DELIVERY in oratory

DELIVERY. 
Action is eloquence and the eyes of the ignorant More learned than their ears. —Setnensw. 
A clergyman asked Garrick, "Why is it that you are able to produce so much more effect with the recital of your fictions than we by the delivery of the most important truths ? " Garrick replied, "Because you speak truths as if they were fictions; we speak fictions salt they were truths. "
The Mends of a young man destined to professional life sea public speaker were mildtous about his emcees in speaking, and suggested the importance of his devoting himself to the study and practice of elocution. "I want no artificial training, " was the prompt reply ; "find me the thing to say, and I'll find the manner of Rayingit. " Thisyoung man must have consciously possessed by special endowment all that it cost Demosthenes so many laborious years to master. —Russmx. . 
Demosthenes having once harangued the people very unsuccessfully, hastened home with his head covered, and in much chagrin. Meeting with &tyros, the tragedian, he complained bitterly to him, that though he labored more than all other orators, and bad greatly imps red his health by it, yet he could not please the people ; but that drunkards, mariners, and other illiterate persons were wholly in possession of the popular ear. "Yost say true, " answered Satyrus; "but I shall soon remove the cause, if you will repeat me some verses of Euripides or Sophocles without book. " Demosthenes did so, and Satyrus repeated the verses after him, but with such variety of expression and aptness of gesture that Demosthenes scarcely knew them to be the same. The lesson was not lost ; Demosthenes saw what a vast accession of power was added to an oration by action and elocution, and thenceforth considered all declamation vain where these qualities were neglected. —Percyelnecdates. 
NEcEssrryOF STIMY. —Thereis a common impression among young speakers that delivery is a natural gift ; that a good discourse will find natural and effective expression ; that there is something theatrical in making a study of tone, accent, emphasis, and gesture. 
People, by a strange confusion of terms, use indifferently and in the same sense the two words speakand talk. No two words
CHAP. XXX. ] NECESSITY OF STUDY. 563
are more unlike in meaning. There are people who, from the standpoint of good diction, talk very well and speak quite as ill. If you wish to prove this fact, go into any court-house ; address some lawyer of your acquaintance, and chat with him for a moment. His delivery will be natural and simple. Follow him into the court-room and listen to his plea. He is another man ; all his merits disappear : he was natural, he is now bombastic ; he talked in tune, he speaks out of tune—for we can speak as well as sing out of tune. —Lizootryk. 
When Cowper expresses his abhorrence of the "start theatric practised at the glass, " all the world approves the censure, because all the world understands him to mean the affected and contemptible exhibition of one's self as the object of admiration to an assembly who are waiting to hear a message from God. There certainly is neither piety nor power in clownishness. And it cannot be denied that if some speakers had practised their attitudes and starts before a glass, they would never have inflicted them on their bearers. 
The negligent speaker often justifies his mannerism on the ground of personality. Speaking of his prominent faults, he will say : "This is my natural manner ; I like to see individuality of style in delivery, as in all other forms of expression ; and this trait constitutes mine. I cannot change it for another, because that other, though perhaps better in itself, would not be natural to me. "
This reasoning would be as sound as it is plausible in itself and comforting to indolence, were habit and nature invariably the same in individuals, and were manner inevitable and immutable, like Richter's cast-metal king. But manner in expression is the most plastic of all things ; it can be moulded at will to whatever shape a decisive resolution and a persevering spirit determine. Attentive cultivation will reform, renovate, and recreate here, as extensively as elsewhere. It will enable the individual to shake off the old and put on the new vesture of habit, and to wear it too with perfect ease, as the true and natural garb of expression. For all genuine culture is but the cherishing or the resuscitating of nature. —RUMMELL. 
Being endued with physical and spiritual ensceptibilitke, man is the most deeply impressed when an appeal Is made to both parts of his sentient nature, when the eye and
564 DELIVERY. [PART V. 
the ear are delighted as well as the mind and heart. And such is the sympathy between the corporeal and the mental powers, that when the former are in a state of appropriate excitement. , the latter act with increased vigor and success, The soul perceives the more of truth, and feel. it the more keenly, when the eye traces the lineaments of this truth upon the countenance of the speaker, and the ear catches the vibrations of it bum lips which have been touched as with a live coal from off the altar. 
Valerius Maximus says of the Athenian orator, that "a great part of Demosthenes is wanting, for it must be heard and not read. " Quintillan says of Hortensins, that "there was something in him which strangely pleased when he spoke, which those who perused his orations could not find. " The younger Pitt remarked that be could never conjecture from reading his fatheesspeecheswhere their eloquence lay hidden. And there have been thousands of preachers who uttered truths which no stenographer could seize, which no ready writer, with a command of the most extensive vocabulary, could transfer to the silent page, for they were truths that beamed from the eye, and were breathed out in the tones of the voice, and were visible in the gesture, but could not be circumscribed within arbitrary symbols. —Rueszu. . 
I was once intimate with a young deputy, full of talent and learning, who deemed his deputytthip merely a stepping stone to the ministry. On one examen, he was to deliver an address before the ministers and House of Deputies, and begged me to come and hear him. His speech over, he hurried toward me, anxious to learn my opinion. 
" Well, old fellow. " said I, "this speech will never get you into the Cabinet. "
" Why not? "
"Because you absolutely don't know how to speak. "
"Don't know how to speak 1" said he, somewhat hurt and offended ; "and yet I thought my speech—"
"Oh, your speech was in excellent taste—fair and sensible, even witty; but what avails all that, if no one could hear you"
"Not hear me But I began so loud=
"That you may say you shrieked ; accordingly you were hoarse in fifteen minutia. " "That's true. "
" Welt ; I haven't finished yet. Having spoken too loud, you spoke too fast. "
"Oh I too fast !" he exclaimed, deprecatingly ; "perhaps I did at the end, because I wanted to cut it short. "
" Exactly ; and you did the very opposite—you spun it out. Nothing, on the stage, make. a name seem so long as to reel it off too fast. An audience is very cunning, and guesses by your very haste that you think the thing drags. Unwarned, the listener might not notice It; you draw his attention to the fact, and he loses patience. "
"True again ! " cried my friend. "I felt the andieboe slipping from me toward the end ; but how can I remedy this ill "
"Nothing easier. Take a reading-master. "
"Do you know one ?"
 A splendid one. "
"And who ?"
"H. Samson. "
"Samson, the actor?"
"Yea. "
"But I can't take lessons of an actor. "
"Why not?"
"Just think of It! A politician I a statesman! All the comic papers would make fun of me it it were known "
CHAP. XXX. ) OPENING sentenceS. 565
"You are right People are just stupid enough to turn you into ridicule for studying your profesion. But rest easy, no one shall know it. "
"You'll keep my secret?"
" Yes ; and Samson too, I promise you. "
So he set to work. Samson placed his voice, strengthened it, and made it flexible. He made him read aloud page after page of Bonnet, Matatillon, and Bourdaloue ; he taught him to begin a speech slowly, and in a low voice—people are hushed to hear you, and end by listening. These wise lessons bore their fruit. Six months later my friend was a minister 1—Lgoonvi. 
The Opening sentences are, for the orator, the most difficult, and he is especially to remember the importance of keeping calm, and of exhibiting no haste to
begin. 
A speaker should never adopt a hurried manner in opening a speech but in one instance, and that is when he takes some concluding remark of the speaker who has last preceded him, and commences his own argument with a reply to such concluding sentence. In this solitary instance he may begin his argument by the time the opposite speaker has touched his seat, and whilst the replying speaker is scarce erect in rising from his own. If an apt reply to theconcluding remark, or indeed to any important remark of an adverse speaker, shall be made under the circumstances just specified, the opening remarks of the replying speaker will not only be appreciated for their own intrinsic value, but they will secure a favorable reception for the sequel of the speech. . . 
As a general proposition, a speaker should not commence the business of speaking immediately on rising from his seat, but should take sufficient time to survey his audience, and to collect his ideas with every appearance of the calmest self-possession, and of respectful but easy confidence. After a few preliminary moments thus occupied, he should commence his remarks in a moderate tone of voice, and in such a way as to introduce the subject before him directly to the attention of his audience. He should take due care to begin his remarks with the briefest sentences within reach of his powers. For no circumstance is better calculated to throw a speaker out of an easy style of enunciation than a long sentence at the very opening of an argument. It requires a great expenditure of breath to speak one of these sentences through, where it is so long before a pause is reached. And independent
666 DELIVERY. [Purr V. 
of the irksomeness of the operation connected with the delivery of such sentences, it is difficult in speaking, as it is in singing, to blend any particular measure of music or intonation with the speaking of them. And if the measure or music of the speaker should be wrong at the commencement of the speech, as it will be very difficult to rectify it when he has once gotten under way, his style of speaking will be apt to continue erroneous through the whole speech. . . . 
Daniel Webster has pronounced eloquence to be "action, Godlike action. " In the celebrated debate with Robert }Layne, desire having been expressed that the discussion be deferred, Mr. Hayne said that something had fallen from the gentleman from Massachusetts which had created sensations from which he would desire at once to relieve himself ; Mr. Webster had discharged his weapon, and he wished for an opportunity to return the fire. Mr. Webster remarked that he was ready to receive it, and wished the discussion to proceed. It has been said that Mr. Webster's acceptance of the implied challenge exhibited an air of . majestic authority which might have served as a rebuke even to royalty itself. — McQuKEN, condensed. 
Points requiring especial attention in public speaking are—(i) Pitch, (ii) Emphasis, and (iii) Gesture. 
(I) The Pitch of the orator's voice was a matter regarded by the Greeks as so important that even the public crier was accompanied by a musician to give him the proper tone. Quintilian tells that Gracchus kept a fluteplayer standing near him as he spoke, and Cicero, though he thought this custom beneath the orator, advised that though the flute should be left at home, the custom of attending to the pitch should be carried into the forum (see page 557). 
(a) The Loudness of voice should be proportioned to the place and to the audience, the general rule being to speak just so as to be heard easily by those farthest away. 
CHAP. XXX. ] LOUDNESS. 567
A convenient practical rule has, however, been given for the guidance of speakers in accommodating the loudness and pitch of their voices to the size of the room in which they have to speak. It consists in fixing the eyes on the farthest corner of the room, and addressing the speech to those who are there situated ; commencing rather softly, the voice is gradually raised until it seems to return to the speaker, not with a noisy echo, but with a sensation of its pervading all parts of the bnilding. —HALcommz. 
The requisite degree of loudness will be beet obtained, not by thinking about the voice, but by looking at the most distant of the hearers, and addressing one's self especially to him. The voice rises spontaneously when we are speaking to a person who is not very near. 
It should be added that a speaker's being well heard does not depend near so much on the loudness of the sounds as on their distinctness, and especially on the clear pronunciation of the consonants. —WHATELY. 
In the selection of a pitch for the voice, when the speaker is commencing a speech, tbe should be regulated very much by the position he occupies in relation to the assembly he is engaged in addressing. If his position should be ntsr the chair of the presiding officer when he commences addressing any assembly, he should speak loud enough at the beginning of his remarks to be heard by persons at the centre of the hall. If he should be standing at the centre of the hall, he should commence his remarks at the pitch of the voice which will cause him to be beard distinctly at the extremities of the hag. If he should occupy a position within four or five feet of a jury, at the opening of an address to a body of that kind, he should commence his remarks so as to be distinctly audible to them, and not lender, for his proximity to the persons he is addressing will render it ungraceful, unbecoming, and injurious to his cause to speak louder at fret than has been suggestexi, for he may enlarge the compass of his voice as he advances in his address. If a speaker should be engaged in addressing a multitude in the open air, he should commence speaking precirely with that degree of loudness which would characterise his voice in opening a conversation with a person about the distance of tan paces from him. And he should permit his voice afterward to swell its compass so gradually that it will have attained its acme, or what may be termed the ultimate limit of its volume, when he shalt have spoken about fifteen minutes. -11cQuaai. 
Unnecessary Loudnessof tone is usually regarded as due to shallowness of thought. When a speaker begins to shout and swing his arms, a shrewd audience perceives that he is struggling not to elucidate his thoughtsbut to distract attention from its emptiness. 
568 DELIVERY. [PART V. 
When a speaker is declaiming to an audience of any Description the most finished and convincing argument in a strain of loud and vehement declamation, he is regarded by those whom he addresses as one who is playing a part ; he is as distinct from the audience as the magician when exhibiting his mysteries in the field of legerdemain, and as the clown in the circus who has temporarily foregone his original identity. A speaker of this Description may command the admiration of an audience by the splendor of his oratorical flights, by the vigor of his argumentation, and by the dramatic skill of his gestures. But he rarely sways their sympathies and affections. They view him, while he is engaged in addressing them, as if he was a different being from themselves— as if he was making a speech, instead of talking to them upon a matter in which they possessed a common interest with him. Let a speaker of this Description be succeeded by one of respectable powers and attainments, who addresses them in the familiar strain -of persuasive and animated conversation, and the change in favor of the conversational speaker will prove so glaring as almost to be incredible. Why is this so ? Why, it is a result which flows from the nature and constitution of man. The conversational speakea. addresses them in that siyle which commands their attention at the festive board, at the fireside, in the fields of labor, on the public highways, and in all the simpler duties and pleasures of life. He talks to them as they have been accustomed to be talked to, and as they have been accustomed to talk to their fellow-beings, and they feel as if they would like to take part in the conversation with him. 
The conversational speaker simplifies the business of speaking to his hearers so as to bring a matter home to every-day sympathies, just as a writer remarkable for the simple beauties of his style endears himself to those who read his productions, because the readers feel that the writer belongs to the same race with themselves. And as persons who read the works of a writer characterized by great simplicity of style are apt to imagine that they could have written the works they may be engaged in reading themselves, so the hearers of an accomplished conversational debater will be apt to imagine that they could speak like him themselves. 
CHAP. XXX ] LOUDNESS. 569
Archbishop Tillotson regarded it as the highest compliment that had ever been paid to him as a pulpit orator when, on descending from the pulpit at the close of his discourse on a Sabbath morning, he overheard some countryman who came down to London to hear him, ask a city man with evident surprise, "Is that your great Archbishop? Why, he talks like one of us. " . . . 
The best models for imitation in the speaking world have sanctified by their example the practice of commencing a speech on the conversational key, and of permitting the voice to extend in its compass as they progressed in their remarks, in such a way that it generally attained the pitch of a highly animated conversation about the time when they had occupied the floor about fifteen minutes. —McQuEEN. 
The strength of the voice is in an inverse ratio to the respiration. The more we are moved the less loudly we speak ; the lees the emotion, the stronger the voice. In emotion the heart seems to mount to the larynx, and the voice is stifled. A soft tone should always be an affecting tone, and consist only of breath. Force is always opposed to power. It is an error to suppose that the voice must be increased as the heart is laid bare. The lowest tones are the best understood. If we would make a low voice audible, let ns speak as softly as we can. 
Go to the sea-shore when the tempest rages. The roar of the waves as they break against the vessel's side, the muttering thunders, the furious wind-gusts render the strongest voice impotent. Go upon a battle-fleld when drums beat and trumpets sound. In the midst of this uproar, these discordant cries, this tumult of opposing armies, the leader's commands, though uttered in the loudest tones, can scarcely be beard ; but a low whistle will be distinctly audible. The voice is intense in serenity and calm, but in passion it is weak. 
Let those who would bring forward subtle arguments against this law remember that logic is often in default when applied to artistic facts. 
A concert is given in a contracted space, with an orchestra and a double-bass. The double-bees is very weak. Logic would suggest two double-banes in order to produce stronger tone. Quite tbe contrary. Two double-basses give only a semi-tone, which half a double-bare renders of itself. So much for logic in this case. 
The greatest joy is in sorrow, for here there is the greatest love. Other joys are only on the surface. We suffer and we weep because we love. Of what avail are tears ? The essential thing in to love. Tears are the accessories; they will come in time, theyneed not to be sought. Nothing so wearies and disgusts us as the lachrymose tone. A man who amounts to anything is never a whimperer. 
Take two instruments in discord and remote from each other. Logic forbids their oppreach lest their tones become more disagreeable. The reverse is true. In bringing them together, the lowest becomes higher and the highest lower, and there is an accord. 
Let us suppose a hall with tapestries, a church draped in black. Logic, rays "Sing more loudly. " But this must be guarded against, lest the voice becomes lost in the draperies. The voice should scarce reach these too heavy or too sonorous partitions, but
leaving the lips softly, it should pulsate through the audience and go no further. 
570 DELIVERY. MART V. 
An audience is asleep. Logic demands more warmth, more fire. Not at IL Keep silent. and the sleepers will waken. —Ditzszara. 
Better be cold than affect to feel. In truth, nothing is so cold as assumed, noisy enthnsiasm. Its best emblem is the northern blast of winter, which freezes as it roars. —CHmimeo. 
A little girl was asked by her mother, on her return from church. how she liked the preacher. "Didn't like him at all, " was the reply. " Why ? " ssked the mother. 'Cause he preached till he made me sleepy, and then he hollered so loud he wouldn't let me go to sleep. "
(b) The Final Words of the sentence must not be neglected, or obscured by the mannerism of a fixed cadence. 
"Both readers and preachers should remember the old rale : 'Take care of the end of the sentence, and the beginning will take care of itself. ' Some preachers are in the habit of suddenly lowering the voice for the purpose of rendering the importance of some concluding remark more deeply felt. Let them be warned against the consequence which frequently follows, viz. , that of becoming inaudible except to the nearest listeners. 
"In endeavoring to avoid the fault of concluding sentences inaudibly, some readers and speakers fall into an opposite error. They terminate almost every sentence with the upward slide of the voice, or rising inflection. . . No doubt this method may make the concluding words better heard, but this object is not effected without injury to the sense of the passage, and pain to the cultivated ear of taste. "
Articulation plays an immense part in the domain of reading. Articulation, and articulation alone, gives clearnem, energy, passion, and force. Such is Its power that it can even overcome deficiency of voice in the presence of a large audience. There have been actors of the foremost rank, who had scarcely any voice. Potter had no voice. Monvel, the famous Motive], not only had no voice, he had no teeth I And yet no one ever lost a word that fell from his lips ; and never was there a more delightful, more moving artist than he, thanks to his perfect articulation. The best reader I ever knew was M. Andrieux. whore voice was not only weak. but worn, hoarze, and croaking. Yet his perfect enunciation triumphed over all these defects. —Lzooevi. 
i I. Emphasisis dependent partly upon (a) Stress, but even more so upon (b) Punctuation. 
(a) Stress may be used (1) for Perspicuity, or(2) for Power. 
There are two principal kinds of emphasis, (1) emphasis of sense, (2) emphasis of force. Emphasis of sense is that emphasis which
Cu. XXX. ]	STREW 571
marks and indicates the meaning or sense of the sentence ; and which being transferred from word to word has the power to change the particular meaning of the sentence. In other words, it is the placing on the particular word which carries the main point of the sentence, or member of the sentence, the inflection due to such sentence or 'member, and giving weight or emphasis to such inflection :—the word so marked and distinguished is called the emphatic word. 
Thus, Did you reach home to-day? Did you reach home today? etc. 
Emphasis of force (or it might be called Emphasis of feeling) is that emphasis or stress which a speaker uses arbitrarily to add force to some particular word or phrase ; not because the sense or meaning intended to be conveyed requires it, but because the force of his own feeling dictates it. —VANDENHOFF. 
(I) sentences that depend for their meaning upon the selection of some particular word for stress are to that extent ambiguous, and should often be reconstructed (compare page xx). 
Iran in Chinese signifies at the same time the roof of a house, a cellar, well, chamber, bed – the inflection alone determines the meaning. Roof is expressed by the falling, cellar by the rising inflection. The Chinese note accurately the depth and acuteness of sound, its intervals, and its intensity. 
We can say "It is pretty, this little dog, " in six hundred and seventy-five different ways. Someone would do it harm. We say : "This little dog is pretty, do not harm it. " "It is pretty because it is so little. " If it is a mischievous or vicious dog, we use pretty in an ironical sense. "This dog has bitten my hand. It is a pretty dog, indeed. " Etc. —Dzialarrz. 
(2) Words which require marked stress of voice to show that they are emphatic should be avoided in speech, on the same principle that italicised words are avoided in print, and gestures are avoided in conversation. An intelligent person should be able so to construct his senten
572 DELIVERY. Mawr V. 
ces that the position of each word will indicate its relative importance. To italicise a word, to thunder it, or to mark it by a gesture, is like writing underneath a picture, "This
is not a cow, but a rosebud. " The picture ought to be painted accurately enough to show what it is without an inscription ; the sentence ought so to place the words that their force is inevitable. 
Sing-Song, or the repetition of stress at regular in
tervals, is a fatal defect in prose composition. (See chapter on Rhythm, Part VI. )
There can be no doubt that the school methods of scanning poetry, and of reading prose by punctuation, are directly productive of this worst and most prevailing oratorical taint (sing-song). It is but rarely that a reader of poetry can be found whose voice is entirely free from this blemish ; and the habit of reading with a rhythmical regularity is speedily extended from poetry to prose, so that the expressive irregularity of prosaic rhythm is entirely lost in the uniformity of time to which the reader's voice is set. . Like the pins in the barrel of an organ, his accents come precisely in the same place at every revolution of a sentence, striking their emphasis, at one turn, upon a pronoun or a conjunction, and, at another, impinging sonorously on an article or an expletive. 
'Ti. education forms the common mind ; Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined. 
The little twigs in the grammar-school are sedulously bent into the barrelorgan shape, and pegged to play their destined tune by the systematic teaching of the school ; and when the tiny twigbarrel has swelled into a full-grown cylinder, and rolls forth its cadences in far-sounding pitch, the old pegs are still there, striking the old chords in the old way. —BELL. 
(b) Oral Punctuation is not only different from written punctuation (see page 256), but often directly at variance with it. 
The first principle of accurate punctuation is that the subject
CHAP. ICXX. ] PAUSES. 573
and predicate should not be separated by a grammatical pause ; the first principle of good reading is, that they should be separated by a marked suspension of the voice. So much value may we attach to punctuation as a guide to the reader. —HsLoomme. 
Rhetorical punctuation subdivides for the taste, the judgment, and the ear, and regards pauses as the means by which the hearer may follow and understand the reader or speaker, and the latter is enabled at such pauses or rests to supply his lungs with air by the act of inspiration, and so ensure clear tone of voice and distinct articulation in delivery. Rhetorical punctuation is a system which does not so much regard the actual duration in point of time of the various pauses introduced, as it does the places where, in reading or speaking, they may be properly and effectively introduced. 
The shortest pause is necessarily introduced at the end of every oratorical word ; the middle pause at the end of any distinct part of a proposition ; and the longest pause at the termination of an important division of a discourse. The rhetorical sense, not the grammatical expression, determines the relative situation and length of each pause. 
Rules for rhetorical pause. Pause and replenish the lungs with breath:
i. After the nominative, when it consists of several words, or of one important word. A pause after a pronoun in the nominative case is admissible only when it is emphatic. 
Before and after all parenthetic, explanatory, and intermediate clauses. 
After words in apposition or in opposition. 
Before relative pronouns. 
•	Before and after clauses introduced by prepositions. 
•	
•	Between the several members of a series. 
•	
Before all conjunctions ; and after all conjunctions whicL introduce important words, clauses, or sentences. 
viii. Between all nouns and pronouns that are nominatives to a verb, or that are governed by a verb ; between all adjectives (except the last) which qualify a noun ; and all adverbs (except the last) which qualify either verbs, adjectives, or adverbs. 
574 DELIVERY. [PAirr V. 
Before the infinitive mood, when not immediately preceded by a modifying word. 
Wherever an ellipsis takes place. 
Between the object and the modifying word in their inverted order. 
Generally, before and after emphatic words. —PLuxPrEs. 
There is a line in "The Fair Penitent" which for many years was spoken by the most celebrated actor of these times in the following manner :
West of the town—a mile among the rocks, Two hours ere noon to-morrow I expect thee, Thy single arm to mine. 
It is a challenge given by Lothario to Horatio, to meet him at a place a mile's distance from the town, on the west side, well known by the name of The Rocks. And this would have been evident had there been a comma after the word mile ; as :
West of the town a mile, among the rocks, etc. 
Whereas, by making the pause after the word town, and joining mile to the latter part, 
West of the town—s mile among the rocks—
the ridiculous idea is conveyed that they had a mile's length of rocks to scramble over; which made Quin sarcastically observe that they should run great risk of breaking their shins before they reached the appointed place of combat. —Sammax. 
The tongue punctuate+ as well as the pen. 
One day Samson, sitting at his desk, sees himself approached by a young man apparently pretty well satisfied with himself. 
"You wish to take reading lessons, sir?"
"Yes, Monsieur Samson. "
"Have you had some practice in reading aloud?"
" 0 yes. Monsieur Samson, I have often recited whole passages from Ccotellie and Nolte:we. "
"In public?'
"Yes, Monsieur Samson. "
"With success ?"
"well, yes. Monsieur, I think I may flatter myself so far. "
"Take up that book, please. It is 'La Fontaine`e Fables. ' Open it at The Oak and the Reed. ' Let me hear you take a turn at a line or two. "
The pupil begins :
"The Oak one day, said to the Reed—"
f
CHAP. XXX. 1 PAUSE& 575
"That's enough, sir ; you don't know anything about reading I"
"It is because I don't know much, Monsieur Samson, " replies the pupil, a little nettied; "it is precisely because I don't know much that I have come to you for lessons. But I don't exactly comprehend how from my manner of reading a single vase—. 
"Read the line again, sir. "
He reads it again :
"The Oak one day, said to the Bead—"
" There I You can't read I I told you so !"
"But—"
"But, " interrupts Samson, cold and dry ; "but why do you join the adverb to the noun rather than to the verb? What kind of an oak lean oak one day ? No kind at all! There is no such tree Why, then, do you say, 'The oak one day, said to the reed f This is the way it should go : The oak, one day said to the reed. ' You understand, of course ?"
"Certainly I do, " replied the other, a new light breaking on him. "It seems as If there should be an invisible comma after Oak. . 
"You are right. sir, " continues the master. "Every passage has a double set of punctuation marks, one visible, the other Invisible; one is the printer's work, the other the reader's. "
"The reader's? Does he also punctuate f "
" Certainly he does, quite Independently, too, of the printer's pointy, though tt must be acknowledged that sometimes both coincide. By a certain cadenced silence the reader marks his period ; by a half silence his comma ; by a certain accent, an interrogat on ; by a certain tone, an exclamation. And I must assure you that it is exclusively on the skilful distribution of these insensible points that not only the interest of the story, but actually its clearness, its comprehensibility, altogether depend. "—Lz000 Ars
M. Gesture is the element of delivery which meets most criticism, and in which instruction is most neglected. Yet oratory has not reached Its highest form (see page
534) when the speaker's feelings do not compel himto use gesture. 
The disgust excited on the one hand by awkward and ungraceful motions, and on the other by studied gesticulation, has led to the general disuse of action altogether, and has induced men to form the habit (for it certainly is a formed habit) of keeping themselves quite still, or nearly so, when speaking. This is supposed to be, and perhaps is, the more rational and dignified way of speaking ; but so strong is the tendency to indicate vehement internal emotion by some kind of outward gesture, that those who do not encourage or allow themselves any, fall unconsciously into some awkward trick of swinging the body, folding a paper, twisting a string, and the like. Of one of the Roman orators it
576 DELIVERY. tPswr V. 
was satirically remarked (on account of his having this habit) that he must have learned to speak in a boat. 
The prejudice against gesture arises from its frequent use as a trick of manner instead of as an uncontrollable expression of feeling. 
That the hand may deliver a truth in gesture, which the voice is enunciating, is most true. But it is just as true that the hand is, so to speak, the mere handmaid of the voice, and should never ambitiously aspire to a parallel importance. It is the work of the hand in gesture, not to duplicate the whole work of the voice, but only at necessary points to reinforce the vocal utterance. Now, as not every point which is susceptible of gesture is necessary, to seek to add force by gesture is simply to weaken the effect of all necessary gesture. Gesture, like all high appliances of force, must be charily used or it becomes powerless from mere commonness. . . . 
The great gesture province lies where the fact or the thought, which has all along been burning before the glance of the orator, is to be squarely brought out and driven home. It is false elocution, then, to anticipate or overshadow emphatic gesture, by any noticeable display of that which is purely subordinate, descriptive gesture. It is poor tactics to weaken the main battle by a too lavish development of the skirmishing lines. 
And once more, all gesture is but an outward, and at best imperfect, symbolling of the inward emotion. Almost any gesture, opposed to rule though it be, is truthful and effective, if it only be spontaneously shot forth by the uncontrollable inward energy. No gesture, however artistically fashioned, and with whatever nice exactness overlaid upon the vocal delivery, has in it any troth, beauty, or power, if it be merely the studied product of the ark and not the natural outburst of the inward force. 
Hence, we do not think it extravagant to say, that no true elocution for any person can be taught except upon the basis of simple, direct, earnest composition. Teach the pupil, first, to write it as he thinks and feels it, and then teach him its natural and effective delivery, as thus thought and felt, and you will hit upon an enunciation and gesture that know how to do an honest work, and, still
CHAP. XXX I GRSTURBS. 577
better, know how to keep their proper place. Aside from this, ordinary instruction in either can be useful, not as teaching the pupil what he is actually to use, Or just where he is to use it, but as a means of habituating him, in a general way, to an easier and more natural use of his organs and powers ; so that, whenever the true impulse comes, and either bursts out into action, what is spontaneous And earnest may not be crude, angular, and ill-fitted. —Hew England Journal trEducation. 
Cestures have been divided into three classes:
First, gestures ofplace, which answer the question, where? Secondly, gestures ofimitation, which answer the question, how ? Thirdly, gestures ofemphasis, which show the degree of the speaker's earnestness. 
Suggestionsas to the use of gestures have been made on good authority, as follows:
Conceive as vividly as possible the things you would locate, and yield to the impulse of nature to glance or point in the direction in which they are imagined to be. 
Conceive as vividly as possible the action or scene described, and yield to the impulse of nature to imitate, being careful always to "overstep not the modesty of nature. "
Yield to the inclination to strike or nod or bow for emphasis, being careful "in the very torrent, tempest, and whirlwind of passion, to acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. "
Avoid gestures for which you can give no reason. 
The Fundamental Rulefor gesture is that it mnst precede the verbal expression of the thought it illus. trates. 
Gesture must always precede speech. In fact, speech is reflected expression. It must come after gesture, which is parallel with the impression received. Nature incites a movement, speech names the movement. Speech is only the title, the label of what gesture has anticipated. Speech comes only to confirm what the
578DELIVERY. [Paw V. 
audience already comprehend. Speech is given for naming things. Gesture oaks the question " What ?" and speech answers. Gesture after speech would be absurd. Let the word come after the gesture and there will be no pleonasm. 
Priority of gesture may be thus explained. First a movement responds to the sensation ;then a gesture, which depicts the emotion, responds to the imagination which colors the sensation. Then comes the judgment which approves. Finally, we consider the audience, and this view of the audience suggests the appropriate expression for that which has already been expressed by gesture. -
DELSABTB. 
How far gesture should be carried depends upon the speaker's power of dramatic feeling and expression. Few would interpret gesture as minutely as Delsarte, who makes distinctions like the following:
"The deep voice with the eyes open expresses worthy things. The deep voice with the eyes closed expresses odious things. . . . We understand the laugh of an individual ; if upon e long, he has made a sorry jest ; if upon a long, he has nothing in his heart, and moat likely nothing in his head ; if upon a short, the laugh is forced. 0, a long, andoo are the only normal expressions. Thus Everyone is measured, numbered, weighed. There is reason in every thing, even when unknown to man. . . . 
"We can judge of the sincerity of the friend who grasps our hand. If he holds the thumb inward and pendent, it is a fatal sign ; we no longer trust him. To pray with the thumbs inward and swaying to and fro, indicates a lack of sacred fervor. It is a corpse who prays. If you pray with the arms extended and the fingers bent, there is reason to fear that you adore Pintas. If you embrace me without elevating your shoulders, you are a Judas. "
Mimicry is, however, below the dignity of the platform (see page 131) ; and descriptive gesture must be used with moderation. Many a speaker who is more correct in his interpretation, is scarcely less ridiculous in his
ems?. XXX] GESTURES. 579
gestures than the boy, who lifted the skirts of his coat, as he declaimed :
Boon as the evening thadee prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale. 
Finally, gesture, as an art, should be so practised as to be unconscious. 
The orator should not even think of what he is doing. The thing should have been so much studied that all would seem to flow of itself from the fountain. —DELseurz. 
This principle has been carried so far that a hesitating awkwardness is sometimes assumed, to convey the impression of extemporaneousness. 
Mr. Disraeli hesitated much, says the London Truth, like Serjeant Ballantine. Before bringing out some telling and well-prepared adjective, hewould " er-erer " for a minute or two, so as to make his hearers suppose thathe was choosing between half a dozen words. And yet many of Mr. Disraeli's most effective speeches were learned by heart. He would give them to the Times reporter before they were delivered, and although the reporter followed the speech, pencil in hand, he seldom had to alter a single word, so excellent was Mr. Disraeli's memory. 
In reading your own discourses, your very defects are your first requisites of maxim They form a portion of your own individuality. A. single instance will make my meaning clear. Jules Bandeau asked me to rend in public charming reply which he had written to Camille Comet. "I will do nothing of the kind, " replied I. "Why not?' he asked, "you read no much better. " "Yea. " was my answer, " but that particular piece of yours I should not read half so well ; your discourse is yourself. In reading it I certainly should not commit the faults that you will commit. I should not dr p my breath 4 the last syllable. I should by to bring out the strong points with higher relief. But that unstudied attitude of yours I could never catch, nor that indolent voice, nor that touchme-not air, nor that easygoing indifference, all of which complete the effect of your words by producing your personality—which are so charming in you, because they are so delightfully natural, but which would be absolutely displaying in me as too unnatural, too studied, and too far-fetched. Your disconme is a plump discourse, blooming and blond ; I should read it like a man who is thin, sallow, and dark. Rend it yourself. " Bandeau believed me, and his mows showed him that I was quite right. But if he had read anyone else's dleeOurtle in theIMMO titre ea be read his owu bewould be traitor, , -LECICS(41, 
580 DELIVERY. (Parr V. 
THE ART OF READING. 
The following extracts from the celebrated treatise of M. Legouve, already often quoted, will suggest how truly delivery is an art worthy to be mastered. 
Let us suppose scholar who Is mechanically perfect. Practice has made his voice even, agreeable, and flexible. He thoroughly understands the art of blending his medium, upper, and lower tones. He breathes imperceptibly. He pronounces distinctly. His articulation is sharp and clear. AU fault, ' to his pronunciation—If be had any--have been remedied. He punctuates as he reads. His delivery is neither hurried, jerky. nor drawling ; and, what la very rare, be never drops his final syllables, so that every phrase is round and firm. 
Ishe a finished reader ? No; he is only correct reader. Be can, without tiring himself or his bearers, read a political report, a scientific spore, a financial statement. Or legal docatment. All this is very well ; reading is thus brought to bear upon almost allthe liberal preheat ins, so that it may rightly be ranked under the head of useful knowledge. 
But it does not yet deserve the noble name of art. To be worthy of that, it must extend to works of art ; mast beoome the Interpreter of the masterpieces of genius; wilt in that case, correctness will not suMee—talent is also requisite. 
From La Fontaine's works I first learned to read. My master was a very clever man, almost too clever In point of fact. He had a charming voice, which he used to meet; and ho gave me two kinds of lessons, both equally beneficial to me, and by which others may profit as well as I; he taught me what a reader should do, and what he should avoid doing. 
On one occasion, when he WW1to read some of La Fonbaine's fables at the Conservatory—among them The Oak and the Reed "—he invited me to come and hear him. aging: You shall see how reader who knows his trade presents himself before a large audience. 
"I begin by glancing around the room ; my look, all-embracing, and accompanied by a very slight smile, must be pleasant ; its object is to collect the suffrages and sympathy of the audience iii advance, and to fasten all eyes upon myself. I then make a little noise in my throat—hem ! hem I—as if about to begin. But not at all, not yet! No I welt for perfect silence to be established. I then extend my arm, my right arm, carving lay elbow gracefully—the elbow is the soul of the arm Interest and attention are excited: I give the title. I give it simply. withont striving for effect—I merely act the part of play-bill. I then begin : The Oak, '—my voice full and round. gesture broad and some what bombastic! I desire to paint a giant, who stands with his head in the clouds and his feet in the kingdom of the dead. 
" ' The Oak, one day, said to the Reed—'
" Oh I scarcely a morsel of voice for the word 'r. &. ' Make it as small as you can, poor leaflet; mark Its inshmiflo ince by your tone ; despite it thoroughly, look askance at it All this very low and faint—as if you saw it at a d atance I "
You laugh! and you are quite right. And you will laugh dill more, when I tell yea that in the fable of " The Monkey and the Cat, " at the lines
" One day, our two plunderers watched by the fire Rich, ripe nuts a roasting, with looks of desire"—
CHAP. XXX. ] 581
•	Febvit roiled the es to imitate the chestnuts crackling before the tire! Yes, all this is funny, is absurd! And yet, at bottom, it is correct, profound, and true. It is true that a reader should never begin the instant he stands before his audience; true, that he should exchange communicating gleams with his listeners; true, that he should give his title clearly and simply ; true, finally, that he should represent and, as it were, paint his various characters by the varying tones of his voice—sod if we suppress the exaggeration and affectation resultant, we have an excellent and most useful lesson, especially in regard to La Fontaine. A. general impression, now parried into a principle, declares that his fables are to be read simply. Certainly but what do we mean by simply ? Do we mean--!et us be plain—do we mean prosily ? If so, I say, No a thousand times, No! That is not the way to read La Fontaine ; that is disfiguring him. It is betraying, not translating him. La Fontaine is the most complex of all French poets. No other poet unites in himself so many extremes. No poetry is so rich in oppositions. His nickname of good fcllow, and his reputation for simplicity, deceive us. His character am a man leads us astray in re. gsrd to his character as a poet. Pen in hand, he is the most wily, ingenious, I may say foxiest, of writers. With La Fontaine, every effect is calculated, premeditated, and worked for ; and at Uzi same time, by a marvellous faculty, every thing is harmonious and natural. All is artistic ; nothing artificial. A line, a wind, suffices to open vast horizons. He is an incomparable painter. untivalled narrator. His characterdrawing is almost equal to that of Mollére himself. And can we suppose that all this may and can he rendered simply and straightforwardly ? Heaven forbid Deep study alone confers upon a reader the power of understanding and explaining even in imperfect fashion such profound art. 
•	
Take, for example, the bible of "The Heron : "
"One day—no matter when or where—
A long-legged heron chanced to fare, 
. With his long, sharp beak
Helved on his long, lank neck. "
Everyone mutt feel the triple repetition of the word "long" to be a picturesque effect, which must be duly given by the reader. 
"He came to a river's brink—
The water was clear and still. "
These two lines cannot be read In one and the same way: the first, simple narrative in style, must be simply given. The second is descriptive ; the image must be Amble on the reader's lips, as on the writer's pen. 
"The carp and the pike there at will
Pursued their silent fun. 
El Turning up ever and anon
A golden side to the sun "
% . 
Oh! you don't know your trade as it reader if your gay, lively, sportive tone does not
paint the antics of this frolicsome couple
"With ease the heron might have made Great profits in the fishing trade ;
So near came the scaly fry
They might be caught by the passer-by. "
Simple narrative style. 
"But he thought he better might
Wait for a ilium appetite. "
582 DELIVERY. [Eurr V. 
Mark this ! here we get an insight into the bird's character I The heron Is a senanalist, an epicure, rather than a glutton. Appetite is a pleasure to those of dainty stomach. Give the word appetite that accent of satisfaction always roused by the thought or sight of any thing pleasant ; we shall see directly how useful this slight hint will be. 
"For he lived by rule, and could not eat, Except at his hours, the best of meat. "
Second descriptive verse. The heron is an important personage, and respects himself accordingly. 
"Anon his appetite returned once more. "
The heron is quite satisfied. 
"Approaching then again the shore, 
Be saw some tench taking their leaps, 
Now and then, from the lowest deeps. "
A perfect picture! an admirable stanza! It expresses that romantic feeling which all of us have experienced in fishing, when a fish rises slowly through the watery veil, faint and vague at first, but growing over more distinct, until it leaps to the surface! Paint all this with your voice !
"With as dainty a taste as Horace's rat, 
He turned away from such food as that. "
The character-drawing goes on. 
" What ! tench for a heron? Poh
I scorn the thought, and let them go. "
Mark the A in heron well; dwell on it—make it as prominent as his own long legs. 
"The tench refused, there came a gudgeon. 
 For all that, ' said the bird, I trudge on. '"
Here he laughs a laugh of scorn
ne'er ope my beak, so the gods please, 
For each menu little fishes as these. 
He did it for law;
For it came to pass
That not another fish could he see;
And at last, so hungry was be, "—
Hungry ! Do you see the difference now between this word and "appetite?" Do you think La Fontaine used this neat, sharp little phrase by mere chance ? No longer an epicure, the very word is brief, pressing, and importunate as the want it expresses! Give all this with your voice, and also depict the sudden ending of the tale, scornful and summary as a decree of fate:
"That be thoUght it of great avail
To find on the bank a single snail ! "
READING AS A MEANS OF CRITICISM. 
After listening attentively to my thoughts and Mess on this subject, Salute-Beuve said : "By your reckoning. then, skilful reader is a skilful critic. "
"To be sure, " said I, "you are closer to the truth than you gnawed; for in what, Indeed, does the reader's talent lie, if not In rendering all the beauties of the works which be interprets ? To render them properly, he must of course understand them. But the astonishing thing is, that it is his very effort to render them weU which giveshim a
CHAP. XXX. ] READING. 588
clearer comprehension of them. Reeding aloud gives a power of analysis which silent reading can never know. "
Sainte-Benve then asked me to give him an example to illustrate my meaning ; and I quoted flame's famous speech on Corneille, which contains one passage specially remarkable, where he draws a comparison between the French theatre before and after Corneille. I had often read this passage to myself, and admired it much ; but on attempting to read it aloud, I encountered difficulties which surprised me and gave me cause to reflect. The second part struck me as heavy, and almost impossible to render well. Composed of seventeen lines, it yet forms but a single phrase I Not a breathing-place I Nut period, colon, or even semi-colon I nothing but commas, with clause succeeding clause, prolonging the sense just as you deem it complete, and forcing you to follow it, panting for breath, through all its endless mazes I I reached the end, gasping, but thoughtful Why, I queried, did Racine write so long and labored a phrase ? Instinctively, my eye turned to the first part of the fragment. What did I see ? A perfect contrast! Seven sentences in nine lines! Exclamation points everywhere Not a single verb! disjointed, jerky style! All was fragmentary and broken I I uttered a cry of joy ; light dawned upon reel Desiring to express the two states of the drams, he did more than describe, he painted them in words. To represent what he himself calls the chauths siege of the dramatic poem, he employed a violent, abrupt, and inartistic style. To give a perfect picture of dramatic art as Corneille made it. he imagined a long and well-turned period, harmonious and ooncordant„—elmilar, in fact, in its labored arrangement to Corneille's own tragedies, —" Rodogune " and "Polyencte, "—In the skiltitl combination of situations and characters. 
This clew once gained, I took up the book, and reread the fragment. Let anyone read it accordingly, and judge for himself :—
" In what a wretched condition wasthe French stage when Corneille began his labors! What disorder! What irregularity I No taste, no knowledge of true dramatic beauty. authors as ignorant as their audience, their themes for the most part extravspnt and improlasble. —no morals, no characters ; the style of delivery even more vicious than the action, miserable puns and witticisms forming the chief ornament ; in a word, every rile of art, and indeed of decency and propriety. violated. 
"In this Infancy, or rather this chaotic state, of the dramatic poem in France, Corneille, having long sought the right road. and struggled, if I may venture to eay so, against the bad taste of his age, finally, inspired by rare genius and aided by his reading of ant:que literature, produce I upon the scene reason, but reason accompanied by all the pomp and a 'lender of which the French !angular is capable, brought the wonderful and the pro'able into harmony, and left far behind him all his rivals, most of whom, despairing of ever keeping mve with him, and fearing to dispute the prize with him, confined themrelves to impugning the plaudits awarded him, andvainly strove, by their words and foolish criticisms, to depreciate a merit which they could not equal. "
I think this proof decisive, this demonstration irrefutable It is evident that the extract assumes an entirely novel aspect when read aloud. New light falls upon it, and the author's thought is made manifest. Shall I add that the very difncitIty of nading this Mamas makes ft an excellent lesson? I know nothing harder, and therefore more profitabl, e, than to carry to a anoceseent close this terrible seventeen line-long sentence, without ones stopping by the way, without seeming fatigued, always ma. king by your infle. tions that the sense is not complete, and finally unrolling the whole majestic phrase In all Its amplitude and superbsuppleness. My studies as a reader were very useful to me that day : and I Inwardly thanked the art which, having given me a true understanding of this fine fragment, allowed me to reveal it to others. 
684 DELIVERY. [PA= V. 
at every medal has its reveres; and reading aloud has its disillusions. If it towhee ns to admire, it also teaches us to discriminate. Sainte Seuve was right ; a readerIS a enact, a judge l—a judge to whom many hidden defect. are resettled. How many sad dlimovetiee I have made in this way I How many books and authors whom I admized, — whom others still admise, —failed to resist this terrible proof I We say that a thing stares as In the face; we may, with equal justice, say that it strikes our ear. The eye runs over the page, skips tedious bite, glides over dangerous spots! But the ear hears every thing I The ear makes no cute! The ear in delicate. , sensitive, and clairvoyant to a dere@ laccaceimble by the eye. A word which, glanced at, paved unnoticed, emonses vast proportions when read aloud. A phrase which barely raffled, now disgusts you The greater the dm of the audience, the more quick-sighted the reader becomes. An electric current is at once established between reader and audience, which becomes a mesas of mutual instruction. The reader teaches himself while teaching others. He mode not to be warned by their murmurs or signs of Impatience; their very silence smelts to him ; he reads their thoughts, foresees that a certain renege will shock, mum 'book them, long before he reaches it ; it seems as if his critical faculties, roused and set In motion by this formidable contact with the public, attained a certain power of divination I
TOPICAL ANALYSIS. 
Delivery. 
NECESSITY OF STUDY, p. 562. 
The opening sentences, p. 565. 
Points requiring especial attention :
LPitch, p. 566. 
•	The loudness, p. 566. 
•	
1.	Unnecessary loudness, p. 567. 
2.	
•	The final words, p. 570. 
•	
ft. Emphasis, p. 570. 
a. Stress, p. 570. 
•	For perspicuity, p. 571. 
•	
•	For power, p. 571. 
•	
Sing-Song, p. 572. 
b. Oral punctuation, p. 572. 
Rules:
I. Nominatives, p. 578. 
U. Parenthetic clauses, p. 578. 
•	Words in apposition, p. 578. 
•	
•	Relative pronouns, p. 573. v. Clauses introduced by prepositions, p. 578. 
•	
CHAP. ffi. . ] TOPICAL ANALYSIS. 585
•	Members of a series, p. 573. 
•	
•	Conjunctions, p. 578. 
•	
•	Nominatives and qualifying words, p. 578. 
•	
•	Infinitive mood, p. 574. 
•	
•	Ellipsis, p. 574. 
•	
•	Inverted order, p. 574. xii. Emphatic words, p. 574. iii. Gesture, p. 575. 
•	
Prejudice against gesture, p. 578. Classification of gestures, p. 577. Suggestion. :
Conceive vividly the location, p. 577. 
4 " the action, p. 577. 
8. Yield to the inclination to emphasize, p. 577. 
4. Avoid gestures without reason, p. 577. 
Fundamental rule, p. 577. 
How far gesture should be carried, p. 578. 
Mimicry, p. 578. 
Final direction, p. 579. THE ART OF READING, p. 580. 
Reading as a means of criticism, p. 589.