then the means by which the material of knowledge is gathered, and all faculties strengthened for future gathering. Each fact gained adds to the treasury of thought, A broad and liberal education is of exceeding advantage. This mav or mav not be of the schools. Indeed, thev too often substitute a knowledge of words for a knowledge of things. That fault is very serious to the orator, for the only way by Avhich even language can be effectively taught, is by giving terms to objects, the nature of which has been previously learned. But many persons need to speak who cannot obtain an education in the usual sense of the words — that is, college or seminary training. Must they keep their lips forever closed on that account ? By no means. A thousand examples, some of them the most eminent speakers the world has j)roduced, encourage them to hope. Let such persons learn all they can. Wide, well-selectetl, and systematic reading will do wonders in supplying the necessary thought-material. Every book of history, biography, travels, popular science, which is carefully read, and its contents fixed in the mind, will be available for the purposes of oratory. Here a word THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 91 of advice may be offered, Avhich, if heeded, will be worth many months of teelmieal education at the best colleges in the land ; it is this : have always at hand some work that in its own sphere possesses real antl permanent merit, and read it daily until completed. If notes are made of its contents, and the book itself kept on hand for reference, so much the better. If some friend can be found who will hear you relate in your own words what you haye read, this also will he of great value. Many persons, especially in our own country, spend time enough in reading the minute details of the daily paj)ers to make them thoroughly acquainted in ten years with forty vol- umes of the most useful books in the world. Think of it! This number may include nearly all the literary masterpieces. Which mode of spending the time will j)roduce the best results? One news]nipcr riad daily woidd amount to more than three hundred in a year, and allowing each paper to be equal to ten ordinary book pages, the result would be three thousand j)ages annually, or six volumes of five hundred pages each. In ten years this would reach .s'/.r^vy volumes ! This number, com- prising the world's best books in history, ])oetry, science, aus ol' Greece and Rome. If this liahit is long oontiinicd it w ill cause words to be usal correctly in thinking as well as in speaking. To read a dictionary consecutivelv and carefully (iiiiiorinsi" the old story about its frequent (thange of subject) will also be found ycry pi'ofitablc Translating from any language, ancient or modern, will liaye just the same tendency to teach accurate ex- pression as careful original composition. In either case the improyement conies iVom the search for words that exactly convey ceitain ideas, and it matters not what the source of the ideas may be. The use t)f a good thesauras, or storehouse of Ayords, may also be serviceable by show- ing in one view all the words that relate to any subject. But none of these methods will greatly increase/ttency. There is a practical difference between merely knowing a term and that easy use of it Avhich only habit can give. Elihu l)urritt, with his knowlwlge of fifty languages, lias often been surpassed in fluency, force, and variety of expi'ession by an unlettered farmer, because the few words the latter knew were always ready. Tliere is no way to increase this easy and fluent use of language without much practice in utterance. Where and how can such practice be obtained? Conversation affords an excellent means for this kind of improvement. AVe do not mean the running fire of 10() EXTEMPORE SPEECH. question and answer, glancing so rapidly back and forth as to allow no time for premeditating or explaining any- thinp-, but real and rational talk — an exchange of thoughts and ideas clearly and intelligibly expressed. The man who engages much in tliis kind of conversa- tion can scarcely fail to become an adept in the art of expressing his thoughts in appropriate language. Talk much ; express your ideas in the best manner possible; if difficult at first, persevere, and it ^^•ill become easier. Thus you will learn eloquence in the best and most pleasing school. The common conversational style — that in which man deals directly with his fellow man — is the germ of true oratory. It may be amplified and systematized ; but talking bears to eloquence the same relation that the soil does to the tree that springs out of its bosom. But the best thoughts of men and the noblest expres- sions are seldom found floating on the sea of common talk. To drink the deepest inspiration, our minds nuist often come in loving communion with the wise and mighty of all ages. Tn the masterpieces of literature we will find " thought knit close to thought," and, what is still more to our present purpose, words so applied as to l)r(\athe and live. These passages should be read until their spirit sinks into our hearts and their melody rings like a blissful song in our ears. To memorize many such passages will be a profitable employment. ' The LAXGFAGE. 107 words of which such masterpieces are composed, with the meanings they bear in their several phices, will thus be fixed in our minds ready to drop on our tongues when needed. This conning of beautiful passages is not now recommended for the purpose of quotation, although they may often be usetl in that manner to good advantage, but simply to print the individual Avords with their sig- nification more deeply in memory. This may be effected, also, by memorizing selections from our own best writings. What is thus used should be highly polished, and yet preserve, as far as possible, the natural form of expression. Carried to a moderate extent, this exercise tends to elevate the character of our extemporaneous efforts Ijy erecting a standard that is our own, and therefore suited to our tastes and capacities ; but if made habitual, it will induce a reliance u])on the memorv rather than on tlu; power of sjiontaneous ])ro- duction, and tlius destroy the faculty it was dcsitrned to cultiyate. But no means of cultivating fluency in language can rival extempore speech itself. The only difliculty is to . find a sufficient number of occasions to speak. I^ong intervals of preparation have great advantages as far as the gathering of material for discourse is concernee weighty and influential from the first, and each passing year a\ ill add to his power. CHAPTER VII. Peculiarities Belonging to the Various Fields OF Oratory. The laws which govern extemporaneous speech are so generally applicable to all forms of address that only a few things which are peculiar to each need be considered before pointing out the best modes of planning and de- livering a speech. Probably a sermon differs from tiie common type of speech more than any other form of address. Some of the distinctions usually made ai-e purely conventit)nal, and not a few are more honored in the breach than in the observance. A certain slowness and stiffness of manner is supposed to characterize the })ulpit, and also the selection of grave and solenm tones. All these, so far as they tend to constitute nn'nistersaclass apart from other men, ^\ith manners and modes of speech peculiar to themselves, are a mere survival of ancient superstition. The preacher's tone and address should be just such as any other competent speaker would employ in treating the same themes. Of course, when the preacher makes a solemn appeal, voice and action should all correspond in solemnity. But when he denounces sin, or holds vice up to ridicule, there should be an e(jual correspondence. In 135 136 EXTEMPOEE SPEECH. some deiiomiuations, a peculiar dress is given to tlio preacher as the garJj of his office ; and it may be that a peculiar manner will be grateful to those who love all things that have the flavor of antiquity. But all such mannerisms belong to another realm than that of eloquence. From the orator's standpoint they can only be condemned. Let the preacher speak and act like any other educated gentleman, under like circumstances, and his power over his audiences will be the greater. But the sermon possesses some real distinctions of importance. The custom of taking a text furnishes a point of departure to the preacher and greatly simplifies the work of introduction. The opening services in the church — the prayers and the music — put his audience into a mood to receive his words. They are calm and ■quiet when he begins to speak — indeed, this may easily go too far. Another peculiarity is that he has the whole field to himself: neither he nor his auditors expect a word or gesture of dissent from any position he may assume: all the criticisms of his hearers will be mental, or reserved to another occasion. In this, his position is diametrically opposed to that of the lawyer, and the poli- tician, who expect all they say to be contradicted, as a matter of course, and are apt to acquire the fault of uttering self-evident truths in a combative manner, as if they expected the other side to deny even that the whole is greater than any of its parts, or that tilings each PECULIARITIES. 137 equal to another thing, are equal to each other. The preaeher, on the other hand, is liable to utter propositions, which to many of his hearers are very doubtful, as if they were axioms. The preacher should select a text which fairly covers the subject of his discourse or contributes to advance the object he has in view. The text should always be employed in its true sense. It partakes of the nature of a quotation by which the speaker fortifies his position, and all quotations should bear tlie meaning intendetl by their authors, as far as that meaning can be ascertained. This is required by common fairness, and the Bible is surely entitled to fair treatment as much as any other book. Generally the text should be read and treatetl as a part of the introduction, although some fine sermons have been constructed on the opposite principle of begin- ning far from the text and so leading up to it, that its perfect illustration or application only a])])ears in the conclusion. No fault can be found with this method if conscientiously adopted and consistently carried out. The great aim of preaching is persuasion, and this 'nnist largely influence its whole character. It is from this cause that emotion — ever the most valuable agent in persuasion — is so highly value[PORE SPEECH. Lawyers linvr Itiii littlf t(iii|»t:iti iiulnlut' in wi'it- teii speeches: the exigt'iicies nl" tlir trial iiiaUc lonnal preparation of little service. The gnat talent lor a lawyer's piir|)n>o is that favored hy exteniixii-aiieoiis speech — the power of a clear, orderly statement of facts that are often cxcee.st cases highly enjoyed. The .sune address may be repeated many times ami comes tend upon keeping the right object before you at the right time. If you aim at that which is unattainable, the etfort is not only lost, but the objec^t which you could have reached may in the meantime have passed out of ^ our reach. J^^vervbodv has heard ministers arguing against some forms of unbe- lief which their hearers know nothing about. This is worse than useless ; it may suggest the very errors in- tended to be refuted; and if this does not result, to think that the refutation will be storcnl up until the time when the errors themselves may be encountered, is to take a most flattcM'ing view of the length of time during whidi sermons as well as other discourses are remendjcral. You may avoid these errors by selecting some object which is practicable at the moment of utterance : the first right step makes all after success possible. There is a difference between the object of a speech and its subject ; the former is the motive that impels us to speak, wdiile the latter is what we speak about. It is not uncommon for talkers to have a subject without any definite object, unless it be the very general one of com- plying with a form or fulfilling an engagement. When the period for the talk comes — it would not be right to call it a speech — they take the easiest subject they can SUBJECT AND OBJECT. 153 find, expross all the idt-as they happen to have al)oiit it, and leave the matter. Until such persons become in earnest, and get a living object, true eloquence is utterly impossible. The object of a discourse is the soul, while the subject is but the Ixxly ; or, as we may say, the one is the end, while the other is the means by which it is accomplished. A-fter the object is clearly realized by the speaker, he can choose the subject to much better advantage. It may happen that one object is so much more important than all other practicable ones that it forces itself irresistibly on his attention and thus saves the labor of choice; at other times he may have several diiferent objects with no particular reason for pi'clerring one of them in the order of time to another. In this case if a subject fills his mind it will be well to discuss it with afi aim toward the object which may be best enforced by its means. After all, it makes but little difference which of these two is chosen first. It is enough that when you nndcr- take to speak you have a subject you fully understand, and an object that warms your heart and enlists all your powers. You can then speak, not as one who deals with abstractions, but as having a living mission to pei-form. It is important that each subject should be com])lete in itself, and rounded off from everything else. Its • boundaries should be run with such precision as to include all that belongs to it, but nothing more. It is a 154 EXTE^fPOr.R SPKEPH. oonimon but grievous fault to have the same cast of ideas flowiug arouuci every subject. There are i'ew things in the universe which have not some relation to everything else. If we do not, therefore, very strictly bound our subject, we will find ourselves bringing the same matter into each discourse and perpetually repeating our thoughts. If ingenious in that matter, we may find a good excuse for getting our favorite anecdotes and brilliant ideas into connection with the most opposite kinds of subjects. An old minister once gave me an amusing; account of the manner in which he made out- lines of the sermons of a local celebrity. The first one was a very able discourse, with three jM-incijKil divisions — man's fallen estate, the glorious means provided for his recovery, and the fearful consequences of neglecting those means. Liking the sermon very well, my infor- mant went to hear the same man again. The text Avas new, but the first proposition, was man's fallen estate ; the second, the glorious means provided for his recovery ; and the last, the fearful consequences of neglecting those means. Thinking that the repetition was an accident, another trial was made. The text was at as 2:reat a remove as possible from the other two. The first pro- position was, ma7i's fallen estate ; and the others followed in due order. This was an extreme instance of a com- mon fault, which is by no means confined to the ministry. When an eloquent Congressman was once delivering a SUBJEfT AND OBJEfT. 155 great adtlrcss, a member on the opposite benches rubbed his hands in JH)})arently ecstatic delight, and remarked in a stage whisper, " Oh ! how I have always loved to hear that speech !" In a book of widely circulated sermon sketchas, nearly every one begins by asserting that man has fallen and needs the helps or is liable to the evils mentioned afterward. Xo doubt this primary statement is important, Init it might sometimes be taken for granted. The fault which we have here pointed out is not uncoiuinon in preaching. Occasionally ministers acquire such a stereotyped form of expression that Mhat they say in one sermon is sure to recur, perhaps in a modified form, in all others. This is intolerable. There is an end to the patience of man. He tires of the same old ideas, and wishes, when a new text is taken, that it may bring with it some novelty in the sermon. The remedv ay;ainst the evil under consideration is found in the careful selection and definition of subjects. Give to each its own territory and guard rigidly against all tres- passers. A s})eaker should not only see that wliat he says has some kind of connection with the subject in hand, but that it hasacloser connection with that subject than any other he may be called u])on to discuss at or near the same time. A very great lecturer advertises a number of lectures upon topics that seem to be totally * independent. Yet all the lectures are but one, except a few paragraphs in the introduction of each. This is 156 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. really a less fault in the caM' of an iiiiK ratinu" lodurei lliaii in must otlior liclds uf oratory, a.s the .same people hair the lecture but once. Yet even then the false assumption of intellectual riches imj)lie(.l in the numerous titles cannot be justihed. The subject should l^e so well defined that we always know just what we are speaking- about. It may be of a general nature, but our knowledge of it should be clear and adequate. This is more necessary in an extempore than in a written speech, tiiough tlic want of it \\\\\ be severely felt in the latter also. A strong, vi\ idly tlctincd subject will give unity to the whole discourse, and prob- ably leave a permanent impression on the mind of the hearer. To aid in securing this it will be well to reduce every subject to its simplest form, and then, by writing it as a compact phrase or sentence, stamp it on the mind, and let it ring in every utterance; that is, let each word aid in carrying out the central idea, or in leading uj) to it. Those interminable discourses that begin anywhere and lead nowdiere, may be called speeches or sermons, by courtesy, but they are not such. To always preserve this unity of theme and treat- ment is not easy, and calls, often, for the exercise of heroic self-denial. To see in the mind's eye what we know would please and delight listeners, pander to their prejudices, or gain uproarious applause, and then turn away with the words unspoken, merely because it is SUBJECT AXD OBJEfT. 107 foreign to our siil)j('<'i — this is as sore a trial as for a miser on a sinking ship to abandon his gold. But it is equally necessary, if we would not fill into grave rhe- torical errors. .Vny spewh whic-h is construetal on the plan of puttiug into it all the wise or witty or pleasing things the speaker can think of will be a mere mass of more or less foolish talk. .Shakespeare is often re- proaclied with having negleted the een determined the loirical order of preparation is, first, gathering material ; second, selecting what is most fitting and arranging the whole into perflx't order; third, fixing this in the mind so that it may be available for the moment of use. These processes are not always sepa- rated in practice, but they may be best considered in the order indicated. When a sulyect is chosen and the mind fa-stened upon it, that subject becomes a center of attraction and natur- ally draws all kindred ideas toward it. Old memories that had become dim from the lapse of time are slowly hunted out and gronperinci- pal element in the superiority of one mind over another. Even the mightiest genius cannot, at a single impulse, exhaust the ocean of truth that opens around every object of man's contemj^lation. It is only l)y viewing a subject in every aspect that superficial and one-sided impressions can be guarded against. But the continuous exertion and toil this implies are nearly always distaste- ful, and the majority of men can only accomplish it by a stern resolve. Whether acquired or natural, the ability to completely " think out " a sul)ject is of prime necessity ; the young student at the outset should learn to finish every investigation he begins and continue the habit during life. Doing this or not doing it will gen- erally be decisive of his success or failure from an intel- lectual point of view. Thought is a mighty architec-t, and if you keep him fully employed, he will build up with slo^v and rneasured strokes a gorgeous edifice upon any territory at all within your mental range. You may weary of his labor and think that the wall rises so slowly that it will never be comj)leted ; but wait. In due time, if you are patient, all will be finished and will THOT'GHT-GATHEUIXn. IGl then stand as no ephemeral structure, to be swept awav by the first storm that blows, but will be established and unshaken on the basis of eternal truth. M, Bautain compares the accnnnilation of thoui^ht around a subject upon which the mind thus dwells w itli the development of organic life by continuous growth from an almost imperceptible germ. Striking as is the analogy, there is one point of marketl dissimilarity. This growth of thought is voluntary and may easily be arrested at any stage. The introduction of a new sub- j(Ht or cessation of effort on the old is fatal. To prevent this and keep the mind employed until its Avork is done recpiires with most persons a regular and formal system. Profound thinkers, who take up a subject and cannot leave it until it is traced into all its intricate relations and compreiiended in every part, and wlio have at the same time the power of easily recalling long trains of thought that have once passed thniugh their mind, have less need of an artificial method. Rut their case is not that of the majority of thinkers or speakers. We will give a method found useful for securing abimdant speech materials, and allow others to adopt it as far as it may prove advantageous to them. The things we actually know are not always kept equally in view. Sometimes we may see an idea with great clearness and after a time lose it again, while another, at first mvisible, comes into sight. Each idea 162 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. should be secured when it occurs. Let each thought that arises on the subject you intend to discuss be noted. A Avord or a brief sentence sufficient to recall tlie con- ception to your own mind will be enough, and no labor need be expended on composition or expression. After this first gathering, let the paper Ix' laid aside and tlio subject be recommitted to the mind for further reflection. As other ideas arise let them be noted down in the same manner and the process be thus continued for days together. Sometimes new images and conceptions will continue to float into the mind for weeks. ISlost jiersons who have not tried this process of accumulation will be surprised to find how many thoughts they have on the simplest topic. If some of this gathered matter remains Vague and shadow^y, it will only be necessary to give it more time and more earnest thought and all obscurity Avill vanish. At last there comes the consciousness that the mind's power on that particular theme is exhausted. If we also feel that we have all the material needed, one step further only remains in this part of the Avork ; the com- parison of our treasures Avith AA'hat others haA'C accom- plished in the same field. It may be that this compari- son AA'ill shoAA' the Avorthlessness of much of our oavu material, but it is better to submit to the humiliation involved and be sure that aac haA'e the best that can be furnished by other minds as Avell as our oaau. If we THOUGHT-GATHERING. 163 prefer, we may speak when we have gathered only the materials that are already within our own grasp and thus have a greater consciousness of originality, but such consciousness is a delusion unless based upon exhaustive research. Xearly all that we thus gather will be the result of previous reading, and almost the oidy thing in its favor over the fresh accumulations that we make by reading directly in the line of our subject, is the probability that the former knowledge will be better digestwl. J>ut more fre own ideal and then work up to it. We do not advise any one to borrow other men's outlines for the purpose ot filling them up and then speaking from them as if tlie work was original. This is a most profitless kind of plagia- rism. Such sketches may be useful to the very young speaker, merely as indications of the kind of excellenca in j)lans or sketches at which he shoukl aim. And w lu'ii he hears ffood discourses he mav look beneath the I)iiruing words and criticise the merits of the frame- work upon which they rest. This may render him less satisfied with his own plans, but such dissatisfaction ever affords the best iiope for future success. The true mode of improving your plans is to bestow a great deal of time and thought u[)on them, and to make no disposition of any part for which you cannot give a satisfactory reason. 1 his direction relates only to tlie beginner. In time the formation of plans will become so natural that any variation from the most cHective arrangement will l>e felt as keenly as a discord ill iiuisic is felt by a master in that art. l^'rom .-uch carefully constructed plans, firm, c(»hci-eiit, and logical discourses will result. There are certain general characteristics that each plan should possess. It must fully indicate the nature of the proposed discourse and mark out each of its successive steps with accuracy. Any want of definiteness in the 172 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. outline is a fatal defect. You must feel that you can rely absolutely on it for guidance to the end of your discourse or be always in danger of embarrassment and confusion. Each clause should exj)ress a distinct idea, and but one. This should be repeated in no other i)art of the discourse ; otherwise, we fall into wearisome repetitions, the great vice, as it is often claimed, of extempore speakers. A brief plan is better, other things being equal, than a long one. 01 ten a single word will recall an idea as perfectly as many sentences, and it \\\\\ burden the memory less. We do not expect the draft of a house to ec|ual the house in size, but only to preserve a propor- tionate relation to it throughout. Tlie plan cannot supply the thought, but, indicating what is in the mind, it shows how to brino; it forth in n^onlar succession. It is a pathway leading to a definite end, and, like all path- ways, its crowning merits are directness and smoothness. Without these qualities it will perjdex and hinder rather than aid. Each ^^■(»rd in the plan should suggest an idea, and be so firmly bound to that idea that the two cannot become separated in any exigency of speech. You will find it sorely perplexing if, in the heat of disconrse, some important note should lose the thought for which it previonsly stood and become an empty word. But with clear conceptions condensed into fitting words this CONSTRUCTING A PLAN. 173 cannot easily lia})pen. A familiar idea can be expressed very briefly, while a strange or new conception may recjnire more expansiini. But all thoughts advanced by the speaker onght to be familiar to himself as the result of long meditation and thorough mastery, no matter how strange or startling they are to his hearers. Most skele- tons may be brought within the compass of a hundred words, and every part be clearly indicated to the mind that conceived it, though perhaps not to any other. There may be occasions when a speaker is justified in announcing his divisions and subdivisions, but such ca.ses are exceptions. Hearers do not care how a dis- course is constructed, so it comes to them warm and pulsating with life. To give the plan of a speech before the speech itself is contrary to the order of nature. AVe are not rec|uired first to hxjk upon a grisly skeleton before we can sec a graceful, living body. There is a skeleton inside each body, but during life it is well hidden, and there is no reason that the speaker should anticipate the work of the tomb. It is hardly less objectionable to name the parts of the discourse during the progress of the discussion, for — continuing the former illustration — bones that project through the skin are very unlovely. The only case, I presume to think, where it is justifiable to name tlie parts of a discourse, either before or during its delivery, is where the sepa- rate parts have an importance of their own, in adilition 174 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. to their office oi" eoiitribuiing to the general object. Much of the j)roveH)ial "drviiess" of sermons arises from the preaeher telling w hat ho is about to remark, Jirstly, before he actually makes the remark thus num- bered. Whenever ^\(• hear a minister reiul his text, announce his theme, state the parts into which he means to (hvide it, and then waru us tli:it tiic first head will be sulxhvided into a certain number of parts, each of which is also specified in advance, ^\■v prepare our endurance for a severe test. What great s})eeches recpiire are deep, strong appeals to the hearts of the people, through whicli shines the radiance of threat truths and the liy-htniny; of intense convictions. These can all find their place in the most logically constructed address if the logic be not brought out and paraded in its oifensive nakedness. No mat- ter if the orator's mode of Avork is less understood. A tree is far more beautiful and impressive when covered with waving foliage, even if some of the branches are hidden. Let the tide of eloquence flow on in an un- broken stream, bearing with it all hearts, but giving no indication of the manner in which it is guided ; or, better still, let it move with the impetus of the cannon-ball, but without proclaiming in advance the mark toAvard which it is flying. The plan should go just as far as the intended speech, that we may know exactly where to stop. Then we can CONSTRUCTING A PLAN. 175 arise with confidence, for we are sure that we have some- thing to say; we kiKtw wliat it is, and, most important of" all, Wf will know wlicii it is finished. Most of the ohjections urged against extempore speaking apply only to speeches that have no governing plan. But when a firm and clear plan is prearranged, there is no more danger of saying wliat we d<» not intend, oi- of running into endless digressions, than if every word was written. Indeed, there is no better way of gnarding against undue discursiveness in a written speech than by arranging such a plan l)efore l)eginning to write. But it may be urge;. There are two other wavs of using the plan to Ik? eousiilered. One is to keep it in the s})eaker's sight, so that he may step along frtwn one item to another, thus keeping a foundation of written woiils in the midst of the imeertamtv of his extempc>raneous efforts, like that aftbixleil bv stepping-stones to a man crossing a ruuniug stream. There are some advantages in sueh use. The s^jeaker will feel freer in making those [xuises which are sometmies necessary for the sake of emphasis. He is better able to collect his s^-attereil ideas in c-ase any untoward circumstance should break the thread of his discourse. If he is eonfiised for a moment, he may lix>k do^^"n to his pajier and recover himself, while if thoughts and words flow easily he can ignore the plan which lies before him. But all the reasons for thus using the plan art the most emphatic condemnation 'A the piractice. They are all make-shifts. They are based upon the thought that the great object is to secure the speaker fix)m danger ami eonftision ; in other words, they put him on the defen- sive, instead of the aggressive. AA'ere the qiie?ti<:>n t<^ be stated, " How can a man best preserve the form of ex- temporaneous speech while shielding himself fi'om the most dangerous incidents of that mode of address ?" it rSIXG THE WRITTEN PLAN. 179 might plausibly be replied, " By making a very full plan aufl cfjiif-ealing it at some point Avithin the reach of his eves, and u.-iuir it w henever that course Ijecomes ettsiest." But Ave have not sought to point out the mode of sjieec-h which will lx*st protect the speaker from risks iiK'idrnt to hi- work. For real effectiveness, compro- mises are usually hurtful, and this expedient f^irms no exceptiou. To Imvc a plau in sight tends jxtwerfuUy to break up the sp*^^'!! into fragments and destroy its unity. A .'ierit^ of short addresses on relate- stitute for a concentrated discourse. The speaker who publiclv uses his sketch, sjieaks on until he reaches a point at which he dc>es not know what is to come next, and on the brink of that gulf, lrM>ks down at his notes, ami, perhaps after a search, finds what he wants. Had the thought existed in his mind, it would have blendee used the same advice ap])lies that we iia ve alread V offered to those who read in ftdl. Be honest 180 EXTEMrORR SPEECH. about it ; do not trv to hide the notes. Any attempt to })rove to an audience that we are doing what we arc not doing, has in it an element of deception, and is moi'ally objectionable. The use of notes is not wrong, but to use tiieni while i)retending not to use them is \vrong. Some speakers carry their notes in their p(X'kets for the sake of being able to take them out in case they liml their memory failing, and thus they guard against the misfortune which once befell the eloquent Abb(> Bautain, who, on ascending the pulpit to jHvach before the Frcndi King and Court, found that he had forgotten subject, plan, and text. This method is honest and unobjectionabU*, for the notes of the plan ai'c either not used by the speaker at all, or if he takes them from his pocket, the people will understand the action. The only remaining method, and that which we woidd urge upon every extempore speaker, is to commit the plan, as sketched, to memory. It is put in the best pos- sible shape for the expression of the subject by the labor which has been previously bestowed upon it, and now such review as will give the mind a perfect recollection of the whole subject in its orderly unfolding is just what is needed for final mastery. Previously much of the work of preparation was given to detached fragments. Now the subject as a whole is spread out. The time given to a thorough memorizing of the ])lan need not be great; it will indeed be but small if the plan itself is so well USING THE WRITTEN PLAN. 181 arranged that every preceding part suggest? mIkiI tol- lows; but it will l)e the most fruitful of all the time spent in preparation. It puts you in the best condition for speaking. The object is then fixed in the heart and will fire it to earnestness and zeal, while the subject is spread, like a iiiaj), before the mental vision. All the ])()\\('r you ])ossess can then be brought to bear directly upon the people. Do not fear that in the hurry of dis- course you wilt forget some part of what is clear when you begin. If you are in good mental and physical condition, the act of speech will be exhilarating and stim- ulating, so that every fine line of preparation will come into clearness just at the right time, and many a relation iniperceived before, many a fi)rgotten fact, will spring up in eoinj)lcte and vivid perception. There is a wonderful luxury of feeling in such speech. Sailing with a swift wind, riding a race-horse, even the joy of victcn'ious bat- tle — iude(Hl, all enjoyments that arise from the highest ])owers called forth into successful exercise — ai'c infei-ior to tlie tiu'ill and intoxication of the highest fi»i'ui of suc- cessful extemporaneous speecli. To think of using notes then would seem like a contemptible inijx'i'tiiienee ! Imagine Xavier or Ijuther with their notes spread out before them, looking up the ditfereut items from wliieli to address the multitudes spell-bound before them ! The Presbyterian Deacon who once prayed in the ])resenceof • his note-nsino; Pastor, " O Lord I teach Thv servants to 182 EXTEMPOTiE SrEECH. speak from ihf licail to the heart, and not from a little piece of paper, as the manner of some i.s," was not so very far wrong ! It is advisable to commit the plan to memory a con- siderable time before speaking-. It then takes more complete possession of the mind and there is less liability of forgetting some portion. This is less important when the subject is jierfectly familiar, for tlion "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth sj)eaketli," but those subjects which have been recently studied for the first time are in a ditferent position ; and some nieditation upon that which has just been arranged in its best form ^vill be very serviceable. Even if the salient points are firndy grasped, some of the minor parts luay i'e(piire further close consideration. No study is ever so profit- able as that which is bestowed after the plan is comj)lete, for up to that time there is danger that some of the tlioughts to which our attention is given mav be ulti- mately rejected and others radically modified. But when the plan is finished each idea has settled into its place. If obscurity rests anyAvhcre, it may be detected at once, and the strength of the mind be brought to bear for its banishment. Impressions derived from malita- tion are then easily retained imtil the hour of speech, because associated with their proper place in the prepared outline. Such deep meditation on each division of the discourse can scarcely fail to make it original in the true rSIXr; THE WrtTTTKX pr-AN. 183 sense of the tenn, ami weave all its parts together Muth strong and massive thoughts. After the phiii lia> Imcm ineniorizetl Me ean meditate upon it not only at the desk, but anywhere. As wo walk about or lie in bcnl, or at any other time iind oiw minds free from distractions, we can ponder the ideas that cluster around our subjtrt until they grow perfectly fiuniliar. Even when we are reacHng oi' thinking on otlier topics, brilliant thoughts will not unfrequently spring u}), or those we possessed before take stronger and more definite outlines. All such gains can be held in memory without the use of the pen, because the plan furnishes a suitable place for them. The coursi' here described we Mould urge strongly u])()n the consideration of tlie young speaker. 11* care- i'uliy followed, its results will be invaluable. Arrange the plan from wliieh \(iu are to speak as clearly as may be in the form of a bi'ief sketch; turn it over and over again ; ponder each idea and the manner of l»ringing it out; study the coiniectinn b<'tween all the ])arts nntil the whole trom beginning to end appears perfectly i)lain and simple. So j're(|Uentl\- lias this mode of jti'cparation been tested that its clli'ctiveness is no lontici- a matter of experiment. It is advantageous to grasj) the ^vhole subject, as early as possible, in a single idea — in the same manner in which the future tree is compresse one thoiitilii will suggest the entire cliseounse tu the speaker, and at its eonclusion will he left dear and positive in the hearer's mind. For some acute auditors this may he kss neces- sary. They are able to outrun a loose speaker, arrange his scattered fragments, supj)ly his omissions, and arrive at the idea which has not yet formal itself clearly in his own mind. Such pci-sons often honestly (((mmend orators who aw incoin[)rehcnsil)le to the majority of their hearers. l>ut the opinions of such auditors are an unsafe puide, i'or th('\- t"orm a \-cr\' small niiiioritv of any assembly. Thei'e is one further ste]i which mav sometimes pre- cede the moment of speech with profit — the ]>lacing upon paj)er of a brief but connected sketch or statement of the "whole discourse. If this is made in the ordinary writing there is dano-er that its slowness will make it more of a Avord-study than Avhat it is intended to Ik — a test of ideas. A thorough uiastery of shorthand, or the service of some one wlio has such mastery, will supplv this defect. If the ])laii is well arranged there will be no j)ause in the most rapid com[)ositiou, and if the ^\•hole discourse can at one effort l)e thi-owu into a dress of words there mav be full assurance that the same thins: can be accomplished still more easily and eflPc'ctivelv when the additional stinudus of an audience is supplied. There should be no attempt, in the moment of speaking, usiN(; riri: written plan. 185 to recall the very words used in writing-, but the com- HKUid ol" language will undoubtedly he greatly improved by liavinjr so reeentlv u.^ed many of the terms that will be again recpiired. Frecjuently there will be fine pas- sages in the simhh'Ii \vhich you have thus struek oif at white heat that you may be unwilling to forget, but it is better to make no eifort to remember them, for you arc almost sure to rise still higher in the moment of ]nd)li(! delivery. When this ra[)id writing is not available, a partial substitute for it may be found in Avriting in the ordinary band a l)rief sketch or (•oni])aet model of the Avhole dis- course. Vou will be surprised to notice how short a compass will suffice for a discourse re(piiring an hour or more in delivery, witiiout the omission of a single material tliought. Such a sketch ditlers from the plan in clearly expressing all the ideas that luiderlic the coming speech, while the latter would Ih' nearly uniu- tellioible to any but its author. The one is only a few marks thi-own out in the field of thought by which an intended pathway is indicate[\v material nuist be kept well in hand, ready to be us(xl at tlic j)roper time, thouffli it is not well to l)econtinualIv e(»nnint>- o\-er voni* j)reparation. That would destroy the freshness of yonr matter and bring you to the decisive test weary and jaded. You only need such an occasional glance as w ill assure you that all your material remains within reach. It is seldom possible by any means to banish all fear, 187 1|nak(r's a(lvaiitat>v that he cannot. His timidity arises troni several eauses, Mliich differ widely in the effects they produce. A conscious want of prepa- ration, especially when this arises from any neglect or indolence, is one of the most distressing sources of fear. A species of remorse then mingles ^vith the embarrass- ment natural to the moment. If the speaker has no other motive than to win reputation — to minister to his own vanity — he will feel terrified, as he realizes that shame instead of honor may be the result of his rash- ness. That man is fortunate who can say, " I only speak because I feel it to be dut>' which 1 dare not refuse — a work that I must perform Avhether well or ill." The lawyer wdio must defend iiis client, the min- ister who feels that the hour of service has arrived, the teacher in the presence of his class, are examples of those who s])eak under the same kind of compulsion that calls a field laborer out into the burning heat of a July noon whether he feels like it or not. But if you are about to s})eak because you have intruded into the work that properly belongs to another, you need to be very sure of your preparation, for in case of failure you will not have even your own sympathy. But the most formidable and common foe of the speaker's, in these preliminary moments, is a general dread that can neither be analyzed nor accounted for. Persons who have never felt its jjower sometimes make TiTK rrnsT afoaientt (»f .speech. ISO light of it, but experience will change their views. The soldier who has never witnessed a battle, or felt the air throb with the explosioii of cannon, or heard the awful cries of the wounded., is often a great braggart; while "the scarrtnl veteran of a hundred fights" never speaks of the carnival of blood without shuddering, and would be the last, but for the call of dutv, to brave the dano;er he knows so well. There may be a few speakers who do not feel such feai-, but it is because they do not know Avhat true speaking is. They have never known the full tide of inspiration which sometimes lifts the orator far above his co«ce2)tions, but which first struggles in his own bosom like the pent fires of a volcano. They only come forward to relieve themselves of the interminable stream of twaddle tliat wells sjiontaneously to their lips, and can well be sj^ared the ])angs preceding the birth of a })owerful and living discourse. This kind of fear l)elongs to every kind of oratory, but is most intense on those great occasions, in presence of large audiences, when men's passions run high. In mere instructive address, where the ground has l^en repeatedly gone over and where the effort is mainly of an intellect- ual character, it is less noticeable. It resembles the awe felt on the eve of all great enterprises, and when exces- sive, as it is in some hisrhlv srifted minds, it constitutes an absolute bar to public spee<'h. I>ut in most cases it is a * source of inspiration rather than of repression. trio EXTEMPORE SPEECH. There is a strange sensation often experien'^^-ed in the jiresence of an auilicnce. It may proccvd from the <;aze of the many eyes that turn upon the speaker, especially if lie permits hiniself to steadily return that uaze. Most speakers have been conscious of this in a nameless thrill, a real something, pervading the atmo phere, tangible, evanescent, indescribable. All writers have borne testi- mony to the })<»\ver of a speaker's eye in impressing an audience. This influence which we are now considering is the reverse of that picture — the power flicir eyes may exert upon him, espcK'ially before he begins to sjieak : after the inward fires of oratory are fanned into flame the eyes of the audience lose all terror. By dvvelling on the object for Avliich we speak and endeavoring to realize its full importance, Ave will in a measure lose sight of our personal danger, and be more likely to maintain a calm and tranquil frame of mind. No change should be made in the plan at the last moment, as that is very liable to produce confusi(^n. This error is often committed. The mind has a natural tendency to go repeatedly over the same ground, revising and testing every point, and it may make changes the conse- quences of which cannot be in a moment foreseen. But the necessary preparation has been made and we should now await the result calmly and hopefully. Over-study is quite possible, and when accomj^anied by great solici- tude wearies our mind in advance and strips the subject THE FIRST MOMENT OF SPEECH. 101 of all freshness. If the oye is fixed too long upon one object with a steadfast jia/e, it loses the power to see at all. So the mind, if exerted steadily upon a sin^h' t()j)ie for a long period, fails in vigor and elastieity at the moment wlien those (jualities are indispensable. That profound thinker and preaeiier, Frederick W. Robertson, ex])erienecd this difficulty and was accustomed to find relief by reading some inspiring })aragraplis njxtn some totally different theme tVom that he intended to speak about. The energy and enthusiasm of our minds in the moment of speech nnist be raised to the highest pitch; the delivery of" a living discoiu'se is not the dry eninneration ot" a list of particulars; but wc must actually feel an immediate and burning interest in the topics with which we dejd. This cannot be counterfeited. To clearly arrange all thoughts that belong to the subjcx't, lay them aside \\hen the work is done until the moment of speech, and then enter confidently upon them with only such a momentary glance as will assure us that all is right — this is the method to make our strength fully available. This confidence while in waiting seems to the beginner very difficult, but experience rapidly renders it easy. M. Bautain declares that he has been repeatedly so confident in his jn-eparation as to fall asleep while waiting to be summonwl to the pulpit ! Those who misimjirove the la-^t moments by too much ' thought and solicitude are not the only class of offen- ir)2 EXTHMI'OKK sr'KKr the high tension of nerve that is imj>licd. Mental excitement exhausts and wears down the body faster than bodily labor. We must carefully husband our strength that we may be able to meet all demands uj)on it. Ilolyoake makes the following ])ertinent observation in reference to this point : " Perhaps the lowest (|Uality of the art of oratorv, but one on many occasions of i\h' first iinportaiice, is a certain robust and radiant physical health; great volumes of animal heat. Tn the cold thinness cf a morniu"' audience mere energy and mcllnwuess is inestimable; wisdom and learning would Itc h;u>li and unwelcome compared with a substantial man, \\h(» i> r{R SPKFCH. :i«'([iiit iiiyxir wi'U. liiit in tlu' morning I was utterly unal)lt' to «l own. I did n(»t find out until years after that the utter exhaustion of niy strength hail exhausted tlir |)owti's <»t" speech and thought, and that entire rep(»se, instead ot" entire tati^ue, siiould have l)een the })r(i)aration for puhlie speaking." The last statement is somewhat too stronix, ft»r ahso- lute rest is not wnerallv advisable. Ii would leave the speaker, when he began to speak, with languid mind a.nd slowly beating pulse — a state which it woidd recpiire some minutes for him to overcome. A short, but brisk walk, when the health is good, will invigorate and refresh all his faculties, and often prevent a listless introduction by giving him the vigor to grasp the subject at once and launch right into the heart of it. Should any person doubt the power of exercise to produce this effect, let him, when perplexal with difficult questions in his study, start out over fields and hills, and review the matter in the open air. It is a good thing to carry the breath of the fields into the opening of our addresses. But when the speaker cannot take this form of exer- cise in the moments just preceding speech, he may easily find a substitute for it. If alone, he can pace back and Tin: FIKST MOMENT OF SPEECH. 195 litrtli and swiiii;; hi.s ai'iiis until the circulation becomes I)ri>k and pours a stream of arterial blood to the braiu. Another simple exerci.se ctm be practiced anywhere, and will be of y imj>roper, short, and shall(»\v breathing. To breathe j)ropei'ly is beneficial at any time, and do&s iiiuih l<» present or I'cmedy throat and loot;- disea.se. JJut in the iK-giiminii- of a ?^|>eech it is doid)ly important: when once under way, then- will be no time to think of either voice or breath : the oidy safe plan, then, is to have till' rii;ht mode made habitual and in.stinctive. This will be greatly promoted if just before beginning we breathe deeply for a few minutes, inflatinii' the lungs to their extremities and sending the warm blood to the very ti])s of the fingers. Having now done all we can In advance, nothing re- mains but to rise and sj)eak. l'rej)aration aii siiiv thai liis memory will uoi lail him in the upt'iiing, ami Liicoiiragt'd by that assui'ancc, will usually thi'on- his whole power into his tirst sentences, causing his voi(v to ring clear and loud over the house. The extcm})orizer is in a far more dillieult position. He is sure of nothing. The weight of the whole speech rests heavily upon his mind. He is glancing ahead, striving to forecast the coming sentences, as well as carrying forward those gliding over the tongue, and, dis- tracted by this double labor, his nrst expressions may be feeble and ungraceful. Yet this modesty and timidity is no real loss: it goes far to conciliate an audience and secure their good-will. We can scarcely fail to dis- tinguish memorized from extemporized discourses by the intro(hiction alone. To avoif|uence are fully spread we may soar above all obstruetions ; but in starting it is well to be assured that the ground is clear about us. It is only the substance and not the words of the in- troduction that should be prepared. A single sentence may be mentally forecast, but nmch beyond would be harmful; and even this sentence should be simple and easily understood. Anything that needs explana- tion is very nuich out of place. Neither should the introduction be so striking as to be the part of the dis- course longest remembered. Rather than permit the attention to 1)e distracted in that manner, it would be better to have no introduction. A speaker gains nuich if he can at the outset arrest the attention and win the sympathy of his hearers and then Ciirry these ovei- to his proj)er subject. But it may be assumed as cci-taiu, that no kind of an apology will accomplish this object — unless, iudccd, the speaker is such a favorite that everything in regard to his health or position is an object of deep solicitude to his audience. A popular speakei who happens to be late and apologizes for it by explaining that he had just escaped from a terrible railroad accident would make a good introduction. A loved pastor, in his first sermon after serious illness, might properly begin by talking of his amendment and his joy at ad(h'essing his flock again. But these are rare exceptions. The speaker about to make any kind of an 200 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. apology or ])c'r!50iial reftTciuv as an introduotion, may well heed Punches advice to persona about to be married: " Don't." In many instances it is not easy to get the mere atten- tion of an audience. Thev come together from many different eniploynicnts Avitli tliouojits engaged np(m various t(»j)ics, and it is difficult to remove distracting intiuences and fix all minds upon one subject. Some- times a startling pro{)osition, in the nature of a challenge, Avill secure the object. Earnestness in the speaker goes far toward it. But above everything else, sameness and monotony must be carefully avoided. ^Mlen the same audience is frequently addressed, variety becomes essen- tial. The writer knew of a minister who made it a rule to consider the nature, reason, and manner of his subjects, in answer to the supposed (piestions : '' Wliat is it? AVhy is it? How is it?" The eloquence of Paul could not ofitcn ha\'e redeemed the faults of such an arrangement. Some inattention may be expected and patiently borne w ith at first. Part of the opening words may be lost — an additional reason for not making them of capital im- portance to the address. It is useless to trv by loud tones and violent manner to dispel indifference. If the speaker's words have real weight, and if his manner indi- cates confidence, one bv one the audience will listen, until that electric thrill of sympathy, impossible to describe, THE INTRODUCTION. 201 hut which is as evident to the praeticed orator as an accord in music, tells him that every oar is open to his words, and that his tlioughts are occupying every mind. Then the orator's power is fully developed, and if him- self and his theme are ecpial to the occasion it is delight- ful to use that power. This silent, pulsating interest is more to he desired than vehement applause, for it cannot be counterfeited, and it indicates that the heart of the assembly has heen reached and melted by the tire of eloquence, and is now ready to be molded into any desired form. There are two or three general subjects available for introduction which every speaker would do well to study carefully, and which will m degenerating into 206 EXTEMPORE SPEEfll. jjerlecl ikmim'Iiso. The (nitliiic of" his plan (li.-.-ulvcs into mist, 'llu' |)( lints li<' intended to make which ,secnH' far o IT, and he searches in vain l"or some aveime of escajH'. There is none. llis throat becomes dry and parchecl, and eonunand of voice is lost. The andience L:'r<»\v restive, li>r tiny are t(»rtnred as well as the s|)eaker, and if he were malicious and had time to think about it, lie miuht find some alleviation in that. No one can hel)) him. At len<:;th, in sheer desjx'ration, lie docs what lie oii^ht to have done long before — simply stops and sits down — |)erha})s hurlino; some swelling morsel of common})lace, as a parting volley, at the au- dience — bathed in sweat, and fettling that he is disgraced forever ! If he is very weak or foolish, he resolves never to speak again without having every word writtcri out before him ; if w'iser, he only resolves, not only to understand his speech, but how to begin it. rilAPTKR YTTT. PROGRh>iS or TIIK Sl'KKCH. The passage from (lie iiitnxln('ti(tii t(» the discussion should !)(• Hindi' >iMoi»thly and dlessly, or his fall will be speedy and disastrous. The triumphs of oratorv are very fascinating the ability to sway our fellows at pleasure, to bind them willing cajitives with 207 208 EXTE^[P()RI-: SPKECII. the strong cliaiii of »>iir ili(niss taken advantage of at the moment to\v(trk our ciierished })nrposes, the o])])ortnnity is lost. Even (hiriniii- a singki aikh'css it is hard to maintain tiie inihicnce of a liapjn' moment. Speakers sometimes ntter a great and noble thought and the nameless thrill of eloquence is felt, but some irrelevant |)hrase or connnon-place sentiment dis- solves the charm. T(» avoid this, the whole discourse must be animated with some controlling purpose, and in its general character, tend upward, until its close. The law^ of climax ouo;ht to be carefullv considered bv the speaker. There may be more than one culmination of interest in an address, separated by an interval less absorb- ing and powerful, but this decline should (mly be allowed in order to prepare a second or third climax grander than all before. To violate this rule and have a speech " flatten out " toward its close, is a fearful error. Better reduce the length of tlie whole by one-half or three- fourths, and maintain interest and attention to the end. A few miscellaneous considerations in regard to the style and manner of the speech may be inserted here as well as anywhere. Diifuseness is often supposed to be a necessary quality of extemporaneous speech. INfany sj^eakers do fall int(j it, but they need not. They are diffuse because they PROfJFESS OF TFIE SPEECH. 209 ar(^ unwilling or unable to .say exactly what tluy mean, but come near it, and continue their efforts until tlicv are satisfied. Tiny tiirni>h no clear view of anv idea, but only a kind of twiiij^lit illiiiuination. This sci'i- ous fault may be overcome in spontaneous six'ech as readily as in writing. He who thinks clearly and forcibly will talk in the same manner. Ex<|uisite finish and elaborate verbal arrangement are not to be looked for in off-hand speecli, but cadi idea ma>- be expressed with great force, vigor, and accura(y of shading. This ability to say precisely what we mean in few words, and at the first effort, constitutes one of the great beauties of a spoken style. Tlie heanr is filled willi grateful surpri.-e w hen some new and living idea is sud- denly placed befiire him clothed in a single word or sentence. A diffuse s})eaker gives so many premonitions of his thought that the audience have guessed it, and may even come to believe that they have always known it, before he has made his formal j)resentment. Of course, they are wearieS OF THE 8PEECII. 211 ])atliy which bind all hearts together. If we u.->e terms hard to be understood the ettbrt put forth by luarers to master their meaninj^ is just so mueh subtraetetl from the force of the address. The homely Saxon Avords that dwell on tlic lips ol' the peo[)le will uidoad their wealth of nieaninti' in the heart as soon as the sound strikes the ear. l^nconnnon words build a barrier around thought ; familiar ones are like a railroad over which it glides swiftly 1(» its destination. All debased and slang words should be rejectetl, unless the speech is to partake of the nature of burlesque: we do not ad\(X'ate "the iiuniliaritv that breeds con- t(iiij)t:" this is also a liurtful extreme. The two great re([uisites in the use of words are that they shyuld exactly express our ideas, and that they should be iiuniliar: the charms of melody and association are not to be despised, but tluy are secondary. Every speech slionld have its strong points, ui)on which especial reliance is placed. A skillful general has his choice battalions reserved to pierce the enemy's line at the decisive moment, and win the battle. In both the physical and the mental contest, it is important to^ place these reserves aright that all their weight may be felt. A crisis occurs in nearly all living addresses — a moment in which a strong argument or a fervid appeal will accomplish our purpose — }n.-d as a vigorous charge, 212 EXTEMPUIIK bPEEClI. or tlie arrival ol' rciiitorcements, will turn the doiibtfiil scale of battle. The speaker, from the opeiiiiiir <>f his speech, should have his object clearly in view and drive steadily toward it, and when within reach, put forth his whole power in a mighty effort, achieving the result loi* which the Avhole speech was devised. If the right opportunity is neglected it seldom returns, and an hour's talk may fail to accomplish as much as one good burning sentence thrown in at the right time. Much talk after the real purpose of an address is accomplished also is useless and even perilous. It has all along been taken for granted that the speaker has something worthy to say. Without this a serious address deserves no success, although under some circumstances nothing but sound to tickle the ears is desired. Such speeches are well enough in their way, but they rank with the performances on the piano by which a young lady entertains her uncritical visitors. They cannot be called speeches in any real sense. The fact that a speaker has a solid and worthy foundation of knowledge and an adequate purpose gives him confidence. He knoM'S that if his words are not instinct with music, and if the pictures of his fancy are not painted in the brightest colors, he has yet a just claim upon the atten- tion of his hearers. It is not necessary that the orator's thoughts should be exceedingly profound ; the most vital truths lie near PROGRESS OF THE SPEECH. 210 the surface, witliiii reach of aU. But uu ht men do not dwell long enough upon one subject to master it^ obvious features, and when some one does fully gather up and fairly present what belongs to a worthy theme it is like a new revelation. A good illustration of this is found in the sublimity Deau Stanley imparts to the story of the Exodus of Israel. Few new facts are presented, but these are so arranged and vivified bv a thoughtful mind that the subject glows into new meaning. The extem-^ jxjraneous speaker may have abundant time for such study of every to})ic \\itliin his range of addresses, and if he uses it aright, he c!an soon wield a charm far bevond any jingling combination of words. When an orator stands before an audience, shall he expect to overwhelm them by his eloquence? Such a result is possible but not prolxible; and it can never be safely calculated u])on. If persons attempt to be greatly elo(|uent on all occasions, they are apt to end by l)ecom- ing ridiculous. Good sense and solid usefulness are bet- ter objects of endeavor. Anv man who studies a subject until he knows more abuut it than his neighbors can interest them in a fire- side exj)lanation, if they care fi)r the subject at all: he tells his facts in a plain style and is understood. Many j)ersons will listen delighted to a man's conversation until midnight, but will fall asleeji in ten minutes if he tries to make a speech to them. In the first case he 214 EXTRMPOr.E KPEEOn. talks, and is simple and iinafU'ded ; in the other lie speaks and feels that he must use a style stitiened up I'or the occasion. When Henry Clay was asked ho\y he became so elo- quent, he said that he could tell nothing- about it ; all he knew was that when he commenced an address he had only the desire to speak Avhat he had prepared (not memorized), and adhered to this line of preparation until he was enwrapped in the subject, and carried away, • he knew not how. This was a good course, for if the extraordinary inspiration did not come, a good and sen- sible speech was secured at any rate. Some of these considerations may be of seryice if weighed in adyance, but when the speaker once ascends the platform he must rely on his own tact for the manage- ment of all details. Closely observing the condition of the audience, and takino- advantage of every favor- ing element, he moves steadily toward his object. With an unobstructed road before him, -which he has traveled in thought until it is familiar, he will advance with ease and certainty. As he looks ujion interested faces, new ideas arise, and if fitting, are woven into har- mony with previous preparations, often with thrilling effect. Each emotion enkindled by sympathy embodies itself in words that move the heart as prepared language could not do, and each moment his own conviction sinks deeper into the hearts of his hearers. PRociRESs OF thp: speech. 215 There are three pruKipal ways of concluding a speech. One of the most graceliil is to condense a clear view of the whole argument and tendency ot" the address into a few words, and leave the summing up thus made to pro- duce its own effect. Discourses aiming principally to produce conviction may very well be concluded in this manner. To throw the whole sweep of an argument, every point of which has been pi;eviously elaborated, into a few telling sentences will contribute powerfully to make the impression permanent. Another and very common mode is to close with an a])|)lication or with practical remarks. When the address is a sermon, this form of closing is frequently termed an exhortation, and the Avhole speech is made to bear u])<)n the duty of the moment. The conclusion should be closely connected with the remainder ol' the aed between Sparta and Athens, Pericles pronounced a funeral oration over the dead who had tidlcn in the Athenian cause. Much of the language employed may, perhaps, be ascribed to the inventiitn of the historian, Tluuydides, but the substance and many ol" the strong expressions j)robably fell from the li[)s of the greiit statesman and oi-ator of Athens. The speech possesses the sim])licity and classic o-race for which Grecian art has ever been celebrated. The orator's subject was furnished by the occasion — tlie worthiness of the sacrifice which the fallen heroes had made to the greatness and glory (tf tlicii- native land. His object was to encourage the living to continue the war with ardor an(] support its priva- tions with fortitude. There are no digressions, no 217 21 -S EXTKMPOTIE SPEECH. anecdotes, and poarcoly any illnstratiuns. The glory of Athens and of her tlead heroes is the one theme ever before him. This severe simplicity is carried too tar to be entirely pleasing to modern taste, but the eifect is certainly grand and sublime. A few very strong sentences relieve the general tone of clear, calm desciip- tion. The translation is that of Professor Jowett. OUTLINE OF FUNERAL SPEECH. Occasion. — The burial of those Athenians who fell in the first year of the Peloponnesian War. Subject. — The glory of Atliens and of the heroes who died for her. Object. — To nourish patriotism and fan warlike enthusiasm. Introduction. — Inadequacy of words to the praise of tlie brave. I. The Source of Athenian Greatness. 1 . The praise of ancestors who procured freedom and empire for the city. 2. Excellencies of the ii)nn of our Government. 3. Refinements of our life. 4. In war we are an over-match for all our enemies. 5. All our citizens are interested in public affairs, which are freely discussed. 6. In short, Athens is the school of Hellas. THREE PLANS OF GREAT ADDRESSES, 219 II. The Praise of the Fallen. 1. TJic above j)raisc of the city is the praise of the (lead, for tliey made her great. 2. Death is the final seal of their virtues and secures them from all change of fortune. 3. The whole earlli is full of their fflory, and their exam])le is precious to their country. III. Comfort to Kindred. 1 . To parents. 2, To sons, brothers, and widows. Conclusion. — Athens crowns her heroes by these honors, and by maintaining their children at public cost. Funeral Speech. " Most of those who have spoken here before me have connnended the lawgiver who added this oration to our other funeral customs; it seemed to them a woilhy thing that such an honor should be given at their burial to the dead who have fallen on the field of battle IJut I should have preferrcKl that, when men's tleeds havi' been brave, thev should be honored in deed only, and with such an honor as this public funeral, which you are now witnessing. Then the re])utation of many would not have been imperiled on the elo(|uence or want of elo- (|uence of one, and their virtues believwl or not as he spoke well or ill. For it is difficult to say nehher too little nor too much ; and even moderation is apt not to .give the impression of truthfulness. The friend of the dead who knows the facts is likelv to think that the 220 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. words of tlie .speaker llill short ol" hi- knowledge and of his wishes; another who is not so well inforniere- ferred to the public service, not as a matter of ])rivilege, but as the reward of merit. Neither is poverty a bar, but a man may bencHt his con.ntrv whatever be the obscurity of his condition. There is no cxclusiveness in our public life, and in our jirivate intercourse we are not suspicious of one anotlier, nor angry Avith our neighbor if lie does what he likes : we do not put on our sour looks at him, which, though harmless, are not pleasant. While we are thus unconstrained in our private inter- course, a spirit of reverence ])ervades our public acts; we are ]n'event(>d from doing wrong by res])ect lor authority and for the laws, having an especial regard to those which are ordained for the protection of the injiu'cd as well as to those unwritten laws which bring u])on the transgressor of them the reprobation of the general sen- timent. "And we have not forgotten to provide for our weary 222 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. s])irits many relaxations from toil ; we have regnlar tranus and sacritices tlironirlutiit the vear ; at honu- the stvlc (tf our life is refined; and the deli<>;ht which we daily fjel in all these things helps to banish melancholy. JJeeause of the j^reatness of our city the fruits ol' the whole earth flow in upon us; so that we enjoy the goods of other countries as freely as of our (»\vn. " Then, again, our military training is in many respects suj)erior to that of our adversaries. Our city is thrown o[)cn to the world, and we never expel a foreigner or prevent him from seeing or learning anything of which the secreet if revealed to an enemy might profit him. We rely not U])on management or trickery, hut upon our own hearts and hands. And in the matter of education, whereas tliev -from earlv vouth are alwavs undergoini>; laborious exercises which are to make them brave, we live at ease, and yet are equally ready to face the perils which they face. And here is the proof. The Lace- dsemouians come into Attica not by themselves, but with their whole confederaev folio winp; ; we so alone into a neighbor's country ; and although our opponents are fighting for their homes and we on a foreign soil, we have seldom anv difficultv in overcomino; them. Our enemies have never vet felt our united streng-th ; the care of a navy divides our attention, and on land we are obliged to send our own citizens everywhere. But they, if they meet and defeat a part of our army, are as proud as if they had routed us all, and when defeated they pretend to have been vanquished by us all. " If, then, we prefer to meet danger \\ith a light heart but without laborious training, and with a courage which THREE PLANS OF GREAT ADDRESSES. 223 is gained by habit and not cnlbrccd l)y law, are we not greatly the gainers? Sinee we do not anticipate the })ain, although, when the hour eonies, \ve can Ix' as brave as those who never allow themselves to rest; and thus too our city is e(|ually admirable in peace and in war. For w^e are lovers of the beautiful, yet sim])lc in our tastes, and we cultivate the mind without loss of manli- ness. Wealth we employ, not for talk and ostentation, but when there is a real use for it. To avow poverty with us is no disgrace; the true disgrace is in doing nothiuir to avoid it. An Athenian citizen does not neglect the State because he takes care of his own house- hold ; and even those of us who are engaged in business have a very fair idea of politics. We alone regard a man who takes no interest in public affairs, not as a harndess, but as a useless character ; and if few of us are originators, we are all sound judges of a policy. The great impediment to action is, in our opinion, not dis- cussion, but the w^ant of knowledge wdiich is gained by discui»sion preparatory to action. For we have a peculiar power of thinking before we act and of acting too, whereas other iTien are courageous from ignorance but hesitate upon reflection. And they are surely to be esteemed the bravest spirits w^ho, having the clearest sense both of the pains and pleasures of life, do not on that account shriid< from danger. In doing good, again, we are unlike others ; we make our friends by conferring, not by receiving favors. Now he who confers a favor is the firmer friend, bwause he would fain by kindness keep alive the memory of an oblit:aiioii ; but the recipient is colder in his feelings, because he knows that in requit- 224 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. ing another's generosity lie will not be winning gratitude bnt only paying a debt. M'e alone do good to our neighbors not upon a ealeulation of interest, but in the confidence of freedom and in a frank and fearless sjiirit. To sum up : I say that Athens is the school of Hellas, and that the individual Athenian in his own person seems to have the power of adapting himself to the most varied forms of action with the utmost versatility and grace. This is no passing and idle word, but truth and fact ; and the assertion is verified by the position to which these (jualities have raised the State. For in the hour of trial Athens alone among her contemjioraries is su])erior to the report of her. No enemy who comes against iier is indignant at the reverses which he sustains at the hands of such a city ; no subject eomj^lains that his masters are unworthy of him. And we shall assuredly not be without witnesses ; there are mighty monuments of our power which will make us the wonder of this and of succeeding ages ; we shall not need the praises of Homer or of any other panegyrist whose poetry may please for the moment, although his representation of the facts will not bear the light of day. For we have compellal every land and every sea to open a path for oiu" \alor, and have everywhere planted eternal memorials of our friend- ship and of our enmity. Such is the city for whose sake these men nobly fought and died ; they could not bear the thought that she might be taken from them; and every one of us who survive should gladly toil on her behalf. " I have dwelt upon the greatness of Athens because I want to show von that we are contending for a hioher prize than those who enjoy none of these privileges, and THKEE PLANS OF (iREAT ADDRESSES. 225 to estal)lisli by inanitest proof the merit of these men Avhom 1 am now commemoi'ating-. Their h)ftiest praise has been already spoken. For in magnifying the city I have magnified them, and men like them whose virtues made her glorious. And of how t(.'W Hellenes can it be said as of them, that their deeds when weighed in the balance have been found equal to their fame ! ^Nlethinks that a death such as theirs has been gives the true measure of a man's worth ; it may be the first revelation (»f his virtues, but is at any rate their final seal. For vvvu those who come short in other wavs mav iustlv pleatl the valor with which they have fought for their country ; they have blotted out the evil with the good, and iijive benefited the State more by their public ser- vices than they have injured her by their private actions. None of these men wei-e cncrNiircd l)y wealth or hesitated to resign the pleasures of life ; none of them ])ut off the evil day in the hope, natural to poverty, that a man, though poor, may one day become rich. Hut, deeming that the punishment of theii' enemies was sweeter than any oi" these things, and that they could fall in no nobler cause, they determined at the hazai'd of their lives to be honorablv avenged, and to leave the rest. Tliev resigned to hope their unknown chance of happiness; l)ut in the face of death they resolved to rely u])on themselves alone. And when th(! moment came they were minded to resist and suffer, rather than to fly and save their lives ; they ran awav from the word of dishonoi-, but on the battle- field their feet stood fast, and in ;in instant, at the height of theii' fortune, they passed away IVom tlie scene, not of •iheii' Ceai', 1)ut of their glory. 226 EXTE:\rpoKE speech. " Such was the end of these men ; they were worthy of i\ thens, and the living need not desire to liavea more heroic spirit, aUhough tliev may pray lor a less fatal issue. The value of such a spirit is not to be expressed in words. Any one can discourse to you forever about the advantages of a brave defense which you know alreadv. But instead of listenino- to him I would have you day by day fix your eyes uj)on the greatness of Athens, until you become filled with the love of her; and when you are impressed by the s})ectacle of her glory, reflect that this empire has been acquired by men who knew their duty and had the courage to do it, who in the hour of conflict had the fear of dishonor always present to them, and who, if ever they failed in an enter- prise, Avould not allow their virtues to be lost to their country, but freely gave their lives to her as the faire.st ofifering which they could present at her feast. The sacrifice which they collectively made was individually repaid to them ; for they received again each one for himself a praise Avhich grows not old, and the noblest of all sepulchres — I speak not of that in which their remains are laid, but of that in which tlieir glory sur- vives, and is proclaimed always and on every fitting occasion both in word and deed. For the Avhole earth is the sepulchre of famous men ; not only are they com- memorated by columns and inscriptions in their own country, but in foreign lands there dwells also an un- written memorial of them, graven not on stone but in the hearts of men. Make them your examples, and, esteeming courage to be freedom and freedom to be hap- piness, do not weigh too nicely the perils of war. The THREE PLAXS OF fJREAT ADDRESSES. 227 unfortunate avIiu ha* no hope of a change for the better has less reason to throw away his life tlian the prosper- ous, who, if he survive, is always liable to a change for the worse, and to whom any accidental fall makes the most serious diti'crence. To a man of spirit, cowardice and disaster coming together are far more bitter than death, striking him unperceived at a time when he is full of courage and animated by the general hope. " AVhcreibre, I do not now connniserate the parents of the dead who stand here ; I would rather c(jmfort them. You know that your life has been passed amid manifold vicissitudes, and tliat they may be deemed for- tunate who have gained most honor, whether an honor- able death like theirs, or an honorable sorrow like yours, and whose days have been so ordered that the term of their ha])j)incss is likewise the term of their life. I know how hard it is to make you feel this, when the good fortune of others will too often remind you of the gladness which once lightened your hearts. And sorrow is felt at tlu! want of those blessings, not which a man never knew, but which were a part of his life before they were taken from him. Some of you are of an age at which they may hope to have other children, and thev ought to bear their sorrow better ; not only will the childi-en who may hereafter be born make them forget their cnvn lost ones, but the city Mill be doubly a gainer. vShe will not be left desolate, and she will be safer. For a man's counsel cannot have c(nial weight or worth when he alone has no children to risk in the general danger. To those of you who have passed their prime, • I say, 'Congratulate yourselves that you have been 228 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. liappy during the greater part of your clays ; remember that your life of sorrow will not last long, and be com- forted by the glory of those Avho are gone. For the love of honor alone is ever young, and not riches, as some say, but honor is the delight of men when they are old and useless.' " To you who are the sons and brothers of the de- parted, I see that the struggle to emulate them will be an arduous one. For all men praise the dead, and how- ever pre-eminent your virtue may be, hardly will you be thought, I do not say to ecpial, but even to approach them. The living have their rivals and detractors, but when a man is out of the way, the honor and good-will which he receives is unalloyed. And, if I am to speak of womanly virtues to those of you wlio will lienceforth be widows, let me sum them up in one short admonition : To a woman not to show more weakness than is natural to her sex is a great glory, and not to be talked about for good or for evil among men, " I have paid the required tribute, in obedience to the laAv, making use of such fitting words as I had. The tribute of deeds ha-; been paid in part; for the dead have been honorably interred, and it remains only that their children should be maintained at the pu])li(' charge until they are grown uj) : this is the solid ])nze with which, as with a garland, Athens crowns her sons,, living and dead, after a struggle like theirs. For where the rewards of virtue are greatest, there the noblest citizens are enlisted in the service of the State. And now, when you have dulv lamented, everv one his own dead, you may depart." THREE TLAXf^ OF GREAT ADDRESSES. 229 We next prosinit the sketch of a sermon l)v Rev. C H. Spnrgeon, and part ot' the sermon itself. This is the more instructive, as the pUin was prepared substantially in the way we have advised, and the sermon preached extemporaneously from it. "lovp: and I"— a mystery. A SERMON BY ('. H. SPURGEON. [Frovi Homiletic Monthly, Nov., 18S2.'] Pulpit Notes used by Spubgeon. John xvii, SO. Our Lord prni/i/if/ irifh His diseiplex at the last. This the climax of the j/rat/er. In the deep, scratchinr/ the ground, get a harvest. Here the final word ix lore and union v:ifh "I." Lord, V'hat a subject. I. The Food of Love. 1. Knowledge. 2. Knowledge giren bg Christ. 3. Knoicledge gradually increaMng. 4. Knowledge distinguishing usj'rom the vmrld. 5. Knowledge of the name. Bighteous Father. Holiness, goodness, mercy, love. II. The Love Itself. 1. It is not love toioard us hut in us. S. It is not love from the wells of the creature. a. It is a recognition of Father's love to the Son. It i.'i a sense of the Father's lore to us. It is a reflection upon Jesus of the Father's love It is a beaming forth of love all around. 230 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. 4. /'' h'ls the most btessprl resuffs. Expulsive, repulsive, impulsive. Renders supremely happy, brave, patient, elevated, Jir. The Compaxiox of Lovk. Love and I. Jesus sure to be where there ix lore, faith, the Spirit, God. Christ ever near. Believer ever safe. Believer should render good ento'taiament. It will be noticed that the jireaoher's subject is Christ and love dwelliuLi- in ihc liiunaii licart ; tlie object is to induce those who liave this love to a|)]>reciate it more highly, and all others to seek it. We give only the in- troduction and the third division (which is also the con- clusion), toii'ether with a ])art of the first division, as the Avhole dis(X)urse is too long to l)e quoted here. It may he added that these notes and the development of these ])arts are fair specimens of the manner in which the great Tioudon preachei' [)''"])ai'es and delivers his dis- courses. Text. — I have declared unto them Thy name, and will declare it; that tJtc lore wherewith TJinu has loved me may be in them, and T in them. — John xvii, 26. " For several Sahbath mornings mv mind has been directeil into subjects which 1 might fitly eall the deep things of God. I think 1 have never felt mv own in- competence more fnlly than in trying to handle such subjects. It is a soil into which one may dig and dig as deep as evei" you will, and still never exhaust the golden THREE PLANS OF GUEAT ADDRESSES. 231 nuggets which lie within it. I am, however, comforted by this fact, that tliese subjects are so fruitful that even we who can only scratch the surface of them shall yet get a harvest from them. I read once of the plains of India that they were so fertile that you had only to tickle them with the hoe and they laughed Avith plenty ; and surely such a text as this mav be described a.j equally fruitful, even under our feeble husbandry. Pearls lie on the surface here as well as in the depth. We have only to search its surface, and stir the soil' a little, and we shall be astonished at the pleutitude of spiritual wealth which lies before us. Oh ! that the Spirit of God may help us to enjoy the blessed truth- \\lii< h are herein set forth ! Here is the priceless treasure, Ixit it lies hid till lie reveals it to us. " You see, this text is taken out of our Lord's last prayer with Plis disciples. He did as good as say, ' I am about to leave you ; I am about to die for you ; and for a while yon will not see me; but now, before we separate, let us pray.' It is one of those impulses that Aou luive felt vourselves. When vou have been about to part from thoseyou love, to leave them, perliaps, in dano;er and difficulty, you have felt vou could do no less than sav, ' Let us draw ni«ih imto God.' Your heart found no way of expressing itself at all so fitting, so congenial, so satisfiictoiy, as to draw near unto the great Father and spread the case before Him. Now a prayer from such a one as Jesus, oiu" I^ord and Master — a prayer in sucli a c-ompany, ^ith the eleven whom He had chosen, and who had consorted Avith Him from the 'beginning, a prayer under such circumstances, when He 232 EXTEMPORE f^PEEriT, wiis just on tlic hriiik ol' tlic hiddk (»!" (Vdron, and was about to cross that gloomy stream and go up to Calvarv, and there lay down His lite — such a prayer as this; so living, earnest, loving, and divine, desei-vcs the most studious meditations of all believers. I invite vou to bring hither your best thoughts and skill for the navi- gation of this sea. It is not a creek or bay, but the main ocean itsclC. We cannot hojx'to fathom its depths. This is tiMie of any sentence of this matchless ])raver, but inv me the work of exposition becomes nnusnally heavy, bwause my text is the close and climax of this marvelous supplication, it is the central mystery of all. in the lowest depth there is still a lower deej), and this verse is one of those deeps which still exceed the I'est. Oh! how mnch we want tlie Spirit of God! Pray for His bedewing ; j)ray that Plis balmy influences may de- scend upon us rlcldy now. " You will observe that the last word of our Lord's ])ra »er is concerning love. This is the last petition ^hich He oilers, ' That the love wherewith Thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them.' He reaches no greater height than this, namely, that His people be filled Avith the Father's love. How could He rise higher? Vov this is to be filled with all the fullness of God, since God is love, and he that loveth dwelleth in God and God in him. A\'hat importance ought you and I attach to the grace of love ! How highly we should esteem that which Jesus makes the en »wn jewel of all. If we ha\-e faith, let us not be satisfied unless our faith workcth by love and ])urifleth the soul. Tjct u- not be content, indeed, until the love of Christ is shed abroad in our THEEE PLANS OF GREAT ADDRESSES. 233 liearts by the Holy (J host whicli is given unto us. Well did tiie poet say, * Only love to lis be given ; Lord, we ask no other Heaven;' for indeed there is no other Heaven below, and searcely is there any other Heaven above than to reach to the fullness of perfect love. This is where the prayer of the Son of David ends, in praying ' that the love wherewith Thou hast loved me may be in them.' What a subject! The highest that even our Lord Jesus reached in His noblest prayer. Again with groanings my heart cries, Holy Spirit, help ! ^' I. First, THE FOOD OF r,()VE TO God : What is it? It is knotcledge. ' I have made known unto them Thy name, and will make it known.' We cannot love a God whom we do not know ; a measure of knowledge is needful to affection. However lovely (rod may be, a man blind of soul camiot pen-eive Him, and therefore is not touclunl by His loveliness, Oidy wlu'U the eyes are o])ened to behold the loveliness of (Jod will the heart go out toward (Jod, who is so desirable an object for the affections. Ih-ethren, we nnist know in order to believe ; we must know in order to hope; and we nuist especially know in ordci- to love. Hence the great desirableness that you should know the Lord and His great love which passetli knowledge. You camiot reciprocate love which you have never known, even as a man cann(»t derive strength from food whicli he ha- n(»t eaten. Till first of all the love of God has come into your heart, and you ha\e been made a partaker of it, you cannot rejoice 234 EXTEMPOKK spp:ecii. in it or return it. Therefore our Lord took care to feed His disciples' heaiis upon tlie Father's name. He labored to make the Father known to them. This is one of His great efforts with them, and He is grieved when He sees their ignorance and has to say to one of them, ' Have I been so long time Avith you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip ? He that hath seen me hath seen the Father ; and how sayest thou then, Show us the Father?' Study much, then, the word of God : be diligent in turning the pages of Scripture and in hearing God's true ministers, that the flame of love within your hearts may be revived by the fuel of holy knowledge which you })lace n})on it. Pile on the logs of sandal wood, and let the perfumed fires burn before the Lord. Heap on the handfuls of frankincense and sweet odors of sacred knoAvledge, that on the altar of your heart there may always be burning the sacred flame of love to God in Christ Jesus. " The knowledge here spoken of is a knowledge ich'ich Jesus gave tliem. ' I have known Thee, and these have known that Tlu)U hast sent me. And I have declared unto them Thy name, and will declare it.' O beloved ! it is not knowledge that you and I pick up as a matter of book-learning that will ever l)ring out our love to the Father : it is knowledge given us by- Christ through His Spirit. It is not knowledge communicated by the jjreacher alone which Avill bless you ; for, however much he may be taught of God himself, he cannot preach to the heart unless the blessed Spirit of God comes and takes of the things that are spoken, and reveals them and makes them manifest to each individual heart, so THREE PEANS OF GREAT ADDRESSES. 205 that in consequence it knows tlie Tjord. Jesus paid, ' O righteous Father! the world hath not known Thee!' and you and I would have been in the same condition, strangers to God, without God and without hope in the world, if the Spirit of God had not taken of divine things and applied them to our souls so that we are made to know them. Every living word of knowledge is the work of the living God. If you only know what you have found out for yourself, or picked up by your own indnsti'v apart from Jesus, you know nothing aright: it must be by the direct and distinct teaching of God the Holy Ghost that you nmst learn to profit. Jesus Christ alone can reveal the Father. He Himself saul : ' Xo man cometh unto the Father but by me.' He that knows not Christ knows not the Father, but when Jesus Christ reveals Him, ah ! then we do know Him after a special, personal, |)eeuliar, inward knowledge. Tliis knowledge brings with it a life and a love with wliieh the soul is not puffed up, but built up. By such knowl- edge we grow up into Him in all things who is our head, being taught of the Son of God. "This knowledge, dear friends, comes to us (/ri« * * * * * "III. Tlurdly, liere is the companion of love. ' I in them.' Ijook at tlie text a minute and just catch those two words. Here is 'love' and 'I' — love and Christ come together. () blessed guests ! ' I^ove and I,' savs Christ ; as if He felt He never had a companion that suited Him better. ' Love ' and ' I :' Jesus is ever at home where love is reigning. When love lives in His people's hearts, Jesus lives there too. Does Jesus, then, live in the liearts of His peo]>le? Yes, whcrcvci- there is the love of the Father shed abroad in thcin He must be there. We have His own word \ny if. and we are sure that Jesus knows where Ho is. "We are sure that He is where love is; f(»r, first, where there is love there is life, :nid where thci-e is life there is Christ, ibr He Iliniself says, 'I am the life.' There is no true life in iIk- believer's soul that is divided from Christ. We are sui-e of that ; s(. that where there 238 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. is love there is life, and where there is life there is Christ. Again, where there is the luve of Gwl in the hejirt there is the Holy Spirit ; Imt wherever the Holy S;iirit is, there is Christ, for the Holy Spirit is Christ's representative ; and it is in that sense that He tells us, ' Lo, I am with you alway,' namely, because the Spirit is come to be always ^vith us. So where there is love, there is the Spirit of Geeause He is within vou. He is not knocking at your d<_Mjr ; He has entered into you, and there He dwells, and will go no more out forever. " What a blessed sense of power this gives to us. ' I in them.' Then it is no more ' I ' in weakness, but, since Jesus dwells in me, ' I can do all things throucrh Christ that strengthened me. 'I in them.' It is the glory of the l)eliever that Christ dwells in him. ' Unto you that l)elieve He is precious.' " Hence we gather the security of' the believer. Brother, if Christ l)e in me, and I am avercome, Christ is conquered too, for He is in me. ' I in them.' I can- not comprehend the dit at the right hand of God with Him, for He is in us. MM EXTEMPOHE SPEECH. " 1 know not what inoro t(» say, not iK-rau.se I have iiothuig more, l)iit hccause 1 do not know which to brinj^ forward out of a thousand |)r('see of seeing what truth it will vividly set forth. If we assume that our speeches mud be illustrated, and sju'iid nuich time in seeking for good illustrations, changing those we have used for better ones Avhenever possible, we will come to "think double," that is, to sec the like- ness that exist in all objects to something else. The habit of doing this grows with practice. If we ])ass our addresses in review asking ourselves, " AVhat }X)ints did we fail to make strong and intelligible for want of good illustrations ?" we will be able both to see our de- fects in this line and the means of remedying them. There should be a very careful record of these treasures made, for with the majority of speakers nothing else is so precious. Scraps from newspapers, sentences copied into connnon- place books, all kinds of memoranda w'hich direct atten- tion to a happy figure heard in conversation, encountered in reading, or thought of, will be exceedingly yalual>le. ILLrSTrvATIOXS, PATHOR, HT'.MOE. 245 It is possible to Imve loo many illustrations, but for one speaker who labors under this disa(lvanta*i-c nine liave not enough. A bad illustration — one which is cloudy, tame, in bad taste, or which does not illuminate or enforce some part of our subject — is worse than none at all. It should be throw n out and its place sup]>licd with something better. The power to touch the heart, and as an evidence of deep feeling to cause tears to flow, is greatly sought by orators, and, strange as it may seem, is highly enjoyed by audiences. There is a luxury in aroused feeling, and multitudes will throng to the church or hall where they are made to weep. If the effort for such effects is cai*- ried too far, it will Ix'come umnanly and maudlin ; but in ])roper bounds it is a genuine oratorical resource. How shall a reasonable degree of pathos bcl»n)ught into our discourses? Incidents which involve great or heroic suffering and self-sacrifices, if well told, with a direct bearing ui)on the o-eneral theme, seldom fail to make a deep impres- sion. They are often invented Ia- iJie speakei', but while that device may not always be worthy of condenmation, its expediency is questionable. Keality has lar more ])ower than fiction. There is so much of suffering and sorrow in the world, and so nuich of heroic struggle against it, that if our addresses iairly reflect this "world- tragefly" the highest pathos will be realized. Keen, 246 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. quick observation and a really >vnipatlietic nature on the part of the speaker will show him where to find the materials to move the hearts of his hearers. But while usins: such materials he nuist retain commancl of liis own feelinsrs. To be trulv successful in the use of pathos he must give a reasonable foundation for the emo- tion he wishes to evoke, and then be able to turn the aroused feeling into some channel which will justify the j)ain caused. Humor is intimately associated with ])athos liy the law of opposites. One is almost tlie direct reaction frf)ni the other, and after one has been evoked the other follows more easily tlian it w<»uld at another time. The spirit of humor is valual>le in all forms of address, but in some — notably in the political arena and on the plat- form — it is invaluable. Its range is vast. It may be so rude and uncouth as to lessen the dignity of discourse, or it mav be of the most refined character. AVhile it cannot be relied upon as an argument, yet if a good argument is employed and then clenched by a humorous story or allusion of perfect a])propriateness, much is gained. To make an audience laugh at the positions of an opponent, at least prepares tlie way for refuting him. This quality may be cultivated by seeking out and enjoying the humorous element which is found in every- thing. We ought to be able to laugh at all that is ludicrous, without in the least losing our respect and ILLUSTRATIONS, PATHOS, HUMOR 247 veneration for wlinl is good. Everything coarse and evil should be rejected fV(»in uur minds instantly, hov,- ever humorous: but all the reallv funnv things, which can by any possibility l)e })ressed into the service of speech, should be carefully noted and remembered. Abraham Lincoln owed no small ])art of his pojuilar power to his marvelous fund ol' humorous illustrations. More than one noted juvacher has giv(Mi a keener edge to truth by the same means. Extemporaneous speech furnishes much better oppor- tunity than written f)r the ac(juirement of all these elements of power. When a spea-h is once written it is finisheil. But when merely ])lanned and outlined, all stories, quotations, incidents, and happy turns of language discovered afterward, may be noted on the wi'itten plan, or slip})ed into an envelope with it, and afterward used at anytime without the labor necessary to adjust them to a manuscript discourse. CHAPTER XI. The Orator's Logic. Logic is either one of tlie most useful or one of the most useless aecjuisitions of the orator. As tau_i»lit in the • middle ages, with its barbarous jargon ol' syiubols and terms, it can adism it con- forms ? If the argument seems false, do you ever seek to find whether the faidt is in negative promises, want of distribution of the middle term, cfi' in the violation of any other technical rule of logic? The mind has a much more direct and summary mode for disposing of unsatisfactory arguments. But the principles of logic are few and simple, and when divested of all technicality, are of universal appli- 248 THE orator's logic. 249 cation. We will venture t»» point out .some; that may be of especial service to the speaiver : 1st. Clear detinition. The speaker should know the meaning- of his subject and of all the important terms uschI in connection with it. Tliis knowledoe he should convey to his hearers in the most clear and striking manner that his (»wn powers will permit. To hav.^' an audience misuiulerstand the s[);'aker so tiir that while hc was talking of one thing they are understanding some- thing totally diiferent (even if known l)v the same name) would be a grave logical tault. Exact and comprehen- sive definition, often enlivened and simjdified by similes or anecdotes, will prevent such danger. 2d. Exact and comprehensive division of a subject is scarcely less important than dear definition. This is of ecpial value in studying a subject and in presenting it to an audience. If we wished to sjx'ak or learn about the ocean, one of the first facts to be dealt with would be its division into five parts — Atlantic, Pacific, etc. A good ]>rinciple of division should always be selectcnl and faith- fully applied. Then as many subdivisions may be added as naturally follo^\^from the ap})lication of another good j)rinciple of division. Thus, astronomy may befirst defined as "the science of the stars." Then it can be divided into planetary and stellar astronomy. The former may . be subdivided into descriptions of the individual planets and other bodies in the solar svstem ; the latter into the 250 EXTEMPORE SPEEril. classes of objprts fiiiinrl ninoiiC!: the- fixprl stars. All of this is not a rhetorical or oratorical device, hut has its foundation in mental laws; in other words, it is looi("al. 3d. Classification lies at the foundation of many of the sciences, and is a process of the hitjhest importance in every domain of knowledo-e. In no other manner can the vast multitude of facts discovered bv millions of observing eyes be preserved and made useful. The orator must also classify his general knowledge, and that special part of it which he intend- to use for a speech. All his proofs, a})})eals, illustrative facts, and even his digressions should be arranged according to those natural bonds of congruity which constitute the basis of all clas- sification. But in what way can the person who is ignorant of technical logic make a harmonious classification ? It will not add much to his ability to tell him that two processes — abstraction and generalization — are the basis of all true classification. It is simpler and means the same to say that things should be classed together which agree in some permanent and fundamental (jnality. Thus avast number of animals of the most varied sizes, shapes, and powers, agree in having backbones and are therefore put into a class and called vertebrates. The study of agreements and similarities in things the most diverse is exceedingly profitable to the orator in many different wavs. It affords inexhaustible material for illus- THE orator's logic. 251 trations — " those v^indows of speeoli." Tlie difference between the likeness upon wliieh classification and illus- trations are based is alxjut as follows : The similarities which give rise to scientific classes are very important and essential ; those from which illustrations spring may be slight and superficial. These three processes are of more imjiortance to the orator than anv others eiubraccd in louic. There is nothing " dry " or " repulsive " about them — terms quite frequently applied to discourses which tui'u aside from their own direct purpose to display the mere mncliinery of reasoning. By division a < list i net impression is made of each part of a snbjwt ; in- definition all misunder- standings are cleared away and attention fixed upon tiie very ])oints at issue ; by classification all thoughts find their ])ro])('r places and are so gathered up into general ideas and joined with other familiar thoughts, l)y way of illustration, that they may easily be remembei-ed and a|)p]ied. But how about the syllogism which louieal treatises devote so m Hell lime to explaining'.' Its many xai'ieties and entlless transfi)riuations wi-o;ight out by acute minds from the time of Aristotle to the present, are curious and interesting, but they are not specially available tor a speaker. Yet, since they rest upon a few easily under- stood principles, we will refer to the most obvious. If two things each resemble a third it is certain that 252 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. ilicv also ivsonil>l(' carli utiirr. If diio lliiiin- cijiials a scH'ond, but does not i'(iiial a third, llicii the second and t hi I'd do not equal each other. In the syllog-ism two eoniparisons are made and the resulting- agreement or disagreement is expressed in the eonclusion. Thus : Corruj)t men are had citizens. Men huying or selling votes are corrupt men. Therefore, men huying or selling votes arc l)ad citizens. Here the class of corrupt men agrees with.the class ol had citizens ; it also agrees with the class who buy or sell votes ; now, as it agrees with each of the two classes, it is certain that those two classes also agree with i-adi other. This is the plain form of the syllogism. The followino; is an instance of disagreement : Good citizens are patriotic men. Traitors are not patriotic. Therefore, traitors are not good citizens. When an agreement and disagreement are thus stated in the first and second lines, the result stated in the third line must be a disagreement. But if the first and secone detected by turn- ing around the sentence in which the defective conipari- *son is made. Thus : ^[en are animals. Horses are animals. Therefore, men ;ire horses. This seems to be a perfectly fair specimen of correct svlloo'isms. But in the first line the class " men " is compared with only a part <»f the class " animals," and in the second line the -whole of the class "horses" is compared with another part of the class " animals," and as the comjxirison is not restricted to the same objects no statemeni <»f agreement or disagreement can be made. We detect the insufficiency of the comparison by saying, 254 EXTEMP(JKE HPEECir. it i- true lli:it all men are animals, but not true that all auiuials ai'c men. Anotlicr mode of" making:; a sceniiuj^ ooniparison Avitliout the reality is by usinj^ words in unlike senses. Thus : All li^lit bodies dis]>el darkness. A bay: of feathers is a liuht Ixxlx-. Therefore, a bag of feathers will dispel darkness. To miard against this and all similar ,';d"aeics il is only nwessarv to notice wlu'ther tlie (■om])arison i> tiiir and eom])lete. Practice will give great expertness in doing this, even Avhen the comparison is implied rather than expressed. Indeed, the greater ])art of reasoning lies outside the range of formal logic. The orator who would reduce each argument to a syllogistic form Avould be consideivd a clown endeavoring to make sport of, or f()r his au- dience. A statement is often made Avhich depends for its validity upon a comparison or even a series of com- parisons either flashing through the mind at the mo- ment, or reC;ialled as having previously been made. To this there can be no objection, provided such comjiari- sons are obvious and indisputable. If a chain of rea- soning rests upon the understanding that all men desire to be happy, it will be just as forcible as if that truism were statal or proved. Anything which an an- THE URATOK'a LOGIC. 255 dience will accept without question is only weakoncid hv the processes of proof". Something must 1)0 taken tor granted in all kinds of argument, and the \\ ider the domain of such assumptions can be fairly made the bet- ter for the interest and elfectiveness of the arguments which follow. A syllogism in which one of the essential parts is left to be supplied in the mind is called an enthymeme, and is the most common of all forms of rcas(mino:. When- ever we state a fact, and adduce a reason for that fact, it takes this form. As an instance, we mav oive the beati- tudes in the fifth chapter of St. Matthew. In each we have a declaration made and a reason given for that declaration, but that reason would have no ncx-essary validity weic it not fi)ra well-understood principle, upon which, in each case, it is foinidcd. When it is said, " Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the king- d(.m of heaven," we mentally add, or concede even with- oiu thinking it, ^'whoever has the kingdom of heaven is blessed." The same declaration may be put in logical form, thus*: Whoever possesses the kingdom of heaven is blessed. The poor in spirit possess the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, they are blessed. It will be noticed that in all the beatitudes the syllo- 2o6 EXTF-MTORE SPEECH. irisiii is inverted, the cuiiclusioii coiiniig first (which also is placeiliii an inverted form), while the major premise is left to be mentally supplietl. Another instance may be given of this most common of all the svllo|)ponent, but by bringing over to his views that body of men in the jury-box who are supposed t(j l»e im[)artial, but who always have their mode of viewing any given sul)ject — a mode Avhich an ingenious and observant advocate will not be shjw to discover. There are three phases of any coiitro veiled question which the orator who will discuss it successfully needs to study. He should know and (Estimate justly all that . a determined opponent of hi.-j own view can advance. Nothing is gained bv failing to :ij)preciate the strength 260 EXTEMPORE SPEECH. and plausibility of an adversary's position. Complete justice to an enemy is often the first step to complete victory over him. Then the position of that part of an audience — possibly few in nnnibcrs, but from the loj^ical standpoint exceedingly importiuit — who are in suspense, and as ready to fall to one side as the other, ought to be fully weighed. The more perfectly intel- lectual sympathy exists between them and the orator, the more likely is he to bring them over to his own party. And this is the great object to be aimed at. Pronounced o})ponents are Tiot often converted. "A man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still." The attention directed to them is really for the sake of the doubtful class M-ho may, unless resistance is offered, be won over by their efforts. Some attention may also properly be given by the speaker to confirming his own party by showing them the solid grounds upon which their opinions rest. But usually the same arguments which are likely to decide the wavering will l)est accom])lish this purpose also. Beginning with a simple Init clearly defined statement of those principles or facts upon which he intends to base his arguments, and about wliich no difference of opinion is possible, he shows clearly that the (»piuious he and ])is friends hold nuist follow f-om tiie grounds already conceded. This should besot forth as the estab- lishment of positive truth rather than as the refutation THE orator's logic. 261 of any errors ; tlicn, wlicn llir waverer?; luive been con- vinced and Iil> own parly stn»iii;ly confirmed, he may, with advantage, show tlie weakness and absnrdity of the position of those who hold opposefl views. Snch a course pursued by an able reasoner who really has truth on his side, which he thoroughly understands, will seldom fail to win all whose minds are open to conviction. It is to these broad principles and to the careful study of all aspetjts of the questions he has to treat, rather than tijthe refinements of mediaeval logic, that we would direct the orator's attention. Whoev^er will follow the course prescribed in preceding (chapters, carefully arranging the outline of his address, mastering all his material, and speaking the language of his own convictions, will be truly logical, and such logic carried to the highest degree will take nothino- from anv other y-race cither of form oi: subslajiee that beloui's to oratorv. O v CHAPTER Xn. After the Speech. When a fervent and successful discourse has been con- chided there comes a feeling of inexpressible relief. The burden of an important speech rests with accumulatini>- force upon the mind from the time the subject is chosen until it becomes well-nigh intolerable. When speecli actually l)egins every })o\ver is called into play and ex- erted to its utmost capacity. The excitement of the conflict hurries the speaker on, and although he may not at the time realize the gigantic exertions jiut forth, yet when he pauses at length, perhaps exhausted, but with the victory won, the sense of rest, relief, and security, is exceedinglv delio-htful. After such an effort both mind and body do need rest. There are speakers who profess to feel no fatigue after an hour's lal)or, but these are seldom in the front rank of orators. If the soul has been aroused and all the man's faculties bent to the accomplishment of a great purpose, relaxation is often followed by a sense of utter prostration. Nothing better for the moment can be advised than to abandon one's self to the luxury of utter repose. Social intercourse and all distractions should as far as possil)le be avoided. If circumstances permit, a 262 AFTER THE SPEECH. 263 fihort sleep, if but tor a few minutes, will aiYord great relief; and in most cases sleep will come if wisely courted. After resting, it is well to ponder closely the lessons derived from each new experience in speaking. To in- dulge in exultation over success or to lament over fail- ure is not profitable. The speaker is not a perfect judge of either. He has probably done the best he could at the time, and there the case should rest, except so far as he sees the need or the means of future improvement. But judgment of success or failure cannot easily be avoided. If the speaker's standard is low, he may pass beyond it without accomplishing anything worthy of high praise: or if he is despondent in nature he may have expected little and may now feel correspondingly elated because he has exceeded his very moderate expecta- tions. But It is a curious fact that speakers are often least pleasetl with their best spewhes. In the mightiest efforts of the mind the standard is placed very high — perhaps beyond the possibility of attaimneut — and the speaker works with his eyes fixed upon that summit, and probably, after all his exertions, sees it shining still far above him. His ideas are but half expressed ; he is mortified that there should l)e such a difference between conception and realization. But his hearers have been led over untrodden fields of thought, antl ' knowing nothing of the grander heights still above the 264 EXTi:>rTnrE s^rHrrn. orator's hoad, tlioy arc iiatiirally lillc*! with onllmsiasiii, ami cannot enter into tlic t'cclinu's oftlic speaker if" he is f'oolisli enouands as we study, its outlines becoming grander and vaster until they pass beyond our power of adcfpiate re})resentation. Each Kej)arate th(»ught in the whole discussion that is fully mastered becomes familiar, and is not, therefore, valued at its true worth. Sometimes, when we begin to speak with little thought, intending to give only easy ami common views of the subject, evervtiiing appears fresh l)efore us, and if some striking ideas arise, their novelty gives thcni three-fold value, and we imagine that we have made a great speech. All this constitutes no argu- ment against diligent prej)aration, but it should stimu- late us to l)ringupour powers of expression more nearly to the level of our conceptions. There should never be extreme discouragement over an ap])arent failure. Some good end may be reached even by a very poor speech. One evening the writer preached wdien weary and almost unprej)ared. From first to last the eifoj-t was painful, and to prevent abso- lute failure the intended plan had to l)e abandoned, and detached thoughts from any source thrown in. Yet that discourse, wliich was scarcely worthy of the name, AFTER THE SPEECH, 265 elioitcfl warmer a})proval and did more aj)[)arent good tlian any one [)reaehed lor several [)revious niontlis. One or two fortunate illustrations redeemed every defect, so far as the audience (l)ut not the speaker) was con- cerned. Wliatcvor jiidi>niont we may entertain of our own performances, it is not usually wise to tell our hearers, or to ask their opinions. Criticisms spontaneously offered need not be repulsed, but all seekinjy for commen- dation is childish or disgustinii'. Jt is sweet to hear our efforts praised, and most of men can bear an amount of flattery addressed to themselves which would be in- sufferable if offered to others ; but this dis]>ositioii, if nuich indulgal, becomes ungovernable and exposes us to well-deserved ridicule. It is pitiable to see a man who has been uttering wise and elo(|uent words afterward stoo])ing to Ix'g crusts of indiscriminating flattery from his hearers. AVhenever there is a j^robability that any discourse will be rcjieated, it is well to review it soon after de- livery, while its impression is still fresh ujion the mind, and if any defect appears, amend it in the i)lan, and add to the same ])lan all the valuable ideas that have been suggested during the speech oi- afterward. In this manner we kec]) each discourse up to the high water- mark of our ability. Some orators are accustomed to write their speeches 1C)C} EXTE^rpor.K speech. out in full after rid ivfi-y. ^^'hc'n the theme is important and time permits, tliis is a gootl exercise, but in many — perhaps tlie majority of cases — the labor would outweiLih the profit. No such objection applies to reviewing and correcting a verbatim rej)ort oi" our speeches. To many speakers •juch a review of the exact words tliev have iittere Confidence, fiil.se and true, 127 Confidence, ixiwcr of, 128 Confidence while silent bd'orc au audience, 12i) Changing plan at la ^t moment, 1!>0 Complimentary introductions, 201 Citations as introductions, 204 Calamity from bad introductions, 205 Climax, law of, 208 Crisis of discouree, 211 Concluding, three ways of, 215 Conclusion should have no new matter, 215 Classification, 250 Correcting shorthand reports, 2(>G Demosthenes, 33 Discussion, 48 Dean Swift's sermon, 53 Discussion in a free state, 66 Disease as a hindrance, 81 Disqualifications summed up, 86 Drill on the elementary sounds, 116 Duty as a remedy for fear, 126 Divisional or military plan, 168 Deep breathing, 195 Diffuseness remedied, 209 Definition in speech, 249 Division in speech, 249 Eloquence can be taught, 9 Eloquence, degrees of, 11 Essay or speech, 29 Extempore speech in schools, 65 Education iu the popular sense, 89 Extempore speei.li cultivates reason, 94 Emotion and the will 98 ALPHABETICAL INDEX. 271 PAGE Etymology, use of, 104 Empty speeches, 212 Euiichiug extempore speech, 247 First speech, 4t) Fear overcyine, Ij:} Fkiency an Lectures, platform, anniversary, and lyceum, 141 Lecture with varying titles, l'>'' Logical or mathematical i)laiis, 1''8 Local allusions as introductions, ^'J<^ Language adapted to oratory, -1" Luxury of tears, -"^"^ Logic for the orator, -■** 9J.S Logic, its narrowness, ^"^^^ Lessons of speech, 263 Mental weakness, ^^ Memorizing original and selected gems, 104 Mental picture painting, HO Method of gathering and retaining thought, 162 Military plans, ' * • ^t^ Marks of a good i>lan I'^l Nerves quieted, '^' Natural orators, '^ Nature in the voice, H^ Narrative plans, 1^^ Naming divisions in advance, !'•-♦ Need of illustrations, 243 ALPHABETICAI, rXDKX. 27:1 PAGE Oratory, natural and acquired, 13 Oratory of ornament, 28 Object of speech 150 (Objection to Uf'2 Sketch memorized, o2 Sketch on the ocean, ')'] Stimulus of controversy, Cj Sketches on the annexation of Cuba, (>0 Seeing with our own eyes, 92 Source of (ircck elo(|Ucnce, ll(» Sentence-casting, l.'ll Seductive but misleading methods, ]3.'i Sermons, • . ]3(J Sermon texts, ];^)(5 Subject and object compared, 1')2 Subject definite, ly.i Sydney Smith "sticking to his text," lo? Sermon on Mars' ]lill 1G9 Sermon dryness, ]74 Shorthand, use of, 184 Speech as a battle 187 "Stage fright," ISl) Sermon by Rev. C. H. Spurgeon 2-Mi Sermon on the Mount, 241 Sources of illustrations, 244 Syllogisms, 2")! Syllogisms abbreviated, 2'^) Seelsing praise, 26o Training, effects of, 10 Time saving, 24, 175 Al.PHARETICAT. INDEX. 27") PAGE Transition, 48 Three classes of men in respect to eloquence, 74 Timidity may be overcome, 77 Thought and emotion, 87 Thought-gathering, 159 Textual plans, 167 Tertullus, 201 Topics of the day as introductions, 208 Things seen, heard, or imagined as introductions, . . . 20') Taylor, the Methodist missionary, 258 Unconscious gesticulation, 124 Use of other speakers' sketches, 171 Voice and gesture, 114 Various fields of (uatory, 18") Why extenii)ore speech is emotional 22 Whitefield '. 38 Wesley 38 Webster, 40 Written composition a hindrance and a helj), 45 Writer's first speech, 01 Weak voices, 70 Wordless men, 83 Waiting for the moment of beginning, 189 Webster, anecdote of, 203 W^riting after delivery, 265 Practical Elocution By J. W. Shoemaker, A. M. 300 pages Cloth, Leather Back, $1.25 This work is the outgrowth of actual class-room experience, and is a practical, common-sense treatment of the whole subject. It is clear and concise, yet comprehensive, and is absolutely free from the entangling technicalities that are so frequently found in books of this class. Conversation, which is the basis of all true Elocution, is regarded as embracing all the germs of speech and action. Prominent attention is therefore given to the cultivation of this the most common form of human ex- pression. General principles and practical processes are pre- sented for the cultivation of strength, purity, and flexi- bility of Voice, for the improvement of distinctness and correctness in articulation, and for the development of Soul Power in delivery. The work includes a systemrtic treatment of Gesture in its several departments of position, facial expression, and bodily movement, a brief system of Gymnastics bearing upon vocal development and grace of move- ment, and also a chapter on Methods of Instruction, for teachers. Sold by all booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt of price. The Penn Publishing Company 923 Arch Street, Philadelphia \ Advanced Elocution lliiJ)VA.Ntti;tLOL(.(li/N' Bv Mrs. J. W. Shoemaker 400 pages Cloth, Leather Back, $1.25 This is one of the most complete works that has ever been published on the subject of elocution. The j./«f/«'thing contained in the book is bright and fresh, and much of the material was specially prepared (or it by experienced writers familiar with the wants of the public. Sold by all booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt of price. The Penn Publishing Company 923 Arch Street, Philadelphia UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY This book is DUE on the last date stamped helow r JUN 22 1945 DEC 2 7 1951 Form L-9-15m-7,'35 UNIVERSITY Cl;;.^ I.OR A q LVJ (_> i. i i> <^ '■^* ■■Q' 58e Extempore peccn • -5^ K L 007 772 047 2 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY " IIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIII fe.. AA 000 409 603 8 -^*v?^'^C rrsc — -Tf-y-^^ w t*p :^ ^^^ l^ •W ^ '^